#it's all part of the job he's forced to do

[multipleoccupancy]

Sloane scoffed playfully, "Killian won't leave anything he thinks is cool in a green box. It was hard enough to get him to relinquish the car keys for this trip let alone a crossbow." It was still said fondly though, Sloane may have even understood Killian's preference for keeping cool looking things. He was young once too. Surprised at the offer for her to keep it instead, Sloane smiled over to her, grateful. His children were only young but they were in the car a lot with him, he would be running a risk. "If you wouldn't mind," he encouraged. He knew she understood he had children, while it was technically a 'secret' it was inevitable that she and Killian would put the pieces together.

As their talk turned to business though he smile did fade even as his patience and tone remained ever the same. He trusted both Samantha and Killian to do their jobs well, they'd catch the monster that night and hopefully the trap would mean a significant advantage for them. "Yes, I think we can place her in one of the dorm buildings, but it puts her at risk of being disturbed." He hummed thoughtfully, "hopefully though with the crossbow being quiet, she will be fine."

Theo let her have the pulley without a fight, though he was still looking to his now empty hand as she talked to him. Deep in thought about how it was any version of him would turn into a cultist. He had no context of course but he couldn't help but try and come up with the answer in vain. His eyes did eventually drift as she started showing him how to attach the pulley and how it was going to work. At least part of his mind focusing on what she was saying while the other part drifted off into dark thoughts on what could happen should he ever have to do a ritual. Was it addictive?

You're not him. You're not him. You're not him. You're not him. It ran through his mind, getting altered and corrected as it went and he sat quietly watching what Violet was doing. She still loved the life she had regardless of the chaos of it all and the exposure she had faced. He wasn't sure if he should be impressed or worried.

"I'm glad you came out of it all alright you know," he said honestly and at last. "I don't want anything to happen to you, but it sounds like so much has happened to you anyway." He thought quietly for a moment about rituals and their tolls, wondering if the other version of him, the cultist, could withstand that toll or how it was he tolerated it if that was what he had put his life towards. "You shouldn't feel guilty though." He then said quietly, "I mean... I don't like rituals and I don't think they should ever be used, I will never use one but I get why you had to and I'm sorry that some cultist forced you into that. That really sucks."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Oh, right. Killian probably lived with his parents, who would not be very happy to see him coming home with a crossbow. Samantha couldn't help but laugh at the image. "I think it would be for the best, yes," she agreed, still chuckling to herself. "Unless he agrees to store it in a greenbox, but I think he might want to keep it." She glanced at Sloane. He had a family, maybe he didn't want them finding a crossbow in his car. "I can keep it in my car if it's more convenient." Samantha still lived with her dad, but he didn't use her car.

As he started to talk about the plan, she sat back up. It was important, and she wanted to focus. After all, she was the bait. And while Samantha was optimistic, she was not reckless! "You're right, it's a good idea," she confirmed, "and Violet could be in the building nearby, with her crossbow. Some windows face this area."

Violet could tell that Theo was not handling these revelations very well. She gently opened his hand and took the pulley, before starting to explain to him how they were going to use it, and how to make the crossbow functional. Inventions always helped her, maybe they would help him too. "You have nothing to be sorry about," she assured him as she demonstrated how to attach the pulleys to the bowstring. "You're not him."

A sad little chuckle left her lips. Yes, she had gone through a lot, and Theo didn't even know the half of it. The past year had left scars, physical and mental. But she had no regrets. "My life had never been more complicated," she admitted, "but I love it all the same."

"I felt tired and dizzy afterwards. Nauseous. Rituals take a toll on people, I've seen it happen. But the ritual I was forced to use was a small one. I don't really feel any different." She thought about Little Tony, and her stomach twisted painfully. "But I feel guilty about it. And... it feels like I lost control, that day. Someone decided for me. Forced me to do something I didn't want to do. I hate that."

[artbyblastweave]

One of my favorite elements in the TF2 comics are the recurring beats implying that all things being equal Heavy would much rather be a morally righteous action hero in the tradition of Dolph or Arnie- rejoining Team Fortress to crush "evil men," implicitly doing so extensively as part of his tragic backstory, going in guns blazing to rescue a buddy from the Korean Mob, rallying everyone to go fight Merasmus's monster army during the Halloween party, getting the big climactic set piece fight with the deranged supervillain on an island base. But he's held back from the role he was born to play by his association with the Mann Family clusterfuck. He wasted the prime of his Rambo years shooting people in the desert for no reason.

Which ends up being sort a recurring beat, for many of the characters who aren't life-outcome agnostic in the manner of Pyro or Medic. Scout instantly finds extensive romantic success the second he lets go of Ms. Pauling and detaches himself from the badlands. Spy coming to terms with, and making up for lost time with, the family he was out in the Badlands to avoid. Engineer trundles along in his support capacity until his contract is up, smart enough to warn Helen's potential successor away from the same path but never able to break away from it himself until her death forced his hand- never exposing himself to the true pointlessness of the practical problem he was on retainer to solve. Demo implicitly realizing that for all his vaunted family pride in mercenary work he's spent the last several years on the second-string relief team that none of his peers took seriously. Saxton realizing that the joke of an ultramasculine adventure hero with a desk job has worn kind of thin and he's removed himself from his native genre for no real reason, to no personal fulfilment. Soldier.... is actually in the exact same general life situation but with a wife and kids along for the ride, good for him.

Ultimately it turned into a story about how the characters have outgrown the excuse plot- a story about how all of these people have much more interesting stories to be involved in, more compelling things to be doing than what we've spent the last seventeen years watching them do. And now they're free and clear and on their way.

[ariestrxsh]

🍕 content warning: smut, praise, jealousy, masturbation, oral (f! & m!receiving), edging, begging, unprotected sex, light choking, sub!pizzaboy!chris, dom!boss!reader

���� author's note: this series follows sub!pizzaboy!chris and his tendency to mix business and pleasure. in part one, he sleeps with a customer after delivering pizza to her. in part two, he sleeps with a cop that pulls him over for speeding. now he must use his magnetic charm to seduce his boss to avoid getting in trouble for coming back late from a delivery.

🍕 summary: you can't help but get a little jealous when you find out your favorite employee, chris, has been sharing his meat with everyone but you.

pizza guy part three

"That delivery should have only taken twenty minutes. Why did it take you an hour and a half?" You inquired, peering up from the nightly paperwork at Chris, who had just walked through the front door of the otherwise empty pizza shop.

He could immediately feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

Chris was your best employee when he wanted to be, but he was constantly pushing the boundaries with you and taking advantage of how much you let him get away with. You could never fire him, though, and he knew that.

He had too many redeeming qualities. He was always covering shifts, bringing in good reviews, and working without complaining. He was also extremely polite and had a lot of respect for authority, always calling you ma'am and asking what you needed from him.

Chris' only downfall was that he couldn't help but mix business and pleasure - always getting high on the job and entertaining the women who were metaphorically lined up for him in between deliveries and sometimes on deliveries.

He always had a good excuse, though. And when he didn't have an excuse, he'd turn on the charm. He saw the way you looked at him, your hungry gaze that would linger for a few seconds too long, and he recognized the need in your voice, every word coated with lust. He knew that in your eyes, he could do no wrong. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't above using that to his benefit.

"Chris. Where the hell have you been?" You repeated, interrogating him. "Sorry, ma'am.." he apologized, forcing a pout. "I got pulled over," which wasn't technically a lie. "Oh, Chris. You poor thing," you responded, your tone immediately changing as you walked over to him, giving the sweet boy a hug.

"Did you get a ticket?" You wondered, cradling his flushed face. "No, ma'am. Almost. I think the police officer has a little bit of a crush on me," Chris said, his blue eyes flickering back up at yours as he tried to hold back a smirk. Can't blame her, you thought, studying his handsome features as his seemingly innocent smile stared back at you.

You detected a scent on Chris, one you could recognize anywhere and one you'd already addressed with him. "Chris. Are you stoned right now?" You glared at him, looking at the redness in the whites of his eyes, dropping your hand from his face. "What?! No!" He objected defensively, avoiding eye contact.

"There's no way you just got pulled over. If a cop looked at you for longer than two seconds, you'd be in the back of the cop car in cuffs right now. I bet you were at your dealer's house," you accused him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm not lying, ma'am. She did put me in cuffs," Chris responded, his cock stirring in his jeans as he recounted the events that took place earlier in the night. "You mean to tell me, you went from being cuffed to walking away without even getting a ticket?" You shot him a skeptical look.

He showed you his wrists, pointing out the red marks left behind from the metal that dug into them under the weight of himself and the cop while she riding him. "Don't worry about how I got off, ma'am. All's that matters is that I did," Chris responded, his gaze locked on yours.

You bit down on your lip, imagining Chris in restraints, offering to do anything to keep a clean driving record. You knew it was wrong. After all, he was your subordinate, but that was another reason you could never fire him.

He was so hot, and he knew it. He had this way of looking at you and talking to you when he knew he was about to get into trouble that immediately made you melt. You couldn't stay mad at him. Not even if you wanted to.

"Chris, you gotta be careful. I don't care you if you smoke weed, but you can't keep doing it on the job! You could have gotten yourself into big trouble tonight!" You jabbed your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look.

The truth was, you'd bail him out of jail if you could, but as much as you wanted to protect Chris from the consequences of his actions, you could only do so much when it came to the law. "I'm only hard on you because I care about you," you whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I know, but it makes me feel so good. Don't you like things that make you feel good, ma'am?" Chris asked, a bit of seduction seeping into his tone. You stood in silence for a moment, studying his pretty blue eyes and his pouty lips as he looked you up and down. You avoided his question.

"You know, Chris. I read a really interesting review someone left a while back about you while you were gone," you smirked, sauntering back over to your desk and pulling up the review on the computer. "Was it a good one?" He wondered, his facial features softening as he hoped you were about to start praising him.

"I don't know, you tell me. 'Their driver, Chris, has the best Italian sausage in town. He always goes the extra mile to please the customer,'" you read it word-for-word. "What could she have meant by that, huh?" You wondered with a bit of jealousy lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"I think she just really liked my meat, ma'am. I mean, the shop's meat," he corrected himself, giving you another sultry smile. "Is it the shop's meat? Because I certainly haven't been getting any," you remarked, glancing down at the outline of his half-hard cock in his jeans.

"Oh, ma'am. It would be so wrong," Chris purred, secretly enticed by the moral complexity of the idea of sleeping with his boss. His eyes dropped to your figure as his imagination took over, picturing how certain parts of your body would jiggle while riding him.

"Makes it even hotter, doesn't it? How wrong it is? What do I have to do to get a taste of your meat, huh?" You asked, getting up from your desk and slowly making your way towards him again. "All's you have to do is ask, ma'am," Chris responded with allure in his tone, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I finished everything while you were getting pulled over," you smirked. "Why don't you come home with me, sweetie? It's the least you could do. I'll take really good care of you," you flirtatiously responded, leaning in and kissing his neck. You took both his hands and placed them on your waist.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Please take me home with you. Take good care of me," he whimpered as he tilted his head to the side to give you better access, immediately giving into your advances.

Your lips were so soft, and Chris couldn't get enough of the way they felt on the sensitive nerve endings on his neck, sending blood rushing to the tip of his cock as a few luscious moans escaped.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You cooed, running your fingers along the bulge in his pants as your kisses grew slower, deeper, and more passionate. "Yes, ma'am," Chris mewled, grinding against your palm.

"Down, boy," you said, smiling and petting his package through his jeans as you retreated from kissing his neck. He nearly sobbed when you pulled away. "Oh, ma'am. You're so cruel. Getting me all riled up when we still have a long drive ahead of us," he whispered, already feeling lightheaded from the way you handled him.

"You were cruel first. Leaving me here all alone while you entertain other women. Don't you know how bad I need you here with me, Chris?" You wondered, your words drenched in envy as you delicately ran your hand across his chest.

