#jiggle wiggle Monday

[carolmunson]

wake up slow | barista!steve harrington

entry for my fall frenzy requests this request comes in from @superblysubpar: 'there's a scenario with bookstore / library date AND a dialogue prompt that says "what are you reading?"' with steve harrington summary: it's 1990. you're on the opening shift at the bookstore you work at, only to be surprised at a newcomer claiming to be up for an interview for the open barista position in the cafe at the back. sort of put off to start, it's no surprise when things start to bloom over time, and i'm not talking about coffee grounds. tl;dr carol writes a mini romcom.

tw: minors dni, there's nothing too out of whack in this one but i still don't want minors in here. reader is a little sassy but also like, pretty normal overall.

That damn key jams every time it rains -- doesn't help that you left your umbrella at home. Doesn't help that the 'light mist' turned into a heavy downpour the closer you made it to the book store. Doesn't help that you had to park a street over because of street cleaning and had to walk a block in the rain. Now the damn key.

"Come on," you grumble, jiggling an wiggling to no avail. Insert, r-insert, slight tilt to the right, jiggle, pull out a little, turn a little left and then -- nothing. You take the key out only for it to fall to the ground with a fairy like tinkling.

"Come -- the fuck -- on," you nearly growl under your breath while your coat gets heavier and heavier with rain, hood soaking through and dripping water onto your face. You bend down to get the key with a sigh meant for people with back pain, coming back up again to see the coffee bar manager on the other side of the glass door. He chuckles, salt and pepper beared thick over his chin and cheeks. Ruddy skin beams red even in the cool grey light of the morning, 30 years a butcher who pivoted into coffee when he turned fifty and had a really good knack for it.

"Easy morning?"

"Does it look like one, Carl?" you ask, stepping in when he opens the door. He laughs again, a hearty belly laugh that might as well have transported him into a Santa suit in December. "What happened to you?" he asks, following you into the back room where you start putting your stuff in your cubby. You switch out your wet sneakers and socks for the platform loafers and knee highs in your bag. Now that the fall weathers hit, it's all corduroy and knit sweaters, circle skirts and tall socks. If you're going to be on your fifth year working at an idyllic bookstore, you might as well look the part.

"Weather app lied, street cleaning, forgot an umbrella," you shrug, "Just another manic Monday, y'know?" "I know," he nods, "Gimme one second." Carl comes back with a white paper cup and black lid that makes you smile from the inside out, "Is that what I think it is?" "Isn't it always?" he smiles, "I got it ready the second I saw you on the schedule. Caramel latte, hint of cinnamon. Since its -- ya know, fall officially, I put a little maple in there, too." "You spoil me," you sigh, taking the cup from him and letting the warmth radiate through your hands.

"I do," he nods, "But, that latte was the last of my regular milk so I need to run out and grab a few gallons before we open up. You okay to be hangin' out by yourself?"

You nod, of course you're okay to be hanging out by yourself. You take the first sip, letting the caramel flood your tongue. The maple is a good addition. You're about to tell Carl to add this to the seasonal menu but he's already out the break room door with his coat before you can. You hear the jingle of the bell and the lock of the door and eventually the silence settling into the store around you.

You start to re-organize the window display which should've been done last night but 'last night you' said that 'this morning you' could handle it. You wish you could punch last night you in the face, but this is what you get for taking an assistant manager position.

You stack the back to school reads next to your knees where you're sat on them. The dust billows when you move them, making you sneeze with each turn of your head. You rub at your eyes, realizing at that very moment that the mascara you put on this morning has now definitely smudged -- you can't even find the emotional capacity to check considering the store opens in forty five minutes. You wipe down the display shelves, letting the oak gleam under the spot lights. The color is a warm reminder of the cozy moments to come the way that they do this time of year. As you start separating the 'cozy reads' from your 'spooky reads' in the pile on the other side of your knees you hear a knocking at the door --that's not very like Carl to forget his key.

You look over your shoulder, not seeing Carl at all, and if it is, he had some kind of Seventeen Again magic happen to him in that time at the store. You stand up, wiping off your knees and straightening your skirt before getting to the door where the rapping continues against the glass. "We aren't open yet!" you call out.

"M'here for Carl!" you hear, muffled through the panes. "For the barista spot?" you yell back. The guy nods under his hood, the rain picking up in heavy sheets. You sigh, unlocking the door and letting him in. "Carl's not here, he ran out to get some more milk but um, you're welcome to wait in the break room if you want," you explain, wiping a palm over another display through the main hallway and wiping the dust off on your hip. "Thanks," he says, hood coming down to reveal a head full of thick chestnut hair. A gold ring shines on the the hand that runs through it, looks like a family crest type, right on his middle finger.

"I'm Steve," he says with a smile, hand now outstretched to take yours. You look at it and then at him, finally taking in the sight before you. Prominent straight nose, warm amber eyes, lips that definitely use chapstick regularly. He has a nice smile, the kind you read about in the romance novels in the back of the store, the kind people write about.

You take his hand and introduce yourself, he has a business major handshake and you only know that because you dated a handful of them back in college. You try to stifle a chuckle but it comes out airily out of your nose.

"Something funny?" he asks when you both let go. "No, no, sorry, I just thought of something from the other day," you shake your head, "Don't worry about it." He nods, taking off his coat and closing his umbrella following your lead to the back, "It's a cute place."

"Yeah, it's nice in the morning," you nod, "I normally close but -- doing a favor for a key holder today; so you have the pleasure of seeing the troll of the store in her natural habitat."

"What?"

"Nothing -- nevermind," you shake your head, cheeks burning with a wave of embarrassment when you look back and notice that he's genuinely very handsome. You get to the break room, pointing out the spare cubby where he can hang his coat and umbrella. He's in a sweater you swear you've seen on the Cosby Show -- dark green and patterned, a perfect combination of colors against his skin. It cuffs at the wrists, you can see a sliver of his white t-shirt underneath at the collar, a whisper of a gold chain tucked beneath it.

"Yeah um," you start, feeling your heart start to patter in your chest when he takes a seat at the table by the cabinets, "You can just wait here. I'll let Carl know when he comes back."

"Okay," he smiles, "Thanks."

You nod again, heading into the employee bathroom to collect yourself for a moment -- seeing your reflection. You forgot you had rubbed your eyes, masacra smudged in black smears nearly down to your cheeks. "I look insane," you whisper in horror, "Oh my fucking god."

You cover your face for a moment, trying to hide yourself from the embarrassment racking your chest. Definitely looking like the troll of the store, you silently scream into your palms, another dramatic whisper of, "I should just fucking kill myself."

Despite the humiliation, you know it's funny. This would happen to you. This hot guy would come in when your mascaras a mess and your hair is fucked up from the rain, when the weather is bad and your tights have a run, when your allergies are rampant from the dust. Of course he would!

You wet a paper towel and do your best to wipe off the smudges, happy to look a little less insane after a dab of tinted lip balm makes it onto your lips and cheeks.

When you re-emerge he's fiddling with his CD player and his over ear headphones, working on a knot in the wire. You go back over to the counter and take a sip of your forgotten latte.

"What do you drink?" he asks.

"Carl makes it special for me, it's not on the menu," you tell him over the black plastic top before taking another sip. He grins, a soft nod moving his hair with him -- so it's like that. "I didn't ask if it was on the menu. I asked what you drink," he says, leaning back in the chair. His eyes lingering on you sends a zip up your spine, wondering if he's giving you a once over or not.

"It's a caramel latte with maple and cinnamon," you tell him. His confidence both intruiges and enrages you, both making you want to tell him to get out but also learn more about this hot guy that wants to be a barista with a Wall Street handshake, "So why do you wanna work here?"

"Is this the start of my interview?" he laughs.

"No, I'm just wondering," you shrug.

"I'm back in school about twenty minutes away," he says, "Did it for a little when I was in high school -- coffee, I mean. Ice cream shop after that, video store after that. Went to school, took a break, back in it. My dad thinks having jobs like this builds y'know -- character and whatever."

"Jobs like this?" you ask, jaw tensing with annoyance.

"Like, y'know, jobs with the people," he tries to explain, pink building on his cheeks when he realizes he might've said something shitty, "They're not like bad jobs, that's not what I mean -- I mean like, y'know -- not suits kind of jobs. Regular shit."

"Regular shit," you nod, biting back what you wanna say. That gold crest ring should've been enough to tip you off, but your next question is the ace in the hole, "What're you back in school for?"

"Getting my MBA."

Of course.

"Nice," you lie, fake smiling into your next sip -- the latte going cold as your insides when you come to the conclusion that he's just some hot grade A asshole, "Well, good luck."

"Thanks," he calls out while you make your way back to the floor, "I really like your name, by the way! It suits you."

You try not to let that compliment change your mind.

He gets the job, but you don't see him a lot. He opens an then goes to classes at night, you close most of the time -- only catching him really in the first hour of your shift and the last hour of his. You're both too busy to be finding time to talk; him with his mid-shift clean and you with your hourly sales goals and mid-day schedule re-adjustments.

But he does wave when you come in. He calls out your name when you bustle past the coffee counter and weave through the tables to get to where you need to go. It's nice of him, you guess, but the stain of him explaining that the job he's doing is just for regular people taints it for you. Maybe he thinks you're just some menial worker bee that he only knows for now, since his daddy probably has a job lined up for him once he pays through his masters degree.

Job with a suit where the bookstore will be a distant memory for him, whereas you're on a two year track to becoming the manager and likely future owner when the owners get too old to manage it. Job with a suit where he'll pass by the store and shake his head at 'how stupid it was', a 'can you believe people work there?' head toss to a coworker while he get a coffee somewhere else. Meanwhile, it's your entire life, and so are all the stories inside.

A few weeks pass and the days get a little colder, the nights starting earlier as they go. You have an opening shift that chills your bones, hugging your wool coat tight to your body while you fiddle with the key at the door, groaning at the tinkling of it hitting the concrete again.

"Rough morning?"

You look up to the door opening, seeing a pair clean white Nike Air Force 1's singaling who it is.

"It is now," you mumble, grabbing the key and bustling inside.

"Surprised to see you here," he says, following you to the back, "You're not on the schedule." "Last minute switch up, Rochelle has a christening," you say, hanging your coat in the cubby and switching out your sneakers for platfoms again.

"Oh, nice," he grins, "So why is it a rough morning? 'Cause I'm here?"

"Sorta kinda," you shrug, "Did you alread--"

"I got sales report from yesterday on the check out desk, yes," he crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame.

"And th--"

"And the inventory report, and before you ask, yes I checked that all the milk is in stock and that we aren't low on beans. I've been here for a month, honey, I know what I'm doing," he mutters.

"Gross," you pull a face at him over your shoulder, "Don't call me honey."

He shrugs with a smirk, "Rochelle likes it."

"Can you go skulk to your caffeine den and leave me alone?" you snap, "I'm trying to open a store, here."

"Skulk, huh?"

"Too big of a word for you, Harrington?"

"You're on fire this morning," he smiles, that smile they write about.

"I kinda like it," he adds before turning out of the door and back into the warm light of the store towards the coffee bar. You swallow while you watch him leave -- I kinda like it ringing in your ears and floating down to your chest where is settles in, cozy and kind.

The reports are where he said the would be, neat and organized like he was the manager and Carl was his employee. You normally spent at least thirty minutes trying to figure out what Carl had written in chicken scratch on the forms, but Steve's sharp and elegant script was easy to read and perfectly spaced. Annoying.

Even his signature was handsome.

After you get the registers counted and ready you file the forms and mark the reports so they'll be ready for your manager when they get back in store. You check the list of what needs to be done, the chilly late October air swooping in from the cracks under the door. Your face sours while you make your way over to the coffee bar in the back, seeing Steve set up the pastry delivery in the cases on the side.

"Did you come back here to yell at me about something?" he asks, focused on the task at hand, "I got all morning."

"You didn't turn the heat on," you cross your arms, "That's like, the first thing you're supposed to do."

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head, popping back up to lean on glass of the case, "Did you read your morning report or just sit there and admire my handwriting?"

"Excuse me?" you bite back.

"Heats fucked," he shrugs, ducking back down to finishing his display, "They're sending someone to take a look at it later today."

"Whatever," you grumble, turning on your heel to go dust the front shelving and reshelf the returns from yesterday.

"Hey," he calls out, waiting for you to turn around before he continues. Your eyes catch his amber ones, sparkling with a mischief reserved for school boys who are mean to the girls they like, "You look nice today."

You look him over, sucking in your cheeks to kill the smile growing on your lips. His navy sweater hugs a bit across his chest and shoulders, giving way to billow slightly over his midsection and arms. Kahki chinos cut just at his ankles so his sneakers don't even look stupid paired with the outfit, socks just the right height to look cool and not forced. Awful.

"Yeah, you too Harrington," you agree quietly before walking away; and while you killed the smile, he was able to catch that crease in your eyes, the twitch in your shoulders. You thought that was nice, he wonders if he can make you do that again.

You head over to the back of the cafe during your break, no windows near your designated 'break chair'. It's close enough to the fireplace that it always feels like a rainy day even when it's nice outside. Now that Carl started his shift he got your drink ready to go the moment you walked over.

"Well la-di-da," Steve cocks his head when Carl walks over to greet the customer at the register, rag in his hands wiping up the pick up counter, "Expert service and you're not even gonna tip?"

"Here's a tip: leave me alone when I'm on break," you bite. Why did he have to be so handsome? Slight pink on his cheeks from the heat of the espresso and coffee machines, the lights overhead. The heat finally works again and it's almost working too well from the small bead of sweat forming above his brow. He runs a big hand through his hair again, the same way he did when you first met him. You try to ingore the way his bicep bulges in his sleeve when his arm stretches.

His tongue runs over his teeth, settling between them for a second before looking straight at you, "Good one."

"That's what you get when you read books," you say sarcastically, "You should try it sometime."

"You should teach me," he leans over the counter, resting his chin on his palm, "Bet you're a great teacher."

You bite your tongue, pulling in your lips and squinting your eyes to keep the smile from brewing a second time. You pick up your mug and sip your latte while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Nothing this time?" he asks, waiting for you second blow. You shake your head no, occupying your mouth with the rim.

"No?" He asks, you shake your head again, somehow glued to the spot under his stare. He slings the rag over his shoulder, still looking at you. "Well I don't wanna keep you standing here," he teases, offering you a wink that is so soul crushingly charming you could just die, "Enjoy your break."

You've never turned around so quickly in your entire life.

The following week you take another opening shift, happy to settle into the quiet of the cafe now that the morning rush of moms, dads, students, and aspiring writers have cleared out. The fire crackles just right, the leather warmed up to your body heat while the book sucks you in further an further. Thirty minutes pass when you hear a shift infront of you, the subtle squeak of leather being sat in with a soft crunch.

"What're you reading?"

You peer over the top of the spine to see Steve sat in the chair across from you, legs open wide while he leans his forearms on his knees. His long fingers slide together, gold ring shining in the light again to remind you of who he is and where he comes from. As handsome as he is today in his black henley and white t-shirt combo you'll never quite forget the fact that some MBA bro is perched in front of you like a puppy with nowhere to go.

"Sound out the cover, that should tell you," you boredly mumble before tucking back into the chair. His fingers peak over the spine, pushing the book down from the top. He pulls the leather chintz closer to yours with ease -- of course he does.

"Or you could tell me," he says with a softness you weren't ready to hear. Your chest gets warm again, creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

"It's Pride and Prejudice."

"S'that your favorite book or something?" he asks, elbow driving into his thigh so he can rest his chin on his fist.

"One of them," you shrug, "I always read it this time of year, kind of fits the mood of the season."

"Hm," he nods, like he's really listening, "What's it about?"

"Basically," you start, thinking of a way to describe it in two sentences or less, "It's like -- hm -- it's about two people, a love story. One guy is some super rich asshole and he's a jerk because the girl isn't as rich and him. And the girl isn't from the same social standing so she's a jerk because she already assumes that he's a super rich asshole. Like...I don't know, idiots in love who are too stubborn to love each other."

"Hm," he nods again, grin splitting his face, "Interesting."

"What's your favorite book?" you ask, wanting to wipe that smug grin right off his face. His dumb handsome face with that perfect sloped nose, and eyes that look like they're looking directly into you.

"I don't have one," he shrugs.

"You have to have one," you balk, "Like, even if it's one you read in school or something." "Hmm," he sits back up, leaning back in the chair with his hands resting just under his chest.

"You have to know how to read to run a business," you shrug.

"I know how to read, honey," he laughs, "I just don't have a favorite book."

"At least try," you ecourage, albiet annoyed. He taps his fingers on his diaphragm, one knee bouncing while he thinks about it. His shirt rides up just a smidge in the back, revealing a sliver of skin you didn't think you'd ever see.

"Shel Silverstein," he says finally, "Where the Sidewalk Ends."

"You didn't strike me as a poetry guy," you say, closing your book over your finger to hold your place.

"My mom went through this poetry phase -- and I'm my mother's son, so I had a poetry phase with her," he shrugs, "We wore that book out, think we had to get a second copy cause the first one was just like -- destroyed."

"Well that's...you know," you lean your head from side to side, "That's nice. It's cute."

"You'd know, right?" he smiles, that god damn smile Shel would write about in a new book. You'd bring back book burning just to throw it in the flames after it was published. He gets up, disappearing behind you for a moment and reappearing with your favorite green mug. He gingerly places it on the side table next to you.

"Compliments of the chef," he says, presenting it like a Michelin star meal.

You look at it, a perfect pour -- the cream rosetta leaf striking against the warm brown espresso. You can smell the caramel and maple already wafting off it, cinnamon sprinkled delicately on top.

"Um, thanks," you say quietly, taking the mug to your lips. He looks down at you eagerly when you take a sip, waiting for your reaction.

"Did you do something to it?" you ask before you take one.

"No I'm just -- damn, come on. I'm excited to see you try it," he sighs, "I worked hard on it."

"Fine, fine," you murmur, letting the latte flood onto your tongue. Its -- regrettably -- one of the best iterations of you've had in a while. The perfect creaminess without being too milky, enough caramel and maple without being too sweet, the espresso's bitterness cuts the sugar in just the right way to make it smooth. He knows he did it right by the way you go for a second sip without saying anything.

"I did good?" he quirks a brow.

"You did good," you nod.

"Good," he smiles, tapping the top of your chair, "'Cause Carl's putting it on the menu starting in November."

"How come?" you ask into your third sip, the steam billowing over your cheeks.

Steve lets his eyes flicker over your face slowly, offering a half shrug, "I told him to."

November brings the first pre-season snow, not that it mattered now that your favorite drink was a regular menu item now. Caramel and maple always in stock, espresso machine always on first thing in the morning.

You open twice a week now, seeing Steve more often than not. Dropping your key became less common now that he was normally at the door when you'd get there, ready to let you in.

