#Crew Model Management

[foldingfittedsheets]

Mattresses, unbeknownst to many, are a lot like cars. Every year new ones roll out, they’re always tweaking and innovating and you’ll never find the same one you loved decades ago when buying a new one.

Where I sold mattresses had a three month return or exchange program for this reason. New beds take a while to break in, and they’re a big expense. Your body is used to the old one. So we made sure people were loving it. If a bed got returned we’d take it back, sanitize and clean it, then sell it again on clearance.

To sell these we always had to disclose what clearance meant to customers, and they had to sign that they knew what they were getting. (FYI, not every company is as… forthright about the used bed situation)

In clearance we had beds that were floor models, we had returns, and more rarely we had old models whose line had been discontinued. These clearance beds were always final sale, so a bed could only be sold twice.

Now, the manager at the store I was working at had realized a vital fact. Clearance beds in the warehouse didn’t sell, especially old models that salespeople weren’t familiar with. And even more especially in odd sizes, like twin extra longs. So he set up a split king on the showroom floor to exhibit clearance beds, pulling all those forgotten twin extra longs out onto the showroom.

Almost all of these were brand new discontinued models. Beds I’d never learned in training were exhumed to be displayed. The manufacturers had moved on to new lines and they’d been left behind. Why would he take such in interest in selling old stock, you might wonder? Because we made double commission on the sales margin of clearance beds, and if we’d had a bed long enough they dropped the cost in the system so it was a fucking cash cow to sell these. Even with huge discounts the commissions were wonderful so it was a win win.

When I got started I was jazzed about this program, I was so on board to sell weird old brand new beds and make a ton of money. I had a wonderful older couple come in, looking for a split king adjustable set. This was a white whale sale.

The current clearance models on the floor were a latex mattress that was brand new despite being of an age to start first grade, and a tempurpedic floor model. The couple laid down and it was like magic. They each loved the bed they’d laid down on. They wanted to buy the whole shebang.

I. Was. Thrilled. I told them about the clearance program and what that meant, and they weren’t bothered in the least. I wrote up the sale then dashed into the back, fizzing with excitement to tell my manager what I’d done.

“You sold the death bed?!” He asked in delight.

I pulled up short, my smile freezing in place. “What…?”

“Didn’t you check the notes?”

I hesitated for a long beat then slowly shook my head. You see, dear reader, all beds had a personal history. Every clearance bed had logs written up by the person who took the return, as well as warehouse crew after sanitizing. It helped us know what to expect when selling them. “Wasn’t it just a floor model? You said it was a floor model…”

He slowly shook his head. I checked the notes.

It turned out, it had been sold as a floor model. The first time. But the company had made an exception and taken it back as a return two months later. Why? Because it’s owner had passed away.

I stared at the computer in horror and my manager shrugged. “They signed the clearance form. Technically it was a floor model.”

“We know for a fact that a man died in that bed!”

“What they don’t know can’t haunt them,” he said philosophically.

The man came back a week later for more sheets, utterly delighted to tell me how well they were sleeping. I clamped my teeth down around the secret of the deathbed, choosing to let them love their new bed without the stigma. Only one person would be haunted by that deathbed, and it was me.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

strictly professional

words: 500

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, model!rafe, agent/manager!reader, semi public sex

“im only doing this for you once, okay?” you clarify as you sink down to your knees.

“i can handle it myself.” rafe grunts out.

“except you haven't. i got them to delay the shoot by an hour and you still come out with a boner. if you want to be a successful- and rich- model, you can't act like this.” you take a deep breath as you bring your hands to rafes thighs. “as your agent, im going to help you because im not losing my cut from this shoot just because of your dick.”

you don't give rafe anymore time to argue and pull his pants down to his ankles, taking his underwear with them.

rafes cock springs up, the tip a pinky red that clearly gives away just how long he's been this hard, painfully hard.

you don't give yourself much time to think about it, opening your mouth and dropping your lips around rafe cock. you pause for only a moment to taste him, to flick your head against the leaky slit, before you begin to move.

you only got the photographer and brand rep to agree to an additional thirty minute delay, so you can't spend a minute too long cherishing the moment.

your head starts to rise up and down, almost robotic motions as you repeat to yourself in your head that this is strictly professional.

sure, one of the reasons you got into the model representation industry was to be around hot guys, but you do have a particular knack for management and spotting good potential stars.

you feel rafes hand in your hair, but he doesn't push you down, just an extra pressure to encourage you to keep momentum.

you spotted rafe on vacation in the outer banks, approached him instantly, probably flirted a bit too much, and then handed him your business card. you weren't sure he would reach out, but were pleasantly surprised, clearly enticed by the riches you promised would come his way from his bone structure.

you know his face and body can take him far, if only his body would cooperate. you put all your focus into sucking rafe off. 

you listen to his soft sounds, the way his breathing gets loud and almost turns into moans. you wish in that moment you could really hear him, but there's no way with the entire crew just outside of the door.

you feel the urge to gag but swallow instead, trying to keep it down as you feel rafes cock swell inside of your throat, his length somehow seeming to grow only more.

you close your eyes tightly and push your head forward until your nose nuzzles into rafes skin, throat constricting around his cock as he lets out a low curse. you feel the way his hands tighten first, gripping your hair, and then his cock releases.

you wait for the spurts to subside before pulling off, swallowing thickly and trying to avoid coughing loudly.

you look up at rafe, his blissed out face, knowing your jaw is still slackened, eyes filled with tears.

“thanks.” rafe mumbles, his words bringing you back to your senses.

you wipe your chin and stand up, placing your hands on your hips. “get your pants back on, cameron.” you scold him, voice switching back to your typical agent tone. “the photographer is waiting.”

[directactionforhope]

"Starting this month [June 2024], thousands of young people will begin doing climate-related work around the West as part of a new service-based federal jobs program, the American Climate Corps, or ACC. The jobs they do will vary, from wildland firefighters and “lawn busters” to urban farm fellows and traditional ecological knowledge stewards. Some will work on food security or energy conservation in cities, while others will tackle invasive species and stream restoration on public land. 

The Climate Corps was modeled on Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Civilian Conservation Corps, with the goal of eventually creating tens of thousands of jobs while simultaneously addressing the impacts of climate change. 

Applications were released on Earth Day, and Maggie Thomas, President Joe Biden’s special assistant on climate, told High Country News that the program’s website has already had hundreds of thousands of views. Since its launch, nearly 250 jobs across the West have been posted, accounting for more than half of all the listed ACC positions. 

“Obviously, the West is facing tremendous impacts of climate change,” Thomas said. “It’s changing faster than many other parts of the country. If you look at wildfire, if you look at extreme heat, there are so many impacts. I think that there’s a huge role for the American Climate Corps to be tackling those crises.”  

Most of the current positions are staffed through state or nonprofit entities, such as the Montana Conservation Corps or Great Basin Institute, many of which work in partnership with federal agencies that manage public lands across the West. In New Mexico, for example, members of Conservation Legacy’s Ecological Monitoring Crew will help the Bureau of Land Management collect soil and vegetation data. In Oregon, young people will join the U.S. Department of Agriculture, working in firefighting, fuel reduction and timber management in national forests. 

New jobs are being added regularly. Deadlines for summer positions have largely passed, but new postings for hundreds more positions are due later this year or on a rolling basis, such as the Working Lands Program, which is focused on “climate-smart agriculture.”  ...

On the ACC website, applicants can sort jobs by state, work environment and focus area, such as “Indigenous knowledge reclamation” or “food waste reduction.” Job descriptions include an hourly pay equivalent — some corps jobs pay weekly or term-based stipends instead of an hourly wage — and benefits. The site is fairly user-friendly, in part owing to suggestions made by the young people who participated in the ACC listening sessions earlier this year...

The sessions helped determine other priorities as well, Thomas said, including creating good-paying jobs that could lead to long-term careers, as well as alignment with the president’s Justice40 initiative, which mandates that at least 40% of federal climate funds must go to marginalized communities that are disproportionately impacted by climate change and pollution. 

High Country News found that 30% of jobs listed across the West have explicit justice and equity language, from affordable housing in low-income communities to Indigenous knowledge and cultural reclamation for Native youth...

While the administration aims for all positions to pay at least $15 an hour, the lowest-paid position in the West is currently listed at $11 an hour. Benefits also vary widely, though most include an education benefit, and, in some cases, health care, child care and housing. 

All corps members will have access to pre-apprenticeship curriculum through the North America’s Building Trades Union. Matthew Mayers, director of the Green Workers Alliance, called this an important step for young people who want to pursue union jobs in renewable energy. Some members will also be eligible for the federal pathways program, which was recently expanded to increase opportunities for permanent positions in the federal government...

 “To think that there will be young people in every community across the country working on climate solutions and really being equipped with the tools they need to succeed in the workforce of the future,” Thomas said, “to me, that is going to be an incredible thing to see.”"

-via High Country News, June 6, 2024

--

Note: You can browse Climate Corps job postings here, on the Climate Corps website. There are currently 314 jobs posted at time of writing!

Also, it says the goal is to pay at least $15 an hour for all jobs (not 100% meeting that goal rn), but lots of postings pay higher than that, including some over $20/hour!!

[kuroananosanji]

One aspect of ZoSan that Westerners may not get the full nuance of is the concept of “うちの”, literally “of our/my household”. There’s a reason why the EA fandom (mainly Chinese from my POV) disproportionally ship ZS over other ships, to the point where even dudebros hop the joke.

So there’s this Chinese saying that means “be strict to yourself but lenient towards others” which is seen as model behaviour for respected individuals. I don’t know if there’s an equivalent idiom in Japanese but both Koreans and Japanese hold similar attitudes towards treatment of self vs treatment of others in society. Here’s the fun part: thanks to collectivist culture, one’s “self” extends to your immediate family too. Since you’re seen in conjunction with your family, if you’re head of the house and your “inferiors” misbehave in public, it reflects badly on you as a person. That’s why strict parenting is more normalised in EA culture, because controlling how your kids behave is more or less the same as controlling how you yourself behave. This is also related to how tough love is a more common form of affection in EA families, there’s a sentiment of “being able to be mean to you means we’re close, being too nice means I see you as a stranger.”

You might now see how this relates to the Strawhats in general (see: Nami beating up members for acting out of line). Sanji is a funny one coz he was sort of a maternal figure secondary to Nami early on in the series. Women aside, there’s a difference in how he treats men on his crew and “outsiders” (e.g. Ace). He’s actually not rude towards men, it’s just that we predominantly see his interactions with the crew! Since his crew is his family, he can be strict with them like how he’s strict with himself.

How does this relate to ZS in particular? Well, it’s because Zoro is closest to him on the self—others sphere. Luffy is his captain so despite the usual bickering he has to obey him to some degree. Usopp and Chopper are younger and weaker, so Sanji has a responsibility to take care of them and show generosity as an “elder”. Franky, Brook and Jinbe are way older than him so there has to be some degree of respect when interacting with them. Nami and Robin are Women. This only leaves Zoro, who is his equal in both age, power and hierarchical position on the crew. Essentially, Sanji has every right to hold Zoro to the exact same standard as he would himself. And given that Sanji is extremely harsh to himself, he’s harsh to Zoro too.

This is why there was virtually no discourse over the “Sanji calls Zoro a liability” moment in the EA fandom. The unspoken context was that Sanji was apologising to Jinbe for Zoro, who wasn’t performing his best. And since Jinbe is relatively new to the crew and also much older than Sanji, it feels like a mother/wife apologising for her son/husband?? It’s giving “I’m sorry my Zoro embarrassed us”?? It’s giving “Zoro is my responsibility”?? On the flip side Zoro absolutely does this to Sanji too. I can’t name a specific anime moment but in one of the mobile game collabs he said something like “sorry our cook caused trouble for you”. The specific wording was うちのコック. (They both think they’re managing the other lmao I hate them)

Tldr: Zoro and Sanji see themselves as one household unit 😭 hence the bickering and bluntness and lack of pretences in general.

