#i was being super lazy butt today

[fujii-draws]

Hi I just wanted to say that I love Ribbons and Aimilios so much, they're so cute and sweet!!!

May I make a humble request for Ribbons and Amilios fluff,,,

I must know these dweebs are happy and would love to hear how they eventually fell for eachother!!!

AAA!! I’ve thought about this ask so much. And I’m happy to finally deliver!!!

——————

Ironically enough, Ribbons and Aimilios didn’t start out as ‘great friends’ from the jump.

Unlike main game. After Aimilios convinces her to join Wigglytuff’s guild on a whim, their relationship is… well.

Firstly, Aimilios tends to get slightly annoyed by Ribbon’s lack of preparation. Laziness. And hasty behavior. Feeling like she isn’t taking his dream as seriously as he thought she would.

And Ribbons— doesn’t like Aimilios for his stick-in-the-butt, teacher’s pet attitude. And how he never trusts her with things like the treasure bag/map. Constantly putting the load on himself, leaving her with nothing to do.

They still are on good terms! They do enjoy certain aspects of eachother! It’s just that they also dislike other aspects of their partner. Which; results in Ribbon’s teasing of the Riolu. (Playing ‘keep-away’, hiding certain items to get on his nerves.) Which was in good fun in hopes to lighten him up more. That isn’t to say it wasn’t mean-spirited at times.

And Aimilios in turn; rats on her whenever she becomes too troublesome to deal with. His clean-freak nature also causes him to misplace a lot of her items— (Which, Ribbons looked almost ready to bite Aimilios when her brown Patsy bow went missing.)(Until he told her where he put it, deciding to nip him another day.) And in-general their relationship starts on a rocky start. And why they fail so many jobs in the beginning due to their lack of coordination and teamwork.

They like eachother enough to work together… but not to see eye-to-eye. Aimilios starts to wonder if asking Ribbons to join him was a mistake… and that her heroism at Beach Cave was a major fluke.

…until Drowzee kidnaps Azurill.

Aimilios was Frozen when confronted with the hypnosis Pokémon. An outlaw? And not only that— a Psychic type? The Riolu was nothing short of terrified. That is, until Ribbons piped up. Barking towards the criminal with not a single drop of fear in her voice. This, in turn give the Aura Pokémon the confidence to fight back aswell.

(…This is also When their first really positive interaction happens, Aimilios being the one to reciprocate Ribbons joking-tendency with a jab of his own. Stating how starving she must be for her stomach to growl like an Ursaring. Till his stomach does aswell, making both young Pokémon’s laugh.) (And later that night when they’re in their haybeds, he whispers how brave/cool she was today.)

(Which makes Ribbons face light up, before trying to play it off like ‘Yeah that’s cool.’ Until her tail betrays her—giving away how happy that compliment made her. Just from the sheer velocity alone.) (She tells Aimilios to shut up when he laughs at the endearing display.)

After that… they start to trust eachother a little more. Aimilios shares more items with her. Lets her lead more Job Requests, snitching on her less. Actually even aiding her in mischievous/morally questionable activities, like steal A/S Rank jobs.

Chatot is super strict about what Jobs they take as junior Explorers—Aimilios only agreeing because he wants to prove himself. He feels the rush of adrenaline when they escape the Guild with their newfound jobs, Ribbons patting him on the back and ‘welcoming him to the dark side’.

“If Chatot catches us, we’ll never hear the end of it.” The breathless riolu stated. Looking over to his partner, who had a toothy grin plastered on her face.

“Then we won’t get caught.” Ribbons responded with confidence. Playfully placing her paw on his snout.

“Cmooon—That birdbrain won’t know what hit him! As long as you don’t tattle!~”

“…You’re a horrible influence.” The Riolu huffed out, smiling despite his backhanded comment.

On the flip side, Ribbons stops stealing items away from the Aura Pokémon as much like she used to. (She’s still teasing the ballocks out of him. Only difference being that she knows when to stop when it actually starts to upset him.) (The Riolu is still sticking his tongue out in retribution to the Eevee’s crimes. >:<.) (She blows a raspberry back >:3)

And… they start to notice certain things they really like about the other.

Ribbons loves how intelligent Aimilios is. The reason she was so butthurt towards him the first time…was because she was jealous. He was clearly the brains of their little rag-tag duo. She still doesn’t know why Aimilios chose her as his partner. He could do so much better. She also adores how he’s able to be gutless and quick-witted despite his fears. In Ribbons eyes—That’s bravery. Not the dumb, ‘Fuck-it-we-Ball’ mentality she has.

Something else she likes but can’t wrap her head around with the type of Pokémon they meet, is his kindness. She doesn’t know how he does it. Or why he’s able to tolerate so many of their clients. Ribbons… also views that as another strength he had, but she lacked— Arcues knows how short-tempered the Eevee was. And certain Pokémon began to take advantage of Aimilios . Which makes Ribbons extremely protective of him—standing protectively infront of the riolu during fights despite her size. (Around this time; Team skull.) She hates those punks so much. Ohhh do they make her blood boil.

She feels her heart twisting into knots when she sees Aimilios lost all sparkle in his eye. Only dejectedly laying on his haybed with sunken pupils as he lost the opportunity to join the expedition. The Eevee secretly wishes him a goodnight, brushing his fur with her tounge. Before returning to her bed. Praying that he’ll get picked—even if it meant giving up her spot if she got in.

And Aimilios… hoo boy.

Much like in-game, he’s enamored by how fearless she is. How she’s able to speak her mind to the largest and strongest of Pokémon. (You should’ve seen his face when she insulted The Great Dusknoir straight to his face.) He draws a ton of strength from her. He wouldn’t even be accomplishing his dream if it wasn’t for her.

Something else he loves about her… is her jokes. She has some of the most cornball humor to grace the Grass-continents. You can hear the entire guild groaning whenever she makes one.

So imagine to Ribbon’s surprise when she turns to face her Riolu partner one day— covering his mouth with his paws with tears in his eyes. Trying so desperately not to laugh. (She makes it her mission to make his ass laugh and admit to her face that she’s funny.)(It’s an on-going gag even after evolution.) And overall just how infectious her silly, carefree attitude is.

(She’s also the reason why he stops being so much of a people-pleaser. Aimilios didn’t notice it at first, but squabbling and being frustrated with her at times in the beginning… it helped him grow a bit of a spine.)

And that’s when the seeds of their friendship and other feelings begin to sprout.

During their first Expedition with Bidoof, Ribbons sees first hand just how much Aimilios is growing— taking more of the lead and being in charge. Not because he doesn’t trust her— but because he’s gaining confidence for himself. (Her cheeks do not become tinted with pink when she witnesses this.)

And when Aimilios is mere moments away from fleeing from the Groudon-illusion. He sees Ribbons start to grin. Exclaiming how she’s been itching for a real fight. (Which also doesn’t make him fluster up like a Red Gummi. Nope. Natta.)(That’s his hubris-filled maniac and no one else’s.)

And… they mutually get flustered watching the Volbeat Geyser. Aimilios exclaiming just how beautiful it is while Ribbon’s eyes lock on him—Before she laying her head on his shoulder. Making the startled Riolu look her way. Before carefully closing the distance, wrapping his arm around her.

(The guild members absolutely tease those two mercilessly for that display when trecking back to the Guild, and a few more days afterwards.) (Aimilios covers his face in embarrassment while Ribbons tells them to screw off.)

After the expedition to Fogbound Lake— their teamwork and rapport improve drastically. Being able to take on a number of jobs like that hadn’t before. Thanks to their newfound coordination and ability to be on the same wavelength. Complimenting eachother on a job well done.

They do little gestures for eachother to show the other how much they care. (Aimilios helps organize her Treasure bag with permission. Studying Unown runes/Gatekeeping duty. Patching her up from bad jobs.) (Very adamant about the last one.) (Scolding her for barely taking care of herself. Not noticing her staring at him adoringly.)

While Ribbons tends to spare him from particularly mean jokes. Getting actively frustrated towards Pokémon who treat Aimilios slightly wrong. Grooming him with her tongue during nights at the Guild. (He’s so focused on guild work that he forgets to take care of himself.)

The flaws they once detested about the other become things they now love about one another.

Ribbon’s laziness evolves into her teaching Aimilios to relax. Aimilios’s judgmental views are now more worrisome things he notices; asking Ribbons to exercise caution whenever she takes a job alone.

Ribbons listens to the riolu go on and on about a certain book he’s reading with stars in his eyes, gazing softly towards the aura pup. Aimilios listens to all of her bad jokes, barely stifling his laughter around her.

Aimilios watching lovingly at her ability to make connections with other Pokémon effortlessly, even with how dumb she feels.(He wishes he wouldn’t call herself such things.) While Ribbons loves just how intellectual he is, not minding his trouble with looking Pokémon in the eye.

They enjoy eachothers company so much. Becoming nearly nigh inseparable. Going from two, squabbling kids. To being attached to the other’s hip. Substituting for their partner’s weaknesses with their strength. Almost in a Yin-Yang fashion. (Opposites attract afterall ;3)They become co-dependent. (Which is very much a flaw… but it’s the one they never grow out of.)

And After that…! Aimilios is the first one the catch feelings! Mainly bc Ribbons is denser than the Relic Fragment tied around the Aura Pokémon’s neck. Wondering if some divine intervention was punishing him. That and Ribbons just thought she saw Aimilios as a really good friend as the explanation for why she felt fuzzy around him. (I’m not joking.)(You underestimate her singular braincell.)

The aura pup goes to Dusknoir for advice. Trying to be as VAUGE as possible towards the ghost-type when referring to certain ‘Pokémon A’ that ‘Pokémon B’ (which is NOT Aimilios.) would like to get to know better.

Dusknoir immediately catches on, finding this literal case of ‘puppy love’ to be endearing. (And absolutely entertaining.)(He promises to not tell a soul, with Aimilios responding ‘I-I didn’t mean anything by it!! Why are you swearing secrecy on something totally not connected to me—!’)

Although Ribbons is oblivious— her watching Aimilios nearly get murdered by Grovyle made her feel upset. Really upset. Watching him barely breathe while Dusknoir carried the two of them… Ribbons with the last on her strength crawled over to him (Much to the wraith’s dismay, imploring her to not hurt herself.) …Before she curls into him, sniffling a little.

No one else but Dusknoir is able to detach the tearful Eevee from her partner. The cloaked specter only having done so to make sure the Riolu was healed and patched up properly. (That didn’t stop the Eevee from crying out for her partner in her sleep.)(…The ghost-type gently brings the Riolu to her haybed—Ribbons immediately curling into and purring.)

And then they’re dragged into the Paralyzed future. Where their friendship is heavily tested.

The two don’t say anything at first, but hold slight resentment towards one another, mainly towards Ribbons not using her D.Scream, and Aimilios not using his aura sensing/sharing so much information with that damned ghost.

So when looking at the stockade lights, an argument breaks out. Just a screaming match between two terrified kids that want nothing more than to escape the hell they’ve been forced into.

They go back and forth, back and forth on who’s to blame. Until Aimilios’s angry screams slowly transform into uncontrollable sobs. Telling Ribbons that she was right and it was his fault. Ribbon’s heart nearly shatters as she watches Aimilios fall to the ground holding himself.

She immediately rushes to now, sobbing riolu. Telling Aimilios that she was being stupid and she only snapped in anger— begging for him to stop crying. Because if he does, then sh-she’ll…

She pulls him into a hug. Aimilios clings onto her like his life depended on it— with the Eevee embracing her partner so tightly. Muttering apologies like a broken record. The scene goes about the same, the only other change being how Ribbons looks back towards the way they ran from. Staring at the abyss-like cavern in fear of the ghost-type pursuing them. (She shakes it off. She can’t afford to be scared. She has to be strong. For him.)

So Ribbons continues to protect Aimilios during their run from the revenant they trusted. Constantly picking him up, getting infront of him to take hits during dungeons, etc. and it helps Aimilios… continuing to draw strength from his partner. (Even when he’s begging her to stop nearly getting herself maimed in the dungeon. Which falls on deaf ears; Both Pokémon exchanging somewhat bitter glances.)

So how hilarious is it when Aimilios watches Ribbon’s back away in fear for the first time. Being completely frozen just like the time in the future. Unable to retort anything Dusknoir said. Being reduced to tears. Her ears pinning back as her pupils dilated to cat-slits. Breathing heavily as the open clearing spun from vertigo.

Oh how hysterical! Oh how simply entertaining it was to the ghost-type!!

But Aimilios wasn’t laughing.

Not one bit.

He gets infront of his now, trembling Eevee partner; angrily baring his fangs about how they weren’t Dusknoir’s puppets— before yelling loud enough that his scream emenanted an aura. An Aura large enough that made Dusknoir flinch, and even Primal Dialga react—squinting annoyedly towards the pup.

(If Aimilios took a quick glimpse from behind—he would’ve seen a glossy-eyed Eevee, staring up at him in complete awe.)

That same night when they returned to the present— Ribbon’s had a nightmare about Dusknoir. Waking up in a cold sweat as a voice called out so desperately for her. She opens her eyes, only to be greeted with a very worried-looking Riolu.

She takes a moment to process why Aimilios looked so worried, before it all came back to her, every horrible word she spouted towards her precious partner. And how he was still trying to see if she was okay after everything she said. Ribbons cries her heart out—Aimilios now being the one to hold his tearful partner.

When she’s finally shed her tears… the Riolu offers to let her sleep in his haybed for the night. Ribbons hesitates, before nodding silently. Not wanting to use her voice in fear of blubbering again.

Sharing the haybed was a good idea from the way Ribbon’s clung to Aimilios— almost immediately sleeping in the comfort and safety of her partner’s arms. While Aimilios is looking at her… it hits him all at once. How small she is. How fragile she is. Even with how brave the sleeping fox was. He saw her terrified for the first time.

Just how many times did she help him? How many nights had Ribbons listened to him. Comforted him. Gave him confidence. And exactly how many times did he repay the favor…?

This epiphany only makes the Riolu hold onto the frail Eevee even tighter.

Ribbons senses this change when she feels Aimilios is the one starting to take as many hits and she does for him. Confidently asking to lead the party at times as to make the load easier on her. And… it nearly clicks. Ribbons nearly figures out her weird, fuzzy emotions. But keeps suppressing them; save the world first— then weird butterflies in tummy!

And it’s When Ribbons is disappearing— it’s in that moment she finally realizes her feelings towards the aura pup. But…

Rather than making the grand gesture of revealing how she truly felt— she bites her tongue. Hard. Was she really going to make her goodbye even harder on Aimilios? After what she pulled? After lying to him?

…even after she returns. She never tells him. In Ribbons eye’s? She lost her opportunity the second she hurt Aimilios. So much. with her stupid sacrifice. With her stupid words towards the stressed pup in the future. Not feeling worthy of being anything more with the Riolu out of guilt.

(That, plus Future Trio returning adds a bunch more to their plate before they can figure it out.)

Speaking of Which, they act as wing-Pokémon for the two, the three older mons almost playing a game of Cupid with Ribbons and Aimilios. (With Ribbons gaining help from the two grass-types, and Aimilios from the ghost.)(Those three see how much those two are holding back from one another and by the legends they are going to help these kids.)

It takes an absurd amount of time. But…

Ironically enough? The one who’s braver enough to take the first step… is Aimilios.

He asks Ribbons to walk with him towards the Beach, the same one where their journey began. Aimilios also no-so-subtly waited to make his confession when the Krabby blew bubbles. (Ribbons stares at him knowingly and smugly.)(He tells her to ‘B-be quiet—!’ and listen to what he has to say.)

And it’s just… the most corniest love confession. Everything about it. The setting. The bubbles… it’s so overly cheesy and sentimental. Just like Aimilios.

And Ribbons feels her smile faltering more and more when he goes on— before she starts crying unexpectedly. Aimilios asks what’s wrong— hoping for them to be happy tears rather than sad ones. And unfortunately; It’s the latter.

Ribbons tells Aimilios to not waste his time on her. To find someone better—someone who won’t hurt him. She spills her guts about why she was so hesitant to confess for so long.

“…You’re afraid.”

“E-eh..?! I-I mean…” Ribbons looks away, her tail coyly rubbing the side of her shoulder. “I guess…”

“T-then don’t be..!” The Riolu declared— hovering his fists infront of his chest. “I-I want you to be brave..! Be—“

“The bravest ever.” It was astonishing how the two Pokémon read eachother’s mind— finishing the sentence Aimilios begun in unison.

After that I have a little animatic idea in the tune of ‘Best Worst Mistake’ with those two. Which near the end of it… ends with the Aura Pokémon picking up Ribbons and spinning her— to then connect foreheads.

Only for a cyan light to wrap around the two Pokémon… what emerges from it, being a Sylveon and Lucario.

Seeing themselves evolve at the same time… they laugh with tears in their eyes. Ribbons tackles the hell out of Aimilios as their limbs are entangled on the same beach they met. Tails wildly wagging as they embrace eachother. Not minding the sand getting stuck to their fur.

…Future Trio is witnessing all of this happen in real time. With Celebi nearly chuckling as she watches the grass and ghost-types be on the verge of tears.

The two Pokémon go to the trio hours later— telling them how it’s official. Grovyle puts his hands in the Sylveon’s shoulder’s—kneeling as he exclaims just how proud he is. On the other side of the bluff— Dusknoir is telling Aimilios the same thing— cupping the Lucario’s face in near tears. Bellowing out just how far the Lucario has come. (Ribbons and Aimilios Are NOT choked up by their gestures. They both have leftover sand in their eyes. That’s why they’re crying.)

Their relationship is still relatively the same. Ribbons being the same, playful and gutsy girl she is. Playing harmless pranks on her partner. Being overly protective of him, etc. While Aimilios remains the clever pup that he is. Letting Ribbons gnaw on him arm whenever she gets bite-y, keeping track of their shared items. Cleaning her matted tail and adding Garcedia flowers from Shaymin peak… That isn’t to say that their relationship is perfect— still finding themselves hitting bumps along the road and arguing. The main difference being that they’re more mature— and aren’t kids anymore. (It’s us vs the problem, not me vs you) type growth. (Even if it takes awhile to get there with the Lucario’s self-loathing issues.)

That being said, Ribbons loves PDA w/ Aimilios. Even when the poor Lucario flusters. (She stops when he’s about to turn as red as a Cherri Berry.)(That isn’t to say he’s being spared when they return to the bluff >:3)

Yet ironically enough, whenever they’re behind closed doors; it’s the reverse with Aimilios flustering her right back. He’s been able to do so at the start of Post-Game—The only difference being that he’s gotten much more consistent in finding the Sylveon’s weak points. (Ribbons hates him for it.)(How dare he use her own powers against her. She isn’t supposed to be the blubbering mess.)

(Also they begin to share their haybed in the beginning of post-game—Constantly waking the other up to protect them from their nightmare lest they have one.)(They never separated it since.)(…Well okay maybe ONE TIME but THATS FOR ANOTHER DAY >:3)

[Tl;dr: They squabble and get annoyed by eachother. Before they become overly codependent/protective of the other. A silly, unkept, mischievous Eevee/Sylveon—with her stressed-out, lanky, goody-two shoes Riolu/Lucario partner.]

(+ some old art I never shared for y’all’s troubles)

[melissaat31]

Working out in the morning and eating breakfast is a gamechanger. I know, I know, this isn’t revolutionary info. I mean, we all went to school and had breakfast before class. We all heard about the importance of breakfast.

I’ve been hitting a bit of a slump with my workout and diet. I lost 60 pounds and overhauled my lifestyle in the past year and a half. But after the first year, it hasn’t been so cute. I’ve found myself losing motivation for structure. I started working out during lunchtime and by the time lunchtime rolls around, I’m exhausted. I can’t bring myself to haul my ass to the gym. And then I feel guilty. And lazy.

I tried something different today. I usually work out with my husband and sometimes it feels like he’s torturing me. He’s also my personal trainer. We lift and run together. He tells me what exercises to do and I consider divorcing him. Well, today I woke up defiant, with the lingering question hanging over me. Are we going to the gym? And my Inner Teenager fought her butt off. She was a grumpster. She was like why is everyone trying to control me gargh.

I usually do morning walks with my husband before we start our day. Lately we have even started cooking some breakfast. He has been making eggs and chicken sausage. I did something this past grocery store trip, something I haven’t done probably since college or high school. I got oatmeal. I used to make oatmeal a lot for myself. It was one of those meals that I could make myself, that was healthy. So of course I felt super accomplished making it this week. And it also brought me some comfort.

