#yep this is a good resume actually

[infictionalwonderland]

I NEED PART TWO OF THE MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N L/N!

. . . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT! (part2)

You cackled to yourself after sending the message into your groupchat, quickly returning to the video and beginning to play it again, occasional bursts of giggles slipping through your lips.

Resuming your place in the video—the first clip that began playing was actually from not that long ago at all. It was You, Kat Dennings, Elizabeth Olsen and Zendaya at Taylor Swifts Eras Tour (an experience you would genuinely never forget). Taylor was playing Lover and, in the clip, Kat had your face in one hand and the other wrapped around your waist, bringing you close to her body.

“Lover, can I go where you go—“ Kat sang with Taylor, singing all the lyrics to you and grinning at you, faces inches away from each other. “—Can we always be this close.” She punctuated this lyric with giving you an eskimo kiss.

You smiled sincerely at the memory.

The next clip began up, it was you and Chris Evans doing Playground Insults with BBC Radio 1: the two of you were sat opposite each other, knees touching, Chris was grinning goofily at you, giddy laughs escaping him as you tried to remain straight faced.

“—we’re here with Chris Evans and Y/N Y/L/N.” The presenters introduced.

“And we’re about to play Playground Insults . . Now Chris and Y/N are sat opposite each other,” the camera cut to you and Chris, him smiling largely and you looking away to contain your own, “the atmosphere is very tense.”

“We’ve done this quite a few times now but im thinking.. this is the biggest movie of the year, let’s make this the biggest playground insults we’ve ever done.”

“Yep.” Chris nodded, trying not to laugh.

“Chris, hun. . you’re ugly. Like, plain ugly.” You nodded seriously, immediately setting off as you feigned a pained wince to the words. “Everyone’s been talking about it. . just, you’re so atrocious to look at. Honestly, I almost feel arse over tits in horror when I saw you.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something but then faltered and pouted, “no matter how good of an actor I am, I could never even get those words out my mouth about you and make them sound genuine. Seriously.”

The third clip started—it was Chris Hemsworth on a carpet, a bold colourful question at the bottom said ‘WHO HAS THE MOST FANS?’. Chris immediately said, “Y/n.” In that deep Australian accent of his. “Not that I blame the people from choosing her to be the people’s queen, she is truly one of a kind. You’ll only ever meet one Y/n in your lifetime, cherish it. The fans have the right idea.”

It changed to Scarlett with the same colourful question at screen and at the same carpet event: “Oh, Yeah. Y/n, one hundred percent.” She chuckled huskily. “That woman has fans upon fans and seriously, I’m one of them. She is something else.” She grinned, winking at the camera.

After Scarlett, Paul Rudd came onto your screen in the very same clip. “Oh! The legend herself, Y/N Y/L/N.” Paul answered brightly, smiling. “The amount of fans she has is unbelievable—well, it’s definitely believable for someone like her, so, not really unbelievable..”

The forth clip began—it was you all playing Family Feud with Jimmy Kimmel, on his live show. Sebastian and RDJ were currently facing off; Jimmy posed the question “what, other than the sun, are some of the hottest things to exist?”

Sebastian got to the buzzer faster than Robert managed to and didn’t even falter or hesitate as he answered straight away, “Y/N Y/L/N.”

The audience immediately screamed laughed and shrieked in delight, RDJ just nodded his head in understanding and appreciation, clapping his hands. Chris Evans, Mark and Anthony on the other side all looked amused but ultimately accepting (Chris was nodding along almost subconsciously). You were on the other team, looking heavenward with a faint exasperated grin and Scarlet wrapped her arm around your waist, Chris Hemsworth smirking at you both.

The fifth clip started up: it was a behind the scenes shot from Endgame, the big final battle. You were currently in the middle of doing your own stunt, green screen behind you and harnesses strapped to you as you dangled at a halfway point in the air. Your arms and hands were positioned in such a way to show your character manipulating her powers—the position also very much enhanced your chest, with the added help of your superhero attire. You looked hot, even you could admit.

The camera mirthfully panned to some of the rest of the cast who all stood aside while you filmed your scene—said cast being Chris Evans, Tom Holland, Gwyneth Paltrow, RDJ, Elizabeth Olsen and Tessa Thompson. All of their eyes were fixated on you, Robert was the only one grinning in amusement (and awe) while all the others stared at you as though you hung the sun yourself.

“Boobies.” Lizzie giggled faintly, her eyes stuck. The rest of the cast watching dumbly nodded while the crew cracked up behind the cameras.

And if you screenshotted their dumbfounded faces looking ip at on screen you. . well that was your business.

The clip changed. It was now Karen Gillan being interviewed on some carpet event, looking genuinely breathtaking. The interviewer was asking, “—obviously, your friend and co-star Y/N Y/L/N has been in lots of iconic movies. . what is your favourite scene of hers in The Wolf of Wall Street?”

Karen paused with a cheeky little smile, giving the interviewer a a jokingly incredulous look. “Come on.” She simply said. “It’s a bloody no brainer, I’m certain it was Leonardo’s favourite scene too. . I hope it is anyway otherwise he’s a silly, silly man.”

At the same carpet event with the same interviewer, Chris Hemsworth was being interviewed—his wife, Elsa, on his arm and looking half ready to battle off any rude interviewers (queen).

“—what is your favourite scene of hers in Ocean’s 8?”

“All of them!” Elsa answered eagerly, grinning. “Her outfits really accentuated her personality and I enjoyed them very much so. Particularly her outfit for the gala. . the amount of accentuated personality, by gosh, it had me speechless.”

Chris turned her head, obviously trying not to laugh at his wife.

“Nunca he estado más celoso y agradecido por la ropa en mi vida.” Elsa hummed.

You blinked.

The clip changed to you, Sebastian, Lizzie, Paul, Jeremy and Jimmy all on his Tonight Show playing Musical Beers. The slightly unnerving music/beat played in the background while you all stalked around the circle, Paul and Jeremy already out—leaving you, Seb, Lizzie and Jimmy.

As you were all racing around the circular table, Lizzie very obviously swatted your ass and you were impressed with your own body as you watched that impact: the audience erupted into laughs and shrieks, Jimmy playfully covering his eyes as Seb smirked. You thought that would be the end of the clip, but no.

The very disco-esk tune briefly cut out and past time you thought that meant it stopped completely and you’d already reached for the red cup in front of you and chugged it’s contents, only to pause as the music began back up.

“Spit it back! Spit it back!”

You did just that—but when the music actually stopped and Seb was left standing in front of the cup with your (let’s not go there) in it, your mouth popped open in shock. Jeremy gladly backed away from the table in hysterics, Lizzie and Jimmy equally as amused.

“Oh my god, I am—“

Sebastian quickly downed the cup with. . those contents, not even looking all that perturbed.

“So sorry.” You finished, mouth agape.

You vaguely remembered a conversation you’d had with him after the show, sincerely and repeatedly apologising and he was just very, very amused with you. He didn’t seem to mind at all—what an odd man.

“It’s all good.” Sebastian chuckled lowly, wrapping the mortified looking past you in a one armed shoulder hug and squeezing you to him. Lizzie seemed to be trying to trade a very obvious eye message with you—the audience shrieked and screamed in the background.

Another clip began: its was you and Scarlett Johansson doing a trust fall thing, you thought (correctly).

“Scarlett I swear. .” You giggled, looking over your shoulder at the woman behind you—she grinned back at you amusedly, her eyes twinkling.

“Calm down.” She laughed herself. “I’ll catch you don’t worry, gorgeous.”

Still slightly overcome with nervous giggles, you turned and let out a breath as you shut your eyes before holding at your arms and falling back.

And catch you she definitely did—although her hands didn’t exactly land in a PG-13 area, you cackled as you watched her hands grope at your chest to pull you up. In the video, you were also wheezing as were the crew and Scarlett had a cheeky little smirk as she laughed.

When you were finally standing, she gave one last squeeze before finally letting go—on screen you was breathless with giggles.

“Always wanted to do that.” She shrugged simply with a large amused smile.

The next clip began—it was Zendaya and Tom Holland on LADBible, playing that how much do you agree or not game. The statement said was ‘Y/N Y/L/N is everyone‘s celebrity crush’.

Instantly, Tom and Zendaya moved their cups to strongly agree, both of them nodding in solid agreement with the statement: presently, you awed at your friends, ego very much boosted. Well. To be fair, all of this video was massively boosting your ego.

“I mean, come on.” Zendaya made a ‘duh’ face and shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s Y/N.” Tom smiled crookedly, adding onto her comment.

“I am so happy I get to now say that she’s one of my closest friends.” Zendaya beamed genuinely. “She’s—one of those people whose beauty isn’t just an external thing, she’s so lovely man.” She pouted, in awe of you.

Watching the video, you beamed back at her.

The clip changed: Mark Ruffalo was on the Graham Norton show, next to Nicki Minaj and an actor you couldn’t place.

“Who would you say your favourite co-star has ever been, Mark?” Graham inquired.

“I—i would probably have to go with Y/N—“ The crowd instantly erupted into cheers and yells and Nicki smiled next to him, stating that she loved you under the sound of cheering. Mark grinned back at her, mumbling ‘me too’.

“Yeah, she’s a hell of an actress, that one. So easy to work with. Funny as f—hell, she’s just—an extremely genuine and kind person, and she really brings the energy on set.” Mark grinned. “..she’s also the only free pass my wife has ever given me. Which I won’t be using! Because I don’t believe in cheating, it’s scummy! Even though she’s gorgeous—anyone would be lucky!” He had to rise to a shout at the end as the audience erupted.

Nicki giggled next to him, “me personally, I would use that pass.”

You gasped in laughter as you watched the screen, screen-recording it all so you could go back and watch it. Saving it to your folder titled PISSING MY PANTS HRLP

The clip changed yet again, showing a scene from the Winter Solider BTS. You and Sebastian were filming a scene where he had to shoot your character—you watched the ‘Winter Solider’ shoot your character multiple times making you go down with an agonised yell, crawling away from him.

As soon as CUT was yelled, Sebastian’s face dropped from his stone cold (wintery) expression and he raced to you, crouching next to you. He practically tugged you into his lap on the floor, holding you.

“Oh my fuck that—that just felt so real, Y/n. You know I would never hurt you right?” He asked, blinking repeatedly before a small smirk fell on his lips. “You’re way too pretty to injure doll. Can’t ruin your perfect face.”

On screen you huffed in mock anger, hiding an amused grin as you shoved at him—he still held you close to him though, so both of you fell backwards and burst into giggles.

You literally thought ‘I ship them’ as you watched the clip of Sebastian and yourself, forgetting that was you for a moment.

Another clip started up—another behind the scenes. It was you and Tom Hiddleston in Thor : Ragnarok. In the scene Loki was tied down to the chair and your character was meant to intimidate him—you watched yourself take out your character’s daggers and lean forward into his space. One leg leaned up on top of the arm of the chair, sliding one dagger just a hair above the skin of his neck while using the over the move his chin up to be angled to you as you mockingly smiled down at him.

You said your line as your character but Tom remained silent, mouth parted and eyes widened as he gazed up at you—speech failing him. (You knew that they actually decided to include this awestruck look in the movie—the amount of fucking edits you’d seen was unreal).

Eyebrows crinkling you nudged your knee into his chest and he snapped out of it, grabbing your knee in a gentle grip. “Sorry darling, words sometimes seem to fail me in your presence.” He muttered rather hoarsely, still staring up at you.

“I don’t fucking blame him.” Tessa Thompson murmured from behind you both, and the camera moved to show her staring at you in a similar awe.

Present time, you could barely hide your smirk. Literally the biggest ego boost. Of all time.

Again, the clip changed and it was now Natalie Portman looking gorgeous on a carpet event, being interviewed—“if you could have Jane explore another romance than Thor, who would it be and why?”

“Y/N!” Natalia enthused immediately. “Well—her character, but like. Both. Either. One for me, one for Jane. That—would be great. And why? Come on! She’s an absolutely beautiful woman, inside and out. She has this outward glow that you literally cannot and don’t want to look away from and that reflects so much in her personality—once you’ve interacted with her one time, you never want to stop. Ever. I’m not kidding.” She giggled.

Another clip started up quickly—a blooper of you and Chris Evans. In this scene, your characters were meant to kiss after an angsty, angry argument. You stormed into the frame, into the bedroom, completely in character—an angry expression on and ready to go at Steve.

Before you could even let out a single syllable to begin your lines, Chris immediately surged forward and took your face in his hands, kissing the living daylights out of you.

You both pulled back after a bit and you just started at him, questioningly (that kiss was probably one of your best ever, let it be known, Chris Evans was a fantastic kisser).

“I—I thought It’d be good for the scene. .” Chris trailed off bashfully, scratching the base of his neck, literally pulling the excuse out of his arse. In actuality, he hadn’t wanted to spare a moment of the scene where he could be kissing you, well, not doing so.

“Bull!” Scarlett exclaimed as she materialised in the doorway. “He just wanted to kiss you.” She told you, pointedly looking at the man.

“Yeah—i—“ He huffed a defeated sigh, pink-cheeked. “I’ve got nothing. She’s right.”

In hindsight, you thought to yourself, you should probably stop being so shocked when the fanbase starts shipping you with your costars.

The clip changed: now it was you, Elizabeth and Aaron on a carpet event together—all being interviewed at the same time.

“So, Y/n, how does it feel to be in a Maximoff twin sandwich right now?” The interviewer giggled happily, smiling.

Before you could open you’re mouth—“we’re really enjoying it.” Lizzie and Aaron replied at the same time.

The interview gaped and you simply rolled your eyes as the two smirked at either side of you, they’d been talking in sync ever since you’d first met them at the table reading.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t why?” Aaron grinned crookedly. “A beautiful, lovely woman in between us. Honestly, love, there’s not a thought in my head besides you.” He joked, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“I completely support that.” Lizzie chirped in, “ever since I’ve met this gorgeous lady who i now acknowledge as my partner in everything—she’s taken up all of the room in my brain, and I couldn’t be happier.” She giggled, putting her arm around your waist.

In the middle of them both, with an arm over your shoulder and one around your waist—you simply sighed, sparing the giddy interviewer an exaggerated suffering expression.

Again, the clip switched—it was now another blooper of you in the Iron Man movie, the scene where you handed Tony’s arse to him in the boxing ring. Instead of acting as scripted, Gwen Paltrow got up from her seat and strode over to the boxing ring, stepping inside gracefully and planting one right on your lips.

Presently, you giggled as you thought back to this moment. Gwen was your impulsive queen. Your idol.

From the floor, RDJ squawked in shock, exclaiming about being cheated and betrayed and Gwen flung her stiletto off her foot at him without moving from your lips.

When she finally did, she simply smiled at you kindly, “you just looked so good that I couldn’t not kiss you, sweets.” She shrugged and you, on screen, laughed at her as you leaned back in to kiss her cheek.

(Unfortunately the scene was not included in the movie—but Gwen never wasted an opportunity to talk about it, and you, if the chance arose).

The clip moved onto another one—back to the Thor : Ragnarok movie, you and Heimdall were fighting together, however you missed a step in your stunt and ended up stumbling. Idris immediately caught you with a steady arm around your waist, full you to him so you could stabilise yourself.

You smiled up at him thankfully, squeezing his arm in gratitude (totally not because you’d just wanted to feel his bicep).

You watched as your on screen self get distracted again and Idris murmured to Tom who’d now appeared next to him, “I feel like it’s dishonourable how much I want her to fall so I can catch her again now.”

“Mate, trust me,” Tom laughed, “I completely understand. But she doesn’t need the rescuing.”

“That she does not.” Both men smiled fondly as they watched you.

Presently, you were actively refusing to blush.

A different clip started up—Florence Pugh was being interviewed, looking breathtaking in her green dress. “—did you take anything from set?” The interviewer was asking, smiling at Florence.

“Um—not much, just Y/n’s heart.” Florence immediately cracked up at her own joke, smiling widely. “And her underwear too.” She added.

The interviewer opened her mouth to say something more, giggling at Florence as she continued speaking: “and before you ask, no. I wouldn’t be selling, for any price. Finders keepers and all that shite—plus, she’s my girl, so. That rule applies even more so. No one else can take her heart. Or her pants.”

Watching your friend, you giggled at her cheesy smile at her words before getting distracted by your group chat, where multiple of your friends and co-starts had seen your message and were now responding. Your laughter increased tenfold as you opened the thread.

[gothamite-rambler]

"Are you dealing drugs?"

Bruce Wayne: You're not a drug dealer, are you?

Jason Todd spits his drink dramatically.

Jason: Whaaaaat... Noooooo. Oh my God—how could you even... Why would you accuse me of something so awful?!

Jason proceeds to fake cry, covering his eyes.

Jason: This hurts me so much... that you would accuse me of that.

Jason continued fake crying as Dick, Tim, and Damian looked on. Bruce's eyes widened in shock.

Bruce (panicked): Oh dear, I take it back!

Jason: You take it back? How can I go on after this betrayal?

Jason rested his head on Dick's shoulder continuing the facade. Dick could only shake his head with a smile.

Bruce: Oh God, um, I can send you an extra thousand. Stay there!

Bruce ran out of the room. Jason looked up to see if he's gone, then resumed drinking from his soda bottle.

Damian clapped, impressed.

Dick (sighing): You know that was wrong... But I can't blame you.

Tim (angry): He lied though!

Jason: I'm not a drug lord anymore.

Jason looked behind him.

Jason: I'm was one of the lower CEOs; I stepped down due to too much drama.

Damian (sincerely): Smart move.

Jason: Thank you.

Tim (chuckling angrily): He gave you an extra thousand... I'm actually pissed off, fucking bullshit!

