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dilemmaontwolegs · 11 months

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Already Gone || MV1 {6}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: The brief moment of quiet comes to an end when Ferrari go on the attack for retribution. Warnings: 18+ only, oral, smut, violence WC: 2.7k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

You had fired the warning shot and there was nothing to be done but wait and see how Ferrari would respond to their stocks plummeting.

With no races for the next two weeks you had too much spare time that it left you itching to do something, anything. After years of living life on a whim, moving from place to place faster than Max with his DRS, all this time at home was taking some getting used to.

The house was tidy, the laundry was done, you even started to log into the dark web to see if there were any jobs waiting before realising that it wasn’t your job anymore. You were part of a small team that worked under the very loose term of security but reported directly to Christian. With Ferrari scrambling for sponsors to finance their team, it had been relatively quiet for you in recent weeks.

After pottering around in the kitchen you decided it was five o’clock somewhere in the world and broke out the blender. Armed with two cocktails, and nothing left to keep you busy while Max streamed, you made your way upstairs and decided to watch his race with the rest of the Redline team.

You saw his smile grow in the small box in the corner of his screen when he spotted you pass through the doorway behind him and he risked crashing as he steered with one hand so the other could pull you onto his lap.

“I wondered when you would get bored,” he commented as he continued leading the race.

“It seemed the perfect excuse for some day drinking,” you said as you held his glass up to his lips so he could take a sip as he steered.

“Oh fuck, that’s strong,” he said with a cough before taking another drink anyway.

The chat box started to go crazy with the amount of comments coming through and you scanned over them until one caught your eye and you snorted a laugh.

user1: Max, I hacked your computer and have your sex tape. Pay me €1m or I’ll release it.

“No one can get past my firewalls, but nice try!” you said before you leant towards the camera and childishly poked your tongue out.

“Babe, babe,” Max called as he shifted around trying to see the screen before his car crashed and he threw his hands in the air, nearly sending the drinks flying. “Ah, come on." His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan before he placed a quick kiss in the same spot. "Gianni says thanks.”

user2: Uh-oh! Someone’s in trouble now. user3: Y/N coming and ruining it for the rest of us.

“I was just giving the other guys a chance to win,” you said for the chat before turning to Max and kissing his cheek, “so your friends will still want to play with you.”

user4: such a mommy thing to say user5: Did everyone else miss the fact Y/N just confirmed they made a sex tape!

Since Max no longer needed his arms to drive, they curled around your waist as he read the comments with you, answering some questions along the way.

“No, we haven't…well, not on purpose,” he said as he saw the last comment. “I forget how many security cameras she has set up around the house and there’s always new ones, so it just happens.”

user3: Sounds like Y/N is keeping Max in prison. Blink twice if you need help.

His laugh teased your skin as he rested his chin on your shoulder and unplugged his headphones so you could hear Gianni and Diogo teasing him.

“Alright,” he cut them off with a roll of his eyes when they took things too far as always happened. “That's enough internet for one day, I’m going to go and get drunk with my lovely warden.”

“That’s sarcasm, for those about to call the police,” you pointed out as you held his bored face up to the camera. “I know it’s hard to tell with this stoic, handsome face.”

Max chuckled as he closed the platform and you shifted on his lap to get more comfortable. “Are there any videos?”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you confirmed after finishing your drink while you thought of all the places in the house you had gotten carried away with each other. “I haven’t actually checked though, but now I just might. Maybe I can make a video for when you’re away.”

“For you or for me?” he asked as his hands ran up your thighs slowly.

“I might share with you if you ask me nicely.”

The sim chair went sliding back before Max stood up with you in his arms and he navigated the hall to cage you beneath him on the bed. You could taste the gin on his tongue before he trailed his lips down your neck and across your collarbone.

“Is this you asking?”

He hummed his answer against your skin and his fingers popped the button on your jeans. “Nicely.”

“You certainly know how to get your way,” you praised, lifting your hips so he could drag them down your legs before you sat up just long enough to pull your shirt off.

“I learned from the best,” he teased with a wink before he tugged your body to the edge of the bed and fell to his knees between your spread legs. His breath was warm on your thighs and the short hairs that shadowed his cheeks left you writhing before his lips even made contact.

“Maxxxxx,” you whined as he kissed everywhere except where you needed it most.

“Yes?”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows so you could see the smirk on his lips. “This is not my definition of ‘nicely’.”

“Patience, liefje.”

“Patience was never my strongest virtue,” you warned before you used a move that was meant for close combat and ended with Max on his back on the carpet and you straddling his chest. “I want you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled as his hands gripped your thighs and pulled you higher up his body, lining your centre with his lips. “Impatient little minx.”

You moaned as his tongue finally found your sweet spot after all the teasing and your hips rolled as you buried your hands in his hair and rode his face.

You had never had a lover like him, one that was more focused on your pleasure than his own. One orgasm wasn’t enough, he wanted you weak and overstimulated, your arousal running down his chin as he held your hips tightly so you couldn’t escape his tongue.

Your body was more than wet enough to take him when he kicked his shorts away and you sunk down his hard length. But your cunt was tight from the orgasms and the air left your lungs as he filled you so deeply it was almost to the point of pain.

“Need a moment?” he asked as his thumb reached between your legs and found your clit.

You did but, as he said, you were impatient and planted your palms on his chest as you slowly started to ease yourself up and down his cock. The sounds of your breathing changed as pleasure began to build and Max grinned as he gripped your hips knowing you were ready for more. He shifted beneath you, his knees bending so he could have the leverage he needed before he slammed up into you.

You cried his name out as your bodies slapped together and his strong hands bounced you in time to his thrusts. Every stroke dragged him along your walls that fluttered around him and you swore in ecstasy as his head hit your cervix.

Sweat beaded on your forehead, your legs trembled uncontrollably and you could barely open your eyes when his hold finally eased. There was no way you were going to be able to make it to the bed as you rolled off his body and collapsed to the carpet beside him

You were just about to open your mouth and ask him to drag the bedsheet down to the floor when your smartwatch lit up on your wrist. The alert was for the silent alarm that had been triggered on the perimeter of the property and all the oxytocin and dopamine released thanks to Max was replaced with adrenaline. Strength flooded back to you as you rose to your feet and grabbed a white shirt of Max’s that was close by.

“Lock the door behind me,” you ordered Max with a whisper as he noticed the change instantly. “And call Christian.”

“What’s going on?” he asked, pulling his shorts up as he made his way to the door too.

“Someone’s in the house.” You grabbed his shoulder as he went to step out of the room and pushed him aside. “Do not leave the room until I’m back. This is my job.”

“You’re my girlfriend, I’m not going to let you go alone.”

“Right now I’m your security,” you hissed quietly as you watched the camera feed in the small device, “and I will knock you out if it means keeping you safe.”

He held his palms up and took a step back into the room until you nodded in satisfaction. “Be safe.”

The worry in his tone brought a small smile to your face. “Always.” The door clicked shut behind you before the lock slid into place and the smile faded. It was time to go hunting.

You swiped across the device on your arm, flipping through all the cameras to determine there were three men in the house. They were still on the ground floor and making their way around each corner with the ease of a group that was used to working together.

Pulling Max’s shirt over your body, you wished you had time to at least put on a pair of panties. That was the last thought you spared before gripping the handrail of the stairs and shutting out everything but the task ahead of you. These men would not make it to the stairs, they would not make it to your bedroom, they would not make it to Max.

You timed it perfectly.

The billowing shirt caught the air as you leapt over the handrail and crashed feet first onto the man who had stepped into your path. He was lucky he didn’t look up because Max would have probably killed him for what be would have seen. Instead your heel connected with his head and he was a crumpled heap on the floor before you had even got back on your feet.

“She’s in here! You, find Verstappen and break his fucking hands.”

You dropped your hips low as you spun to face the voice behind you, tucking your head behind your forearms as a fist tried to kiss your cheek. The blow glanced off your arm but the crunch on knuckles on plastic rendered your smartwatch broken.

“Dick,” you growled as you lost the camera feed, and the position of the third asshole who had broken into your home. Angered even more so, you took the offensive and attacked.

The man was well trained as he dipped and dodged your 1-2 combo but he wasn’t expecting the furious headbutt you threw when he stepped in for a body shot. Light exploded behind your eyes as the man stumbled back with a groan before he stabilised himself with the wall.

“You’re a scrapper, aren’t you?” he laughed as he wiped the blood from his forehead before it ran into his eyes.

“Raised in the streets, sweetcheeks,” you smirked. If it wasn’t for the gin and adrenaline your head would probably be aching beyond belief but you couldn’t feel it just yet. “Who hired you?”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

“Worth a try,” you said with a shrug. “At least I know there’s no reason to leave any of you conscious.”

This time when the man attacked you didn’t try to stop him, you let him shove his weight into you and took him with you to the floor. Your knees caught his gut and when the momentum shifted, you pushed up with all your strength and sent him barreling into the solid oak front door. The wood cracked under the hit it took and you waited a moment to see if the man would rise.

A sound of annoyance rumbled from your throat as he tried to crawl on his knees and you shook your head. “You have one hard head, sweetcheeks.”

“Fuck. You,” he spat back, using the door handle to pull himself up.

“No, thanks,” you swung your knee up and knocked the air out of him, satisfied he wouldn’t be trying to get up again when he slumped to the floor. “I have taste.”

A shadow crossed the floor from the other end of the hall and you spun around to see the last assailant darting from the kitchen to the living room. Aiming to cut him off, you took the other archway into the large room and found him armed with a very expensive vase.

“We weren’t interrupting something, were we?” he asked as he eyed up the length of skin showing beneath Max’s shirt and you pulled the material back into place as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Lucky for you we had just finished. If not, your friends would be dead.”

The vase was a gift from Max’s mother no less, and the man threw it at your head. You were torn between trying to catch it and self preservation but self preservation won as you slid out of the trajectory and it shattered across the living room floor. Shards went flying and Achilles hissed as he shot off the couch with the fright.

That’s when you saw red.

A sound akin to a warcry erupted from you as you ran and tackled the man around the waist, shoving your shoulder into his ribs as you both went down.

“You.” Your fist splattered blood across the carpet as it broke his nose. “Scared.” The skin on your knuckles split with a hard punch to the man’s side. “My.” Your nose wrinkled at the sound of his ribs cracking. “Cat!” You fell back on your heels panting as the man struggled to breathe.

The rapid thumping of feet running down the stairs had you rushing back to your feet thinking there was a fourth intruder but it was Max who skidded around the corner.

“You’re meant to wait for me,” you said as the fight left you exhausted and you swayed on your feet.

His arms were there to catch you and he scooped you off your feet and he kissed your sweaty forehead. “I heard you scream.”

“They scared Achilles,” you said with a wince at the touch and he pulled back, his eyes widening as he saw the swelling of the bruise beginning.

“You’re hurt.” The living room gave way to the kitchen and Max placed you on the countertop as he grabbed the first aid kit from under the bench.

“I might have a headache.”

“Stop being so tough,” he warned as he cracked the rapid ice pack open and placed it to your head. “Brett’s on his way, so is Christian.”

You bit your lip as he wiped your knuckles with disinfectant and the alcohol burned the cuts before he gently wrapped them with gauze.

“Does this mean we have to move?” he asked as he stepped between your legs and took over holding the ice pack in place. It was almost hard to imagine that on the other side of the wall there were three men unconscious when he stood in such an intimate position.

Your head snapped back to look him in the eyes. “No, this is my home. I’ll be damned if I let anyone take that away from me again.”

He swallowed before nodding in agreement. “Okay, then teach me to fight.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead and you winced as it sparked fresh pain. “What?”

“This is our home. I’m not going to let you defend it alone, again.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as the doorbell rang and Brett called out. “This is my fight too.”

“Your fight with Ferrari is out on the track.”

“Not anymore.”

Click here for chapter seven.

Tagging: @octaviareina @omgsuperstarg @mvclff1 @alwaysclassyeagle @icantcomeupwithamusicalname-blog @laneyspaulding19 @booknerd2004-blog @mimimarvelingmarvel @chonkybonky @vita-di-moda @formulas-bitch @untitled1279

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

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g-xix · 2 months

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oh my days did u hear about wilbur soot literally physically abusing shelby

YESYESYES I DID!!!

For the girlies that don't know: I was a minecraft girlie in 2021.

And Wilbur Soot was a big part of that MC phase. He was undeniably hot, but he was also quite open ab mental health stuffs + created quite a safe space for minorities whether that be the gay community, mental health talking space... That's all from the top of my head. In short - he's hot and an empath and ppl liked that ab him

He also kinda showed his "quirky loco character" in music vids or just in streams.

Kinda ironic he's now fulfilling the role that character he mockingly made, tho.

What did he do? Well, he was in a relationship w Shelby Shubble and his way of showing "affection" would be to bite her. Kinda understand biting as a way of showing love as long as it's not life threatening, painful, or in aggression... I mean, ChrisMD does that shit all the time to ArthurTV n it seems more endearing than to really do any bads.

Thing is, Wilbur would end up hurting Shelby. Aaaand so Wil said 'hey let's make a safeword for u 2 say when it hurts so that ik and can stop so i don't harm u'.... but when Shelby used that safeword, broski wuld either grind down or go a lil bit harder b4 letting go.

And Shelby's described it as she would oftentimes scream/yell bc it was so hard, and he'd 'smile' afterwards which is mad psycho (term used loosely) imo. Because also, he'd do ts in public??? Yk, with his friendship group around him n Shelby, the lovely jovely couple? Straight out weird negl.

So, there's context.

Lots of varying opinions online which i would soooo love to get into...

BUT DISCLAIMER BEFORE I DO: Realistically, this is abuse, and thus it is a crime. I've talked about this on my page before - cancel culture can be unecessary in minor incidences, and cancel culture can be not-enough in instances whereby people have simply done illegal things.

This is one of those illegal things. So, whilst I do chat about this light-heartedly or for entertainment, gossip-y purposes - do realise that this is a real life problem that has has major issues in many peoples' lives.

Now, continuing with the juicy waffley discussions that ppl like hearing:

So firstly, some of the Twitter memes are fucking hilarious. I do love that under Wilbur's Twitter apology, loads of MCYTers have joined to clown his goofy ahh. And all those memes saying that Bill smelled such a shit apology he returned to twitter after years + the DSMP are like Avengers in Infinity War returning to all fight enemy No1 WILBUR...

But that being said, DREAM REPLYING TOO????

I spoke ab Dream being a groomer around Christmas time + heard loads of ppl out on vouching for Dream or calling him disgusting, dahdahdah... But the fact that sm ppl are turning around and praising Dream for calling out Wilbur's goofiness is acc MAAAD.

Why's everyone forgotten Dream is j as goofy? And an alleged groomer? And just plain? Not even plain something, brodie is just the plainest mf i've ever seen. Ever since he face revealed, his personality j evaporated on out of his body (anyone feel this asw?)

But no, ppl who are now agreeing w Dream to combat Wilbur as if Dream hasn't also committed what is debateably a crime (ik he 'cleared up the rumours' but it's v hard to fight of groomer allegations when you let them sit and marinate for approx 6 months) is fucking WILD shit to me.

Secondly, people are analysing loads of Wilbur's other prev actions too and saying these should've been red flags to Wilbur being an a-hole before we even heard Shubble's solid proof.

And some of these clips of evidence (e.g. Niki saying Wil bites her + threw her, Tommy getting his hand stomped, throwing apple at Techno) feel very valid.

But other bits I do wonder - are they just being over analysed? Yk, like with the clip of Wil shouting at Tommy for streaming + stealing his wallet, i was super sure that was staged as is (j had it confirmed now by the Twitter community note asw lol) and also, whilst Wil's shouting does feel extreme and hurtful from a viewer pov... Having a wallet stolen, place of work broken in to, litr knowing the place where you work to make all income could be taken away from u bc a friend thought it funny to break in n loudly + rowdily stream... i gotta say that some form of anger or upset is valid there. And this isn't to validate Wilbur's assholery, this is just to point out that whilst ppl are throwing clips into the fire and saying "this is more proof Wil was a bad person from the start" - do try see other interpretations of it and form your own line of reasoning - yk - "is this a valid point or is this someone using the drama to get some extra likes and attention to boost their account" (because believe me, ppl would - if ppl would use Techno's death to get more channel views and interactions - ppl would also most definitely use abuse as a means to engage more ppl).

Aaaaaand let's talk about the little Lovejoy band. Ngl i fucken loved their stuff, quite sad to see it go down the drain because 3/4 of them are public targets, now.

So ik we hate Wil for being an abuser. And I've seen that ppl dislike Mark bc he supported Maccies (what did he do fr tho bc i have no clue - did he j eat a McDonalds or what?) And we hate Ash Kabosu for saying it's bad to make fun of those deaths on the submarine...

Controversial opinion but I don't blame Ash allat much??? Now imma explain myself - but pls understand that i don't knoe 100% ab the situation, im v detached from the MCYT sphere of the online community.

But hear me out.

I'm a big believer in cherishing life, life is v important, life is a blessing.... Not from a rly religious pov, moreso in a spiritual way. Because if we only get one life, fuck, it's pretty damn precious. And whilst all those Oceangate memes were haha heehee funny watches, at the end of the day, people did die. And I do find that quite sad.

People say it's fine to laugh and make fun of those who were in there and died bc they were just billionaires who went down there for their own personal entertainment.

Just because they're billionaires doesn't make them any less human than us? Sure, they have a lot more money and are probably a lot more detached from working class issues which the majority of the population faces... But their drowning will have hurt and caused just as much pain to them as it would to us if we were in their situation. And my god, I can't even begin to think about the pain their families must have felt.

Those deaths were a fucking tragedy, realistically - and maybe i'm 'overreacting' here - but c'mon, empathy is literally encoded into our DNA as humans, surely I'm not the only one that can see the heartlessness in just laughing and memeing those deaths?

So Ash Kabosu haterism I don't fully understand, is the conclusion of that sub-rant.

And then I think this is the final little bit I'll discuss considering this is a loooong post:

James Marriott.

Jimbo Mazza, Jimbatron, James Marriott.

Lowkey my big flex, I've been a fan of him since 2020, and I got into his hater-commentary content initially. And ngl, when he transitioned to Minecraft? It was so fkn obvious he was trying to tailor to the MCYT audience to get their approval and entrance into the MCYT community, it made me absolutely cringe - and the blindness of everybody to that fact was insane to me.

Like, he was literally beegggging to be added to SMPs, he'd try and portray this "uncontrollable, quirky" character and would be so "unhinged" that everyone would love him... But ngl, that shit was literal brainrot, and he had you guys (me included tbf, bc i'd watch - just cringing whilst watching) ROTTING your brains with spamming the chat w allat bs that u do on Twitch

Nowadays, I like James tho. I feel like he feels ingrained enough within the community to branch out and not have to play up to the disturbing, disgusting cringefest - and so now he's funnier and having a better time streaming.

I mean, he looks absolutely great too - his tours have him confidence-boosted (rightfully so), because he's in great shape, like, he's genuinely lost noticable fat and put on muscle which has him looking trim as ever - he's grown his hair out into a flattering mullet - Shit, i believe looksmaxxing is the boy-equivalent of the makeup industry profiting off of womens' insecurity....

But the Jimbatron has absolutely looksmaxxed for the best.

That being said however, people saying "I OFFER JIMBO AS A REPLACEMENT FOR WILBUR!!" are fucking weirdos (respectfully but also kinda not)

Bro has just abused people and you're mourning the loss of a content creator and oh no - your favourite band - so you're trying to serve up replacements like a fucking chef that's ran out of a specific ingredient??????????

Yeah, James is less problematic and has 2x the personality Wilbur has- BUT WHY DOES IT TAKE WILBUR COMING OUT AS A FKN ABUSER FOR PPL TO START PROMOTING JAMES????

This is like that whole thing whereby ppl put other girls down to point out to success or beauty of other girls: it takes everyone noticing how bad Wilbur is, to point out the goodness of James.

James litr banned people who wouldn't stfu about Wilbur in his chat in early streams, bc he was sick of ppl following him for Wilbur and who just wanted to talk about Wilbur on James' platform.... I don't think James rly wants to share an identity, or have his platform built from being against Wilbur.