[sleepymarimo]

𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!

read cw! summary: when you tell your captain that you're suffering from some hyposensitivity, he knows just what to do! pairing: law x afab!reader cw: mdni, suspension bondage (shibari, specifically), sensory deprivation, overstimulation, some medical play?, oral (fem!recieving), fingering, use of a vibrator, squirting, vaginal sex, creampie, law is a lil pervy and mean for the suspension bondage, this is what i had in mind! image is of a clothed model demonstrating a specific tie, but still, proceed at your own risk! :) an: tee hee wc: 2k for kinktober '23!

he briefly remembers overhearing you talking with another crew mate, saying that you might have to see a doctor soon. you're complaining, sighing in the cutest way about how you swear you've lost all sensitivity... in rather intimate areas.

he knows. of course, he knows.

it didn't help that your quarters were next to his, your ragged breaths and hushed whines echoing against the thin metal walls of the polar tang. your endeavors in self-pleasure started normally, or at least he figured as much judging from what he heard.

the soft squelch of your fingers against your blankets, which you doubled up on in the hopes that your desperation would be muted. it wasn't, go figure, but he never minded.

most of the time, he'd be listening in, tattooed fingers wrapped around his cock and stroking himself to the rhythm of your cries.

but damn, you were persistent. nearly every damn night, you'd be at it. what would it take for you to be satisfied? to beg for mercy?

your fingers weren't enough, it seemed.

it wasn't long before he'd start hearing the steady buzz of a vibrator, hums growing louder as you increased the power every night.

what an insatiable little minx you were, he'd think to himself, more than content to fall asleep to the sound of your ever so frustrated huffs as you failed to reach that peak.

you needed more.

when he's sure you're alone on the deck one day, he makes his move. the surgeon figures that you wouldn't seek him out, too prideful and embarrassed to do so.

instead, he feigns casualness and does as any captain would do, standing beside you and nodding his head as a greeting before pretending to be interested in the clouds.

you're looking at the never ending horizon, lips set in a pout. he's aware that it was a long night for you. hell, he was awake and smirking at the sound of you trying and failing once again to get yourself to orgasm.

biting at the skin of your inner cheek, you cave. "uh, cap?" you start, trying to keep this as professional as possible even though your heart was going a million miles an hour in your chest. "i think i need a checkup for something, if that's alright."

hook, line, and sinker.

"that's fine." he replies coolly, focusing his attention toward you and keeping an apathetic, but interested expression. "and what's the problem?"

you thank the stars that you'd looked up the proper term, not quite wanting to say 'i can't fucking cum!' to your captain. "hyposensitivity." your answer is as firm, your cheeks hot.

after probing you with a few more specific questions (he just wanted to see you squirm and fumble for "appropriate" answers), he nods and assures you that there are a few ways to go about it.

"it's a bit unconventional." he admits as he brings up a potential solution to your problem, absentmindedly running his thumb over his kikoku's hilt. while his words may be spoken with a certain tact, his mind is already running rampant with ideas on how to make you writhe. "are you okay with that?"

as long as it'll fix my problem. you think, giving him a nod. "yeah, that's alright, cap. when can we start?"

unconventional is putting it lightly.

he somehow manages to convince you that, regardless of how peculiar it might seem, this will solve your problems.

your captain always did have a way of twisting his words around, able to read all of your cues and say just the right things to rope you in.

and this time, he really does rope you in.

the silky smooth bindings coiled around you are quite pleasant on your bare skin, you admit. what really gets you though, is the feeling of weightlessness as your body limply hangs in the air.

it takes a minute for you to fully relax against the ropes as you tell yourself that you wouldn't fall.

once you settle, your eyes focus on law, who stands across the room with his back to you as he prepares some other items. he'd managed to clear out the operating room, the blaring lights exposing every inch of you without mercy.

instinctively, your legs want to close, but you're not given the option to do so. "so, uh, how is this going to help again?"

"we're going to get your senses to hone in only on where it matters." he states, shoulders shrugging lightly under the yellow button up he's wearing. "that means shutting everything else out."

when he turns, your eyes immediately fall to the objects in his hands. a blindfold and some ear plugs?

you suppose that his logic makes sense... you've heard of people hearing better when they're in the dark or being able to fool their tastebuds by inhaling the scent of another food.

lost in thought, you swallow when your world suddenly goes black. he's gentle and careful with his movements, wanting to make sure that you wouldn't be able to see a sliver of light.

after briefly asking if you were ready, the ear plugs come next, fitting snuggly and effectively blocking out any sound.

the effects are almost immediate.

the cold air suddenly feels like its pricking your skin, the hairs on the back of your neck rising. you're a little on edge, your head idly turning from side to side in an attempt to ground yourself and sense where he is.

it doesn't help that you can't see him, your ears struggling to pick up the sound of his footsteps.

he just smirks, not having moved an inch. his hands are quick to undo the first few buttons on his shirt, before he lets out a sigh and decides to get started with your special little prescription.

with purposeful steps, he circles you like a shark. his fingers reach out every now and then, poking at your sides or running along your thighs. he uses it as a measure of sensitivity, to put you even more on edge.

admittedly, he also finds it amusing to see your head whip in the direction of his touches. or how you get goosebumps from where he strokes you.

settling by your bound legs, he takes a second to appreciate the view of your cunt all set and ready for him.

you flinch when you feel a gentle, cool puff of air against your clit. the subtle action has your cheeks growing hotter and you swallow down some nerves, anticipation brewing in your lower tummy.

his hand settles on one of your outer thighs, thumb tracing a steady pattern on the soft flesh in an attempt to quell your worries. judging by the light, slightly wobbly exhale you let out, he guesses that it works.

he repeats the action, blowing on your clit until your body adjusts enough to not flinch. good, now he can take it a bit further.

the doctor chuckles as he remembers how much you've stimulated yourself over these past few weeks. hell, from what he can see, you're not even wet yet.

the plugs in your ears have your heartbeat hammering inside the walls of your skull. you feel so exposed and bare before your captain, the thought alone enough to send a jolt run down your spine.

raising his free hand, law allows his knuckles to run along your clit. the quick jerk of your body is enough to make him smirk. still, he keeps a firm and consistent pressure.

he wants to build this up, to have you squirming for more.

it's a seemingly never ending cycle, the level of stimulation increasing after each 'round' of touches.

suspended, with your sight and hearing robbed from you, it's almost heavenly. your anxieties have long since subsided, your head focusing on nothing more than the soft buildup of pleasure that sets every one of your nerves alight.

the doctor hums in pure satisfaction when he runs his digits through your folds, only to find them completely soaked with your arousal.

he decides that he's done with the light touches and games.

you're mewling when you suddenly feel something warm and wet swirling around your clit, moving in a perfect and consistent figure eight pattern.

your back arches and your mouth falls open. it's unexpected, incredibly lewd and downright hot.

you don't even know how desperate you sound. "c-captian!"

your wriggling has you swaying lightly, rocking from where you're suspended. he's quick to hook his fingers around the rope, pulling your cunt closer to his greedy tongue and keeping you in place.

he makes sure to count, to time how long it takes for you to cum. it's a baseline, one that he intends to push lower and lower.

once you reach that high, he doesn't give you a second of rest.

his strong, tattooed fingers get added the mix. he gets you to cum with one finger, then two, then three. there's no mercy to be found in his movements, since he knows that it's for your own damn good.

it's what you wanted, right?

you lose track of how many orgasms he pulls out of you, each one more painfully pleasurable than the last.

now, his cock hammers into your throbbing and wet cunt. absolutely insatiable, you are. even after all he's given you, he marvels at how your demanding pussy grips him.

"greedy." he mumbles to himself, breaths heavy as he watches himself disappear into your aching heat over and over again. his tongue clicks when he feels you start to tense around him, sharp eyes flickering up towards your face as he hears you squeal.

you're practically sobbing, the blindfold damp with tears. "l-law! law! i can't!"

and when he finally tears it off of you, along with the ear plugs, you swear that it's too much.

the bright overhead bulbs seem blinding, the debauched sound of messy skin on skin pounding at your eardrums and having you feel so incredibly disoriented that you almost pass out right there.

"don't give me that." his steel eyes glint with satisfaction at the fucked out look on your face, the tears on your lashes and the small string of drool sliding down the corner your lips. it only makes him increase the pace and ferocity of his thrusts. "i know you can take more."

he looks absolutely radiant against the glaring white lights, the beams highlighting his figure as it towered over yours.

you're so mesmerized by him, but your sensitive ears are quick to pick up on the sound of a steady hum. it's low, the buzz bouncing off the walls.

when did he even have a chance to go into your room and grab your vibrator?

"wha..." you can't even finish your sentence, your eyes glossed over. you're so utterly fucked out, it's almost laughable.

he smirks, his reassuring words sounding nothing more than smug as he brings the toy closer to your clit. "just a last test to see if your sensitivity is back."

as soon the vibrator touches your clit, you cry out. your vision goes dark at the edges, each muscle in your bound form twitching from the overwhelming orgasm that crashes down on you. you coat his cock and navel with your juices, gushing around him with a choked sob.

"that's it. there we go..." law hisses, not wanting to show just how fucking good your convulsing walls felt around his cock. still, he lets out a groan when he presses his hips flush to yours and lets you milk him for every ounce he's worth.

drops of your mixed cum drip onto the floor, practically shining under the glow of the overhead lights.

he ends up having to help you out of your bindings and into some clothes, your pliant form still twitching every now and then from the aftershocks. the doctor takes good care of you, making sure to give his patient plenty of water and post-coital touches.

in the passing week, he laughs at the absence of sounds from your room. late at night, you don't even dare try and touch yourself. it's just too damn much.

then one day, as he passes by you in the metal halls of the submarine, he nods his head and gives you a smirk. "let me know when you're in need of another round of treatment."

taglist: @queen-of-elves, @who-the-hockeysticks, @sxhy-town, @flower-hua

[exhaslo]

Hello! This is something kind of niche but I was wondering if you could write a Pornstar!Miguel x Pornstar!Fem!Reader, where he is a new pornstar and meets with her the day before their shoot. He’s like super sweet to her and they have an informal hangout/date to like be comfortable around each other. Reader tries their best to ease his worry him cuz he seems kinda shy, but the day of their shoot he’s a total freak in the sheets and it totally catches her off guard? Dirty talk, dom and all.

I love your writing so much and I know you’ll do a great job writing whatever your heart desires for this one! Thx in advance <333

No lie this sounds cute as fuck! Here we go!

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, rough sex, dirty talk

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another beautiful day. You were ready to receive your next paycheck, but first, you had to help the new guy. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you walked into a popular coffee shop. You were actually excited for this secret meetup. Normally, it was informal to meet your coworkers before a shoot, but this new guy? Oh, he was your type!

You were a pornstar. It is a long story on how you got into the business, but you were good at acting. A little too good. As you waited in line, you let out a soft sigh. While the paychecks were nice, you were really ready for something new. Cue, your manager making you a teacher and setting you up with newbies.

"Two extra shots of espresso." You muttered, trying to avoid groaning at the thought.

Despite the struggle of your job, you were eager for tomorrow. The new porn star, Miguel, was going to be your next partner. You saw his file and the man was huge and good looking. He was the one who actually asked to meet you in person. It was cute how shy he sounded over the phone.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel waves slowly, sitting in a corner table. You approached him with your drink,

"Hi, Miguel!" You said with a chirp, "My god, you're so tall."

"Sorry," Miguel went to shake your hand before immediately sitting down towards your comment.

You sat across from him, admiring his features. The man chose to become a porn star than a model? He was going to be an instant lady killer! Hopefully his acting was decent.

"Thanks again for meeting me. As you can tell, I'm a little nervous with this being my first shoot and all." Miguel said. You smiled,

"It's no biggie. It's kind of fun breaking the rules like this. Why don't we just chat about ourselves, get more comfortable with each other? I'm sure it will help you out a lot." You offered.

Miguel took the suggestion and the two of you spoke for hours. There was a chemistry there and you sensed it. You were disappointed when you had to leave for the night. Miguel parted ways with and kiss to your hand. He was such a gentleman! You were already imagining the slow and soft sex he was going to give you tomorrow.

It would be different for sure, but you were looking forward to it. Hopefully, Miguel won't disappoint you like all of your other coworkers. It was frustrating to work in the porn industry, but could never cum in your own videos. You always had to fake an orgasm and pleasure yourself later.

"Let's not think of the negative! Just...look forward for tomorrow," You told yourself.

-----------

"Alright, you know the rules. First shoot, newbie gets to pick the theme. We will go from there afterwards," Your manager called out to the crew.

You glanced at Miguel, seeing him nervously look around, "Hey, it's going to be okay. I promise I won't bite, unless you want me too."

"Haha," Miguel smiled towards you, "Is it okay if we do something simple?"

"You get to pick. Why not something that will get you in the mood?" You suggested and showed him the costume room, "Is there something you want to see me wear?"

Miguel looked around, his eyes sparkling at some of the outfits. He glanced back at you,

"I know what I want to do."

---------

"Mhm~ I don't have any money for this massage~ Is there any other way I can pay you?"

You laid against a soft bed, spreading your naked legs apart. Your gaze towards Miguel as you slowly rubbed your own clit. Miguel had chosen a massage sex scene. Something where he could feel your body to get you prepped. How kind and generous of him. You hummed sweetly, faking a moan as you dove your fingers towards your hole.

"No money? That's fine, I'll just have to massage one more place before you can leave."

You're eyes widen as Miguel removed his pants. He hovered over you, stealing your lips in a forceful kiss before his hands roamed your body. You pressed yourself against him, your hand heading towards his cock. Miguel grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head before growling lowly,

"I'm giving the massage. Not you, chica (girl)"

For once, you felt a shiver run down your spine. What happened to the shy man from yesterday? You're eyes widen as Miguel's fingers started to enter your pussy. He started with one, stretching you out more than some of your coworker's dicks. You raised your hips slightly, wanting to help him get more access, but once again he pinned you down.