Tim stormed off.

Tim (O.S.): I can't believe that didn't fucking work!

Dick: Bruce said he wouldn't give him an allowance because of the whole embezzling thing.

Damian: He has a trust fund and he gets paid by working at father's company yet he complains.

Jason: He was the one who told Bruce?

Damian (nodding): Yep.

Jason: All right, there's only one way to handle this and get two thousand.

Damian (earnestly): Make sure to sell it. Don't make the crying look forced.

Jason: Good advice.

Jason walked out of the living room.

Jason (fake sadness): Bruce, why would Tim lie like that?!

Damian: Grayson, that's why I favor him at times.

Dick (smiling): Fair enough.

[fairytsuk1]

get on your knees | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: creampie, praise/degradation, secretary!au

pairing: shota aizawa x reader

words: 6.4k

warnings: unprofessionalism, boss/secretary relationship, dom/sub themes, impact play, degradation and praise, strangers to lovers, creampie, body worship

"Yep. Yep, thank you. Call us again if you need further help. Our way is the right way. Thank you. Goodbye."

How much longer could you keep this up? Between shrill old ladies desperate for solutions to their self-caused issues and the men who wanted to turn your customer service line into a phone sex hotline, you were running out of both patience and sympathy.

You knew it'd be dull work when you applied. It was in the name: customer service representative. You didn't mind. Dull work meant working as a stocker and meticulously organizing food products. It meant waking up early and chatting with the same group of people over the same brand of weak coffee every day. It could be meaningless; it could be meaningful.

Your temples are rubbed by your fingers, aching for relief, and you wonder if your company is any good with benefits after you've quit.

Real people were missed by you. No more old women and pervy men. You wanted something substantial. Something real, something alive. You decide you need to get outside, away from the phone. Your poised, fake voice was due for a break.

Your lunch is subbed for an afternoon walk. The same route you always take, the same things you pass by like always. It's all the same. Trees bend and sway under the will of the wind, and you find yourself looking down at the ground. Did you always do that?

The coffee shop is bustling, the bookstore is closed, and the park is full of screaming, laughter, and joy. The police station looks lifeless as always, but the local lawyer's office is… open, shining and bright, and strangely standing out. The actual building is cream and desert colors, yet its sign has bright bulbs exclaiming help wanted.

In tiny font under the main signage, you read "secretary."

It would be dull work. Lawyer jargon, a hot lawyer who you hear from around town is to die for. Like smooth chocolate. Your sneakers pad on the ground before you're even aware of it, carrying you past the threshold of oak doors into the domain of law.

Inside, it's dark and stormy. It is entirely opposite to the outside, making your head spin. It's quiet, and your footsteps echo as you traverse the halls looking for the lawyer. There's no one at the secretary's desk, and you can't help the daunting hand that runs over its ridges as you pass by.

Another oak door sits menacingly ajar. You press forward. Your heart stutters in your chest, butterflies hatching as you see him sitting cleanly, sexy and firm.

There he is. He's got inky black hair pulled neatly into a low bun; your breath catches in your throat when stormy dark eyes pull up from paperwork to you. You feel so exposed, so on display, as you fidget and murmur, "Hello."

He's quick to the chase, "Are you here for the secretary job?"

The lawyer's eyes scan yours, and you find yourself nodding; too afraid to speak further. His eyes then trail over your form, and you wonder if your work-from-home outfit was too casual. How would you have even known you'd have encountered this icy gentleman during your typical stroll?

Aizawa is grateful that the prettiest candidate will come in on his break. He could forgo lunch for you; he'd be fine having that sweet pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

"Hm. Resume?"

Your empty hands are glaringly obvious. Your purse hangs heavy and resumeless on your shoulder.

"I, I don't have–I didn't bring one, I mean."

"Did you see the ad in the paper?"

"No. I was walking and saw the lit-up sign."

"... I see," he drawls, still eyeing you before motioning to the seat in front of him.

Sinking into the cushion, you try to look presentable as you cross your feet–the rip of your stocking just barely visible from where he sits at his woodsy desk. He stares at you before asking.

"What talents do you have?"

"I'm a very hard worker," you pitch softly. "I won several typing awards in school."

He says nothing to that; maybe you've said or done the wrong thing. His hand rubs at the stubble on his chin, and your throat dries up at the various rings decorating his long, pale fingers. You would give anything to feel that scruff between your thighs, nails leaving indents as he plants kiss after kiss up your leg.

"It's very, very dull work. Perhaps too dull for you."

It's an opening. A job you can practically taste on the tip of your tongue.

"I don't mind," you add. "I'll do anything."

The terse stare you both share leaves you sweating. What were the chances: no resume, lack of secretary experience, and you wore ripped stockings. He licks his lips, eyes flickering up and down before nodding to the side.

"Please make me a coffee. Not too much sugar."

You're up in a heartbeat as you grab his half-empty cup. Suddenly, it's obvious you don't know anything about the building you're in as you head to the first door: "It's not that one."

The second one is a bust, and the third opens you up to his quaint office kitchen. Coffee was easy! Sure, you spilled a few coffee grounds and milk. Maybe you struggled with the machine as it brewed its ground beans. In the end, the mug sits hot and ready on his desk. You're ready for him to say it's perfect. That he'll reward you with a black coffee-tinged kiss.

"Too much sugar," he grimaces a bit. "Be here tomorrow at eight a.m."

You were in the parking lot by seven.

He never reveals too much to you. You still don't know so many basic things, even though you know how he likes his coffee, and you've seen how he does push-ups in his office when he's stressed. You see everything and nothing. It's agonizing.

The work is dull. You like it. It's typing letters, queries, and correspondence; it's all stuff Aizawa could be doing but chooses you to do. It makes you feel special in a sick way. You're stumbling from a bump in the carpet as you set a stack of papers on his desk. There is one problem, though.

"I alphabetized all the clients, sir," you say firmly.

"Thank you," he always says your name in that smooth drawl that leaves you drooling.

You're waiting. Waiting for those two words or even a glance up at you. He only sips his steaming coffee and peruses through the paper like you're not even there.

"Is there something you need?"

There was just one problem.

"No, sir," you say. "Sorry."

He never praised you. Aizawa hums, and you're turning on your heel. That took forever to do, and all he could say was, "Thank you." Was it wrong to ask for praise from your boss? The deep boom of his voice shakes you from your thoughts as he calls out after you.

You return like a dog, face alight and waiting. A stir in his gut has Aizawa hot at the back of his neck.

"That outfit… it's sloppy. You represent me. Your hair has flyaways, you leave crumbs everywhere, and you're messy."

Your boss stands and takes measured steps toward you. You're shrinking like prey under his gaze as he jabs at your faults.

"You make typos. You spill coffee grounds when you make my coffee." he's in front of you now, looking down and so close you can feel his breath. "You wear ripped stockings."

"I-I—"

"Don't say anything. Just look, and listen to me."

He is oh so pleased when you nod obediently. What a good girl.

"You represent me. You are the first person clients see when they come seeking my legal counsel. You could put in a little more effort, right?"

You're unsure of an answer. Silence or confirmation? Your knees knock together, "yes, I could."

There's a beat of silence. It seems so loud in the room.

"Good."

You wanted to sink to your knees then and there with an open mouth. An open throat. Aizawa sighs, seemingly relieved, as two big hands clasp onto your shoulders.

"Go home. Take the long way. Look at the sky and the trees and the stray cats. Pet one," he murmurs, and his fingers flick your chin. "Go and enjoy."

Just like that, he's edging away from you like he'd never gotten so close in the first place. Your heart stirs confusedly in your chest, battered from the pointed insults but feeling like they've freed you from any preconceived notions you had regarding your boss and you.

He thought you were good.

It was as if you'd never taken a walk before. Things were bright and so fruitful that there was a natural skip in your step as you brought yourself past the trees, the fountain made of marble with an angel sitting pretty and the people out and about. That joy carried you all the way home. You couldn't get how he looked at you out of his head as you flung yourself upon the bed.

You try practicing how you'd thank him, but it all comes out stilted. Unsure. Who was Mr. Aizawa? Did he like being thanked? You knew what you liked. Your hand brushes against the edge of your underwear as you recall how he'd murmured, "Good."

It just feels right to rub your clit and imagine your boss doing it for you with his hands coated in silvery rings. It'd be a mix of hot and cold as he rubbed at your pussy, "My, you're so wet for me. You really are so naughty."

Your hand twisted tight circles as you ground against your palm, face hot and panting into the sheets as you mewled for Aizawa. The syllables were foreign on your tongue, but you find yourself cumming with a cry of Shota!

After that, it was impossible to stay professional for very long.

Since those harsh criticisms, you'd started putting your all into the little things. New stockings on sale that highlight the smooth expanse of your leg while tucked into dainty kitten heels. You wiped up your mouth and counters after lunch and coffee. You were representing him.

Aizawa had noticed your preening. It was eerily similar to his cats. You would linger in front of him, waiting for a treat. He sighs, sinking into his chair, lids burning with the idea of you on your knees or bent over in front of him. He has to be careful when that familiar twinge of arousal wakes up more than just his mind. His hand comes to palm over the half-chub, but then your voice is filtering in over the phone.

"Sir? Miss Midnight is here," you murmur, and he grips himself over his slacks with a soft groan.

"Tell her I'm not here."

"I think she knows you're here," you say, eyes flickering between the phone and the woman herself, who flips through a magazine.

"Do not let her come back here. It's an order."

There's a click, and you're gone. You always listen so obediently. It was his favorite thing. Midnight's voice rings out from behind the grand wooden doors, your voice mixing into a beautiful tone of harshness and softness. He can hear how your chair scratches against the floor as you stand, guarding his office protectively.

"I know he's in there!"

"He is not," and you're puffing your chest out with a confidence that you're unsure of its origin. "You must come back another time."

Aizawa pants into the open air at your sweet little voice, trying to be commanding. He has to grip his base so he doesn't spill his load all over his black slacks. It grows quiet, and he knows the knock of your hands from memory.

"Come in."

You're hesitant, hands coming in front of you to fidget before you're forcing your hands by your sides. The pressure of Aizawa's presence has a hold over you that you can't shake. "She left. She said she'd be back tomorrow."

Lecherous eyes take in the loosening of his tie and how he relaxes instantly at the relief. He looks warm, if a bit debauched.

"I see," and he's staring at the ceiling before lazily trailing his eyes back down to your body. "Come here."

Soft feet pad even closer. You're not sure if you're even breathing.

"Thank you for listening. You are good at what you do.

"Thank you, sir."

He lets the stillness linger in the air, watching how you step even closer. You wanted a treat.

"Another thing. Where did you buy that skirt?"

"... At the department store."

His mouth flattens, and he hums, reaching into his wallet. " It's nice. Buy yourself something off the rack, not from the sale section."

Your face burns bright as he slides the cash over. This feels strangely good. You knew it was wrong, but you just couldn't help yourself. It was a substantial amount—too much for a boss to give to his secretary.

"Am I… allowed to take that?"

Aizawa smirks coolly, "I just gave you permission to."

The implication of his words leaves your legs crossing, much to your boss's amusement. He tells you to take the day off, and he's so soft this time. No harsh criticisms. All he wants to do is take care of you; the stack of money is comforting as a couple hundred sits heavy in your bag.

You buy a cute two-piece suit. It accentuates your curves nicely, and you can't help but wonder if Aizawa would feel the same. Adding a few accessories you don't think he'd mind, a gold choker glints at you, and you look around before shoving it to the bottom of your shopping bag.

He doesn't even comment on it. Of course, he doesn't. Your fingers click the keys with a bit more anger than normal. Who gives you money to buy an outfit and then doesn't even compliment you? Your boss, that's who. Fingers rip the written communication from the typewriter with a huff.

You're about to go to him, but he's coming to you first. Your breath stutters in your throat at how his eyes pierce you with every step. Aizawa stops and flicks the paper onto your desk with narrowed eyes, "can you tell me what this word says?"

"I-Indelible."

"And this one?"

He points to another word circled in red and your shy eyes are batting up at him, "rash…"

"So I didn't hire an illiterate typer, that's good. But then that means there must be a reasonable explanation for these glaring typos, hm?"

Aizawa's fist bangs on the table as you neglect to respond, "I–no, sir…"

He leans close till you can feel his breath on your lips. You're shaking and unsure if you want to burst into tears or kiss him on the mouth. And then he sees it, his eyes trailing down your body to see the familiar scratch of lines and ripped fabric on your calf. You'd hoped he hadn't noticed, but you can't help the twitch of your lips.

"Come to my office," Aizawa says shakily, voice intense and full of mirth.

You walk behind him to enter into his domain. Aizawa stares at you, breath labored as he swallows thickly. Neither of you are speaking, but it's clear how his presence dominates yours. It's effortless. It's easy for him.

"Put the paper on the table and your hands on either side."

Your hair sways as you put your hands on his grand office desk. The red marks stare back at you mockingly, your breath stuttering as you feel his presence behind you. He looms, and you can just barely feel how his hips align right behind yours. A deep, primal need wants to arch your back even more than it already is.

"Bend over more."

Was he serious? Your ass brushes against his crotch as you bend farther, with your pencil skirt rising higher. Your upper thigh is exposed to cool air, Aizawa's rough hands brushing against the soft skin. His thumb just barely brushes your panties, and you're biting back a whimper.

"Read it aloud."

Aizawa bites his lip as you do exactly what he says.

"Dear Mr. Toshinori," and you're cut off by a firm spank on your ass.

Your breath stops in your throat as you turn your head in disbelief. Aizawa says nothing, and does nothing, maintaining eye contact as he swats your plump butt again. It hurts and your eyes water. Something inside you tells you this is wrong, but it's overwhelmed by the wave of it feeling so right.

"Go on."

A sniffle escapes you, humiliation and pleasure mixing into a twisted thread of satisfaction, "the effort you've put into this case has been indelible–"

Another firm smack that leaves a gasping moan escaping you. You can hear his labored breaths mingle with your needy ones as he lays smack after smack against your aching bottom. Your whimpers come out more easily with each hit. Your eyes blur with tears that drip onto the crisp paper, blurring the letters you'd so carelessly put together. The red of Aizawa's pen seeps into the salty stain, and a cry escapes you.

"We don't want to be rash," another loud smack. "With all my love, Aizawa Shota…"

The two of you are panting, and Aizawa sighs as he presses the bulge in his slacks against the cleft of your sore bottom. He's so hard. You can't help how your hips grind against his, how the two of you play this forbidden song and dance of boundaries a second longer. He stills you with a fond voice.

"Very good," and you could cum with how he says your name. "I expect you to be better the next time around."

A strong hand smooths over the sore skin and fabric of your skirt. He takes care to readjust your clothes. His hands feel incredible with every soothing stroke. Your tears subside within no time, and you wish the moment would last forever.

He doesn't see how your eyes close in relief as a smile graces your lips, "I will, sir."

"Thank you."

You make no mistakes for the rest of the week. You might be the perfect secretary. Aizawa was beginning to reveal himself to you more and more; you were absolutely delighted. If he wanted to overwhelm you with himself, you weren't opposed to submitting to him entirely. You'd let him eat you if he wanted.

It's how your quaint, dull secretary job turns into a game of cat and mouse. Everything is predetermined by him. You crawl to his desk with the written communication tucked between your lips, sidling up next to him as he takes it with a "thank you."

Reveling in it is what keeps you going. It leaves you crawling, kneeling, and purring for "good girl," "thank you," "very nice," and "well done."

This time, you stand beside him like a shining knight while he reads over the newspaper. It's still early morning, only about an hour to your shift before he's straightening up and talking to you without looking at you.

"What do you eat for dinner, sweetheart?"

You can't help but smile every time you hear that tender nickname.

"U-Usually meat and potatoes and a vegetable."

"That's the daily menu?"

"Today I wanted to make mashed potatoes, peas, and meatloaf."

"Hmm," and then his steely eyes are turning and landing right on you.

It's as if a spotlight has shone down directly on you. You fidget on the spot immediately. Aizawa's lips quirked up as if he wanted to laugh, and you mirrored him back; you know he found your flightiness endearing. Cute, even. You'd heard him say so under his breath a few days back.

"I want you to have five peas. A scoop of mashed potatoes and no meatloaf."

You stay silent. He's not done. He smiles warmly, eyes scanning you appreciatively.

"And as much ice cream as you want."

"How did you know I like ice cream?"

He doesn't reply. He'd seen you out and about while he was waiting for his dry cleaning. You'd been happily chatting with friends, a giant cone of flavors on your right, while you gestured with the left. Aizawa hadn't wanted to interrupt you in your natural state. It was a shame, though, considering he couldn't shake your smile and your laugh from his head that entire day.

"I just know."

You make precisely five peas and a heaving bowl of mashed potatoes. The meal is done quickly, but you call him just before eating.

"A scoop of mash, five peas, and as much ice cream as I want."

Aizawa sits comfortably in his living room, wine glass in hand, "good girl."

It's a meal you savor. It's a wine he relishes. It's a simple delicacy, as if you share the meal together, knowing one is thinking about the other. Aizawa and you fall into this routine of codependency. You go where he goes. You eat from his hand and never bite. He offers you more and more. He lets you engorge yourself on him while he feasts himself upon you.

But, things grow different. He stops asking you to get on your knees, and you see him shutting the door behind you more and more. His face looked pained every time, as if he wasn't banishing you away to your secretarial desk. Why is he doing this? Why was he denying his sweetheart?

You listen to the audio of his lulling voice dictating you on what to type. You're not sure if you or the brat inside you insist on making typos, but you know it's the entirety of you that will be held responsible.

