#i wrote this instead of my research paper

[eliossun]

LAST SHOT - first meet

synopsis : interning at a random ship in space sounds like a great idea for your paper. don't you think? part -> 1 2 3 ?

characters : anya, swansea, daisuke, curly, jimmy, gn!reader (daisuke x reader if u squint)

content : filler. lots of filler. lots of people being people. the series is sort of a fix it fic (?) only warning is mention of.. jimmy... eugh

wc : 3.4k+

before you read, reader is : cold, non expressive, and a psychology major...

close to an oc.. but also not an oc? features of the reader is never described, and i wrote it as gender neutral as possible

- you were an intern in the pink pony express.

- .. more specifically, a university student with honours in their bachelor's degree in psychology. you did plan on going back to get a masters once you're done with this internship. the pay wasn't much, but since it covered your living expenses for a year, and since the internship being valid enough to put into a research paper (after confirming there's psychological tests in the ship) you say this wouldn't be so bad. 

- ..or so you thought.

- the first day you boarded the ship, you were baffled by the lack of security measures of what, or what you can't bring to the spaceship. sure there were manuals, but the actual boarding of the ship? no security, at all.

- you knew the conditions that the company puts their employees in from online forums.. so you tried to prepare beforehand with a backpack. woo! (it took you hours to recount your basic needs)

- you managed to sneak on board your little backpack (it was huge) and thankfully, you managed to stash it away in your room before anyone else noticed. 

- .. and thankfully the directions were easy to read as well, otherwise you'd be lost.

- you don't want to bring all that around the tour of the ship either, so this would be the most efficient solution.

- pretending to be waiting in front of the ship unnoticed was also easy. however, imagine the surprise when another intern trips into the spaceship, last second.

- the captain - you find his name to be curly, only managed to give you a brief welcome, before asking the nurse of the ship - she introduced herself as anya - to show you around.

- whilst going around, the other intern tried to start conversations with you. which briefly went as follows:

"hey! my name's daisuke, yours?" 

"y/n."

"woah! cool name!"

"..."

"..not much of a talker...it seems... hehe.."

- you only nod in response. 

- anya seems to have read the room, and immediately guided you away to introduce you to two other people instead. swansea the mechanic, and jimmy, the copilot.

- however the atmosphere persisted. you stayed in silence most of the time. daisuke was close to starting another conversation with you, but seemed to back out last second.

- you feel rather bad for being cold towards him. but your body is way too exhausted to respond. maybe you should’ve brought some painkillers as well..

- ... or perhaps you could pay off your sleep debt on this trip as well. ahh… a faithful wish..

- that aside, you also found out you would be interning under anya. she was soft spoken, and overall, you have a feeling that you wouldn't mind sticking by her side for the next.. year.. or so.

- having a singular nurse for a 6-man crew isn't too bad. but now with her teaching you the basics, you think that you’re capable of taking some of her responsibilities. (you're glad to take some weight off her back)

- you agreed on weekly psych checks with the crew (much to swansea’s and jimmy’s dismay) so you’re ready to keep your journal very, very filled.

- the routine was simple. you'd wake up, check your stash of items which included - airtight sealed snacks which consisted of a lot of sweets, your journal, a lot of thrifted power banks for your ds to charge on, your ds of course, a taser, a gun, and a personal emotional support voicemail on one of your mp3 player - then go into the lounge for breakfast, and finally, follow anya around for the rest of your day.

- sometimes you would bump into swansea and daisuke while you're passing by the utility room. and sometimes daisuke stops you for a small talk

- you eventually warm up to him. he's awfully smiley for someone close to your age, then you find out he doesn't go to college, and your question was quickly answered. 

- after a bit more small talk, you realise that you both were from the same town (what a small world)

- he mentions that he missed eating a specific candy - it’s called sunshines, silly name, you know - which you could only get from the bakery near your town, and you look away, fully knowing that you had the same candy in your bag.

- .. oh well. maybe another time.

- your interactions with swansea was rather limited.

- you both see each other and simply choose to ignore each other's existence.

- perhaps it's a part of you that sees through him. and he sees through you too. 

- silent understanding is a better word, perhaps. 

- you both only talked on the few occasions where you were there to take your psychology evaluation tests. he keeps complaining about daisuke and whatnot - but you know that look in his eyes. that’s not hate.

- after a while, he stops complaining - resorting to grunts and short answers. perhaps tired of attempting to trick you.

- quick yet blunt. the way you prefer things to be.

- you sometimes offer to read out daisuke’s psych test to him. only the parts where you deem as okay to say, though. mostly parts where you ask how his internships are, and him answering with praises towards swansea. 

- swansea refuses each time, but you read some of them anyway. when daisuke complains about swansea though, you read out his response to "how was your day". which mainly consisted of his joys of the day.

- swansea pretends he doesn't like it. once again, you know that look in his eyes.

- you thought he would be done with acting around you, but you suppose, ego can't be beaten sometimes

- you really like their father-son-like dynamic. you just hope daisuke doesn't let the old man's words get to him.

- after doing curly's and jimmy's psych test (jimmy needed a lot of convincing in order for him to take these seriously) you find that they were friends that go way, way back.

- you're unsure if curly could see it, but you could tell that jimmy admires him. that man admires curly a bit too much. you're familiar with situations like these. you just hope it won't tip towards envy. oh who you were kidding - it's almost too late now.

- you finally realise why you felt uncomfortable around jimmy after the first month.

- the envy and self depreciation is overwhelming, and you truly applaud anyone who holds a conversation for longer than five minutes. (maybe you should applaud yourself as well)

- self destruction is the only path he’s going towards, and you would help him if he wasn’t so.. stubborn. for a lack of a better word.

- but overall, this trip isn't too bad so far. right?

- its been a month and a half. 

- you and anya had formed some sort of sibling relationship..? 

- it started with her seeing one of your stickers you had placed on one of your items, and her nostalgia of having them on her cup as well.

- you both began to talk more from there. continuous stories about your daily life (which isn’t the most pleasant) but you got to know each other better from there.

- you were immediately stunned at her determination and passion for nursing. - and perhaps, after this all, you could plausibly send a recommendation in for her. 

- you didn’t tell her that, of course. you weren’t able to guarantee it, and you wouldn’t want to give false hope.

- you find that she was incredibly good at games after you lent her your ds. and all of sudden, her competitiveness on game board nights didn’t look so out of place after all.

- she had encouraged you to get out of your shell.. despite many protests from you. (it.. sort of works…?)

- curly, after more interactions, seems to be a great guy. great leader, optimistic despite.. well. everything else, really. you’d be miserable if you had to live outside of earth half your life.

- the very brief interactions you have with him were pleasant. 

- a bit concerning to think he’s carrying all this responsibility for all these years though. perhaps a little rest could do - is what you said.

- he only responded with a chuckle, and a ‘it is what it is’.

- there isn’t any other response you would’ve expected from him, anyway.

- you just hope that once he does find the end of this career, he’ll find something more.. lighter.

- maybe a baker. maybe a craftsman. maybe something else entirely, all you know that this whole leadership thing might end up causing him more harm than good.

- which is what jimmy turned out to be. 

- whenever it’s your turn to do jimmy’s evaluations, you always groan a bit. 

- you show a bit of interest, and he goes the mile to talk about himself. not quite boasting - but very much putting others beneath his shoes to seem… “relatable” to you.

- you only nod. you give him a small phrase from time to time, but otherwise - it’s all nods.

- the issue with jimmy is not his current state itself. sure, it’s annoying and insufferable - but what’s dangerous is next stage of what people like him become.

- envious. greedy - dangerous. you wouldn’t trust him even if it kills you.

- and so you don’t. you try to keep a wary gaze on him.

- another thing you find that swansea is quite similar to .. other people in your neighbourhood.

- he talks about how he’s been struggling with alcohol, on a particularly hard night.

- you listen. he keeps talking. you add on his statements a little bit from time to time, to show that you’re listening. otherwise, you’re dead quiet, eyes staring at him, and his eyes towards the false sky by the medical bed. 

- he complains to you more than anything though. about.. nearly everything. about how daisuke won’t do this properly, about the food for dinner, about him being unable to see his wife at home, how he won’t be able to see his kids grow up, and you, in exchange, tell a bit about yourself.

- he understands you; and you understand him too. you were both trapped under the same situation at the start of your lives, and you, by chance, managed to escape. 

- he makes a joke about it. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. 

- …although.. this meant that you were a bit privileged in the way swansea treated you. 

- this showed in the way that he allows you to mess with his toolbox (maybe you were the only other person who was interested in his toolbox, aside from daisuke..) 

- he teaches you the basics, and daisuke often chimes in from what he had studied before from swansea as well.

- you often thank the two for the lesson, and swansea seems a bit more smug after, whilst daisuke seems more proud of himself.. and due to that, you are more than welcome in the utility room.. from time to time.

- ah, speaking of daisuke..

- he’s incredibly sweet. you wonder if he particularly needs the sweets anymore from how overly sweet he is. you do end up sharing your snacks either way, and thankfully, he’s obedient enough to only request one sunshine every one to two days. (at this rate, you might have just enough to last you the entire.. 9 months? close to 8 now..) 

- he also plays games, and showed you his own ds, stickers of pokemon, doodles, and small little things indicating his other interests were plastered all over it - which you end up telling anya. 

- this is where anya’s willingness to help you connect with others come in. 

- not before long, you, anya, and daisuke managed to make a post-game night activity.. which included playing the ds until you all reach the specific curfew anya had set (thankfully, she did set one, otherwise daisuke would’ve tried to beat you until his fingers fell off.)

- there was one time that he was too tired, and you had to drag him back into his room. with an arm slinged around your shoulder, and anya following behind in your footsteps, he stayed asleep the entire time.

- he wasn’t drunk. hell, do you even have alcohol in the ship? the answer was no. unless you were to drink cleaning alcohol.. but point is. he didn’t get drunk, and he was just that tired. you wonder what kind of new training he’s been trying to do.

- you tried your best to drag him, but once you were beside his bed, you had only one choice.

- you slowly placed him back into his bed, lifting his leg up to remove his shoes - before placing him properly on the bed.

- anya had already excused herself back to her room, and with the silence (and occasional snores from daisuke), you find yourself observing daisuke’s room.

- pink weights, a very, very patterned backpack, and a charger. those were the main things that caught your eyes. 

- .. and you had his ds in your hand. so out of kindness, you went over to plug in his ds for him.

- before you left him alone, you checked up on him for the last time. he’s sleeping soundly. you try to close the door as silently as possible.

- you hope he continues to dream tonight.

- so far the worst thing you had to witness from the male was the absolute mess that was his laundry pile. 

- it started when you - whose room was beside daisuke’s - smelt something akin to the concentrated scent of the (sun) detergent.

- you knocked at his door, and only a muffled wait echoes inside, before you could hear him tripping over his own feet to open the door.

his eyes meet yours - looking quite frazzled. He’s heaving slightly, perhaps a side effect of rushing to get the door.

“h..hi!”

the detergent smell only got stronger, and it became very much obvious that he.. had a little accident with the laundry. your focus flickers between the mess he is, and the mess behind him.

“...did anything happen?”

he chuckles nervously, avoiding eye contact.

“oooff course not! and i almost forgot that i had to- uhm- change my sheets! so see ya soo-”

right as he was about to shut the door, you had kept it wedged open with your shoes. his eyes actually meet yours, again, and you tilt your head slightly, arms folding.

“i can smell it from the hallway. let me help you.”

“no- i can do it!”

you send him a particular stare. it seems to make him falter, and you sigh once more.

“let me help you.”

he looks hesitant, his grip on the handle weakening. a moment passes, and then he closes hie eyes, and smiles at you - defeated.

“alright then... but don't be angry!”

- as you step in the room, you’re met with the sight of.. very, very many bubbles on a stack of clothes. 

- and when you look back at daisuke, he only offers you a guilty grin, and a look that said i told you so

- that’s the story of how your fingers managed to smell like detergent for a whole week, and the event that hallmarked your almost instant closeness with daisuke.

- ever since the laundry accident, you two have been together quite often.

- every lunch break was simply just sitting alone, until anya or daisuke approaches you. If anya approached first, then daisuke followed. if anya couldn’t join you in the lounge, then you’d go to the medical bay, and if you’re allowed in - daisuke would follow right after.

- everytime you manage to get spare time to lounge on the extended sofa, daisuke immediately joins you. the only difference from before was the way he joins you on the couch. sometimes by closing your eyes from behind and asking you to guess (even when it’s apparent), sometimes by jumping or launching himself to the spot beside you.

- every now and then, he scares the living soul out of you. he laughs until you start chasing him with a cup in your hand.

- he tries his best to make you laugh. the best he got so far was an amused stare from you.

- apparently, it’s good enough for him. he cheered the entire night you made that expression.

- on his psych tests, he talks a lot.

- there’s.. not much time to talk to you. you only realise once he starts to talk about his week, instead of his day. 

- nowadays, you focus on getting your analysis done. how each person’s behaviour have changed - in general, of course. you’re not going to mention their every detail, and rather, you ask them to fill out little questionnaires (which is the only detail you’re submitting)

- usually, before you got close, he mainly talks about his day, and only his day. 

- sure you spent a lot of time together, but since this was the only chance to be truly alone, it’s usually the time that he opens up.

- he barely does so. but it’s much easier to see his emotions on his face, with far more vulnerability. 

- it starts from little things, like how he really thinks swansea might get tired of teaching him. or maybe the way jimmy got mad at him because he accidentally spilled oil on his shirt. 

- then it turns to things in his house. how he missed his mother, how he missed seeing his cat, how he felt like he had to take this internship because he felt like he had to prove something.

- you offer him hugs from time to time. he accepts them. 

- sometimes you feel tears soak into your shirt. you try your best to comfort him after. whether it would be rubbing circles into his back, or offering him an extra piece of sunshine - you tried your best.

- you know you aren’t the best at that. but if this is all you can do, then what else should you do?

- sometimes you wonder if this ship really does need to be human automated. 

- what costs do they cut by hiring human workers instead? innovation? investment in machinery? why keep people on barely minimum wages in a random ship being sent out to space, with minimum facilities and minimum safety and security? isn’t it a safer bet to go all out with machinery, then turn a profit later down the line - rather than close to losing this hunk of metal nearly every other day?

- then you look into the lounge in what is assumed to be “six in the morning” - you don’t trust the clocks. everything feels fake - and get hit by literal beams of sunshines in your way ( read : curly, anya, and daisuke laughing together )

- maybe you can keep those thoughts for another day. you ate.. pretty okay pancakes that morning.

- perhaps the only thing you wished you could change, in definite terms, was the way jimmy lingered around anya’s room. 

- so stop it you did. or at the very least, attempted to stop it, you did.

- that’s the main reason you ended up sleeping on the front of anya’s room. (with her permission, of course)

- the reason you proposed to her was, and you quote, 

“i keep on having dreams of cockroaches.” 

- anya looked at you half asleep. the other half concerned, worried, and confused. you shuffled in front of her room, your hand hauling a mattress and your blankets awkwardly.

- .. she finally allowed you after a small while. maybe its because you looked pathetic. maybe its something else. you do not know, and you don't want to know.

- you eventually placed your mattress back into your room (due to the lack of space, you should’ve expected that - your only reason was that you did this on a whim), and slept on the floor, facing the walls with your blanket covering you like a silkworm.

- it’s not comfortable. thank god the tulpar has - at best - subpar air conditioning, otherwise you’d freeze to death in this huge metal hunk in space.

- it successfully warded off jimmy though. or so you’ve observed. so you really don’t mind the way your back aches every morning. 

- maybe you should bring more pillows…

the door behind you croaks slowly, and slowly- your eyes peek open, looking up at a dimmed figure. an anya-looking dimmed figure. you immediately relax back in your blanket.

“..nightmares again?” she looks concerned about your sleeping position. for a moment, you feel bad for lying.

you purse your lips, and nod at her.

“.. yeah.”

she watches from the door, and nods at you. 

you think she finally figured out that you knew about jimmy’s recent lingering. she spares you a thankful glance, and sends you a soft nod.

“..goodnight. thank you.”

you nod back, and once the door shuts back, you slump further. as much as these metal walls allow you, anyway.

you hope you dream this night. maybe of home, or of something sweet. maybe of something better.

you aren't sure what that something is. but you hope you find it soon.

but, oh, who were you kidding.

you never got the chance to dream. this night isn't any different.

you slip into a void; your body awaiting tomorrow.

i hope u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it .. !

initially started off as a daisuke x reader insert but i went too far and suddenly i have this.. this...... series.... will get more into the romance after i world build a bit more.. if you have any specific requests for the reader in this au, don't be afraid to shoot something in my ask box!

extra notes: in order of youngest to oldest, i hc daisuke to be youngest, then reader, then anya, curly/jimmy and swansea !

sun & moon dividers by : @/saradika daytime screen & medical bay from mouthwashing

[darqee]

New chapter up!

Soul Collector Chapter 4 Preview:

Your brows only furrow deeper as you try to comprehend what the monster is accusing you of. "I do not understand." You mutter lowly, not particularly pleased to be bothered, and by monsters no less.

After discovering this town was littered with monsters, you tried your best to avoid encountering more. You didn't know how to feel being in their presence, especially not after what you had experienced before arriving here.

You still had bigger problems to think about, and you didn't want monsters to be a part of it. You also wanted to honor your friend's wish, and right now, the only way you knew best was to avoid encounters with the monsterkind.

The skeleton's eye lights darkened at your words, his hands clenching into fists. "OUR SHED! WE CAME UPON IT RUINED! ALL OUR PRECIOUS TOOLS ASKEW AND DEFILED!" The skeleton yelled, his arms shaking in anger.

You flinch at his sudden outburst and take a step back as the monster inches closer. Ah, so that's what they were angry about. You briefly remember the shed you took shelter in on your first day, which was also the shelter that led you to meet your lookalike. You do have to thank them, though, for you would not be in your current position had you not found it.

"That was your property?"

The skeleton had a look of disbelief on their face. "YES??? DON'T PLAY A FOOL WITH ME, HUMAN!"

You put a clenched hand on your chest and bow your head. "Thank you."

A faint snicker came from the taller skeleton, his shoulders twitching as he attempted to stop his sudden laughter. "I- WHAT?" The shorter skeleton paused, a look of complete confusion on his face.

[nadiasna7]

I really love this interview with Kurvitz because it provides such an interesting and valuable insight into the creative process. And the way he describes some game mechanics is actually so unusual, yet so on point (obviously). Like, the fact that ideas are basically loot that you get from conversations. But I also wanted to share my experience with the Thought Cabinet.

Robert says that he'd love to have a mechanic where thoughts could interact with one another. And the first time I played DE, I actually assumed this was what would happen. I don't know where I got it from, I think I played a game with a similar system (not thoughts, obviously, but some skill interactions???) but I can't pinpoint what it was...

[lindamccartneysstrap]

btw anon who asked me about songs i prommy you'll get an answer but unfortunately it's gonna be a lot more than u bargained for i'm so sorry.

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.

author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)

“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.

“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far. 

also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.

you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.

“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”

satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”

“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.

“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”

“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”

satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”

you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.

“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”

“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”

satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”

“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.

so you decide to bide your time.

“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”

“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”

“well, it worked.”

he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”

you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission. 

satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”

“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much. 

“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”

you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”

satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”

at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.

“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”

“thought you liked your girls feisty.”

“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.

“what the fuck?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.

“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.

satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”

oh, fuck it.

“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?

as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”

yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.

which, for tonight, includes you.

“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.

satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”

within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact. 

“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”

“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?

“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”

“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”

although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.

and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense. 

“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.

“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”

soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”

you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?

the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.

satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.

“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.

“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.

he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.

[nymphomatique]

simulacra

atsv!miguel x fem!reader x comic!miguel

im no geneticist so please forgive me for any incorrect science terms 😁 i have no words for this one i wrote this with my pussy. enjoy! 

cw: bunch of word vomit before we get to the sex, miguelcest? two miguel’s like eachother very much, comic!miguel x fem!reader x atsv!miguel, boys kissing, reader fujoshing out, cunnilingus, ass eating (f receiving), blowjobs, ball sucking, handjob, fingering, squirting, voyeurism/cucking?? idk one watches for a bit, double penetration, anal fingering, unrealistic anal 🫡, nipple sucking (f), cum eating, honestly just vibes all around!

wc: 7.9k. im sorry.

—> so this was originally supposed to go up like several weeks ago with a note that i would be gone for school + summer classes (that i just finished!!!) but turns out i drafted it instead of queuing it like a fucking idiot 😁!!!!!! nonetheless, i’m so sorry for the wait. enjoy. 

“This is ambitious, even for you Miguel.”

“The worse that could happen is there’s no other dimension, then we take our dinner after this experiment.”

“You’re paying.”

“Only if I’m wrong.”

Geneticist by day, interdimensional scienctist by night, Miguel O’Hara proceeds as one of Alchemax’s brightest employees. A ground breaking research paper with a thesis on the future of genetics and their ability to be bioengineered and spliced with those of non-mammals earned him the title of lead geneticist, nothing short of prodigal in comparison to his peers. 

You and Miguel met two years ago during your internship for Alchemax, studying yourself to become a geneticist after reading Miguel’s thesis paper in your freshman year of college. Miguel is a famed alum of Nueva York University,  the science department’s crowning achievement in all its years of standing. When you had heard that the genetic science department had opened internship applications for Alchemax, you had been ecstatic. Not only would you have a chance to intern at the company of your dreams, but also get the chance to meet one of your academic idols. Needless to say, when you had read the words “Congratulations! You have been accepted and offered an internship position to study within Alchemax’s genetic science and engineering department.”, to say you were excited would be an understatement.

In the two years you’ve spent interning at Alchemax, you and Miguel have developed a close relationship to say the least. It had been a divine stroke of luck perhaps when you learned that you would be working along side Miguel as a lab technician, you had felt like you died and gone to heaven. Seeing framed photos of the scientific genius in his earlier years had no comparison to seeing him in person. To be crass, he was fucking sexy. Tall, extremely tall, broad and muscular in stature, and tan all over. Brooding eyes and a seemingly permanent frown of dissatisfaction present on his round lips, it was safe to say you had developed a slight workplace crush. 

Nevertheless, it seemed to be an unrequited infatuation. Miguel never seeming to want to talk to you about things beyond the study of deconstructing cells on an atomic level or changing the structure of somethings molecular composition, he seemed beyond disinterested in you. Still, you enjoyed the stolen glances and the misinterpretations of a touch or a word or a glance. It’s like a secret you have kept to yourself. 

It wasn’t all distaste on Miguel’s part however, after some time with him he began to share some tidbits out his personal life, rather reluctantly however. You caught him one day in the lab after hours, you had decided to stay late to work on a test subject, a spider with more than one type of species’ cells, an epigenetic experiment of yours. You were about to leave the lab when you saw Miguel hunched over his desk in his office fidgeting with a gadget you’ve never seen before. A rather crude looking watch, various types of wiring and exposed circuits coming together to form it. 

It was then he had explained to you his after hours personal project; inter-dimensional travel. To think he was ambitious was the least of your thoughts, you concluded in your head that he was downright stupid to think something like that is feasible on a level of understanding basic science and physics. But after witnessing the messy blueprints and nights of coffee and energy drinks, night after night, seeing how truly dedicated he was at just wanting to believe the idea of inter-dimensional travel, you had no choice but to indulge in him, your bubbling crush gave you no choice to object. 

So nights of him alone hunched over his desk, became late nights of both of you hunched over his desk together, fidgeting with formulas and logistics of opening a window to an entirely different universe. 

Sometimes you brought coffee, and sometimes he brought late night dinner (that he made in his kitchen) for the both of you. Regardless, the both of you had developed a work relationship, platonic of course, in the two years you’ve been present at Alchemax. You had even shared with him a draft of your own personal work for your final thesis before you graduate; the possibility bio engineering spider DNA with human DNA after your successful test of cross species creation of two types of spiders. To your surprise, Miguel had taken great interest in your work, even helping you with your thesis. It made it hard to not develop feelings for him under circumstances like this.

Tonight has been no different than any other. The two of you sat together in his personal office, gearing up to test a new iteration of the dimension opening watch, more sophisticated than one of the prototypes you walked in on Miguel tweaking at all those months ago. 

“Did you set up the tripod?”

“Check.”

“And the-“

“Yes, Miguel,” you drawl out, “the recorder is set as well. Can we get the started now? I’m tired and hungry. I’m counting on that burger.”

Miguel’s face goes stale and you hold in a laugh. You really love how easy it is to piss him off. “Get in position so we can start.” The fluttering thought of you and Miguel setting up and getting in position for a different type of movie crosses your mind and you blush a bit. Focus! You move behind the camera set up, and press record, signaling for Miguel to start the video log.

“Miguel O’Hara. Time is 22 hundred and 27. This is watch prototype 14-B. With this experiment, I hope to be the first person on earth to discover inter-dimensional travel.” 

You give a very subtle clear of your throat behind the camera and Miguel sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m also accompanied by my lab technician.” You peek your head around the camera and wave with a smile. Unmoved, Miguel prepares to start with the experiment. A nervous glance to the camera and he twists the mechanism of the watch to the on setting. There’s a moment of silence, the room tense with anticipation, the silent clanking of gears filling the room, until its stops. There’s a short pause in hoping, anticipating something would happen but nothing. Miguel breaks the silence. 

“Attempt number 34 is a conclusive failure.”

“Knew you’d be buying me dinner tonight,” you quip, walking away from the camera, ignoring to turn it off. 

Miguel rolls his eyes at your comment shucking off his lab coat for the day. “Hurry up so we can catch the cafeteria before it closes.”