Of course, you meant it in a professional sense, needing him at the store to help you close up, but you also meant it in a much more primal sense, and he did know. He'd known for a while now, but Chris wasn't the type to make the first move. He'd been waiting for you to finally say it. He nodded.

"Show me how bad you need me," he seductively whispered, tempting you. "Let's lock up, shall we?" You said, taking Chris by the hand, leading him towards the front door, and shutting off all the lights on your way out.

The two of you stepped out into the dark, chilly night, the breeze biting at your nose and stinging your lungs as you inhaled. You slipped the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, and you tugged on the freezing cold handle for good measure.

Chris followed you to your nice, shiny, black SUV and climbed into your passenger seat. You started the ignition, your engine roaring as it turned over. You turned on the heat, placing your palm in front of the fan, waiting for the air to warm up.

Chris was still rock hard, his eager cock straining against the denim fabric he wore and his mind swirling with the possibilities of what you were going to do with him once the two of you made it back to your place.

"So, what really happened with that cop?" You deviously wondered, glaring at him before looking back at the road you started down. Chris blushed. "She handcuffed me and put me in the back of her car. Then whatever you think happened is probably what happened next," Chris smugly suggested.

You bit your lip, letting your imagination run wild. "And the customer, Chris? You naughty boy," you clicked your tongue at him, shaking your head. His head fell lazily against the headrest as he peered over at you with a submissive expression.

"Ma'am. I promise I'm a good boy. I don't have a naughty bone in my body," Chris lustfully responded, his cock beginning to twitch in his pants as his eyes danced over your lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around him. "Well, maybe one," he quietly admitted, shifting around, trying to adjust his aching erection.

"Take it out for me, Chris," you demanded. "Right now?" He asked, an upward inflection in his voice as his brows flew up. "Yes. Show me that pretty cock that the girls can't get enough of, hmm?" You hissed, placing your hand on his thigh and making it jump again. "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, unclasping his belt, undoing his button, and lowering his zipper.

Your eyes shifted between the road and his dick, favoring one more than the other as he started to pull it out. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slightly open at the sight. "You like what you see, ma'am?"

You couldn't find the words to describe just how much you did, so you settled for a subtle nod. Its size was intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He went to wrap his long fingers around his veiny shaft, but you swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say you could play with it," you teased him. He gave you a pout, his brows turning up in a look of anguish. "But I need it," Chris whined.

"I thought you said you were a good boy, hmm? Don't good boys listen and do what they're told?" You purred, playing upon Chris' praise kink and his need for your approval. He hesitantly nodded. "Then behave, Chris." You lightly patted his thigh again, driving him mad with your touch. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Why don't we play a game? And if you're a good boy and play the game correctly, then I'll let you touch with it," You suggested, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "What kind of game?" Chris wondered, eager to let his hands wander below his waist.

"The kind of game where you tell me what happened with that customer who left that review while you stroke yourself, but you have to do exactly as I say. And you better listen and tell me exactly what happened or else you're in big trouble," you told him.

"But ma'am, I'm gonna get in trouble with you anyway," Chris quietly pouted, worried you were going to fire him for lying about his slashed tires that night.

"Oh, Chris. You could never be in trouble with me as long as you tell the truth," you cooed, softly running the back of your hand along his cheek. "You promise?" He timidly asked. "I promise," you replied, and you meant it.

"Go ahead, Chris. Start touching it," you voiced, giving him permission. His hand moved towards his cock, firmly gripping it, and he let out a relieved sigh as he started slowly stroking.

"So, tell me, Chris. Who instigated the interaction? You or her?" You interrogated him, glancing between the road and his swollen head, a wet patch forming on the front of your panties. "She did, ma'am," Chris told you.

"Did you go inside her house?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know I'm not supposed to, but.." Chris started to say. "But what? Answer me, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am. I did go into her house," Chris whimpered, his gaze meeting yours. "How'd she get you to stay, hmm?" You purred, watching Chris' facial features soften as he relaxed into his pleasure.

"She made me a cup of hot cocoa and started kissing my neck. She told me to call you and give you an excuse as to why I couldn't come back to work. Told me she'd make it worth it," Chris admitted, looking nervously at you with his blue eyes.

You gasped. "You naughty boy," you narrowed your gaze at him, a little annoyed that he had faked an excuse to get out of work but a little turned on by the fact that he'd done it to get his dick wet. "She made me call you while she was sucking me off," Chris replied, a smirk forming in the corner of his pink lips.

"You called me while she sucked you off?" You repeated what he just told you to make sure you heard him correctly. You squeezed your thighs together as you pictured him on the phone with you while he had his cock in another woman's mouth. "Mhmm," Chris nodded, pumping his length faster as it quivered against his palm.

"Slow down, Chris. You're gonna have to make yourself last a long time, so don't get too carried away," you smirked at him, thinking about how long you were gonna make him wait to finish. He took a deep breath and slowed the pace. "That's very naughty of you, sweetie," you responded in a voice just above a whisper.

The rest of the drive to your destination, you teased Chris, trying to extract information from him about his most recent sexual encounters, and he spilled the details to you relunctantly. Despite his hesitancy, his cock gave him away, jerking at every word you spoke that jogged his memory.

"Did she ride you, Chris?" You provocatively asked, and you watched it twitch again, listening closely as a soft whine passed through his lips. "I think she did.." you answered your own question, giving him a playful smile.

"You like it when the girl's in charge, don't you? You love to be bossed around in bed," you insinuated, and you watched Chris blush and nod in response as he ran the tip of his thumb through his precum, spreading it around on his sensitive head.

The banter between you and Chris was enticing to say the least, and the whole time you were soaking wet, buzzing with excitement about what Chris would be like in bed and how good his pretty dick would feel lodged inside of you while you bounce up and down on it.

You saw how close he was getting as you turned onto your street, and before he could finish, you stopped him. "Be a good boy, Chris. Put it away for a second. His eyes were filled with hurt and desperation, but he nodded and did as he was told.

Once you pulled into your garage, you turned to Chris, gently grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face just a few inches from yours as you locked your hungry gaze onto his.

"Look. Normally, I'd invite you in, give you something to drink, offer you something to eat, show you around. I don't have the fucking patience for that right now, Chris. What we're gonna do is go straight to my room, and you're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use you however I want for as long as I want. Got it?" You demanded.

Chris obediently nodded, his face conveying desire. You took Chris' hand, leading him in through your warm and cozy house that smelled like apple cinammon. You guided him up your stairs and into your bedroom.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, your mouth crashing into his as the sexual tension between the two of you built to an all-time high. His pretty moans vibrated against your lips as you reached under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against his hip bones as you hooked them onto the hem of the material.

You pulled away long enough to pull his uniform off over his head, and you quickly dropped to your knees. Chris looked down at you, wetting his lips as he silently begged you with his eyes to do what he thought you were going to do. You unbuttoned his jeans, slid the zipper down, and pulled down his pants and his underwear.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as if you were getting ready to please his cock, but you couldn't let him finish without a little more teasing. Instead, you retreated, standing to your feet as a look of disappointment seeped into Chris' expression.

It was just as hard for you as it was for him. You'd imagined this scenario a hundred times, and you couldn't wait to hear the pretty sounds he'd make while you suck on it, but the fact that you'd been waiting so long for it, made you want to savor every moment, every kiss, every touch..

You gently pushed him back onto your bed, and his eyes danced over you while he propped himself up on his elbows as you shed off your own layers, letting them fall to your feet. You climbed on top of him, pulling him into another passionate kiss as the two of you rolled around on your silky soft sheets.

"Be a good boy for me, Chris. Let me sit on your pretty face," you demanded from him, but it didn't take much persuasion. "Oh, yes, ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice," Chris eagerly replied as you gently pushed him down, guiding him to lie flat on his back.

You straddled his face, placing your knees on either side of his head and lowering your pussy onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue explored your folds, flickering back and forth over your sensitive clit.

You entangled your fingers in his messy hair, and you gently tugged on it, causing him to moan against you while his eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration that passed through his lips reverberated against your vulva, pleasure rushing through you.

You gently rocked your hips back and forth, riding Chris' face and grinding against his silky, wet tongue. You peered down into his gorgeous blue eyes as you combed through his brown locks. "You're such a good boy, Chris," you whispered, enjoying the feeling of his lips as he wrapped them around your bundle of nerves and started tenderly sucking on it.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that," you encouraged him. He nuzzled into your heat, relishing in the lovely sounds that left your lips and the way you rutted against his face, all testaments to how good he was making you feel. He could eat you for hours.

He reached up and grabbed your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers. He moaned against your clit a few more times as he delicately sucked on it, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. You felt pressure building in your lower stomach as you tightened the grip of your thighs around Chris' head.

"Good boy," you whimpered again, your body beginning to shiver as your pleasure reached a crescendo. His cock twitched at your praises, and his hands moved to your waist, stabilizing you as he admired the way you looked from this angle.

He took your clit between his lips and gently tugged on it until you were coming undone. You threw your head back and started fervently grinding against his face, losing yourself in your orgasm as you released onto his tongue.

He lapped up every last bit of your wetness, savoring the sweetness that filled his senses. Once you were completely satisfied, he removed his mouth from your pussy. "Did I do a good job, ma'am?" Chris asked, his big, blue eyes staring back at yours with his chin covered in your juices.

"Oh, sweetheart. You always do. You were perfect. Such a good boy," you purred breathlessly as you ruffled his hair once more, starting to lift yourself off of him. "Get comfortable, sweetie. Let me take care of you," you cooed.

"Yes, please," he politely answered, nestling among your mess of pillows and propping himself up against your headboard. He loved it when you took charge. He kept his eyes locked on yours as you placed yourself between his legs.

He'd been hard for the past hour, desperate for you to take it into your mouth, but you were still savoring every moment, and he secretly adored all the teasing. You drew a line from the base of his dick all the way up his length with your soft tongue, and it twitched in response.

You gently kissed his tip, slurping up the shiny, clear fluid that was slowly leaking out as you slowly stroked his dick. He let out a soft, pleasured sound as your tongue made contact with all his sensitive nerve endings, and you started delicately flicking it across his swollen, pink head.

"How's that?" You asked in a soft voice. "So good," he whined as you started combining the two techniques, sucking on it while your tongue got to work, fluttering around in the best-feeling places. Pretty noises poured from his lips as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly on his length and learning every vein with your tongue.

He smiled down at you and tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head, silently asking you to take more of him. You listened by sliding your lips all the way down his shaft until he was hitting the back of your throat. He gasped as you took it all so effortlessly. "How'd you learn to do that, ma'am?" He whimpered, peering down at you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as you chuckled, humming around the base.

You sped up your movements, sloppily drooling and making a mess all over his cock. "Please let me cum. Please," Chris moaned, his luscious voice spilling into the air. Despite how politely he asked, you took him out of your mouth long enough to give him a smirk and shake your head no.

"Please, please, please," his jagged breaths becoming whiny and needy. You ignored his begging and continued your pace, bringing him dangerously close to the edge before withdrawing all stimulation. He let out a few strangled moans as his cock twitched some more, begging to be sucked on again.

You loved how responsive he was and how his body language reacted to every subtle touch. You wrapped your lips around him again, and a stream of lustful noises flowed from him. You looked into his blue eyes that were silently pleading with you. You could see how desperate he was, which made you want to edge him even more.

"Please," he whispered again as if you didn't hear him the first half a dozen times he asked for you to let him finish. "You're going to have to be a good boy and wait," you teased him, removing your mouth again and shifting around on the bed. He responded with a subtle nod.

You began to straddle him, guiding his rod towards your entrance, and you let out a delighted hum as you lowered yourself down onto him. Chris' head gently fell back and tapped the headboard as you squelched around him.

