#Éli

[hellishdave]

Éli - Színtelen

Elhagytam a valóságot, nem létezik kötelék, Kötél egy gerendán?, milyen érzést követnék? Magam sem ismerem a jövőt, nélküled elvesztem, Csukott ajtók mögöttem, pedig a jövőnket terveztem! Már nem bírom!, tovább lépni nem lehet, Az elmém szikrájába vesztem el minden megrekedt, Nem látok a sötétbe, túl homályos a valóság, A szívem veled maradt, túl nagy lett az adóság, Nem bírod?, sok volt a teher a vállamon, Nem volt semmi jó, bennem lett űr meg fájdalom, Számolom, a napok peregnek lassan mint hónapok, Ahol él még benned szeretet, hidd el én ott lakok! A hideg ráz!, minden érzelem egy dalba, Szabad akarat mit az elme körbe épít fallal, Ez nem én vagyok, árnyéka önmagamnak, Csak nevettél mikor súlya lett a szavaknak Ez így van jól?, neked mind ez csak játék lett, Nekem orosz rulett, az érzéstől válnék meg Szállnék el, egy fuvallat vigyen messze, Lehetsz te vagy én, de meg találod magad benne! Fájdalomból íródott, vége soha nem lesz! Egyben biztos vagyok örökké te kellesz! Egy esélyt a szívemnek, addig minden színtelen! Apró darabokra törtem, rád gondolok szüntelen! Fogva tart az érzés, hova merre tovább?, Te vagy a fény az életbe nem látom a csodát, Egyben biztos vagyok, szeretlek míg dobog a szív, Lüktet a lelkembe, nem számít a kín! Csak veled kapom vissza, így semmi sincsen rendben, Újra erős leszek, újra megláthatod bennem, Aki mosollyal az arcán mondta ki hogy szeret, Aki nem várta az érzést, mégis ettől szállt föld felett, Több kellett.. mára hatalmába kerített, Eldobom az életet mert belőled merített, Most gyenge vagyok!, emlékszem az ajkadra, A szemedre, a kezedre, a mosolyra, a szavakra, Az érintésre, kacajra, a könnyes búcsúra, Időt kértél, megkapod!, de addig be lesz borulva. Minden nap úgy kelek fel, hogy nem akarok élni!, Nem akarok létezni és nem akarok félni!, Nem akarom nézni!, már romokban a kártyavár, Egy szerelem egy élet, remélem a szeretet rád talál! Büntess uram, ha úgy érzed meg érdemlem, A szerelmet ne vedd el, mint minden minden ember én is tévedtem, Soha nem vétkeztem!, hűség és becsület az utam, De nélküle vége! Nélküled vége! Ha eljön az idő, senki se szóljon, Néma csend legyen és ez a zene szóljon! Végleg elmegyek, csak egy percet együtt lehetnénk, De egy élet is kevés a boldogsághoz amit szeretnék, De még nem adom fel!, erre tanított az élet, Meg úgy szeretlek mint senkit!, küzdök amíg élek, Ha a halál völgyében járok, vissza emlékszem a szépre, Rád!, a csókokra!, a megannyi emlékre, Nem lehet a vége mert a jók nyerik el a jutalmat, Egy kincs vagy mindörökké, de nincsen róla fogalmad, Hogy mennyi fájdalom és bánat jön még nem tudom, NEM IS ÉRDEKEL MERT A SZÍVEM VELED JÁR EGY ÚTON! Nem látom az arcod, képek adják meg a hitem, Minden óra egy harc, minden percbe megszakad a szívem, Így kell lennie?, biztos ez van megírva, Ez van a szerelmünk lapjaira leírva! Így még erősebb lesz, együtt a világ ellen, Mindent egymásért!, amíg ki nem lehelem a lelkem!

[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི heartbeat • osamu dazai

synopsis • a one time thing then becomes a sometimes thing and that becomes something entirely different when dazai is officially pardoned from his long list of crimes. his timing is impeccable considering it’s a special day for him.

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, cursing, use of pet name “bella”, oral (m -> f), fingering, dry humping, dazai cums in his pants womp womp

wc • 3.7k

a/n • happy late bday to the stinky!!!!!!! bday or not it’s my job to embarrass this man ^.^

it started as a one time thing, a mistake the two of you made one drunken night when dazai was a whole bottle in and you a few shots in. he used to have no problem drinking alone but that night, for some odd reason, he sought you out — he was craving your company in his intoxicated haze. with your usual restraint heavily impaired, nothing stopped you from spending the night sitting on top of dazai and making his eyes roll to the back of his head.

it was supposed to be a one time thing but isn’t that how these types of things always start?

the second time it happened was the very next day. something in dazai had clearly been stirred because he would not stop bothering you all day. usually he’d pick a time of day and use it to poke fun at you but eventually your indifference would make him grow bored and he moves on to the next person closest to him (i.e kunikida). however, he was persistent the next day and a lot more touchy. worst of all? everyone noticed. you were mortified when atsushi of all people leaned over the desk across from you and asked “did something happen” the pause to look between the two of you for dramatic effect was really the nail in the coffin, “…between you two?”

you wanted to throw up. curse atsushi and his weretiger animal instincts. you wanted to be careful. you continued to shut down the not-so-subtle advances from the brunette. but your composure was thinning — that paired with the images of the previous night’s activities flitting across your mind, was enough to cut your thread of restraint. of course dazai was so bothered he couldn’t make it back to the dorms. he had you in the electrical room that kunikida was prone to lock him in when the detective was being especially annoying. 

it happened again and again and again. and then several more times after that. you had a sort of schedule almost. a tell when dazai was going to visit you after work.

it was never more than sex.

and that’s what you’re trying to remind yourself of as you prepare to face dazai for the first time after being in prison for months then being pardoned for his crimes after assisting in bringing down fyodor dostoevsky and the decay of angels. you’re uncharacteristically nervous to see him. the freshly freed man has been in yokohama for a week now, you saw him on his second day here for a welcome back party the agency threw for him. 

he was… distant. 

that was the best way you could think to put it. he was seemingly normal with everyone else but with you, it was as if whatever you’d been doing before the doa incident had never taken place. it was unsettling to say the least.

or, at least it was unsettling, until today.

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: i’m coming over in five minutes. got anything strong?

you roll your eyes at the contact name that dazai had clearly entered himself, regardless of that, you let a fond and somewhat relieved smile tug at your lips.

you: you insult me. i always have your favorite stocked

dazai “the best detective of all time” osamu: a woman after my own heart (♡ヮ♡)

you don’t bother with a response. instead you ignore the odd ache in your chest and pull down a bottle of liquor that you normally would never touch but the nagging feeling in your gut needs to go. you pull out two shot glasses and pour some of the alcohol in each one. you don’t wait for the brunette and throw your head back to toss the amber liquid down to the back of your throat. you make sure to swallow it all in one go, hoping the after taste isn’t too strong. 

you refill the glass and you’re getting ready to take another shot when the doorbell rings.

what the fuck?

dazai never uses the bell? he doesn’t even knock most of the time, he just barges right in. you cautiously toe your way to the front door and lean up to peer through the peephole. you’re met with a mess of burnt caramel tresses. you’re quick to lean back and open the door. 

dazai’s attention clearly wandered while he had been waiting but the second you open the door he perks up and swivels around to present you with a singular yellow iris flower. you wonder where he found the gorgeous flower, they were hard to find this late in june, just barely no longer in bloom. 

the former fugitive thrusts the flower forward in your direction, his face is the perfect picture of composed, eyes lidded and smile relaxed. the way his free hand twitches at his side gives him away though. you make sure your eyes don’t linger on it for too long, dazai would know and would sink back into himself. instead you flit your gaze back to the flower and let a your mouth curve up in a shining smile.

“this wasn’t easy to come by, bella, but the search was worth it now that i get to see that stunning smile of yours.” the brunette bows in a way that’s reminiscent of a young lord courting a young lady.

you scrunch your nose in amusement and take the flower. your giddiness overtakes you and you’re quick to bring the beautiful plant up to your nose and breathe in. the smell is refreshing, what a flower should smell like in its prime. this iris is truly the perfect pick.

you look back up to dazai only to find him observing you with an unfamiliar gleam in his curious eyes. “thank you for the flower. i was surprised when you rang the doorbell, y’know? anyways, come in, your favorite is on the counter in the kitchen.”

the detective wastes no time in shuffling in. he toes his shoes off quickly and tosses his jacket on top of them, majority of it laying crumpled on the floor. dazai’s nose finds the amber liquor before his eyes do. he looks at the poured shot glass almost apologetically. you watch him do so and furrow your brow in confusion. 

you don’t linger on dazai’s strange behavior for long or the fact that he was in such a rush to get over here that he forgot to put his vest on and match his socks. you focus on opening your cabinet for your thin vase made for a single flower you totally didn’t steal from an event the ada hosted. you struggle for a moment before dazai’s chest is lightly grazing your back and he’s reaching above you to grab the object for the iris. 

the detective keeps you trapped between the counter and his body as he reaches over and fills the vase with some water. once he’s done and straightens himself, dazai plucks the flowers from your hold and plops it into the water. he scoots it as far away as possible before spinning you around. 

dazai brings his hand up and wraps it around the back of your head, fingers gentle as he runs them through your hair then he pushes your head into his chest and reaches up with his other arm — softly murmuring, “watch your head…” 

his voice trails off, like he’s not sure whether he should continue as he closes the cabinet doors above you. when he’s done, his fingers wrap around your hair and he tugs lightly to get you to look up at him. your breath hitches when his eyes catch the light, golden hour. the warm lighting turning his usual dark irises into a shining bronze. they’re beautiful, he’s beautiful as your eyes trace every feature on his face. 

dazai looks tired, you can tell by the way his skin is dull and in the bags that sit under his eyes and in the way his eyelids droop just a little bit lower than they normally do. despite his exhaustion, he still shines in the sunlight painted across his features. 

then he whispers out your given name, as if breathing it is all he knows.

the thing he was scared to utter, because dazai is dazai and you now know what that means. he’s terrified of rejection, specifically yours. so, instead of telling him — you’ve never really been good with words — you show dazai how willing you are to reassure him that rejection from you will never happen.

you search his eyes for a moment, looking for any hesitancy on his part. you don’t find any. you reach up and gingerly cup the brunettes cheeks. his reaction is instantaneous as he melts into your touch like a man starved. his fingers in your hair tighten and you let out a short noise, something caught between a whimper and a gasp. 

the noise you make is all the confirmation dazai needs to slip from your grip, he leans in to slot his lips with yours in a deep and fervent kiss.

you let out another noise, this time a hum of approval. your hovering arms rest on the detectives shoulders and you wrap them around his neck. with your new leverage you draw dazai even closer to you. your chests are pressed together as you breathe each other in. your senses are suddenly flooded by him and a welcome chill rolls through your body when he nips at your bottom lip.

his movements are slow, a stark difference from the usual desperation he displays when the two of you initiate sex. his tongue dances along your lips, silently pleading for entrance. you part your lips with ease and even let out a soft hum of appreciation. dazai explores your mouth like he’s discovering something entirely new for the very first time. his tongue goes from entangling with your own to scraping the back of your teeth then flattening against the roof of your mouth. you feel as if he’s devouring you, taking his time and not leaving a single centimeter untouched. 

while dazai’s mouth has you preoccupied, his hands roam freely, sliding across every curve until they land on your ass. again, he’s taking his time. it’s almost excruciating how slowly he’s taking things, but you have no say in the matter when your mind is this foggy. his guidance is welcome even though the pace isn’t quite to your liking.

dazai’s lithe fingers gently massage the swell of your ass, eliciting another whimper from you that he swallows up with a smile tugging at his lips. directly following that he steals your breath when he takes hold of the back of your thigh and hoists you up onto the counter with surprising ease. you distantly think, once again, how it feels like the man is trying his best to devour you. your hold around him tightens but you part from him, a string of spit following you. you’re panting, trying to collect the air you lost, the air that was taken from you by the brunette standing before you with a lopsided smile and gleaming eyes.