You’re hot on his heels, leaving the lab sauntering behind him.

“Attempt number 34 is a conclusive failure.”

“Knew you’d be buying me dinner tonight.”

Miguel was perplexed. Where are those voices coming from? 

Sat in his apartment, a glass of scotch on the rocks in his hand, with soft jazz lulling in the background. After a long day of hero work, the unwinding was needed, so such a rude interruption calls for investigation.

“Lyla?” He calls out softly, and with flitting of light she appears. Soft features and blonde hair all an illusion of light. 

“Yes?”

“Inspect where those voices are coming from.”

“On it,” and she’s gone once more. 

A sip of scotch luls the bulging nerve beginning to head at Miguel’s temple. With a sigh, and another curt sip, he gets lost in the soft jazz, the saxophone carrying him away just for a moment. Until..

“Miguel?” Lyla rouses him from his reverie, and he’s reminded of where he is. “I’m not sure where the sound is coming from. But I am sensing waves of molecular abnormality and instability, suggesting that someone could be-“

“Dimensional travel,” Miguel cuts. “Shock. Who do you think’s behind this?” 

“I’m not too sure, but I am worried. I’ll look into it further.” Lyla disappears once more within a moment. 

“For shock’s sake,” a sigh and thick fingers come up to pinch his nose bridge. This is the last thing he needs. He stands from the couch and is suddenly taken aback at the intense shaking in his penthouse. “What the sh- Lyla!” he calls out, but as the shaking continues she’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A bean of light shoots up from under the ground and blinds Miguel. He’s so fucked if he ends up in the hands of some villain. The floor splits from under him, swallowing him and spitting him out into a void-tunnel-like space, an amalgamation of orange, yellow, red, and pink lights. He feels like he’s everywhere and nowhere, all and nothing at once. He simply closes his eyes and braces himself for wherever this decides to drop him. 

Glass breaking alerts Miguel all the way from the cafeteria. 

“Did you hear that?” He stalls mid conversation. Quiet. Listening. 

You’re confused. “No? How good is your hearing you think you hear things from down here?”

“Sensitive hearing,” he says, still unmoving. There’s another pause, until he starts packing up his food to go. “Stay here. I think someone is in the lab.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “You don’t know me as well as I thought. I’m investigating with you, let’s go.” 

Miguel looks at you and any argument dies with the deadpan look you give him. Silently, he walks back to the lab and you’re just as silent, following behind him.

First, Miguel thinks he’s in a hospital. The white lights and broken vials he landed on making him think he fucked up some poor doctor’s office. Then, he looks around and he knows it’s not a doctor’s lab. The bunsen burners and scribbles upon a rolling chalk board riddled with math. Then, he sees the abandoned lab coat embroidered with the word ALCHEMAX. How did he end up here? That’s when he hears it. Hulking footsteps, followed by a lighter tread. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had no gear on. The footsteps were getting closer. He thinks fast, grabbing a piece of a broken beaker in his hand. 

The lab door swings open and that’s when he sees the both of you. Him and the stranger in front of him look at each other. Perplexed. You’re like me. Different. It’s unspoken. There’s a pause before you emerge from behind the large man and Miguel looks at you up and down, glossing you with his eyes. Cute, he muses silently. You raise a brow at him blatantly checking you out before you speak.

“Care to explain what’s going on here, or should we call security and let them deal with you instead?” A hand rests on your hip as you pose the question. A feisty one, he can tell. 

Miguel sits up and drops the glass. “I.. don’t know how I got here or how. One minute I was in my house and the next..” he shrugs and looks around.

You freeze, looking at the tall man before you both. “You don’t think.. do you?” And he freezes at the question a beat after you ask it.

“It worked.” 

“So, uh,” Miguel clears his throat. “Care to clue a guy in?”

You think you’re losing your mind. You can’t believe it worked. A person, a man, from another dimension is here. In your lab. You and Miguel did this. You want to burst with excitement and vomit in fear at the same time. 

Holy fuck, dimension travel is real. We did it. We fucking did it. 

You introduce yourself and your lab partner to the strange and is face goes staunch.

“What did you say..?”

“This is my- my lab partner Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

“No shocking way.. I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

It’s your turn to go staunch next. “You’re- what?”  It’s now you take a moment to look, really 

look at the other Miguel. First thing you notice is he’s drastically shorter that your Miguel, sitting at five foot eleven compared to the staunch six feet and nine inches of your Miguel. Then, you look at his face. Same brown tresses but less wavy, coiffed in a messy side look instead of the slick back you’re used to seeing. Still, you can’t deny his attractiveness looking at him. Some things seem to carry on between dimensions, like the same thick eyebrows, slightly tanned skin, and soft looking lips in a pout. You trail your eyes down his strong nose to his thick shoulders, muscles visible even through a plain white tee shirt. The small of his waist and the thick of his thighs strained against his denim jeans have your mind trailing off for a moment, with very inappropriate thoughts to have about a coworker and a stranger. 

Miguel, your Miguel, has barely said a word, brooding over you and his tether silently. “Yeah. And this is Alchemax, yeah? My father owns this company where I’m from, the piece a’shit. Lyla would lose her head at this.”

Miguel decides to speak finally and it scares you a bit. “Did you say Lyla? As in Lyrate Lifeform-“

“Lifeform Approximation, yeah.” 

“Brother?”

“Gabriel, the pain in the ass he is.”

Miguel’s in disbelief. “No way this is- I did this.” He looks at you for a second and away, like he’s thinking, contemplating.

“Are you.. do you take it too? Rapture?” he chooses his words carefully, and you’re confused. Rapture? 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You look between the two men, a bit flustered to be honest, and clear your throat, trying not to blush when they look at you. “Sorry to be that guy here gentlemen but uh- how do we get him back?”

“I think the pretty little scientist is right here, my brother. I think you know as well as I do why I can’t stay here for too long.”

He does. A dirty little secret he’s kept from not only you, but all of Nueva York, is that he’s the one and only Spider-Man. Not only does rapture need to be sated, but crime doesn’t allow for vacation time in this line of work. Left to its vices, Nueva York may very well burn itself from inside out.

“Get me the watch,” your Miguel asks you. You twiddle off to the office with broken glass and loose paper rattled all over the floor, picking up the watch in all its fried-wire glory. You grimace, before getting up to leave when you notice the camera from the video logs on the floor tucked away behind a fallen chair. You remember that you forgot to turn it off before you left for lunch. You bring it in jest, hoping maybe there’s something valuable on film. If not, you get to watch Miguel look incredibly handsome in his lab coat again, and you can’t complain about that. 

It’s quiet between the pair when you return. You can’t help but look at them, thinking how ludicrous this whole situation is, truly. “I still can’t believe you guys are the same person,” you muse aloud, dropping the broken watch on the counter along with the camera. “I forgot to stop recording, might be something worthwhile on that thing.”

“Thanks. We’ll clean up and uh, head to my place. S’getting late,” your Miguel says, dropping the watch in his pocket.

In the two weeks the other Miguel has been here, you’ve learned two things: One, Miguel, the both of them, are Spider-Man. Other Miguel had let it slip, and your Miguel confirmed it to you. Following a brief moment of shell shock, your mind began to race. His stamina is probably incredible, and he’s so big and durable, I wonder what he looks like under that suit. Speaking of that suit, you’ve never not noticed the bulge but knowing it’s been Miguel under there the whole time you bite your lip. You’re so fucked. Second, you were beginning to develop a bit of a crush on the other Miguel. You delude yourself into thinking it’s an enamourment that’s returned, the flirty jokes and wandering exchanges shared between the two of you.

This was something that unbeknownst to you didn’t fly under your Miguel’s radar in the slightest. When all three of you are together, you notice the way his muscles in his face pull at the borderline vulgar double entendres his doppelgänger makes towards you. The twist of his lips, the hard swallow in his throat. Is he… jealous? 

“Red or white?” you hear the other Miguel over the couch ask, and the question grounds you. You’re over at Miguel’s place, in attempts to figure out what missing code is needed to finally send Miguel’s other back to his original dimension. You had showed up on time, but Miguel had been running late with Spider-Man duties, so you and his tether found yourself plenty occupied within the wine cabinet, stocked with aged reds and whites. 

“Red,” you reply back. “What bottle is that? If it’s expensive he’ll kill you.”

“Chateau Cheval Blanc. 1947. Aged to perfection,” Miguel says, walking towards you at the couch with two large rounded glasses in hand accompanied with a rather expensive looking wine bottle. When he rounds the couch you quirk an eye at him. “All the bottles he has are expensive. And technically, they’re my bottles too.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but smile. With a pop, the champagne bottle opens, and the smooth pour of amber liquid fills your glass. 

At the first sip, it’s tart, a slight edge to the wine. But with each sip, the notes of fruit and full bodied taste of it begins to hit your taste bud. As you sip, conversation between you and Miguel follows. He tells you about his own perils as Spider-Man, his troubled home life, romantic life, and everything in between. 

You laugh. You sip. Your glass empties, and he refills it. You’re warm. Your eyelids become heavier. You’re blinking slower. You’re chewing your lip. You’re nervous.

You’re nervous to be alone with Miguel like this. You’re scared of his charm, his dry humour. His chiseled jaw and rounded lips. You really wanna kiss him.

You realize he’s been talking to you this whole time, sat across the couch, droning on about his own LYLA. You feel the heat in your stare, and you wonder if he can too. You can’t help but look at his lips while he’s talking, his tongue peeking out in a flash of pink to wet his lips after a prolonged sentence. 

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me. 

Your hand slowly comes up towards Miguel’s face and the words slowly die out of his mouth until he’s silent, staring at you like you’ve been staring it him. 

“S’good wine,” you say, rubbing soft circles into his cheek. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod and bite your lip. “How comes, baby?” You blush. He’s teasing you now. This is exactly what you wanted.

“Makes me feel warm.” 

You’re meek in your speech, and Miguel finds it adorable, building up the all too palpable feeling of attraction. “Just warm?” he prods, his turn to run circles onto your skin. You’re glad you worse a dress, you think, as his hand trails slowly up your thigh until his fingers are just centimetres away from where you really want them. Then he begins to caress your upper thigh with his thick hand. You’re beyond the point of wanting a kiss now.

You shake your head slowly. “Not just warm. Needy,” you sigh out. Your hand leaves his face and falls on top of his hand on your thigh, and you pull it up ever so slightly until he’s touching you where you really want it, his fingers simply resting against the fabric of your panties. “Feel needy here.”

“Oh, baby..” he drawls, and he pulls you in with a kiss with his free hand. You feel yourself melt into him, a little dizzy. Whether it’s the wine or Miguel, you’re unsure, but you savour this feeling, scared for it to end. Your lips exchange taste, his mouth tasting of the wine, mint and cigarettes. You can’t help but grind yourself into his fingers, and he finally gets the hint and rubs against the crotch of your panties, coaxing the wetness out of you. Your lips don’t leave eachother, the moment you’ve been waiting for being fuelled but the weeks worth of desire for this Miguel, and years worth of repressed feelings for the other. Your hands comb through his thick brown hair, holding onto him as if he’ll disappear if you let go. Your lips leave his to whisper your words of desire into his ear. You can’t wait anymore.

“F-fuck me, please.”

He groans, his lips making his way to your neck to suck, and when your field of vision clears up you freeze. Miguel is home. Standing in the doorway to his apartment, watching you suck face with his tether. You feel like a kid whose hand got caught in the cookie jar, the strong look of displeasure, anger, at catching you in the middle of defiling his couch. Other Miguel eases up off of your neck with a satisfied face that falls flat when he sees the expression on yours, eyes fixed over his shoulder. He sits up and turns around and freezes once he sees what you see.

It’s unbelievably tense in the room. Your mind feeling like it’s going a mile a minute, while also feeling like you’re unable to produce a coherent thought, a combination of Miguel’s touches and that damned red wine. 

Your mouth opens and closes over and over, until you blurt out some half-coherent apology for making out with his indimensional counterpart in his home. 

“I’ll um- leave.”

You get up and grab your purse, walking past your Miguel on your way to the door, but you’re met with a strong hand on your shoulder. His strong hand on your shoulder. “Sit.” 

It’s all he says. And you do. 

You slowly stalk back to the couch, sat in the middle trying to keep a respectable distance from the other Miguel, considering the embarrassing position you were caught in. Miguel makes his way over to the couch, looking at the wine bottle and wine glasses on his glass centre table. 

“1947. Good year,” he smirks, and you’re feel your stomach twist. What is he playing at?

Finally, Miguel sits beside you, and you feel your face heat up at your predicament. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“I’m not upset about what you two did in here,” Miguel states plainly. He runs his eyes down your neck at the drying spit in between the juncture of it and your shoulder. You look down in embarrassment, but his hand lifts your chin up to look at him once more. “I’m just upset he wasn’t going to wait for me,” he says, brushing his fingers across your cheek and down your chin. You barely have a moment to process what the fuck is happening before his lips crash into yours. Your wine-muddled brain is swirling with so many thoughts but the only one you listen to is the one telling you to kiss him back, so you do. You kiss him back softly, letting him lead you into it. His tongue slips between your lips when you let out a soft moan, and the kiss breaks. Miguel chuckles at your face. He looks beyond you and eyes his twin. “You gonna join or what?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” other Miguel muses, and grabs your chin to kiss you next. The difference between the two kisses has your mind spinning. One soft but dominating, the other hot and heavy. You want to feel them both forever. You feel another pair of lips on your body, your neck specifically, softly kissing up and down the plane of skin there until the soft kisses turn into lingering nips, and the nips turn into bites and sucks that have you writhing against the couch.

Other Miguel breaks the kiss to move his way down to the juncture of your neck, littering it with bites and kisses as well. The stimulation on both sides feels so good, you can’t help but moan and tilt your head back. With lips preoccupied, a set of hands moves to life your shirt, exposing your bra and the swell of your breasts. Palms move through cups of your bra up, freeing your breasts. They’re only free for so long until a palm envelopes one, and a pair of lips from your neck migrates to your unattended nipple. Your eyes have been closed this entire time, the sensation and sheer circumstance throwing you for a loop. You open your eyes and look down, to see your Miguel sucking and pawing at your breasts, while the other continues to lick and bite at you. You feel sharp teeth graze your nipple and you hiss, your hand moving to the back of Miguel’s head and running your fingers through his brown hair, gripping slightly. He peeks up at your face with a smirk, biting one nipple and pinching the other. Your back arches and you inhale shakily and he chuckles. “Naughty fucking girl. Strip.”

It takes you a moment before your brain processes the words you just heard, but after a moment you realize what he said. Strip. You get up, back facing the two, and you undress slowly, and you become privy the sound of them stripping along with you. you sit back down between the two, hands in your palms and nervous. You’ve had sex before but never this intense, or with two guys at once. 

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me, mama? I want your ass this way.” Your Miguel asks.

Ever so pliant, you obey. Ass up, face down in the other Miguel’s lap. You take the time to look at his dick from where you are and your eyes bulge. He’s not the longest but fuck is he thick. He’s well groomed, his curly pubic hair kept primped and cut at his base. In your reverie, you feel something wet lick up at your slit and it sends a chill down your spine. He’s eating your pussy. Miguel is eating your pussy. 

“Taste so good down here too,” he muses from behind you, inhaling you before diving his tongue deep within you. Your lower body feels like it’s been set ablaze, your nerves on edge and Miguel’s prodding and licking and sucking and rubbing. His fingers circle your clit slowly as he eats you out and you feel like you’re in heaven. 

“I see you’re feeling good, huh baby. Make me feel good too, yeah?” Other Miguel says, caressing your hair away from his face. You nod, and grab his thick cock in your hand, beginning to slowly jerk him off. “Yeah, just like that baby,” he sighs, watching you intensely. You jerk him off for another moment before you lift your head up and lick haphazardly at the tip of his penis, twitching and leaking already. You look up at him as you give his tip kitten licks, and then put the tip in your mouth. “Fucking vixen, you are,” he groans, his hand coming to sit at the back of your head. You bob your head up and down slowly, trying your best not to scrape your teeth against his shaft while your Miguel eats you out so feverishly. You’re sucking and licking as best as you can, reaching a hand around to cup and massage Miguel’s balls, and his hips twitch up and push him deeper in the back of your throat. You moan, at both him and the Miguel behind you, and Miguel notices. He holds your head more firmly before he starts to thrust up into your mouth, fucking your face. Your mouth produces obscene noises, leaking spit around the base of his cock and down your lips. You moan as he fucks your face and suddenly you jolt. A thick finger breaches in you and starts thrusting against your walls, and you can’t help but moan, feeling already full from both ends. One finger becomes two, and Miguel finger fucks you to the pace of other Miguel’s hips. “Taking us so fucking well, baby. Good girl. So good. Take it for us.” You don’t know which one says it, but you keen at the praise. You want more. Your throat feels tight, like you’re gonna suffocate on this thick cock, but you hold out, feeling so good and hot inside. “Almost there baby. Swallow it all.” You muster the energy to flit your eyes up and see Miguel’s eyes closed as he fucks your face voraciously. You feel hot, both at the fingers inside you and the face Miguel is making. With each thrust, your nose hits his pubes and it makes him moan increasingly louder until he thrusts one final time and groans. “Take it for me, baby. Don’t swallow yet, fuck. Fuck!” he moans. He pulls his dick out of your mouth until it’s just the tip your lips wrap around. You breathe deeply through your nose, finally. You let Miguel’s potent cum spurt in your mouth until he finishes and pulls out. 

“Show me,” he breathes. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him the white ropes of cum in your mouth and how groans, pulling you up to his lips to kiss him messily. You’re dumbfounded before you can even realize that your Miguel pulls you away and towards him next, pulling you into a kiss too. His tongue swirls in your mouth before he pulls away from you. “I told you I wanted to share,” he says, before kissing you again. Your head is spinning. You’re not even sure this entire thing isn’t some mega fucked up erotic dream you’re having. You can’t find it in you to care if it is or not for another moment when you feel Miguel grab your hand and wrap it around his cock. Your fingernails barely touch around the girth of him so you look down and holy shit. 

Miguel chuckles at your reaction to his size. He must get this often. His cock is definitely proportional to the rest of him, long and thick all over with a trail of curly dark hair at his base. It’s not as groomed as other Miguel’s but you don’t mind. The leaking, uncut cock in front of has you pulsating inside, and you bend down to lick the precum from his dick. “Such a good girl for me. I don’t even have to tell you what to do,” Miguel says, stroking your hair. You hear movement behind you before lips lick from your clit to asshole, and it takes you by surprise. Your lips pop off of Miguel’s cock and you turn around to see the other Miguel, already semi-errect with a smug smile on his lips. “I-I’ve never.. not there,” you stutter. “Just relax baby. M’here to make you feel good,” a says, rubbing his hand across your right ass-cheek. You nod and go back to sucking off Miguel, feeling the wet tickle of Miguel’s tongue against your asshole. You can’t help but tense as him placing kisses back there. He brings his other hand up to your other ass-cheek and spreads you apart. So vulgar, but you can’t help but find a part of you that likes it.

Miguel spit on your asshole, causing a squeak to leave your stuffed lips, before his plunged his tongue in the hole. Your head starts to fly back before Miguel’s hand stops you and pushes you down, two thirds of his dick down your throat.

“Ah ah, baby. Be a good girl and show me how you suck me off,” he says, rubbing the apple of your bulging cheek with his hand. Be a good girl and show him. With Miguel’s thrusting tongue in your ass, you keep forward and try and fit more of Miguel’s dick in your mouth, sucking him and jerking off what can’t fit in your mouth. “Just like that, baby. Yeah. Make your master happy.”

Your stomach contracts at the word master and something flips in you. You suck his cock until you feel like your jaw is about to dislocate, letting yourself get lost in the praise and the pleasure, feeling an orgasm build up from getting your ass ate. You begin your tremble at the constant stimulation, sucking even harder. Your feel Miguel’s dick twitch in your mouth, an almost there slipping from his lips as you suck and lick and jerk him off. Your hips start to shake when you pull off his dick, placing the tip against your tongue and jerking him, wanting to milk him of his seed.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.” Miguel pants.

You brace yourself and open your mouth even wider, jerking him as he cums in your mouth. Miguel’s tart cum falls against your tongue, falling down the side of your face as you hold your mouth open for him. He groans above you and curses. “Swallow it.” And you do. Miguel groans before he leans down to meet you in a dirty kiss, and you can’t hold it in anymore before you’re groaning into his mouth and shivering into him from your orgasm. Other Miguel doesn’t stop licking you, licking up the liquid leaking from your pussy with a salacious sounding moan. “Sweet fucking pussy,” he moans between licks, and you’re trembling at the overstimulation, sending you into a second orgasm. This time, you feel your body tense up, and before you know it, you’re squirting into Miguel’s mouth. You gasp, and move your hips from Miguel’s face, feeling your own liquid leak down your leg. 

“Yeah, baby. So fuckin’ sweet,” the words make your clit tremble, the sheer base in Miguel’s voice twisting and turning, prodding and pulling at your nerves. “Don’t run, lemme finish, yeah?”

Your hips buck up and away wildly but to no avail, Miguel proving to be an immovable force to your constant movement. With every suck and lick, you feel your energy depleted as the pleasure crosses the threshold of pain, the overstimulation making your body go both numb and still. You’re engulfed in a haze, your body going limp against the couch save for your pelvis held up by two very large hands.

Distantly, you hear skin slapping and you flit your eyes up for a moment to see your Miguel jerking off at the sight of you, surrendered fully to them both. Your eyes roll towards the back of your head when you feel the wetness of Miguel’s thick tongue lick up from your clit to your ass, prodding the tight rim of muscle lightly with his tongue. Before you can register what’s about to happen, you feel a gush of wetness leave you and you groan, utterly exhausted simply from foreplay. Your ears pick up on the increased speed your Miguel took in jerking himself off, a groan leaving his lips shortly after your own does. You picture him covered in his own cum, white sketched across his tone and tanned abs, and the mental picture is enough to get you excited again, despite the way your muscles protest.

“Such a good girl, taking my mouth like that.”

You suppose you should answer, but your tongue is limp in your mouth, unable to force a sequencing of words out. Instead, you let out a pathetic sounding moan.

“I want a taste too. Holding out on me, baby?”

You half expect the stimulation to start again, tensing up, anticipating a touch to your sensitive clit. After a beat, you finally notice you’re untouched still, and a part of you is graceful for this recovery time, but the shuffling behind you has you finding the strength to lift your head up and—

Oh my fucking god.

Your brain short circuits for a moment, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing above you.

Your eyes flutter open and close a few times, somewhat of a quick blink to make sure you’re not riding off some ecstasy high that has you imagining things, that has you imagining both Miguel’s kissing. 

It’s slow, and messy at the same time. Your fluids are being lapped up and exchanged by the two men, who lap up and exchange their own saliva as well. You’re struggling to make sense of the eroticism of it, and sheer absurdity of two Miguel O’Haras making out, both mouths wet of your pussy’s nectar. The cognitive dissonance starts to kick your ass a bit, rationalizing the logistics of self incest and it being plain out sexy. 

They break apart, both slightly flushed. Your Miguel eyes you with low, brown eyes while your gaze is transfixed at his wet lips, a singular web of saliva connecting both of the men’s lips as they pull apart. Your breath is caught in your throat and you’ve immediately made your decision about the bullshit logistics of this dimensional anomaly. It’s making you so fucking wet. 

You’re sure Miguel notices your face, as a breathy laugh leaves his plump lips, wet with both you and him and another him.

“Knew you’d taste good.” He winks and smiles a smile that has your legs regaining feeling once more. 

You slowly sit up, straddling yourself in Miguel’s lap. “Want you in,” your hands wrap around his strong shoulders and you lay your cheek against his chest, grinding your sensitive wet lips up and against his dick slowly. You have other Miguel in your line of sight, and you see him watching you both, cock straining against his stomach. It has you feeling warm, thinking of how he unwound you from the inside like that earlier with only his mouth. You can only imagine how it would feel with him inside you. “I- I want you in me too. Please..”

Your voice comes out as meek, but the raunchy display of your hips grinding, face flushed, is anything but. 

“Gotta go slowly, mama. You ready?” Miguel asks you, his large hands resting at your hips now, slowly increasing the friction of your wet pussy lips against his thick cock. You moan a bit, and nod in his chest. The thick tip of Miguel’s dick stretches its way inside your pussy, burning slightly despite how wet you are. You wince in pleasure, savouring the burn of the stretch. Other Miguel sits up and makes his way behind you, kissing your back and neck as you sink down onto your Miguel’s cock.

“Fucking tight,” Miguel groans, just as aroused and affected as you are in all the hazy pleasure. Once you’re fully sat, you can’t help but sit up and look down at your lower stomach, a slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “Holy shit,” you moan. You’re pushed back against Miguel’s chest and you squeak at the sudden movement.

“Gonna fuck your tight little ass, baby. Okay?” 

It’s rough the way he spits it out into your ear from behind you. You can hear the arousal and anticipation in Miguel’s voice. He spreads your cheeks, spitting on your taut hole. “Gonna have to relax f’me, baby. Gonna be a real tight squeeze.”

You wince and hold onto your Miguel as the other one enters you from behind. While his size isn’t as big as your Miguel, he’s still insanely thick and long in his own right. It takes a lot out of you to withstand the entrance. Soft kisses to your temple and shoulder, sweet nothings and whisperings of “You’re doing so well”, “Good little girl” tickle your ears. From who, you’re not sure. But the verbal praise makes the pain worth it with the way a concentrated heat builds in the depths of your stomach from their charged words.