"Oh, Chris. You're so big," you moaned. "So I've been told," Chris chuckled. He couldn't help how much that compliment stroked his ego. You started to ride him, your breasts bouncing in his face as he latched onto your nipples, tenderly sucking on each one. His hands wandered towards your ass, and he squeezed your soft flesh, whimpering against your chest.

"Good boy," you praised him as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his head. You leaned down and started sucking on a sensitive place on his neck, and he whined into your ear as he tried to hold on while you were actively working against him. "Please let me cum," he asked again patiently and politely with desire in his expression.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you cooed into the crook of his neck as you continued lightly sucking on it. Whimpers escaped his mouth as you picked up the pace, your strides becoming faster and rougher. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he tried to hold on to please you.

He was always able to hold the different perspectives of you in his mind, both the professional view he had of you and the sexual desire he felt toward you. He couldn't help but delight in the way the two versions of you merged in front of him. He'd always loved how bossy you were, but the way you were ordering him around in bed gave your bossy nature a whole new meaning to him, and he adored it.

He loved the way you bounced on him, your moans becoming louder and more urgent. He could feel you clenching around his cock, which made it even harder for him to fend off his long-awaited orgasm.

"Please, please, please," he begged some more, losing his composure. "Please let me cum, ma'am," he sweetly requested, his dick already beginning to throb inside of you. He wasn't exactly asking for your permission but more or less warning you that he couldn't hold off anymore.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?" You asked, peering into his bedroom eyes and examining his flushed, pink cheeks and the way he kept licking his lips. "More than anything, ma'am," he whimpered, his eyelids growing heavy and his mouth falling open.

"Only because you've been such a good boy," you commented, caressing his jawline with your thumb and moving your hand to his throat. You gripped his neck, lightly choking him which sent him over the edge.

A few strangled moans passed through his lips as his eyes rolled back and his head gently thumped against the headboard again. His climax hit him like a freight train, barreling through him and sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body.

He shot his load up into you as you finished onto him, the room filling with both of your satisfied sounds. You involuntarily dug your nails into the flesh of his neck, intensifying how good it felt for him. You slumped forward, pulling him into a warm embrace as you throbbed around him.

"Chris, I've been wanting to do that forever," you breathlessly whispered into his ear. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often, huh? It really seems to get your attention," Chris smugly remarked, smirking at you. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have to try to get my attention. You just always have it."

taglist: @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweets @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668 @fratboychrisera

[thef1diary]

Boss! Daniel being the sweetest goofy man during office hours, but a fucking menace when the day is over. You made a mistake on the clock? No biggie, you're learning, happy accidents, and all. But as soon as you're off, you're paying for it. Daniel's absolutely filling you, calling you a dumb *slightly derogatory petname of your choice*, asking you if all you're good for is being his cocksleeve.

— dead. deceased 🪦 I desperately need him as my boss, like asap. 18+ content below

During office hours, Daniel was a golden retriever in a suit—goofy, patient, endlessly kind. Even when you’d screwed up earlier that day, misplacing an important document, all he’d done was laugh, ruffle your hair, and said, “don’t stress it, sweetheart. We all make mistakes.” That smile had made your stomach flip, the easy warmth of it dissolving any guilt you felt.

But once the office was empty and the door to his private space clicked shut, his demeanor shifted like night and day. Gone was the laid-back boss who made everything feel like a team effort. In his place was someone cruel, commanding, and utterly unrelenting.

“Bend over,” Daniel commanded, his voice low and dangerous. He stood behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as you hesitated. The sharp crack of his hand coming down on your ass jolted you forward, forcing a whimper from your lips. “What part of bend over didn’t you understand, dumb little thing?”

You obeyed, pressing your chest to the cold surface of his desk, your skirt bunched up at your hips. Another slap came, harder this time, the sting radiating through your skin as his other hand gripped your neck, holding you down.

“You mess up during the day, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?” he sneered, fingers toying with your soaked underwear before yanking them down. “No, no, I let you off too easy earlier. But off the clock? You pay for it.”

His cock was already hard when he lined himself up, and the stretch as he pushed into you had you clawing at the desk. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a punishing pace that forced broken cries from your lips with every thrust.

“You really are pathetic,” Daniel growled, one hand coming down hard on your ass again, the sound echoing through the room. “Can’t even handle basic tasks without screwing up. Maybe I should stop wasting my time teaching you anything and just keep you bent over like this.”

“Please, sir,” you whimpered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for—mercy or more.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair to yank your head back. His other hand slid between your legs, rubbing harshly at your clit until your legs started to shake. “Is this all you’re good for? Being my personal cocksleeve? Huh? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” you gasped, tears spilling down your cheeks as the brutal rhythm of his hips never faltered.

“You’d love to be my cocksleeve, hmm, you’re perfect for that. Just need to bend you over and you’re already whining like a pathetic little slut.”

The desk creaked beneath you as he drove into you harder, his grip tightening. Soon, with a low, guttural groan, he stilled, spilling himself deep inside you. He didn’t pull out immediately, keeping you pinned there as you trembled beneath him.

“You’re gonna keep that in,” he said darkly, dragging his cock out slowly. His fingers pressed against your swollen hole, making sure none of his cum spilled out. “And maybe next time, you’ll think twice before being such a dumb mess in my office.”

Your body was trembling, wrecked and overwhelmed, as he pulled you up by your hair, forcing you to look at him. The smirk on his face was cruel, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet—no, this was just the beginning.

“Get dressed,” Daniel ordered, giving your ass one last slap. “And clean yourself up—you’ll need to focus tomorrow. Can’t have my assistant—oh sorry—my little cocksleeve too ruined to do her job properly… yet.”

want more boss!daniel? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[saphiccarma]

- Post Bellum

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - After the military, you're left fumbling with your life, unsure of what to do. In comes the prospect of private contracting, and you get hired by two insanely hot women.

Warnings: ✨Trauma✨

A/N: this is more of an intro chapter, but there is more to come I promise. This isn't going to be so much so a series, rather a bunch of interconnected one-shots with some semblence of a timeline and plot

The army was never really your choice. Both of your parents had been in the military, your mother in the air force and your father in the navy seals. They had met afterward, bonding over shared trauma, and eventually they had a kid. A kid, you, who was pressured into joining the army and beating your parents’ standards. A kid who suffered a lot during her deployment. A kid, who retired from the military at a young age, early twenties because you joined as soon as you were eighteen. Your father joined when he was twenty, your mother twenty-two, so of course you had to beat that record as well.

While you regretted signing up, you did have some good memories. Hanging out with your crew around a small fire, only letting it burn for a little while so as to not draw too much attention, chatting softly. Or sitting in the dirt, a gun pressed against your shoulder with blood and tears covering your face. You remembered sitting in the barracks after grueling hours of training, sweat dripping down your back and soaking your shirt through while you laughed, exhausted.  

After the marine corps, the division you were in, one of the hardest ones, you wanted peace. You wanted to live a peaceful life without flinching at every little sound and having to take the night shift. You wanted to live a life without being paranoid that someone would leap out and jump you, or that a barking dog would charge at you. Everything that reminded you, even the slightest of your time serving, set you off. It was impossible to get a moment of peace.

Your parents suggested therapy, part of the reason you lived in N.Y, but after one session you quit. New York supposedly had one of the best post-military therapy groups. It was a bunch of bullshit where you talked about feelings and shit. Nothing you were interested in. Not that they knew that. You told them you kept going and that it was helping.  They called you often, but half the time you ignored their calls, claiming you were busy. To them, you were living a good life. A life where you had a good job and you were okay.

But you weren’t okay. You still woke up in cold sweats, looking around your room with frantic eyes as you searched for potential threats and your hands tightening around the gun you kept on the bedside table. Screams echoing in your mind, whether they were from children or adults – your own or your friends. The shadows in your apartment seemed darker, more ominous than they looked when you were a kid. Your father wasn't there to protect you anymore, nor your mother, hugging you tight and placing a tender kiss on your head. The shadows, the invisible monsters, were supposed to go away once you got older, but they only got worse. And your parents weren’t here to help.

They lived across the country in L.A while you were in New York. It was a decision that you regretted, but you had paid months in advance for the apartment, so there was no going back. It was constantly moving in N.Y, a constant source of noise that never stopped, even at night. A lot of sleepless nights occurred because of that. New York never slept so you rarely did.

Point is, you couldn't rest. Peace never came no matter how hard you tried. You tried all sorts of hobbies, bird watching, knitting, sewing, reading, video games - everything. You tried it all and only the last two stuck really, but they did nothing to stop the constant buzz of fearful anticipation that ran through your veins. You were constantly on edge, unable to turn off your senses. New York was far too loud for you to settle down and you wished that you had chosen someplace else to stay.

An old friend, one of your mentors from the military, suggested private contracting. You had called him one night, breathless and wide-eyed. Desperate for someone to remind you that you were safe, that none of your fears were real. He soothed you, his voice calm over the phone before he suggested contracting. So, you figured out how to sign up for it and listed your services. It turns out, that after some research, private work paid a lot. Like a lot. If this worked out, you would be rich in no time.

You ran a hand down your face as you stared at the blue light of your computer, emails sitting dauntingly in front of you, all of them marked unread. The clock on your computer told you it was 3 am, a common occurrence for you. Within just a couple days, you had about dozen people reach out. And you thought you were ready. Yet simply clicking on a single email seemed like an impossible task. The idea of committing to a person, surrendering part of your control felt like too much.

Fingers twitching on the mouse, you closed your eyes before scrolling then randomly selecting on one. Looking over it, you thought that maybe this wouldn't be so hard. Two women, both married, in need of a personal bodyguard. Both rich, successful, lawyers who had made a lot of enemies over the years. They were looking for someone to accompany either of them throughout the day. You chewed on your lip as you thought it over, looking at the name at the end of the email. Agatha.

With your sleep-ridden brain, you somehow thought it was a good idea to respond now, and you clicked reply. It was tempting enough. They were offering a shit ton of money that would have you set for a long while. You managed to type up something coherent, agreeing to meet up with her tomorrow, absently typing in a time and place. Some coffee shop you visit often. You slammed your computer shut, jumping at the noise it made.

You settled back into your bed, setting your gun down onto the table next to you and sitting up against the headboard. Your eyes flickered around the room constantly, hardly able to rest at night. The shadows in your room were screaming at you, voices of the past that pleaded for help. As much as you wanted to squeeze your eyes shut, block out the noise and try to quiet your mind, but you couldn’t. That would mean being vulnerable.

 Eventually your eyes started drooping shut, exhausted from days spent with little to no sleep, and it was already 5 by the time you fell asleep.

^______________^

Your neck hurt when you woke up, a small line of drool streaming from the corner of your mouth. A sign you slept heavily. Wiping it away, you glanced at the clock groggily, jolting when you saw the time. You threw the sheets off you, scrambling out of bed to get dressed. It was 10:30 and faintly, although just barely, you remembered you were meeting up with Agatha at 11. The shop was a good walk away from your apartment. It was nice to have that little bit of exercise in your routine. Not that you didn't go the gym every day and run until your lungs were screaming and lungs were burning.

You brushed your hair and your teeth, groaning at the apparent eye bags. You threw a pair of nice pants on, at least ones that were presentable, and a shirt. A jacket was thrown over that shirt with loose sleeves that allowed mobility. You clipped your holster onto your belt, making sure you had your concealed license in your wallet, and you tucked your gun into its spot. The last thing you wanted was the get stopped because you didn’t have your license on you. Sliding your boots on, you made sure that a knife was placed in there, a backup weapon just in case you needed it. With one last pat down, making sure your laces were double knotted and secure, and your belt was tight, you rushed out the door.

And you turned promptly back around, slamming your shoe against the door to prevent it from closing. You forgot your keys and the printed version of the contract. After they were both successfully nabbed from where they had been carelessly thrown, you were racing down the stairs. Children screamed from inside their parent's apartments, and you tried not to flinch or close your eyes and freeze up right there. Instead, you rushed out of the apartment complex.