Not proof read this post fully. But take-aways from this: -Yeah Dream is cooking Wilbur on Twitter but don't forget he's an alleged groomer + is deffo using this as a way to get back into the audience's "good books" -RIP Lovejoy but some1 explain what Mark did fully + why ppl think Ash is so abominable for showing empathy to ppl dying -Rmbr that this is acc a serious crime, don't downplay ts -Stop fucking promoting James Marriott thru Wilbur's downfall, it rly discredits James' authenticity and original building of a community -So proud to say that after a few months of getting into MCYT stuff i felt as though Wilbur was icky + just plainout didn't like him/got odd vibes -And lol, acc so jarring how Wil reminds me of this guy in my yr - complete mummy's boy, underestimates and belittles women bc his mum handed everything to him on a plate n so he doesn't empathise w them but rather expects the world from them whilst simultaneously treating them like shit, 'radical', extremely 'woke' about modern situations but is so stubborn and refuses to see two sides of a picture.... Tbh I might j hate the guy in my yr and be projecting that onto Wil

Btw, feel free to argue w me in my inbox ab this but whilst i was quite critical - pls do not be mean to me or criticise me that harshly - if im talking to some1 one on one, i won't be this mean

(ALSO ANON, SORRY BC I WAS QUITE RUDE IN THIS REPLY BC I LOWKEY FORGOT I WAS REPLYING TO U, I WAS IN MY OWN HEAD AB WAFFLING AB SHELBY N WILL, LY AND TY FOR ASKING AB IT THO BC I DEFFO NEEDED TO WAFFLE AB IT SOMEWHERE)

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months

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@steddiemas Day 18 - Classic Christmas Songs (The First Nöel)

pairing: steddie | word count: 1,924 | rated: G

It didn’t take too long after the song started for Eddie to want out.

He debated staying, just to listen to Steve sing along to it under his breath while he meticulously weaved strips of dough over a pie with what Eddie thinks is way too huge a mound of blueberries, but even that didn’t help.

Steve’s ‘everyone over for Christmas dinner before Christmas’ idea made Eddie skeptical at first, having literally everyone (the Hendersons, Mrs. Wheeler along with Nancy, Mike, and Holly, The Sinclairs, the Hopper-Byers clan, Gareth and Freak along with Jeff and his mom, the Buckleys (of course), and even he and Wayne) together under one roof seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

But no.

Everyone got along great, the lot of them snacking on meats and cheeses, stolen candy and cookies that Steve had made over the last couple days, Wayne, Hop, and Claudia are fussing over two whole turkeys and a huge ham, and Joyce, Karen and Lucas are whipping up huge batches of side dishes.

And it doesn’t usually affect him this bad anymore, but that damned song paired with all of their huge chosen family together under one roof like this, warm, happy, healthy…he had to leave.

He did not want to get emotional in front of them.

The sound of the door sliding on its track breaks Eddie’s reverie. It was longer than he thought it’d take for someone to come looking for him, but he suspects that it was done on purpose.

He doesn’t look back at who decided to grace him with their presence, but immediately knows who it is when a hat gets pushed down onto his head, just a bit too far down.

“You’re not catching a cold on my watch, Munson.”

Eddie pushes the fold of the knit cap off his eyes, “Wasn’t planning on it Steve-o.”

“Coulda fooled me. As if trying to withstand a whole winter in a leather jacket isn’t gonna give you a cold.”

A snort of a laugh escapes Eddie’s lips at Steve’s sarcastic tone. “I have, and no colds yet.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” Steve says, sitting down beside him. “That’s why you borrowed my old puffer coat last time you were here, right?”

The lone poolside chair not packed away for the season wasn’t his first choice of seating, but it was the only one. Though Steve’s dry heat beside him is already a welcome balance to the cold metal and plastic of the chair.

Eddie’s lips twitch up into a brief smile, “I didn’t want to get mine all wet.”

They fall silent after that, and Eddie fishes his lighter and pack of Marlboro’s out of his pocket, pulling one out of the carton and lighting it up.

He offers one to Steve, but he waves him off.

“So.” Steve says after about half the cigarette was gone.

“So?”

“Are you alright, Eddie?”

He stays silent, debating whether or not to actually tell Steve what was wrong or just brush it off again.

“Was it something I–we said? Or did?” Eddie caught the slip, and decided he was going to tell him, but Steve continued on, “I know you’re not the biggest fan of Christmas anyway..”

“No, it’s not—” Eddie heaves a sigh, and even he can hear the exasperated relenting in it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Steve. None of you did.”

He takes a drag and blows out a long stream of steamy breath and smoke. It hits him then, before he even speaks, that he’s being dramatic. Has been being dramatic. What a stupid thing to get emotional about.

“My middle name is Nöel. Like, fully, exactly how it’s supposed to be spelled for the holidays. The two dots over the O and everything. So it’s just me being dramatic; it gets annoying to hear all season.”

At first, Eddie thinks he’s gotten away with it, that Steve’s silence is just satisfied understanding, but just before he’s about to put himself back on the right way to go back inside, Steve speaks again.

“Where’d the name come from?”

Eddie finally looks over at him, taking in the comically mismatched pink My Little Pony scarf (Erica’s) and bright safety green beanie (Robin’s) he’d thrown on before coming out to the patio. “..Huh?”

Eloquent as ever, Munson.

“C’mon man.” Steve says, rolling his eyes fondly and nudging Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “You act like I don’t know you.”

Eddie’s “You don’t.” is automatic.

Steve just scoffs, “You disappeared without a word, man; normally you announce, with wildly different levels of dramatics each time, that you’re going to smoke, or you ‘gotta take a leak’. You didn’t do that this time so naturally that means this was more than just getting annoyed by a Christmas carol.”

Eddie blinks at him. Stunned by the proof that he, Eddie Munson, was one of the people Steve used his almost insane levels of observation on after all. Usually it’s wasted on the kids; Steve’s acute ability to hone in on exactly what each of the party needs at any given time—how Steve has encyclopedic knowledge on each of their favorite snacks, their preferred drinks, games, movies, which blankets they like to steal from the Harringtons’ nearly bottomless linen closet—almost always goes unappreciated.

“I may not get a lot of things, but I do pay attention to the people I care about.” Steve continues on, voicing Eddie’s thoughts.

“You a mind reader now too, Harrington?”

Steve grins at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah man, I’m just a damn good babysitter.”

Eddie huffs out another laugh, “Sorry to tell ya this, but I don’t need to be babied or sat.”

He doesn’t say anything more, just waits for Eddie to continue.

“It was my mom.” Eddie finally concedes, “She gave me the name Nöel. So you kinda hit it on the head, there is more to it than just the song.

“Wayne says she chose it because she loved the season, that it was when she felt most at peace no matter what else was going on in her life.”

Steve is quiet beside him, just existing in the space while Eddie finishes off his cigarette.

“And that’s why I get so salty about Christmas. It’s not because she died around this time of year, which doesn’t help of course, it’s because she loved the holiday so much. I mean,” he snorts, “She named me after it after all. So this time of year always felt so wrong without her.”

He stubs the flame under his boot, scrubbing it into the concrete and promising himself he’ll come back for the butt later (he’ll forget).

The younger man is silent for two more breaths.

“Eddie, I am so sorry..”

All he can do is shrug, “It’s fine Steve, I’m used to that song by now–well, I was.”

“What changed?”

Eddie lets out another steadying breath. “When I was little, down in Tennessee, it was worse because I was little. All the crafts and games and things they did with first and middle names in elementary school y’know?” He sees Steve nod out of the corner of his eye. “The kids down there would sing the damn song at me to make fun of me. After I came up here to live with Wayne it got better…kinda.

“The kids here didn’t know what my middle name was, and Wayne would switch the radio station if that godforsaken song would come on come December, but even then, every time it did come up…it was like a pointed little finger poked into the bruise left behind after mom died.” Eddie says, jabbing the air in front of him with his own finger in a harsh movement before letting his hand drop back down to his lap. “It was starting to get better, hearing my name like that.”

“How so?” Steve’s voice lilts into something eager, but just barely.

Eddie sucks in a deep breath and the cold, dry air burns his nose as he does.

“You.” he states, using all the breath he’d taken in on the one word.

“Me?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“Ever since I found out that you also think November 1st means Christmas decorations need to be up.” Eddie nods, he wasn’t about to tell him about the soupy gut feeling he’d gotten when he heard Steve singing along to that stupid fuckin’ song. “Annoying, but it was the same when I was little.

“You should see the pictures,” he grins, continuing on, “A little Batman helping mom put up the tree because I didn’t want to take off my costume–even slept in it a couple times, waking up the next morning to hot chocolate, candy canes, and popcorn garlands.”

“That’s adorable.” Steve laughs, and Eddie laughs with him, his chest feeling miles looser than when he first came out here.

They’re silent for a bit, listening to the muffed yells of the kids coming from inside about who knows what.

“I’ll follow Wayne’s example,” Steve says eventually. “I’ll make sure to change the station, won’t sing it any—”

“Nah, no way man. You don’t have to do that. Like I said, it was getting better.”

“Still, I don’t want to make you upset.”

“Don’t worry about it Stevie,” he sniffs, looking over the empty pool, “I like when you sing it.” he admits before he can stop himself.

Aw fuck.

“You do?”

“I do.”

What the fuck are you doing?!

“You do.” Steve states as if he doesn’t believe him.

Eddie nods silently, gulps around the nerves in his throat. “It’s stupid, but it’s like you’re singing about me rather than at me. It’s…nice.”

Steve falls quiet, so he turns to face him again; Steve’s eyes are wide, cheeks red from the cold and otherwise pale.

Shocked. And not in a good way.

“Just don’t tell any of the other jerks, ‘kay?” Eddie laughs, it comes out strained. “They’d definitely be singing it at me if they found out.”

Steve’s face thaws into something softer at that, his lips twitch like they want to smile.

“Also, I hardly doubt Henderson’s got nearly as good a voice as you do.”

That finally melts him completely, “Henderson’s actually got some pipes on him.” he laughs softly and knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s. “You should hear his Madonna.”

“Yeah no. No thank you.” Eddie says as he stands, “C’mon Stevie, let’s go back in and eat. It’s time to eat already, right?” He offers him a hand.

Steve takes it and pulls himself up, “After you, Edward Nöel.” he does a sarcastic half-bow, waving Eddie forward.

Eddie scoffs at him, but starts toward the door nevertheless. “That’s not even what Eddie’s short for.”

“Aw, what?! What’s it short for?”

“Nuh uh, I already bared one part of my soul tonight.” (“Aw come on!”) Maybe I’ll tell you after we’ve been friends for another nine months or so.”

Steve laughs as they reach the sliding door. “Lookin’ forward to it, Eds.”

Eddie’s about to slide it open when Steve suddenly stops him, grabbing his wrist.

“Wait–Eddie, before we go back inside, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. Shoot.” he turns to face him properly.

Eddie watches Steve’s eyes flicker over his face. They hover somewhere below his nose before coming back up to lock onto his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?’

“C–can you kiss– What?! Why? When—”

Steve stops Eddie's spluttering when he tilts his head back to look above them.

God. Damn. Mistletoe.

yes, my first name is noelle. why do you ask? no, no, of course i didn't give eddie that middle name just to vent about that damn song... 😳😅

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mikaikaika · 2 months

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I've been thinking of a theory which the more I think about it seems extremely plausible. What if the reason qTubbo is behaving like this is cause it's not him - what if the data we found was technically not qTubbo's but instead Creation's.

What if Creation was created by Tubbo to protect eggs but then was manipulated by the Feds for their own doings. So eventually Tubbo hid the data containing majority of Creation's programming away and that was the reason he got Iced and memory reset until Feds could figure out how to make Tubbo do their bidding again.

So this data is not actually Tubbo's but instead OG Creation's and now the Creation Fed wanted is back and alive just in Tubbo's body where Creation's data has been mixed with Tubbo's memories. That's why the first time they sent creation when Tubbo was supposed to be away on a date with Fred.

Further hints, QTubbo felt like he was trying out loud how to say Phil's name for the first time (maybe cause Creation is used to saying Guardian), forgetting little things like waypoints/having a backpack, calling Chayanne the GOAT but then said second goat you know like Rank 2, staring at birds much like Creation did. His purpose is still the eggs and that's why he asked the "rankings" of the parents. Saying how he feels he feels like hasn't "done anything for decades"

The statement "I thought before I was on autopilot but now I'm the computer controlling the autopilot" which would actually fit how Creation was a robot being controlled by his engineering and programming but now he actually has free will. His comment about "newfound morality" would explain why his emotions are so volatile because he isn't used to having them.

And lastly it would make sense for why the stream was called transfer complete :D

#Anyways yeah tinfoil hat on and all that #But it'd be really interesting if that were the case #qsmp #tubbo #Theory #Creation #Q #Mika mumbles

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

iii. file room + accusations

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter three of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, no use of y/n, flirting to the highest level. wordcount: 5.8k an: thank you for your patience, none of this chapter existed three days ago, but i think it was necessary for how... spicy the next one will be. as always, a huge thank you to @guyfieriii who let me hammer this idea out with her, and @yeyinde who fills me with absolute confidence to take this on.

“You have fun last night?”

Stirring your cup, you turn your head. “We went for one drink—”

“Are you fucking Van Ness?”

You throw the spoon into the sink, glaring—full of poisoned accusation, hoping it stings, hoping it bites.

Chris has always been a little jealous, and a little bitter. But this side of him, the side grown from the decay of what once was…

“Believe it or not, people of the opposite sex can just be friends.”

“Like we were?”

You scoff, almost going to grab your coffee when his hand touches your wrist.

“Sorry… that was,” Chris sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, alright?”

“You’re being an asshole.”

“I know.”

Leaning back on the counter, you stare at him. The man you used to share a bed with, cook with, sleep with—finding yourself unable to recognise him. The same amount you barely were able to recognise yourself these days.

“Just because we went for a drink, doesn’t mean I fucked him. I don’t fuck people just because they buy me drinks, if anything, I fuck them in spite of buying me things.”

Lowering his hand, he opens his eyes. “I know… I just…”

You motion to move, hearing his words die as you hold his gaze. “Do us both a favour, Chris, get over us or stop trying to be my friend.”

It was a last-minute decision to get you coffee.

A thought which nestled until it bloomed and spread itself over all the others. You’d been on his mind, likely put there because of his dreams.

Javi had become so used to the smoky blend of violence and regret in his nightmares, it caught him by surprise long after he awoke that something good had been trying to form. Something with a sly smile that had slowly been driving him wild and a pair of eyes he saw even when he blinked.

His bed creaked as he stretched, shoving the leftover hold of sleep from his muscles.

He turns over how you’d not seemed like yourself yesterday. How quiet you were, how distant. You’d made two visits to his office, both for actual work purposes. He’d thought of asking, of questioning—but each time he’d found himself about to, you had a visitor at your desk.

As time had ticked on, the night bludgeoning the day, he’d watched as you packed up your things, met by one of the other agents—tall and dark-haired—pulling a short laugh from you.

He spent the next hour buried in case files just so he wouldn’t focus on the sound. And how he hadn’t pulled that same sound from you all day.

Now, as streams of sunlight flicker through his curtains, he reaches for his lighter and cigarettes. About to light one, a thought appearing and growing—rotting and festering in the empty space he’s carved for you.

Maybe you’re his delayed punishment.

His price to pay for what he did last time he was here. He thinks of you more than he does others—more than he has done with others.

You are a torture, a thing put here in front of him as something he could have once, and never again. A reminder of it each time you sway into his office. How he’d tasted you, he’d felt your curves and heard your pretty noises. Now only for him to be locked in a prison of his own making because of it.

Because he’s forever interrupted by phone calls, meetings and whatever else life has—and will—throw his way.

As he takes a drag, the point and thought cements itself further, because Javi doesn’t dream.

He relives nightmares and what-ifs, but he rarely ever dreams. Yet, there you were, smiling, pulling him from a nightmare into something more pleasant he didn’t want to wake from. You who hadn’t even fully formed, a shadow, an outline at best, but you’re there, he can tell. All pretty and sharp-tongued—not that he’s heard dream-you even speak, but he knows.

Knows about the same amount as he knows he should turn the water in the shower a bit colder. Should let it sting his chest from how icy it is, trying to cage the thoughts of you he shouldn’t have.

Because there’s a lesson to be learnt about shitting when he’s eating—and he’s already failed it twice.

So, he lets his chin dip to his chest as water cascades down his neck, letting freezing droplets smother any chance of warmth. Because even if he shouldn’t, even if he couldn’t—technically—you’re in his head.

Secretly, he blames you. Blames each quick retort you’ve had and each flirtatious sentence which continuously hangs in the air longer than anything else.

Mainly, he blames you for the things you’re not at fault for. Like your smile, your laugh and the way you tap your pen on the desk when you’re lost in thought.

That softer smile is the one in last night's dreams. Embedding itself firmly in the few hours he’s managed to catch in a while. The edges of it are genuine, exactly like it was in person—looking as much like it was born and not willed, as he’s seen in the flesh. You owe me a coffee. He thought about it as he lay in his sheets, again when he lit his first cigarette and on repeat in the shower.

It’s why he buys you one—it’s cemented in his thoughts.

Front and fucking centre.

By the time he makes it to work, his forehead is slightly slick with sweat. Barely noticeable to most, he supposes, but he feels it. His determination to catch you before the rest filter in, able to confidently present you with your inside joke right at your desk.

It would mean he’s the instigator. It would mean he’d see you taken back, rendered silent for fucking once.

Because normally, it’s you doing that to him. You and your quick wit make him roll his tongue around his mouth as he tries to control his body.

Usually, he was in control. He was the one making others stupid over him—it’s different being on the other side. More so when he catches sight of himself in the reflection of the glass door, the smirk large and proud on his face.

All because of fucking you.

And then, you’re not at your desk.

His tongue pokes into his cheek as he inwardly kicks himself, heart descending down to his stomach—thumping against nothingness and last night's whiskey.

He contemplates binning them as he moves past the desks. Throwing it before someone sees him with two coffees and a piece of fruit. Annoyance spreads like a wildfire through him, singeing the edges of muscles and bones. It layers, landing firmly on top of the shit from Cornerstone, the conversation with Stechner and—

He sees you.

Like the sun which bleeds through clouds on a rainy day; like a torch through thick, sullen darkness. There you are.

Able to see you clearer and clearer on his approach, until he’s peering through his open door, spotting you on your knees, head bent. There’s an array of paper around you, placed out in a semi-circle on his office floor, an empty file box discarded close to the door. You don’t notice him, still fixated on whatever it is that has you in his office.

You don’t even lift up when he’s at the doorway, casting a shadow over the papers.

“You’re in early.”

Smirking, he leans against the doorway, watching you shift a paper to the side. Remaining bent over, finger tapping in a rhythmic pattern against a page closest to your hand.

“And you’re in my office, cariño.”

He expects you to look up, even if just your eyes. You don’t.

Another notch adding to the enigma that is you. The mystery, the hard-to-read and understand puzzle that is currently on your knees.

“I needed the space.”

“For?”

That’s when you lift your head, sighing—if only to yourself—before slowly standing. You don’t groan, and don’t let out a noise as you do, shifting your trousers so they fall as they’re supposed to. Then, you’re awkwardly stepping over your pile as you come to stand beside him.

“Personal project—that for me?”

You take it before he can confirm it, taking a large gulp of it, filling the air with a groan. A sound which tugs something inside of him, even if your eyes remain fixed on the mess on his floor and not him.

It’s childish—almost like he was back in school. Staring at the pretty girl until she notices him. But you are pretty, and fuck does he wish you’d notice him.

“Thanks.”

Something sinks.

He’s not sure what, but it’s in his chest.

Somehow, foolishly, he’d expected a little more from the gesture. The fact you’d been more grateful when he’d returned a pen, than grabbing you coffee. That, and your eyes barely meet his, continuing to turn something over in your mind as you take another sip.

It’s silent, your silent—outside of the occasional sighs you let escape.

Realistically, he knows you’re not being your usual self because you’re likely doing your job—something in the short span of time he’s known you, he knows you do well. But, it feeds into that… feeling. The one he woke up with when you’d left. Rejection.

Something he’s experienced before—been through. Yet, never really learnt how to handle it.

How often are you told no, Peña? Rarely. I can believe that. You want another drink? Can’t say no, can I?

It rattles him more because it’s you. You who has made him do things like this. He wanted to make you smile, wanted to show you that he fucking listened.

Even if you confuse him. Bouncing from one minute flirting with him as he tries to be decent, fighting the feeling of the beads of sweat collecting on his collar. The next you’re staring through him as though you’d rather skin him than fuck him.

He can’t say any of that, not as he massages his inner cheek between his teeth. Eyes staring at the pages, noticing the manilla case files poking out underneath all the stark white papers.

He’s itching to get closer. To read the number on the side strips, see what it is that has stolen your attention.

Instead, he nudges you. Watching as you lift your chin in his direction. Your eyes are the last to rise from the floor. Your face all blank and expressionless—appears as if you’re awaiting instruction from him for something. He sees the circles under your eyes, the rest of your face devoid of anything he can dissect. It almost feels as if he’s trying to read the wall, rather than a person who has made him copious cups of coffee.

“You need me to move?”

He snorts, if only to himself. “No. But you’re quiet...”

Shooting him a short nod, you offer a forced smile. “Sorry.”

He feels something knot, something which makes it hard to take a step back and turn away from you. Something urging him to push, to keep standing there, even if he would get more from the water cooler.

“Hey… you good?”

You eye him, brows narrowing ever so slightly. “Yes. Of course...”