“I’m all in baby, tell me when you’re ready.” You blink once, twice, and exhale a curt puff of breath. You can’t wait anymore. 

“M-move, but slow.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, the rocking of hips start, and you feel everything. The pain, the pleasure, the push, the pull, the sheer unnerving hot heat and sensation the two men bounce you between.

After the initial moment of processing the moment you’re having with these two men, these two Miguel’s, you feel your body become both wracked and accepting of the pleasure. The cant of hips get rougher, the spill of moans and breath get louder, and you start to feel yourself get lost in the raunchiness of it all. Your hands roam up a plane of firm musculature and it has you reeling. Miguel is so manly you can’t help but let it turn you on. 

“Feeling good, hm?” Miguel’s full lips are pulled into a smirk as he fucks up into your pussy and you simply grip onto his biceps as he drives into you harder. One particular thrust has you sitting up and leaving back into the other Miguel, head tucked away into the juncture of his neck as he fucks your ass from behind. “I think- fuck- we broke her, man. Can barely speak.” You can hear the smirk in Miguel’s voice as he says that, but you can’t be bothered to protest, because you feel like if you let them fuck you any longer you’ll enter comatose. 

Hands from behind you roam up from your hips to your breasts, squeezing at the expanse of your chest tenderly. Simultaneously, thick hands plant themselves on your hips, squeezing as they bring you down in time to the upwards thrusts of hips. “Oh my god- I’m gonna c-cum,” you breathe out, feeling your body wind itself up, preparing for another explosive release. The hands at your breasts start to squeeze your nipples, pinching and pulling the sensitive and erect buds, and you squeal. 

“So fucking sensitive, baby.” You know that’s the other Miguel, his lips are directly next to your ear. You turn your face towards his and plant your lips against his, desperate for a kiss. Your lips tingle as he kisses you back and you moan in his mouth, your hands running through his thick brown hair and gripping gentle for support. You’re sure that if you were to let go you’d fall face first into your Miguel’s chest, which wouldn’t be all bad now that you’re thinking about it. 

Your kiss with Miguel breaks when you feel something warm and wet wrap around your nipple- Miguel’s mouth. You gasp, feeling yourself tighten around him inside of your pussy as you watch him suckle at your breast. Lips trail up against your neck and they suck and Oh my god- he bites your nipple and you moan so loud it almost startles you. That signature smirk doesn’t cease to appear on Miguel’s face even with your nipple between his lips, and you’d smack him if he wasn’t fucking you oh so well.

The lips sucking hickeys into your neck stop and the cold air drying the spit there makes you shiver. Miguel chuckles behind you and you feel the reverberation of the sound in his chest up against your back and it makes you feel warm inside. You can’t hold on for much longer if the two keep teasing you like this. “P-please let me cum, I can’t anymore,” you heave out, both exhausted and inexplicably excited.

“What do you say, Miguel. Should we let her finish?” A voice behind you. Your eyes squeeze close at a particularly intense thrust to your ass.

“Mmm, I don’t think she wants it enough.” A gravelly voice from your front says. He unlatches from your nipples. Thick fingers tease at your clit and you keen forward. 

“P- please oh my gosh please let me come I want it so bad-“ You feel like you’re on your knees, begging to two unmerciful gods to turn your punishment into something considerably comparable to a torturing pleasure. 

“Hold on for juuust a little, baby. We’ll make you feel real good, real soon.” 

The thick fingers teasing your clit, which you’ve deduced belong to the Miguel behind you, move on from their teasing to rubbing strong circles into your clit and you feel your legs begin to tremble. The feeling of your body getting ready to unwind feels closer and closer and you feel your ass and your pussy get fucked harder and harder until- 

When it happens you feel disjointed from your body, watching from third person. You can see yourself, squirming and twitching and shaking and squirting again all over Miguel’s couch and lap and they’re still fucking you because they haven’t cum yet. Your body begins to go slack and you fall against your Miguel’s chest, lips grazing his nipple as he continues to fuck up into you fervently. 

“Looks like we fucked you numb, baby,” he laughs and you hear it- feel it in his chest, and you moan lazily. “Oh baby, I know. I’m almost ready to cum. Just a little more.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna burst back here,” Other Miguel grunts above you. His hips pound roughly for two- three- four more thrusts before his stills into you and you can feel his cum spurt into you and you shiver. Right behind him your Miguel follows fucking his cum into your pussy with a deep and heavy groan. 

“S-So deep…” you breathe out, relishing in the stillness between all three of you. Heavy breathing weighs in the air for few moments before you feel Miguel slowly begin to pull out of your ass, his cum leaking out of you lewdly. You inhale a sharp breath as he moves to sit down on the couch, and that’s when your Miguel lifts you off of his semi-softened cock and onto your back on his lush sofa. 

Your chest rises up and down and your eyes flutter closed as you struggle to catch your breath and wrap your head around what happened, but you barely get a moment’s rest before your knees are pushed up to the side of your head and you’re basically balancing yourself on your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and you see two heads above you.

“Gotta taste our work, don’t we?”

One mouth against your creampied pussy, one mouth against your cum filled ass. You’re not too concerned about who mouth is where- but them sucking at your holes, licking up their cum and yours too is sending your body into overdrive with the overstimulation.

You focus on the image up above you and your eyes bulge in your head at what you see, with each lick up your mounds, the tongues between the two Miguel’s touch. With each lick their tongues touch longer, and longer, until they kiss once more, exchanging each other’s cum with your in their mouths and you’re sure you’ve begun to witness an orgasm induced hallucination. They finish kissing, lips and mouths wet and messy, and your legs come back down from your head to the soft couch cushions. 

Your mind is absolutely reeling, processing the last few hours up until moments ago, feeling warm in the face already. 

You’re so fucked going back to work.

[rosenclaws]

Different Side of the Track || 50's Greaser!Logan smut

summary: All your life your parents had created the perfect image of their daughter that you were forced to fit into but when you went off to college and came back with a degree they were nothing but ashamed. Claimed that it wasn't a ladies place to be educated like that. So why not ruin their good family image even more and sleep with the older hot and mysterious man with a motorcycle.

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, fem!reader, breast play, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, borderline abusive family, sexism, harassment from a group of assholes, violent Logan.

wc: 4.6k

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a/n: It's my birthday! So to celebrate I wrote this fic because I couldn't get the idea out of my head and god he's hot. Also I didn't really try to do proper 50's talk because I'm lazy and I cannot handle all the research jaldfk;s. This ended up a little angstier than normal, as my fics usually do lol. The ending isn't my favorite but I tried im sorry asdfjkl. Okay anyways I really hope you like it!

You truly hated this town. College was a breath of fresh air and while it wasn’t always easy, it was better than home. You got your degree, proudest day of your life. Even if your parents didn’t show up. Even if you had to smile in the picture by yourself, watching everyone else celebrate with their families. Your parents never understood your want to go to college.

You thought they’d be proud but if anything they were ashamed. They think that a woman pursuing higher education was unladylike. That a woman's place was to stay at home and take care of the kids. They were embarrassed of you, refused to acknowledge any of your achievements.

You wished you could have stayed in your college town but then you got the letter. Your grandmother had passed and you needed to come home. You were heartbroken. Your grandmother was the only one to support you, and helped you when you worked countless hours at the diner to pay for it. She celebrated when the acceptance letter came in and she gave you the biggest hug when you left.

Coming home was a no-brainer, needing to be here for her funeral but now you’re stuck at home with your parents and life is miserable. You were counting down the days until you could get out of here again. You spent as much time as you could out of the house.

Going to work, dreaming of another life. Doing literally anything you could to stay out and away from your parents. That’s how you found yourself here. Taking midnight shifts at the diner to stare at the man sitting at the counter.

Logan. It was sewed onto the patch on his jumpsuit. You don’t even know his last name but you do know that you want to know everything about him. He worked at the mechanic shop right across the street. He was dark, brooding, mysterious. He didn’t talk to anyone. Just ordered one black coffee and sat there with the paper. This was a small town and you had never seen or heard of him before.

“You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth there pumpkin.” You feel a hand on your jaw and you swat it away. Betty, your coworker was grinning like a madwoman. She was a sweet old lady who has worked at this diner for longer than you’ve been alive.

“Oh hush.” You look down at your order sheet. Sketches of your patrons fill the empty sheets. Mostly drawings of Logan.

“I don’t blame you sweetheart, he’s a dreamboat if I’ve ever seen one.” She sighs dreamily as she looks at him.

“Who is he?”

“Not sure, rolled into town one day. Plenty of rumors, though, say that he was an army guy. Some say that he’s running from the law.” You gasp at the idea.

He couldn’t be a convict could he? You’d never met anyone like that. Though, you feel yourself grow curious instead of fearful. Your whole life you lived in the perfect world. Perfect family with a lot of money and a perfect reputation to uphold. You got the perfect grades, had the perfect friends and still your life felt anything but perfect. You craved something more, needed it. You couldn’t live the rest of your life as someone's housewife. That wasn’t your dream.

“Looks like he needs a refill..” Betty nudges your arm and pushes you forward. You eye the apple pie sitting in the case and steal a slice. No better way to get a man to talk than give him pie right? Clearing your throat you head over and put on a smile.

“Hi Logan.” He looks up from the paper with his usual stony face. A beat passes and he doesn’t speak.

“This is for you, on the house.” You place the pie down in front of him. You shift nervously in your spot as you pour coffee into his cup. He’s never told you his name, does he think you’re a freak or something?

“It’s on your uniform, you know. Your name.” You wince at how horribly awkward this feels. He looks down.

“That supposed to be me?” He grunts out. You tilt your head in confusion before following his gaze. Your guest checks with drawings all over them. Drawings of Logan. You slam your hands down and stuff them in your pocket.

“No! I mean, yes but it’s nothing. Just drawings I. I’m sorry.” Logan just looks at you and you walk off in shame.

Mentally kicking yourself as you sulk back to the kitchen. Betty takes over serving him as you silently wait on the remaining people. By the time your shift is over your back aches and you’re still replaying that moment in your head.

“See you tomorrow Betty!” You say as you put on your coat.

“Hold on dear, this is for you.” She hands you a napkin and winks. Confused, you open it up to see messy handwriting. 

Thanks for the pie doll

-Logan

Logan has come by every night since then. Ordering one black coffee and you sneak him whatever pie is left. Sometimes it’s apple, other days it’s pecan. Today’s pie is pumpkin. Just in time for the fall season. He’s still a man of few words but he’s always polite. Pays and says thank you with that handsome voice of his. You’ve gathered some information on him. Mostly from the town gossip.

The group of boys, greasers who would often come by and cause a ruckus, idolized him. He drove a motorcycle, fixed cars, and smoked like there was no tomorrow. In some weird way he’s become their parental figure. Not that he really gave a shit but he worked with them at the shop and he took care of them when he needed to. He strolled in again today. This time he looks at you and throws you a wink. It’s a little routine the two of you have now. Not much talking but it’s nice. You think you’ll be able to get him to open up soon enough.

“Thanks doll.” Logan says as he sits on the worn stool. You hand him his coffee and pie, already prepared just the way he likes it.

“So, do I get to know your last name yet?” He smirks and takes a sip of his coffee.

“How about you fetch me a napkin first. Then I’ll think about it.” You roll your eyes playfully and he smiles. The door jingles and you hear the sound of obnoxious laughing. You look up to see the jerkiest looking boys you’ve ever seen. They wore letterman jackets that seemed too small and talked too loud.

One of the boys, a blonde guy who seemed vaguely familiar whistles at you. You hold back a scoff as you walk over to their table. They’re looking you up and down with a gaze that makes you shiver. Absolute jerks.

“Hey sweetheart, why don’t you be a good girl and get us some milkshakes.” You clench your jaw as you jot down their order.

It dawns on you that you know exactly who that guy is. David Scott. He was in your high school class. Quarterback, the popular guy every girl in school wanted, and the worst human being you’ve ever met. He was nothing but a no good bully. It seems fitting he’s never truly moved on from this town as he was dumber than a bag of rocks. Logan catches your eyes as you head back to the counter. Preparing their order and trying to tune out their annoyingly loud voices. Before you head back with their order you top off Logan’s coffee.

“You know drinking this much caffeine can’t be good for you.” You say.

“And yet you’re still serving me.” He shoots back. You shrug your shoulders and smile, he’s got you there.

“Hey! You done serving grandpa over there.” Logan growls and his grip tightens on his cup.

“Ignore them, they’re nothing but a bunch of idiots.” You say under your breath. You bring the tray of drink over and set them down.

“Anything else?” You ask through gritted teeth.

“Nope.” David whispers something to his friend before moving his hand and spilling his shake all over you and the floor. His friends burst out laughing and you bend down to clean up the mess. Counting down the seconds until they leave. You’re too focused on cleaning to hear David whisper to his friend.

“Watch this.” You hear the stool fall and suddenly you’re pushed to the ground.

“Get off me!” You turn around and see Logan holding David by the collar of his shirt. Teeth bared and a dangerous look in his eyes.

“Logan!” You scramble to your feet as he shoves David into the booth.

“Think you’re funny bub? You’re lucky she’s here or I’d beat you to a pulp.” He growls, eyeing his friends who are now cowering in fear. You stand stunned as Logan seems to command the room.

“I’ll give you ten seconds to scram or I’ll make good on my promise.” He rolls up the sleeves of his jumpsuit and grins. You’ve never seen a group of boys in so much panic.

“And don’t forget to pay.” Logan says with a smirk. They throw down more than enough money and bolt out the door.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.” You say softly as Logan seems to calm down.

“Fuckin’ idiots.” He shakes his head and gently pushes you away from the mess.

“Broken glass doll, gotta be careful.” Silently the two of you clean up the mess, him scooping up the glass and you cleaning the table.

You watch carefully as he handles the glass, watching to make sure he doesn’t cut himself. You see a piece of glass slice his hand and you hurry to the back to get a band aid. However when you come back the cut is gone, maybe it was just strawberry? The clock strikes 4am and the new waitress comes through the door, relieving you of your duties. He waits for you to clock out and walks you out the door.

“Thank you again Logan.” He just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Let me walk you home.” He offers and you accept. The walk is silent as you head to your home. You eye his cigarette and he notices. He holds it out to you and you take it. Taking a puff and immediately coughing it back up. Logan chuckles as he takes it back.

“Never smoked before?” You shake your head and he just smiles. Figures.

You’re much too sweet to have done anything bad. Just looking at the houses around him he knows that you’re as high society as they come. When you reach your house Logan stands on the sidewalk, watching as you walk up the driveway. You look at your door and then turn around to hurry back to Logan. Leaning in you kiss his cheek and he almost drops his cigarette.

“Bye Logan.” You bite your lip as you slowly walk back. As you walk through the door you hear him call to you.

“Howlett, my last name is Howlett.” 

Your sweet night with Logan turned sour the minute you woke up. Your parents were down at the breakfast table. Scowling with disappointed looks on their face. Oh great what else is new.

“You need to quit.” Your dad says and you laugh.

“What?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is for us to tell people you’re working at a diner? You come home smelling like smoke? It’s insulting the family!” Your mother hisses and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You knew they were cruel but to hear those words from your own mother. It hurt.

“I am an adult, I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“As long as you’re living here you do. Now go down and tell them or I will.” Your father stands and stares you down. You feel so fucking helpless. It’s true. You’re stuck here and the money you’ve saved up isn’t enough to get out of here just yet.

You storm out of the house, letting the tears fall once you’re out of their view. The walk to the diner is miserable. You don’t want to quit, you like your job. Tears fall as you tell your manager, apologizing and leaving with your tail tucked between your legs. You hated this. You longed to be free and now you’re trapped at home.

Sitting on a bench outside of the diner you let yourself cry. Not wanting your parents to see any sign of weakness from you.

“Hey, everything okay doll?” You look up and see a blurry Logan from your watery eyes. He’s got grease and oil on his face and suit. Wiping his hands with a rag.  You shake your head and Logan sits next to you.

“My parents made me quit.” He scoffs in disbelief.

Oh Logan knows all about your father. He wasn’t sure until last night but once he saw your house he knew exactly who your family was. Flaunting their money and status to spit on those lower than them. He serviced your fathers car a few times. Adding pointless upgrades. On the bright side he charges him double and your father doesn’t even bat an eye.

“That’s bullshit.” Logan says angrily. You’ve told him about your life. How disrespectful your parents are. How stupid they can be, anyone should be proud of their daughter getting a degree but they think it’s shameful. You’re smart, pretty, a real perfect girl.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say in such a defeated tone.

“You can always spend time at my work, don’t know if it’s the kind of place you’re used to hanging around but-” He gets cut off as you lunge at him. Hugging him tightly as you seek comfort in his arms. He freezes but slowly places his arms around you. Your perfectly crisp and clean dress was now dirty by his hands but you don’t care.

“I owe you so much Logan, you’ve been a real life saver.” You don’t want to let go. He’s toned, even with the jumpsuit over him. He’s strong and his arms are so warm and welcoming.

“Don’t worry about it doll, can’t stand to see a pretty girl like you so upset.” You lean up and kiss his cheek again. He grins as you scoot closer to him. Suddenly he pushes you back. You’re confused until you see your father pulling up next to the diner. Oh god did he see anything?

“You quit?” He asks, glaring at the dirt on your dress.

“Yes. I quit.” You say unhappily but he doesn’t care. He shifts his eyes to Logan.

“What happened there?” He says accusingly, you know your father wouldn’t hesitate to threaten Logan despite Logan being much stronger. It’s the egotistical nature of him.

“She fell, I caught her.” Logan lies so easily. Your father hums and drops it to your relief.

“I need you to look at my car tomorrow, something’s wrong with the brakes.”

“Got it.” Logan says casually and you can see your father roll his eyes. He drives off leaving the two of you on the bench.

“Say, why don’t you come by with your father tomorrow. I’d be happy to show you a few things” Logan offers, a flirty tone to his voice.

He walks off before you can respond, needing to get back to work. You throw the idea around in your head as you head back home. There’s no denying that Logan is hot. Really hot. He’s everything your parents hate. Lower class, older, doesn’t care about their status. It would drive them insane if you started to hang around a guy like him.

Though you don’t want to just use him to get back at your parents. You really do like him. It’s a win win in your head. Smiling to yourself you already start to pick out your outfit for tomorrow.

Ready to cause a little chaos. 

Your father didn’t understand why you wanted to come with him but you gave him so stupid excuse and he bought it. Your father pulled the car in and threw the keys at Logan. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but Logan does it for you. Despite Logan being much more knowledgeable about cars, your father still talks down to him. It’s rude and classist and you hate it.

“I’d like to stay, you know, make sure nothing goes wrong.” Your father scoffs but leaves you be.

“He’s real lucky I don’t punch his lights out.” Logan mutters as he pops the hood of his car.

“I’m really sorry, you don’t deserve that.” Logan shrugs. He’s used to it by this point.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about me.” He leans over and kisses your cheek.

He wipes off a seat for you to sit on and you watch him work. There’s something about the way he moves that’s just…attractive. His muscles strain in his jumpsuit, sweat drips down his face. And the noises, god the noises. The grunts when he moves something heavy. Then he does the unthinkable. He unzips his jumpsuit, taking off the top half and tying it around his waist. Leaving him in just a white tank top.

Now you really have a show. You don’t know how much time has passed and you don’t care. Slowly the garage empties as people head to lunch until it’s just you and Logan. Logan can feel your eyes on him. In fact he loves it. Your cute face is staring at him like a piece of meat. He can see you shift on the leather stool. He can smell how bad you want him. It’s desperate, almost pathetic how badly you want him. He stands up, making sure to flex his arms as he sets down the wrench. 

“You alright doll, you look a little hot?” Logan feigns concern as he steps closer to you. Placing his hands on the workshop table. Caging you in.

“I’m okay.” You eye his chest shamelessly, eyes traveling down to the bulge in his suit.

“Yeah? I don’t know…” He slowly takes your sweater off. Leaving your arms bare and your cleavage on show for him.

“I’m not sweet doll, not gonna treat you like a good girl.” He growls in your ear and you whimper. Oh you need him bad.

“I’ll break a sweet thing like you, but something tells me you want that.” You grab his face and smash your lips to his. It’s messy and dirty, teeth knocking against each other as you fight for dominance. Logan slips his hands under your dress, lifting you up to the workbench and stepping in between your legs. Your hands are locked in his hair. Tugging hard as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth. His hands rip your dress at the top. You gasp as his lips trail down your neck leaving sloppy wet kisses until he reaches your boobs.

“Fuck.” He squeezes your chest roughly, purring at the feeling of them in his hands.

“So cute.” He says with a wink as he leans down and bites your nipples roughly. He promised he wouldn’t be nice and he meant it. He shamelessly grinds his bulge against your wet panties.

“Dirty girl, letting a no good mechanic touch you like this. What would your daddy say hm?” He taunts as his hands move to slip up your dress. Pulling your panties down and stuffing them in his pocket.

“Who fucking cares?” You spit out as you grind your hips. Soaking his suit with how wet he’s made you.

“Oh, pretty girls got a mouth on her.”

“Just hurry up!” You whine as you slip your hands under his tank top.

Lifting it over his head so you could get the view of his muscular body. He unties his jumpsuit and yanks it down, letting his hard cock free. To your surprise he picks you up and brings you to your dads car.

“Turn around.” He lifts your dress up and bends you over the hood of the car. His hands run across your ass, squeezing and admiring the view as he slowly grinds his cock along it. The tip of his dick slides in and you moan.

“Yeah, feels good doesn’t it doll.” He says cockily as he renders you utterly speechless.

The stretch is unbelievably amazing as he bottoms out. You whine as you feel every vein, every twitch of his cock inside of you. He’s so big. Everything about him is big. His presence, his arms, his cock. He was just big. He barely gives you anytime to adjust before fucking hard into you. Your hands claw for anything to hold onto. The hood of the car is too slippery so Logan just pins your arms behind your back instead.

“Naughty, naughty girl.” Logan huffs as he leans down to bite your ear. His pace is relentless. Pounding the words right out of you.

“Letting me fuck you on your daddies car.” He puff his chest out proudly. He’s tearing you apart on your asshole fathers car. Making you moan his name as he desecrates his car.

“Feels so good Logan. Oh god!” His cock hitting that perfect spot in you every time. Over and over. It’s unrelenting. You involuntarily shift your hips. The pleasure becomes overwhelming.

“Where are you going doll? I’m not done with you yet.” He lets go of your hands and grabs your hips, pulling you back on his cock with a bruising grip.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg wildly as you move your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Not planning on it.” He tilts his head back in pleasure as he pounds into you. He feels you clenching tightly around him. Your legs are quivering under him. There’s grease smudged all over your body, your face.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the windshield. You’re completely disheveled, hair a mess. Makeup smeared and clothes torn. You look absolutely filthy and you love it. You can see Logan’s abs flexing as he thrusts his hips. His hands run up your sides. Taking you by the shoulders to slam you back on his cock. A weak cry leaves your throat with every thrust. Finally you break. A desperate, strangled moan as your body quakes. Shaking and rocking you right to your core.

“That’s it doll, I’ve got you.” He leans down and nudges his nose into your neck. Kissing softly as his thrusts slow just for a moment. Letting you breathe. You’ve never felt more happy in your life.

Logan kisses the side of your head as his hips grow sloppy. Chasing his release and savoring the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With a loud groan he pulls out and finishes on your ass. Your eyes close as your body feels like it's melting. You can barely stand. Logan wipes you down with a clean rag, loving how fucked you appear to be. 

“I got you.” He gently picks you up and brings you to a bench. Laying his clean jacket over you as you will your legs to stop shaking.

“You alright?” He’s got a devilish grin on his face as he redresses himself. Somehow it’s like he’s back to normal while you’re wrecked.

“Perfect, oh my god you’re amazing.” You lean back into the bench and sigh happily.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You shoot up and see your father storming towards you angrily. You’re a mess and you don’t think Logan can lie his way out of this one. He’s angry. Really angry.

“You are nothing but a disappointment and you have been ever since you were born! A disgrace to the whole family! To the town! Doing such horrible things with the likes of him.” He snarls as he points at Logan. You’re stunned into silence.

“I have the right mind to never let you out of the house again you ungrateful little-”

Logan steps in front of him and he tries to hit Logan right in the face but fails miserably. You gasp as Logan pushes him against his car. You watch as boney claws shoot from his hands. Your father squirms in fear as the tips of his sharp claws grow closer to his neck.

“Shut the fuck up.” Logan growls.

“You’re a real fucking dick and a sorry excuse for a father. If I ever see you come near her again I’ll fucking kill you.” He lets go of your father and watches as he runs away. Yelling about mutant freaks. Logan turns back to you, a cold look settling on his face when he sees your face. Now you know his secret.

“You’re a mutant.” You say in awe. To his shock you reach out for him instead of running away.

“I am.” You admire the claws, how amazing.

“Beautiful.” His mouth gapes open as you pull him closer.

For once someone is looking at him like he’s normal, like he’s not a freak of nature. He longs for this but he knows your dad won’t go down quietly. He’ll tell the whole town.

“Look doll, you’re too good for this town. You’re too good for me.” He brushes your cheek softly.

“I can’t stay here anymore and you need to go home. Pretend you never met me. You’re a smart girl and you have a bright future ahead of you.” Logan takes his hand away and walks away.

“Logan!” You throw off his jacket, you're limping slightly but you refuse to let him go. He’s quick on his feet, already shedding his work clothes for his normal ones. A leather jacket thrown over his tank top. His motorcycle is out back. He’s got a backpack already packed and ready to go. Like he was waiting for this moment to happen.

“Take me with you!” You stand in front of his bike.

“What?” He asks in disbelief.