The bustling streets of New York hit you like a semi-truck, crashing into you with surprising force. You took a deep breath. You did this every day. It was just people. You could do it. Slowly, you took steps, weaving through the crowds of people. You ignored the way your heartbeat uncontrollably in your chest - it was a common occurrence by now. You were hyper aware of the people and everything they were doing A man reached into his pocket rather quick and you nearly drew your gun.

You followed the roads with practiced ease, even despite the hammering of your heart and the way your ears perked at every little sound. It took a while to make your way through a bunch of people until you reached the cafe. It was a nice corner in the wall shop, quiet with hardly anyone in there most of the time. The prices were cheap, the workers were not loud at all, taking your order with a polite nod. You appreciated it. They seemed to know you like the quiet, not even trying to strike up small conversation like they did with other customers.

Heading up to the counter, you inhaled slowly to calm your breathing before ordering a large iced coffee with two extra shots. That should help keep you awake. You took a seat, fiddling with your thumbs nervously, for some odd reason. You weren't sure why you were nervous. Your coffee was served, and you spent the time anxiously sipping on your drink, relishing in the way caffeine helped wake you up. And after what felt like forever, the door opened, and two very elegant looking women walked in.

You choked on your breath, nearly doing the same to your coffee. It was very clear that they were your soon-to-be employers.

The first had brown hair that was pinned up into a bun, blue eyes shimmering as she glanced around. Her eyes were calculating and cold but held a tint of warmth that you were able to pick out.  Pink lipstick adorned her lips that were pursed into a thin line. She was dressed nicely, with boots that clacked on the floor with every step she took.

The other had similar hair, except hers was wavy instead of curly, falling elegantly down her shoulders. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown that seemed as if they had infinite secrets. Her own steps were silent, quieter than the subtle music that drifted through the cafe. You liked that immediately.

The blue-eyed one spotted you first, her lips pulling into a small smile before she made her way over. You stood, your chair pushed back a bit louder than intended and wiped your palms on your pants. You didn't bother to force a smile onto your face, rather just nodding in greeting.

"Hi, my name's Y/N," you introduced, your voice steady and calm. You had half a mind to stick your hand in greeting, but just the thought of it made you internally shake your head. It was relief when neither of them offered their hand.

"Agatha," the blue-eyed woman introduced, her voice silky smooth, "This is Rio."

Rio grinned, her smile cat-like, and eyes glinting with mischief. It instantly set you on edge, "Y/N is a beautiful name," she purred. She tilted her head, brown eyes taking you in.  

You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Can I get you guys anything to drink? Or do you just want to dive right in?"

"Rio will get us some drinks. You and I can get started." Agatha slid into the seat across from you, her long fingers folding in front of her. You sat across from her.

You weren't sure how long it took to go over the terms of the contract, discussing it all in great detail. Both of you had to know what was happening, all the exact terms of the job and what was expected from you as a private contractor, and from her as an employer. Rio joined after retrieving drinks, sipping on her own as she leaned back into her seat, casually crossing her legs. She reminded you of a cat. Calm and composed with a silent smile that spoke volumes, her body portraying so many of her thoughts.

Agatha was different. Her micro-expressions gave everything away, all of her thoughts. One of the many things you had taken from the military was how to read people. People expressed themselves in various different ways. Whether it was clear, voicing their exact thoughts whenever they wanted to. Others were more quiet, only speaking when prompted, but their bodies gave away more than they would like. Little movements, the tensing of their arms, shifting of feet, hunched shoulders - it all gave something away. Rio was one of those people. Agatha wasn't either of those people. She was the quiet commanding type. Tiny expressions on her face, the little twitch of her nose or slight curve of her lips told you what she was feeling. She was a perfect mix of voicing her thoughts yet keeping them close to her chest.

They were certainly an interesting pair.

By the end, you had gone through your entire cup of coffee, and you were still exhausted. Agatha gave you a little smile, her eyes shining with a small bit of hope that was just hardly visible, as she stood from the table.

"I will meet you tomorrow at our place? I'll text you the address." Agatha had gotten your phone number right before the conversation ended. Her words left no room for negotiation, and you nodded, standing from your own seat.

"Yes ma'am."

Rio grinned her smile wide, and you faintly heard her whisper while she walked out with her wife, "I like her."

Taglist: @poppyshuman

[muwapsturniolo]

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

[hpgal]

DC X DP: VACATION TO A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE Pt. 1

CW: mentions of death

TLDR: Danny is stressed and depressed feeling like despite all the changes in his life, he feels like he is still the same.

Word Count: 1310

a/n: I plan on making multiple parts to this one but it will take some time. This is more a draft to part 1 than anything else and will most likely end up on AO3 in the future as a more completed version of itself once it is done here on Tumblr. Any feedback and suggestions (or even if you want to continue this plot with your own spin on it as long as I am credited/ tagged so I can read it too!) is very much welcomed!!

Danny wanted a change.

Not just for fun either. Though fun would be nice between all these Ghost King responsibilities he had been forced to start learning for when he comes of age, or well not, technically?

He doesn't know! It's complicated! He was 17 now, but his ghost age was only 3! The Observants said to fully assume the throne his ghost age was supposed to be 18 at the youngest but they'd make an exception for when he was 18 in the living realm.

Ghee, thanks you weirdos, because I totally wanted my adult life to already be over so I can manage my undead life.

Anyways, between trying to graduate and learn his forever job, he had been going to therapy now that he isn't the only ghost fighter in town. He has breaks! A support system! 14 year old Danny would never believe his parents accepted him for his ghostly side!!

His friends learned to fight and trap so well over the years that they don't even need him by their side anymore for every fight. The GIW was chased out of town and supposedly disbanded by the government because "it was a scam and ghosts don't actually exist." Even his parent's business was booming in town.

They started leaving the field work to others and focused on research. They hold ghost defense classes 3 times a week for any and all citizens. They build home defense gadgets and other anti ghost equipment to sell to the town, too. There are even kids from his class who want to get into the field now and intern at FentonWorks.

Over the years, everyone in town has grown incredibly capable of handling ghosts themselves that there is a city funded ghost protection task force. And that is all to deal with the ghosts that are more on the unruly side.

The reality is that it is not exactly necessary anymore to always be prepared for the next daily ghost attack. Since it became public knowledge for the Ghost Zone that he'd be assuming the throne, most ghosts have opted to leave Amity Park alone since it was his haunt. However, he has opened it up to any ghost who wants to visit as long as they do not leave Amity Park. And so, ghosts and the living live in harmony in the town.

In his senior year, the town has become so open to ghosts that when a ghost whose obsession is teaching, they hired him at Casper High! Danny is even in the class. He teaches an elective on astronomy, something the school could never afford. Ghosts didn't want to be paid in cash, so it helped! All Dr. Denver wants was to teach and to be allowed to claim the observatory for his research.

But while all this was great, Danny felt depressed. Which leads him back to why he was in therapy. It felt like all these amazing things have happened. That everyone has changed, except him. Thanks to his halfa status, his physical state isn't changing as much either. He discovered he is aging much, much slower.

Talking to his therapist, she helped him realize that what he craved was for a change for himself. Sure, he IS going to become The Infinite Realms king and that'll be a big change but it isn't what he wants.

He doesn't know what he wants, really. Which meant his therapist has given him an assignment to figure it out. So he talked to Clockwork, naturally hoping for some help. And Clockwork told him something surprising instead.

"Yeah, I'm ready for a change, but I don't know what to change." Danny told him in hopes the wording would draw Clockwork to give him an answer instead of something cryptic. He really didn't want to do the legwork to figure it out while he had midterms to study for and more ghost king lessons with The Observants later.

Clockwork paused as if in thought, "You could take a vacation to your universe of origin," he suggests. "That may help give clarity in what you need to change to be happy."

Danny floated next to him. He couldn't bring himself to be frustrated with the being of time for knowing exactly why Danny was here. Instead, he stared at him in confusion, distracted by what he just said, "What do you mean? I am not from here?"

He grins, his form flickering from old to young, "When you became a halfa, you changed universes from the complicated process you went through to become one."

Danny contemplated for a moment, confused but intrigued. A different universe? I wonder how different it would be from here. Without a second thought, Danny grins eager.

"I wanna go!" He exclaims like a young puppy who discovered a new toy for the first time.

"That would not be a problem, time runs differently between there and here. A week there will be an hour here so you won't need a time medallion." Clockwork simply looks off into the space surrounding them before continuing, "I have a friend who will act as your guardian while there. Head through the star shaped door near the Yetis whenever you are ready and he will be standing by, waiting for you" He shifts back into an older version of himself, pleased with himself for already knowing Danny would be taking this chance to go and made the preparations for this moment weeks ago.

Danny does a small dance in midair without a second thought and starts to drift off in that direction, "Oh, and Danny?" Clockwork calls out, "Legally, you are dead in that universe and.. well, much is different from what you know, so do be careful. Due to how time and the laws of that dimension for being such as myself, I am not the main ruler of time there, so the protection spells I placed on you are not guaranteed to save you this time." Clockwork grins knowingly towards Danny as Danny speeds off, oblivious to how serious his warning was.

---

Danny flies like the wind through the vastness of The Ghost Zone until he arrives at the door Clockwork described. His thoughts start to sour at the thought of this universe where he is considered dead despite it being his origin.

The door he arrives at is huge. Like he was not sure how to open the door huge. But wow, was it beautiful. It was like staring into space itself. It sparkled unlike any night sky he has even gazed upon. As he approached the beautiful door, he hesitated.

He was technically returning home, but he didn't feel any attachment to the universe in front of him. To him, nothing seemed different. Everything was exactly the same when he woke up after the accident, so he never noticed. The entire idea that he abandoned his family and friends by dying here was a horrible thought, but it wasn't his fault. He didn't know what happened here.

Wait, did that mean Vlad wasn't from that universe either? Danny shakes his head at the thought. It was pointless to fall down that particular rabbit hole now.

Maybe he should've asked Clockwork more before flying off without a thought. Clockworks words echoed inside him for fear of what he might find. Was this really a good idea? To return to the place he no longer existed? Could he handle seeing what the grief of his passing had done to those he loved?

A moment passes, and Danny shakes his head and steels himself. He needs to know how much changes, if he really did make an impact. Was he important?

With his decision made, the door seems to open itself. A bright beam of a soft white light floods through the threshold, and Danny steps through.

[softspokendove]

"Good Job Sweetheart"

pairings: bf!matt sturniolo x nerdy!reader

summary: matt decides to make his girlfriend feel good after she shows him she got an A+ on a test.

warnings: smut, blowjob f!receiving, nicknames (sweetheart, baby), fingering, praise kink, teasing, begging, reader is a bit shy and easy flustered, a little bit of overstimulation towards the end.

As you run through your boyfriend's house, completely oblivious to his two brothers watching tv in the living room, you speed past them and down the hallway towards your shared bedroom door. Your boyfriend's head shoots up at you excitedly pushing open the door and you run over jumping on top of him.

"I did it Matt! I aced the exam!" Matt furrows his eyebrows; his brain still hasn't caught up to speed. Instead, you push the exam paper in his hands, helping him figure it out. As his eyes scan over the page and the big letter A at the top of it a smile spreads on his face.

"Good job sweetheart, I knew you could do it." He sets down the paper on his side table and cups your face with both of his hands. He leans in giving you a passionate kiss in hopes of showing his approval. As he pulls back, he gives your now flushed face a once over, "So all that studying really paid off huh?"

You smile and nod your head as a response. You've been studying for endless nights trying to prepare for this exam, which your mind kept constantly telling you were gonna fail. Your boyfriend who knows how important school is to you, even tried to help you prepare. This consisted of you and Matt in the living room until 3 am reading post it cards until you soon fell asleep on his lap, completely exhausted.