So we started cooking breakfast this past week, and I started cooking my oatmeal. And today I threw a little fit in the morning and then convinced myself to go the gym because the thing I hate more than pushing myself is the moment in the day when I know I don’t want to go to the gym but I also don’t want to walk for four hours to hit my movement goal - welcome to being 5’1. So I did it. My husband threw his back out but we did it. 45 minutes of lifting. No one was in the gym. I was tired.

But during that time I remembered another little hack. I had been racking my brain trying to figure out - how do I treat myself or bribe myself to go to the gym? Breakfast is a good way to do it. Feeling accomplished having already worked out before my day starts is a good way to do it. And I remembered, hey I like music. Music is a big reason I work out. I like listening to music and being in my own world.

Music influences my mood. And something I did the other day that I forgot was I started listening to music and then looking up guitar tutorials to play the song on YouTube. I would save them for later so I could also be motivated to practice my guitar. That’s another thing I struggle with motivating myself to do. I started learning guitar a little under a year ago and have been learning from Justin Guitar, which is this great app, but when it comes to a point in the learning when it feels tedious, like the C major scale, I just hit a wall. Because I just want to play covers. I love playing something familiar that I can jam out to.

Anyways, I got to pick some covers to try out for later during my lift. And it made it go so much faster. And it put me in a good mood. When we were done, we went home and made some breakfast. And I had a little pep in my step. I realized, hey I have the  whole day ahead of me. I think a big fear of mine is that I won’t have energy for everything I want to do. Like I just will tap out at 1pm. Which totally happens but I also think it’s about curating a life that feels fun. That you can look forward to.

I see things shifting and habits forming that could potentially make me look forward to certain things. I want to start hacking the system. Like how can I motivate myself, how can I create momentum, how can I find joy in the little things. There’s so much to discover and to create in the human experience. And yeah, I gotta study and I have all these ideas in my head that never feel possible to actually action on, but if everyday could be like this, where I could start the day a bit more satisfied, I think this life could be a good one. 

[kiwicopia]

YO so like.. i saw ur valentine matchup thingy and i was like "I wanna do that" soo here i am!! The fandom I'm requesting is what in hell is bad and genshin impact! Also its tots fine if u don't wanna do my ask! Anyways heres the information!

I actually use all pronouns but if you want me to be specific, i rn mainly use he/they!

My personality is like kind but very mean at the same time, my mbti is infp. I'm super superrr lazy when it comes to anything especially school but when push comes to shove I'm probably ur best bet to get at least a B on a group assignment. I LOVEEEEEE sleeping, probably my favorite hobby! I also give very very good advice like all my friends ask for my advice like they come to me bc I'm extremely honest, if theres a fight between friends they usually ask my input and I'll say it straight up whos in the wrong or if their both in the wrong. Also heres a second opinion from my friend about my personality

" Uhhh you're really mean but in a honest way most of the time, unless you're pissed or just joking. You're also really funny and mostly use humor for anything. You can be kind and nice to people unless you have a certain type of dynamic like ours where we both bully each other out of love. You care about people a lot but probably have a hard time saying it but you do show it with being there for them and helping them when they're going through something. You also probably look mean to most people who don't really know you because of my starter point of you being honest, like brutally honest" -my friend

Hmm my ideal date for valentines.. i think either us going somewhere fancy (my treat) or me and my significant other staying at my apartment while i cook them food and make them really cute and cheesy love letters!

(Also sori if theres any spelling mistakes, I'm too lazy to reread this)

This drowsy devil would love nothing more than to spend this special day watching you cook for him. Or, if you prefer going out, he'll do that, too. He's so carefree that he goes along with anything, especially if it makes you happy. If you choose to stay at home and cook, he'll hover over you, watching you intently as you make the food. If he gets a little sleepy, because watching you cook is so relaxing, he'll wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. Lazy kisses all day. A little sloppy, but so full of his love for you. When drowsy, his voice is a bit deeper and gives you tingles, which he knows. Cue him mumbling sweet nothings into your ear, or even a bit of praise throughout the day.

He doesn't know which he'd like better. A romantic dinner for two at a popular establishment, or the more domestic choice of staying at home and having dinner. If you choose the former, Kaeya goes all out. Expensive wine coupled with appetizers and main courses you could only dream of, and at his expense. He wants to spoil you today, so please let him. If you choose the latter, he'll watch you cook while wearing a little smile that has him thinking about the future. Will be handsy. He can't help it, and he knows that you like it. Even if you know how to cook, he'd find a way to butt in and show you a better way to season something, or an easier way to cut a vegetable. The romantic way, of course. Kaeya will definitely sneak in a few kisses when you're not looking, and it all leads up to the dessert after dinner.

[fullmetalfisting]

Link

Text under the cut for those too lazy to tap the link

Guy behind me in traffic was blinding me in traffic with his high-beams, so i violated his retinas with the full force of an afternoon sun

I was driving home from work and traffic was backed up pretty badly for a few miles. It was stop and go. When i get stuck in that, i'll usually back about 75 feet off the car in front of me so that i can hold a pace and move at a slow, but constant roll - like the semi trucks do. This way im not participating in the bumper to bumper move and brake like the rest of the smooth brain drivers.

Some dude in an Acura Crossover was behind me, and i guess he was getting upset because i wasn't 2 feet from the car in front of me, driving like a smoothbrain. So he gets up on my butt and starts beeping his horn at me. "Lol" i think to myself as i turn up my radio.

But then he starts flashing his brights at me, which is where i get annoyed. He's in one of those acuras that has the super bright LED headlights. My car is much lower than his, so his low beams are already pretty bright in my mirrors. Bright enough that i dont want to look in them. The first time he flashed his highbeams it put spots in my vision for a moment. It genuinely hurt my eyes. After the first flash, he waits for about 10 seconds, beeps his horn, and then flashes me again. Now im getting pissed. Im thinking "where the fuck do you want me to go? Do you really think being two feet from the car in front of you will make traffic move faster?" Then he flashes me a third time, but this time he held them on for about 15 seconds. Time for the gloves to come off.

During those 15 seconds, as im looking away from my mirrors, i see my 14,000 lumen searchlight sitting in my passenger seat, at which point I'm immediately overcome by a wave of chaotic-lawful excitement, what he has just set in motion can not be stopped. I think to my self "oh buddy....you just opened the wrongggg can of worms. You're gonna learn today"

I grab the flashlight and set it to its absolute max 14,000 lumen brightness setting. The flashlight has a sensor in it to automatically dim the light if facing down on a table, because otherwise the diodes would get so hot they would melt the lense.The 14,000 lumen setting is so intense, the 57 watt-hour battery can only hold it for 180 seconds before the flashlight automatically notches down to a measly 9,500 lumens. During those 180 seconds, the light will burn through 15% of it's battery power. For reference on just how bright this is, *the literal fucking sun* emits a luminosity of 11,000 lumens per square foot on a bright and clear day.

I turn around and aim it straight out the back of my rear window. My car is pretty noisy, so before i turn it on, I rev up my engine to make sure captain smoothbrain is eyes forward when I violate his retinas with the full force of an afternoon sun. I hit the power button and can only imagine the freight train of shock and pain that plowed over this man. It was so bright, his automatic headlights shut off because the car thought it was daytime. With the light on, i could see him clear as glass through his tinted windshield, he was covering his eyes and looking down. Probably screaming. I watched him try and flip down his sun visor, but his hand couldn't find it, as i thought to myself "Burn you motherfucker....burn". I imagine my facial expression was similar to that of a 6 year old roasting insects with a magifying glass on a bright summer day. After about 5 seconds of blinding light, i took mercy and shut it off. He proceeded to back way the hell off, and move over to a different lane.

Was this an unsafe thing for me to do? Absolutely. Was this illegal? Almost certainly. Was it warranted? Without question. Possibly the highlight of my year

Drive safe, and dont be a dick to the car in front of you. Because they might just have the tools to teach you a lesson.

TLDR: Dickhead in traffic was excessively flashing his highbeams at me, hurting my eyes, because I couldn't go faster than the car in front of me - so I showed him how it feels.

__PLEASE NOTE: THE CONTENTS OF THIS POST ARE MY INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY, AND ARE PROTECTED UNDER COMMON LAW COPYRIGHT. ANY UNAUTHORIZED DISSEMINATION OF THIS POST WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION IS COMMON LAW COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT__

when the cop pulls you over and you hit them with the unbridled power of the sun

[rubywithin]

This is who I am? Opening

-YAAAAWN- ugh I can barely keep my eyes open.....I guess I will go back to sleep. (???) "HEY MEIKO...don't you dare waste any more of the day, you have choirs!". (Meiko) "Ugh what a pain, -hmm- hey Free why don't you do the choirs?". He always expects me to do them, well let's see him get off his lazy butt for once. (Free) "Oh do you wish for me to do this task for you?" ugh this wise guy. (Meiko) "Fine I will clean the place up but it wouldn't hurt for you to help me out once in a while! You don't have to play the wish card all the time" I reflected on the past four months we have been friends. I know he hangs out with me due to an obligation but I can't help but feel we had a stronger connection than that. Especially the way he jokingly asks me if I wish for him to do stuff hahaha. (Free) "Okay I will help out today if I can have one of those tasty gummi snacks!". (Meiko) "Sure thing bud but we are a little low on them so I may have to go to town and buy some more". I also had some deliveries to make as we were also a bit low on money!

After a few hours of cleaning the place looked a bit more organised, I decided it was time to go to town. (Meiko) "Later Free I will be back in an hour or something like that" I did a chant to summon a broom. I carefully loaded my supplies and flew through the woods, unfortunately the locals were um scared of magic users like me so I needed to avoid being seen traveling like this. It was a bit of a pain to have to carry all of these potions into town but at least I only needed to do it monthly. Okay this spot should be fine, now to just hide my broom and make my way to town. (Merchant) "Ah hello Meiko I see you have brought the latest order!" (Meiko) "Yeah here you go sir" I took all the bottles out of my bag and put them on the counter. He then measured the bottles....my payment was based off the amount of doses each potion would have! (Merchant) "As usual the potions you brew seem very efficient, here is your fee!". I thanked him and then decided to buy some supplies......NO WAY the super strawberry gummi treats are on sale.....Free will go crazy!

I was about to go home when I heard bells ringing......this tended to mean a Witch was nearby. Everyone was running into the buildings as they were being locked! Witch Hunters would typically make their way over to the town....this is bad I can't risk flying while the place is on high alert. I made my way back into the woods, I then saw someone fly over me but I avoided being seen by them. I saw her fly off into the distance so I guess it was just a spotting and not an actual attack! -Sniff- No wait there is smoke, I turned around and saw the woods were on fire! This is bad I took out a book I kept on me just in case I then found a nearby pool of water. I was not powerful enough go generate water on my own, (Meiko) "Thy spirit of the sky take this water and make it your tears Spell of the Rain!" I held my concentration for as long as I could.....I think I was able to put out the fire. (???) "-Cough...cough-" darn it there was someone in the middle of that. I can't just leave them here....I decided to carry them out of the woods!

(Hunter) "Hey what are you two doing here?" (Meiko) "I found her in the woods unconscious! There was a slight fire" (Hunter) "I see good job kid but I will take care of her from here". He took her to a nearby bench to sit down, I went back to the woods and summoned my broom. I had to take a longer route home because I can't afford to be seen near where the fire was. I got back home and Free looked a bit concerned, (Free) "What took so long?". I told him all about the Witch being spotted he was worried about me being seen using magic but I made sure he knew I kept a low profile. He had some of the gummi snacks to relax.....I hope that girl will be okay after today though.

[rogueofsoup]

Homework on the Moon chapter 3! Or something. Idk. Let's say it's 3. Chapter 3!

— 

That Saturday afternoon was particularly lazy, with really not much going on. Danny was just about to call up his friends to hang out when he felt the pull of a summon. It was his first actual official summon since becoming Ghost King, and he had worked very hard on his cool Ghost King attire to use for that first official summon. A King has to make a good impression, after all.

The crown floated in green flames above King Danny's head, his galaxy-filled cloak billowing out around him and hiding most of his unimposing figure. Making his body invisible allowed him to float several feet higher than he really stood, giving a sort of eldritch look to him that made it look like his body was made of the space his cloak was filled with. He had a large gauntlet on so he could still gesture menacingly if needed, and on that gauntlet he wore the Ring of Confusion (once known as the Ring of Rage). And of course there was the mask, its design inspired in part by Poppop Clockwork's own face. Red eyes with the black streak over the left, but other than that it was mostly featureless, aside from the part that allowed him to open up the mask like a mouth so to not muffle his wail. Obviously that was fanged. It of course also had essentially a wig attached to it, making it look like Danny had much longer and wilder white hair.

It took Danny a moment to realize where exactly he had been summoned to. He knew it was outside Earth’s atmosphere, he could feel the cold presence of space surrounding the area he floated in. It was only when he saw a battered Superman on the ground, one hand over the sigil to summon him. Danny looked down at the super in dejection, thinking only one thing:

‘Shoulda just kept my big mouth shut.’

Superman shakily lifted his head, looking up at the imposing form of The Ghost King. He was most certainly… impressive. The very power coming off of him seemed to fill the entire space, almost as if he was telling the very room itself, "BEHOLD! THE GHOST KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS! WORSHIP ME!" He pushed himself up into a proper kneel before the King, being respectful.

"Your majesty, if I may ask for your assistance," he said, clearly in pain. "There is... someone with ghostly abilities here, who was trying to steal your summon for himself. Would it be possible to... maybe help...?" He looked up at the imposing King, awaiting an answer. The summon itself meant he had the right to just tell Danny what to do, and yet he was still asking if it was ok.

'Ok, so the JL have trouble with ghosts and the like,' Danny thought to himself, really hoping he won't have to have an intense battle with something extremely strong today. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded a slow and imposing nod. He had to keep up appearances and all.

"Um, I-I believe the villain identified himself as 'Plasmius'?" Superman added in, hoping the identification would help.

Danny immediately brightened up, responding in ghostspeak so to remain spooky.

#Oh, fruitloop? Yeah, I can kick his butt for you.#

Danny suddenly flew by, turning intangible so to pass through Superman before going off to beat up Vlad. Sure, the old man had been able to beat him on occasion in the past, but as of late Danny still held the win record.

Electric crackling and haunting whirring with the faintest hint of a scream in the background, shaped like clay to form words in a tongue he could not hope to understand. The sound wasn't only familiar, it was near identical to the frustrated nose that had come from the boy Clark had helped. He didn't know too much about ghosts, but he had a hunch.

Daniel Fenton, who are you really?

-

Danny reappeared in the main area Plasmius floated in, unconscious Justice Leaguers pushed off to the sides as the angry halfa tore through the rooms looking for something. Danny pushed his will into the room like he had done when being summoned, creating a silent but all-consuming "I am present." Vlad immediately looked over angrily, then his gaze turned to shock and fear, then pure ass-kissery.

"Ah, m-my king!" Vlad quickly said, dropping to his knee. "I was merely, erm, trying to find your summon so to… ah… protect it! Yes, wouldn't want it falling into the hands of a villain that would mind control these foolish mortals again to give it to them. But it appears you have been summoned by them, so your summon is now used and therefore useless. So that would no longer be a problem! I-I merely wished to do my duty and protect your power from falling into the wrong hands, my king!"

Holy Ancients. Vlad "Tried to Beat Pariah Dark" Masters some way somehow didn't know Danny was the new King. He had no idea. This was so funny. Here he was, practically groveling in front of him and thinking he was some ancient powerful being that recently decided to pop up and take control. Would it be funnier to speak up and show him he was the very same teenager the man had been trying to adopt/clone/kidnap/kill for the past few years, or would it be funnier to let him continue thinking the Ghost King was someone completely different and reveal much later when the fruitloop had already been kissing his ass for a while?

Danny decided on the latter, and opened his mouth (and mask), letting out his ghostly wail to begin the fight. Plasmius was immediately taken aback, seemingly even afraid for a moment. He didn't seem to recognize the wail as Danny's.

The fight was on, and Danny wasn't holding back. Vlad however seemed to be unwilling to fight at full force, almost as if he was afraid of invoking the King's wrath by actually attempting to harm him. He was lucky Danny wasn't Pariah, else he'd be even more pissed off. He easily dodged half-assed shots, swirling around them like wind as he closed in on the increasingly panicked halfa. Using the gauntlet, Danny grabbed Vlad by the throat and lifted him up.

Vlad struggled against the grip, seeming genuine with surprisingly little opposing strength. It was almost as if Danny was physically stronger, significantly so. He threw Vlad into the ground and watched as the other half-ghost slammed against the hard floor, leaving a painful indent. He swore he didn't throw him that hard, it was completely accidental. The sudden strength he most certainly possessed made him think it may have been one of the powerful artifacts he wore as King. Who knows, maybe it was his crown and/or ring noting how young of a ghost he was and making up for it? The idea sort of scared him, he'd have to ask Clockwork.

Vlad shakily sat up, looking on in terror at the horrifying eldritch being that was The New King. This being had apparently defeated Pariah Dark fairly when he had failed, and he now knew why and how. The unmistakable resemblance to the very visage of Clockwork showed this was at the very least a demigod. He couldn't hold back fighting him, but even if he went at full force he didn't think he was able to defeat him. It may have mostly just been the fear talking, but he felt like if he tried fighting The New King one on one, he wouldn't have a chance in hell. The horrifying being now floated above him, staring down intimidatingly. He… wasn't finishing the job? Was he sparing Vlad? Oh thank the Ancients, The New King possessed mercy. Well, he was never one to squander an opportunity.

Danny had been just kinda zoning out when he realized Vlad had phased through the floor. He quickly followed after him, soon finding him hightailing it towards Earth. Well… that situation solved itself. Terrifyingly so, but it did end without complete death.

Danny floated back into The Watchtower, apparently just in time to see the League members regaining consciousness. Several panicked at the sight of him, some of which even seeming to be about to attack. Thankfully, Danny would not have to dodge, block, or retaliate against them, as the Man of Steel himself had managed to stop them before they could attack.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said simply, gently pushing down Green Lantern's arm before looking over at the others. "That's the King. Trust me, we don't want an incident."

Superman walked over towards Danny, seeming to use his fight to reduce the weight on one of his legs. He was very good at hiding it, Danny (and likely the Bat) could only just barely tell. Still, Danny decided it would be considerate to meet the injured hero halfway.

"… The voices of ghosts I imagine are pretty unique, right?" Superman asked, "The sounds seem pretty specific." Realizing the jig was up, Danny nodded. Supes definitely recognized his voice.

"If you don't mind me asking, would it be possible for a ghost to have a child after death?" Superman pressed. This line of questioning was definitively not what Danny was expecting, but he nodded nonetheless.

"Is it in turn possible that you, The Ghost King of the Infinite Realms, could have a child that is half human half ghost?" Superman suggested.

Danny didn't move for several seconds. He couldn't be serious, right? He couldn't be suggesting that-… holy shit he was suggesting he was his own dad. It would certainly stop some questioning and potential unwanted babysitting, and it would give him such a badass backstory. He couldn't pass it up, but that also meant that he couldn't be anything but this big scary form when answering to them as Ghost King. It also meant he had to really play the part, and so he had to come up with a spooky way of responding that wouldn't reveal his teenage voice to a bunch of really serious adults.

Forming human words with ghostspeak was indeed possible, but difficult. But it would hide his human voice. He opened his mouth, carefully forming the noises of his death into words.

"Phan…tom…" he managed to gurgle. The exertion hurt his throat. "My… son…"

Superman wore the look of someone who's suspicions had been confirmed. It took so much to not just laugh at him. He knew he had to push it further, so he appeared to lean down and put the huge gauntlet on Superman's shoulder.

"You… home…work… help…" he crackled out, stifling a cough. "Friend… of… Dan…ny…" Superman looked surprised, taking a few seconds to respond.

"Oh, uh… no problem sir- uh, I mean your majesty," he managed to say, apparently not expecting such gentleness. "A-and, if you don't mind, I heard from somewhere you, uh… are… backed by Clockwork…?" Danny couldn't help but let out a ghostly laugh. He then took the gauntlet off of the man's shoulder and used it to point at himself.