“Please, I hate this town. I have money saved. I can help but please don’t leave me.” You move closer to him, taking his hand in yours.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Logan. I’d give it all up to be with you”

“I can’t let you do that.”

“It’s not your choice. It’s mine so please, take me with you.” He wants to say no. To leave you here. It would break your heart and his but it’s what's best. But a part of him wants to be selfish. He could protect you, he could take care of you. But he fears you’d regret it eventually.

He’s overthinking and you can tell. You grab his jacket and kiss him gently. He groans as he slips his arms around you.

“Please.” You beg softly.

“I can’t promise you the life you’re used to.” He warns but his resolve is slipping.

“I don’t care.” He sighs and kisses you again. It’s becoming addicting. You’re completely addicting.

“Hop on doll,” He throws his leg over the bike and waits.

You waste no time jumping on behind him. Wrapping your arms around his waist as he revs his motorcycle. You lean into him and smile. He stops so you could say goodbye to Betty and grab a bag of clothes. He waited at the door, a grin on his face as his claws were proudly shown off to your parents.

Then he drives. Away from your horrible family and the horrible town. Your future is uncertain but with Logan, you’re confident things will work out.

He’s all you need. 

[astonmartingf]

WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME —

— you ended up on this random stranger's bed and suddenly the next thing you know you're moving in with him to raise a baby

P4 ★ PULLING UP ALL-NIGHTERS

amgf reader is still pregnant 😞 we're getting there so now have fluff, i wrote this immediately after chapter 3 but then got sidetracked with research, and studies n e ways!!! this chapter could've gone three different ways but you're stuck with this. i hope you enjoy reading like always 👍 THE TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!! please no more 😃✋

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

yourusername uploaded a new story

[he's off to the crowd and i'm off to grading papers 🙄]

"The baby is keeping you awake?" You jolt at the short creak of the door hinge in front of you, from the other side of the door you see Jenson.

You place your phone beside you, keeping your excitement at bay hiding the fact of how much you truly missed him. A smile grows in your lips as Jenson enters his now shared home with you, luggage and handbags in tow.

"I thought there was still a race? Why are you here already?" You push your laptop and paperwork to the side, pulling out one of the chairs beside you, gesturing him to come near.

Jenson feigned disappointment, throwing his head back before settling beside you. "And here I thought you two missed me, nonetheless it wasn't like I could do more there when all my thoughts are here. So I flew back after crossing the chequered flag."

You ignore your heart skipping a beat at his statement, attempting to ignore the smile growing into your lips mirroring his. "Enough about me, what about you? It's already late and you're not yet in bed, I doubt you were waiting for me so what did our baby do this time?"

You hold your breath in close proximity to his— arm stretching to the corner of your chair, leaning forward to the bump in your belly. Jenson's head tilts to the side, pressing his ear in an effort to hear the baby from inside. "Are you giving mama a hard time huh? It's time to sleep you know. Why are you moving a lot there?"

It's crazy enough that you're pregnant and raising a baby with him, but it's even crazier how your emotions are barely holding it in.

"I was trying to sleep, but I wasn't sure if it was the baby or the lack of your presence—" you mumble under your breath before continuing, "so I'm just catching up on some of the papers. Have you eaten dinner? I can heat up the dishes I made earlier though, stay seated and I will—"

Before you can get up, Jenson pushes you from your shoulder, keeping you still in your seat. "Stay, I'll warm them myself and keep you company while you work on your papers."

Jenson moves your papers back in front of you with a small smile on his face not missing the small peck in your forehead, before trailing over to the open kitchen in front of where you're seated. "Do you want me to heat some for you?"

You shake your head, burying yourself back in your papers the only difference is now with Jenson present, you can't help but let your eyes linger towards him in the kitchen, taking peeks at his actions no matter how mundane his tasks are.

Soon you found yourself in the rhythm of glancing back and forth to the papers in front of you and to the laptop screen on your left. "I made you tea instead, it might help you sleep."

Taking a seat, Jenson places your mug littered with bunny drawings in front of you and settles with a bowl of your leftover dinner. Sitting in silence you bask in each other's presence, talking here and there about your day. Things were back to normal, just like how it's supposed to be.

★ WE COULD HAVE A GOOD TIME — @cosmoscoffeee @astral-cowboy @minkyungseokie @ximaginx @thearchieves @scuderiadevils @black-fireproofs @evie-119 @hannannannannannah @evesfile @vi0letblu3s @siannaplmn @myescapefromthislife @ivyvlair @persiar9 @asmoothoperator @vettelsbees @hc-dutch @tallrock35 @c-losur3 @mael1pastry @booksandflowrs @champomiel @jeffs77 @escapism-writer @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @whatislifebutlemons @snapeeballsack @casperlikej @woozarts @hellowgoodbye @lady-bennet @phantomxoxo @regalbanshee @dark-night-sky-99 @formulaal @kqliie @hrts4scarr @vicurious28 @viennakarma — TAGLIST CLOSED ★

[room-surprise]

PSA: Mana doesn't exist in Dungeon Meshi

Some translations of Dungeon Meshi (specifically the English anime and Yen Press manga) have used the word mana to describe magic, when the original Japanese simply said magic (mahou, 魔法) or magical power (maryoku, 魔力).

Ryoko Kui does not appear to use the word mana (マナ) at any point in the manga, the published extra materials, or her blog, so calling magic “mana” is an addition made only in some translations.

For example, the French translation does not use "mana." If you know of other translations that do or don't use mana, let me know!

The use of the word mana in English comes from Maori and its earlier Proto-Oceanic ancestor language.

It describes a form of supernatural power tied to social status, respect and strength. Mana is a religious concept for many Austronesian cultures, and is not really "magic" in the way pop culture has defined it.

As best as I can understand it from an outsider's perspective, mana is more like attributing a supernatural quality to a person's charisma, or the awe one feels when faced with a natural wonder like a mountain or the ocean, or the intimidation one feels when facing a powerful group.

The use of the word mana as a generic term to refer to magical power has been criticized as being cultural appropriation of a real religious term, still used by living people, to describe fictional magic.

In addition to this, using an Austronesian word at random in Dungeon Meshi for one of the most important and fundamental forces of the universe (magic) is inorganic to the world that Kui has constructed, which is rooted primarily in Greco-Roman, Hindu/Buddhist Indian, Middle Eastern, and Germanic cultures.

Using mana to refer to magic would suggest that the Ancient culture from before the cataclysm was Austronesian, but the rest of the manga does not support such an idea at all.

There are references to Austronesian and Oceanic cultures in Dungeon Meshi, but they are mostly tied to the orcs, who don't appear to use magic, and whose culture clearly doesn't, and has never had, the social power to define what word the rest of the world uses to refer to "magical power."

How did a Maori word get so popular in English?

The concept of mana was introduced in Europe by missionary Robert Henry Codrington in 1891 after he wrote a book about his time in Polynesia. The concept was then popularized further in America in the 1950s by Mircea Eliade, an extremely influential religious history scholar at the University of Chicago.

Mana was first introduced as a magical fuel used to cast spells in the 1969 short story, "Not Long Before the End", by Larry Niven. Around this time it also became popular with new-age religious groups.

It has since become a common staple in fantasy fiction and games.

So why translate it as mana?

The choice to translate "magic" and "magical power" as mana was probably made to try and make Dungeon Meshi sound more like a video game/RPG, since so many Japanese fantasy manga feature video game or RPG mechanics, and translators working on Dungeon Meshi would have no reason to assume it would be any different, especially at the very start of the manga.

However, Dungeon Meshi is much closer to High/Epic Fantasy, like Lord of the Rings, and throwing random gaming terminology into the translation when it wasn't in the original text ("mana", "newbs" and "inventory" instead of "magical power", "newcomers" and "supplies") feels out of place.

I think adding the term mana is a disservice to the hard work that Kui has done with her careful attention to linguistic detail and culture.

In the process of working on my Dungeon Meshi research paper on real world cultural references, I have studied over 100 names and words used by Kui, and I have found that she is remarkably thoughtful and consistent in what real world cultures and languages she pulls from, and what fictional cultures she pairs them with.

Obviously I don't blame the translators for not knowing this, they had to make translation decisions before the entire manga was complete, and most likely they were doing work for hire, with no idea what Dungeon Meshi was about.

They had no way of knowing Dungeon Meshi wasn't a video game fantasy comic, and were just trying to rush through their work as fast as possible in order to get paid, and move onto their next project.

Once it became apparent that Dungeon Meshi was High Fantasy and not a world that functions like a video game, they'd already used the word mana, so there was no going back.

In an ideal world, if the translators had known the type of story Dungeon Meshi would become from the beginning, if they really wanted a single word to translate "magical energy" into, they could have picked a word that belongs to one of the language families I mentioned before, rather than using mana just because "everybody uses mana, so readers will know what it means."

What should I call magic power then?

If reading all of this has made you want to stop calling it mana, hooray! Thanks for listening to me rant. You could just call it magical power, if you wanted. Nothing wrong with that!

But if you want something a little less clunky, here's an incomplete list of possibilities in some of the languages most commonly referenced in Dungeon Meshi. Please note I have not done due diligence on every one of these, I believe none of them are exclusively religious terms still in use, but just words that could mean magic (both fictional and real) in various languages. If I'm wrong about any of them, let me know.

INDIAN: Maya, prana. MIDDLE EASTERN: Sihr, kiisum/kesem. GRECO-ROMAN: Ergon (as a euphemism), goteia, physis, numen/numina, mageia. GERMANIC: Seidr, galdr.

(This post is an excerpt from my Dungeon Meshi essay with additional elaborations.)

[sevault-canyon]

no, miss appleton did not single-handedly ruin japanese soy sauce forever

there's a popular post going around this week about a ghq (general headquarters, the administration of the american occupation of japan after wwii) employee, a certain ms. blanche appleton, single-handedly changing the taste of soy sauce. while her story is fascinating for sure and i await further developments on the part of the op, and had a hand in the history of soy sauce, the premise is quite a bit exaggerated, and the general narrative so far in the framing by the op somewhat problematic.

tl;dr: as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. i find it unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of presenting a single foreign administrator calling the shots in the op's posts.

i've made an initial response here. i will continue my findings in a separate post here.

1. jack daniel's is swill, but it's still whiskey

i think i can distill my issues with this plot so far down to one statement in the original post:

There should be records of her policies, there should be legal documents in America which record how she apportioned out American exportation of soy beans to Japan, there should be sources talking about this woman's ability to transform Japan's soy sauce production so heavily that today only 1% of all soy sauce is made with pre-WW2 traditional techniques.

this transformative impact of one administrator is entirely overstated. this comment led me to a promo blog post where some of the original claims can be seen, and the op mentions that traditional soy sauce was made in kioke barrels, and the this method of production has dropped to about 1% now. this is true, but it appears that at least one source put the decline as starting around the end of the edo period (xvii-xix centuries). [1] sources traceable to yamaroku puts the decline more recently, at about a century ago [2, 3]

this japanese paper on fermented food production is quite clear in stating that wodden barrel production declined from the meiji period (1868-1912) onward.

江戸時代までに一般化した木桶・木樽の使用形態は、明治期以降、一般の生活や各種製造現場で近代化が進む中、コンクリートや金属、プラスチック、合成樹脂等の材質によって代替されていく。 The use of wooden vats and barrels, which had become common by the Edo period, was replaced by materials such as concrete, metal, plastic, and synthetic resin from the Meiji period onward, as modernization progressed in ordinary life and various manufacturing sites. (deepL translation)

another source from a professor on food production in japan suggests that shodoshima (where yamaroku is made) is the area that has most completely preserved the wooden vat method of production.

this survey (oguri) written by a member of the national museum of nature of science in tokyo dates the supplanting of traditional method in more industrialized regions by 1913

1913（大正2）年：栂野は「最新醤油醸造論」の中で、九州、中国地方では桶の代わりに煉瓦又は石でタンクを作り使用していると記述。 1913 (Taishō 2): Tsugano, in his "The Latest Soy Sauce Brewing Theory," wrote that in Kyushu and Chugoku regions, instead of vats, tanks were made of bricks or stone and used. (deepL translation, p.148)

1918年：西二の蔵（ヤマサ印）の建設に当たり研究中の内面塗料が完成したので、これを採用し仕込桶を角型のコンクリートタンクに改めた。 1918: The internal [coating] that was being researched for the construction of the Nishi Ni no Kura (Yamasa brand) was completed, and this was adopted and the brewing vats were replaced with square concrete tanks. (deepL translation with edits from @literaryreference, see translator's note 3, p.148)

i think it bears repetition that soy sauce production was industrializing as japan was industrializing from the meiji to early shōwa periods. as alluded to in the title, a lot of modern soy sauce is like jack daniels: industrial products that evolved from traditional methods alongside a nation's overall development.

2. babe wake up, a new semichemical soy sauce just dropped, and appleton's role in history (a corroboration of @/inneskeeper)

it seems like the plot on the original poster's part has gone to the american side, so let's try to follow the us-japan interaction but from japanese sources.

the survey cited earlier (oguri) has a lot of information that supports the original post. blanche appleton did exist, and does appear in more anecdotes from that era of the soy sauce industry.

(also, this bibliography has more sources on her time in japan, will require institutional access to japanese universities)

to start, there are two methods of semichemical soy sauce production. the first, 新式1号法 shinshiki 1-gō method (i will call it sc1) was invented in the taishō era (1912-26).

大正の末期頃になると、酸やアルカリの化学薬品を併用することによって、速醸の目的を達成しようとする研究が盛んに行わ��、その代表的な「新式1号」が出現する。 Toward the end of the Taisho era, there was a flurry of research into the use of acid and alkali chemicals in combination to achieve the goal of fast brewing, and the "Shinshiki No. 1" [sc1] appeared as a representative example of such research. (deepL translation, p.158)

in the time immediately after the war, there was a shortage of supplies, and its allocation was controlled by the americans

駐留軍の総司令部 GHQ（General Head Quarter）は、1948年の春調味料の原料として「エロア資金」（占領地域経済復興資金）により、大豆ミール2万tを放出する方針を打ち出した。このことにより、その配分をめぐって醤油業界とアミノ酸業界は熾烈な競争をすることとなる。 The General Head Quarter (GHQ) of the stationed army announced a policy of releasing 20,000 tons of soybean meal as a raw material for seasonings in the spring of 1948 through the EROA (Economic Rehabilitation in Occupied Area) Fund. This led to fierce competition between the soy sauce and amino acid industries for its allocation. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.159)

the "amino acid industry" mentioned refers to the monosodium glutamate (msg) industry (glutamate is the ion of an amino acid). essentially, in the early 20th century, both msg and soy sauce (and chemical "soy sauce") production methods have converged to all requiring many soybeans due to their protein content and fermentation properties.

this is where appleton makes her entrance:

GHQは両業界の調整窓口として、「経済安定本部」の経済科学局で調味料と乳製品の需給を担当していたミセス・ブランシェ・アップルトンをその任にあてた。アップルトンは、醤油醸造協会の茂木啓三郎とアミノ酸業界の大内鋼太郎を招いて意見を聴取し、原料の配分を「醸造醤油2、アミノ酸業界8」とすることを内定し、上司のマーカット局長に報告した。この報告内容は醸造醤油にとっては死活問題であったが、内定の根拠は次のようなものであった。 GHQ assigned Ms. Blanche Appleton, who was in charge of the supply and demand of seasonings and dairy products in the Economic and Science Section of the "Economic Stability Headquarters," (?) to serve as the coordinating contact between the two industries. Appleton invited Keizaburo Mogi of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association and Kotaro Ouchi of the amino acid industry to hear their opinions, and informally decided that the distribution of raw materials would be two for brewing soy sauce and eight for the amino acid industry, and reported this to her boss, Maj. Gen. W. F. Marquat. The content of this report was a matter of life and death for brewers' soy sauce, but the rationale for the informal decision was as follows. [...] (deepL translation with edits by myself p.159)

essentially, appleton originally intended for only 20% of the soybean meal to be handed out for soy sauce due to its relatively inefficient usage of materials compared to msg production. this would've crippled the existing soy sauce producers, and they set out to find solutions to save their industry.

醸造醤油側は、醸造醤油の「日本人の食生活における重要性や醸造醤油そのものの品質の良さ」等を強調したが、GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである。このような醸造醤油の存亡の危機を救ったのは、もくもくと研究に携わっていた技術陣が開発した「新式2号法」であった。本法を発明したのはキッコーマンの館野正淳、梅田勇雄等である。新式2号の製法は新式1号と同様に、蛋白質を弱酸でペプトンやペプチド程度まで分解し、その後は麹の酵素により分解してアミノ酸の形態まで持っていく半化学、半醸造による醤油の製造法である。 The brewing soy sauce side emphasized the importance of brewing soy sauce in the Japanese diet and the quality of the soy sauce itself, but GHQ made its decision based solely on the basis of "which [industry] would use the defatted soybeans more effectively". What saved brewed soy sauce from the brink of extinction was the "New Formula No. 2 method" developed by the technical staff who had been working diligently on the research. The inventors of this method were Masajun Tateno and Isao Umeda of Kikkoman Corporation. As with Shin-Shiki No. 1 [sc1], the Shin-Shiki No. 2 [sc2] method is a semi-chemical, semi-brewing method for producing soy sauce in which proteins are broken down to peptones and peptides with weak acids, and then decomposed by enzymes from koji mold to the form of amino acids. (deepL translation with edits by myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 4, p.159)

this development, the invention of the 新式2号法 shinshiki 2-gō method (sc2), led to another round of discussions:

ミセス・アップルトンは「キッコーマンが画期的な技術を開発した」ことを聞き、新法による醤油とアミノ酸液による化学醤油を消費者に提示し、その調査結果に基づいて決定を再考しようと上申書を提出した。醤油の 味、使用テストは神奈川県の鎌倉市と逗子で行われたが、消費者の8割が新法による醤油を支持した。この結果に基づき、アップルトンは両業界で話し合って結論を出すように「正田・大内会談」を開かせた。 Mrs. Appleton heard that "Kikkoman had developed a breakthrough technology" and submitted a petition to reconsider her decision based on the results of a survey that presented consumers with both the new method of soy sauce and a chemical soy sauce made with amino acid solution. Taste and use tests of soy sauce were conducted in Kamakura and Zushi, Kanagawa Prefecture, and 80% of consumers supported the new soy sauce. Based on these results, Appleton had the "Shoda-Ouchi Conference" held so that the two industries could discuss and reach a conclusion. (deepL translation, p.160)

this source seems to suggest that the original decision was under higher-ups' pressure:

当初の提案2対8のアミノ酸業界絶対優位の配分比率は、「新式2号法」の出現により、最終的にGHQは「正田・大内会談」の「7対3協定」を認め、ここに醸造醤油の歴史的危機は回避されることとなった。醤油業界のミセス・アップルトンの評価は従来大変厳しいものであったが、後の調査で彼女は醸造醤油の良き理解者であり、当初の配分比率も上司の強い指示に抗しきれず提案したものであったようである。再度の上申は、彼女の日本の伝統的な醸造醤油への深い理解と思い入れによるものであったと考えられる。 As for the proposed allocation of 2 to 8, due to the [sc2] method, GHQ ended up deciding on the “7 to 3 Agreement” from the “Shoda-Ouchi Conference” instead, thus averting the historical crisis of brewed soy sauce.Although the soy sauce industry had been very critical of Mrs. Appleton in the past, later investigations revealed that she was a firm supporter* of brewed soy sauce and that the original allocation ratio was a proposal she made because she could not resist the strong instructions of her superiors. It is believed that her renewed offer was due to her deep understanding of and commitment to the Japanese tradition of brewed soy sauce. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @blackamite, see translators' note 1, p. 160)

the term 良き理解者 "good friend" (see bolded) i think could mean connoisseur or enjoyer here, will need help in clarifying.

その後醤油醸造協会の正田会長は、1948（昭和23）年7月23日に「新式2号法」の特許公開を懇請し、当時の中野社長の決断により、「新式1号」に続いて「新式2号」についても無償で業界に公開されることとなった。同年8月から講習会が全国12ブロックで開催され、約2,500社の業者が技術を習得した。 Later, on July 23, 1948, Mr. Shoda, president of the Soy Sauce Brewers Association, requested that the patent for the [sc2 method] be made public, and following the decision of then [Kikkoman Inc.] President Nakano, the [sc1 and sc2 methods] were made public free of charge to the industry. In August of the same year, training sessions were held in 12 blocks throughout Japan, and approximately 2,500 companies learned the technology. (deepL translation with edits by myself, p.160)

the main sources the survey used are a manuscript, 醤油醸造技術の近代化 by 永瀬一郎 Ichirō Nagase, kikkoman inc.'s own historical record (キッコーマン株式会社八十年史; a shorter version can be found here), and a history of choshi shoyu inc. (銚子醤油株式会社　社史). i think this confirms a lot of information the original post put out there about ms. appleton and her involvement with soy sauce. plus, it shed more light into how exactly she interacted with the condiment industries.

perhaps @/inneskeeper will find some shady dealings in their research; when you mix a foreign military force, the collapse of existing institutions, and social upheaval, you're likely to find corruption. ill keep my eyes peeled for that development.

3. no, kikkoman is not "fake" soy sauce, but you might be able to find some echoes of the past

so what happened to semichemical soy sauce now? the survey document does not track its usage after its invention and at the surface level, it seems that the original claim was right, the semichemical method has persisted since the american occupation and we're all just drinking sussy sauce.

in fact, this seemed so obvious that this rumour circulated in japan and was debunked by aficionados two years ago.

the link to kikkoman's own record earlier states that sc2 sauce was discontinued in 1970, and the japanese blog post above repeats that, adding that it has reverted back to honjōzō (本醸造) sauce. this paper in the journal of the brewing society of japan (日本醸造協会誌) has this to say about what became of sc2 sauce:

また，キッコーマンの新式 2号しょうゆ製造法の特許が公開されたのも 1948年で， しょうゆ業界は混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆを製造することにより効率よく旨味の強いしょうゆを安価に製造し， しょうゆ原料不足の時代を乗り切ったと考えている 。現在，大手メーカーでは食の安全性や本物志向から混合醸造しょうゆおよび混合しょうゆの製造をやめ本醸造しょうゆだけを製造している 。一方，全国の中小しょうゆメーカーでは，製造設備を全て本醸造しょうゆに切 り換える資金力に乏しく．一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。 The patent for Kikkoman's new [sc2] soy sauce manufacturing method was also published in 1948, which allowed the soy sauce industry to overcome the shortage of raw materials for soy sauce by producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauces efficiently and inexpensively. Currently, major soy sauce manufacturers have stopped producing mixed brewed soy sauce and mixed soy sauce, and are producing only honjozo soy sauce, due to food safety and the desire for authenticity. On the other hand, small and medium-sized soy sauce manufacturers nationwide do not have the financial resources to convert all of their production facilities to honjozo soy sauce. Once a demand for mixed soy sauce has taken root among consumers, they are unable to switch over to honjōzō soy sauce, and even now, it's possible mixed [kongō or kongō-jōzō] soy sauce might be the top [soy sauce] product. (deepL translation with edits from myself and @literaryreference, see translator's note 2, p.78)

the three types of japanese soy sauce production methods available today are honjōzō (本醸造, fully fermented), kongō-jōzō (混合醸造, mixed fermented with amino acid added prior to fermentation, closest to sc2 method), and kongō (混合, one of the previous two types with additives). [wiki, academic source] these production methods are in parallel to the traditional varieties of sauce, which rather describe the mash and added taste; these elements of the production, rather than the fermentation process, are usually what define the lineage of the sauce in both japan and other soy sauce-producing cultures.

instead of supplanting "genuine" fermented soy sauce, the industrial descendants of sc2 sauce have become their own type of sauce and have carved their own niches in the consumer market. as someone who is not from japan, i would be careful about making any judgment on whether it is "authentic".

4. clarifications

there were a few statements by the original poster that i think need further context for a more accurate understanding. any bolding and italics are mine.

During World War 2 there was a push to industrialize the Japanese soy sauce industry to be better for mass-production. This innovated the chemical fermentation technique and the semichemical fermentation technique utilized by Kikkoman; rather than ferment for four years in gigantic cedar barrels, kioke, instead fermentation takes place for six months or a year in stainless steel barrels which utilize electrolysis to artificially speed up fermentation processes.

the first part is correct, but the word "rather" introduces a false dichotomy; soy sauce production is very diverse and progresses at different paces in different regions (see part 1 of this post). the sauce op has is simply one from a region that has kept their manufacturing method unchanged.

"four years" is arbitrary: different producers have different fermentation periods.

the last part of the statement is not universally true of industrial production; ac current may be used in brewing.

A single American woman named "Ms Appleton" was given total control of apportioning all American soy bean rations to companies, how much, and to who. She had no knowledge of soy sauce, allegedly.

we can lay that last part to rest. it appears that she does. i will also have to mention that "soy sauce" has been imported from china to the usa since the 30s.