You appreciated this about Matt. He knew how important this is to you, so he took time out of his day to help. He's never once complained about how much time you spend studying, if anything he just asks if you can do it in your shared bedroom so he can be near you.

"I'm so proud of you baby." Matt's words cause you to practically melt in his grasp. Matt knows all about how much you love receiving praise towards your accomplishments, especially from him. He finds it adorable how easily flustered and red you can get from it.

"Thank you." You smile once more at him before trying to get up off his lap, instead Matt's hands move to your hips and force you back down.

"How about I give you a reward for all your hard work?" He says it as a question.

"Like what?" Your obliviousness makes Matt smirk, and he leans towards you once again this time leaving small kisses along your neck. You gasp at the newfound sensation and subconsciously lean your head to the side to give him better access. Matt applies more pressure on his kisses, his hands roaming the sides of your body.

"You did so good on your test baby, you deserve to feel just as good." As his lips continue to attack your neck, your mind starts to become consumed by Matt and what he's doing. His hand wonders from your side down to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You feel a sense of need gather lower and lower, causing you to softly grind on Matt's growing bulge in his pants.

"We can't. It'll be too loud." Your words come out breathless as you keep grinding on Matt, nowhere close to stopping. Matt knows that you're talking about his brothers being close to the other side of the wall, and your record of screaming while Matt has his way with you.

"Then you'll have to be quiet, can you do that for me?" Matt pulls away and looks you dead in eye, you're hesitant for a few seconds and then nod your head. A huge part of you knows that you can't keep quiet with Matt, it's impossible. But he already feels so good you don't want to end here. "That's my girl." Matt gives you one more appreciative kiss before setting you flat against the bed. He gets up to walk over to the door, closing and locking it.

As he returns, he climbs over you nudging your legs open with his knee to give him room. His lips connect with yours again, the kiss filled with love and passion. Matt's knee comes up and pushes against your clit, making you moan into his mouth. He swallows up your noises and slips his tongue into you. His tongue dancing with yours, both of your saliva's mixing up and creating a mess. His hand tilts your head to the side allowing him a better angle.

When he finally pulls away, you're both gasping for air. "Arms up." You lift up your arms and feel the warmth of your shirt leave your body as Matt throws the clothing across the room. He kisses a trail from your neck down to your boobs, leaving small bites here and there. His one hand lifts up your lower body as his other hand slides below you and unclasps your bra, this also getting thrown.

Matt takes one of your nipples into his mouth and sucks, swirling his tongue around the nub. He rubs your other boob in an effort to give them the same attention. Once he feels satisfied with one nipple he moves on to the other one, doing the same with his mouth. Your hand finds its way into his hair and gives a small tug which brings Matt to moan against you.

He lets go of your nipple with a pop and starts kissing your body again, this time getting lower and lower. You squirm in anticipation and whine, desperately needing Matt to touch you there. "Easy baby, this is all about you. I promise to make you feel good."

His words lead to another whine escaping your throat, "Matt please."

"Please what baby?" His tone is teasing. He knows what you want, he just loves hearing you say it.

"You know what." You huff out. This makes Matt chuckle and start to slide your pants slowly down your legs, too slowly for your liking.

"No, I don't think I do. Let me hear you say it." After your pants are completely gone from your body, you spread your legs wider for him, hoping he'd get the hint. Your cheeks red from embarrassment. Instead of understanding, Matt just slides his hands up and down your thighs. Inching so close to where you need him then quickly retreating.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes as the need for him becomes too much. Your whole-body craving Matt. Needing him to touch you anywhere and everywhere. Your pussy leaking out more slick just thinking about him. That proven to be true when Matt notices a dark patch on your panties, his mouth watering at the sight. "Please touch me," You reach out for one of Matt's hands and place it on the wet spot, "here. I need you so bad. Please."

Your words go straight to Matt's cock causing it to throb in his pants. There's just something about listening to you beg for him. Your words are like honey to his ears. "There you go baby; you sound so good." He leans down and places kisses on your clit, the action making your hips rise towards his mouth. His lips getting wet from your need.

He grabs your panties and slides them down your body, dropping them onto the floor. He places a hand on your hip holding you firmly in place. "You gotta be quiet, okay?"

"I promise." The words leave your mouth in a hurry, hoping to get him to work faster. He kisses your clit again, this time without a layer of clothing to get in the way. The new feeling making you grip onto his hair again.

He slides his tongue down your folds and then back up. His saliva and tongue feeling blissful against your pussy. He moans at the taste of you and slips his tongue inside your hole, hoping to taste more. This catches you by surprise and a small moan leaves your throat, you see Matt raise his eyebrows at you, warning you to stay true to your promise.

He swirls his tongue around inside of you, once again moaning at the flavor of you, his noises getting muffled against you. You hear the small noise of Matt's tongue gliding in your juices and the sound of him slurping as much as he can up. He takes his tongue out and slides it back up your pussy before swirling around your clit.

His lips then attach to your clit and suck while his tongue swirls in a circle around it. You bite your bottom lip trying to silent your moans. Matt's hand squeezes your flesh on your thigh and then moves his hand to your pussy. His middle finger circles around your clit, teasing you. You try to raise your hips to get it inside of you, but Matt's hand doesn't let you budge.

After Matt feels he's teased you enough he enters his finger into you at a slow pace. You sigh in relief his fingers start moving back and forth at a good pace. The pleasure you've been searching for finally here. You start to feel a sudden need to hold on to something-anything. One of your hands grips onto Matt's hair while the other holds onto the sheets, knuckles turning white from how hard you're gripping. Matt moans again at feeling a tug on his strands of hair, the noise vibrating against your pussy making it flutter.

This spurs Matt on, him feeling your pussy throb and tighten against him. His finger increases its pace, your juices starting to drip down you and onto the sheets. The overwhelming pleasure raking up your body and getting stuck in your throat, your moans and whimpers desperately wanting to get out.

It doesn't help when Matt adds his ring finger, filling you up. Your walls clench around his fingers, your body getting closer and closer. You move your hand that was gripping the sheets towards your mouth and try to muffle your moans with your hand.

The core in your lower belly keeps tightening. "Matt, I'm gonna cum." The words sound muffled, but Matt knew what you said. You look down and see Matt's blue eyes staring right back at yours, this being his favorite view. Your clit throbs in Matt's mouth at the sight.

Matt's tongue starts swirling letters, his name. You feel the motion of his tongue form the letters M-A-T-T and then repeating. Your eyes roll back into your head as your legs tighten around Matt's head. "Come on baby, cum on my tongue." Matt's voice sending you over the edge.

You scream into your hand as the bubble finally explodes, your walls throbbing around Matt's fingers. He removes his fingers from inside you and brings them up towards your mouth. You take away your hand and suck around his digits, tasting the proof of your beautiful orgasm. Matt hums in satisfaction as his tongue reenters inside of you tasting your cum for himself.

Your hips jerk in oversensitivity as his tongue continues to wiggle around inside your walls. "Matt too much." You try to move away but his hand pulls you right back. He ignores your comment and shoves his fingers further down your mouth towards your throat, igniting a gag from you.

When he pulls his fingers out, they're covered in your salvia which is then returned inside of you when Matt lifts his head up. "Give me one more sweetheart, wanna make sure you feel as good as you should."

You go to protest, but Matt just dives back down to your pussy, leaving no room for arguing.

a/n: holy. I had all of this written out a week ago but the last couple sentences. It took me so long to finish this for what.

[chaifootsteps]

Blitzø is a motherfucking saint to Stolas in this episode, and it makes me so damn mad.

All episode, he’s been so gracious. He let him stay in his home for free, gave up his only known rest spot for him, has been trying to cater more to his tastes as best as he could with what little money he has to spare, got him clothes, defended him from the (based) hate he was receiving, gave him a job that pays despite him having no experience, forced himself and his employees to chill out on an important cultural holiday for them just to make Stolas feel a bit more comfortable, cheered him on, rescued him from Andrealphus, acts as his shoulder to cry on… and Stolas doesn’t express gratitude for almost any of it.

He is incredibly fortunate given the circumstances he was put under, and he doesn’t even have the decency to at least say thank you to Blitz for letting him bum at his place and giving him a way to earn some money. Instead he just whines and moans about how he has to live like a peasant, all while his boyfriend’s busting his chops and doing his best to make him happy. It’s just infuriating

Thank you. It was maddening, and the most he grants Blitz is a "Well, you saved me, so we're square I guess."

The part where he has the unmitigated gall to snap at Blitz for bumming a cigarette? Cigarettes that Blitz most likely got for him? Striker should have taken the shot.

[claws-and-all]

Unpopular opinions

Today’s been one of those days where all my least favorite theories regarding Tamlin have been popping up, so I thought I’d share some of my unpopular opinions in case anyone else feels the same.

1. Tamlin should not get his own book

From all the male povs we've seen thus far, it's evident that sjm struggles to write male characters with complex feelings. They tend to lack depth, have the libido of a teenager, and the romance aspect is nonexistent. This coupled with the way she handled Nesta's "healing" journey (a character she supposedly loves) - suffice to say, she will not do justice to Tamlin's journey nor his inner monolog.

On top of that, we don't need a Chaol 2.0 book. The only people I've seen enjoy Chaol's book are the haters who became slightly lenient towards him. I feel like that book was not meant for the fans who actually loved Chaol from the get-go (like me). It was yet another "healing" journey that did not heal him 😒 (it's been 7 years since it's release and I'm still mad at it 🙈).

Also, just like Tam, Chaol is another character that is hated by 90% of the fandom. His book had the worst timing. In-between a high stakes book where you NEEDED to know what happened next and instead, you're forced to read a book that took you completely out of the action. It garnered more negativity towards a character that was already so heavily hated upon. It was such an unfair thing that occurred, and his fans were the ones that had to deal with the backlash of our favorite character being torn apart by the fandom. I truly hope history does not repeat itself with Tamlin. The fandom is waiting for the elriel/elucien confirmation, and I can just see the hate pouring in if it's a book about Tamlin instead. He deserves infinitely better!

2. Tamlin and Lucien should never be friends again

I'm sorry, I know a lot of you love Lucien, I'm rather 50/50 on him. If elucien happens, it will mean Lucien is now a part of the NC family, bil to Rhys, friendly with the ic, uncle to Nyx, already friends with Nesta and Feyre. That's not the kind of energy Tamlin needs in his life nor the constant reminder of everything that he lost (Rhys is doing a fabulous job of that already).

I liked Lucien and Tamlin's relationship in book 1, but I was not a fan of how he kind of abandoned Tamlin for Feyre. It's like he became more her friend than Tams as the series progressed. I think Tamlin deserves a better friend - someone who will have his back and not his partners back. And someone not so heavily intertwined with a court that has caused so much pain to him. I can almost see Lucien slowly trying to convince Tam that the nc guys are actually "the good guys". Who knows, maybe he'll also pull a Feyre and compare Springs food to ash since nothing can come close to precious NC food, you know.

That being said, I have no idea where such friends will come from because every character we've met thus far automatically dislikes Tamlin and are fans of nc guys (still waiting for the explanation as to why Jurian, Vassa, Eris, and even Nuan are Tam haters?? Make it make sense, Sarah!).

Alternatively, I do love angst. I would love a storyline of Tamlin moving on with his life without Lucien. As in his future wife/mate/partner doesn't even know who Lucien is. Whilst Elucien is also thriving in the human lands/NC/DC/AC. Yet the entire time, they both feel like there's a missing piece in their life. They would see each other at HL meetings or balls. Yet they're too stubborn to speak to each other. Until decades later when one of them finally breaks the ice. The yearning and the hurt, love that shit lol

3. Tamlin x Briar?

Let’s keep that in the dark where it belongs. - nuff said!