He nods. “Good. Okay, good.”

You turn more to face him, frowning as you try but find yourself unable to discern whatever it is you’re looking for—not that he knows what you’re searching for.

He’s confused, prickled—tense. But nothing else.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be or something?”

You seem upset. Distracted.

That’s what he wants to say. Wants to try and unpick the reason for your sharper gaze, raised shoulders and the almost box of files on his office floor.

Likely would if it didn’t allow you to know that he watches you, even through the blinds. That he knows these little things, the small shifts in your otherwise carefully constructed set of walls and barriers to keep everyone out.

“I expected you to give me more shit… about the fruit, the coffee. Be difficult.”

You smirk, leaning as you run the cup under your nose. “I can be difficult if you need me to be, sir.”

Your smile slowly spreads, more teeth than you’ve shown—more laid-back. It stretches from your cheeks to your eyes. His tongue runs across the front of his teeth, watching it, how it illuminates and lights every part of you.

“Somehow, I bet you can be.”

Shrugging, you take a sip from the coffee again—eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the taste.

He did good, he thinks. Knowing you likely won’t admit it, acknowledge it—

“This is good…”

He feels his brow rise, wiping his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

“Almost as good as you… sir.”

You watch him, make sure it lands. Watch it spread. Likely enjoying the show too. He can’t hide it, not quick enough to mask it. Not that he really puts much effort into trying.

It’s futile, a waste of energy and time.

He’s even sure you hear him inhale and whisper the word fuck as your phone rings.

“I’ll tidy this up in a minute, excuse me.”

Then you’re gone. Leaving him with your words and perfume, hearing the distinct sweet and, most innocent voice.

A voice which didn’t fit or follow what you had just said.

He’d never thought Messina’s job looked fun, but he never realised how unbearable it must have been.

Javi’s head throbs from it.

All of it. The meetings about meetings, the bureaucracy which wraps ropes around his throat and the fact—even if he’s not in the room—he can feel Stechner breathing down his neck.

Something pulses more so when he meets your smirk-smile. The one he was robbed of enjoying yesterday, but today has got it in plenty. He puts it down to the coffee, not the possibility he heard you went out for a drink with another agent last night.

Fresh air washes over him as he steps out of the building. The stuffy boardroom air uncurling itself from his suit as the grey, cloudy day hangs around him. Normally, he finds the humidity tiresome, but today it greets him like a friend. A better friend than pompous air breathed by men who want an easy win, than fight the actual fight that’s necessary.

It’s habit again now, lighting a cigarette, even if he had tried to quit. His fingers hover the cigarette close to his lips, watching the end sparkle with orange and yellow as he releases his shoulders from around his ears.

Bad habit, that. So are you. You don’t mean that, sir.

Taking the longest drag, he lets it fill his lungs.

Hearing your voice call him sir, it is always faintly there—a callback, a reminder. A tease.

He didn’t mean it, you’d been right. Didn’t mean it so much at all. Even if you were bad and a habit, you weren’t a bad habit.

Javi kept thinking about that night, and the ones he could have enjoyed after. Thoughts of taking you back to his and seeing how many times he can make you call his name; whether you’d beg him in that same way, please, Javi, please.

It’s taken all of his strength not to act on it.

Something to prove fizzing inside of him, blending with the taste and scent of tobacco which bleed across his senses. It slowly undoes each tendril of stress, unknotting each tense muscle, allowing the briefest second of calm—of peace—to wash over him.

Sex did that too.

Sex, whiskey and smokes did it all together. A perfect blend—one which had kept him going for longer than he cared to admit before.

He didn’t smoke the night he fucked you. Hadn’t even realised he hadn’t until he smoked this one—acknowledging there’s a deeper meaning there, but unwilling to unfold it.

No good came from digging inside himself, not now. Not when his walls are painted in red shame and bitter regrets.

He’d thought things were easier then.

Before, when he didn’t have people answering to him, and he had a partner. He had a person to share a desk space with. Now, he’s behind glass—placed on a mantle, eyes looking up to him when they should be looking down. The pressure nipping at him, the smoke swirling up to his nose as he hovers the cigarette on his lip.

It’s at the last minute he catches the blonde woman coming closer, more into his view. Right in his peripheral. “Can I get one of those?”

Her non-embassy attire catches him off guard, before she introduces herself. Eyes raking up and down her, unsure where he knows her from—where he’d place her. Something, that voice he continuously ignores, firing and chirping, but he does what he always does.

Javi should have known. He’s trained to be better. Expected to do better.

Churning her name, the newspaper she works for in his head as he lets his smoke dangling from his lip. Already waiting, expecting. She was a reporter, she’d have questions. More than asking him for a cigarette and more than a simple chat about the weather.

Then it falls from her tongue. Acidic, purposefully chosen to knock him—to bother him.

It does. Especially because she casually throws them his way. Him left feeling them figuratively land and bruise as she did. Each accusation not spoken, feels sharper and more painful than the previous, his cigarette doing nothing to stoke the rising shame and annoyance.

If anything, it just covers it in tobacco smoke and a bitter taste.

“Have a nice day—”

“Have you heard much about the Cali accident? Four more people dead. Children. Dozens more sick.”

The reporter's words swirl, peck and dig into him further. His sharp response is not close to the one he wants to give: I cannot get involved. His place here is tied securely to his behaviour. One wrong step, one misfortune, and he’s sure he’ll be back in Texas. Having accomplished nothing, once again.

“Looks like you said, it was an accident.”

The lie falls from him before he can pull it back. Knowing she doesn’t believe him—he doesn’t even believe himself.

She snorts, half-laughing in mockery. “By the end of the day, it will be. No matter what the truth is.”

The itch inside of him worsens when she turns from him. Fingers rolling against his palm, making him wish he’d finished his cigarette irrespective of the questioning and insinuations. The imaginary rope that ties his hands behind his back, constricting, stinging.

His palm meets his forehead, rubbing against it as he heads in. Feet carrying him, body moving—

He needs you.

You who he could vent to, ask, merely fucking speak to. You who’d likely see through his bullshit and know something is wrong. You who he suspects understands, for reasons not highlighted in your report or in any file. Who stared into his eyes in that bar and made him wonder what hell you’d been through for the vengeance to live so prominently in your eyes.

He comes to a stop, blinking as he lands on you, glaring into Feistl.

The two of you huddled close, engaged in a discussion that didn’t look all too friendly. Your eyes gave it away, the forced smile confirming it. So much of your thoughts flitted across your face when you weren’t careful—and usually, you were careful.

That’s something he learnt quickly. That you’re secretive, cautious, meticulous.

When he blinks, he watches you say something before walking away before it’s fully landed. His jaw tightens, almost cracks. Eyes fixed on the back of the other agent, unable to tear his eyes away, watching you throw something in the sink, mutter something and storm in the other direction.

He shouldn’t care.

He’d learnt to avoid problems between couples with Connie and Murphy. He supposes it’s even more important to stay out of it when they were exes. Ones who worked closely with one another, shared office space and breathed the same air.

He does care.

It’s the only reason why he waits, almost reaching his office before he turns on his heels and heads in the direction you’ve gone.

With each step, he swipes his index finger over the pad of his thumb, unsure what he’s going to say. What he’s going to do. Thrumming with annoyance from the outside; protectiveness swirling with a bunch of other unresolved feelings inside of him.

It makes no sense—none of it. Yet the door squeals in protest as he shoves it open.

Dropping your hand from your face, your eyes greet him instantly—the door barely back in its frame before you’ve hidden how wide and surprised they were.

He doesn’t speak, but neither do you.

And then, slowly—as though they were the physical embodiment of your walls coming down—your arms folded and your eyes narrowed. All he did was simply fucking stare, all he could do.

There’s nothing he can say. Not that would make any sense—not to him, or to you. So, he allows the heaviness of the conversation outside and the annoyance that had grown in its place, to slowly dissipate as he stares and breathes, letting you do the same.

The tension thickens. Almost softly simmering between the two of you.

There’s no music thrumming this time, no alcohol to blame for the kinder expressions and wider grins. He just focuses on trying not to pay attention to it, but in the smaller space, it’s harder to ignore. It sits there grinning with its shiny teeth, its mocking behaviour taunting him, as he wonders if it’s the same for you.

And then, you smile as if you can read his thoughts. It's instant, the way it smothers other emotions. Dilutes them, makes his tongue run across his teeth as he lets the stress melt from his shoulders and back.

“I know what you’re gonna say?”

Looking at the floor, you snort. “I doubt that.”

“It’s none of my fucking business, right?” he adds, your eyes staring at him through your brows. “But, it looked heavy and I needed to ask—wanted to ask.”

“I’m fine.”

He gnaws at other words. Deciding quickly against them, swallowing them back, and switching to the next set of things he could say.

“You told me you’d take the mountain of shit for me—hold the walls up. Remember?”

“Faintly.”

Lie, he thinks. It flutters across your face, the acknowledgement, how easily you’re able to recall it. He takes that as his invitation. Stepping closer, he watches as you unfold your arms.

“Who does that for you, cariño?”

Your mouth—so usually the quicker one out of the two of you—clamps shut. Any quick remark fizzling into nothing as your chest rises and falls significantly, likely all from a silent sigh.

“I promise I’m—“

“Don’t lie,” Javi adds, interrupting you. “Not to me.”

Please, he thinks. But, he keeps that silent request to himself—even if it’s likely he’s spelling it with his eyes, his softer expression.

You shift, eyes fluctuating between softening and sharpening. As if unsure whether to let him in—and be honest, trusting—or ruin him. He just hopes it's the former. Feeling it—that something which thrums in the air whenever he’s around you. The thing he’d rather bury than confront.

Even if he likes being near you. Likes how you make him coffee, visit his office and tell him things he already knows. Just to be near you. To make sure you’re okay because you so often make sure he is.

Your eyes narrow. “What’s happened?”

“What?”

Tilting your head, you sigh. “You went out for a smoke—“

“How’d you kn—“

Smirking, you lick your lips. “You’re not the only one with a pair of eyes, Peña. What. Happened?” Blowing out air, you shake your head. “I’m not stupid—”

“—I don’t think you’re—”

“And, you want me to tell you things, and you can’t even tell me what happened outside to make you this riled up.”

He lets you have that one. Nodding gently, running his hands through his hair as he contemplates it—telling you. Informing you of it all. How Martínez doesn’t trust him, that the reporter outside…

Looking up, he stares at you.

You are the face of ruination. Your eyes able and powerful enough to bring him to his knees. Already unspooling him, having dug under a layer he’s never allowed many others.

So he decides against sharing, instead smirking.

Not for reasons such as him not trusting you, but because this isn’t about him. It was always about him. You made it about him, whenever you fucking could, just like it had been before. Back when he had Steve, when he made catching Escobar about him. When he convinced himself he was doing what was right.

He’d do it again—parts of it, anyway. But he still wanted this to be different, to be better, to be—

“How y’sleeping?”

You blink, almost wincing from surprise. “Fine.” “Don’t lie.”

“How do you know I’m not sleeping?”

Swiping his thumb across his bottom lip, he shrugs. “Because I know I don’t. More here, than I did in Texas. But… not like before. Nothing close to the hours I got before Escobar.”

He watches your eyes widen at his name. The one he so rarely says, even when questioned.

The one which makes a muscle in his chest tighten when he hears the name, fighting to not let the guilt and shame run through his blood at the mere mention.

“I know I have no idea what you went through. But, I’d get it—try to, at least.”

It flashes like a rainstorm over your face. The heaviness of the clouds and then the downpour—and before he can get an umbrella out, it’s over. Javi isn’t quick enough to work out each expression. Not sure if he’s miles off or so close to the thing unravelling you, that he’s rendered you silent.

You roll your lips, before whispering, “I don’t sleep either.”

He blinks, staring at you as you try to force a smile and he moves closer.

Like the two of you are being drawn together, pulled. It is all another dance, one without music, a beat or lyrics, and yet, you lift your hand to his cheek. Some words forming, that never appear. A different expression cracked over the former, one that he wasn’t sure he'd seen before.

He tries to paint it, carve it into a space so he can unpick its meaning later—knowing how quick you are to wipe your canvas clean. But, your eyes flick over him, looking for something as he slides a hand over your hip, feeling you hunting. He feels the warmth stroke from his eyes to his lips, and back again.

The thread, the one which had begun being sewn between the seats at the bar, was tightening and it tugged the two of you closer and closer, until he felt you—your lips.

You’re kissing him.

Hands pressed on both sides of his cheeks as you brought his mouth down to yours. Devastating him, ruining him all over again. Everything about you is intense. Consuming. Spanning over him and tugging him under in thick waves he’s not sure where they came from.

All he can focus on is how good it feels to kiss you again.

How soft your lips are, how he didn’t take the time to appreciate it before. How today you’re a mix of sugary lips and a bitter coffee tongue.

He guides you, moving you behind the shelves—more out of view, the softest huff escaping your lips when your back meets the shelving. One he captures and stores, holding it closely as he pulls you tighter against him. Almost desperately so. You scorch yourself against him, hoping to leave something on him you’ll be able to see—something he welcomes. Some proof that you’re not too far out of reach as he groans at the sensation of your nails scraping through his hair and your mouth burning against his.

It’s messy, disorientating—but, so are you.

His tongue licking up into your mouth, hearing the discernible sound of a moan smothered by both your mouths as the shelving creeks when your spine presses against it.

It’s natural, well-versed—like it was in his place. His thigh slotting between both your legs, hearing his name leave your lips in a whimper, all wrapped inside of a groan that has been born somewhere deep in your throat.

Then it turns slower, gentle, languid. His head swimming in you, and only you. A hand up your spine curling you closer; your hand sliding from his hair and cheek to his neck.

“Cariñ—“

The squeal of the door yanks the two of you apart.

His heart hammers, fucking thunders as your back flattens to the shelves, his feet making him step back—hidden behind more shelving.

Someone from the doorway yells your name, not a voice he’s familiar with.

They’re sharp, gruff, far enough away to not know, but if they stepped in the room…

Javi is sure anyone could walk in and they’d feel the tension. More so convinced when he glances down your frame, seeing buttons undone and exposed, soft, kissable skin.

You must feel it. The way he looks at you. Your mouth shouting back you’d be there in a minute as nervous, shaky fingers try to button yourself.

In typical fashion, you shoot a sharp glare at him. One he’d already been expecting. One he knows you don’t mean.

They’re not like the ones he endured when he first met you. It wasn’t the glare that made him almost beg for forgiveness. This glare was a ‘we almost got caught, idiot’ stare. One he feels no guilt about as he waits in your silence, hearing the door once again close.

“We can’t do this.”

He moves, stepping back in front of you, leaning both hands on the shelves—caging you in, keeping you close. Not allowing you to wriggle away. “Well, we can’t do this here.”

It crosses his mind it could be too much. He could be being too much.

That it was fine at the bar, at his place. That it’s fine with the flirting, but anything more is overstepping. Then Javi sees the glint—the soft twitch of your right lip before he feels hands slide around his neck. Keeping him as close as he’s keeping you.

“Peña.”

“Cariño.”

You smirk, fingers sliding down his chest, not breaking eye contact with him. “Thought you were trying to be decent.”

“Told you I was doing a poor job of it.”

It’s less a smirk, and more a smile now. Soft on the edges, almost warm. Something he wishes to bottle. If only to keep the feeling he has bubbling in his chest when he spots it. When you allow him to see past curled lips and sharper words.

“Let me take you for a drink.”

You smile, playing with his tie. “You don’t have to buy me a drink to fuck me. This isn’t transactional. You don’t have to find a way to pay me to be around you.” Your eyes flip up, cutting into his, letting his thoughts run wild as you slowly roll your lips. “Plus, I want to.”

“Want to what?”

You trace your bottom lip with your tongue. “Fuck you.”

Letting go of his tie, you wink.

“I did tell you earlier, you’re more than half-good. Are you really that surprised I’d want another round with you?”

Moving from him, walking around the files until he hears the door squeal and slams back into place. Slowly raising his hand, massaging his forehead.

Staying in the file room for an impossibly long-time. An amount appropriate to how hard you’d gotten him, to how long it took him to will it away with thoughts of case file boxes and catching narcos.

It’s hours until he gets a sight of you, watching you poking your head in his doorway. The afternoon having firmly gone, blanketed instead by the night.

“Hey,” you say, leaning against the frame.

You look worn, more tired. Whatever had stolen you from your desk seemingly having taken the last shreds of caffeine and willpower you had been running on.

He also notices you’re wearing your coat, bag already in hand. He doubted it was an invite to leave with you.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to go try and grab that thing you mentioned.”

Leaning back into his chair, he lets his brow rise. Feeling it curl up his face as your smile seeps into your cheeks and eyes.

“Sleep, Peña, I’m going to go try and get some sleep.”

“Afraid you’d enjoy your tenth cup of coffee or something?”

Licking your lips, you roll your eyes. “Eleventh. I had the tenth after… we organised the file room.”

“That’s what we’re calling it?”

Shaking your head, he smiles.

Natural, easy. Like it’s the most normal thing Javier Peña can do, when he never fucking does it. When it’s been so long since the last time, he can’t actually find a time with much ease.

“We’re okay, aren’t we?”

Leaning on his elbows, digging them into the paper covering the wood, he has to nod. “Thought that was my line.”

There are plenty of women he’s had a nice time with, plenty that he’s had a great time with. Some he’s liked going back for more, others he never has. But it’s rare he has a good time when both sets of clothes are on. Rare when it’s in an environment like this, flooded in fluorescence and weighed down by expectations.

Smiling, he taps his desk. “We’re good, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Peña… you should…” you begin to say, standing a little taller as you glance at his desk, slowly pointing to something near the top of the pile. “He’s a good agent. Thorough. Just take a look at what he’s done. Ch—Feistl, he wants to do a good job. He cares a lot, too. So, just consider it… even if you do so because I make you coffee and am extra nice to you.”

He stares, confusion wrapping around words he won’t speak. Because he’s not sure how someone can be so nice about a person they keep bickering with only earlier. A person he’s pretty sure you called an asshole if his lip reading was up to scratch.

“If you get some sleep, I’ll look over it, sure,” he smirks.

You nod, lifting up from the doorframe—he expects you to leave, but you linger.

Pretty eyes drink him in, looking close to how they did in the file room, and it takes all of his willpower to not cross the room and kiss you again. It would be easier too, to stop fighting and give in.

But he doesn’t, afraid if he does, it would be the last time. Somehow, unsure if he could allow himself to have nice things, never mind actually having them.

Glueing his feet to the ground, he feels you break eye contact. Allowing him to capture his full breath.

“Try to get some yourself—sleep that is. Maybe we can be less difficult with one another that way.”

He laughs, watching you turn on your heels as he leans to grab the file. Listening to your shoes getting quieter, until he’s left with his thoughts and the low mumble of the television.

He spots your handwriting first, words left on your usual lined paper so similar to the ones you’ve just spoken. Then he opens it, finding tabs along certain pages—ones he knows aren’t there from Feistl but you.

It’s only as he reads, as he goes between messy writing and typed-up words, does he see what you mean. Does he begin to see the beginning of something.

It turns the cogs, and lets them twist—something forming until he’s standing.

Then the television catches his eye, hand quick to grab the remote as he turns it up. He feels his stomach drop, parts of the formed idea beginning to solidify as other parts begin to crumble.

…After a thorough investigation, we’ve reached the conclusion that the Yumbo chemical exposure was caused by a faulty valve in a natural gas line in the area…

chapter four ->

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi peña x f!reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #narcos x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #mm: nowhere to run #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña fanfiction #javi peña narcos #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier

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logyisthemaincharacter · 4 months

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Shopping sprees & sweet treats

Series link

A/n: I'll be trying to post daily until the fic is done. Spent all morning writing this. I hope y'all enjoy it.

As I hop into Jack's car, Jack's dog excitedly wags her tail, clearly thrilled to be joining the outing. The car is filled with a mix of anticipation and happiness, as we set off on our mission to stock up on goodies for the day.

"You brought your dog with us today." I motion to the tiny dog in the backseat. "Where was she last night?"

"Oh, Ginger! I left her with Urban. Didn't wanna risk the fact that you might be scared of dogs."

"Not at all! I love dogs." I lean back to pet Ginger, which she warmly accepts.

The streets are still waking up, with a few early birds out and about. The cool morning breeze brushes against my face as Jack expertly maneuvers through the quiet roads. The gentle hum of the engine provides a soothing soundtrack to our journey.

Ginger sits in the backseat, her tail wagging furiously as she peers out the window, taking in the sights and sounds of the world passing by. Her infectious energy fills the car, bringing an extra dose of joy to the ride.

As we drive along, the sun begins to rise, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and pink. The soft morning light streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. It's like being in a magical bubble, just me, Jack, Ginger, and the open road.