"Tsk, tsk, do you come onto all your massage therapists?" Miguel spat lowly, "Being such a slut?"

You shivered once more to his cruel tone. He sucked against your breasts while another finger entered your pussy. Miguel's fingers were wandering around your gummy walls, searching for that sweet spot. This was different. You're eyes widen once he curled his fingers, making you moan for real.

"That's right. Pay your bill in full." Miguel whispered.

You gasped lowly as Miguel pumped his fingers against that spot. He removed himself from your breasts, keeping you held down. His thumb pressed against your clit, causing you to squirm under him. Miguel just kept making eye contact with you. It was as if he wanted to watch you break because of him.

"What a slutty face. You like this kind of massage right?"

"Y-Yes." You whimpered, feeling your body burn with pleasure.

This was actually happening. You felt a tight knot growing in your lower abdomen. Miguel's fingers only went faster. It wasn't long until he entered a third finger that really made you break. You arched your back, moaning and whining as he wrecked your pussy with just his fingers alone. With one more curl, you finally felt that tight tension burst.

"You're getting my work area dirty, that's going to cost extra."

You were panting softly from your intense orgasm. Miguel withdrew his fingers, causing you to shiver slightly. You were feeling the need, the want. Your pussy was throbbing and begging to be filled. Miguel was the first person who actually made you cum. You gasped, forcing a smile as you saw him position his dick right against your folds.

He was fucking big! You spread your legs, teasing your entrance for him. This was just part of the job. Miguel grunted as he grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders. He bit against your inner thigh before pushing his dick inside you. You whimpered, arching your back as you pretended to be fine.

Miguel's dick was stretching you out. This was a first. His dick felt hot and strong. Once he was fully inside you, Miguel pinched your clit, causing you to moan and whine. He smirked, pounding the life out of your pussy, breaking you down even more.

"So fucking tight. You don't get much exercise here, do you?" He mocked.

You moaned in response, focusing a little too much on how good this felt. His dick beating against your pussy with each rough and wet slap of his hips. His tip kissing your cervix each time, threatening to remind you that this was his moment. You were his fuck toy. You whined, your eyes nearly rolling back as Miguel rubbed your clit again.

"You're going to have to come back. I'm going to have to remind this pussy that it owes me payment." Miguel grunted as he went faster.

You felt your growing orgasm once more. Miguel held your body down against the bed, pressing his dick further inside you. Your mouth formed an 'o' as you started to see stars. Whimpers and moans were all you were able to say as you cam hard against his dick. Even after a second orgasm, you still could not believe that this was happening.

"That's a good fucking sign. My little slut is finally relaxing," Miguel spat as he griped your hips tightly, cumming inside you.

Your body trembled as you felt his hot, sticky load fill you. With a pop, Miguel pulled out, leaving your pussy a mess. A mixture of your juices and his cum pouring out of your abused hole.

"Cut! Good job (Y/N), Miguel! I think that's going to be a killer!" You managed yelled out.

"Are you okay?" Miguel asked as he helped you up. You panted softly, regaining your composure,

"Y-Yeah,"

"I didn't go overboard, did I? You're not hurt?" He kept asking, giving you a towel to wrap yourself with.

"You did amazing. I'm the opposite of hurt," You told him as the two of you walked towards the showers, "In fact, you did something none of my other coworkers could do."

"I did?"

"Yes, and I would love to be your partner for ongoing shoots. If not, then...maybe we can meet outside of work?" You whispered the last part to him, feeling slightly embarrassed. Miguel just smiled,

"I would love that."

You watched Miguel enter the shower first, wondering to which part he agreed to. Unsure, you followed him into the shower, still daydreaming about his dick.

You found out afterwards that Miguel agreed to both.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you liked it!!! Not really sure how porn videos actually work, haha

[vaultlink]

ok about me making 4 posts of the songs with the lyrics. My progesterone is starting to hit and I'm struggling to stay functional.

I'ma go pass the fuck out and y'all are gonna have to wait for me to finish working tomorrow before y'all get the lyrics and my thoughts about the rough Google Translations of it. (and maybe a breakdown of some vocal things I noticed in the full "Gimme Gimme")

Hyperfocusing on the music in this show has come in clutch, I've managed to find accurate JP transcriptions of the OP/EDs. Time to make 4 more posts about these songs with the lyrics attached and hope someone can make proper translations from them because all I've got is Google translate. It's ok for a functional understanding of the text... That's about it.

[lady-raziel]

and alright, here's my last (let's hope) and boldest take yet. lots of people have been talking about the level of staff (around 25-ish people) at watcher, and whether downsizing that number could have been a potential avenue of reducing costs before just jumping to a subscription model. at first i was like yeah, i'm not sure that there needs to be 18 people involved in making a lets play. i was in the fucking trenches in the unus annus days and i'm still amazed how markiplier and ethan nestor managed to put out pretty well edited videos every day for a whole year with only a handful of editors and a couple people filming. what unus annus was trying to do and what watcher is trying to do are obviously pretty different, but the point is that you really don't need a whole crew of people to make lots of different types of content and do it well.

i still think there probably doesn't need to be a whole production crew involved with the creation of some of the simpler types of content watcher puts out. however, i don't think the size of the staff is the real problem. in fact, i think the staff of watcher probably should have been larger.

let me explain. if i begrudgingly go to one of my most detested websites (linkedin. *bleeegh*) and look up watcher, i can see that pretty much every person on staff is in a creative role of some sort by their own admission. at first glance, its like, oh, that makes sense. they're making creative products, it's natural that they should all be in creative roles. however, once you think about it for a little longer from a business perspective, that fact is really concerning.

after all, by watcher's own definition, this is a production studio. this is a company. So in this sea of creative roles, who's doing corporate planning? Who's managing finance? Who's doing payroll? Or brand outreach? Or human-freaking-resources??? you can hire outside groups for all this. i'm aware. but those services cost a lot of money to contract too. i'm just finding it concerning that there is pretty much no one on full time staff that is there to at least do some of this stuff. if watcher wants to be a big-boy company, that's fine, but that means you have to pay some people to be part of your company to do the not-fun business stuff like accounting. or resource management.

if they want to be a real company, they should actually have a lot more people on staff to deal with all the non-creative parts of running a company. even if they contract out most of it, you want at least a few people that are your people and don't actually work for someone else. that's how you don't get screwed over or end up in a contract you can't get out of.

which leads me to my last train of thought. like, as i go through the staff of watcher and look at what they do, it really seems like one of the ONLY people who's job it was to look at the business side of things WAS steven lim in his role as CEO. and thinking about that, i'm like god, can you imagine?? here's a guy who just wants to create cool stuff too but as one of the few people who has to think about the realities of Brand and the Business, HE has to be the one to burst the bubble. He as CEO has to say no to people and make decisions to make sure the company survives. In a group of creative people who just want to make things they're interested in, no expense spared, he was probably the guy who had to stay at least a little tethered to reality.

I'm not about to say that steven lim isn't to blame here. everyone involved in making the decisions that have led up to this point is part of this. but shit, it absolutely sucks to have to be the person at the end of the brainstorm session when everyone is coming up with their best ideas and to have to say "guys, i don't think any of these things are possible unless we make some big decisions."

is that what happened at watcher HQ? i don't know. at this point, with radio silence from everyone, speculation is all we've got. but if you follow the thread of a bunch of creatives striking out on their own to make their own business after being burned by their former employer, despite not knowing really how to run a business, and then only hiring fellow creative people and not other people who actually run business things... well, all of this starts to make slightly more sense in WHY none of watcher's actions make sense. everybody wants to stick it to the man and be their own boss with their own business, until it actually comes to the hard parts of doing that. at that point people start to realize, "oh, maybe some of the things that existed at my old job were there for a reason, actually."

all this is why lots of creatives striking out and starting their own businesses don't work in the end. they're thinking about in terms of creative products still, when they really need to be focusing more on the "business" part of the "creative business." it's sad. it sucks. it destroys a lot of good ideas and good people, because one person in every company like that has to be the one who thinks practically. could this have been avoided if watcher had been hiring people all along to manage this business and not just adding people to add to the creative output? maybe. even then it might not have been enough to curb other predictable impulses that led us down this path.

i feel bad for watcher, and i feel bad for the fandom. but i can't help but wonder if this was always the kind of situation we were going to end up in, and we just missed some of the warning signs because ALL of us were thinking, "well, that could never happen to us. we're different. not the Ghoul Boys."

[signedkoko]

Hello Koko! I Hope you had a good day/night, and that you are doing well and not overworking yourself:)

I think I saw that you didn’t have requests at the moment but that they were open so here a little request for headcanon/oneshot with Vox, Alastor and Angel dust separately with overlord gn!reader? (If you don’t take 3 at a time maybe only Vox & Alastor?)

They Thinks s/o is sweet, like they’re always smiling and being kind of everyone most of the time, they can’t believe they would even be able to hurt a fly even if they’re an overlord

but then they get told she just unalived her colleague (they were both leaders of the entreprise) because she wanted to be in full possession of their entreprise, maybe they owned a model enterprise or were music producers (like they were the one selling every musics in hell or sum like that?) how do they react?

(Really sorry if it’s unclear or if something is wrong, thanks for reading my request!)

-🐚

Alastor | Vox [Romantic]

In which you are their sweet little overlord who'd never be cruel! ...Or so they thought. Reader is genderneutral.

Your company was your baby, your castle, your absolute everything

And for the longest time, you'd always shared it with the co-founder

They had a lovely personality but worked behind the scenes for the most part while you acted on the main stage

Hell, you'd even introduced them to your otherworldly partner, Alastor, and had only told him of the good

So it was in fact quite a surprise when you turned up home with bloody hands and the most joyous smile on your face, almost as wide as your wedding day

That in itself wasn't out of the norm; you were an overlord after all! Alastor knew you could handle yourself, as much as you opted to ignore it

" Oh Al, I have great news! "

" Do tell, my dear! "

When you explained that the company was all yours, he was quick to catch on

Now that, that managed to surprise him

" I really thought you loved the gal! "

Even more surprising is how you'd managed to hide your true feelings from him for so long; he was sure he could have sniffed out your malice

But you were just that good at hiding it

He probably makes a joke about how you could be plotting his murder as we speak

" Maybe! "

His smile falters a slight bit

But you don't notice

By Vox's own request, your enterprise was kept unattached from his own; merely partners

This was because it meant better publicity if two companies got along so well, but also because he didn't want you to be overcome with the demands of his two co-founders

Yeah, Velvette and Valentino pissed him off to double hell and back, but he considered them friends

A few times, the V's and you and your co-founder would host lavish dinner parties, discussing economic growth and working together on projects

You never seemed to shy away from introducing your partner in industry, and as far as Vox could tell, you were as close as friends could be before anything got steamy

You were just the friendliest person he'd ever met; the number of fans you had showed that, but you'd even gotten favour from the other two V's with little effort on your behalf

So, of course, he was stunned when you called him in the middle of work

" You know you're the first to hear all my company news; I am now the sole owner! "

He could hear you smile through the phone, which almost scared him, and soon your phone was fizzling as he travelled through it

The first thing he noticed was that you were both standing in a puddle

A red puddle

Fuck

Ok

" Thats great and all, but lets get you out of here, and maybe—yeah, maybe we can call in a cleanup crew. "

He is your number one PR team; your overtaking of the company is seen as 'heroic' because you ' fought against a corrupt co-founder'

It surprises him, but he's almost proud of you; you are crazy strong and crazy capable

Author's Note - I do accept up to three characters for headcanons, but as per my FAQ I don't write Angel! Either way, welcome to the blog (again) shell/conch anon! Your idea is very lovely 🖤

[inbarfink]

After all these years, ‘I Remember You’ is still one of the great highlights of Adventure Time Storytelling. And not just in the basic ‘what???? Silly children’s cartoon does something SAD??? HOLY SHIT MIND BLOWN’ way. But with the execution of that Something Sad. How it manages to pack so many Complex Emotions into just 11-minutes of television. And especially the way it utilizes the basic Adventure Time format for that purpose.

So Adventure Time is a Board-based show. Each episode has an outline pitched and written down by the writer’s room, and then this outline goes to a team of (usually) two Storyboard Artists who develop that simple outline into a full story. And with the show’s art-style deliberately eschewing staying perfectly ‘on-model’ in favor of having the animators take direct reference from how the different storyboarders draw the characters

And the show being generally extremely versatile in terms of themes and tone - AT has allowed a lot of their Storyboarders to really express themselves and their unique artistic vision as part of the Big Collaborative Narrative that is Adventure Time. 