4. Elain should not even look in the direction of Spring

Just because she likes gardening doesn't mean she should be spring queen 😑 I'm sure she can follow in the footsteps of her sister and brother in law and trespass into Spring if she needs to see flowers in abundance. It is afterall, nc tradition to lecture Tamlin in his own court and kick him in the shins. I really don't want to see her becoming friends with Tamlin, helping him rebuild Spring, making it her second home, etc etc etc. Like the point above, she and Lucien have enough homes to go back to. They don't need an extra one in Spring. And Tamlin doesn't need any more nc "friends".

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Remembrance of Things Past: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fearing for your life

Summary: Someone leaves an unmarked package by your door that sends you into a spiral of fear. Meanwhile, the team joins forces with Virginia police on a case Rossi was on decades earlier, one that he will have to go back into in order to figure out the one that's staring at him in the face.

Season Six Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

"Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were." - Marcel Proust

"I swear I'm not making it up," you say as you turn the coffee machine on. "I felt eyes on me last night. Like someone was watching me. Like someone was in my apartment. I don't know. Maybe I'm going crazy."

"Was anything missing from your apartment?" JJ asks over FaceTime.

"No."

"Maybe you just had a bad dream or something."

"Yeah, maybe." Spencer walks into the kitchen as he finishes tying his tie, and he walks over to the coffee maker. He looks at your phone propped up against the flour container and smiles when he sees JJ. "Hey, Spence."

"JJ! It's good to see you."

"I miss all of you."

"We miss you, too." Spencer pours himself a cup to go before kissing you briefly. "I'll see you at work, okay?"

"Okay," you nod.

Spencer loves to get to work early when he can while you like to take your time in the morning and enjoy it before heading out.

"So, this mysterious person... Is there any energy left behind?"

"No or none that I'm seeing."

"I thought you saw them all."

"No, not everyone. I barely notice Spencer's. I don't notice half the team's anymore. I guess the ones that I've gotten to know personally, I don't see anymore."

"Hmm, I'm sure it's nothing."

You grab the coffee pot and pour what's left into your thermos so you can take it to work even though you know Spencer will have a cup waiting for you on your desk.

"So, are you excited for your new job?" you grin.

"It's going to be new, that's for sure."

"You're going to do great. Seriously, you're really valuable."

"Thank you. Listen, I have to get Henry ready before my meeting with the Pentagon."

"Give Henry my love. Oh, and JJ?" She looks at you through the tiny iPhone screen. "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of you," she smiles back.

You two hang up and you finish getting ready for work. You grab your purse and open the front door but frown when you see a package sitting at your front door. Was this always here? When did it get here? Who dropped it off? Spencer would have noticed a package when he left so it had to have come after he left. Why didn't anyone knock on the door?

You set your purse and thermos on the small table near the door and pick up the box to inspect it. There is no label or anything on it indicating who it's for but curiosity gets the better of you. You only realize how stupid of you it is to pick up an unmarked box when you hear something click inside of it. Rhythmic and steady beeping comes from inside the box and your entire body is paralyzed in fear.

Someone sent you a bomb in a box and you're holding it. Any slight movement will cause it to go off, killing you and potentially everyone else in this building. You have both hands underneath the box so you can't lean over and grab your purse which has your phone in it.

"Siri!" you yell loud enough for your phone to hear. "Hey, Siri!"

No response comes from her. You must be too far for her to hear. You're forced to wait until someone comes to your rescue, and you let tears fall at the many possibilities this can have.

After making a cup of coffee for you, he expected you to be at your desk. Since you're not, he takes the cup to the briefing room, passing by JJ's empty office. He pauses by the door and sees Penelope already inside of it. This is the first day since JJ left and not everyone is ready to do this without her.

"I miss her, Penelope sighs.

"Me too."

Penelope removes the nameplate from the door and heads back to her cave while Spencer walks into the briefing room. He sets the coffee on the desk where your spot is and takes his seat. Derek and Emily walk into the room with Derek nose-deep in his phone. He chuckles at a text he gets and sits down.

"Is that Ellie again?" Emily asks.

"She texts me every morning on her way to school."

"How is she doing?"

"She's already got herself a bff named Jill, and she thinks she wants to play soccer."

"She's adjusting. That's good."

The rest of the team walks in to start the briefing, and Hotch looks at your empty seat. Rossi isn't here since he is on vacation.

"Where's Y/N?"

"She should have been here by now," Spencer frowns. "Probably morning traffic. She'll be here shortly."

"Alright, we can't wait for her. Let's get started." Hotch hands out files to everyone. "The body of twenty-five-year-old Jenny Delilly was found yesterday in Bristol, Virginia. She had been tortured, sodomized, and electrocuted before being forced to make a goodbye call to her parents. Her body was then dumped off Elden Street. A week ago, the body of Kara Kirkland was found in the same area having suffered identical injuries."

"This reminds me of the Butcher case," Derek says.

"Why does that name sound familiar to me?"

"The Butcher was a sexual sadist who killed twenty women in the same area of Virginia from 1984 to 1993 and then vanished. He tortured blond women in their twenties who lived in or near Bristol."

"That was one of Rossi's old cases, wasn't it?" Emily asks.

"Yes."

"Does he know?" Rossi walks into the briefing room holding an opened box in his hands. "Some vacation. Did you get any sun?"

"I never got any anything."

"Do you think the Butcher's back?"

"I doubt it. We profiled him as a white male in his late forties back then. He'd be in his seventies by now."

"Didn't you almost catch him?"

"In the spring of '93, we narrowed the geographical profile. We alerted every blonde in their mid-twenties in Bristol and the surrounding counties. The pressure got so intense that the killings just stopped," Rossi sighs.

"Well, the Copelands killed into their seventies. This could be him coming back," Spencer suggests.

"It's probably a copycat. If he's emulating the Butcher, he could just be getting started. Alright, let's go over victimology."

"Both Jenny Delilly and Kara Kirkman were single professional women. Jenny had just gotten a job as a web designer, and Kara worked for a nonprofit. Each woman was taken from a populated area with no witnesses. Jenny from a crowded drugstore parking lot and Kara from the back patio of a ground-floor apartment when her roommate went inside to answer the phone."

"Why not take the roommate?" Derek asks.

"She's brunette. He prefers blondes."

"These vics were forced to make phone calls. Jenny left a message and Kara spoke with her fiancé."

"Garcia, were you able to trace the calls?" Hotch asks.

"My pretties, they're using disposable cells so I'm coming up empty."

"We do have a timeline, though. According to the ME's report, both victims were dead for about three hours before they were found which means based on the times of their messages, they endured five additional hours of torture after making their goodbye calls."

"It wasn't enough that he caused his victims pain and suffering, it extended to their parents as well?" Spencer wonders. "Rossi, were the phone calls the Butcher made his victims leave similar?"

"Yeah, but the content varied. Thirteen vics left answering machine messages for loved ones, five actually talked to someone before they died, and two reached no one."

"Didn't the Butcher make his victims end their messages by saying they were enjoying it?"

"That was his signature."

"Wouldn't that make a sadist flaccid?" Derek asks.

"It wasn't about him. It was about the parents. He wanted to make sure that they knew he had complete control and dominance over their daughters," Rossi shrugs.

"Alright, Morgan and Prentiss, go to the ME. We need to compare the ritual and MO. Rossi, Reid, and I will interview the families and go over the messages. Reid, where's Y/N?"

Spencer frowns at your absence and takes out his phone to call you. It rings six times before going to voicemail, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He tries you once more but the same thing happens again.

"Something's wrong. I need to go home. We'll drive up together once I figure out what's going on. It's only a thirty-minute drive to Bristow."

"Okay. Keep me informed."

Spencer is out of his seat before Hotch can finish speaking. Spencer races home and practically sprints up the stairs to your apartment.

"Y/N?" he calls out.

"Spencer," you cry. He steps off the top stair and pauses when he sees the brown box in your hands. You're trying hard not to shake and sweat is rolling down your forehead. "Don't come near me."

"What's going on?"

"I think this is a bomb. There's something ticking in here."

Spencer's eyes widen in concern. "Don't move. I'll call it in." He takes out his phone and calls the head of the bomb squad. Yes, he's been in enough situations to have him in his contacts. He quickly explains the situation to the man who says he'd be right over with his team. He dials Hotch next and keeps a close eye on you. "Hotch, we have a problem."

"Is Y/N okay?"

"She thinks someone sent a bomb to our house. She's standing in the doorway holding a brown box terrified. I don't know much more about it but I'll let you know when I do."

"Is the bomb squad on the way?" Rossi asks.

They must be in the car and the call went through Bluetooth.

"Yeah."

"Should we turn around?"

"No, you keep working the case. I'll be right here with her. As long as she doesn't move, she'll be fine."

"Please be careful and call when you know more."

"Of course." Spencer hangs up and looks at you. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. You're going to be okay. The bomb squad is on the way. Just try not to move."

"I'll try," you cry, trying to keep yourself from shaking.

The whole team is worried about you and Spencer but they have a job to do. They get to Bristow and meet with Detective Green who is eager for their arrival.

"This isn't the Butcher, believe me. Unless the Butcher is Jack Lalanne, this is a younger copycat."

"We need a room with a whiteboard, a window, and six chairs," Rossi says. "The bodies were left in the exact same location."

"Everybody knew the details of this case. The paper even printed part of the answering machine messages. It's a copycat."

"Have you been able to step up police presence on Elden Street?" Hotch asks.

"It's a seven-mile stretch that runs through the city. I've done what I could considering our budget."

"Are detectives Clemmons, Benton, and Gallagher still here? They worked on the first case," Rossi says.

"Clemmons and Benton both died two years ago. Gallagher retired from the force when his wife was killed at the Pentagon on 9/11."

"So, you're the lead detective on this?"

"Unfortunately. Look, the families of the victims should be here any minute. If there's anything I can do to help you guys, let me know."

"Thank you."

Both victims were assaulted with an electrified object based on the burn wounds that could have been by a curling iron, poker, or some other object. Both also have lacerations on their bodies with slight ones near the throat and deep ones on the chest. Whoever did this used multiple knives. The unsub was creative. There are also contusions on the backs of their heads likely sustained during the abduction.

It's a slightly different approach than the Butcher's abductions. Based on Rossi's profile, the Butcher was a smooth-talker who lured his victims without initial physical force. Clearly, this unsub doesn't have the same confidence or finesse. He's sloppy.

Derek and Emily head to the place where Jenny was taken and watch the security footage to understand what might have happened.

"Alright, this is right where she parked her car," Derek points to the empty parking spot, "and then she rushed in there to get a prescription. Then, she comes back to her car and somebody gets her attention."

"They call out to her. She throws her stuff in the trunk and runs off that way," Emily points, "and that's when we lose her. So, how do you snatch someone from here? Push her into a car?"

"It's way too crowded, but there is a blind spot right there. There's enough of an obstruction here to park your car, blitz her from behind, and then push her into the vehicle. Could you do that alone?" Derek asks.

"I doubt it. Two people would explain how the first victim was abducted so quickly from the patio when her roommate went in to get the phone."

"It would also shed light on the ME's findings. There wasn't one unsub with two knives, it was two unsubs with their own weapons."

Derek turns off the iPad and looks around the parking lot with a sigh.

"I'm worried about Y/N."

"Me too." Emily takes out her phone and calls Spencer. "Hey, Reid, is there an update?"

"The bomb squad is here and they evacuated everyone out of the building including me. I hate waiting knowing she's up in there terrified out of her mind."

"She's going to be okay. You have to believe that."

"Yeah, I know," he sighs.

"Keep us informed."

Spencer looks up at the building in wonder and wishes you're doing okay.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[persuasivetfs]

The Prodigal Son Returns

“The future site of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment’s second church. A project funded in part by the Virkov Foundation,” read the sign plastered on the fence that surrounded the closed down Saint Zofia’s Bulgarian Orthodox Church.

