#it's like. overtime is approved and i can pull in extra money + i have made NO financial recovery since getting my car

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Crawling out of bed after an 11 hour shift only to realize that maybe. maybe I'm not exactly taking care of myself

[funtimebunnyblog]

Let's all raise a glass to you, Surey! 🥰😇❤ Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen go out to a Bar with you! 🍻

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars isn't really a person to go out to drink.

• If anything, he prefers to enjoy a drink or two at Home and unwind with a book or in a bath.

• However, if you want to take him out on the town he doesn't refuse you, even though he's not the biggest fan of bars or nightclubs and the crowds of people that come with it.

• If this was something that made you happy, than he supposed it would all be worthwhile to let you enjoy yourself.

• When going out to a bar or a club, those are the nights he dons his dark coat and hat (despite how you may plan to dress for the evening) and walks arm in arm with you down the street to the place of your choice.

• You better had pick a good one because he's not a man to hop from place to place in one night. He makes it very clear that it's here and then Home.

• The majority of the night he prefers to sit quietly at the bar or at a booth in the far corner, silently nursing a glass of vodka or red wine.

• He'll let you dance and socialize and enjoy yourself all you want but don't expect him to do the same.

• Kars will also monitor how much you're drinking and don't think he won't cut you off if he's deemed you've had enough.

• For your safety, he keeps his eyes on you at all times as he doesn't exactly trust these kinds of establishments and he knows how truly disgusting Humans can be if given the chance.

• It's no surprise he has absolutely no tolerance for riff raff or drunks should they happen to be around.

• Anyone who's sober (or anyone with a brain for that matter) wouldn't dare to bother him, simply by the powerful and inhuman aura he emits just sitting there.

• Once on a night out, a drunk man who was entertaining himself by going around and poking people made the mistake of staggering up to Kars where he sat, reaching out and tapping him right on the nose.

• Surprisingly very calm about it, Kars watched him stumble away laughing with little more than a glare before rising to his feet. The song had suddenly changed in that moment and couples were dancing to some upbeat music, Kars left his glass behind at the bar and approached you on the dance floor.

• It shocked you to say the least when Kars approached and took your hand and asked for a dance to which you happily obliged.

• This was a little odd for Kars to want to dance in public but you didn't think to question it.

• As the dance floor crowded and people danced away the drunk man made his rounds again, laughing as he went around and tapped people on the nose, pinched their cheek or flicked them on the chin. Kars had his eyes set on him the entire time he danced, waiting with all the patience in the world.

• The unsuspecting man passed bye Kars one more time and the altercation was fast. Very fast. So very momentary even you didn't see it happen.

• Kars spun you around with one hand and with the other he curled his fist and punched the drunk man straight under his chin, knocking him to the floor, completely unconscious.

• Kars continued to dance with you like nothing at all happened as people suddenly took notice, crowding around the floored drunk questioningly.

• "Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder, lips pursed and the very definition of unbothered. Not a soul (not even you) suspected a thing. "It would seem he's had too much to drink."

• In Kars' opinion, that was more merciful than the man deserved.

• On the nights where you're drunk, you can bet that he's grumbling the entirety of the time dragging you Home.

• Listening to you giggle and chatter on without a care in the world, slurring your words and relying on him to keep upright might've warmed his heart if he wasn't aware of the complete mess you would be in the morning.

• Kars isn't one to baby you when you're hungover either.

• You did this to yourself and he did warn you not to drink so much afterall.

• But he's not cruel to you when you're hungover. He'll smoothe your hair and rub your back if you happen to get sick. He'll also make you drink plenty of water and he'll let you rest as long as you need to.

• As long as you had fun and keep enjoying these little nights out he doesn't mind all the displeasing parts that come with it. Your happiness is truly what matters to him in the end.

Esidisi:

• Quite the opposite of Kars, Esidisi LOVES going out on the town for a couple of drinks with you.

• In fact, he's got a number of favourite places around to pick but he'll always ask you for your approval when making the decision.

• Chances are, when you and him are such frequent Bar goers together, EVERYONE at your favourite spots will know you!

• Esidisi sometimes likes to go the extra mile for the occasion and throw on something sexy but still casual. Long sleeved, colourful shirts halfway unbuttoned and some jewelry always does the trick for him.

• The most memorable nights for you both is when there's a new place opened up in town and the two of you go to check it out, meet some new people and maybe dance a little.

• It's probably safe to say that Esidisi's favourite thing to do is mess with any drunks that happen to be around.

• He'll sit at the bar as you drink and socialize with some of your friends, surrounded by a bunch of tipsy Humans, using his powers to do the oddest tricks for money.

• The crowd goes absolutely wild no matter how many times they see him make a glass of cold beer boil using just his hand.

• Chances are, Esidisi might end up being more drunk than you the majority of these nights because of his entertaining nature.

• "You can't possibly drink that whole glass in one go." The Bartender frowned at the Pillarman skeptically after he had made that outrageous claim. "It's not possible."

• Esidisi could only grin at him as he put the glass to his lips. Without another word he threw back his head, sucking down the cold, inky Beer in one massive gulp; foam and all.

• The Bartender (now not so skeptical) and the man sitting to Esidisi's left, who had been nursing his 2nd glass of the same stuff for about 10 minutes now, could only stare at him, awestruck.

• "Aw Hell," he gaped. "I'd pay 20$ to see that again!"

• 20$ was put down and another glass gone within seconds; just the same as the first. A crowd began to draw around the bar and the massive man seated there.

• 40$, 80$, 150$, 300$ bets were laid out on the counter and Esidisi rightfully collected ALL of it as he just kept drinking, each glass gone in a single gulp.

• Needless to say, you're gonna be screwed if you're drunk yourself on nights like that because stuffing a Pillarman whose drank his body weight in alcohol into a Cab to try and get him Home isn't an easy job.

• Most especially when said drunkard Pillarman keeps insisting he's NOT drunk, whines he doesn't wanna go Home yet and keeps trying to go back inside.

• When Esidisi is hungover the next day it's not a treat either. Be prepared for WHINING.

• However, if you happen to be the hungover one he's probably one of the best caregivers you could ask for.

• He'll chuckle as he gives you some ibuprofen and water, telling you all about the great time you both had (if you happen to have forgotten) and how you took your drinks like an absolute champ.

• Needless to say, he's always down for a night out at a bar with you.

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu was a little on the inexperienced side when it came down to drinking or going to places like bars.

• Overtime with you however, he grows more accustomed to the concept of both.

• When you take him out to a bar for a couple of drinks he doesn't really dress up for the occasion unless you tell him to. He prefers to just put on a clean white T-shirt, sweatpants and maybe a hoodie.

• You'll have to order his drink for him on the first few nights out together because he honestly doesn't know what he likes or what to have.

• The variety of alcohol (let alone the amount of brands under a single kind) was a little overwhelming to him.

• "--and what will you have?" "Um... beer?" "What kind, sir?" "..... um.... beer?"

• He's happy to let you drink and socialize if you wish to but he'll be a little lost if you leave him alone at the bar with his drink and a bunch of strangers to go to the washroom.

• Surprisingly however, it isn't hard for him to make some friends when that happens.

• With nothing else to do, he'll be watching whatever sports game is happening on one of the many TV's as he sips away at his drink.

• The game doesn't really interest him (he doesn't even understand the point of it) but he picks up on the habit of cheering when other people in the bar cheer and celebrate for their team.

• Because of that, other men and sportsfans alike will just flock to Wamuu under the impression he's a fellow sportsfanatic (or maybe even a sports player himself due to his massive size).

• By the time you come back, he's surrounded by a gaggle of sportsfans all cheering and highfiving Wamuu, patting him on the back, punching his shoulder and offering him plenty more to drink.

• He just shrugs at you when he catches your confused gaze from across the bar as he's not really sure what's going on either.

• Though he's content to let you drink and enjoy yourself, he knows very well when you've had quite enough to drink. He will straight up pick you up and carry you Home if need be.

• "Kisssh me, Wammmmuu." You half-giggled, sluggishly trying to pull yourself more upright to give his absolutely delectable looking lips the smooching you so wanted to as he closed the door of your apartment behind him.

• The Warrior sighed, patting your head. "Oh beloved, I am most honored you want to but you're drunk, it's not right..." he told you gently, carrying you all the way to your bedroom to lay you down despite any protests you might make.

• After giving you plenty of water and tucking you in (you at least get a goodnight kiss on the head), he'll keep an eye on you until the morning and ensure all your needs are met when you're hungover.

• If you ask him, he'll admit that he had fun and has no objections to going out again next weekend.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana isn't exactly the biggest fan of noises or crowds of Humans in one settlement.

• Be prepared for him to crinkle his nose at the thought of going to a bar or a club where all of that happens under one roof.

• After some coaxing however, he'll agree but mostly for your sake.

• He wants to see you happy and he knows that nights out for some fun and social interaction was healthy for Humans.

• Besides, he also saw this as an opportunity to study Humans and try to understand their behavior a little better.

• Santana will throw on some street clothes and follow you wherever you want to go that night; whether its near or far, big or small.

• When going to a bar he's more interested in the food there rather than the drink.

• In fact; you'll come to find that he LOVES Bar food.

• The waitress will barely turn her back for a second before the basket of nachos she just delivered him has suddenly ceased to exist and he's asking for more.

• With an appetite like that, the Bar staff asks him if he wants to try their challenge of eating a HUGE meal under a set amount of time. If he wins he gets the meal free and all the drinks you order tonight free, his next meal here free and his picture on the Bars wall of fame.

• He only agrees to the challenge because he likes the sound of free food.

• The food comes and Santana makes it on the wall of fame easily in record time. The Owner of the place is absolutely gobsmacked with the fact that Santana scarfed down an ENTIRE 10 pound burger in less than 2 minutes.

• Santana will stare at the menu of drinks for the longest time, mouthing out the names of drinks and brands curiously. He'll want you to explain him what everything is but he honestly won't know what he'll like.

• He absolutely doesn't like beer. Not at all.

• The first sip of the first glass given to him was promptly spit out. Santana's mouth twisted into a bitter knot, pushing the glass FAR away and shaking his head frantically to try and rid of the disgusting yeasty film left on his tongue.

• You'll have to order him something more appealing in taste if you want him to drink at all.

• You'll find that he comes to enjoy a more sweet and fruity tropical drink like a Piña colada.

• "How is it?" You ask, a smile tugging at your mouth when you notice a little gleam in his eye as he put the colourful drink to his lips. He definitely looked less miserable than he had a moment ago.

• "Hmm," a little pink tongue darted out to swipe along his upper lip, his thumb fiddling with the tiny umbrella sitting on the ridge of the glass. "sweet. Pleasing."

• Because of his newfound love for the sweet tropical tasting booze you might have to monitor how much he has to be on the safe side as you weren't sure whether Santana would handle intoxication well.

• However, if you decide to let go and have one too many Santana will put his arm around you and firmly tell you it's time to go Home.

• He doesn't really know the first thing about the care and feeding of a hungover Human but he'll do anything you ask of him.

• You need water? He's got two bottles ready for you. Head hurt? He'll sprint to the store for Ibuprofen for you. The sunlight in the window bothering you? He'll cover that window using his own body if he has to.

• You might just be surprised when he asks you if you and him could go to another bar soon for more good food and a couple more drinks...

[hatterstan-shameblog]

Oh yeah? A random head canon? Well, this is more of an idea but still-

Okay, Hatter hiring Tatta to work at his hat shop because hat squad~✨Tatta is the hat son. :3

OOOOOH BUDDY OKAY this is getting a lil somethin-somethin

The Apprentice

Rating: PG (for Tatta for being a beautiful and wholesome boy)

Relationships: None (Hatter/Aguni implied because it’s basically always gotta be implied)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“So, uh,” Aguni asks, “how’s the new guy doing?”

It’s a beautiful Thursday afternoon. The birds are singing, the sun is shining…and, perhaps most importantly, Aguni and Takeru are splitting a bucket of fried chicken with a side of potato wedges, and two fresh-from-the-oven biscuits.

“Splendidly,” Takeru says, sinking his teeth into an extra-crispy chicken leg and smirking around the audible crunch sound that echoes against his teeth.

Aguni nods and twists the top of his biscuit off of the bottom.

“You’re not working him too hard, are you?”

“Mori,” Takeru says between lip-smacking bites, “I would never!”

Just then, a young be-hatted head pokes out from behind the back door. A handsome young fellow, with shaggy hair and a hopeful look in his eye—why, even Aguni, in all his gruff distrust of strangers, can’t help but find him charming.

“Mr. Danma, sir,” the energetic young man says, “the new shipment just came in! Shall I place it in the stock room, or would you like to look at it now?”

Takeru smiles, setting down his half-eaten drumstick and wiping his mouth on one of the flimsy paper napkins that came with their meal.

“The stock room, I think,” he replies, “we’ll go through it together after my meeting with Mr. Aguni.”

“Oh, so lunch with me counts as a ‘meeting’ now,” Aguni scoffs, “didn’t realize I got a promotion.”

“Yes, well…”

Takeru picks up a potato wedge and studies it for a moment. He frowns, then puts it back and selects a second, (apparently) more suitable option, which he dunks into a plastic container of ketchup.

“The newest associate at Hat Danma LLC has informed me that our lunch meetings may be tax deductible,” Takeru explains, gesturing with the ketchuped wedge in his hand, “If I count this as a business luncheon, I can write it off on taxes and get a refund.”

“Refund for what? I’m the one who bought the chicken,” Aguni argues, shoving his hand into the bucket for another deep-fried morsel, “I spend the money, and you reap the benefits?”

“Uh, yeah,” Takeru says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “that’s how it works.”

“Fine,” Aguni mumbles, “but you’re using your technically-fraudulent earning to take me somewhere nice.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Takeru shoots back, “I would love to know what, pray tell, is your idea of ‘somewhere nice’ that isn’t the Shibuya Denny’s.”