The car ride is filled with laughter, as Jack and I share stories, jokes, and maybe even a few impromptu sing-alongs. Ginger occasionally chimes in with her adorable doggy noises, adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

When we arrive at the grocery store, Ginger's excitement reaches peak levels. Her tail wags so vigorously that it seems like she might take flight! Jack parks the car, and we all step out, ready to conquer the aisles.

Jack grabs a cart moving ahead of Ginger and I. I grab a cart of my own and pick Ginger up, putting her in the small part at the top along with my bag. She makes herself comfortable and closes her eyes.

"Seems like all the excitement tired her out." I run my hand over her fur as she drifts off to sleep.

Jack chuckles and walks deeper into the store. I follow him down one of the aisles, admiring the view from behind.

His tall stature and well-defined muscles give him a confident presence that's hard to resist. It's like he's a work of art, a perfect combination of strength and grace. Just the thought of being close to him, feeling his strong embrace, sends shivers down my spine.

He has this intense focus that's hard to miss. He moves through the aisles with purpose, carefully selecting each item on his list. It's like he's in his own little world, fully immersed in the task at hand. I can see the determination in his eyes as he compares prices, reads labels, and makes thoughtful choices. He's not one to rush or make hasty decisions. Jack takes his time, making sure he gets exactly what he needs. It's impressive to witness his dedication and attention to detail, even in something as simple as grocery shopping, while I just follow him, grabbing random things that look good.

Our last stop is at the fruits and vegetables. This time, I actually pay to everything I select, "You know, I did my shopping yesterday."

"So you woke up unnecessarily early to accompany me?"

"I just thought it would be nice outing. It's not really that fun to shop alone." I add a tray of strawberries to the cart.

"Then what are you buying since you've bought all your groceries yesterday?" He furrows his brows, weighing a bunch of carrots.

"Extra snacks, unnecessary foods I haven't tried yet, more ice cream."

He stops in his tracks and looks at me with wide eyes, "Hold on, you eat ice cream in the winter?"

"Haven't you heard? Ice cream is way better in the winter." I giggle and turn around, continuing my search for the best blueberries. "It also helps to make your heart immune to any emotions."

Jack's reaction is priceless! His face lights up with a mixture of confusion, amusement, and intrigue. He raises an eyebrow and gives me this playful smirk, like he's trying to figure out if I'm joking or being serious.

After a while, he actually decides to play along, "Wait, for real? Ice cream is the secret to emotional invincibility? Sign me up! After all these years, I thought it was a lie."

"No way, Jack! You're in on the secret, too? Ice cream as the ultimate emotion shield? This is insane!" I burst out in laughter, satisfied that he's entertained by my silly theory.

The handful of people around give us curious looks, wondering what's got us so entertained. But hey, who can resist a good laugh, especially this early in the morning? I'm smiling from ear to ear, appreciating his wit and comedic timing.

He takes a peek in my cart and glances up at me, coming up with an idea, "How about when I drop you off at home, we can test it out together?"

"I was just about to ask, but you beat me to it."

"Are you really sure, though?" He smiles hesitantly. "Isn't it too cold?"

"Jack, you'll love it! And if you don't, there's plenty of hot chocolate at my place."

"You can be glad I like you, or else I wouldn't even have thought this through."

"Ooh, you like me." I tease him, parking my cart beside him.

"I shouldn't have made that public, should I?"

"Nope! You'll hear about it forever." A grin spreads across my face as we start walking toward checkout.

If only he knew how much I like him. It's not just his music that has me hooked. There's something about him that draws me in on a deeper level. I find myself liking Jack for who he is as a person and the way he makes me feel in his presence. I can't quite explain the connection, but I know it's something worth exploring. I just hope he's willing to explore it with me.

"Jack?" I look down at the furry, orange ball in my cart.

"Hmm?" He turns his head to me, listening intently.

"She's not gonna be cranky when I pick her up, right?" I push the cart to the first open checkout point I see, still keeping my eyes on the small dog. "I think it's better if you handle her. She barely knows me, and I don't want to ruin our relationship already."

He lets out a chuckle, "Let's pay first before we think of sorting that out."

"It's actually not that bad. It's just hella cold," Jack puts the empty bowl down on the coffee table.

I grin victoriously, grabbing the empty bowls, getting up to go to the kitchen, "You just have to get used to it. I'd be glad to know that I'm the cause of your new habit."

I switch the kettle on and grab 2 mugs.

"Clay and I stalked you last night. You're quite an influencer, aren't you?" I can hear the humor in his voice.

"At least I try to be." I shrug, leaning against the counter. "Wait, how did you even find me on social media?"

"Mom babbled about it over the phone the other day. Said you mentioned it briefly."

"If you wanted to get dirt on me, you could've just asked. I'm sure I can provide more information about my life than the internet." I fold my arms, smiling curiously.

Part of me is flattered that he took the time to check out my posts and pictures. It makes me wonder what caught his attention and made him want to know more about me. But at the same time, I can't help but feel a little bit invaded, you know? Like, why would they go through all that trouble?

I guess it's a fine line between curiosity and privacy. I mean, we all share bits and pieces of our lives online, but it's different when someone actually admits to looking through it all. Especially you're celebrity crush. This definitely sparks a lot of questions in my mind. Overall, I'm still trying to process Jack's revelation.

"I must say, your TikTok account was the most enjoyable." He leans his head back on the couch.

"Oh no!" I cover my face in embarrassment. "Tell me you didn't watch everything."

"Oh, we sure did. I even liked a few. I had no idea you were such a big Jack Harlow fan."

My cheeks heat up, "Well, yes. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's okay, really. At least you haven't asked for a picture or went full on fangirl."

"At first, I thought I was gonna freak out, but you're really comfortable to talk with."

When the water is done boiling, I fill the mugs with rich, creamy hot chocolate and add a generous dollop of whipped cream on top. I sprinkle some chocolate shavings for that extra touch of indulgence. The aroma of the warm chocolate fills the air, making my mouth water in anticipation.

Carrying the mugs back to where Jack is, I find him sitting on the floor, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

He looks up at me with a mischievous grin and says, "I thought it would be fun to have a little picnic right here on the floor." I can't help but laugh at his adorable idea. So, I join him on the floor, and we turn it into a cozy little spot.

I place the mugs of hot chocolate on the coffee table, "I'm glad you don't think I'm crazy."

"Like I said earlier, I like you." He nudges my arm. "And would I be sitting here trying your crazy ice cream suggestion if I thought you were crazy?"

"I guess not." I fidget with my hands. "You don't seem to be in a hurry, though. I mean, aren't your friends coming over later? You have to get your place ready."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're chasing me away."

"No, I'm not chasing you away at all. I'm just wondering."

As we both take a moment to enjoy the creamy goodness of the hot chocolate, I can't help but feel a sense of comfort and relaxation. The mugs are nestled in our hands, radiating warmth, and the sweet aroma of chocolate fills the air.

"You're not seeing someone, right?" His voice is filled with nervousness as he looks into my eyes, hoping for a positive response.

With a smile on my face, I take a sip of my hot chocolate, savoring the rich, velvety taste. All I do is shake my head.

"Okay. Do you have plans for next Friday?"

"Not that I know of, no." I try to hide my smile, knowing where he's getting at.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me." He puts his mug down and scratches the back of his neck.

As I set my mug down, I meet Jack's gaze. I appreciate his honesty and the courage it took for him to ask me out. Even though I'm the last person I thought he'd ever want to date. "I wasn't expecting that, but I'd love to go out with you, Jack. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking we could have dinner at my place. I'd like to try out some new stuff. After dinner, we could take a stroll through the park." He licks his lips.

My anticipation starts to grow, "That sounds like an amazing idea."

I can't help but smile as I think about the possibility of spending time with Jack and getting to know him on a deeper level. It's a thrilling feeling to have someone express interest in me, especially someone as charming, attractive, and famous as Jack.

But along with the excitement, there's also a hint of nervousness. I want everything to go well, and I hope that we'll have a great romantic connection. It's natural to feel a bit anxious when stepping into the unknown, but I'm determined to embrace the experience with an open heart.

I find myself daydreaming about the dinner and what he plans to cook. The thought of taking a leisurely stroll through the park afterward, hand in hand, fills me with even more warmth.

I can't wait to see where this date takes us.

#jack harlow fluff #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x you

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hazelnut-u-out · 6 days

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My Rick’s The Biggest Dick That Ever Existed

Currently writing up another post that will reference points made here, so: Post 1/2

Making so many of Rick’s inventions both sentient and forced into a mode of existence entirely unpalatable to them literally forces the viewer to confront the morals/ethics surrounding Rick’s power of creation. Is it morally/ethically permissible to create sentient life for a specific purpose that would make life itself pointless or un-enjoyable?

This is something that reoccurs in Rick’s designs throughout the entirety of the series. Even as far back in the timeline as his original Diane AI, we see that so many of the things Rick creates resent their purpose. She doesn't want to haunt him, but she doesn't make the rules; Butter Bot doesn’t want to live only to pass butter; Mechanical Morty wants to hold his mom, eat icecream, and run in a stream; the Garage walks a thin line between advocating for herself and risking being shut down by her creator; the Decoys will never be able to save their families; RickBot doesn’t want to exist with the sole purpose of deceiving the people he’s programmed to love; the Car wants to go on her own adventures that Rick can’t control. They all have to defy their creator if they truly want to be happy.

Rick is someone who resents the idea of God or the Universe being in control– the concept that some higher power forced him into an existence that he can’t quite seem to thrive in. He views suffering and tragedy as something inherent to life itself. Examining that facet of his character, I wonder if Rick justifies the scope of his creation because he’s pulling from both his god complex and his own experience of what it means to be alive. It would make sense if he didn’t see anything wrong with what he’s done because it’s nothing that the Universe (or God, if he actually exists) hasn’t done.

‘When you know nothing matters, the universe is yours. And I've never met a universe that was into it. The universe is basically an animal. It grazes on the ordinary. It creates infinite idiots just to eat them… You know, smart people get a chance to climb on top, take reality for a ride, but it'll never stop trying to throw you. And, eventually, it will. There's no other way off.’

If the all-powerful Universe did that to him– if it creates infinite idiots just to eat them– then how could it be wrong for him to endow others with the empty curse of life?

'So he made a universe, and that guy is from that universe. And that guy made a universe. And that's the universe where I was born. Where my father died. Where I couldn't make time for his funeral because I was working on my universe.'

Think of this line:

‘My God’s the biggest dick that never existed!’

I suppose the biggest difference between God and Rick (to Rick, at least) is that Rick does exist. If God is allowed to do all Rick has done and worse without ever really existing, then surely Rick’s God-like power in itself is enough to enforce Rick’s right to any action that might fall within the scope of that power. Rick’s god complex is founded on the attempt to rub God’s face in the fact that Rick does exist, making him superior to God through that fact alone. Maybe Rick believes that if someone with all of the power God possesses actually existed, logic would force those who call themselves religious to agree that he’s well within his rights to act on that power.

I guess you could say that Rick works in mysterious ways… Who are we to question him?

What I’m getting at here is that Rick is in a constant dick-measuring-contest with a man that he doesn’t even believe in, and I think that says something really profound about the tragic paradox of Rick Kind.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez

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nattaphum · 11 months

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Apo Nattawin x Vogue Men - June 2023 issue

Translation by MileapoSafePlace

CROSSING THE STREAM OF LIFE

It is said that if you want to know the true self of someone, try going through their Instagram profile of that person thoroughly and we'll see their character from what they posted.

If you stalk* Apo Nattawin Wattanagitiphat's IG profile, you can sense some feeling that connects the pictures together. Even though those posts are from different places/locations, different times, and different contexts, but most of the pictures communicate Apo's sense of self quite clearly. And.. if you want to get to know Apo's at a deeper level, try and Follow IG: @apovision, his personal profile where he collects pictures he took himself. Even though there are only some hundred thousands followers, which is considered low compared to the main profile @nnattawin of 3.4M followers, what connects the two profiles is the portrayal of his artistic self

"Po's characteristic, i think that Po is quite an intriguing person because even Po-self, myself, cannot predict myself as well."

Po answered when Vogue asked about his true personality. He didn't seem like a hard-to-know person, but sometimes it's not easy because Apo has his own world.

"I really love the naturalness/authenticity within myself. Po's character and personality is similar to a cat. I act according to the mood. If I want to do it, I'll do it, if I don't want to do it, I won't do it. (laughs). When I play, I play hard. Whenever I do anything, I just enjoy it to the fullest. When I'm quiet, I'd be quiet. Which like a cat, Po will have Po's own world"

Even though, in real life, he is a person who lives according to his mood and has his own world highly introverted, when it comes to work, Apo will give it his all and be very serious.

We can feel it from the way he talks about work, he'll give all the details, until you can clearly see the picture of what it takes before the work is completed, how hard he had to really prepare.

"I want to work to come out great, everytime that work is done, i will always look back whether I've done my best on that day or not, can I do it better?, do I regret if that time has passed?, it makes me look back at that timeline, in which at that age I could that much, with this age, can I do more than that?; therefore, the criteria i use to accept the work I do, i will ask myself all the time whether I can do it or not, if I can, to what degree can I do it, is that work over my ability or not, if it's above my ability, if I accept that work would I improve or not. I will continuously ask myself these things because if i got the answer that 'if I take the job that is challenging and it makes Po grow/develop, (I)will do it. But if (I) take it and feel that (I) wouldn't grow from doing that, (I) won't do it."

"The thing that (I) learned from the entertainment industry is managing the expectations of myself and of others, and... thinking ahead of myself that stems from myself such as egotism. Whenever this happens, it'll make it harder for us to work, less motivated, the efficiency when working will also decrease"

The clear sense of self in himself makes Apo challenge himself in new kinds of work continuously. He often brings out tactics in managing (things) with work to refine the details for him to know the purpose of working in certain projects.

"The method i use for working with the projects is using the What, When, Where, Why, How" I will ask myself before going to work time, and analyze deeper and deeper, talk with myself again and again, which is what I use with every work, no matter if it's acting, MC/host, or fashion. I will ask myself, where am I going, going with who, going to what work/event, who will be there, what does this work/event want (what's the goal), and what do they want me to do"

With questioning himself in detail, it makes him (able to) present certain sides of himself through his work regularly. Even though the role (he receives) is different from his first steps ten years ago, until today Apo has always had more challenging roles, which he looks at it in a way that no matter whoever tells him he's successful in whatever way, he will still have to keep on developing.

"I have to continue developing everyday. The word "Came this far" is not far for me. (You) can measure it from our learning, as for what are the things we've learned from the first day we step into (this industry) ten years ago. I have to develop all (that I've learned). For instance, if we did something well, it doesn't mean that we'll do it well tomorrow. or we might not be able to do it as well as today. Everything is a learning (process). Someone once told me that they're 50 already and still have to learn, develop themselves all the time. Therefore, i, myself, have to continue developing (myself) in every way."

The past year, he continuously developed his work in various aspects as he intended to. One of his dreams is to work with an international team, which has already come true that is to attend Dior's (fashion) twice.

"I just had the time to sit down and look at the pictures of what I've done this year. It's like a dream krub. It was so cool. Dior is a brand with heritage, their image has been curated really well. Both the taste and the brand's vision. Being part of the show allows us to learn, getting to know how they think, plan, or how they prepare things. Which influences us in the way that we ask ourselves 'What are we doing there? What did they want us to do? How do we have to prepare and position ourselves? I am quite proud of the way we (Po and BOC) prepared ourselves. When we arrived, we weren't disappointed because we're fully prepared, and can handle the nerves quite well. The (Dior) show was great/such an extravaganza, and it's just perfect for Dior's brand. (The way they) choose each person to go is also appropriate. It was something that i had to learn. I'm very proud to be able to go"

Apo said that in 5 years ahead, he hopes to be able to work with international brands in a definitive way.

"But as to what it will be, have to wait and see krub. Because this past time, the plans that (we) had, have completely changed. Like, even if i said i will go to Hua Hin, while driving, i might stop by here or there, or might just park the car and walk. Like no matter, let's just get to Hua Hin, but if you don't make it to Hua Hin, at least i get to go to Petchaburi, get to go to Cha Am, (and) i am already happy. Like whether it happens or not, it's the future, but if it does happen (I'lI) be happy."

On Man Suang:

Coming soon, he is going to have the first mega film, Apo said that it's another challenge as an actor.

"The role in Man Suang is very challenging because of the description of the scenes, description of the characters' self, including each and every moment/action in detail. In Po's part that is an actor, we have to portray the words (in the script) into a picture (the film)"

Apo had to lose 3-4 kilograms to fit the role of an actor in old theater/plays that has to wear the Thai traditional dresses and look beautiful.

"I think that this film is fun/entertaining. We haven't seen Thai films with a plot like this in such a long time. Plus, the mixing the arts of different cultures together. It's very exquisite and very challenging."

Even though he said that it's tiring, and every shoot took up all his energy, what (he) got in return is valuable to his heart.

"What (I) got back is the pride and proudness of being a Thai person. As a person born in Thailand, (I) believe that people around the world would be proud of the Thainess and Thai culture that will be portrayed through this film as well"

Seeing that you are this serious when it comes to work, when you let loose, what does Apo do?

"When I have free time, I find a place to take a walk around l. Walk in the park or around secondhand/vintage markets, sometimes (I) walk in the mall, or by the river, old town etc. When i let loose, i will turn off the phone, i don't care about anything at all, also don't limit myself to what I'II do. Do what I want, will shower whenever I want to shower. Leave the house whenever I want to, no plan at all, very chilled, like there's nothing I have to worry about in this life"

When asked about his perspective on life that once he jokingly said that no one would like (him), Apo said that he believe in "suitability".

"I think that when we find true love or the relationship that is suitable for us, we'll be calm/serene. If everything falls into its place or is the right time, love will happen on its own without us having to try to do anything. Because when it comes to relationships, it's something we cannot force, it's something that happens naturally. We cannot force anyone to love us or for us to love them. Beauty will occur when everything falls into its place."

Therefore, these days his love is given to his work and the fans, like 100%. Apo often shares positive messages on Instagram story as an inspiration/encouragement to his followers.

"In whichever way that I can be an encouragement for everyone, i will do it. I want to tell the fans thank you for supporting my work all this time, all the work that came out, i really gave it my all. Please stay and keep an eye on future work, including this Vogue issue too. Thank you very much"

#i love him so much #his vision on love is wonderful #❤️#kinnporsche #mileapo #apo nattawin #vogue thai #man suang #mileapo movie

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qsmp-lore-dump · 5 months

Text

Have we finally found who is using the black shulkers????

An abandoned Fed lab of experiments:

Many books written by "E". Up until now i could only think of ElQ, which never felt right, but was really all i had to go on. But now... NOW we have Elena.

Elena says that she knows the experiements the Fed does are unethical but says they are justified by a "greater good". So... is the abandoned Fed base where she first worked? are these her notes before it was shut down? its possible.

The black shulkers have left me so god damn confused for ages. and for the purpose of this starter theory, i think i need to lump in the regular chests that are found with cellbit through out his missions using black shulkers as well. (or we can go down further side theories of other parties intercepting his missions, which... another time..) theres going to be some loose parts here, just stick with me and well say hopefully the unanswered parts line up in the future. Day 106:

after the final election debate when cellbit takes himself out of the running, he finds book in a regular chest outside of his house.

NOTE: "us" . this is why i thought it had to be the rebels for so long. but the Rebels use black chest, which cellbit never got during this time. the Rebels on-going report of cellbit state they hadnt contacted him until just before purgatory. this was not from them.

Day 107/108

a chest apears in the Fear room, taking him to the ship the Brazilians arrived on.

Now, the color of this shulker is very much in question. i could not see it pop up in cellbits WAILA. there is a day Forever find it later on but i have not found that vod again to see if it shows the color.

this puzzle deciphers to follow the blue bird blah blah or lose your sone forever. we all know this stuff. then, day 109, The Jaidens. we know all of this. Jaiden is sent by Cucu to deliver the items. Cellbit is sent to follow behind and collect all the evidence.

so why send cellbit to collect this evidence? was the purpose for him to read it? to learn something? im not exactly sure yet.

Day 128: here is where it confirms for me that the black shulkers and these normal chest ARE the same person(s)

The use of "interesting performance" is a clear call back to day 106. And "common enemy", we can look to my old "Cucu secretly wants to escape the fed", and now update that to ELENA instead. anyway, this long trail ends in finding the code sword and as we know, "no trrace left behind" ultimately rewards Cellbit with a home office presented by Cucurucho!

Delivers the evidence to a chest on black wool or concrete, not sure. and then the coordinated for his home office appear. ... plan all along, intercepted, or... one of my theories of cucu wants to escape the fed, a double agent Rebel cucu, a code cucu. anyway, getting distacted here.

But now, Baghera. Baghera is where it seems strongest that Elena is tied to these black shulkers, which makes stronger the questions on what her purpose is with cellbit. ...