Olga Tsanov was conflicted. She was glad to see the male-centered church of her upbringing brought to its knees, even if it was by another male-centered church. When she heard that Father Kiril, the pompous high priest of Saint Zofia’s had even converted to this new Protestant denomination, losing all his priestly status so he could be demoted to the role of a mere usher, Olga had burst into laughter. Yet as happy as she was on the surface, the church’s closure had reopened a fissure in her heart that she once thought closed. She felt it when she saw the icons of the Virgin Mary and Saint Zofia taken down from the comfort of her bedroom window. For at one time in her life, those icons and the saints they represented had been everything to Olga. Foundational even, to the woman she strove to become as an adult: temperate, responsible, compassionate, wise.

So it was a great shock, even to herself, that Olga found herself breaking and entering Saint Zofia’s church in the dead of night. Armed with a pair of bolt cutters, her ex-husband Micheal had left behind in the divorce, she was able to force her way past the surrounding fence and into the back of the church.

Despite every part of her screaming that this was crazy and that there was no point, Olga continued on with her plan, walking through the back office and into the nave.

To her horror much of the renovations had been finished much earlier than she’d expected. The icons as Olga remembered lining the walls had been torn down, and repainted white and beige. The sacred relic, one of the alleged fingers of Saint Zofia herself, too was removed, with only a potted fern left in its place. Even the cupola, the wide dome that had stretched over the congregation, that had depicted Jesus in heaven with the angels and saints was destroyed. Painted white and to her continued surprise somehow flattened despite the lack of long and intensive construction such a job would have required.

It left this church, the site where Olga’s devotion once dwelled into an empty shell, sucked dry of meaning.

At least all the male saints were gone, Olga could be happy with, and even Jesus himself was only depicted by a plain wooden cross rather than the twisted face of pain writhing about like Olga was used to. But without all its art, the church looked like an office building with sandalwood pews and stone altar. What kind of god would be worshipped here?

“Stunning isn’t it?”

A man was standing alone in the darkness, making Olga twist her head around.

“What are you doing here?” Olga asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Examining the Lord’s fine work in one of His newest sacred places. Same as you,” the man answered, with a thick Italian-American accent, pulling himself away from the wall and walking towards her.

Wearing formal dress shoes and a refined dark suit, the stranger came to stand next to her, his body faintly gleaming under the glow of the moonlight.

“So tell me Olga Tsanov. What are you doing in one of our churches so late at night?” He asked, his eyes casting a fiendish glimmer upon her. She shivered.

“How do you know my name? What are you, a stalker?” Olga asked defensively. The man simply laughed, making her take a hesitant step back.

“The Lord knows all that happens in His churches and all who happens to enter them. And your name and address happened to be on the registry the Orthodox Church left behind,” he explained, his voice shifting from megalomaniacal supervillain to down to earth youth pastor from one line to the next.

It left Olga unsure where she stood with this man. Was he planning on calling the police on her? Or was he just toying with her?

“I was just leaving. I’ve seen what I needed to see,” Olga blustered, walking off. The door to the back office suddenly slammed shut ahead of her. She turned her head back to the priest whose smile filled her with dread.

“Did you really think you could leave that easily?”

“What do you want, priest?” Olga asked, snarkily, trying not to let her fear show. She was used to the old wooden doors of the church slamming shut whenever the wind blew, but this priest was unsettling. She didn’t even hear him breathing and yet there he was, lingering in the shadows as if waiting for her.

“It’s not about what I want, it's about what the Lord can provide you, my child,” the stranger said cryptically, taking a step forward against the polished wooden floor.

“I’m fine, thank you. I was already raised in one penis-centeic religion, I don’t need another,” Olga bristled, turning away from him. She stepped to the altar and wiped her hand along its marble surface. Father Kiril had once struck her on the side of the head for touching it. The act of a woman who didn't yet know her place. Olga gritted her teeth.

Despite her reverence for saints like Zofia or the Virgin, Olga had never fit inside the restrictive environment of her church. For only men and boys were allowed to read the Epistles or hold the communion cloth or serve at the altar. If Olga wanted to serve God, she was told, she should wait until she could become a nun, otherwise her sex had marked her as morally inferior and less “clean” to do the tasks of men in the church. Even female saints like Zofia or the Virgin had to take on the role of a subordinated wife and mother before the power of the penis and this had enraged her.

“But Olga, the word of God is open to all people, men and women. It is only true that we have different roles in the world as decreed by the Lord,” the pastor explained, stepping next to her at the altar.

“Yes, for men are biologically created to be brutish and violent and disgusting and cruel, while women are biologically smarter, kinder, and weaker to men and thus men's perpetual victims. I’ve known enough of that from my pig of an ex-husband,” Olga said bitterly.

“So why did you come here my child? If the ‘penis-centeic religion’ as you called it in your childhood was so distressing?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to serve the Lord. To reach people. To even be a voice for the Wentworth Falls Bulgarian community. It just never felt like I could because of who I was. Because the woman my people wanted me to be, that submissive housewife and mother could never exist,” Olga explained, suddenly feeling more casual and open with this priest about her private thoughts than she had any good sense to.

An oddly satisfying sense of warmth had begun to flow into her, lowering her defences. Her muscles loosened, her shoulders eased. The warmth left her feeling like a ball of wet clay, ready to be remolded.

“While we are all meant to be equal brothers and sisters before the eyes of the Lord, maybe a different path would be beneficial to you. We do need a pastor for this community in line with the Bulgarians,” the pastor said but frankly Olga was finding it difficult to care. The comforting sensations made Olga feel too good to think, too good to protest.

Then as the rivers of comfort flowed in and out of her body, Olga felt from within her a pulsating energy radiating out from her vagina. Her labia throbbed, releasing wave after wave of pleasure, as her clitoris began to enlarge, expanding outward as skin grew in and out over Olga’s lips.

Then with a lurch, Olga felt her vagina close up and disappear and in its place, a penis and a pair of gradually dropping balls.

“This can’t be happening. What are you doing to me?” Olga demanded to know only to quickly become horrified at the deep masculine voice that left her lips.

The priest laughed.

More changes were overcoming her body, twisting and reshaping Olga Tsanov into a form unrecognisable. Her signature long straw blonde hair was shrinking back inside her head, only stopping at the crown of her head before turning a dark brown. Then across her face and forearms, the hair that had disappeared from the top of her head re-emerged, forming a tightly sculpted beard and mustache. As her hair shifted so did the bones in her face, giving her a pointier chin and higher cheekbones, while her crow’s feet and wrinkles wiped away, giving Olga a youthful glow she hadn’t had since her late 20s.

This youthfulness soon extended to the rest of her body, leaving her feeling energized and excited.

Eager to witness what came next, Olga ripped out of her dress shirt to be amazed at the cobblestone abs that were forming. Her breasts, once saggy with fat and age, had in their new youth and new burst of testosterone firmed up with muscle. In fact much of her body, from her triceps to her thighs were packing on muscle. Not enough to make a bodybuilder blush, but enough to gain noticeable attention should she wear a tight-fitting shirt.

“You look wonderful, Olga, absolutely wonderful,” the priest said with a chef’s kiss, before putting his arm around Olga’s shoulders and laughing.

At any other time Olga would have pushed the man away and thought him a pervert, but now his touch had a sense of comradery. Just bros being bros.

“I knew you’d make a wonderful man. I just knew,” the priest positively declared.

“But how is this possible- I-“ the stranger shushed her.

“But first I believe a new name is in order. Let’s try Boris on for size. Introduce yourself,” the stranger commanded with a clap of his hands.

”Hello, I’m Boris Tsanov,” Boris introduced, her voice deep and refined.

It was strange just a moment ago she could have sworn her name was Olga, but that name like much of her past was fading away like a disappearing dream soon to be forgotten.

“Outstanding, Boris. Now, let’s think about your past for a moment. Who is Boris Tsanov?” the priest asked. Boris took a deep breath.

“I’m the head of Women and Gender studies at the Wentworth Falls Community college. I’m 39, divorced, agnostic, and a proud biological woman, or at least I thought I was,” Boris said, confused at how his words were not matching up with his new body.

“No, I don’t think that sounds like you Boris,” the stranger said, shaking his head.

“I think you’re 28, recently graduated from divinity school and ready to spread the true word of God to the masses and trusting me Pastor Agosti as your friend and mentor,” the stranger explained. Except he wasn’t a stranger, was he? He was Nico Agosti, a trusted advisor and confidante, who had guided Boris through years of divine education and study, helping mold him into the proud Christian he was today, eager to save the Bulgarian masses as he himself had been saved. Except, wasn’t he a woman or at the very least used to be married to a man? Wouldn’t that be a sin?

“Pastor Agosti,” Boris nervously addressed. “I trust you and everything you say, but I’m still so confused. I used to venerate Saint Zofia and the Virgin Mary so highly and sought to be like them in every way. How does that make sense if I’m a man?”

“Oh my sweet brother. You weren’t looking to be those saintly women,” Pastor Agosti said, sympathetically, hiding his glee. Boris, unsure, scratched at his temple.

“You were looking to marry a saintly woman: Pious, dependable, temperate, and wise. The perfect wife and mother and you were lucky enough to find her. One of the youngest priests of our congregation but the only one among us bachelors to be married,” Pastor Agosti said, shaking Borris’s shoulder in admiration. Boris Tsanov smiled warmly.

While before when he thought of his spouse, he thought of swarthy and loud-mouthed Micheal, now in his head all he could picture was sweet and homely Miranda. She was everything Boris ever wanted in a woman and he was grateful to have her. At that moment, Miranda was likely asleep across the street, having been saying her bedtime prayers before Boris had left to check on the church. She was so supportive, having dropped everything to take care of the house while Borris continued to work on his divinity degree. He would in return reward her with a lifetime of devotion and many future children who would help spread the Lord’s message as he did.

Still there were a few buzzing questions about his head. How had construction finished so quickly? Why did Boris leave the Orthodox Church for this Protestant denomination? Where did these bolt cutters he held on his person come from?

All these he wished to ask, but Nico waved them all away promising they’d all be answered once Boris was exposed to the “Divinity” as he called it as had all the priests of the church before him. Before they left, Nico was kind enough to make him put on a white dress shirt in just his size, so no one could get any strange ideas of what was going on in there.

Yet while Boris was leaving with more questions than answers he was satisfied knowing he was on the path to lead more people to God just as he had been. There were always more wayward souls that needed saving.

[hd-erised]

We are over halfway through @hd-erised—isn't that exciting? It's been another fantastic week filled with art and fic and, as always, we hope you've been enjoying the fabulous submissions!

We hope you'll  take a moment to check out anything you might have missed this week, and don't forget to check our Week 1 and Week 2 round-ups for even more goodies. And, of course, please don't forget to leave a comment for our lovely artists and writers who make this fest the incredible experience that it is!! <3

Art:

Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

Fic:

Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn't say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn't that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn't worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

Old love don't rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can't help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn't suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet's most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry's beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he'd bargained for.

Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

[thezombieprostitute]

Hands Off

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: i didn't know the egg nog was spiked!

A/N2: Reader is female. No other physical descriptors used.

Warnings: Implied drugging with alcohol, Not taking "no" for an answer. Let me know if I missed any!

Another year, another Christmas wedding that isn't yours. At this point you were certain you'd never get any wedding, let alone one at your second favorite holiday. Maybe it was for the best. Your job had you traveling too much for a sustained relationship. Maybe you can be an example for the others to be grateful for what they have.

Then again, if "what they have" is anything like Pete, the groomsman you've been paired with, they'd be better off single. He's apparently bought into the stereotype that bridesmaids are desperate and needy because he has yet to stop hounding you, trying to entice you back to his hotel room. No matter how many times you told him you're not interested. You'd even started only pretending to drink anything he hands you during the rehearsal dinner. He made you grateful the happy couple had decided on going alcohol free for the wedding reception as he was likely to ply you, or any other target, with whatever libation he could get them to drink.