“The staff is polite and the prices are reasonable,” Aguni huffs, slathering a half-melted pat of butter onto his biscuit, “besides, every time we’re there, Akiko makes sure we have fresh coffee. How dare you imply that we don’t have a nice time at the Shibuya Denny’s…”

“Uh, I’m sorry to interrupt again—“

Aguni and Takeru table their squabble in favor of looking up at the young man who has, once again, stuck his head out from the back door.”

“Ah, Tatta, my dear,” Takeru says, “my favorite employee…”

“He’s your only employee,” Aguni grumbles, taking a sulky chomp out of his well-buttered biscuit.

Takeru smacks Aguni’s knee lightly in reprimand, but otherwise remains his usual perky self.

“I just wanted to let you know,” Tatta says carefully—almost nervously, but maybe that’s just his golden-retriever-like energy taking, “the Yamato’s have just ordered an additional two fedoras for the wedding. I know I should have asked you first, but…I paid an extra 1,000 yen for expedited shipping to Osaka, just to be sure the order gets there in time.”

“As you should have,” Takeru concludes, offering his new apprentice a nod of approval, “I’m pleased to know that you can handle an emergency situation with grace and tact.”

Tatta beams—a big, bright smile that stretches the corners of his lips to dig into the slight plump of his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Danma, sir,” he responds, “I’m just glad I can be of help!”

“I have a way you can help me further,” Takeru says, that irresistible little lilt in his voice that has gotten more than one person into a heap of trouble, “if you’re willing, of course…”

“Of course,” Tatta replies, “I’ll do whatever you need!”

Aguni rolls his eyes. Of course Takeru likes him; the boy is all but begging for his approval. Nothing feeds the older man’s ego more than a young fellow looking up to him.

“My associate and I were just talking,” Takeru says smoothly, “and it seems we’re at a bit of an impasse. We’re looking for somewhere…hm, a bit more upscale for our next tete-à-tete.”

“Oh, well, I dunno,” Tatta says nervously, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I, uh, I don’t really go to too many fancy places.”

“Neither do we, son,” Aguni says with a sigh, “neither do we…”

“Oh, wait! I have an idea,” the vivacious young man says, “I mean, I don’t know if you’ll like it, but…”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Takeru coos, “See, Mori-chan, you don’t have to be so grumpy all the time. Why, you could benefit from—“

“Let the kid talk,” Aguni interjects. He wordlessly reaches into the bucket and pulls out another piece of chicken and holds it out for Tatta to take.

“Oh, uh,” Tatta says nervously, “are you sure?”

“Go on! The thigh is the best part,” Takeru insists, then chuckles to himself, “of the chicken and…of a lover.”

“Oh my God.”

“Breasts,” Tatta says quickly, “they’re, uh, they’re good too. On a chicken! I was talking about chicken…”

Takeru points at his bashful new protege, who’s now nibbling on the deep-fried breading and trying to hold back a blush.

“You, my young friend, are a man of culture,” Takeru turns to look at Aguni, “wherever he says to go, we’re going.”

Tatta full-on blushes at that.

“Well, uh,” he says, “The only place that really comes to mind is the bar from Lost in Translation…”

Aguni raises his brow in surprise.

“You mean the one with Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansson?”

“Yeah, that one,” Tatta says with a smile, “I just watched it last night and I thought the place looked really cool! It’s got that really great view of the city, and it’ll only be better when it’s dark and you can see all the lights!”

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant,” Takeru exclaims, “Mori, you’ll have to break out the suit.”

“The suit is a privilege,” Aguni responds, “I’m not convinced you’ve earned the right to see me in it…”

“So you’ll be wearing the black,” Takeru muses, his attention shifting back to the young man munching on his impromptu lunch, “and I, of course, will be wearing the red. But what about him?”

Tatta fumbles with his chicken.

“Wait,” he asks, “you mean I’m coming with—“

“Normally, I’d suggest the blue,” Takeru continues, “but I’m just not sure…”

“Put him in the olive,” Aguni suggests, “he looks to be about the right height for it.”

Takeru beams.

“Mori, I could kiss you,” he begins to say, but then his eyes slip sideways to see Tatta standing there, “but I won’t, because this is a business meeting and that is not something that professionals do at the office.”

“Well I’m busy eating, so…”

“Wait, uh, guys—“

Aguni and Takeru pause and look at the uncomfortable young man before them. Tatta shifts from one foot to the other, gaze fixed on his scuffed sneakers.

“I can’t go,” Tatta half-mumbles, “I’m sorry but…my shift doesn’t end until nine, and I need the paycheck, so…”

“You,” Takeru says, “are so goddamn precious.”

“Keep him on the clock,” Aguni tells Takeru, “count it as a business dinner. Hell, you could even pay him overtime to carry your drunk ass home.”

Takeru claps his hands together in glee.

“Oh, that is a genius move,” he says.

Takeru leans forward, resting his chin on his elbow and looking up at Tatta.

“What do you say, Cinderella,” Takeru asks him, “will you give up your chores for a few hours and let your fairy godfathers take you out for a truly legendary Boys’ Night out?”

“Hanging out with two middle-aged men at an overpriced bar is hardly a Cinderella moment,” Aguni grumbles, “but, hey, if you wanna come along, we’d be happy to have you.”

“Wow! Thanks,” Tatta says, sounding honest-to-goodness excited about the prospect of going out with his boss and his boss’ friend, “I, uh, I guess I’ll get back to the shop! I’ve got a lot to do if we’re closing early!”

And with a quick bow and an exuberant bite of his chicken, he turns on his heel, heading back into the depths of the hat shop to organize ribbons and restock shelves.

“Just adorable,” Takeru clucks, “Like a puppy that can do basic math and knows not to chew on my shoes.”

“I like him,” Aguni says, wiping his hands on his jeans, “kinda weird that he’s so enamored with you, but that aside, I think he’s a fine young man.”

“Well, what can I say? I have an eye for talent,” Takeru sets his now-finished chicken leg on his plate, “So, you’ll pick us up at six?”

Aguni tries to grimace, but a reluctant smirk sneaks its way onto his lips.

“If I must…”

[honiboyyoon]

The CEO’s Son (M)

Your relationship with your boss’ son was never one HR would approve of...

Pairings: Jungkook x reader

Word Count: almost 4k

Warnings: smut, dont let someone talk to you like this at your work, jungkook having a size kink

A/N: LITHEN rayan wrote a jungkook size kink blurb and lotte kook came for my fucking throat and im not sorry!!!! reni get the four loko,,, bete.., i inked

When you first landed this internship, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. The internship was actually well paying, incredibly insightful to your field once you graduated university, and you would even go as far as to say-although incredibly nerdy of you- it was very fun. Overall this internship at Jeon Enterprises was a dream come true. It was almost too good to be true, and that’s because it was. The bane of your existence as of late was your boss’ overly flirtatious, pompous, and ridiculously attractive son. Jeon Jungkook. With his stupid shaggy hair, God you simutanilousy wanted to run your hands through it to sniff it but also shave it off his stupid head. Then there was his stupid face, and his stupid body. You didn’t think a guy in a suit could affect you as much as it did, but here you are, ogling him from your desk as he’s stopped at the water cooler. As if sensing your stare, Jungkook turns his head and you two briefly make eye contact before you redirected your gaze to your computer screen. Yes, pretend like you’re doing work, he definitely didn’t catch you staring at him. As if he could hear your thoughts, Jungkook saunters over to you with a shit eating smirk plastered onto his face. I would give up my employee discount to slap that right off you think to yourself.

“How do you get any work done when your staring at me all day, baby?” Jungkook coos, he’s leaning against your cubicle divider, and his crossed arms are pulling his already tight fitting shirt more taught against his muscles.

“How do you have so much money, yet still can’t find a shirt that’s actually your size?” Your tone is falsely sweet but it has Jungkook grinning wider.

“Y’been staring at my bod that much to notice huh, Y/N?” This is your relationship with your CEO’s shit head son. He flirts, you sass and flirt back, you go home insanely sexually frustrated, rinse and repeat.

Your thoughts are interrupted by one of your supervisors reminding everyone of a meeting in five minutes. Everyone around you slowly shuffles to the meeting room down the hall, and you get up from your chair and begin your way towards the boardroom when you hear a low whistle, “damn, have I ever told you that that’s my favourite skirt on you? Your ass looks amazing, babe” Jungkook is still resting against your cubicle, chin poised on the palm of his hand. Of course he didn’t have to go to the meeting, he was the CEO’s son.

“In your dreams” you’d be lying if you said your heart did beat a little faster when these exchanges occurred.

“Oh but we do!” he mockingly groans and grips harder onto your cubicle wall, “at least four or five times a night!”

You only answer back with a scoff and a shake of your head as you make your way down the hall.

Once the meeting has begun, your supervisor informs the interns that those that are the most promising and likely to be hired on once graduated, will be given more work, to better prepare them for what life is really like and Jeon Enterprises. After a few grumbles your supervisor assigns days to each one of you, stating that you will work a sort of “over-time”, to get you used to times of the year where the typical 9-5 just simply isn’t enough hours in the day. You’re assigned Tuesday nights, and will begin tonight. Forcing a smile on your face as you accept your that your plans tonight are now ruined, you thank your supervisor for the opportunity. It’s not until you’re walking back to your desk do you realize that you in fact, did not actually have plans anyways, you never really do, but the option to make plans is always nice to have.

As you near your desk you notice Jungkook is poised against your cubicle wall again, as if he never left.

“Are you stalking me now, Jeon?” You tut, a smirk finding itself on your lips without you even realizing it.

“Just wanted to make sure your seat was clean,” he pulls your chair back for you as if he’s an actual gentleman, as you sit down in it he comes around to the front of you and sits on the edge of your desk, “and this one of course.” He circles his face with his hand.

“Well, it’s good to know you at least recognize the importance of giving good oral when you have the world’s smallest dick.” You turn to your computer before you can see the dark look that flashes through Jungkook’s eyes. He leans down closer to your ear and quietly says, “oh, you have no idea.” And with that Jeon Jungkook leaves you with a tingling ear and damp panties.

It’s about ten minutes later when you hear a ping and see a message bar show up on the corner of your screen. Clicking the flashing bar, your heart does a little flip as once you see who the message is from.

Jeon Jungkook

8=========D

“What the fuck?” you chuckle under your breath, hands already typing a reply on their own accord.

Y/N L/N

Did you just send me a dick pic??

Y/N L/N

As an emoticon?

Jeon Jungkook

Big isn’t? ;)

He’s lost his fucking mind, you think to yourself. This is hilarious, but Jungkook has actually lost his mind.

Y/N L/N

I had to increase my screen zoom to see it, but its cute ig

After hitting send, you hear a dramatic “Ha!” from the direction of Jungkook’s desk before you hear another ping.

Jeon Jungkook

Remember that im the supervisor thats overseeing you on your overtime nights ;)

You didn’t, infact, remember that. But now you’re rubbing your thighs against each other trying to relieve some strain as your imagination begins to run wild of what it’d be like to be the only two people in the office.

Y/N L/N

fuck you

Jeon Jungkook

thats the plan baby

Oh my God.

Your relationship at the office has always been one HR wouldn’t approve of, you two always took things most would consider “too far” but it never lead to anything. You said shit like this to each other all the time, but this afternoon felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but something told you tonight may finally be the night you don’t have to go home and touch yourself thinking of your boss’ shit head son.

Two hours later, it was finally the end of the day and everyone was packing up to head home for the evening. Some of the other interns give you looks of pity before they leave, but you don’t feel an ounce of dread about having to stay late. Your mind keeps wandering to that stupid conversation with stupid Jungkook. You guys were always talking to each other like this, but now it felt different, and you couldn’t help the butterflies that started abusing your stomach.

It’s now half an hour since everyone’s gone home and you’ve continued to work through the extra load given to you for tonight, when suddenly a familiar ping sounds again. You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together when you read the message from none other than Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook

Come to the board room

You didn’t know what was louder, the squeak escaping your lips or your desk chair being pushed back as you abruptly stand up. You don’t dwell on that too much as you quickly make your way to the board room. You try to calm yourself down, you and Jungkook heavily flirted all the time, his dumbass probably broke the screen in the meeting room or something, yea, yea that’s it. Just because your last conversation was a bit more heated than usual and ended with him saying he wanted to fuck you, didn’t mean he was about to plow you in the board room.  You slow your walk as you get a few steps before the closed door. Quickly running your fingers through your hair to tame any stray hairs, you glance over your clothes before taking a deep breath, hand clutching the door handle. After a brief pep talk, you’re pushing through the door to find Jungkook sitting at the board table seemingly working on something on his laptop. As soon as you enter, he stops typing and leans back in his chair as that devilish smirk appears on his face again.

“Close the door behind you,” holy shit this was really happening, you were really about to fuck Jeon Jungkook, and in the office of all places. “Lock the door behind you” he’s racking his eyes up and down your figure, when they finally reach your eyes he says barely above a whisper, “only if you want to, that is.” Oh, holy shit. This was him giving you a way out, to get a sense of whether this was more than just back and forth flirting and banter, to see if you really wanted him.

With a speed you didn’t know you possessed, you locked the door behind you without breaking eye contact. Jungkook stands up from his chair and gestures for you to come closer, as you do you can feel a blush already heating up your cheeks.

“I’m surprised you wanted to have sex with me,” his voice is still a quiet whisper, and his hands are now at your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the beginnings of his arousal through his pants, “y’know, with me having such a small dick and all.”

“Well…” lord, girl get it together, you’ve been dreaming about this since you started your internship, “that may be true, so I thought I should see how your much your oral makes up for it.”