"Ward…" he managed. "My… fa…ther…"

This was the best prank he had ever pulled in his life, and it would likely have disastrous consequences. The JL were now under the impression that 1. Danny is the son of The Ghost King (Danny), 2. Clockwork is the adoptive father of The Ghost King, 3. The Ghost King is super chill with Superman because he helped The Ghost Prince (not a real thing) with his homework, and 4. Clockwork is Danny's actual grandfather. Oh, and 5. Danny is not actually related to Jack Fenton, and is in fact half-ghost due to being born that way, instead of dying due to his parents' negligence regarding their dangerous machinery. Ok, that last part wasn't really funny per se, but still.

The JL seemed somewhat horrified by this revelation, which possibly could also mean that they wouldn't dare let anything happen to Danny in fear of The Ghost King getting pissed at the living world. Regardless, Danny figured he wouldn't be able to answer any further questions without coughing his ghostly lungs out, so with a flourish he vanished into nothing, retreating back through the summon. He had finished what he was summoned to do after all: beat the crap out of Plasmius.

The members that had been able to witness it were shocked (and slightly terrified) by the revelations given by the King himself, each one left stumped and frozen in their places. The Flash managed to finally get up, and limped his way over to Superman before patting him on the shoulder.

"I guess you gotta help the Ghost Prince with his homework in the Watchtower next time, huh?" he joked, coughing a little from the pain of his lightly crushed ribs.

-

Been working on this bit by bit over the week, that seems to really help. If anyone wants to be tagged in the next chapters, hmu!

Short DPXDC Prompts #837

Danny was just relaxing doing his homework on the moon. (It was quiet and had minimal distractions. Perfect for studying). He didn’t expect to see anyone during his studying but after seeing movement out of the corner of his eye he went to check it out. To his surprise: Superman was just sitting on the moon looking down at earth. Chilling.

[dahliasanddimples]

DAY FUCKING 30 THIRTY!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH omg

I’m more excited about making it to day 30 than actual day 30.

Feels the same as day 23ish-29 but whatever lol I made it. Weird how fast I got over you. and I say it all the time but it’s really bc you played me so bad the first time during Valentine’s Day. Like nothing can hurt as much as that. Being left to my own thoughts after reaching out to you all week actually seriously concerned bc what other acceptable reason was there for you to ignore me all week especially during Valentine’s Day?? Like BE FUCKING FORREAL. I think about all the times I was there for you and damn I was really down for you. I WAS YOUR BOTTOM BITCH I FUCKING RODE FOR YOU. I was actually super concerned about you and then we tried it again, coincidentally, for 30 days and then boom. We weren’t together anymore, officially. The toxic part of me wants to ask if we’re done breaking up lol if heart break was a thing it would be that. Like I actually cried bc of how drunk I was. I cried so fucking much like I would just go about my day and start crying. It’s the fact that I reached out to you and I didn’t get any response back. Like are we done? Are we not done. Like I’ve never been so heart broken that I actually cried bc I was so drunk!! I know there are good men out there

Side note: men who don’t know how to flirt literally flirt like kids in elementary school. And it’s cute when they’re not ugly but its harassment when they’re ugly lmfaaoooo

Good men but I’m out of they’re league. Good men only bc im out of they’re league. Good men. Great men. Men who want the same life as me. And the same future.

Day 30 and I think I’m at a point where I’m not mad at you, I miss you but I don’t think I want you. I almost pity you. Like I actually feel bad for you? That you’re a total loser? Like it’s so unlike me to not text my ex but here I am. And it’s not something in me telling me not to text you. It’s not a feeling but something just tells me not to text you. I mean okay I do think about texting you sometimes. And you do pop up in my dreams sometimes.

Side note: I just think about who I am as a person and where I grew up and I think about the people I grew up with and can’t believe I actually made it to where I am today. Like my peers, idk. But I can say we really did all start from the same beginning and I had the same hardships as them and my mom raised three fucking kids by herself and we’re all doing pretty fucking good. Well at least I am. Like wait. I’m almost supernatural 😨😨😨😨 and I don’t mean to brag but HOLY GWAC A FUCKING MOLIE MOLE I can’t. Like I know I’m above average looking, that’s facts. Like facts on facts. But it’s beyond that. Like I grew up ugly actually lol so I have a personality. Like I’m actually super fucking witty. And funny. And entertaining. And I’m a hot fucking bitch. But I’m humble about all this. ON TOP OF I HAVE FUCKING RARE DIMPLES AND AN AMAAAAAAAZING SMILE. And beautiful legs. And a cute and perky little butt. If I was given boobs it would actually bc game over. Like not fair to the world lol. I’m driven. I’m motivated. I’m lazy sometimes and I’m a procrastinator (when it comes to work) but you know I’m actually not a bad catch. I know how to cook and I love to cook. I love being organized and clean and I’m very innovative.

Your qualities are… well social media flaunt. Maybe when we had to end for the betterment of both of us. Maybe now you’re thinking, what can I offer the next girl. Bc if you think about what you can offer, ehh, it’s not much. Maybe you’re used to girls, emphasis on girls and not women, throwing themselves at you. And that’s cool but like what do you actually have to offer? Like yeah boy I seeeeeeenT that hairlike receding 👀 did your forehead get bigger? Gotta be both. Aweee it’s actually kinda sad and I do feel bad for you but you have the power to change your life. You have the power to want to better your life! Yes I do feel bad but I don’t bc I don’t understand how someone struggling with money can spend so much on drugs, call off so much from the two days that they do work, and not get a real job. I pity you. And I think it starts with your hair line. I’ve seen old pics of you and damn you had nice ass hair. I caught like the end piece of you. Caught you after your super long relationship. Caught you off guard a little probably. I re downloaded my trap phone and I saw our old messages. For a second, and nothing more, I think I was sad and I missed you. I think you were still working in finance.

Our feelings for each other were ok different schedules. I liked you so much early on and with all the let downs from you I guarded myself and when you liked me so much I was still guarded.

Feelings are such a blur sometimes. It’s like, I can’t e en fathom how sad I felt after that Valentine’s Day incident. To make it worse, you didn’t even make it up to me? At this point I’m actually sad for myself. I PITY myself. I’m so sad for me and what I let slide. You didn’t even make it up to me? Valentine’s Day. It’s always, I’m going to. I was going to. And always ends there but actually never did. Did not even make it up to me. I can’t believe I let that slide. Did not even make it up to me. Sometimes I feel bad but financial burdens are not an excuse especially with you bc you have 5 days off in the week. Like my Uber driver said, working two days is just like throwing out the garbage. The. Bare. Fucking. Minimum. And you know what. You were the bare fucking minimum. Love don’t pay the bills. I do feel bad for you and I know I made the right choice to leave. And it really is the best for the both of us.

I realize I don’t wanna date until I’m fully healed from this. I wanna come into the next relationship completely me with no baggage. And right now you’re baggage. It’s sad that I feel sad for you.

Literal, sorry for your loss ✌🏼🥺

Day 30 and I’m gonna stack it up. And when I’m completely healed and ready to date im gonna get a cute loft apartment downtown. A part of me would want to invite you over just so you can see where I live but I know I shouldn’t.

As I write all this I have flashbacks of you and me and us just being cute. Just being hugged up. And being cute. You were actually my best friend at one point. Like I had to see you everyday and talk to you everyday. And it is a habit. I used to long for you, actually yearn for you. And now I just think about you. Less and less. Everyday.

Day 30 and yes, I still think about you. But now I’m can socialize and not think about you so much. Day 30 and I’m finally focusing on me again. Day 30 and I realize you had nothing to offer, me at least. You were not benefiting my life you were actually holding me back.

There’s times where I think about the disrespect I let slide. Mid convo to just ignore me. It’s weird it’s like we see each other too much and we need space but as soon as we leave each other I just wanna be back with you. Like I hate you but I need to be with you. I need space but I can’t leave your side. That’s a bit toxic.

Day 30 and I just imagine the love I deserve and want. It’s really on some cute shit. It’s really on some kick my feet in the air cute shit. It’s with a buff guy with a nice chest and broad shoulders. Beard obvi WITH a jawline. Patience is virtue and I feel I’m not ready to settle down anyways so why rush it. I’m not ready for that and I do wanna see what’s out there. Plus the man of my dreams needs to date more women to see that I’m actually a catch lol

Day 30 and I’m finally able to focus on me. Day 30 and I’m at my own healing phase and I can’t wait until I’m healed enough to actually date!! Day 30 and I’m gonna focus on me and work on me and stack my bread and build these cakes OOHHHHHHHHH. Day 30 and I have goals again. Day 30 and I realize you’re a bit of a loser (British accent).

Less of you and more of me. Day 30 <3 😌🤪♥️

[lenteur]

hiii, my lovely. i'm so sorry for not speaking for a few days, christmas is really hard for me because of people close to me not being here and i was really down these last few days </3 but i'm okay, feeling a bit better <3 i hope you're okay :)

she's honestly the best, i'd be lost without her i think </3 you & your mum sound so so cute i want to hug both of you :(((

honestly, it never made any sense to me haha, and i'd never learn from my mistake, "oh i'll sleep early tonight," like, no you won't, future heather, how dare u lie

it's very very VERY obvious in ive right now, i think even people who don't stan ive can see the favouritism in that group. i love ive, i think their music is amazing and so so catchy. love dive is such a BOP but when they first started performing eleven live, the company/stylists were not putting all of the girls in the same outfits, like they were veeeery clearly putting wonyoung in other clothes to stand out more </3 even though they don't do it as much anymore, you can still see & feel how they favour her more than the other members (and that's not her fault at all). i just want those girls to have equal love <3

i feel like with seventeen you don't really see any kind of favouritism (unless there is and i'm blind). i do feel like lately they are loved all of the same (though i do wish people would love seungkwan more, he's the literal loml hi)

you are so sweet, thank you <3 i love u bruno give mal credit

i haven't watched any kdramas yet as i have been sticking to criminal minds.......of course. halfway through season ten now! i also rewatched wednesday.....again.......

speaking of kdramas, have you watched business proposal? it's on netflix and it's so so good <3 so funny as well.

i have a mental list of 98473 shows i said i was gonna watch but haven't seen any of them

despite the fact that i was nervous as heck throughout this whole event, you've been nothing but kind to me and i just *screams internally* you're precious 💖 also !!!! i will be happy to send cat photos whenever, if you need/want them, i will get off my lazy butt and take photos of toffee & luna for you <333

hi love 💞 it's ok :) i do understand how stressful/tiring the holiday season can be 💔 but at the same time, you don't have to apologize for anything. i appreciate you making continuous effort to come and talk to me 💗

i love that we both are lucky enough to have amazing moms! the way you describe your mom is super sweet and i'm so happy you have a strong bond with her 💓 my mom has officially invited you to our group hug 🫶 you can use that card whenever you feel sad/stressed/in need of a hug 💘

i can see what you mean with the wonyoung favouritism. i haven't followed ive that closely but i can still see how the company tends to put a little bit more effort in promoting her rather than other members. i hope the other girls get the same amount of love in the future 💕

consider yourself an influencer because you turned me into a boohive 💝 i'm on a roll today with my puns wow i mean you could talk about him better than me but one of the main reasons i like him is because even when i wasn't a carat, i knew how sweet he was with others. every single interaction with another idol, he was always funny/kind/welcoming. i've laughed so many times thanks to him so yeah, all in all, in seungkwan we trust 💟 i know he's basically the host of most (if not all) svt games but if he ever joined a variety show, he'll outshine everyone there 💓 not only is he funny, he's also super respectful of others so you know he makes fun of someone just for fun and not because he's a hater

the siren calls of wednesday are too strong for userhev i fear 💔 good luck with finishing criminal minds (with a rewatch of wednesday between each season of course hehe)

no i haven't had the time to watch business proposal :( i have seen a few scenes and it really seems like a good kdrama. and i've wanted to watch a kdrama with sejeong in it so it's the perfect opportunity to do so ^^

98473 shows seems like the number of shows i've also wanted to watch but still didn't begin lol

it makes me super happy to know i was able to make you comfortable during this event 💖 i try to make my blog a safe space for anyone, so that means i try to make every comfortable talking to me. i'm also very shy & awkward but i'm trying my best to make others feel welcome 🫶 so tysm for the big compliment <3

and please do share more toffee & luna pics 💟 my daughters (they're both girls right?) are so precious and beautiful and talented (at being cute and sleepy) 💝 what is there not to like about them?

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

“You are giving me the best orgasms, that much is obvious.” William snickered, running his hands down along Sebastian’s back, and then squeezing his butt playfully. Meanwhile Sebastian was being super cute, just nuzzling his face into the crook of William’s neck, snuggling him, being all cozy. Aw, William loved it. They were being very warm and comfy under the covers, and in each other’s arms. And they were in no rush either, so they could be a little lazy before getting up and getting ready. William was enjoying this.

He then listened about Sebastian’s dream, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh no, I flew out of your arms? Like into the air? Well, we need to be careful about that today then!” he laughed. “But I do hope you would catch me in such situation. Although… maybe I would fly all the way over to the stage and perform together with the band? That would be pretty cool, huh? You would have a rockstar boyfriend.” He grinned. “I’m super excited for this concert. You will help me with the outfit and all that, right? I don’t want to look out of place. I want to have fun.”

That last sentence - William basically purred, because Sebastian was wonderfully kissing his jaw, and it just felt sooooo nice. “Mmm… I dreamed about you. I usually do.” He said, cheesy and yet sincere. “And then I woke up… and you were here. So I’m pretty much the happiest man on Earth.” He added, kissing Sebastian’s head. “I love you. And this weekend… I will show your parents that you’re my treasure and I will cherish you.”

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[luminnara]

Nesting | alpha!kiribaku x omega!reader fluff

Something soft and fluffy w a/b/o dynamics w kiribaku? Or just one of them if you don’t do poly things

Oh ho ho, don’t you worry I LOVE poly things! I especially love kiribaku x reader because like, how can you NOT lol

I made this super sweet and nice because I crave that feel good fluff! This is SFW but there’s a little mention of some adult stuff. Nothing past that though!

Requests are open!

Warnings: none

Gender neutral reader

Having two alphas wasn’t typical, at least not as far as you knew. Yeah, you were sure that there were all kinds of people and arrangements out there, but you had never really heard of alphas being willing to share an omega. Most of the time, they just got too possessive; when alphas went into ruts or omegas into heats, the pheromones being pumped into the air were sometimes strong enough to ruin entire friendships.

Not for you, though.

When the three of you became a thing, there was no drama. There was no fighting between the two boys, no conflict. You hadn’t really set out to date both of them, but, well...one thing led to another, and next thing you knew, you were all living in an apartment together, and you had two big mating marks on your neck.

It all happened so naturally. It was almost as if the three of you were fated to be together, or something. Yeah, you had your disagreements—Katsuki’s temper was infamous, and Eijiro could almost be too nice sometimes—but what relationship didn’t have a few spats here and there? Your fights never lasted long, and all in all, you were happier than you ever thought possible.

“I’m home!” Eijiro’s voice called, followed by the sound of the door closing.

But of course you already knew. You could smell him the second he walked in, and you were already up and running towards him.

“Whoa, hey!” He laughed as you launched yourself at him, catching you easily and grinning that shark grin of his. “Miss me or somethin’?”

“I always do,” you smiled, hooking your arms around his neck.

His hands settled on your butt as he held you, and he nuzzled into your neck. Both alphas always wanted to be covered in your scent, but Kirishima especially loved it, constantly shoving his nose against the glands and sometimes rubbing his entire head over them. He once told you that he liked being able to smell you on him even when you weren’t around, and the thought of him strutting around at the agency, absolutely reeking of you, made you blush whenever it crossed your mind.

“Is Katsuki home yet?” He asked, walking you down the entry hall and into the living room.

“No,” you sighed. “I think he’s working late tonight...”

You tried not to let your disappointment sound in your voice, but it was impossible to hide anything from Eijiro. He knew how stressful it could be, with both him and Katsuki working as some of the top pro heroes in the city. There were plenty of days where they both came home late, too tired to do anything other than drag themselves into bed and curl up around you. It had a tendency to leave you feeling dejected and alone, and lately, you had taken up a new hobby to try to distract yourself.

Well...hobby was a loose word. It was more just...something you had found yourself with the sudden urge to do, and tonight, the fruits of your labor were finally ready to be revealed.

When Kirishima stepped into the living room, he stopped, and you knew he had seen it.

“Hey, is that...?” He asked, voice trailing off as he stared.

You wiggled out of his arms, beaming up at him as soon as you were standing on your own. “A nest? Sure is!”

The look on your boyfriend’s face was priceless. His eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The living room floor was covered in blankets and pillows, all strategically piled up to form the best, coziest nest you could make. As Kirishima took a step closer, he spotted a few of his shirts and hoodies mixed in, a grin finding its way onto his face.

“Babe,” he finally spoke up, his voice soft, “are you really nesting?”

A small blush crept to your cheeks as you nodded, suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah, I guess so...I dunno where it came from really, I just started getting the urge to make it...”

Suddenly, he swept you up into his arms again, a loud, humming purr vibrating in his chest as he gave you a squeeze with those strong arms of his. “It looks amazing, baby.”

You sighed happily, relaxing against him. “Do...do you wanna come try it out with me?”

He almost dropped you again in shock. “H-huh?”

“Yeah!” you freed yourself from his grip once more and grabbed his hand, giving him a tug. 

“Y-you trust me enough...?” his face was adorably surprised, eyes wide as he let you pull him towards your nest.

“Well yeah, duh!” you plopped down in the center of all the blankets and clothes, smiling up at him as he stood over you. “Of course I trust you...you and Katsuki are the best alphas anyone could ask for. Why do you think I felt safe enough to even make a nest?”

You could swear you saw some tears welling up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away. “Fuck, I love you so much...”

“Then c’mere, silly,” you laughed lightly, patting the space next to you. 

He finally obliged, hunkering down and sighing happily as he surrounded himself with your scent. The nest was cozy, but big enough for three, and as you waited for Katsuki to get home, you found yourself chattering to Eijiro about exactly how it was made, what shirts you had snagged from his and Katsuki’s drawers, why you had piled up those pillows over there and those way over there, why every single plush in the apartment was strategically placed on top of everything else, and why he kept finding more and more of his belongings buried amongst the blankets. 

“Babe, this is mine,” he said, holding up an old, fraying wallet. 

“Yes, and?” you snatched it out of his hand, tucking it back in its spot. “You never use it. And it smells just like you.”

He chuckled, putting an arm around you and pulling you up against his chest while he continued to explore the nest. “Still can’t believe you went and did all this so quickly. You must have been working nonstop all day.”

You puffed up proudly, but before you had the chance to reply, you heard the door slam open and the sound of heavy boots stomping in. A warm, smoky-cinnamon smell wafted in, and you trilled happily. Katsuki was finally back home, and as you stood up on your knees, you saw him kicking his shoes off and hanging his coat up by the door. 

“Oy, I’m home,” he called tiredly, too busy putting on his house slippers to glance over at you yet. “Shitty hair, where are you? You make it back alive today?”

“Still in one piece, Katsuki,” Kirishima laughed, leaning back on his hand as you shot out of your nest to greet your other alpha.

“That’s something, I guess.” Bakugou grunted, turning towards the kitchen. He was moving slowly, like all of his muscles ached and he just wanted to go to bed. 

You weren’t about to let him, though. Not yet.

“Katsukiiiiiii,” you called, scrambling up onto the couch to get a better look at him. 

“Hey there, kitten.” he tossed his bag down in its usual place at the table, finally looking up at you. 

You saw his usually harsh gaze soften as his red eyes met yours, something close to the beginning of a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. Katsuki was a rough guy, always grumpy even while he was out there being one of the best heroes in the city, but at home, he was quieter. Home was a safe place for him, and even though he was still a handful, he was your handful, and you wouldn’t trade him for the world...although right now, you were starting to get irritated by the fact that he had yet to see the nest you worked so hard on.

“What’re you two losers doin’ down there?” he asked, walking towards you lazily. “Fuckin’ on the living room floor, without me?”

“Katsuki, come on.” you rolled your eyes. 

“What? It’s a valid question.” he said as he finally reached you, placing his hands over yours where they rested on the back of the couch. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up for you in an open invitation. “Miss me today?”

You nuzzled up against his chin, feeling him relax around you as you pumped out a happy, pheromone-filled scent for him. “Why don’t you take a look at what I spent all day doing, and then you tell me?”