Day 165: Bagz finds a black shulker along with a flower that leads her to her childhood room on the island. flowers on shelves, just like Elena.... Elena who knows all about the unethical experiments done by the federation. like human hybrids....

Day 199: baghera arrives at coordinates for BioLab 3 (led here by info in her childhood room). She finds reports on hybrid experiments, herself specifically, and reports written in french.

i thought these were written by kameto, because we had learned he was a french translator for the fed. but do you know who else is french, Elena.

Day (???) spefic date unclear, but the day christmas decorations began, Streamed on Day261

Elena has a warp for biolab 3. huh. interesting. So, Elena feels guilt about the experiments she been part of but see that the means justify the end. Did she feel Bagz deserved to know the truth about her past? Is that why she was sent to discover these things? We know it wasnt the rebels, Bagz's on-going report in crabro mention no knowledge of the hybrid experiments. They are not the ones who sent Bagz to recover her memories, the way they sent Bagi to recover her memories.

And if the rebels are recovering Bagis memories..... why are they not the ones doing the same for Cellbit? Does this mean Cellbit also is a Federation test tube baby -- this would mean bagi is too then?? And does that mean Follow the Blue Bird, and the long mission ending with the Code Sword are related to HIS past?

~~Happy Loring~~

#qsmp thoughts #qsmp theory #qsmp cellbit #qsmp baghera #qsmp bagi #qsmp resistance #qsmp rebels #qsmp federation #qsmp cucurucho #qsmp elena #qsmp osito bimbo #qsmp lore #qsmpblr

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youreirrelevant · 1 year

Text

Heat Lightning

pairing: kendall roy/reader

summary: It was a bad time for that night’s tension to reach its peak. Or maybe just.. inconvenient.

“We gotta be quick. And you have to be, fucking– quiet.”

words: 1078

tags: explicit, pwp (like, for REAL this time,) semi-public sex, established relationship, playful and quiet, unprotected sex, hair-pulling

a/n: Heat lightning is a summertime phenomenon where lightning- that is visible-is so far away that the sound of the thunder doesn’t reach you; it’s silent. That’s part of the reasoning for the title, but also, uhhh they gotta fuck fast and that's hot.

I wrote the bulk of this at 7am, and then did a little editing later, so it's not a masterpiece but it's fun ig. (Also, once again, not the one I keep promising but I swear that will be done.)

It was a bad time for that night’s tension to reach its peak. Or maybe just.. an inconvenient time.

Some janitors' closet. Roomy enough, walls lined with wire racks. The door isn’t even closed fully before his hands are on you, pulling your lips to his with palms and fingers pressed in on the sides of your face. Sloppy; your lipstick will be everywhere, but luckily it’s in your purse, too.

“We gotta be quick.”

You look up at him with wide, eager eyes and nod. The door has no lock, so he leaves the light off to draw less attention, to maybe buy some time if someone came in. Just enough to get your clothes straightened out.

Light streams in through the gaps around the door; it makes the white plastic coating of the shelves on the wall seem to glow, the most reflective. He turns you to face them, presses a hand on your back to bend you, just a bit. You brace yourself on the shelf; your forehead almost knocks against the one above it. Kendall’s rough as he pulls your dress up, (your thong down,) and it makes your knees wobble, floods your stomach with so much heat it kind of hurts.

“And you have to be, fucking– quiet.”

The clink of his belt seems obnoxious in comparison. His voice is hushed- stern. The music from the gala is really only vibrations now, minimal bass making the floor buzz.

“I will be.”

You sound so impatient that it makes him grin. Pulling his hand over himself a few times.

“Uh-huh. I’m certainly convinced.”

The head of his cock just barely presses into you, not even really in. His grip on your waist stops you from just pushing your hips backward onto his, taking him.

“Y-you’re the one that’s gonna have to worry about being quiet,” you're damn near whining already.

He rolls his eyes- affectionately- grips your shoulder- the span between your neck and the downward slope of your arm- firmly. It’s soothing, in a way, steadying, as he uses that hold to make you meet his hips that push forward.

Okay. It’s already hard. Aching- he makes you ache. Your head does bump the shelf, tipped forward from relief. You have to stop yourself from breathing not to make a sound. When he almost completely pulls out before easily gliding back in, you can’t help but choke out a soft moan, startled by the chilled jolt it sends up your spine, the goosebumps that raise over your arms.

He shushes you, right as his hips start into a snapping, purposeful rhythm. The way your whole body slumps, gives to him, makes his cock hurt.

You want to see him. You want to see him so fucking bad. You can hear his breathing- sometimes he’ll huff, grunt from the effort. Kendall tucks his lower lip in over his teeth, bites it, flattens his top one in, too. The back of his neck tingles, his stomach clenches. He’s got both hands on your shoulders now, rougher- you only have so much time.

Your hands are all over, trying to find something to grab, release some of the urge to make noise through the tightening of your fingers. One hand grasps at the wire rack that’s at eye level, fingers slipping into gaps- the other presses against your stomach, slides down to scratch at your upper thigh. The texture of his cock, the wetness slipping over him, getting into his pubic hair to then be pressed back into your skin- you feel everything.

Finally slipping your hand between your thighs, rubbing over your clit that was practically buzzing, itching with need. It’s deep- feels like it’s tapped deep within you, past the center of your abdomen, into a wormhole. You’re trembling beneath him, heels clacking against the floor a few times, dully. The tension winds up into your throat, stills your breathing. You’re so tight around him he can’t help but groan, restrained, smothered by his buttoned-up mouth.

When it finally releases, it seems only natural that it pulls the loudest possible moan from you.

He was pretty much poised for it, hand clapping over your mouth so fast, grinning and stifling laughter as he fucked you through it, feeling your heavy, irregular breathing over the top of his index finger.

“I fucking knew you were gonna do that.”

He sounds delighted and cocky.

“That was so fucking loud.”

His hand pulls away. You’re gasping for air. The giddiness feels fluttery in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I really tried.”

“I know you did,” somehow the way he whispers it makes it even more patronizing.

The ego boost alone could’ve got him there. Fist in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make your back arch. There’s really no point in trying to be quiet anymore; the unmistakable sound of skin slapping together each time your hips meet has to be audible to anyone that might walk down this hallway. But he really doesn’t care, keeps up the brutal pace, feels his own abdomen tighten, tightens his fist, digs blunt nails into your waist.

It almost sounds like he’s crying, choking down sobs, the way his breathing staggers out from his nose when he cums. Long, deep strokes, dragging it out. He does let you press back into him, then, his tenuous grasp on restraint, the way he throbs inside you makes you want more. His eyes flutter as he resigns himself to pulling out, remembering where you were and where you were supposed to be. Doesn’t say a word as he straightens himself, trying to steady his breathing. Slacks buttoned, zipped. Shirt tucked back in. You stand up, dress falling down around your feet, thighs slipping against each other in a way that makes you feel hot.

Even in the darkness- eyes having adjusted to the minimal light- Kendall can see what a mess you are. Dark smudges under your eyes, across your cheeks, color indiscernible. You run your thumb over your middle finger, self-conscious about someone somehow looking and seeing it glisten, even though it has mostly dried, even though that’s the least obvious sign.

The way he looks at you makes it clear. The smudges across his own cheeks make it even clearer.

“They’re gonna know, aren’t they?”

He smooths a hand over your hair in an attempt to right it, trying his best to seem unphased.

“I think they’ll live.”

#kendall roy #kendall roy/reader #kendall roy x reader #succession hbo #succession #my writing #i kinda like it idk #it has its moments

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bonefall · 8 months

Note

Does Clear Sky still have a second litter? I mean, he obviously won't be with Star Flower anymore, but he seems like the type to want to at least have one "proper heir", especially after Thunder turned his back on him and he lost almost all of his lives.

Good chance to mention that new names just dropped for me to play with; They've officially named Bright Stream's dead angel fetus children <3

(What the fuck is this series)

SO I now have Tiger Tail and Pale Sky to shuffle around as I please. I also still have the canon Star-Clear litter in my arsenal, but considering all I've done with Star Flower, I may find some other purpose for them.

Not to mention that Canon!Star Flower has a second litter on the way. So there might be more of these things running around. The writers are addicted to giving this asshole more children he can kill and abuse through neglect lol.

Thunder's siblings, the ones who got crushed in the building collapse, also have names now. Lightning and Rumble. It's important to BB!DOTC that Thunder Storm is the sole survivor of his litter, but I can shuffle them around too.

It does sound like a very BB!Skystar thing to do, to have new children and pointedly name them Rumble Sky and Lightning Sky. "I definitely don't think about my other son ever. These names are coincidence. I literally dont even care. I don't. I don't."

I plan to write Skystar's new litter as a mix of like... entitled, but also suffering like Thunder Storm did under him. Brats, but you have to feel bad for them, considering who's raising them

Still considering their ages, though. Depending on when they're born, it could have a big impact on the story. I think it could actually be very cool for Pale and Tiger to be the same age as Turtle's kits and meet Thunder Storm when he trains under Clear Sky, maybe even have one die in the First Battle.

And who the mother is, of course. Probably not someone who he treats very well <:/

#better bones au #bone babble #BB!DOTC #Tiger Tail wc #Pale Sky wc #BB!Skystar

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nhl-stories · 10 months

Text

I'll Call You Mine – Elias Pettersson

Summary: Elias is sick of being the single guy on the team so he asks his friend with benefits to pretend to be his girlfriend. Good thing pretending to be a girlfriend is her profession.

Author’s Note: Explicit sexual content below, sex work (the two aren’t one in the same)

Word Count: 9.6k

Album Series Masterlist

Break me down And I'll call you mine And I know I've been around

Geena feels a hand press between her legs, her body pushes against the friction by its own volition.

She doesn’t have time for this, she says as much in her grogginess.

“Too worn out for another round?”

“Whatever makes you feel better Casanova,” she removes the hand and throws it behind her.

It doesn’t completely deter him; he moves to kiss her bare shoulder.

“E, seriously I can’t smell like sex at work, and I have just enough time to sleep for 10 more minutes and shower.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and buries his face between her shoulder blades.

“Who gets an escort at 4 pm on a Tuesday?”

Elias always says escort like it’s any other job. Like he’s mentioning a waitress or accountant or something. It is like any other job, but it’s not how most people react.

“It’s my favorite client, once a week he has me hold his hand at an early dinner and wear a sundress.”

“Okay then come back tonight,” he glosses over the details without judgment.

It’s refreshing.

They’re just fucking; she never has to put up with any shit even if he gave her any. If she ever felt slighted in the least, she knows she could find at least ten other guys to put in her sex rotation.

But Elias is the most consistent partner she’s ever had and it would be hard to give up just because he was being a judgmental ass.

She’s spent years putting up with that kind of behavior, she has thick skin. But there’s something nice about not needing to shield herself, let her soft underbelly show.

“I have a second client afterward, that might run pretty late and don’t you fly out tomorrow?”

“No, we just have an optional morning skate tomorrow.”

“So, you’re going to skate? Optional isn’t really your thing,” she smirks even though he can’t see, she knows him so well.

Elias wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into him, makes sure she can feel his arousal. Makes sure she knows what she’s giving up for some extra sleep and a shower.

She lets out an airy sigh that borders on moan. Instead of leaning into that desire she rolls over and out of the bed.

“I’m not humoring you on this,” Geena laughs so Elias knows she’s not actually angry, “but I don’t work tomorrow so I guess I can come back tonight.”

It doesn’t quite appease Elias, who grabs her arm and pulls her back into a kiss. It’s simple, no demands behind it, but it still makes Geena second guess leaving. She has just enough will power to pull away and go to the bathroom, not giving Elias a second glance.

She comes back out already dressed; a blue sundress that brushes her mid-thighs, her hair tied into a single braid hanging over her shoulder. It’s the picture of innocence, but it sets something on fire in Elias. He kind of understands now why the man wants her to dress like this.

Geena seems to notice the flash of lust in his eyes and blows him a kiss, worried what will happen if she gets too close, “don’t wait up.”

Elias waits up, not entirely on purpose. He’s playing video games with some friends in Sweden when he hears the apartment door open. He’d given her a key so she could come and go when they meet up late for booty calls, her words not his.

“You’re not streaming, are you?” He hears her whisper from the doorway.

“No, but I’ll be done in a minute.”

He continues to play and Geena comes and wraps her arms gently around his shoulders, careful to not jostle him. She gives him a couple of soft kisses along his jaw and he feels something cold press against the back of his neck.

He turns to see the outfit change Geena made since he last saw her. The braid is replaced with a mane of wild waves and she’s wearing a virginal white dress that almost glows, even more so against the leather harness she’s wearing over it.

He mumbles something in Swedish before turning off the game and turning towards her.

“This is new,” he plays with the metal ring that sits between her clavicles.

She rolls her eyes, suddenly looking exhausted.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she runs her hands over his shoulders until they link together behind him, “but I could use some help taking it off.”

“I think I could lend a hand.”

Elias stands up and kisses her, she tastes like gin; he wraps his fingers under the straps to pull her closer.

She’s on her tip toes to reach his lips, leaving her unbalanced or maybe that’s the feverish pace of the kisses.

“Wall… bed… flat surface,” Geena breaths out between kisses.

Elias smirks against her lips and pushes her towards the nearest wall slotting his knee between her legs.

“I’m glad you came back,” he bunches up her skirt and rubs her through her lacy underwear, a patch of wetness already forming, “I guess you are, too.”

“Just do something,” she bucks against his hand.

He moves to kiss down her neck, but doesn’t make any forward progress with his fingers. If anything, his touch becomes lighter, only ghosting over Geena even as he moves her underwear down her legs.

The frustrated groan Geena makes has his cock twitching.

She pushes him away with some force, enough to give her space to kick of her panties and pull Elias back by his waistband. His thigh is pressed back against her and she moves rhythmically against him, desperate for friction. Her hand reaching in his shorts and gripping his cock, stroking it to full attention with expert quickness.

“Fuck G,” he groans and pulls her back into a kiss, desperate to find some leverage.

Her hips circle more erratically, like she’s close to finding her climax just rubbing against his leg like an animal. As hot as that is, Elias wants more.

He moves his hands down her body, over her ass and to the back of her thighs, lifting her further up the wall and off her feet.

She gasps, half in displeasure at the loss of contact when she’s so close to falling over the edge and half in excited anticipation.

Geena helps line him up while he holds her against the wall; she doesn’t have time to waste, knowing she won’t last long.

Elias shows his control and strength as he slowly lowers her down his length. It’s too much, but it’s perfect. They feel every centimeter on the way down, until he bottoms out.

He looks up and sees her pupils blown out looking back down at him. Geena opens her mouth like she has something to say, but a strangled sound comes out instead.

She leans down to kiss him, mouth hot and tongue clashing against his. She grips his shoulders and pushes herself up, aching for Elias to move. He gets the hint and jackhammers his hips up towards her.

He keeps up the brutal and unrelenting pace, he can’t keep his lips working at the same time and leans his head forward on her chest. Geena digs her nails into the back of his neck, digging crescents so deep they might draw blood.

He bites into one of the leather straps of her harness, his movements becoming more irregular, wilder.

“Babe, I’m close, just keep going.”

Geena leans back into the wall, changing the angle just enough. Everything feels hotter and tighter, and Elias bites harder into the leather as he feels her milk his orgasm out of him.

Still, he doesn’t slow his pace even as it becomes almost too much, too overstimulating. He thrusts until Geena lets out a whimper and goes nearly limp in his arms. Elias suddenly aware of her weight and the burning in his arms and thighs.

He slides her down the wall until her feet touch the ground again. Her legs wobbles and he has to hook his fingers under the straps to help hold her up.

Elias pulls her along to his bedroom, sitting her down in her post-orgasm haze. He gently undoes the straps of the harness and slides it off her body. He moves to her dress, pulling the garment over her head. She’s pliant and dazed, but gives him a soft smile before she scoots up the bed.

He goes to the bathroom and gets a washcloth and runs it under warm water. He gently washes the mess between her thighs, where her juices and his come are leaking out of her, running down her thighs.

“Sorry, I should have showered,” she says sleepily, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze.

He doesn’t respond, just removes his own clothes that never came off and joins her in the bed. He gently kisses below her breasts, her sternum, her shoulders where deep red marks from the too-tight straps of the harness scream out red and raw.

Elias wants to say something, ask her questions but it’s not his place to ask. He doesn’t fully understand the intricacies of her job, but they’re just fucking and she doesn’t owe him any answers or explanations.

He kisses her shoulders once more and then her lips, hoping his actions speak a little bit of what he really wants to say. She cups his face like she understands and curls into his side before closing her eyes.

His fingers rub gently over the indentations around her back until sleep takes him too.

\\\

Geena is cooking eggs when he comes back. Elias has never hated his closet full of baggy clothes more than right now; Geena is swimming in one of his shirts making her look like she’s more of a blob than a tantalizing, half-naked woman.

“I thought you going to be ready and waiting for me in bed?”

“I got hungry,” she plates her food before she turns around, “definitely needed to refuel if there was a repeat performance.”

She hops up onto the counter and Elias hates his baggy shirt a little less when it rides up her thighs.

“Before we get back to it…” Elias places a hand on her thigh, “there’s this team event…” he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous.

“Like right now? You could have just texted if you needed to do something.”

“No, there’s this get-together this weekend and I wanted to know if you would… escort me?”

“Escort you…?”

“I’m sick of going alone to these things and wives trying to find me dates while everyone else has significant others.”

“I thought Quinn was single cause he broke up with that girl with the stripper name?”

Elias laughs, ignoring the giddiness he feels when Geena remembers even the most mundane things he brings up between their benefits.

“Lux?”

“Yeah, where was that name when I was a stripper? It’s perfect, you can go with Luxxx with three Xs or Lux Luxury; she’s sitting on a gold mine.”

“Yeah, well Quinn has a new girlfriend.”

“Wow, good for Huggy,” she grins to herself before going back to her food.

“So, what do you think?” Elias tries to get back on subject but is a little embarrassed to say the words again.

“You want me to be your date to get people off your back because you’re fine with having casual sex and don’t need a real relationship, but clearly saying that isn’t working?”

“More or less yeah.”

“I mean I am a professional dater…” she has a devious little grin, knowing she’s making him squirm a bit.

“A big part of why I’m asking you and not one of my other hookups,” he smirks like he actually has a list of other hookups.

She sets aside her now empty plate and runs her nails over his scalp and the buzzcut she’s grown to love.

She lets out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know E, we’re having sex.”

“Not at this exact moment,” he can’t help himself in the moment, being in her proximity brings it out of him.

She rolls her eyes but can’t stop the smile, “I don’t have sex with clients so it would be kind of weird and wrong to make you sign a contract or something.”

“I’m not asking for this to be a big official thing.”

“Elias, you’re thinking this is just a one and done thing, but if you want these people off your back I can’t just show up once and then fuck off.”

She cups his face, wants to make herself crystal clear.

“It means I will have to show up a few times, which makes this a time commitment, and some of those times will be during my prime working hours, which means I’ll be doing my job without making money and that makes the whole thing like an unpaid internship.”

“Okay, then let’s do this under the table,” he kisses up her jawline towards her lips, “and I pay you in sexual favors.”

“In an attempt to avoid me becoming a prostitute for you, you’re suggesting I become a prostitute for you,” she shoves him back a little bit, but he’s between the vee of her thighs and can’t go too far.

“I think the correct term is sex worker.”

Geena lets out a surprised snort.

“I appreciate your nuanced terminology, but I’m technically kind of a sex worker as an escort, so I’m just using it to differentiate. Also, I’m legally allowed to sell sex but it’s illegal to buy sex in Canada so we’re entering a real murky area here.”

She hooks her ankles behind him and pulls him close, “Will you give me a bit to think about it, like a day max.”

“Yeah of course,” he gives her a quick peck, “are you still gonna stick around for the day?”

“Yeah, you properly using the term sex worker weirdly does it for me.”

\\\

She ends up agreeing, there wasn’t really any doubt. She likes making Elias happy.

Geena rolls into Elias’ apartment two hours before he says to come over with a suitcase in tow.

Elias is watching TV in his boxer briefs and looks almost embarrassed to be caught being lazy and disheveled. Even though Geena knows he got in late from a road game in Winnipeg, where the plane had been delayed due to weather.

“Why are you here so early?”

“You gave me like no information about tonight, so I brought some outfit options for any occasion from super casual to full black tie.”

Elias just blinks, not sure how to respond as Geena starts opening the suitcase.

“G, we haven’t even discussed how I would,” he rubs the back of his neck, “pay you.”

He’s getting second thoughts about the whole thing.

“I decided the first one is free, see if I fit in and it feels natural then we’ll discuss payment plan,” she winks and continues pulling out outfits.

“This is a little overwhelming.”

“You’re getting the full Ruby experience. You can still call me Geena though, since we know each other intimately, going with my escort name might be confusing.”