He crushes his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything else. The kiss is rough and hurried, clearly the several months long sexual frustration was mutual. He spins you around and grinds his hard on against your ass. You can’t help the few whimpers that escape you as he starts to suck at your neck, “gotta mark you up nice, huh baby? Can’t have anyone in the office trying to take what’s mine.” You shake your head in agreement as Jungkook pushes you forward so your hands are against the table and your ass is bent up, the sight has him groaning. No one’s ever really manhandled you like this, and it’s gotten you more worked up than you thought it would’ve.

“Fuck, I really do love this skirt on you, but I really want to see what’s underneath more.” Jungkook stops his aggressive groping to push your skirt up around your waist and you quickly dispose of your blouse and bra. Bending down, he places open mouth kisses along your ass cheek, as his hand continues to roughly grope the other one. The unoccupied hand is now rubbing you through your panties, and you feel like your about to loose it from all this pent up frustration.

“Please, Jungkook.” You beg, your voice already sounding strained and whiney.

“Please what baby? You need to tell me what you want,” you gasp as he applies even more pressure, “use your words.”

“I want your f-fingers, and your mouth. I want you to eat me out.” Your practically panting, and Jungkook’s erection is now painfully pushing against the fabric of his pants after hearing and seeing you so submissive, so different from your normally sassy attitude, and it make Jungkook want to wreck you. You only hear a low chuckle from Jungkook before one of his fingers is pushing past your underwear and straight into your wet heat. He doesn’t start off slow, he immediately starts to quickly finger you, your arousal already starts to drip down his hand as he harshly sucks on your clit.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” Jungkook coos, licking up your folds, “I guess since my dick is so small you only need one finger, huh?”

Before you can protest, Jungkook removes his finger from your pussy and begins to pull you back up so you’re now chest to chest. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, and without having to be told you open your mouth and begin to suck on the digit. Jungkook chuckles at your submissiveness and switches his thumb out for the finger he used to finger you. He stares with such intensity at his finger disappearing behind your lips, that it only make you suck faster, harder.

“I really want to fuck your stupid little bratty mouth,” he’s almost mumbling to himself, but you continue sucking on his finger, this time he speaks louder, more controlled, “but I really just want to fuck your bratty little pussy already.” You’re furiously nodding your head, as he retracts his finger form your mouth. He’s roughly kissing you again, as he grabs underneath your thighs and sits you on the table. Your hands are roaming over each other, although his are much more dominating. He’s grabbing your hand and placing it over his clothed erection, and your mouth waters from the sheer size of his bulge. Jungkook, of course, notices this immediately and with great pleasure.

“What, not big enough for you, baby?” He’s taunting you because he knows he’s big, he’s fucking huge, and you can’t move your hands fast enough to unzip his pants. Jungkook’s hands are turning your hair into a makeshift ponytail when you pull his underwear down and his hard on practically smacks you in the face. Oh, holy shit. You never would have thought you would use this word to describe a dick, but Jeon Jungkook has a monster cock. You don’t have much time to dwell on this thought before Jungkook is tapping the tip of his dick against your cheek, and you’re now just realizing that your mouth had been agape since you first had your hand over his crotch.

“On second thought,” Jungkook tightens your hair in his hand, “I really do want to fuck this pretty mouth.” You manage out a whimper before he’s guiding his cock into your open mouth. You’re swallowing around his cock, trying to take him all in, but you’re only about half way down and there’s an obscene amount of spit seeping out of your mouth, and you’re about to run out of air. You pull away from his cock, desperately trying to fill your lungs, and you notice a trail of saliva connecting your mouth to the angry red head of his cock. Jungkook catches the trail as well, and he’s darkly huffs out a laugh as he grabs his dick to tap against your face again, “what? Can’t take it you stupid little brat?”

The degrading catches you a bit off guard and has you pouting back, “‘m not stupid.”

“Huh?” He taps his cock a bit harder against your cheek, “What was that baby I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I’m not stupid!” You huff, your lips are spit slicked and pouting and your eyes are almost adorable when they look up at him. God he can’t wait to wreck you.

“Of course you’re not stupid baby,” Jungkook probably should’ve asked you want your kinks were beforehand, but he takes note that degradtion probably isn’t on that list for you, at least not yet. “You’re not stupid, no. You just can’t take my cock.” If you didn’t want him to fuck you so badly you would’ve smacked the shit eating grin right off his face, but you’re shaking your head furiously at him. “No, please fuck me Jungkook, please. I promise I can take it, I promise.” Jungkook could’ve blew his load just from finally hearing you be so submissive towards him after months of attitude. He kisses you again and he guides you to lay back on the table, hand guiding the tip of his dick to your heat. He doesn’t enter, just simply rubs the tip against your clit and you feel like you could explode.

“Think you can handle it, baby?” he whispers in your ear, and a quiet uh huh is his green light to enter you. All the dominating behaviour aside, Jungkook, much to your happiness, actually enters you slowly. He enters inch by inch, allowing your aching pussy time to adjust to his massive size. When he’s fully inside you, you both let out a pant and Jungkook waits for you to give him a signal to move. Although you teased him about having a small dick, you never really thought Jungkook did, but you never would’ve dreamed he was hiding a fucking python under his designer dress pants.

After a few moments, you feel relatively adjusted to his size. If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t think you could ever fully adjust. But, nonetheless, you breathe out a soft move and bite Jungkook’s ear lobe. You both groan as he slowly pulls out, nearly all the way. He sets a moderate pace at first, and although your grateful due to his size, you’re honestly a bit surprised he isn’t rougher with you. As if sensing this, Jungkook smirks down at you, “need to get you a bit more adjusted, baby, can’t have me accidentally ripping you in half huh?” and that has you moaning out as he hoists your legs up higher and he plows into you. Honestly, you really do think he could rip you in half.

Your moans are pornographic as he fucks into you with such speed and power your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. His chiseled muscular body is glistening so beautifully under the fluorescent office lights that you don’t even wonder when his shirt came off, but fuck you’re happy that it did. Your transfixed watching his ab muscles move as he fucks you. You don’t really know where to look, he’s just so hot. His shaggy sweaty hair dangling in front of his eyes, his half lidded eyes watching your tits bounce every time he fucks into you, his slightly parted mouth that occasional lets out a guttural moan. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and he’s just so hot and you just need more. When you voice this, Jungkook just smirks and wraps his arms around your legs to keep them parallel to his chest, and he’s fucking into you even harder.

“Fuuuck, your pussy’s so tight and wet for me baby, shit you’re hot.” Jungkook pants, and when his eyes drift down from watching your tits bouncing, that’s when he notices it. With every thrust, Jungkook can see a little bump come from the inside of your lower abdomen, and something inside him snaps. He’s fucking into you even harder now, and you’re nearly crying at how animalistic he’s being.

“Fuck baby, look at you. Your little pussy can barely take my cock, look at it sticking up inside of you.” He thrusts a little extra hard to really make his dick protrude and you’re nearly seeing stars. You couldn’t believe it. Jungkook was actually so big that his cock would poke up your belly. You’re nearly gushing around him at the revelation, and Jungkook just keeps fucking you nice and hard, his hips a rough stactoo against yours. He’s groaning and panting while he watches the bump come up with every thrust. “Shit baby, look at you, your bratty little pussy can barely handle my cock, it has no room for it. I bet you love my fat cock don’t you, baby? Huh?” His hand reaches forward to slap your bouncing tit, “You fucking love my huge dick don’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, I love your fat cock Jungkookie, please fuck me with your fat cock, I love it so much!” Your screaming, and you honestly don’t care if the late night office cleaners can hear you.

“Tell me how much you love it baby, c’mon, tell me how much you need my huge dick, tell me how big it is”

You don’t know if he’s being this rough because of your earlier comments about him having a small dick, or if it’s because he can visibly see that your pussy can barely handle the size of him but you don’t care either way. “It’s so fucking big Jungkook, you’re stretching me out so fucking good, baby oh my gosh.” You feel like you’re about to cum any minute now, and when you voice this Jungkook pulls out of you and flips you so your hands are on the table once again. You nearly scream when he enters you again, the pace just as brutal. His hands are now roughly gripping your ass cheeks, the occasional blow being delivered to them. He’s panting into your ear telling you how much a good girl you are for taking his cock so well, how he bets you won’t ever say his dick is small again, how he’s going to ruin your tight little pussy every Tuesday night in this board room. “You’re not going to be able to listen to a single thing they say during these meetings, your just going to be thinking about my huge cocking stretching you open.” You slip a hand down to play with your clit as Jungkook continues his assault on your pussy. You’re so close to almost hurts. “C’mon baby, show me what you look like when you cum, I wanna hear you” He delivers another smack to your now cherry red ass, “cum all over my huge cock, baby, c’mon.” A few more powerful thrusts and you’re coming harder than you ever had in your life. Jungkook follows quickly behind you, unloading onto your ass, moaning at the erotic sight.

You think you might’ve black out in all honesty, but the next thing you know, Jungkook is wiping his cum off your ass with a tissue and gathers you in your arms. Looking down at his now soft dick, you nearly laugh at the fact that, even when soft, Jungkook is above average size. Apparently you said that out loud, because now Jungkook is laughing as he hands you your clothes. You see him tuck your panties into his pocket and when you question it, he casually replies with, “you’ll just have to get them back next Tuesday.”

You definitely love this internship.

[hkctvdramas]

What Makes a Good Partner

I’ve decided to compile a list of qualities and requirements for a good partner or rather a good relationship, based on what I’ve witnessed in real life and what can be seen in Asian dramas.

1)  Have intimacy and attraction for each other   

Pretty much with any romantic relationship, if there’s no attraction or intimacy, then at most the relationship is just platonic or friendship based. This is the first requirement for a romantic relationship to happen and this is also the first thing that dies when a relationship is deteriorating. I’ve heard from multiple people who are married that this was the first indicator that something is not right between two people and is also the one that will lead to insecurity among the one who is in need of it most or bothered by it.

2)  Have respect, trust, and appreciation for each other

I rank these requirements as necessities for a good solid relationship of any sort. Mutual respect for each other without a sense of contempt. Trust that the other can performed certain expectations you lay out and meet them according to your needs. Showing appreciation for each other either verbally and/or through actions. An example of this in the drama: No Regrets between Cheng Gau Mui & Lau Sing. They pretty much respect each other without looking down on other person and trust the other person with their life during times of danger. They also show their appreciation for being there for each other during times of need and would say good words about one another in public. Creating this foundation in a relationship is a good indicator to whether a relationship can end in a good note or a complete disaster. 

3)  Can be silly and vulnerable with each other 

This requires good communication and understanding between two people. There is also a sense of trust and willingness to let go of one’s insecurity so the other person can truly fall in love with the real you. One good example is : Kill Me, Heal Me with Cha Do Hyun &  Oh Ri Jin. With the two of sharing their vulnerabilities and even showing different sides to them, they are able to the other in a different light. Deep down everyone’s human with a painful past and sometimes we all just wish to be accepted and loved for who we are.

4)  Be of good support/influence for each other 

I’ve included this because even if we do accept the other for who they are, we also need that person to be of good influence in our life and actually lift us up instead of pulling us down. One example is: Ode to Joy 2 with An Di & Bao Yi Fan. Different than her first boyfriend, Bao Yi Fan actually try to pace his courtship with An Di according to her comfort level. He also is a good support for her emotionally and mentally giving her courage and strength to face her inner fears and insecurities.

5)  Have similar professions or financial standing 

Some people might be bias about this. But for me, I’ve noticed that this is an important requirement that many people tend to overlook and later regret. I’ve noticed that finances is usually one of the factors for divorce and a deep sense of resentment that builds overtime among those who do separate. It’s unfortunate that many Asian dramas tend to sell the idea of a Cinderella love story, but I’ve seen many couple end up unhappy after marriage when there is a level of difference in income or profession. My reasoning for different professions having difficulty is because sometimes the people in the relationship cannot relate to the other’s work and the crazy work hours if they are constantly away for long period of time. As for financial standing, one partner will feel resentment towards that other person who is not working or is making less as they feel like they are the breadwinner and need to support the other person. Due to the difference in income, there’s bound to be a level of inequality in the relationship and a high chance of abuse (using money as a weapon) and creating a codependent dynamic. I highly don’t recommend this as it will lead you feeling trapped in a relationship and at the mercy of one making more money.

6)  Have parents/in-laws approve of your relationship 

This is also another thing that people tend to overlook when deciding to get married. I know that with younger generations, we tend to be rebellious and believing that our family don’t understand the person we love. I’ve also fallen into this belief and guess what, it created a lot of unnecessary stress and fall out with families. The worst part is ending up isolating yourself with your close families and friends for a person whom you believe will bring you happiness. Some people would say that love conquers all and the advice I give is unless your parents and his parents are completely shitty and abusive towards you then maybe it might be a consideration. But if growing up with your family who is caring and have not treated you poorly, then please do trust their judgment for they have a clearer view of the partner in question than the rosy goggled eye you. Do listen to their concerns. While if your parents and his parents approve of the relationship and have no negative impression then the relationship will be very smooth sailing.

7) Have similar values and outlook on life (regarding lifestyle and child rearing)

This goes back to understanding yourself and your partner. Having similar views on how the two of you want to share life with make things easy. Similar views like religion, cultural values, where to live, how to spend your money, how many children you like to have, and what type of parenting you two agree upon, etc. If there is any discrepancy in values and outlook on life, the two of you really need to sit down and talk about the reasons behind the choices. If you two feel strongly about something but are of polar opposites about the issue, then perhaps it’s not a good fit. Rather to leave early than deep digger into the relationship, which will eventually leave the two of you with unfulfilled needs.  

8) Share household chores

Trust me, this will be an issue unless someone is rich enough to hire nannies, butlers, chefs, maids, and cleaners to take care of everything or your partner truly enjoys cooking, cleaning, and child rearing. 