She apparently had so much power over Japanese soy sauce production that she could singlehandedly shape its future by threatening to not give soy beans to any company, family, or factory which did not utilize her specific requirements of semichemical fermentation (reduced from chemical fermentation, since it was that abhorrent). These days, the term soy sauce is distinct from traditional shoyu, and requires distinguishment because of such a radical difference the two products are.

is girlboss applesauce really that powerful on her own? this statement was not wrong, but she did have the military that just nuked japan behind her.

did appleton specify one method over others? probably, but i think the dependency went the other way: the invention of sc2 sauce was the only way the industry could be efficient enough for ghq standards.

that last part is just straight up wrong dawg what the hell i was nicer in my first reply but im not feeling it today

[...] Because there should be way more information on her if this was the case; she was apparently powerful and influential enough during the occupation that she could singlehandedly enforce whatever arbitrary rules she wanted on the soy sauce industry and they had to comply or else have no product at all. That level of power is fucking insane. Imagine having so much raw influence over Japan that you could order them to completely renovate and change how they produce and make SOY SAUCE, literally one of if not THE most important thing in Japanese culinary history--[...]

holy exaggeration batman, this is almost insulting. as with most things, this is a confluence of factors, with producers, scientists, politicians, (possibly underworld,) and administrators all having their own agency in this story. it is incredibly unusual to sideline so many parties in favour of a single foreign administrator calling the shots.

5. what now?

i think there's much to be found out about appleton's dealings, and it would be an interesting story if there did end up being underworld dealings in those negotiations coming to light. i think it is a fascinating slice into that era and how society and institutions interacted in such a fraught situation. overall, i encourage @/inneskeeper's historian work.

that said, it is very important for people to not put a narrative ahead of the facts. i think it is human nature to be attracted to stories that have a clear causality and linearity, but it is something we need to be very careful about when communicating history to a large audience. to anyone who would like to present their findings, consider what your framing of events imply about the state of the time and place you research, and if you are doing all parties justice.

and for the love of god, cite your sources.

if there are any translation issues, please reach out to me and i will edit accordingly and post errata.

erratum 1: jack daniel's is tennesee whiskey, not bourbon, thanks @drdementogrl.

translators' note 1: 良き理解者 could also be translated more literally to “good understander,” thank you @blackamite, @monstrousgourmandizingcats, @leatherbookmark, and others who have given similar notes.

erratum 2 and translator's note 2: @literaryreference has indicated that 一旦，消費者に定着した混合しょうゆのニーズにより本醗造しょうゆに切り換えることが出来ず，現在も混合しょうゆが主力商品となっているのではないかと考えている 。 is more equivocal and did not state an outright larger popularity for kongō/kongō-jōzō type brewing, so it's possible it might be the top product. they also suggested removing redundancies and pointed out a copying mistake from the original source (left out a bit of the japanese text).

translator's note 3: @literaryreference let me know that 塗料 would more accurately be interpreted as "coating" and also gave me a link of the sauce brand mentioned.

translator's note 4: @literaryreference has provided a better translation for GHQはただ「脱脂大豆が有効に活用されるのはどちらか」という尺度だけで判断したのである, and i have made edits from their translation as well for better context.

[tenofmuses]

Free Witchcraft Resources for Beginners

A couple months ago I made a post shouting out the fact that witchcraft doesn’t require any money to get started (or to be practiced, for that matter), and I had a few people ask me about what they can do that’s free, especially as a beginner, so I wrote up this post. I was lost and broke when I was getting started with my craft, and it was really difficult to find tips for beginners that weren’t just “buy these things!” I’m hoping this will be useful for people who are looking for a place to begin.

So. You’re interested in witchcraft and would like to find out more. Maybe you keep seeing those “crystals/herbs/books/etc. beginner witches should have” posts, and you’re frustrated, because you want to begin your practice, but don’t have the money for those supplies. I was once in that spot, and even now that I’m five years into my practice, I have rarely purchased any of the supplies witchtok deems to be fundamental. Here are some places you can begin instead. Let’s get started!

Info continues below.

Foundations

By foundations, I’m referring to things that aren’t explicitly witchcraft, but that I have found very beneficial within my own practice.

1. Before anything, I recommend asking yourself a simple question: why do I want to practice witchcraft, and what do I hope to get out of it? You may not know for sure yet, and your answer will likely change over time, but having some intentions going in can be helpful when you’re in the early stages of research. When I was starting out, I felt very overwhelmed by the amount of info out there, so if you have a bit of an idea of what you’re specifically interested in, that can be helpful to get you going.

2. Meditation: not all witches meditate, but a lot of the skills you develop through meditation can be helpful within witchcraft. You can try out secular meditation (apps like Balance and Headspace, as well as Insight Timer—the former has a mix of secular and spiritual meditations), or you can find a witchcraft-specific guided meditation on YouTube. For neurodivergent folks out there, I recommend looking into active meditation, which I’ve found to be quite beneficial for myself.

For me, it’s always important to remain grounded when I’m doing any spiritual practice, and meditation is a good skill you can work on to help with that. I also find that having a background in meditation can be really helpful later down the line when/if you are attempting visualization and/or astral projection, witch’s flight, and so forth.

3. Journaling: another thing that isn’t specifically witchcraft-related, but is an important skill to harness, on my opinion. To me, it’s crucial to be in touch with what I’m feeling (especially when it comes to doing spellwork), and journaling is one great way to do that. If you’re stuck and don’t know where to begin, look up witchcraft (or general) journal prompts on here or somewhere else. A lot of the ones that come up will be shadow work, which can be intense, so only do what feels comfortable for you.

I’d also like to note that automatic writing/drawing is an entirely free option if you’re interested in communing with spirits or deities. Essentially it involves getting into a trance-like state (usually in a dark room only lit by candlelight or similar—this is to avoid distractions) with a piece of paper and pen, and you write or draw everything that comes to your head without thinking about it. And then you go back and see what sort of messages you may be receiving. It’s a bit hard to explain and I’m not very experienced in it myself, but it’s something worth looking into if it sounds interesting to you!

4. Look at what you have, instead of what you don’t: a lot of beginner witch resources will list specific items that you should have, without really explaining why. And without that knowledge of how/why having an item is important, you might find your Must Have crystal sitting unused on a shelf somewhere. So instead of focusing on the items you want or feel like you should have, look at what you do have. Are there plants or herbs in your house/yard that you feel drawn to? Do you have a collection of cool rocks and stones? How do these items make you feel?

For me, a large part of my craft is my belief in Animism (the belief that all living things have innate spiritual qualities, like a soul, spirit, or specific energy) and this can play into the way you interact with the natural world if it’s a belief you also subscribe to. Try and feel the presence of a plant to see if it gives you any specific feeling. It does? Great! Now you have a correspondance for that plant. And it’s even better than the correspondances you’ll get in a book because it’s based on your own personal connection and intuition. That’s what is most important.

5. When in doubt, use your intuition. You might find a source that says cinnamon should be used for protection. Another will say it should be used for abundance spells. What matters the most is what you think about an herb/plant/stone/colour, or whatever else you may utilize. I recommend to start keeping a list of what you associate these things with. It can take awhile to build up a personalized list, but once you have one, it’ll be a lot more useful than what a correspondances book says to do.

6. Scour your pantry and get cooking: are you wanting to try out a spell but you haven’t bought the ingredients? Look in your pantry. You may be surprised by how many commonly used witchcraft herbs you find in there. And if you have been starting to associate certain herbs or spices with specific feelings or energies, that’s a great way to get started with creating your own spell.

You can do a spell in many ways, but when I was starting out, one of my favourite ways was to incorporate a certain herb or spice into food I made. Say you’re making a soup and maybe you want a bit of protection, so you add some ground pepper with the intention of that pepper protecting you as you stir it into the soup. Same goes for any other ingredient you’d like to use. A little intention goes a long way!

7. Dedicate your actions, time, or energy: if you’re interested at all in working with deities, ancestors, and other spirits but don’t have the time/space to build an altar—or maybe you aren’t sure how involved you want to be with this part of witchcraft—you can devote an action to the entity. This can be simple. For example, when I worked with Apollo, I would use taking my meds and vitamins as an act of devotion to him. This is an offering. And offerings can be anything you want them to be. They don’t have to be expensive or fancy!

It’s also important to note that you do not need to work with deities or spirits to be a witch. You don’t even have to believe in them. Many witches are atheists or don’t work with any deities at all. But for those who are interested, simple offerings can be a good place to start.

8. Practice energy work: in my view, energy work is the most important skill to learn for your craft, since so many things build off of it. And with energy work, you don’t need to spend any amount of money on it. All you need is yourself, your intuition, and anything else—I mean that quite literally, you can practice feeling the energy of other people, pets, trees, buildings, foods, socks, your favourite pen, and whatever else you think of!

Once you get to know the energy of the things around you, you can more effectively utilize them as tools within your practice (this builds off of the intuition point I made earlier).

For example, as a child I lived in a house that was surrounded by cedar trees. It was a place where I felt very safe. To this day, when I see or smell a cedar tree, I feel safe and protected. You can read this any way you’d like—to me it’s both a spiritual and psychological phenomenon—but this is one example of sensing energy.

As a witch, you can practice that skill and use it to get to know the tools you’d like to use within your own craft (the things that connect to you personally, not what you’re told you should connect with). This isn’t an easy skill by any means, so if it doesn’t come naturally to you, that’s perfectly okay!

For more on this subject, I recommend two books: Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Kimmerer (more on animism in particular) and Psychic Witch by May Auryn (lots of exercises to practice working with and sensing energy).

Where to Go for Learning

After you’ve thought a bit about some of the above, or skipped it altogether if it doesn’t suit you, you’re probably wanting some good resources that will actually tell you how to do the witchcraft thing. But before that, I want to reiterate again that this is your practice, and you should only do what you are interested in. So take what you want and leave what you don’t.

I’m going to point you in three primary directions for learning good information: books, podcasts, and YouTube.

But first, I want to issue a massive disclaimer for the YouTube information (and some books, for that matter). You should not have one sole source for your information. Books that have bibliographies are always the most trustworthy sources. And even though I trust the information coming from the YouTubers I’ll mention—especially because I’ve read similar information in several witchcraft books—don’t take their word at face-value. Be critical of what you’re told. Believe what you believe. This is a skill you’ll learn over time. It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it will get easier to discern what’s good info vs. bad info, over time.

Before you get started, I highly recommend watching this helpful video by HearthWitch with info on how to vet your witchcraft sources: link.

Books

In my view, books are the Best source of information, period. Anyone can publish an article or video online, but not everyone can publish a book. So there tends to be a bit more reliable info in witchcraft books.

As far as knowing what book you should begin with, there are lots of lists out there for beginners, and I recommend just looking at one of those lists and picking what sounds interesting to you. Take what you like and leave what you don’t.

Most of the YouTubers I’ve listed below have videos recommending books for beginners.

If you’re interested in British folk witchcraft, I started out with Folk Witchcraft by Roger J. Horne and it was a brilliant beginners guide that I recommend to anyone who is interested in that branch of witchcraft.

As always, while you read witchcraft books, be critical of the information you are presented with. Unfortunately, lots of witchcraft books (especially the classic ones) can be rooted in concepts like bioessentialism, colonialism, and racism. My recommendation is to not take any author’s word as gospel and to use your critical thinking skills when reading witchcraft books.

Where I live, books are EXPENSIVE. And when you’re just starting out in your practice, you might not have the money or ability to go out and buy a book just yet. Maybe you’re still unsure if witchcraft is right for you. Or maybe you’re in the “broom closet.” Whatever the reason, here are some free places to find books.

1. The public library: a bit obvious, but a great resource to look at, because you never know what your library might have. Libraries are the best. And entirely free!

2. Library apps like Libby or Overdrive: especially helpful if you don’t want to bring home a physical witchcraft book, or if your branch doesn’t have any copies of what you’re looking for. You can also get some audiobooks on there.

3. Archive.org: aka the web archive. Entirely free and entirely legal, this works as an online library service where you can check out a book for a bit of time right from your computer. Sometimes you can download PDFs as well. I’ve found a lot of my favourite witchcraft books on there, so if you have a specific title in mind, search it there.

YouTube

First, as a bit of a caveat before recommending you to watch YouTube videos on witchcraft: in my view, books are the best source of information for any witch, as they are able to contain a large degree of nuanced and research-informed information. But books aren’t a simple solution for everyone, and I’ve learned a lot from informed YouTubers over the years (in fact, like many witches, I was first exposed to witchcraft via Harmony Nice on YouTube!).

I’m including a list here of witch YouTubers that I personally recommend because I have found that their content aligns with information I have read in books and other research-informed sources over the years, and because I find them to be generally reliable.

I want to note here that this list is rather biased, as I tend to watch witchcraft YouTubers whose practices mirror my own in some ways. So most of these practitioners have practices informed by European folk witchcraft, and are not very diverse as a result. If any practitioners have further recommendations to add on, especially for practitioners of colour and practices that are different from mine, please do so!

My recommendations:

ChaoticWitchAunt: folk witchcraft, specifically in the Italian tradition, some great beginner content, info on working with saints and spirits.

TheWitchOfWonderlust: death magic, spellwork, great beginner content, lots of excellent info on working with spirits.

HearthWitch: truly a well of information on British witchcraft, beginner videos on any topic you can think of, q&a livestreams, and there’s even a video on vetting witchcraft sources that I really recommend for beginners.

The Redheaded Witch: folk witchcraft and folklore, spirit and ancestor work, daily witchcraft ideas, some beginner videos.

TheGreenWitch: such an excellent resource for herbal/green witchcraft, videos on spellwork, ingredients, tools, and more.

Mintfaery: lots of beginner information, videos on working with the fae, nature witchcraft, and lots of fun witchy days in the life.

Ella Harrison: German folk witchcraft, great beginner resources, including some more niche traditional craft topics like witch’s ladders.

The Norse Witch: info on Norse witchcraft and Heathenry, Norse paganism, and some content about astrology.

simplywitched: lots of great everyday witchcraft content, pagan witchcraft, more vlog style.

Warrior Witch Nike: witchy book reviews, paganism, deity work, some astrology content.

Mhara Starling: the place to go for anyone interested in Welsh witchcraft and folk magic related to Wales.

Alwyn Oak: lots of witch’s guides, especially relating to sabbats (those popularized in Wicca), forest witchcraft, gorgeous videos.

Ivy The Occultist: chaos magick and lots of interviews with practitioners from a variety of paths/backgrounds.

Shadow Harvest: personal day in the life witchy content, some videos looking at working with dark goddesses and deity work in general.

Note: some of these YouTubers have written their own witchcraft books geared towards beginners, so if you enjoy their videos and want to learn more, check those out.

Podcasts

The Astrology Podcast: not specifically witchcraft, but if you want to learn about astrology in detail, this is an excellent place to begin. Link goes to YouTube.

Books and Broomsticks: all kinds of good info, especially pertaining to folk magic, witch guests invited on to share more about their own practice. Link goes to Spotify.

Southern Bramble: A Podcast of Crooked Ways: a variety of witchcraft related topics, interviews, and discussions, often revolving around folk magic and traditional craft—interviews show different traditions. Link goes to Spotify.

New World Witchery - The Search for American Traditional Witchcraft: what it says on the tin; various topics and conversations through an American traditional/folk magic lens by the author of the (amazing) book with the same name. Link goes to Spotify.

Salty Witches Podcast by Cat & Cauldron: traditional witchcraft through a modern lens, another podcast that has a wide variety of topics covered. Link goes to Spotify.

—

As always, if anyone has any additional (free!) resources to add onto these ones, please do so.

Good luck to all of the beginner witches who are embarking on their spiritual journeys, and I hope some of these tips have been helpful! :)

-Em

[weirdkpopgirl]

Pain | Jaemin Imagine #11

Title: Pain

Genre: Angst, slight fluff

Warnings: description/mention of period cramps -- i'm sorry

Word Count: 791

Author's Note: I mean the title and warning makes it pretty obvious, but I wrote this while I was on that time of month. Although I do have a group post for NCT Dream about periods, I wanted to write a little more about it for awhile now. Especially when my experience has been kinda excruciating lately lol. Anyway, please don't read if this topic makes you uncomfortable.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

It was 10 a.m. on a Saturday, and you regretted not sleeping in (you didn’t even know how you got out of bed, honestly). Instead, you were hunched over your laptop, typing up the third body paragraph of a research paper that was due next week. However, you found it nearly impossible to concentrate due to the stabbing pain shooting through your abdomen. Lucky for you, your lovely period came knocking at your door the day before. Now you were trying to endure the second day, where the amount of pain only seemed to increase.

A soft groan escaped your lips as you clenched your fists on the desk, willing yourself to push through the agony. But the dull ache in your stomach only seemed to worsen with each passing moment. It was driving you insane, seriously. 

Then just when you were on the verge of breaking, Jaemin entered the room carrying a mug of hot chocolate because he knew you preferred it over coffee. His brows furrowed with concern when he noticed your tense figure, and he immediately caught the pained expression on your face. 

Crossing the room to carefully place the steaming ceramic mug on a coaster near you. “Hey, you don’t look so good,” he said softly, locking eyes with you. “Are you okay, baby?”

Typically, you liked to keep your emotions guarded. The thought of your boyfriend seeing you in such a vulnerable state was the last thing you wanted, especially at a time like this. Despite your efforts to offer him a reassuring smile, it faltered as a new wave of cramps surged through you.

 “It just hurts,” you muttered, firmly pressing your knuckles against your forehead.

Jaemin frowned, realizing this was serious if you weren’t even trying to hide your discomfort from him. He calmly scanned the room in search of anything that might help you.

“Why don’t you take some medicine? I can grab you some painkillers.”

But you quickly shook your head in rejection. “I’ll be fine. I don’t like taking those unless I have to.”

You heard Jaemin sigh before he moved to stand behind you. Then you felt his hands start to gently knead your shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. On any normal day, your body would’ve stiffened immediately and you might have withdrawn. But right now, you were grateful for his touch and it did help a little.

“Maybe you should put your essay on pause for now,” he suggested, stealing a glance at your screen. “You’ve already done more than enough today. Come lay down with me and rest for a bit?”

Though you hesitated for a moment, your fatigue overridden any inclination to protest. After giving him a weak nod, you allowed Jaemin to lift you from the chair and guide you to the couch. With a deep breath, you sank into the cushion and curled up against your boyfriend’s body. He happily wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer.

Yet, the pain persisted, even in Jaemin’s comforting embrace. You had to bite your lip to stifle a whimper, as you felt tears prick your eyes. He picked up on your distress fairly quickly, his heart breaking at the sight of your pain. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes of bringing you some sort of comfort.

However, the sweetness of his gesture prompted the first tear to stream down your cheek. Perhaps it was a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and frustration swirling within you. Regardless, Jaemin kept you in his arms and peppered a few more kisses atop your head.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” he murmured, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “Just let it out, you don’t have to keep it in.”

As if on cue, you closed your eyes and buried your face in Jaemin’s chest. Tears soaked helplessly into the fabric of his white t-shirt, as you clung to him tightly. You weren’t the type to cry in front of others, but the relentless cramps from your stupid period had pushed you to your limit.

Though it stung to hear your sobs and feel your body tremble against his, Jaemin was mostly grateful that you weren’t bottling up your emotions. Holding you close, whispering soothing words of comfort, and his fingers lightly stroking your hair were all things that were second nature to him. 

If he could take all your pain away from you, he swore he would in a heartbeat.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[cards-of-rose]

study tip!! how i write essays

going from a long, intensive classical education to my current history major, i've had to write a lot of papers. at this point, i can write a 5 page paper in a few hours, and just a couple weeks ago i wrote a 20 page paper in a single day. i graduated valedictorian with this method (current cGPA of 4.0!) so i thought i'd share how i write them! grab some coffee and settle in - it'll be a long post, but i promise it'll be worth it. :)

first, the topic. if you don't have an assigned topic, pick something that fascinates you, something that you could write pages and pages about. you will. if your topic is assigned, find something in it that you find fascinating. even if you find your topic completely boring, there's always something interesting to glean from it! once you find this, you'll gain motivation, and that's half the battle.

write down a basic outline. when i say basic, i mean barebones. just a vague, 3-point general idea of what you think you might write your paper about. this will guide you in your research! you don't need to worry about writing your full outline just yet.

sources. after you have a basic list of points, it's time to find sources! if they're already assigned, you can skip this step. most of the time they aren't, though. this is the most important part of your paper. you can go to google scholar to find really good academic journals and studies!

generally, the number of sources you have depends on the length of your paper! a good guide is that your amount of sources should number half the length of your paper. so if you have a 5 page paper, 2-3 is a good way to go. if you have a 20 page paper, you'll want around 10.

evidence. skim over your sources and categorize each one under the point you made earlier. this will mean you have a quick reference guide when you're writing, so you don't have to go through a big list of sources when you're looking for evidence! under each source, put a few bullet points talking about the info that you can use for your paper.

outline. this part may seem daunting. i promise, though, it's one of the easiest parts of the paper! you may feel tempted to skip it, but having an outline makes your paper sound better and makes it easier and quicker to write. use the sources and bullet point info you used earlier to fill out your outline. start broad and general, then add details as you do your research! your outline should be about half the length of your paper. don't worry about making it super scholarly - this is just for you, so make it as informal and easy to understand as you want! be stupid, throw in memes, whatever gets it written!

every outline should include an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. i can go over the structure of an outline in another post, but remember the 3 points you thought up earlier? these will form your entire outline, and eventually your essay!

finally, write! open a blank google doc and view it side by side with your outline. once you get started, it's a lot easier to finish than you'd think, especially if you took the time to outline! this is when you can make your dumb outline into something that would make the ancient philosophers proud. don't worry about perfection. just write it as you go. you can edit it later!

quotes/evidence. once you've finished your rough draft, it's time to add the evidence! some profs want quotes, others want you to paraphrase. either way, go through your paper and put in the evidence you researched earlier. don't worry about citations just yet - just put in the link in a comment on your rough draft. it won't be hard to fix it up later.

edit!! please, please don't finish your rough draft and be done with it. you can save so many points by going over it again instead of submitting it in a rushed 3am haze. fix spelling and grammar, add citations and a reference page, edit for clarity, anything you need to make it sound like the best paper you can write! if you're proud of it by the end, you know you've done something right.

congrats, you did it!! make sure you start your paper early and don't wait till the night before - your grade will thank you <3

[foragerknits]

Knitting in Victorian England

I wrote this for a class on Victorian Literature because my professor let me research knittinf and make a cape instead of writing a literary analysis paper. The cape that is discussed from The Art of Knitting is what I created for this project, with the illustration from the book on the top right and the cape I knit on the left. The book is from 1892 and is free on Internet Archive, and Engineering Knits on YouTube made a wonderful video about it. (More photos of the cape at the end!)

Knitting experienced a surge of popularity in Victorian England, and was even a topic of discussion in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre. After gaining popularity due  to industrialization, knitting became a common pastime for women. Knitting was important because it existed as a way for Victorian women of all classes to be seen as  virtuous and gave them the look of domesticity, while additionally functioning as a  means of income for working-class women by either knitting or writing about knitting.  

Industrialization shifted the view of knitting from economic necessity to a  fashionable pastime for gentry women. In 1589 the first mechanical knitting machine  was invented in Nottingham, which industrialized the knitting industry (“The History  of Hand-Knitting"). Dyed wool trade with Germany and the subsequent booming  industry of knitting pattern books turned knitting into something more accessible and artistic than solely practical (Rutt 112). Knitting became popular and fashionable for gentry women around  1835 (Rutt 111). Women of all classes have knitted long before the Victorian period, but  the industrial changes shifted knitting to a popular and fashionable pastime for gentry women, in addition to the economic necessity for working-class women. 

Knitting served as a way to keep women wholesomely busy. In The Art of  Knitting, a quote from the beginning by Richter reads “A letter or a book distracts a woman more than four pair of stockings knit by herself” (qtd in The Art of Knitting 2).  Knitting kept women busy without opening them up to new ideas that came from  letters and books. Furthermore, a writer in The Magazine of Domestic Economy writes how  useless the items (upper-class) women made were, but praises knitting in its effort “to rid of those hours which, but for their aid, might not be so innocently disposed of” (qtd  in Rutt 112). Concentrating on knitting produces something at the end of the hours of  challenging work but does not expose women to any material that the Victorians would deem dangerous or immoral. Thus, even when women made something useless, they  were keeping themselves busy in a virtuous way. 

Knitting also gave women the feminine and domestic look that was expected of  them in the Victorian era. This can be seen in Jane Eyre with Jane’s description of Mrs. Fairfax upon their meeting. Jane thinks, “[Mrs. Fairfax] was occupied in knitting; a large  cat sat demurely at her feet; nothing in short was wanting to complete the beau-ideal of  domestic comfort” (Bronte 145). This is the first time the reader sees Mrs. Fairfax,  surrounded by a warm fire, a cat and engaged in a feminine pastime. She is the image  of domesticity. Jane admires Mrs. Fairfax, in part, for the comfort her nature, including  knitting, brings. Mrs. Fairfax shows the role knitting plays into the idea of women as  domestic creatures. 

Certain forms of knitting made women appear elegant. Frances Lambert, author  of 1842 manual The Handbook of Needlework, advises women to knit using the common Dutch knitting method, in which the yarn is held over the fingers of the left hand and  the needles pointed upwards, because it was seen as a more elegant style of knitting  (Rutt 113). While Rutt notes that this method was a faster way of knitting, Lambert does  not comment on this, but instead focuses on its aesthetic qualities. This style of knitting was popular because it allowed for the look of style that was mandatory in women’s lives.  

While gentry women were often restricted to making less practical knit items,  some knitting authors disparaged this for frivolity and immorality. Working-class  women did not have this criticism as the things they made were out of practicality and  meant for regular use. In picking yarn color and material, Mlle Riego de la  Branchardiere, author of Ladies Handbook of Knitting, Netting and Crochet writes “...and  let her be careful to make all she does a sacrifice acceptable to her God” (qtd in Rutt  116). Rutt asserts that although Victorian knitting is seen as producing useless knits,  some authors disparaged this (117). They instead encouraged women to focus on what  they saw as the spiritual aspects rather than on aesthetics, as everything women did,  including knitting, should enhance their virtue. 