“…osamu…” you imagine the way you said his name just now sounds eerily familiar to the way he said yours.

dazai lets out a groan and dips his head down to nuzzle your neck. his fingers are now biting into your hips and teasing the hem of your tank top. his mouth trails along your jawline then he begins leaving sloppy kisses down the expanse of your neck. you push your chest into his and rake your fingers slowly up his clothed back.

you're desperate and it’s showing — it’s contagious even. dazai can only take so much. he’s waited too long to have you wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways. 

his fingers finally find their way under your shirt as he all but whines, “been waiting for this since i was taken, wanted you s’bad when i was gone.” 

you lean back and stare at him for a moment before trailing your fingers under the collar of his shirt and along the string of his bolo tie. you expertly loosen it along with the buttons of his shirt, which you also untuck from his trousers. you leave everything hanging on him for now while your lidded eyes stay trained on his face as you trail your hands down your body to where dazai’s hands rest on your now exposed hips. you want to see the reaction on his face as you guide his hands up, to expose more of your torso.

it’s your turn to guide him to your chest, letting him hold your breasts. his breath hitches and eyes flutter when you still. his fingers twitch and he watches you closely as he gives you a cautionary squeeze, testing out the waters. you hum in appreciation and give him a short nod. dazai is slow, again, it’s almost frustrating. you let out a huff but he’s far too focused on your tits to notice your ire. 

you stew in your frustration for a moment before a wild grin spreads across your face. you think you’ve figured out how to make the surprisingly patient man crack. you push your chest further into his hold and he thinks nothing of it, that is until you lift your shirt the rest of the way off and drop it on the floor. the brunette’s eyes flit from your chest to your face. he raises a brow curiously as you reach over and pull the bolo tie off his neck and pull it over your head, letting the accessory rest in between the valley of your breasts.

“i missed you too.”  

dazais eyes roll to the back of his head as he abandons your chest and takes hold of your face. “you’ll be the reason for my demise, bella.”

the detective gives you no room to rebuttal because in the next instant he’s crashing his lips to yours, his patience clearly thinned out. you smile triumphantly and reach out to slide his shirt off his torso and both of you let it fall to the ground. you trail your fingers down his abdomen. following the bumps of his bandages and leaving a wake of goosebumps on his exposed skin. when you make it to his pants you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants button. 

while you’re busy with your own endeavor, dazai is conjuring up a plan of his own. his hands trail down your thighs squeezing at the plushness of them. just as you’re about to unzip the brunette’s pants and let them drop to the floor to join the rest of your clothing, dazai slips from your grip as he drops to his knees. and how are you supposed to complain when he looks so good looking up at you through his lashes sitting pretty between your thighs? 

the answer is you don’t.

your hands quickly find his hair and your fingers tangle with the soft tresses. he leaves a trail of kisses up each of your thighs. once he’s satisfied with his work his fingers curl into the band of your shorts and looks up at you expectantly.

”off…” it’s a soft demand, but a demand all the same. 

you lift your hips and dazai all but tears the small article of clothing from your legs. he let’s out the most pathetic whimper when he notices two things. the first being that you weren't wearing any underwear. the second was just how wet you already were. it’s a clear testament to how worked up you must be and something in dazai’s chest swells as he realizes you must have been just as frustrated as he was. 

“no panties all because of me? how pretty. somehow your prettier than i remember, absolutely divine to a man that’s been starving for months.” 

your thighs lightly squeeze his head and you let out a frustrated groan. “osamu, please, would you just shut up and-“

your sentence is cut off by dazai practically shoving his face into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. it’s tactless but the way he sucks harshly has you seeing stars. your head lulls back and you let out embarrassing little pants. your fingers in his hair tug and scratch against his scalp, which earns a shameless moan from below you.

dazai is still watching you through his lashes. he can feel himself hardening in his pants, his hips twitching as they threaten to start thrusting and humping the air desperately. he ignores the desperate need to be inside of you and focuses on your pleasure. the detective brings his hand up to your mouth and taps your bottom lip with his middle and ring fingers. you’re happy to comply and open your mouth to welcome the two digits, wrapping your lips around his slender and long fingers and sucking on them with a smile.

dazai can feel the way he leaks into his pants at the view before him. it’s embarrassing how easily he’s getting off to you getting off on his mouth. pathetic even. only you could do this to him, no one else has ever drawn this kind of reaction out of the ex port mafia executive. once you're done swirling your tongue around his fingers, he pulls them from your mouth and guides them to your entrance. 

without giving it a second thought he pushes both digits into you with ease. 

your own fingers tug harshly at dazai’s hair and you let out a string of moans. “fu- ‘samu ‘s too much… oh my god- gonna cum already.”

dazai stills, for both your sakes because he thinks the knot in his own stomach is far too tight to just be desire. he was gonna cum. he was going to cum untouched. but he can’t just leave you hanging like this. your release versus his embarrassment. it’s an easy decision. dazai continues the suction he had on your clit and he pulls his fingers out of you almost all of the way and slides them right back in. 

you’re babbling incoherently, you can’t hold your head up, can’t see the way dazai is desperately bucking hips humping the air as he chases the minimal friction his underwear brings him. 

all it takes is two more thrusts of dazais fingers and you’re done for, cumming on his fingers, his mouth, his tongue. dazai is a messy eater, he’s slurping up your juices, everything that's drooling out of you is caught by his tongue. your vision is white and ears are ringing so you miss the way dazai starts cursing to himself. his mouth is still lapping at you but his hand has disappeared. 

you look down to see him using the same hand to pump his cock but by the time you register it, he’s already cumming, making an absolute mess of his pants and your kitchen floor. dazai’s whole body is twitching, but once he’s done he slumps over and rests his head on your thigh. his face is flushed, a telltale sign that he did, in fact, just cum.

you blink, trying to find your bearings and come to terms with whatever the fuck it was that just happened. “did you just-“

“shut up- no! i didn’t- no- shut up!” dazai whines as he shoves his face into your thighs and you can feel the heat radiating off his face.

you let out a snort and stroke his now sweaty hair. “osamu, it’s fine. it’s been a while. plus we both know, with that freak stamina of yours, you’ll be ready to go again in 10 minutes max.”

dazai rolls his head on your thigh so he can pout at you. you let out a small giggle at how cute he is. your hand drops to caress his cheek. 

“c’mere…” 

dazai shakes his head defiantly at your request. “no. i’m a mess. i need a towel to clean up first.”

you sigh at his dramatics but scoot over to jump off the counter. you walk a few paces forward to your small kitchen table where your paper towels sit. you pad on over and hand him the roll. dazai lets out a weak ‘thanks’ as you walk to the fridge and pull something out: a small container with a single cupcake in it. you pop the lid open and stick a birthday candle in it. you snatch your lighter and flick it on to light the candle.

walking back over to dazai, who’s shifted to sit against the cabinets and grumbling to himself about how he’ll show you how long he can really last, you're careful to make sure the candle doesn’t go out. you slink down against the cabinets and wait for dazai to stop cleaning himself and notice you.

with a huff dazai kicks his pants off, sitting only in his underwear. he looks over at you with a perplexed look, staring between you and the cupcake in your hands.

“what… what’s that for?” his face looks strangely innocent, he’s genuinely confused. 

you smile softly at him, hoping it’s enough to reassure him. “happy birthday, osamu.”

”how…??” he’s so stunned he can’t even speak.

you suppose this reaction is to be expected. until his arrest, you had no knowledge of when his birthday was. but since becoming public enemy number 1 a lot of his personal information had been shared to the public. his birthday being apart of that. you don’t feel like ruining the mood and explaining all that to him right now.

so instead of explaining, you simply move the cupcake towards him. “would you stop being difficult and just blow out your candle to make a wish?”

dazai gives you a scorned look but listens to you anyways. he seems to take the wishing part seriously as he contemplates something. his eyes flicker to you for a moment before he leans in and blows out the candle.

[magnolia-sunrise]

ok honestly im thankful for the love on the short little comic, somehow in the past i feel like my more polished attempts at comics usually didn't really do well outside of the smallest circle of this blog so it's been really nice to read all your nice tags and reactions to it :" )) it makes me at least a bit more motivated to try and do more of these

there is one last panel of it that ended up on the cutting room floor because i didnt want to undercut the sincere tender tone of the end, but i can show it to you in this uh. cut scenes post:

[geekpopnews]

Literatura de Goiás: Cinco autores que você precisa conhecer

A literatura é uma das principais manifestações culturais do estado de Goiás. Aqui está uma lista de cinco escritores essenciais para quem quer saber mais sobre literatura goiana. #LitetaturaGoiana #LiteraturadeGoiás

Goiás é um estado muito importante culturalmente para o Brasil. Um exemplo forte é a quantidade de artistas, principalmente na música que se destacam, e se tornam conhecidos tanto no cenário nacional, quanto internacional. Mas a literatura também é uma das maiores manifestações culturais do Estado, onde se destacam a poesia, e os livros de ficção que buscam retratar as características e aspectos…

[vivneha]

M Í G T E

Amíg te aggódsz, agyalsz, rosszul érzed magad és magadat hibáztatod addig ő kurva jól el van és éli világát. Tedd te is azt!

[stickalittle]

Anyám főz rám.