9) Share common interest 

As least share something in common to talk about so that the two of you will feel connected. If there is nothing, then life is too long to be spending time with someone who don’t share a certain level of excitement or enjoyment with. Example: Love O2O with Xiao Nai & Wei Wei, sharing their love for video games. It helps build a sense of connection and understanding as well as a bond between the two of you.

10) Have less or no stress being together 

I never knew this was a requirement until actually experiencing the joy of a stress-free relationship without the drama. Trust me, it’s so worth it because it takes your mind off of the relationship and allows you to focus time on self enjoyment. Yes, you do need time for yourself to relax and refresh so that when the two of you spend time together it will actually be quality time. It will be more memorable and more enjoyable because the two of you are living in the moment without extra needed stress.

What makes a stress-free relationship? It’s when discussing about disagreements in the relationship is not like pulling teeth. There is no stone-walling, no contempt, no criticism and no defensiveness. Two people are able to work together to create a solution that both party are happy with. The other is willing to respond maturely and make necessary changes for make the other person happy without holding grudges. You two are aware of each other’s strengths and weaknesses and come together to provide the necessary tools to teach and learn from each other, giving each other the best of each of your qualities. Knowing that a relationship is equal partnership and if one person fail, it’s both who are responsible for the failure.

This is what I have learned over the 5 years of dating which leads to me dating my current boyfriend of 1.5 years. Living together for 1 years and yet I have more good words to say about him than negative things. I appreciate him each day for consistently fulfilling all these necessary requirements I look for. I hope you guys find this helpful. Share, comment, let me know what you think. =)

[let-it-raines]

Emma sends her friend Killian a text, not noticing the horrible autocorrect mistake and Killian gets the wrong idea.

All she needs is for finals to be over in two weeks. She needs them to be over, and then she’ll be free to do whatever the hell she wants for three months. Yeah, she’ll probably end up getting a job down at the Sheriff’s station, something she does with her dad every year since she’s been old enough to legally work there as an intern…which is definitely a bit of a stretch. She’s not exactly sure how her dad gets the approval from town council to pay her for answering phones and fiddling around on her computer for three months out of the year, but he somehow does. Whatever. It works for her. She gets to help out on the occasional interesting case that happens in Storybrooke and spend time with her dad.

It’s kind of like the dream for a twenty-two year old who’s a semester behind in college but can’t finish over the summer because her classes aren’t offered then. That sucks, a lot, but she’s a bit thankful for the extra six months to figure out what the hell it is she’s going to be doing for the rest of her life, which is terrifying in and of itself.

The fifty minutes of her advanced corporate finance class (she’d like to have words with whoever the hell decided this was necessary for a criminal justice major) tick by at a snail’s pace, Dr. Jitka’s monotone voice nearly lulling her into sleep until there’s an elbow hitting into her ribs at such a force that she almost falls back in her chair, having to grab onto the table in front of her to keep her from falling backward.

She knows exactly who just elbowed her, her eyes quickly glancing to her right where Killian is diligently taking down notes in his neat handwriting looking as if he didn’t just knock the breath out of her and nearly knock her over.

Asshole.

But then she sees the smallest of smiles on his face, his pink lips stretching out under the black of his scruff and the shade of his baseball cap. Yeah, that’s what she thought. It’s not like there’s anyone else who could have possibly elbowed her in the ribs.

Dr. Jitka finally finishes talking, their allotted time ending, and she scurries to pack up all of her stuff and make it to the Starbucks in the building, caffeine calling her name. Killian follows behind her, his longer strides allowing him to keep up with her hurried pace, even managing to pass her and sneak in front of her in line, the asshole.

“I need my coffee, Jones.”

“You are not the only person who’s tired, love. Do you even have any money left on your card?”“Ahh,” she groans, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, “no, no I don’t. I was just going to pay with cash.”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear, something she’s noticed him do a lot in their four months of knowing each other. She thinks it’s a nervous tick. He does it before he asks a question in class, which she’s decided is his weakness. He’s this really confident guy, seemingly never lacking in it, except when he doesn’t know what’s going on, which isn’t often. He’s freakishly smart, is only in this class as his minor since his major is in mechanical engineering, and she kind of thinks he gets down on himself when he doesn’t know what’s going on.

But who is she to know the inner workings of Killian Jones? They’re friends, they talk, they study together a lot, but he’s still teetering on one of those people where she’s got a fifty-fifty shot of talking to him after graduation. Because, really, what do they have in common besides being in a torturous advanced corporate finance class?

(The same taste in movies, television shows, books, a liking for black coffee, the ability to stay up past four in the morning with no issue, the same biting sarcasm, a penchant for innuendos…maybe a few other things.)

But who knows? She, who doesn’t like making new friends, likes being his friend, even if she does call him an asshole more than she calls him by his actual name. So maybe she’ll put in the effort so that they can be friends outside of this class. He’s got an entire year left compared to her one semester, so it’s not like he’s going anywhere.

“I’ve got money I’m not going to use. I can pay.”

Her lips gape open, the act of kindness shocking her considering he never pays for her stuff when she forgets her food card. “Really?”

“Aye, it’s not like it transfers over to next semester anyway. You want something to eat?”

“A cake pop.”

“Love, it’s not even noon.”

“You offered. Don’t knock on what I’m getting. And I want my coffee – ”

“ – black but you’ll add two sugars to it, I know.”

“Good man,” she sighs, patting him on the back. “I’m going to go get that table in the corner before someone else does.

She walks out of line, dodging people and hoping and praying that no one takes the spot. It doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but an open table is pretty much buried treasure, so when you see one, you have to take it and claim it as your own. It’s a tough competition to not be sitting outside in the rain, which has been a constant for the past few days. She manages to snag the table, plopping her backpack down in Killian’s chair so that no one takes it before pulling out her laptop and opening up her notes, trying to understand what the hell Dr. Jitka was even talking about.

Killian joins her ten minutes later, placing her coffee and cake pop down on the table while he settles across from her, his legs kicking hers and shaking the table when he crosses them underneath the wood. When she goes to grab her cup, she sees a number written in sharpie right under Killian’s name. She rolls her eyes. Of course the barista gave Killian her number. She didn’t even know people did that, but apparently they do.

“So how did you charm the barista for her to give you her number on my cup?”

“Oh I didn’t.”“Then why is this number on my cup?”

“Amy, up there, is my ex. I have her number blocked, and every time I’m in here she writes her number on my cup. I hate to say an ex is crazy because, well, that’s kind of a sucky thing to do, but Amy is crazy.”

“You’re telling me that your ex-girlfriend works in here, and not only do you still come in here but you also trust that she’s not going to spit into your food?”

He puts his cup down on the table, his lips twisting up and his forehead wrinkling. “Never thought about that second thing. Bloody hell.” She laughs, reaching over and taking a sip of her drink. “Ah, ah, ah, love, if she’s spitting in my drink, what’s she going to do to yours?”

“Nothing? I’m your friend.”

“Amy doesn’t know that.”

“Oh gross,” she groans, putting her coffee down on the table and looking over at the counter, where, sure enough, Amy is staring them down. “Why’d you guys break up?”

“She thought I was cheating on her so she cheated on me.”

“Were you?”

“Nope. I like to consider myself a one woman type of guy. I’m not quite sure how she got the idea that I was cheating.”

“Well, Amy seems like a gem.”

“You want to know the kicker of it all?”

“Sure, Jones.” She leans forward, closing her laptop so she can prop her elbows up on the table. “Tell me all of your dirty little secrets.”

“She cheated on me with my best friend.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Aye. Obviously he’s no longer my best mate, but that was a fun time.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but at least you’re not with someone who’d cheat on you. No one deserves that.”

“So,” Killian whistles, picking up his cup again and eyeing it for a few seconds before seemingly deciding to screw it and drink his coffee, “you going home to your weird little town of Storybrooke for the summer?”

Changing the subject. Got it.

“It’s not weird. It’s just got an interesting name.”

“You guys have, like, one market, a diner, and a library. It’s like every small town you’d see in a movie.”

“Well, not all of us live full time in Portland, but yeah, I think I’ll go home and work for my dad. It’s easy cash, I get to spend time with him, watch all of the tourists roll in, and buy a ridiculous amount of ice cream.”

“Sounds like a dream. I’ve got to do my last semester of co-op.”“That sucks.”

“Eh, since it’s my last semester I get a pay raise, and I get paid double overtime. So obviously I’m going to be chomping at the bit for that so I can graduate with some actual money in my bank account.”

Her phone buzzes then, a text from Ruby, and that’s when she sees that she’s ten minutes late for her next class which is in another building. “Shit, I’ve got to go. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t forget about the assignment.”

“I won’t,” she promises, picking up her backpack and running out of the door, leaving her possibly poisoned coffee sitting on the table, her entire purpose for coming into Starbucks pointless now.

-/-

Emma: Joooooooonesssss.

Killian: Swan.

Emma: Oh come on, you’re supposed to be just as dramatic as me.

Killian: Oh my Swan, my Swan, whatever is wrong with the fair maiden that she calls out my name like that, since I do assume that it’s not in pleasure.

Emma: Okay, well I didn’t mean to be that dramatic.

Emma: I don’t understand our last homework assignment.

Emma: I need a B on it.

Emma: Can you help?

Killian: Of course. My place or the library?

Emma: Your place. I’m so frustrated.

Killian: What time?

Ruby calls out her name then, something about the two of them forgetting to pay a bill, and she groans as she gets up from the comfort of her bed (which is likely another reason she wasn’t getting anything done) to go see what’s happening. Ruby is scrolling through their apartment’s portal, showing her their last statement, so she doesn’t really look when she replies to Killian’s text.

Emma: How about sex tonight?

Emma: I don’t think I can finish without you.

Killian: Yeah, okay, that’s perfect ;)

She puts away her phone in her back pocket, forgetting about it and not seeing Killian’s next text as she deals with them not paying the electrical bill, which was definitely Ruby’s fault because she was in charge of paying their bills due on the first this month.

Killian: But what time are you coming over?

-/-

She pulls up to Killian’s apartment around five forty-five, but it takes a solid ten minutes to find parking. He lives close to campus, which blows her mind that he can simply walk to class, but those are the kinds of perks that she guesses you get when you’re on scholarship and literally only have to pay for somewhere to live. Seriously, even his textbooks are paid for.

It pays to be smart, apparently.

But once she finds parking a good half a mile away, she grabs her backpack and starts walking toward his place. She’s a little sweaty by the time she gets there, the rain stopping and humidity starting, but that’s fine. She’s just in her gym clothes anyways. When she knocks on his door, it takes no more than ten seconds for it to swing open.

Was he waiting for her?

Weird, but he is a stickler for time.

She doesn’t think anything of it until she gets a good look at Killian…and of the apartment. He’s wearing jeans and a light blue button down, the elbows rolled up to show his forearms. It’s a normal outfit, sure, but Killian rolls into class in sweatpants and a Henley or t-shirt, his hair usually tucked under a baseball cap. But right now it’s artfully tossed, the kind where you know the guy spent time on it but won’t admit to it. And is he…he’s wearing cologne. It smells damn good, but she’s confused.

Really confused.

Because he’s got soft music playing in the background, and she swears that she sees candles flickering in his kitchen.

“Hello, love,” he greets, bending down and kissing her cheek. When he pulls back, she can still feel where his lips touched her skin, the bristle of his scruff…she doesn’t hate it. She just doesn’t know what’s going on. “Why don’t you come in? Make yourself at home.”

“Was planning on it.” She makes her way into his apartment, passing his living area and heading toward the kitchen table only for him to grab her wrist, lightly tugging until she turns around.

“I feel like the living room would be better, or even the bedroom.”

“Weird but okay.” She’s definitely not going into his bedroom to do homework. That would be a disaster and uncomfortable on so many levels, so she settles down onto his couch, immediately pulling out her stuff while Killian sits down next to her, close enough that their thighs touch.

Her skin sparks the slightest bit, gooseflesh rising on her arms, but she ignores it, pulling open her notebook to where she’d been working out some of the more complex questions so she can get him to figure out where the hell she went wrong. But when she turns to ask him how to do the weighted average cost of capital, his face is freakishly close to hers the heat of his breath ghosting over her lips. And then before she knows it, his lips are on hers.

It’s nice, and she leans into it, returning the kiss and sliding her lips over his while his scruff brushes into her skin and his hands lightly thread into her hair. She gets lost in it, forgetting about who she’s kissing or why she’s here until he groans and his fingers grasp into her hair. That’s when it all comes back to her and she yanks back, separating the two of them and falling back on the couch, her notebook crashing to the ground while Killian blinks down at her.

“What the…” she stutters, hear heart beating quickly within her chest, “…what the hell was that?”

“What the hell was that?”

“I asked you first.”

“Are you five?”

“No, but I’m confused.”

“So am I.”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.”

“Well, I don’t despise you, and you’re a good kisser surprisingly enough. But I don’t…I don’t know where that came from.”

“What do you mean you don’t know where that came from?”

“Because I don’t? We’re supposed to be doing the damn assignment.”

“You literally sent me a text asking to sleep with me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” she cries, backing up further on the couch until she’s sitting on the arm and curling into herself while her face heats. She’s probably red enough to pass as a tomato. “I did what now? Because I would literally never  ask anyone to sleep with me through text.”

If she’s red, Killian is worse. He keeps running his hands through his hair, making it stand up in a million different ways, while his lips open and close over and over again. What the hell is going on?

This is WACK and it has nothing to do with the Weighted Average Cost of Capital.

Oh wow, she just made a finance joke in her head. Maybe she really is losing it.

“But you did,” Killian says, reaching into his back pocket for his phone. “Here, you sent one text that says ‘how about sex tonight?’ And then right after you said ‘I can’t finish without you.’ I thought it was strange and pretty unconventional, but I don’t know. We get along. I think you’re gorgeous, but there’s obviously been some kind of misunderstanding, and I’m just going to never show my face in our class again.”