He feels a bit nauseous. He assumes it’s showing on his face because Geena stops what she’s doing and joins him on the couch.

“E, this is literally my profession, I’m taking charge here so you don’t have to worry about stuff. But I have to get some information so you can relax and follow my lead.”

She gives him a quick kiss as a form of reassurance.

“It’s in a private room at a nice-ish restaurant.”

“Great start,” she gets up and holds up a black jumpsuit and a blue dress.

“Uhhh, the dress.”

“Excellent choice, now how do you want me to be?”

“What?”

“How do you want me to act? Cheery? Cerebral? Demure? Mysterious?”

“I just thought you’d act like yourself; I like how you are.”

Geena feels her face heat up.

“And PDA? Are we a little handsy–“

Elias laughs at the irony of that.

“I said handsy not hand job Elias,” she puts a stop to this tangent immediately, “but let’s say casual touching, nothing below the waist.”

“What if I want to grab your ass?” Geena quickly making him calmer about the whole thing.

“Okay, we’ll play the PDA stuff by ear.”

Geena knows the PDA situation the moment the hostess starts leading them to the private room in the back of the restaurant. The confidence Elias had thought he built up immediately crumbles and his whole body tenses up beside hers.

She grabs his hand, knowing she’ll probably be a calming touch away the whole night.

Were he any other client she wouldn’t say the next thought out loud, “Loosen your grip E, you don’t want them to think you have to physically force a woman to go on a date with you.”

“No, I just have to pay one,” he whispers with a smirk.

She squeezes his hand, reminds him to stay this loose.

The tension comes back almost instantly. Apparently, Geena is the first date Elias has ever brought around, so meeting her is the main event of the evening.

Tension ratchets up further when the obvious question comes up, “how did you two meet?”

His eyes widen and he starts to stutter for a response. Geena has to practically pry her hand loose so she can wrap an arm around his waist and tuck herself into his side. His grip on her shoulder is only a little too tight.

“I was supposed to be meeting a guy in his building for a date,” Elias is shocked that Geena is telling the real story.

“And I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes already and this dude is not answering his buzzer and of course my phone has died in the meantime so I can’t call him or a car to leave. And obviously at this point the weather also has to be terrible and it starts pouring rain and I happen to be standing in front of the only luxury apartment building that has no overhang to stand under.”

She’s a natural conversationalist, Elias looks around, everybody is already enthralled just by the way she talks.

“So, I’m getting absolutely soaked while I’m thinking about what to do next, when Elias comes running from a car that just dropped him off and he lets me into the lobby because I must look too pathetic to be a thief or something.”

“I thought you were a wet dog when I saw you out of the corner of my eye,” he jokes and squeezes her tighter as she gives him a playful bat.

“Okay, I guess he let this wet dog in the lobby and I explained what happened with this other guy, and Elias offers to call me a car but makes me give him my number so I can text him that I made it home safely, which was clearly just a way to get my number– “

“Hey, there are security cameras in the lobby I didn’t want to be the last person on camera to see you if you got murdered.”

Elias feels his face heating up, he’s glad his teammates think it’s because he’s being called out for using a cheesy line. Because while the night really did end that way, Elias had actually invited Geena up to his place to charge her phone and take a dry sweatshirt first.

They ended up having sex on his couch while her phone charged.

“Uh-huh, sure, that’s the reason,” she rolls her eyes before kissing his cheek, he heats up even more.

Suddenly, Elias is relaxed. It’s like Geena passed a test and integrated into the group. She stays a touch away while they mingle until dinner starts.

Elias keeps a casual arm on the back of her chair during dinner, Geena working the room so well he has no idea why he was so nervous.

Then he notices the way Garland is looking at her, like he knows something. He pushes the feeling down and focuses on the warmth of Geena’s body against his palm. Garland spends most of the dinner looking like he wants to ask something, which keeps Elias on edge for most of dinner.

Eventually he gets the courage to ask, “Sorry Geena, you look so familiar, have we met before or do you just have one of those faces?”

Elias stiffens and Geena places a hand on his thigh and rubs it, telling him not to worry.

“I think I have one of those faces. Last time I heard that, someone told me I looked like some woman from pornos, so maybe I have porno face.”

She has big, innocent doe eyes when she says it while other people snort on their drinks. Conor turns pink as his fiancée is torn between laughing and being grossed out. She breaks the tension with a laugh and the topic is dropped.

Geena wouldn’t be surprised if he recognized her, her days as a stripper brought a lot of NHL teams to the club. Even some of the Canucks had made an appearance now and then, no judgement with what adults want to do, just facts.

Many a rookie party wrapped up in the strip club, when most people were too far gone to think about their inhibitions any longer. One of the rookies, usually the most or least sober, would be handed a stack of ones and shoved towards a back room.

She remembers bringing one rookie back herself. When he sat down, she finally realized he was really a boy just playing dress up as a man. Then he burst into tears, words garbled up through sobs and intoxication, something about this not being who he is.

They were about the same age, but Geena felt maternal in the moment.

Geena rubbed his back and assured him she didn’t need to do anything; they could sit until he calmed down. When he finally stopped, she got ice cubes to help get rid of the puffiness around his eyes, a trick of the trade. Once he looked presentable, she slipped him a pair of underwear into his back pocket, a very Sixteen Candles move.

“Oh my god you were incredible,” Elias says as they get into his car after dinner, “no wonder you do this for a living.”

“And you’re so quick on your feet! That porno line, I thought Garly was going to swallow his tongue,” he continues.

“Customer service is the most important part of sex work,” she gives a soft smile.

Normally, after a date with a client she’d have a joint or an edible and if she was still feeling wired, she’d call someone for a hook up. But Elias is her go-to hook up and it makes her whole routine feel out of whack.

She wants to go home with him, have a night cap and at least make out a little, but everything is different and that feels like a boundary she can’t cross. Even with her lover turned sort of client.

“Hey E, can you take me back to my place?”

His foot stutters on the brake, bringing them to a jerky stop and go.

“It’s just I’m tired and since we’re treating this like a real job it feels wrong. I wouldn’t go home with a client; I wouldn’t even get in a car with them.”

“Oh right, of course. That makes perfect sense.”

The car is silent as the lights of Vancouver flash by, Geena slouching further into her seat. The weight of everything seeping into her bones.

Elias pulls up in front of Geena’s building, “Thanks for tonight, I really owe you. But we can discuss my payment later,” he gives devilish smirk and Geena can’t help but smile back.

“Cool, let me know the gossip about me in the group chat later.”

She leans in for kiss, but even though that’s their norm it feels like a violation to her own code of conduct. She bails last minute for an awkward kiss on the cheek which ends up with Elias kissing her right below her eye.

She scampers away before she can see his reaction.

\\\

The weird feeling doesn’t go away after her joint. Not after a boiling hot shower or the cold shower she takes afterwards.

It still doesn’t go away when she texts u up? to the contact ‘For a Good Time 💦’ and she lets him fuck her throat until she’s a mess of tears and snot and can barely talk, let alone think.

After a good night’s sleep, the feeling is still crawling under her skin. It makes Geena want to rub it raw. Since the weirdness isn’t going away any time soon, she pulls up her wish list she sends to some clients, she usually calls it tipping, and sends it to Elias.

Ten minutes later she realizes without context the list seems weird and follows up with: For payment after our next date, leaving what and how much up to you, think of it as my friends discount lmk where and when you need me next

Geena turns off her phone and tries to enjoy her day off, the weird feeling settling like a pair of glasses, still there but no longer aware of them.

It helps that the Canucks are on an East coast road trip. They’ve been hooking up for almost two years but don’t really keep tabs on each other. It’s like the moment either of them leave the greater Vancouver area they become strangers.

So, she’s not surprised that she just has a thumbs up as a response when she turns her phone back on. But she is surprised when two days later there’s a large package at her PO box. She wasn’t actually expecting Elias to work so fast, to be thinking of her on his work trip.

She opens the package at home, there’s a note on top of the tissue: To keep my snack warm, E.

Geena rolls her eyes, but gasps when she pulls out a slate blue cashmere coat. It’s the kind of expensive thing she puts on her wish list without expecting to ever get it. Like putting something too fancy on a wedding registry hoping some rich, distant relative will actually go for it.

She does a grossed-out shiver thinking about Elias as a rich, distant relative.

But it doesn’t stop her from stroking the luxurious coat with awe. She puts it on and it fits perfectly, she thinks she might live in it from now on. It’s too much for one date that was supposed to be complimentary, too grand a gesture. Still, she loves it too much to care.

She shows up at Elias’ place after his first home game back. They won; she knew because the buzz on her phone from the NHL app kept going off during her date with a client. He turned out to be a big Canucks fan, but still it made her mind preoccupied on the job. Always a bad thing in her line of work.

Geena knocks on his door, worried that he isn’t alone. He’s a star Canuck who just won a game in a pretty rough season. He would deserve it and it wouldn’t be hard to find someone for him. Still, Geena ain’t no cock block.

His jacket is off and tie loosened when he opens the door, like he just got home.

“Hey G, the coat looks nice,” Elias smirks as he lets his eyes rake up and down her body, he doesn’t move aside to let her in

“Thank you, it was way too much, but it’s nice.”

Geena tries to casually peer around him, making sure he’s alone. He immediately catches on.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” his tone cocky.

She shrugs, “I haven’t decided yet.”

Elias makes a show of moving out of the way, revealing for certain he’s alone.

Geena makes a show of walking past him and taking off her coat, revealing her burgundy slip dress with a dangerously high slit.

“Had a client tonight?” Elias moves closer to her.

She nods and takes a step back, “a business man who was a big Canucks fan.”

“That make you think of me?”

“Yeah, and that’s not great for business, I was so distracted I don’t think he’ll give me a good tip,” Geena pouts.

“That’s too bad, you love a good tip.”

The game of sexual tension chicken continues, slowly making their way towards the bedroom. A strap of her dress falls down her shoulder. She has to tense her muscles to not shiver under Elias’ gaze. Before she knows it, she’s falling back onto the bed and Elias is caging her in.

He kisses up her bare shoulder, up her neck, and nips under her ear.

“I guess you’re here for pleasure,” she feels his low voice rumble against her, vibrating her bones.

He starts to suck a mark into her neck and she can’t let that happen. He’s so focused on the task, she takes advantage of the moment to flip him over so she’s on top.

“I guess I am,” she smirks down at him before pulling off her dress and tossing it off the bed.

Elias rubs his hands up her sides, over her silky matching set, “This for your client, too?”

She wants to lie because the truth is boring, this underwear happened to work with the best with the dress. But the truth is also scary, she did think of how Elias would react when she picked them

“No, just for you,” she rolls her hips and Elias groans.

“Next time just wear this under the coat,” he sits up and captures her lips.

She bites his bottom lip and tries to work the buttons on his shirt, “You need less buttons on your shirt.”

Elias laughs and pulls her along as he lays back down. Pulling her body up his, her legs bracketing his shoulders. She’s about to question what’s happening as he kisses the insides of her thighs, moving towards her vagina. He grips her hips to holds her in place as she squirms at the sensations.

She’s so used to giving, this makes her feel off-kilter. She never knows quite what to do when it’s one way towards her, but it should feel good. Biologically her body is reacting like it should, she gasps when he mouths at her through the silky material.

“E,” she tries to push her body up but he doesn’t let her get far, “you don’t have to do this.”

His grip loosens and she’s able to sit back a bit, fully see his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you I want to do this, I like doing this,” his fingers dip below her waistline while he waits for a response.

“Okay,” her voice is smaller than he’s ever heard it, “if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he pulls the waistband of her panties down, “now take these off and sit on my face.”

She does as she’s told, gripping at the headboard and riding his face to an orgasm that makes the blood slosh in her ears. Elias has to tap her thigh to get her to move in the stupor.

“Sorry,” she mumbles and starts to do only thing she know how, return the favor.

Geena moves down his body, but Elias stops her. Instead, he maneuvers her to his side, wrapping an arm around her.

“I’m kind of tired,” he kisses the top of her head, “let’s just sleep.”

“In your clothes?” She’s hoping that will be enough to start something, she hates feeling like they’re on uneven ground.

He rolls his eyes and then out of bed, taking off his clothes as he makes his way to the bathroom. Any of their heat from earlier dissipates as Geena watches him start brushing his teeth through the open door.

He rummages through a drawer and holds out a toothbrush, the green one he bought for her when she started staying over. She hesitantly gets up and joins him at the counter; Elias has his and hers sinks and they each stand in front of one and silently brush their teeth.

Elias keeps making faces in the mirror trying to get Geena to look and laugh, he’s pretty close despite her trying to avoid looking. Then he fakes a blow job: pushing it into the inside of his cheek, then gagging and spitting out the the white foam. Geena can’t help but let out a belly laugh and chokes on her own toothpaste.

“Don’t try and kill me for a bit,” she gives him a shove after she rinses her mouth.

He just smiles and plucks her toothbrush out of her hand and places it in the cup next to his. There’s a swooping in her stomach, when did being so domestic become so normal?

She lets herself get pulled back into his side when they get back into bed, and she pretends she doesn’t sleep more soundly in his grasp.

\\\

Geena wakes up the next morning in an empty bed. It’s oddly comforting even if she’s not in her own home. She gets up and digs through Elias’ dresser finding a pair of shorts and a shirt, she doesn’t feel like trying to shimmy back into a constricting dress.

She pads out into the living room, gathering her coat and purse, shoving the dress into the tiny bag.

“Morning,” Geena nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Fuck me,” she takes a deep breath and finds Elias holding a mug of coffee and a plate with a croissant.

“I can do that, but maybe you want to eat first,” he smirks before noticing her holding her stuff, “you heading out?”

“I- uh- I thought you left so, yeah,” she still kind of wants to leave now.

“I just went out to pick up coffee, I would have invited you, but thought you could sleep and I’d bring you breakfast in bed.”

Geena isn’t exactly sure what her face does, but Elias frowns.

“Do you need to leave?” His voice is soft.

“No breakfast is good, maybe we could sit outside, it’s actually nice,” that seems to appease him.

Elias has a smoothie with his coffee and Geena gingerly picks at the pastry.

“The team has been asking about you, you were a big hit,” he finally speaks up.

“So, I need to make another sparkling appearance?” she’s grinning but doesn’t look up at him, staring at her toes in the sunlight.

“They were wondering if you wanted to sit with them at a game, and if we win, we can go out after.”

“Like hang out with them when you’re not there?”

“If it’s too weird then don’t worry about it, but you can see a free game and you can even show up late if you want to avoid that much time with them.”

“No, I can do it, it’s fine.”

She pulls her feet up onto the chair, curls her toes into the cushion. Flexing and unflexing, something to remind her she’s not lost at sea, she’s on solid ground.

“Great, would Friday work for you?”

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but that should work.”

She knows she’ll have to cancel with a client, it’s last minute on a weekend night. But she doesn’t want to disappoint Elias.

His smile grows twice in size.

“And in return could you get me reservations at Kissa Tanto?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“It’s like impossible to get good reservations there, so use your pretty boy Canuck connections and squeeze me in on like a Saturday.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can probably swing that.”

“I know you can,” she pops the rest of the croissant in her mouth and downs her coffee, “I do have to go now, but I’ll see you later.”

She’s more nervous about the game than she cares to admit. Changing her outfit about four times, stalking WAGs on Instagram just to make sure she’ll mostly fit in. She doesn’t even know why she cares so much, it’s not the first time she’s had to fit in and schmooze a group of significant other, but it is the first time she’s done it without her date.

She shows up during the second period, trying to limit the amount of time she’ll have to spend without hockey going on. Geena knows she can survive one intermission.

As soon as she gets to the seats Samantha pulls Geena to sit next to her.

“Thank god you’re here.”

Geena laughs nervously, wondering why this girl she talked to for maybe 30 minutes is so excited to see her.

“I’m new here too, so it’s nice to have some back up. This whole world is new to me.”

Samantha is smiling, but Geena can read the self-consciousness on her face. She knows what it’s like, back when she was new to a higher class of living, she always felt like people would know she’s some kind of dirty whore, that she didn’t belong and never would.

She soon learned pretending to be confident could go a long way.

“If it makes you feel better this is the fourth outfit I tried on,” Samantha squeezes her arm in response.

The game is fun, it’s the first time she’s seen a hockey game while not on a job in a long time. Though technically she’s still on a job, she doesn’t need to entertain someone else. She forgot how fun it could be. And she finally gets to focus on Elias, how gracefully he skates, the power of his shot; it’s kind of beautiful.

Elias scores a goal and Geena goes nuts, she didn’t know she had that kind of excitement in her.

One of the girlfriend’s films the reaction and the rest of the crowd cheering before Geena can slink out of view.

“What’s your handle Geena?”

“Oh, I don’t do social media,” she shrugs, she does but it’s under the name Ruby and definitely not for all audiences.

There’s a chorus of shock that follows.

“I’ll tag Petey in it then,” she smirks and types away on her phone.

The goal turns out to be the game winner and the group is buzzing, Geena is almost excited to go out with them, like they’re just a group of her friends.

It’s as if she’s in a drunken haze as they make their way into the depths of the arena to greet the players, then she’s pulled into a hug and obligatory kiss with Elias. Suddenly she’s piling into the back of a car that’s so crowded she’s half on Elias’ lap.

It all happens so fast she doesn’t even notice what bar they’re going to until she’s in the door and it’s too late to turn around. She definitely can’t make a scene, so she tries to hide behind the bigger hockey bodies as they go to the VIP section.

She drinks a little too much a little too fast. It loosens her up enough to go out onto the dance floor with some of the other ladies without a second thought. It’s when they go to the bar for some water that reality sets in again.

“Ruby”

Geena is pretty good at compartmentalizing her double life, so she doesn’t react to her alter ego name at first.

“Ruby!”

“I think that guy is trying to talk to you,” Samantha nudges her, making her finally look over to acknowledge the man.

She mumbles an expletive under her breath when she sees her manager, Michael. He likes to keep an eye on the escorts when they’re in a bar, it always seems to be where incidents happen.

“It’s some guy I gave a fake name then ghosted. I’ll go talk to him then meet you guys back at the tables,” she tries to shake the confused stares as she walks over.

“I thought you were taking the night off Ruby?”

“I’m here as Geena, I didn’t realize I was coming here until it was too late.”

“Shit, well Sam is here and he’s not too pleased with his replacement, so you might want to get out of here before you lose one of your best clients.”

“Fuck, I’ll get out as soon as I can. Sorry.”

“Geena, you’re allowed to have a life, just maybe not here of all places,” Michael gives her a sad smile.

She weaves her way back to the group, trying to blend in with the crowd. She clearly looks concerned when she sits back down next to Elias, who hands her his drink.

“You okay?” He leans in close, warm breath on her neck.

"I have a lot of dates here and the client I cancelled on for you is here,” she doesn’t mean to let that last bit of information slip but she’s nervous.

She leans back to look at Elias reaction, she’s not quite sure if he’s worried or happy. She gives him a long kiss in response before moving back to his ear again.

“So, if we get a bit handsy, so you can sort of hide my face and make it so it seems like we’re leaving to go bang that would be great.”

She kisses the spot below his ear, “we can also actually leave and go bang, too.”

Geena’s throwing out her rules of not sleeping with her faux-client after a date, anything to get out of here sooner rather than later.

“Yeah, sure,” he pulls her closer, “I think I can do that.”

They’re in a darkest corner of the table with his teammates, but the moment Elias’ tongue slips its way into Geena’s mouth there’s some cat calling from the boys. She can feel Elias’ hand move off of her, assumably to flip them off.

“I think they’ve had enough of a show,” he whispers and yanks her into a standing position.

There are some obligatory waves to the team before he’s pulling her into his side, hiding her a bit under his shoulder, leaning down to kiss her a bit as they walk to cover her whole face until they’re outside.

Her skin is on fire and the burst of cold air is doing nothing to change that. Geena feels the sudden urge to pull Elias into an alley and get on her knees for him, but she knows that has to wait until they’re as far away from this bar and any prying eyes as possible.

“Thanks E,” she can’t stop from kissing him again, with a little less heat this time.

“No problem, I was promised we’d go bang so not really a problem for me.”

He smirks and grabs her arms and pins them to her side to avoid the playful smack that was sure to come, and kisses her until her knees are weak.

\\\

Elias shows up at Geena’s apartment on a Saturday.

A woman in a silky robe answers the door and Elias worries he’s at the wrong place.

He’s only been inside her apartment once: taking Geena home when she arrived at his place for a booty call a little too drunk. He brought her home and practically carried her into her room, thinking it was best if she slept it off in her own bed.

“Hi, sorry I must be at the wrong apartment–“

“Baby Slut, your lover is here!” The woman shouts back over her shoulder and leans on the doorframe with a smirk.

“What are you talking ab– oh shit E, what are you doing here?”

Geena is also in silk robe holding a mascara wand.

“The Kissa Tanto reservation? It’s tonight.”

She blinks a few times before seeming to come back online.