"Another great day, right?" he'd tease.

Now that the holidays were in full swing the bookstore was busier than ever -- sales, bundles, events. You even started carrying children's coloring books and crayons in the kid's section; a whole set up just for kids to sit and color while their parent's browsed.

The stress was getting to you, constantly checking and rechecking the end of day sales versus last year, wanting to make sure everything was on a steady incline with a nice cushion for the next. It helped that the cafe seemed to be absolutely climbing in numbers since September. More and more people wanted to spend time over there, and the more time they spent the more time they looked at books or started reading. It wasn't shocking to see people checking out at the counter with a second coffee and a new book or two in hand.

You don't want it to be true, but you're sure the new barista had a play in what makes so many people stick around. You'd see the way Steve would flirt when he took orders, how he's listen to them intently, make every customer feel like they were the only person in the room.

At least that's how he'd make you feel when he caught your gaze from over the shelving, helping find books for new patrons from the college nearby. You both started to wave at each other at each passing glance, each look caught by surprise, each accidental yearning stare.

Mid-November greets you with a bitter chill, the very early morning doesn't even have the decency to greet with you the rising sun. It'll be atleast another half hour until then.

For the first time in a long time you don't drop the key, pushing into the store with ease. You waste no time turning the heat on, making sure the radiators bled a bit before hand. You rub your hands together while they settle in, putting your coat away in the cubby and switching out your shoes in the break room.

Opening on a Saturday morning isn't common for you, but it's the first event you've planned by yourself. A very simple read-along story telling with some kids from the neighborhood and their parents. You collected three solid winter time reads: The Mitten, The Snowy Day, and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving. A solid hour of reading while the parents could peruse, or sit and watch while their kids tuned into a book instead of cartoons on Nick Jr.

Once you've given yourself the onceover for the morning you feel more confident about the upcoming next few hours. Your knit tights fit snugly over your legs, a touch sheered out with the stretch over your thighs but the pleats in your plaid maroon skirt cover that just fine, hitting just above your knees -- still covered, still sensible. Still cute enough to snag a single dad if one were to show up.

Your feet stay tucked in a pair of worn in platform mary-janes stolen from your sister's New York City closet when you went to visit her over the summer. The chunky knit sweater over the whole ensemble completes you, a spitting image of a 'caught on the street' look you saw in a Seventeen magazine that you still get delivered to you despite being well past the age group.

You thrifted the sweater with Steve in mind, it looked like something he'd wear.

Anyway.

As you set up the 'reading rug' in the cafe area you hear the familar unlocking of the door. The sun finally starting to seep in in golden shards through the panes, leaving squares of light on the wood floors and carpets below.

"Hey Carl!" you call out, "I got everything up and running for you."

You hear the keys jingle but not his smoker's cough, not his heavy steps finding their way to the cafe area. Instead you look up to see Steve with his hands on his hips, watching you struggle to move the leather chintz to the back wall as your reading chair.

"Redecorating?" he asks, looking around the cafe. Under his shearling lined aviator jacket is an open hunter green flannel you wouldn't expect to see him in, his white t-shirt underneath hugs tights to his chest and stomach. You unfortunately noticed how great of a view that is for you.

"Um," you started, looking around the room and the dissaray you seem to have made without realizing, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason your here," he says, stepping forward to shoo you away from the chair, "I'm on the payroll."

"You don't work weekends," you say, crossing your arms over your chest while he lifts the chair over the rug with a soft grunt.

"I do today," he says with a slight strain, "Where do you want this?"

"Uh," you start, "Just right in the center against the wall so everyone can see me."

"Oh, so you're reading to the kids this morning?" he laughs to himself after putting the chair down. He wipes his hands off on each other, shrugging off the jacket and holding it in one arm, "Bitter Betty is gonna entertain the young minds of Main Street?"

"Bitter Betty, huh?" you challenge, following him into the back room, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he shakes his head.

"I am very sweet," you tell him, a serious edge to your voice, "There are so many customer reviews saying how sweet I am."

"Sure," he nods, putting his coat away in his cubby, "I bet there are; since y'know, you're selling them something."

"I'm not just nice when I'm selling something," you say softly, arms coming protectively across your chest. A frustration bubbles in your chest while you look at him, following him back out into the cafe so you can keep getting the place ready before the families start to show up, "You think you know everything."

"I don't," he shakes his head, smiling while he checks over the machines and gets the first pot of coffee started.

"Yeah, you do. You walked in here two months ago and swear you know everything," you huff, getting the cafe back to a place of organized coziness.

"Okay," he chuckles, "Whatever you say, boss."

"You're infuriating," you mumble under your breath.

"Got that caramel latte coming right up for you, by the way," he says warmly.

Your head turns to see him watching you, he smiles, "Maybe you're a little nicer after you've had a coffee."

You smile back, unable to stop it this time.

"So that's a yes, right?" he cocks his head, fingers drumming on the counter while he watches you. That Harringtom charm pumping out at full speed.

"Y-yeah," you nod, "Whatever. You gonna go chop down a tree, Harrington? What's with the flannel?"

He looks down at his shirt and then back up at you with a soft shake of his head, "I better hurry up and get that started for you."

The kids look up at you with starry eyes, their parents smiling along with their coffees, lattes, espressos, and pastries. The Mitten was a hit and The Snowy Day is so far showing up to be a great follow up.

You take your time to really point out the pictures and adding on to the story since all three of them are pretty short. However, you're finding that kids between two and five are pretty easy to entertain if you do enough counting and make enough sound effects. Maybe you should've been a kindergarten teacher -- or maybe not. Maybe you should just keep doing book events.

You're halfway through when you show the illustrations to the group again, listening to them ooh and ahh at all the snow.

"Did um -- Miss -- did you know -- it snowed? It snowed at my house," one of the older kids announces, arm straight up in the air.

"It snowed last week, Michael, that's right," his mom pipes up, "Daddy had to shovel outside."

"Has everyone else seen snow? Raise your hand if you've seen this much snow!" you announce in your perfect parentese, watching while the older kids and parents raise their hands. The two year olds don't really get it so they just sit there and laugh.

You look up at all the hands, an enthusiastic 'Wow!' coming out of your mouth -- but you barely hear it. Behind the hands are a set of warm amber eyes looking at you from the coffee bar, soft and gentle. Enthralled even. You swallow and lick your lips quickly before smiling, catching his smile back as you look back at the book to start again.

After each couple of pages you catch each other, the pink on his cheeks rising when he looks away -- pretending to be occupied with something else. Cleaning, organizing, resetting the espresso machine. He can tell you're flustered by the way you clear your throat whenever you start to read again.

After The Snowy Day you take a ten minute break so that the parents can take their kids to the bathroom or re-up their beverages. The tip jar is full to bursting because nobody knows how to make a single mom feel like Steve Harrington does; and husbands will pay anything to get him to leave their wives alone.

You reset your chair, making sure the books you're reading are on display for purchasing on the shelving close by in your Winter Children's Bundle for a discounted price. As the ten minutes closes up you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

"Here," you turn around to Steve with a green mug in his hands, "It's just regular coffee this time, but -- figured you could use it."

You take it body first, reaching around for the handle only to feel his fingers brush against yours at the hand of. The soft touch isn't electric like it is in the books, it's like that but better. Warm like an oven, the gooey parts of you rising in a slow bake when you see him look down and turn away -- running that same hand through his hair on his way back to the counter.

"Thanks," you say over the chatter of parents and kids coming back to sit.

"Can I have something ready for you for your break?" he asks back.

"Surprise me," you shrug, sitting back on your chintz chair and taking the final book onto your lap. The kids cheer when they see Snoopy on the cover, a well loved favorite cartoon to finish off their morning. With the crack of the spine you can already smell the sales coming once this little event is over.

You work through your break, ringing up and helping customer after customer on easily one of the busiest Saturday's you've seen in a while. It normally doesn't get busy like this at least for another couple of weeks.

The stress of working through lunch barely matters though because your event was a bigger success than you could've hoped for -- logging in the notes for Rochelle that you should probably start doing this throughout the season just for good measure.

It's starting to get dark by the time your shift ends and the store closes -- early on Saturdays at a tight 4 PM. You let your sales girl go a little early, wanting to take the time to close up the store properly since you were the one who made it such a mess this morning. As you start to put the chairs back that had been moved from the cafe to the children's section you hear him, fingers tapping on the counter.

"You didn't come by for your break," he says, "And I put a lot of effort into that drink."

"Sorry, we can't all be flirting through our shifts like you can, Harrington," you snark with a grin, flipping the last chair over onto it's accompanied table.

"You don't have to clean up the coffee part of the store," he says, coming around with another mug in hand, "That's my job, y'know."

"I know," you say, "But I kind of fucked it up this morning so -- just doing my part."

"Well, here," he says, mug outstretched in his large hand, gold ring gleaming back at you, "For doing your part, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" you laugh lazily, taking it -- he places his fingers in a way that you have no choice but to touch them. You wonder if he did it on purpose, "What do you call this one?"

"'Surprise me'," he replies in a mocking drawl, flipping the rag over his shoulder again and leaning against the counter's edge. The first sip is unfortunately one of the most even temperatured hot drinks you've put past your lips.

"You're good at this," you blurt out, almost offended.

"Well don't look so upset about it."

"I am upset about it," you nod back over the lip of the mug, taking another sip. Mocha -- something. It's like hot chocolate and espresso but better, still caramel, still cinnamon, like a hug from your past but caffienated like your present.

"Consider me surprised," you nod, licking your lips again, "It's good -- it's um -- yeah. It's really good."

"Thanks," he smirks, "A few of the mom's thought so, too."

You let out a sigh through your teeth, rolling your eyes. He expected that, taking a step forward when your gaze comes back to center. You can smell the left over wraiths of his cologne and Old Spice deodorant, count the moles on his neck adorned with his hidden gold chain, see the hair on his forearms from his rolled up sleeves.

"You know something," he says quietly, "If I didn't know any better -- I'd think you like me."

"Like you?" you balk, eyes widening, "You wish."

He clicks his tongue when you get so defensive because it just proves him right. He crosses his arms with another step forward, head cocking to the side slightly while he sizes you up. Why did his creator need to make his forearms so beefy? So perfectly sculpted that you can't look at them without losing your train of thought? Stupid.

"I don't think I have to wish, honey," he says softly, Doc Martins creaking on the wooden floors, "I think...uh, I think I must allow you to tell me how ardently you admire and like me."

Your mouth falls open, staring at him with eyes as glassy at the kids who watched you read this morning.

"You -- no -- you read it?"

"Maybe," he says, another step forward, his arms bumping against your chest.

"Maybe?" you ask back, brow quirking.

"Yeah, maybe I did," he runs a hand through his hair, falling back away from his face to show off his sturdy brow bone, watching you with admiration down the slope of his nose.

He reaches down and takes the mug out of your hand with smooth finesse, arm long enough to reach back and place it on the counter behind him. When he leans back in place he's closer than before, toe to toe, nearly nose to nose.

"Maybe I bought it the day you told me about it," he shrugs, "Maybe I thought it was pretty close to something I had goin' on with a girl I know."

"A girl you know?" you challenge. You know exactly who he means, but it might be fun to hear him say it. "Yeah, sometimes I only see her like, an hour a day. But sometimes I get to watch her read on her break, sometimes I get to close with her on Saturdays," he explains warmly, the timbre of his voice deep against the crackling of the fire in the back corner of the cafe.

"This is the only Saturday you've closed with me," you counter, head tilting up slightly, close enough that the tip of your nose brushes his.

"Who said I was talking about you, honey?" he murmurs back, mischief in his eyes that are half hidden by his eyelids. You feel a puff of his breath over your top lip, still minty fresh like he just brushed his teeth.

"We both know you're talking about me," you smirk, self satisfied while his gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes. He steps at an angle, making you step back so you're against the pick up counter.

"So sure of yourself," he he scoffs quietly, leaning over you and getting into your space. Each hand coming to the side of you to lean on the granite, caging you in, "I like that in a pretty girl."

"Most do," you shrug matter of factly.

"Yeah," he nods, "Think that's what I like about you."

"Maybe that's what I like about you, too," you nearly whisper out.

"Maybe?" he asks, lower lip ghosting over yours. "Mayb--"

The hand he uses to run through his hair finds itself flat over the back of yours, sliding down to over your cheek and jaw where he keeps you angled just right. He closes the millimeters between you, warm lips catching yours in a kiss that feels like passion but a power play you want to match.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, heads moving in soft tilts when you change angles. When you find yourself sat on the edge of the counter he uses the leverage to pull you close to him, hips between the fullness of your thighs.

His tongue skates over yours when it slides into your mouth, free hand ridding up the soft material of your tights, tips of his fingers inching under the hem of your skirt in an innocent tease.

Even the way he breathes through it is sexy, leaving you with a lingering guess of what he can do when he presses his lips against your neck. Tongue flitting and striping while he nearly nips a bruise onto your skin. You let out a gentle gasp, enough to admit defeat to him -- much to your chagrin. Steve comes back up to your lips to meet you with a few final deep kisses before you break apart.

He steps back once, the deep golden light of the sun setting cracks through the panes of the back window in the cafe, adoring him in a glow that shines of his hair and eyes. The kind of glow they write about, the kind of glow you read about.

You both take deep breaths, eyes hungry for each other -- unsure if you should go for more. He lingers, coming forward again to rest his hands on your thighs.

"I didn't read it," he confesses. "Pfffft. Why am I not surprised?" you huff, exasperated.

"But! But, but, but," he argues back, pecking you feverishly, "I had to go to like, five different places to find the movie from 1980 so -- I did actually put some effort into it."

"I love that one," you say back.

"I get points for that, right?" he asks expectantly.

"Yeah, fine. You're luck you're cute," you explain, "But you do definitely have to read it, at some point. If you wanna keep making out with me in the cafe after closing."

"Oh, absolutely," he grins, hand reaching to pull you in by the back of the neck for a final searing kiss, "You'll have to teach me, remember?"

You of course start closing together every single Saturday.

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[thesassypadawan]

Sweater Stretchers *part 2* (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: Hayden was never really a curves enthusiast until he met you. Especially now that you ‘happy weight’ has found its way to that booty and them boobies…just more for him to love. Hope you lovelies also enjoy Fat Bottom *part 1*!

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Some body worshiping (mostly titties), fun in the kitchen, and, as always…Hayden’s big dick.

- You love wearing your cute, lacey bras…and, well, so does Hayden. But after the whole ‘leggings incident’, you begin to notice that they too were becoming a tad snug.

- It seems your ‘happy weight’ has found its way to the other set of your curves. Again, neither of you is complaining. You both are still loving on your fuller assets. Your poor bras though, much like your old leggings, not so much.

- Pushed nearly to their limit, you know you should probably retire them and get some new ones. Especially before they no longer fit, but where’s the fun in that.

- Secretly you want to be forced to have to ‘freeboob’ it out in public. Just to see Hay’s reaction, what he’ll do when he realizes it.

- So patiently you wait for the day to come. Until one rainy Monday morning…

- You make the discovery when you’re getting dressed to go pick up Hay from the airport. All week you have been struggling to get them on. And today, try as you might, you just can’t manage to get the clasp on your bra to fasten. ‘Oh, well,’ you grin at yourself in the mirror, admiring your new figure. ‘Guess someone is in for a real treat.’

- Having thrown on only a pair of your new leggings and one of his hoodies, which was very much feeling the strain of your ample bust. Like you were pushing its limit pretty good. You wonder how long it will take him to notice.

- But from the glances he keeps not so subtly giving you and your chest on the car ride home. And the way his hand slides higher up on your leg, fingers playing with the hoodie’s hem. It was safe to say that he did…right away.

- Despite his best efforts though, you never let Hayden touch them once. So, needless to say, the minute you two are through that front door… Yeah, he basically tares that hoodie off you.

- A groan escapes him as he leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips. Large hand squeezing one of your breasts. “Thought these sweater stretchers looked bigger. Why didn’t you tell me?”

- You let out a small moan, growing wet from his touch and words. “Wanted to surprise you.”

- “This is one hell of a surprise, angel,” he chuckles. Nuzzling into the side of your neck, gently rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers.

- A pleasant shiver shoots down your spine, arms draping over his shoulders. “Figured you’d like it,” you giggle.

- “I do,” he smirks, giving your other tit a good squish. “And I’m going to fully enjoy myself. Right…now.”

- Without warning he hoists you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Hay!” You squeak excitedly, feeling his very hard cock press into your thigh.

- “What? I did say ‘right now’.” Flashing you one of those damn smiles, he smashes his lips against yours. Kissing you passionately. Nipping at you bottom lip, tongue slipping into your mouth. All the while moving back towards the kitchen island.

- You roll your hips against his, earning a hiss from him; before breaking apart. You quickly remove your leggings and panties. Hay stripping down to absolutely nothing just as fast.

- Your walls twitch in anticipation. You can’t help but bite your lip at the sight of him springing forth. So painfully stiff, tip already oozing pre.

- Cupping your ass, giving each cheek an appreciative squeeze. He pulls you to the edge. Slotting himself between your legs, massive cock rubbing against your stomach. “Like what you see?”

- “Always,” you coo. Wiggling just enough to make your breasts jiggle a bit. “How about you?”

- “What do you think?” He mutters huskily, lips trailing over your neck and down to one of your breasts. Nipping at your tender flesh, his tip running through you wet folds.

- Your hands come to rest on the back of his head and neck. A needy mewl falling from your lips as you feel him line up with your entrance. “Haaayden.”

- “Fucking love these fat tits,” he growls. Sinking his teeth into your other plushy globe and snapping his hips forward.

- Crying out, your back arches. Chest pressing further in his face while he stretches you out so deliciously.

- Guiding your hips, he begins to pound into you. Greedily nibbling and biting, covering your chest with love bites. “So plump. So juicy. So perfect.”

- Speeding up, he grips your butt harder. Thrusts grow stronger, your body bouncing with every movement. All you can do is hold on, walls fluttering from his words. While he teases your nipple with his nose and tongue.

- A mix of a moan and a scream fly from your mouth as he hungerly stuffs most of a boob into his mouth. Suckling harshly, licking at what he couldn’t manage to fit.

- “Hay… Hay…” You whimper, orgasm rapidly approaching. Your body trembling against his, his hips slapping against yours. The pleasure building up inside of you becomes unbearable.

- Releasing your tit with a wet sounding pop; he grins up at you, eyes blown wide with lust. “So tasty, angel…can’t wait for them to fill with milk someday.”

- He bites down on your other pert nub hard, sending you spiraling. You throw your head back in a silent cry. Clamping down on him, gushing all over his cock.

- Burying himself to the hilt, he lets out a deep groan. Pumping you so deliciously with his hot cum.

- With his head still resting on your pillows, you run your fingers through his hair. You want to ask him about what was said in the heat of the moment, but decide not to…at least for now. “You’re really okay with all my new curves?”

- “Absolutely,” Hayden growls, grinding into you to prove his point. “More for me to love and…I look forward to when they’ll fill out even more.”

[spicyclover]

Feeling “Caliente” | part one

Summary: You are feeling quite “Caliente” about Mick.

Part one | Part two

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: mention of smut. +18

All sitting around a fire, enjoying Latin music and marshmallows while laughing. The atmosphere is a languorous dance for some and lively discussions for others. You just finished dancing with an excellent Cuban partner who made you dance salsa for over an hour. Beads of sweat have formed on your forehead, and a smile of ecstasy is on your lips.

You go to the bathroom to freshen up and regain your composure.  

Exhausted, you decide to join the others who are sitting a little further around the fire. All the seats are full, but you notice that only Mick doesn’t have a chair partner. You stroll towards him and greet the others.

“Can I sit?” you ask, looking at his legs. 

He takes a slight red colour before he accepts your request. You settle down and graciously accept the glass that Daniel, who is on your right, offers you. The ongoing discussion is you animate it with a few comments. Without realizing it, you move your hips to the sound of music in the distance.

For you, there is no harm, but for Mick… Let’s say he becomes a little uncomfortable under your jiggling. You laugh again at a Daniel joke when you feel something hard against your gluteal and turn to Mick. 

“Can you take your phone out of your pocket?” You interrogate him and keep wiggling.

“It’s not my phone,” he whispers in your ear. 

Your eyes turn round, and you turn your face towards hers. He is peony; embarrassed is the emotion you can deduce from observing his features. You take a few seconds before reacting and bite your lips so as not to laugh and smile at him. A real genuine and mocking smile with a little bit of seduction.

You turn to Daniel, who calls you, and act like nothing happened. However, now your movements are more precise and languorous, and you can feel it stretching more. 

Now, Mick wants to be somewhere other than in front of all his people. If he could, he would take you at this very moment in front of that fire in the grass. His patience gradually begins to be affected, and you feel he’s on the verge of cracking.

You’ve always loved Mick, he doesn’t know, but you’ve had a thing for him for years. It’s probably alcohol that gives you so much courage to do something so sensual and sexy with him.

"Take off your coat," you told Mick, staring lasciviously at him.

Mick choked with his sip but followed your request. He removes his oversights jacket, and you put it on your lap. Thus, no one can see what is happening between you. At the same time, you have raised your dress to make it easier for him to access. 

“What are you doing,” he babbles while trying to understand what you’re doing. 

“You want it, right? I want it. They’re too busy to care what we do.”

“You’re completely crazy,” he whispers, kissing your neck and putting his hand under the blanket.

To be continued...

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Trick For A Treat

Summary: When Steve has a date on Halloween night, you and Eddie are put in charge of driving the party around for trick-or-treating.

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Trigger Warning: Fluff

Author’s Note: Happy October! Enjoy this little spooky-themed fic. I wrote this for @felteppsters who not only gave me the idea for this but has been the most supportive friend and I love her. Can be read as gender neutral, I believe. I didn't really put any gender-defining slang in here.

There were whispers of a party at Tina's house tonight. Roxanne mouthed the words, "are you going?" to which you shook your head; eyes glancing up at the clock, leg bouncing anxiously, waiting for that last bell to ring. It was Halloween, and it was Halloween on a Friday, which made it even better. Either you could party all night and not have to worry about coming to school with a hangover, or you could stay up all night, watching scary movies and eating all of the candy you could get your hands on.

You had already made plans for the latter.

When the bell rang, some of your classmates cheered at the sound. You all but fell out of your desk as you hurried towards your locker, grabbing your History textbook and your notebooks so that you could study for your test on Monday. Though, you weren't exactly sure how much studying would get done on Halloween weekend, yet, you still shoved them into your messenger bag and headed towards the double doors.

As you walked out to the parking lot, you could see a familiar white van parked towards the back and a familiar mess of shaggy, brown hair head-banging in the driver's seat. You smiled to yourself and shook your head- his music played so loud that you could hear it over the commotion of kids running to their busses, the hollering, and laughing.

Eddie smiled up at you as you stepped up to the passenger side and wiggled the door handle. "This is my favorite part!" He yelled through the closed door as an aggressive guitar riff began to blare through the tiny speakers, the whole van was vibrating.

"Unlock the door!" You called over the music as he played the entire guitar solo; his fingers flying through the air, strumming imaginary strings. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he concentrated on the notes, all you could do was laugh as you watched him. "Eddie!"

As the song came to an end, Eddie reached up to dial back the volume. Your eyebrows were raised as you gestured to the door, jiggling the handle a few more times before you heard the click of it unlocking. You tossed your bag in the floorboard and climbed up into the passenger seat, giving him a look.

"What?" He asked, completely oblivious.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?" You asked. "It's cold outside!"

He rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Sweetheart, did you not see that I was shredding?"

"Let's go, doofus!" You rolled your eyes with a smile as you buckled the seatbelt.

Eddie had asked weeks ago if you wanted to have a horror movie marathon with him this weekend. Three whole nights of scary movies, snacks, candy, and getting to hang out with your best friend- who could say no to that? You already had most of the supplies, but you had to make one last stop at Family Video to pick up the movies. There was a five-movie minimum per customer, so you thought it smart to go together in order to get ten different VHS tapes- which should last the whole weekend, but Eddie was sure that you were going to have to stop in for more movies before it was over.

"I can't not go, Robin, and you can't drive them." You heard Steve's voice as you pulled open the door to the video store, and gave him a head nod upon seeing him standing behind the counter, propped on his elbows as he wrapped the phone cord around his finger. "Actually," Steve continued. "Let me call you back."

"I hope they have a good selection," Eddie muttered as he stepped in behind you and made a bee-line to the horror section. Moments later he sighed heavily and you saw why when you joined him at his side; the shelves were almost empty, save for some pretty bad titles. "Why did we wait til the last minute again?"

"Because you were working," you reminded him.

"Right," Eddie sighed, picking up a couple of tapes, some you had never heard of before.

"You guys having a movie marathon tonight or something?" Steve asked as you made your way over to the children's section hoping to find something.

"We were hoping to," you said as your eyes glossed over a hundred different movie titles. "Ah! Ghostbusters!"

"Sweet!" You heard Eddie from across the store. "I found Poltergeist and Poltergeist 2!" You met Eddie at the checkout counter moments later with a couple of tapes, compared to the six or seven that he was able to find. "I also found Little Shop of Horrors!"

You grabbed the tape out of his hands and smiled before making a face, "Feed me Seymour! Feed me!" Eddie laughed.

Steve stood staring at the two of you for a moment. "You two are so weird." He commented. "Anyways, I have a favor to ask."

"Weird he says," Eddie looked over at you with a smirk playing on his lips. "Yet, favor he wants."

"I know that you guys have plans to watch whatever this is," Steve said as he picked up one of the tapes with a very bloody cover on it. "But what if you didn't do that?"

"What would we do, then?" You asked, your interest genuinely peaked.

"Take the kids trick or treating?" The look on his face was pleading. Both you and Eddie's faces fell. Not that taking the kids, who were almost too grown to go trick or treating anyways, but blood and gore sounded like a much more fun evening. "Look, I've got no one else to ask-" Steve added.

"You want to go pick out some more candy?" Eddie asked you.

"Duh," you replied.

"Please, guys, I'm all but on my hands and knees here." You heard Steve beg as you made your way over to the snack stand to pick up a few more items for your already giant collection of goodies.

Their voices became hushed and you knew that your movie marathon was about to be postponed, at least for a few hours, in order for you and Eddie to take the kids trick or treating. Eddie could never say no when it came to doing something for the party, he was just too kind and cared about those kids too much.

"Just make sure that you take them to Loch Nora," Steve added and you rolled your eyes as you walked back up to the counter. "They give out the full-size candy bars at that one house on the corner with the green door."

"Yeah yeah," Eddie replied. "Add these on there," he motioned to the candy. "Don't forget the friends and family discount, big boy."

"Don't drive like a maniac either, Munson, okay? Does your van even have seatbelts?" Steve asked.

"Yes, my van has seatbelts," Eddie replied. "Do you want me to take them or not, Harrington?"

Steve sighed, "Sorry, I just worry about them, you know? Dustin expects to be picked up at 7:00, don't be late. He'll give you shit about it for an entire week."

"Yes, mom." You laughed. "No late fees if these aren't back in time!"

"Ooh! Yeah!" Eddie exclaimed as he held the door open for you. You turned one last time to wave at your friend stuck behind the counter. "Add that to the list, too! No late fees til the end of the year!"

You climbed back up into Eddie's van and buckled yourself in. Eddie tossed the bag of VHS tapes in the back.

"So," you prodded. "What did we get in return for this venture?"

"Friends and family discount and, of course, thanks to your genius, no late fees until the end of the year. There was something else, but it's a surprise!"

"You know I love surprises!"

"Yeah, I know." He smiled.

At 7:00 you and Eddie pulled up outside of Dustin's house and honked the horn twice. Judging by the look on Dustin's face, Steve did not tell him about the change in plans and Dustin argued about it all the way to The Wheelers. To which Eddie mentioned that he was happy to take him back home.

He shut up then.

"Hell yeah!" Max beamed as she walked up to the van. "This is much better than Mr. Mom driving us!" You noticed Eddie's proud smile and couldn't help but smirk.

"You're okay with this?" Dustin asked with shock.

"Uh, yeah!" Mike replied. "Y/N and Eddie are so much cooler than Steve 'I'll-have-them-home-by-nine' Harrington."

The kids piled up in the back of Eddie's van and you were off to Loch Nora for full sized-candy bars. You and Eddie trailed behind as they ran up to every house with a porch light on, making your way through the vast neighborhood. Street after street, you walked, chewing on the candy that you had picked up at the video store; laughing at some of the more obscure costumes that you saw, Eddie jumping out from behind trees to scare the younger kids- he got Lucas really good after Max mentioned how easy he was to scare.

"Alright, I think we've bled this place dry!" Eddie mentioned as he got back into his van.

"Yeah, I think it's time to get you kiddos home!" You joked, but the kids thought you were being serious and whined.

"Come on!" Mike pleaded. "Don't be a lame douche!"

You raised your eyebrows and looked over at Eddie who was smirking. "Alright, alright!" He caved. "There's a real hoity-toity place over in Culver, but if I take you there, you cannot tell Harrington, alright? I don't want him gettin' any ideas, okay? You tell him you like hanging with us more and he'll be pushing you guys off on us every chance he gets. You assholes are cool and all, but-"

"Just shut up and drive, already!" Max yelled.

The Highlands, it was called. The houses were twice the size of the ones in Loch Nora, and every single porch light was on. There were cars lined up on each side of the street, and the decorations were insane. One person had a whole haunted maze in their yard. There was a man grilling hot dogs in his driveway- and he had a line.

"This place is amazing!" Dustin stammered, and he, Will, Mike, and Lucas took off through the sea of trick-or-treaters.

"Hey guys, can you try and stay close?" Eddie yelled, following behind them.

Max stayed back with you, rolling her eyes at the boys.

"How come you and Eddie aren't dating?" She asked out of nowhere. You stopped for a moment, taken off-guard, then turned to look at her. "I mean, you guys are always together and it's obvious he's like in love with you or something."

You laughed, almost snorting through your nose. "Eddie is not in love with me."

It was Max's turn to return the laugh, "Whatever you say," she mentioned as she ran off towards the other party members.

You stood still for a moment in the middle of the street. Was it really that obvious? So obvious, in fact, that you didn't even notice? Yeah, the kids always made little remarks, and you had heard Dustin and Mike teasing Eddie before about it, but you always shrugged it off. Eddie was your best and closest friend. He didn't love you as anything more than that.

Right?

"What's on your mind?" A voice pulled you out of your thoughts as you walked in almost a trance, weaving in and out of costumed children and teenagers.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You shrugged, looking down at your feet.

"Oh, nothing, my ass." He quipped. "Something's got you thinking."

You shrugged your shoulders again, kicking a small pebble around with your foot with each step. "It's just something that Max said."

Eddie stopped and then you stopped, turning to him and looking up into his deep brown eyes. "What did she say?" He asked, squinting.

"It's nothing, really."

"Tell me."

"Fine," you sighed. "She asked why we weren't dating and-"

"What?"

"She said that you were in love with me."

He sighed, "god damnit., Max."

"But you're not, though, right?"

"I was going to tell you tonight, actually." Eddie sighed again. "Then Harrington kind of delayed my plans." He was staring into your eyes so intently it felt as if he was trying to drown you with them. "You're the happiest part of my life, Y/N. When I'm not around you, it's like I'm being starved. All I want is to hang out with you, talk to you, talk about you. I don't even remember when it happened, it's just sort of always been that way." He had grabbed your hand, his thumb ran over your knuckles. "I understand if you don't feel the same way."

"You do?" You asked.

"Yeah!" He dropped your hand and waved his through the air.

"Well, I do." You said just as fast. "Feel the same way, I mean."

"You do?"

"I think it's always sort of been that way for me, too." You replied with a small smile.

Eddie stood towering over you, his fingers intertwining with yours. All you could focus on was the fact that his lips were inching closer and closer to yours until you felt the warmth of his breath; and when he placed his lips upon yours, all you could do was laugh. You felt Eddie smile against your lips before he pulled away.

"Sorry!" You were still smiling.

"No, it was definitely weird." He laughed.

"Let's try again?" You asked.

Eddie nodded before inching back towards your lips. His lips were warm against yours, soft, and gentle, and tasted like candy. He pulled you closer to him as his arms snaked around your waist.

"Ew, God!" You heard from behind you. It was Dustin.

"Get a room, that is so gross!" Mike chided.

"Finally," Lucas added.

"You owe me five dollars, Dustin." Max chimed.

"I think it's time to get you little shits home," you stated and Eddie nodded. "You've gotten enough candy to last you a year."

You dropped everyone off at The Wheeler's for their slumber party and left a couple of the D-list horror movies with them, as well, on the promise they wouldn't tell their parents- or Steve. Eddie drove you back to his trailer with his hand on your knee the entire time, and you chewed on your lip to keep yourself from smiling so hard that your cheeks cramped up.

Eddie made a bowl of popcorn and tossed you a king-sized Kit-Kat from the bag of candy you had been collecting. He snuggled in at your side and placed the popcorn on your lap.

"One more thing," he muttered as he dug into the Family Video bag. "I told you that I had a surprise for you. I saw it behind the counter being held for someone else, so I told Steve that we'd take the kids if he'd let me rent it." He placed your favorite horror movie in your hands and you smiled.

"You want to put it on now?" You asked.

"Yeah, we can, but I'll be honest I don't know how much of it we're actually going to watch."

He set the popcorn to the side and pulled you closer to him, placing a finger underneath your chin and bringing you to look up into his chocolate brown eyes, once more, before placing his lips on yours.

"Is it way too early for me to tell you that I love you?" He asked, his lips still within centimeters of yours. "Because I totally fucking love you."

"It's not too early when we've been wanting to say it for years," you suggested.

"Good," he smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too." You replied. "Now shut up and kiss me."

[joshslater]

Appointments

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I can understand why they don't trust people here, a lot of them are real criminals after all, but it still feels a bit humiliating to down the crushed pill and empty the entire glass of water while the nurse is watching. I have to show up fifteen minutes before the scheduled appointment to take the first drug, whatever it is, and then sit down and wait for it to take effect. The fifteen minutes doesn't even count towards the reserved time. It's three times a week, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, up to three hours each, for four months. That's the sentence to stay out of jail. Miss an appointment, straight to jail. Don't comply with the treatment, straight to jail. Still a pretty good deal. Nine hours per week I don't have any control over, or ten hours if you count this sitting and waiting bullshit, compared to all hours all the time in jail.

I have no idea what the pill is for. Some sort of sedative I'm sure, because I always feel a bit dull and agreeable after. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have followed all the doctor's instructions so readily if I wasn't drugged somehow, at least not the first few times. Now it is kind of a routine.

I show up, take the drug, and wait a bit. Then she shows up and asks me to join her in one of the procedure rooms. She tells me to remove my shoes, jeans, and underwear and place myself on the chair. It's not really a chair. It's like a Z-shaped thing where you place your legs on the padded lower bars so you are kneeling, and then bend forward so your upper body is flat with the top with your head looking down on the floor past the edge of the padded top surface.

She walks behind me and asks if I'm comfortable. Not really. It's demeaning to sit there and expose my ass to her, legs apart, but I guess that is the point of this therapy. How it will address my supposed anger issues is beyond me. Better than jail though. When I tell her I am she secures my hands down by my hip with straps and then proceeds to strap my legs in place by securing my ankles. She says it is for my own safety, so I don't fall off. It's probably bullshit, but she is right in it's not very secure, but tricky enough to wiggle out of. Not that I have tried. She then tips the entire thing forwards. I had a bit of a scare the first time and audibly gasped as I thought I was about to crash face first into the floor with arms and legs tied. Turned out it's just a secondary position of the thing, positioning my ass up in the air.

"Are you comfortable?" she asks again, every time. Again I say I am, strapped to chair, face almost touching the floor, my naked ass high and exposed. She then slowly inserts something into my asshole. It doesn't go that far in, but feels heavy and has some wires or tubes going to it that I can feel draping my leg. It enters easily. I don't know if it is the same device as the first time, but I wouldn't be surprised if they have been scaling up the size slowly. All I can do is look down the floor while she sets me up and then starts the machine.

Just before leaving the room there is a little pinch in the ass as she injects something in my butt cheek. Then she leaves, promising to be back once it has run its program, never explaining what "it" or "the program" is. The first minutes I feel nothing. Then there is movement, though different between appointments. It can expand in width, it can penetrate deeper, it can vibrate, it can rotate, it can change temperature. It often runs through a series of configurations.

I don't know which of the drugs, if any of them, is making me horny but it doesn't take long until I can hear the soft tapping of precum dripping into the metal tray at the bottom of the chair. It's pointless to try to stay alert. You're stuck in the chair for hours with nothing else than looking at the floor and listening to the hum of the machine and the drip of body fluids. You can just as well close your eyes and let yourself drift away in machine-induced bliss.

It's affecting me for sure. The Monday session is the one I'm craving the most. I start getting anxious already Sunday afternoon, feeling like something is missing. So far I've resisted the temptation to buy a vibrator and explore my ass on my own time, but there is little else I can think of on Mondays before the appointment.

It always feels like no time at all has passed, certainly like too little time has passed, when she comes back into the room and gloves up. I'm just zoned out like a stoner and sometimes don't notice her until she removes the thing from my ass. She then proceeds to unlock the dick cage from my dick and balls. Given my horny bliss the dick will shoot up like a bamboo rod. She has some sort of wand that feels pretty thin that she then puts into the ass right up to the prostate. It never takes many seconds of vibrations for me to shoot a load. It feels like they are bigger than ever before. I'm certainly pulsing more times than before, like 6-10 ropes.