Now, the Boarders who worked on ‘I Remember You’ are Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar. These two were a Storyboarding Duo from the start of S4 and until Sugar left the AT Crew during S5, and they always struck me as a curious combination. I think really from all of the individual boarders working on AT during that time, these two really are the closest to having like… Totally Opposite Artistic Sensibilities as boarders. 

With Sugar favoring a style that is very loose and sketchy and also very rounded. Focusing on expressions and subtle body language and lighting. And being famous for going deep in depth into Big Moments of Emotional Catharsis

And Sanchez having a very clear art style that emphasizes strong silhouettes and clear lines that suggest flatness. Focusing more on major poses and the character’s positions in the space. And having just a really great eye for AT’s brand of silly humor.

Like, I almost kinda suspect these two were paired together so they can each cover for the other’s “weakspots” in writing ‘Adventure Time’. 

And there were a few episodes that did some really interesting stuff with this very contrasting pair - ‘Jake the Dog’ is another example. Giving most of the Farmworld scenes to Sugar and most of the Time Room scenes to Sanchez both plays to their personal strengths as storyboarders and helps to emphasize the strong emotional contrast between these two scenarios. 

And ‘I Remember You’ is actually kinda unique among Adventure Time episodes cause… Most episodes will have the two boarders alternate between working on the episode throughout it. Like you’d have Boarder A draw a bit and then Boarder B and then Boarder A again… But “I Remember You” is divided between Sanchez and Sugar… basically perfectly in the middle.

So the entirety of the first half of the episode was boarded by Sanchez

Until Ice King pushes Marceline and then leaves the room in shame.

And then, Sugar takes over.

And, like, even if you don’t know anything about the Behind the Scenes of Adventure Time or who Cole Sanchez and Rebecca Sugar even are - the Shift is noticeable. The shift in tone, in narrative focus, in the subtleties in which the characters are drawn. 

The entire first half of the episode has this thin veneer of just being a Silly Goofy Ice King Episode. Sanchez’s talent for Adventure Time’s brand of comedy is on full display… but there is also this underlying feeling that Something is Happening just under the surface. And these hints of the Big Emotions of ‘IRY’ expressed via Sanchez’s kinda goofy style really create this balance between putting the audience into a false sense of security that this is just a Very Normal Episode about two characters hanging out and the Tension constantly brewing in the subtext. 

And then it all comes to a blow.

And then the Shift happens. And now we are in Sugar’s court.

And this subtle shift in the artstyle and storytelling also coincide with Marceline finally openly expressing her feelings and the Reveal of Simon and Marcy's shared past. The episode changes focus from Ice King's silly antics to Marceline's feelings. Everything changes, everything in the first part of the episode gets recontextualized and... even on the most basic level, the episode is now Noticeably Different.

I would almost say that Sanchez’s half of the episode has Ice King define the tone, while Sugar’s half of the episode has Marceline define the tone. But more than anything it’s the catharsis. The reveal and release of those emotions that were building up so expertly through the Sanchez half of the episode. All of the Sugar-boarded scenes in this episode are really heartbreaking on their own, just through the tragedy of the story and Sugar’s expert knowledge of howto convey emotion in the visual medium - but it’s so enchanted by what came before it.

“I Remember You” is truly a great testament to how ‘Adventure Time’ could use every aspect of its medium to tell a great story in such a short time.

[sad-trekkie-life]

What I think TOS crew Instagram accounts would look like:

Bones:

Less then 1K followers. Private account. Selfies of him being in a company, a lot of selfies with Kirk, bad pictures of Spock, random photos of medical equipment. Sometimes snaps of landscapes. Active on stories.

Argues in the comments on scientific and moral topics (he’s usually right).

Has 2 secret accounts: Dolly Parton fan account, with a huge amount of followers. Other one is reviews of drinks, bars and clubs of different planets, also has a big amount of followers.

Spock:

A lot of followers (think ten thousands). Posts rarely, so account doesn’t really grow. Very beautiful photos of the landscapes and portraits of crewmen. A lot of candid pictures of Kirk. Sometimes posts harp music. Doesn’t feature his face for privacy.

Kirk:

Successful influencer amount of followers (think of hundreds of thousands or even over a million since other planets might have instagram as well). Cares about feed’s aesthetic, which features a lot of space, stars and shiny disco balls. Posts videos where he tells about his adventures while doing “get ready with me” (usually makeup), regular outfit checks. Pictures Spock made of him, information of interviews, articles, him with famous interplanetary politicians and celebreties, etc.

The only photos of people without him in the picture as well are of Spock (with some cheesy captions), and of Bones, with funny captions. Always pins Bones’ comments. Reposts Spock’s photography in stories. Doesn’t know why Dolly Parton fan account follows him. Follows Bones’ review account without knowing it is Bones, recommends Bones’ recommendations to everyone, even to Bones. Tries to convince Spock to create a beauty account.

Scotty

Scotty does have an account, but does not post anything on it. Still managed to get 325 followers.

Chekov

Two accounts. Meme account and modeling. Meme account is pretty big, and it’s Russian memes. Modeling account is smaller than meme account but still big. Collaborates with popular intergalactic brands. Doesn’t tell people about model account, meme account is Chekov’s proudest achievement.

Sulu

Cosplay. Botanics. Shitposts. Cosplay again. Comic cons (with Chekov). Flowers. Cosplay. Not a big amount of followers but not a small one.

Uhura

Amount of followers is slightly higher than Kirk’s. Makeup, outfits, singing, African culture. Spock leaves a lot of nice comments there. Uhura from time to time features Spock to promote a makeup or them to do makeup to each other. McCoy also gets featured especially “doing makeup to my friend” kind of videos, and is pretty popular among her fans, but he doesn’t accept follow requests. Feed aesthetic often changes, but always has bright colors, certain themes and color schemes.

[unholybacon355]

Milk Coffee

Mina x Reader

Words Count: 3.6k

A/N: You and your coworker Mina take a lovely breakfast together this morning at the office.

It had been an intense week of work, and it just didn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. You and your team were currently working into making a contract for a new client that you bring to the company, giving everyone the smallest of margins regarding time, and placing a lot of pressure upon every detail so it remained perfect. There wasn't a day in which you didn’t stay after work hours, so coffee and energy drinks had become your greatest allies.

One particular night you had seemingly fallen asleep in the office, finishing so late that it was no longer worth going home. You simply decided to sleep on a couch in the break room. Your co-worker, and faithful assistant in your arduous task, Miyou Mina, had just happened to have fallen asleep on the sofa next to you when you entered the room, so, carefully and quietly, you made your way into your own temporary bed, the couch, and slept through the night.

Mina was a cheerful girl, despite always having loads of work like everyone else she never lost her smile. Sometimes you even wondered how a girl like her had come to be your co-worker. The word beautiful fell short for the likes of her, if elegance and beauty had a baby, Mina would certainly be her name.Not just her beauty, but she also most definitely had a figure any model would envy, and that gorgeous polka-dotted face of hers could make you buy whatever product she was advertising.

The company didn’t really have any rules about relationships between colleagues,as long as it didn't affect the performance, it wasn't a problem for anyone.But maybe in another life, where you weren't so committed and invested in work, you would have tried something with her despite the small age difference between you both.

The morning after you both passed the night on the break room couches, she decided to go out for some pastries for breakfast. The well equipped kitchen in the room allowed you to make some coffee for yourself and Mina, figuring that a nice cup would wake some senses for you both.

You and Mina were basically the only people in the building. The cleaning crew didn’t work weekends, and there was still time for anyone to arrive as well. Not to mention, you had instructed everyone to come in an hour later than usual, knowing they had earned it from the gruesome week of work that raged through.

Even though you weren't the boss, you were high enough in the chain of command to make those decisions, and after all they didn't have to suffer from the extra work you brought into the office. It was fifteen minutes to nine and you knew no one would arrive until half past that hour as you had previously told them, so you knew you had some quality time to have breakfast in peace with Mina.

Who knows, maybe today you would feel a little brave to flirt with her, but just a little. After all, reactions from cute girls like Mina would naturally bring your mood to the max.One thing is certain, and that was that you hoped that your occasional glimpses of her deep cleavage or her luscious legs had gone unnoticed. Even when you stole glances at her perfectly molded butt, which, regardless of whether she was wearing a skirt or a dress, it had always managed to look deleitable.

The last few weeks, you had also noticed that her touches and glances towards you were becoming a frequent thing, the occasional brush of your arm whenever she laughed, the playful rolling of your hair whenever she stood next to your chair, and leaning on your shoulder as you took the elevator to get to your floor. Not only that, but the occasional brush of your legs, the playfulness when you both sat together, and the faint feeling of her feet brushing against your legs whenever she sat across from you were also signs that she might have been having a little too much fun with you.

But again, you wouldn’t think too much about it. Small office would always lead to a lot of interactions. It was ten minutes to nine when you heard the door opening once again, noticing your coworker entering while carrying a small box that seemingly contained the pastries.

Mina always radiated beauty even in the most occasional of outfits. A simple cream-colored blouse with a bow adorning the middle, the jacket agreeing with the skirt that showed her long legs, meaty thighs. And the high heels with straps that secured her ankles. Everything made you want to admire her more closely. You had noticed how she had touched up her makeup before leaving for the pastries, but you didn’t have the time to admire her beautiful hair cascading behind her shoulders, something you quickly did as she entered with a smile. Despite the simplicity of her clothes, Mina had managed to look radiant. As if she had belonged in a runway and not a corporate office.

"Hope I didn't take too long, there were lots of people this morning." She apologized even though in reality she had only been out for a few minutes. "Don't worry, I made us some coffee in the meantime, so I would have still waited ifit wasn’t ready for when you came- woah.” You turned and suddenly stopped, a cup in each hand and almost spilling the contents on the person in front of you.

There she was, Mina, with her back facing you, on tiptoes that attempted to reach in order to get some plates from the cabinet in the wall; so, naturally, her skirt rose, blessing you with the sight of her smooth things from behind. Her extended form made the fabric clung to her curves , giving you a clear view of the shape of her ass, the sight of her cheeks parted without any effort was a blessing.

The sudden stop made you unable to move immediately, not to mention the way you ogled at her perfect backside like an animal, so, once she put her weight back on her heels you were practically touching each other involuntarily, making Mina let out a sudden gasp, as your heart jumped at the sudden touch. Her shapely butt pressing against your erection, which had formed at the speed of sound, but who could blame you with a view so perfect?

Mina didn't say anything, she stood still for a few seconds, making you swallow hard at what was going to be happening with you and your career. But to your surprise, she did something that took your breath away completely. Against all odds, Mina began to slowly rub her bottom in circles over your erection. "Oh. Did you get that hard just from a little glance?” You couldn't believe what you had just heard, but you weren't going to complain about what was happening either. “I didn't think you were that shy. Or maybe this isn’t really what you’re into?” She added to your silence. "I've seen the way you look at me, I know you want me."

You slowly put the two cups of coffee down on the kitchen worktop, thinking about what you were about to say."If this is some kind of prank you're going to regret it." Truth was that you wanted to grab her hips and rub against her, but if it was some kind of trick to make you fall, you'd rather stay safe. Although from her apparent response, she was very convincing, and that’s because she decided to rub her ass up and down your erection behind your pants. It was painfully slow but satisfyingly hard, the pressure she put into it made her cheeks part enough so that your cock could be felt between her rear. And she, instead of saying a word, just let out a small moan.

That moan was your breaking point, not being able to resist anymore, you took her by her slim waist, making the girl let out a gasp and a moan after you pulled her towards you even more. Letting your covered shaft be smothered by her parted asscheeks. More muffled moans escaped her mouth as she straightened herself to press her whole body against you. In an almost reflexive act, you began to plant kisses on her neck, still not finding the right mindset to believe how this was happening.

Mina rested her head on your shoulder as a sigh escaped her lips the moment you moved her hips a certain way, this only gave you more access to the intoxicating aroma of her skin, as you were able to take in the sweat that covered her body mixed with the perfume that she had applied the day before. After all, neither of you had had the opportunity to clean yourselves properly since you both spent the night at the company, but far from upsetting you, it only made your desires grow by the second.

You leave her waist and raise your hands to her supple chest, kneading both her breasts, as you bring your mouth closer to hers. Smothering her neck all over while approaching her full lips, until you finally connected hers with yours. Your tongues began to tangle in such a lustful way that you thought was forgotten in you. After all, it has been a long time since you've done something like that. The constant worrying of your job made it impossible for you to be this intimate with someone, relying on sad and lonely occasionally handjobs to relieve some pressure.

Mina decided to suddenly break away from your lips, and touch, making you surprised and left wanting more, but immediately thinking that all of this was just a cause of your twisted fantasies, that she was just playing with you to end your career and take over your place. But the moment she turned and smiled made all of those thoughts fly far away. As if that wasn’t enough, she reached down to raise her skirt and you were able to see her underwear

"We have a lot of time." She breathed out before getting between your legs and pressing her center against your thigh, as you took her by her rear to help her out with her plan, making you hiss at the soft feel of her supple asscheeks on your hands, making you give involuntary hard squeeze that earned you another moan from her lips.

