#From Corporate Job to Writing Career: What You Need to Know

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

How Ted’s Return to 9-to-5 Made Him Happier After an Online Writing Business Failure

Discover why going back to corporate life made this person happier and wiser and the key lessons aspiring content entrepreneurs should know before attempting such business. Summary of a Case Study As a content strategist and ethnographic researcher, I conducted extensive case studies on book authors, online writers, freelancers, ghostwriters, and affiliate marketers, providing valuable insights…

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking, has been for some years now, and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts, after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else, you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected, just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan, you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

“Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word, close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly, everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further, not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at, your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much, not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different, just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body, rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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[prettyboykatsuki]

later, then | i. rin

✮ tags ; gn!reader, pre-relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, rin in his actor era, assisstant!reader. this is sfw but i am an 18+ blog so minors do not follow me lol.

✮ wc ; 1.4k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @rabbbitseason that i had to rewrite a couple of times. i rlly liked being able to write something like this. i hope u like the direction i ended up going in sdjksdj

✮ synopsis ; on his last day of filming rin tried to keep you out of his thoughts.

"Rin-kun,"

He knows your voice well enough to know it's you before he even opens his eyes. "Hn,"

"We'll be shooting your scenes next," You say, tapping his shoulder lightly. "They told me to wake you up."

It's not like Rin to fall asleep on a set somewhere, no matter how tired he is. He's usually the type to push through it no matter what. It's petty, but it feels like he's lost otherwise.

He was exhausted before hand though. Months of shooting and he still can't get used to his schedule.

He's here from a morning flight from France that he took all the way back home to Japan. After he arrived, he immediately hailed a cab and busted ass to get here on time. He would normally rest on his journey but found he couldn't bring himself to actually fall asleep.

Professor Heartbreak is a Japanese TV drama (airing domestically lived and internationally on Netflix) and Rin's first acting role. The series follows a romance between a graduate student caught in a lot of debt and her relationship to one of her pupils, college student and heir to mega corporation.

Rin has never had any interest in acting, and had even less interest in acting in a romance drama. His manager however urged (read: forced) him to take the offer, emphasizing how good it would be for his public image among other things. Of course, Rin still declined but no matter what he did - he couldn't actually seem to get out of doing it.

He's off-season now though he started filming during. He can say with confidence there's nothing he likes about the job. No matter how much his manager or director insists that all he needs is to have a pretty face - there's still a level of annoying obligation he feels towards doing it.

The reception was more positive then they were expecting. Apparently Rin is a half-decent actor. He's not playing a character he feels is so different from him, if not much more cringe.

Rin plays the love interest Yukio. Not very expressive and rich with a tendency to chase what he wants. Generally aggressive about the female love interest.

It doesn't suit him and he doubts he'll do it again. But a lot went into getting the role. If he's going to do it at all, he might as well do it well.

Rin hates shit that's half-assed after all, lukewarm acting doesn't suit him.

Today is the last day of shooting and happens to be one of the last scenes. Shooting is sometimes chronological, but not always. Regardless, after today it'll be the last time Rin steps foot on this set. No more long nights, or trying to memorize lines, no more out of place press runs. The practice season will start again and he can go back to the busy he's been used to since the debut of his soccer career.

That also means it'll be the last time you and Rin spend time in the same room. It's the first thing he thinks of when you wake him.

Rin sits up and carefully rubs his eye, careful not to disturb the makeup he wears for set.

"When the fuck did I sleep?"

You laugh under your breath, handing him a water bottle like you already knew he would want one. He takes it from you and takes a long drink trying to wake himself up.

"Been a little over an hour. Hour and a half, maybe. Did you sleep okay?"

He scowls, just slightly. "It was fine."

"I'm glad you slept well," You add, voice full of mirth and amusement as you read between the lines said all too easily.

He was moody when he came on set with you, worse then normal and refused to sleep. You suggested he rest his eyes and Rin scoffed at you for thinking he's so stupid. He's not a kid you can trick into going to sleepy.

You conceded easily, made a single sly comment about hoping he's all there when it's his turn. It'd be a shame if he had to keep shooting the same scene and ended up home late after all. Enough of a provocation to submit to your stupid suggestion.

Rin supposes this was why his manager hired you in the first place. You're in a temporary position, your contract to be in place until filming is over and Rin's back on normal scheduling. Rin realized pretty early on that you're more like a glorified babysitter then an assistant which is why he didn't have very pleasant expectations of you at the start.

But you're competent. Push without pushing too far. Clever even when it's annoying. You've known each other for a year and the only thing that binds you is work but you're with him all the time. Maybe it's just the job, but it still feels like you know him better then most.

Not like he cares.

Realizing he was tired enough to sleep and goading him into doing it are two separate things though. But you've managed both pretty easily which he can admit is a feat. You're always like that. You remind him a little of another annoying striker in that way.

A quiet settles between you. Rin gropes around for his phone, checking his messages and the time. Still a few hours until the set wraps and no doubt social obligations afterwards. He groans.

"I'm going home after we're done shooting,"

"You can't," You say, apologetic. "Manager says you have to show your face during the after party."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense."

"You're the main male love interest, you should at least drop in for a little bit. Have a beer, unwind."

"I don't like drinking,"

"A soda then. Don't be so stubborn."

Rin huffs, carefully pushing a hand through his hair careful not to mess up the styling. There's a beat of silence.

"Are you going?"

"To the drinking party?"

Rin looks at you as if to ask isn't it obvious. You just chuckle.

"Why?" You tease. "Will you stay longer if I go?"

Rin pauses. And it's quiet for just a second too long before he realizes. You seem to understand the implication almost instantly.

Even before Rin who catches himself just a second too late.

"...I don't mind staying with you until you've filled your quota. If that's what you're asking." You supply.