He sighed, grumbling something under his breath as he cracked his eyes open. Then, he fell absolutely still, and when you pulled back and looked up at him, you saw that he was staring, eyes wide in disbelief. He had frozen completely, as if he had absolutely no idea how to process what he was seeing.

“Like it?” you asked, following his gaze back to your nest. 

Kirishima was still sitting in the center of it, resting one arm on his knee while he supported his weight on the other. There was a gentle, lazy smile on his face, and as he saw that Bakugou wasn’t moving, he tossed his head. “Katsuki, come see what our little omega worked so hard on.”

“Yeah, Katsuki.” you hopped off the couch, walking around the end of it to take his hand and drag him towards your nest. “Come join us.”

He let you pull him down, and for a moment, all he could do was take a deep breath and inhale the scents of his two mates. Ever so slowly, his face relaxed, and as the three of you snuggled in, he pulled you close and pressed a kiss against your forehead.

“What do you think?” you asked, getting cozy between your two boys.

“It’s fucking perfect, baby.” he said. “You’re fucking perfect.”

“Guess we’re not too bad at this whole alpha thing after all, huh?” Kirishima asked, leaning forward to greet Bakugou with a light kiss. 

“Never said we were.” Katsuki huffed, bristling for a moment before he calmed down. “Still...there are some alphas who never get to see their omega’s nest, let alone be invited in. I guess...you must feel pretty safe with us.”

“I do!” you chirped, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over yourself. “I’m happy. Well...I made this nest because I was getting so lonely during the day, and I wanted to be able to smell you guys while you were gone...”

The boys frowned at each other. 

“...but just making it made me feel better.”

You heard Katsuki sigh in relief as Eijiro gently headbutted you. 

“We have been working a lot lately...” he said quietly. 

“So we’ll change that,” Katsuki said roughly. “Our omega comes before anything. If you aren’t happy, what’s the point?”

You couldn’t help the wide smile on your face as you tugged them both down for a kiss, one by one. You spent the rest of the evening cuddled up in your nest, falling asleep on top of your boys, happy to finally, finally be getting the quality time you had been missing so much lately.

[idy-ll-ique]

Do Your Job.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Requested: Nope

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N doesn't know how to say no. And Chris doesn't like that.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Angry!Chris in this fic, kind of Naive!Reader... Enjoy

---

Chris watched with a clenched jaw as the woman winced upon hearing her boss. He didn't like her boss, at all. "Y/N! Why haven't you made my coffee yet?" he screamed at her, despite standing only a few feet away from her. "I-I was… I was helping Peter…" she tried saying and Chris' hands balled into fists when the man took a few steps towards her, pointing a threatening finger in her face.

"Does he pay you? Huh? Are you his assistant? Now get lost and get me some coffee, fast! No excuses!" Teary-eyed after being screamed at, Y/N whirled around and walked out of the room. Chris wanted nothing more than to just grab that asshole's neck and squeeze until the life poured out of him. "Hey, everything okay?" He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to his co-star, Michelle Dockery.

"I, uh, yeah… yeah, I'm fine, why?" Michelle didn't miss his grumpiness. "Come on, you were sitting there like you were imagining someone's murder," she snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him. "His," Chris huffed, nodding his head towards Y/N's boss who was speaking to one of the extras on set. "What did he do?" Michelle frowned and turned to look as well.

"That man does not know how to treat his assistant."

It was the last week of filming Defending Jacob. Y/N had caught Chris' eye on his first day at work; she had him wrapped around her finger in the first week. She was super beautiful, very polite, kind and helpful. She cracked funny jokes and whenever she entered a room, it seemed to get a little brighter and livelier. Chris wanted to ask her out, but chickened out whenever he tried to approach her.

They hadn't talked, ever. Sure, sometimes he'd catch her looking in his direction during breaks and in-between shoots, but he never thought anything of it. He was Chris Evans, people were gonna stare. But, in the first month of filming, Chris realized that the woman had a bad habit— she didn't know how to say no. Ever. She never, ever said no to anyone. And that annoyed him.

Y/N, can you come here for a bit?

She would get up without question, and follow the voice. He once saw her sitting down for a quick lunch and she had only had one bite before someone called for her. And he had watched as she kept her lunch away and walked towards the person. That had made him unbelievably angry, because even after her work, she didn't eat. She gave up on lunch. He had come very close to talking to her that day.

His pent up frustration increased day-by-day, as more and more people started using Y/N's overly helpful nature to their advantage. He noticed how she ran around from place to place all day, how she'd practically collapse on a seat the moment she got a break and would softly groan when she heard her name not even 15 seconds later. And the worst part? None of the people she helped were polite.

Once, he saw Y/N helping someone with her dress and the moment the job was done, the other woman had walked away without a word, talking to some of her friends. He saw how Y/N had just stared at the woman, blinking, expecting a thank you but receiving nothing in return. He noticed the disappointed sigh she heaved after and left to do her other work. That incident had just made him want to hold her and never let go.

That brought them to today. Chris and Michelle dropped the topic and chatted about something else until he saw her from the corner of his eye. Then he turned to see her fully, watching as Y/N handed the cup of coffee to her boss. That man had the audacity to give her a glare before he walked away, sipping on the coffee. This time, even Michelle noticed, and her jaw dropped.

"What?! That bastard!" she exclaimed as a teardrop rolled down Y/N's cheek. Chris' heart broke at the sight, his eyes closing when someone behind him shouted her name. Her hand instantly flew up to wipe her tears and she smiled to herself before turning in his direction. And for a brief moment, their eyes met. She gave him a quick smile before jogging past him towards the person who asked for her.

He couldn't even smile back.

---

"Cut! Break time."

Chris eased out of his tense position and rolled his shoulders before walking away, trying to find a seat. His feet ached from standing. He soon found a seat and sat down, taking out his phone. He went over some texts, until he heard her name being called. Then his head snapped up, because the person who had called for her was her boss. He glanced around until he saw her a few feet away from him.

She had her headphones in and was holding her phone horizontally, which made him realize that she was either watching YouTube, a show or a movie. And she was on her break. "Yes?" Y/N replied, taking out her headphones. "Get me another cup of coffee," the boss mentioned offhandedly, "It's my break." Chris glared at that. Make it yourself, asshole.

"But sir, it's my break too…" Y/N insisted softly. And without knowing, Chris' feet carried him towards the two. "So? I pay you, Y/L/N, there's no need to be such a brat. I'll have you fired in no time, you— Mr Evans?" Everyone around them froze as Chris placed his hand on Y/N's shoulder, darkly glaring at her boss. "She told you she's on a break," he spoke coldly. "Mr Evans—"

And the knot inside him finally broke.

"She's on a fucking break! Let her get some rest! She has been running around all day, doing things for your lazy butts—" he addressed everyone loudly, "—and none of you even thank her! Do you know what an angel she is? She continues helping you even after you treat her like scum! It's just some fucking coffee, if you're on a break, make it yourself! For God's sake, leave the woman alone! All of you, if I ever, ever hear her name being called around here again, it's over. I'll make sure you're off the set before you can even say sorry. Now get lost!"

He didn't mean to be so loud, nor so angry. But it just happened, months of frustration, months of anger released all at once. Y/N's boss stared at Chris for a few seconds, blinking, before muttering a quiet sorry and leaving. Everyone silently got back to work as Chris took in some deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. That's when he felt a small hand covering his.

He looked down and saw Y/N smiling at him, tears wantonly running down her cheeks. "Thank you so much," she whispered and his heart raced. "Absolutely no problem, darling. They were the assholes, using you to their advantage like that, so fucking disrespectfully… You have got to learn how to say no," he chuckled, dropping his hand from her shoulder. "I do, don't I?" she hummed, her lips twitching in shame.

"We'll work on it, I promise." He gently cupped her cheeks, wiping away her tears. Y/N gulped, trying her best to hide the effect his touch had on her. She had a crush on him, but like, who didn't? "How? It's the last week of filming," she pointed out with a small, sarcastic laugh. "It doesn't have to be the last week of us talking. How about we have dinner tonight, 8?"

Was he actually asking her out?!

"Yeah, yeah 8 sounds good," she replied near instantly and he gave her an amused smile. "Great. I'll meet you later, okay?" As he started walking away, she called out, "Mr Evans! My number!" And he walked back to her. They exchanged numbers, sent each other "hi" to make sure they had the correct number and Chris walked away again, ready to film the last scene of the day.

He was in an unusually good mood, having finally asked her out. She said yes.

He was also pleased at the end of the day, not having heard Y/N's name being called out even once after his outburst. Sure, after her break, some people had requested her assistance but they talked politely to her, saying thank you when she was done and smiling. Chris approved of that, after all, it was her job.

And, in the blink of an eye, it was 7:30 pm.

Chris was at home, fixing his hair. They had agreed to meet at his place, not wanting the media to find out. There, he had already ordered some pizzas and had beer ready, a movie paused on the TV. Chris finished messing with his hair and went downstairs, quickly patting Dodger's head. He sat on the couch and waited, busy scrolling through Twitter until he heard the doorbell ring.

When he opened the door, he saw Y/N. And his breath caught in his throat; she looked absolutely stunning dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a cute little smile plastered on her face. "May I come in?" she laughed a bit when he just stood there, staring at her in awe.

It turned out to be a really good date, the perfect start to a perfect relationship.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[its-me-im-coraline]

NSFW Alphabet // Ethan Torchio

words // 2383

warnings // smut, clearly its nsfw headcannons

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader (might be mentions that seem like they are for f reamer but comeon theres lingerie for every body 👁️👄👁️)

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. an apology to the people on my tag list i think i accidentally have not been tagging you this whole time i am so so so sorry omg

request // yes, it was a reblog i cant find it right now

summary // self explanatory

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Regarding you, Ethan is the king of after care. As rough as he can be in bed, that’s just how sweet he can be once you're done with it. Goes full on dad mode (don’t know how else to explain this). He will have water, painkillers if you’re now in pain, a washcloth to clean you up, new clothes, and of course the cuddles.

“I’m alright, Ethan. I can do it on my own,” you say as Ethan walks to you with the wet cloth ready to clean the mess he made on your body.

“I know you can, amore. I just want to take care of you,” he says as he leaves a kiss on your lips.

I can also see him being the one to make a big fat breakfast the morning after, or at least get up early to pick something up.

Now I also feel that he is in need of some aftercare. It depends on the day really, if he’s had a pretty rough day and all I feel like he’d ask for some backrubs after. In this case he’d fall asleep so quickly like omg. But on the biggest part I see him feeling the need to reassure you that the things he said (i think we already established that this man would call you a slut) are not how he feels about you and will be asking if you feel the same.

“Do you love me?”

“Wha- of course I do, Ethan! Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know… I guess - I guess I am worried that you don’t after what I said.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

When it comes to himself I feel like he really likes his chest and arms. Like I don’t know but I see him really getting off with you pretty much mastubating on his chest. Ya know what I mean? (i think you do you little sluts). He pretty much enjoys anything you do on his chest. I can imagine him looking at the mirror after you two had sex, seeing the cum on his chest along with the marks you have left and just smiling.

“What are you looking at, love?” You ask, seeing as the man is standing in front of the bathroom mirror from your spot on the hotel bed.

“Nothing, just the mess you made.”

“Mhm, and I bet you like it, huh?”

“You have no idea… Hey, are you sure you got tired? Cause I think I can do another round.”

As for his arms, as I said, he simply really enjoys that he can man handle you anytime, get you in any position he likes and feel you scratching them from the pleasure.

When it comes to you, Ethan is an ass guy. Say what you want but the man is an ass guy, end of discussion. He loves anything that involves your but. It does not explicitly have to be something like anal. He simply enjoys seeing your butt and holding it in his hand. It does not matter if it’s big or not, if it has stretch marks or whatever. Wear lingerie that he likes or that itty bitty teeny weeny bikini if you wear them or even some tight pants that make your butt just poìp and he can not contain himself.

I think I have said that to someone here (i think I had sent an ask to zodi @ icouldbeyourputtet) before but I feel like this man is very into spanking, like not even the rough malicious way. but this very wholesome chill way.

You had been talking about it all day, not having had a minute alone with each other for days, you could only dream what you could do that night after everyone left.

A playlist was playing in the background and a cigarette was burning on the ashtray next to your legs, you assuming a similar position, as said cigarette, bent over Ethan’s lap as he caressed your ass cheeks and back, playing around with the lingerie set he had gifted you a while back. (Did I just go to search my fave porn vid, lol exposing myself, and get disappointed because I can’t find it and translate it into fanfiction? yes yes i did, so bare with what i can remember)

“It’s okay, baby, you can take a little more, come on,” he praised, leaving a spank and yet another soft rub on the very red cheek.

He continued, going with the music, a very nice pattern, not very rough spanks but just enough to cause pain, pleasure and redness all over. Accidentally the man landed a few very rough ones causing a gasp and a series of giggles as you practically fell off his lap.

“Ethan, what the hell?” You laughed getting up from the floor and this time sitting on the man’s lap, sharing kisses with him.

“What,” he copied your action and laughed, “it was not intentional. I got carried away by how nice your butt is.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is and is not messy. He will not want the cum to be in every surface possible you know, he will be careful but at the same time this man just loves to see his cum on you, whether it’s your back or your stomach, or in you if you’re ok with it. I bet he has a teeny weeny breeding kink but not necessarily because of the idea of breeding you but rather because he looooves seeing his cum run out of you… I'm not sure if this falls in the breeding kink category but alright

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He likes to fuck you while watching porn.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I feel like he is pretty experienced. From what they band has said in interviews and stuff, he seems to be getting some pretty often (no one, NO ONE, is surprised at that). He is not acting arrogant tho (not unless that’s the dynamic of the night), he is willing to learn what works for you and you specifically

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As I said this man is an ass guy so I’d say anything that involves having the view of your ass. Humor me but i think he’d really like 69 with a female/afab partner (don’t know if this works very well with two dick-baring people lol). It has it all, eating you out,

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I think it can be both with him. He will not exactly try to make jokes but if something like the previously mentioned spanking incident happens it’s def welcome.

Now as a general rule I see him being pretty serious. I will be honest, I’m getting brat tamer vibes from this man so it’s all pretty serious when you really get into it.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Considering he’s an Italian man and if you look at a lot of photos of him he def fit the ‘mediterenean’ man type. I see him just barely grooming. I don’t see him really shaving or whatever but he also wouldn’t want you to choke on pupic hair, he much rathers you choke on his dick

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends, really. He can be quite intimate with you but it all depends on the moment. There are different occasions for everything. For example, and this is a paradox that I hope I’m explaining well enough to understand, he is not very rough (will not be very aggressive and stuff, like to the extreme those tik tok boys want to pretend they are with their * growling * ew) but he will be rough. intimidating looks, spanking just enough to make you feel pain and redden up your ass cheeks. He’s like that mostly when you are being bratty.

Most of the times, like we’re talkin kind of lazy sex moments, it more wholesome ig, like very intimate and just comfortable and almost comforting. Ok, but like why do i see him having sex and having casual conversation (not the most common, i see this as like lazy day off, having nothing else to do and not being like super horny but being more like h o r n y … am i making sense?)

Setting the scene, you two are at home, both have a day off but it’s kind of raining so any of your plans are ruined. At this point it’s at around 10 am, not early, not late. You have missed each other and both have made it obvious but you are both in a very tired state so you opt for something not too much.

Plain and simple missionary is what goes around this time, Ethan on top just holding your legs around his waist,, going at a pretty medium pace.

“It’s a pity the weather is bad today,” says Ethan staring out the window.

“I know, we were going to go to the beach… I’m bummed about it,” you say, short of breath as the man continues his pace fucking you.

“Mhm, true. But this is better, amore, no? I’ve missed you so much,” he breaths out the last part, moans interrupting his words.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does that pretty often, especially if you are not around to help. Sometimes it’s because of you that he needs to. I would def see him exchanging naked pics with you and at first he does that to tease you but he ends up teased when he sees a video you sent of you masturbating.

Bets that he’d be taking photos and vids of you fucking on occasion so he goes to these when he misses you on tour.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As I mentioned previously I see Ethan to be a brat tamer. That I see to be the main kink that kind of works around everything else.

“Can you stop this, slut? It has gotten exhausting. I told you no noise but here you are,” he ordered, looking down at you trembling below his finger tips.

His face was quite stoic, voice never wavering from the strict and cold tone he tended to have when scolding you on the daily. Most times it was leaving a cup out of the sink but this time the scolding came from misbehaving. As if it was not enough that he was punishing you for being a brat and riling him up all morning, now you had to disobey orders. It was getting to him for sure.

“I’m sorry daddy,” you whisper, Ethan seeming satisfied with the response.

“Aw, why so tame puppy, now you decide to be nice?” His tone stayed the same, his words imitating a joke but the whole ordeal was not even close to it.

Now as for other kinks (did I open a site because I could not think? yes, shut up), as a result of being a brat tamer dom there are some few more kinks accompanying specifically that. He is def into bondage, both tying you up but also being tied up on occasion.

“Puppy, I have told you that is not a way to treat me. Untie me,” he says calmly, wrists tied on the headboard of the bed, eyes fixated to you.

“Well, why not? You do it all the time,” you whine, placed on all fours, facing Ethan as you lean towards him on your hands, “I want in on the fun.”

If only he was not tied… Ethan’s mind was already going places, figuring out exactly how he would punish you after you untie him -or after he escapes the restrains, whatever comes first. You knew that, very well - in all honestly that was the plan, that is always the plan.

“Amore, let me go. Let me go and your punishment will be tame,” he voiced looking at you, now positioned on top of his lap, touching yourself right then and there.

“I sense you want to be punished puppy, don't you?” You simply nod your head, eyes closed in pleasure.

“You see, the problem is you will not enjoy what I am thinking.”

“Mhmn.”

“Well, get yourself off now that you can, cause after I get my hands on you… You’re not getting to cum for days, amore.”

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, anywhere. I can see him having a preference to the luxury of either of your houses or a hotel room but if you push his buttons just right, some restaurant’s bathroom it is.

why can i imagine him having sex at a weeding venue’s bathroom….. omg…..

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Honestly, both. I feel like he would be extremely good at giving it, but would never opposed to receiving

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s ok with them but he doesn’t love them, ya know?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.

Is surely try to do new things but it will always depends on what it is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Come on. This goes without saying. He is a drummer for a living. He can surely go on for long…

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I def feel like he has a fair amount of toys. Some for himself, some for you… He looooves using them to punish you.

(small mention to my last fic little puppet)

“Beautiful, puppy! You have been doing so good for us, taking your punishment so well, but we are not done yet.” A buzz sound is what concerned the girl, eyes widening at the toy.

It was a small remote virator, imitating sucking on the clit. The drummer placed the girl over his knees, stuffing the toy between his leg and her clit, shocking the sensitive bud. “I think you can take a few more spanks,” said the man, landing one at the expanse of her thigh, the skin giggling at the contact.

“Damiano, count,” ordered the assertive man, seeing his friend kneel in front of Y/N, kissing her and then doing as he was told.

“I think we were left on twenty-three. Twenty four,” he began, counting all the way to forty before the ordeal was over.

The whole time Y/N was shaking, just about to fall off the edge, asking for permission to cum but her wishes were not granted just yet. She was exhausted, overstimulated, frustrated, and now unable to move on her own. But, oh man did she need more. The two men were more than willing to assist her.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A ton! It’s his specialty. Maybe one of his most common punishments is edging and teasing. He can drag it on for days

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is not very loud but is surely encouraging you to be.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost

[pastel-peach-writes]

Freezing | Korra x Reader

PLOT: It was cold. Absolutely freezing outside. Y/n had to figure out how to battle the coldness with their avatar away. 

Warnings: None... unless you wanna count super soft cheesy shiz at the end–

Y/n dragged their feet along the old wooden flooring, it creaking with every step. A plush blanket was wrapped around their head and shoulders, the tip of their nose as cold as a popsicle. It was easy to say it was one of the coldest days in Republic City. If they looked out their living room window, Y/n could see the exhaust from the cars on the road float up into the air, frost beginning to appear on multiple building windows, and fog forming around the near ground. But they didn’t want to look out the window right now. Anything that reminded them of the cold makes them livid.