You glanced at the clock on the wall.Nine o'clock, which meant you still had at least half an hour before someone would arrive. More than enough time to do whatever you were going to do in that little kitchen.

Mina began to rub against your leg at a pace that was slowly increasing over time, noticing the quiet moans and irregular breaths as she rubbed herself against you, you decided to help the chase of her orgasm by squeezing even harder on her ass, and kissing her once again.

Moving a little towards the furniture beside her, pressing yourself closer to her, you squeezed her ass and pressed your knee against the furniture, lifting your leg slightly, and pressing your thigh against her drenched cunt even more. Mina had now stood on her tippy toes because this was intense for her, riding your leg with a more feverish rhythm, as you left one of her cheeks to move your hand under her blouse and up to her chest.

Once again, your lips met and your tongues began a battle that seemed to have no winner. You could feel her quiet moans in your mouth, the way her body began to shake lightly as her movements became irregular, and you were more than sure that if it weren't for the fabric of your pants you would also feel her wetness on your leg.

You were met with little resistance on her bra that you would have loved to remove it completely so you could reveal those nice pairs of tits in all their glory, but you settled for playing with her stiff nipple since she was seemingly loving it if it wasn’t by the way she began moaning loudly out in the open room of the kitchen.

You knew you didn't have time to get naked and fuck right there, so the thigh-riding athad to do it, but the fact that she was practically using you to masturbate made you painfully hard by the second, your hard cock throbbing for some attention; but you could only keep using your hands to knead her body, wanting nothing more but to help her chase out her own pleasure.

You went back to her neck, kissing, licking it, savoring it, hungry for her. Little beads of sweat were beginning to gather on her pale skin by the way she moved around your thigh, and you were more than happy to wipe them away with your tongue. The scent of her dirty body from her sex and from spending the night in the office turned you on in a way you never would have imagined.

You used the remaining hand you had on her ass, to grab the back of her neck so you could more comfortably devour her neck, so you could suck on her collarbone and lick her chin, you were freaking out over Mina’s body as her thrusts into your leg became frantic, her moans rising in volume.

She held you tightly by your shoulders and you understood that she was about to cum, you kneaded her chest with need and you kissed her again more than anything to silence her moans. She couldn't play with her tongue anymore, she was too focused on moving her hips and keeping her heels up, so you raised your leg higher to take her off the ground, and taking her up the ass again you hit her as hard as you could. Mina hid her face in the crook of your neck, and in between spasms, and screams of pleasure, she climaxed.

Her whole body trembled against yours, causing her body to collapse against your chest the moment her orgasm finally seemed to be subsiding. You kept squeezing her ass just to feel it, loving the way your fingers sank around the flesh of her supple cheeks, and squeezing hard at one cheek to pull apart from the other.

Your bodies were still so close that despite both of them being fully clothed you could feel the throbbing of her pussy against your thigh at each deep breath she too, a breath that tickled your neck, as you found that despite not having done much you were also panting as if you had just ran a marathon.

You slowly lowered your leg and lowered Mina to the ground, but she was still so tired that she could barely stand, she was still holding you and breathing against your neck.

You stayed like that in silence for a few minutes feeling each other's body, loving the feel of her ass, the constant squeeze of her breasts, just catching your breath in a small kitchen filled with the aroma of sex, and coffee.

That is until Mina started caressing your chest and then lowering her hand until she put it in your pants. She didn't even say anything, and neither did she unbutton your pants when she began handling your cock, she just reached under your clothes and wrapped her fingers around your hard shaft before she slowly began to jerk you off, slowly and with little movement because her hand and your erect member didn't leave much room inside your pants.

Forms of affection swapped as well, with Mina beginning to plant soft and chaste kisses on your neck and chin, as her other hand rubbed along your chest, she was a little shorter than you so now that she was on the ground she had to stretch out a bit to kiss you, by lifting herself on her toes, and you could still feel her erratic breath as she pumped your cock, making you shiver at the tight yet comfortable grip she held on you.

You didn't want to let go of her ass as she worked on your cock, the soft skin of her buttocks felt so good in your hands. Her tender flesh was so malleable but firm that it seemed to melt between your fingers, but you really needed Mina's hand to move more freely, so, almost against your will, you let go of her ass to open your pants and lower them just enough for your cock to spring out.

The release of your cock was welcomed by both of you, her hand now having more range of motion which increases your pleasure, however, Mina did not increase the pace, she continued to slowly masturbate you pressing her fine fingers on your throbbing cock. Twisting her at a rate that almost made your balls ache, pressing her palm on your reddened tip, making your knees weak from her delicate touch to the point where you started moaning and breathing heavily by her technique.

You needed to come soon or you were going to go crazy, besides, you knew you didn't have much time left according to the clock on the wall, it was fifteen past nine, which meant that someone might be showing up soon. But that didn't seem to matter to Mina who simply kept kissing across your jaw without a care in the world as she kept caressing your cock endlessly slowly.

Missing her supple cheeks by a certain stroke that made you rest your hands on the counter behind you, you once again moaned next to her ear, feeling your cock twitching suddenly by her touch. You took another look at the clock and started to worry, it was only ten minutes before kick-off time and you were sure your neck was covered in her lipstick; also both were disheveled and with wrinkled clothes. Not to mention that your thigh had been stained with moisture from your partner's orgasm. Somehow Mina seemed to understand your concerns and she started stroking you harder, moving her hand up and down with a frenzy she hadn't shown until now. You helped her by moving your hips to fuck her hand reaching a new level of pleasure

You could feel the pressure building up in your balls, you knew you were about to explode and it was going to be a lot. To tell the truth, it had been weeks since the last time you came, so you couldn't take it anymore. Closing your eyes and tilting your head back waiting for the release, you couldn’t see what happened next as your breath hitched and slammed onto Mina’s hand one last time.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back waiting for the release, so you didn't see what happened next. Without stopping jerking off Mina took one of the forgotten coffee cups and pointed your cock at the dark liquid. With your eyes closed you had one of the best orgasms of your life, the release felt so good that you couldn't suppress the moans and moans that came out of your mouth. You almost fell apart right there as your legs were shaking a little, and only Mina's strong grip on your cock seemed to keep you going. Milking you to the last drop of creamy cum, she didn't stop jerking you off until she was completely sure it was all out. However, she did not let go of your shaft.

Now a little calmer you opened your eyes, and smiling for the relief you looked at her expecting to find her a mess. You thought she was going to be mad because you must have cum all over her blouse or skirt, but instead of finding the fabric ruined you saw your load floating in the coffee cup. She kissed your lips without giving you time to react, and finally she released your erection. The truth was that you would have preferred to cum in her mouth or on her body, but you didn't care at all about having done it over the coffee; after all that was the least of it.

You stared at each other for a moment as you both caught your breath, grinning like idiots, and still wanting to trade kisses. You didn't know what what had just happened meant, if it was going to be something at once or if it was going to represent the beginning of something. However, all those thoughts quickly drifted away from you when you heard the front door knob turn.

Quickly Mina gave you one last chaste kiss on your lips and separated from you heading out of the kitchen. In one hand she was holding the coffee cup with your milk, so she used the other to adjust her skirt. Before the fabric returned to their place you could see how her pretty butt practically swallowed her underwear, product of all the hustle and bustle, and how your fingers had been marked on her pale buttocks. But what made your cock hard again was watching her lift the cup to her mouth and take a deep sip of coffee before walking out to greet the newcomer.

You were stunned for a few seconds and then you realized that this was your chance to sneak into the bathroom without being seen. So even with the image of what had just happened you ran to hide to fix your clothes and clean up a bit, leaving behind your cup of cold coffee and the kitchen smelling of sex.

[goldsbitch]

Not on the menu

Making out in public is not something to be shameful, right?

light smut, minors DNI, angst

note: this is my first Franco fic. this man came, served and what are we suppose to do?!

When it feels this good, it's worth breaking few rules.

You and Franco. Very well protected love affair. A fling. Just two young people who somehow end up in each other's beds whenever the opportunity arises.

Working in F2 as one of the production assistants was more exciting than one might think. Everyone would always praise F1, the size of the teams, the budgets, the glam surrounding it. F2 was different, more loose and less on the spotlight. Full of professionals, who just like drivers, worked their asses off just for a chance to progress into F1. But you were just so young, just starting and unlike with the drivers, you had no rush, plenty of time for that in the next years. It was all about learning, getting to know people and also, occasionally, having some good fun. It's hard to keep young people on a leash. Lot of travel involved, hotel rooms and many people mingling around, leads to just one thing. It wasn't special or albeit scandalous to fool around with a fellow crew member, in fact many marriages started like that, no matter the rank or department. Life on the road has its habits.

So when you first ended up on a dance floor with the ever-so-charming Franco at one of the opening events for F2, it was not such a surprise that you ended at his hotel room. Way less wondering eyes and almost no glam was at these evenings, the exact opposite of F1.

By some miracle, you managed to keep it a secret, apart from few closest friends, who served as an excuse for you two to actually hang out together. These few trusted souls witnessed their fair share of tipsy make outs and laughed collectively at your hickeys, which turned out to be his speciality. You never texted, never addressed your fling when sober. Deep down you knew you were curious to see how he was as a serious partner. But he never gave off that kind of a vibe. So you protected yourself, remained cool and decided that this was the peak your relation would ever be, and that was ok enough.

"So what about you and Franco?" a friend of you both asked you, once again. You hated when she did that. In her mind, it would be a great idea to have two of her friends together. But the truth was, she was way closer with him than you were. Nothing wrong with that, but it only reminded you of how shallow your interaction were. In order to keep you dignity while fooling around with a player, you pretended to be one as well. "You know how these things are, it's just physical. I don't think he's the kind of person I'd like to date." False. You knew that, but..! You stayed on the ground, he was just a bit out of your league. Simple as that. Soon enough he was gonna catch the eye of some model and you'll be old news. The whole thing would be way worse if anyone knew that you would actually be open to at least try and date him. It was hard to stop the daydreaming sometimes. "Yeah, that makes sense," was the only thing your friend, disappointed by your response, answered. You only wondered if she had conversations like this with him as well about you.

Life was good that one evening in August. At the time, you had no idea it will the last evening of that era. It was one of the typical dinners the wealthier members of the teams organized, a nice chill place to wind down after stressful days. You were sat few places from Franco, who was charming as ever. Raining smiles on everyone and stealing glances with you.

A text notification - Bathroom?

You gulped, locked eyes with him and gave a small nod. His smile was probably crafted specifically for you, somewhere in the depths of hell. Impossible to resist.

He got up and you followed a minute later, giving a knowing look to your mutual friend. She understood and happily covered for you in case someone else caught on.

It wasn't exactly the right thing to do, lock yourself in a room dedicated for nursing mothers. But better than blocking a bathroom.

"Aren't you a little old to be in this room?" you asked when you joined him and secured the door behind you. He was leaning over a counter, fingers tapping on the top. "I can't help it, I am hungry," Franco responded and gestured you to come closer to him. With a challenging look, you took few steps towards him. "This is a restaurant, you're at the right place."

"The things I want are not on the menu." He was done playing sneaking around and crashed his lips onto yours, as if to prove his hunger. He was just too good with his tongue. Taking you, like his little victim, making you forget the outside world still existed. His hand went to grab your neck, behind your ear, because by then he had figured out that keeping you in check was the thing that made your knees weak. His lips were locked with yours, in heated frenzy, not allowing any breath to be wasted. You knew how to play the game as well, and with a soft bite into his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him, you pulled away slightly, not allowing him to take full control. "Oh," he said, trying to steal another kiss from you while you pulled away more with satisfied smile. "Is this how it is now?" he continued, tone laced with intrigue and challenge. Your tongue reached to lick his lips once again. His hand suddenly lessened the pull towards him. "Oh, hermosa," he whispered, "two can play this game." Butterflies occupied your stomach. He stepped back and to your questioning look responded with another bloody wink. And then, then he grabbed you by the hips and lifted you up in the air and sat on the counter. You gasped, only amusing him more. Lost for words, you only raised your eyebrows. "Better," he said and with audacity only young boys have lifted your shift up. Without much of a thought you put your arms up and helped him get you slightly more naked. His eyes were shamelessly focus on your chest. "Almost there," he said and gestured towards your bra. "Go on. Take this horrible thing off." You chuckled, because as charming and suave he was, taking a bra off was a moment where he failed each time. Desire fueled you into making this quick. Now that you were sat, his eyes were at a similar lever to your boobs and there was something hot about his hungry look, watching you undress even more. Once you were finally fully bare, he observed you and the locked eyes with you once again.

"Pretty," was the only thing that he said before putting his lips on your left nipple for a gentle peck and then on the right one, which received a light bite. He decided to stay focused on that one, few kisses here and there and began to suck on it while his hand pinched the left one. Arrows of pleasure flew into your lower belly. He knew your weakness, he must have because this was sending you into other dimensions. Anything that feels this ecstatic would make anyone crumble. Whatever he did seemed to always work on you. He wasted no time with gentle touches. Not enough time for that. After nearly sending you over the edge with his lips dancing around and sucking on your nipple, moved a bit upwards and went for his signature move - marking your breasts with hickeys so purple it would take a week to heal. You bend your head backwards, trying to contain any loud noises your body wanted you to make in reaction to his actions. Another twirl around your sensitive nipple, bite into your skin and a hard squeeze. You did not want him to stop, too deep in it to think straight. But that must have been his plan from the beginning, because he put you on edge and then back away. You almost let a soft "No..." escape your mouth. With a puzzled look you slowly came down and remembered you were still in public. Heavy breaths and you gulped your way back to normal. He stepped back a bit and observed his mark on you. With an approving nod, he had the audacity to fix his boner up so that it was not so obvious. "Looking forward to seeing you later?" he asked with a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. You just nodded and reached for your bra, hoping his hickey was low enough it would not be visible. But, he had never made that kind of a mistake. You hopped down and gave him one more kiss, a slow and gentle this time, before he parted back to the dinner table. You joined in a minute, after fixing yourself up and trying to make your cheeks less red. Thankfully, there was only one another amused person when you came back to the table. Your friend raised her brows at you and drank her wine as if nothing ever happened.

Everything shower, hair on point, favorite perfume - you were all set and ready for how the evening would inevitably progress. This time you even made sure to clean your room. You got too comfortable with your expectations. Watching his every move, you noticed immediately when his expression changed from a casual smile to focused frown when reading a text on his phone. Was it something serious? Would he confide in later, sometimes it happened by accident. Secrets shared among tangled sheets. He got up and sent you a cheeky wink. You had to bite your cheek in order to stop the smile your body wanted to respond with, a small bruise burning inside your bra.

It took you fifteen minutes to realize he was not coming back from his phone call. You had his number, you could easily text him. But you didn't. And just like that, he was off to F1.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Can we spare a moment to just discuss how

How in the everloving HELL

Shanks managed to net Benn Beckman as his first mate?

Like this silly lil redhead, who was still a teenager when he watched his own captain be publicly executed

And lost his clown bff

And was all alone and had nowhere else to turn to

And somehow managed to find an intelligent, patient, gentle giant of a big bro to recruit as his first mate??

Like. Beck is twelve years older than Shanks, and far superior in IQ, but.

I picture Shanks just huddled in a corner of an alley in the pouring rain with nowhere to go, and Beck working as a bartender stepping out back to throw out trash and finding him there, and Shanks just looking up with those puppy dog eyes and

"Join my crew please...? 🥺"

And Beck is just SIGH I guess this is my life now

I have multiple headcanons of how they could have met, but this one just persists.

Just immediately this dumbass is now my little brother and I must protect him from his own stupididty

And being forever and constantly surprised that Shanks hasn't somehow managed to unalive himself over the years

But also incredibly proud of the overpowered little dum-dum at every turn like

"Beck they're calling me a 'Yonko' should I be insulted"

"That's...no, that's a compliment, captain."

"Really?! 😀"

"😑"

And

"Beck why is this weird child gnawing on my arm"

"That's just Luffy, he seems to think you're a good role model"

"Oh. Uh, neat? *proceeds to teach weird child everything he knows*"

"exhausted sigh"

And now it's come full-circle with Luffy and Zoro. Silly overpowered dumbass and his protective big bro.

When the Red Hairs and the Strawhats finally meet, Beck is just going to look at Zoro and go "You too, huh?"

And Zoro's going to glance between Luffy and Shanks being happy lil dipshits together and be like "..........Yeah. Pretty much."

[usedpidemo]

Voguish (Itzy Ryujin)

(Thank you for the commission! I hope its to your liking.)

—————

If you had any other choice, you’d rather be stuck at where you were previously: earning a modest income, just enough to get by from job to job, performing straightforward work, and most importantly, friendly clientele to attend to. It wasn’t surprising; you knew this industry was built on the backs of some of the most snobbish, arrogant people you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but—

“You’re late. Again.”

Shin Ryujin was probably among the absolute worst.

If you’re going to make an honest assessment, Ryujin isn’t that bad. Serving as her head stylist for the better part of a year, she’s by far the client you’ve spent the most time with. She doesn’t talk a big deal about the money she’s making or prattle into a conversation intricately designed to inflate her ego to the moon, unlike some of the other A-listers you’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working under. 

However, her attitude is definitely up there.

It’s not even a little over a minute. In fact, you’ve been standing at her entrance door two minutes before the clock hits ten. Doesn’t matter if you’re in the right; her style, her rules. She doesn’t care that you're sweating buckets rushing her newly minted outfit from across the street up to the 27th floor. Any moment where she doesn’t look like a million dollars is a moment wasted.

“My apologies, Ryu—”

Ryujin’s glare puts the fear of God into your soul. “What did I say about using my name?” 

You pause. Gulp your throat. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Shin.” 

“Hmph.” Grimacing with disgust, she hastily snatches the dress from your possession, proceeds to slam the door on you, tone bordering on shouting, “Come inside. You’re late.”

Entering the door shortly after, you’re welcomed by a film crew in the process of recording her as she struts around the living room suite holding your dress in her hands. If there’s anything you’ve learned from attending to her, she’s as effortless of an actress as she is as a model. The moment her eyes face the camera, she instantly transforms into the picture perfect icon that has all of social media buzzing.

Moving out of the way has become muscle memory at this point. When she’s in front of the cameras, you’re merely an onlooker. 

“So this is my outfit for tonight,” she says enthusiastically into the camera, proudly flaunting the outfit—a convincing facade to the untrained eye. For the press, she’s this likable, larger than life figure living her best life, attending all these invitation-only parties and wearing the most stylish dresses. 

“It was a risque design, and I wanted to try something bold for once. It was love at first sight when I saw it,” she comments, and you know very well this wasn’t her first choice. They won’t know that this was the 12th option, handpicked just last night after weeks of trial and error, only to be thrown away right after. At her request, you had it ordered on incredibly short notice, and the plan almost fell through. It was hard to deny Ryujin’s wants, no matter how impractical or unfeasible they were. 

In a way, this was to be expected. Ryujin emanates this young, it girl energy. Like any aspiring icon, she usually wants to stand out from a usually safe crowd. Not that it hasn’t stopped you from interfering a handful of times, much to her annoyance. After all, you’d assume she was going to a casual party or some red carpet event, not a prestigious gala with some of the biggest people in the world in attendance. You name it: politicians, CEOs of tech giants, industry titans who make the cover of Forbes and Time every other month. There are high standards that must be kept, and she’s doing anything but uphold those standards.

The camera pans away from her, and she immediately tosses the clothing aside with zero regard whatsoever. You manage to save it before it becomes near valueless. No matter how bothersome she acts, you can’t bring yourself to call her out on her antics; not just because there are several careers at stake, including yours, but you know what she’s capable of doing when her patience exceeds breaking point. It’s a firsthand experience to catch Ryujin in a state that isn’t picture perfect.

“Where are you?” Ryujin shouts from the other room, irate. “Slow as ever, my goodness.”

When you approach her, she’s on her phone, seated in front of the mirror with her legs crossed, having commanded the camera crew to vacate the room, leaving you alone with her. It’s only when you are together that she’s her true self, and it’s not far from what you usually experience even with other people around. They understand it’s in their best interest not to interfere.

Turning her eyes, she catches you idling with her sharp stare. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there and look at me all day? You already do that on the regular.”

Her behavior’s something neither cameras nor testimonies will ever publicly reveal: that Ryujin’s practically a spoiled brat behind closed doors. Any attempts to expose her have been silenced by huge settlements, NDAs, and every legal bind in the book. And when those don’t work out, there’s the strangely coincidental disappearance of potential witnesses that read like every tin-foil hat post written by some gullible conspiracy theorist on the internet. 

In retrospect, perhaps there’s some merit to the rumor that her father is supposedly the head of some mafia organization, but you digress. She has never brought her personal history up in interviews, other than she’s been adopted by the founder of a relatively unknown investment firm. An elaborate lie.

She’s engrossed on her phone, unable to keep herself still while you struggle to apply makeup on her face. Time’s of the essence, she usually says, but she’s purposeful with how much time is wasted, with the primary objective of finding an excuse to lay on you. It was never going to be fair from the start. All the moments where you were late, in her eyes, were intentionally done to put you in the wrong. 

To be fair, the numerous stylists who’ve taken care of her warned you in advance. You couldn’t deny the opportunity for a huge paycheck.

“Miss Shin, please stay still,” you say, carefully stringing your words together, delivered in the least offensive tone possible.

To your surprise, she complies. It’s a miracle. She never obliges with your requests, let alone direct commands.

Applying the rest of her makeup takes only minutes. Usually, you’d be going back and forth, and you’d be in front of the mirror for hours. See how easier everyone’s job is when all parties cooperate and collaborate effectively? You’re doing your part like it’s second nature; you only wish Ryujin was this accommodating more often, and not whether her brain flips a coin to determine her attitude for the day.

“You look amazing, Miss Shin,” you comment, staring at the mirror, her face radiating with the glow of a million bucks.

Taking her attention off the phone, even if it’s only for a second, proves to be a chore, as proven by her particularly grumpy expression. She scans herself, peers through every little detail in the mirror—showing more interest in herself during this brief moment than her dozens of photoshoots over the last month—and gives the smallest of nods. You even see the tiniest of grins escaping her lips, too.

Her steely attitude unwavering, she commands you, sternly, “Bring me the dress. Now.”

A clap of hands and the door opens like magic. Your co-stylist briskly walks toward you, outfit in hand, promptly handing it over before immediately leaving the room. No words are necessary; she makes it clear who’s allowed to touch her, let alone dress her, and it’s only you. Handling Ryujin was as meticulous and methodical as preserving a historical treasure.

She finally gets off her chair, hands prepared to loosen her robe before something catches her attention. “Door.”

It’s common sense. You hurry over to the opened door, slam it shut. Then the magic happens.

Ryujin nonchalantly slips her bathrobe off her shoulders, letting it freely fall to the floor. She’s draped in nothing but the thinnest of underwear, her asscheeks openly poking through the fabric. It’s amazing how she’s allowing you to see her like this, her barest, when most of her shoots and red carpet dresses have been nothing but conservative. Sometimes seductive, but mostly safe. There’s nothing left for your imagination. On the other hand, you’re so used to this vivid sight, it’s almost part of your daily routine. You shouldn’t be fazed, but her perfect figure has you staring, shamelessly, like it’s your very first time seeing nudity.

At times, it leaves you vulnerable. Like now.

“You were doing quite well too,” she comments, snarkily, gazing at your blank expression through the reflection, snapping you from your daze.

Gulping your throat, you find yourself embarrassed, ears flushed red. Even while you go through the methodical process of measuring and dressing her, the shame lingers. You find yourself unable to glance at the mirror. The very few flashes and glints that meet you when you turn you face your reflection, you find her suppressing a tiny giggle. 

As you put on the finishing touches on her outfit, she brings the point home, “We’re already late by an hour.”

A quick look at your watch tells you it’s almost eleven. Ten minutes before the next hour. At first glance, it’s still early, but it can be deceiving. Parisian traffic is notoriously unforgiving, event or no event, showing no partiality. Getting from one place to another is a whole day’s work.

Then you remember the fans and paparazzi congregated at the hotel’s entrance. This crowd that you had to brute force through just to get her dress on time. The hotel security can barely hold them back, and you can hear several sirens screaming miles away, most likely police presence. Many persons of interest will be gathered in one setting, after all.

“How do you feel, Miss Shin?” you ask, taking a step back to let her soak in her meticulously curated appearance. 

She blinks rapidly. Then she takes a deep breath.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

—————

Everywhere you look lies nothing but chaos. Chaos and cameras.

Barricade is filled with an indistinguishable mix of both paparazzi and media from all over the world. Lights, whether from above or from cameras, flash in every direction that it’s almost blinding. Deafening shouts pierce through your ears that whispering is impossible. You’ve been to as many red carpet events as these journalists and photographers, but you’ve never attended an event of this magnitude until now.

Left and right, there’s a random celebrity being interviewed by a news junket. The women you spot are dressed to the nines, adorned in colorful and graceful garb, while the men are decked as if they're attending Sunday service. You can see it now: another round of fashion bloggers berating and cursing the men for their simplicity and lack of creativity, but that’s to be expected. 

Your phone vibrates from within your shirt pocket. It’s Ryujin, having disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

> Where u at? 😤

You immediately reply back. Your conversations have been practice for your future relationship:

> Can’t find you in this crowd 

> Taylor Swift is just across me XD

> Scarlett Johannson too

> And I think I saw Zendaya and Yuna talking with each other, can’t confirm though, they’re far away

To which she answers:

> Stop playing around.