“You’d miss the final.”

“Thanks for the obvious, Swan.”

She waves her hand toward him, scooting down on the couch and sitting cross legged so that she’s closer to him. “Let me see the messages.” He hands the phone over, the messages still open, and she reads through them right up until…”How about sex tonight? I can’t finish without you. And oh my God, I said I was frustrated earlier.”

Her laugh begins low in her belly, making her entire body shake until she’s dry heaving, basically hiccupping into the laugh, and she can’t breathe. She’s laughing so hard that she can’t breathe. Killian’s phone falls to the couch, landing in between her legs while she covers her mouth with her hands to try to stop the appalling sound that’s coming out of her mouth. This is hysterical, and she has never been so glad to misspell a text.

“I’m glad you find this so funny, Swan.”

“Oh c-come on,” she gasps, wiping the tears that are falling from her eyes, “this is fantastic. I meant six, you know? I did not mean sex.”

“Aye,” Killian gruffs, rubbing his hands up and down his face until he’s practically pulling his hair out, “I realize that now. I’m sorry that I…I’m sorry that I misunderstood, that I pushed myself on you. I’m also sorry that I’m a bloody idiot.”

She shakes her head back in forth, disbelief over this whole thing settling in while she tries to stifle her laughter. She leans over and pats Killian’s knee, which only makes him groan more. “I’ve always heard the jokes about engineers not having social skills, but I really didn’t expect you to fall into that category.”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“Absolutely not. I still need your help with my homework, and you can’t do that if you’re both emotionally and sexually frustrated.”

“Oi,” he protests, his lips finally ticking up into the smallest of smiles, atta boy, “I am not sexually frustrated.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you’re not. Also,” she begins, getting up from the couch and wandering around the room, turning the music up on his Bluetooth stereo and blowing out the candles, “now I know what Killian Jones does when seducing a woman, and this is something I’m going to remember forever.”

“Can you knock me out so I forget?”

“No. Then I’d mess up your perfectly styled hair that I know you spent a lot of time on, not that you haven’t already done a number on it with all of that tugging.”

“I hate you.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie.” She walks back over to him, settling down on the couch next to him and propping her head up on her palm before she sing-songs, “You think I’m gorgeous. You want to kiss me. You want to hug me. You want to love me.”

Killian rolls his eyes, a more genuine smile on his face now. “Okay, Sandra Bullock.”

“I like that you get the reference.”

“I’ve seen the movie.”

She laughs again, bending down to pick up her stuff, flipping back to her notebook page with her homework. “Killian, I promise you don’t have anything to worry about or be embarrassed with. I will never bring it up again if you want. We’ll just finish this homework and study, okay?”

“Aye, that sounds like a plan, though I don’t think I can truly forget.”

So they eventually get around to her homework. She’s still confused, doesn’t think she’ll ever understand it, but Killian talks her through it enough that she might get partial credit on the final. Possibly. She’s not really sure. But she does know she’ll at least get an A on the homework. It helps to have a genius friend who may or may not want to have sex with you but who can definitely help you with your assignments when you feel like pulling your hair out.

After they’re finished with their assignment, everything submitted through the online portal, Killian orders a pizza, grabbing two beers out of his fridge and handing one to her while a baseball game plays on the television. She doesn’t mean to, but she watches him as he takes a sip, his jaw ticking while he tilts the bottle against his lips.

It’s…attractive.

And it’s not exactly news to her. She’s always known Killian was attractive. It’d be hard to miss. His eyes…well, damn, he’s got some of the prettiest eyes she’s ever seen, and his smile is just a bright. The fact that she knows he works out regularly helps. A little. Or a lot.

His personality helps more than a lot.

Does she…like him? Maybe. Probably. Definitely.

Oh God, feelings are the worst, and she’s not sure that she wants them.  

Okay, she kind of wants them.

She kind of wants him.

“Killian?”

“Yeah, love?” he asks, not looking away from the game on the TV.

“Did you really want to sleep with me?”

He groans, falling back into the couch so that his head falls against the cushion and his hair flops in his face. “I thought you said we could forget about it.”

“I did…I just – I’m curious.”

He points over at her, seemingly circling her entire being. “Of course I wanted to sleep with you. I mean, I’d prefer that we were both on the same page and that maybe, you know, you’d let me take you out on a date first.”

“Killian Jones,” she gasps, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“That is not what I said.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to send you a sext, but here we are.” She laughs as he groans again, throwing his arm over his eyes. “My answer would be yes, by the way.”

He lifts his arm, peeking over at her. “Really?”

“Yeah, let’s go with the Friday after finals are over.”

“Why, Swan, are you asking me out on a date?”

She leans over and quickly slides her lips over his. Killian’s the one who takes a moment to react this time, his lips soft when they finally move over hers and his hand gentle as it threads into his hair. She meant for it to be short and sweet, but as she readjusts herself to straddle his lap, her knees on either of his thighs, it intensifies, Killian groaning into her mouth as his tongue traces at the seam of her lips. That’s when she pulls back, resting her forehead against his and loosening her grip in his hair.

“So it’s a date then, Swan?”

“Yeah, you can pick me up at sex.”

[yuusaris]

Doc Dump - Pantless in Chili's Extra Stuff

Oh, right ! - this was origionally ghunna be the ending to Pantless in Chili's, but, the ending I actually have down for it was way stronger, so consider this some fun extra stuff.

“You have your own jet?” Rhys asks when he’s back with the broom. “Just from owning three middle-of-the-road restaurant chains?”

“Hm?” A (finally) sobering Jack looks up as Rhys brings over the broom, “Oh yeah, there’s always money in leasing.” “Leasing?” Jack snorts, lounging back in the booth, “you don’t think you can actually make money from a restaurant, do ya? No matter how far you stretch the name, nine times out of ten, it’s chump change compared to the land you’re sitting on,” Jack rolls a crumb of food between his thumb and forefinger. Eventually the crumb gives under the pressure and Jack rubs the dust off his fingers and onto the table. “Brinker’s just gotta buy a space - doesn’t even have to be a good space, just a space - and put out feelers for a qualified schmuck who thinks they can earn money sporting someone else's brand. We give ‘em a lease, a start-up kit, a two-to-three year chance to make it work, they give us cash and good branding.”

“How much do you get from that?” Rhys asks. “Y-You, I mean. Or, the company - Brinker.”

Jack eyes the ceiling in thought, sight traveling across the room to evaluate it’s worth.

“Standard like this? Off my head…. Little less than three million if we’re low-balling it, average of a fifty thousand dollar franchise fee.. And that’s not even counting the other fees. One and a quarter percent royalties for monthly gross, four percent for regional advertising, another four for national ads, two and half for local ads, that’s not even all of ‘em.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

“You’re praying to the wrong people, cupcake, they’re not on the C-note,” Jack moves to stand from the booth. The sound of skin sucking on plastic makes Rhys cringe, though the texture of it is certainly worse for Jack. “Euuuugh, why.”

“You don’t have pants on,” Rhys says, for what feels like the umpteenth time.

“...Eh,” Jack shrugs, “true,” and adjusts his underwear right in front of Rhys. “Least I’m wearing briefs this time.”

In an effort to not look down because of the ‘this time’ part, “this time?” is what slips out of Rhys’ mouth. And he still ends up looking down at Jacks... underwear.

At least his butt’s nice, Rhys thinks the one inappropriate thought he allows himself for a boss, then screws it up with the front looks promising too.

“Yeah, I can’t wear silk all the time,” Jack snorts, “it’s hot enough in this state as it is.”

Rhys takes another look at the word ‘silk’ and suddenly, that butt is much nicer. It’s almost a shame he’ll probably only see Jack this one time.

“Hey.” Rhys hears two snaps and jerks his eyes back up where they meet Jacks’ knowing ones.

Feeling the guilt on his face, Rhys wants to put an iron to his face to smooth out the clear shock of being caught. And then to crank up the heat to burn the image of Jack’s smug face out of his eyes.

“I - have a pair at home,” he fumbles to cover his ass metaphorically, and does as well as Jack is doing covering his own as physically, “Silk - but they’re, uh, boxers - yours look different, they must be… did you get them-”

“You better pick up, pumpkin, we’re past close,” Jack cuts him off, “and you’re not approved for overtime.”

And, suddenly, realizing that’s true, Rhys is perfectly fine never seeing Jack Clarke, pants or no pants, ever again.

“I still need to mop,” Rhys turns on his heel to grab the broom and dustpan again, “someone tossed bones and shrimp tails onto the floor.”

“Well, sucks to be you, huh?” He chuffs, unsympathetic to his contributions to the workload as he walks towards the door.

And stops.

“Actually… forget it,” Jack turns back around. He steps up and claps Rhys on the back. The hand grips onto his shoulder and he pulls Rhys away from the booth. “Don’t clean that up.”

“Wait, what?” Rhys aks. When he blinks, the broom is out of his hands, and then out of Jacks as he sets it against the wall. “But-” he cuts himself off, suddenly pulled towards the door. “Iii’m probably coming back tomorrow anyway,” Jack shrugs, “gotta have a talk with ol’ Wallethead about how he stores food.” Rhys quietly turns the name over on his lips, furrowing his brow. “Guy who leases the lot - y’know deep voice, wallet-y skin-flaps on his head, embarrassing philosophy wannabe?” Jack doesn’t give Rhys time to respond before he brings them both to the front door. “Ah, doesn’t matter. You did me a solid tonight, buttercup, least I could do.”

At least it’s not making me a chef, Rhys thinks, stepping outside with Jack. Small mercies.

The night air is warm, almost muggy, and Rhys doesn’t mind. After spending ten hours inside a Chili’s with the air conditioner cranked up, the soft breeze sticks, almost soothingly, to his skin. It feels like a real world outside, where it smells like fresh earth, and he could almost lay down and sleep in the grass.

Or maybe that’s just because he’s been up since six in the morning.

Rhys thinks, as he locks the door behind him, he’s going to make himself a nice big cup of coffee tomorrow. On the clock. He deserves it.

Jack punches a number into his phone, brings it to his ear, says “bring it around,” and promptly hangs up. Five seconds later, he’s got a white and gold stretch pulling next to the closed, suburbia-friendly Chili’s.

It’s actually obscenely yellow and any kind of grounding Rhys had before has been knocked backwards by the abrasive, stressful colors on such an expensive display.

Rhys wants ten of them. In every other color except this one.

“...Oh yeah,” Jack just grumbles, “I gotta restock the bar.” After a beat, he shrugs. Jack claps Rhys on the back twice, “see ya tomorrow, Rhysie. Or not. Depends on your shift,” and steps inside. Rhys hears “Oh hey, my belt.” before the door slams shut.

The limo starts to drive, then breaks almost immediately. As the window rolls down,Jacks arm lolls out and he hoists the top half of himself out to look at Rhys.

“Oh, and ah, keep the card,” he calls back. “Consider it a memento when ol’ Jack’s onto bigger and better things with Hyperion.” Jack pats the car again, commands “drive,” and ducks back inside.

The limo starts to move. Without thinking, Rhys pushes forward to follow. “Hyperion?” Rhys asks over the sprint.

“Somethin’ I’m workin’ on!” Jack yells back, as the window rolls back up, “keep your eyes open for it, it’s gunna be big!”

And then, for real, the limo peels onto the road, cutting in front of a sedan that stops with a scream.

Rhys stares at the irritatingly-bright lap of luxury speeding off down the service road. He fishes in his pockets and takes out Jacks business card, looking over the classy filigree of Jacks name. He runs his thumb over the indent the letters make.

And, tucking the thing between his lips, he books it to his car.

Options, Jack had said. Access. Alternatives. Possibilities.

Choices.

Rhys fumbles to unlock the door, climbs inside, and tears apart the inside of his co-leased Lexus for a pen, Jacks business card between his teeth. He’s trying to retain as much of tonight as he can, to remember the name Hyperion, a pantless powerhouse and an opportunity to step out of the janitorial cover-alls and into something worthwhile.

[ahnsael]

Had some [suspected] drug dealers in the casino last night. Several times. On their third visit, we decided to call the county sheriffs and request a “courtesy walk through” of the casino.

I made it clear when I called that we had not witnessed any illegal activity, but...let’s just say we have a little inside information.

As much as I don’t personally have a good history with the police, I’ve managed to get along well with cops in this area. Maybe it’s because usually they’re looking for crime, and often looking at the wrong people...but here, we’re [mostly] on the same side in not wanting bad things to happen at our establishment. And let’s face it -- my work hours are the most likely time for stuff to happen.

So the cops show up. My fellow graveyard manager sees them/talks to them before I do, but he sends them my way after filling them in with more detail on why they were called (when we called, I just said “it’s not a high priority, we just have some people in here who are acting suspiciously, and would like a police presence to be felt -- if you have more pressing issues, we can wait; these people are here all the time so if we don’t get you right away, odds are they’ll still be here later”).

But when I met with one of the officers by our bar, one of the people in the group we called about was sitting at the bar, maybe 20 feet away from us. And as I learned that he had already gotten the back story from my other manager, I mentioned that she was sitting about 20 feet behind him.

He asked if we had names, and I was able to provide three names out of the five people. The officer asked me to do a floor scan and see if I could get the others, but the other two weren’t playing with their player’s cards so I couldn’t get their info. But as I continued talking to the officers, the other manager came with a list of the other two peoples’ names.

But...it was kind of fun to watch these people freak out over cops being in the building. They didn’t bolt for the door or anything (one of them was smart enough to tell the person who wanted to bolt that it would look suspicious). But one suddenly pulled out her cell phone and started calling the other people in the casino to let them know what was going on (I saw her placing calls; the other manager saw the others picking up their phones after each time she dialed), then they all separated into smaller groups.