Késői gyerek vagyok, úgyhogy édesanyám idős asszony. Már egyedül él, nehezen mozog, és ahogy észrevettem, abban éli ki az élet "örömét", hogy főz rám. Ehhez eléggé ragaszkodik, hiába mondom neki, hogy inkább pihenjen többet, mert nála egész napos tevékenység egy-egy főzés. Úgy gondolom, azért ragaszkodik ennyire ahhoz, hogy engem ellásson főttétellel (több dobozzal is pakol), mert ettől érzi magát nélkülözhetetlennek, ettől érzi azt, hogy még szükség van rá az életben, hiszen valakire főznie kell. Persze nekem is könnyebb, hogy csak benyúlok egy-egy dobozért a hűtőbe, és van mit ennem, de kicsit menzás menü feelingem van ettől, hogy nem azt eszem, amit választok, hanem készen kapom a menüt, amit a "szakácsnő" megfőzött. Szerencsére jól főz, és nem mindig ugyanazokat főzi, hanem szeret kísérletezni, új recepteket kipróbálni főzős újságokból, így változatos a menü, a hagyományos (pörkölt)ételektől kezdve a különlegességekig. Csakhogy ha éppen mást ennék, akkor is ezt eszem, mert persze nem dobunk ki ételt, én így szocializálódtam. Én is szeretek főzni (és állítólag tudok is), úgyhogy én is szívesen készítenék többször ételt magamnak, vagy néha inkább csak úgy feldobnék egy-egy pácolt húst meg zöldséget a grillre, vagy pizzát a pizzasütőbe vagy csak összeállítanék egy joghurtos salátatálat, mert éppen ahhoz van kedvem, de akkor is inkább megeszem az anyám által pakolt milánóit (amiket olyan mennyiségben állít elő, hogy csak a harmadik-negyedik napra fogy el). Oké, le is fagyaszthatnám, de akkor meg a huszadik mélyhűtőt vehetném a fagyasztott ételeknek. Általában vasárnaponként vagyok édesanyámnál, így legkésőbb csütörtökre minden elfogy, tehát két napom marad a héten arra, hogy kiéljem a magamra főzés örömét. Tudom-tudom, addig örüljek, amíg ő él, és főz rám. Ez is igaz. Ezért soha nem mondanám el neki, hogy én is szívesebben főznék magamra többet, mert attól félek, hogy ezt úgy értelmezné, hogy nincs szükség az ő munkájára, így nélkülözhető lett, ezt pedig nagyon nem szeretném. Úgyhogy nem mondok neki semmit, csak kiírom ide a blogomra.

[minden-minden]

Az a baj, hogy ha az ember „megvan”, attól még nem boldog. Egy szürke, közbülső állapotban van, ahol minden reggel felkel, és éli az életét, néha még nevet vagy mosolyog is, de ez nem jelent sem örömet, sem boldogságot. Ha „megvagyok”, akkor nem várom a következő napot, a következő másodpercet, és igazából nem élvezem az életemet. A legtöbb ember beéri azzal, hogy „megvan”, engem is beleértve, és mindenki úgy tesz, mintha ez rendjén lenne, pedig igazából gyűlöli. Az időnk nagy részét azzal töltjük, hogy várjuk, mikor törhetünk ki abból, hogy „megvagyunk”.

[csacskamacskamocska]

Érzelmi, érdemi kommunikáció nélkül élni

Egy érdekes beszélgetés részese voltam, ami egészen új dolgokat adott nekem. Egész idáig nem tudtam elképzelni, hogy emberek élnek úgy, hogy kisgyerek koruktól kezdve semmilyen érdemi információt nem kapnak a szüleiktől sem a világról sem arról, hogy hogyan igazodjanak el benne. Nem beszélnek érzelmekről, de még egy családi tragédiát sem beszélnek ki. Mindent csak végigcsinálnak. Az egész élet egy felszínes vagy csak alacsony mélységig ható módban üzemel. Nincs rá idejük és nem érzik szükségét sem. Csak legyenek rendben a dolgok, legyen vacsora, legyen lenyírva a fű, legyen tiszta a ház, menjen iskolába a gyerek, de ne legyen vele gond A gyereknek meg még 14 évesen sincs elképzelése se, hogy mi szeretne lenni, mert egyszerűen semmit sem tud a világról, mert a szülei számára sem létezik a nagyvilág. Nincsenek célok, csak napok vannak egymás után. De szépen élnek, megbecsült emberek, tiszta udvar, rendes ház. És a gyerek viszi tovább ezt a mélység és így empátia és tartalom nélküli életet, hiszen csak ezt ismeri igazán. És éli az életét, lemerevedve. Belebénulva a pillanatba, amikor a családi tragédia nem lett kibeszélve, nem lett feloldva. Ahhoz a veszteséghez képest minden bagatell, ha azt nem kellett megbeszélni, akkor bármi mást minek kéne? Ez a tanult minta. Nem kell érzelegni, nem kell foglalkozni a fájdalmakkal, veszteséggel, csak mindent csinálni kell. Nyírni a füvet, elültetni a babot, megfőzni az ebédet, venni új fűnyírót és új ebédhez alapanyagot. És persze nősülni és vállalni a besikeredett gyereket. Nincs más út. Aztán elválik, és akármilyen sekélyes is az érzelmi élete, ez kirántja a lába alól a talajt. Nincs semmilyen eszköze, semmilyen tartaléka, semmilyen kapaszkodója. Nem tanult semmit, akárhány éves is, csak azt tudja, hogy tiszta udvar-rendes ház. Úgy tűnik, itt van a fordulópont. Ha itt elmegy/elkerül valaki pszichológushoz, akkor van felébredés és van egy új, önismeretben öntudatosabb élet. Amiben már benne van a másik ember is. A saját és más emberek mélysége. Őrült érdekes. Hogy tényleg leélnek emberek úgy egy egész életet, hogy csak felszínesen vesznek részt a saját életükben, a saját belső világukban. Döbbenten ülök, és sok mindent át kell értelmeznem az elmúlt évekből. Ez a működés nem egy alkalmatlanság, hanem egy képzetlenség, gyakorlatlanság, tehetetlenség, bénultság. Én pedig ezt eddig nem értettem. Most olyan valaki mesélte ezt el, aki már vissza tud tekinteni saját magára.

[pimsri]

Éli calime Nai loruvalye

A couple of sleepy faun boys :)

[konyvekkozt]

J. megvakult

korábban meséltem J-ről

J-t sikerült elhelyeznem. egy lábadozóba került, ami valamiféle hibrid a hajléktalanellátás és a kórház között. a lábadozón van egészségügyi személyzet, gyakorlottak a mindenféle szakellátásban

szerencsém volt, mert a megkeresésünkre, mely szerint J-nek átmeneti ellátást keresünk, nyitottak voltak, helyük is volt

J. így a szemészetről a lábadozóra érkezett betegszállítóval. pénteken szállították, hétfőn voltam nála. J. ült az ágy szélén, kekszet majszolt. elmondtam neki, hogy átmenetileg van itt, azért, mert itt fókuszáltan tudnak segíteni neki az egészségügyi dolgokban. például van kapacitás arra, hogy autóval szállítsák kivizsgálásra, elérjék, hogy legyen időpontja ultrahangra, ami elengedhetetlen amiatt, mert a daganatos betegségéről nem tudjuk, hol tart, milyen károkat okozott

J. a héten volt szemészeti kontrollon. a szakvélemény szerint 100%-os a látásvesztése

ízlelgettem a mondatot. J. megvakult. megannyi kérdés mozog bennem

nem tudom, J. vissza tud-e jönni hozzánk, el tudunk-e látni egy vak embert. azt sem tudom, a párja hogy éli meg, hogy a férje már igazoltan semmit nem lát. abban sem vagyok biztos, hogy a felesége el tudja-e látni, belátással lenne-e a gyógyszereléssel kapcsolatban

J. most jó helyen van. megvan a következő szemészeti kontroll időpontja, van ultrahangos időpont is, onkológiai kontroll is lesz

viszont nem tudom, J. meddig maradhat a lábadozón. ha sokáig, remek, de nem ezt ígértük neki. J. végtelenül együttműködő, megérti, hogy marad. viszont a felesége sem erre számított, nem látjuk, hogy boldogul önálló személyként és nem egy látásvesztett férj segítjeként

és itt vagyok én. van egy lakóm, aki megvakult. J. most azért nem lát, mert nem kért időben segítséget. és hiszem, hogy megannyi módon a tudtára adtam, mindenben számíthat rám. de J. nem lát és soha többet nem lát már

szociális munkásként minden segítséget szeretnék megadni a lakóimnak. és ez így is van. minden ügyfelem minden ügyét a szívemen viselem. intézek idősotthoni elhelyezést, közgyógyellátást, TB ingyenesítést, meghallgatok örömeket és bánatokat

J. túl későn bízott meg bennem. kekszmajszolás közben azt mondta, túl nagy terhet vettem a nyakamba, mire biztosítottam arról, nem túl nagy a teher

J. elkezdi tanulni a látás nélküli világot. én pedig azt mantrázom, mindent megtettem. és ez igaz is. közben mégis van egy lakóm, akiről nem tudom, mikor és hogy érkezik vissza hozzánk, hogy tudom integrálni a házasságába

mindent megtettem, nincs bennem bűntudat. mégis nehéz, hogy van a világban J., aki megvakult

szociális munkásnak lenni kiváltság, mert emberek bíznak meg bennem - vakon, hiszen nincs más. szociális munkásnak lenni felelősség, mert megvakulhat bárki - aki nem bízott bennem vakon

[nakahras]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི slow down • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • every week you find yourself in one of chuuya’s club, one reminiscent of a speakeasy. as his subordinate, you know of each and every one of his establishments. what you never expected was for him to show up to one of your performances. lucky for you he shows up to reward you handsomely for a successful show.

warnings • (buckle up this is gonna be a long one) fem!reader, swearing, alcohol, dubcon, intoxication (both parties), use of the pet names “doll” and “baby”, ņsfw, hair pulling, chuuya is a tease, power imbalance, grinding, very slight exhibitionism, fingering, finger sucking, oral (f -> m), unprotected sex, dacryphilia, wall sex, creampie, cockwarming, i cannot be blamed for what i wrote that wasn’t me

wc • 9.4k

a/n • this has been sitting in my drafts for so long waiting for me to find the will to finish the smut (⌒_⌒;)

the atmosphere is warm and inviting. a mixture of expensive perfumes, liquors and smoke builds an aroma that, although slightly suffocating, is also surprisingly delightful. it’s busy, just like every friday night, thanks to the main act. at least, that’s what chuuya’s been told. 

earlier in the week, his subordinates noticed that numbers for this club in particular, have gone up significantly. it’s now chuuya’s most popular establishment. friday nights, especially, are giving him high revenue. he isn’t complaining by any means, he just wants to know why so maybe he can bring that aspect of this business into his others — or at the very least thank whoever it is that’s responsible for these numbers. 