> Get over here NOW

> Do you style any of them? 

> You don’t.

> Come here. NOW.

It’s a simple but strong warning. Aside from the fact that you’re there to attend to Ryujin’s needs and not larp as a celebrity, there's a change in her attitude during these events. She becomes strangely more attached. It’s become a byword for you to mention other women around her, yet she interacts with them in a friendly light for the cameras to see.

Ryujin’s preoccupied with what’s presumably the umpteenth interview of many when you finally reunite with her. She takes another moment to pose for the next wave of cameras, picture perfect as always, then after, she finally turns her gaze, meeting yours. It has been ten minutes since her last text, and you have many reasons to say why you’ve vanished.

None of which truly matters.

“There you are.” She says, glaring angrily at you, tone laced with contempt, sounding like you were gone for days.

“I can explain, Miss Shin,” you try to say, but it has no effect as she approaches you, careful as ever to keep a picturesque facade in front of the media. You can see her holding herself back from popping a vein. “Apparently President Biden and his wife are in attendance and we were told to make way for his entire security team—”

The way Ryujin pulls you by the ear while you both retreat from the chaotic crowd is comical. In a sea of cameras and eyewitnesses, some tabloid’s bound to catch you, take the unfolding scene out of context, and write a rushed article that spreads like wildfire, but no, it doesn’t draw an ounce of attention. She's a small fry in a pond of bigger fish, after all. Over your corner, you see a dozen Secret Service slowly guide the president along the carpet, parting everyone around old Joe. In a way, watching him brings you to a strange realization: that you can empathize with the poor geezer. You’re both in the same predicament, being strung along to places you have no zero interest in.

It’s an effective distraction. An air of tense, awkward silence falls upon you both as you stare at each other, your personal conflict hidden away from the public eye. You open your mouth, about to say a word, and—

Whack!

Ryujin hits you with the hardest of palms, all her pent-up frustration released with a single, powerful smack of your cheek. The force echoes throughout the enclosed space like thunder. Your lips draw a little blood. A quick rub of your face reinforces the consequence for your actions. Rough. Still, to say she looks unhappy after enforcing her will upon you is an understatement.

And just when you try to open your mouth (without the intention to complain; you’ve given up at this point), she follows it up with a second slap, with about half the impact of the first. This time, the other cheek. Her gaze is scathing, lethal, hypnotic—as if challenging you to try her already short patience. Say something, motherfucker, is subtly etched on her expressive lips without the need to verbalize them. 

Another tense moment of silence. She makes sure your eyes never leave her contact. When it finally breaks, her judgment echoes in your head like the toll of a death bell—a lingering reminder that you’ve truly fucked up.

“You’ll be seeing me after tonight,” she says, each word delivered like an arrow straight to your heart. Before facing the world again, she adds another devastating blow, “My hotel room. Midnight. Sharp.”

—————

For the most part, in the eyes of the public, you seem to have done a fantastic job styling Ryujin for tonight’s gala. Within hours of the event, numerous articles published of the event list her among the best dressed stars, praising the bold nature of her outfit, as she intended in that vlog-style video from earlier. It’s all smiles as you watch her from afar, casually mingling with every celebrity in attendance. In case she needs to remain fresh, have new makeup applied, or change into a new dress for afterparty purposes—sometimes all of the above—you’re closely on standby. Ultimately, she doesn’t; not a single time she has called or texted for assistance. In a way, it’s alarming.

Her reminder sticks firmly on the back of your mind. Every word she says, she means it—no matter how small or big they are. It lingers even as her personal driver and bodyguard messages you with the instruction to return to the car, where she’s mysteriously absent, having been commanded by Ryujin herself to send you and the rest of her personnel home. It’s uncharacteristically strange; either she’s changed her mind and is having a good time at the event, or she’s probably drunk out of her mind, and the latter is typically the norm.

When you retreat to your room, you nervously watch as the clock slowly ticks towards the inevitable. It’s like witnessing your death. You know you can’t stop it, and you can’t look away, either. With the understanding that you’ll likely see the sun rise when it’s all said and done, you don’t even bother to slip into your sleepwear. 

The clock turns midnight. Seconds later, you receive a text on your phone. The message. It immediately disproves any theory or hope of meeting her good graces:

> Meet me in my room. Don’t even think about hiding or running, cause I will know

Of course you comply; you really have no other choice.

Five minutes later, you’re at her door again, with nothing but your suit, ready to face her judgment. It swings open of its own accord. Without any formalities, you step inside the familiar living room, now tidied up and cloaked in near darkness—a stark contrast to the mess it looked earlier in the day. Not a sign of her presence can be seen or felt. If you’ve been feeling uneasy before, now you’re straight up anxious, and the terror leaves you pale.

The door slams shut. Now you’re completely in the dark, with nothing to latch or cling to but your own resolve, which is slowly fading too. You want to speak her name, but you know you’ll be trying fate again, and fate has dealt you a cruel hand already. You didn’t want to fall even further. 

Your slow breaths are the only sign of life.

And the faint voice in your ear.

Wait—

Before you know it, you feel your throat tense up and your body tremble frantically. Faint shadows coil around your waist and neck, and in that moment, your fate has been sealed. 

“At least you’re not late this time.” Ryujin whispers into your ear. Then your eyes snap wide open.

“Agh!” 

A powerful surge of pain overwhelms your entire body, renders you weak in the knees. You fall to the ground, barely keeping yourself from completely melting onto the carpet with your hands. Still, the pangs remain too much. You can barely hold up on all fours, let alone move your arms and legs. 

It’s not enough. A soft hand hovers across your arched back, brushes through your hair, before it’s immediately followed by a direct blow to your nape. Your shout of agony reverberates throughout the dark room while you’re forced further down on your knees. Nearly forced into a prostrate position, you’re barely holding on. Another hit of this force could knock you unconscious, maybe worse.

“You’re going to learn your lesson today,” says Ryujin, strutting from behind you, cloaked in what appears to be a white gown. She’s holding something that you can’t identify, but you can tell she’s not in the mood to play games. Sparks of electricity flash and fade close to her hand. It was a taser all along. You probably would have guessed that from the intense shocking pain you’re currently feeling.

“Bedroom, slowpoke,” she sternly commands you as she saunters toward the room first, leaving you alone to pick yourself up. You’re still reeling from the two shocks of electricity applied to your waist and neck; it stings. Your body struggles, aches, cries out in despair, but you ultimately muster up enough power to follow her minutes later.

What greets you in the bedroom is a dimly lit bed, with Ryujin as its centerpiece, and both ends of her figure bathed in a faint wave of orange lamp light. She’s draped in nothing but the same hotel-issued bathrobe from earlier, her legs crossed, gazing at you from behind designer shades, smirking with malicious intent. It’s regal, seductive, inviting, intimidating. You honestly could stare at this sight all day long.

Before you entertain the thought, she cuts it off. “Strip.”

Her gaze lingers as you quickly bare yourself in front of her. She grins, giggles, adjusts her glasses with each piece of clothing removed. It flashes at her widest when you’ve divested your shirt and your pants, revealing your chest and your evident bulge, unknowingly growing hard behind the elastic fabric. It seems to spark a new idea within her, even though she’s the type of woman who follows through with her plans after they’ve been organized and premeditated.

She hops off the bed, slowly saunters toward you with trained, modellike fashion, using you as a makeshift catwalk. Turning the corner, she retreats behind your back, gripping a hand on your neck, craning the other down your bare chest. Her tongue tickles the back of your ear, which morphs into the smallest of smooches while she drags you to the bed like a hostage. As she hauls you over the mattress, she continues to feel your skin and body, your ears titillated by the gentle moans and whimpers from her sultry lips.

Your bump knees with the bed before she sends you flying over the edge. Temptation comes knocking at the door of your suppressed lips; you’re itching to cry out in pain, pleading for a bit more consideration. You know it’s a futile effort. When it comes to sex, Ryujin was anything but gentle. 

“Don’t look. Stay still.” 

Following her command is second nature to you; even when your positions were interchanged, it was merely an illusion—you were never in control. Ryujin plants a palm around your throat, forcing your stare against the bedrest. The clanging sound of something resembling a belt or a buckle keeps you curious. Tense, breaths keep you calm. Deep down, you know what’s about to happen; there’s no stopping it, you can only brace for impact. 

In the gap between the point of no return, she tells you her mindstate, how her frustration and apparent jealousy never receded. “I hated every minute I spent there. You have no idea how difficult it was to keep a face in front of everyone, especially after seeing Yuna. Fucking. Yuna.”

Your reaction comes out, not through coherent words, but through a labored groan. You feel her finger circle rings around your ass, sticky and wet. Of course she was there, social media couldn’t stop buzzing about her appearance—and she rarely shows up to these galas. Now it’s all making sense. After all, you were Yuna’s stylist before Ryujin snatched you away. 

Ryujin continues to apply lube around your sensitive hole, occasionally fingering you. Holding in the groans from the discomfort proves to be impossible, but she prefers to hear you whine, especially when her name is spoken. It’s the perfect reprieve from the evening’s frustrations, keeping her from raising her voice to the ceiling. “She pisses me off so fucking much. First stealing my thunder at every fashion week, now this? I thought she hated art galas?”

It’s evident that she doesn’t like Yuna in any shape whatsoever. If not for the cameras and all the famous people in the building, she’d already be trading blows with her. If there was any one person she wanted dead, it would have to be Shin Yuna. Of course, knowing this, you never included your time with her on your job application, let alone mention the fact you briefly spoke at the event behind her back. She was in an already spiraling mood, and you didn’t need to make it even worse.

“I was thinking of using dildos for tonight, maybe just my fingers even, but I don’t think it’ll be enough. I really hope you understand.” That last sentence—she sounds apologetic, remorseful, but the warning is ultimately shallow; she’ll rough you up, wreck you, ruin you, and enjoy every moment of it. You’re merely a blank canvas to her twisted fantasies.

“Oh, oh–fuck!” She cries out, joining your deep scream in harmony as she plunges the dildo into your warm, wet hole. This isn’t your first experience on the receiving end of Ryujin’s strap, yet every plunge feels as destructive and spine breaking as the first. No pleasantries or formalities, just apply the lube then hit. The idea of teasing you goes against her very blunt, assertive nature.

“Shit—oh fucking shit, you’re so goddamn tight,” she says, snaking a hand around your waist as her plastic dick slowly penetrates your hole, little by little. She has you grasping at pillows, staring at the ceiling then down to the sheets, until you find the twisted image of her hips slowly pounding against your ass, letting the pleasure of pegging overwhelm her. It should be excruciatingly painful, an agonizing reminder to never get on her wrong side, but no, there’s something hot about getting dicked by a tough woman like her that arouses you.

Eventually, she comes to her senses, finds her footing, and remembers that she’s meant to punish you, not reward you. She knows how good you make her feel, even if your cock is meant to be inside hers, not the other way around. You can’t help speaking your mind, and it boosts Ryujin’s ego to the moon. “Please. Fucking use me, Miss Shin. Fucking ruin my hole like how I ruin yours, miss.”

Even upside down, you can see how visibly delighted she is to hear those words every single time. Can’t hide that wide smirk plastered on her lips, no matter how upset she is. It’s intoxicating. No matter how hard you’re huffing, the pleasure she derives from using you keeps you going. 

Slamming your eyes shut, Ryujin does what you both want. Fucks you with her dildo hard, clenches and quelches with each careful, intricate stroke. Sometimes you’re in that position, taking her ass and ravaging her body as your own. Now it’s her turn, and she’s been taking after you. Between thrusts, she slaps your cheek, pulls on your neck and hair. You’ve built this alarmingly toxic work relationship, but the sex has never felt this invigorating, so cathartic. The perfect use of frustration to be channeled into something pleasurable and rapturous. 

You’ve never seen Ryujin this focused, this committed to wrecking you. She’s using your hole with such ferocity you think she’ll make you bleed out. Behind those glazed, pleasure-filled eyes, she sees nothing but red. Difficult as it is, you follow a string of moans from her lips hidden beneath a continuous echo of groans from your end. It doesn’t help that these walls are thin and everyone on this floor can hear your escapades.

Neither of you care. There’s a good reason as to why she booked the whole floor to begin with.

The bed quakes, and quakes, and quakes—until it doesn’t. 

A puzzlingly calm fills the room after countless minutes pass. Ryujin’s frantic breaths close the silent gap, having pulled the dildo from your hole. It’s slick. You realize the change of pace. 

“Miss Shin, why did you stop?”

She doesn’t reply immediately. When she does, she’s still catching her breath between spoken words. “I told you—it wasn’t going to be enough. Lay down for me, will you?”

Without a second thought, you comply. This gives you an opportunity to truly see her in the flesh for the first time tonight. She’s wearing a combination of corset and lingerie, her juicy thighs layered with lace garter. Hopping off the bed, she unbuckles the strap around her waist, tossing it aside to the floor. You then focus on her plump ass, accentuated by her slim thong.