You smirked anyway as you delivered the paper to him with a flourish, "This one is finished."

He takes it silently and puts it in the envelope to be sent. You falter a bit and quizzically ask.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"I'm really busy," he says your name so flatly you almost want to stomp your foot in protest.

Whatever. Quick feet turn, and you're heading off without a second thought. If he didn't want to read it, that was just fine! It wasn't as if you cared. You return to work, and your shift passes by slowly. Then, you hear the static and clearness of Aizawa's firm voice.

"Come to my office."

You're skipping with joy to the door, arms swinging at your sides before you compose yourself in front of the door. You open it, and he's immediately staring dead at you. His eyes are like a flame. Aizawa's voice shakes with restraint as he tells you to come close and bend over.

It's lewd how you drape yourself over his desk. Your hands are poised as you lay them flat against the desk, butt perked and wiggling ever so slightly. If you were a cat, your tail would swish, and maybe Aizawa would go easier on you.

But you're not a cat; Aizawa never goes easy on anyone. Not his clients, not the courtroom, and certainly not you. His rough nails scrape against the soft flesh of your bottom as he tugs your skirt up, and then your panties drop to the floor. You're bare and shaking in front of him, face dark and pressed into the wood you lay on. He gives no tells, your ears straining to hear something, anything.

Aizawa slowly unzips his slacks, and you're panting with neediness on your breath. You can feel how a strong hand easily shifts your hips to the side as if you weigh nothing; he's still silent as a hand grips the base of his cock, and he groans.

You wish so badly to turn and catch him in the act. He spits lewdly and tugs your skirt up higher till your ass is on full display. He grunts, and it's so slick listening to his palm hit his fat balls and work the tip over and over again. A whimper escapes you when he digs his palms into the fat of your ass and grips it for purchase. It feels so heady, and you're forced to listen as Aizawa fucks into his palm.

The wet noises echo, his hand speeding up as he groans your name. A confident thrum leaves you thrusting back, and the choked moan he lets out is downright delicious, "fuckk."

His breath becomes strangled as he works himself. Then, he's letting out a deep yelp, and you're coated in hot white strands of his cum. It soaks into your panties, and your hole clenches around nothing. He's still breathing shakily, his hand tracing the marks he left on you before pulling away entirely. You can smell his cologne when you turn knock-kneed before him.

"That'll be all," he mumbles with ragged pants.

You stare at yourself, awed, in the mirror. The streaks on your panties are visible as you slip a hand past your waistband and hold a hand to your mouth. You cum just like that, in Aizawa's company bathroom, with his cum on your ass.

He doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the shift. You want to knock and ask, "Are you okay?" But, you worry it'd just make things worse.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stares at his desk contemplatively. A letter sits mockingly as he stares at it. The white stain on his slacks mocks him. He keeps trying to rub it out, but it won't budge. This can't go on.

Dear Sweetheart,

This is disgusting. I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.

He crumples it and tosses it off somewhere, sinking into his office chair with an arm draped over his eyes. This was pathetic. It was unseemly. He had to intervene before he got out of control. Aizawa tries to ignore the deep pain within his chest that winces at every thought of separating himself from you.

That was what he told you the next day, "we can't be doing this every day. It's… wrong."

"Why not?"

You're tearful and shaking. Aizawa's heart shatters so suddenly he has to look off to the side, eyes tracing the whistling trees outside the window.

"Why. Not?"

"Because we can't," he hisses in regret at even letting this conversation come to fruition regardless.

Your hands smack against your thighs as you stand and come closer. You never used to go into his bubble, and now you had no problem merging the two of you together, "I love you."

It was the genuine, honest truth. You loved how he told you how many peas to eat when he'd stroke your hair when he first called you sweetheart. You were sure you had started loving him then, some time or another, between the blending of professional boundaries.

"Don't be immature–"

"I'm not leaving.

He gets close, eyes narrowed as you stay rooted on his Persian rug.

"You're fired."

"No, I'm not," your tears spill over your cheeks in fat rivulets. "Don't do this."

Aizawa scoffs, grabbing his coat and huffing, "I'm going for a walk. Don't be here when I get back."

You stay rooted. You don't move an inch, only wiping your face and continuing to stare out his office window. This was the most heartbreak you'd ever felt. Aizawa was the first real man you had met, and he was tearing himself away from you. This job had never been dull from the second you saw him.

He's been gone for so long. Your legs ache, and you wonder if he went home, if he decided to leave you there through the night on trembling feet and shaky breaths. No. He wasn't like that. You'd wait.

The walk did nothing to soothe him. All he could feel was a pull towards you, like an anchor desperate to return home. Each step was heavy, and he turned around halfway to practically run back to the office. Were you still there?

You're still standing with your arms at your sides. You're not crying anymore, your face hard and focused. You're pretty upon his Persian rug, and Aizawa feels downright giddy. The giddy feeling is overshadowed by the thrum of darkness at the reality of the situation. He felt awful, wanting, and overwhelmed with emotions. He had so many emotions he almost couldn't stand it. Almost.

Aizawa sits outside the office door, head in hand. A thread born from sickness and loneliness was watered and tended by you, and he was so afraid.

The two of you stay rooted.

Only when the sun shines before noon the next day does Aizawa open the door. You're turning your head instantly with watery eyes and a grumbling stomach. You knew it, he hadn't left. He'd have never left you alone at this rate. You were his, and he was yours.

His footsteps are heavy as he draws closer until he's right before you. You look at him so softly. Your eyes are like dams threatening to give away if he didn't accept this watering, this tending. You'd worked so hard.

You collapse into his arms the minute he holds you, and he goes down with you, both of you sinking onto the floor in a loving heap. He doesn't even let your head touch the ground, only looking at you with fondness.

Aizawa kisses you, and it's like a cool drink of water. You're satiated yet hungry for more. Hungry for him.

"I'm going to take you home," he whispers tenderly, accompanied by a hand smoothing down the side of your waist before hooking under your knees.

He bridal carries you past the threshold of his office and building and towards his car. It's an intimate carry; you hold onto him with a soft smile.

His steps are measured as he takes you up the stairs of his home. Your eyes greedily latch onto every detail you pass by: the pictures daintily hung on the wall, the way a cat peeks in from the kitchen, the way the whole home is ornate and decorated. It's lived in, and you bring yourself closer to burying into Aizawa's neck.

The minute your back hits the bed, you're engaged in a passionate lip-lock that won't quit. It's not the rough dominance of Aizawa trying to eat you whole. It was the experience of two lovers finally able to blend as one.

He's gentle as he lays you back against plush silken sheets, immediately crawling and molding his body to yours with a hefty groan. His body weight is addicting. Your thumbs press against the divots in his back to try and bring him impossibly closer.

"Been wanting to kiss you since I saw you, pretty girl."

"Me too," your tongue laves over his bottom lip. "I only wanted you."

"I know. I see you."

He breathes into your neck before diving in to lick and suck at the supple skin. You can't help the squirming and the hot whimpers that escape you, the rough patches on your neck growing more abundant with every kiss of his lips and bite of his teeth.

"I want you," you confide, hands loosening his hair from the tight bun into loose strands that surround you. "I need you, Aizawa."

"Call me Shota." a burning hand trails down your hip to between your legs.

You're already mewling, trying to shut your legs despite Shota insisting with a "be good" to keep them open. His hand catches your thigh, and you shrink at his look that pins you to the covers.

"Be still," he says, and a finger drags up your puffy lips over your underwear.

The fabric catches on your clit, and you gasp; your hips tilting back and forth for moremoremore–

Shota tugs your panties to the side and spreads you open, his eyes greedy as they rake over every inch of your dripping cunny. You know you're making a mess all over his hand as you writhe and leak.

"Shota, ohfuckk. Don't stare," you barely manage to get out when his rough thumb circles your needy clit.

"I'll stare as much as I feel like, sweetheart. You're dripping for me, soaking my hand. 'S so cute."

You can't even find it in yourself to plead for him to stop. He sinks two fingers in you like it's nothing, an amused chuckle reverberating through his chest at the sight, "You play with your pussy a lot? She swallowed my fingers up like it was nothing. Is it gonna be the same when I stuff you full?"

"I'll take it, I-I can take your cock."

"Good girl. Saying exactly what I want to hear," and he's kissing you.

His hand leaves you, much to your chagrin, and you're left spread open wide in front of him as he rapidly undresses. His bulge is big, and you're almost a bit intimidated when his boxers reveal the shape of his thick cock leaking pre-cum. You wet your lips, and your knees go to touch before he pulls them open wider and settles on his haunches.

"Getting shy now?"

"No…"

"Then open your legs."

It's not a question but a command. You do as he says.

His underwear is pushed down to free his dick, the thick length bobbing and brushing against his happy trail. It's so lewd, and he looks so manly. His muscles are rippling, and he's so hard between your legs. Your hole clenches around nothing, and Shota runs the angry red tip through your folds.

"Ah! Don't tease me," you murmur, feet flexing with need.

His fat tip just barely presses against your hole, just barely pushing past your clenching pussy with a lazy grin, "I won't. Just lay back, honey."

Shota's voice is syrupy and smooth. His hands push your thighs farther than you thought they'd go as he sinks inch by inch into you.

"Oh, oh, Shota–you're so big."

"Poor pussy's squeezing me so tight," he grunts lowly. "You feel so good, sweetheart."

He plants a soft kiss against your ankle before shifting and bullying three inches of himself inside you. You cry out, eyes rolling back as he shallowly thrusts and works you open, breath heavy on his lips as he fucks his cock into you.

Your pussy's so sloppy, leaking and creaming around him before he's even balls deep inside you. Shota mounts you, and you're scrunched under him with a whimpering wail, "There we go. Nice and full, huh?"

"Y-Yeah! Ohgod, I-I can't–"

"Oh, fuuuuck."

He moves slowly and thrusts so deep you feel him in your stomach. It's sinful, the way his hips start to rock into yours, tip rubbing against your womb as you moan and moan.

"God, 'm so deep inside you. Fucking claiming this pussy, right? Just giving my girl what she needs, a nice, good pounding."

Shota's balls smack against your ass as he speeds up, sticky clit mashing against the coarse hair at his base as he rams himself into you again and again. You feel delirious as you get fucked further into the mattress. The two of you are one, creaming around his base as your nails scratch lines across his back.

"Rub your clit, baby. Make yourself feel good."

“‘M gonna cum, Shotaaa!”

"Hold it," he hisses, hips still pistoning in and out of you as he thrusts particularly hard. "Want you to rub yourself, sweetheart. You can do that for me, yeah?"

You're near tears as your hand shakily flits over your sore pussy, howling from pleasure as you circle it once, twice–" I-I can't, please, lemme cum!"

"Hmm," and you can feel how he throbs inside you.

Your walls suck him in impossibly deeper, and you can see the sweat dripping down his forehead as he heaves a breath. You squeeze again, and he glares at you darkly, eyes narrowed and stormy as he settles his hips on top of yours, heavy balls churning with the need to cum.

"Go ahead, since you wanna cum so bad."

"Sh-Shota!"

You're fucking squirting. Your juices make more of a mess, and it does it for him as he slams into you for a few more thrusts before hunkering down and sliding right against your womb. A few tears escape you as rope after rope of cum fills you to the brim, your eyes rolling back as he milks himself inside your sweet cunt.

"God, fuck," he shudders, hips twitching as he finishes breeding you.

Shota's eyes are closed as he holds you both in that position. If you weren't on birth control, you'd be in trouble as globs of cum spill out when he adjusts his grip on you. He pulls out slowly, watching the white fill and drip down your ass lewdly. He looks magical the way he bites his lip and spreads your open, hole clenching and letting out more of his release.

"You're so pretty."

Both of you are spent and exhausted. You can't find it in yourself to reply. Aizawa's muscles bulge when he pulls you closer into his body, a shiver coursing through you at a lazy finger trailing over your spine. Both of you are quiet for a while, the intense passion taking a load on you both.

You nearly fall asleep while he strokes you.

"Where are you originally from?"

It makes you pause before you answer your hometown, eyes pulling up to meet his soft ones.

"... Where did you go to school?"

"UA High School. Then, I went overseas for my law degree."

"Oh. I always wondered where you went."

"I always wondered where you were from," he whispers, noses your face, and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

The two of you swap stories and questions just like that for hours. It means everything to you, and Shota wishes you could've done this sooner. Wishes he could've known this woman before.

"Do I still get to keep my job?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

-

You walk, arms spread out wide and attached to the spreader bar. You adorn yourself with a clean white blouse and a navy blue skirt—prim and proper. It's easy now, as you squat to grab a paper with your left hand and turn to your right to staple it.

It's easy, grabbing things with your teeth as you prance around, spread open as if on a cross for him. Your boss wanted you that way; he wanted you to be spread open and bare for him, fresh enough to eat.

You carry the tray with coffee in your right hand and the stack of papers in your left hand. As you approach the ajar office door, you can hear his voice, "Come in, and get on your knees."

The oak office door is kicked closed behind you without another word.

[macfrog]

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

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(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[aclowntiny]

HIIIIII [first I wanna say that I love your work so much and am so happy to meet an atiny/carat writer! I hope we can become moots!]

I do have a request and it is: ateez reacting to s.o kissing their neck

take your time, and good luck with all of ur work, fighting!!

YES WE SO CAN!!! 🥰 Thank you so much for the encouragement love! I hope you love this reaction 😊

Ateez Reaction to S/O Kissing Their Neck

I'll give this my classic rating but up it for this one… 🤏🏻🤏🏻 suggestive hehe 👀👀👀

Hongjoong

You couldn't take the way his eyes devoured you, treasured you, any more. Inhaling, you quickly shut the space between you and Hongjoong, all the lightning tension between you arcing into your joined lips as his grip on your hip tightened. It was a short but passionate kiss, one that had Hongjoong giving you a smile of pleasant surprise afterward.

"Oh?"

"Yep," you replied, "and I'm just getting started."

Pecking his lips several times, you migrated from their softness to trace the beautiful structure of his face, outlining his cheekbone and down to his jaw with your lips.

He gave an exasperated chuckle. "I'm supposed to be the one spoiling you," he said even as he tilted his head to grant you access, smiling impishly down at you.

"Maybe I get something out of this, too," you teased back, kisses resuming in full swing, this time down his neck and into the territory availed to you by his partially-unbuttoned shirt.

"Alright, but anything you're giving me, I'm going to pay back double," Hongjoong tells you with a grin that sends shivers down your spine as you part from his chest to gaze at him.

"H-how are you going to do that?" You faltered slightly underneath that intense gaze you loved so much.

"Let's just say," his lips curl up even further, the hand on your hip drawing light circles, "by the time I'm done, everyone will know you're mine."

Seonghwa

Seonghwa is in the kitchen standing over a mixing bowl of batter when he feels arms snake around his waist and lips against his neck.

He giggles deeply. "That better be (y/n)," he teases.

Your hands nudge his sides, prompting him to set the spoon in his hand down and turn to face you, smiling at the loving expression on your face. His hands wrap around you, too, both of you standing in an embrace against the counter.

“It’s my lucky day,” he keeps joking, leaning down to brush your nose with his, “it is you. My (y/n).”

You smile at the pet name, moving your hands to fall around his neck, which you press one more quick kiss to. “Always.”

He leans down, kisses your forehead first before moving to your cheek, then pecking your lips several times, smiling and exhaling little chuckles against them as you leaned forward for more.

“I have to finish up here! Want to help me?”

You nod, lowering your hands to back hug him again.

“Alright,” he shakes his head fondly at your clinginess, “help me stir, then the real work begins.” He reaches to his waist, taking hold of your hands, placing the spoon in your dominant one and using it to mix the batter as he kept seasoning it.

After that, you dedicated yourself to actual tasks, but each time you passed Seonghwa by, you pressed a kiss to his cheeks or neck, enjoying the surprise and wide, almost childlike smile of joy that crossed his face every single time.

Yunho

It's not like you don't want to do it, frankly, but you mainly want to get Yunho's attention. You're sinking into couch cushions, sunlight lazily filters through the blinds, and Yunho is playing some video game or another. You stopped paying attention, instead visually tracing his focused side profile, eyes drinking in every shift and narrow of his own, the way his thumbs dart over the controller.

Watching your boyfriend play doesn’t bother you, but you are getting a bit bored. He isn’t always granted a surplus of free time, after all, & the most selfish voice of your mind is vying for the argument that he should spend it with you. Instead of whining, though, which you have the sense to realize no one enjoys, you simply scoot in closer, cushions creaking faintly beneath you, and gently run your fingers over Yunho’s jawline, pulling close enough to press your lips to his neck. As badly as you want his lips on yours, interrupting a man’s game is never a good idea.

He tenses a bit beneath your touch, breaths coming a little faster. “Wh- what are you doing?” He asks.

You press a few more kisses, moving a bit lower each time. “I don’t know, you’re playing your game, I just want to appreciate you.”

“Maybe when I’m done with this round-”

“Maybe when you’re done with this round…”

You both spoke at the same time. Giggling into his neck, you get closer still, legs pressed against his as he gave a few giggles of his own.

“Maybe what?” You ask, tilting your head so that he’s almost forced to face you.

“Just wait and see,” he smiles, leaning forward to place a quick peck to your lips before his focus returns to the screen.

Yeosang

You and Yeosang were on the couch, both of you on your backs, your head resting over his heart. Neither of you had spoken for a bit, just enjoying the small sunbeams filtering in through the window as you played gently with Yeosang’s hand that was slung over you.