he’s come to realize that his sales have spiked strictly within the 9-10pm time frame—the peak of the friday night show. he allows performers, mainly singers, to take the stage at night. it’s somewhat of an experiment on chuuya’s end. speakeasies are far and few between; he wants to know if that’s due to the lack of interest or just the lack of organization. he’s happy to see that there’s still interest. 

chuuya wants to see it for himself. that’s what led him here, at his own club in the vip section. he’s sat forward, leaning on the table, his hands folded in front of his face as he anticipates the curtains parting to reveal the subordinate rumored to have captivated this entire club and its patrons. the ginger wasn’t given much to go by, but he knows it’s someone that works under him, it’s supposedly how they managed to get the most coveted slot. 

it’s clear, however, that their talent is what allowed them to keep the slot.

you’re nervous. it’s the first time since your very first performance on this stage that your palms are sweating underneath the leather short gloves you wear. you were told earlier this evening that you had a special guest tonight. when the stage manager told you “no pressure” your fingers twitched, itching to reach for the knife you kept holstered and hold it up to his throat. those two words always had the opposite effect and something told you the bastard knew that.

you take in a shuddered breath as you look at the backstage clock. it’s nearly time. those curtains are about to open and reveal you to whoever it is that’s so important on the other side of the heavy red velvet cloth. you shake your arms and take a few calming breaths as the lights dim further than they already are.

it’s showtime.

you make the decision to not look. you train your eyes to the ground as the curtain rises from the floor, slowly revealing you in your fitted black floor length dress. the thigh slit that reaches your hip leaves you feeling far more vulnerable and exposed than you’d like to admit. as you look everywhere but at the vip section you realize you may be revealing far too much skin with an important guest in the audience. the top half of this dress wasn’t any better either. the short sleeves felt as though they were simply a decoration — hanging off your shoulders exposing not only just your shoulders, but your collar bones and cleavage as well. 

you’re hyper aware of your appearance and now so is chuuya. his breath hitches when the curtain reveals you. you looked devastatingly beautiful, the kind that could ruin his life and he would thank you for it. how did he not know it was you? you’d always piqued chuuya’s interest. he paid closer attention to you than his other subordinates and he had noticed you were always busy on friday nights, but he never would have imagined in a million years that this would be the reason. chuuya didn’t even know you could sing but here you were, singing like a siren and ensnaring the executive in your trap. he was absolutely mesmerized, hanging on to every word you sang.

the executive desperately wants you to look at him but he quickly notices you’re adamantly avoiding the vip section — his section. do you know he’s here? does he make you nervous? the thought of making you nervous stirs something inside of him. something he thought he had suppressed a long time ago because it’s entirely inappropriate of him. chuuya desires you, deeply, desperately, dangerously. watching you on that stage, in that dress has him clenching his jaw. his self control is waning quickly. 

you get through the first song with a surprising amount of ease. your rigid muscles relax as you melt into the melody. your nerve endings igniting with the reverberations of the instruments behind you. you feel electric, everything buzzing as you make it to the last song.

luckily, for you, it’s only supposed to be a short set tonight, 3 songs total. so, when you reach the end of the final song you finally allow yourself a glance. your eyes widen and lips part in utter shock to find the very bicolored eyes that have been haunting your thoughts since you first laid your sights on them. as the curtain drops you reel at the fact that the important guest was none other than the club owner himself, your superior in the port mafia, and executive. chuuya nakahara. your vision tunnels and ears ring as you pretend to listen to whatever praises are being handed over by the crew. you manage to accept them with grace easily then dismiss yourself to your dressing room.

you don’t think much time has passed since the curtain dropped, but you’re proven wrong when you walk through the threshold of the dressing room and the door is promptly shut, revealing your superior. your posture turns rigid and chuuya watches you intently as you swallow thickly. you think the look in his eye is something akin to a predator gazing upon its prey. chuuya doesn’t miss your change in demeanor and the way your throat bobs anxiously. it’s all he needs to know that his earlier suspicions were right. he does make you nervous. 

you bow your head instinctively and offer him a respectful greeting, just like you’d normally do while at work. “i was told someone important was coming to watch my show tonight but i wasn’t aware it’d be you, thank you for coming, nakahara-sama.”

“chuuya. no need to be so formal here…” although chuuya would be lying if said you referring to him in such a way didn’t do something to him.

here you are, the most gorgeous woman he’s ever had the pleasure of laying his gaze upon and you’re being the respectful one. as much as chuuya wants to boast about you clearly admiring him as a superior, that’s not what he’s here for. now that he knows you’re the one that has brought his club popularity, he needed to reward you properly.

”you watch him carefully, making sure he means what he said — it doesn’t take you long to realize he’s being sincere. “right. then… thank you for coming, chuuya.”

oh. his name has never sounded so sweet. but when it falls from your lips like honey, he can’t help but to crave more. 

your voice is saccharine, a true gift from the angels. in fact, your superior isn’t quite convince you aren’t an angel after hearing that set. you truly must be otherworldly. it’s the only explanation.

“have to say, didn’t even know you could sing, let alone sing like that.” you watch as the ginger crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on the door. chuuya adjusts his hat and peers down at you through his surprisingly long lashes. 

you’ve never been a skittish person, but chuuya nakahara makes you nervous as hell. “i wasn’t keeping it a secret. you just never asked.” 

“‘spose i should apologize for that then, huh? i just assumed i always made it obvious that i paid special attention to you. but i guess in this situation, that still wasn’t enough. how do you suggest i make up for not asking, doll?” his bicolored eyes scan your face, an easy smile stretching his lips. 

you blink once, twice, three times trying to comprehend what he’s asking you. his smooth honey-like voice entrancing you and making your mind dizzy at the utterance of the term of endearment. your mind is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow. you’re buffering in real-time. you try to snap yourself out of your stupor but it’s hard when the most gorgeous man is standing in front of you, gaze lidded and hungry and directed towards you.

you swallow thickly again and manage to rasp out, “buy me a drink?”

the ginger cracks a smile and before he can even say anything, there’s a rap at the door. chuuya pushes himself off the wooden panel and swivels around. he only cracks open the door enough for him to peek his head out and speak with someone in a hushed tone. you can’t see anything and you think twice about trying to peer over the executive’s shoulder. chuuya toes the door shut and turns around presenting you with a wide grin.  

“why don’t we move this conversation back to my section in the club? i have a surprise waiting for you there.” chuuya steps closer to and casually reaches out and holds the middle of your bare back to guide you.

you don’t have time to form a single coherent thought to even think about declining. you’re being gently pushed towards the dressing room door that chuuya manages to hold open. his hand doesn’t leave your back for a second as you both walk to his semi secluded section. your head is dizzy again. the feeling of the smooth leather from his gloved hand sends a shiver through your spine that you swear he notices, if the smile he’s wearing has anything to show for it.

when you get close enough, you notice two empty glass flutes and the most expensive bottle of champagne this club carries sit atop the table of chuuya’s booth. it’s probably the most expensive bottle of alcohol you’ve ever laid your eyes on. there was no way that was the bottle you thought it was. when you finally get closer you quickly read the label. sure enough you were right, a bottle of dom perignon plenitude 2, brut champagne 2003. your eyes nearly bug out of your head and your mouth moves before you can even second guess your words.

“this is not what i meant, chuuya, this… i can’t accept this.” you stare at the bottle of champagne carefully, it costs far more than what you make in a night singing here.

chuuya’s smile is warm and reassuring as he sort of chuckles through his nose. “don’t worry, doll, you deserve this. it’s no sweat, just enjoy it, okay?” his hand slides up to between your shoulder blades and down again just above the swell of your ass then he repeats that action a few times, clearly trying to sooth your anxious mind.

you involuntarily relax and eventually concede. “fine, i suppose if you’re offering… who am i to refuse at least a glass?”

the grin that you receive from the executive is nothing short of triumphant. the way his nose scrunches a tad bit and the way the dimple on his left cheek becomes more prominent makes him look much younger and full of energy than his usual demeanor does. his smile is contagious, you can’t help but to offer him one of the same value. it takes his breath away.

you take chuuya’s breath away.

the ginger sits in his thoughts and admiration just a little too long. you notice his sudden daze and tilt your head in confusion. “you still here with me? why don’t you do the honors. it’s embarrassing to admit, but i’ve never been very good at opening champagne bottles.”

chuuya lets out a chuckle and reaches for the bottle. you watch in wonderment as he pops it open with ease. you figured chuuya would want the first pour but after filling the first glass he hands it straight over to you. you’re not sure if it’s true but you’ve heard something about the first pour after opening a bottle of wine was the best. you wonder if the same applies to champagne. 

at some point during your walk over to the booth, chuuya had taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. he must’ve gotten hot, you vaguely rationalize. you try, and fail miserably, to not ogle at the extra bit of skin and muscle the executive is displaying. maybe he had the right idea. it was getting hot in here.

 if chuuya notices he doesn’t say anything. 

he does notice, it’s hard for him not to. his lips curl slightly at the way your eyes not so subtly trail along his arms. you probably would have caught it if you weren’t so preoccupied. he thinks about making a remark but doesn’t want to embarrass you. so, instead, chuuya clears his throat and holds out his drink to make a short toast. 

you tilt your head with a look of curiosity, waiting for him to make his toast.

chuuya gets the memo and clears his throat almost as if he was nervous. “to your successful set tonight and to making this my most successful club.”

“this is your most successful club?!” you can’t help the obviously baffled guffaw that leaves your throat.

you knew this was a popular club. the public loves the idea of a speakeasy. an obvious difference in vibes from a modern day club — it was a welcomed change. after all, that’s what drew you to it in the first place too. 

to think that this club was so bustling because of you, however, was an entirely different thing. there is no way that this establishment is so lucrative based solely on your performances alone. you can’t possibly take full credit for it. somebody had to have come up with the idea of open mic nights. whoever that was, should be toasted to. not you.

chuuya chortles, clearly finding the shock in both your face and expression amusing. “yes, doll. friday nights specifically. they’re my best nights.”

oh.

yeah, you couldn’t exactly delude yourself into thinking the club's success isn’t because of you anymore. these were clearly your nights. the idea is far too much for you to wrap your head around. you never would have imagined that people enjoy your voice in general. so, to know they not only enjoy it, but they seek it out every week makes your head spin.

you need more champagne.

you finish off the last few sips you have left in your flute then reach for the very expensive bottle sitting next to chuuya. you’re not fast enough, though. chuuya’s nimble fingers wrap around the neck of the dom perignon to pick up the champagne. you think he’s trying to play keep away with you but you’re proven wrong when he tops you off — still with an amused lopsided grin gracing his features. 

you take generous and consecutive sips from your newly poured glass, downing almost all of it in one go. your eyes water and throat stings from the influx of bubbles filtering through your esophagus. the expression on your face scrunches up into a grimace, the sting from the champagne surprising you. you panic as you feel an air bubble traveling back up. you try your best to suppress the burp threatening to release from your throat. you're successful but in place of a burp you let out a squealed hiccup. it’s soft enough to where you think you may have gotten away with it but the look on chuuya’s face says otherwise.

the executive is clearly amused, displaying another wide smile. “thought you said you were only going to have one glass? you’re gonna end up too tipsy before i can even ask you to dance with me.”

you look at him in a daze. your face heats up and you come to the conclusion that it’s equal parts embarrassment and the alcohols affect. your whole body ignites, buzzing as the alcohol runs its course and makes your inhibitions loosen. 

this is dangerous. 

who knew all it took was two glasses of expensive champagne to have your head spinning and mind wandering to places about chuuya it shouldn’t. he is your boss, your higher up, your superior. it’s embarrassing, really, thinking the ginger would, in any way, reciprocate your interest. it had to be a ridiculous notion, right?

wait.

rewind.

he said dance with you. he wanted to dance with you? god, you now desperately wish you hadn’t drunk so much already. the thought alone of dancing with chuuya made your legs wobbly, add the alcohol in the mix and your leg muscles were turning to jelly. 