The cops checked the names and found no active warrants, but told us that the people in the group were “on the radar” and thanked us for calling, and said that after they left, a couple of undercover cops would still be around.

Now, I know, normally I’d be hesitant to call the cops over hunches/suspicious behaviors. But a couple of these people were in yesterday, and we had a semi-regular (and very nice) player win a big jackpot. We paid her, then she kept playing...and while they didn’t hit another jackpot, they did very well. And a few of these people kept helicoptering around her, watching to see how many credits she had, and both of us who were managing got the feeling that we really needed to walk her out to her car when the time came that she decided to go home.

And when we walked her out, a couple of them started to come out another door (then quickly ducked back in when they saw that she wasn’t alone). A car started to pull up, but seemed to quickly decide to park about a half a block away after seeing that she wasn’t alone.

So I left the other manager and a security guard to make sure she got into her car okay, and I went towards the car that had decided to park, and I wasn’t at ALL secretive about the fact that I was taking down a license plate number and the make/model of the car. I wanted to be able to report those things if they pulled in behind her, but I also wanted to act as a very visible deterrent to them doing so.

She made it out without anyone tailing her.

Then she came in again tonight, and the two of this group that had done so last night hovered around her again, more than is comfortable. We let her know that we had noticed, and that we had her back (seriously...for the past couple of months I’ve felt more like a “Security Department Manager” than I have since I gained the title maybe five months ago as I’ve learned more about what kinds of things are happening, and more ways to try and prevent those things from happening).

One of them bummed a cigarette off of the player. As soon as I saw this, I told the cigarette-leech that if I saw her do it again, I’d ban her from the casino for 72 hours (that’s the longest I can personally 86 someone for -- but in Nevada, asking to bum a smoke in a casino is considered panhandling, and panhandling in a casino is a HUGE no-no). When I told the player that I had made that comment to the person who she gave a cigarette to, she breathed a sigh of relief.

This player doesn’t come here all the time. Not even weekly, as far as I know (we see these shady characters more than we see this player). But when this player comes, she GAMBLES. And I’m happy to say (since she is a very nice person) that she often wins. And I want to make sure that she feels comfortable that we’re looking out for her, not wanting these people to bother her/hover around her any more than she wants them to be hanging around her while she plays.

I’m off for the next two nights. But I’m thinking about going in tonight (it won’t be paid time, since OT hasn’t been approved by my boss for such a thing) and just keeping an eye out; I can’t do anything “official,” but I can be an extra set of eyes. And if something goes down, and the boss decides to approve paying me for it, then fantastic; and if nothing goes down (or if something does and the boss decides not to approve paying me), at least I’ll know I’m helping keep the casino safe.

Speaking of working-when-you’re-not-working, I’m now only one of two managers who haven’t been shifted to a salary position. Which I’m totally okay with -- if I work overtime, I get paid for it. But...one of the managers who is newer than I am was recently shifted to salary. And I’m wondering why he was moved, but I haven’t been offered.

Maybe it’s just that they feel that graveyard managers are less likely to be needed on days/hours that they aren’t scheduled (which, granted, it’s odd if I pull more than an hour and a half of overtime per week). So maybe they’ve just decided that keeping me hourly would be cheaper than moving me to a salary.

Plus, if I take a salary, I’m gonna want more than I’m making now (which they would probably have predicted) to make up for the fact that I’d basically be on-call 24/7.

Overall, I’m cool. I’m 7½ months in, and I still really like what I do. It’s still no Disneyland, but...it definitely keeps me on my toes, and I still feel like a valuable contributor to the casino’s success. I haven’t seen the lady in quite a while who was trying to convince me to move to her casino -- which is all well and good, because I’m not anxious to leave a job that I actually like (jobs I’ve had and not liked outnumber jobs I’ve had and have liked, so that counts for a LOT, even in the face of the promise of more money). But I do have guests that like me, employees that like me (also some guests and employees who don’t like me, but I’m okay with someone not liking me because I won’t break the rules or violate state gaming regulations for them), I enjoy doing the paperwork, I enjoy the math (the swing shift bartender always gives me his total sales and asks me to figure out his 8% tip total that he has to report, then verifies it by calculator -- he says I’ve been wrong only once, but I remember a second time that he doesn’t; still, out of hundreds of “8% quizzes” so far, that’s not bad).

Oh, for those who are interested, it doesn’t look like Disneyland is going to happen any time soon. I can’t get more than my regular weekend (Tuesday morning at 7:00am to Thursday night at 11:00pm), but...

my mom told me yesterday that they’re planning a Disneyland trip with my sis and her family in October (at least they’re telling me about this one, not keeping it secret like last year’s WDW trip).

An if I can get the time off, I can go with them.

But it’s really close to Halloween, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to join them.

But if I can, at least I know they will have a room I can stay in for a night or two while I’m there.

And by then, the Rivers of America should be open again, so I can check out the new shape of Tom Sawyer’s Island and the new-and-not-necessarily-improved shorter version of the Mark Twain.

We’ll see what the future holds. I’m not holding my breath. But dang it, I miss the heck out of Disneyland and would absolutely love to see it again relatively soon.

[itscaptainyoulittlemaggot]

Journalistic Integrity

You’re a journalist trying to take down the perverted gymnast, Lance Tucker once and for all. But your plan goes awry and your ethics become compromised as he preys on your insecurities. (3,201 words; Lance Tucker x Reader; 18+, smut; Oral both giving and receiving; Manipulation; Self-esteem issues; Issues regarding lack of parental affection; Some readers will find this distressing to read).

This was it. The past two weeks of work had led up to this very evening. You were going to end Lance ‘the Fucker’ Tucker and his reign of misogyny once and for all.

A flurry of women on the nation’s gymnastics team had retired over the last year or so after they ended up pregnant. Girls with potential, a future. If this wasn’t coincidence enough, it happened to girls who happened to be linked to their coach, Lance Tucker. You knew you were on to something. You knew this would take down the loathsome Olympian once and for all.

Of course your intuition was correct. Over a two week period, you collected a slew of interviews with those former starlets who had their careers cut short. It all started with Maggie Townsend. Five different girls told tales of perversion and debauchery with Tucker.

Soon enough, you had enough evidence. Your story could stand on its own, you were sure. But journalism; it was a man’s game. Your editor suggested - insisted, rather - on balance for fear of damaging the gold medalist’s reputation. You had to hear it from Lance Tucker himself. You had to interview him.

It wasn’t too difficult to secure an interview with him. Under false pretence, he agreed to meet you at a local bar. For all he knew, you wanted to write about his achievements. He wasn’t exactly wrong.

You knew the drill, having interviewed more than a few perverts in your career. You could get all the answers you needed if you just looked the part, played dumb and then went for the money shot towards the end of the interview. At least, this was what you told yourself in the cab to the bar.

The truth was, Lance was gorgeous.

Damp, icy hands began smoothing themselves over imaginary creases on your dress; the dark fabric stretched taut over your curves. Your eyes were wedded to your foot, quickly bobbing away. You admired your heels. They added extra inches to your stature, allowing you to stare into his tar black soul on an even keel as you ruined him. A small comfort as you snapped back to reality at a red light.

Lance was notorious. You had to stay vigilant.

Rolling up to the bar, you felt a pit of unease form in your stomach.

Inside the decadent joint, you darted through the revellers to find Lance propping up the bar, martini in hand. His attire befitted his surroundings. He was striking. And you weren’t the only one aware of it, judging by the amount of attention he drew. But it wasn’t his finely tailored suit that drew you in as you approached him. He was imposing. Far taller than you had anticipated. When you were face to face, he loomed silently over you and placed an immobilising kiss on your cheek. You felt inches tall.

“Well ain’t you a picture,” he muttered in your ear.

You had to work overtime to maintain your composure as you introduced yourself. “Mr Tucker,” you began in a shaky voice, “I’m the reporter from The Times. Do you  mind if I record our conversation tonight?”

Lance lounged back on his stool cocking an eyebrow. “Relax, toots. We got all evening. You look like you could use a drink.”

”I-“ you began, only to be swiftly cut off by two slender fingers, beckoning the bartender.

Lance leaned into you. ”And call me Lance. Mr Tucker was my father. And he was an ass,“ he added.

You smiled uneasily. Lance was, indeed, an ass.

The bartender stood in front of you both awaiting your order.

”Tequila?“ He asked.

”Actually I don’t-“

”Two tequilas please,“ Lance confirmed to the bartender.

You quietly observed Lance as the man behind the bar bustled to get your drinks. The stench of his cologne was offensive to say the least. The sporty little wristwatch jarred with his swanky evening attire. He wore too much gel in his hair so his hairline stuck up proudly in greasy little peaks. And manspreading. You hated that too. 

You had come to two conclusions. One: Lance Tucker was so much more repulsive in person. Two: Lance Tucker was so much more handsome in person.

”Like what you see?“ Lance grinned, sliding a stout little glass towards you.

Compelled to tell the truth (kind of), you proudly declared: ”Actually, I think you’re vile.“

He was taken aback. Lance refused to accept that you, a woman, was immune to his charm. Taking a different approach, he dialled back his attitude. ”You don’t even know me,“ he said softly.

You choked on the mouthful of tequila. His eyes were piercing. How absurd.

He leaned into you again, repeating himself for effect: ”you don’t.“

You were incensed at this vile creature trying to pass himself off as a victim and was he trying to flirt with you? It was written all over your face but you had so much riding on tonight. You needed to keep calm. You plunged a hand into your bag and fumbled for your phone, buying yourself enough time to think of a response.

Bingo.

Pulling out your phone, you made your offering: ”why don’t we show my readers the real Lance Tucker, then?” Your voice was sickly sweet.

Lance tipped his glass to his lips and swallowed hard. “I don’t know who the fuck reads The Times, but ok.”

As Lance ordered two more tequilas, you set your phone on the counter and hit record, ready to grill the Olympian to within an inch of his existence.

“So, Lance,” you began with a nod, “let’s talk about your childhood.”

“Yeah, I mean I started gymnastics at the age of three. I-“

“Tell me about your parents, Lance?” you weren’t fooling around. You had done your research. His father fucked anything with a pulse while his mother ploughed all of her energy into crafting Lance’s career to a tee.  

Lance shot you a concerned look. “Why are you asking about my parents?”

“Well you wanted my readers to know the real you. I think they’d connect with you more if they knew about your tragic back story,” you pressed.

“Well there’s not much to tell,” he sighed, “my mom was your typical pushy parent. I was never good enough for her. Even after the gold. She’ll never be proud of me. I think she just hated men after what my father did… She always turned a blind eye. And then my father… when he wasn’t busy sleeping around with girls half my mom’s age, you know… Gymnastics isn’t all that masculine.” He was coy, his voice tinged with pain.

That was the first tiny steps towards the evidence you needed for your story. Somewhere in your stony heart though, you could relate to that. Your dad was an award winning journalist; overbearing but never praise giving. And your mother? She was just as bad. Her no boy rule during your teenage years had left a dent in your self-esteem causing you to latch on to any man who showed you the slightest bit of attention. But this wasn’t about you.

You gathered your thoughts and continued.

“So would it be accurate to assume that your insatiable need for female attention stems from your mother’s lack of affection? Or are you just a chip off the old block, like your father?” you asked.

You hit a nerve. He slammed glass down with a clatter. His eyes traveled your body up and down. His expression darkened, his tone defensive, “and whose attention are you trying to get?”

You backed up on your stool. Was Lance Tucker really that good at reading people?

He took your phone and stopped the recording. “You wouldn’t meet someone like me, dressed the way you are, if you weren’t expecting to gain something. Let’s be honest,” he smirked.

“I don’t you know what you’re talking about,” you said coldly.

Lance smirked: “You’re not the first reporter to try to get the drop on me. I’m guessing it all stems from your father, it always does.”

He hit you where it hurt. All these years you hid that insecurity behind big hair, tight dresses and red lipstick, taking down powerful men by flirting with them. It served you well but you hated yourself for it; you knew deep down you lacked real talent.

And now you sat, slightly buzzed from the tequila and slightly embarrassed, completely quiet. Your face was flushed and your mind was blank. Lance knew he had won. There was no way your story would make it to print now. You couldn’t fathom a response.

You snatched back your phone, holding it in folded arms.

“For what it’s worth though, you are, by far the most beautiful reporter to try it,” he drawled, leaning in close enough for the scent of lime to be burned into your nostrils. “I mean, I love gymnasts. They’re always so desperate for attention, for approval themselves. But I truly do love a girl with a little fire in her belly, you know? Like she has something to prove.”

Your inner monologue couldn’t keep quiet. He was definitely getting hit with a restraining order when this whole ordeal was over. “Can we just get back to the interview?” you asked.

As if by magic, the bartender set another two tequilas in front of you both. Lance picked his up. “One more and I’ll answer anything you want, Lois Lane.”

You nodded uneasily.

“I read your article with that crooked senator. You’re pretty good,” Lance said after a gulp.

“I thought you didn’t care too much for The Times?” you asked.

“I don’t. Girls like you belong on Fox News is all I’m saying. Brains and beauty,” he commented.

How original. It still sent heat pooling to your chest. “You’re lucky I’m not recording this,” you said rolling your eyes.

Your bravery was returning.

“So tell me more about this little power trip you’re on,” Lance sighed. He paused, resting his head on his hand, studying you. “Do you get off on ruining men’s lives?”

“Do you get off on impregnating 18 year olds?” you quipped not missing a beat.

Pleased with yourself, you downed your drink.

He hooked a leg around your stool and pulled you in so that your face was barely an inch from his. His eyes were blank pools of nothing. It was unnerving but you couldn’t stop yourself from being glued to them.

“Not as much as I get off on being worshipped like a god,” he snickered, “and I think all this tough girl bravado is a cover for what you really get off on.”