On a whim you turned slightly, careful that your hip wouldn’t dig into him, and leaned up just a little bit higher, your head reaching the crook of Yesosang’s neck. Your lips fell into place, ghosting over his skin at first, but when you felt him shift a bit beneath you, clearly starting a little at the sudden warmth, it spurred you on.

This time, you kissed him unabashedly, giving the exposed skin long, slow appreciation. Drawing out every motion you possibly could. Your hand that was playing with his gave it a little squeeze.

“What’s this?” Yeosang asks, eyes wide and sounding a bit flustered.

You can’t help but giggle at the pure and wholesome man you love so much. “You mean you don’t know?” You reply.

“Well, ah, I mean…” He stutters as you place the longest, most lingering kiss yet at the very base of his throat, a small gasp escaping with the trailed-off words.

You lift yourself up on your elbows, pulling up still so your heads are in line and sparing your boyfriend, just rubbing your noses together with a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, starting to lay back down, but his hand catches yours.

“No,” he says, gaze following yours down, “please continue.”

San

“Sannie, no!” You giggle, running away from your boyfriend, with whom you are currently locked in a playful chase along the grass.

He’s proudly brandishing a water gun, smug grin more than evident on his face as he barrels toward you. “Sannie, yes!”

“No!” You exclaim, turning on your heels and running around a garden wall, stopping to catch a few shaking, laughing breaths.

You’d tossed a water balloon at him, your entire arsenal, and now San sees fit to get you back for it. His revenge is quite disproportionate in your eyes, for even with as warm as it was you aren’t exactly in the mood to get soaked.

San is close; the grass rustles and he whispers “I’m gonna get you!”

“Not today!” You shout back, peeling out from around the wall and back towards those of the house, bare feet padding against the soft green grass.

San quickly catches up, giggling as he backs you into a corner, raising the blue and green plastic abomination in his hand. It’s going to take a massive trump card to escape this one…or maybe you’re overthinking it.

Stepping forward in the little space you have left, you reach your arms around San, hands gently running up and down his back. His smug expression immediately begins softening, the gorgeous soft eyes you love on him starting to pop out. With a smile, you lean in to give his neck a few kisses, feeling him crane to open up more as you do so. He’s warm beneath your touch, pulse pounding from all the running; you kiss right over the pulse point, wondering if you can make it go even faster.

Before you can wonder much more San is sweeping you into his arms, booping your nose and telling you how cute you are before yanking you into his lips. One hand holds you, the other reaches up into your hair, and as your lips move against his you slide San’s offending water rifle closer to you with your foot, stepping down on it as hard as you can. San trails kisses of his own down your neck before peppering your cheeks, expression melting at the fact that you initiated affection.

When you finally separate, San ruffles your hair and giggles. You step back a bit, holding up your contraband water rifle. “So, truce then?”

Mingi

"I can be cool!" You protested against Mingi's teasing. You know he thinks you're the coolest person alive, but you and your boyfriend had gotten into a playful debate on if you could be a rapper.

"Oh, yeah? Prove it, then," Mingi shot back with a grin.

"Ok, fine," you all but pouted, "I will."

Giving him a light shove, you watched him stumble back a little, taking the opportunity to lead him a couple more steps until his back hit the wall. Leaning forward, you rested your left palm against it at his side, eyes traveling up to his in the best approximation of the classic pose as you could attempt. Mingi's jaw dropped a bit, raising the corners of your lips in a satisfied smile. You leaned up and placed a kiss to his neck.

"See? I can do the bad boy pose. I'm cool," you say as you start to walk off.

Mingi's hand catches your left hand as it peels from the wall, though, and you feel the tug, turning back to face him with a tilt of your head. He's looking at you with doe eyes, his buggy expression of surprise fading to affection.

"You are cool, but don't take my job," he says.

You giggle, and he reels you back into his chest, your hand falling there as his that isn't holding yours rests on your back, bringing you forward into an electrifying kiss. You feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, the way his hand lightly squeezes and plays with yours as your lips move in sync. You trap Mingi again as he pulls away, this time not against the wall, but with his forehead against yours.

"You have nothing to worry about, my cool guy."

Wooyoung

It was all impulse, really. Wooyoung was teaching you a couples’ dance he wanted to try, and frankly it was quite…intimate. A bit Latin-inspired, it had some close moves that reminded you of the tango followed by him pulling you close. When he did that, he also rolled his head back, exposing the skin of his neck and making that much more of a show from his quite notably unbuttoned black shirt.

Wooyoung viewed his body as part of the art and you couldn’t help but agree. The third time you practiced getting swept into his arms, his head rolling away as you were held against the warmth of his chest, his heart hammering beneath you, you leaned forward, your lips finding his throat like they were magnetized there.

You felt him give a deep hum beneath you as he, rather than step into the sequence's next move, immediately slid both of his hands to be flush around your waist. When you pulled away slightly, Wooyoung attacked, his own lips latching onto the spot above your collarbone. His hips angled, drifting forward until they were fully flush against yours.

"So this is what you want, huh?"

"Well," you teased, voice low as Wooyoung’s lips traveled down and then back up, “seems like you do too."

"Of course," he agreed as he trailed kisses up your neck and to your cheek, "why would I not?"

Jongho

It was one of your greatest joys in life to have such a sensible, loving boyfriend at your side. However, he wasn’t the most into physical touch, at least not nearly as much as you were. Sometimes Jongho just needed some encouragement.

He lay at your side, half under the sheets and half out, just plaintively staring at the ceiling as he rested on his back, not one part of him touching you. You felt your lips fall into a pout, wishing he would cuddle with you now that your bedtime conversation had ceased, dreamy words subsiding in favor of that near-sleep contemplative state.

You knew part of it was that he didn’t want to overstep boundaries, didn’t want to disturb you. But if that was the case, you considered as you shifted in the sheets, mattress creaking a bit beneath your motion, it was your job to show him he would not be disturbing you in the slightest. And you knew exactly what would flip Jongho’s affection switch.

Scooting closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, snuggling into his neck and kissing him before he could protest or question the sudden gesture. Sure enough, you felt Jongho relax, firm muscles melting still after a momentary freeze. As you nuzzled in, lips still traveling, he tilted his head, giving you greater access, and you smiled. Jackpot.

Jongho loved it when you kissed his neck, and you sure didn't mind taking advantage of that fact, especially right then. He flipped over from his back to his side, suddenly facing you, those big beautiful eyes you loved staring intently.

"Why this all of a sudden?"

"Because I love you," you replied, eyelashes fluttering.

"Well, let me return the favor, too," he told you, propping his head up with one hand.

You couldn't resist a smile as he pulled you closer.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Charlie: "So! How DID talking with Carmilla go?"

Vaggie: "Uhh..."

Charlie: (laughs) HA! Yeah- the giant weapons delivery kinda gives me an idea it went preeeetty good, but was it nice? Did you have fun? Did you find out how angels die? Did you two have TEA??"

Vaggie: "It was nice I had fun I know how angels die and no there wasn't any tea."

Charlie: "None? Phooey."

Vaggie: "Did you have any uh, tea in... Cannibal Town?"

Charlie: "None! No finger foods either! They were only a snack for the eyes- you can kiss me and double check, if you want to~"

Vaggie: "Tempting." (chuckles) "And distracting. Let's cover the angel killing stuff first, okay babe?"

Charlie: (sigh) "If we HAVE to..."

Vaggie: "I'll make it quick. You know Carmine's fancy dance slippers?"

Charlie: "Shiny!"

Vaggie: "Made from heavenly steel, turns out."

Charlie: "Oooooh!"

Vaggie: "She used them to kick the head off an Exorcist, last extermination day."

Charlie: "Oh wow. NOT the scenario I was expecting."

Vaggie: "Yeah, she told me about it while kicking me in the face with them-"

Charlie: "SHE WHAT"

Vaggie: "-and even when she explained the whole 'trying to protect her daughters' thing, internally I was still like, dancing someone to death is one of least practical ways of killing-"

Charlie: "She kicked you in the head with her angel killing slippers?!?"

Vaggie: "-long fight scene cut short, she makes it work. But I'm still sticking with my spear for the battle."

Charlie: "VAGGIE!!!"

Vaggie: "I don't care what Carmine or anyone else says. Spears are-"

Charlie: "SHE COULD'VE KILLED YOU!"

Vaggie: "...I know? That's why you asked me to talk with her?"

Charlie: "......."

Charlie: "I think. I'm gonna be sick."

Vaggie: "Aw babe." (brushed back charlie's bangs) "Cannibal Town finger foods finally catching up with you?"

Charlie: "No. Yes. They're not helping but it's more of a 'if my girlfriend had gotten killed, where would the finger of blame be pointed at' kinda thing."

Vaggie: "Sweetie no..."

Charlie: "Sweetie YES. I sent you there."

Vaggie: "And if Carmine had gotten my head, it would've been my fault for being so out of practice and shit at fighting."

Charlie: "UGH."

Vaggie: "Thanks for that, by the way."

Charlie: "What? For WHAT? Saying 'oh hey Vaggie guess what you can die!' and sending you to the Overlord who can kill you????"

Vaggie: "For keeping me out of practice at fighting."

Vaggie: (smooches gf)

Vaggie: "I like kissing you way better, honestly."

Charlie: "... well... well maybe you could still use some practice."

Vaggie: "With the kissing?"

Charlie: "Both. Kissing and fighting. I want you alive at the end of the battle so we can do more smooching afterwards. Okay?"

Vaggie: "Okay."

Charlie: "You'll get better at the fighting again- no more getting hit in the head with heavenly steel?"

Vaggie: "I'll do some more sparring with Carmine. No more heavenly steel headshots."

Charlie: "You promise?"

Vaggie: (smiling) "I promise."

-after the battle-

Charlie: "Mm. Hmm?" (pausing mid kiss) "I think one of your teeth are loose?" (glowering) "Vaggie. Did you get hit."

Vaggie: (groaning) "Table. Head slam. Lute."

Charlie: "Fuck that bitch."

Vaggie: "If you mean fuck her up, then yeah, I tried."

Charlie: "Heheh. I saw her afterwards. I'd say you did pretty good." (kiss again) "Dang it, yep- It's your upper right incisor." (pouts) "Boo. I liked that one a lot."

Vaggie: "If it falls out you can have it."

Charlie: "Really!?"

Vaggie: "If it falls out while we're kissing, please don't swallow it."

Charlie: "I guess we COULD just stop kissing for a sec to actually check on the whole loose tooth situation."

Chaggie: "....."

Vaggie: "Or, you could kiss-"

Charlie: "OR I COULD KISS IT BETTER!!!"

Chaggie: (smooching resumes)

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

CYOA C57 Sneak Peak

Since I took a not-so-brief break from writing and it still might be another few days before I can post the next chapter, have a sneak peak of the beginning of the chapter below the cut.

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Wednesday 16th March, 2022, 01:37 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

Lily Evans: <image attachment> You're hopefully asleep but look at what I've got!

...

Private WhatsApp Chat Resumed: Wednesday 16th March, 2022, 07:11 Members: Lily Evans, James Potter

================================

James Potter: omg it's my face mug

Lily Evans: Yep! Plus my tea, which really got me through the morning since I came in an hour early to get a site report finished. I employed cunning stealth tactics to manoeuvre it out of Pip's desk drawer yesterday.

James Potter: what did you do?

Lily Evans: I said, "Pip, can I have James's face mug?" and that worked.

James Potter: truly you are machiavellian in your endeavours also are you wearing bright pink in that photo?

Lily Evans: I am. Felt slightly daunted about it this morning because of the stupid old adage about redheads, but I mean, I BOUGHT the outfit on Monday because I loved how it looked on, so chickening out would have been a waste of my money.

James Potter: what's the old adage about redheads?

Lily Evans: There are MANY and they're all equally ridiculous because being redheaded is great actually, but this one in particular dictates that we "shouldn't wear pink," presumably because it looks terrible on us.

James Potter: that IS stupid you look so pretty

Lily Evans: Thank you! <image attachment> This is the full fit. I love Sirius's selfie mirror. What d'you think?

James Potter: christ you really do have phenomenal legs warn me next time, would you? i'm trying to drink my morning coffee in peace here, and you spring this on me

Lily Evans: Lollll you saw my legs on my Instagram yesterday.

James Potter: yesterday you had big tall boots on today you do not

Lily Evans: Forget about my legs for a second.

James Potter: i physically CAN'T

Lily Evans: The jacket is a CAPE, James. I own a CAPE. I am MAKING MY OWN DREAM (of owning a cape) COME TRUE. Do you have any idea how many crop tops I bought on Monday? LOADS. And I've been scared of crop tops my whole life. I still kind of am scared, but I'm going to be brave and wear them anyway, Bea says that if I carry myself with confidence on purpose I'll eventually start to carry myself with confidence because that's genuinely how I feel, and you know what she's right because I've had more compliments from other women in the office over the last day and a half than I've had in the year since I started working here. If you can't tell, I'm very excited about my new clothes.

James Potter: i can tell

Lily Evans: It's probably a very boring topic so I'll stop.

James Potter: no you don't have to stop i think it's brilliant and not just because i get to see more of your legs, which is a huge win for me

Lily Evans: Lolllllllll

James Potter: a week ago you were calling yourself a frump, so it makes me happy to see you talking like this instead if new clothes make you feel good about yourself then i want to hear about them

Lily Evans: I do feel more like ME in them, if that makes any sense at all. And there's no going back now because I've bagged up a load of my old clothes and Bea and Remus are going to help me lug them to the charity shop before we all head off to the train station on Saturday. I bought A LOT of new things. Like, so much I felt a bit obscene every time it came to pay. But I couldn't have done that if you hadn't spared me from paying rent for the next few months, so thank you so much for being a bottomless well of kindness, even though I should be saving that money for a deposit on a new flat and have had no common sense in my approach to this.

James Potter: don't worry about it, you deserve bottomless wells of kindness and of every good thing in life are you going to leicester with remus and beatrice this weekend?

Lily Evans: No, although I'm going the Saturday after for a pre-Mother's Day lunch with my mum and Petunia. I'm heading to Stockport to spend the night at Emily's, it just so happens that Bea and I both need to leave from Euston. Actually, first I'm getting my hair done, then I'm donating my clothes, THEN I'm going to Stockport to see Em. Then I'm going wall climbing with her and her mum and sister.

James Potter: oh cool! i love climbing, have you ever done it before?

Lily Evans: I went to a climbing centre once for a friend's birthday party years ago, I was twelve and I got my first period while I was actively on the wall, so I spent quite a lot of the day running into the toilet to check that nobody could see it even though I was wearing black shorts and Carina's mum had given me a pad. So the short answer is: not really, but I'm not worried, none of them are expecting me to be any good at it even though they're all basically professionals. Em and her sister also go cycling every Sunday morning so I have been informed that a loaner bike and safety gear is available if I want to join them.

James Potter: do you think you will go?

Lily Evans: Yeah! I haven't cycled in a few years but I do cardio every day so I reckon I can manage the exercise even if I wind up extremely saddle-sore afterwards. Plus this all means I get to bring and wear some of my new workout clothes, and honestly I'll take any excuse.

James Potter: if you put some chamois cream on before you cycle you'll save yourself a lot of discomfort little tip from my mum that i flagrantly ignored in my youth

Lily Evans: Why did you ignore it?

James Potter: because i was A MAN who didn't NEED to smear cream on my groin to train for a triathlon except it turns out i did also i was only about sixteen, who the fuck did i think i was, cat noir?

Lily Evans: I'm going to skim past the fact that you know who Cat Noir is because then I'll need to explain why I know who he is and it's probably the same reason.

James Potter: it's definitely the same reason

Lily Evans: God, we're both such dweebs. I mean, you're much cooler than I am, but still.

James Potter: not true at all, i'm a massive dork, i just happen to play a lot of sports, so people who don't know me well don't spot it straight away

Lily Evans: And you're stupidly attractive, which isn't often expected of massive dorks because we live in a society that unfairly pigeonholes people into boxes based upon their perceived attractiveness. This I say as I shop for makeup online. I know I'm part of the problem.

James Potter: what does "stupidly" attractive mean? i'd love a definition

Lily Evans: You already defined it yourself. Weeks ago, actually.

James Potter: what??? when?

Lily Evans: "And now," gasped Theo, in a ruggedly handsome but also charmingly boyish but also sexy but also dorky way that seems really impossible for a real human man to accomplish, "I will kiss you at last!" See? Defined. As per you. Also important to note: this kind of attractiveness makes people who fancy you act and feel like blushing, giggling idiots. Hence, "stupidly" attractive.

James Potter: well

Lily Evans: Your brother, on the other hand, is NOT stupidly attractive. He's inaccessibly attractive. Which is very different. Science.

James Potter: noooo don't talk about sirius! talk about me again!

Lily Evans: I just did. At length.

James Potter: talk about me more who am i making blush and giggle?

Lily Evans: How quickly you forget that I still field emails from Jessalyn et al.

James Potter: oh it's JESSALYN, is it?

Lily Evans: Et al.

James Potter: i think you should elaborate on et al

Lily Evans: I'd love to but I have to jump into a meeting.

James Potter: no you don't!

Lily Evans: Yes I do!

James Potter: a meeting with who?

Lily Evans: With Agnes from Julia Murphy.

James Potter: who is agnes from julia murphy

Lily Evans: Julia Murphy is a skincare company, one of our brand partners, and it's in my calendar, see?? <image attachment> I'm not trying to get out of telling you I think you're cute.

James Potter: two minutes ago i was ruggedly handsome and charmingly boyish and sexy now i'm merely cute?

Lily Evans: And dorky. Don't forget dorky.

James Potter: i haven't forgotten anything, thank you very much

Lily Evans: James, you are ruggedly handsome and charmingly boyish and sexy. Are you happy now?