You duck out of the dinner as soon as you're politely able, hoping you can get to your room before Pete even notices you're missing. It's kinda late so there's almost no one around. As you turn the corner to get to you're room you almost walk into a very tall, lean, handsome man in a suit.

"Oh, my apologies," he says, his accent catching your attention.

"It's okay. These things happen," you assure just before you notice how blue his eyes are. You think you could get lost in them.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm just...I'm with the wedding party?"

"Oh! You aren't joining them for the rehearsal dinner?"

"I just need some time away from the crowd, you know?"

"Ah, yes," he nods. "Crowds can be cumbersome, especially when you are not used to them."

You smile at him, still a little lost at how handsome he is. "I'm just glad they gave us a discount on the rooms."

He smiles back, "it is hotel policy for hosted events." When you give him a confused look he continues, "I am the Night Manager of the hotel. You caught me doing my rounds."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I should let you get back to work."

"I do appreciate that," he says, but you swear you see a hint of disappointment on his face. "But if there's anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask for me, Jonathan Pine, at the front desk."

You giggle and give him your own name before you part ways for the night.

The wedding goes well and you're all smiles for the happy couple. The reception is themed like a Christmas Dinner, complete with eggnog. It's not your favorite drink, but in the spirit of the event, you have a few glasses. Especially as it pairs well with the dessert heavy menu.

Around your fourth cup you start to realize you're feeling buzzed. Initially you'd brushed it off as excitement from the event, or maybe even all the sugar, but this is a feeling you distinctly remember as alcohol induced. You start patting the person sitting next to you mumbling, "alcohol," "eggnog," but they don't react.

Other people seem to have caught on as well and they've started making the rounds, checking in on everyone after removing the alcohol.

When they get to you, Pete puts an arm around you. "I'll get her to her room," he says. His voice is laced with fake concern. You don't want him to take you and you try to fight, try to argue, but you just seem like a whiny drunk so your protests are ignored.

"I didn't want it to be like this," Pete whispers as you reach the elevator to your floor. "I really tried to be a gentleman but you forced my hand."

The elevator doors open a couple floors before yours and you almost cry from relief when you see Jonathan enter. Pete painfully squeezes your arm, the warning clear, so you pray that Jonathan can see the panic in your eyes.

"Is the reception over already?" Jonathan inquires, looking at you.

"Eggnog got spiked," Pete answers. "Helping this one get to her room to sleep it off."

"Oh how dreadful! And in my hotel!" Jonathan seethes. "Any idea who did it?"

The elevator dings as you reach your floor. Pete quickly moves you into the hallway saying, "nope. No idea. Probably just a bad prank."

Jonathan follows the two of you, "what kind of prank is that to pull? Seems like a bad omen for the poor couple."

"Nah, probably just someone being dumb," Pete argues. "I know a few of the people on the groom's side would definitely be the type to think it's just a bit of fun."

When you reach the door to your room, Pete starts feeling you up, presumably for your key. You keep trying to bat his hands away, but he doesn't stop.

"I think the lady doesn't want you to touch her," Jonathan observes.

"She's being a pain and not letting me help her into her room," Pete argues. You start crying, babbling, and slapping at him, encouraged by Jonathan's words.

Jonathan pulls Pete away from you. Suddenly without a support, you fall against the wall and try to keep yourself standing. As Pete protests, Jonathan stands between the two of you and pulls a flask out of Pete's inner pocket. Pete tries to get it back, but Jonathan holds him at arm's length and takes a sniff of the flask.

"Smells rather potent," Jonathan comments. "I wonder if it would be a match for the spiked eggnog."

Pete stops trying to fight him and puts on his best used-car-salesman expression. "C'mon, man, I was just trying to have some fun and get laid. Can you blame me?"

"Yes."

"It's not like any real harm was done!"

"Sir, you could have poisoned dozens of people with this antic, or worse."

"It's not poison, it's just alcohol!"

"Which someone may be allergic or addicted to."

Pete rolls his eyes, "it's not that big of a deal!"

"And then you try to abscond with this lady, whom you've been harassing throughout the entire event."

"Harassing? That's a bit strong---"

"Did you not try to bribe one of my staff for a copy of her room key just last night?" Pete goes quiet at that. "You will leave my hotel now or I will call the police."

"Whatever," Pete grumbles as he turns back to the elevator.

It isn't until the elevator doors close that Jonathan pulls out his walkie-talkie and makes some orders about making sure Pete leaves, getting the reception cleaned up, and refunding half the money the couple spent on renting the reception area.

While he does that, you struggle to keep yourself upright. Your cardkey is in the sleeve of your glove. You can't reach it so you take the glove off, only to have the key fall to the floor. You struggle to bend down and pick it up and almost fall flat on your face but, thankfully, Jonathan catches you before that happens.

"My apologies, Madam," he sighs. "I should have gotten you settled first.

You try to shake your head and say it's okay but, between the alcohol, the adrenaline spike and the events of the day, you're crashing, barely awake.

Jonathan gets you into your room and onto your bed. "I will make sure you get the best breakfast our chefs can make, along with some advil and water when you awake." He places a card next to the phone. "Simply call me when you are awake, and I will make sure you are taken care of."

You're barely able to mumble your thanks before you fall asleep.

You wake up with a surprisingly mild headache. Memories of last night start filtering in and your breath catches as you remember the fear you felt. And then your rescue. You look over to the phone and see the card there.

Taking some time to wake up, take a shower, put on some more comfortable clothes, you ponder whether or not to take Mr. Pine up on his offer. By the time you're feeling more like yourself, you decide to treat yourself to some good food.

You call up Jonathan and he sounds delighted that you've accepted his offer. Feeling bold, you even ask if he'd be willing to join you for that breakfast, as you find his company quite calming and pleasant, though you don't say that part out loud. You swear you hear a smile in his voice as he agrees to join you.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[starstruckcomet]

I'm finally following through on the promise I made in the tags of this post a few weeks ago because I have time now:

So even if nobody asked for it and even if I barely know what I'm talking about when it comes to the technicalities of hockey and even though it's not really something that we need to worry about rn since Arty is back with the Abbotsford Canucks for the time being, I am making an Arty defense post (on the one platform I probably don't have to - this is more something Twitter trolls and Instagram comments lurkers need to hear but I digress) because hearing him be hard on himself made me upset.

Fair Warning: long post - 1,425 words

To start, I'll state the obvious: Arty is YOUNG. He is only 23, and it is well known that it takes longer for goalies than forwards or defensemen to hit their stride. This is actually one of the reasons his performance in the 23-24 post-season was so heavily praised. Not only did he step into that goalie position during an incredibly intense moment (the PLAYOFFS‼️in the NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE‼️), he did so in a way that handled the pressure quite well and kept the Canucks in the race. A lot of other players in his position might have folded under that pressure, but he didn't and we truly might not have made it as far as we did if not for him despite the fact that the rest of the team was good. No team can survive without a good goaltender, after all.

But one thing about the NHL is they love narratives. Heck, I love them, too! When everyone and their grandmother was talking about this incredible story of a young goalie who'd been the MVP of the WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS and allowed the Latvian team to win bronze over TEAM USA (the first medal for Latvia in any IIHF World Championship + Latvia literally named it a national holiday!!) — about this young goalie who was now having to fill the shoes of a Vezina-nominated goalie during the NHL playoffs and performing beyond expectation, I fed into it, too. It was exciting! After the anxiety surrounding Demko's injury, it was reassuring to see that our EBUG was not only good, but GOOD‼️He'd played all of 9 regular season games in the NHL before having to be in what is regarded as one of the most intense hockey competitions in the world, and he was consistently better than anyone had expected. Even on nights when the rest of the team fell flat, he played the full 60 minutes, and when we lost Game 7 against the Oilers, the blame was not his. Everyone (and when I say everyone, I mean the fans AND the media) built this image of "Artūrs Šilovs: the guy who can handle pressure like no other."

What some people seemed to forget is that this is not the norm. It is not normal that he played a full hour more than any other goalie in the World Championships when he was not even supposed to be the starter. It is not normal that he set the franchise record for youngest goalie with a playoff shutout while tying second for the most saves made in the playoffs by a Canucks rookie. It is not normal that he was part of the reason there was an extra national holiday in his home country. All of this was him OUTperforming, exceeding expectations – an anomaly – but people seemed to instead create a new, impossibly high baseline for him to meet. The bottom of his baseline was now set where most other goalies' peaks start. To put it simply, people had changed the goal posts for him (sorry, pun intended) and put them in an unattainable spot.

When he started this year and struggled like any goalie his age with his experience might, the image of him that everyone had built broke and people began to dogpile on him like they always do when players perform like humans and not machines. They didn't care that he was young and that the other two goalies he was being compared to were each 29 years old with years of NHL experience. They didn't care that he was forced into this position prematurely. They didn't care that the team playing in front of him was not making his job any easier. The Canucks' season began worse than expected and somehow this was the fault of the second backup goalie with a grand total of 9 regular season and 10 playoff games under his belt. Cool. Makes sense.

This was not anything new for this Vancouver market. Just from having kept up with the Canucks consistently for the past 8 years, I've seen the treatment of our rookies firsthand (Brock and Petey come to mind) and how time after time, they are held to standards no real person could achieve and then crucified when they can't. Arty was Latvia's saviour, and then he was ours, but he is at the beginning of his career and anyone who understands hockey in the slightest should know that this is not sustainable. It would be ridiculous to expect him to be able to pull the Canucks out of a hole everytime we dig ourselves into one. That's not how hockey works. A team may be nothing without its goalie, but a goalie without a team playing consistently in front of him is not going to win either.

And the whole point of AHL affiliates is for NHL teams to be able to see where their young guys are at – to let them get their time and experience in before they're pushed into the intensity of the NHL. Unfortunately, Arty hasn't been able to be in Abbotsford because of Demko's injury and has only started 2 games with them this season so far. But guess what? They've won BOTH those games. In fact, he has been consistently good with the Abbotsford Canucks. Last season, his save percentage with them was .907 with 34 games played. In the 22-23 season, it was .909 in 44 games. Look at those stats and tell me he isn't an incredible player or that he has no potential.

I need all the people saying he's a dud or that the playoffs were a fluke to log off for me real quick and never give their opinion about hockey ever again, because it just shows that you have no idea what you are talking about. Training takes time, progress takes time, consistency is a learnt skill. Expecting a goalie to be amazing right off the bat is stupid and downright naive. Arty has already proven himself. He does not need to be supernaturally incredible 24/7 to earn some respect. Hockey fans need to learn that you cannot build someone up into an idol and then be disappointed when they don't meet your unrealistic standards. He didn't ask to be considered our "saviour." That was forced onto him, which created unnecessary pressure for a rookie, and then people acted like he'd promised them something and not followed through on it. That is immensely unfair.

This is not specific to only Canucks fans. There is a larger conversation to be had about the culture surrounding the NHL and its rookies, and I am sure there are people much more knowledgeable and articulate than I am to touch on that so I won't do that here. But I will say this: In situations like this where fans (and media ‼️) create unrealistic expectations for young atheletes, even in the anomalous best case scenario where the player ends up living up to them perfectly, you risk so much more than you gain. We talk about player's mental health, but these are the exact kinds of things that lead to burnout. I repeat: expecting consistency all the time from one player is NOT sustainable. There will always be low moments in a player's career. Their value is not defined by those moments, but instead how they get themselves out of them. I trust that Arty can do that and I hope that while he continues to find his stride, he is met with the empathy and understanding he deserves after all the effort he has put in for the Canucks. I am so excited to see where his career goes. In conclusion, that man deserves all his flowers and you better give them to him or I will trample your fucking garden. The End.

baby goalie :(

[vaggieslefteye]

HUSK, Hotel Bartender & Concierge | 1x04 - Masquerade

"Oh, I FORGOT — you're the wise-old bartender who's seen it all! Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink."