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#Fair Trade Series
the-crepuscular-queen · 4 months
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My guilty pleasure is reading reviews complaining about Gideon The Ninth
One of my favorite complaints is the mixing up of characters, to many characters, and to many names/titles for characters. Which is fair enough relatable, but I just find it funny how once you know the last names for characters, I would say it's pretty obvious which house a character belongs to. The last names are not subtle (and I absolutely love deconstructing words with prefixes and suffixes, so maybe I'm the weirdo). I'll just have them here, but I'm pretty sure this is obvious (maybe not at first, though)
Nona- nine (Nonagesimus)
Octo- eight (Octakiseron)
Sept- seven (Septimus)
Sext- six (Sextus)
Pent-five
Tetra- four (tettares, close enough)
Tri- three (Tridentarius, also a sea snail)
Duetero- second (Dueteros)
Also, the complaints about characters' names being all over the place and random is genuinely funny to me because as far as fantasy novels go, the names in the series are quite tame (personally to me). If anything, they're from/ made up with Greek and Latin words for the last names, and the back of the novel has a neat pronunciation guide so I don't know what to say if the hypothetical bad review reader is struggling with that (except I understand and have been there for certain books in confusing up characters. Like Blister and Burn in WoF for which is which).
But also the bad reviews for people missing the lesbian context and getting upset about lack of world building I feel bad for because they're missing out on some amazing cow facts later on
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negrowhat · 3 months
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And so begins Babe's daddy kink I heard so much about from the novel readers... I'll accept the baby talk if he continues to call Charles "Papa"
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raayllum · 26 days
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me thinking of an AU where callum does become viren's apprentice growing up was a mistake
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theres a direct line from splinter’s parenting flaws/issues to the fact that raph’s overall series struggle is feeling like he personally needs to be responsible for protecting his family/carrying them, feels that it all stops with him, that he can’t turn to anyone else to help him with it, to the fact that hes acted as a parent to his own brothers, that he grew up too fast
every day i mourn that rise didn’t get time for a raph-splints ep that might dig into that even a little bit tbh
(i am not a rise splinter hater ftr i love him. i am Not about ppl trying to exaggerate him into being abusive and awful when the truth of the character and his mistakes-- and his growth and active work to improve-- is way more nuanced. he has very real flaws/traumas/issues and makes very real mistakes that impact all of his sons, this just fascinates me)
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smallscreengifs · 1 year
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fillinforlater · 2 months
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On her jeans (Part 1 of 3)
Male Reader x Kim Minji
Length: 3128 words
Tags: backstory, sex as payment, degradation, all things blowjob: face fuck, deep throat, gagging, chocking, throat bulging, rough face sex, training, passive hand job, master/daddy kink, desperate_trainee!Minji
TW: Minji is selling herself here kinda (oh no)
Credit: @sooyadelicacies for co-writing this crazy series with me. Mad lad!
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-
(A/N: Hey you! I know you're reading this. Get ready for your favorite girls to get defiled one-by-one. Goon or go (or something like that, sounded cooler in my head). For everyone else, have fun!)
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"Huh? Minji? What are you doing here?" 
Kazuha asks, surprised to see the still-trainee on this floor of the HYBE building, knocking on an unoccupied training room that she has nothing to do with usually.
"I-I came here to ask you about something,” the younger stutters. “I heard you were personally selected for LE SSERAFIM—and that there is some backer for your success. Even th-the group's scandal went away without a hitch. 
“Who is helping you, who is he?"
"What are you talking about?" Kazuha responds, face in scrunches. 
"I know that you know, Unnie," Minji says and catches the door before Kazuha can close it again. "I need answers, please. I-I've seen their plans, this is going to blow up, we'll be a failure, HYBE's loving stock.
"I can't fail this."
Kazuha looks at the determined young girl, her face loosening up a bit, turning from trying to defend her future spot at your side from a new rival to worrying for Minji. She curls her finger and Minji enters the otherwise empty training room.
"You have some dangerous knowledge," the Japanese woman then says. "Asking for this—I think you have no idea what you might get into."
"Doesn’t everyone say this about the industry?" Minji responds with wit and looks at Kazuha's sweaty body in the mirror. "Everyone always shares their doubts, from the moment you start. And now we are here, ready to debut. I know I have talent, but will it be enough?"
"You really want this, Minji?"
"Yes, Unnie, more than anything."
"How old are you?"
"Eighteen. Why do you—"
"I'll give you his number." Kazuha sighs deeply, but nonetheless, her words have Minji in a delighted dance. "I'll tell him that you are good, so be good, be honest to him. I'm doing you a favor here."
"Thank you so much, Unnie!"
"But be careful: he is greedy, he wants more than you can imagine, so be ready to give him everything. And also—" 
Kazuha pinches Minji's chin, tilts it towards her piercing eyes and whispers in the most kind yet threatening voice: 
"Never try to get between him and me."
"Oh my—your concept, these plans. They are fucking terrible. It's going to take a lot to salvage this, even you seem to know that, Minji." There is no need for you to hold back. If you think a plan is bad, you better tell someone before they fail. You’ve seen your fair share of bad plans, but not by HYBE and not to this extreme.
"I-I know. I tried to tell them, but the managers just shut me down.” Minji puts her arms back on her thighs. They were just dramatically cast into the air to get her point across, but the young girl saw your unimpressed gaze and quickly got professional again. “They are running us straight into a brick wall."
"I've seen many examples like this. A lot of companies think they can do no wrong, especially when a lot of time has passed since their latest failure." 
You give Minji her tablet back and rest your chin on one hand, the other tapping the giant desk before you. You are deep in thought, at least Minji should believe that. Instead you are looking into her eyes, mariana trenches of passion, hopefulness, determination. Minji has a pretty face, leadership qualities, all the skills of a superstar but most importantly, she has some thick lips that will be perfect for cock sucking. 
Okay, you are getting ahead of yourselves. The other big thing she has is the willingness to trade everything for her dream, for hope, maybe for fame too. She will give her dignity for glory—and you will make her do it right fucking now.
"This is a difficult case," you say slowly, watching her expression shift a bit, not yet gloomy but getting there. "Luckily, I and HYBE still have the time and resources to make your debut a success. People will talk about it for a long time. I can even guarantee you a music show win from the get go."
"Really? Oh my God, thank you so much, sir. You are way too kind." Minji jumps from her seat and takes a deep, formal bow. "I hope I can lay all of this in your hand?"
"You sure can, Minji, but you know this comes with a price, a hefty one at that. This cannot be solved with two phone calls and some convincing. Hell, I barely have any time." You stand up from your chair and look at the young woman, upper body still tilted but her huge eyes fixed on you, now you’re in front of her. You still dwarf her and she only now knows that she is completely outmatched and will pay up.
"I-I will give you everything, as soon as I can," she stutters. "I only need some time and, and—"
"But I need it now, Minji. Right fucking now.
"Get on your knees."
"Sir?" Minji asks, shocked. "On my knees? Do-do you want me to beg?" 
You snort. “I thought you were smarter. What did Zuha tell you exactly?” 
“H-how did you know—?”
“Minji, what you're asking for requires a complete 180. Your entire concept will have to be changed. From what I’ve heard, you need some new songs too. I have someone in mind who can spearhead your group but she's a wildcard, batshit insane really, but the right kind of crazy needed for something like this. But all of this will take a lot of fucking effort, time and money. And I need you to prove your worth, now."
Push down on Minji's shoulders until she winces and sinks to the floor. Black tiles, hard, cold and somewhat reflective. You know that for a moment all of them hesitate when seeing the rough outline of their head mirrored back to them. Are they really going to do it? Is this what they have to sell? Is it worth it? 
Those that stayed are now superstars and because Minji somehow knew about it and had the guts to look for you, there is not a single doubt in you that she will devote herself to you.
"I can make your dreams come true," you proclaim calmly, yet your words put Minji under unbearable pressure. "Fame, money, success are all guaranteed, out of question, beyond that everything is possible. When you just stay there, on your knees and open your pretty mouth—"
A zip and your semi-hard cock is released, to the absolute shock of Minji, whose mental image of her face is replaced by the first phallus she has ever seen before her eyes. 
"—I'll fulfill your desires."
Minji looks up at you and gulps. She thought the auditions and training evaluations were the final tests respectively, but now her entire career comes down to this one huge cock right in front of her. She curses the producers, the managers, those idiots at Ador—their mistakes have to be redeemed by her sucking dick and lowering to the level of a desperate whore.
Minji has no option. Idols are born from hardship and this is just another step, she believes. So her lips part a little, and when she locks eyes with you, they part a lot more. With a satisfied groan, you shove your cock deep into her throat.
"From now on, you'll call me Master. Later will be Daddy, but not until you've proven worthy. Your next few weeks will be rough, new people, new songs, new choreos." The first tears form in Minji's gorgeous eyes as gags bounce through your office. "I don't care how tired or sweaty you are, when I call you, you come to me right after practice, no excuses. You will obey every fucking wish, especially because I have so much work with you."
You drag your balls over her chin, let your cock rest at the top of her mouth and open it wide. Minji is clumsy with her teeth and with the way she tries to dodge your thrust, be it intentionally or out of fear. This is of course vastly inferior compared to a blowjob from all those second and third gen stars you've made big after giving them your big cock.
The only redeeming, already great quality, are her lips. Natural, not a talent or skill. She'd be a lot better just not moving, not thinking, a fleshlight, but how should such a young woman know?
"I assume you're smart enough to understand all this," you tell her expectantly and pull out. Minji leans forward and coughs up her saliva on your floor. You grab her hair and pull it back, get ready to spit at her, but she has wit.
"Ye-yes, Master. Excuse my incompetence, I—you're so big."
"No crying? No regrets? Well, that's more impressive than your blowjob skills. How about you clean up your incompetence?"
You take a step back and pull her face down, down by the hair, onto the tiles where her spurts of saliva lay. Minji hisses out in pain, you know she stares down angrily, shocked at how rude you are to her. She grits her teeth—
"Yes, Master, sorry, Master."
—and begins to lick the floor, slowly and only with the tip of her small tongue.
You are mildly impressed that she adjusted to her situation rather quickly. It is the sign of a prodigy in bloom. 
"I am curious, baby girl. I was informed you didn't really set out to become an idol. So why put yourself through all of this?" You muse and question her. Minji's eyes widened a little, finally shifting from their bristling anger. "Oh, I know everything about you, Kim Minji. It is my job to know and then some. So tell me: what is your ambition? What is your desire?"
"Who doesn't dream of being famous?" Minji says, determination in her eyes which she has pointed at you like sharp, pointy arrows. "I want to be a star, the idol that all my classmates, parents, grown-ups have never seen in me. I want to show them how wrong they were."
"Too bad that even after joining the great and successful HYBE, you are about to be their first blunder," you taunt her and slap her forehead with your cock. "Good thing you're ready to suck cock for some adjustments of their mistakes."
Minji puckers her lips and a bit carelessly gets your cock back onto them, spreading small licks on your cockhead. "This is nothing, I know hardship."
"Oh, 
"You call this nothing?"
You tsk and slap her face with your cock.
"You know hardship? Do tell, Minji..." You grip her head and begin to plunge into her mouth. "Hardship? We haven't even started yet. I'm not even at full size, stupid girl!" 
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You see her eyes widening as tears begin to form with your rough treatment. Thinking back to Minji's words, you read her well. People doubted her—you could too. She wasn't so different from the others you've trained. All they needed was education to rely on you, devotion to you and love for you and only you.
"Make sure to keep your fucking teeth off of it," you growl while your fingers search for new ways to pull at her hair, to push her away and then slam her back down on your cock which is finally hardening at the arousal her fearful face brings. The inside of Minji's mouth grows wetter, sloppier, warmer, until suddenly—
The annoyance of her teeth returns and it stings. To start with blowjobs has both been a disaster for your pleasure but intense fuel to introduce Minji to the harsh reality that is you; you and the success that you bring. Everything she has ever wanted, you can bring her, and so she fights trough the tears and accepts that you press her flat on the floor and fuck down into her mouth like it's a pussy.
"Open wide, open wide," you repeatedly command, a hand on Minji's jaw to help her make this command come true. "You useless slut, don't waste your lips on such pathetic blowjobs. Fucking hell, when I'm done with you, you better deepthroat like a mid porn star.
"Fucking waste of my time, you stupid stupid girl. This is the standard HYBE is accepting now? Fuck, maybe we can't even blame the company for your group's future failure—it will all just be on you. If you don't fucking step it up, this is the last time you will ever contact me." 
Gaze still intensely focused on her, you pull out your cell phone and unlock it. You don’t really use it for much, except for phone calls, but this alone makes this device insanely valuable. You however don’t need to make a phone call now. You only need to show Minji one thing: your contact list.
She can see you scrolling past the names of tons of people, all in the industry. Well known producers, managers, executives, staff members, but most importantly, all highlighted by a colorful array of yellow, orange, red and pink: 
The full names of hundreds of female idols. Minji scans through the list, recognizing one Unnie after the other, from nugu second gen groups to absolute super stars.
You pull out of Minji's mouth, give her time to cough up all leftover spit and wipe her tears away. Ultimately, you help her up from the cold hard floor, the only thing still laying on the floor is her pride.
"Do you get it now?" you ask and look at her, eyebrows raised with the highest of expectations.
"Yes, Master."
"Then you know what you have to do."
"De-deepthroat like a p-porn star."
"Can you do that?"
Minji hesitates, something you cannot stand for the love of everything. You grab her hips and throw her on your desk, spin her until her head is hanging off of the table. With no further warning, because she does not deserve those anymore, you press your cock on her lips and fill more than her mouth. Minji's throat starts to visibly bulge from the massive width of your cock. 
Of course she is gagging, kicking her feet but that isn't even a flight response. There is no need for you to pin her down. She wants to stay, wants to become a good slut, a stupid girl that can suck your entire cock. Sadly, her newfound eagerness isn't rewarded with success. She needs training and stretching and so you stretch Minji's throat with lazy thrust and train her nose to accept your balls on them.
"You're so silly, but finally, we have some effort, Minji," you growl and reach into the top of her shirt. "We can work from here."
You fondle her breasts, run your hands down her soft stomach. 
"Good, I can definitely work with this. You remind me of—" 
But you pause, not wanting to divulge any advantages for her to pick up on. She looks like an absolute fuck doll as her head continues hang off the table. Even upside down, it was pretty when stuffed with your cock, your balls now touching her lips with each plunge. 
"Minji, it's not enough to deepthroat like a porn star. You'll learn to deepthroat like one of my perfect sluts, whores. Porn star is a start, but it will soon be an insult to you.”
She had no idea that her consideration as a future perfect whore meant you already took a liking to her. As of now, all she knew—no, all she could think of—was your cock and that she needed to keep her teeth off of it. It needed to fuck her throat if she wanted any chance at a great career. 
And so Minji takes it, acts like a whore who willingly gets gag induced drool over her face, then fat, filled balls on her nose and accepts the greedy hands all over her midriff. Minji always thought that she needs this tight, perfect form for the approvement of the public—now it's you who decides if her body is acceptable and ripe for a fucking. 
Your seal of approval is the frantic way you tear open her shirt, then her bra and start to knead her breasts, while her tongue movements become actually enjoyable. You thrust harder, making Minji's face pale as she struggles to get air. She looks gorgeous like that, so you slap her tummy and before the choking is too hard, you back off and pull your pants up.
"That's it for today," you say as Minji still gasps for air. "From now on, you'll be here everyday after practice."
Short silence, disbelief in her eyes. "H-huh—yes, Master."
"The door will be open. Walk in and lay down on the table, just like this. You will wait until I return or have time for you. It doesn't matter what happens, you will lay there until I am finished with you."
"Yes, Master."
"A lot will change." You rub sweat and spit off her temple with a gentle hand and look at her glassy eyes. "You might not get any sleep at all. Now you will learn true adversity.
"Okay, fuck it. You don't deserve this, but I don't care."
Pull your pants back down and lower your balls onto Minji's mouth. This time, there is no hesitation, and she opens her fuckable lips wide. Her tongue starts to twirl around your sac while you begin to jerk yourself off. When Minji finally starts to suck, you feel a satisfying conclusion to this messy meeting arriving. But—
"Why would I do it myself? Get your hand here!"
You find one of Minji's hands and start to spit on each finger. Like a waterfall, it runs down until you deem it lubricated enough. Then you put them around your manhood and begin to thrust. It's a lot colder than a pussy, but Minji seems to instinctively know how to tighten the gap, the grip, her hand-pussy suddenly becomes worth cumming in.
Take a final breath and climax, each pump sending long streaks of pearly white on Minji's body. You cover her in seed until one long line, from her navel to her throat, forms and you admire how carefully she worships your balls. Wipe your cockhead clean on her hand and make a mental note to have this soft palm be a useful masturbation aid for another time.
"Who would've thought that you're already in love with my balls?" You almost crack a smile through your stone cold facade. "A good sign that you're already a whore."
"M-Master, I..."
"Shut the fuck up.
"Tomorrow, after practice. No underwear, no questions, no one is allowed to know."
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katiexpunk · 4 months
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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader
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Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3
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S P R I N G  Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them. 
Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful. 
Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.
That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life. 
“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite.  After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it. 
She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged. 
Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK. 
++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore. 
While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story. 
You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.
As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.
After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one. 
As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below. 
Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug. 
You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.
In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it. 
Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think. 
As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up. 
You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram. 
With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it. 
The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep. 
++++
The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await. 
It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste. 
And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try. 
You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts. 
You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.  
++++
The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone. 
While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.
“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl. 
More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door. 
You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open. 
As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.
“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"
The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast. 
"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door.  “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone. 
Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.
Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive. 
And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door. 
“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess. 
His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more. 
“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even. 
“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”
“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman. 
Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.
“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious. 
“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment. 
“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk. 
Oh god. 
You’re so fucked.
++++
Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is.  You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it. 
Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot. 
“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.” 
Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.
You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it. 
Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note. 
The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did. 
Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it. 
“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.” 
Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain. 
God, he wishes you would have kept it. 
S U M M E R
As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days. 
It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden. 
Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown. 
People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway. 
You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it. 
Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place. 
You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy. 
You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself. 
The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside. 
You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter. 
The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help. 
As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one. 
Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy. 
“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot. 
“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh. 
Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him. 
"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease. 
Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.
Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country… 
You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile. 
“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight. 
“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception. 
“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box.  It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency. 
Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.” 
His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt. 
He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him. 
“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.
“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”
“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive. 
“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink. 
He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again. 
“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls. 
You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car. 
Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom. 
Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life. 
He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one. 
The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.
“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him. 
++++
Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected. 
If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief. 
“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had. 
“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen. 
You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.
Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated. 
You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment. 
He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves. 
“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips. 
“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips. 
“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken. 
“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching. 
“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him. 
His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.
“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.
“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room. 
“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice. 
You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.
“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it. 
You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight. 
“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop. 
“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.
“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.
You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.
Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock. 
You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.
You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.
His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him. 
The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm. 
“Fuck.” Joel groans.
TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2
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Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx
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grison-in-space · 4 months
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Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.
Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.
Then this happens:
Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.
The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.
Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.
When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.
It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.
I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.
I like that.
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🎊 twst 4th year anni ABEMA stream 🎉
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***TWST JP news + anniversary spoilers below the cut!***
The stream starts with Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, and Sebek's VAs replying to a bunch of quiz questions. I think Ace or Deuce responds with "810" when asked how many items there are on the Heartslabyul lounge's coffee table. Sebek's VA also has a hilarious answer when asked how many Draconians (wakasama fans) there are, he pulls out some super absurdly high number with tons of zeros in it.
There is then a Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles-type section where the VAs decorate their own cake for TWST's anniversary. It’s a team effort! Ace and Deuce put on the cream, Sebek added cookies on top, and Jack and Ruggie did the final decorations. It ended up looking pretty cute ^^ (Ace's VA is the one that added all the whipped cream peaks; it was mostly thanks to Ruggie's VA that the cake still looked aesthetically pleasing at the end.)
Actual game-related news time!!! The SR Grim card for the 4th anniversary is... drumroll please...!! 🥁Apprentice Chef Grim!!! ABGKSKVUkvuDSQEVUOFDFIHAFVA HE'S SO CUTE, HE EVEN HAS A LIL TUNA CAN CAKE 😭
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For anniversary, there will be a series of free items given out if you log in during the event period (11th to 25th), which includes THREE 10-pull keys (released on the 11th, 15th, and 18th, respectively). You can receive up to 12 days' worth of freebies. There will be an anniversary banner as per usual; you can earn tokens by pulling on this and then trade them in for a SR magical key (50 tokens) and/or past event-limited SSRs (150 tokens), including past years' birthday cards (100 tokens). There will be a new "Event Recollection" feature which allows you to experience events that you may have missed getting the initial chance to play through yourself.
Mr. S's Mystery Shop will sell items from past events such as limited Groovy materials and spell upgrade materials. This is called the "Memory Shop".
You will be able to mark (multiple) parts of the story as your "favorite". This will be indicated with a pink heart icon.
Battles will have a new feature which allows you to save team compositions for them. Up to 25 compositions may be saved at a time. You can also pin your supports, so you no longer have to scroll to find a specific friend's character to borrow.
There will be 3 new item gachas added to the "Item Lotto" of the shop (for Crewel, Vargas, and Trein). Previously, there was only Sam's. You use a new type of medal (obtained by taking classes) to roll on the teachers' lottos, and can pull items related to what you'd typically earn in each of their classes.
Crewel's gacha may provide an herbal tea which can be used to boost Buddy Levels, including those for characters that are otherwise unable to take Alchemy classes. That means Crowley, Rollo, etc. are fair game. (Yes, you can force feed them tea to obtain FRIENDSHIP✨) The tea may also drop during Special Lessons or Alchemy class.
We finally get magical key conversion! On the summoning screen, you can turn 10 single pull keys into one 10-pull key (which guarantees at least 1 SR; single keys do not have this benefit).
The Guest Room will receive a second floor to decorate. This will be unlocked once you reach a Guest Room rank of 31.
The Guest Room rank cap will be increased from 30 to 40. Additionally, all properties of floor 1 appears to carry over to floor 2. This means the same comfort level and attributes will be present across both.
New BGMs will be added to Mr. S's Mystery Shop. There will also be new voice lines added to Alchemy, Flying, and the outfit selection screen. The official TWST soundtrack will be released on the 29th of May, though preorders are tentatively open now. It is 140+ tracks (149, to be exact!) across 4 discs and goes for 4620 yen (inclusive of tax; without tax the soundtrack is 4200 yen). Japanese retailers are offering different dorms' A5 sized holographic sticker sheets as bonuses for preordering.
That's it for now, mostly quality of life changes! There will most likely be a 4th year anniversary PV/animated short on the actual anniversary day (the 18th)!
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aziraphale from good omens :)
Bahahahaha! Oh my.
Okay, for the sake of sportsmanship, let's be as fair as we can and give Dracula every fighting chance.
The first big question is holiness - Aziraphale is undoubtedly very very holy. But he's an angel of God, not literally God, and that makes a difference. If we take the demons of Good Omens as a test case, we can see that they share some traditional weaknesses with vampires, the most prominent one being Holy Water - (although NB Dracula never interacts with Holy Water in novel, just as none of the demons in Good Omens, book or series, never interact with the Host). It seems reasonable to presume that Crowley for instance would have a bad time with a crucifix. So we can perhaps say that the two are repulsed by the divine in much the same way. But. No one would ever suggest that Crowley cannot physically touch Aziraphale. Right? Apart from it being demonstrably untrue, whole pillars of fandom would collapse. It's a non-starter. So Aziraphale is not prima facie the kind of divine that is repulsive to the demoniac... except perhaps aesthetically.
The next thing to get out of way is that Aziraphale is not strictly speaking the kind of thing that can die. But he can be discorporated, and the waiting list on bodies is such a bother, so I am going to say that if his physical body gets destroyed by any means that counts as not surviving Castle Dracula, though I love the idea of him possessing people later in the novel (I'm thinking either Renfield or Van Helsing, because Renfield is basically a medium already and like real weird about angels, and Van Helsing has that one scene where Jonathan is like .... so I'm like 90% sure he was possessed and speaking with literal divine authority just then. Weird.) The question then becomes what it takes it discorporate an angel and whether Dracula in fact possesses those means. The one thing that actually accomplishes it in universe is that summoning circle, which is a pretty extreme example. BUT if we include actual biblical canon in our angelology, then, while while that doesn't bring us any closer to what, if anything, can kill an angel, we do at least have examples of angels being beaten in fistfights. So, for the purposes of this exercise, Aziraphale can in principle be killed, and he can also in principle be beaten in a fistfight.
It might make some difference if we are talking about the Book or the Series. Book!Aziraphale is a little bit more of a bastard, a little less naive, a little less distractactable, and (as is Crowley) a whole lot more terrifyingly competent than his televised counterpart.
...okay enough of this. Aziraphale outclasses Dracula so hard it's not even funny. Angels and Demons are set up to be evenly matched because they are fundamentally the same type of thing and that's the whole point - but Dracula isn't that type of Demon. He's a human person who's mildly demoniac because he majored in it in college. It's very impressive to other humans, sure, but like, the ravings of his solicitor aside, he's really not on the level of actual Demons of the Pit. And the things that humans are better at - creativity, growth, love - he's traded for vampirism. He's got the disadvantages of both without really the advantages of either.
Aziraphale's fatal flaw, if you want to call it that, is that he really likes humans. He would be delighted by Dracula's cooking and by his library. He would never stand for the baby eating. He would he more insufferable about the paprika than our baby lawyer. But he's also had 6000 years of learning to be unassuming and letting people underestimate him, and perfecting the Reverse Customer Service voice. He would do that Disapproving Bookseller thing and make Dracula uncomfortable in his own home. He's not the kind of thing that can be hypnotized. He's not going to waste time looking for the key, the doors will just open for him when he tells them to. And if all else fails he has wings, he can literally just leave whenever.
So um, yes. Aziraphale can survive Castle Dracula. And he will probably mess with Dracula non-trivially while he's there.
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cheeseanonioncrisps · 2 months
Text
I really want the show to go into more detail about Husk's backstory as an overlord, partly because I feel like it's something the fandom is kinda glossing over and partly because it's lowkey one of the biggest obstacles that a Husk/Angel relationship would have into overcome.
'Loser Baby' emphasises the similarities between Angel and Husk's situations, but it also (probably deliberately, since Husk is the one leading it) brushes aside one of the most major differences between them.
Namely that when Husk tells Angel that he's not the only one who sold his soul, he's not just singing about himself.
Husk sold his soul to Alastor, yeah (or lost it at least, which amounts to the same thing), but he also traded in souls. He was that “psychopathic freak”, and was operating fro long enough to achieve Overlord status.
And, honestly? Having your soul owned by Husker back in the day probably sucked.
The one benefit of soul contracts for the person selling their soul is that they seem to get a fair amount of say in how the contract is written.
Angel's contract, for example, apparently has a clause stating that he's only under Valentino's jurisdiction when he's in the studio. (Which, btw, puts a whole other spin on why Val is so pissed when he moves out of studio accommodation and into the Hotel.) And Val is apparently bound to that. Even though he's pissed off and actively wants to put Angel in his place, he can't make any moves against him in the club.
Equally, since most overlords seem to be associated with a specific location/industry, you can generally choose who your working for and therefore roughly what kind of stuff you're gonna be doing.
In practice there seems to be a lot of manipulation and coercion going on on the part of the Overlords making these contracts— they're not fair by any means— but the sinners signing them are theoretically at least guaranteed the right to a (somewhat) informed choice and some control over the deals they make.
Having an Overlord who uses human souls to pay his gambling debts, however, completely undermines all that.
Imagine going into work for your job running the roulette games at the casino only to be told that the boss played a bad hand in a game with Valentino, and so you're a sex worker now.
Or being traded to someone who has you fighting turf wars for them, and realising that your contract doesn't have any clauses to protect your personal safety because you only signed up to be a bartender.
Or selling your soul for a job near your home and family so you can guarantee their protection, only to be traded to someone whose territory is on the other side of the pentagram.
Husk is a victim of his own addiction, yeah, which is one of the reasons why Angel relates to him. But his backstory implies that there must be a significant number of people out there who were also victims of Husk's addiction, and may not be as sympathetic. Dude basically owned other people as property (… we have a word for that) and then literally played games with their lives.
And like, I'm not saying he hasn't changed. He seems more empathetic on the show than his backstory would imply, and apart from anything else, he's had a pretty clear object lesson about what it's like to be on the receiving end of that sort of thing. (Ngl, I'm pretty sure one of the reasons Alastor keeps him around is because he's the type to find the irony amusing.)
But like, he's in this place where he can relate to Angel Dust's situation, while at the same time probably also being able to relate to Valentino and Alastor's perspectives (although I doubt he was quite as bad as Val to work for).
And I'm curious as to what would happen, later in the series, if the gang met someone who had sold their soul to Husk at one point. Someone who would also be able to relate to Angel's situation, but with Husk as their version of Valentino.
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matrixbearer2024 · 16 days
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hey! 🤭 i'd like to request an 18+ vox x fem reader please
reader is super flirty and just keeps fucking with vox all day until he can't take it anymore and drags her back to his room
The Temptation Tango
Vox x fem!Reader
NSFW WARNING HERE! MINORS DNI!
A/N: I am both terrified and insanely happy that you requested something from me ahdjsbdjksbs- like I love reading the fics you put out so seeing you in my inbox almost had me yeeting my phone hahahahaha! I hope I did this one justice, not quite used to writing smut yet but I think this turned out okay? I think this could be considered my practice before I actually write the smut interlude I have planned for my series? It's also WAAAAAY LONGER THAN I HAD ORIGINALLY PLANNED- but more content I guess HAHAHAHAHA-
A/N: Anyways, I hope you readers enjoy what I wrote- and as always, happy reading!
The fact Vox could even focus at all on his work right now was no short of a miracle.
Especially when you've made it so difficult for him to think of anything else aside from you.
Since the morning, you've provoked and teased the man relentlessly.
Fleeting kisses, dirty whispers, even some discreet groping-
But you never let it escalate, playing this game of push and pull where the scales only threatened to tip over.
A teasing glance here and there, a provocative message when you knew he was looking at his phone-
You were dancing so close to the fire but not quite enough to get burned.
And Vox was almost at his wits end dealing with your teasing.
But when you came sauntering back into his office, the paper work he had currently been dealing with quickly became an afterthought.
After all, you were always on the forefront of his mind.
"Hey Vox, you busy~?"
You tone was honeyed, like an intoxicating drug that had him addicted.
The overlord you were dating had already gone through his fair share of lovers and relationships.