He was right. You weren’t sure if it was being talked down to like this, or if it was the tequila but you had already bridged the gap between yourself and Lance, the taste lime on Lance’s lips seared over your tongue. You felt the chill of a hand ghosting along your thigh, as you were pulled closer by another.

It wasn’t romantic and it sure as hell wasn’t pretty, but before you knew it, you were back at your apartment with Lance in tow.

He completely engulfed you, pressing you against your door, teeth and lips roaming over your neck leaving trails of red and purple in their wake.

“You’re a terrible fucking journalist,” Lance murmured, yanking the neckline of your dress lower, taking your bra with it, exposing one of your breasts.

“You’re a terrible fucking person,” you sighed, shivering as he bit down on your skin again.

Lance began moving lower, eventually ending up on his haunches. His strong, elegant hands pushed up the hem of your dress as he looked up at you. “That’s what they all say.”

Your mouth dropped open as the Olympian went to work between your legs.

Lance quickly snatched down your underwear, briefly smug at the damp spot that had formed on them. His tongue met your slick slit, lavishing it with long and languid strokes. Those strokes soon turned to ravenous sucking as he lapped your soft pink folds into his mouth. All the while his fingers left pale imprints on your hips, pulling you into him. Not that you needed him to. You were so overcome with need that you writhed over his mouth. You reached for the door frame to steady yourself.

Lance was completely wordless aside from satisfied moans as he coaxed timid sighs from you. Even though he eyed you intently, you could barely bring yourself to look at him. He loved the quiet girls the most.

You threw your head back, cursing abruptly, just as he traced a featherlight circle around your clit with his tongue. Then he began to pick up the pace, flicking the tip of his tongue over that little bundle of nerves.

But you really started to let loose when Lance slipped one, then two, fingers inside you. He began curling them forward, working in time with Lance’s mouth, stroking just the right spot inside you. You rolled your hips in response, howling in total ecstasy.

Just as your release was in sight, Lance tore his mouth away from you, his fingers still squelching away at your cunt. A needy whine escaped you.

“You wanna cum?” he taunted.

You couldn’t help but focus on the only contact your pussy was receiving. You bucked and squirmed as he slowly fingered you but it just wasn’t enough. “Yes please,” you sighed quietly, still not looking at him.

“I’m gonna need you to do a little something for me then,” he said rising to his feet.

You bit your lip, sinking back against the wall with his fingers still inside you. He loomed over you. He expected an answer.

You nodded.

He slipped his fingers away and sat himself down on the staircase, beckoning for you to kneel down in front of him. There was no love there; this was Lance Tucker in his element. “It’s not gonna suck itself,” he remarked.

He was absurd but it brought you to your knees all the same. You crawled to him.

“I’ll even get it outta my pants for you, here,” he said impatiently, undoing his zipper, his signature tattoo on display.

You wrapped a hand around his thick, veined shaft. Drawing your tongue over the underside of his, you tried to coat it with as much saliva as you could, catching salty little glimmers of precum as you went. You could understand now why so many women were just dying to fuck Lance Tucker as you eased as much of his cock into your mouth as you could possibly take. You gagged a little on the first pass as you struggled with his girth but you quickly acclimatised. He gave a contented groan as you settled into a steady rhythm, taking more and more of him each time and pumping a hand around whatever you couldn’t.

“Atta girl,” he cooed, “now look at me, I wanna see those beautiful eyes.”

His cock popped from your mouth leaving a thin thread of spit clinging to your lips. Through your lashes you looked up at him with glassy eyes. You began teasing his swollen tip with your tongue, dancing over it in swirls.

“That’s it,” he sighed, snaking his hands through your hair with a slight pressure, “keep going. Take it all the way down for me.”

Hesitantly, you began easing Lance’s cock back into your mouth, his hand still guiding your head further and further down until there wasn’t an inch left to take. You let out a muffled mewl in a mix of enjoyment and discomfort. And then his hand gripped your hair again.

Now he was in control of how you were using your mouth. Slowly pulling you up and down by your hair. He was never particularly rough, but your jaw ached. But still he lay, sprawled across your staircase, fucking himself with your mouth and making you wait.

Just when the pain was becoming unbearable, you got your first sign that Lance was nearing his climax. His breaths grew erratic, those low growls of his hitching in his throat. Not to mention his grip on your scalp had tightened substantially. He was nearly there. You could do this.

He continued to taunt you until the very end. “You gonna swallow every fucking drop?” he moaned, knowing full well you couldn’t answer through your mouthful of gold standard dick.

All you could muster was a quick, “mmmmf,” and widened eyes before great ropes of cum coated the back of your mouth and found their way down your throat.

You didn’t miss a drop. Partly because Lance made sure you didn’t.

When his grip loosened and you were free to catch your breath, you couldn’t help but see that same smirk playing on Lance’s lips.

Without a word he stood up and put his cock back in pants.

He wasn’t going to make good on his end of the bargain. This realisation dawned on you when he walked past you, two steps away from the door.

“Where are you going, Lance?” you asked, attempting to mask the need in your hoarse voice.

He paused, his back to you. “Did you honestly think I’d fuck you?” he asked with a laugh.

“What?” you questioned, the annoyance building in your tone.

“I had to make sure you didn’t publish your story. You know? The one you interviewed Maggie for?”

You never told him you interviewed Maggie or any of the other girls.

“But I-“ you began in protest.

“You can’t even quote me. You got too close to your source. It’d be unethical,” he sneered. Turning towards you, his last words were these: “If that journalism career doesn’t work out, I reckon you could make a lot of money giving head to the male gymnastics team though. How about that?”

And then he left.

The following morning you woke up. Your mouth was dry and your throat felt like broken glass. A pang of panic and a wave of shame washed over you as you remembered what you did the night before.

You compromised your integrity. Wasted two weeks of work. Had your source’s dick stuffed down your throat in your hallway.

Lance was right, you truly were a fucking terrible journalist.

You stretched your arm out towards your nightstand, picking up your phone and lazily looking through all of the interview files you had accrued over the course of researching your story.

Then you saw it. A second, longer, file from last night. It was four hours long. You couldn’t remember recording anything past Lance snatching your phone from you.

You scrambled upright and hit play on the file.

At first you heard the bustle of the bar. And then your conversation.

It was then that you realised you had unknowingly caught Lance’s admission.

But you couldn’t use it. It was unethical.

Plus you sucked his cock on your staircase. You were sure that was on the file too.

You skipped the file on. It was.

You were confronted with a dilemma that could secure your journalistic glory or finish it completely.

REQUESTS // MASTERLIST

Tags: @ceebeetumbles @lady-thor-foster @hisredhenley @almondbuttercup @daddysebastians @mrtinslydia 

[kennethherrerablog]

How Friendship Is Helping These Women Crush Their Combined $70K in Debt

Friends Sau-Sha Hill and Sha’Kreshia Terrell used to have a game: How many credit cards each could get approved for?

Hill and Terrell, both 27, started working together in 2014 at an AT&T billing center in Texas. Their game began when Terrell got approved for an Amazon credit card. Hill was so excited for her that she applied for one and got approved as well.

“Neither one of us knew how credit cards worked,” Hill said. “We just knew we could get them. I remember Amazon had no interest for like 15 or 18 months, but I didn’t know what that meant. Then the interest hit me all at once.”

And over the course of a year, they ended up with 12 cards between them — and a cumulative $70,000 in debt, mostly from credit cards.

But the excitement from the new cards gradually wore off.

Hill’s debt peaked at $30,000 after she maxed out her cards and took out a personal loan to pay them off. After that, she tried to be more responsible, but something would always “come up.” She’d end up spending on the cards again and taking out another personal loan to pay them off.

“I created a cycle for myself that I couldn’t get out of until this year,” Hill admitted.

Terrell’s debt reached $40,000, mostly on credit cards. She had a moment of clarity one week after she worked overtime at her 9 to 5. She was so excited to take home that extra money, but her excitement was short-lived.

“The overtime was basically like another whole paycheck for me, and I didn’t get to keep any of it except for like $50,” she said. “That was the day I was like, ‘OK, I worked hard just to give my money away to credit card companies.’ And I couldn’t take it anymore.”

How They Became Accountability Partners

Terrell wanted to keep her hard-earned money, and Hill wanted to save enough to break the personal loan cycle she’d gotten into. So in 2015, they decided to work together to see how fast they could get rid of their debt.

“It wasn’t something we were planning to start,” Terrell said. “It really all started by accident.”

Since they hadn’t planned to be accountability partners, they didn’t have a formal protocol. They just did what worked for them.

“At the beginning of each month, we write down a list of clear goals that we would like to achieve before month end and send them to one another,” Terrell said. “If I see a deal that I know she will fall for, I quickly pull out my phone and send her a text to remind her of her goals and to motivate her to move past the deal.”

The friends also take more tangible measures to help each other out.

“Sha’Kreshia would literally take my credit cards out of my wallet and keep them at home,” Hill joked.

They no longer work together, but they still talk daily, and they discuss their finances frequently.

“It’s a habit for us now,” Hill said. “We’ll either call each other, text each other, she’ll shoot me an email. We’ve been doing it for so long [that] we’ve figured out each other’s spending triggers.”

Hill says her spending trigger is her big heart. Any time someone is in need, she wants to buy a gift card for them.

“She has a kid, too, so she wants to give her kid the world, of course,” Terrell said. “I have to remind her that she has everything in the world already.”

Terrell admits to making too many fast-food trips. She’s not a great cook, but she’s working on it to get her fast-food spending down.

They’re Almost Debt-Free. Here’s Their Next Goal

In 2018, they both began doubling down on their debt-payoff efforts. This year alone, the friends paid off $27,000 of their combined $70,000 of debt. Terrell has $1,450 of debt left, and Hill has $2,500.

Being so close to freedom from debt has its own challenges. Hill recently had to talk Terrell out of buying a new car.

“She talked me through and said, ‘You need to come back to reality and look at the numbers,’” Terrell said. “And I did. I didn’t buy it, and I was able to pay the majority of what I had left [on my car] off.”

And Hill showed Terrell that if she paid off her credit cards, she could save $10,000 in six months and pay cash for a car.

So the ladies’ next goal — one of many — is to upgrade their cars… in cash.

Their partnership hasn’t just changed their spending habits.

“Our conversations have gone from talking about going out to eat or shopping to talking about goals and what we want out of life,” Terrell said.

Jen Smith is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She gives money-saving and debt-payoff tips on Instagram at @savingwithspunk.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here’s why you can trust us and how we make money.

How Friendship Is Helping These Women Crush Their Combined $70K in Debt published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/

[junker-town]

A guide to the 2017-18 college basketball season for diehard college football fans

So you’ve been too distracted by football to pay attention to college basketball. That’s ok. You’ve missed a lot, but there’s still plenty of time to catch up.

I know why you’re here. I don’t really understand it, I absolutely don’t approve of it, but I accept it.

I know you only watched bits and pieces of the Maui Invitational because it was an alternative to Thanksgiving family interaction. I know you’ve only seen Trae Young in brief highlight videos on YouTube. I know you have, at best, a very limited understanding of who Pantelis Xidias is.

I know you’re only here because college football is over. It’s cool. You’ve been missing out, but it’s cool. That overtime was crazy.

Thankfully, we at SB Nation college basketball have been living and dying with every dribble that has occurred since the evening of Nov. 10, and we’re here to answer every question you would have asked if you hadn’t been so consumed with SEC rage for the last five months.

Hit me with some questions.

Ok so who is good?

Uh, well you’re actually joining the fray at a bit of an awkward time for that. Sixty percent of the teams in the AP poll lost at least once last week, including four of the teams ranked in the top five. We’ve had three different No. 1 teams, and all three have been knocked from that pedestal after being beaten by an unranked team.

Villanova is 14-1 and back on top of both the polls for the second time this season. West Virginia and Virginia, two teams that also have just one loss, each got votes for the top spot from the AP this week as well. Duke and Michigan State have each lost twice, but both are still safe bets to be in contention for No. 1 seeds a couple months from now.

So what’s the deal with this Trey Young guy?

It’s actually “Trae.”

That doesn’t seem right.

It is.

You’re the expert. So, whatever, go ahead. I guess.

A freshman point guard at Oklahoma, Trae Young has been the biggest thing in college basketball for the season’s first two months. Even though he wasn’t a top 20 player in the class of 2017, Young enters the second week of January leading the country in both points (29.4 ppg) and assists (10.2 apg). The only player in the history of Division I to lead the nation in both those categories at the end of a season was Dick Groat, who averaged 26.0 points and 7.6 assists per game at Duke during the 1951-52 season.

Because of his size, feel for the game, lightning quick release and propensity to pull up from just about any spot on the court, Young has already drawn numerous comparisons to Stephen Curry. Like Curry, Young also figures to have an opportunity to make an even bigger name for himself come March. Oklahoma went just 11-20 last season and wasn’t supposed to do anything overly significant this year. Thanks in large part to Young’s play, the Sooners are currently 12-2, ranked in the top 10, and looking like they’ll be a top five seed come NCAA tournament time.

Weren’t there supposed to be some other really good freshmen though?

Yes. Young’s brilliance has taken some attention away from just how good freshmen like Duke’s Marvin Bagley III and Arizona’s DeAndre Ayton have been.

Bagley, the top-ranked player in the class of 2017, has been every bit as good as advertised. The versatile 6’11 big man is averaging 22.5 points and 11.5 rebounds per game for Duke, and has had four games this season where he’s scored 30 or more points and grabbed 10 or more rebounds.

Ayton is a physical freak who is also averaging better than 20 and 10 (20.4 ppg, 11.6 rpg). He might be getting more attention if Arizona, the No. 2 team in the country to start the year, hadn’t gone 0-for-3 at the Battle 4 Atlantis in November. They ripped off a nine-game winning streak after that, but were dealt an upset loss by Colorado over the weekend. Still, yeah, Ayton is really, really good.