They looked at the thermostat on the wall with old beige patterned wallpaper with squinted eyes. “I can’t… Am I trippin' or is there nothing there?” They mumble to themselves, rubbing their eyes with one hand to remove any ‘just awoken’ fog and eye crusties. Blinking the blurriness away after opening their eyes again, they stared at the thermostat a little while longer before groaning. Their shoulders slumped down as they rested their head on the white device.

Broken. The thermostat was once again, broken. This only happens twice a year, this would be the third time… but who’s truly counting? Y/n is. All the times the thermos broke was when their girlfriend Korra wasn’t home. It’s like the sneaky little device knew the exact time to break down, knowing good and well that Y/n wouldn’t dare to try and fix it. Not because of laziness, but because it wasn’t that serious to them.

A couple of layers of clothes, blankets, socks, and a warm drink was all they need. Well, besides their internal heater girlfriend. Y/n nor Korra didn’t understand how Korra kept warm in the harsh winter times. Korra has a hunch that it’s due to her growing up with the Southern Water Tribe, but that can’t be it, can it? Whatever the reason was, the two didn’t complain. It being cold in Republic City meant cuddles for the couple. However, those cuddles were going to have to wait. Whilst Y/n was at home freezing, Korra was out working her butt off with Asami and some of the new air-benders.

Y/n found it selfish for wanting to call Korra for a problem that wasn’t as nearly as important as stopping hackers from their technology and teaching air benders how to fend for themselves, but Y/n couldn’t help it! They wanted their avatar and they wanted her now. They took themselves off the wall, moving their shoulders in a forward circular motion to move the blanket back over since it slid down earlier, and made their way towards the dial-phone by the front of the house.

Taking the phone to their ear as they used their other hand to move the phone dial to certain numbers, Y/n began dialing the Air Temple. It wasn’t until the second to last number when the newfound guilt came back to play. Seriously calling Korra out of work… just for cuddles? Come on. That seems a little wimpish. They put the phone back on its stand and made their way towards their shared room. They put on a couple extra layers, grabbed socks, and blankets too before sitting on the bed cross-legged and looking out the window with a sigh.

All they had to do now was thinking of warm things. Like the beam of the Spirit World Portals, the sand of the Republic City shore, Korra’s soft yet calloused hands roaming along their back and shoulders in the morning after they both wake up. The thought of Korra’s hands roaming their skin in a warm, wholesome way made a smile appear on their lips. Turns out cold afternoons were what made them long for Korra even more than usual.

All the daydreaming soon put Y/n to sleep. They went from sitting on the bed cross-legged to laying on their side in a fetus position with their arms crossed over their chest.

“Y/N!” Korra’s booming voice echoed as she entered the apartment. Her smile went from ear to ear. She was able to finish early with Asami AND the new air benders. It usually takes a whole day just to get them motivated, let alone moving. But today she did it and how did she want to celebrate? By cuddling her favorite person, Y/n. She slipped off her boots, excitedly heading into the room she thought Y/n must be since they weren’t answering her vocal calls.

“Y/n!” Korra exclaimed, seeing them wrapped up in blankets on the bed. When no answer came out of the sleeping lover’s mouth, Korra’s eyebrows creased; her lips pursed in concern. She took small, quiet steps towards them, gently reaching out a hand to place on what she thought was their shoulder. Slightly turning Y/n to face Korra, she let out a breath of relief. “Oh,” She whispered. “They were just sleeping.” She pressed the back of her palm to their forehead before smiling warmly, kissing their cold nose.

They were sleeping, she was yelling. She was surprised to see that the kiss was what woke them up and not the yell. With a tired moan, Y/n sleepily looked at Korra. “Huh?…” They started, their voice groggily as they rubbed their eyes. “You’re home early.” Korra nodded, shoving her hands into her pants pocket with a lovestrucken smile. “Yeah, I am. I got to finish early over at the Air Temple, so I rushed here to come see you only to find you sleep.” The Native avatar explained with a chuckle, sitting by the blanket-wrapped lover.

A tired chuckle escaped Y/n’s lips as they turned all the way over to look at Korra. “That’s sweet,” they started, barely having enough energy to look up at her. “I’m sorry you had to come home to me sleep” Korra shook her head, the same dorky and lovestucken smile never leaving her face. “No, it’s okay. It was cute to see My Majesty all wrapped up like a newborn baby.”

Y/n’s mouth opened in shock, no audio coming out but the skin on their cheeks felt warm. Korra let out a wholehearted laugh. “Why are you so wrapped up anyways? It’s not that cold!” She proclaimed. Y/n sat up straight, staring at their girlfriend with wide eyes and comedically timed blinks. Korra rose a brow, looking around the room. “Di-Did I say something wrong—“

“ ‘NOT THAT COLD’?!” Y/n exclaimed. “I’m wearing three pairs of socks, two pairs of pants, one pair of shorts, and five blankets just for you to tell me it’s not that cold?!” “It’s not! I was actually breaking a sweat earlier because of how hot I was.” Korra shrugged, her blue eyes staring into her lovers’. “What,,, is it freezing to you?”

“YES IT'S FREEZING TO ME KORRA.”

Korra let out another hearty laugh, wrapping her arms and legs around her partner. “Oh my gosh, Y/n. Stop yelling and come get the cuddles I know you’ve been longing all day for.” With a teasing pout, they nodded. “Mhm… all I wanted was cuddles from my warm, melty lava cake. How dare you mock me in such a way.” They laughed. Korra rolled her eyes. “You’re so cheesy, Y/n..”

“You love it.”

“…Hey, can you take all these layers off? I can’t even feel your body.”

WC: 1228

[snackhobi]

pairing: namjoon x reader / word count: 9.3k / genre: pwp/smut

summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand.

warnings: sexually explicit content, masturbation, edging (kinda), unintentional voyeurism (briefly), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), bigdick!joon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation (reader gets fucked dumb), praise, aftercare (please heed the warnings, and let me know if I need to clarify/add any!)

--

For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. But not for you.

Sunday means chores. Sunday means tidying up, dusting, vacuuming. Sunday means finally doing all the Adult Things you’ve been too busy/lazy to do for the rest of the week (or even longer than that, as evidenced by your overflowing laundry basket). Sunday means work. 

You slap at your vibrating phone, fingers sliding uselessly across the screen as you fumble to cut off the chirping alarm, and then you groan. “Ugh." You bury your head into your crumpled pillow. And then, once more, with feeling: “Uggggggh.”

You roll around in your bed, thrashing a little like a child having a tantrum, before you flop on your back and stare at your ceiling with your limbs akimbo, a starfish.

“Why?” You whine out to no one in particular. “Why me?”

Fortunately you live alone, so there’s no one to witness your sulky behaviour.  You would put off getting all your errands done, but you’ve already been doing this for so long that you’re practically out of clean clothes to wear. That’s one part about living alone that’s a double-edged sword- you have your own space where you can act however you please, which is Great, but also you’re the only one responsible for keeping on top of things, which is Less Great. You can’t rely on other people to get things done for you.

You’ve never been a morning person, and the fact it’s so nice outside already does nothing to brighten your mood; it’s the perfect kind of day, the chilled bite to the air mellowed by the sun in the cloudless, pale sky, and you’re going to have to spend it indoors. Ugh. You eventually grit your teeth and pull yourself out of bed, waking yourself up with a cold shower. Once you force a cup of overly sweet coffee into your system and the caffeine hits you so that you’re fully awake and ready to go, the world suddenly feels a lot more bearable. So you’re unperturbed when your underwear drawer comes up practically empty.

“Oops,” you say. “Oh well.”

It’s practically empty, but not entirely; there, at the back, there’s that pretty lingerie set you’d bought on a whim in a sale and then promptly never worn. Honestly you’d be happy to go without, seeing as no one else is here and you have no one to look pretty for, but you find that you never get anything done if you’re not in a bra. It’s like a Pavlovian response that you've ingrained into yourself: when you get home, your bra comes straight off, no ifs, buts, or maybes. Bra off means it’s Relaxation Time. Bra on? That means it's time to get things done.

But, yeah, if you’re going to wear the bra, you may as well wear the matching thong, right? It came as a set so you’d basically be committing a crime if you didn’t wear them together. You take one moment to admire yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that to appreciate how it makes you look, before promptly ruining the illusion of sexiness by covering it up with a pair of old sweatpants and a too-large tank top. They're the only bits of clothing not in your laundry basket that you don't mind getting dirty while you clean, so, you have to make do.

The worst part about doing chores is getting the whole process started, but you’ve been doing this long enough that you have a routine. Bra on, hair up, mental checklist ready. You toddle through to the kitchen with your laundry basket, picking through for the colours and whites, feeling entirely too accomplished once you get the first load sorted. This kickstarts the whole chore procedure and once you get stuck in, you actually start to have fun; you’ve got your noise cancelling headphones on and your cleaning playlist is full of songs that get you pumped up, and you sing along to the music as you get started on your next job.

You wiggle your butt to the rhythm of the beat while you hoover, pushing your vacuum into the corners of your flat and ruthlessly sucking up the dust bunnies that have gathered there. You're in the middle of belting out one particularly long note when a spider scuttles out from under your sofa and the note rises into a little scream; you act on pure instinct and suck the spider up into the hoover, watching as all the long hairy legs fold together and get schlorped into the vacuum’s nozzle before disappearing forever. You feel immediately relieved but also immensely guilty when this happens- spiders are awful and you hate them but usually you’d try your best to catch them under a cup before flinging it outside, so the fact you’ve maybe just killed it? You really are just awful. (But thank God it’s gone.)

Maybe that's enough hoovering for now.

You empty the dust bag into the bin, mindful of the fact that the spider might still be alive and come crawling out onto your hands. Thankfully it doesn’t, but you’re not going to take any chances; you draw the bin liner shut and tie it tight, before deciding that the best course of action is to put it into your outside bin, in case the spider decides to come back with a vengeance. 

You hoist the bag up and pause for a second to glance down at how the straps of your too-loose top have slipped down your shoulders to reveal the top of bra, the intricate lace trim of the cups and extra straps that criss cross your chest- definitely an, uh, interesting outfit choice for a quick trip out of your flat. You make the executive decision to shrug on a hoodie and zip it all the way to your neck to preserve your modesty and save you from the chill outside. Once that’s done it takes two seconds to slip your feet into your (fake) Converse shoes, another few seconds to fiddle with the lock on your door, struggling with the latch- it’s been a bit janky for a while and you keep forgetting to sort it out- before you hop your way downstairs and  to the outside shed where everyone's bins are stored.

Ewch. It doesn’t smell that great in here. You make quick work of dumping your rubbish and escaping from the hut, shutting the door firmly behind you to try and keep the stench locked inside, before almost falling over when you feel the telltale sensation of a cat curling around your ankles. He’s meowing up at you but your headphones have been drowning him out, so you slide them off your ears and hook them around your neck so you can actually hear him.

"Oh, hi, baby!" The ginger stray likes to hang nearby the building, always friendly and happy to see you, even if he seems to like sneaking up when you least expect it. He meows at you again as you squat down to stroke him, butting his head into your palm as his tail curls in delight. "Aren't you just the most gorgeous boy? Yes, you are, aren't you?"

The cat ends up putting his paws onto your knee to butt his face against yours, and the next thing you know, you have an armful of cat. You laugh and continue to pet him, cooing at how cute he is as he purrs back. "Awh, baby, you're so sweet," you say. "I wish I could take you home, but my meanie landlord says we can't have pets."

“I was thinking of starting a petition, actually, so the landlord gets rid of the No Pets clause in the tenancy agreement. You’re welcome to sign it if you like.”

You glance up from where you’ve been allowing the cat to shove his nose against your chin, standing up straight to address the man who’s talking to you, cat still clutched in your arms. “Oh! Hi, Namjoon-ssi. That’s such a good idea, I love that. Stick it to the man. I’d definitely sign it. How are you today?”

Kim Namjoon, aka your neighbour from across the hall, is smiling at the cat in your arms. Namjoon’s the perfect neighbour and ideal tenant- quiet, tidy, considerate, although he does have a tendency to lose his keys and gets locked out of his flat on a pretty regular basis. 

It’s actually how you’d started to talk in the first place. When you first moved in you’d given him a small box of chocolates to endear yourself to your same-floor-friend, only exchanging small nods and pleasant greetings for a while after that, but after you’d found Namjoon waiting sheepishly on his own doorstep- “My friend has a key but it’s going to take him a little while to get here,” he’d explained- you’d invited him into your own flat to wait, rather than just in the hall. 

Since then you’ve started to have chats whenever you see each other, and occasionally knock on each other’s doors whenever you ask to borrow things like sugar or a screwdriver or whatever, and you always invite Namjoon in for a cup of tea when he’s waiting for one of his friends to rescue him from his own forgetful nature. You’re still toeing the line between Friendly Neighbours and Kind Of Friends, but one thing you already know and admire about Namjoon is his ability to actually be a mature and put together adult. Sure, you drink a decent amount of water, you have a skincare routine with multiple steps, and you usually manage to eat your 5-a-day, but a lot of that feels like you do it because you’re expected to, sort of like a child playing make-believe. 

Namjoon, meanwhile, manages to just ooze the sort of gravitas that comes with being a fully realised human being, someone who actively participates in the world around them because they’re entirely engaged with things and basically just Super Mature Adult (even if he apparently loses/breaks things on a fairly regular basis). Hence why you’re not at all surprised at the petition thing, or when Namjoon proceeds to tell you that he’s going to spend the afternoon at his friend’s uncle’s strawberry farm, picking fruit, because of course Namjoon is the kind of guy who supports local, organic, free range produce. (Wait. Can strawberries be free range? Or is that just eggs?)

“Ahh, I love strawberries! That’s so cool,” you say. “It must be fun.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you like,” Namjoon says. He’s always gracious so you know he’s just saying this to be polite, but you can’t help but think it would probably be really nice to spend time picking fruit and talking with him.

“Ah, I’d love to, but unfortunately I have prior commitments. I’m catching up on chores,” you admit ruefully. You’re still absently scritching the ginger cat’s chin as you speak, the animal purring up a storm in your arms and shedding all over your clothes, although you don’t notice or care. Namjoon is incredibly endeared- not that you notice that, either. “Hence the runway-ready outfit.”

Your hair is so messy it looks like some sort of wild possum has been nesting in it, your hoodie sleeves are so long they threaten to swallow your hands, and you’re not even wearing your cheap knock-off shoes properly- you’re stepping on the back collar of them in your bare feet so they’re basically glorified flip-flops at this point. Total fashionista. (Not.)

Namjoon, however, seems surprised at your dismissive tone. “You look cute and cozy,” he says.

You snort in an unladylike way, lifting the cat in your arms a little- you can’t gesture properly with an armful of fur, especially when the stray takes this as an invitation to crane upwards and shove his little face into the crook of your neck, knocking against your headphones. “Cute baby,” you coo at the cat, before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “You look cute and cozy,” you echo. It’s a little chilly today and Namjoon’s wrapped up, long scarf curled around his neck, beanie on his head, hem of his coat fluttering around his thighs. Super cozy, and again, a well-put-together adult. 

You muffle a sigh. He’s a well-put-together and hot adult, tall and built, so handsome in his casual outfit, effortlessly masculine. You’ve been lowkey crushing on Namjoon for a while now, as futile as that effort is- you haven’t seen any evidence of a special someone in Namjoon’s life, but there’s no way that man is single. Even if he somehow is, he’s like, a bajillion light years out of your league, hyper intelligent and kind and gorgeous, in comparison to your… um… your… well. Yeah. In comparison to that. 

He’s nice to you and he smiles whenever he sees you, though, and your weak little heart can’t help but flip flop in your chest whenever you see that dimpled little smile, even if you know you don’t have a chance in hell that he really thinks that you’re cute. He’s just being polite. 

The cat in your arms gives a little wriggle, apparently sated for the day, and you carefully squat down to deposit him onto the ground. He gives you both one last little mewl before scampering off and you fondly watch him go. “Let me know when you have that petition written up,” you say, brushing the cat hairs off your sleeves. “I better get back to my flat, I need to finish the rest of my laundry so I can continue the facade of being a functional adult. Have a great day, Namjoon-ssi, and I hope you enjoy the strawberries! You’ll have to tell me how they are.”

“I will,” he says, eyes warm as he smiles, those little dimples appearing in his cheeks. Ugh, you want to touch them so much. “Good luck with your laundry.”

Namjoon’s beautiful smile fuels you for the rest of the day, buoying you up as you scrub the walls of your shower and bleach your toilet, bright yellow gloves a size too large for your hands as you spritz your bathroom counter. You might not be a legitimate adult in the same way that your neighbour is but you can give it a damn good go; even if the rest of your life is maybe a bit more chaotic than you’d like, you can at least get your surroundings in order.

And you do. By the time you’re finished with hoovering and mopping your floors and reorganising your clutter, your flat feels brand-spanking new again, fresh and clean and airy. You’d even lit a few scented candles earlier and you give yourself a pat on the back for your forward thinking as you snuff them out, the delicate smell of vanilla lightly filling the apartment. All that’s left is to go to the kitchen and put the final load of laundry in the tumble dryer and once that’s been emptied and sorted, you’re all finished. Mission accomplished. Chores done.

Once the tumble dryer has started its cycle you reward yourself with a cup of tea, a blackcurrant and blueberry fruit infusion that you’d gotten as a Secret Santa gift at work and hadn’t used yet, saving it for a special occasion. You hum to yourself and continue to wiggle your hips to the music trickling out of your headphones as the kettle boils, watching the purple that bleeds from the tea bag once the hot water cascades over it. It looks rich and vibrant and it smells so good- but then you make a little face when you take a sip. Fruit teas never taste as good as they smell. It’s not bad but it’s a little disappointing, really, a subpar reward after a hard day of work. 

You stand in the middle of your kitchen with your mug still in your hand, eyes unfocused as you stare into space, trying to think of things in your flat that you could use to reward yourself. You’ve already used up those fancy gel eye masks that Jimin had given you for your birthday, and you’d let Jungkook have your sheet masks when he’d said his favourite brand was out of stock; Taehyung had pilfered all of your bath bombs as part of an experiment (the experiment being that he wanted to know what colour his bath water would turn if he used all your different bath bombs in it- the answer was ‘an incredibly underwhelming, if glittery, sludge brown’), and he still hasn’t gotten around to replacing them.

Pay day isn’t until next week and you’re tight enough on money at the moment that you don’t want to order out for dinner- living alone means you have to pay more rent so you have to be more careful with money- so you’re out of ideas. 

That is until motion out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You glance over at it, pulled out of your reverie; the old tumble dryer has been in this flat longer than you and it’s showing signs of wear and tear, base warped a little from age, noisy and wobbly as your clothes are being spun inside. You pause, mug dropping a little in your hand as the thought briefly flickers through your mind, before you bite your lip and throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. You live alone and you’ve had a long day and you deserve some kind of reward. 

You abandon your unfinished mug of tea in the sink before eyeing the shaking tumble dryer. You hoist yourself up, straddling the corner of the machine, a little shiver running through you when you feel the vibrations through your legs and thighs as you settle into place; it takes time to situate yourself, thighs spreading as you tilt your hips forward and press your heat against the rumbling dryer. You shift on your hands, palms braced against the top of the machine as you wriggle into the best position- the second you get just the right angle you let out a little gasp, eyes squeezing shut when you feel how the shaking machine is sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

You keep your eyes shut as you continue to find the right rhythm. You rock your hips forward each time the machine rocks back, rolling the weight of your body down towards your clenching cunt; the vibrations are so strong that you can feel them through your sweatpants, lace of your thong rubbing against your clit in a deliciously rough way, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

As you continue to work yourself up, your skin starts to feel overheated under your clothes, even with the chill spring air seeping into the flat- you fumble with the zip of hoodie, letting the material sag open before you brace yourself with your palms again. You feel how the hoodie slips down your arms, baring your shoulders, and you tilt your head back, revealing the line of your neck as you arch your spine. Each rumble of the machine rolls through you, wetness starting to slicken your folds as you grind down a little harder. It’s a steady, slow climb towards your peak- you shut your eyes to focus fully on the pleasure building between your legs, the way your clit feels swollen and almost over-sensitive from the strong vibrations from the dryer, the way your pussy clenches whenever you get the angle just right.

You start to gasp, biting back moans when you feel how your orgasm is getting closer. You lift one hand from the top of the dryer to run your hands over your skin- your neck, your throat, tracing over the straps of the bra that are digging into the swell of your breasts. It’s good, really good, but it’s not enough; every time you feel like the peak of your orgasm is about to crest, it ebbs away again, and you let out a little whine from the back of your throat. 