James Potter: that reply will do, but only because you're busy you're off the hook for now but i expect you to revisit this subject later

Lily Evans: God, who even are you, my owner?

James Potter: that's an interesting choice of words, lil

Lily Evans: DON'T YOU DARE ANSWER THAT QUESTION

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 11

Had a few days off from watching anything while I attended the Up All Night asian drama convention. Ironically I talked a bit about this drama on a panel about time travel in dramas, even though I haven't actually finished it yet 😅

Anyway, now I'm ready to resume. I think I can more or less remember how the last episode ended...

What does renting an adult movie have to do with him kissing his girlfriend in public? Is that frowned upon in Korea?

Sunjae has just found out that Im Sol is from the future, and in that future he dies when he's barely into his 30s. All he is concerned about is that Im Sol's mother saw him kissing a girl on the street and might not like him now.

God, I have missed these idiots.

Sunjae doesn't know how he dies but what he does know is that there's no way it could possibly be Im Sol's fault

Oh shit I totally forgot Sunjae's dad currently thinks he's on a plane to the US. This is not going to go well when he finds out...

He is so gone for her. I love him.

Oh, yeah, he missed the audition for the band so he's no longer on the path to becoming an idol now. That means no expensive skincare products for free because looking good is your job

Oh my god all his stuff is on a plane to the US even if he isn't

Hehe! Well, at least the reveal was mostly comedic

Wait, I thought she didn't want him to become an idol to keep him safe

Oh no are we going to end up with another totally different version of the future where Sunjae isn't an idol and her brother and bestie don't end up married.

And now a bag full of condoms intended as a joke wedding gift has ended up in Sunjae's bag by mistake. I'm glad we've eased up on the angst for a bit to do some more lighthearted nonsense

Oh my god he bought them matching phone charms. He is such a loser (affectionate)

I know something terrible is going to happen soon. They're all happy and in love and there's still another 5 episodes to go. I'm glad they get this for a little bit at least.

I am getting so much secondhand embarassment from this whole scene, but also I can't stop laughing. IT'S RAINING CONDOMS 🤣

I am crying I'm laughing so hard. Two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a shower of condoms

He just went into his mind palace to figure out how the condoms got into his bag. This might be my favourite episode so far, as much as I'm enjoying all the time travel and the angst.

I love that grandma is heading up this whole intervention

Well, after that delightful little subplot we are now back to the serial killer who may or may not end up killing Sunjae

Did his dad really get him to go and update Im Sol on the case and tell her that she's in danger. THAT IS LITERALLY THE JOB OF THE POLICE NOT THE FASHION HOUSE SON OF A DETECTIVE. The cops in this really do suck even by k-drama standards.

He is honestly the most sensible character in this whole drama

Uh...you haven't even tried though? The first time he got you it's because you went outside to stop Sunjae getting rained on in the park. Take Sunjae and find a cabin in the woods or something. Or go to America with him.

Okay, dude, you need to dial that back a bit

Taesung is like 'we spent the night together we're bros now'

Aww now they're both drunk and pouring their hearts out to each other

Well if they were buddies after Taesung slept on Sunjae's couch I don't know what snuggling in the same bed like this makes them

Ooh is Sunjae going to sing at their last gig and get back on the idol path?

Ooh they caught him! Except there's still another 5 episodes to go so clearly it's not over yet

Aww there we go he's back on stage

Oh sweetie...

Yep, there we go. Of course he escaped.

But, hey, we got through a whole episode without the sad Jongho song playing even once.

[riddles-n-games]

TIG AU One Shots: Gymnastics Pt. 1

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: A gymnast's mantra is to never touch the floor when they are on bar for any reason other than when they are finished their routine. Falling is not an option, that's why there is someone to catch them when trying a new move. Will Avery let her new partner do the same? Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

A/N: It's someone's 22nd birthday per our timeline today and it's also his champagne bday per that logic too. Happy birthday to our one and only ticking time bomb, Jameson WINchester Hawthorne.

“You know you could just ask me to spot you?

“You know you could just leave me alone."

He grinned. "Ahh, but then who would catch you when you fall?"

"Your brother, my assigned partner." She didn't wait for his next retort and did a warmup flip.

One.

Two.

Three.

When she got to five, she stopped and jumped off to get more chalk. However, much to her chagrin, Jameson was still there. He walked up and leaned against the wall in front of her. She did her best to keep her eyes focused on her task as she smoothed the chalk onto her palms.

"Well, actually, Coach has reassigned Xander with someone else. To Max.” Her head snapped up at that. His smile widened; he loved catching her off guard. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"Pretty sure he would tell me immediately if that happened. And if that's the case, why hasn't Coach come to tell the rest of us?"

He put his hands up in defeat. "Hey, you can go ask Al if you don't believe me. And Coach is sick today, I just happened to see her this morning when she was in her office. I was taking a drink when she saw me and called me over to talk about the change."

She raised a brow skeptically but eventually gave a slow nod. “Ok. Well, thanks for letting me know. I’ll call you when I need to-" A hard smack against the vault table and the giggles that followed broke her off. Jameson looked up and Avery turned, following his gaze to find the culprits haphazardly entangled; Xander and Max. She blinked. There they were, not even a full five minutes after the switch was revealed, conveniently together. Traitors.

Her best friend was sprawled all over her former partner, Xander's arms wrapped around her back and they were still laughing. It seemed that Max was the one who'd been vaulting but made an error and landed on him as he tried to valiantly save her from the failed attempt. Yep, that was very characteristic of her BHFF, sacrificing himself for the greater good, when it benefited him, that was.

But that's not what was getting to her. Max’s too wide grin, Xander’s dreamy look, his hands lingering at the small of her back, the way she wasn’t scrambling to get off him… How had she missed this? She knew they were good friends, they all were, but they hadn't seemed close in that way before.

She glanced back at Jameson to see what he was making of the situation and found him smirking amusedly as he watched the pair. He must have felt her eyes on him because his gaze locked onto hers and he raised a brow in question. Avery tilted her head in their direction and he only shrugged, his smirk turning into that crooked smile when he was being genuine. It was cute-No, don't go there.

At the moment, she had to be the bigger person and get to the bottom of her friends' deception so she started striding over to the vault mat.

"Xander!"

"Go easy on him, Avery!"

She stopped in her tracks and twirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Jameson. “You knew about this, too? How long?” Her answer was nothing more than laughter from the definitively guilty party and a mischievous wink. A while then. She rolled her eyes. "Don't think I'm letting this go, Hawthorne. I'm coming after you later."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he called after her as she resumed walking over to Xander and Max. It was time to get answers.

──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──▶──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──◀──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──

Xander and Max. Max and Xander. Alexander and Maxine. Maxine and Xander. Maxine and Alexand-Ok, that’s enough. She was getting overwhelmed. No, she was definitely already overwhelmed.

She was happy for her best friend, there was no doubt in her mind about that. Xander was a great guy and Avery would be the first to advocate for him; after all, he helped her through some of her darkest times. Max and him got along very well and when they teamed up on game nights, they were top tier menaces. The chemistry was there from the start.

So how did she not notice what was going on right under her nose? If there was anything that Avery prided herself with, it was being observant yet here she was. 4 months, that’s how long they’ve been together without her realizing.

She thought herself a fairly attentive friend; after harder trainings, they'd go out to the local cafe, post work shifts, she'd offer her to stay for milkshakes, on shorter lesson days, she'd suggest the library or the mall so they could be together while they did schoolwork. And then there was the obligatory, at least once per month, reserved "catch up" day on a weekend where they would spend the entire day together to rant about anything and everything in their personal lives.

But truth be told, that hadn't been the case in the last while. She'd been busier lately, advancing a level opened up a whole new set of competitions and that meant dealing with new competitors, learning new tricks, practicing new routines, longer trainings, twisted ankle, new job, sleepless nights, the list went on. For six months, her life had barely been hers. Their last catch up day had been two months ago after a successful comp which even then had been hard to schedule because of the crazy prep training. It hadn't been for lack of trying on either of their ends, but it was clear; their lives were shifting dramatically and things were amping up for both of them which is exactly what gave Xander an opening.

While Max and her still spent a lot of time together during training, the schedule demanded certain things from them which took away the uniformity they had. However, Xander's was untouched and when Max had her breaks, she was still training which gave him the perfect opportunity for them to bond. Her change in job also inhibited on some of their former free time but Max had finally started an internship which somehow brought her closer to Xander since he also interned there. And now, most recently, the partner change.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Jameson. Jamie. Her new partner. She tested it out in her mind. Avery and Jameson. Jameson and Avery. It had a nice flow in theory but would it work in reality?

Jamie was certainly a character; he was Xander's older brother, Max's former spotting partner, rings and parallel bars extraordinaire, his skills on vault took him to new heights every time, and he had a knack for solving riddles. He was also very flirty and a charmer which of course made him a hit with the ladies. Coach chewed him out for that often. He couldn't help it, he was a looker as his Nan would say and he was handsome, Avery couldn't deny that.

They were good friends with a funny dynamic where he would tease her and she'd pretend to be annoyed at him. But when they paired up during escape rooms or mystery games, they were unstoppable which proved that he was formidable as a teammate. And Avery was somewhat grateful for it. However, he also had a terrible habit of being flirtatious with her. One of his favorite games was "Ask and Reject"; he'd ask her on a date and she would deflect, then he'd make a joke at how she wounds him so and she'd roll her eyes. That was the script every time without fail.

While it was all in good fun, she had to believe that part of it was done intentionally. He liked her, she was sure of it, why else would he keep pursuing only her? Jameson was cute, she'd admit silently, he was good-natured as much as he tried acting a player and she certainly didn't mind when he was shirtless on the rings.

So there was an attraction there and she did like him but dating was a hassle. She was busy and a boyfriend would just be a distraction; why bother? It was better like this, that way no one got hurt and she could let herself get a taste of what it's like being wanted, just a tiny bit to keep on dreaming what could be. It was necessary torture even if the romantic inside her died a little each time.

Having finished her 10 minute break, she stopped fiddling with her hair and took a swig from her water bottle before going over to the warm up area to stretch again. Every so often Avery liked to do some mid-training stretches to refocus on her next set of exercises and assess her limbs for any damage. She'd just started twisting her core when she spotted Jameson recovering post pommel horse practice and he was flexing his arms in that way when the upper back became stiff. He was turned to the side and his shirt rode up a bit, flashing his abs for a brief moment and she froze like a deer in headlights. It happened a few more times before he started to turn and she quickly looked down before he could catch her staring. The teasing would be endless.

She continued her stretches, pointedly avoiding looking his way until she was done and went back to the bars. Only once she got there did she feel eyes on her and she looked up when her gaze locked on his. He smiled crookedly and winked to which she looked away and rolled her eyes. As she blew at a loose hair, she heard him yell across the room, "Good luck, Grambs Cracker."

"Thanks." With a steadying breath, she jumped up and righted herself in the air before flipping. She exhaled. What to practice? Coach had given her a list of moves she should start practicing for her next routine which included Wieler kips, some Endos, quite a few pikes, hip circles and some new transitions that she hadn’t incorporated before. It was all very demanding but she was up for the challenge. She’d just try the transitions later when she got a groove going.

And so it began.

──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──▶──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──◀──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──

Pike. Twist. Handstand. 360 turn. Straddle. Release. Transition. Low bar land and back flip. Rest. Cast. Maloney. Back to the high bar. Her body swung backwards with the movement. Let the force of the swing guide your body into the next skill. It’s easier to let momentum do the work for you than fighting it. That’s what Coach had told her many times when she was but a young starry-eyed overachiever. Think of yourself as a pendulum and the momentum is what helps you make magic. She did it then.

Her legs were nearing the top; locking in. Inhale. Peak. Hold. Release. Exhale. She embraced the rush of adrenaline as the pull of gravity took over and increased her speed before she swung forward into another handstand. And that is the art of the swing. Another brief pause, just enough time for a split second decision. Blind change. Her choice could only be a pike skill but what would it be? Church, Galante, or Ricna?

Coach was very excited for her to be doing more variations with pikes and Stalder since she'd been good at using them in combinations before. One of these days, she might even make her own skill and Avery didn't want to disappoint when she did.

It'd been a few days since she last practiced the moves so she might as well start with a favorite. Galante it was. But first, a few pike circles to warm up. She let her legs fall forward and pointed her feet at a 90 degree angle just as she swung down again and her feet touched the bar.

One.

Two.

Three.

She was ready. On the fourth rotation, she pushed back into a handstand and imagining like the audience just went completely silent, she dropped on the beat. Her body bent in half by the time she reached the midpoint and then her legs split into a straddle just as she was about to complete a full circle. And then, she let go. She was airborne.

In moments like these, she believed she could fly in the same way she was sure the spectators were convinced gymnasts could touch clouds just by a leap and a bound high enough. There was no fear, just bliss and the thrill of the next flight, no matter how short it was. Just like that, it was over and she reached for the bar. Steadying herself for the wood grooves rubbing against her palms, her fingers made contact but only briefly. The tips of her fingers brushed downward only to be met with air again as she felt her right ankle hit the bar.

THWACK!

Pain shot through her leg as the force of the hit rebounded her at an angle, leaving her grasping at air as she fell downward to the mat. She was sure her soul was leaving her as her stomach dropped in realization. This isn't happening. Suddenly, her hair whipped into her face, swiping at her eyes sharply, making her blink.

"JAMESON!" She heard someone yelling from afar. Max. Just as she thought she would hit the ground, keeping her eyes shut and bracing for impact, rapid footsteps bounded in her direction. Next thing she knew, arms were wrapping around her torso and pulling her upward, causing the blood flow to go back up to her head. She grimaced and refused to open her eyes. The sound of heavy breathing filled her ears and warm hands around her upper back and thighs grounded her.

Someone was holding her, she didn't know who yet. "Avery, are you okay?" She shook her head before reflexively bringing a hand to her forehead when it started throbbing again. But that voice. Jameson. He caught her; that made her open her eyes before she ultimately regretted that too. The brightness blinded her and she closed her eyes again, bringing her hands to cover them. "Hey, easy now. Take your time, we don't need you losing your eyesight."

She felt him lowering her to the mat and withdrawing his arms from around her as she felt him shift his weight next to her. Her skin immediately shivered without his touch. "Keep breathing. In and out, slow. Good, can I take your hands off your eyes now?" Avery nodded numbly. Gently, his hands wrapped around hers and pried them off her face, rubbing soothing circles into her palms as she finally dared opening her eyes. She did it slowly this time like he suggested.

"There she is." He smiled softly at her and placed her hand on her knee before cupping her cheek. She leaned into it. She needed this. That really shook her. Things like that happened rarely to Avery Grambs; that's why she liked bars most compared to other events. She was so certain of herself and it's why she was the best in the gym in the skill. It's why there were so many gold medals hanging on her wall. But even a champion falls, that was something she always had to remember. All of them.

Just because you're at the top that doesn't mean you're not going to fall. Remember you're only human. When you're at the top, the only way is down and it can be a nasty fall, kid, Nash's voice echoed in her mind. His brothers had learned that the hard way too many times.

"Do you want to get up?" Jameson's soft tone coaxed her out of her thoughts and she looked at him startled. "You wanna get up?" The question was repeated.

"Y-Yeah."

"Okay, let me help you." He leaned back on his knee and she let him grasp her hands. "Ready?" "Yup." She exhaled, focusing on pressing the balls of her feet into the mat for grip. "Okay, on three. One, two, three." With sudden speed, he'd pulled her up and took her off balance, making her smack into his chest like a ragdoll. His arms wrapped around her instinctively and didn't move from her waist when she righted herself. Both of them were red in the face and panting.

"You good?"

"Yeah, been better, though."

He chuckled. "I'm sure." Then his expression turned sober. "But you sure scared me shitless, Aves. I was barely there on time. Please let me know when you're doing the newer routines so I can be ready to spot you. It doesn't take away from my time to keep you safe."

She could only nod. There was nothing she could say in protest. He was right which was a rarity for Jameson. But in this case it worked.

"Good. I'm glad we got that straight. I'd ask what happened but you look like you need a moment for that yourself." She let out an anxious laugh at that and nodded again. Make that a week! "I do have one more question... Go on a date with me?" He sounded out of breath.

Avery's eyes locked onto his in surprise. It was so sincere and he looked solemn but his green eyes shined with such hope. How could she refuse him especially now that he saved her life?

"Sure." Her answer came out just as breathless.

"Great, now don't do that ever again. You really caught me off guard there."

"Yeah, that was definitely not planned." She brought a hand to her sweaty forehead and swiped at the hair stuck there. "And trust me, I avoid that every chance I get."

"Well, next time, you can just call and let me catch you when you feel like you're falling for me. I love saving a damsel in distress especially when she's assigned to fall into my arms."

"Shut up." He grinned before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. Her eyes widened when he let her go and her cheeks burned with the oncoming blush. As he left, lingering just a bit when he unwrapped his remaining arm from her waist, she kept her head down trying to fight the smile playing at her lips. When he was further away, she turned slowly, her face feeling hot and smiling stupidly, big and wide and unabashed. But, when she looked up, Max was in front of her with a satisfied smirk. Very satisfied.

"Not a word." Her friend's evil merry laughter was the only thing she heard as she walked to the locker room to blush in peace.

A/N: Hey, I hope you guys enjoyed that; thanks for reading. Also, Happy Jameson Appreciation Day! I am so happy that we finally a canon date for my best boy’s birthday and that we get to celebrate him for it. For those of you who are interested in learning more about the bar skills that I mentioned in this fic, here are the sites I used:

https://wagymnastics.fandom.com/wiki/Uneven_Bars_Skills

https://www.synergygymnastics.co.uk/gymnastics-bar-moves/#google_vignette

[moony-2001]

Lore Olympus ep. 256 critique

A note from last episode

One thing I forgot to mention in my last episode critique is why would Apollo even be allowed to take the throne? Hera still exists. Zeus has brothers who could step up. Other legitimate children. Obviously, Apollo is the “de facto” ruler for the sole reason that the plot needs to be driven forward somehow, but realistically Apollo would be, like, the last person who’s allowed to step up. Speaking of which, where is Artemis? She knows what Apollo is like. Why doesn’t she step up if they’re letting literally anyone rule?

Ah, yes, of course. Our fearless protector of women, everyone. I have so many things I could say about Artemis and her portrayal in this comic but for the sake of keeping this post relatively short, let's move on.

The fucking nightie

Oh. My. God. The nightgown.

I literally had to put down my phone when I first saw her in this. The rage I felt and still feel when I look at her.

Persephone is a queen and she just found out her brother-in-law/supreme ruler is in critical condition after being poisoned with a "mystery substance". Jfc have a little decency. And I don't want to hear "Oh WeLl ShE oBvIoUsLy DiDn'T hAvE tImE tO cHaNgE" or "sHe DoEsN't HaVe AcCeSs To ClOtHiNg" because she so obviously did. Hades is wearing a full-ass suit. She had time to cut her hair and "accessorize" with a stupidly oversized hat and cape. She is a QUEEN. She has access to all the clothing she could possibly want. Persephone has no excuse for showing up in a skimpy little nightgown.

I just-

Persephone is not a good queen

Let’s be real here. Persephone is a terrible queen. What have we, as readers, actually seen her do for the betterment of the underworld.

She doesn't even follow through on her "promise" to help with the influx of the dead. Instead, she focuses on her own personal problem of her powers taking a massive shit because of a deal she made with an unknown being (which was her own choice). I mean, who could've foreseen the consequences of making a shoddy deal with being you've literally had no previous interactions with. Not me, that’s for damn sure /s

Let's see what Persephone has done thus far leading up to and during her reign as queen:

terrorized lower-class citizens

caused the return of Kronos

caused a child deity to be held hostage/abused by Kronos

Tartarus being controlled by Kronos (caused by Persephone)

the mortal realm dying

still hasn't established Elysium

verbally abused recently deceased mortals because they're confused and haven't provided a resounding yes to help with... whatever it was she was trying to do.

lots of sex

letting 2 beings who have no business listening to a leadership meeting listen in anyways because it's "background noise"

Yep, all the actions of a great queen.

Also, side note, when have we ever seen Hecate be nosey? Please correct me if I'm wrong, but Hecate has pretty much always looked out for her best interests and tried not to get involved in others' drama. Am I surprised that Rachel is changing a character's personality? No. Am I disappointed? At this point, also no. Let's continue on.

The meeting

The meeting was certainly… something. I will say I loved Apollo getting his shit rocked by Ares. But after that, Apollo says this:

I mean... he's kinda right? Yes, it was all a big ploy to get specifically Persephone there, but Apollo isn't wrong. Persephone does have a habit of hiding in the underworld and letting Hades deal with her shit instead of facing her problems head-on. Yet another fantastic trait to tack onto her resume as queen.

And on that note, we circle back to the beginning of this post. After Hades has his big-boy temper tantrum, Athena and Amphitrite rightfully point out a few things:

Athena is right, Apollo has no claim to the throne, not when Hera is still around and especially not as a bastard child of Zeus. In terms of a line of succession (especially since all of his children excluding Hebe are grown), Athena would be the best candidate for this temporary position. She's the goddess of wisdom. Who else could fit this role? Poseidon and Amphitrite are busy ruling the oceans, Hades and Persephone are off doing whatever, Ares is all brawn and no brain, and Hephestus wants nothing to do with his family. I mean, we haven't actually had any kind of serious interaction involving him since like halfway through s2 I'm not counting those 2 little portions in s3 with Aphrodite.

And once again, we have a character that is so close to figuring it out but I guess we can't be affording too many brain cells to Amphitrite since she was to share with all the rest of the characters. Also, rip Aphitrite and all her pretty loops and swirls. I miss the individuality the characters had back in s1.

Before the meeting can continue any further, Demeter bursts in deeply distressed and crying out:

B-bbb-but how can we tell if the mortal realm is actually dying if we don't have a handy little message at the end of the chapter that clarifies whether or not this is a metaphor???? Rachel, you know your audience only has the reading comprehension skills of a kindergartener, how do you expect us to cope??

Sorry lol.

Final thoughts

Surprisingly I found this chapter to be a little short, but I don’t know if that’s just me. Again I wouldn’t say that this chapter is any worse than 255 but it’s not great either, y’all know the drill by this point.

Until my next post! I’m hoping to be all caught up by early next week? And then I can start posting more fun things that aren’t chapter critiques 👀

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Helping Hand 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of divorce, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You're permitted to leave the dungeon of your policy review for your designated half-hour break. You go to the lunch room and sit down with your meagre tray of crackers and cheese. You pick away at it, your appetite spoiled by the rotten start to your day and the pain tearing at your muscles. You really just want to go home but you know you can't. You need the money.

Your phone shakes on the table, a loud rattle that makes you flinch. You sigh and grab it, standing up to take the call. The longer you avoid Andy, the worse it's going to get. You leave your food on the table and jar your shoulder as you pull open the door. You put the phone to your ear as you storm onto the sales floor.

"Andy, I'm at work."

"Tough shit. How hard is it for you to give me an answer? It's as simple as a text--"

"You ever think I don't want to see your mother or you? Andy," you huff and hold your breath, lowering your voice as you hurry past customers. You get outside just as you're about to burst, "you left me. You served me papers. Why are you still bugging me?"

"I asked you for a goddamn favour. And just like usual, you can't do a simple task--"

"Andy--"

"Listen to me," he hollers over you, "she's sick. Okay? She's sick and she wants to see you."

You stop on the curb, teetering on the edge. You push your neck back and groan. God, you're shoulder hurts.

"How sick?" You ask.

"Sick," he answers somberly, "please, it's one afternoon."

You exhale, "what about... her?"

Another silence as he sniffs, "that's over."

You want to scoff. You want to scream in his ear. All that for a fling that didn't even last a whole year. You hold back your venom, it doesn't change anything. You're still divorced and you still hate him.

"Too bad," you mutter, "fine, I'll come."

"Thanks," he says, "for what it's worth."

"For her, not you," you growl.

"I can drive you--"

"No, I'll figure that out myself," you turn back to the storefront, "the less time we need to be together, the better."

He clucks, "I wasn't that bad."

"Apparently I was," you shrug and let out a pathetic yipe, "god fuck!" You pull the phone away from your ear as you try to stifle your exclamation. You put it back to your cheek and cross the pavement to the door, "gotta go. Bye."

"Sunday--"

"Got it."

You hang up and shove your phone in your pocket. You whine and clutch your shoulder. Your eyes blur with tears. So much for a relaxing lunch.

You reenter the store, head down as you ignore the customers trying to get your attention. You punch the keycode into the lunchroom door and grab your uneaten snack, packing it away before returning to the backroom. As you enter, you find the office occupied.

"Ah, there you are," Jonathan greets as he turns to you, "how was your break?"

"Short," you answer and go around to sit in the chair, cradling your elbow to keep pressure off the joint of your shoulder, "thanks."

"I saw you rush out. Everything okay?"

"Yep," you roll forward and flip a page, "everything is roses."

"And how is your shoulder?" He asks.

"Good," you lie.

He stares at you. A deadlock between you. You bow your head and resume your mindless browsing of redundant rules. He comes close to the other side of the desk and rests his fingertips on the top.

"I am worried, I am not treating you maliciously," he says evenly.

"I know. I told you not to worry."

"Someone should be cautious if you won't," he insists, "I am not like that man I fended off last night–"

"He's not your problem to worry about."

"Yet, I do," he intones, "you shouldn’t let him shade your impression of the world. He is one person–"

"I don't want to talk about my ex-husband," your voice scrapes with frustration, "please," you lift your head, "I'm just trying to get through the day."

He considers you, dragging his hand away from the desk to cross his arms. His forehead ripples and his cheek twitches. He takes a breath and his chest rises and falls.

"Very well, let's keep this professional. Go home."

"What?" You sputter.

"Yes, you've had time to review the policy. Should an employee have issues performing their duties, and/or pose a risk to themselves or others, they may be dismissed," he declares, "I believe if you sit here any longer and stress your injury, you will cause irreparable damage."

"It's fine–"

"I am your boss and I am telling you to leave the premises."

You lean back, chewing on a yelp. You blink as you glare at him. You can't believe he is doing this.

"Now, since you are officially relieved of your duties, as your friend, I insist you see a doctor–"

"You can't do this–"

"I am," he shrugs nonchalantly. "Of course, you may choose to catch the bus and see how you fare with a night of discomfort and no relief or you will accept my offer and seek help. I had my physician pencil you in for an hour from now–"

"Why would you do that?" You sneer.

"Because, you are stubborn–"

"I am not your responsibility."

"Perhaps not in your mind," he smirks, "so, shall I retrieve your things from your locker or would you prefer me wait for you here?"

"I'm not going with you," you stand and close the binder, slamming your hand on the cover.

"Very well, until you seek proper care, you will not be permitted to return to work. I cannot risk the liability–"

"You are…" you begin, breathless with exasperation, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? Looking after you?"

"Yes," you murmur, "why would you bother?"

"Someone must," he drops his arms, "please, be mad at me all you like, it is better than hurting yourself."

You shake your head and huff, avoiding him as you round the desk, "I'll get my bag."

"I'll be here, darling," he hums smugly, "patiently."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Ferula

@wolfstarmicrofic March 24, word count 359

The girls all wanted a good old Gryffindor Common room party. They had only one demand. It had to be fancy dress. 

Fancy dress was Remus’s idea of hell. He was never very good at coming up with a costume.

Sirius came out of the bathroom wearing an open black shirt, showing off his porcelain chest, soft black velvet trousers and dark eyeliner that made Remus want to skip the party and drag his boyfriend into bed. He looked amazing.

“Who’re you meant to be then?” Sirius spread his arms and shrugged as though it was obvious. 

“Marc Bolan, of course.” Yep, that made sense. Sirius was still obsessed with him. “What are you going as?” 

“I have no idea. Do you think they’ll care if I just go in my normal clothes?” He asked, wincing as he knew what the answer would be. 

Sirius didn’t even bother answering. Instead, he thought. 

“I know!” He jumped onto Remus’s bed. “Werewolf! The Marauders will be the only ones in on the joke.” Remus rolled his eyes. 

“And what if someone puts two and two together and figures it out?” Sirius brushed his comment aside. 

“No way, it’s far too clever because what better way of hiding that you’re a werewolf than by pretending to be a werewolf?” 

“Yeah, it’s still not going to happen.” Remus insisted. 

James popped his head round the door. He was dressed in a lion costume, complete with a fabulous regal mane. 

“You guys ready yet?” He asked, looking them over. Remus shook his head. 

“Ferula!” Sirius cried as he cast the spell on Remus. Within moments, Remus was covered head to toe in white bandages. Sirius carefully pulled a few bits loose and made sure Remus could actually move before he proclaimed. “There, you’re a mummy. Let’s go.” He shoved Remus in the back towards the door. “Crap, wait!” Sirius stopped pushing and grabbed his school hat out of his draw. He transfigured it to look like Marc Bolan’s top hat and carefully placed it on his head, making sure not to upset his hair.  And resumed his herding of Remus down to the party.   

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 8 - Fill the Void

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing - Narcos Universe (not so accurate), bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only your clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator - 3rd person)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Thanks for your feedback, hope you enjoy this chapter! Hope to hear from you all soon! I'm also working on two stories (one shots) to our beloved Joel Miller and our corny cowboy Agent Whiskey

Tag: @creedslove | @pedrostories | @mjoee13 | @immyowndefender | @iamsherlocked-1998 | @pedroswife69 |

***

Narrator’s POV:

Arriving at the CNP headquarters, Steve, Javier and you get there almost at the same time.

The tension between you and Javier was noticeable. Steve knew better than asking either of you: he wanted to live to see his girls again… And to catch Escobar.

When you locked the door in your office, the tears started appearing. 

You lied to Javier about not remembering breakfast: you hoped he lied about it too. You actually couldn't recall talking about Ben.

Fuck, was a name you didn't think in a very long time… 

Especially after meeting Javi.  

Is Javi that full of himself to say that to me? What did he mean by that? What did I tell him? And most important: what he really knew about Ben? - You thought.

On the other side of the door, Javier’s mind was racing, trying not to act by impulse. But he decided to call a friend in NYC, who could tell him all he wanted about your history with your ex. He needed to understand why you were so worked up, why that bothered so badly.

However, he didn’t want Steve to suspect anything. Luckly, they got a tip about La Quica again, that he was buying a toilet... The same one that was on La Catedral and heading to the hills on San Isidro road.

When Steve went to speak to Jacoby, to fly Centra Spike over that location, Peña took the shot and called Joe:

“Hey, Joe!” - he greeted him.

“Took you long enough, Javi, you bastard!”

“Well, I tried to avoid long distance calls, you know I hate them.”

“Oh, so the rumors are true, you left your wife in Texas?”

“I did... Better for her and little Lucas, you know…” - he was looking over his shoulder, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him.

“So, how is Y/LN on the colombian field?”

“So far so good, man. She's a good cop…”

“She was one of the best here… But I’m betting my chips that it is not about her resume you called, you want the dirty, am I right?”

Javier laughed. 

“You fucking bastard, I knew it!”

“So, what you’ve got about her and her ex?” - Peña asked.

“Peña, that was a huge mess… He was already working here for a while and, months later, she arrived from the NYPD through the front door and found by herself a lead to a prostitution scheme… It was so big that it was a closed door OP, top secret stuff, it was only her, me, our boss and another couple of guys. The operation involved high-class prostitutes, working for high profile narcos. Ben heard the rumors about the OP and tried to sweet talk her to join it… But you know how she is with her work… Things do not mix at all.”

“Oh, I know…” - Javi sighed.

“Yep, so you know the deal... At first, it was just an evil comment here and there. I don’t know if she heard it, she trusted him, she was going to marry him. We were working our asses off, long and crazy hours. He took advantage and lied to her. He got sloppy and the rumors continued to grow... But I still don't know what she knew. Anyway, his luck didn’t last long: we were about to bust a brothel on the night that the narcos were there. Guess who was in one of those filthy beds?”

“No way…” - Javier closed his eyes, incapable of believing it.

“Yep. She found out on the job. Didn't help when she also discovered that he was trying to trade inside info with criminals.”

“Fuck, he was a dirty cop?”

“Yep. Luckily, she was too up-tight with all of her work. Not only was she as clean as a whistle, she got promoted to Colombia.”

“I can't believe it. Fuck...”

“Like a motherfucking movie, am I right?”

“Thanks for telling me. I can understand her behavior now…”

“She's one of the best cops I've ever got to work, Peña. She didn't deserve that.”

“I believe you. Well, thanks, man. Call if you need anything.”

Peña hung up the phone, if he was a mess before, now he was a wreck. The same questions were going through his mind again: How is he going to keep Lorraine away? How will he manage his boy's custody? How is he divorcing her and keep you in the dark, until the process is over?

A couple hours later, the tip to Centra Spike  worked: a conversation between another sicario, Velasco, and his lover is recorded.

You, Steve, Javier, Centra Spike, Mili Group and CIA reunited to see area’s maps:

"Well, we can discard the smaller ones... Not Escobar's style." - Steve pointed out.

"Which one of these has at least 2 roads of access?" - you ask.

"This one, Y/LN." - Jones, from the CIA, responded.

"This is your winner, niños." - you draw a circle, indicating it.

"Y/LN, what about Pinzón? We're gonna need men, equipment, cars..." - Javier commented.

"Leave Pinzón to me, Peña." - you responded.

You went back to his office, but he refused.

"¡Cabrón!" - you thought.

You went back to yours, but in the way, Steve talked to you:

"Jefe, any luck?"

"Not yet... But let me handle it. He doesn't know who he's dealing with." - the boys looked at each other, curious.

You called Crosby, Crosby called Gaviria and… Let's wrap it up: about 15 minutes later, you all were preparing to bust Escobar.

All the efforts for nothing, unfortunately: Escobar escaped through your fingers, again.

Escobar, however, made a career fooling and killing police officers, what he thought was going to a truce about to happen turned into a fuse to another battle, which made him even more dangerous.

Days later, you all were right as the skies were blue: another attack came. 

Escobar's sicarios killed a bunch of Pinzón's men all around Medellín… 

Pinzón chose to resign - it was the last drop to his sanity. He wanted personal peace more than to defend his country… How would someone judge him? 

Escobar killed more than four hundred cops a year - although it was a risk, it had no garanties on being alive and no one could fulfill any expectations to actually get it done.

*

Days passed by and President Gaviria decided to bring Coronel Carrillo back from Spain, as soon as he could.

The first thing Carrillo did was talk to you, since Peña and Steve weren't alone anymore:

“So, Y/LN… You're the boss now. I hope that we can work together at the same pace.” - Carrillo smiled at you.

“Well, I can't say anything about style, but we sure make a hell of a team. I'm saying the same thing as I said to Peña and Murphy: I'm also a field agent… Don't let the high hills fool you.”

He smirked.

“Vamos, Y/LN. I've got to say hi to an old friend…”

****

Carrillo decided to put up a show: tell in grand style about who's back in town. The actual goal was putting Escobar's partners on the map, by transmission. So Carrillo would stick his nose out and so would Escobar.

He lets you, Javier and Steve mapping Escobar's spies.

About a couple hours later, he came back and you and your inside team did the best you all could to track them all.

“We captured six radio transmissions.” - Jacoby informed. - “But we haven't pinpointed the exact location.” 

“So our best bet is to corner each of these buildings. This time, we hit the ground.” - you said.

Carrillo ordered his soldier, Trujillo, to send 6 unmarked cars with 4 men each, to observe the buildings, with 20 minute-intervals to avoid attention.

After that, he called Peña to join him.

“Be careful out there.” - you warn them.

Minutes later, when you and Steve are alone, you ask:

“Steve, is he always like that? Taking Peña up and down?”

“Sometimes, Jefe… He probably just wants an update to what happened from someone he trusts… He doesn't know you yet, it's his way.“ - Steve told me.

You'd show Carrillo who you really were: a woman younger than all three (Steve, Peña and himself) whose balls were bigger. 

***

Peña, Trujillo, Carrillo and other officers captured 6 of the boys who were working for Escobar. 

They took them to a hidden alley, on Bairro Escobar.

They are on their knees, scared. Well, 5 of them, at least.

“Do you know who I am?” - Carrillo started. - “My name is Coronel Horacio Carrillo. Last week, 30 police officers were murdered.”

“Those pigs probably deserved it.” - one of them said.

“Shut up, kid.” - Javier murmured.

“Many of them were my friends. A person perched on rooftops guiding murders with radios are assassins themselves… I hope after this encounter you'll reconsider working with someone who thinks he's above the law.”

Although Javier knew Carrillo was right, something felt off. Wrong.

At the same time, Carrillo cocked his pistol.

“What?” - another boy provoked. He was no more than fifteen, brown skin. - “Am I supposed to shit my pants in fear?”

Javier's stomach ached badly. It's been a while since he was afraid of something.

“No.” - Carrillo responded, shaking his head. He pointed the gun and shot, with no hesitation.

His body just fell on the floor, like it was nothing.

“Am I making myself clear? I want you to tell your friends that this is what happens when you work for Pablo Escobar!” - he shouted.

Carrillo analyzed the boys and chose one: the youngest, probably no more than 7 years old. The boy was crying, in silence.

He bent down, looked deeply in his eyes and handed him a bullet.

“Take it.” - the little boy obeyed. - “Tell them this is for Pablo.”

Carrillo stood up again, as if nothing happened.

“Remember what you saw… And know what will happen to you if I see you on a rooftop. You can leave. Now!” 

The five boys ran as if their lives depended on it.

Javier couldn't move. He felt like throwing up. He looked at Carrillo, as if he asked something. 

Carrillo’s expression was cold and distant.

They all drove back to CNP in silence.

When they arrived back, Steve met Javi on his way out.

“Javi, where are the fucking spotters?” - Steve asked, anxious.

“Carrillo went a different way… He, uh… He cut them loose.” - Javier responded, screeching his head, tense. How the hell is he going to tell what happened?

“Oh, we're letting people go, now? I bet Y/LN will be pissed AF…”

Javi rolled his eyes and, lighting up a cigarette, said:

“Yeah, Murphy, we're letting people go.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” - Javier opened the door of his truck. He needed to leave as fast as he could. He needed a hug. He needed to feel human again.

“Hey, fucking talk to me!” - Steve demanded, interrupting the friend.

“Let go my fucking arm.” 

“What the fuck happened?!” - Steve continued to bother Javier.

Javier sighted and responded:

“Carrillo put a gun to the kid's head and pulled the trigger… To make a fucking point.”

Steve swallowed hard. 

“We good now?” - Javier mocked, entered his car and headed to the apartment complex where you all lived.

***

About late at night, you hear fervorous knocks at your door.

You were awake, since you just got home.

You pick up your gun and open the door, without noticing that you were only wearing a thin long gray dress, showing your curves.

It was Javier, looking like shit with a bottle of whiskey and a cigar in hand.

“Let me in, please, cariño.” - his brown eyes were almost black. Sad and big.

You put down the gun and let him in.

“Peña, you look like shit… What happened?” - you asked, as you both sat down on your couch and he served whiskey to both of you and put the cigar in the astray.

“Salut, cariño.” - he raised his glass.

You raised as well, drank it up and put away the glass.

“Damn, Peña. That's good stuff… You didn't answer me. What happened?” - you uttered. You knew something bad had happened. The cigar, the good whiskey, his painful expression…

“Cariño, I… I don't know how to say it.” 

“Start from the beginning, Javi… I'm right here.” - you suggested, softly.

You were genuinely concerned for him.

He kissed your lips, softly, by surprise. 

You stop after a few minutes, reaching out for air. Your apartment felt like a thousand degrees. Your body was sweating, the adrenaline was running through your veins. But, again, you’d deny even from yourself.

“Javi…” - he already knew what you're going to say and he doesn't want to hear it again. 

“Cariño, please don't. Not now. I need to forget about today's route.”

“Okay, baby boy.” - you sat on his lap and kissed him deeply. He melted under your lips, his hands touching your body, hungry.

You only needed an excuse to be with him again. 

Just one more night… - you thought.

If you were wearing pants, they'd be on fire.

“Cariño, just a heads up…” - he started.

You looked at him, confused, waiting for the rest.

“I won’t be gentle. Right now, I can't. I'm really not capable… Are you okay with it?”

You continued on his lap, but now, you put your knees on each side of his body and he involved his arms around you. Even wearing clothes, the electricity was passing through both of you.

“Show me your worst, Peña… I dare you.” - you whisper.

He smiled, but his eyes darkened with lust.

Javier literally ripped your dress, revealing your skin.

“Hey! Are you fucking crazy, Javi?” - you yell at him. - “I’m gonna fucking…” - you didn't finish, as he slapped your cheek, not enough to hurt you, he never would, but enough to surprise you and make you shut up.

“You don't speak until you're spoken to, babygirl. You don't come until I say so. You won’t do anything without me saying. If you behave like a good girl, I may let you cum. If not, I'm gonna punish you. Understood?”

You shook your head positively, incapable of believing in what was happening.

He slapped your ass, bringing you back.

“Words, cariño.”

“Yes, I understood it.” - you responded, in a low voice.

Who was that man on Javier's body and where he was the first night we were fucked? - you thought. 

“Good girl, cariño…” - he touched your body, started at your neck and went down to your waist. - “Now, how do I begin? I've got so many options, so many possibilities… I know we only had sex one time, one night, but I feel like I know your body really well, cariño.”

You looked at him, anxious, waiting.

He picked you up in his arms and took you to your bed.

“Now, we're ruining your bed, cariño.”

He ripped your panties and, with no warning, kissed your mound. You relaxed as he kissed slowly for a bit. 

He got up, leaving you clenching over nothing.

He began to take off his suit and tie, your eyes hungry for him, mouth watering.

“What do you want, cariño?” - he asked, eyes locked up with yours.

“Can I help you undress, Javi?”

“Such a polite girl… Yeah, you can.”

You took off his tie, letting it rest on the bed. Helped him with the buttons on his shirt, holding back the urge to rip them as he did with your dress.

He took off his shoes and socks and you unbuckled his belt, letting it side with the tie… You had a dirty idea, but it would have to wait a bit.

At last, his pants went down with his boxers.

He was deciding on what to do, but you couldn't wait. Your hand touched his lower belly, aiming for his dick. 

“Oh, cariño, you want to use your mouth, now? Wanna please me?”

“Yes, Javi.”

“Beg for it.” - he said in that condescending tone you hated.

“Javi, please, let me suck your dick.” - you coo.

He caressed your cheek with one hand and the other held his shaft.

“I don't think you want it enough, cariño.” - and he slowly started going up and down his length. He had a stupid cocky smile on his face.

“You know I can be better than your hand, Javi… Please, let me touch you, I'm begging you…” - your voice barely was a whisper into your room.

“Go ahead, cariño… But don't be greedy. I don't wanna come right now.”

Your lips wrapped around his tip, while he held your head. Your tongue and lips worked up and down, while one of your hands cupped his balls.

“Fuck, cariño… I knew you were missing me, but didn't know you were so hungry for my cock.”

He grabbed your hair, setting the rhythm, until you couldn't stand only worth your knees on the bed, needing to claw at his tights, and your nose almost touching his pelvis. 

He was fucking your throat and you were so wet.

His mouth was making obscene sounds, saying how good you're doing, how badly he missed you and your beautiful lips.

He slowed down the rhythm, until he stopped, taking it off your mouth. His dick was aching for more, but he wanted to come inside of you.

“You did good, cariño. Can you continue to be a good girl for me?”

“Yeah, Javi.” - you responded. Your legs were trembling, your pussy throbbing for attention.

“Lay down and open your legs for me… Yes, just like that. Tell me, where did you leave your vibrator?”

“In the bathroom, the second drawer.”

“Don't move.”

He picked it up and examined it, curious about the pink wand in his hand.

“So, you've been touching yourself in the bathroom? Door closed? Biting your lips or a towel to not make any noise?”

You don't respond to it, you’re just running away from his glaze. 

He slapped your ass again.

“Look at me while I talk to you.” - he demanded. - “Answer me!”

“Y-y-yeah, Javi. I was doing it in the bathroom, biting a towel.” - you murmured.

“Now, you're gonna show me what you've been denying from me to hear, such as in person as through these walls… But don't come. Not until I say so.” - and handed you the vibrator.

“But Javi, I can't control myself when I use it…”

He smiled, the same sly smile you knew and hated.

“That's not my problem. You come when I say it.” - he was being ruthless towards you.

With your right hand shaking, you started to use your wand on the softest mode, as you were so aroused since it all started.

Your room was filled with vibration sounds and your moans. Your eyes looking at his figure, wishing he’d do something to you instead. 

You were also a hundred percent sure Javier was punishing you somehow. He wanted to prove himself again.

Javier, on the other hand, was admiring you. The way your pupils were dilated, your body was shaking, your smooth skin chilling, your beautiful pussy soaking wet… If he could, he'd take a picture just to eternalize that moment.

“O-o-oh fuck, Javi… I can't take it anymore… I'm so close, please, let me come!” - you beg.

He smirked at you.

“Oh, cariño, you're close?” - he leaned towards you, as if he was going to enter at your pussy. It only made it worse and closer, as you could almost feel his scent and his warm skin.

“Holyfuck, Javi, please! Please let me!” - you beg, desperately.

He grabbed his belt, tied your wrists together, holding your vibrator in your clitoris. After, he shoved his dick inside of you.

“Go ahead, cariño. Come for me and on me.” - he ordered.

You thank God he said that. You squealed his name high, releasing all of your juices onto him.

You were positively sure you woke up your neighbors.

“Oh, fuck! So good for me, cariño.” - Javier praised you.

He continued without any pity towards you, pounding hard inside you. 

Not only you’re embarrassingly wet, you were so overstimulated that the orgasm was knocking at your pussy again, so fast

“I love when you yell my name, cariño!” - he said, full of bliss.

“Javier, for god's sake!” - you yell again.

“¡Mierda! Cariño, are you close again?” - he asked with a devilish tone. - “What a delicious greedy pussy, missing me so much… Oh, fuck!”

Tears began to go down your face. It was impossible to hold anything more and, without his permission, you came again, your body shaking vigorously.

“Holy fuck, Y/N!” - It was his time to yell your name as loud as he could. - “I can... I can feel... You're so fucking tight, you're gonna rip my dick off!"

He untied you and turned off your wand. It relieved you for a bit, but he laid on top of you and chased his own orgasm. 

After he came, you both lay next to each other, gasping for air, eyes locked up to each other.

“I missed you so much, Javi…” - you reveal.

He smiled, happy. His hand went to your cheek, fondling.

“Yo también te extrañe, cariño. You have no idea…” (I missed you too.)

“I think I do, Javi… Te extrañe todos los malditos días desde la primera noche.” (I missed you all those damn days, since the first night.)

“Gracias a Díos, cariño. I thought I was alone in this mess.” (Thanks God.)

You laughed together.

“You can't pretend that you don't want to be with me anymore, cariño. I'm serious.” - he declared.

You sighed.

“I know, Javi… But we also know it's not that simple… We work together, I'm your boss, Escobar is on the run…”

“We can take it slow, we don't have to do anything you don't feel like it. But don't push me away again.” - Javier begged you.

“I really don't know how to, Javi. I don't know how to. I haven't dated since…” - you didn't finish.

His eyes were soft and warm, like cocoa on a winter night. Your heart felt like an ice cube on the sun, again. 

“Since your ex, Ben?” - he asked.

“Yep.” - you responded, popping the “p”. - “‘It’s not gonna be easy for you, so I’d like to warn you: if you have anything to tell me, tell me as soon as possible. I’m not gonna demand you to do it now, but think if you have anything to tell me, and if you do, you can.”

“First, we need to get to know each other. Build trust and I’m not talking about the field. Let’s get to know each other, talk, laugh, have sex, grab a bite. We’re neighbors, we don’t even need to leave our apartments if you don’t want to.”

“No one can know about us, Javier Jesus Peña. Not even Murphy.”

“Don’t worry about it, cariño.” - he pecked your lips softly.

“And please, don’t sleep with anyone else and it includes your informants.” - you rolled your eyes. - “I know, it’s stupid since we’re not in a relationship, but if you want to do it, please, just end this… this thing we’re about to begin. I’m not saying that again.”

“Cariño, for God’s sake!” - Javier laughed, his hand left your face to your waist. - “No one ever made me feel this way.” - you laughed. - “I’m serious, hermosa. Don’t worry about it.”

You breathe out heavily.

“Well, let’s see how it goes.” - you say, still not allowing your heart to sink further. - “We need a shower, Javi. Care to join me?”

He smiled and you both entered your bathroom... But Javier's mind didn't care for sleeping. He still needed to punish you for coming without his permission, while you were filling the bathtub, distracted.

"Of course, cariño... Besides, you haven't exactly been a good girl for me for a few days. Don't think I'll let you escape that easily."

Your eyes went to his naked figure, surprised.

"Oh, I thought I was off the hook..."

Next

[jerzwriter]

The Great Outdoors

Thank you to @petiteboheme for this ask. And yep, once again, it exceeds 100, but it's all good! This actually ties nicely into an old edit of mine, New Adventures, so I imagine this little scene taking place during that trip. Thanks so much for the ask! :)

Book: Open Heart (Book 3 timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 656 Summary: Casey proves she'd do just about anything for love when Tobias takes her camping. A/N: Participating in @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 2, Stars

Casey stepped out of the camper, applying a dab of chamomile lotion onto a mosquito bite. One of her collection of mosquito bites. She had just finished showering if you could call it that. She had gone twenty-eight years without knowing solar showers were a thing, and she was quite confident she could go another twenty-eight without using one ever again.   

She made her way over to Tobias, sitting by the lake, eager to claim the space at his side. After a quick side hug, she fell back to the soft earth beneath her and gazed up at the stars. She never saw this many in Boston, nor back home in Philadelphia. They looked so close she felt she could reach out and touch them, and it was magical, though she wasn’t about to admit that.  

“I can’t believe you took me camping,” she groaned, catching the smirk on his lips out of the corner of her eye.

“What?” He fell to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. He was well aware that this wasn’t her thing... and that was putting it lightly. But she knew how much it meant to him, so she was willing to try, and that meant more to him than she could possibly know. “Is it really that bad?”

His voice was sincere, a marked departure from his usual bravado, and when she looked into his aqua-blue eyes, glistening in the moonlight, there was no way she could let him down.

“It would be,” she grinned, reaching up to caress his cheek. “It would be if you weren’t here.”

She only saw the smile her words elicited for a split second because, before she knew it, his warm lips were on top of hers. His arms enveloping her as she pulled him close, surrendering in a deep, passionate kiss. Surrounded by such beauty and lost in the moment’s rapture, it was hard to remember that they weren’t the only two people in the world, and suddenly, she understood the appeal. Pulling back breathlessly, they lay there, lost in each other’s eyes. 

“I know this isn’t your thing, baby, but you’re still willing to try for me, and you have no idea how much that means to me.”

“Hmmm, you know I’d be willing to do just about anything for you,” she smiled as he eyes went afire.

“Oh, honey, now that’s an open invitation,” he growled as she began to giggle. “I hope you know how much I love you.”

“I think I have an inkling,” she assured. “And I’m camping, so I don’t have to explain how much I love you.”

“Do you think you’d do it again?” he asked earnestly.

“Mmm, I might be persuaded. But only if there is indoor plumbing next time. I nearly had to wrestle a peeping tom raccoon as I quasi-showered!”

“Hey,” Tobias laughed, “I can’t blame the raccoon. I’d be wanting to sneak a peak at this, too!”

His lips captured her again, and he rolled atop her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. He was about to cross an item off his bucket list when a howl in the distance stopped Casey cold.

“What is that?” she asked in horror.

“I’m assuming it’s a coyote.”

Casey stood up and rushed back to the camper before finishing the sentence. “Then we need to take this inside!” she insisted as she ran inside. “It won’t be able to break into it, right?”

“Not unless it grows opposable thumbs, hon.”

“And the likelihood of that?”

“None.”

After quickly locking the camper door behind him, he resumed his place atop his beautiful girlfriend. 

“Now, where were we?”

“You were trying to show me how camping can be fun.”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned, pulling her shirt over her head. “It the camper’s rocking, don’t come knocking.”

“Mmm,” she giggled beneath him. “Tell that to the coyote.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Other tags on reblog.

[aruku-gram]

Voice Drama - Avarice of Ambivalence

Transcript:

Kitsune: [places paws on Elliot’s face] Hey, wake up, sleepyhead!