She then washes my butt, dick, and balls, and massage them with some sort of cream. Perhaps different ones. Then she picks up a new, probably sterilized, dick cage and locks everything up. She tilts the chair back up again and asks if everything is OK before undoing the straps holding me in place. I answer that everything is OK, but that really undersells it. I'm like a stoner in a post-orgasm haze for at least ten minutes. Then she reminds me to put on my underwear, pants, and shoes before leaving and reminds me of the next appointment two or three days later.

"You're next," she tells me from the other side of the waiting room, interrupting my read of top sexiest men on Love Island list from Cosmopolitan. The selection of magazines is rather limited. "Afternoon," I reply, putting away the magazines and walking towards the door.

"How was the weekend?" "Hot, as you well know. I didn't do much." I don't tell her I was spending all of Sunday considering pushing blunt objects up my ass to relieve myself. "It doesn't invite to activities, does it? Go ahead and make yourself comfortable."

In a now well-practiced routine I kick off my shoes, take off my jeans, fold them and place them on the chair just inside the door, remove my boxers, and put them on top of the jeans. Then I kneel in place on the procedure chair and give my dick cage a quick jiggle. Nothing worse than being strapped to some medical equipment and having your scrotum pinched. Then I bend forward over the shelf, and position my arms back, along the sides of my body.

As always before the doctor secures my arms and legs, and tips the entire contraption forward.

"Are you comfortable like this?" "Yes."

She then deviates from normal procedure by wiping down my ass with some sort of wet wipes and then inserts the automatic douche. I can feel liquid being pushed in and sucked out of my ass a few times, after which she removes the equipment and leaves the room. I'm starting to become anxious. This is the longest I've been in two months without anything vibrating in my ass. I try to flex my butt cheeks to no success.

After way too long someone enters the room again. "Good afternoon, I'm James." I can only move my head a little and can't see much more than a pair of sneakers and the lower part of sweatpants.

"Hi."

He rifles through some papers.

"I understand you've been under this treatment for two months now, correct?" "Yes." The whole thing feels absurd. Whoever this dude is, he's talking to my exposed ass. "So you now have a fully developed prostate massage addiction?" "What? No!" "No? So, you would prefer to be released and go home now?"

No, I need my treatment, but that is totally different.

"No. You have to do what you normally do." "You want me to massage your prostate?" "Yes! Or whatever is normally done."

I can hear the snap of a rubber glove and within seconds a finger is with ease pushing into my ass. He is probing around carefully and deliberately. I want to move my butt to get it deeper, to have it flick across my prostate, but I'm too tied down. He fumbles around like that for minutes.

"You need to get in deeper," I say almost desperately. "I'm sorry my fingers are only so long," he says, continuing with his ineffectual rummaging. And after a few seconds, like he was carefully considering it, "My dick is longer, though. I can use that if you like." "Funny," I say, dismissing his joke.

While he continues doing what I must now assume to be deliberately the wrong thing, the thought continues to linger in my mind. Would it really be a big difference between having another man's fingers or his dick up my ass. Yes! Yes, I decide. But why? This is covered by patient confidentiality, right? HIPPA or HIIPA or HIPAA or whatever. No one has to know.

"What if you did?" "What if I did what?" He was forcing me to say it. "What if you did use your dick instead?" "Would you like me to?"

He must be right. I must be addicted to prostate massage. Why the fuck that happened is a later question. I feel like a soda bottle being lazily shaken by someone. I need to be unscrewed.

"Yes. Yes!"

He pulls out his finger and I can hear the sound of latex, him fiddling with his pants, and then without warning feel something thick and warm moving up inside me. I have a slight shiver as it moves past my prostate and further in. It sure is longer than his fingers all right. I can feel the warmth of his body as it touches against my butt cheeks when he finally gets balls deep. He stops there, leans over me, and asks "Are you comfortable like this?"

"Yes," I say automatically before realizing I really am.

[cloudywriter]

vanilla pudding cups - 4

~~~

A/N: hey! sorry it has been a hot second i just got really busy with school but i’m still writing when i have the time i promise. also i did get more prompt requests and i’m working on them, if you have anymore feel free to send them my way! anyway, enjoy.

vanilla pudding cups masterlist, my masterlist, AO3

~~~

God, he’s stupid hot Feyre deemed one early Monday morning as she sat across from the boy in question, doodling aimlessly in her sketchbook. She was stretched across a poorly cushioned dark blue chair, her back against one armrest and her legs dangling off the other.

They were both lounging in the common area nestled in their hall between a few rooms for long term patients usually suffering from some form of cancer or other terminal disease. The rooms were almost always empty which Feyre knew was a positive thing but it did get lonely. She was so often isolated, only the occasional patient coming and going, not that they were usually in her age group anyway. 

But to have someone here who appears to be around her age with a similar diagnosis to her own and a boy, nonetheless, it was almost fate. Still, whenever Feyre embarked down that train of thought she would always stop herself, she should not be happy in the slightest that another human being is here to suffer as she is. At least while he was here though, she wanted to get to know him, she was deprived of relationships in her life. Her sisters were away at college now and Lucien was starting his freshman year at university as well. Feyre had been left behind, her diagnosis came late sophomore year and she had barely managed to graduate high school with her extensive hospital stays and endless treatments that left her feeling halfway to the grave. With her oncologists wanting her to take up residence in the hospital and her cancer yet to have much of a response to her treatments trying to attend college would’ve been a futile feat. 

Here he was sitting in the same less than comfortable blue chair right across from her yet Feyre couldn’t bring herself to speak up. She kept telling herself she just didn’t want to interrupt his reading but really she wasn’t sure what to even say especially when the first thing she’d said to him was are you dying too. Why she had blurted that out of all things was beyond her. 

Instead, she let silence continue to fill the space between them. Her pencil moved across the page in short, quick strokes the form of the boy in front of her taking shape in the corner of her paper. She outlined his sitting stance, his legs spread, his upper body leaning back into the chair, his elbows on the armrests, one arm raised a finger resting against his temple, and the other holding his book out in front of him. Feyre only messily sketched his silhouette before moving her pencil to another part of the page and zoning in on his face.

She drew his face as it was contorted in concentration, his dark brows slightly furrowed and his lips were set in a straight, serious line. Feyre thought he would look rather intimidating if it weren’t for his eyes, they weren’t hard like the rest of his face, they were still soft just quizzical, accessing and a brazen blue contrasting with his bronze complexion and midnight black locks. 

So she let herself sketch him, the artist in her appreciating the structure of his face and the color in his palette. She carried on with her quick depictions of him around her page at one point drawing only the hand that held his book, he did have nice hands she thought. 

When she was satisfied with her collection of doodles she stuck her pencil behind her ear, an old habit, and opened her mouth to finally speak. Of course, at that exact moment Alis breezed into the common area with a tray of pudding cups, jello cups, and packets of plastic utensils in her hands. 

“Do either of you want a little snack? Jello? Pudding?” Alis offered, holding up the tray. 

Rhysand looked up from his book towards Alis but the idea of a snack was what was on Feyre’s mind right now, not Rhysand anymore.

“Do you have vanilla pudding?” Feyre asked. Alis sighed. “No, someone is always eating them all up,” she informed Feyre, putting emphasis on the someone. “I can give you jello though or chocolate pudding.”

Feyre wrinkled her nose, not a fan of either option especially jello. Alis knew this and turned to Rhysand instead, lifting the tray in question.

But Rhysand turned his attention to Feyre, noting her reaction to the idea of eating jello. “You don’t like jello?” 

“No, horrible texture,” Feyre answered, taking the pencil from behind her ear and putting it back to her page, adding random shading to her sketches. 

“Well, I would love a green jello cup,” Rhysand declared. Alis plucked the jello from her tray and handed it over.

Feyre’s face must have morphed showing her obvious disgust because Rhysand looked back at her with a smile. 

“What?”

“It’s one thing to willingly choose to eat jello but it's a whole other thing to then proceed to pick the worse flavor to eat too,” Feyre pointed out.

“Says the girl who likes vanilla pudding over chocolate,” Rhys scoffed. 

“Do you have something against vanilla pudding?”

“Yeah, it tastes like plastic.”

Feyre shrugged, “maybe a little.”

Rhysand gave her a smile, it wasn’t a big smile but it was enough to get Feyre’s heart to do a double take. “So you admit to enjoying the taste of plastic?”

“As long as it has a hint of vanilla of course,” Feyre clarified. 

“Hm, plastic with a hint of vanilla, noted.”

Alis had shown herself out at some point in their small exchange leaving Rhys with his jello cup. 

“I didn’t get a spoon,” Rhys commented. 

Feyre raised an eyebrow, eyes still on her paper as she continued her shading. “Slurp it up, I won’t judge.”

“Do you promise?” Feyre met Rhysand’s eyes, amusement sparkling in them. 

“I promise,” Feyre held out her pinky. 

Rhys ripped the top off the cup and extended his pinky wrapping it around Feyre’s own, her hands dwarfed compared to his. “Alright,” he said coolly. 

Feyre felt the slightest of blushes rising in her cheeks. Rhysand leaned back in his chair and tipped his head back.

“God, that is too gross.” 

“It’s good though,” Rhysand responded. 

Feyre let loose a little smile and shook her head, focusing her attention back onto her drawings. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Rhys asked, extending the jello cup forward and jiggling it the green gelatin wiggling in turn. 

“I’m sure but thank you for the kind offer,” Feyre reiterated, her voice filled with sarcasm. 

At some point Feyre had retired to her room giving up on the prospect of having a real conversation with Rhysand for the day. It was only later that night there was a soft knock on her door, Feyre slid off her bed and opened the door a crack. The hall was empty. 

She was about to close her door again convinced her mind was playing tricks on her but she noticed the red top of a pudding cup down by her feet. Just outside her door a vanilla pudding cup had been left. 

She smiled and reached down, taking the cup from the floor. Alis must’ve left it she determined. 

~~~

taglist: @booksofthemoon @awkward-avocado-s @courtofjurdan @ahappyhistorianreader @stardelia

~~~

[ourladytamara]

Monster of the Week

Tamara 5/24/2021 - @_ourladytamara

cws: Demon grossness, animal dongs, vomit, chastity

The Marchioness – your Owner – was a Demon of refined tastes. Hellsilk throw pillows, decadent curtains, and extravagant, chiseled stone walls made up the sprawling complex that was her clique’s manor. Tapestries hung from opulent arched ceilings and ribbed migmatite reliefs; no expense was spared, no matter the cost in coin or lives.

Physical luxuries, however, paled in comparison to the luxury of choice, and the Marchioness was a woman who reveled in choice. A choice of company, a choice of flesh, a choice of food and drink – choice was indeed a luxury seldom experienced in Hell.

While the other slaves in her harem were subject to the same cruelties, she seemed to revel in hurting you the most. At the beginning of every week, she made you select four of her multitudinous archiorganic cocks from the imperious mahogany cabinet at the end of her circular bed. They were truly bizarre things, unsettling even after your nine months already spent captive to the Marchioness’s will. Each one varied in length, but none shorter than ten inches. A variety of heads and shafts, knotted and unknotted, sheathed and unsheathed, each hung delicately from a pair of sinew-pink looped straps. Each primary shaft flowed organically into a knobby, fleshy protrusion, upon which sat two similarly-shaped cocks. These, with the straps, secured it tightly inside the Marchioness’s well-trained orifices.

Less trained than yours, perhaps – unfortunately for you.

You scoot into her bedchamber on your knees, as she’d instructed you each time. Mycelial shag carpeting scrapes your knees. In your mouth are the straps of four dildos, as requested.

“Ah, a delightful selection, 177!” coos your Owner, clapping her clawed hands giddily. “You’re truly beginning to excel in your craft.”

You curtsy as instructed.

“Bring them here.”

With a tiny nod, you continue scooting across the floor. Each cock jiggles obscenely with your motions, adding to the burning embarrassment scorching your cheeks. They’re her favorites – a long, knotted canid one, a stout and limblike extension the color of charred meat, (your least favorite,) a thick equine specimen with a fleshy sheathe, and a bizarre, overly-long member that made you queasy with its superfluous human resemblance.

She takes the four floppy lengths from your mouth and holds them in her lap, one by one; she picks up the canid one and gives it a curious stroke; it flexes realistically at her touch.

“Mmm, this one is rather gut-churning, I agree – but it’s so slender!” she remarks, wrapping a fist around the knotted length and stroking a thick jet of cum out of it. “Mmm – and such a quick shot, too.”

She tosses it aside onto a pillow, grabbing the can-thick one. “Ahh, wonderful girth,” she whispers, struggling to so much as wrap a full hand around the twitching thing, “and such delightful corpselike stillness!”

You stifle a retch. Thankfully, as if the universe heard your muffled pleas, she tosses it aside as well.

“But it’s not enough – my tastes have been gravitating towards the depth end of the scale...”

That was never a good sign.

She grabs the long, equine one with a curious hand. You’ve yet to see a proper Demonic cock up close and personal, but from what she’s told you, they’re rather similar to the undulating length of meat in the Marchioness’s grip. A broad, flared tip, shaft entirely covered in thick veins that run into an even-thicker urethra, all terminating in a fleshy sheath and pendulous, vascular balls swizzling with overactive sperm.

“Mmmmh, this is much more like it.” she says, smiling and dragging her forked tongue across it and eliciting a twitch. She giggles. “Goodness, I’d almost say you’re jealous, 177!”

It was a bit difficult not to stare at it. The pulsation along each vein, the scent and the heat wafting off of it even unattached to her Anguish-generating cunt; your own length twitches in your cage. Others in the harem whispered of the mind-dulling effects of long-term exposure to Demonic pheromones – best to just ignore it, though.

“But for a lovely, eager little thing like you, 177, I find the Da’ai cock far too… civilized. I think you’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

That was really not a good sign.

“So… refined. A thick, fertile shaft is the sign of a powerful leader – but what powerful leader would waste their time fucking animals? I’m the strange one – and even I would find it cruel to waste such glorious flesh on you!”

Your cock twitches again. She tosses away the Demonic dildo, letting it land on the bed with a meaty thud – and finally draws her hand to the final, humanesque cock.

“Mmm – but this one is much more like it,” she says, giving it a cursory stroke, “so… primal.”

It’s a long, jaundice-olive member. The tip is small, acorn-sized head poking out from beneath a layer of thick foreskin. Veins thicker than any you’d seen on a human ran down the length, interspersed with bizarre fleshy nodules that made the whole thing look more like a sex toy than a living organ – if sex toys were composed of disturbingly-realistic flesh and blood. A neat, organized bush of wiry, artificial-looking pubic hair dotted an extra nodule of flesh at the end of the shaft, eliciting a disturbed shiver from your Owner as she ran a finger through it.

“Hair! Disgusting, wiry, animal hair – the boundless repulsiveness of the human form is so alluring!” she hisses, wiggling the uncanny thing in her grip. “By the Imperatrix, it reminds me of when I’d first taken you in – ohhhhh, how you were covered in the stuff…”

The rest of your body twitches – you didn’t like remembering the hair removal process.

“It’s perfect for you.”

Without a further word, your Owner rears up on her knees, striking a pose similar to your own. Panic is already welling in your gut – the thing’s easily a foot and a half long, knobby and dripping in her hands. You lower your back to the ground and assume the position, like you’d done countless times before. The Marchioness spreads her legs, stretching the knobby mini-cocks on the upwards-facing protrusion; she strokes them gingerly with her fingers for a moment before spreading her cunt and shoving it in.

She flexes her back and moans. “Imperatrix Almighty! Fuck, it’s been a while since I’ve used you, hasn’t it?” she gasps, slowly shoving it deeper and deeper into her holes. Slick runs down her legs and coats the bottom of the dildo’s taut-looking balls. With a groan, she steps forward and off the bed, pulling the sinewy straps up and around her legs and plush thighs. She snaps them taut with a satisfying sound.

“Hf, fuck, it’s… quite good at filling me. I’m sure it’ll be much worse for you, though, 177,” she teases once again, now looming over you. You can practically taste her cunt on the hot air. “which is, of course, why I picked you.”

You nod as if you didn’t already know that as she grabs you by the… neck? Oh no.

With completely uncaring and forceful motions she cocks your head up towards her and slams the tip of the dildo into your mouth. Instantly the taste of Demonic fluids fill your mouth, the attachment clearly made by someone without much knowledge of human anatomy; precum, thick like sweet liqueur but with a taste vile beyond words. It pops and swizzles on every surface like carbonated sin. It’s impossible to swallow with the cock in your mouth – and even harder with how hard your Owner is currently slamming against your uvula.

You retch. She evidently feels the resistance in your throat and pulls out; behind her cock comes a torrent of red-orange vomit. This clearly throws her off harder than you threw it up.

“Ugh! Fucking stupid animal – can’t even take your own kind’s disgusting dick without retching!” she ejects, shaking the puke off of her hand – but the boiling rage behind her six red eyes begins to simmer. You sit in the position, trembling and sweating before her.

“I suppose you’ll just have to clean it off, then – and give the other three some extra attention to ensure they stay just as spotless.”

It was going to be a long, long Monday.

[rohad93]

Authority Online: Ch 3

She was losing her mind, slowly but surely. That had to be the only explanation for today. 

Jaune sighed and rubbed at her temples when her final meeting with clients for the day ended and he left her office, though not without her practically telling him to get out. 

This was why she almost never took divorce cases and focused on corporate law. She got exceptionally tired of explaining to people that yes, their infidelities violated the infidelity clauses in their prenups and no, she didn’t care that it was only because their spouses wouldn’t sleep with them anymore or that getting a divorce would be too costly.

There was a knock on her office door and Jaune grumbled an affirmative, allowing Daisy to step into the room, closing the door behind her. 

“Mr. Otis wanted to schedule another appointment on his way out…” She started and Jaune held up a hand.

“Send him the usual email, I’m not taking new clients at this time. I’m not going to waste my time trying to help him fight his prenup when his soon to be ex-wife has video evidence of him breaking it, several times...” she grumbled, tossing his paperwork into her ‘shred’ pile. Daisy nodded and started furiously tapping at her tablet screen. 

She spun around in her chair to look out the massive floor to ceiling windows that commandeered one entire side of her office. Summer was fast approaching and the days were growing long, lighting up her office with bright sunlight for most of the day, and when she wasn’t a massive ball of stress she enjoyed the warm light that cascaded through the clear glass panes, warming her skin. 

Today, however, it hurt her eyes.

Jaune pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping to release the tension building behind her eyes. It had been a little more than a typical Monday, people running around the office like they didn’t know what they were supposed to be doing, phones ringing incessantly and if one more paralegal wandered into her office...  