With your eyes still shut, you try to conjure up images that’ll arouse you and send you tumbling over the edge. Hands on your body, lips against your skin, your mouth. Normally when you masturbate you try to keep away from thinking about anyone in particular, because you feel like if you see that person in the future they’ll just telepathically know about it and you end up feeling awkward and guilty (even if you know it's illogical)- but today you can’t help it. Your mind slips to the thought of Namjoon this morning and the way he’d smiled at you, and once you start thinking about Namjoon, you can’t stop. 

Namjoon’s smile. His mouth. His tongue. His hands, his fingers. His tall, beautiful body, pressing you down against a mattress, trapping you against him. You take the hand that’s been trailing over your collarbones and lift it to your mouth and press two fingers past your lips, trying to imagine that it’s Namjoon. Imagine that it’s the weight of his cock on your tongue, hard and heavy. You bet it’s as gorgeous as the rest of him. You bet he tastes so good, hot and salt and maybe a little bitter, heady and masculine; you let out a low moan around your lips as you run the pads of your fingertips over your tongue, saliva pooling in your mouth.

All the while, your music has been playing on, heavy beat thrumming through you as you forget the outside world and focus on the reality you’re conjuring in your mind. Namjoon’s cock in your mouth. Namjoon’s mouth on your cunt. Namjoon’s skin against yours. Namjoon fucking into you, hard and deep. Your blood rises in your veins, toes curling as you can feel how your orgasm is getting ever closer now that you’re this turned on, your cunt leaking with arousal; the thought of Namjoon wanting you as much as you want him is dizzying, as unlikely as it is. The Namjoon in your mind fucks into you with a particularly rough thrust and in the real world you respond with a moan, garbled around the fingers between your lips. Fuck, you’re so close. 

Just as you're nearly there, your playlist ends and everything lapses into silence, your reverie shattered. The moment is gone. Your orgasm slips away from you again and you whimper, unintentionally edging yourself yet again. 

Your eyes flutter open briefly when your haze is broken, although you squeeze them back shut so that you can get back to picturing Namjoon and finally bring yourself to completion- but then your eyes fly open again, fingers stuttering in your mouth and hips going still as your entire body stiffens, blood turning to ice in your veins.

The very real Kim Namjoon is standing in the doorway of your kitchen. There’s a look of utter shock on his face, his lips parted, eyes so wide it looks like his eyeballs are going to pop out of his skull, frozen in place. You don’t know how long he’s been there. You don’t know if he’s just walked in on you. Really, though, it doesn’t matter if he’s been there for five seconds or five hours- he’s seen everything, the way there’s saliva dripping from your mouth around your fingers, tank top barely hiding your lingerie, the way you’ve been bucking your hips against the dryer. Utterly desperate and debauched and depraved. 

There’s a small, white plastic bag in Namjoon’s hands with a pretty strawberry logo on it, drooping further and further towards the floor as his arms go slack. You don’t notice it until it’s slipping loose from his fingers and landing on the floor. 

Berries go rolling out of the sagged plastic and across the tiles but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice. That single point of motion in the room seems to kickstart your brain into gear, your flight or fight response screaming flight, and you practically throw yourself off the tumble dryer. Your brain is entirely empty of logical thought right now and the only thing you can think of is that you need to get away and hide forever. 

You rush past a still frozen Namjoon, stumbling down your hallway towards your open front door- you notice that the latch is stuck, not clicking into place when you’d come back inside earlier and leaving the door unlocked, you idiot. Namjoon always knocks and it must have swung open as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it, and you wouldn’t have heard it over your goddamn music. You absolute, utter idiot.

You’re not thinking about how illogical it is to flee from your own home to get away from someone. You’re just thinking about your escape. Taehyung’s flat is the nearest and it won’t take long to run there and you can survive without shoes; you’re still barefoot but you don’t have time to grab anything. You have to run. 

You’re just stretching out for the door when you feel large hands grab you from behind. You flail, door swinging shut as your fingers brush against it before you’re being pulled backwards by the arms that have slid around your waist. You start to struggle, squirming in the hold, pushing at the hands trapping you as you instinctively still try to get away from the shame and embarrassment; Namjoon’s body is warm and solid against your back, his muscles effectively trapping you in place, and you can feel how his voice rumbles through him as he speaks, audible through the silence of your headphones.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never heard Kim Namjoon sound like this. His voice is authoritative, commanding. The part of your brain that acts on pure instinct- the part that just told you to go hurtling out onto the street without shoes- responds instantly, and you immediately go lax in his hold even though you’re still internally panicking.

“I was planning on going to the moon,” you say, unable to cover up how your voice is shaking, even if you’re trying to hide behind sarcasm. It’s your only defence right now. Your skin prickles with embarrassment. “Where else do you think?”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, and your toes curl at how deep the sound is. “The mouth on you.” He sounds amused. You can’t look him in the eye. “Were you trying to get away from me?”

“‘Trying’ is the operative word.” You’re still staring resolutely at the door- it’s swung shut and the latch has actually clicked upwards this time. Traitor.  “As you can tell, I’m not doing a very good job. The sooner I go, the sooner I get the paperwork started for my move to Fiji.”

“I thought you were planning on going to the moon.” Namjoon’s hold on you is still firm. You’re utterly helpless. “Changed your mind?”

“Going to open a diner in Fiji to raise funds for my moon mission. It’s a long plan.” The spike of adrenaline that had burst through you is already dissolving in your system, leaving you feeling limp and strung out. You can’t see Namjoon’s face with how your back is crushed against his chest; when you glance down all you can see is how big his hands are against your stomach. Despite yourself, you shiver. As panicked and embarrassed as you are, arousal is still trickling through you, and you hate yourself for the effect that Namjoon is having on you right now. You try to sound calm and unaffected as you continue to speak, but you feel breathless from the lingering pleasure tingling between your legs. “Can you let me go now, please?”

“Is that really what you want?” You’ve had your hands on his wrists from how you’d been trying to push them away, so you feel how one of Namjoon’s hands starts to slide downwards, slow as treacle, and your breath hitches as his fingers slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. They don’t go any further than that, palm splayed over your hipbone, but you feel your pussy clench at the warmth of his hands on your skin and a whimper slips out of you. “Or do you actually want something else?”

Your fingers dig into his wrists. When you open your mouth to reply, your words fail you and instead you just let out a little breath.  You’re in utter disbelief at what’s happening right now, unsure of what’s going on- you’re not an idiot but there is no way that Namjoon is implying what you think he’s implying. Absolutely no way. Not a chance in hell. What?

As you continue to stay silent, brain trying to catch up with the situation, Namjoon doesn’t move.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmurs. “I need to know that you want this.”

Oh, fuck. When Namjoon calls you baby it feels like a switch has been flipped inside you; like he’s slipped a missing fuse into place and your entire body has lit up, full of energy and electricity from his touch. It’s overwhelming. “Of course I want this,” you confirm, trembling, and then: “I want you.”

Namjoon responds by finally moving his hand downwards. You watch as it goes, how he pauses when he makes contact with the fabric of your underwear, the unmistakable texture of embroidered lace under his touch. He drags his fingertips across the straps that cross over themselves, an arrow guiding him to his mark; your entire body goes tense when his fingers glance over your swollen folds, slick through the fabric.

You gasp. You’re still trapped against him by the strong arm curled around you, but your hands are free- you pull your headphones off and let them fall to the floor, twisting your head around so you can finally look at Namjoon’s face. His eyes are hooded and dark. He looks nothing like the cute and clumsy man who waves you good morning every day; he looks like some hungry animal, a predator who’s been waiting for the right time to swallow his prey whole.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. He gives you a small smile that’s more of a smirk, utterly at odds to his usual dimpled beams.

“You don’t have to settle for an old tumble dryer, gorgeous.” He kisses the bare skin of your shoulder, right next to where your bra strap is resting, eyes locked on yours. His lips are so soft and you shiver. “Let me help you.”

“I’ll have you know that tumble dryer was very close to getting me off, actually.” You’re so turned on right now but you can’t help the words slipping out; a lifetime of snark doesn’t leave you the second you start feeling horny. “So it’s less you helping me, and more you giving me something you owe me, seeing as you took it away in the first place.”

Namjoon’s silent for a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far- if you’ve run your mouth too much- when he hums. “Ah,” he says. “That’s true. You’re right.”

“Huh?” You say eloquently, surprised, but then he takes the hand out of your sweatpants and you whine. “Hey, put that back, you’re not done yet.”

Namjoon lets out a little chuckle. “No, I’m not,” he agrees. “But I want to see this pretty lingerie properly. You’re all covered up and that just won’t do.”  

He punctuates this statement by taking both of his hands to your hoodie, where it’s been caught at your elbows, and sliding it off you. He drags his large palms down your arms as he does this, cool against your overheated skin; goosebumps appear in the wake of his touch and you shiver again. You have no idea what's going on right now. Everything feels like some sort of fever dream but you're not about to start complaining.

“If you’re about to see me in my unmentionables I’d least like a kiss first,” you say, pout audible in your voice. The truth is you’ve thought about Namjoon’s plush lips more often than you’d like to admit, how beautiful his mouth is, and it’s got to be illegal for Namjoon to have been touching you for as long as he has without letting you have at least one taste of his kisses. “Please?”

“Turn around, baby.” You instantly comply, all but throwing your arms around his neck as you look at him with an innocent, bambi gaze; he still has that half-lidded set to his eyes but you can see how that ravenous hunger is softened by his smile. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you say. You might sound like the protagonist to some cheesy romance film right now but the truth is that you’re still aware of the heat between your legs, the ebbed arousal that’s still coiling low in your stomach, and as much as you want to kiss Namjoon, you want to cum, too. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss m-”

Namjoon kisses you. He cuts you off mid sentence by slotting his mouth against yours, open around the word he swallows, and he immediately presses his tongue past your lips; you yield to him, letting him press his lips to your cupid’s bow as you lick his lower lip, soft and full. Just as good as you thought. No- better. His hands stay steady around your waist, but yours keep moving as you keep kissing- his shoulders, his nape, his hair, his jaw. Every part of him is so warm and solid against you and you just can’t get enough.

You slant your head to get deeper, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths in a way that borders on lewd, rubbing against each other as you trade saliva, your mouth full of the taste of Namjoon. You swear there’s a lingering taste of strawberries. You feel better, a little more in control now that you know Namjoon will indulge you even if you’re being a brat, and you can finally chase the thing that got this whole sequence of events started.

“I wanna cum, Namjoon,” you murmur against his lips once you finally part, breathless from his kisses. “Will you help me cum? Please? Pretty please?”

Namjoon’s lip curls back from his teeth in a silent growl, and a shudder runs through you at the sight; seeing your usually composed neighbour act like this because of you is a heady sensation. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he says, and your pussy throbs with need at his words.

“Jesus Christ, Namjoon.” Your eyes are wild. “I want you to fucking wreck me.”

You get no warning before Namjoon is literally sweeping you off your feet and you squeal in surprise when you feel them leave the ground, but Namjoon’s grip on you is steady as he lifts you in a bridal hold. You feel breathless at this physical representation of his strength- you’ve only seen his bare arms once (that had been a nice morning) before but you definitely hadn’t forgotten about how thick they are, as evidenced by the way he’s carrying you. 

Normally you’d probably be chewing him out for lifting you without warning, but right now there’s a very base, animalistic part of you that goes belly up at the very obvious reminder of Namjoon’s superior power. The instinctual part of you that had initially told you to run away from him now seems entirely content with the fact you’ve been caught, and so you stay quiet in his arms. You cling tight to him as he walks to your bedroom without the need for directions, your flat the mirrored twin to his; you keep kissing his neck as he nudges the door open with his foot, running a hand down his chest, feeling the flex of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s so fucking hot, what the fuck.

He’s hot, and strong, but gentle, too. When Namjoon sets you down he’s so careful even though he could easily manhandle you in any way he wanted, and you give him a kiss as a thank you. It’s a brief moment of quiet, that little kiss, but then Namjoon is pulling you back towards him and his hands are all over as he helps you strip; Namjoon’s eyes are heavy on your body as he drinks you in, finally wearing nothing but the lingerie he’s been so desperate to look at.

He sees the way the interweaving straps rest against your skin with the perfect amount of pressure, little swells letting him know that he’ll be able to trace the touch of lace on your body even after he’s ripped it off you. The lace cups of your bra do nothing to hide how your nipples are standing to attention, begging to be touched. But the most eye-catching thing, the thing that Namjoon can’t stop looking at, is how sodden the lace between your legs is; your inner thighs are slick with your arousal, shining, and you haven’t even cum yet. 

“Look at you. So gorgeous,” Namjoon says. “Gonna make you cum over and over, baby.”

His hands feel so good against your skin as he skims his fingers over your panties, but he doesn’t take them off, and you let out a needy little noise. “Please,” you whine. “I need to cum, Joonie, been waiting so long.”

Namjoon watches as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra and reaches for your hands, stopping your motions. You blink up at him, confused, but then he’s turning you towards the bed and bending you over it, motions firm and undeniable; not that you would try to defy him, anyway. You brace your palms against the mattress and instantly arch your spine so that your ass is pushed out, enticing as possible.

You’re wondering if you’re going to have to beg for Namjoon to touch you but it seems what little patience he had has run out; his warm palms are immediately against your ass, touch reverent as he slides his hands over your skin, and you press back into that touch, wanting more of it. His hands skim up your sides and his fingers dance along the edge of your bra before reaching for the hooks, unfastening it so that it slips down your arms and onto the bed before you shove it aside. 

He bends over you, chest broad and warm against your naked shoulderblades, arms coming around your body so that he can cup your breasts in his large hands; his palms cover so much of your skin, your sensitive nipples, and you gasp at the shock of sensation that shoots through you as he drags his hands over them before using his fingers to pinch the hardened nubs. You twist your head and make a little noise, and Namjoon obliges you with a kiss, grinning against your mouth with each desperate sound he muffles with his plush lips.

Eventually, though, he pulls away from you. You glance over your shoulder to see that he’s gotten to his knees, still staring at your soaking core, before he hooks one of his thumbs into the fabric covering your aching pussy and pulls it aside before pressing his mouth against you.

“Oh, fuck!” Your body goes weak and you slump forwards onto your elbows and shove your face into the bed, and Namjoon follows when this moves you away from him, tongue buried in your cunt as he eats you out with no mercy. He’s utterly shameless, noises slick and lewd as he drags his wet tongue over your entrance and clit, swallowing down all the arousal that’s leaking out of you, ravenous. You reach behind you with one of your hands to grip his hair, and when you grind back against his face he lets out a satisfied hum; you gasp at the vibrations against your lower lips, oversensitive from all your edging.

“Gonna cum,” you say, twisting your head so that your cheek is pressed to your rumpled blanket. “I’m so close, oh, God, Namjoon-”

He’s been rubbing his tongue up and down your clit in a particularly sinful way, and after one more particularly hard stroke, you finally, finally reach that precipice you’ve been reaching for all day. You shove your face back into the blanket as you cum, all your gasps and moans coming together in one long cry as your toes curl and you tighten your fingers so hard into your sheets you almost pull them off the mattress. Your entire body trembles as your cunt pulsates with pleasure, each ripple of your pussy feeling like it’s passing through your whole body, and Namjoon doesn’t let up for a second, lapping down each wave of cum that flushes out of you. You feel utterly weak as you flop forwards against the mattress, boneless and shaky, but Namjoon’s mouth is still on you and you let out a whimper, oversensitive.

“It’s too much,” you gasp. “Namjoon-”

He takes his mouth off you immediately. “Sorry, baby,” he apologises, pressing a kiss against the swell of your ass. You want to sag your lower body against the bed but his hands are keeping you up, fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass and hips. “You just taste so good. Can you lie down for me?”

“Yes,” you say into the blanket, your voice a muffled slur. You’re so eager to please him even though you feel so weak from your post orgasm haze, and your muscles feel like jelly as you try to lift yourself onto the bed. Namjoon obviously notices how fucked out you are because he helps flip you over so that you’re on your back, staring up at him.

You continue to stare at him as he sheds his clothes. You let your gaze shamelessly rove over his body as it’s revealed- the honeyed tone of his skin, the muscles that shift underneath it, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, the long legs, the thick thighs, the trail of hair that dips down to his-

“Holy fuck.” Your voice is reedy with desperation, and Namjoon laughs.

His cock has to be the biggest you’ve seen in real life, long and thick, fully erect even though you haven’t touched it yet- the fact that you’re apparently arousing enough to bring him to full hardness is flattering, honestly. Even as you stare at it, it twitches, a dribble of precum oozing from the flushed head, almost an angry red from neglect. You watch, enraptured, as he circles his fingers around it; it doesn’t look any smaller in his large hands. He pulls on his cock, long and slow, before he spits onto it and fucks into his fist as you watch him, spreading the wetness over himself.

“Gonna fill that hungry little pussy with this cock,” he says. “Gonna give you a reward for being such a good girl. Is that what you want?” Namjoon watches you as he thumbs at his slit, precum weeping from his tip. “Does my good girl want this cock?”

“I want it,” you beg. You do, you want it so bad. His mouth and lips and tongue felt so good but it must be nothing in comparison to how good it’ll feel to be filled up  by Namjoon’s heavy, long cock. “Fuck, Namjoon, please, I want it.”

You lift your hips so that Namjoon can slide your panties off you. He stares at the strings of wetness that cling to them as he peels them away from your core, finally bare to the cool air of the room, and you suck in a breath. He wastes no time, climbing onto the bed and settling above you, cock swaying between his legs before he grasps it and tilts it towards your entrance. 

You lift your hips again, tilting them towards him for an easier angle- and immediately cry out when he broaches you, head pressing past your entrance. You’re so turned on and flushed wet that the initial slide in is easy, but as he gets deeper and deeper you can feel the stretch, your pussy forced open for him, feeling like you’re being split open with how big he is- you’ll feel the burn tomorrow, but right now your body is ripe and ready for him to take you, cunt clenching as he bottoms out in you. You experimentally tense your muscles and the two of you gasp in a breath, shocked pleasure at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans. “You feel so good.”

He holds still for a moment to let you adjust, leaning down to kiss you. It’s deep and slow, tongue swiping into your mouth as you part your lips for him and let him take what he wants. When he leans back, all that softness is gone- your legs fall apart as he starts to fuck you, hips snapping forward as he ruthlessly presses his cock into you. He’s so big and he’s striking so deep it feels like you can feel him in your stomach, and you arch your back into him and cry out each time he strikes home.

The pace he sets is rough and aggressive, the slap of skin against skin and wet noises from his cock driving into your pussy filling the silence of the room, every part of you hypersensitive to every sensation- Namjoon’s weight pressing you into the mattress, the shaking bed, the rising smell of sweat and sex, the firmness of his hands on you. He leans back and you catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes before he puts his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up so that you’re practically bent in half when he fucks into you again- you cry out at the change of angle, how this lets him splay his large hand over the line of your hipbone as he starts to rub his thumb across your clit, continuing to fuck into the whole time.

“Gonna c-cum again,” you hiccup between thrusts, the air punched out of you each time that hot cock spears into you. “Joonie, gonna- gonna cum aga- oh!”

Your spine arches as your orgasm rips through you, coil of pleasure exploding like a firework as you cum for the second time that day, walls tensing around Namjoon’s cock; he continues to thrust into you, even when your cunt clenches so tight it feels like there’s no space inside you for his length. He keeps forcing your body open for him even as you keep falling apart around him, and you keep taking it, loving it. The only thing you can register is the delirious, mind-numbing satisfaction, sobbing out as Namjoon’s cock continues to fill you- you feel like he’s fucked you dumb, like your body was only made to be fucked by him, sloppy and open and wet. Each time he fills you up again it forces a noise from your throat, sounds of almost animalistic pleasure spilling from your lips, all semblance of coherent words gone.

When Namjoon pulls out of you, even though your body feels weak and limp and entirely fucked out, you whine at the loss. The next second, though, he flips you over, nudging your ankles apart before sliding back into you. The change of angle has him dragging against your sweet spot, balls slapping against your clit, overwhelming off the heels of just cumming, but you just take it, drooling into the pillow as your brain gives over to the all-consuming pleasure.