While knitting was popular as a pastime, it was still used out of economic need  and served as a way for working-class women to earn money. Knitting was taught in  orphanages and poor houses, with the first knitting school opened in Lincoln, Leicester, and York in the late 1500s. One school in Yorkshire was established for boys and girls  who were “not in affluence” (“The History of Hand-Knitting"). The first knitting book,  titled The National Society's Instructions on Needlework and Knitting, published in 1838, was an instructional manual for teachers to teach poor students the art of knitting and  needlework. Knitting was used as a personal hobby, but also as a way for working-class  people to support themselves.  

The importance of knitting to working-class women can be seen in Jane Eyre. St John tells Jane, “It is a village school: your scholars will be only poor girls—cottagers’  children—at the best, farmers’ daughters. Knitting, sewing, reading, writing, ciphering, will be all you will have to teach” (Bronte 541). Knitting will be a way for these young girls to get jobs and to be able to make clothes for themselves and their families. In this way, knitting was more than a fashionable and artistic hobby, but a necessity for many  working-class women. 

In addition to manufacturing knitwear, women were able to make substantial livings writing about knitting. There was a boom in knitting and needlework  publications during the 19th century (“The History of Hand-Knitting"). Some, such as  The Art of Knitting, were published directly by publishers with no one associated author.  Others were authored by women and were immensely successful. Cornelia Mee, who  published shorter pamphlet-type knitting books, sold over 300,000 copies during their run in print (Rutt 115). Francis Lambert, author of two editions of My Knitting Book, sold a combined 65,000 copies and was translated into several languages across Europe (Rutt  113). Knitting gave working-class women opportunities to earn money, whether it was  making knitwear or writing about knitting.

Knitting manuals contained various topics, such as some focusing on the religious and virtuous aspects of knitting as discussed previously, but most, if not all, had patterns in them. Under the chapter “Hoods, Capes, Shawls, Jackets, Fascinators, Petticoats, Leggings, Slippers, etc., etc.” in The Art of Knitting there is a pattern to knit a cape. Victorian knitting patterns tended to be broad and vague. Today's patterns are quite concerned with needle size and gauge, unlike many Victorian patterns. For instance, the cape pattern instructs the reader to “use quite coarse needles and work rather loosely,” (60).

Knitting was an important skill for women in the Victorian era, and they knit for a multitude of reasons. Knitting gave women the look of virtue, elegance, and domesticity. Working-class women used their knitting skills to support themselves and their families through making knitwear or writing about knitting.  

Sources:

The Art of Knitting. The Butterick Publishing Co. 1892.   https://archive.org/details/artofknitting00butt/page/60/mode/2up?ref=ol&vi ew=theater

Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Planet eBooks. 1847. 

“The History of Hand-Knitting" Victoria and Albert Museum. 

Rutt, Richard. A History of Hand Knitting. Interweave Press. 1987.  https://archive.org/details/historyofhandkni0000rutt/page/n7/mode/2up?vie w=theater

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XVI.

GIF by javier-pena

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: Who doesn't fuck on the first date?

WORD COUNT: ~15.8k (sorry not sorry; I had a lot to say)

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smut, making out, a lot of hair pulling bc it's my kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, dirty talk, a soft and nervous!javi, but also authoritative!javi, half assed and lightly researched stargazing, gun mention, very brief crime/medical talk, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, other things that i'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: yeah this one's a long one everyone but idgaf i was twirling my hair and blushing the entire time i wrote this!! we all know what we've gotten ourselves into, okay?!?! mwah love you all hope you enjoy. BON APÉTIT!! <3 as always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3 [ song inspooo ]

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

Paloma’s nails drum restlessly against the wooden armrest of the chair, each tap echoing her impatience. The stale air is stifling, saturated with the antiseptic scent that clings to this place. She bites her lip, eyes darting to the mirrored wall where she knows her father stands unseen, observing.

It’s not like she’s in trouble or anything— just standard procedure to get her statement from the other night.

Thankfully, nothing else happened after she’d been dropped off at home. She staked out at the window in her bedroom until the deputy assigned to keep watch arrived. Only then did she scrub off all the blood and dirt in the shower, locking herself in her room and clutching the plush snake Javi had won for her at the fair to her chest until she eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.

It’s been three days since the incident and she’s barely seen her father or Javier. They’ve had their hands full dealing with the girl at the hospital and managing the newfound attention gained from the attack.

The larger towns in the surrounding areas are getting curious about what’s happening in this remote corner of Texas.

The sheriff had been very adamant about not conducting her questioning himself. “It wouldn’t be right,” he had said, “Conflict of interest.” Instead, he sent in Javier. As if that was any better.

The door opens with a creak and he steps in, his uniformed presence both familiar and attractively official… it has her squirming in her seat. His dark eyes meet hers for a brief, charged moment before he breaks the gaze, closing the door behind him.

They have to act professional, hiding the fact that they were together when she found the girl. But damn, has she missed him and has he missed her. It’s only been three days.

“Miss Leighton,” He greets, his voice monotonous, but she can hear the undercurrent of tenderness, how he naturally reacts to her. He takes a seat at the opposite side of the table, setting a folder between them. “Thanks for comin’ in. Just need to ask you a few questions about what happened on the night of the fourth.”

She nods, fingers twisting together in her lap. “S’no problem. I just wanna help as best as I can.”

He clears his throat, opening the folder and pulling out a sheet of paper, glancing briefly at the mirror before continuing. “Start from the beginning. What were you doing out there?”

“I was out for a walk,” she begins, telling him something he already knows. “Needed a break from all the noise of the party. That’s when I heard somethin’— wheezin’ and groanin’ comin’ from behind a tree.”

He scribbles lazily on the paper, his face impassive. Anything to keep up appearances. “What did you do after that?”

“I walked towards the sound,” her voice trembles slightly at the memory, and this has her father huffing from the other side of the mirror. “That’s when I saw her lyin’ there on the ground. She was... she was hurt real bad.”

“Was anyone else there when you found her?”

Her heart stutters. “No. I didn’t see anyone else,” it’s not a lie, technically.

Her eyes fall down to his fingers as he writes. The slight tension in his knuckles and rhythmic flexing of his tendons, veins that prominently run along the back of his hand, the subtle grip he has on the pen. Paloma knows this isn’t the time to get all worked up, yet she can’t help it. He makes the simplest things look so irresistibly attractive.

“And then you called for help?” he snaps her out of the trancelike state she’d honed in on while watching him write. His lips twitch as he suppresses a smirk at the sight of the faint flush over her cheeks.

She clears her throat before answering, “Yes, I sought out the deputy sheriff for help.” Paloma doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the feeling of warm blood coating her fingers as she desperately tried to put pressure on the girl’s wounds. “I tried to keep her awake, to talk to her, but she was barely conscious. She just... she looked so scared. I ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”

Her father’s stare is heavy and so damn palpable. Watching every move, listening to every word. This situation is as difficult for him as it is for her.

Javier nods, remaining professional, making a final note before pulling out another few sheets of lined papers and sliding them over to her, along with his pen. “Thank you, Miss. Leighton. You’ve been very helpful. If you could just write everything in your own words, that’d be great. No detail is too small.”

Every time he addresses her as Miss Leighton in that authoritative tone of his, it makes her feel coy despite her thoughts being anything but bashful. “Okay… Is that all?” She reaches for the materials, clicking the pen and beginning to write down her recollections.

“For now,” he stands, “But we might have more questions later.”

As he walks towards the door, she lets her eyes rake over the expanse of his back, the uniform shirt shifting with each movement and clinging to his figure. It pulls taut at his shoulders and she wants to reach out and touch him, to find solace in his presence, ask for an update on the girl. But the current audience doesn’t allow for that, so she’ll just have to wait until they’re alone again.

He turns and gives her a brief, reassuring smile before exiting the room, leaving her flustered by doing absolutely nothing.

“Followin’ noises out in the middle of the woods, the hell is wrong with her.” Is what Javi is greeted to once he joins the sheriff on the other side of the mirror. The older man looks exasperated by his daughter’s sparse testimony.

“Out there all by herself. Can’t ever just stay put. Had she been there at the wrong time, had somethin’ happened to her...” his hands curl into fists, and Javier decides to interject before he gets too worked up and blows up on her in front of the entire department.

“But nothing did, and now we’ve got a survivor who potentially saw the assailant and can give us something to go off of.”

Romeo exhales heavily, running his hand down his face then rubbing his jaw. “S’just so damn hard for me not to get like this when she’s involved. M’already stressin’ ‘bout this girl not wakin’ up and all the other shit… ‘n now she’s caught up in it. I feel like this damn thing is gonna be the death’a me.”

Javi’s eyes flicker over to her. She sits focused on writing her statement, long hair tucked behind her ear, unaware of how she’s driving her dad up the fucking wall.

“Her statement isn’t of much use, anyway. She didn’t see anything helpful, so there’s no need for her to stay involved.”

“Good.” There’s a brief pause, a contemplative silence, before Romeo excuses himself to get prepared for an important meeting to coordinate their first official press conference to address the murders.

They’ve been holding off on it since each victim came from a different area, which in turn came with an influx of differing information. But after working out details from the occult aspect of the investigation and getting law enforcement from each town on board, they collectively decided to let Sheriff Romeo Leighton and Deputy Sheriff Javier Peña be the ones to take it publicly. 

The press conference is a crucial step forward, a chance to rally the communities and potentially even bring more information out of the woodwork. They’re in the process of setting up an anonymous tip line, hoping to encourage any reluctant witnesses to come forward.

Javier understands that this is part of the job, yet he can’t help but feel uneasy about his name circulating the news again. He knows the accolades attached to his career, the reasons people recognize him. It’s why he couldn’t bear staying in Laredo.

She finishes writing everything down, her hand cramping a little towards the end. Minutes drag by, the annoying hum of the fluorescents filling the room, before the door opens again and Javier reappears. Her heart flutters, a small smile on her lips. “I think I got it all written down.” She slides the papers over, and he silently puts the sheets into the folder.

“You workin’ today?” He asks casually. Her eyes flit over to the mirror. “Don’t worry. He’s in his office.”

The tension leaves her shoulders and she slouches slightly. “Yeah. Right after this, actually.” She brings her wrist up to check the time. She’s set to be there in twenty minutes. 

“What time do you take your lunch?” Javi leans forward on the table, bracing his large hands on its edge, causing his arms to flex as he towers over her. She swallows back a small moan; he just looks so sexy in his uniform, mustache trimmed, jaw sharp, dark brown hair combed to the side yet clearly mussed from running his fingers through it.

“One,” she breathes out, looking up at him through her lashes, wetting her lips.

“I’ll see you at one. I’ll pull up ‘round back.” He rasps his knuckles along the table’s surface before taking the file into his hands. “Other than that, you’re free to go, Miss Leighton.” Back to being professional, yet she catches his flirty lilt.

“Thank you, officer,” she quips back, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Their repartee is a reminder that even in the midst of all this chaos, there are moments of sweetness. She looks forward to seeing him on her break, definitely attracted to how he just… made the plans without question.

He holds the door open for her, and she purposefully brushes against him while walking past. The contact is electric, brief, but tantalizing. He exhales through his nose, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re such a tease,” Javi mutters, amusement lacing his tone.

She glances back over her shoulder and winks, “Just givin’ you somethin’ to look forward to later.”

His gaze follows her as she walks away, the sway of her hips not lost on him. 

They’re nestled in a back alleyway between two abandoned buildings, remnants of an old bank and a long-forgotten pharmacy, not far from the library. She’s perched up on his lap, lips desperately chasing his, the lunch she had packed for the day left in the front seat.

It’s no surprise they find themselves here, their kisses frantic and heated, his hands resting respectfully on her waist, even though he aches to let them roam along her curves.

One too many flirtatious jokes, a few lingering gazes, and Paloma giving him her bedroom eyes were all it took for Javier to usher her into the backseat of his police cruiser, ready to accept whatever she is willing to give him.

After all, she calls the shots— deciding how far they go. She takes what she needs, and he, attuned to her desires, follows her lead.

“The lost art of just kissin’,” she sighs out once she pulls away, placing a sweet kiss to the faint scar on his nose. The tips of her acrylic nails scratch softly along his scalp, and he lets out a shaky breath, fingers digging into her hips.

“Got me feelin’ like I’m seventeen again, nena.”

She giggles softly. “Oh c’mon Javi, we both know you were doin’ a whole lot more than just kissin’ at seventeen.”

“Weren’t you?” He teases, leaning in to brush his lips against her jaw. Her head rolls back onto her shoulder, the scratchiness from his mustache tickling her skin.

“I plead the fifth.”

Their lips connect again, her tongue licking into his mouth. He grunts at the feeling of it intertwined with his own.

She’s so addicting, her kisses more intoxicating than any vice he’s ever known. Purer than the finest cocaine, more potent than the strongest weed strain, a greater buzz than the nicotine. He could lose himself for hours in the feel of her soft, plump lips and the warmth of her body pressed against his.

It’s a slow, sensual dance of tongues and lips, saliva and sweat. Each touch needier than the last, her taste imprinting itself on his memory. His hands roam up and down her sides, feeling the gentle curve of her waist and the softness of her skin through the fabric of her dress. 

“You, sweetheart, have the sweetest lip gloss I’ve ever tasted,” he murmurs when they break to catch their breaths, kissing the corner of her mouth.

His expression is absolutely blissed-out, lips swollen from her playful bites, hair tousled where her fingers tugged, and hazelnut eyes darkened with pure lust. She feels a rush of heat flash through her entirely, every inch of her skin tingling with a craving that matches his.

“S’a honey balm from the Miller’s down at the farmers market. Got it in the strawberry flavor,” she smiles, pursing her lips and smacking them together playfully.

Strawberries and honey. He’s definitely in love.

“Gotta get you more of that. Quickly.” He squeezes her hips again, and she moves her fingers from his hair, trailing down to grab his wrists, bringing his hands to rest on her rear over the skirt of her sundress.

“You can touch me, Javi. I ain’t gonna bite.”

“But I might. I’m holdin’ back here, baby.” Despite his words, he takes the supple skin of her ass into his big hands and kneads gently. Oh, it feels so good, she can’t help but rock against his half hard erection, both of them sighing out in unison.

“Oooh, maybe you’re right. Tryin’ to hold out for as long as I can,” her movements slow to a stop, a teasing smirk on her lips when she feels the twitch beneath his uniform pants.

“Take your time. It’s not like you’re drivin’ me crazy over here,” his voice drops to a hoarse whisper, a little raspy from the cigarette he’d just smoked and how breathless her kisses have left him. He frees one hand to bring hers up to his lips, kissing her knuckles and nipping gently at her fingertips.

“That’s like, the whole point,” her breath falters as his lips leave a trail of kisses, ending at the pulse point on her wrist where he softly bites.

She gasps his name out, his tongue soothing the spot he’s bitten.

“Perdóname, querida. You’re just so soft and taste so sweet,” his voice is still low, eyes sparkling with eagerness, it has her thighs twitching around his hips.

“Heard you got a show on Friday...” he begins, lips still brushing against her wrist, utterly captivated by her.

“Mhm, goin’ to rehearse with the band after my shift,” her fingertip traces up the strong line of his jaw, softly pinching at his ear lobe affectionately.

Such an innocent touch, so softhearted on her part and he genuinely feels like he’s on cloud nine. Javi drops her wrist from his lips, now shifting to play with her hair. He revels in its silky softness between his fingers and how right it feels to have her on his lap. “How’s your music going?”

“A lot better than it was. Had a slow start but I’ve been workin’ on things again.” She’s gone back to her hobby after neglecting it. The support from her bandmates, who hadn’t totally bailed after her little impromptu break, has been a tremendous relief.

“And when do I get to hear them?”

She snorts softly, shaking her head. “Whenever they’re ready to be heard.”

“Well, that just doesn’t seem fair,” he protests, lightly tugging on her hair.

“You ain’t entitled to my art. Such a man sometimes,” A spark of arousal flares in her core at the pull to her scalp. If he gets her any more wet, she’s certain it’ll seep through her flimsy underwear, staining the crotch of his khaki work pants.

Have fun explaining that to the sheriff.

He gives her an annoyed look which has a smug smile ghosting over her lips. He can be so sassy sometimes.

“So you’ve got a show Friday...” he begins again, curious hands tracing down the length of her body, eliciting a soft keen from her.

“Uh huh...”

“And the bar’s closed Saturday for a private event...” His touch shifts to the outside of her thighs, gently bunching up the frilly skirt, fingers grazing the newly exposed skin.

“Right...” She’s only half-listening, lost in the distracting sensation of his hands on her, each caress sending sparks of pleasure straight to her clit. He seems to know exactly where to apply pressure, how to grasp her just right.

“Come over,” he mutters, his invitation now sending her heart racing.

“So forward, Javi. At least take a girl out first.”

“It’s not like that... but it can be like that if that’s what you want,” he replies with a lopsided grin, eyes gleaming with affection. “I do want to do something nice for you, baby.”

She tilts her head, studying his handsome features with admiration. Kristy was right, he definitely resembles the Hollywood cowboys.

“So, like a date?” Paloma needs to hear him say it, her thumb now smoothing over his mustache.

It feels oddly adolescent to him, hearing it put that way, but he nods, squeezing her thighs gently. “Yeah, a date.” Javier tilts his head to kiss the pad of her thumb.

Her smile widens and she leans in to press their lips together. “I’m taking that as a yes?” his words are muffled against her eager mouth.

“Si, Javi. Now stop talkin’,” she groans out, their lips fervently meeting again.

Given the green light to touch her, his hands roam freely; from her thighs, to her ass, to her waist— he can’t get enough. She arches her back, encouraging him to keep going.

He hesitates when his hand hovers over her chest, unsure if she wants for him to get handsy there.

Sensing his need for her approval, Paloma guides his large palm to press against her breast. A low moan escapes his lips as he feels the plushness, fingers sinking into her skin and mouth swallowing her gasp.

He fondles the flesh gently, thumb brushing over the stiffened peak of her nipple that pokes through the thin fabric. “No bra, chiquita?” He pants against her lips when she pulls back, her eyes fluttering close as he continues to toy with her.

“S’too hot out to wear a bra,” she whines pathetically when he pinches, biting her lower lip.

“Hmm...” He moves to get a better look at her. A sultry expression of pleasure gracing her features. “Is it too hot for panties?” The hand on her thigh starts to inch inward, testing boundaries, and her eyes snap open, meeting his.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she teases, planting another kiss on his nose then gently guiding both of his hands back to their original place on her hips.

His lips form into a playful pout, and she can’t resist pinching his cheeks. “So, Saturday night, your place. What do I need to wear ‘n what time do I need to show up?”

“A pretty dress like this is just fine,” he answers, eyes scanning her figure appreciatively, noting the delicate floral pattern of the little number she’s wearing now. “Eight sound good?”

“Sounds just right to me, cowboy.”

Parting from him takes so much willpower, but she manages, glancing at the time and realizing she barely has ten minutes to fix her slightly disheveled appearance before returning to work. Time had flown by entirely too fast, though it always tends to whenever she’s with him.

Damn, now she’ll have to sneakily eat her lunch through the afternoon.

He pulls up to the back entrance of the library, away from the bustling main street and prying eyes. She leans over the console, her lips seeking his for a goodbye kiss. He doesn’t let her go so easily, bringing the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel up to cup her face.

“M’gonna be late, Javi,” she utters against his lips, and he grunts softly before reluctantly letting her go.

Kissing her is all he’s ever wanted to do. The number of times he’s gotten himself off solely by imagining the feel of her mouth on his... And now that he’s been granted the absolute fucking blessing of actually experiencing it, he can’t help but be a little gluttonous. Her taste, her touch, her softness—it’s all so inebriating.

“Fine, nena. I’ll let you go. I’m gonna try to show up for you Friday, but with everything we got going on, I dunno if I’ll make it.”

She almost asks for an update, which she had meant to do over her break until they got preoccupied, but decides against it. Her finger traces the tip of his bushy eyebrow. “No worries, handsome. I get you all to myself on Saturday.”

They both sport matching smiles before she reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. Paloma pauses for a brief second, a mischievous smile on her face as she hikes her dress up inconspicuously while getting out of the car, giving him a good look at the baby blue lace underwear she’s wearing.

“Guess it ain’t too hot to forgo these. Have a good day, officer.”

His breath catches, desire surging through him. He almost reaches out to pull her back in, to drive back to that alley and spread her out on the backseat with his tongue buried deep inside her, but she slams the door in his face before he can properly react.

He watches her, eyes narrowed behind tinted aviators, as she skips away, teasing him for the second time today.

When she disappears into the building, he leans back in his seat, savoring the lingering taste of her on his lips and the promise of a date. He’s really got to get his shit together.

She very diligently applies her mascara, carefully brushing each lash to avoid any smudges on her face.

Her date with Javier is in less than an hour, and she has no idea what to expect.

Anticipation courses through her veins at finally being able to experience this side of him. Tonight feels like a step towards something promising.

It really seems like he’s putting in genuine effort to prove himself to her. That’s all she wanted, really, was the effort.

Obviously, she never expected him to change overnight, but knowing he’s taking those steps towards redemption is enough to rekindle some of the trust she once had in him.

As she rubs her lips together after applying more of the strawberry honey balm, she thinks of his reaction from earlier in the week. His praise of the sweet flavor makes her skip the lipstick and gloss entirely.

Paloma stands in front of the full-length mirror, contemplating her outfit for the dozenth time in the last hour. Different articles of clothing litter the floor of her room, each one discarded in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ look.

If she could change one thing about herself, it would be the ability to get ready without making such a fucking mess.

She’s nervous. Excited too, but nervous nevertheless. She wants to look effortlessly beautiful, like she hadn’t tried too hard. Javier had told her that a simple sundress would be fine, but she knows that most men are absolutely clueless when it comes to women’s dress codes.

After much deliberation, she settles on a sage green dress that falls just above her knees. It’s modest yet romantic, hugging her curves and accentuating her breasts with its bustier-style top. The color complements her skin tone, and she can’t help but smile at her reflection as she straps on her wedged heels, admiring how they elongate her legs.

As if she hadn’t spent what felt like hours in the bath, shaving, waxing, and plucking until her skin was as smooth as her beloved angel cake. Her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders and her makeup is light—enhancing her features without being too over the top.

Taking a deep breath, she gives herself a final once-over.

She looks pretty, the illusion of effortless beauty rightfully achieved. Her heart flutters at the thought of him, of the way his brown eyes will light up when he sees her.

Does she have the intention of fucking him tonight? Absolutely, even though part of her feels she should make him suffer just a little longer. But damn, is it difficult— especially if he swoons her any more… and given how much of a casanova he is, that won’t be very hard of him to do.

Then again, anything could happen. They might end up so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even make the first step into falling into bed…

Who is she kidding? They’re both equally insatiable, and if that make out session in his cruiser was any indication of what’s to come, she’ll just let it fucking be.

Realizing that her neck looks a little bare, she rummages through her jewelry box for the perfect accessory. Cursing under her breath when she can’t find it, she spritzes one final dose of her favorite perfume before making her way downstairs in search of her purse. She’s certain her necklace is in there.

She descends the staircase, putting her earrings in, her heels clicking softly on the polished wood.

“Where you goin’ all dressed up?” her father questions from his spot on the couch, a baseball game playing on the television.

“Out for dinner and a movie. You seen my purse?” She paces through the living room with no luck, now disappearing into the kitchen.

Romeo stands with a grunt, muting the TV as he walks over to the hallway between the two open spaces. “S’hanging on the hook by the door… you goin’ alone?”

She passes him as he asks, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of her bag and pulling it off the hook, digging through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

Her delicate cross necklace. She’s had this since she was a little girl, and while she struggles with her faith, the piece of jewelry does hold sentimental value in the same way her mother’s pendant does.

“No. I’m goin’ on a date,” Paloma answers truthfully yet nonchalantly, holding up the necklace to her father. “Mind puttin’ it on?” She turns her back to him, gathering her hair so he’s able to loop it around her neck.

“A date?” The words leave a bitter taste on his tongue, his lips turning downward as he scowls. “With who?” Romeo’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he fastens the clasp, a contrast to his gruff demeanor.  

“With a guy. S’usually how these things work.” She has to tread carefully here, not wanting to reveal that she’s actually going out with Javier. That conversation will happen whenever the time is right, as Javi had reassured her, so she considers this as warming him up to it so he isn’t as pissed when he inevitably finds out.

‘Cause he will be upset, but he’ll also get over it. His first reaction to anything has always been anger.

She can feel the weight of his scrutiny, his protective instincts kicking in full force.

“Yeah, but what guy? And how long have you been in cahoots with this prick?” She turns to face him, not hiding the amused look on her face.

“In cahoots,” she repeats, snorting out a laugh. “You are such an old man.”

“Paloma…” he begins, his tone more stern, and she sighs.

“Someone I met at the barbecue after you left. It’s nothin’ serious,” she lies. “S’why I’m goin’ on this date. Seein’ if it’s somethin’ worth pursuin’ or if it’s just a fluke.”

He stares at her for a good, long minute. “Dunno how I feel about lettin’ you go out with some asshole you barely know. And what type of man has his lady drive to him and not come pick her up himself? He scared’a me or somethin’?”

Yes! she wants to shout. Literally any date she’s ever gone out with has been put off by her father. Javier included, which is a little comical to her, but she understands. He can be very intense when he wants to be. Bless his heart.

“Well, he’s not exactly terrified,” she explains, trying to sound casual. “But he respects you, ‘n he knows how much you mean to me. He didn’t want to overstep. I was the one who suggested it.”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, assessing her words. With the revelation of a killer going around romancing the young girls in town and filling their heads with blasphemous ideologies, the last thing he wants to hear is that his daughter is going out with a stranger. 