Still, none were quite like you.
At least not in the conventional sense.
Nobody had ever been able to have him locked in just like you have.
Hook, line and sinker this man fell for your charms.
And you didn't intend to let him go.
Vox put his pen down and looked up towards you, crossing his arms and leaning back against his chair.
"I was busy working, but it seems like you won't really let that be."
His gaze on you was no short of intense, causing a heated charge to almost trade between the two of you.
It was kind of expected when you had been absolutely toying with the man all day.
But that didn't mean you were willing to stop playing and give in.
You just smiled, walking up to his side and placing a kiss on the corner of his screen.
"Not really, just wanted to make sure you weren't overworking."
"Well, with you around it's like I can barely work at all my dear."
"You make it sound like I'm an unwelcome distraction."
"Not in the slightest, you're just twisting my words."
You quickly dodged when Vox tried to grab you, giggling when you heard him growl and his fans kick to life.
It was always the game you played, tempting and taunting your lover at multiple intervals in the day-
Never once allowing him to do anything but just return your kisses.
You tutted at his impatience, moving behind his chair while teasingly stroking the side of his screen.
His grip on the armrests of his chair were surely going to leave marks, not that you cared.
"Nope~! you're going to have to wait until tonight remember~?"
"At this rate, you're going to be in for one hell of a night sweetheart."
A shiver ran down your spine at Vox's low tone, whenever he said something like that you knew he meant it.
You swung around to face the overlord, your hands playing with his tie while you soaked up his lustful gaze.
That just made you all the more eager for later.
With a smirk on your face, you leaned down close enough to his screen that you were nearly kissing.
"I'm counting on it~"
You whispered in a sultry manner, exchanging a chaste kiss with your boo and again quickly exiting the room before he could actually do anything.
Vox was really overheating in his office chair, a hand raised to cover his face in an attempt to just calm down.
He really wouldn't be able to just go back to work like this.
The next time you decided to bother him was when he was in his monitor room, except-
He wasn't there?
Well, he was- you just didn't see him.
You looked up at some of the large screens curiously, ads, statistics, surveillance, there was just so much all around.
How Vox even began to manage everything was beyond you.
"Looking for me doll~?"
As soon as you spun around, his arms were on the desk at your sides, effectively caging you in place.
Your faces oh so temptingly close to each other.
Still, instead of being surprised-
You merely smiled and giggled.
"Yeah~ I was getting a little bored so I came to see you~"
"So you came to mess with me again? That's a little mean dollface~"
"Mhm, I don't think it is when you like it~"
A shiver ran down your spine when Vox growled, his hands moving to their rightful place on your hips.
His office and rooms were often set at frigid temperatures to stop anything from overheating, and still you could feel the warmth just emanating from your lover.
It was cute how worked up he got whenever you both had this push and pull.
Made things interesting, electrifying even.
All the more when he suddenly snatched your lips up in a kiss.
You softly moaned and threw your arms around the overlord's neck to pull him closer.
He was just so hot, so rough, so hungry for you-
It was almost greedy how much you loved and treasured his attention.
Both in the wholesome sense and this...
More addictingly carnal kind.
You gasped when one of his hands started not so gently groping your ass, indulging in any more of this would probably have your clothes torn and on the floor in seconds-
You knew how Vox worked, and how his claws were both a turn-on and a straight up atrocity when it came to your wardrobe.
Not that it mattered when he would eventually buy you the same thing he ruined anyway-
You broke away from the kiss to catch your breath, biting back a whine your lover started leaving kisses elsewhere all over you.
"Hun, we're not fucking in your office."
You gently moved Vox's face away from marking up your skin to actually look at you.
Taking note that his hands stopped their wandering and grabbing when you did.
He looked a little annoyed for being interrupted, but the flame of desire still ran rampant in his gaze.
Only just barely controlled.
"The room is soundproof and the door is locked, I don't care."
"I care. Either bedroom now or you wait until tonight."
It probably took less than a minute for Vox to fight himself on which was a bigger priority at the moment.
You getting a taste of your own medicine or his work.
Fuck it-
He didn't want to go to that meeting anyway.
You yelped when Vox suddenly picked you up from where you had been propped up against his desk.
Your arms instinctively looping around his neck again caused a smug grin to appear on his screen.
"Aww, clingy much? Don't worry dear, I won't drop you."
You just rolled your eyes at his comment, bracing yourself when Vox predictably zapped you both through some cameras to his designated floor in the tower.
His ability was... something to get used to, that's for sure.
Especially rematerializing, that was just a doozy.
But you didn't have time to continue fussing over about it when his lips were once again locked on yours.
If there was one thing you really couldn't fathom before you started dating-
It was how a man with a flatscreen TV for a face could be such a damn good kisser.
So much so that you'd always feel loopy or high after or during one of your make out sessions.
The overlord maneuvered you both to his bedroom with rehearsed ease, soon pinning you against the soft mattress.
You let out a whine when his hips pressed against yours, the tension was palpable but the friction was nowhere near enough.
Not to mention the heat between you two just continued to grow.
"Teasing me all day, pushing all my buttons, you've really been naughty haven't you doll~?"
His low tone only made the wet feeling between your legs more pronounced.
You squirmed against your lover in mock defiance, knowing that it would only add to his rampaging arousal at the moment.
Vox immediately swooped in to attack your lips once more, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his claws ran up and down your body.
So you should've expected it when you suddenly heard the slicing and tearing of fabric.
Not that you had any time to voice your surprise or displeasure when your mouth was totally preoccupied.
The overlord couldn't help but rut his hips against yours impatiently, the needy sounds you made only served to spur him on.
After a whole day not being able to do anything to you?
Oh he was going to cash that in now.
After a small while, Vox pulled back to marvel at his handiwork.
Your outfit was mostly torn at the crotch and the sides because of his clawing, your face flushed and lips swollen from the rough treatment.
Not to mention the messy state of your underwear.
The overlord merely chuckled, deftly untying his bow then undoing his belt.
One of his hands always remained on you however, groping and rubbing as if he couldn't get enough.
You softly moaned when you felt the tent in his boxers press against your most sensitive spot.
"S-stop teasing already!"
"Mhm~ don't you know dollface~? Patience is a virtue."
He grinned and peppered kisses up your shoulder and chest, using one hand to shove his boxers down and align himself with your entrance.
"Ah- Vox please!!"
"Please what my dear? Use your words~"
"Oh please- please fuck me!! I need you so bad~! Vox~!!"
Your tone caused something to snap in the man.
Because before you knew it, he'd torn your panties off and was thrusting into you with wild abandon.
Seems like even his self-control had finally run out.
You could only helplessly grab his shoulders and hold on for the ride, moaning and babbling incoherently as your lover went to town on you.
"NgGh, so tight a-zZzST -and good for me~"
The overlord wasn't actually in a much better state himself.
All the sensations and stimuli running through his systems were already bordering overload.
But you were both so engrossed into your lovely tryst that neither of you noticed the lights started flickering.
Your nails were digging into the fabric of his coat while your back arched towards him.
The sight of you like this was absolutely intoxicating, like a drug he didn't ever want to stop taking.
His name fell from your lips like a symphony, accompanied by your whines and moans from his rough treatment.
God you were amazing.
"Vox~! Mmph~! Vox I'm close~!! I- ah!"
He didn't relent his pace, instead angling his hips to repeatedly hit a place that he knew would make you see stars.
After all, you were already making him feel a little too good.
But he'd be damned if he finished before you would.
You gasped and cried out from the onslaught of pleasure, your mind clouded from it all as your lover continued his ministrations.
"That's it love~ that's it, go on~ come for me."
Just like that, the boiling knot in your gut had suddenly snapped.
Your vision going spotty as you screamed out his name, your inner walls suddenly clamping down as well at the crux of your climax.