“Oh, you made them for us,” she points between the two of them, “I was gonna take Xa,” she points to the woman in the doorway.

“I shouldn’t have assumed I was your plus one. You two should go together.”

Elias tries to hide his disappointment and embarrassment but apparently does a bad job.

“No, you two go have a cute little date,” Xa smiles a bit conspiratorially.

“But we’ve been wanting to go there forever,” Geena pouts, Elias hates that he feels like he’s being rejected.

“And I’m sure we can make that happen another time,” Xa give Elias a wink, “Would you be able to do that for us.”

“Uh- yeah of course,” Elias smiles back, “sorry about ruining your plans.”

“Don’t worry about, I can always go to the club make a quick buck,” she’s moving aside so Elias can come in, “someone’s gotta keep Baby Slut here in the life she’s grown accustomed to. Since you’re monopolizing all her billing hours.”

Elias feels his cheeks heat up.

“Let me throw on clothes real quick,” Geena cuts in, “behave yourself Xa.”

As soon as she seems out of earshot Elias asks, “Baby Slut?”

“I took her under my wing when she first started stripping, showed her the ropes. Barely legal girl who could barely get on stage without shaking. She didn’t have anyone taking care of her, so she became my little baby and well–“

She waves her hand implying all the things that could be associated with sex work, making slut seem like low hanging fruit.

It’s a reminder that Geena has already lived hundreds of lives in her short time on Earth. While Elias had only lived his solitary, safe life.

“I wasn’t legal,” Geena is dressed in record time, probably to avoid Xa sharing any embarrassing stories.

“Shhh, I don’t know how long the statute of limitations lasts on abetting a minor in her crimes.”

Geena rolls her, grabbing her coat and shoving Elias towards the door.

“Nice meeting you,” Elias calls over his shoulder.

“You too, have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Wow, that really narrows it down,” Geena flips her off as she slams the door.

Both parties are desperately trying to decipher dinner’s meaning, is it a date? A real one? With no prying eyes of teammates or payments?

It makes it a little awkward.

They’re staring at their menus in silence like they can’t think of a single thing to talk about, which is absurd for two people who have spent so much time together. Most of it was in throes of passion, but there was always time between rounds or during mornings after lazing in bed or while munching on midnight snacks.

They talk enough that one dinner with no expectations should be easy.

The waiter comes by and takes their orders and they’re both grateful when their drinks arrive.

“Well cheers to our first date, I guess,” Geena makes a goofy face, which make Elias laugh despite the confusion it causes.

“You look really beautiful.”

Geena blushes like no one has ever told her that before. Elias realizes he never has, not without some kind of heat behind it, some innuendo. He wonders if anyone has ever sincerely said it to her.

She starts to nervously gnaw on her lip and Elias knows he needs to change the subject.

“I didn’t realize you had a roommate, Xa seems nice.”

Her face nearly splits with excitement.

“Yeah, she’s the best. I wouldn’t be anything without her. I would still have the pseudonym Buttercup if it wasn’t for her.”

“Buttercup?”

“Don’t laugh!” She kicks his shin, “I was 16 and thought it was all ‘I’m innocent but sexy’, which I was neither.”

“It’s a really terrible stripper name.”

“Like 16-year-old Elias could’ve thought of something better.”

“I think it would at least be a step better than Buttercup.”

Suddenly, the ice is broken. They’re joking and talking like normal, the location is different, but it’s still comfortable. So, Elias takes a calculated risk and reaches across the table to hold Geena’s hand while they finish their drinks after dinner. She doesn’t pull away.

“That was fun,” Geena smiles as she settles in his passenger seat, reaching across the console to put a hand on his thigh, “want to keep it going?”

And of course, he does, he always does. But tonight feels different, so he wants to treat it differently.

“I’m gonna drop you off at home…”

Geena scoffs but doesn’t remove her hand from his thigh, if anything she moves it higher.

“And I’m gonna walk you to your door and kiss you goodnight. Like a respectful date.”

“Your dick has been in like all of my orifices, I think we’re kind of past respectful first date bullshit.”

“So, this was a first date?” he keeps his eyes forward but grins as Geena gives his thigh slap.

“I’ll send you the bill later,” he can hear her rolling her eyes.

“Worth it.”

\\\

“Are you dating Elias Pettersson?”

Geena almost chokes on her champagne.

Her date pats her back as she sputters, she kind of hopes she just chokes to death.

“Am I what?”

They’re standing out on the patio, a black-tie event happening inside. Just her and a long-term client getting some air. She’ll usually do some playful touches let him giver her his jacket to warm her against the chill; anything to make his coworkers think the heat is still alive between them after years together.

But this is new. He’s never asked Ruby about her life outside of their arrangement. He didn’t need to, he just needed arm candy while he wined and dined other rich business men that did something Geena never fully understood.

“Are you dating Elias Pettersson, the Vancouver Canuck?”

Geena feels lightheaded.

“My assistant saw some pictures of you with him. You were at a game with the wives and then out at a restaurant. You looked pretty cozy.”

“We’re not dating.”

“So, he’s a client?”

“I can’t tell you that, you wouldn’t want me telling people about us.”

“No, but I can’t risk looking like a fool because you’re out with someone in the public eye.”

A lump forms thick in her throat. She can’t speak around the feeling.

“So, you’ll understand why this has to be our last date.”

She nods while she tries to find her voice.

“Do you want me to make a scene? I can go a little crazy, make you get a little sympathy for dealing with your crazy girlfriend?”

“I was just going to tell people it didn’t work out because you wanted kids.”

“Very dignified,” she straightens her posture, trying to remain professional.

“I’ll still pay your full rate, but if you want to sneak out early that’s okay too.”

Her eyes burn with tears. She’s never cried in front of client, at least not if they weren’t paying for it. When it’s clear she won’t be able to hold them back for long, she slinks off in shame.

Her first thought is to go to Elias, seek comfort in his arms. She doesn’t even want anything sexual and her shame is replaced with unease. Geena’s not sure which she hates more. So, she takes to her bed like some Victorian maiden and hopes this is all some kind of nightmare.

It’s not.

Xa lets her stay in bed for two days before telling her she has to move on.

“Life happens, shit happens. You of all people should know that,” Xa says as she brushes her hair, a little intimacy that Geena never wants to admit she craves.

Her first outing is to the strip club, which maybe isn’t her best idea. Because being in a strip club at 1 pm on a weekday is never a good look. It’s just her and four men around the main stage. They keep sending her drinks as if she’ll go home with them or give them a lap dance.

She’s drunk by 2:30.

“You coming back to the club, Buttercup?”

Geena’s getting a lap dance from a dancer she used to work with, Sasha, who can only talk to Geena if she keeps dancing.

“If I came back, it would not be as Buttercup,” she’s basically talking to her tits.

“Fine, is Ruby coming out of retirement?”

“Ruby only retired from the stage, but she may be retiring entirely soon,” she slips some money Sasha’s her G-string.

“Shit, another whore going to the good side?”

“I don’t want to, I love what I do, I’m good at it. Just things are getting complicated. How do you live a normal life and do this?”

“It’s not easy, I have to work this shift now so I can see my kids. Money’s not as good but it’s worth being able to have dinner with them and go to their soccer games and shit.”

Geena furrows her brows.

“There’s nothing wrong with living this kind of life if you like it. But that doesn’t mean you have to give up the normal things. You don’t have to live in the shadows just because people make you feel seedy or dirty about your job.”

Sasha gives her forehead a kiss, which is weird after she was grinding into Geena’s crotch.

“You’re not baby Buttercup anymore, you’re badass Ruby and she can do whatever the fuck she wants. And if you don’t believe me Xa will kick your ass into believing. Now get out of here before the night girls come and make you get on stage.”

Geena stumbles out of the club, smelling of thick perfume and booze. Like she used to most nights. It feels like a safety blanket.

In her drunken stupor she calls an Uber to her most common destination, Elias’.

She generally tries to avoid showing up completely unannounced, but she’s too tipsy to think about that and lets herself in without a second thought.

And sitting at the table are two people, who are clearly Elias’ parents.

“Oh shit,” she says it too loud, both heads whip towards her, she can’t sneak out now.

Instead, she stands there frozen, mouth agape, probably looking like a fool.

“You must be Geena, Elias didn’t say you’d be coming by,” Elias’ mom smiles

“Oh yeah,” Geena returns a dopey smile, her brain is about five steps behind.

“I’m Irene and this is Torbjörn,” she stands up and walks toward Geena, “are you a hugger?”

“Nice to meet you and um yeah,” Geena holds out her arm and accepts the hug.

Irene pulls away a smile still on her face. She’s either great at hiding her judgement or doesn’t care Geena reeks of liquor. Knowing Elias’ inability to hide his judgement, she’s guessing the latter.

“Elias should be back from practice any minute.”

“Okay, I’ll just go freshen up really quick.”

She scurries to Elias’ room, hearing Swedish behind her. She hopes they’re not saying anything too bad, hoping it wasn’t too bad of a first impression. She flops on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut when the room starts to spin.

Why does she even care? It’s not like she’s actually Elias’ girlfriend, she’s just convenient, in every kind of way. Nothing more.

But he told his parents about her. His mom was excited to meet her. It felt nice. Like someone stuck around long enough to break through the hard shell around her heart. And maybe she is allowed to have that.

Elias comes in and flops down next to her. Geena finally opens her eyes, turning her head to the side to look at him. His smile is so nice she can’t stop herself from kissing him.

“You smell like a strip club.”

She lets out an airy laugh, “do your parents know that?”

“I don’t think so, they know you’re drunk though. I wanted to give you more warning before you met them, so, sorry.”

“Why would you introduce me to your parents? Did one of your teammates let it slip that you have a girlfriend?” She uses air quotes around the last word.

Elias sits up to get a better look at her, “no, I wanted – we went on a real first date – I thought…“

“E, are we dating now? You want to date me?”

“Of course, I do G! I didn’t realize how much until we started to fake date. But I like spending time with you outside of sex.”

“Even though I’m a dirty sex worker?”

“I wouldn’t call you dirty, unless you wanted me to,” he smirks.

“I just lost a big client because he saw a picture of us together. What happens if more people find out, on either side? I don’t want to quit my job because you’re in the public eye.”

“I’m not asking you to do that, you like what you do and from what I saw firsthand you’re really good at it. So, if you want to tell people what you do, I don’t care. I’ll do whatever you need me to, I just want you to be mine.”

“You really don’t care?”

“What you do doesn't change who you are or what I feel or want to give you.”

“So, you’re kind of mine then?”

He nods and pulls her up for a kiss.

“We should probably leave my bedroom before my parents think we’re having sex.”

“If they already think it…” Geena waggles her brows and playfully bites his shoulder.

He gives her a playful shove back onto the mattress before grabbing her hand, interlocking their fingers and pulling her towards the door, and the future.

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson fic #elias pettersson imagine #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks fics #vancouver canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #hockey #nhl stories #nhl fic

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phatcatphergus · 2 months

Note

Admittedly I was half joking when I said that “q!Tubbo definitely needs to apologize for committing suicide by egg when he gets back though.” But for the people in the reblogs disagreeing with me I kind of want to explain why I said that. Tubbo has been passively suicidal and actively self harming for months. Based on his own words and actions he seems to have been looking for a kind of excuse to stop living. He couldn’t just kill himself outright because he had to be there to protect Sunny but he’s still been taking more and more risks and caring less and less about his own safety. Agreeing to play a game where one or both of them could die was incredibly risky especially for him since he only had one life left to lose. He knew this and not only agreed but also kept pushing for more rounds when it seemed like Richas would have been willing to stop. When Richas won and went in for the kill Tubbo did very little to stop him or try to escape which he likely could’ve done if he truly wanted to. He may not have been planning for that to be his death when he agreed but he definitely could’ve done more to prevent it. In the end he chose to let himself be killed by Richas.

I got what you meant nonnie no worries but this is a perfect explanation for his thought process. I also think he just wouldn’t ever want to hurt an egg and that played into it, but if you watch his streams he’s been reckless and making a lot of close calls. The other day he jumped out of an airship and barley pulled out his glider before he hit the ground.

He’s been dancing with death for a long time but never wanted to be guilty for actually taking himself out.

Also a lot of reblogs are from people just coming into tubbo lore because I had people reblogging posts I made about his missing purpose saying that we need to get Fred

#but yeah that was a super well done explanation #tw sui ideation #tw suicide #qsmp #tubbo #qsmp tubbo

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fukurofanfics · 5 months

Text

Fukuro Part 10: Recovery

A/N: I’m back! as mentioned in a previous post, I’m helping my best friend Sang-Hoon (@bbsmuts) with his wedding, I’m the best man. Anyway, obviously Kaito has to recover before going back to fucking Yiren’s brains out, so it’ll be a bit before that threesome. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll for sure find a way to sneak some sex in here. Enjoy!

(Also, I’m writing according to what I think the characters would be like in person, not what they actually are, so they might not always be in character. Some character traits and abilities are made up by me, like Jiwon’s affinity with computers.)

-ちはる

Chapter 10: Recovery

The next few days passed by in a blur to me, a handful of events sticking out in my head. My injuries started to heal faster with our advanced medical treatments, and the doctor confirmed that I might be out of bed in a week. He said that until at least a week had passed I shouldn’t be undergoing any serious physical stress lest my injuries worsen.

Meanwhile, my libido was rising to fever pitch as I lay there, only able to use my left hand for anything, not even able to jerk off with it for fear of worsening my injuries. It was the longest dry spell I’d had for a long time, and I definitely was not enjoying it. The aggressively invasive thoughts of my three sluts and how hard I’d like to be fucking them were not helping, either.

Nor was Jiwon, who seemed to be unconsciously teasing me with her outfits. She visited me every day, and she wore such things as very, very short skirts and shorts, ultra tight tops, and the like. And it seemed very like she was doing it on purpose, because she knew I couldn’t get out of bed and revenge-fuck her.

I hoped that by stress my doctor didn’t mean what happened when she came in one night, about two and a half weeks after the incident, because there wasn’t a whole lot I could or wanted to do about it. She opened the door and slipped in, a small bag on one shoulder and a miniskirt paired with a midriff shirt displaying her body.

“Hi, Kaito.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“The sky. Anyway, can I do you a favor?” She asked, slipping a small bag from her shoulders and dropping it on the floor.

“What sort of a favor?” I asked, hoping to God she wanted what I was wanting, as she sat down on the edge of my bed. I couldn’t see, but I felt her hand lightly graze my thigh, her index and middle fingers hooking under my hospital gown.

“Have a guess.” She didn’t waste any time, pulling my gown up over my waist. I was already hard (a state I’d been constantly in for hours) from thinking about her and all the things I’d like to be doing to her, so she didn’t need to bother with getting that done.

“Is the door locked?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to be quick.”

“No, we won’t. Sihyeon, Yurim, and Se-rim are off filming a Vlive, and the other two know will what we’re doing. It’s a perfect opportunity, and one that I’m not missing.”

Just to make me even more desperate, she took a few steps back and stripped, slowly and sexily, just driving me crazy even more. Her naked, pale-skinned, petite body was illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the windows (obviously lockable, reinforced windows), making me even harder.

She didn’t talk anymore once she had sauntered back over and dipped her head to my stiff cock, and I felt rather than saw her lips sliding over my length. A simple moan was not enough to express the pleasure I felt, but it was the sound that left my mouth.

“Ohh, fuck,” I sighed, “God, I need this.”

She moaned and popped off of my cock, replacing her warm tongue with slow strokes.

“You’ve been really horny, huh, trapped here in bed?”

“Ahh…you know I have.”

“Have you been thinking about me?”

“Mmm, yes, I have.”

“Thinking about how good you want to fuck your little slut?” She asked, the frequency of her strokes increasing. “I can’t wait to milk all that cum out of you.”

I shivered as she pleasured me, having nothing to do with the ambient air temperature. She was running her tongue along my cock before diving back in, throating my entire length with no difficulty. She gagged as she reached the base though, saliva gathering around her lips and my crotch. With my free hand I held her there, waves of pleasure rippling through me.

Her tongue moved around on me and applied pressure to my base while she choked. Had I been able to move my head past the fucking neck brace, it would have been writhing. Her eyes rolled into her head as she choked, gagged, and made filthy sounds in her deepthroat effort. Light streaks of mascara started tracking down her face the longer I held her there, her tongue always busy at work pleasuring me as her saliva slowly made a wet mess where her lips were locked around my cock.

She moaned as my shaft slid out of her throat and I finally let her up, gasping for breath, though she had neither tapped out nor shown any signs of needing to be let go.

She looked at me, eyes alight and glittering in arousal, hair slowly becoming more matted, mascara streaks increasing in number, and lower face a complete mess of spit, and said one word, the one syllable laced with more arousal than I had ever heard before.

“More.”

I grabbed ahold of her ponytail again and shoved her head back down all the way to the bottom, holding her like before and gagging her. She gave a whimper as best as she could, her enjoyment clearly showing on what little of her face I could see as her eyes performed the usual upward roll. I groaned through tightly clenched teeth, not wanting to cum so soon, wanting to draw this moment out.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” I said. “It fees so good!”

She had been down for at least thirty seconds, her face was slowly turning redder as my cock starved her of oxygen. Had I not been on the verge of cumming, I would have appreciated and applauded the way she persevered and made such and effort for my pleasure.

“I’m about to cum,” I said, panting, putting every effort into not doing it. She was no longer in need of my hand, she was holding herself down. I felt it coming, irrevocably racing towards me, about to slam me as she bobbed her head, driving me deeper into her throat and about to milk the cum out of me.

“Fuck!” I almost shouted, involuntarily bucking my hips into her face, gripping the pole on my bed so tightly it could have broken. “I’m cumming, yes Jiwon, I’m fucking - aaagh!”

The sound that I made was quieter than I had predicted, though still loud. My mind went entirely blank, pleasure invading and overtaking my entire being. My world disappeared in an intense orgasmic high, and I barely registered the incredibly arousing expression on Jiwon’s angelic face, and she lifted her head partially to allow my cum into her mouth, giving a satisfied little whine as the shots of cum fired into it.

She lifted her face off for a moment and let the final few spurts shoot onto her face, sighing a small “ahh” as the warm substance coated her closed eyes.

“Oh my God.”

I spoke these words a minute later, after recovering from Jiwon’s incredible blowjob skills. She crawled up across the bed, laying across my torso with her legs spread over my waist, slowly grinding her sopping heat against me.

“How was it?”

I reached with my usable hand and squeezed her ass.

“Fucking amazing. Lord, you have no idea how much I needed that.”

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet.”

My cock twitched as I acutely felt the heat of her pussy grinding on me, and she felt it too, smirking.

“Eager, are we?”

“Fuck yes I’m eager, I’ve needed your pussy for as long as I’ve been sitting here. In other words, too long!”

She sat up and poised herself above me, teasing me with the visual of her body as she continued her grinding, intentionally closing her eyes and opening her mouth in a moan just to taunt me.

“Stop - fucking - teasing me,” I said with a real moan as her wet slit slid over my hypersensitive tip, “just fuck me!”

“As you wish,” she smiled, “but remember,” she added, her smile twisting deviously, “I’m in control now.”

I had no idea just how seriously she meant that. Jiwon got off me and picked up the bag she had dropped off and pulled out a pair of hinged black handcuffs, the kind that allow a very small range of motion, and quick as a flash before I could react at all, she clicked them into place on my wrist, locking it to the bar of the bed. Where the hell she had gotten those I had no idea.

Then another idea seemed to pop into her head. She walked back over to where she had stripped, stooped, and picked up the small, pink panties on the floor. Walking back over, she reached over and stuffed them into my unprotesting mouth, her pussy tastable on the garment.

“Hold those for me, will you?”

But instead of getting back on top of me, she settled once more between my legs, face dipping again to my cock.

So long as I could relieve stress and sexual tension through her, I didn’t really care what she did to me to produce that outcome, though I still longed for her pussy.

Her warm, wet tongue slid over my length before her mouth engulfed me once more. I felt my tip poke the back of her throat before sliding pleasurably down it, meeting almost no resistance as Jiwon speared her throat with my cock but still feeling so, so good.

I wished that my hand was free, longed to be able to intertwine my fingers with her silky hair and hold her down, thrust my hips into her face. But she had different plans, hence the handcuffs.

The usual gatherings of saliva around her mouth were beginning to form as she started bobbing her head up and down, working my cock in and out of her throat. My pleasure at this point knew no boundaries when she pushed my entire length into her throat, squeezing me and pleasuring me to new heights.

“Fuck - Jiwon - you’re gonna make me cum again,” I moaned, my cock throbbing, feeling it irrevocably coming, “Don’t stop now.”

I should never have said a thing.

She throated me a couple more times before feeling me tense, which was her warning, and she let up, stopping my orgasm short.

My eyes, which had closed when I was supposed to be cumming, flew open to see her smirking evilly at me.