“I don’t like this one bit. Can’t risk somethin’ happenin’ to you ‘cause some asshole ain’t got the guts to face me.”

“Daddy,” she begins, “I understand, I really do. ‘Specially after what happened…” Paloma trails off, insinuating the events of that night. They haven’t talked about it directly, only skirting around the details of when she went in to give her statement.

It’s the signature Leighton pattern— issues left untouched until they boil over in an argument.

It’s not like he had anything new to say, anyways. Just his typical, fatherly spiel that she's heard too many times to count. A dash of sexism thrown in there to drive his point home.

“However,” she straightens her posture, meeting his gaze with determination, “You’ve taught me everythin’ I need to know ‘bout defendin’ myself. I‘ve got the pepper spray ‘n taser you got me right here.” She opens her bag, pulling out the two items for him to see.

Romeo just glares at her, his jaw tight with worry.

“And I’ve got the other set in my car, a baseball bat in the trunk, and the gun in the glovebox. I know how to bust out of zip ties and land a mean uppercut. Break a nose. Go for the family jewels.” She continues, her voice steady. She needs for him to understand that she’s prepared, that she’s taken all his lessons to heart.

Paloma knows she won’t need any of this tonight, considering she’s going to be with Javier. Still, she wants her father to know that he’s taught her well.

“I’ll be home by midnight… if it makes you feel any better, I can call you halfway through to check in.”

She searches his eyes, seeing the conflict there. No matter what he says, she’s going out tonight. That much is certain.

“Fine,” he relents with a firm nod. “But the second anything feels off, sweetheart, you better—”

“I will.” She cuts him off, not needing to hear the rest. She knows. “Now, I don’t wanna run late, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

He watches her leave after she pecks his cheek, his expression apprehensive. He’ll be waiting up for her to get home, porch light on, and probably a drink in hand.

Javier is nervously pacing the weathered porch of his trailer home, fist gripping a bouquet of flowers he picked up at the farmers market. He’d never been there before, but after she mentioned that’s where she got her favorite lip balm, his curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see what else they had, hoping to find something special for their date.

When he spotted the flower stand, he knew he had to pick something out for her. Flowers on a first date is a timeless tradition he must abide by. 

Honestly, he’d give her flowers every day just to see the way her eyes light up and the corners of her lips curl into that beautiful smile that gets him every time.

The thing is, though, Javi was so nervous that he started overthinking every little thing. He stood in front of the merchant for what felt like an eternity, not knowing what kind of flowers to get her. Roses were romantic but seemed too predictable. Yet, he knew she’s a hopeless romantic and a sucker for all the cheesy gestures, so those would have been the obvious choice.

But he didn’t want to go for just obvious. He wanted something that would surprise her, something that would show he put thought into this.

He sees the headlights of her car coming down the road and swallows thickly, literally shaking off his nerves. When she’s fully pulled in and parked, he wastes no time walking over to her, opening the door before she even gets to touch the handle.

“There's a valet here? So fancy already. Livin’ like the city folks,” Paloma teases, stepping out of the car, and he swears she’s never looked more beautiful.

The evening light bathes her in a soft, golden glow, highlighting her features in the most enchanting way. His eyes trace every inch of her form with unabashed admiration, lingering on the swell of her tits and the way the dress hugs her figure so perfectly.

Her legs look oh so inviting in the wedges she’s wearing, amplifying his temptation to ravish her before their meal.

“These are for you,” he says before he acts on his carnal impulse, revealing the bouquet from behind his back. Her eyes widen, and a giant grin spreads across her face.

“Javi, oh my god, did you just get every flower?” she laughs, absolutely enamored by the peculiar cluster currently in her arms.

Yeah, he had been so indecisive about what to get her that he just told the merchant to give him a little bit of everything. The florist, already amused by Javier’s indecisiveness, didn’t interject. If anything, he somehow made the clashing colors and patterns look like a beautiful, organized mess.

She loves it. It reflects them so perfectly. Each bloom in the bouquet seemed to tell a story, a perfect reflection of their own blossoming relationship.

Javier watches as she brings the flowers up to her face, inhaling deeply. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, savoring the fragrance, and when she opens them again, there’s a softness in her gaze that makes his heart race.

He takes a mental photo of her like this. So mesmeric. He never wants to forget it.

“Couldn’t decide on which to get, so I thought, why not all of ‘em… you like it?” He’s so adorable when he gets a little shy, a small frown on his face.

She tears her gaze from inspecting the flowers to look at him, and she swears her entire existence is reduced to a puddle on the ground with the look he’s giving her.

“I fuckin’ love it, cowboy. Makes me feel like I’m in my garden.” Her lips spread into a toothy grin. “So sweet. This is perfect.”

This is perfect. Those words alone are enough to put him at ease. He feels a wave of relief wash over him, the anxiety he’d been harboring slowly dissolving into warmth just from three little words.

“Let’s head inside.” He escorts her up the porch, his hand resting on her lower back the entire time, electricity building at the bottom of her spine.

Javier’s place looks different than the last time she was here. Cozier, more lived-in. She notices the additions: some college memorabilia, paintings she recognizes from the thrift store in town, a few family photos.

It’s neat and carries his scent, though she also catches a whiff of what she assumes to be dinner. The flickering candle on the coffee table adds a clean, inviting aroma. Seems like he took her critique of the space lacking personality seriously.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Make yourself at home,” he tells her, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head before walking toward the small kitchen.

“You cooked a meal?” Paloma questions, partially amused since she knows he rarely ever cooks for himself.

She sets her things down on the entryway table, careful not to smush her flowers, then slowly walks around the living room to get a better look at his new decor.

“Somethin’ like that,” Javier responds, a hint of pride in his voice. Earlier in the week, he had called his father, sharing bits about the new relationship he’s pursuing and asking what the fuck to do.

It’s an odd thing, this unaccustomed nervousness about dating. Javier has had his fair share of women, many mere fleeting sexual encounters, but still— flirting and romancing have always come naturally to him. Now, faced with a mundane dinner with Paloma, he finds the usual confidence in his charm faltering ever so slightly.

He feels like he’s doing both too much yet not enough at the same time.

To say Chucho was surprised was an understatement, and he couldn’t help but get in a few jabs about how he knew his son moving up there was going to be good for him.

“See what happens when you actually listen to your old man?”

His father’s teasing and encouragement had pushed him to step out of his comfort zone and actually try to piece together a decent meal. Nothing spectacular, just chicken baked in the oven with some vegetables. He contemplated getting a bottle of wine, but then landed on that damn root beer and cherry drink she likes so much.

As he moves around the small kitchen, he feels those nerves slowly creeping up on him again. He catches a glimpse of her through the doorway, exploring his living room, her presence making the place feel a little bit more like home.

She trails her fingers over the framed photos, pausing at one of him side by side with an older man. Both of them are posed in front of a wooden fence with what looks like horses behind them. They look so similar, no doubt that’s his daddy. If the matching mustaches weren’t an indication, then the large grins they both wear were a dead giveaway. 

He looks so charming with a genuine smile on his face. Paloma wants to see it on him all the time, even if she does like her grumpy, pouty Javi.

He’s attempting to share his life with her in these small but significant ways. It’s more than she expected, and it fills her with so much affection.

She takes a peek at his small bookshelf, different novels neatly aligned, but it’s the Italian language learning guide that gets her attention. Her brows furrow in curiosity, plucking it from the shelf and thumbing through it. “You learnin’ Italian?” She asks over her shoulder, reading the note inside.

Sorry these took so long. I translated as much as I could. Let me know if I can do anything else for you. Hopefully this helps.

Clearly a woman’s handwriting, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions. 

“Kind of, not really. Needed it for the investigation.” His tone suggests he doesn’t want to elaborate, and she doesn’t press him further, despite her nosiness on wanting to know what aspect of his work required him to know this language specifically.

She thinks of the old man in Louisiana, his cryptic words, outlandish request, then demise. To avoid putting a damper on her mood— she shoves him to the back of her mind and returns the book back to its spot.

Would she ever tell Javier about that night? About how she witnessed a man’s death and then subsequently watched as her ex and his best friend dumped his body into a swamp? Or is it something she’s destined to take to her grave?

She had told August, much like her mother, she would harbor her own secrets now. But with the way things are going with Javier… would she eventually feel comfortable and secure enough to share all that with him?

Paloma wonders if he could handle the weight of it, especially in the context of her mother’s past. A part of her fears that revealing the absurdity of it all might shatter the fragile connection they are re-building.

As she contemplates this, she thinks of the newfound look in Javier’s eyes when he’s with her— tender, understanding, and patient. Could he be the one she finally trusts with everything that weighs heavily on her heart?

The thought is both terrifying and liberating. She imagines his reaction, how his face might contort in shock or, perhaps, how his arms might wrap around her in comfort.

For now, though, she keeps the secrets locked away, buried deep. The path to trust is a slow and winding one.

One step at a time. Just focus on enjoying the night you’ve been looking forward to all summer.

Paloma moves towards the kitchen, watching Javier as he busies himself with pulverizing cherries in a short glass cup. The sight of him so concentrated, fingers stained with the sticky, sweet mess, sends a warm flutter between the apex of her thighs.

“Need any help?” she offers, sidling up to him and eyeing the chaotic counter now faintly stained in red.

He turns to look at her, “No, I got this,” a stubborn reply, from a stubborn man, to a stubborn woman.

She snorts out a chuckle, shaking her head. “Them cherries sure look muddled. Jeez, what’d they do to you?”

“I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ya think?”

His lips quirk up into a smile, and he brings two of his fingers up to his mouth to suck the sugary syrup off, his gaze not leaving hers.

“Tastes good, wanna try, princesa?” he asks, tone smug and full of himself. It’s so hot.

She nods, speechless, and he dips his fingers into the jar, coating them before bringing them up to her parted lips. His eyes darken, trained on the movement of Paloma’s tongue as she kitten-licks his fingers before taking them into her mouth. Now she doesn’t break eye contact, sucking slowly until she lets go with a wet pop.

“Fuck me.” He mutters, mind completely clouded by her.

“Feed me first,” with a wink she pulls back, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth. 

“Tryin’ to.”

And so, Javier goes through all the motions, pulling the chair out for her to sit in as he plates everything and brings it out to her. The table is arranged with an assortment of candles of different shapes and sizes, more flowers strewn about. It looks charmingly cute and a little quirky, which only makes her like it even more.

She sips from her drink, the tiny bubbles sparkling against her tongue, eyes shamelessly tracing over his built figure as he moves around the room.

One thing she’s always loved about Javier is how he isn’t afraid to wear some color. Tonight is no different. A muted purple top hugs his upper half, paired with dark jeans and boots. The first few buttons are undone, because of course. That’s just part of the outfit at this point.

The shirt looks so good against his brown skin, his collarbones defined and his neck thick. She’s starting to understand why he likes biting so much.

He flicks off the light, leaving them only in the warm glow of the candles and the single lamp in the living room. Sitting across from her, his eyes drink in every detail of her angelic face, accentuated by the flickering candlelight.

“You really cozied the place up. All for me?” she jokes, looking over at him with adoration in her eyes.

“I wanted to make it special,” he replies sincerely, even though he knows she’s just teasing. “You deserve that. You deserve a whole lot more.”

Her heart swells at his words. “I’m likin’ what m’gettin’ so far.”

Everything feels right in this moment. They know they still have things to work through, but right now, they’re exactly where they want to be—surrounded by the quiet comfort of their shared affection.

“If dinner is shit, I’ve got a pizza delivery guy on standby.”

Paloma laughs, shaking her head as she picks up her fork. “Hopefully we don’t have to resort to that, even though I do love a good pepperoni pizza.”

She takes a forkful of the meal he’s prepared, bringing it to her mouth and chewing slowly. Javi watches her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

“Well?”

“It’s really good.”

His eyes narrow slightly, not entirely convinced. “You’re fuckin’ with me.”

“I’m not!” she insists, bringing a hand to cover her mouth as she talks. To prove her point, she eats another forkful. “Delicious. Compliments to the chef.”

He snorts, taking a bite himself. Not half bad, but he feels like he can improve. “Next time, it’ll be better.”

“Next time?” Her brows raise as she reaches for her cup. “Already plannin’ date number two?”

“Dunno if you’re aware of this, preciosa, but I’m not lettin’ you go anytime soon.”

They share a loving look, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness and want, his with a restless need to please and satisfy her. Sexually, romantically, platonically— all of it.

The conversation flows easily after that, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses and scraping against plates. She catches him looking at her with an expression that makes her heart skip a beat.

Javier tells her about his father after she asks about the picture on his mantel. As he speaks, she can see the deep respect and admiration he holds for the older man. His eyes soften, voice filled with warmth, revealing just how much his dad means to him.

She wonders if she’ll ever meet this illustrious Chucho Peña. Would he like her? Would he think she’s a good fit for his son? Would he eagerly share embarrassing stories about the hardened ex-DEA agent? Maybe even show her adorable pictures of Javi from his childhood, painting a different, more tender side of the man she’s come to care for so deeply.

He doesn’t mention his mother, and she doesn’t ask. It seems they both share a reluctance to delve into the matriarchs of their families, a mutual understanding that some things are best left unspoken, at least for now.

“Heard about the press conference…” she sees an opening to ask about it in the brief pause that had taken over as they finished dinner.

Javier lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his chair with a beer bottle in his hand. “Yeah. Goin’ live on Monday. Your dad’s leading it. I’m just there to discuss the other aspect of it.”

Her brows furrow. “Other aspect?”

“The ‘scary religious’ stuff. Got a lot of information from a professor in California that helped us out. She sent me all that shit in there.” He takes a swig of his drink, nodding towards the boxes stacked up in the living room. That explains the Italian guide and the feminine handwriting.

“How… how is she?” Paloma asks about the girl, her voice quieter but filled with concern.

“Stable,” he licks his lips, “Lots of internal bleeding, real bad concussion. Doctors are saying she might not remember everything clearly for a few weeks after she wakes up. The medicine she’s on is only going to make that worse, so who knows if we’ll have anything concrete enough to go on.”

Javier doesn’t want to burden her with work talk, and he doesn’t want to entertain it either since he’s around it all the time, but he recognizes her genuine concern.

She swallows thickly at the update. This is exactly like something out of those true crime segments the news shows late at night. She’s not that surprised, though, considering the girl was on the brink of death when she found her. “That’s terrible. What’s her name? Who is she?”

“We don’t have one. No I.D. on her and she’s been unconscious since they brought her in. We’ve called around trying to see if she matched any missing persons reports with shit luck.”

Paloma’s heart twists. It’s bad enough to be beaten within an inch of your life, but to be unidentified afterward? To not have the comforting presence of a family member or friend by your side while your body recovers and your brain struggles to keep you alive? 

She considers the idea of visiting, maybe bringing some flowers so when she wakes up, she isn’t greeted by the sterile, stuffy smell of the hospital.

“Well, hopefully she recovers soon.” Paloma takes another sip of her drink, chewing on some of the cherries at the bottom.

“Gotta take it in strides,” he grumbles, pushing his chair back to stand and beginning to collect their dirtied dishes.

“Oh, I can—” She starts to rise, but he stops her with a wave of his hand.

“Nu uh, quédate quieta (stay still), muñeca. I got this. How ‘bout you go freshen up and meet me in the backyard when you’re done?” The way he speaks to her with that affectionate yet stern tone makes it impossible for her to refuse.

“Mm, fine. What’s in the backyard?”

“You’ll see. Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Paloma complies, grabbing her purse from the entryway. She applies more lip balm, quickly brushes through her hair, and adds a touch of blush. Staring at her reflection, there’s a radiant smile on her face, her heart content and stomach fluttering.

She joins him outside, where he’s already puffing on a cigarette, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. “Una noche, Javi. Just one without the nicotine,” she slides the door close behind her and steps over to the railing he leans against.

“No can do, cariño. I’m afraid I’m addicted,” Javier replies, blowing the smoke away from her face. His dark eyes check her out, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he taps off some of the ash. “You look real pretty tonight. That color looks good on you.”

She blushes, thanking him softly and biting her lip, looking away to control the loud thudding in her chest. God, why is it that the simplest compliments are the ones that leave her the most hot and bothered?

“Am I supposed to watch ya smoke all night, or is there a reason we’re out here?” she questions, tilting her head up to look at him as he finishes off the cigarette, flicking it over the railing.

“There’s a reason we’re out here.” He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a stick of gum, unwrapping it then popping it into his mouth, “C’mon.”

Javier takes her hand in his, the warmth and size difference so comforting that she can’t help but squeeze gently as he pulls her off the small porch. Grabbing a flashlight on the way down, he flicks it on to illuminate their path.

The moon is out tonight, but not in her full glory, a crescent shape accompanied by twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Paloma notices his truck parked right in the middle of the grassy yard, another object standing beside it but she can’t make out what it is.

“Had I known we were gonna be outside, I woulda skipped out on the heels.” Wobbling as she steps on a rock and almost injures herself, he steadies her with his strong hold, bringing her closer into his side. She gets a good smell of him—smoke, mint, cologne, and just pure, delicious Javier.

“I got you, bebita. Would’ve been a real shame for you not to wear those. Make your legs look so sexy.” That last part is muttered into her ear and her pussy clenches around nothing because of it.

They reach his truck, where two small lanterns are already glowing softly, casting a cool light over the small area. The bed is transformed into a cozy nest, filled with blankets and pillows.

“Wow,” she breathes out, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight. It’s then that she notices the unidentified object standing beside the vehicle. “Is that a telescope?” she asks, moving closer to inspect it.

“Sure is. Called in a favor to the high school,” Javier replies, walking over to retrieve the book he checked out from the library and a map he’d drawn up during his time between the station and working from home.

“What’s it for?” she asks, curiosity piqued.

“Stargazing,” he replies, spreading everything out against the lowered tailgate so he can get a better read of it.

Her brows shoot up in surprise, and she turns on her heel to face him. “Stargazing?” She sees the materials in his possession and can’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Said I’d learn a thing or two for you.”

“And what thing or two did you learn?” Paloma is beyond intrigued, inching closer to him. She sees the various colored tabs poking out from the book, different pages he’s marked as significant. She recognizes his handwriting on the map and, after a little more observation, figures out what it is.

“Did you make a constellation map?” She gasps, bringing her fingers to trace over the precisely drawn lines.

Her reaction is enough to calm his apprehension and he nods, confirming it for her. “Didn’t ever think I’d turn to astronomy for a hobby, but here we are. Esta mierda realmente es interesante.” (This shit is actually interesting)

He works the gum in his mouth, and she’s absolutely smitten. Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist. “We’re right on time, too.” He opens the book to the page he’s memorized by now, passing it over to her and pointing at a cluster of stars. “That’s the first one we’re lookin’ for.”

Her big, brown eyes stare at the photo, and she nods gently. “Okay… what is it?”

“I’ll tell you once we find it.”

They migrate over to the telescope, and he bends slightly to get level with the eyepiece, closing one eye as his fingers adjust the knob to put the glass into focus. She watches him intently, falling more in love with him the longer they’re together.

Because that’s what this is. Love. She knows it, has known it for a long time, even if she didn’t want to admit it. It’s not just a crush or infatuation. She harbors real, fervent emotions for the man before her.

Javier’s lips pull into a large smile once he’s got the constellation in perfect view. “Alright, princesa, come take a look.” He pulls away and motions her to him, she eagerly sidles up to him again.

“Tilt it a little bit north and you’ll see it.” She does as instructed, even though he distracts her with how he’s pressed up behind her, his hands resting on her waist and stroking gently.

The cluster of stars looks so cool, matching the photo he’d shown her to a T.

“¿Qué es, Javi?” she whispers, wishing she could capture the moment on a camera for herself.

Just as she had been watching him before, he watches her now. Her hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, her mouth slightly parted in astonishment. He’d pluck every star from the sky and gift them to her if it meant staying in this picturesque moment forever.

“Columba,” the technical name rolls off his tongue easily, “better known as the dove constellation.”

She pulls back quickly, whipping her head around to face him.

“Thought it was fitting. Just for my little palomita.”

The world stops, it really does, as the gesture fully sinks in, embedding itself in her heart.

She can’t help but think of how this moment parallels that of August’s. How on their first date he had revealed her bloodline connections to something so divine. How he convinced her that she was magic. A savior.

Here, with Javier drawing up maps of the stars and pinpointing ones that remind him of her, she feels much more cherished and special than she ever did with the reality of her mother’s past and the lineage she comes from.

She turns in his embrace, standing on the tips of her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. He hums as he tastes her lip balm, savoring the sweet flavor. “This is so romantic, Javi. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Me either, if we’re being honest,” he replies earnestly, his smile unwavering.

They continue their stargazing, with him pointing out other constellations they’re able to see. He even indulges in the little research he’d done about the stories attached to each arrangement. Paloma is absolutely charmed, hanging on to everything he says, excitedly stepping up to the telescope and hunting down the constellations under his guidance.

Now in the bed of his truck, she lays with her head against his chest. The rhythmic pumping of his heart eases her into a serene calmness as they glance up at the sky. Javier gently strokes her hair.

The night embraces the summer sounds of the south: cicadas murmur in the warm air, frogs croak softly in harmony, and fireflies dance with their gentle, glowing lights. Leaves rustle in the subtle breeze while a distant owl’s call adds a haunting touch to the tranquil scene.

He’s never felt this at peace, not with Lorraine, not with Helena. Not with anyone ever. He never thought he’d enjoy the simplicity of a relationship. But here, with her in his arms, he finds himself rethinking that entirely.

She’s perfectly tucked into his side, as gratified as he is. All he wants to do now is take care of her, meet her every need, grant her every wish and more. Gone are the days of pretending this isn’t what he wants, even though part of him still feels like he doesn’t deserve her.

“Guess I can call ya a space cowboy now,” Paloma teases with a gentle laugh, her nose scrunching in that adorable manner he loves to see each time.

“Space cowboy. It’s got a nice ring to it.” His fingers stroke the exposed skin of her arm, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

“Maybe I should get you a sparkly hat and some boots to complete the look,” she jokes.

He chuckles, the sound deep and warm. “Only if you promise to be my space cowgirl.”

“Deal,” her smile widens as she snuggles closer to him.

After a few more moments, Paloma lifts her head slightly, planting a soft kiss on his jawline. “Y’know, I think we’re writin’ our own story up there with the stars tonight.”

Javier smiles, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes. “Yeah? Shit— It’s one hell of a story.”

She shifts to straddle him and he doesn’t complain, letting her soft thighs rest on either side of his waist. Large hands move to settle on her hips, the skirt of her dress hiking up some and he lets his thumb run along her smooth skin.

“So what happens now, space cowboy?” she purrs, voice dripping with suggestion. Her manicured nails dig into his broad shoulders, and he doesn’t miss the way she subtly grinds down on his lap.

“You tell me, nena. Anything you want.” Javier’s cock stirs, not just from her movements but from the sheer, overwhelming need he feels for her.

He’s shown so much restraint, carefully paving over the rocky road of their relationship. But now, the sexual tension between them is stretched taut and ready to snap.

He feels a primal, insatiable hunger taking over him, reminiscent of the lover he was in Colombia.

“Anything?” The loving glint in her eyes is now replaced by a rousing, lustful spark.

“Lo que quieras.” (Whatever you want) His voice drops to a husk, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

She leans in, pressing her lips to his in an impassioned exchange. Her nails dig deeper into his broad shoulders as his hands get bolder, moving around to cup her ass, pulling her closer. It’s a repeat of what happened in his cruiser, but this time, there’s nothing holding either of them back from going all the way.

Paloma is more deliberate with the swivel of her hips now, fully grinding down on him. He drinks in her pretty moans as they fall from her lips, sucking on her bottom lip then running his tongue over her teeth, kissing her with a lewd hunger.

“Want you to touch me, Javi,” she whispers, forehead resting against his. Her fingers move from his shoulders up to the back of his neck until they’re intertwined in his soft, brown curls.

“¿Donde, bebita? Tell me where you want me to touch you.”

They’re all pants and heavy breaths as his lips trail down her jaw to her neck. She struggles to form a coherent thought, overwhelmed by the sensations he’s stirring within her.

“My— oh shit,” Paloma whines as he licks up from her neck to her ear, gently biting down on the lobe. She shivers at the contact, her body curving into his touch.

“Here?” he teases, his breath hot against her skin. His hands roam her body, mapping every curve and dip like he had with the works of art in the sky.

“Everywhere,” her voice trembles with need. “I want you everywhere but m-my pussy, Javi, please touch my pussy.”

Her words shoot straight to his cock, now fully hard beneath the denim. He pulls back slightly to meet her gaze, and despite the wanton passion flowing through both of them, he wants to make sure that she’s okay with going further.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.”

That’s all he needs before he’s on her again in a complete frenzy, lips crashing against hers while one hand fists her dress. He realizes she’s not wearing anything underneath and lets out a guttural groan.

“Naughty fucking girl. Knew what you were coming over to get,” he growls.

Her giggle gets lost in her throat when she feels his thick fingers hovering over her clit. She’s so wet, her sticky arousal steadily building over the night, absolutely coating her folds and parts of her inner thigh.

“Dime otra vez lo que quieres. Tell me how bad you fucking want it, palomita,” Javier commands, his breath fanning over her ear.

“N-Need your fingers. Been dreamin’ about ‘em for so long,” she confesses, dripping with desperation. She feels even more of her slick seep out at the warmth emitted from his hovering digits.