“dance? you want to dance… with me?” your mind clearly wasn’t wrapping around the concept.

chuuya gives you a curious look. “what? don’t think i can dance?”

you weren’t expecting his playful tone and that devilish smile that’s gracing his lips. as a matter of fact, this chuuya — the one here tonight — is a far cry from his usual self. although you suppose you’ve never seen the executive in a setting where he can be more relaxed. the port mafia doesn’t exactly allow chuuya much room to be a laxed 20-something year old. he’s the strongest ability user, after all. he’s also the port mafia’s most talented fighter, with and without his ability. he’s a forced to be reckoned with and it radiates off of him when he’s wearing his executive mask. a scowl is almost permanently etched onto his face. you actually used to think it was his resting face.

the aura he radiates is one of intimidation. stained red from the blood of his victims and scorching like a raging fire. you hate to admit it but you used to avoid chuuya. he terrified you. but the more you were around him and the more you saw of him that changed.

of course, every interaction you’ve had with him thus far has been strictly professional, naturally. yet, you won’t lie, there was more than one occasion where you’ve let your mind wander to what he’s like outside of his duties. you got glimpses of it in the way he interacts with those he’s truly close with. you think that chuuya it beautiful. a stark difference from the horrifying monster the lower ranks paint him out to be. 

but even when he’s with the people he trusts the most, he’s still at work. this is different. so, you decide this chuuya, here tonight, is refreshing. 

you’re not sure if the decision is solely based on your current inebriated state or not, but right now you could care less. you finally let yourself relax, nerves rolling off your body and evaporating. it’s a visible change that chuuya makes sure to take note of as you return his current energy.

“chuuya-san, that’s quite the assumption, don’t you think? what makes you think that i spend any time thinking about whether you can dance or not?” 

your lashes flutter almost flirtatiously (you blame it on the alcohol) as you tease him. you know well that he hates being referred to in such a formal manner — even by his subordinates. chuuya’s quick, though, and immediately catches on to your teasing. his bicolored eyes almost twinkle with amusement and he offers you a hand. the action is so smooth you don’t even question it, in fact, you don’t even react at first.

“first you question my dancing skills and now you refuse to dance with me? damn, doll, you’re breakin’ my heart.” chuuya snorts at the way your face twists in horror as you realize what’s going on.

“i- no! i’m not- that’s not- !” you stumble over yourself, words spilling from you faster than what your mind can keep up with. you take a breath and grab the ginger’s hand, quite aggressively, and pull him onto the dance floor. 

you’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of confidence comes from, maybe yet another thing to blame on the alcohol, but you roll with it. despite the look and feel of the club, it was still past midnight on the weekend. the speakeasy atmosphere has been replaced with a dj and modern music filtering through every conceivable speaker in this establishment. 

everything is vibrating, it makes it hard to discern whether your fingers are steady or not. god, you hope your fingers are steady as you guide chuuya’s hands to your hips — you also hope you’re not being too forward. the thought is distant and nagging, much like if someone was lightly hammering a dull nail to the back of your head. you let yourself slip into the anxiety spreading in your chest and for a split second, you think your fears are founded, because the gravity manipulator’s fingers ghost your hips, distinctly not finding purchase on your hips. 

the thought of him being nervous too isn’t plausible in your mind, so you don’t even entertain it.

just as you’re about to draw back and pull away, mortified by your own boldness, your breath catches. in fact it almost halts altogether because chuuya’s pulling you closer to him. with your back flush to his chest, you can feel the heat of his body emanating from him. distantly, you wonder if he just naturally runs hot or if it’s just the club, the people all around you, the buzz of the alcohol.

the heat is oddly calming, a reminder of his presence safeguarding your largest vulnerability. maybe that’s the reason he chose this position in the first place, the act of dancing was already exposing enough, you didn’t need to worry about your back being watched when chuuya is sheltering you so well. 

chuuya’s wandering hand splaying across your lower stomach and pushing down says otherwise, though. a pleasant chill courses through you, despite the humid air.

you need to steady yourself, his presence is entirely overwhelming, consuming you almost completely. 

all you can do, all you want to do, is breathe him in.

you need to ground yourself before you do something stupid. you reach up behind yourself and clasp your hand around the back of chuuya’s neck, fingers scraping against his skin lightly as you card your fingers through his hair. the tips of his own fingers on your lower abdomen bite into the fabric of your dress. his other hand grips your hip and guides you, moving you against him — with him.

it’s easy, moving your body in tandem with his. matching his movements was easy and you have to admit to yourself that he’s a really good dancer. chuuya has total control over his body and knows exactly how to move it. you don’t know why you’re so surprised, his extensive training in the martial arts and flexibility have to make for an excellent dancer and it shows. 

you’re so caught up in the feeling of him, the heat of him, against you that your source of intoxication shifts from the alcohol to him. you’re so drunk off the smell of him, off the closeness of him, off the way you can feel every hard muscle of his chest and abdomen against your back. your senses are so clogged up with him that nothing else is getting through.

it doesn’t help that your body is moving on it’s own.

or is it?

no. it’s chuuya, he’s guiding your body. your ass is firmly pressed against him, grinding into him and you hadn’t even noticed in your stupor. 

this is so inappropriate. he’s your higher up for god’s sake. this is wrong, right? but then again…the executive is the one that’s leading your actions, he’s clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. no harm in indulging yourself in him if he’s helping himself to you, right?

in the same moment, chuuya is dipping his head down, lips grazing and breath ghosting the shell of your ear. “you still doubtin’ me?”

you take in another shuddered breath. this man is killing you. he’s doing this on purpose, he has to be. you try to put the blame solely on his shoulders — you want this to be all him so badly. but you know that’s simply delusional because you’ve been drinking and you know very well how alcohol makes you act up.

chuuya teases you further by dropping his head down to your shoulder and nestling his face in your neck. you can feel his warm breath fanning over your skin. electrifying every nerve ending in your body, making your whole being feel like it’s buzzing. you don’t miss the way his lips stretch into a satisfied smirk. it’s then that you realize — he’s doing all this on purpose. the executive is toying with you, creating a game out of making you squirm and seeing how long your self control can last.

how cruel. he knows how stubborn you can be, showing that side of yourself in almost every mission you two have worked together. but he’s never had experience with you intoxicated (luckily for you). so, chuuya also has no idea just how far you throw your inhibitions out the window when alcohol is involved.

the ginger is taken by surprise when a small noise akin to a whimper is released at the back of your throat. if he wasn’t so close to you, he would have missed the noise completely, but he caught it loud and clear, much to your embarrassment. chuuya is stunned further when your backside presses into his front and grinds down harder than your previous slight brushing. you’re absolutely shameless about it, fingers digging into the base of chuuya’s scalp. 

you move your head and match his lidded gaze. “pleasantly surprised…”

in that moment you both move without thinking. it’s like something possessed you both, swam into your brain and took control. it happens so quickly too. one moment you’re simply staring in to eyes and the next, your lips are crashing into the ginger’s, meeting him halfway. it’s surprisingly smooth, an easy kiss considering your slightly intoxicated state. his lips are so plush and soft. you don’t know what you expected. you’ve caught yourself on multiple occasions watching him apply chapstick regularly and each time you were caught in a trance at the action.

chuuya knows exactly what he’s doing, almost as if he’s thought about this before — kissing you. his movements are deliberate and surprisingly soft for how eager he seems. your lips move in sync, slotted together and fitting in a way that makes you think that maybe you were made for one another. it’s a ludicrous thought, you know, but that doesn’t stop you from relishing in it all the same. this must be what dying and then going to heaven feels like, light and elated. 

you’re both moving your bodies to the music around you. it’s quite impressive how chuuya is able to still lead you into moving in time with the beat reverberating through your bones. you turn your body so your chest is flush with his and you bring your other hand up to cup the executive’s face. he takes that opportunity to hold you closer and deepens the kiss. the ginger nips at your bottom lip then shamelessly swipes his tongues along it, eyes open to gauge your reaction. another whimper escapes you and you feel his lips curve once more into a satisfied smirk. 

instead of deepening the kiss further, like where you thought chuuya was leading this, the man in question pulls away. you chase his lips but he’s too quick and you can’t manage to recapture them. how frustrating, it was just getting good too. your face scrunches in confusion.

“chuuya, no-” you lean in and leave an open mouth kiss on his neck and then suck some of his skin into your mouth and graze your teeth across his porcelain skin. chuuya lets out a shuddered breath but keeps his composure, for the most part. “more…”

your whine elicits a breathy laugh from the executive and he brings his hand up to gently stroke your cheek. he watches as your pretty eyes flutter shut at the slightest of touches. his imagination starts to run wild as he thinks of the types of reactions he can pull out of you when he does more to you. the thought alone almost drives him insane. you two need to get the hell out of this club and away from prying eyes.

“we have eyes on us, doll. why don’t we get out of here?” chuuya hums at you questioningly.

your eyes clear from their haze when the ginger’s words register. “...and go where?”

“my apartment. it’s not too far from here. plus- i brought a driver with me tonight. what do you say?”

the executive, your higher up, detaches himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. your decision was made the moment you set eyes on him while on stage. you easily take his hand and allow him to lead you out to the car he had waiting for the two of you. 

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the car is nice, again it was something that costs far more than what your level at the port mafia could afford, but you’re still surprised. chuuya enjoys driving, so you never imagined him using a chauffeur. although you suppose he’s responsible and since he’s been drinking at a club…this is clearly the chuuya thing to do. 

the chauffeur does his duty and goes to open the door for you. the younger man, someone you don’t recognize so he must be lower in ranks than you, is stopped by chuuya. the boy, you’ve decided he’s much younger than you — somewhere between 18 and 19 years old — startles at the executive’s hand landing on his shoulder.