Elliot: [groggy mumbling]

Kitsune: [sighs] This always happens… Come on, get up!

Elliot: …Do I have to…?

Kitsune: Yes, you do! 

Elliot: [sits up, headache spiking] Ouch… Getting up is painful…

Kitsune: [snorts] This is what happens when you overeat and oversleep. Anyways, come on, up! I have a lot to tell you!

Elliot: …Overeating? Did I… eat too much for dinner yesterday?

Elliot: …I can’t remember. Actually, a lot of things are a blur…

Kitsune: That’s normal! It’s why I have to talk to you, actually. 

Elliot: …Really? In that case, thank you.

Kitsune: [scoffs affectionately] No need to thank me! Here, follow me, I’ll bring you somewhere that might bring back some of your memories. To the Panopticon we go! [footsteps]

Elliot: Panopticon?

Kitsune: Put simply, it’s a place where you can observe all the prisoners as you wish.

Elliot: …Prisoners?

Kitsune: [pauses footsteps] …You forgot even that?

Elliot: …Ngh… I think… No, I remember. This is… Aruku-gram, right?

Kitsune: [resumes footsteps] Mhmm! Anything else you remember? I’ll help you fill in any gaps.

Elliot: There’s… 10 prisoners. We observe their behaviour - past and present. And… we judge their wrongdoings, based on that.

Kitsune: You’re so indirect when describing what this place is for! You can just say that you’re judging their sins, you know.

Kitsune: And there is no ‘we’. You’re the one handing out judgements.

Elliot: …Then, what are you here for?

Kitsune: [offended cry] Are you implying I’m useless?! I’m a great cook, you know! And my fur is soft. If you’re nice to me, I’ll even let you touch my ears.

Elliot: …No thanks.

Kitsune: [shrugs] Suit yourself. I’ll be here whether you like it or not anyways, Elliot.

Elliot: Elliot… That’s my name?

Kitsune: If it’s not your name, then whose would it be?

Elliot: [momentary silence]

Elliot: And… Your name is…

Kitsune: Just call me Kitsune!

Elliot: …But that’s not a name.

Kitsune: I never said it was. I just told you to call me that.

Elliot: …You don’t want to tell me your name?

Kitsune: Nope!

Elliot: May I ask why?

Kitsune: You may! The answer’s simple, really. I just don’t want to.

Elliot: Oh. That’s fair, I suppose.

Kitsune: [pauses a little and looks up] And you haven’t earned it yet.

Elliot: …

Kitsune: Well, you don’t need to concern yourself with matters like that! Just focus on the tour.

Kitsune: Here we have the facilities, like the prisoners’ communal bathrooms. Opposite that is the storage room. Then we have the hall and a smaller room… It was originally meant to be an entertainment room, but it can be anything you want it to be. Order in a bunch of stuffed animals or use it as extra storage, I don’t care. 

Elliot: Order… in?

Kitsune: Yep! As Administrators, one privilege we have and can use with our discretion is the acquisition of outside goods into the prison - so long as it’s nothing that doesn’t exist yet, I suppose. 

Elliot: …What about the prisoners?

Kitsune: They can request things, but it goes through us first. Well, you, mostly. I’m too fabulous to be dealing with boring stuff like that. 

Kitsune: You also get to decide other things like curfew and general prison rules, such as any punishments. Isn’t it cool?

Elliot: …Or, you can’t be bothered to be dealing with those things, so you shove them into my lap instead…

Kitsune: [gasps dramatically] True, but you didn’t have to call me out like that! 

Elliot: I’m… I don’t think I’m a person who can make decisions like that, though.

Kitsune: [shrugs] Well, it’s your responsibility now. You can get used to it now, or scramble to keep things in order a few months in. 

Elliot: …

Kitsune: And at the end of this hallway is your room! Opposite that is my room. You’re not allowed to enter unless I say so, by the way!

Elliot: I have no desire to enter your room. [mumbles]…This is a long hallway.

Kitsune: [sigh] Kids these days, no curiosity whatsoever…

Elliot: I’m 18. 

Kitsune: A kid!

Elliot: …

Kitsune: And this would be a long hallway for someone like you, I guess. 

Elliot: … [awkward silence]

Kitsune: Swing that door open, aaaand… we’re here! The Panopticon! Behold the ingenious architecture and- wait, where are you going? Wait up, don’t just storm ahead!

Elliot: …

Kitsune: Are you really that angry over me calling you a kid?

Elliot: …

Elliot: …No.

Kitsune: [sighs] Humans, I swear. 

Kitsune: But the tour continues! We’re standing at the north of the dome right now. If you think of the Panopticon as a clock, then we’re standing at the 12 o’clock position! And along the sides of the ‘clock’ are the prisoners’ cells. 

Elliot: And… each prisoner’s inmate number corresponds with their metaphorical clock position. Am I right in assuming that?

Kitsune: You’d be correct. Should I start introducing the prisoners to you? Well?

Elliot: …I haven’t met them before?

Kitsune: Would you have remembered if you met them? With what memory?

Elliot: …No, I guess not.

Kitsune: Don’t worry, you have me - your trusty vulpine companion - here to help!

Kitsune: Starting at the 1 o’clock position, we have prisoner number one - Kobayashi Rokurou! You’ll have your hands full with him, I’m pretty sure. He’s almost succeeded in assaulting other prisoners multiple times at this point, if I remember correctly.

Elliot: You don’t remember something as noteworthy as that?

Kitsune: Hey, it’s my first time meeting him as well! Or any of these prisoners, really. 

Elliot: …

Kitsune: How many times are you going to judge me over the course of one conversation? 

Elliot: How did you learn of his actions if you yourself haven’t even met the prisoners yet?

Kitsune: A girl has her secrets~~

Elliot: You’re a girl?

Kitsune: Sometimes. But that’s not important right now! And don’t worry if he threatens to punch you too. As Administrators, we cannot be hurt by the Prisoners.

Elliot: …How?

Kitsune: [sighs heavily] You’re really ruining the mystery vibe… Well, it’s not important to your role as the Warden so I won’t waste my breath explaining, but I can give you a hint: It’s Kitsune Magic ~✩

Elliot: That’s not much of a hint at all.

Kitsune: And you’re not much of a Warden, but here we are.

Kitsune: Onto prisoner number two! At the 2 o’clock position, we have - drumroll please - Arai Hisayo!

Elliot: I don’t get the reference.

Kitsune: Of course you don’t, you won’t remember.

Kitsune: Anyways, Hisayo-chan! She’s rather timid and doesn’t like interacting with other people. Apparently she always looks like she’s 5 seconds from crying, or so I’ve heard. 

Elliot: ‘Heard’... Not magical at all.

Kitsune: Magic is subjective! Moving on, prisoner number three! Hashimoto Nao, a nice and friendly middle-aged lady. Personally, I like her the best!

Elliot: Why?

Kitsune: She’s just cool like that. Oh, but she’s also the one I hate the most.

Elliot: That makes no sense…

Kitsune: Don’t judge me with your human sensibilities. The only ones you can fairly judge are other humans - which is why you’re here! And why I'm not the one handing out judgements.

Elliot: I see…

Kitsune: Prisoner number four! Hasegawa Mihane, a serious-looking prisoner. Look, even her uniform looks professional! 

Elliot: I do have one question… The prisoners are wearing ‘uniforms’, are they not?

Kitsune: Yep!

Elliot: But they do not look ‘uniform’ at all. All of their garbs are… so different.

Kitsune: Aruku-gram doesn’t do things for no reason. In fact, everything it does is for the same exact reason. So, in that sense, why do you think it allows for individuality rather than conformity?

Elliot: …Ah. I see. 

Kitsune: See, I knew you’d get there eventually!

Kitsune: And now, we have prisoner number five - Miyara Shion! He may be taller than prisoner number one, but don’t let that fool you: he’s the youngest of all Aruku-gram prisoners!

Elliot: So, a child… Why is he here?

Kitsune: For the same reason as everyone else! He’s committed an unspeakable crime - murder! Or something. I’m not clear on the specifics. And he's  not the only child here, anyhow.

Elliot: Clearly not an unspeakable crime if you can speak about it.

Kitsune: Um, fuck you?! 

Elliot: Hehe.

Kitsune: Moving on to prisoner number six! Murakami Choka, a middle school student. I think. She’s very jumpy all the time, but she’s well liked by the others.

Elliot: …

Kitsune: What? Nothing else to say?

Elliot: …Not really. I just don’t like the fact that there are young children in this prison. I… don’t know why I feel this way, so strongly.

Kitsune: Hm. It’s probably some human thing. Sorry, I can’t help you with that!

Kitsune: Personally, I believe all children deserve the guilty verdict.

Elliot: …Why?

Kitsune: They’re annoying.

Elliot: For such a frivolous reason, you’d give them a guilty verdict…?

Kitsune: Why not? Judge them based on whatever standards you wish. How much you like them, hate them, or how attractive they are. Or on whether or not they like pineapples on pizza. I heard that is a point of contention in human society? 

Kitsune: It doesn’t really matter. The verdicts won’t affect us.

Elliot: …I see.

Kitsune: Oh, but they do affect the prisoners. Quite a lot, actually.

Elliot: !!

Kitsune: But that’s not our problem. Onto the next prisoner!

Kitsune: Prisoner number 7 - Ikeshiro Kei! He’s… boring. That’s all I know of him.

Elliot: ?

Kitsune: Oh, come on. He’s unremarkable, what else do you want me to say? He’s like… every human you can find. Quiet, minds his own business, never gets in any trouble - except whatever got him in Aruku-gram in the first place, probably.

Elliot: …I’m not sure why I expected more from you. Is there anything else you can tell me?

Kitsune: Hm… He’ll turn 18 in a few months?

Elliot: …Interesting. I guess. 

Kitsune: Don’t you be boring too… anyways. In the 8 o’clock position, there’s prisoner number eight, Kikuchi Tomoaki! They’re a bit annoying, but I’ve figured out a way to shut them up for a while. Just put a book in their face and they’ll be too distracted reading to bother you.

Elliot: …Thanks for the information? I’m not sure I’ll use it at all.

Kitsune: It’s my job to assist in yours! But I think I get your point. In fact, I think you guys would get along quite well…

Elliot: I don’t plan on getting close to any of the prisoners.

Kitsune: No? It’s not prohibited to do so, you know?

Elliot: I still have no plans to do so. 

Kitsune: Woah, such an unromantic warden… 

Kitsune: Well, you’re also free to not engage in amorous affairs with prisoners. Not my business. We now have prisoner number nine, Narukawa Chisachi! She’s actually quite a successful singer and dancer!

Elliot: She’s both?

Kitsune: She is! To be honest, I’ve watched a few of her performances online, and I gotta say… I don’t get the hype.

Elliot: …

Kitsune: I mean, she’s cool and all, but she’s not super remarkable or anything.

Elliot: …Okay? I haven’t watched them, so I wouldn’t know. 

Kitsune: Oh come on, you’re allowed to have an opinion, you know? Even based on superficial factors like how you think she looks right now. Sleeping…

Elliot: I’d prefer to see it for myself first before making my judgement.

Kitsune: You’re such a blank slate of a Warden…

Elliot: You said I could do as I wish. 

Kitsune: I did, but-

Elliot: I would like to see everything for myself, before making any judgements. I don’t want to decide anything without looking at the full picture.

Kitsune: And what if the full picture is not available?

Elliot: …

Kitsune: Face it, Elliot. An objective truth is unattainable, especially for someone like you - so why bother trying to strive for it?

Kitsune: You’re free to fail as you wish. I’ll be here to support you either way. Anyways, here we have the last prisoner: number 10, Hirano Mio! He’s a really social guy and is actually the person that frequents the ‘entertainment room’ the most. 

Elliot: …Oh. He sounds… exhausting to deal with.

Kitsune: For you, maybe! But as for me, I think he’s the second best prisoner. I would give him the innocent verdict, to be honest.

Elliot: I thought it didn’t matter to us which verdict a prisoner is given? I’m surprised a self-serving kitsune like you would care like that.

Kitsune: Well, I don’t want him to lose his outgoing personality. That’s all.

Kitsune: Aaaand we’ve gone through all of the prisoners! Remember to talk to them yourself as well to understand them some more.

Elliot: You just told me to not strive for a full picture.

Kitsune: No, I just told you that it’s unattainable. Striving for it or not while knowing that is your decision.

Kitsune: Anyways, now-

Elliot: What about the eleven o’clock room?

Kitsune: Oh, that one? There’s nothing in it.

Elliot: That’s not a cell door. It looks… heavy. Like it’s made to keep something in. 

Kitsune: It’s not a cell anymore. Just ignore it. 

Elliot: But- [bell rings] What’s that?

Kitsune: It’s wake-up time! You get to meet the prisoners while they’re conscious now! Oh yeah, just remember: no doubts, no hesitation, and no regrets! Go with what you think is best. 

Elliot: …I don’t think I can get rid of all those things from my mind… But I can try.

Kitsune: Oh, I don’t really expect that, but humans like to think in extremes, no?

Elliot: …You’re right.

Kitsune: Go on, Eli! Go announce yourself. Solidify yourself as the authority inside this prison.

Elliot: Eli…?

Kitsune: A nickname!

Elliot: …[chuckles slightly]

Elliot: [deep breath, then exhale] Good morning, prisoners. My name is Elliot. This place is Aruku-gram prison, and I am the prison guard. This prison serves to judge all of your crimes. I do not know much about you, other than that each and every one of you, in some manner, has caused the death of another. I hope to get to know all of you, in order to gain a better understanding of you and your crime. 

Elliot: Welcome to Aruku-gram. Have a nice life in prison.

[punsmaster69]

26/OCT/20XX

"Papyrus, sit still! I'm gonna accidentally poke your eye out! ..Wait."

"I WOULD NOT FEEL IT IF YOU POKED MY EYE SOCKET."

"Yeah, I guess that's not a worry with you."

"...."

"But, really, stop moving! I'm gonna mess it up!"

paps has never been the kind of person who's able to be still for very long, and getting his face painted hasn't been any exception.

he really only sits still when focused on something, so i glanced around for anything i could hand him to keep his hands busy.

'a book?

maybe a-'

that train of thought was interrupted by an

"Oops."

followed by a paint sponge dropping into my eye socket.

"...Sans. I dropped the sponge in your eye."

"yeah. i can t-"

frisk started to jam their hand inside, trying to get it out.

"kid-"

"stop-"

"Got it."

"....."

"You good?"

"don't-"

"don't do that ever again."

"Sorry. Did it hurt?"

"kinda just intrusive."

"you gotta ask next time before you start shovin' your hands in someone's skull, ok?"

"Sorry."

"..what're you painting so close to my eye, anyway?"

"You'll see."

they resumed painting with a concentrated look on their face.

"Papyrus."

"YES?"

"If you don't stop moving,"

undyne slapped her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm going to buckle you in place."

"hey, no buckling my brother to chairs."

"besides, there's a better solution than that."

"hold on a moment, kiddo. i'll be right back."

yep, right where they always are.

a neat arrangement of solved puzzle cubes in different colors and patterns sits proudly displayed on papyrus' desk.

i picked one and headed back downstairs.

"What did you get?"

"YES, WH-"

"HEY??"

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MY BEAUTIFUL DISPLAY, GREATLY PRESENTING MY OWN PUZZLING APTITUDE?!"

papyrus took the scrambled cube from me, and began flipping the sides immediately.

seemed to work, because i didn't hear undyne tell him off even once after that.

——

"Aaaaaannndddd... done!"

"Wait, close your eyes again."

"ok."

frisk added a little more above my eye.

"NOW done."

"cool. what is it?"

frisk flipped a little makeup mirror to face me.

"whoa."

"Whoa?"

they'd painted blue butterfly wings around my eye sockets. frisk's concentrated face while painting made a lot more sense now.

"honestly?"

"i fully expected to be a clown."

"I thought about it, but that's too obvious."

"Plus, I wanted to actually try painting something good."

"Whoa. That's cool."

frisk looked proud of their handiwork.

"done with papyrus' yet?"

"Yeah. Awesome, right?!"

undyne took the mirror from frisk and aimed it at paps.

"OOH!"

"...(WHAT IS IT?)"

"(Fire.)"

"COOL!!"

frisk made a face.

"Do you guys not know any adjectives other than 'cool'?"

"OF COURSE I DO!! I ALSO KNOW 'SUPERCALIFRAGILISTICEXPIALIDOCIOUS'!!!"

with a confused look, undyne turned to me.

"Is that even a real word??"

"yep."

"OF COURSE IT IS. HE TAUGHT IT TO ME, AND SANS KNOWS LOTS OF BIG WORDS!!"

"What does that mean, anyway?"

"IT'S USED TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING THAT IS VERY COOL!!"

"All those letters just to say 'cool' again????"

"NO, IT-

"...WAIT, YOU'RE RIGHT. THAT IS JUST 'COOL' AGAIN BUT WITH THIRTY EXTRA LETTERS."

"We GOTTA learn some new ways to describe things."

"Sans! What's another word for 'cool'?"

"magnificent?"

"No."

"stupendous?"

"No!"

"extraordinary?"

"No."

"splendiferous?"

"Why are they all so long?!"

frisk held up their phone.

"Hold on, Toriel wants to see the face paint. Pose!"

paps and undyne put up matching peace signs automatically.

"CAN WE SEE THE PICTURE?"

"Yeah, here."

"......"

"cool."

frisk slapped their palm to their forehead.

——

he was at it for the rest of the night, but papyrus did re-solve his puzzle cube.

i think i'll get him another one soon.