The sudden spike of pleasure to his systems caused Vox's screen to glitch and buffer slightly before he abruptly finished inside you as well, his claws digging into the sheets by your hips hard enough that they've torn.
The overlord soon collapsed on top of you not long after, the two of you an entangled mess of limbs that were too spent to move.
You lazily wrapped your arms around his back, taking deep breaths to try and steady your racing heart.
Likewise, Vox gently just drew random patterns on your skin while his fans were whirring obnoxiously loud trying to cool his overheated systems.
"Hehehe~ if I'd known you'd do something like that, I would've started playing with you sooner."
"I wouldn't be against it, but you're biting off more than you can chew here love."
"Hm? I don't know about that. How about a round two then?"
You giggled when you saw the same mischievously competitive gleam in the overlord's eyes.
This had always been a fun little push and pull between you both, and it probably always will be.
"Oh my dear, you didn't even have to ask."
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whorekneecentral · 3 months
Text
A Sandy Christmas
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Sugar Daddy!Jenson Button x Fem!Reader
Warnings: the iconic sugar daddy JB, college aged reader (over 20), expensive vacations, gift giving is his love language, you're both soooo all up on each other, the use of daddy both in a sexual and non sexual context, thanking him in good way ;), oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), hair pulling, some old man teasing at the end.
Word Count: 1,714
Author's Note: this is for my og jenson girlies that were here from the start, dedicated to the anon that sent in the first sd!jb ask cause you started all of this pookie!!
merry smutmas series
--
Jenson takes you on a dream vacation over the holidays but still makes sure you’ve got a gift to open come Christmas morning.
Exam season is killing you, mentally and physically.
Every bone in your body hurt from being hunched over at your desk for 18 hours a day and your brain felt like it was going to explode if you kept it up for much longer.
Jenson knew as much and he also knew your exam schedule; he couldn't bear to see his girl like that so he did the one thing he did best.
He whisked you away the moment your final exam was over. He knew it'd be a welcomed distraction given that you'd be returning home for the new years; your obnoxious sister was getting married to her high school sweetheart - you'd rather fall down the stairs than attend the wedding but Jenson promised to take you in to trade your car for a new one if you went.
To be fair, he did just get you the car 2 years ago but he figured he needed some sort of reward to get you to go. If he could join you at the wedding, he would but alas he can't.
Sunny Bora Bora was a welcomed distraction; the sunshine, the beaches, the endless cocktails and cock, were keeping you happy.
The first few days were you and Jenson rolling around in bed, lazing and eating whenever, barely getting dressed and spending sun up to sun down on the beach. You had everything you needed right there.
Despite it just being you and Jenson, he rented a whole villa. All the privacy in the world for you two; it was more so, so he could fuck you anywhere he liked but I digress.
Christmas morning and you're woken not by the sunshine but the feeling of Jenson's stubble on your neck.
"Merry Christmas, pretty girl."
You hum, a hand on his jaw. "Merry Christmas, Jense."
"C'mon, I have something to show you." He whispers in your ear, not giving you a moment to gather yourself. Instead he pulls you out of bed, his hand in yours as you sleepily follow him though the villa.
There's a massive Christmas tree by the windows, right in the middle but that was there when you arrived. What wasn't there before were all the gifts surrounding the tree.
"Jenson," you stop, looking at him. There's a grin on his face. "You didn't."
"I couldn't let Christmas pass without giving you a gift." He smiles, kissing your temple as he sits on the couch.
"We agreed that this trip was my Christmas gift."
"But the trip is for me too, so it can't count. Loophole baby," he raises his eyebrows, almost as high as his ego. You huff, "this is more than a gift, Jenson."
"You're a good girl, I'd buy you the world if I could." He tells you, smiling as you kiss him.
"I don't need the world, Jenson." You tell him, sitting in front of the tree. There are at least 20 bags and boxes neatly wrapped and set under the tree.
"I'd still buy it for you, princess." He smiles, taking a sip of his coffee as you unwrapped your gifts one by one; Gucci, Prada, Van Clef, Louis Vuitton - you name it, it was under the tree.
You had no idea how you'd get it all back home.
You thank him, doing a little try on haul as you unwrap the gifts. Jenson smiles, sitting comfortable as he watches you model your gifts for him.
"Happy?" He asks, patting his thigh. You sit yourself on his lap, an arm over his shoulder as you lean into him.
"Beyond happy," you whispered against his lips. "Thank you daddy."
"Anything for you, baby."
The two of you go about your day, you'll be leaving your little paradise tomorrow and returning to reality so you were trying to soak up the last of the sunshine. Lazing by the water, you watched as Jenson attempted to surf, gave up and decided on a swim instead, the man came back to kiss you, dripping the sea water all over you.
You push him away, giggling as he tries to grab at you. You rolled away, getting up and running from him; Jenson chased you down the beach right back to the villa.
Jenson planned dinner for the two of you, a little restaurant not too far from your villa. You wined and dined, chatting about his work and your plans not to strangle your sister with her veil. He assured you that you'd be fine and that as soon as the wedding was over, you could return home to him.
Upon returning, you decide to pack. This way you two could spend more time in bed in the morning rather than having to rush and pack then.
Jenson's back is to you as you bring in the last of your presents from the living room. He'd manage to fold what you had brought with you into the one suitcase opposed to the two it was in originally and had been trying to fix your gifts into the empty one.
He feels your arm wrap around his waist, fingers drumming against his midriff as you watch him put the boxes into the suitcase.
You're on your tiptoes, a kiss pressed to his jaw; Jenson thinks it's innocent enough and yet, he feels your lips drop lower. From his jaw to his neck and your fingers are pulling at his shirt collar, trying to expose more skin.
"Sweetheart," he whispers, swatting away your wandering hands. "We need to pack."
"Mhm hm," you turn him to face you, your hand on his jaw when you kiss him. Jenson leans on the edge of the bed, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him
He was easy like that, a kiss from you and he's like putty in your hands.
He watches as your fingers trail down the front of his shirt, sliding under the hem of it. Jenson takes that as his hint to take it off, tossing it on the floor somewhere. Your hand wanders further down, brushing over the cold metal of his belt. 
Jenson smiles, pecking your lips softly. "Let me thank you," you whispered against his lips. His brows furrow, "what for?"
"Everything," you tell him, sinking down onto your knees in front of him.
Jenson undoes his belt and the button, “open.” 
Without hesitation, your mouth opens and you’re looking up at him once again. He slaps your tongue with his cock softly, waiting for a reaction. The slight curve of your lips was enough for him to know it was okay. A hand tangled in your hair, pulling and pushing you, setting the pace. 
The stifled gag was enough for him to pull back, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 
His eyes fixed on you as your lips wrap around his cock, his chest dropping and raising with each breath.
He can’t help but notice the lipstick on the base of his cock, your head bobbing up and down. Jenson's hand pulls your hair away from your face, letting you set the pace.
His hand turns over and you feel his knuckles brush along your cheek. “Like being on your knees for me, hm? My good girl.” 
The praise hits you straight in the core, only making you go faster. Your cheeks hollow as you bob your head up and down. Jenson's hips buck, your nose brushing against him. 
His head falls back against the couch, breathing out a string of explicits as you hollow your cheeks. “C’mere.” He pulls you off him slowly, savouring the feeling of your tongue sliding up the underside of his cock.
You kiss him, the moan slipping from your lips as he manhandles you.
“Turn around,” he whispers against your lips, a hand on your hip as he turns you around to face the bed. 
Your arms are propped on the mattress, holding yourself up. He pushes your dress up, bunching over your hips. His hand slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your panties and your head drops forward. 
Panties pushed to the side and Jenson reached forward, a hand tangled in your hair to pull you up, forcing you to look at the reflection in the window. His other hand holds your hip once he pushes into you. 
“See,” he mumbles to himself, glancing down between the two of you before his eyes meet yours in the reflection. “Look how pretty you are,” he whispers, kissing along the back of your shoulder as his hips dig into your ass. 