“you can return to the car, kid. i’ve got the doors.” chuuya’s tone is light, but still, his words come out as a command.

the chauffeur looks absolutely horrified, obviously thinking he did something wrong and scurries back to the driver’s side. the ginger, on the other hand, clearly pays it no mind as he opens your door for you and offers his hand for help. you let out a light giggle and chuuya can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face.

“what i do now?” 

you shake your head at him in amusement. “that kid looks terrified. are you sure he’s even old enough to drive?”

“he is. taught him how to drive myself. trust me, he’s more than capable of driving us to my apartment.” he tilts his head to indicate that you should get moving into the car. 

instinctively, you do as he says and make your way into the car. your head is still spinning from the champagne you had earlier and suddenly everything is moving quickly. chuuya gets into the car and tells his driver to get moving before lifting the partition, separating the two of you from the boy up front. 

not even a moment later you find one hand gripping the armrest of the car door and the other gripping chuuya’s arm as he has his own ungloved hand shoved in between your thighs. his middle finger is toying with you, circling your clothed clit. your grip on him tightens when he shoves your panties to the side and gathers your wetness before focusing on your clit again. 

your hips stutter and head falls back. your hazy senses distantly warn you that maybe doing this in a car where you aren’t alone with chuuya wasn’t a good idea. what if the driver opens the partition to ask something of your higher up. once again you’re smacked in the face that this isn’t exactly right, you shouldn’t be headed home with your boss. 

you’re brought out of your thoughts when chuuya’s fingers dip down further and prod at your entrance. your breath hitches as he pushes his middle finger inside of you. his fingers are the perfect size, surprisingly long and not abnormally thick but not thin either. you’ve found yourself on multiple occasions staring at chuuya’s hands in the rare moments he actually removes his gloves.

you can feel a noise bubbling in your throat when he brushes his thumb across your clit. “chuu-“ you’re cut off when the ginger adds another finger.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying to not let any noises travel to the front of the car. chuuya notices and leans in, his arm reaching over to spread your legs open. his lips find yours as he does so and in that very moment he chooses to start languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. you can’t help yourself as you let small moans escape you but the man pulling them out of you makes sure to swallow them up.

when chuuya pulls away from you his bicolored eyes watch you carefully. “no need to hide your pretty noises from me, baby. ‘s soundproof.”

at that reassurance you let out a string of curses while his hand still works you skillfully. you don’t think a man has ever been able to make you feel this good with just his hand. hell, you don’t think even a woman has pulled you so close to the brink this fast with just her hands. it’s almost embarrassing how good he’s making you feel. what’s even worse? chuuya notices.

“‘m i makin’ you feel that good already? gonna be good and cum for me, doll?” chuuya’s fingers speed up, both the ones inside you and the thumb he has brushing against your clit.

you squirm at the increased intensity. your abdomen feels like it’s on fire, the warmth spreads and your vision starts to become spotted. your other hand on the car door now flies to his arm too and you brace yourself the best you can.

“mm fuck- chuuya- gonna- oh m- cumming!” you let out a silent squeal, mouth hanging open as your head is thrown back against the headrest. 

your body convulses lightly as you plummet. the same warmth building from earlier now spreading throughout your entire body. your vision blurs and everything sounds muffled. moans are falling from your mouth but you don’t even register them. chuuya is merciless with his ministrations. he continues to guide you through your orgasm.

once you’ve settled down, all of your tense muscles relax and you slump into your seat. you let out a whimper when chuuya finally pulls away, leaving you feeling distinctly empty. you loll your head around to look at the executive. it’s all you can muster in this moment while you’re still trying to catch your breath. 

the sight you’re met with almost makes you cum for the second time. the ginger looks over to you, catching your gaze immediately. as he maintains eye contact, chuuya brings his hand up to his lips and pushes his soiled fingers past them. you watch as his eyes flutter and throat bob while he drinks up the juices you left behind on his skin. he lets out a sinful groan and you swear it’s the most alluring sound you’ve ever heard. 

you sit up straight and brace yourself for climbing over the center armrest but you’re both startled by a knock on chuuya’s window. that’s when you realize, you must be at his apartment because the car had come to a stop. you reach for your door handle but the sound of the executive behind you clicking his tongue draws your attention away from it.

you peer over at him and he’s giving you a disapproving glare. “don’t you dare touch that damn door, be patient, yeah?”

you feel your face flush, you don’t think you’ve ever been scolded for trying to open your own door. unable to find your voice you simply nod your head. a gratified smile stretches across chuuya’s face. he opens his own door and before he slips out he looks back at you.

“good girl.”

you choke on your own spit. 

those two simple words are enough to have your thighs rubbing together, ready for him again. you’re blaming all of this in the two glasses of champagne you had back at the club. there was no way one man (derogatory) was pulling this kind of reaction out of you on his own. that would just be utterly ridiculous. 

that’s what you try to convince yourself of when your car door opens and chuuya offers you his hand again. you gladly take it considering this time your legs are a little shaky. the gravity manipulator politely dismisses the driver and guides you into the building. 

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི•ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

the ginger has you attached to his hip as the both of you step through the threshold. the lobby is quiet and almost sparkling. you think that this lobby is nicer than the entirety of your apartment. the difference is almost jarring. the older man that’s sitting at the front desk waves politely at chuuya and the executive gives him a friendly wave back. 

“good evening, nakahara-sama. i see you’ve brought a guest.” the older man looks at you with a warm smile. “such a pretty young lady. it’s nice to see nakahara-sama with someone, he rarely has guests outside of his work colleagues.” 

you feel your face heat up in embarrassment. if only the man knew. but who are you to spoil his fun? in fact, you find yourself joining in. 

“it’s nice to meet you…”

the old man blanches and looks almost mortified with himself. “how rude of me! my name is tanaka.”

you introduce yourself as well and give the man a mischievous smile. “thank you for boosting my ego, tanaka. it’s nice to know chuuya isn't bringing home many women.”

the older man’s eyes widen and he tries to stifle a snort. 

“alright. you two are dangerous together. have a good evening tanaka.” chuuya quickly ushers you away with a sour look on his face. “to clarify, there’s a reason i don’t bring other women around and it’s not for the reason you think it is.”

you snicker and can’t help the sardonic smile that’s plastered on your lips. “then tell me, what’s the real reason, chuuya?” 

you vaguely notice you pass a hallway of elevators and instead walk directly to a separate one with a key card pad. 

“you. you’re the reason i don’t bring anyone else around.”

his voice is surprisingly soft and timid, you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say anything without full confidence. you blink, the switch in his demeanor is so staggering you buffer for a moment. that paired with the implications of his words has your mouth flapping like a fish out of water.

you try to attribute the fluttering in your stomach to your earlier activities and not his words, yet you’re unable to form a proper coherent thought. “what do you- what?”

chuuya finds your blanching absolutely adorable. the ginger lets out a short chuckle. he doesn’t explain himself. instead the ability user leans in and holds your face with his now gloved hand. he searches your eyes for a moment, you don’t know what he’s looking for but after a moment you think he’s found it because his face relaxes into a satisfied expression. 

he leans in all the way this time, capturing your lips with his own. the kiss starts off gentle but quickly turns fervent when he presses you into his and a wall. that’s when you feel a distinct bulge pressing on your stomach. the thought alone makes you whimper. 

you detach yourself from chuuya’s lips and press your head against the wall behind you, the ginger isn’t deterred as he starts to trail kisses along your jawline. “chuuya…have you been hard this entire time?”

you’re met with a grunt as chuuya all but ignores your comment and works his way down your neck. you let out an amused puff of air and look for the button for what you can only assume is his private elevator. all you’re met with is that damn keycard pad. your arm is snaked around his waist and you tap on his back to gain his attention.

“chuuya, call for the elevator.” your voice comes out far more strained and breathy than you meant it to and you watch as chuuya notices.

he pulls away from you, only enough for him to reach into his pocket and give you an amused smirk. “since when were you the one to give the orders, huh, doll?”

you give him a deadpan look, clearly not amused by his teasing. chuuya, however, evidently thinks he’s hilarious and chuckles to himself as he leans back and scans his keycard to call for the elevator. this was the port mafia executive everyone is scared of? the strongest ability user in all of japan, maybe in all of the world? to you, in this moment, he seems like just some regular 20 something years old loser. he’s so lame and somehow you find it utterly endearing.

the elevator dings and the doors open. a lightbulb goes on in your head and you have a brilliant idea. without wasting another moment you push chuuya into the elevator and before he can even get a complaint out — you knew it was coming by the look on his face — your hand starts stroking his clothed cock. the ginger lets out a hiss as he stumbles back into the wall.

chuuya lets out a shaky breath that’s a stark difference to his following words. “shit, no need to be so rough. ‘m all yours.”

“i don’t know…something tells me you enjoy rough, chuuya-sama.” your tone is teasing, referring to the title tanaka previously used with the executive.

you watch in absolute amusement as your superior’s eyes fly open and brows shoot up. he looks at you with the most scandalized expression. he’s only ever seen this side of you with his other subordinates, your equals. he never realize how much he craved this type of interaction from you until just now. you just gave him something so precious and you don’t even know it. 

chuuya is so astonished he can’t even formulate a way to tease you, his mouth is just blurting out words before his brain can catch up.

“where the hell did that mouth on you come from? just earlier you were trembling at the sight of me watching you sing.” you watch something flash in his eyes and his lips curl up devilishly. “y’know what? i think i deserve a reward for making you cum so easily in the car. what d’ya think, doll?”

you back away, a mischievous smile of yours matching his perfectly. you don’t keep the distance very long — someone had to hit the floor button to get this elevator moving. once you feel the soft jolt of the elevator you make your way to where you left chuuya, still leaning against the wall and watching your every move. the moment you’re close enough to him you sink to your knees. 

you’re face to face with the ginger’s bulging crotch and you stare at him through your lashes. “is this what you had in mind as your reward?”