Damn, she looks better now than she does naked. You feel proud that she’s wearing your tailor-made lingerie.

Before you entertain the thought of undressing the very underclothes you’ve prepared for her, she slips the boxers off your ankles. She climbs onto the bed, stands atop you. Even with her short stature, in this position, she’s larger than life, a dominating presence that only desires complete control. 

“Hmm, I don’t know what I should do. I could let you fuck me, but that doesn’t sound right for a punishment,” she comments, playfully placing a finger on her chin, jokingly thinking. For a brief moment, it does appear that she’s stumped.

When the idea hits her, her eyes widen, and she has this self-conceited look, as if she’s got it all planned out. 

She reaches a hand down to her knee, slowly peels one of the stockings down to her ankles. Then she does the same for the other half. The way she positions both legwear on your cock is intentional; it’s to stir the idea of pounding into her cunt a real possibility. Your gaze remains fixated on Ryujin’s face, ever flawless in her scantily-clad figure, being her model self atop you. 

As she tugs on the lace of her panties, you start reacquainting your mind with the image of her tight cunt. She lowers it, barely down her thighs, enough space to tease, enough to make your heart race. Her attention is nowhere close to you; she has other priorities, and fingering herself is one of them. She rubs a digit around her heat, moans out in ecstasy with the same energy as getting fucked. The trembles of her body send aftershocks that reverberate all over the bed. 

It’s already hot enough to get fucked by Ryujin’s strap, but this—the sight of Ryujin pleasuring herself, mouth gaped wide open—is a hundred times better. This is the same reaction she has shown throughout the numerous times you’ve railed her, even though you’ve seen that face during sex. Against the mirror, against the water’s reflection, against the tinted windows of her cars—her face serves as motivation that keeps you hard whenever she demands it. Your hands begin to move on their own, reach down to the groin unknowingly, unsure of whether she’d want you to masturbate or not.

You feel your hard cock, already partially soaked with precum, dripping on her garter. As much as you want to keep them on, you can’t go against the deep seated urge to masturbate with her. Her foot begins to lean against your waist, right as you begin to stroke your shaft with your fingers. Moaning alongside her, you thrust your hips upward, passionately murmuring her name, with nothing but a singular thought: her pussy.

It’s etched on your needy lips. “You’re so sexy, Miss Shin. Please let me fuck you, God—”

She whines as though your hot breath is against her neck, growling a tone higher than normal. Her left foot is slowly clenching around your balls, the other at the bridge between your thigh and your crotch, gently nudging your free hand to move aside. She’s beginning to apply pressure on you, perhaps a subtle gesture to make you stop and give way for her feet to take over, but you’re engrossed in the moment to fully realize. Then again, subtlety isn’t her speciality.

It’s only when her foot presses down on your active hand that you slow to a complete halt. You gently rest her soles on your shaft, slowly wrap her soft toes around your tip. For the most part, their grip is shaky, but when they stick, they feel so slick, so warm, and significantly better than whatever effort your fingers can muster. She can’t wear heels without a few kisses placed on them, you recall; something about being Cinderella growing up, how she prefers to be treated, to receive nothing but showers of praise and attention, and you’re doing just that.

Her digits seemingly acknowledge what they’re stepping on, and soon enough it becomes the perfect makeshift ring to stimulate your cock. Her toes just feel the best, most direct spots around your sensitive shaft, gradually building momentum for when you eventually paint her pretty feet. At least, that’s the goal. You’re both drowning in pleasure, chasing separate highs, but using each other’s bodies as conduit for your own personal gain.

And it’s not that she doesn’t know; she knows. You’ve caught a glimpse of her half-lidded eye peeking down. She sees it, merely chuckles at the notion, and continues to finger herself atop your helpless body. Mutual trust brings you together; she won’t stop you as long as you won’t do the same to her.

“Yes, fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard,” you say, breaths hurried, and it isn’t a matter of if, but when. “Every part of you feels so good, Ryu.”

You’re past formalities at this point. She’s too far gone to care that you've called her by her casual name. Her fingers, both slick and warm at once, are catching fire from the frenzied pace she’s rubbing her clit, certain her dripping juices will find solace on your splayed figure. Racing with her orgasm, her underwear is halfway down her meaty legs, her very foundations shaking. Inadvertently pressing her foot tightly on your cock, she’s holding on for dear life, and it threatens to steal your soul before you reach that immaculate high.

With friction at an all-time high, one rough, slippery slip between her toes, all while your loins burn , moving as if you’re burying yourself deep in her cunt, eager to fill her with seed. The thin thread snaps. Sends you careening over the edge.

Your fall is accompanied by the endless scream of her name. To have your cock be graciously drained by her feet, it would be disrespectful not to. She’s still going, chasing that high even as your cum geysers all over her feet, spills over your knees, your belly, on the sheets, as if her own slick didn’t already make an utter mess of this five-star bed. You’re mentally cheering her on, distracting yourself from the endless cascade of seed gushing beneath you. 

This disastrous mess finds you again, this time in the form of Ryujin’s orgasm. She orgasms, cries her loudest cry, her features at their most corrupted. Her pussy gushes like a rushing waterfall, completely soiling her legs and panties with her slick juices. Your groin manages to salvage whatever her thighs haven’t absorbed, and it’s a sticky pool that latches onto her dainty feet. When she steps off your cock, the squelch of wet seed splatters on the sheets until she touches the ground.

You both take some time apart, let the aftermath of your orgasms fizzle out. Ryujin assesses the damage to her body; she’s still a model, after all. She hastily rids of the soiled underwear, treating it like some kind of contaminated object that can only be cleansed by fire. From the looks of it, she’s committed something dangerous, and you’ve done something scandalous. 

“Shit. We got carried away,” you say, lifting your head from the bed, panicked.

“No. You got carried away,” she replies, facing you with that familiar icy gaze. The honeymoon period is over. “Did I allow you to plant my feet on your cock? Huh?”

Swallowing your throat, you understand that she’s technically right, but also, she most certainly enjoyed the feeling of stepping on you—something you can use against her. Still, Ryujin’s word overrides all reasoning, no matter how logical they are.

You see her facade fall apart when she approaches you again. She climbs onto the bed like a cat, arches her back, and sends you back down to the mattress when she pounces on you. On her lips is the widest smirk you’ve ever seen on her. 

She wants more.

Rising to her feet, she plants her toes directly on your chin, oozing with the remains of your cum mixed with hers. “You did this, now you’ll clean it up.” 

As your tongue laps it up, she occasionally disrupts your rhythm by kicking you several times. Not that you’re hurting her (you couldn’t even if you tried) but for the delight of bringing you misfortune. It’s completely in line with the typical abuse and inhumane treatment you face from her during work hours. You won’t complain, but that was never in the cards, anyway. 

“I can’t believe my stylist is a complete freak. Fucking hell,” she comments, glaring you down as you give her toe the occasional kiss. She’s visibly disgusted by the realization sinking in, but deep down, she knows you’re the exact stylist she’s been looking for. 

—————

And as if that’s not enough, she’s found a punishment perfectly suited for you. 

“Just so you know, you’re not getting paid after the stunt you pulled on me today,” says Ryujin, in reference to your accidental disappearance during the red carpet. You’re laid out on the floor, prone, your groans stifled by the living room carpet. Meanwhile, her feet tread all over your bare back at a steady tempo, leaving what could have easily been hickeys red marks and footprints on your skin.

“How long do I have left, Miss Shin?” you ask, voice almost indiscernible.

“About ten minutes,” she replies, looking out the hotel room window, watching dawn slowly break over the Parisian sky. “Don’t ever disappoint me again, do you understand? Freak.”

——————

(A/N: First commissioned work complete! Definitely exploring elements out of my specialty, did you expect her to peg OC? Fun dynamic to write, thank you for reading!)

(P.S. If you want to have your own story/idol written, you can send me a commission :D)

[nyankochan]

TWST Headcanons: Vil as a Boyfriend

Content: Vil x gn!reader, fluff

You and Vil meet on the set of a modeling gig. It’s for a perfume company and you’re supposed to pose with him for the shoot

“I’m a fan of your work, Mr. Scheonheit,” you say upon meeting him, shaking his hand. “I look forward to working together.”

Vil nods. “Likewise.”

He likes how professional you are. Most people he works with ends up being crazy fans of his that hinder his ability to get the job done in a feasible amount of time. Despite that you are familiar with his work and career, you get the shoot done ahead of schedule

“And, that’s a wrap. Good work today, Scheonheit, L/n,” the photographer says. The crew begins taking down the equipment. “Both of you feel free to take some of the product home today.”

“We’re done…?” Vil is surprised. Usually these shoots take hours because of repositioning, reshooting and retakes, often because whoever he was partnered with could never focus long enough to get everything done. He hadn’t even realized how little time had passed.

“Oh yes. We got all the shots we needed. You two just had perfect chemistry! Was there anything else you wanted?”

“No…thank you…” Vil looks for you, finding you talking to your manager. As you wrap up your conversation, he approaches.

“Oh, Mr. Scheonheit, thanks for your hard work today,” you’re polite and formal.

“Just, Vil is fine,” he says. “I was wondering, since we wrapped up early, if you’re free would you care to join me for a cup of coffee? My treat?”

You and Vil go out on several dates over the course of three months before he officially asks for you two to be exclusive

He’s very sweet and quite the gentleman when he officially asks. He’d get you something like flowers or your favorite snack/candy when he does ask.

Is secretly nervous that you would say no, but has the biggest internal sigh of relief when you do say yes.

You’re met with surprise when you open your door to see Vil standing with a rather large bouquet of your favorite flowers along with a small, what you assume to be, gift basket. Inside has various things from some of your favorite chocolates, skin care products you liked to even your favorite lotion set.

“What’s the occasion?” You ask, rather cheekily. “I thought we were just doing dinner and a movie?”

“Um-“ Vil suddenly loses his train of thought, heart pounding against his chest. Just as quickly, he regains his composure, and holds out the gifts to you. “These are for you.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment,” you say, gingerly taking the items. The flowers have a soft and pleasant aroma. “I don’t believe that today is my birthday.”

“Do I need a reason to get the person I like a present?” Vil retorts. You feel your ears burn.

“I-I suppose not.” You clear your throat. “But I was unaware that you felt such a way, Mr. Scheonheit.”

“Well I do,” Vil says now with more confidence. “And I would be honored if you let me call you mine.”

You guys keep the relationship relatively private. Only close friends and your agencies know

There is obvious fan speculation about you and Vil dating with how often the two of you work together, but you neither confirm nor deny anything for a year.

The response from fans is overwhelmingly positive. You don’t really let negative comments get to you, because Ace, Deuce and Epel are quick to argue with people on Magicam

Although you still like to keep the relationship private, fans do like to see what you guys are up to and so you’ll occasionally post your dates with Vil

Dates with Vil include: fancy dinner, weekend trips, cooking dates, and museum dates

Vil is big on self care so another intimate date is staying home and taking a bath together to relax after a long week.

Vil loves PDA but can’t be excessive with it in public. Often holds your hand, kisses your knuckles or your cheek.

Is the traditional gentleman who opens the car door, holds doors open for you, and makes you walk on his right when walking down a busy street

The type who gets annoyed when you forget your coat after he told you to bring it but will still drape his coat over your shoulders so you stay warm

Couple outfits are a common thing

The longer the relationship, he gets you matching jewelry like bracelets or rings.

Loves to shower you with gifts

Due to the nature of your jobs, you often have to work closely and intimately with other people or sometimes be away from each other for periods of time

When you’re long distance, he calls you every day and manages around the time difference if there is one.

Will always stay on the call until you fall asleep. Will never be the first to hang up

Vil typically is not a jealous person, but it does irk him when you’re assigned a commercial job with Neige LeBlanche

It also irritates him when people disrespect you or his relationship. He keeps it strictly professional with anyone he works with and keeps firm boundaries

The foundation of your relationship is built on trust and therefore very strong.

Vil definitely sees a long term future with you, but does not want to rush anything and enjoys every moment with you

Vil comes home late one evening, not surprised to see you sitting on the couch watching TV. You had a spare key and had texted him to let him know you’d be coming over to spend the night.

“Hello Love!” You greet with a smile. “Welcome home!”

After shedding his jacket, Vil walks over to where you sat, capturing your lips in a brief kiss before going to hang the garment up. He could honestly get used to this sight. Coming home to you every evening. You happily asking him about his day and rattling on about yours. The secure warmth and security his place feels like when you’re in his presence.

“Vil, are you even listening?” You huff.

“Sorry dear, I just like listening to you speak,” Vil says, as charming as usual which of course, makes you flustered. “Cute,” he muttered before pressing his lips against yours, gentle and slow.

You were his other and better half.

And he could definitely get used to life with you in it.