At least one of the legal secretary’s looked hungover and another had a poorly covered up black eye and security had to be called into one office where a divorcing couple had come to blows right in front of their lawyers.

She adamantly refused to deal with any of it today. 

She locked herself in her office with a much to finite supply of coffee and her computer and tried to ignore everyone else in the office as she responded to a mass of emails and several long conference calls that should have been emails... 

There were still a couple hours left in the workday but having kept hunkered down in her office with her head down there was very little left for her to do for once, but she wasn’t going to leave her office if she could help it. Though in this instance it was like being in the eye of a storm. 

It was quiet and calm but she knew damn well that the minute she stepped out of the room she would be bombarded with a litany of things that needed her attention. 

Scratch that, things that needed the attention of someone with competence, something that seemed to be in short supply today, and her PA could only mitigate one disaster at a time in her stead.

She swiveled back around to her desk and sighed, looking at the last portfolio that needed her attention today. 

It wasn’t going anywhere. She turned to her laptop and took the moment to switch to her personal email and saw several messages waiting for her. She opened the first one to find an automatically generated email from ‘The Authority’.

Honestly, she had nearly forgotten about that already. 

Probably because after their talk she hadn’t heard from her mother for the rest of the weekend. 

She clicked it and scanned the basic welcome email before trashing it and moving on to the next.

‘You have messages waiting!’ 

A dark blond brow hiked up at that.

That… was surprising. 

Jaune didn’t think she was unattractive, but she knew that she gave off a rather intimidating air. 

Besides being a lawyer and all the stoic aspects of her personality that seemed to go along with that, was also the fact that barefoot she stood above most people at 6’ 1’’.  

Though it would be a lie to say she didn’t benefit from that in court more often than not. She had figured out long ago that most men were easily intimidated by that. It was fairly useful in certain situations to be able to well and truly loom over most people in her heels. 

The downside, of course, being that most women were also a little put off by her height.  

She clicked the link and it pulled up the site and her PM’s. 

There were four unopened messages and she scanned the shortlist for a moment, eyes settling on the first message and next to the sender, rather than a real name was a screen name.

“GottaxGetxThatxGucci” 

She deleted it without even opening it. 

The next had an actual name and she clicked it. 

“Hi, I took the liberty of doing your chart and since you’re a Capricorn, I think we could really have something. Have you ever tried sunrise Yoga?”   

Eyebrows furrowed further and further together as she read the message a second time., squinting at the screen.

“What?” She mumbled, cocking her head.  

She didn’t scrutinize over it for too long before hitting the delete button and moving on, though now with more trepidation than before at what the last two messages might hold. 

Looking at the sender she squinted at the man’s name staring back at her, and not one that could double as a woman’s name. Her curiosity got the better of her and she clicked it. 

“Hey, I was looking at your profile and saw that you identify as agnostic/lesbian, have you ever considered looking for the right congregation? I would be happy to help you find one that’s right for you and help you learn to embrace God and his plan for all women. :)”

Jaune steepled her fingers in front of her and breathed heavily through her nose, the tension behind her eyes starting to throb the longer she looked at the screen. She stood abruptly and marched over to the windows, hands clasped behind her back and staring out the glass at the sprawling city around her before closing her eyes letting out a long, hard breath.

‘Count down from ten…’ 

There was a brief knock on the office door before Daisy let herself in, tablet at her side.

“Ms. Roche…,” she started before seeing her boss standing at the windows, back straight as a rod and shoulders bunched up almost to her ears. “...Is this a bad time?” She shifted from foot to foot, clutching her tablet to her chest.

“No…. what is it, Daisy?” The exasperated tone was clear. She turned around to look at her assistant, despite the less than thrilled expression on her face as she walked back over to her desk and sat down in the black, leather, high backed chair. 

Amber eyes flickered to her laptop screen and quick as lightning, deftly smacked the top down, closing it before looking back up at her expectantly. 

Daisy cleared her throat and stepped into the room propper.

"These finished contracts were just delivered…

~ ~ ~ ~

Celeste was starting to have serious doubts about online dating.

She didn’t care how the site promoted itself as being for ‘Adult professionals’ It may as well have been Tinder with the number of messages she had gotten in two days that fell under one of three categories:

Hookups/nudes

Threesomes with other couples

Finally, men who were convinced they could ‘change her mind’  

She frowned as she kneaded dough, perhaps a bit harder than was necessary if the way the table jiggled was any indication. 

She sighed and dropped the thoroughly abused ball of dough into a bowl before wiping her hands off on her apron. 

She’d sent a few messages herself and while most conversation’s started off normally enough they quickly devolved into sometimes strange and usually inappropriate territory.  

She shook her head, trying to put the strangeness from the weekend behind her.

The bells attached to the door at the front of the shop chimed merrily but instead of Sky quietly greeting the customer she heard the slapping of flip-flops on the wood floors and her mood instantly brightened as she turned to kitchen’s entrance just in time for her nephew to come skidding into view.

“Hi, Aunt Celeste!” He wrapped his arms around her in a tight squeeze, making her smile even brighter.

“Hello to you as well, Steven.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid a kiss to the crown of his head. “How, was school, love?” she asked, helping him pull the cheeseburger shaped backpack off his shoulders.

“Great, I got a new book to read!” He grinned up at her, showing off a new gap in his smile.

“What happened to your tooth?!” she knelt down and prodded at the boy’s face with gentle fingers and wide, horrified eyes. Her accent thickened with her panicked words and Steven wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said as he looked at her quizzically while she gently held his chin in one hand and moved his lip with the other. 

“He wiggled it till it fell right out of his mouth at school,” Rose said as she walked into the back, her own bag slung over her shoulder. “It was just a baby tooth,” she chuckled. 

“Yeah! I’m gonna leave it for the tooth fairy tonight.” He smiled up at her.

“Why don’t you go show your dad?” Rose suggested and Steven nodded enthusiastically before disappearing up the stairs.

“How was school for you?” She turned to Rose after the boy had vanished. 

She shrugged and slid her bag off her shoulder and set it on the floor before hopping up to sit on the empty counter in front of Celeste’s workstation.

“Another day with a class of kindergartners,” she smiled. “You either end up cleaning up vomit or you don’t,” she laughed at the face Celeste was making. 

“So, how did it go this weekend? Set up any dates?” she asked, trying to suppress any giddiness she felt. She’d been dying to know ever since she’d left her sister’s apartment Saturday night.

“Not hardly,” Celeste scoffed, pulling a tray of hot cookies out of the oven and setting them on the counter.

“Why not?” Rose whined, slapping her palms on the granite counter-top. 

Celeste glanced at her over her shoulder and sighed before walking across the room where her laptop was sitting open to several orders they were working on. She opened a new tab and quickly opened up the dating site and her inbox before walking over and handing the device to her sister before going back to work.

“Just look at those.” 

Rose opened up the first exchange and giggled to herself.

“Ok, I’ve seen worse, but yes, this is a little strange,” she admitted. “When I’m not at work I spend a lot of time thinking about Antarctica, do you?” she read the message aloud with a snort.

“That is one of the more mild ones,” she acquiesced.  “Keep going…” she suggested ominously. 

“Okay, this one started all good, until she asked you how often you masturbate…” Rose cocked a brow. “I notice that you answered… how often is ‘occasionally’ by the way?” she teased, watching her sister’s face turn three shades darker.

“Answering that was a mistake, she became much more invasive after…,” Celeste mumbled. The question had shocked her and she’d answered more out of surprise than anything. 

“I can see that…”  Rose’s eyebrows were slowly rising into her hairline as she read more of the rather personal and invasive messages she’d received. “Let’s… move on…,” she mumbled. 

“The rest is rather mundane, but dead ends, nonetheless.”

“A lot of couples wanting a third…,” Rose hummed, scrolling through the inbox. “Oh, let’s not forget men who think they can turn you!” Rose looked up over the screen with a sneer. 

“I know…” Celeste rolled her eyes. 

Rose hummed to herself as she looked at the profiles of people that Celeste had started conversations with. 

“You need to aim higher,” she concluded.

“What exactly does that mean?” Celeste glanced at her over her shoulder as she scooped a new batch of cookies onto a tray.

“I mean, no offense to this woman who manages a McDonalds, if people want a service someone has to provide it, but you’re…” she flung out her hands searching for the right word. “...an actual professional, you have a business management degree and have your own store, you need someone whose business attire doesn’t include a paper hat and non slip shoes.” 

Celeste just rolled her eyes.

“Let’s see if we can find you a sexy doctor…” she said, scrolling through the list of profiles that popped up with her sister’s search parameters. 

“I didn’t realize ‘Sexy Doctor’ was a job title.” She turned around to smirk at her sister.

“It’s a specialty, it requires one more year of school,” she snarked right back, sticking out her tongue. 

“Are you certain you’re the one teaching the kindergartners?” she teased.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, scrolling through the different profiles.

“I want someone whose company I enjoy.” She stepped over and plucked the laptop from her sister’s fast scrolling hands. “Someone I have things in common with or can have real conversations with. I’m not concerned about their paycheck and honestly, I’m surprised you are considering when you met your husband he was living in his van,” she pointed out, setting the computer down on the other side of the kitchen, away from Rose.

“Yeah, well… I was a student with no money and he at least had a van,” she laughed, looking at some fixed point in the kitchen and smiling fondly to herself before looking back at Celeste. “I just don’t want someone to take advantage of you…”

“Don’t worry about me, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself,” she assured. 

~ ~ ~

Once she’d cleaned up from dinner she curled up on her couch in her favorite white cotton shorts and a sapphire blue tank top, laptop balanced on the arm of the couch as she deleted all the old messages. 

Her sister was well-meaning but didn’t have the first clue what Celeste found ‘sexy’. 

She hummed to herself as she scrolled through some profiles. 

Confidence was probably at the top of the list. Perhaps it sounded cliche but there was just something unquestionably attractive about someone who was… sure of themselves, didn’t let other’s opinions diminish their value of themselves. 

Something she strove for in herself, but she’d always been a little sensitive. It was a work in progress. 

She’d also learned the hard way before that it could be difficult to distinguish between confidence and arrogance, and even harder still to determine it through an online dating profile. 

She was mindlessly scrolling through the profiles when a flash of yellow caught her eye and she scrolled back up to look at a profile.

The profile photo was of a woman in a dark gray suit with a white dress shirt, her short yellow-blonde hair was combed in a neat wave atop her head and she had the sharpest features Celeste had ever seen. Cheekbones to nose were all steep angles and points, as was her jaw.

She was rather striking really. 

She tapped the icon to pull up her profile, skimming the bio.

Jaune Roche

She was only two years older than herself and lived in the city.

‘’Oh my… tall,” she mumbled to herself, finding height.

There were a few tidbits in her bio, she was a lawyer, which she could admit was impressive, other than that there wasn’t much to go off of but one thing did stick out to her. She attended Delmarva Law school. 

Most people that attended got their bachelor’s from Delmarva University since the schools were connected.

That was where Celeste had gotten her degree.

She could have been wrong of course but it seemed as good a place as any to start. 

Her hand hovered over the trackpad before tapping the little letter icon beneath her photo, opening a blank text field. 

She typed out a message and hit send before switching tabs back to some orders that had been placed over the course of the day.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Jaune sat in bed, laptop sitting across her thighs as she read through some emails, just trying to forget that most of today had even happened.

Daisy must have sensed her foul mood when she dropped off those contracts because she had immediately delivered a fresh cup of coffee and then made herself scarce after that.   

She sighed to herself. If it wasn’t her mother getting her blood pressure up with surprise blind dates then she was doing it to herself, subjecting herself to strangers online with less common sense then most rocks had. 

She was typing out some notes to herself when something dinged. She scanned the open tabs and saw the little red circle with a ‘1’ in it on one tab.

Clicking it, The Authority page opened, showing she had one new unread message. She pursed her lips, she had had just about all she could handle of this website. Steeling herself she didn’t even look at the sender, she just opened the message. 

“I saw in your bio that you went to Delmarva for law, did you go to DU before that?”

She blinked at the actually normal question in surprise.

She glanced up at the sender.

‘Celestine’

She hummed and hit reply, typing out a response and hitting send. Once it was gone she clicked the profile and the first picture was of a woman about her age, smiling at the camera in a dark blue dress that hugged all her cures and long silvery hair that framed a soft oval face and a pair of brilliantly blue eyes. 

‘Oh...’

~ ~ ~ ~

Celeste hummed as she jotted some notes down on a sticky note for a cake order when her laptop dinged

A new message.

She switched tabs

“Oh…” She had a reply. 

“I did attend DU for most of the time it took me to get my bachelors in legal studies, though I had to transfer and finish my last semester at Empire City State.”

She quickly typed out a reply.

~ ~ ~ ~

Jaune was still looking over Celestine’s profile when the page alerted her to a new message. She quickly opened it. 

“I thought you might have. Why did you transfer, if you don’t mind me asking?”  

Jaune tapped her fingers on the keyboard, typing out enough but without adding any names that may come back to bite her.

~ ~ ~ ~

“I needed a class that only one professor taught and we had a fundamental… difference of opinion.”

Celeste bit her lip, remembering a class she had taken only because she had to and that professor had been the only one to teach it.  

 ~ ~ ~ 

“It wasn’t Professor Beryl’s Ethics class was it?”

Jaune blinked at the question.

~ ~ ~ 

“How did you know?

Celeste smiled ruefully as she explained that she had to take his class as well for her degree in business management and only realized what a chauvinistic pig he was after it was too late to drop or transfer. 

~ ~ ~ ~

Jaune snorted at the apt description of the man she had nearly had a screaming match with in the middle of the quad with several dozen other students watching. 

She told the other woman as much, it was a matter of public record all things considered. In fact, it was probably floating around the internet right at that moment. Her shouting at him that he...

~ ~ ~

Celeste giggled to herself. She would have loved to see someone tell the old blowhard of an  academic that he ‘knew as much about ethics as she knew about rocket science.’ 

A second message appeared only a minute after the first.

“Your degree is in business management, what do you do?

Celeste smiled as she typed.

~ ~ ~ ~

Jaune didn’t even bother switching tabs anymore, it only took Celestine a minute before she replied.

“I own my own bakery in the market district…”

~ ~ ~ 

They continued to exchange messages and little anecdotes till Celeste happened to catch sight of a clock and jerked forward.

“12:07 am” 

“Shit, I have to be up in three and a half hours!” She closed the laptop and began putting everything away and turned off the bedside lamp. 

~ ~ ~

After a few minutes with no response, Jaune glanced at the clock and realized herself how late it was, perhaps she could pick this back up tomorrow. They had been so engrossed in conversation that four hours had passed in the blink of an eye. 

Closing the device she shuffled beneath the sheets and hit the light, casting her room in darkness.

[rawiswhore]

Brian Pillman/Dean Ambrose x Fem Reader- “Comfortably Numb”

Something I’m posting for Dean’s birthday today...

You can either read about Dean or Brian Pillman in this fic, though I bet you all will choose Dean...

________________________________________________________________

Forget that Internet meme of some dorky ginger kid who looks like he might have Down's syndrome, Brian Pillman Sr. is the REAL epitome of Bad Luck Brian.

Hell, he was probably the original Bad Luck Brian!

When Brian Pillman was a baby, his father had died, and if that's not bad enough, before Pillman was even 3 years old, he had throat cancer and had to undergo 36 throat operations before he even started his first day of school.

That's why his voice sounded so hoarse and raspy.

If it's Dean Ambrose you want (which is what I bet 100% is what you'll choose)...

Dean Ambrose has so many similarities between 1990's wrestler Brian Pillman.

Not only do they look alike, they both play ticking timebomb nutcases in the WWF (which is now known as the WWE) and they were born in Cincinnati, Ohio, but Dean had a troubled childhood, so did Brian.

Granted, Dean's childhood was nowhere near as awful as Brian's, especially Brian's early childhood, but...

After all that Brian/Dean have been through, you want to comfort him.

One night circa 1997, a month before Brian passed away, you were sharing a bed with him in a motel room, you were snuggled and cuddled up right next to him, your body slightly pressing on his.

You were curled up right next to him, as if the two of you had just had sex, the two of you were also both sharing a blanket that went up to your stomachs.

Your hand was caressing up and down Brian's bare chest, Brian's arm was wrapped around your back, holding onto you and pulling you in.

Your head was resting on one of Brian's shoulders like it was a pillow.

"I feel so sorry for you" you confessed "Your father died when you were still a baby, you had throat cancer and had to have 36 throat operations before you were even 3 years old!"

When Dean was at the height of his WWE popularity, before he grew some facial hair, you were sharing a bed with him in a Holiday Inn bedroom, you were snuggled up next to him, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

His arm was wrapped around and behind your back, the two of you were sharing a thin white blanket and a thick white comforter that went up to your stomachs.

Your hand was caressing up and down Dean's bare chest.

The light was luckily turned on, so you could view Brian/Dean's body and he could see what's going on.

Brian/Dean didn't have a match tonight or today, which is a good thing, hopefully you won't hurt their body tonight.

"I feel sorry for you" you confessed, your voice sounding soothing and gentle.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because of how rough your childhood was" you admitted. "Though, it probably could've been worse"

"Exactly" he stated.

"I still want to comfort you" you admitted. "Because of your troubled childhood"

"Do you remember when you had those throat operations?" you asked Brian.

"No, I don't" he confessed "Thank God"

"I want to comfort you" you confessed to Brian "That's why I'm rubbing up and down your chest"

He smiled at you.

"Really?" he asked. "Thanks"

"You're welcome" you replied, smiling back at him.

Brian has such a beautiful body underneath his clothes, he should be shirtless more often.

"You've gotten so much bigger since you've joined the WWF" you gushed, your voice sounding sexy and breathy "And I don't just mean 'big' as in popularity"

He chuckled and laughed at that, and having you caress his bare chest, well, he's getting bigger in other parts as well, try to guess what it is...

Your other hand was behind the back of his head, your fingers roaming through his thick curly hair, only to move your hand from away from the back of his head and to one of his shoulders, whereas your hand on his chest slid from his chest to one of his shoulders.

"You've got such big, broad shoulders" you gushed, sliding your hands up and down and across his shoulders.

You've seen the way he's looked in his "Brian Pillman's XXX Files" when he's sharing a bed with Terri Runnels, you're shocked at how big his muscles and his shoulders have gotten.

"And such huge, juicy muscles" you added, sliding your hands up and down both of his arms. "They're perfect to squeeze and wrap me up and hold me"

When your hands are caressing his skin and body parts, he feels these tingles in his skin when you touch him that feels so good for him, especially since he's been through so much.

"You're the hottest man in the WWE right now" you confessed "Forget Roman Reigns, forget John Cena, you're the hottest person in the WWE"

Dean was blushing hearing you say that, smiling at you.