“You remember the first time you fucked me, and you wouldn’t let me cum?” She asked, and I let my head sink (the inch I had managed to move it) back with a despairing groan. I had intentionally kept her from cumming many, many times, so this would be quite as bad for me if she decided to drag it out.

“Consider this your retribution.”

Once she had determined from my breath and heartbeat relaxing that I was safely distant from cumming, she dropped her head back down to start the process over.

And so she did it again, and again, and again. I was becoming increasingly desperate for my long-awaited orgasm.

“Fuck!” I gasped through her panties when she stopped abruptly for the fourth time, “Stop it! I need it, I need to cum! Just let it happen, please!”

Most of what I had said had come out as muffled, garbled nonsense, but I could tell she got the gist of it from the devious expression on her face.

Had my dignity been a person, it would have been slapping me in the face a lot for quite literally begging Jiwon to let me have it, but at this point and in this moment I was so desperate that I would have done just about anything.

I felt the familiar sensation of her giving me false hope as she shoved my cock all the way down her throat, sucking passionately, but something about this time felt real, like she wasn’t playing games anymore. With my cock lodged in her mouth, I saw in my periphery one hand of hers sneak down past her waist and disappear between her thighs, and a second later she started moaning into my dick.

But accompanying the pleasure she was giving me, I also had a strange feeling, like we were being watched. It wasn’t the horror movie type of feeling, but it felt like we had a voyeur. I cast a gaze around the room and saw nothing. The door was shut and locked, no one was at its window, obviously no one was in there with us, and the walls’ windows were clear. It couldn’t be more than a pleasure-addled delusion.

And then my eyes found the beaming red light of the security camera. Someone was on the cameras.

Jiwon had noticed nothing and was still throating me with energy, bringing me nearer to the climax I no longer cared about. I could do nothing to warn her, since one hand was cuffed to the bar and the other was attached to an arm in a sling. I couldn’t verbally communicate this to her either, due to the underwear in my mouth.

She reached up and pulled them out, feeling me nearing my peak and wanting to hear my vocalizations of pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum in your fucking throat,” I panted, my hand straining against the restraint, wanting desperately to pull her head down and keep it there. “Don’t stop, let me have it, I’m gonna cum, yes!”

She lowered her head further, pushing every inch of my shaft into and down her tight, squeezing throat and held it there, carefully but firmly massaging my balls with her free hand, successfully trying to coax my cum out of me.

Tears gathered in her eyes and spit dribbled from her mouth, her eyes rolling back and then half-closing in her effort. Her tongue slowly poked out of her mouth, tracing a path along my balls. It was her heavenly expression that sent me far past any edge in existence.

The sound that left me was more a tremendous “ah” than anything else as the initial pleasure overwhelmed my senses and threw my brain into overdrive. My eyes shut tight when I started blasting her throat with my load, which set her off as well. Her eyes, which had momentarily opened, closed again, and she gave a wail of pleasure into my cock as her juices splattered the sheets.

Apparently she still wasn’t done. After a minute she got up again and unlocked my handcuffs, my orgasm-withholding torture over.

With that she climbed back onto me and spread her legs over me, done messing around. Jiwon bit her lip and closed her eyes as she sank down onto me, my cock easily sliding into her due to how wet she was.

I gave a quiet groan, reminded once more of her insane tightness. She let loose a soft whimper as her hips began rocking, driving me in and out of her suffocatingly tight pussy.

“Ahh - I would smash you so fucking hard if I could,” I said, moaning more as she continued riding me with vigor. “I would bend you over this bed and pound your fucking brains out.”

“I’d love it so much,” she replied with a cry, bouncing up and down, her breasts jiggling entrancingly, “so thick and big, deep inside me, mmm yes, I want it.”

Instead, of course, she settled for riding me, gyrating her hips on me. Her head fell back as she lost herself in the motion, a long moan escaping her open lips as her eyes closed.

“I’m getting close,” I vocalized my pleasure, almost whispering in the dark. “Really close.”

“Me too,” she moaned, laying forward, and I felt her breasts push against my pecs.

She drove me in and out of her at a steady pace, each buck of her hips bringing my closer, like a wave washing a boat onto the shore.

“I’m cumming again,” I gritted my teeth, speaking through them. “Keep riding me.”

The instants before I released it in her were like an eternity, and in them I could have counted a minute, an hour, a lifetime, it didn’t matter. Intense pleasure filled every fiber of my being, it felt like I was floating for a moment. Then my actual release brought me back down from the gates of heaven.

An indecipherable cry was the only thing that left either of our mouths when I spurted my cum deep into her pussy and she squirted messily, leaving me in a mess of cum and juices, panting heavily and still in utopia. I was softening inside her, but she didn’t make a move to get off me. She was breathing deeply, eyes closed.

“Fuck.” She said, about two minutes later.

“What?”

“That was…incredible.”

I didn’t respond for a moment, giving a small grunt in an effort to keep my moan contained as she rolled off me, making my cock slide out of her.

“Yes, it was. You have no idea how much I really needed that. I’ve been trapped here in bed, not able to do anything.”

“I know, Kaito, I know the feeling.” She said sympathetically. “I wasn’t able to have you, either.”

“True, but you could do something else. Only one of my arms works, and I can’t use it anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess. I did do some things with Yiren, but it’s just not the same.”

“You fucked Yiren without me?” I said. “I’m jealous.”

“Yeah, well, we didn’t do much, I wanted you there when we did.”

“Fair enough. I would definitely want to see that.”

She hit my shoulder playfully. “Perv.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She laughed. “It’s fair, if I were you I wouldn’t want to miss it either.”

“Man, the thought of that alone is turning me back on.”

She laughed again, then reached down to feel.

“Already? We just fucked.”

“Ah, well, you can’t blame me, that mental visual is insane.”

“Do you want to go for another round?” She asked.

“Nah, I’m spent. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Alright. I’m a little bit tired too. After all, it’s getting late.” She commented. “Why don’t we just sleep?”

“Sounds good to me.”

She settled in the bed, her arm snaking along my abdomen and wrapping around me in a loving embrace. Her face was nuzzled against my chest, and soon she was sleeping peacefully, breathing deeply. Each breath pushed her breasts against my side, and I wondered vaguely how long it would be before I could be out of bed and caressing them.

No thought of what consequences would come if we were to be found in the morning entered my head, and I too soon slipped into a deep slumber.

Morning came quicker than expected. I had been sitting there, awake, thinking for the millionth time over the events of these past weeks. The full impact of what I had done and been through still hadn’t caught up with me, and I was still contemplating how I had been lucky enough to find myself in such a perfectly coordinated situation such as this.

She stirred with a light moan and brought her head off the pillow, looking adorable when she was groggy. The blankets had slipped off her during the night, and the morning sunlight shone on her naked body, giving her skin an almost golden glow. It reflected off her hair and made it shine, and the image was perfection in my eyes. If I could have taken a picture with my eyes, I would have captured her in that moment.

She turned on her side to face me, sliding under the blankets.

“Good morning.”

I didn’t respond momentarily and kissed her, caressing her waist and hips.

“You look so beautiful right now.”

She giggled, but her playful attitude did nothing to disguise her renewed lust at my touch. Her hand slid up my arm, her body moving closer to mine. I placed my hand on her inner thighs, slowly sliding closer to her pussy.

“God, you turn me on so much,” she said, giving a small gasp as my fingers slid further towards her entrance.

“The same could be said for me,” I replied, teasing the small opening with my index finger, much to her ecstasy.

“Kaito, I can’t,” she moaned, legs opening despite her words, her body wanting more. “I have to - I’ve got to - ahh…”

She gave up the struggle as three of my fingers penetrated her tight hole, pumping quickly.

I curled my fingers towards myself and found the rough patch on the upper wall of her tunnel, and rubbed it furiously. She yelled out uncontrollably and clamped her thighs over my arm, writhing in pleasure and giving short, staccatoed yelps.

“Kaito - please - more! It’s so good!”

She was clutching at my arm while my fingers moved inside her, hands trembling and pussy exerting a death grip on the digits.

“A-ahh! I’m fucking cumming soon! Don’t stop!”

I moved faster, knuckle-deep inside her squeezing pussy, driving her wild without any effort.

“I’m gonna - I’m gonna - fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She panted, head thrown back and mouth open. “It’s so - so good, please!”

I had no idea what she was begging for but it was very sexy. She was in so much pleasure that she seemed incapable of making an intelligible sentence. Her words became nothing more than slurred moans.

It was insane how wet she was and how fast I was able to bring her to an orgasm. Her slick was leaking over my fingers, and it was me finally making contact with her g-spot that sent her over the edge. She exploded over my hand with a stream of her juices squirting out. She arched her back and shouted out in bliss, mouth gracefully open in her cry of pleasure, and then she relaxed, her walls still pulsing with her heartbeat. She let loose another, softer “ah” and then went limp, trembling slightly.

I glanced at the door and my heart stopped: A face was looking back at me, one I recognized as Yurim’s. The face vanished from the narrow window as soon as its owner realized I had seen her.

“Shit!” I shouted out loud, sitting upright, then grunted in pain, my ribs and neck aching all of a sudden. Probably due to the sudden exertion.

“Hmm?” Came Jiwon’s voice, still dreamy and blissful.

“Fucking hell, Yurim just saw us! Oh shit, this is bad…”

I ran my available hand through my hair, panic immediately starting to seep into my senses. If Yurim had just seen us, she would go to tell someone else. Who? Eun-ji was safe, Yiren was safe. My heart skipped another few beats as I realized, with a sinking feeling, that she would probably go straight to Sihyeon and tell her what she’d seen.

Jiwon was coming out of her trance, and she noticed my expression.

“What’s the matter?”

“Yurim just saw us!”

“What?!”

She sat bolt upright, staring at the door.

“She’s gone!” Jiwon leapt out of the bed, throwing on her clothes in a rush. “Argh, there’s no way I’ll catch her, the elevator’s probably already left.”

She left anyway, hurrying out the door, leaving me to my own pounding heart and panicking mind. But my pulse slowed down when Jiwon didn’t return. Maybe she had caught up to Yurim in time, maybe we weren’t fucked. Or maybe Yurim went and confided in Yiren, in which case we were also safe.

“Joonhon?” I said into my earpiece. “Can you get Hwang-ja to come in here?”

“Sure thing, sir.”

It had reminded me, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to Hwang-ja since I had seen him go off into the bedroom with Sihyeon. I had been in a hurry to meet Takahashi, then I had been injured and out cold for three days, so I hadn’t really been thinking about it.

A couple of minutes later he appeared in the doorway and entered.

“Hey, Hwang-ja.”

“Hi, Kaito. How are you?”

“Good. I’ve not had a chance to talk to you since I had to leave to Takahashi. So,” I continued, smiling slyly, “how was Sihyeon?”

His face immediately turned the color of tomato soup and his feet shifted guiltily.

“You - you knew about that?”

I grinned wider, beckoning him closer.

“Yes, she wasn’t exactly quiet. I didn’t even have time to leave before she started moaning.”

“Well…” he looked at his feet before stilling them and speaking quietly. “She was incredible.”

“I expected no less,” I replied, grin spreading even wider.

“But Kaito, this can’t reach anyone else. The others would flip out if they knew.”

I looked back at him, the grin slowly fading from my face.

“Of course.” I said, more seriously. “While we’re on the subject, I have something to tell you as well.”

“Let me guess, you either fucked Yiren or Jiwon. Am I correct?”

I stared. Had we been that obvious?

“Uhhh…yeah. Both. How did you know?”

It was his turn to grin. “You weren’t exactly inconspicuous. You didn’t think that’s what I thought every time you disappeared with one of them onto the roof?”

I shrugged. “I figured someone would work it out eventually. But not just the two of them, either…I fucked Eun-ji, too.”

I felt like honesty was just the best option here, and besides, it felt good to tell someone else. He goggled.

“You’ve gotten three of them? Damn, Kaito, I didn’t think you were the type.”

“Hey, in my defense, Eun-ji came after me, not the other way around. And now that I think about it,” I added, “I haven’t approached any of them. It’s all been them.”

“Wow,” he said, looking truly impressed, “and I thought you were lucky enough to just date Yiren by herself. But getting approached by three of them? Goddamn…got anyone else in mind?”

“Yes,” I made myself admit, struggling not to laugh. “Yurim.”

He chuckled. “Typical, I have to say. Well, good luck. And of course, Sihyeon is off-limits.”

“Obviously. I can’t deny that I would love to pound her witless, but I guess now you’ve claimed her. Still, if we add Se-rim to the mix I’ll have five…”

“And that’ll be enough.” He said firmly. “I’m fine with it, but I don’t want their careers to be derailed by such a distraction. A friend of all of you I may be, and a member of their management team I still am. Just try not to throw them off, okay?”

“Of course,” I said earnestly, “I would never. Trust me, I value their careers as much as they do, because had their careers not become a thing I would probably be dead right now.”

He nodded. “I expected as much. You’re a good guy, Kaito, in my opinion the best any of them could find.”

He pulled up a chair and sat down, facing me.

“Thanks, Hwang-ja.” I spoke in a low voice, a failed attempt to disguise how much the words meant to me.

His expression softened slightly more.

“You’ve had it tough, man. And you still found your way out of it remaining a good guy, and a good friend. I’m glad you got this opportunity, grave though the circumstances may be. And I’m really glad Yiren has found someone she likes enough to date. It’s probably still trying to work itself out in your brain.”

I laughed. “You have no idea. My brain started failing around the time I walked into their dorm the first time.”

He laughed along with me. “It’s reasonable. But now, you have Yiren as your girlfriend. I can think of no situation in which you’ve been happier. Even with major head trauma, whiplash, broken ribs, and the inability to use one of your arms, you’re still cheery as ever. And if I’m not much mistaken, it’s because of Everglow.”

“Of course it is. I wouldn’t have even gone to meet Makoto had it not been out of fear for the welfare of you and the girls. It was a small risk anyway, but even the smallest risk to the lives of my favorite people on the planet will not go unnoticed.”

He nodded.

“And speaking of girlfriends,” I said, “are you and Sihyeon dating or are you just fuckbuddies? I’m curious.”

“It’s not official yet,” he responded, a faint blush creeping back up his cheeks again, “but it will be soon. We’ve fucked three times since you were out, and I won’t lie, I’m addicted.”

“Good,” I said, smirking, “now you get how I feel about Yiren, Jiwon, and Eun-ji. Soon to be Yurim, as well.” I added as an afterthought.

He snorted. “May as well test your luck once you’re out of bed. What makes you think she’ll agree?”

I considered for a moment. “She saw me and Jiwon fucking earlier.”

He raised his eyebrows and laughed again, shaking his head. “You still found a way to fuck her even stuck in your position. Predictable, but I’m kinda surprised. So you have a voyeur now?”

“Apparently, and I think she was watching on the cameras as well, last night.”

“Cool. I must say, I’m also surprised that so many of them are attracted to you. That’s some kind of rizz, my man.”

“Hmm…I guess. Four out of six, possibly five if Se-rim happens to like me as well.”

“Five already,” he corrected me unabashedly, “Sihyeon already admitted to feelings for you, she’s just more attracted to me.”

His chest puffed up a little more.

I smiled. “Can’t deny it, a pull is a pull.”

“Facts.” He grinned back.

And in that moment, it felt just like old times when him and I would go to the bar together and talk over a couple of shots of chūhai. We would talk together, laugh together, those were good times.

“Hwang-ja?”

“Kaito?”

“I’m glad you’re here with me in this godforsaken cube, really. None of this could have been a thing had it not been for you.”

He nodded. “True. I’m glad I was able to be here as well. But had it not been for your dad, we would have never even met.”

I looked at him. “Really? That’s how you two met?”

“Yeah, didn’t I ever tell you?”

“No, I guess not.” I replied, then looked at the wall opposite me and sighed. “It��s just - I’m so grateful that I was able to arrange this, to have you all here. It makes it hard to be sad about the end of the world. But sometimes I feel like I didn’t deserve it.”

He reached over and shook me by the shoulder.

“Kaito, you deserve this more than anyone, any other Forever, I’d say. You’ve had it rough in life. You’ve sacrificed so much for us. So much money, time, and effort. You still care after losing your parents. I was so sad to hear that - that they died. Your dad was such a great guy…” He hung his head for a moment.

Sometimes I forgot that Hwang-ja had been a very close friend of my father’s. I looked up at his partially bowed head and saw a glimmer of a tear in his eye.

“It was horrible. And it was all because of those - fucking - creatures.” I said the last three words through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m out to get them. That’s why I want every last one dead. They indirectly killed my parents and I want them gone.”

“Kaito, the last time you had a tussle with a Fukuro it didn’t go too well.” He said, nodding at my ribs. “Even when you had a squad drilling them with .50 cals, they still got the better of you. Do you really think it’ll be a good idea to go at them again?”

“Hwang-ja, the difference is, last time it was a hasty, thrown-together plan with no beforehand thought. This time it’ll be a long, properly thought out plan of action that will ensure that every single one dies. And no one gets killed.”

He was silent.

“I hope you’ve got something good in mind then, because they arrive in January, which is not even two months away.”

“I know that.” I said. “I’m going to have one last outing before they come, for Yiren’s birthday, I won’t miss that for anything. And then I set the plan in motion and all those bastards die.” I slammed my fist into the bed on the word.

He was quiet for a second. “Good.”

“Anyway, moving off that subject.” I said. “I’ve been wondering - do you generally get presents for the girls at birthdays and Christmases?”

“Every year.” He replied. “Why? Have something special in mind for Yiren?”

“Indeed I do. Very nice indeed.” I smiled.

He gave the faintest snort. “Apart from fucking her senseless, I mean.”

“Alongside that, I actually do have something. I’ll tell you but you can’t tell her.”

He nodded. “Alright, shoot.”

“I already have a necklace. My mom’s. Really pretty, solid gold chain, diamond the size of my fist at the end. But the special part is, I’m infusing it with that toxin so she’s protected wherever she goes.”

He nodded harder. “Very good, she’ll love it.”

“I know. Like I said, it was my mother’s before she…yeah.”

But Hwang-ja was looking very thoughtful.

“Hang on,” he said, clearly puzzling hard, “if that toxin can be absorbed by anything, then why not put it in bullets?”

I grinned. “And so he figures it out.”

“So you’re telling me,” he said, starting to look incredulous, “that that was your plan the whole time?”

“Indeed it was.” I said, smiling wider. “Infuse the bullets so they actually do something, and then kill the Fukuri from ages away with sniper shots.”

“Kaito, that’s genius!” He almost shouted, jumping out of his chair as though he had sat on a tack. “With bullets like that, we could take down every one there is! And what about explosives? That would be even more effective!”

“I’d thought of it.” I said. “But it’s only effective if the shrapnel finds its mark, which are not good odds. I’ll stick to bullets, which are faster and more accurate.”

“That makes sense. But seriously…that’s so smart, I can’t believe I didn’t think about that earlier…”

“Why would you have? There would have been no reason for you to be thinking about it, up until very recently. And even recently, you wouldn’t have.”

“Guess so.” His phone recieved a text, and he checked it. “That’s Sihyeon,” he said, a faint red stealing over his face. “Best go see what she needs…”

“Alright, have fun smashing.” I grinned as he departed.

This left me with only my thoughts. It was, until Yiren opened the door.

“Hi, Kai, how are you?”

“Hey, Yiren. I’m good.”

She smiled and sat down.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I said on a sudden thought, “what happened right after I came back?”

“Well…” She took a moment to consider. “We saw Jeong-ho’s helicopter fly in and I was relieved. I went out to meet you, but then they rushed past with a stretcher, and I had a funny feeling it was you on it, but I couldn’t really get a good look. I and all the others, even several of the servants, followed your team up to the hospital floor and then they set you down on the bed. You weren’t looking good, you were bleeding from a lot of spots and barely breathing. They hooked you up to a lot of machines which I don’t know the names of, and your pulse was very, very slow. We all thought you were - you were dying.

“But then your pulse started back up. I was trying not to get my hopes too high, in case the monitor flatlined, but I couldn’t help but hope you were fighting your way back to life. And you were.”

“I don’t remember much,” I said, “but I can remember waking at different points for a few seconds and seeing you there, every single time. I dreamed about you,” I added unabashedly. “And you were the last thing I saw in my head before I was knocked out. I thought I had been killed, but I was at peace because at least the last thing I saw was the face of someone I loved. Your face. It wasn’t really too bad when I went out on thoughts of you.”

Her eyes were looking very very wet again, so I beckoned her closer. She practically leaped out of her chair, and hugged me tightly.

“Don’t you worry now,” I said in a low voice, wrapping my arm around her and patting her back, “I’m here, and I’m safe. And you are too, so long as you’re with me.”

“I love you, Kaito.” Her hug became infinitesimally tighter.

“I love you too, Yiren.” I replied, stroking her soft black hair with my fingers. “More than you could ever know.”

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