The knot in your stomach tightens when his hand on your hip slips down between your legs, reaching for your clit. He barely moves his fingers before your own hand reaches down to rest on his. The feeling of his fingers pulls your attention.
"Please daddy-" you're cut off by a moan and by Jenson pushing you down onto the bed.
You prop yourself up on your forearms once again, eyes fixed on anything but what he was doing. 
He could feel you clenching around him, pushing back into him for more.
“Shh, it’s okay baby, I know.” He tells you, thrusts getting sloppier by the second.
The two of you in sync, Jenson's chest pressed to your back as you came down from your orgasm. He peppered kisses all over your back, rubbing your side softly. He leans to press a kiss to your neck before pulling out slowly. 
You can feel Jenson wiping your thighs and between your legs, cleaning you up before fixing your dress. You're still facedown in the mattress, too fucked out to even think about moving at the moment. He senses as much, giving you a push by the ass and up onto the bed you went.
The clink of his belt comes from behind you, the man fixing his pants - you assumed he'd be joining you in bed but instead, you heard some sort of shuffling behind you.
Rolling you, you see that Jenson had resumed his packing from before.
"You know," you start, sitting up. "Most men your age are dead to the world after a fuck like that."
Jenson laughs, walking over to you. His hand cups your jaw, "I'm not like most guys my age."
--
taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus
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onyourowndaisymae · 8 months
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don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...
lucifer // mammon // levi (you are here) // satan // asmo // beel // belphie -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader
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leviathan, who doesn't have time. time for himself, for his hobbies, for his brothers, and certainly no time for you. he's sick of your meddling, honestly. he never even wanted a pact with you. you're just some lousy human trickster that managed to back him into a corner. whatever. just because he has a pact with you doesn't mean he has to spend time with you.
leviathan, who isn't jealous at all, of course. he's not jealous of the way mammon is so far up your ass that he doesn't know what day it is. he's not jealous of the way beel's sitting on the floor between your legs. he's not jealous of the way asmo and satan cast you curious glances, like they too want to see what's so special about you. it's not fair. why does levi always get the leftovers? why did he have to come to your side after mammon, dooming himself to an eternity of decency lectures from your "first man"? sure, he didn't want you at the beginning but... things change. now he can't help but curl into himself as jealousy boils in his chest.
leviathan, whose days are spent lost in rpgs and whose nights are reserved for filthy hentai games. obscene moans and slick slaps of skin against skin blare from his headphones behind the safety of his locked door. usually, these games have him panting, dick in his hands as precum dribbles down his fingers, but for some reason they feel... lackluster? he's aroused, of course, but he just... can't get into it. or at least, he doesn't think he can-- not until someone that looks like you pops on screen. suddenly he's wide-eyed and hard as a rock. the character gets bent over a table and fucked senseless, and levi's feverishly tugging at his cock to match their pace. is that what you'd look like? he plays the scene over and over until he's spent, until even resting a hand in his lap makes his thighs tremble.
leviathan, who feels so incredibly guilty for masturbating to the thought of you. but he can't stop himself. it's all he can think about these days. nothing is as alluring, as magnetic as you are. he's memorized the way the collar of your uniform sits on your neck, the curve of your soft lips, how you smile at him and listen so intently and-- dammit, he's hard just thinking about you. the hentai games are not enough. he hardly plays them anymore, trading time in front of the screen with time next to you, watching your face focused as you weave your motorcycle through other players while racing in devilcart, hoping that the scent of you, your presence, will linger long after you head to bed for the night.
leviathan, who can't believe how lucky he is right now, how the stars aligned perfectly and time stopped, just so he could have your tongue running across the tip of his cock like that. he's trembling under the weight of your heavy gaze, as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. a sharp cry leaves his lips, and he slaps both of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. you grin. it's the best you've ever looked. he can't believe you're here, with him, on your knees between his legs, hand pumping his length while you run your tongue up the underside, holding eye contact to watch him become a blushing, squirming, whimpering mess. his hips jerk against his wishes when you finally take him in your mouth, but you take it in stride, your warm hands pinning his bare hips against his chair. your head bobs across the length of his shaft but all he can feel is heat-- so warm and incredible and soft-- and fuck if he isn't about to cum just from looking at you. his hands grip the arms of his chair as you take him to unbelievable heights of pleasure. this, he thinks, is much better than anything on a screen.
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taglist for this series (hopefully i'm doing this right lol): @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds
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auteurdelabre · 5 months
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STORY MASTERLISTS!
Something to Fight For Series (COMPLETE) For readers 18+ only please!
summary:
After a disastrous blind date you decide to stay away from the miserable Joel Miller forever. The only problem is your best friend Maria is dating his brother and their construction company has been hired to renovate where you work. In an effort to support your friend, you’re thrust into the unwanted job of babysitting Joel’s young daughter one night. As time goes on you’re not expecting to find a confidant in Joel Miller but when you do, you wonder how you ever survived without him.AU LOU universe with no outbreak. A slow burn slice of life love story with smut.
Please, Mister Miller? (COMPLETE)
for 18+ readers only!
Summary: After being dumped by your longtime college bf, your roommate Sarah Miller invites you to her hometown for the holidays. There you meet her dad and decide you need to know if he’s as good in bed as he looks. (General warnings: Infidelity and unprotected p in v)
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BRAVO! TAKE A BOW Series - ONGOING
Summary: As a struggling actress you’re amazed when you land a role in an indie film you’re dying to be a part of. What you’re not expecting is to develop feelings for your mega famous and often exasperating co-star Dieter Bravo rated 18+
1- Audition
2- Chemistry Read
3- Table Read
4- Rehearsals
5- Lights, Camera, Action!
A LITTLE SUN - ONGOING
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As a PA to megastar and mega man-child Dieter Bravo you've had your fair share of headaches. Getting accidentally pregnant with his baby however takes the cake, especially when he offers to pay you to be his surrogate. You just weren't expecting to fall in love with him along the way. (plot prompt inspired by 'Daddy Dieter' by @absurdthirst on Ao3 - read their story, its really wonderful!) rated: 18+
First Trimester
Second Trimester Part 1
Second Trimester Part 2.1
Second Trimester Part 2.2
Third Trimester
Post Partum
WINDOW DRESSING - (ONGOING)
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Rated 18+
Resolving to achieve professional success within the CIA you embark on a ruthless game of one-upmanship against your work nemesis Dave York, a rivalry that is complicated by your growing attraction to him. [loosely based on The Hating Game] (AU universe - Dave is divorced and still working for CIA)
Chapter 1: Codebook - COMING FEB 14th
Chapter 2: Black Bag Job
Chapter 3: Clandestine Operation
Chapter 4: False Flag
Chapter 5: Raven
Chapter 6: Burned
Chapter 7: Compromised
Chapter 8: Window Dressing
Someone to pass the time with -(ONGOING)
rated: 18+
Feeling guilty about so often being out of town on business you encourage your loving boyfriend to find someone to pass the time with. When he does, you're not expecting for things to get so out of hand. Pairings: Reader x Javi G x Dave York
Part 1 - It's a He
Part 2 -For you, Javi
Part 3 - Meeting Dave
CODE BROKEN Series (COMPLETE)
For 18+ Readers only!
"You broke into my house," Joel says moving his gaze from your eyes back down to your mouth as his wide hand grazes his belt buckle. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite." You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this? [AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]
Part 1: Go your Own Way
Part 2: The House of the Rising Sun
Part 3: Tainted Love
Part 4: I will Survive
Part 5: Total Eclipse of the Heart
Losing our Minds Together - ONGOING
For readers 18+ only please!
summary:
As an artist by trade it's only natural that you'd agree to give your young neighbor Ellie drawing lessons. You just weren't counting on her stoic father Joel Miller getting under your skin... or becoming your muse. [AU LOU universe with no outbreak. A slow burn slice of life love story with smut, romance and more.]