Wasn’t there another kid, though? Fultz or something?

Markelle Fultz is a rookie in the NBA now. He was the No. 1 pick in the draft last year.

But I don’t remember him playing in college at all.

That is completely understandable. You’re not alone.

Who am I thinking of?

My guess is Michael Porter Jr. of Missouri, the guy who was the No. 1 player in the 2017 class before Bagley reclassified.

Reclassifying is so weird to me. Like, you can just decide that you’re done with high school before you even start your senior year and everyone is just, like, “cool, go get ‘em in college?”

Yes, reclassifying is very weird, but we don’t have time to get into that.

So what’s Porter’s deal? How good has he been?

Well, it’s a little tough to explain.

Porter started Missouri’s first game of the season, but played just two minutes before being pulled because of a mysterious injury. That injury kept him out for the next week and then later kept him from even sitting on the bench because Missouri said it was too uncomfortable for Porter to sit, so he had to watch the games lying down in the locker room.

Eventually, it was announced that Porter would have microdiscectomy surgery of the L3-L4 spinal discs. It was also announced that the procedure would keep him off the court for three to four months, basically meaning that Porter’s college career lasted an entirety of two minutes.

ALTHOUGH, for the last couple of weeks, Porter has been making vague social media posts hinting that he might be back for Missouri before the end of the season. It could be a worthwhile cause for Porter. The Tigers are 11-4 with a couple of decent wins and no atrocious losses. Porter’s return could be what gets them back into the NCAA tournament for the first time since 2013.

Show me come cool dunks.

Ok. Unnecessarily demanding and also not a question, but ok.

So how bad is the SEC this year? SEC basketball fever, right? haha.

Umm, actually the SEC sort of might be pretty good at basketball this year. Kentucky doesn’t look quite as formidable as they have in years past, but Florida, Texas A&M, Tennessee, Auburn, Georgia, Mississippi State, Arkansas, Missouri and Alabama all have the potential to make the tournament and potentially make some noise once they’re there. It should be an extremely competitive conference, and one of the most fun leagues to follow for the next two months.

So it’s the best conference?

I wouldn’t go quite that far.

The Big 12 currently has four teams ranked in the top 12 and five in the top 16. The league posted the best combined record in non-conference play, and each member of the league is currently at least four games above .500.

Kansas gonna win it for the 7,000th year in a row?

It does not appear to be a sure thing this year, but if Kansas does win at least a share of the Big 12 regular season for the 14th year in a row, it would break a tie with UCLA for the most consecutive league titles all-time.

So they’re gonna do it?

Yeah, probably.

Hey show me some buzzer-beaters.

We’ll start with William & Mary’s Oliver Tot, who had played 18 minutes without recording a single stat before doing this:

And then we’ve got a little bit of Stanford’s Daejon Davis for your brain:

And then we’ll wrap things up with this different buzzer-beater from Florida’s Chris Chiozza:

How’s Rick Pitino’s team doing?

Pitino was fired just before the start of the season after an FBI probe into college basketball revealed that one of his assistants had been working with adidas to funnel money to a recruit. Former player and assistant David Padgett is serving as Louisville’s interim head coach.

FBI probe into college basketball? Tell me more.

We don’t have time. Here’s a summary of every team, coach and player that has been affected.

Gonzaga good again? I bet Gonzaga’s good again.

Gonzaga’s pretty good.

Wichita State?

Even better.

DePaul?

Nope.

Ahh, I was just testin’ ya. Any chance the Big Ten breaks that national championship drought?

It’s possible. The conference on the whole isn’t especially great, but both Michigan State and Purdue would seem to have a realistic chance at winning six straight in March. They’ll also have an extra week to prepare for the Big Dance. The Big Ten is playing its conference tournament at Madison Square Garden a week earlier than the other power conferences are playing their league tournaments.

Only in New York.

Only in New York.

What about the West Coast streak? Any chance a team out there can win it all and break that streak?

Also possible, but less likely. Arizona State has been one of the most pleasant surprises of the season, but lost its first two Pac-12 games. Arizona is still one of the most talented teams in the country, but hasn’t been able to put it all together just yet. Gonzaga, as mentioned earlier, is good again, but they don’t seem to be quite as built for March as they were a year ago.

So what’s your Final Four?

We’re not doing this.

Why not?

It’s pointless to pick a Final Four when so much of who makes up the Final Four is based on tournament draw. I could wind up picking three teams that all end up in the same region on Selection Sunday.

Just do it.

Duke, Michigan State, Villanova and ... someone wild ... give me Seton Hall.

Did Rumeal Robinson really get fouled in 1989?

We’re done here.

[realestateagent532]

Depending on Your Job, It Could Take 2 Years—or 25—to Save for a House

iStock; realtor.com

Of all the terrifying challenges that define life, saving up for a down payment on a home is way up there—somewhere between learning to ride a two-wheeler and surviving open heart surgery. Maybe closer to the surgery. But, hey, millions of people buy homes each year—you just need to save. The general goal is to plunk down 20% of the value of your dream home. And you need to figure out how to do so without giving up the simple pleasures of life, like making car payments, paying rent, or eating semi-regular meals.

And depending on how much you bank each paycheck, that can be easier said than done.

The enterprising data team at realtor.com® is here to help. We figured out how long it will take buyers in 12 professions, from cashiers to CEOs, to save up for a down payment, whether they’re bringing in $21,000 a year or $250,000-plus (we got average salaries from the Bureau of Labor Statistics). We also looked at how long that would take if they’re socking away 10% or 20% of their income each year. And we even provided some saving tips for different professions and income levels. Because we care.

We made a few big assumptions along the way. The first is that buyers will drop $275,000 on a home, which is the median price in the United States, according to realtor.com data. Reality check: Prices vary quite a lot depending on where folks are buying, what type of home is being purchased—and who’s doing the buying. A seven-bedroom mansion with a rooftop deck in the heart of San Francisco is going to cost quite a bit more than a three-bedroom abode in Detroit that needs serious TLC. Got it?

We also assumed our buyers will ante up the full recommended 20% down payment, totaling a hefty $55,000 on our theoretical $275,000 home.  Sure, you can put down less, but you’ll have private mortgage insurance (PMI) payments tacked onto your bill every month.

Finally, we assumed the buyers are doing this on just one income, without help from a spouse, parent, Powerball windfall, shady Internet phishing schemes, or a fairy godmother.

Ready? You can do this, people! The best advice we received for those struggling to stash some cash is to automate a deduction from their paychecks so that a certain percentage goes directly into a separate savings account. This makes it harder to blow your loot on weekends in Vegas or rare commemorative “Golden Girls” collectors plates.

“Every time you get a salary raise, a tax refund, a bonus, a gift from family, save it,” says certified financial planner Jenna Rogers of Mission Wealth in Santa Barbara, CA. “Set it aside in a savings account designated as a home down-payment account.”

So, here’s how long it will take to reach a savings goal of $55,000, based on the earnings of different professions. Read on, and prepare to question your life choices.

Compare all 12.

realtor.com

The Prosperous Pros: Chief executives, lawyers, and app developers

Let’s be realistic: Most folks in this high-earning category, which includes members of the lucky 1%, are not buying $275,000 homes—unless they’re unusually frugal, stressed about insanely large student loans (med school, MBA programs, and law school aren’t cheap), or have a dozen or so little ones they need to put through college. They’re more likely to be purchasing much pricier homes that require heftier down payments.

But just because these high rollers are making bank doesn’t mean they should go crazy when it comes to buying a home, housing experts urge. Buyers should still make sure their home payments are no more than 30% of their take-home pay—even if their take-home pay is huge. That way, they’re saving enough for retirement or other financial goals.

“Everyone always says, ‘If I only had more money, my problems would be solved.’ But generally speaking, if you had more money, you’d spend more money,” says Kimmie Greene, a consumer finance expert at Mint, a personal finance app. Instead, “set your savings goals and the amount of time before you buy a house.” And stick to it!

Big earners may want to consider buying an investment property they can rent out, she says—preferably in a pricier neighborhood, where they can charge more in monthly fees. Besides offering a new stream of income, it can also lower their taxable income. That’s because expenses, mortgage interest, and maintenance of these rental properties can usually be deducted on their taxes each year.

Surprisingly, although tech is so hot these days, app developers making six-figure salaries may have a harder time than the other high-income professions when it comes to pulling together a down payment.

That’s because they’re likely to live in more expensive tech hubs, like Silicon Valley’s San Jose, CA, and San Francisco. The median prices in these metros are $1,030,100 and $884,400, respectively. Even the lower-priced, smaller tech centers like Denver, Seattle, and Austin, TX, ain’t cheap, at a respective $509,000, $499,200, and $382,500.

They may need to get a second job or pick up a side hustle (executive Uber driver, maybe?), suggests Greg McBride, chief financial analyst at Bankrate.com. And they should deposit that extra cash directly into a dedicated savings account.

“With that kind of salary, homeownership is within reach,” McBride says. “But in many costly markets, you just may have to settle for a smaller home.”

Bring out the Stradivarius: High earners face their own real challenges en route to home ownership.

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1. Surgeon: $252,919 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 2.2 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 1.1 years

2. Chief executive: $194,350 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 2.8 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 1.4 years

3. Lawyer: $139,880 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 3.9 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 2 years

4. App developer: $104,300 average salary  Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 5.3 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 2.6 years

The Hard-Working Middle: Nurses, police officers, teachers, and plumbers These earnest earners grease the wheels of the economy, and drive the nation’s real estate markets.

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Ah, the middle class. They may not be able to fly their private jets to their own tropical isles, but hopefully, they can fly coach to the Caribbean for the occasional, much-deserved vacay. Buying a home can be a bit tougher at these income levels. But fortunately, there are a wide variety of programs that can help—particularly for those who provide essential services.

Many cities and private employers want to ensure that public servants and health care workers can afford to live where they work, or it can be hard to recruit and retain them. So they offer various programs to health care professionals, police officers, teachers, and others to help out with down payments and closing costs.

Nurses working at large hospitals or medical facilities can often score thousands of extra dollars through down payment assistance programs, or even discounted properties and rentals from certain employers.

Many first responders, such as police officers and educators, are also eligible for similar programs made available through various government agencies.

And teachers who don’t currently own a home can qualify for a 50% discount in areas with high foreclosure rates, on properties that are owned by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development. They must live in the home for three years, though, or they’ll have to pay that discount back.

You don’t need to be a public servant to receive down payment assistance. There are plenty of programs that are not profession-specific. And that means buyers working in many different fields could luck into hefty additions to their down payments just by asking their real estate agents or mortgage loan officers, and doing some research.

Flexible or unconventional work schedules in some of these professions can also be advantageous for picking up overtime, freelance work, or second jobs, says Sean Moss, director of operations at Down Payment Resource, which tracks and monitors payment-assistance programs across the country.

That extra money can be used to pay off old debts, such as big credit card or car bills. Once those are gone, it’s easier to qualify for a mortgage. So don’t blow it all at once!

“Break things down to the ‘Nice to have’ and ‘Need to have,'” Moss says. “Do you need to eat out every weekend? Can you come up with better [and cheaper] alternatives to date night? Do you need the latest iPhone when it comes out?” (Spoiler: You really don’t.)

Those planning to buy a home within the next few years should figure out how quickly home prices are rising in their communities and then adjust their savings schedules accordingly, says Elysia Stobbe, author of “How to Get Approved for the Best Mortgage Without Sticking a Fork in Your Eye.”

Those who’d rather buy sooner should consider using a smaller down payment, while keeping enough in reserve to buy out their PMI at closing. This way, they’re not saddled with the monthly bills. Buying out the policy usually pays for itself within a few years, provided the new homeowners have good credit and put down at least 10%, Stobbe says.

5. Registered nurse: $72,180 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 7.6 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 3.8 years

6. Police officer: $62,790 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 8.8 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 4.4 years

7. Elementary school teacher: $59,020 average salary  Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 9.3 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 4.7 years

8. Plumber: $56,030 average salary  Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 9.8 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 4.9 years

The Strivers: Postal carriers, customer service reps, hairdressers, and cashiers These are the folks who have the most challenges socking away a portion of their paychecks for a down payment.

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It’s much more difficult to save up on a smaller salary, and it just gets harder the lower you go. In many cases, saving up just 5% of one’s income—let alone 10%—for a $275,000 home just isn’t reality. But that doesn’t mean aspiring homeowners should give up.

More than 1 in 5 households making between $30,000 to $50,000 are stashing away more than 10% of their incomes each year, says Bankrate.com’s McBride.

Folks should consider lower-priced homes, such as smaller houses, townhouses, and condos, in cheaper parts of the country—think the Midwest and the South. They should also cut corners wherever possible: clipping coupons, working the “freecycle” network, packing a bag lunch, and saving their tax refunds.

To help save up for those homes, they’ll probably want to move in with family who won’t charge them market-rate rents (or perhaps anything at all), or rent places with enough roommates to make the price viable. Just keep repeating to yourself: “It’s only temporary. There’s no place like home…”

They may also want to consider pooling their money with close friends or family members to buy a two- or three-unit property, says financial planner Rogers.

The properties may cost more, but buyers “end up being able to save for the down payment a lot quicker,” she says. “And they’re splitting the mortgage.”

9. Postal carrier: $50,610 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 10.9 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 5.4 years

10. Customer service representative: $35,170 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 15.6 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 7.8 years

11. Hairdresser/cosmetologist: $25,590 average salary  Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 18.6 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 9.3 years

12. Cashier: $21,710 average salary Time to reach goal when saving 10% annually: 25.3 years Time to reach goal when saving 20% annually: 12.7 years

The post Depending on Your Job, It Could Take 2 Years—or 25—to Save for a House appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

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