”yeah, something exactly like this.” chuuya reaches down and runs the fingers of both his hands through your hair, he gathers the tresses all together and fists it all in one hand in a makeshift ponytail. you hum in appreciation. while still looking at the freckled man through your lashes you stick your tongue out and lick a stripe across his clothed length. 

the executive’s eyes flutter, a clear indication that he was sensitive, having been hard for far too long. his eyes momentarily leave yours and flit over to the floor number the elevator is passing. chuuya never thought he would ever value the slow ascent of this damn elevator but he’s found a new appreciation for it. you’ve only climbed 3 stories, which means you still have 20 more. that’s plenty of time, certainly enough for you to get his dick wet enough to slide right into your warm cunt once the elevator has made it to your destination. 

you’re quick to earn chuuya’s attention back when he hears the sound of his buckle being undone. he’s met with the sight of you using your teeth. fuck. chuuya has always known you’re sexy, but this? this might actually drive him insane. a sweet smile curls at your lips as you watch him unravel before your very eyes. 

you hasten your movements, popping the button of his slacks open and using your teeth, once again, to drag the zipper down just enough that his bulge in his boxer-briefs is freed. you do the same with his underwear and, god, when he’s finally free you have to take a moment to admire it. you think it’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, truly. that’s saying something considering you don’t necessarily find the sight of them attractive.

the length of it is just as pale as the rest of his body but the closer it gets to the tip, his skin turns into a soft pink. his veins are visible and pulsing at this point and his tip is already drooling. you notice how there’s a string of precum that’s attached to the wet spot on his underwear but you keep any comments to yourself. 

you look up to chuuya only to find him already watching you. he must have caught you staring because his breathing is shallow and his cheeks are flushed the same shade of pink as his tip. you smile at him again and dart your tongue out to gently lick the slit of his tip. the ginger's head immediately falls back and he lets out a puff of air. 

how is this man real?

you lick up his precum and it tastes absolutely divine. what the actual fuck is he made out of? and what the actual fuck is he doing to you? you actually think it’s insane how much you’re enjoying this. 

your lips wrap around his tip and a low grumble reverberates in his chest. you’re so fucked. down horrendous for this man. your thighs start rubbing together and he’s not even hitting the back of your throat yet. this is so humiliating, no, this is so pathetic of you. you gladly got on your knees for this man. what the fuck is wrong with you?

”hah- doll, keep your pretty eyes on me, yeah? sh-shit- wanna see you cryin’ when you take all of me, got it?” chuuya’s bicolored gaze is somehow still sharp despite the obvious loss of a filter.

oh.

oh.

that’s what’s wrong with you. this man isn’t just a man. this is chuuya nakahara. port mafia executive, strongest ability user and apparently the owner of a silver tongue. your own had reaches up to his, the one that’s holding your hair and you guide him in shoving you down onto his length. you relax your throat and easily take him all in. your nose is buried in his pubic hair and eyes flutter as you test tightening up your throat around him. you gag around chuuya and he let’s out the most obscene moan you think you’ve ever heard. 

the port mafia executive looks a mess. his free hand is tightly gripping his hat atop his head and the perspiration forming on his face starts to trickle along his temples and down his jawline. his breathing comes out in pants and he looks absolutely destroyed. a flicker of pride spreads across your chest. sure, this man has you on your knees voluntarily but you think he would just as easily get on his knees for you. you have this powerful man in the palm of your hand. 

the hand tangled in your hair tugs on you just harsh enough to pull you off of him completely. “jesus christ, i can’t- fuck- doll. i can’t keep doing this, i need to be inside of you. right now. need to be buried in your pretty cunt, please-” 

chuuya doesn’t wait for your response, he lifts you off the floor of the elevator and hoists you up. his grip on his self control is noticeably waning as he momentarily uses his ability to skip stabilizing you on your feet and immediately has you wrapping your legs around his hips. your head is dizzy, everything moving so quickly. the ginger notices and instantly corrects that. 

he has one arm wrapped around you and it’s enough to keep you stable. “…sorry… i got carried away. are you ok with this. we can wait, just 5 more floors and we can go to my bedroom where i have condoms.”

his free hand strokes the hair away from your face. the gesture is soft, a complete 180 from his previous behavior. you lean into the touch, letting your eyes fall shut for just a moment to relish in how he calms you. 

you hum lightly and open your eyes to look at him earnestly. “no, i want you now too. think we’ve both waited long enough.”

chuuya smiles at you and leans in to steal yet other kiss from you. this one is soft but just as desperate as the rest of them. he sneaks his hand between the two of you and pushes your underwear to the side once again. you feel his cock nestle itself right between your folds. 

chuuya lets out a strained exhale and moves his hips to slide himself between your folds. “fuckin’ hell, doll. you’re so damn wet, could get off just like this. wanna feel how soft and warm your pussy is, though. can i, baby? please?”

your  hands tug at the hairs at the base of chuuya’s neck and he hisses. “chuuya, please, just fuck me already.”

that’s all the confirmation chuuya needs. he uses his free hand that’s still positioned between the two of you to grab the base of his dick and align himself with your entrance. his tips prods at you and as he’s sinking you onto him, both of you letting out an absurd amount of moans, the elevator finally dings. the doors open to reveal chuuya’s apartment to you. 

you would love to admire the vast living quarters but your attention is solely on chuuya. the way he stretches has you in near shambles. hiccuped whimpers leave your lips and you already feel so full. 

you weren’t going to last like this, there is no way in hell you’re going to last more than maybe 5 minutes. but based on chuuya’s reaction, incoherent babbles falling past his lips and hair matted to his forehead with sweat, neither was he. the mafioso’s present enough to know you’ve made it to his apartment. 

chuuya plants a hand on both sides of your ass and walks you into his home. he kicks his shoes off haphazardly and you let yours fall somewhere near his. your superior makes it all but 7 paces forward before he’s pressing you against a wall in the foyer. 

“you feel s’fuckin’ good, baby. s’tight and warm and soft. s’perfect f’me.” the ginger’s words are slurred, more so than when he was actually drinking.

you’re in no better condition as you whine out, “chuuya, need more. need you to move, wanna feel you moving inside of me.”

who is he to deny you of such a pretty request. you’re practically sobbing when chuuya’s hips roll into you before pulling back and bullying back into your fluttering cunt. you let out a loud moan, almost screaming, the kind that hangs on the walls and echoes throughout the room. before you can get too carried away, you crash your lips into chuuya’s and let him drink up your noises just as you do with him. 

his grip on your ass is bruising as his fingertips bite into the plush skin through your dress. god, your dress, it was one of the nicest articles of clothing you own and now it’s most definitely ruined. you hardly have the capacity to worry about that right now.

chuuya’s pace quickens to an impossible pace. he’s jostling you around so much that your head dizzies and you can’t even keep your lips attached to his. you let your head drop to the executive’s shoulder and your lips ghost his earlobe. your moans and whines are now loud and clear in his ear. 

a guttural groan escapes the ginger and his hips begin to stutter. he’s close, you identify it right away. he was going to cum soon and you were still on the brink, barely not there yet. 

“more, chuuya need- oh my god- need more, please…” 

chuuya hums out an acknowledgement — maintaining his pace, he frees one of his hands and reaches between the two of you once more. his middle finger locates your clit with ease and it almost sends you spiraling right then and there.

your forehead nuzzles further into chuuya’s neck at the extra stimulation. “chuuya- fuck- chuuya, chuuya, chuuya….”

your mind finally goes blank giving way to the man bullying into your cunt so deliciously. he’s all you can hear, feel, smell, taste and see. your senses are consumed by him. your eyes well up with tears at the immense amount of pleasure your experience. 

it’s only when you have enough sense to pick up your head to warn chuuya of your incoming orgasm that your fuzzy brain registers the encouragement and cooing he’s offering you.

chuuya’s voice is strained but his comfort is enough to send you into a fit of sobs as you finally crash into your second high of the night. this one is far more intense than the last. you feel your walls convulsing around chuuya’s cock, sucking him in and trying to keep him nestled deep inside of you. the aforementioned man seems to be at his wits end and his next words prove you right.

“o-oh- hah- fuck- doll, ‘m gonna cum- fuck- where do you want it, where do i- shit-“

you grip his shoulders desperately and let out a whimper, still incoherent and flitting in and out of consciousness as your orgasm still washes over you in waves. “inside- chuuya, want you to- mmm fuck- want you to cum inside of me. please, please, please-“

that’s it, that’s the only thing you need to say to have chuuya burying himself deep inside of your cunt and spilling into you. you can feel the way his cock twitches and pulses against your walls as he empties himself. you both breathe in unison as your try to catch your breath and come back to reality from the mind breaking pleasure you’d just experienced.

chuuya’s the first to come back. he straightens, letting his coat hit the floor. he’s gentle, moving you to lean into him as he continues to support you when he peels you off the wall. you hum in appreciation and vaguely realize you should wrap your arms around his shoulders, so you do. 

chuuya doesn’t take you far. you’re lifting your head the same moment he’s squatting down to sit you both on the couch. he hoists you up, ready to slip himself out when you let out a noise that’s a cross between a whine and a whimper. you’re shaking your head at him and how is he supposed to say no to your tear streaked face. 

chuuya allows you to cockwarm as he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts typing.

your head tilts in confusion and you furrow your brows at him. ”who are you texting?”

”the boss and akutagawa.” chuuya’s quick to answer as he types away still.

”…what for?”

he smirks and looks at you this time while he speaks. ”i need to tell the boss i’ll be missing our meeting tomorrow and akutagawa that you’ll be absent from assignment tomorrow. looks like we’ve both come down with a hellish stomach bug.”

your face flushes at his implication. it seemed to you chuuya didn’t plan on letting you sleep much tonight. you find yourself running your hands over his shoulders and chest. you wouldn’t mind seeing him completely undressed. when you look back at him, he seems to have the same thought as his eyes drink you in.

it’s probably for the best that he was calling you both off duty tomorrow. it seems like you have a long night ahead of you.

[drakvuf]

A Kísértés 7: E harc örök végzetük már

Lórit az elején szórakoztatta Nikol és a kellemetlen viccei, de kezdi kicsit unni a faszságait.

- Kérsz egy szőlőszemet a szádba? - Más golyókat kérek

A lány arról faggatja, hogy megcsalná-e a barátnőjét, de a férfi egyértelműen elutasítja még a feltételezést is.

Dusán eközben Edával beszélget és a fiú végre rájött, hogy kamerák veszik a randit, ezért csak a barátnőjéről, Brigiről beszél.

Eda szerint ez a taktika nem fog működni. Már baszhatja.

Mindeközben Noel Natival pezsgőzget.

A fiú lazán bedobja, hogy amúgy Tinát is dugná, amitől a lány lejön az életről. Nati megkérdezi, hogy akkor, hogy fognak együtt aludni a jövőben? A srác lerázza annyival, hogy vagy nála alszik vagy a szobájában...

Végre a lányok is megérkeztek a csoportos randijukra, de nekik szép vízesés nem, csak egy gagyi tengerparti "edzőterem" jutott.

Dorina mondjuk örül ennek is, mert szerinte edzés közben Zotya jobban láthatja majd az idomait. Sajnos a magánnyomozó megvakult az előző rész óta és csak tapintással tud tájékozódni.

Persze a lány nem bánja, hogy fogdossa, sőt azt mondja kifejezetten jól esik neki.