“That so?” He cocks his head to the side, enjoying how much of a mess she is over him. Right as she’s getting ready to quip back, Javier presses his middle and index fingers against her sensitive clit, and her hips jerk to chase more of the contact.

“Ohhh…” she whines out, her head falling back as he begins to rub tight circles against her engorged flesh.

“Goddamn baby, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs, his mouth watering at the feel of her. Javi has a deep affinity for eating pussy, one of the many golden traits he possesses, and he so badly wants to have her straddle his face and do just that.

But he also wants to drag this out, enjoy her in the way he hadn’t the first time they fucked. His fingers work their magic, sliding through her slick folds, teasing her entrance before pushing in slowly, groaning at how she clenches around them.

She yelps at the stretch, but fuck, does it feel amazing. “Fuuuuck, Javi… just like that,” she moans, her hips moving in time with his thrusting fingers. He’s knuckle deep, setting a steady rhythm while his thumb flicks over her clit.

His lips return to her neck, sucking softly yet being mindful of not leaving any marks. Yet. His other hand is on her chest, pulling down the fabric that covers her breasts so that he can feel the warm skin of her tit, how tight her nipple is against his clammy palm.

“Look so pretty like this.” Javi groans against her neck, curling his fingers inside her, finding that sweet spot that makes her cry, her thighs tensing and nails digging into his scalp.

The sound of her squelching pussy is obscene, echoing ever so softly into the night, her pants and his grunts mingling together. “Just like that baby, please keep goin’. F-Feels so good.” His fingers are much thicker and longer than hers, his touch a testament to his skill.

“Can’t wait to taste you. Just know you’re sweet.” He kisses down her neck until he’s got his pouty lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth and grazing it lightly with his teeth.

Paloma shivers at the feeling, beginning to bounce on his fingers, encouraging him to go faster as she feels her orgasm slowly building at the pit of her stomach.

The truck rocks slightly with their movements, faint noises of metal and rubber creaking with how she rides his hand.

Javier senses her urgency, scissoring his fingers inside her cunt and curling them again. His tongue outlines her puffy areola and she whines out.

“Y-Yes, oh god, yes fuck, I’m gonna come.” Her eyes squeeze shut and he groans against her chest, pulling away to look at her, leaving the pebbled flesh coated in his saliva.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me. Fuck yourself on my fingers.” Blunt nails dig into the skin of her ass, giving her a spank, and the sting from it has her free-falling.

She grinds down onto his sinewy fingers, her grip strong as cum gushes out of her, coating them entirely. Her orgasm rips through her with an intensity that has her tasting colors.

She sobs his name out, and he revels in it, in her and how beautiful she looks falling apart for him.

He can’t wait to get her naked and spread out on his bed.

She goes limp, falling into his chest with his fingers still inside her. Her face is in the crook of his neck, placing soft kisses against the skin that glistens with a sheen of sweat.

“That was fuckin’ amazin’.” She licks at the salty skin, humming at the taste, and he grumbles something she can’t quite make out.

“Been dreaming about it for so long, huh?” Javi teases, finally slipping his fingers out, her slick dripping down his knuckles.

“Like you haven’t dreamt about me.”

“Oh, plenty of times, baby.” Much like the mess from the cherries earlier, Javier brings his fingers up to his mouth and cleans them from the taste of her. It’s heady and delicious.

“Mmm, sabes rica, nena.” (You taste delicious, baby)

She smirks against his neck, still kissing and licking, hips once more moving against his lap, the denim chafing her in the best way possible.

Paloma’s lips trail up until they’re at his ear, and she whispers, “You gonna be a gentleman and take me to bed or are you going to fuck me right here?”

Javier grunts, smacking her ass again, and she giggles sharply. “If I get you in bed, I might not ever let you leave.”

“Don’t tempt a girl with a good time.”

With a cocky smile, he readjusts her dress and tilts her chin to meet his stare. They lock eyes before diving into another heated kiss. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he murmurs against her lips.

She eagerly complies, her legs locking around his waist. He scoots towards the edge of the lowered tailgate, lifting her effortlessly. As he steps off the bed of the truck entirely, she clings to him, her arms around his neck, body pressed firmly against his.

Each step towards his trailer home is filled with a sense of urgency, their bodies already buzzing with anticipation. She can feel his cock pressed against her, a tangible promise of what’s to come. She squirms, nipping at his neck, inhaling his scent which further turns her on.

Javier slides the door open, not giving a damn about the setup left behind. He’ll worry about that later. Right now, he’s got more pressing things to handle.

The moment they’re inside, it’s like something out of a movie with how they’re on each other. Eager kisses, impatient touches, hands roaming with desperate urgency. He sets her down and she’s quick to start unbuttoning his shirt, their steps stumbling in the direction of his bedroom.

She almost trips on her heels and he grabs at her waist to keep her from falling. “So fucking clumsy all the time,” he says under his breath, letting her slide the shirt off his shoulders and onto the hallway floor.

“Easy ‘fore I leave you here with a hard cock ‘n the taste of me in your mouth,” she teases with bated breath.

He scoffs, kicking off his shoes once they’re in the room. She tugs at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the loops of his jeans. “You wouldn’t do that, muñeca. You want this as bad as I do.”

And he’s right—she does. With each article of clothing that gets discarded, each inch of skin that gets revealed, her desire for him grows more and more… if that’s even possible. Paloma doesn’t think she’s ever been this needy to get fucked before.

Javier stops her from unbuttoning his jeans, taking a step back, leaving her momentarily confused. But then he drops to his knees right in front of her.

“What are you—” Her words are cut off as he bunches up her dress to her waist, bringing one of her thighs to rest over his shoulder. With no warning, he dives into her pussy.

“Oh my god!” she gasps.

His tongue is wicked, exploring every crevice of her, the tip drawing figure eights over her clit. It’s all happening so fast, she doesn’t even know how to react. He sucks the bundle of nerves harshly into his mouth, and she screams out his name.

Rising from his spot, he pulls the dress off her on his way up. “Couldn’t help myself,” and he’s got an arrogant grin on his sinful face.

“And you say I’m impatient.”

One, two, three steps until her knees hit the edge of the bed, and he gently pushes her until her back is against the soft sheets. She looks up at him with those brown, smoldering eyes, basically telling him to take her.

Javier stands still for a moment, gaze raking over her naked figure, drinking her in. His fingers move to his jeans, slowly undoing the button, the zipper following suit, anticipation building with every second.

The room is dark, barely any moonlight casting in from the windows, yet her body is glowing as she’s sprawled out on his bed. Although this isn’t their first time being intimate, it is the first time he’s seen her entirely naked.

And damn, if she isn’t a beautiful fucking sight.

Dark hair fanned out against the white pillows. Her tits nice and full, practically begging for his attention. The golden cross pendant that sits between her collarbones somehow makes her look more erotic.

The curve of her waist and the plumpness of her thighs beckon him to leave his mark all over the supple skin. She’s still got her wedges on, elongating her legs and highlighting her calves.

This is why he loves women so much— their accessories, their clothes, their shoes, their femininity. It’s such a turn on for him.

Paloma’s skin ignites under his stare, and she would feel more self conscious if she wasn’t so keenly aware of how fucking badly he wants her.

He flicks on the small lamp on the nightstand, further illuminating the room and her.

Ogling his exposed chest and how toned he is, her finger comes up to beckon him to join her on the bed.

“Igualita a un ángel (just like an angel),” honeyed words drip from his lips, having her blush as he crawls over her, still in his jeans, voice full of reverence.

One of her legs hooks around his waist, bringing him closer. His hand traces her hip, moving slowly to cup her breast. He thumbs her nipple, watching as it hardens under his touch, eliciting a soft moan from her. He leans down, capturing the other nipple in his mouth, suckling and nibbling gently.

She whimpers, arching into him, her hands all over his back, feeling the flex of muscles under her fingertips.

His hands are everywhere, exploring, teasing, worshiping her body. Paloma’s breath hitches as his fingers then dip lower until they’re at her mound, softly tracing his fucking initial against the skin.

His descent down her torso is paired with sensual movements of his lips, tongue flicking out to taste her skin until he’s at the scar on her hip. He peppers kisses along the marking and she shudders, her stomach doing flips at the sensation.

Then he goes lower and she exhales shakily once he reaches the apex of her thighs, placing wet kisses along the inside of them.

“Javi,” she moans, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He smirks, moving with deliberate slowness, teasing her until she’s trembling.

“Just relax, preciosa,” he murmurs, his breath hot against her core. “I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

“Wait… let me take my shoes off,” she squirms in his hold, trying to reach for her heels.

He stops her by placing his palm firmly over her pelvis. “Nah, baby, keep ‘em on.”

She stares down at him, catching that glint in his eye, and who is she to fight him on something as trivial as this? So she lets it be, sinking back into the pillows, her body relaxing as he resumes his ministrations.

Javier’s lips leave a scorching trail on her, kissing and nipping at her thighs, the feeling of his mustache brushing against the tender skin has jolts of pleasure striking her.

His roughness contrasts with her softness, creating a thrilling friction that makes her breath hitch in her throat. She whimpers softly, fingers away from his hair and clutching the sheets as he makes his way back to her core.

Using both of his thumbs, Javier spreads her folds apart and it’s like a flower blossoming— her clit throbbing, pink skin glistening with her juices. He licks his lips, cursing in Spanish, his tongue flattening and running up the length of her sex, curling when it gets to her sensitive pearl.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head in pure bliss as he repeats the action a few more times, her arousal mixing with his saliva and dripping down his chin, down to her ass.

Javier fucking loves going down on his girls. Nothing, not even the actual fucking, compares to it. To be buried in that warm, wet, soft space between a woman’s thighs, hearing her whimper out his name while he coaxes out pleasure that most aren’t accustomed to, is just something he thoroughly enjoys.

He might be a giant fucking dick everywhere else, but in bed, he tends to show some gentlemanly manners.

His tongue works her with expert precision, alternating between broad strokes and meticulous licks. He keeps her spread open, teasing her entrance before dragging the wet muscle over her labia and up to her clit in one seamless motion.

Paloma has never felt pleasure like this. Not with George, not with August, not with anyone. Javier is eating her out so filthily, it puts even the most seasoned pornstars to shame.

He basks in the feeling of her nails returning to his scalp, fingers yanking at his hair as he continues his relentless assault. Her thighs squeeze around his head so tightly, he has to pry them back open, desperate to keep devouring her until she’s a quivering, moaning mess beneath him.

“Quedate abierta, nena (stay open, baby) or else I’m going to stop,” Javier growls, an empty threat but the vibration of his voice against her sensitive flesh sends shockwaves through her. Her hips tilt up instinctively, pressing him further into her cunt.

He is absolutely pussy drunk. It’s hard not to be when she tastes so divine, smells so intoxicating, and reacts to him so fucking sweetly.

It’s here, between her legs, that he truly apologizes to her. Each stroke of his tongue is an expression of regret for all the hurt and bullshit he put her through. His remorse is palpable in every lick, every suck, as he pours his soul into devoting himself to her.

And she can feel it. God, can she feel the way he shifts from languid kitten licks to full-on making out with her pussy. Just like the orgasm from before, this one builds quickly, mirroring dark clouds rolling in before a severe thunderstorm. Her moans crescendo, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside her.

Javier buries himself further into her heat, his tongue moving faster, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard. She’s teetering on the edge, every nerve ending on fire, her vision blurring as she’s consumed by the overwhelming pleasure. 

Her thighs tremble, the pressure mounting to an almost unbearable peak. “Oh, Javi… I’m gonna…” she manages to gasp out, her fingers gripping his hair tightly. He responds by doubling his efforts, hands pushing her thighs to her chest firmly to keep her steady and spread.

“Come for me, palomita,” a dark, seductive command that does her over. His aquiline nose brushes her clit, his tongue moving in perfect strokes, in and out of her.

She shatters, her back bends off the mattress as her orgasm zaps through her like a fucking lightning bolt. Paloma’s cries of pleasure fill the room, thighs squeezing around his head again as she rides out the waves of ecstasy.

Javier doesn’t let up, drinking up every drop that floods from her tight hole, tongue buried deep inside her cunt to lick as much of it as possible, and she has to roughly tug on his hair to get him to pull up when the overstimulation gets to be too much.

“Did so good, baby.” He praises. When he lifts his head, his mustache and chin are shining with the evidence of her essence, a long ribbon of slick trailing from his bottom lip, connecting her to him.

It’s the hottest thing Paloma’s ever seen, well, barely seen since her vision is misty with tears from how good he just made her feel.

“You taste even better when I’m fucking you with my tongue,” Javi whispers, his voice a low, sexy rumble.

He proceeds to remove her heels, kissing her ankle once he’s got the strap undone and the shoe off, repeating the action on her other foot.

All she does is lay there, still trying to catch her breath, her body reeling with aftershocks. He hovers over her, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on his mouth.

The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unrestrained desire between them, makes her head spin.

“Mmm, my turn.” Her breath is ragged, heart racing, but she manages a fucked-out smile, her hands running over his chest, his stomach, then down to his unbuttoned jeans where his cock is almost painfully straining against the rough fabric. 

“Not tonight baby, I need fuck you.”

Her heart skips a beat but she nods eagerly. Truth be told, she’s never gone down on a guy before, but after his little show down there, she’s eager to return the favor, to have him teach her how to please him.

She’ll bring that up another time.

Javier is fully naked now, his cock heavy and smearing her lower tummy with precum. He reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, but she stops him by wrapping her dainty hand around his wrist.

“You been with anyone?” She asks, flashes of Sloane crossing her mind, and her face twitches as she holds back a scowl.

He looks at her with a bewildered look. “Absolutely not,” he pauses, “You?” While she’d told him that things between her and August were over, the idea of her going back to him one last time nags at him from the back of his mind, and his jaw tenses.

“No.” She brushes back some of the hair that’s fallen forward, getting a good look into his golden eyes, their shine undimmed by the shadows of lust. “Don’t put the condom on.”

Goddamn, he really doesn’t deserve her. “Are you sure, querida?” he traces his fingers along her cheek.

She nods, her breath staggered from his touch, digits still brushing his hair back. “I’m sure. I want to feel you. All of you.”

With a growl of approval, Javier resists the urge to thrust his cock into her in one swift motion. He turns his head to kiss her wrist, then shuffles on the bed until they’re both on their sides, her back pressed flush against his chest.

Open-mouthed kisses trace along her neck and shoulder, her perfume and natural scent an aphrodisiac that gets him so high.

Javi’s hand grips her thigh then lifts her leg. “Hold it there, baby,” he instructs, and she complies, keeping her leg up as he strokes his cock a few times, gripping it at the base before slowly sliding it between her puffy folds, her seam drooling with her cum and his spit from going down on her.

They both shudder as his bulbous head nudges her swollen clit. He slaps it against her sex a few times, causing her to jerk her hips.

He laughs lowly behind her, and she can’t help but do the same, turning her head so their lips meet.

Using his kisses as a distraction, Javier slowly sinks into her tight heat. They pull apart, just barely, sighing into each other’s mouths as her walls pulsate around him, both of her previous orgasms having left her cunt wet and ready to take him entirely.

“Puta madre, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. The hand that was on his dick now moves up to grab the inside of her knee, keeping her leg in the air as he bottoms out entirely.

The sensation of being so fully connected, his cock filling her completely, is overwhelming. He’s definitely the biggest she’s been with, that much is apparent by the slight burn of him breaking her sweet cunt open with his girth.

He pauses, savoring the feeling, his lips still pressed against her neck, sinking his teeth into her tendon.

“Move, Javi,” she coos after a moment of getting used to the feeling of him, her voice a mix of plea and demand.

“So fuckin’ impatient,” with a groan, he begins to fuck her slowly, letting her savor every inch of him, friction building with each snap of his hips.

He holds her firmly as he sets a vigorous pace, the sounds of their bodies meeting, skin smacking against skin, moans and gasps and filthy words echo obscenely.

Her free hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His lips find her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. “I bet it didn’t feel like this with that boy of yours,” he utters, timbre rough and thrusts brutal. “Did it?”

His jealous words ignite something in her, and she pushes back against him, meeting his hips with equal fervor. The angle allows him to hit deeper, each stroke driving her mad. “About as good as it felt with that bitch.”

His fingers lace with hers on the arm slipped beneath her head, which is resting on his bicep as he pounds into her cunt– having her yelp out from prodding her cervix. She’s pleasantly surprised, expecting for it to hurt, but instead it’s just pleasurable feeling him touch parts of her no other man has.

Paloma’s tummy juts as he pumps into her, a visual of his big cock fucking her. Her tits bounce with each movement, his response a throaty growl and change of pace. “Such a perfect fuckin’ pussy, nena. Fucked up by givin’ it to me. S’the only thing that’s gonna keep me going, now.”

She can’t help but smirk, reveling in his obsession with her and her body. “If it feels like this every time— ohhh shit,” she moans when he hits that one spot that has her vision spotting, “then you can have it whenever you want, baby.”

Javier chuckles darkly. She should really be careful with the things she tells him because he will take her at a moment’s notice.

“Need you to come all over me. Show me how good I’m fucking you.” The intensity of his thrusts, combined with the sensation of him stretching her and his heavy balls slapping against her sticky clit, sends her spiraling into her third orgasm of the night. Her body writhes, walls fluttering around his cock and he tightens his hold on her.

Paloma’s mouth falls open in a silent scream, overwhelmed and feeling like her soul has left her body. She shakes and spasms, unable to control how she reacts to him. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Don’t get all shy on me now.”

His words are like a trigger, and she begins to babble incoherently, whines and moans pushing past her pretty lips, his name a repeated mantra as she sings for him. Javi, Javi, Javiiiii.

“That’s right, good girl. Takin’ this dick just like I knew you would.”

Feeling her pussy convulse, Javier loses himself entirely. Thrusts become erratic, his own grip on her leg surely leaving marks as he reaches the peak of his climax.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” He needs her to tell him before he’s fucking his spend into her, filling her up and possessively claiming her cunt as his.

Her head whirls, blood roaring in her ears, and it’s a miracle she can even hear him with how intense everything feels. She wouldn’t have it any other way. “I-Inside. I’m on birth control,” Paloma slurs her words, squeezing their interlocked fingers, tilting her head to bite into his bicep, lazily moving her hips to get him to come.

With a final, harsh thrust, he spills inside her, cock throbbing and groaning her name while thick ribbons of his cum paint her fleshy walls.

They stay intertwined, both panting and spent, length still buried inside her. Javier presses soft kisses along her shoulder and neck, murmuring sweet nothings as they come down from their high.

She moves to capture his lips in a tender display of affection, their earlier urgency now replaced with a gentle intimacy. “Much better than the first time,” she whispers, his forehead resting against hers.

“It only goes up from here. Literally.” he jokes with a sensual roll of his hips and she hisses from the already there soreness.

Javi lowers her leg then, fingers tracing lazy patterns on her hip. “You were amazing.”

She smiles, feeling utterly satisfied wrapped in his arms. “It takes two to tango, baby.” The name of endearment clutches at his chest and he goes in to kiss her lazily, moving his hand up to wrap around her throat lightly, holding her in place while his tongue slips into her mouth.

She hums in content, still tasting herself on his lips, the smell of sex clinging to his mustache. “What time is it?”

He huffs, nuzzling his nose against hers. “Does it really matter?”

She rolls her eyes playfully, “Si, Javi, I told daddy I’d be back by midnight.”

With another amused huff, he leans over to glance at his alarm clock. “It’s five past eleven.”

“I should probably get up ‘n try not to look like I just got fucked stupid.” He chuckles and she smiles faintly, but neither of them make the first move to disconnect. Even as their mixed cum starts to drip out of her and down his softened dick.

“You could just stay the night,” he suggests, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Tell him you’re with Tammy or something.”

“Mmm, as tempting as that is we got mass in the mornin’...” Her voice trails off softly, looking over at him.  “And I told him I was goin’ out on a date so he’s expectin’ me back tonight.”

Javier frowns and she reaches up to smooth the crease between his brows with her thumb, reading his mind.  “Don’t worry. Didn’t say it was with you. Just told him I was goin’ into town for dinner ‘n a movie with a boy I met at the barbecue. He wasn’t too happy ‘bout it at first but he let it be. Like always. S’why I don’t think we should be so worried to tell him ‘bout us.”

He studies her face, blush still lingering on her cheeks, her lips swollen, a warm sparkle in her eyes. “So I’m just a boy?”

Another roll of her eyes followed by a snort, and she’s the one to move first, easing herself off his cock.

He groans softly, gripping her hips and pulling her back towards him.

“Javier,” she warns, a little annoyed by his childish reply.

“It was a joke, querida,” he places another gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I understand how important this is to you. Just give me some time.”

She turns in his arms to face him, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over the warm skin of his pecs. “Okay, fine.”

They stay wrapped up in each other for a little longer, exchanging soft kisses, tender caresses, whispered conversations until she finally convinces him to let her go so she can freshen up.

Javier leans against his headboard, a lit cigarette already between his lips, sheet draped over his lap as he watches her stand from the bed, fully nude.

Paloma begins to walk to the bathroom, bending over to pick up her dress and shoes. His head tilts in appreciation as he whistles lowly at the sight of her round ass and the tantalizing glimpse of her naked, used cunt.

“Pervert,” she teases, looking back at him with a playful grin.

“A beautiful sight, muñeca,” he replies, a naughty twinkle in his brown eyes.

Moments later, she returns, looking a bit more put together, and sits on the edge of the bed where he lies, reaching for the cigarette. He pulls it back teasingly.

“¿Y esto?” (And this?)

“That was the kind of fucking that deserves a cigarette afterward. Come on, baby, let me indulge in your vice a little.”

He hands it over, watching with hooded eyes as she takes a drag, the smoke curling from her mouth and nostrils, making her look fucking sexy.

“Everything you do is so hot. Me vuelves loco, bebita.” 

She smirks, leaning in to peck his lips before returning the cigarette to him. “Likewise, cowboy.”

He finishes it off, discarding it in the ashtray before grabbing his jeans, sliding them up his legs once he’s off the bed so that he can walk her out.

“I feel real fuckin’ terrible about having you drive back home this late at night.” He tells her as he leans against the doorframe of the front door, crossing his arms against his bare chest. Thoughts of recent incidents flicker through his mind. The unidentified girl at the hospital, how she’d been plucked from the crowd, beaten, then dumped out in the middle of the woods and left for dead.

He can’t and won’t imagine Paloma being in her place, because that will have him fucking spiraling.

She adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder, bouquet of flowers in hand. “Don’t worry, handsome, s’not that far of a drive.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yes sir.” A saccharine smile pulls at her lips and he grunts.

“Don’t start nothing you can’t finish.”

“Then I guess I should get goin’.” She takes a few steps forward, placing a goodbye kiss to his lips.

He holds her waist gently, capturing her lower lip between his teeth in a soft bite as they part. “Drive safe, palomita. Thank you for coming over tonight.”

“I will. Thank you for, well, everythin’,” she blinks slowly, “It was all great… I do see the effort you’re puttin’ in, Javi.” Paloma reassures him and he appreciates it, he really does.

There’s reluctance clear in her eyes and her departure tugs at her heartstrings.

She wants to stay, he wants to keep her here.

With one final peck, she heads to her car. Javier watches as she pulls out and disappears into the night. His heart aches a little, but he feels a sense of fulfillment from how everything played out tonight. Things are finally starting to fall into place.

The whole ride home she reminisces. How can she not? He quite literally rocked her world. If she wasn’t obsessed before, she definitely is now.

She can’t help the way her thighs rub together. How she wishes she could stay the night and have him fuck her until the sun comes up. Her entire being is buzzing with euphoria, on a high that only good lovemaking can bring.

As Paloma eases into the driveway of her house, the headlights cast a soft glow over the front porch, where her father stands, waiting. The sight of him warms her heart, his silhouette outlined against the porch light.

“You enjoy yourself? He treat you right?” Romeo wastes no time, voice gruff and tinged with both curiosity and concern. He takes a slow sip from his cup, eyes lingering on the bouquet of flowers she holds as she steps up to join him.

Paloma feels a gentle flush creep up her neck at the memory of Javier’s touch, her core throbbing from the way he had fucked her. “Definitely,” she murmurs with a shy smile, her words still carrying the lingering sweetness of their evening.

“Now you can quit your stressin’ ‘n get to bed. We got church in the mornin’.”

[anarcho-physicist]

i helped* write a new physics textbook and it has a cool (and free) website: softmatterbook.online

*a little bit. The vast majority of the book was written by van Saarloos, Vitelli, and Zeravcic, but a whole bunch of people contributed little bits of writing (myself included) and are credited in the preface.

This book is an accumulation of some of the most fundamental results in soft matter physics, many of which were first discovered or derived very recently. The website hosts a bunch of extra resources (videos, notes, demos, etc.) sorted by the chapters of the book:

Fluid Dynamics

Elasticity

Brownian Motion

Colloids

Polymers

Liquid Crystals

Interfaces, Surfaces, & Membranes

Pattern Formation out of Equilibrium

Active Matter

From Designing Matter to Mimicking Life

It also lists a whole bunch of labs all around the world that are studying the sorts of systems described in the book, as well as mailing lists you can sign up for, conferences, workshops, youtube channels, and software packages. I'm absolutely biased (see below) but I think it's a really great resource for anybody interested in soft matter!

I spent the first year of my PhD helping to put this thing together. I translated research papers into problems, hunted for typos, and wrote most of the solutions in the instructor's manual. I don't make any money off the book sales (my PI told me they made it available for as cheap of a price as the publisher would allow), but my PhD stipend was funded for the year to work on this thing instead of having to TA.

I was ridiculously lucky to get the chance to work on this thing, even if at times it felt like learning how the academic sausage gets made.