"Really?" he asked "Well, thanks!"

"You're welcome" you replied, smiling back at him. "You've got such a cute widdle baby face"

You're sure Dean's fangirls will agree with that.

Your other hand not on his chest moved to his face, where you pinched his cheek and wiggled it back and forth.

He chuckled and smiled when you pinched his cheek.

'Tis a shame that in the pro wrestling world, a "babyface" is known as a good guy, because some pro wrestlers have adorable literal baby faces, Dean included.

You removed your fingers off of his face, where the pads of your fingers that pinched his cheek left a little red mark on his cheek that will fade away eventually.

"You've got such big, juicy pecs" you exaggerated, caressing one of your hands up and down Brian's/Dean's pecs. "Y'know how wrestlers bounce and jiggle their pecs?"

"Like Lex Luger?" Brian/Dean asked.

You nodded your head.

"Can you bounce your pecs?" you asked.

"I can try" he suggested, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling.

With that being said, he did try to bounce and jiggle his pecs a la Lex Luger, basically making his pecs try to twerk.

Y'know how when some women are twerking, they raise one ass cheek up while the other is sitting down, only to bring one ass cheek down and raise the other butt cheek?

Yeah, that's what Brian/Dean's trying to do.

One of his pecs did raise up a bit while the other just laid there, only to make that other pec raise up while the previous pec went down.

Your eyes were busy looking at his pecs trying to twerk.

Surprisingly, he could actually do it.

Your eyes were growing wild seeing this, you could give him a dollar, and your mouth was spreading a wide, ear-to-ear smile seeing them bounce.

You could nearly roar out "yyyyyyyyeaaaaaaahhh!!" like you're in a strip club when a stripper takes his clothes off or like those horny wrestling fans leering at Sable, Sunny, and eventual WWF/E divas that are sex symbols when they enter the ring.

He was smiling too while he was trying to make his pecs bounce, he was looking down at his chest trying to bounce.

Brian/Dean needs to eventually twerk his pecs on "Monday Night Raw" while he's shirtless, that would be awesome fan service!

Though, there's some other male pro wrestlers that should've twerked and bounced their pecs on "Monday Night Raw" or any other wrestling show.

The fangirls will squeal and shriek their heads off when Dean bounces his pecs, their ovaries will explode.

He could see your face lighting up as he tried twerking his pectoral muscles.

"You need to bounce your pecs on 'Monday Night Raw' one day!" you suggested, one of your hands shielding and hiding your smile plastered on your face.

Though, pretty soon, there won't be a one day. Guess why?

Brian/Dean has other beautiful body parts you haven't really gushed over...

That hand covering your smile moved down to his abdomen, where you ran your hand up and down his abs, feeling the little ripples of his stomach.

"I've seen the way your abs look in your 'XXX Files' when you're in bed smoking a cigar/(if it's Dean you want) when you ripped your shirt off a la Hulk Hogan" you noticed as your hand caressed his abs. "You've got such hot, sexy abs"

You even once let Brian/Dean furiously rub your clit while your lap not wearing any pants, shorts, panties or even a skirt or dress straddled his bare abs, until you came on his stomach.

Your index finger ran up and down one of his abdomen muscles, whereas the rest of your fingers scrunched up in the palm of your hand.

His eyes were staring down at you running your finger up his and down his abs, smiling his signature shit eating grin and enjoying what he sees.

"And you've got such thick, curly hair" you purred, one of your hands moving behind his head and playing with a few strands of his curls. "Though, I miss the way you look last year, especially in October, when you had that long blond hair with your dark roots showing on top of your head"

Though, it wouldn't really be all that pleasant to run your fingers through his greasy locks he had in 1996, you've even ran your fingers through his hair then.

If it's Dean Ambrose you want...

"I kinda miss when you had longer hair, though" you confessed, sticking your bottom lip out and pouting. "Like when you were in, what was it called? HWA?"

He nodded his head.

"You're still smoking hot though" you admitted. "I think you're sexier now than when you were in HWA, even"

"Your facial stubble is so rough and rugged" you stated, you moved your hand behind Brian's head towards the front of his face, where your ran the pad of your thumb at the bottom of his chin, where his goatee is, his facial hair feeling like sandpaper. "I even think you're kinda hot when you smile"

He smiled sheepishly a bit, and while he looks cute with that nervous little smile, you're talking about when he has that shiteating grin when he looks like the madman he plays in the WWF.

"You've also got such a cute widdle baby face!" you stated, moving one of your hands and pinching one of his cheeks, wiggling it back and forth.

He smiled and chuckled at you doing that like he's a little boy at his grandmother's house.

"Even when you stick your tongue out, that's pretty hot!" you admitted "It makes me think of something"

You giggled and smiled naughtily confessing that, try to guess what it reminds you of.

Brian/Dean chuckled hearing that too.

"What is that something?" Brian/Dean asked "French kissing? Eating your pussy? Both?"

"Both" you answered.

He nodded his head.

"I figured that" he confessed.

(There's also rumors Brian Pillman was Jewish, and Jewish males have circumsized cocks, and that's pretty hot, though you don't care if a man's cut or not)

"Am I making you feel better?" you sexily asked, your voice trying to sound as sexy and breathy as possible.

He nodded his head.

"I'm worried about you though" you confessed to Brian.

"Why?" he asked.

"Last year, you broke your leg because you fell asleep behind the wheel" you admitted and state "And crashed your car into something. All because of pain killers"

Though, what would come next of Brian though...

"I don't want you to die" you confessed "I don't want any of these wrestlers to die"

That's one of the reasons playing sports is awful.

Taking steroids as a performance enhancing drug that ends up eventually killing you, and then you have to take painkillers which is another drug.  

Tonight, Brian/Dean were trying to fight sleep and not fall asleep just yet, so were you.

Even before Brian's "XXX Files", you comforted Brian by snuggling in bed with him, running your hand up and down his chest and gushing over how hot he is.

Later on that night, when the lights were off, as you and Brian/Dean were lying in bed, your eyes shut as well as his, trying to drift off and fall asleep, you snuggled up next to Brian/Dean, your head resting on the crook of his shoulder and his chest like it was a pillow, and caressed your hand up and down one of his pectoral muscles.

Brian's big arms wrapped around your body, holding you tight and protecting you.

Dean's arms were wrapped around you as well, protecting you and not wanting anything bad to happen to you.

Brian/Dean fell asleep while your hand caressed up and down their chest, they like it that way.

Sadly, a month later, Brian had died from heart failure.

Bad luck follows him.

Thank goodness Dean's still alive.

[tvehyungs-gf]

Part 1 of WYD : what you do. Word Count: 4.5K. Synopsis “I think I might be falling in love with you.” He wasn’t scared to say it, no, he had more balls than that. Although a blush rose on his cappuccino colored skin, he didn’t care. Chanyeol was an honest man and he had absolutely nothing to hide. At least not with you.

Wednesday’s, to you, is one the best day of the week. However, most would argue that it’s either Friday or Saturday and you couldn’t agree more but Wednesdays are the only days you and your giant of a boyfriend had the same day off. Free of classes and work, Wednesday’s were your relaxing days. And it just so happens that most of your good ole friends had it off as well.

This was planned when all you were hanging out at Kyungsoo’s apartment registering for the Spring semester classes. Kyungsoo decided it was a good idea to cook dinner to celebrate that everyone was almost done with college. It was cute, although, it did suck how Junmyeon, Sehun, and Jongin weren’t able to get Wednesday’s free. It was something about how a certain teacher only taught on those days or how one had to take an extra class to make up for credits. Whichever it was - it sucks.

And today would be a good day but it wasn’t Wednesday, or Friday, or Saturday… it was Monday. What made it worse was that Baekhyun and Sehun were off. Why was it worse? Because they practically lived with you and Chanyeol in your guys' studio apartment. Where do they sleep? Anywhere their body feels like at the moment. Yes, there was a time where it would be you and Chanyeol on your bed getting ready to sleep when suddenly Baekhyun would squeeze in between the both of you. And it didn’t help that Sehun can’t sleep by himself, so that night, all of you somehow managed to sleep in one queen-sized bed.

Your studio was cute, very cute and sophisticated, yet it has such a homey feel to it despite all the modern furniture you had. With Chanyeol majoring in interior design, it only made sense for your apartment to look like it was straight out of an IKEA magazine. You had all the essentials you needed; a bed, a kitchen, a full bathroom, and a mini living space. That was all mixed in with Chanyeol’s many musical instruments and camera equipment. He wasn’t minoring in music or anything, he just liked it. 

If he wasn’t at work at the Cafe, he was at school, and if he wasn’t at any of those, then he would be filming for his youtube page. Chanyeol was ambitious, he loved making music and designing. So why not put those two together and film cover videos? All while occasionally giving tips on how to decorate your home?

Although you and Chanyeol were quite a busy couple, your studio was always surprisingly clean. Even all your closest friends questioned how you had found the time to clean but it was a secret they always wanted to know.

With your couch placed in front of the TV, your couch looked like it grew another piece with Baekhyun laying on top of it. Could it even be called laying on top of it if his body looked like it molded together with the cushions?

With a sigh, you realized today was going to be like no other.

“Y/N,” Baekhyun cried, arms flopping all over your couch. “I’m hungry.”

You rolled your eyes and nudged Baekhyun with your feet. He had laid face down on your 3 seater couch with you standing before him, your feet digging into his right buttcheek to get him to move. “Move your legs so I can sit down.”

He did as told with a groan and sat up normally before whining again. “Make me food.”

“What am I? Your cook?” You sat down with a plop and pulled out your phone. “What do you want so I can ask Sehun to buy it.”

Baekhyun grinned happily but in an instant, his smile faltered into a frown. Sehun, the man of the hour, came strutting in through your front door. How did he manage to get in? “Chanyeol gave me your house key when I ran into him when I was leaving class.” He answered as if he could read your mind. “Also, good morning my wonderful friends. How are you?”

“Ugh,” The child of a man groaned. He stood up, walked the few steps to your front door, and pushed Sehun out the door.

Confused, Sehun yelled out. “Ya, ya, ya! Why are you pushing me out?!”

“You can’t get in unless you bring food.” Baekhyun locked the door but when he heard the handle jiggle with Sehun walking in again, he frowned. “Give me the key.”

“No.” Sehun held the key up high out of Baekhyun’s reach. “And get your own food.”

“How about both of you get your own food and get out of my house.” You rolled your eyes playfully and slid your phone away back into your pocket. “You guys are so noisy and it’s only 9 am.”

Taking off his shoes, Sehun walked over and sat down next to you with a plop. Instead of staying seated, he began to get comfortable by laying down sideways with his head resting in your lap. He crossed his arms across his chest, tucking his hands in between his armpits and rib cage all while closing his eyes. “I won’t be noisy. I’m just going to sleep.”

“Nu-uh.” You pushed his head off your lap making him groan in annoyance. “You both are going to have to start paying rent if you keep staying here.”

“I’ll pay you in hugs.” You laughed loudly before getting serious. Baekhyun frowned. “I guess not.” He stuck his tongue out at you. “Actually, let’s get coffee. I’ll buy you coffee from now on.”

“But I already get free coffee from Yeollie.” You stood up from the couch and stretched out your limbs. “But I do want coffee, so let’s go.”

“Will you buy me coffee?” Sehun asked standing up too.

Baekhyun patted Sehun in the shoulder with a smile. “Of course not.” Chuckling, the shorter of the two nudged the other out the door after putting on their shoes with you trailing behind. Slipping your shoes on as well, you locked the door. “Is Chanyeol working right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed happily, skipping down to the hallway towards the elevator. “Yes, he is. He’s working till 3 before class.”

“Oo you know what that means?” Baekhyun smiled mischievously, his eyes turning into crescents as he turned around to walk backward and look at you. Wiggling his brows, he began to clasp his hands together. You raised a brow for him to continue although you were highly concerned.

Any time Baekhyun smiles mischievously, it means that he’s up to no good. And that was more than most of the time. “We get to get free coffee! And we should prank him.”

“Prank him? Like what?”

“Like this.” Standing in front of the glass door to the entrance of the coffee shop, Baekhyun suddenly held your hand as he fixed his shades with the other. Baekhyun decided it would be funny to see Chanyeol’s reaction of you holding hands with another man - but with a twist! Baekhyun was going to try to hide his identity and be someone else. “Choi Jaewook.” Or whatever name he decided. “A 24 years old trainee at SM entertainment. But due to a tragic accident where he slipped during dance practice, Jaewook had to -” Yes he even came up with a whole backstory and everything.

“And why are we doing this again?” You asked utterly confused. Your other hand rested on your hip as Baekhyun kept the grip on your other hand. “And what’s Sehun going to do?”

Baekhyun tsked loudly. “Ya! Were you not listening to the plan at all? We’re going to go in there and Chanyeol is going to see you with me and flip!”

“Okay, but if I am supposedly supposed to be on a quote on quote date with another man, why would I go to my boyfriend’s job to get coffee? Especially at the time he is working?”

“Ugh. You ask too many questions, Y/N. Just go along with it.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, once Chanyeol sees you, you’re going to deny everything and then Sehun is going to walk in and act confused. He’s going to be like, ‘Y/N?! Jaewook?! What’s going on!’”

Sehun grumbled. “This is stupid.”

“I know.” You agreed. “What do we get out of this anyway?”

Baekhyun proceeded to fix his hood that was draped over his head and slid up his face mask. “Enjoyment.”

“This is so pointless,” Sehun complained, his hand went up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Also, what if he sees us standing out here? Our prank is going to fail before it starts. Is this a hidden camera?” He looked around in search of a camera.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes again. If he was going to keep doing that, you wondered if his eyes were just going to get stuck facing the back of his head. “No, you idiot.”

You sighed getting their attention. “Alright. Let’s just get this over with.”

Baekhyun beamed although you couldn’t see his grin, you could with the way his eyes crinkled. With his hand gripping yours, you both walked into the shop, leaving Sehun outside to peak through the glass. Immediately, you were greeted by an employee you haven’t met before. Maybe she was new?

The both of you greeted back as you walked towards the counter. “Hi! What can I get started for you today?”

In a deeper voice than usual, Baekhyun ordered. You rolled your eyes, he really was trying to go all out on the prank. “Uh, yes, hello. May I get an iced mocha Frappuccino with two extra shots, add whip, and extra caramel and chocolate syrup please?”

The poor girl looked shocked as she hovered her fingers over the register screen, not knowing where to begin. “Ah, sorry. I am new, please give me a second. I apologize…” She gave you both a nervous smile as she rushed off to get someone. And lo and behold, she came back with a shocked Chanyeol. He wore a white button-up with black slacks and his black apron. He looked so cute!

Baekhyun squeezed your hand as Chanyeol strutted to the counter. Time to start the prank!

“Baby!” Chanyeol smiled happily, his arms flying up in the air as he walked past the counter and towards you.

Or not.

Baekhyun was shocked, to say the least, no, he was utterly confused. Did Chanyeol, for some odd reason, not notice him?

“I missed you!” Your boyfriend pulled you into a tight hug, making you let go of Baekhyun’s hands so you can hug him back. Squeezing you tighter, Chanyeol lifted you up in the air happily as if he hasn’t just seen you two hours ago before he left to work.

After a second, Chanyeol placed you down gently to turn to a confused Baekhyun. “Oh, hi Baekhyun.”

“Huh?” Baekhyun asked confused, his eyebrows furrowing together. “W-whose that? I’m Choi Jaewook, Y/N’s boyfriend. And who are you?” His voice was still deep as he tried to carry on the prank that seemingly already failed before he could even say his lines.

You rolled your eyes.

Suddenly, Sehun came running in. “W-Woah! Choi Jaewook? And Y/N?!” Sehun turned to you acting shocked. “Are you cheating on Chanyeol with Choi Jaewook?”

Why do they feel the need to say the whole name every time?

“Damn it Sehun! You came in too late!” Baekhyun slapped Sehun upside the head as he furiously took off his shades and face masked to toss them angrily at Sehun.

Sehun’s jaw dropped. “You told me to come in when Chanyeol saw you two!” He yelled in defense, his arms flying up. “And I came in when he came out!”

“Whatever!” Baekhyun angrily crossed his arms looking at Chanyeol. “How’d you know it was me?”

Chanyeol chuckled. “Y/N would never do such a thing to me. And I knew it was you from the start. I saw you guys just standing outside the door.”

Now it was Sehun’s turn to slap Baekhyun upside the head. “See! I told you!”

You flicked them both on the forehead. “Anyway,” You looked up at Chan with a smile. “Baby, can we order?” Your arms wrapped themselves around his waist happily.

He grinned down at you, his cheeks flushed. You always somehow managed to make him all warm inside and blush whenever he sees you. Despite being together for a long time, since the first year of college, you two were inseparable and still are. People say that love at first sight is ridiculous and it’s not exactly love, but lust. However, when others see the two of you, together, they’re immediately proved wrong. Love at first sight definitely existed when it came to the both of you.

It was when you were working on the school campus, at the library, your first year of college. Kyungsoo was helping you sort the books in order before opening time so you both were jamming to music whilst getting your job done. 

Suddenly, a tall and out of breath handsome man rushed through the front door, leaving you out of breath instead when you saw him. Your heart raced a mile as you took knowledge of this man's existence. Can someone actually be that beautiful? You made a mental note to check out the book you were holding, The Human Anatomy, to see if it was actually possible for someone to be that handsome. There’s just no way!

“H-Hi!” You mustered, voice shaky and quiet. Clearing your throat, you tossed the book down into the cart beside you. “Can I help you with something?” You wiped your sweaty palms that you didn’t know what was sweaty against your black jeans. Straightening up your posture, you tried to present yourself more professional and might I add, cute.

“Y-yeah!” He blushed, cheeks red like the tips of his cute ears. He wore a beanie on his head that had his black hair peaking out. “I-I need a book for class and it starts in 10 minutes.”

You happily agreed to help him. “What book is it?”

“Uh,” he pulled out a folded piece of paper that was stuffed carelessly into the front pockets of his jeans. Unfolding the crumbly paper, he read you the title. “It’s ‘Architecture: Form, Space, and Order’ by Francis D.K Ching.”

Turning around, you looked around the library to pinpoint the area you knew the book should be. “Ah! Follow me.” You walked him over towards the educational section. “Last name is Ching…” You mumbled to yourself. “And there it is!” You pulled out the book once you found the author's last name.

“Thank you!” He took the book from you gratefully. “Uh, actually, there’s something else I’m looking for…”

“Sure.” You raised a brow. “What book is it?”

The stranger turned apple red, more than he already was. “It’s not a- Uh….” he bit his lip. Oh, his lips. You stared at them deliciously. They looked so kissable. Again, was this humanly possible to be this good looking? Everything about him seemed perfect! From his tall and fit structure to his cute ears, his puppy-like eyes, and his damn lips, you deemed him too good to be true.