“So pretty when you cum around my cock.” Namjoon’s bent over you, murmuring praises that you barely register as he litters kisses over your shoulders and the side of your throat. “Greedy little pussy takes my cock so well. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl for you.” Your words are a slur, your brain foggy but eager to please, answering the question. “Joonie.”

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he says, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers filth to you, still mercilessly fucking into you. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy with my cum. Do you want my cum, baby?”

“Wan’ it,” you moan. There’s heat curling in your abdomen again, pussy tightening as another orgasm creeps up on you, the promise of Namjoon’s hot cum filling you pulling you closer to the edge. “Want your cum, Joonie.”

His fingers tighten around your waist as he starts to jackhammer into you. His cock feels like it’s splitting you open even as his rhythm starts to falter, and after one particularly hard thrust your eyes roll back in your head as you tumble over the edge again, cumming so hard it’s a wonder you don’t pass out. You let out a strangled moan and Namjoon curses as you tighten around him, your entire body trembling under his hands as you give yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

His rhythm falters before he lets out a shout and his cock jerks inside you as your tightening cunt pulls him into climax. Hot cum fills your pussy as he empties himself inside you, aftershocks of your orgasm drawing his seed deeper, painting your insides. You lie there and take it, face turned into the pillow as you focus on the sensation of his twitching cock, the way your body is milking him even in your exhaustion, like it’s desperate to satisfy him even when you can barely speak.

You shiver when you feel him slowly pull out. He’s stroking his hands over your skin, kissing your shoulder blades and nape as he turns you over, gentle as he touches you. “You did so well,” Namjoon praises, smiling at you. “So good for me.”

You still feel fuzzy but you latch onto Namjoon’s words as he kisses you on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Words seem so hard to string together right now but you try your best, voice small and weak. “Did good?”

“Absolutely perfect, baby,” Namjoon says, and you let out a happy sigh. You stay quiet while Namjoon slips out of your bed before returning with a damp cloth. You let your muscles go entirely lax as Namjoon rolls you onto your back and gently spreads your legs; he watches as his own cum drips out of you before he gently swipes the mix of cum that’s smeared across your pussy, mindful of your sensitive clit. You bask in his touch, feeling like a cat bathing in sunlight as he cleans you up, stroking his hands across your skin.

He gathers you in his arms and continues to murmur praises between kisses and touches. You slowly come back to yourself as he keeps lavishing attention on you, skin warm against his, turning into his touch as your brain starts to flicker back on. 

Namjoon brushes his lips against your forehead as your higher thought processes continue to fall back into place, although you’re still a little hazy. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You feel thoroughly fucked out after three back-to-back orgasms and your pussy feels raw and you’re not sure when you’ll next be able to walk in a straight line, but none of those things detract from how fabulous you feel right now. “More than okay. Wow. When I said I wanted you to wreck me, I didn’t realise you’d do such a good job.”

Namjoon smiles at you, and you finally get to indulge yourself, lifting a hand to stroke a finger across his dimples that deepen as you touch them. “I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, and you grin as you brush your nose across his neck, nuzzling into him.

“You really are the best neighbour,” you say. “Did you seriously come over to give me a bunch of hand picked strawberries? That’s what that bag was, right?”

“Of course.” Namjoon’s fingers continue to rub circles into your shoulder. “I thought you deserved a nice treat after a day of chores.”

“Oh, I feel very thoroughly rewarded,” you giggle, before pulling your head back to look Namjoon in the eye. “God. I was so mortified at the beginning, though. I seriously thought I was going to have to pack my bags and move away.”

“The strawberries wouldn’t be enough to persuade you to stay?” Namjoon strokes his knuckles down your cheek before resting his thumb under the swell of your bottom lip, pushing up a little so it looks like you’re pouting at him. “After I spent all afternoon picking them and thinking about you, and how lovely you’d look while you ate them with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

You relax into his touch, letting him rub the pad of his thumb over your lip, all but kissing his finger each time your mouth shapes itself around another word. “You think about me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Namjoon says, stroking over your lip one last time before cupping your chin in his palm.  “I don’t genuinely lose my keys as often as you think I do. Though I do still lose them a lot,” he adds, a little sheepish, and you laugh.

“So you’re saying that if I give you a spare key to my flat, I should have back-ups on hand just in case?” You tease, leaning into the hand that’s cradling your chin. “Good to know.”

“A spare key?” Namjoon looks a little taken aback, and you blink at him.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s obvious. “Y’know, unless you want me to go back to using the tumble dryer.”

The hand that’s been on your shoulder tightens a little as Namjoon digs his fingers into your skin, possessive. That part of you that’s gone belly up for him preens at the attention, still eager to please him and make him happy, loving the sensation of being so desired by someone who you thought was out of your reach. “No.” Namjoon’s voice is a rumble in his chest. “I’ll make you cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You hum quietly before kissing his cheek, and then Namjoon uses the hand under your chin to turn you towards him and presses his mouth softly to yours. “You might regret saying that. I’m very demanding. Starting with this- do you want to go get those strawberries so I can have a taste?” You flutter your lashes at him, and Namjoon chuckles as he indulges you. 

You watch the flex of muscles in his thighs and ass as he walks from the room, still in a bit of disbelief that you’ve touched him and kissed him and been so thoroughly fucked by him. Kim Namjoon is a ten course meal (not including drinks or dessert) but here he is, naked on your bed as he feeds you the sweet, ripe strawberries that he picked with his own hands, kissing the taste off your lips between each bite.

You feel utterly pampered and taken care of, reclining against the pillows as Namjoon feeds you another strawberry. You reach out for the largest you can see and return the favour, letting him lick the sweetness off your stained fingers and giggling at the sensation. 

“The dryer’s finished its cycle, by the way,” Namjoon says after he’s finished kissing your fingertips.

���That’s nice,” you say as you carefully pick out another strawberry and rest it against the dark red flush of Namjoon’s lips. “But I’m busy feeding the world’s most beautiful man right now, so it can wait.”

Namjoon smiles at you, eyes lovely and warm as he parts his lips to accept the fruit, before leaning down to press his berry stained mouth against your own.

[amyscascadingtabs]

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 1]

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.” “Yeah?” Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” "Won't be a problem."

Amy Santiago doesn't date cops. Jake Peralta's sworn never to date a lawyer again. When a couple of drinks and the returning of a borrowed shirt ends with the two of them in bed together, Amy decides to take control of the situation the best way she knows how: a comprehensive set of rules. There's just one little thing she hadn't anticipated – Jake Peralta is full of surprises.

Written for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange.

AO3 link // playlist

My contribution to this year’s fic exchange, for @fezzle​! @b99fandomevents​​ 💛

1. i never saw you coming (and i’ll never be the same)

 He gets out of the car, and before Amy can gather the courage to shout after him, he’s disappeared from her sight.

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her fist and punching it in frustration. It doesn’t feel better, just makes her hand hurt. Amy pretends that’s what’s making her eyes tear up, and not the thought that she just screwed up her chances of ever seeing Jake Peralta again.

 five months earlier.

 The cop is five minutes late entering the courtroom, and Amy vows to dislike him from that point onward.

 What's worse is that he doesn't seem ashamed. He simply gives Judge Stewart an apologetic grin, runs a hand through his already messy hair, and sits down on the bench next to the sergeant Amy recognizes as Terry Jeffords. Amy gives him a polite faked smile to tell him she's noted this presence and she's going to win this case, but the cop doesn't seem to notice the toxicity in her facial expression, because she gets another wide grin back. Judging from the colorful marks on his teeth, it looks like he had candy for breakfast – could it be gummy bears? Either way, Amy's respect for the man sinks even lower.

 At least she won't have to worry about him, she tells herself. She already knows this case is about to be a win.

 That is until it turns out this man has a reply for everything. She’d been certain the evidence against her client was circumstantial at best, nowhere near enough to get him convicted on, and the notes she’d gone through from the initial police questioning had lacked significant information. It had been nothing short of sloppy, and she’d entered the courthouse this morning filled with glowing confidence. That same confidence is now seeping away, dripping onto the polished floors of the courtroom in exchange for heated frustration as it turns out the detective – Jake Peralta, she learns – was present at the scene earlier than Amy had gathered, and from the vantage point he had, saw her client running from the corner store at full speed.

“Would you say it’s possible my client was running for a different reason?” She asks, staring coldly into the detective’s eyes as she speaks. “Such as exercising, perhaps?”

“Well, he was carrying a huge green backpack, identical to the one he was wearing when my partner Charles caught him ten minutes later. So, no,” he says, meeting her look with a smug smile of his own. “I would say that’s unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“Considering we also found the stolen goods in that same backpack, I’d say the chance is pretty solid it was him.”

“The bags couldn’t have been switched? Or, as my client claims, the goods couldn’t have been dropped in there by someone who wanted to get rid of them?”

“With all due respect,” says Jake Peralta, and the self-assuredness in his voice is enough for her to know the case is lost. “The streets were more crowded than a Taylor Swift concert, your honor. Someone would have seen something.”

 ~

 It’s late Friday afternoon by the time Amy returns to the office of Newsom & Associates, but there’s still plenty of her coworkers left to watch as she throws her briefcase on top of the chair before closing the door to her office and digging out her pack of shame cigarettes from the bottom drawer of her desk. The only window in the room opens out to a back alley with trash cans and forgotten bikes, which is a drab view most of the time but comes in handy for secret shame-smoking. She closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, trying to savor the first inhale. She hates the habit and always tells herself she’s going to quit soon, but at times when work stresses her out like this, there’s no better fix. It’s all Jake Peralta’s fault, anyway. He’d waved at her when they’d left the courtroom, looking genuinely pleased to see her, and that had only worsened her frustration. It’s one thing being defeated – it’s worse when the winner acts like it wasn’t even a big deal.

 “You should stop that.” The sound of Rosa’s voice appearing in the doorway to Amy’s office causes her to inhale too much smoke, coughing and tearing up as she hurries to extinguish the cigarette butt on the windowsill. “It’s gross.”

“I needed it,” Amy coughs again before drying her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “You should’ve been there. That fucking detective ruined my defense.”

“So? It happens. Doesn’t make you a bad lawyer. Stop pitying yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you win nearly all your cases,” Amy mumbles. “And everyone’s terrified of you.”

Rosa does a little shrug, but Amy thinks she can spot the hint of a smile on her lips. She can’t be certain, though. Rosa almost never smiles, but that’s not nearly the most terrifying thing about her. She also rides her motorcycle to court and wears leather jackets and skin-tight black jeans to trials, and somehow no one's ever dared to police her on it. Amy once asked her out of curiosity if putting on a blazer would really hurt that much, and the stare she got back told her she’d be a fool to make that mistake again.

“Either way, it's not that. It was that cop who ruined everything. I mean, he showed up late, for god’s sake, with candy in his teeth and a wrinkled suit! But he somehow had an answer and explanation for everything,” Amy snorts. “And he smiled the whole time like he’d already won. And he referenced Taylor Swift! During the trial! Who does that?”

Rosa lets out a laugh. “You're a Swift hater? God, please don't tell me you took Kanye’s side too.”

“I didn't – that's beside the point!”

“Which is?”

“That he has zero respect for the sacred rules of a courtroom, and gets away with it all because of that super-charm smile.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the smile. Twice.”

“It was just so…” She clenches her fist until her red nails press into her palm to the point of pain, then releases it. “It's fine. I’ll win my next case, and there are lots of cops in New York. I probably won't ever see him again.”

 ~

 Amy can barely hide her frustration in court the next week when she hears the doors open and looks up from the papers she was sorting, only to see Jake Peralta for the second time in her life. He’s on time today, which she supposes is progress, but there are stains on his shirt that seem to be coming from the can of orange soda he’s holding in his hand. She wonders if it's his breakfast. If that's his diet, he looks surprisingly fit in a grey suit for it.

 He grins again when he sees her, raising his hand in a lazy wave. Amy gives him a forced smile, then returns to her papers. She’ll have to make sure to win this time.

 But despite her confidence and very best efforts, she loses to Jake Peralta yet another time.

And another.

And another.

 It's not that she's suddenly magically unlucky, because she still manages to win several other cases, but every time Jake Peralta shows up to testify, without fault, Amy loses.

It infuriates her.

 The worst part is that Jake seems oblivious to her anger. He smiles at her every time they leave the courtroom, even though she returns them with little to no genuineness at all. She once spots him doing a childish victory gesture outside the courthouse, but he never once takes the opportunity to brag about his win to her face.

 Aside from his surprisingly good manners when it comes to bragging, though, he's a mess. There's always some kind of stain on his shirt or his cheek that he seems unaware of, his ways of describing things involve one too many pop culture references for Amy’s liking, and she starts preparing to meet him every time a detective is five minutes late. She wonders if no one's ever told him how one is supposed to behave in a courtroom, but he’s usually accompanied by the precinct’s sergeant, so that seems unlikely. The more likely option, Amy figures, is that he just doesn't seem to find it that important; especially considering he seems to get away with it every single time.

 She swears it's all because of that stupid infectious smile.

 ~

 It pleases Amy to no end when she learns that Jake Peralta is going to be the witness in one of the strongest cases she’s had in a long while. The client was clearly acting in self-defense, she has a witness of her own who can testify to that, and although she knows that nothing is for certain until the verdict falls, she’s got a good feeling about this one. Finally, the day has come for Jake Peralta to watch her win.

 At first, the state attorney’s case seems solid. Jake is assisted by a short, round-faced man with dark brown hair and an expression that looks like he’s seconds away from apologizing for taking up everyone’s time, but his suit is matched and perfectly straight and he gets right to the point without any odd references, so Amy still earns a fair amount of respect for detective Charles Boyle. He and Jake had entered the subway car after hearing about a fight taking place, and stepped on just in time to watch her client aim a closed-fist punch at the face of the man on top of him. It’s clear and convincing, but Amy knows that after the recess, it will be her time to shine. She loves these moments, when it’s obvious the other side thinks they have it in the bag but she knows something they don’t, and they have no idea what’s coming. She knows trials are about justice and not personal victories – but she’s only human. Winning is always a thrill.

 She’s thinking about how she’s going to be celebrating her win later this evening when Jake Peralta bumps into her at the coffee shop neighboring the courthouse. As in, literally bumps into her, with his elbow when he hurries forward to grab a plastic cup with whipped cream and so much caramel syrup on top of the coffee that Amy pities his dentist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… wait, it's you!” He shines up as if he’d just seen a past good friend, and Amy’s once more taken aback by how polite he is. A lot of cops she meets during trials either tend to make fun of her profession or glare bitterly at her from a distance, but Jake's doing neither. He even reaches out his free hand to shake hers, so she accepts. “Jake Peralta – wow, you have a very firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar. Amy Santiago.”

“Where?” He asks, but she ignores him and moves forward in line to order her coffee with milk.

“Nothing for your client? Wow. I’d expected you to have better manners than that, Santiago.”

“I offered, but he wanted to spend recess with his partner for moral support. See?” She raises a brow at him. “I do have manners.”

There's that smile again, up close this time, and Amy's relieved when the barista hands her the coffee so she can hide the involuntary blush in her cheeks. She never noticed he had dimples before.

“So, how are you feeling about the rest of the trial, then? Ready to go defend the guilty guy?”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Peralta. Famously one of the most sacred principles in the American justice system. And I was born ready.”

“And lose. The whole question was, are you ready to go defend the guilty guy and lose, and you said you were born that way.” Jake grins in a way that makes him look like an overgrown mischievous school kid. Maybe not that far off, Amy thinks.

“Twist my words all you want, I am winning this case.” She hesitates for a moment, noticing Jake's detective partner looking at the two of them from a table in the corner of the room. Not normally something she'd be that creeped out by, if it hadn't been for the fact that the man isn’t tearing his eyes away from them, and he looks weirdly overjoyed. “Uhm, is detective Boyle okay? He's staring at us pretty intensely.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, he has… an eye condition.” Jake turns around and mouths something that looks to be BOYLE, and the man rolls his eyes before stalking away. “Ignore him. Anyway… so what do you think about the judge?”

 Amy's about to launch into a description of her good experience with judge Myers when someone brushes past her with their iced coffee in a hurry, losing control of the plastic cup. The unsecured lid wobbles, and before Amy realizes what’s about to happen, cold coffee splashes onto her earlier pristine white blouse. “Fuck!” She reaches for a bunch of paper napkins and tries to dab the worst away with them, but the milky coffee is already seeping through the fabric and leaving an obvious stain that her blazer can’t hide.

“What a jerk,” Jake mutters, glaring in the direction of where the stranger disappeared.

“Never mind that! I don’t have another shirt! I can’t go into a courtroom looking like this! Unlike you, I actually care about whether my clothes have giant stains on them!”

“First of all, rude, and second of all, they’re not giant.”

“I don’t care. I’m screwed. Fuck, I don’t have time to run back home before the trial starts – I guess I could call Rosa –”

“Hey, hey.” Jake holds up his hands as if trying to calm her down, which only makes Amy more frustrated. “I know this is kind of crazy, but, I have a shirt in my car that I was planning to return to my ex. But emphasis on ex, so…” He shrugs. “You could borrow it?”

 Amy considers her options. On the one hand, she figures there’s about an eighty percent chance that whatever Jake has in his car also has some kind of mysterious stain on it, but on the other hand, she took the subway today and there's no way she’ll make it to her apartment and back before the court is back in session. Asking for a longer recess is an option, but making everyone wait simply because she needs a change of clothes makes her too uncomfortable to even consider.

“Fine,” she relents. “Where's your car?”

 Jake's car turns out to be an old Mustang, which Amy can tell even from her strictly limited car-knowledge is pretty impressive, but she doesn't understand how he can find anything in there. The backseat is a mess of empty orange soda bottles, a couple of frisbees, candy wrappers, what looks to be cartoons and old CDs, and the cup holders have shaving foam next to another can of orange soda. She's equally surprised and impressed when he pulls out a clean, dark blue charmeuse blouse. Whoever Jake's ex-girlfriend was, she seems to have both taste and money.

“You're totally saving my day today,” she says as he gives it to her. “You really didn't have to.”

“Prove that cops aren't all bad?” Amy rolls her eyes, and Jake laughs. “Just kidding. You have to give it back, though.”

“As soon as I’ve washed it. Wait, we have to be able to get in touch.” She digs in the inside pocket of her briefcase and pulls out two of her business cards. “I’m assuming you don't have any, so write your number on the back of that one.”

“Rude, but correct.” He scribbles down something on one of the cards before giving it back. “I’ll see you up there, then… Amy Santiago.”

Something about the way he says her name, slowly and with perfect pronunciation, makes her want to hear it again. She hurries back into the building and toward the bathrooms, hopefully before he can tell that she's blushing.

 “The defense may call the next witness.”

“The defense calls Elinor Simons.” Amy can feel everyone's eyes on her as well as the witness as a young girl, no more than eighteen, walks up to the stand. She's pale, but she looks determined, and Amy gives her a comforting smile as she swears the oath.

 Elinor’s voice trembles at her first words, but Amy keeps steady eye contact with her, and soon she’s speaking louder and less hesitant. She had been on her way to her friend’s house when she entered the same subway car as the two young men, and had overheard the two of them fighting over something. Sitting only a few seats away from them in the near-empty car, she’d noticed the defendant looking scared, and out of curiosity, had turned off her music. She’d heard the man who’d later gotten attacked – Mr. Lorentz – scream that the defendant was an asshole, and then she’d seen him push him to the floor, much unlike the way the prosecution had described a course of events in which both men had slipped. It had scared her, so she’d gotten up to walk away, but before she could move she’d seen Mr. Lorentz leaning down.

“It looked like he was about to hit the defendant,” she says without wavering, and Amy can see a few of the jury members nodding in understanding. “And even if they were about the same size, Mr. Lorentz looked really strong. The defendant tried, but it seemed to me like he was unable to get up. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to end well, so I headed for the end of the car before they noticed me.”

“And you’re sure of what you saw?”

“Completely sure. I only found out later that the defendant was a cousin of my sister’s boyfriend, which is how I learned about the trial.”

Amy nods and clasps her hands together, trying to assume a confident stance as she keeps her eyes focused on the witness stand. “Elinor, in the position he was in, do you believe that the defendant would have been scared?”

“I think anyone would have been.”

“So the punch witnesses watched the defendant throw, could it have been in self-defense?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

Amy smiles. “Thank you. No further questions.”