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Dare to Surrender (COMPLETE)
for 18+ readers only!
summary: “First to come loses.” You can’t stand Javier Pena but when Steve Murphy makes an off-hand remark that gets both you and Javier’s competitive sides going, there’s no telling how far you’ll go.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
So Much to Lose - ONGOING
For readers 18+ only please!
summary:
Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart. note: Featuring Dark!Joel
Chapter 1 : Patrols
Chapter 2: The Doe
Chapter 3: You Make the Rules, Remember?
Chapter 4: Early Riser
Chapter 5: You still want this?
Chapter 6: Trapped Inside
SLEEP (COMPLETE)
When you meet Joel Miller beside his blue truck one hot, sweltering day you're not expecting a bloody adventure to await you.
Part 1
Part 2
Please, Mister Miller?; THE SEQUEL ONGOING
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for 18+ readers only!
After a Christmas holiday you won't soon forget, you find yourself unable to move past your time with Joel Miller, your best friends married dad and the man you think you may just be in love with.
Phone Calls with Mister Miller
Dinner with Mister Miller
Talking with Mister Miller
Spring Break with Mister Miller
Long Distance with Mister Miller
Graduation with Mister Miller
Texas with Mister Miller
THOSE WHO CANNOT DO
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Summary: Frankie and Santiago have been through a lot during their friendship and have always come out the other side. But when both of them fall for the pretty new schoolteacher (YOU), it pushes them both to their breaking point. for 18+ readers only! pairings: Frankie x f!Reader / Santiagoxf!Reader
Chapter one: Acceleration
Chapter two - coming soon
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter Seven
Chapter eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter ten
Daddy Morales - (COMPLETE)
for 18+ Readers only!
Summary: A distraught Frankie drives you home after babysitting. You cheer him up.... and then you keep cheering him up all over town. [General warnings: Infidelity and Daddy kink]
Part 1 - Drive Home
Part 2 - Pit Stop
Part 3 - No More
Part 4 - Too Late
Part 5 - The BBQ
PALPATION (rated 18+)
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You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good?  (AU - NO OUTBREAK)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
AS LONG AS YOU WANT (PG-13)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3 - coming soon
ONE SHOTS
A Secret Kind of Pain [Frankie Morales x f!reader] (rated 18+)
Poker night over at Benny’s tests the amazing burgeoning relationship you have been hiding with Frankie Morales.
Say, Thank You. [Dave York x F!Reader] (Rated 18+)
After driving you home from babysitting his kids, Dave York has a proposition for you that you just can’t refuse.
Joel's Eyes (rated 18+)
based on the prompt by ashleyfilm: I don’t know if you take requests but I love your writing and I’m dying for a slow burn in post outbreak Jackson. Joel and fem reader strangers to friends to eventual lovers. Reader is in love with Joel from the beginning and is like him strong silent type but with a heart of gold. Lots of pinning and then a surprise when it turns out Joel pines for her too and Tommy and Ellie know that he loves her. Maybe some jealousy thrown in before soft dom Joel to sub reader smut. Then a snippet of them together after confession of love so you can hear what other towns folk think about them. Anyway, if you don’t take asks that’s totally cool and I look forward to reading whatever you write! :)
Untitled (rated 18+)
Summary: Dave York's college-aged babysitter (you!) rides him after his wife leaves him high and dry. 
FALLING IN LOVE SERIES
How I imagine these characters fall in love. Rated: G
Joel Miller
Javier Peña
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19burstraat · 1 month
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Random SOC Trivia I Gathered On My Reread
I'll be using this for fics, but it's fun just to read!
Jesper does not hold alcohol well (though this is according to Kaz, who is not exactly impartial)
Wijnstraat, Nemstraat, Havenstraat, Ammberstraat are all street names if you want em
Van Eck has been involved in trying to clean up the Barrel; pious. (Allegedly pious, I doubt he really is)
1/5 Van Eck (or general Kerch trading?) vessels are lost at sea
Kaz arrested three times at ten, twice at eleven, once at fourteen. Does stints in jail but it does not say prison (ppl assume he's been to Hellgate / another prison but I don't think so. He'd never have shut the fuck up about it if he had; I assume the Stadhall Jail)
Kaz's cane is lead-lined. I wasn't sure if this was canon or fanon
Kaz runs book on prize fights, horses, and chance games. Floor boss at crow club since fifteen-ish. Youngest to run a betting shop and has doubled the profits.
Gambling halls: Treasure Chest, Golden Bend, Weddell's Riverboat, Silver Garter
West Stave brothels: The Blue Iris, The Forge, The Obscura, the Willow Switch, the House of Snow
Van Aakster is the widow mercher who sees Nina to ease his grief
Inej likes orange cakes in white paper
Black Tips tattoo is a hand with first and second fingers cut at the knuckle, Razorgulls is 5 birds in wedge formation
Nina Jesper and Kaz definitely all have the crow and cup; the others don't
Jordie seems to like books
ridderspel and spijker are arcade games
Bilge, clams, and wet stone smell in the Barrel (per Retvenko)
Kaz definitely is partial to dogs; Smeet's hounds and the grey dog the Hertzoon household had, the windup dogs, the metaphors. He loves a dog metaphor sorry ur not real babycakes you'd have loved thematic web weaving posts
Geldspin is the cotton mill in Zierfoort, Firma Allerbest is a cannery. Both in Alys' name
Wylan was 8 when Marya 'died'
the black veil tomb is carved like an ancient cargo ship
3 flying fish on a grave: government. Palm trees and snakes: spices.
Inej's mother braids her hair with orange ribbons (colour of persimmons)
University a series of buildings built around the Boekcanal and joined by Speaker's Bridge (where people debate and/or drink). Boeksplein four libraries built around a central courtyard and the Scholar's Fountain
Shipping container at third harbour is a Liddie hideout; Jam Tart House is an old hotel near the slat that the Razorgulls use
Long scar across Kaz's right knuckle
Violating contracts and interfering with the market can get you hanged in Kerch; same sentences as for murder (this is. Insane)
Haskell holds court with his mates at the Fair Weather Inn every week
Belendt is the second oldest Kerch city and sits on the Droombeld River
Jesper was 7 when Aditi died
Inej has an uncle (who seems to have some sort of ringmaster role) and cousins; Hanzi and Asha
Kaz convinced a locksmith in Klokstraat that he was the son of a wealthy merchant who highly valued his collection of priceless snuffboxes, and that's how he knows what locks the rich are using
Hubrecht Mohren, Master Thief of Pijl, who Kaz doesn't appear to think much of; one of Haskell's old cronies
Martin Van Eck, Wylan's great great grandfather, was a ship's captain, brought back a big shipment of spices from Eames Chin and started the Van Eck fortune
Kaz and Jesper (+ other Dregs boys) taught Inej to fight
Kaz and Jordie are from a town near Lij, as per the 'Johannus Rietveld' exposition, but Lij is seemingly the closest major city/county so it's easier to just say they're from Lij lol
The last time the Council of Tides appeared in public was 25 years prior to CK
Kaz found Filip running a monte game on Kelstraat; he also got the clerks who turned over fake info, the fake attorney, the man who gave them free hot chocolate
The spelling of Zentzbridge lapses to Zentsbridge, not sure which is right or if they're actually separate bridges or if there's a lot of wrong quotes floating around lol
Dryden house symbol is the golden wheat sheaf bound with a blue ribbon; Van Eck is the red laurel but we knew that
Kaz taught himself finance and gambling hall rules
Church of Barter roof is copper and long has turned green
Church of Barter built around the First Forge / The Mortar, which is a flat lump of rock that's supposedly Ghezen's altar
Ghezendaal Hospital is. Idk. a hospital. Just thought ppl might want the name
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