“It’s um,” He began again. “Can I have your number?”

You didn’t register what he said fully because the thing you responded with made him want to fall into a black hole. “Okay, what’s the author's name and the genre? I can probably find it easily.”

“I mean-” He bit down harder on his lip. How was suppose to respond to that? He was beyond embarrassed and shocked. “I-“

Immediately, your eyes grew wide with fear. You’re such an idiot! You weren’t used to this, someone asking for your number that is. Let alone, you weren’t used to someone so insanely beautiful ask for your number. This had to be a prank, right? “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m just surprised and I wasn’t registering what you said because this doesn’t exactly happen to me often….”

“It’s okay! No, I’m sorry if I came a little too forward, especially since you barely know me.” He smiled apologetically, his hand scratching the back of his head.

You shook your head. “No no! You don’t have to apologize! I’ll actually be more than happy to give you my number.” You blushed as your confidence rose. “Y-Your phone?”

Quickly, Chanyeol pulled out his phone and pulled up the phone app for you type in your number, which you grateful did. Handing him his phone back, your fingers brushed against his and that alone made a shock run through you. He looked at you with his mouth parted but you both were too embarrassed to comment on it. Instead, he took his phone back and read what you put. “Y/N?” He read off your name with a smile. “It’s a very pretty name, I like it.”

God, he’s so perfect. Is this what love at first sight is? “Uh, haha, thanks!” You stuttered with an awkward laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Oh!” His eyes widened, of course! Introductions! “Um, I’m Chanyeol, Park Chanyeol.” Before he locked his phone his eyes scanned the time, 8:10 am. Oh great! He has time before cl-! Wait, 8:10!? “And I’m really late for my class!” He yelped loudly as he shoved his phone into his pockets. “I’m sorry, I really have to go! Uh, I’ll text you!” He pulled you into a hug despite not knowing you and rushed off with the book.

You stood there surprised when a wild Kyungsoo popped up beside you. “Okay, what’s the author's name and genre?” He mocked with a laugh. You punched his arm in embarrassment. “Really?” He chuckled loudly. “Park Chanyeol sure had an effect on you.”

“W-what? You know him?”

Kyungsoo nodded. “Yes, we have the same friend group. You know, Suho and Kai? Baekhyun and Sehun?”

“Oh yeah, wow, what a small world…” You blushed thinking about the man who just left. “Anyway, I’m still shocked.”

“Don’t be.” He said as if it was that easy. “He’s a nice a guy, plus, he has seen you a few times before and I guess he finally saw the chance to ask you for your number.”

You blushed, “He saw me before?”

“Yep, you know when I get off work, Chanyeol and the others sometimes stop by so we can all leave together.”

“Oh,” You tucked your lip in between your teeth. “Oh my god, he probably saw me all dressed ugly and what not!” You cried recalling all the times you wore joggers and a hoodie to work. “He must have very low standards.”

Kyungsoo shook his head, “You’re overthinking it. He’s a really nice guy! I approve.” He smiled as he placed his hands on your shoulders to direct you back to the cart. “C’mon, stop thinking about your future boyfriend and get to work. These books aren’t going to get put back on the shelves themselves!”

Little did Kyungsoo know, those books were never going to get put back because the moment your phone vibrated from an unknown number, you weren’t able to focus on getting back to work at all. “Hey Y/N, it’s Chanyeol! I made it to class before the professor came in. I kind of forgot to check out the book, I’ll come by after class to properly check it out? And so we can have a proper conversation if that's okay...?”

Shaking your head, you tuned back into the conversation at hand. Baekhyun and Sehun finished putting in their order happily knowing that it was going to be on the house. Chanyeol already knew your order so you didn’t have to tell him. Once that was done, the three of you sat at the usual table.

“Man, I just love free stuff!” Baekhyun was ecstatic. Chanyeol usually never gives him anything for free. “Chan must be in a good mood for once because every time I come, he never gives me anything free. Not even a discount! Some best friend he is.”

You laughed remembering all the times Baekhyun would drop by your place after getting some coffee to complain how rude your boyfriend was for not giving him any sort of discount, especially for how long they were friends for.

Sehun agreed before his face contorted into confusion. “Wait, he doesn’t give you free drinks?” Sehun chuckled as realization hit Baekhyun. 

“What the hell? He gives you free drinks? This is favoritism! I’m getting singled out!” 

You laughed as Baek complained. “Maybe if you weren’t so annoying and always on the need to prank him, he would give you free stuff.”

“Woah, you’re so rude! And speaking of the devil!” Baekhyun turned to Chanyeol who came with your drinks. “Ya, why don’t you give me free drinks like everyone else?”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrow confused, “What do you mean? I always try to give you free drinks but you’re never paying attention. You always slide your card into the card reader before I can even discount the drinks.”

“Oh...” Baekhyun facepalmed himself. “I feel stupid.”

“Mhm.” Chanyeol hummed with a laugh. “Anyway, scoot over Sehun.” Sehun scooted over for Chanyeol to sit down.

“Thank you for the drinks, baby.” You smiled from ear to ear as you slid the mug into your hands. Chanyeol gave you a wink and took a sip of his own drink as the three conversed.

Thinking back to how everything started for you and Chanyeol, you couldn’t help but blush at how it all began. With your warm mug of coffee steaming the tips of your nose, you were sat across your boyfriend who ultimately thought it would be a fantastic idea to take his lunch break during peak hours. 

Sehun sat beside your boyfriend while Baehyun sat next to you. You zoned out during their little banter that the boys had as you mindlessly stared at Chanyeol thinking about the start of your relationship. Now that you’re thinking about it, your first date you had with him was here. This cafe actually holds so many memories between the two of you and the one that immediately always comes to mind is when Chanyeol admitted that he was falling for you - hard.

“Chen, what the hell do I wear?” To say you panicked was an understatement. Your date with Chanyeol was in an hour and you barely just got out of class half an hour ago. You were lucky that you did your makeup this morning before class you so all you had to do now was a touch-up. Honestly, you were more than stressed at this point.

Chen sat on the edge of your bed as you rummaged through your closet. “Isn’t this, like, your sixth date or something? Why stress out when this isn’t your first rodeo with him?”

“Because!” You tossed a hoodie at his face. “I still have to look nice!” 

Rolling his eyes, Chen stood up to help you find something presentable. 

You were so grateful that Chen came over to help you find something wear. Once you were finally ready, you walked out of your bedroom and greeted Chen who sat on your couch playing on his phone. “How do I look?”

Chen looked up, his phone falling out his hands onto his lap. His mouth in an ‘O’ shape, he stood up and clapped his hands. “I have great style sense, woah! You look great Y/N! Chan’s going to flip when he sees you.”

You smiled as you looked down at your outfit one last time. You had on a black sweater with black jeans. A leather jacket fitted perfectly on your frame with checkered vans adorning your foot. “Simple but cute, I like it.”

“Me too. Now, go or else you’ll be late!” Chen walked with you the house before parting ways. 

Nervously, you met up at the cafe that you and Chan both decided to meet up at. Locking your door, you slid your purse higher up onto your shoulder and walked up to the entrance of Steamed!, your favorite coffee spot. And there stood, in a hoodie and jeans, Park Chanyeol. His hair parted into a side part, lips turning into a wide smile, Chanyeol looked effortlessly handsome. You recalled reading the human anatomy book and learning that it’s almost not possible to be that handsome. Chanyeol just proved science wrong.

“Hey.” He whispered once you got close to him, his arms promptly finding their way to your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace. “You look really beautiful.”

You blushed into his chest as your arms wrapped around him. “You know, you proved science wrong. You’re too handsome to be real.”

Chanyeol chuckled, his chin rested on top of your head. “And you proved TC Candler’s 2016 most beautiful faces wrong. You’re number one of all time.” He laughed as you pinched his arm. “I’m not joking, you know. I’m being 100% honest. I guess we’ll just have to take the title of the most beautiful couples ever known to man, huh?”

You pulled away from his frame, “Couple?”

He nodded, “Of course.”

You were feeling warm and it was all because of him and his warm embrace and sweet words. Park Chanyeol knew exactly what he was doing. Smiling, he slid his large hands into yours and walked you both into the cafe.

After the date, you both were standing in front of your car. It was time for the date to end but you both had no means of letting each other go. Your hands in his, he stood before you. Because of this date, his confidence skyrocketed to outer space. He looked at you and nothing but you.

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” He wasn’t scared to say it, no, he had more balls than that. Although a blush rose on his cappuccino colored skin, he didn’t care. Chanyeol was an honest man and he had absolutely nothing to hide. At least not with you.

Your skin reciprocated his, “I think I might be feeling the same way.” His eyes twinkled with happiness as a big smile formed on his face.

You both stood there, his back leaning against your car door. “You don’t understand how happy I am to hear that.” He was beaming, corners of his lips basically reaching each ear as he leaned forward. His hands slid out of yours and replaced themselves onto your warm cheeks. “I hope you can make me more happy by saying yes.”

You raised a brow, your hands gripping onto each of his forearms. “Yes to what?” You asked, your voice quiet. 

Chanyeol leaned in a little more. “Will you do the honors and be my girlfriend?”

“I honestly don’t think you even have to ask.” You whispered happily. Your smiled mimicked his as you took initiative to close the remaining space between you. With foreheads touching and eyes closed, your lips hovered over another. You both stayed like that for a second, enjoying the first-ever intimate moment you ever shared. And the moment your lips molded together, you realized that maybe, they were made just for you.

You felt like fireworks were booming in the background as sparks were flying. This couldn’t have been a better way to end the night and this was all thanks to Park Chanyeol.

AN: asdfgh!! I'm so happy part one is out! And don’t worry, Lay and Xiumin will make their entrance soon >:D 

TAG LIST: @sugasgeniuslab​​ ➝ ask box ➝ exo masterlist ➝ part two

[jeannereames]

Alexander as a Child

The first round of copy-edits are submitted for book 2, Rise. We're down now to minutia, I think. Yay! But that means I missed my "Monday Fun Facts."

As June 10th (or maybe 11th) is the anniversary of Alexander's death, I decided to let this set of fun facts deal with Alexander as a child. Becoming opens when he's 12, almost 13, so all this is earlier background.

TEN THINGS ABOUT ALEXANDER AS A CHILD:

* Alexandros has always been neat. As a boy, he would line up his toys in precise lines on tables or store them carefully in chests. When his sister Kleopatra was angry with him, she’d rearrange his toys, which never failed to send him into a towering rage.

* He has a high pain tolerance and rarely cried at scrapes or bruises that brought other children to tears. When he was two-and-a-half, he took to biting others, as toddlers often do. Both Lanikē, his nurse, and his mother tried everything to get him to stop, but he didn’t seem to understand how much it hurt, even when his siblings bit him back. He finally stopped only when he drew blood from Kleopatra and she wouldn’t stop crying for hours. He seemed then to understand. Thus, his mother discerned that making him feel guilty when he did something wrong was much more effective than other forms of discipline.

* When Alexandros was five, he stole one of Kleopatra’s articulated wooden dolls. He cut the hair and gown short, then asked his mother to help him make armor out of leather for it. He dubbed his “action figure” Akhilleus and they had many grand adventures until his father found him playing with it. Appalled, Philippos took it away and had a toy chariot made with a harness to be pulled by a large Molossian hound. “Boys don’t play with dolls.” Alexandros used the chariot, but didn’t understand why he couldn’t have an Akhilleus doll too.

* Alexandros has always liked water, even if he can’t swim (well), and when a toddler, tended to gravitate to fountains and pools, wanting to play in them. Laknikē, his nurse, was terrified he was going to climb into one when nobody was watching, slip, and accidentally drown.

* Alexandros also loves heights, and to climb to the top of things. On more than one occasion, Lanikē had to send her baby brother, Kleitos, to fetch Alexandros out of trees or rescue him from the palace roof.

* Leonidas first started Alexandros running each morning not only to increase his endurance, but because he had a difficult time sitting still during lessons, wiggling, or jiggling his legs and feet, or drumming fingers. Getting the boy to run first thing wore him out enough to sit still.

* Alexandros could read simple things by the time he was four, write legibly and read more complex pieces by five, well before starting formal lessons at seven—astonishing his tutor, Leonidas. He’d learned not from his mother, but from his paternal grandmother, Eurydikē. As Eurydikē had been illiterate until teaching herself to read as an adult, she wanted to be certain her grandchildren didn’t suffer the same. Alexandros, and his sister Kleopatra, both learned quite fast. Alexandros was reading difficult material (e.g., Thucydides) by ten, and spoke with a mostly adult vocabulary by eleven or twelve.

* His grandmother, Eurydikē, was as bad as his mother at slipping him treats when he was under Leonidas’s tutelage, but rather better at getting away with it. She had a large covered pot in her bedroom in which she kept sweets, extra bread, and dried jerky. She lined the edge of the lid with wool so nobody could hear when Alexandros opened and closed it.

* He used to carry the baby Thessaloniki around in a sling against his chest, and seems to have thought she was his personal toy/responsibility when she was born, because her mother died not long after. If he feels closer to Kleopatra, he adores Thessaloniki, even when her exuberance embarrasses him. She also adores him, and is less inclined to recognize his faults that Kleopatra.

* He would carry on entire conversations with invisible playmates as a child, although, unlike other children with invisible friends, he never admitted they were make-believe. This made at least Lanikē worry for his sanity. His mother was convinced the gods, or at least daimones (little divine creatures), were watching over him.

[arcticnami]

The English Teacher

Fluff, drabble. 

“Are you ready to start off the week y/n?” Jimin’s cheerful smile is too much for seven in the morning.

You give the choir director a small smile, “Yeah test scores weren’t great though so my day is going to start off rough.”

His warm hand squeezes your shoulder as the two of you approach the school door. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, we can go out after work if you want?” Jimin’s eyes twinkle with mischief, probably pondering setting you up again with one of his relatives.

You give him a light shove, “It’s monday, we aren’t going out on a monday,we are nerdy teachers.” A sigh escapes your lips as the two of you head into the school, it’s quiet for now. “I’ll see you at lunch yeah?” Jimin gives you another smile and nods as you two part ways.

The school is decorated with different posters of club activities as well as different artwork the art teacher, Seulgi decides to highlight for the time being. The posters lining your door mainly historical quotes but you also kept different flyers from faculty members that you are quite close with. Jimin’s choir concert flyers are a permanent fixture. As well as Hoseok’s ‘stay fit’ flyer and Taehyung’s theater productions.

You unlock your classroom door with a small struggle, like always the lock was giving you trouble. A quick jiggle of the key allows you to finally unlock the door with a frustrated sigh. The small sticker of a crab on the window brings back the small smile on your face. As a gift to Namjoon, the English teacher across the hall, he insisted on giving you one of the cute sticker sheet you had gifted him. His exact words were, “I can’t not share the cuteness.” The simple thought of your fellow coworker brought an idiotic smile to cover your face.

Your computer turns on as you prepare for the day putting your stuff under your desk. The projector that was refusing to cooperate was still the same from last week but the small sticker was on your mind allowing you not to freak out over the dysfunctioning projector.

“Jimin said you were in a funky mood but you look fine to me.”

With a sharp glare at Jungkook who stood in your doorway you wave your hand at the projector. “Fix please.”

He just rolls his eyes, “So you ARE in a funky mood.”

You give him a sarcastic smile, “I was just a little pessimistic earlier with some poor test grades.”

He nods, “Tough life of being a teacher am i right?” The technology teacher jumps on one of the desks and starts to find the problem with the projector hanging from your ceiling.

“Thanks for helping by the way,” you mumble fiddling with your empty mug glancing at the door, normally Namjoon came by at this time to walk down to the teachers lounge with you to get the coffee Yoongi normally made when he got to school at the butt crack of dawn.

Jungkook steals a quick look at your quiet frame staring at your save the bees mug. “He’s not here, he might be running late. I’ll walk you down to the lounge if you want.” The younger teacher wiggles his eyebrows at your depressed state making you frown.

“Some company would be nice,” you shrug and turn to leave your classroom before Jungkook could start complaining. You knew he was trying to cheer you up but he was going to complain the whole short walk to the lounge. He had always been a loyal friend, meaning he was going to tease you about your crush on the English teacher and cheer you up when needed. He was also going to complain about everything.

“I don’t even like coffee,” he grumbled as he caught up with you. His long legs allowed him to walk ahead of you to open the door to the lounge and close in your face.

“Jerk.” You sent him a glare and Jungkook gave you an award winning smile as he searched the fridge for something.

Yoongi stood at the counter sipping his coffee, black. He picks up the coffee pot and pours you coffee in your outstretched arms. This was how your mornings work, normally Namjoon would walk with you to the lounge to get coffee, he would try starting a conversation with Yoongi who really hated being up so early simply nodding at whatever the English teacher was rambling on about as you give him a sympathetic smile as a way to apologize for your over talkative colleague.

“You guys are weird,” Jungkook states loudly interrupting Yoongi’s silent morning.

“That’s my yogurt you little shit,” Yoongi responds to Jungkook practically chugging the yogurt Jungkook pulled out of the fridge forgoing a spoon.

Jungkook slowly lowers the cup of yogurt and glances between you and Yoongi, “It said Seokjin on it, not Yoongi.”

“He brought it for me,” Yoongi responds taking a long sip of his coffee while staring at Jungkook. “This makes Namjoon’s blabber sound much more appealing,” Yoongi says as he makes his way out of the lounge to get away from the technology teacher.

Jungkook frowns and looks at you purposely ignoring the two teachers as you pour creamer into your coffee cup.

“You ready to head back?” You look at Jungkook pouting as he eats the rest of the yogurt.

He shrugs and tosses the now empty cup into the trash bin and walks you back to your room.

“I’ll see you at lunch,” he says with a pout and heads a few doors down.

You shake your head and finish pulling up your notes on your computer for your students as they walk in for the day.

The morning goes by quick as your class is working on their presentation coming up allowing you to finish grading a few things. The class before the lunch period was filled with quiet chatter as you stare the computer screen in front of you, grade input was finicky at times. The class grows quiet all of a sudden making you frown and look at your students who are looking at you with curiosity. You glance at the clock on your computer screen to see there were still 2 minutes left before the bell rang.

“Class isn’t over yet,” you roll your eyes at yourself, what a teacher thing to say.

A throat was cleared near the doorway causing you to turn your head towards the door.

“Oh.. Hello, what can i do for you Mr. Kim?” your voice squeaked a little as you remember you need to remain professional in front of your students, the last thing they needed to see was your school girl crush over their english teacher.

Namjoon stood in the doorway peering at the stack of papers in his hand.

“I was wondering if you could read these over for historical accuracy,” he mumbles as his brown eyes finally turn to look at you.

“He could just google it ya know.”

Namjoon frowns at your class now after whispers break out. The students were right, he could just google it but he wasn’t like that.