 The prosecution’s closing arguments are short and precise, sticking entirely to the part of the events that took part after the police walked in. The district attorney, a balding man in his fifties, as good as overlooks Elinor’s testimony in favor of focusing in on detailed descriptions of the headaches Mr. Lorentz had experienced after the event, and that alone is enough to make Amy’s blood boil; but instead she just sits there, waiting with a polite smile on her lips.

 Finally, the other attorney sits down, and the judge nods at Amy to stand up. During her very first trials, this moment used to freak her out – everyone’s eyes on her and waiting expectantly – but with time she’s come to love this. It reminds her of the thrill of getting the last word in a heated fight with her siblings when she was younger, only now, she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Everyone’s already listening.

 “Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: it’s correct that the defendant hit Mr. Lorentz on that train. He admits to doing so himself.” Amy nods to the young man sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs on his shirt. “But there is one key aspect which the prosecution has so conveniently chosen to ignore, and that is the events which led up to Mr. Petersen’s actions. A background which he not only has explained clearly himself, but which is also backed up by Ms. Simmons’ testimony.” She gestures with her hand to Elinor.

“You see, Mr. Petersen wasn’t acting unprovoked. When the incident happened, he had been pushed to the floor, and like both my client and the witness described, he was unable to get up. Mr. Lorentz himself admits to practicing weightlifting; he’s not a weak man, and in the moment, he was clearly upset with the defendant. As Ms. Simmons put it… “ She takes a break to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Anyone in that position would have been terrified.”

“Under New York Law, Penal Law paragraph thirty-five point fifteen, a person is justified in using physical force against another, when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person from what they reasonably believe to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force. Mr. Petersen was stuck, and under the reasonable belief that Mr. Lorentz could hurt him unless he managed to free himself. He acted in self-defense, which I remind you that the prosecution has not been able to disprove. In fact, the case against Mr. Petersen cannot be proved against reasonable doubt, which means that you must find him… not guilty.”

 From the other side of the room, she swears she can feel Jake’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she sees him mouthing nice job.

 ~

 “What did you say he looked like, now again? Except for crazy hot and adorable?” Kylie takes another sip of her mojito, spying over the crowded bar.

“Okay, I said neither of those things.”

Kylie shrugs. “Didn’t have to.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, I guess kind of a bigger nose… and I don’t know what he wears outside of court, but there was a leather jacket in the front seat of his car, so maybe that?” She strains her neck to try and see through the Friday night crowd. She’s never been to this particular Brooklyn bar before, but Jake had suggested it when Amy asked about a good place to give him back the shirt, and she’d figured after a long week, she might as well treat herself to a couple of after-work drinks with a friend. After being asked about the so-called mystery hottie five times, though, she’s starting to regret bringing Kylie along.

“Mm, that’s like, all the guys in here… oh, wait, that one’s waving to you!” Kylie points to a figure near the door, elbowing Amy in the side and causing her to nearly choke on her wine. She’s still coughing when Jake walks up to them, trying to offer him a smile while drying her eyes. Jake looks politely confused, but shakes Kylie’s hand in the meantime.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says with a meaning wink to Amy before sliding off the leather barstool, leaving it for Jake. “Have a good night!”

“Ignore her.” Amy sighs. “Sorry, I…”

“No, no worries,” Jake says, and the honest care in his expression makes her feel oddly warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She waves a dismissive hand and picks up the dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of her chair. “Well, here’s the shirt. Thank you for the loan. Or thank your ex, I suppose.”

“Dry-cleaned, really? You truly are type A.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it makes sense.” He nods to the glass in her hand. “Celebrating Tuesday’s win?”

“Something like that. It was Monday, though,” she can’t stop herself from correcting him. “I don’t get a lot of time off. Gotta make the best out of it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Do you mind if I join you for another drink? Or maybe you should do water, in case you choke again?”

Something about the way he poses it like a challenge makes her take the glass, put it to her lips, and swallow the rest of the wine in one gulp. “I think I can handle it.”

 They pay for their own drinks, because whatever this meeting is, it’s definitely not a date, and it makes Amy relieved that Jake doesn’t seem to think so either.

“A toast,” he suggests. “To your win this week. I gotta give it to you, those closing statements were solid.”

“To justice,” Amy says, and they raise their beer bottles in unison. “And my win. Finally.”

“Yeah, what has it been, like, five wins for me?”

“Four, but dream on, Peralta.”

Jake laughs. The dimples in his cheeks become even more prominent when he laughs, Amy notes. “Have you always been this intense about winning cases, then? Or is it something that comes with law school? Like there’s a class in being petty about this stuff?”

You’re intense too, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud. “Maybe. I have seven brothers, and I was the only girl. I got pretty good at winning fights using other things than physical strength when I was a kid. Actually, sometimes physical strength, too.”

“I feel like you could beat someone up if you wanted to. You could surprise them.”

“Oh, I could most definitely beat someone up if I wanted to. But I stuck to arguing. I got good at it. And I always had good grades, so I ended up at Columbia, and I’ve never really regretted it.” She takes a swig of her beer. “Not even when cops call me the devil.”

“I wouldn’t call you the devil,” Jake says. “I mean, do I think you lack a bit of a moral compass? Probably. But each to their own.”

She leans her head a little bit to the side, eyeing him closely. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you have to defend people that you know did awful things, right? Doesn’t that make you feel sick sometimes?”

“I don’t have to defend their actions. Most times, it’s not even about that. It’s about making sure the trial is fair, the evidence is sufficient and their rights are respected, so that if there’s a conviction, it’s actually beyond any reasonable doubt. I like to believe most people are better than their worst moments. I see it as my job to make sure they’re treated that way.”

“Huh.” Jake nods slowly. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Plus,” she winks, “someone’s gotta hold you guys accountable, right?”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Hey, did you say you went to Columbia? My captain’s husband teaches law there. Did you ever have a Kevin Cozner?”

“No way! Your captain is Raymond Holt?” She’s speaking way too loudly, she can tell from the way other people are glancing at her, but Jake looks entertained. “Sorry, it’s just – Professor Cozner was my favorite constitutional law teacher. I still send him and Raymond Christmas cards every year!”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jake grins. “But, how weird is that? Almost like the universe is bringing us together or something.”

Amy thinks that it’s not that weird, since Kevin must teach hundreds of students every year that g on to become lawyers, but she kind of wants to keep seeing that smile on Jake’s face forever, so she nods. “So weird.”

 They order another drink, plus some chips and nuts when Jake realizes he forgot to eat dinner, and move to another table in the back of the room. Amy’s surprised how comfortable she feels in his presence. It’s like she can’t wipe the smile off her face but doesn’t want to, and with time and a little more alcohol, jokes that she barely would have noticed on any other day become laugh-out-loud funny. It feels natural, even though she’s not sure how, and she tries not to glance at the clock on the wall when he doesn’t either. She’s got work to do tomorrow and she can’t stay out forever, but she doesn’t want to be reminded that this evening has to end at some point.

 “So what made you become a cop, then?” She asks when she realizes she’s the only one who’s shared her origin story tonight. “Childhood superhero dreams?”

Jake shines up like he’s been waiting for the question all night. “Oh, that’s easy. Die Hard.”

“Really?”

“For sure. Actually, my mom said I was always good at protecting people, so I ended up doing it for a job. But I think that’s bullshit. It was definitely Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Amy confesses, and Jake stares at her like she just insulted his entire being. “But if you want a cop movie, my top three’s Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and Fargo.”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong! How can you not have seen Die Hard? It’s classic, man!”

“I just never did! How many lawyer movies have you seen, then?”

“Uhm…” Jake squints. “Charles made me watch Legally Blonde once? It was pretty good, honestly.”

“Well, duh, that movie is a cinematic masterpiece and a feminist work of art. How feminist is Die Hard, from a scale of one to ten?”

“Hey! Holly Gennaro does plenty of cool stuff throughout the movies! You’re just going to have to watch them yourself.”

“I can almost guarantee you I won’t.”

“Fine, but you’re missing out.” He grabs a couple of peanuts from the jar between them, throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth. “Cool trick, right?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is this what you do at work all day?”

“I did teach myself that during stakeouts, but no. Whatever. Throw me another one.” She does, and he catches it again, this time almost sliding off the barstool in the process. She laughs a bubbling laugh as he does it another time. “Now you.”

“Fine. Try me.” The peanut flies through the air between them, and she tries to dive for it, but it just ends up landing at her feet. “Okay, another one.” She misses that one too. “Okay, there must be something wrong with these nuts.”

“Title of your sextape.”

“Title of my what?”

“Nevermind.” Jake laughs. “You just need some practice. Maybe at work? It could liven up a trial.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t need practice. Just need a better tactic.” Without thinking, she grabs a handful of them this time, throwing them in the air. This time, she catches a few of them in her mouth, while the rest end up spread over the couch and floor. “The key is volume!”

“Yeah, and the bartender is looking at you like he wants to kill you, so maybe don’t do it again or we’ll get thrown out.”

“It’s fine, I’m a lawyer.”

“That phrase works well to get out of trouble?”

“If you know what you’re doing. We could order more drinks to keep him happy?”

“Shots?”

“I’m down if you’re down.”

 Jake orders a Kamikaze shot for each of them, and as she reaches forward to take the second glass, her hand brushes against the top of his for a moment longer than necessary, resting there. It’s warm, and it feels calloused but somehow soft at the same time. They look at each other, his light brown eyes staring into hers, and she feels instantly hyper-aware that they’re around far, far, too many people.

She lets go of his hand, taking the shot and swallowing it before anyone can notice what’s happening. It smells like sour hand sanitizer and burns going down, and she laughs at Jake’s grimace when he drinks his.

“God, every time.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I know this is crazy, but… do you maybe want to get out of here? We could have another drink at my place… watch Die Hard… whatever.”

“Mm, yeah. Maybe I should check that the shirt gets back to your place properly?”

“Shirt? What shirt? Oh, right, fuck, the shirt!” Jake spins in place, rushing back to the table where they were just sat. “Shit, I probably spilled beer on it, Sophia’s going to be pissed now...”

“It’s still in the bag, smartass.” Amy shows him. “Ta-da. Shirt’s still clean. Comes in handy being type A sometimes, huh?”

Jake sighs. “I know you're making fun of me, but I could seriously kiss you right now.”

 Maybe it’s the four drinks, maybe it’s the thrill that comes with how rarely she does this, or maybe it’s just sheer and wild impulse, but Amy finds herself whispering,

“Maybe we should get out of here, then.”

 ~

 Amy learns a lot of things that night.

 She learns that Jake Peralta is a seriously good kisser, tasting faintly of orange soda beneath the alcohol and salt, and that being pressed against his front door with his hands protecting her head strikes the perfect balance between feeling adventurous and safe. She learns that he’s never really quiet, soft moans and sighs filling the room in the breaks between their kisses, but that the sound only makes her want more.

 She learns that he wears even more layers than her. Beneath the leather jacket and hoodie is a checkered blue flannel that has way too many buttons for her liking right now, and she curses her slight tipsiness while working at them one by one. When she's finally done, Jake pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, and she barely has time to pause to admire how he somehow can look fit despite that catastrophic diet, or the curls on his chest that are begging for her to run her fingers through them, before he's asking “my turn?”. She learns that Jake Peralta is impatient, that his hands work fast on the buttons of her cerise shirt, and that he gets adorably confused when he can't find the button on her suit pants.

“It's on the side,” she tells him and shows him the zipper, and then they're both giggling until she kisses him like that and it's back on again.

 She learns that his hands feel good, sliding slowly up the sides of her stomach and back and rubbing against her shoulder blades. She unclasps the white t-shirt bra for him, smiling to herself as he swallows quickly.

“God, you’re hot,” he whispers, and the soft bites he trails down her chest and stomach make her feel that way, too.

 They move to his bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, and then she’s underneath him and breathing hard as his mouth moves lower, closer. The anticipation of it all is driving her mad, but then he looks up at her and asks “okay?” with the most sincere and caring expression, and Amy’s had very, very few one-night-stands in her life, but she’s certainly never had one like this.

“Okay,” she nods, and there’s that familiar grin again, but this time it makes her feel warm in a very specific place.

 She learns that Jake Peralta can do a whole lot more with his mouth than talking people’s ears off. His breath ghosts over her through her underwear at first, warming her up even though it’s barely even necessary, and then he’s finally pulling down the black material and helping her kick them off. His tongue is careful at first, just tasting her as if to gauge her expression, but then she nods at him to continue and the next second, her head is thrown back as she lets out a gasp.

 She learns that he likes it when she pulls his hair. At first, her hands are just lightly tangling in it for practicality, but then she holds on tighter as a means of control when her legs begin to tense up and the familiar pressure is starting to rise. She’s raising her hips slightly only to lower them again, helping him get her there, and the curls of his hair are just begging to be pulled.

“Do that again,” he pauses to say, so she tugs his hair harder and he straight-up moans.

 She learns that he can make her scream, which she wasn’t expecting, and she rocks through the euphoric waves and pants and practically melts into the bed as she comes down from it.

“That good?” He winks, and she wants to roll her eyes, but he did just make her come harder than she remembers doing in a long time, so she kisses the smile off of him instead, tasting her arousal on his lips.

She learns that he's respectful and a gentleman, telling her that they can stop this here if she'd rather, but she doesn’t want to, and they don’t. He has to rifle through the drawer in his bedside table for a while before he finds a condom – maybe he doesn’t do this as often as she’d thought, maybe it’s another sign of his poor organization skills, but he finds one soon enough so she’s not sure she cares – and then it’s a little bit of a blur, but she rolls it on him with precise strokes and lowers herself on top of him and oh my god.

 She learns that when he looks at her, when he touches her, it makes her feel powerful and special all at once. He plays with her boobs as she sets the pace, his thumbs rolling against her nipples in a way she didn’t realize she liked, and she picks up her rhythm, clenching around him and leaning back on his raised thighs.

 She learns just how enjoyable it is to watch him fall apart underneath her. His pace stutters and he curses, groaning a confession of how close he is, and she could almost come again from watching him alone but she brings two fingers to her clit and touches herself anyway. He finishes before her, spilling out inside the condom with a moan that she can only imitate, collapsing against his chest as she brings herself to orgasm again right after him.

 When they're done learning, they collapse together in his bed. For a moment, Amy considers turning around and calling a cab home, because that would be the most responsible thing to do, but then Jake throws an arm around her to pull her closer, and after all, she's still a little tipsy.

What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

 ~

 Sharp, unforgiving morning light wakes Amy up before her alarm the next morning. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she thinks, and rolls over on the other side so the light doesn't hurt her eyes. She expects the usual greeting of a sea of pillows, and has to stop herself from letting out a yelp of surprise when instead, she's hit with a wall of Jake sleeping with his back to her. A vague memory of them falling asleep like this hits her. He’d wanted to be the little spoon, she remembers.

 At first, knowing that intimate fact about him makes her feel proud. Then it makes her panic.

 She jumps out of bed, throwing off her part of the comforter in search of her clothes. She finds her underwear and bra together with her shirt, trying to dress as quietly as possible, quick before Jake wakes up and discovers that she's half-naked in his apartment and they have to have a very, very awkward talk –

“Amy? What are you doing?”

Too late.

 She freezes on the spot, chewing on her lip as she fumbles for an explanation. Jake’s eyes rake over her with curiosity, which somehow feels a lot more exposing today than it did last night, and it's making her lose track of her words. His bed head curls and disoriented smile is decidedly not helping her focus.

“We slept together last night,” she manages.

Jake’s smile grows wider and prouder as he sits up fully in bed. Amy blushes as she notices the shadow of two hickeys way too close to his neck to be professional.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Very funny.” She sees her pants thrown across the back of a massage chair and quickly reaches for them. “But this… You know this can’t be a thing, right? Just so we're on the same page about it.”

Jake frowns. “What do you mean with a thing?”

“This – us – we can't date, Jake. I know that. You know that.”

He’s silent for a moment before he fakes a shudder. “Yeah, yeah, no. I’ve dated lawyers before. Never ends well.”

“You have?” The reveal surprises her. “It doesn't matter. This can’t happen.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she exhales. “I’m just going to find my clothes, then, and then I’m going to leave.”

“Hey, wait.” He twists his hands together, bringing them to his chin with a smile. “This is going to sound weird, but… even if nothing can happen between us, I’m still glad we had sex last night.”

 The confession takes her by surprise, and Amy wonders again if she just doesn't know anything about one-night-stands. Sleep together, have fun, sneak out in the morning before anything can go deeper – isn't that how it's supposed to go? If so, she's majorly failing, because she can't stop herself from giving him another shy smile in return.

“Me too. Just because, we were like… really good at it.”

“Stupid good!” Jake exclaims. “It makes no sense!”

“We still can't date, though,” she reminds him. “So how do we work this out?”

“Well, it sort of looked like you were planning to just leave, and I’m not going to stop you if that's your choice, but… there is one more option.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We could be friends with benefits,” he shrugs. “None of the commitment, none of the weird incompatibilities between a cop and a lawyer, just us and some stupid good sex.”

“Friends with benefits? Do the kids really say that, still?”

“I’m saying you could consider it.”

 Amy's first instinct is to protest, to say absolutely not and leave on the spot. Her relationship history may not contain that many names, but at least they’ve all been fairly straightforward and conventional. She's never done something like this before, and the mere idea of jumping into something so unknown with someone like Jake scares her shitless.

 Then again, she's also never been with someone like Jake. Yesterday hadn't been a date, but it had still been better than all the awkward dinners and half-hearted walks she's been at since she broke up with Teddy a year ago. And the sex – well, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't already thinking of doing that again.

 “There would need to be rules,” she says.

“Sure, we can come up with some.”

“I’ll write a contract.”

“We need a contract?”

“Yeah,” she decides. “If this is going to work, we need a comprehensive set of rules, and they need to be written down, because I don't trust you not to adjust them in your head last minute.”

“How am I attracted to you? But, fine.”

Amy shakes her head, closing the last button on the shirt that had been left unbuttoned until now. “So… I’ll put together a draft and bring it over tonight? Your place?”

Jake gapes at her for a moment like he can't believe what he hears, but then he nods. “I’m free.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” With that, she pulls on her socks and shoes, leaving before she can freak out again.

“Cool, cool,” she hears just before closing the door. “Friends with benefits. Cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.”

 ~

[blackroseraven]

Went to horses early today and it was surprisingly empty, so that was super nice.

I was able to bring Quattro in, groom him, and then I was going to be nice, but he decided to sneak into Dazzle’s stall when I wasn’t looking and ate some grain so I brought him back and decided no we’ll go with my original plan for today.

He was so grumpy about the saddle.

Like just look at how huffy he is. He was really good once we got up to the arena, though: did well putting up with me getting on and off lots to adjust stirrups to try and get them the right length on him, which I kinda-sorta managed. Ended up being a bit crooked but too lazy to get them perfectly aligned.

Which may have contributed to him being off his canter later but anyways.

He did pretty well. He felt a little weird under saddle but his paso showed up really really nicely, and he was very willing to work.

When we went the other way, though, he was kind of off and didn’t really want to canter and something just felt... wrong? And like, okay. I’m really stupid, right? But I’m not careless, and if the horse tells me something is wrong I’m not going to force him to do it. So I ended up taking the saddle off and then getting back on, and he just took off at a perfect canter.

So that was really nice, actually, even if then all he wanted to do was run run run. And while it’s warmer today, it’s not so warm I want him out there sweaty.

He still got pretty damp, though, with all the work he did. And rolling, because he rolled like three times afterwards, clearly enjoying himself. I let him go down and he. Promptly went over to get in the way of other people, because he’s a butt.

I brought him around and then got Q and brought them both inside to hang out. Q was very mouthy today and Quattro was happy to just be groomed and get attention paid to. When some girls I don’t know went by, he happily ate out of their hands, and it was really nice to see.

He is different. When people who don’t know him or his history approach him, he just seems like a somewhat-skittish horse who becomes nosy when you offer him food. A thing that... a lot of even really experienced people forget is the horse is going to mirror you, so if you keep treating him like he’s some sort of bomb then he’s going to get nervous and start ticking like one. It’s important to trust.

It’s hard, but really important, all the same.

So yeah. A decent day, all in all. And of course it was early enough we were able to shovel the paddock, don’t have to worry about that tomorrow.

Unfortunately dumbass is gone again for another business trip, so. I’ll be stuck sulking for another week. But. Just gotta focus on the now, and make the most of the time we have, and let everything else sift away.