A magam részéről én inkább Mátét kérném meg, hogy fogdosson segítsen az edzésben. A faszi randipartnere, Linda a kamerának elárulja, hogy elégedett a férfivel és élvezi, hogy hozzáér. Máté csak azt éli a randiban, hogy Brigi egy másik nővel látja és féltékennyé teheti.

Persze az említett lányt se kell félteni, mert Márk alaposan megizzasztotta.

Az edzés után Linda elmondja Máténak is, hogy mennyire jól esett neki, hogy egy kigyúrt faszi ért hozzá, mert az ő exe egy darab szar. A kamerának még azt mondja hatalmas lelke van a srácnak és végre felszabadultabbnak érzi magát a szörnyű szakítás után.

Márk és Brigi isznak az edzés után, mert azt hiszik több kalóriát égettek el, mint amennyit most bevisznek. A fiú elárulja a csajnak, hogy Dorina mellett ő is bejön neki, de nem bírja ki, hogy ne kérdezzen rá mi a helyzet Mátéval? A lány azt mondja lehet, hogy megvan a vonzalom, de ameddig kapcsolatban van, addig nem lesz semmi.

Zotya megköszöni Dorinának, hogy elhozta randizni és megosztja a lánnyal mennyire szereti a párizsit és hogy a kedvenc nasija a lecsó után a paprika csumája.

Mindeközben a fiúkák hazaértek a villába. Gergő nagyon örül a társainak és azt mondja ez egy gyönyörű találkozás.

Miközben a srácok mesélnek a randikákról Gergő meghallja, ahogy Cynthia éppen arról beszél, hogy ő nem élte annyira a privát randiját a faszival. Szerinte egész nap ülnek és esznek a villában, erre a randin is csak ültek és ettek. Gergő úgy megsértődik ezen, mintha ő szervezte volna a találkát. A kamerának előadja, hogy ő a pici lánnyal, azaz halott exével, akar lenni, de Cynthia nemazalány.

A fiú félrehívja a társait és megkéri őket, hogy ha hazaküldhetnek valakit, a lányt küldjék. A többiek támogatják a döntését és tovább erősítik a deluluját.

Este levél várja Noelt az ágyán, amiben az áll, hogy ha jól dönt találkozhat a szerzővel a szobájában.

Noel azt sejti, hogy valaki hergelni próbálja Nati ellen. Gergő szerint Tina lehet a szerző és bár ők még nem tudják, de tényleg a lány a tettes. A fiú egyből elmeséli Natinak is a sztorit, aki felbaszódik és mindenki előtt felteszi a nagy kérdést, hogy ki volt az a patkány, aki leveleket írogat a faszinak?

Tina nem mer jelentkezni. Nati ideges. Noel örül, hogy szerelmes leveleket kap.

A lány villába visszaérve Kristóf ajándékkal kedveskedik Lindának: egy kis csokrot hagyott a szobájában.

A lány nagyon örül neki, mert Gergőtől lófaszt nem kapott, nem hogy virágot.

Dorina elmeséli a többieknek, hogy megölelték egymást Zotyával.

Este már megint partikáznak a csajok. Nem tudom, hogy bírják ezt minden este, mert engem már egy alkalom is napokig megvisel.

Jérémy és Márk a lányokról beszélnek. Előbbi szerint Brigi nem rossz így részegen. Márknak az tetszik a lányban, hogy nő. Mindeközben Brigi kíváncsi arra, hogy a testépítőknek tényleg összemegy-e a farka a szteroidoktól, ezért Mátéhoz dörzsöli a seggét. Bevallja, hogy a tudományos kutatás mellett az is a szándéka, hogy odavágjon kicsit a faszijának, Dusánnak.

Linda már megint túl sokat ivott és ráveti magát Jérémyre, aki láthatóan zavarban van a szitutól.

A nő azt magyarázza neki, hogy nincs még túl a fasziján és azért nem hívta el randira, mert nem akar hülyeséget csinálni, pedig amúgy dugná. Közben elcsattan a lány villa első nyilvános csókja Dorina és Zotya között.

A fiúk ünneplik a sikeres csábítást. Jár Zotyának a prémium.

A móka után Dávid felcsap kerítőnek, ha már senkit nem tud felszedni és megkérdezi Lindát ki jön be neki. A nő még mindig be van baszva és Jérémyre mutogat, aki varázsütésre meg is jelenik előtte.

Dávid kínosan mutogatja a faszinak, hogy smárolja le a csajt, de a kamerának elárulja a francia fiú, hogy nem éli annyira a szitut, mert a nő nem is ismeri és úgy érzi, hogy csak a testét akarja.

Ezután Dávid szalad Kristófhoz közölni vele, hogy a nő, akire eddig ő hajtott, éppen Jérémyre van ráindulva.

A férfi fel is baszódik ezen és hangosan szakadt, csöves nőnek nevezi Lindát. Máté próbálja csitítani a barátját, de a férfi egójával még egy kétajtós szekrény sem boldogul. Máté próbálja menteni a szitut és megpróbál egy kis értelmet beszélni Lindába. Elmondja neki, hogy részeg, nem is ismeri a faszit és nem biztos, hogy így kéne összefeküdnie vele. Amikor ez nem használ előveszi a legerősebb érvét: Jérémy francia, ami olyan rossz, mintha olasz lenne. Ez egy normális értékrenddel rendelkező embert meg is győzne, de sajnos a személyi edző nem kalkulálta bele, hogy Linda mocsokrészeg. A nő odamegy a hisztiző Kristófhoz, hogy rendezzék a szitut, de az egyből elzavarja, mert szerinte megalázta azzal, hogy a francia ficsúrral enyeleg.

Kiderül, hogy Dávid szándékosan hergelt ma este mindenkit egy kis balhéért. Ő mondta Jérémynek, hogy nyomuljon Lindára és aztán ő hergelte fel Kristófot, amikor elkezdtek összemelegedni. Így állt bosszú azért, mert a kutya se akar vele dugni.

Linda veszekedése Kristóffal kiabálásig fajul. A nő elkezd poharakat törni és az exéhez, Gergőhöz hasonlítja a faszit.

Máté menti a szitut már megint. Félrehúzza és próbálja nyugtatni Lindát. Nyilván az eleje óta kedvelem a srácot, de a mai rész után csak annyit mondanék, hogy nem érdemeljük meg Mátét.

Másodszor gyulladt ki a vörös lámpa a fiú villában. Összeül újra a férfi tanács. Azt vitatják, hogy a félrelépés fokozatainál villog a lámpa vagy minden egyes kihágásnál. Dusán nem tud mit hozzátenni a témához, inkább elmutogatja a kedvenc Fiona Apple dalomat.

Gergő szerint erről amúgy csak ők tehetnek. Hirtelen eszébe jut, hogy volt egy barátnője, amikor idejött, akit Lindának hívtak és bár ő se volt a halott exe, de legalább elfogadta, hogy még mindig a pici lányba szerelmes.

A Professzorok Batthyány Körét Cynthia zavarja meg. Aki beszélni szeretne Gergővel, hogy megtudja, miért fáj a fiúnak már megint a segge.

A srác viszont mindenki előtt teregeti ki a szennyest és elmondja, hogy az a nagy bánata, hogy a lány lehurrogta a randijukat. Lehazugozzák egymást és kiderül, hogy Gergőt igazából még mindig az bántja, hogy nem hitte el neki Cynthia elsőre, hogy úgy néz ki, mint a halott exe.

A fiú hozzávágja, hogy meg se érdemli, hogy úgy néz ki, mint a halott menyasszonya. Az emlékét gyalázod minden nap, hogy ilyen retek vagy. Ezután a mondat után sértődötten elvonul a faszi. Cynthia csak annyit tud erre reagálni, hogy undorító ez az ember. Persze azért utána megy, hogy folytathassák a veszekedést. Gergő azt mondja a lánynak, hogy szeretné, ha eltakarodna a villából és a többieket is megkérte, hogy szavazzák ki a csajt, ha lesz rá alkalom.

Ezután a fiú lehülyézi magát, amiért a halott exét látja a csajban. Cynthia elismeri, hogy ezt nem tudja kezelni, mert bár még csak öt napja ismerik egymást, de csávókám minden faszságát rávetíti.

Kezeld a helyén - reagálja erre a pöcs. A lány sír, de Gergő szerint csak azért, hogy manipulálja.

Bámulatos, hogy a faszi minden részben alul tudja múlni magát.

[zeroz2ro]

Egy krónikus beteg hogy éli túl a 37 fokos kórtermet?

[egy-lany-blogja]

"Tudod, mennyire lesugárzik rólunk a társunk? Vagy ha nincs, a magányunk? Egy nő, ha jól éli meg a magányát, kifejezetten megszépül. Az anyaságtól is persze, de főleg, ha egy olyan férfi mellett él, akinek a lénye gazdagítja. Egy nőn látszik, milyen "kezekben van". És az asszony hatását is látni a férfin. Lehúzhatja, föl is emelheti a férjét. Például úgy, hogy nem engedi méltatlan dolgokat művelni. Minden, de minden látszik rajtunk! Még az éjszakai szeretkezés minősége is. Ne feledd, hogy a párkapcsolat: alkímia, ahol egymást kölcsönösen átváltoztatjuk.

Egyszerre vagyunk varázslók és elvarázsoltak."

Müller Péter

[takemetochurch13]

Ott hagyta üresen a kéglit, ha kérdik az életét éli meg építi, talán épp ezért, amikor véget ért minden spanod összetette a két kezét😚

[angelofghetto]

Eszméletlen jó, időbeni elemzése annak, hogyan torzul egy hatalommániás jellem fokozatosan önmaga köré, hogyan távolodik el a valóság hiperérzékelésétől a párhuzamos valóság gyártásáig, hogyan éli bele magát egyre mélyebben egy világmegváltói szerepbe, miközben semmi és senki nem elég drága áldozat az saját magának emelt oltáron, és miért nem szabad lehetőséget adni arra, hogy valaki két választási cikluson túl is miniszterelnök maradhasson.

Kéri azt mondja a beszélgetés végén, hogy erről már soha többé nem akar beszélni, mert halálosan unja a témát, az embert, de most még utoljára felkutatja az első kézből való emlékeit, és összerakja nekünk a folyamatot.

A legszomorúbb egyrészt az elszalasztott történelmi lehetőség az ország felemelkedésére és szárnyalására, amire meg lett volna a kreatív erő és szorgalom a magyar emberekben, ha hagyták volna dolgozni őket az egyenlő esélyek elv mentén. Másrészt, hogy generációk tudatából törlődött, hogy a demokrácia nem a korlátlan hatalom megszerzéséért való, minden létező eszközt felhasználó, napi szintű acsarkodás a fejünk felett a mi bőrünkre, hanem népképviselet.