“You can’t believe everything on the internet children,” he scolds.

“I can take a look, do you want to go over this later?” You finally respond as you take the stapled copy from his hands. You flip through the pages quickly as the whispers around you continue. Weird, I think he’s shown this to me before.

Namjoon nods ignoring the students now and lowers his voice, “The lounge would be too loud at lunch, do you want to get dinner tonight?”

Your eyes shoot up to look at Namjoon who was staring at you intently. The bell rings and the students don’t run out of the room as fast as they normally would, some of them even walked past Namjoon slowly in attempt to hear the conversation.

“I would love to, but uh Namjoon?” You take a quick look at the students walking out of the room.Your voice lowers even further, “We’ve spoken about this before, last semester maybe?”

His cheeks turn pink and he clears his throat once more, “Yeah I know, my free period was getting quite boring so I wanted a reason to come talk to you. I’m sorry I missed this morning.”

It was your turn to blush now, “Oh, it’s okay. Jungkook came to fix my projector this morning.”

He nods, “I still want to know if you want to get dinner tonight.”

You smile and stand up grabbing your lunch bag and water bottle, “I’d love too.”

“But you didn’t want to go out with me,” Jimin says appearing out of thin air behind Namjoon with his lunch bag.

[chicgeekgirl89]

Vegas Baby! Chap 5: Pony

Read chapters 1-4 here!

Although honestly, even if you haven’t read the others, you should probably read this one. It’s worth it for the giggles.

“Thank you Hetty for the use of the wardrobe room,” Callen said, checking out his tux in the mirrored doors of the elevator.

“Does Hetty know you took four tuxes from the Mission?” Deeks asked.

Callen shrugged. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And we’ll have them back safe and sound by 8:00am Monday morning.”

They’d gussied up for the evening and were headed downstairs to start some good old-fashioned gambling. Eric was nearly out of his mind with excitement.

Deeks and Sam found their way to a craps table while Callen went to babysit Eric at a poker game. Drinks were ordered and Deeks was just starting to relax when his phone buzzed with a text from his fiancée. He snorted and began typing back. “Kensi’s at a strip club.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “You okay with that?”

“She’s a free woman. And I know who she goes home to every night. It’s her bachelorette party. It’ll be fun.”

Sam shook his head. “Do you know your partner at all? She’s going to hate that.”

“Well then I’ll have fun imagining her hating it,” he said with a smile, returning his attention to the game.

“We have to go.” Callen appeared out of nowhere, a wide-eyed Eric at his side. “Right now.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, already rising from his seat.

“See those guys over there?” Callen nodded to the corner where three men were watching them, their hands on some not-so-subtly concealed guns. “They just recognized Eric.”

“How do you know?” Deeks asked.

“Because I recognized them first. And then one of them said ‘Beale’ and pointed at me,” Eric said anxiously.

“I thought Hetty took care of this!” Deeks said as they walked toward the exit.

“Apparently not as well as she thought she did,” Callen said. “Walk faster.”

 They headed out into the street, the lights making it seem like daytime even though it was well after 10:00pm. “Anybody got a plan?” Sam asked, his eyes searching the streets for any signs of additional trouble.

“No chance they’ll listen to reason?” Deeks asked.

“I was VERY good at poker,” Eric said.

“You mean you were very good at cheating at poker,” Sam said.

“Counting cards shouldn’t be illegal!”

The men with guns burst out of the casino doors. “This way!” Callen said, taking a hard left.

Deeks felt his jacket rip as he ran. Hetty was going to be pissed. They turned down an alley and he spotted a door slightly ajar. “In here!” he said.

They darted inside and Sam pushed the door shut behind them. Almost immediately pounding could be heard from outside along with muffled yells.

“Where the hell are we?” Sam asked as he braced himself against the door.

The space was small and narrow with a musty smell. It was also dimly lit making it hard to see. Deeks could hear the strangely muffled noise of people nearby. The floor was uneven and he tripped, bumping into Eric who nearly went to his knees.

Something started slamming against the door. “We need to get out of here,” Callen said.

Deeks touched the wall and realized it wasn’t a wall at all but rather a heavy curtain. “Through here!”

Deeks heard the door crash open and got a glimpse of their adversaries just as the team pushed their way through the dusty fabric.

Callen shielded his eyes as they were all immediately blinded by light. “What the…?”

There was a distinctly feminine catcall and then Deeks’ eyes adjusted to see a room full of mostly women, all dressed in party attire.  “What the hell is this?” Sam asked.

Music started. Sexy music. Music Deeks knew all too well. His eyes widened as he put all the pieces together. “Shit.”

Tiffani squinted. “KayKay, that guy in the middle looks EXACTLY like Marty.”

Kensi turned around in her chair and her eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

“What?” Nell looked up from her third shrimp cocktail and choked. “Oh my god.”

Deeks looked toward the wings and saw three distinct outlines looking hesitantly toward the stage. There was literally only one choice. And his team was going to hate it. “I hope everybody stretched this morning,” Deeks said as he stepped to the front of the stage and struck a pose.

“This isn’t happening,” Kensi said.

“Oh it’s happening,” Nell said, shoving another shrimp into her mouth, her eyes wide with excitement.

The music began in earnest and Deeks wiggled his hips to the beat. “What are you doing?” Callen asked over the din of the crowd.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in a strip club,” Deeks said as music continued to blare through the speakers. “And there are men with guns on the other side of that curtain.”

“What do we do?” Eric asked.

“Strip or perish.”

“What?!”

“Strip or perish!” Deeks ripped open his shirt and all the women screamed.

Kensi gripped the edge of the table. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“I feel very uncomfortable,” Eric said as he tried to wiggle his hips the same way Deeks was doing.

“Weren’t you in high school theater?!” Deeks asked. “Let it loose Beale! I can’t carry this thing by myself.”

Eric met his eyes. “I have always wanted to be in a production of Hair.” He pulled his shirt open too as the music grew louder. “Everybody follow my lead!” Deeks yelled.

“Like this?” Callen had apparently realized the gravity of the situation and was doing kind of an awkward shoulder shimmy in an attempt to blend in with the group.

“Okay just…” Deeks reached over and ripped the team leader’s shirt open himself. There were screams of delight as buttons showered the audience.

Deeks turned to Sam who glared at him. “Don’t you touch me,” he warned.

“TAKE IT OFF!!” someone screamed.

  Deeks grimaced. “Sorry buddy. Life or death.”

He ripped Sam’s shirt open and the audience went crazy. “Bodyroll!” Deeks yelled, leading them down the catwalk. “In 5, 6, 7, 8!”

 “I’m dreaming. Tell me I’m dreaming,” Kensi said.

“Yeah baby take it all off!” Nell screamed, her eyes on the stage and Eric’s gyrating hips.

Clearly Kensi wasn’t getting any help there.

Deeks called out steps as the rest of the team tried to follow along. He pulled his shirt off completely and swung it over his head, a little surprised at how fast all the moves came back. It might have been twenty years since Magic Marty had put on a show in such a formal setting, but apparently he hadn’t lost a step.

Things started to go off the rails when Eric got a little too confident. He jiggled his way to the front of the catwalk and whipped his glasses off, tossing them into the crowd.

Someone tucked a bill into his pants and he locked eyes with her, gulping in surprise. “Nell?!”

“Looking good baby!” she yelled back.

He scrambled back, nearly knocking Sam over. “How long do we have to do this?” Callen asked desperately over the roar of crowd. He definitely didn’t have the hips for this kind of work.

Deeks began to thrust his pelvis toward the audience. “Okay. At the end of the song the lights will probably go down. Then we can make a run for it through that side exit,” he yelled back. “Until then, keep it going. Freestyle!”

“What the hell do you mean freestyle?” Sam asked, shaking his leg free from a woman who’d latched onto it with all her might and was screaming, “I want to have your babies!”

Deeks dropped to his knees by the edge of the stage and grabbed a water bottle from someone’s table. Ripping off the cap he held it over his head and drenched himself.

 As he shook the water out of his eyes they found two familiar ones in the front row. “Kensi?”

“Deeks!” she yelled, her face contorted in that ‘I’m going to kill you’ kind of way. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Baby, there’s an explanation but I can’t—“ Sam grabbed his arm and hauled him up. “I’m sorry!” he yelled desperately as he took center stage once more.

“Not as sorry are you’re gonna be!” she yelled back.

The music reached its climax. “Strike a pose!” Deeks yelled as the final chord slammed through the room.

The lights dimmed and they jumped off the stage. “Excuse me, hi, I might have miscalculated, has anyone seen my glasses?” Eric asked as they pushed through the crowd. “I just, I can’t really see without them. Oh, thank you.”

A woman with purple hair put them in his hands and he shoved them back on his nose as they headed for the doors.

A/N: For the record, I imagine our boys are dancing to “Pony” by Ginuwine. In case that helps your mental image at all.

[atomicallybland]

Hello! It’s Barbara, it’s Monday morning/afternoon and I’m here to sell you a timeshare in the Turks and Caicos.

Just kidding! I’m the tiny rock in your shoe when you’re in a rush that just won’t quit, Katya!

Now, some might say that I’m the incomparable, incredibly, wondrously, notoriously talented loser that wiggled and jiggled her way onto season 7 of drag race and the second season of All Stars, but others might say I’m the homeless guy pulling the padge behind a dumpster down some alleyway in WeHo and I gotta tell you the truth, my truth, both are absolutely 100% correct. I have also co-hosted my own TV show, podcast and tried to tongue Miss Tracy Martel several times on our YouTube series (which is returning this month!)

I think that that’s enough about me, but if you want to come and see me behind that very dumpster and converse, shoot me a message at @ mumsgoldteeth!

[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter Eight)

The weekend passed by without further incident. The two naked women were able to return to Beringall without getting caught, Henrietta managed to get back into her clothes, and after all the panic and excitement in her died down, the two decided to wind down and enjoy a relaxing evening with plenty of leisurely small talk, romantic movies, and frequent bouts of lovemaking. All throughout, Henrietta whispered sweet fantasies into Carol's ear about how much she would love it if her friend would become a Zenrist, and Carol, in all her horniness, was all too happy to indulge her.

"You're going to be naked forever!" Henrietta would say as Carol stood tall and proud above her, grinding her crotch into her own, meeting each other clit to clit, while her hands reached up and took hold of each of the nudist's beautiful, bouncing breasts.

"I'm going to be naked forever!" Carol would utter back, grinding harder, jumping higher. "I'm going to be naked forever!"

"Inside. Outside. At the park. At the beach. In the grocery store. At school with your daughters. Everywhere."

"Everywhere! Everywhere. I want to be naked EVERYWHERE!"

They came to those words multiple times all throughout the night, and a couple more times in the morning. But alas, like all good things, it had to come to an end. Henrietta had a big meeting on Monday to prepare for. By noon, she was fully dressed and out of the house, but not without giving her naked girlfriend a kiss on the lips, a squeeze on the ass, and a quick swipe on her slit.

"Goodbye, love," she said. "And I do mean what I said yesterday and all last night. I'd love for you to be naked forever, and I think you'd make a wonderful Zenrist."

With her gone, that left the place to Carol alone. To lounge around and take it easy the way she liked to be: without a stitch of clothing. No pesky daughters around to keep an eye on, clean up after, or worry about scarring for life if they ever saw her bare boobs jiggling around. She was free to run around the house in her birthday suit all she liked, and nobody could stop her.

...

It was pretty boring.

Carol grabbed her phone and started dialing. Henrietta may not have been around to entertain her anymore, but the nudist knew of someone else who'd be all too happy to. She was fortunate to know a couple women in this town who were willing to have benefits with her, and she knew one girl in particular who would most definitely drop everything and come running at the slightest invitation.

"Hey, you've reached the number of Katherine Summers," said the automated voicemail message of said girl on the phone. "Sorry I'm not around right now, but if you just leave a message after the beep, I'll be sure to get back to you. Bye!"

Carol's heart dropped like a lead weight. In her experience, if Katherine didn't pick the phone up when you called, then she most likely wouldn't pick it up until tomorrow. Still, if the mother left the right message, it might incentivize her lover into being more...timely.

"Hi Katy, it's me. I have the house all to myself. It's so cold and lonely here, especially since I'm," Carol took a deep breath before speaking again in a humid tone, "completely naaaaaakeeeeeed. Won't you please come over and warm me up?"

Knowing that was all she could do for the time being, Carol hung the phone up and placed it back on the counter. Goddess, what was she supposed to do now? She looked out the window. The day did look pretty nice. Perhaps she could just go out and try to enjoy it.

But that would mean she'd have to get dressed. She'd have to put clothes on. Her girls would have to be tied up, her love tunnel would have to be covered, and her delectable derriere would have to be hidden under a detestable layer of cloth. As would most of her thighs, her stomach, her arms, and likely her shoulders. Her nude streak would have to come to an end. It had the potential to be the longest one she had in years, and it was already the craziest one she had in her life, and she'd have to give it up, just like that. And she knew she wouldn't get another streak like this again for a long time.

Carol sighed. Those Zenrists had it so good. They could run around everywhere in their natural states to their heart's content. Even now, there were at least a few dozen or so ladies enjoying the day, doing things like eating lunch, swimming in the pool, playing in the park, working out in the gym, or drinking at the bar. All while as naked as the days they were born.

It wasn't fair! Why was it okay for them to have all the fun, but not her? Because she didn't believe in a kooky, sex-obsessed goddess?

Carol pouted and let her body sink into the couch. Normally, she would have enjoyed the simple sensation of letting the poofy, velvety cushions mold themselves all around her body. They felt good as they seeped into the contours of her back and the cleft of her buttocks. It was like sitting on a cloud. But right now, she was just too huffy to like it. She didn't want to be naked in the house. She wanted to be naked literally everywhere else!

Well, she was in here all by herself with nothing and no one to distract her. That gave her plenty of time to ruminate...and read her new book, which was currently resting on the counter by her phone.

Guess I could pick up where I left off, she thought as she opened it up. Though I have to ask just how many lovers does this freaking goddess need?

She had read a fair bit of the Scripture during the drive home. So far, not much had happened in it; mostly, the Goddess went back and forth between making women to have lesbian sex with, and then having lesbian sex with them. It was endless. She would make a woman out of clay, as gods were wont to do since they were too good to try experimenting with other building materials, screw her until she fainted from exhaustion, make another woman, screw her to exhaustion, and then make another one all for the same purpose. Oh sure, each sexual encounter was different; some girls favored oral, some favored vaginal, some were givers, some were receivers, some were completely submissive, and others even thought they could dominate a goddess. But it was still all the same pattern.

When looked at with an eye reserved for snooty literary critics, Carol had to admit it was rather repetitive. But she didn't think of it that way at all while she was reading it. If anything, it had been the single most engaging thing she ever remembered perusing in her life! Not only that, it also filled her with a deep warmth within her core, like someone was tickling her gently from the insides. It was that hot of a book! She got the sense that if she hadn't already been naked while she was reading it, she would have taken whatever she had on off.

It is a page-turner, I'll give it that, the naked woman mused as she got ready to read the next section. Might as well keep going.

***

And so twelve lovers fell into blissful sleep for the twelfth time, and the Goddess dipped Her hands into the clay again. But as She began to give shape to what would be Her Thirteenth Wife, She realized this would not be enough, for creation is a miraculous but exhausting process. And Zenriah knew She would never be able to craft all the lovers She desired by Herself.

But as She looked upon Her slumbering wives, each a beautiful reflection of Her splendor and radiance, the light of inspiration flowed through Her once again.

Come the morning when they awoke, Zenriah welcomed their embrace as She always had. She feasted upon Her wives as they feasted upon Her, suckling and flowing and bucking and bursting with every collective beat of their hearts. She allowed them to squirm all over Her form, explore every corner of Her majesty, and seep into every crevice of Her being.

Feeling Her First Wife crawl upon Her ripened flower, the Goddess knew it was time. She bloomed even further, welcoming Her lover inside Her sweet-smelling depths. She took her eyes, tongue, and visage as She had countless times in the past, letting her loll about inside Her as she drank of Her nectar and inhaled of Her essence, causing her petals to flutter in ecstasy. And then, without warning, She took her heart and her breasts and her womanhood, and all else there was to her.

And Zenriah's First Wife gladly gave it all. Her Goddess' pleasure was her pleasure, and to be so deeply immersed within the Goddess was to turn herself into a tool of ultimate pleasure. Even as she was pulled ever more inside Zenriah, she continued to kiss, continued to caress, continued to wiggle like a wet serpent inside the heavenly flesh until it became her entire world, all there was, and all there would ever be. Gently, it pulsed around her, molding her form against their succulence, shaping her like she was made of clay again. With every touch, she felt her whole Goddess quiver from within as joy erupted in Her holy being, which only pulled her deeper inside. More and more, Zenriah's First sank within her Goddess, writhing and dancing and rolling in that which was most holy of all as the Goddess' cries of bliss echoed all around her. Zenriah's love held tighter around the woman, it moistened and slickened her 'til she was naught but a gyrating drop of nectar in a sea of pure divinity, unable to see, unable to breathe, unable to escape...until with one great climaxing shudder, the Goddess burst. Her holiness spilled out of Her flower and upon Her Wives, while Her First was pushed all the way in until she was nestled in the enveloping darkness of Zenriah's loving womb. And there she remained.

The same fate awaited the rest of Her wives. One by one, the Goddess would pull them to her, one by one the Goddess would swallow them up, and one by one, the Goddess would seal them within the greatest depths of Her being.

In there, Zenriah taught them Her greatest secrets. She taught them how they would experience the ultimate pleasure. She taught them how they would experience the miracle of life. She taught them how they could go about creating themselves. Most of all, She taught them how they could become goddesses in and of themselves!

When She had told them all there was to tell, the Goddess released Her wives from Her womb, letting them each experience the joy of birth for the first time in their existence. Then She issued to them a decree for what would be their greatest duty to Her.

"Make me more wives, my loves. Make me more wives to slake my everlasting thirst."

And so the Twelve obliged Her. Happily, they expressed their love for Her and each other with their newfound knowledge of creation, molding their children and Her wives within their holy wombs through the fires of their passion. Just as the Goddess had created them and bestowed them with life, so too were they able to create and bestow lives of their own.

From Twelve Wives were birthed twenty daughters. Each daughter was presented to the Goddess as an offering and as a token of their immortal love for Her. And the Goddess happily took them all and gently cradled them against Her bosom.

"Make me more," She commanded. "Make me more wives for whom I may love, and of whom may love Me, for all eternity. Make me more until all the world is enveloped in your love for Me. That is your duty."

And so they birthed more daughters. And their daughters birthed more daughters. And they birthed and they birthed until all the land was covered in the succulent flesh of Womankind. And the Goddess smiled, for as She looked upon Her creations, She knew She finally achieved what She desired for so long.