Rin frowns, faint warmth creeping his neck. "Then do that."

You fight back a smile. "Sure, sure. What time were you thinking of leaving?"

"As soon as possible," He says bluntly. You laugh that time. Brightly. Sincerely.

"Seems like a waste. You can handle fifteen minutes without me, right? Doesn't feel like I need to go if we're gonna part ways so soon anyhow."

Rin pouts. A petulant, ugly feeling in him. He speaks without thinking. "You're saying it like we're never gonna see each other again,"

You both catch it.

"Are we?" You're grinning at him where you stand next to him, eyes cast down to look at his face. He fights off a blush but fails to keep from turning red. Fuck. "Seeing each other again, I mean."

He doesn't know what it is exactly that makes him answer the way he does.. "No shit."

You grin, beam really - and your fingers brush his hand on the couch. Rin jolts, clearly in deeper than he thought.

"Okay. Then let's go together and get something to eat after," You say, coy. "Since we're seeing each other again,"

Rin rubs a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Shut up. Fine. Whatever,"

You laugh again no longer hiding it. He hands his water bottle to you as he gets called onto set. Standing to his feet, he takes a breather to stretch out all his limbs.

You give him a mischievous smile, staring at him openly when something seems to strike you. Like you've just realized something.

"Rin-kun. Bend down a little. I need to tell you something."

Confused but not concerned, he complies without thinking.

You place your copy of the script strategically to obscure both your faces, and in a single split second - Rin feels something soft and warm press against his cheek followed by another giggle like a bell chime. He flusters, instantly scowling and tomato-faced and nearly cussing as you look so self-satisfied.

(Warm. So warm where you linger on his skin. Hot where you've touched him despite how brief.)

"For good luck. I'll see you later then. Knock 'em dead, okay?"

He curses under his breath before they call him one more time and he watches you disappear to go do the other half of your job. He puts his hand to his cheek and takes a breath.

Stupid. He closes his eyes and buries the explosion of feeling in him as he replies to no one in particular.

"Idiot."

[maxwellatoms]

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

---

So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

[moonstruckme]

haiii can we get more doctor!remus x whimsical!reader? maybe reader uses crystals and healing music to help remus when he's feeling sad/mentally blocked? no worries if you don't want to, love the way you write them teehee :3

Thanks for requesting babe!

doctor!Remus x whimsical!reader ♡ 870 words

Remus supposes it’s the thought that counts. 

He’d come home from work today complaining of a long day and a dismal mood and expecting, perhaps, a kiss and cuddle from you to make him feel better. Instead you’d laid him down on the couch and started placing eclectically-shaped and oddly colorful rocks on his forehead, throat, and torso, and now you’re playing music that sounds like some shit even James wouldn’t be caught listening to. 

There’s a muffled noise in the kitchen. Remus cracks an eyelid. Another, and he’s sitting up, catching the stones as they fall from him. You’re kneeling on the counter, reaching for something in the back of the cabinet. 

“Oi,” Remus starts to stand, but you turn to face him and hop down without even the decency to look a little abashed. 

“Remus.” Your voice is about as stern as a kitten’s purr, but he can tell you’re meant to be remonstrating him as you walk over, pushing him back down by the shoulder. You take the rocks from his hand and start arranging them as they were. “You’re meant to be relaxing.” 

“You’re meant to ask me when you need something you can’t reach,” he counters. The stone you set on his throat wobbles as he speaks. 

Your eyebrows twitch slightly, as close to a frown as you ever get. “If you get up, you’ll disrupt the healing process.” You place the last rock on his forehead with deliberate care. Remus’ heart thaws some. 

“Oh, well. I didn’t mean to disrupt the healing process.” 

You smile, seraphim. “You’re being terribly corporeal again.”

“Can you blame me?” He cracks one eyelid to look at you, flirting a bit. “My entire career is based on the corporeal. I’d be out of a job if I started focusing on things unrelated to science.” 

You shrug. “There’s no science that says they don’t help, and in my experience they do.” 

“The rocks?” 

“The crystals, yes.” 

Remus hums and turns his palm up. You set your hand in his, smile softening as he starts running his thumb over the delicate skin of your inner wrist. “Tell me what they do, pretty girl.” 

Your eyes are busy watching the movement of his thumb, but they flit back up to his at the request. “You really want to know?” you ask. 

“I really want to know.” 

You situate yourself more comfortably next to his legs on the couch, reaching over to touch the stone on his heart. “This one’s for confidence and calm, and this one—” you touch the one on his throat, careful not to displace it “—is meant to balance your spirit and cleanse your subconscious.” 

“Mm. And what does cleansing my subconscious entail?” 

“It helps you let go of any preconceived beliefs that may be limiting you.”  

“What if I happen to like my preconceived beliefs?” 

“Too bad.” 

That startles a laugh out of him, and you smile as your fingers brush his neck, ensuring the stone doesn’t fall. 

“Alright, what’s the last one do?” 

“It gives you inner strength and motivation,” you say, quiet and certain. “I imagine you’ll need it for the rest of the week, seeing as it’s only Monday.” 

Remus has no argument for that. He probably will need it.

“Is the music helping?” you ask. 

He hesitates. “It sort of feels like I’m meant to be dancing with faeries in some secluded forest. Is that what it’s supposed to do?” 

You turn so he can’t see your face, but your smile is in your voice. “That’s not inaccurate, but I can change it if you like.” 

“That might be best. Thanks, dove.” 

“Course,” you whisper, and then the music cuts out, replaced by the trinkling sounds of water. Rain sounds. Some tightly wound muscle in Remus’ head relaxes. 

“Thanks,” he says again, quieter now. The room feels suddenly like a sanctuary he doesn’t wish to disrupt. Either those rocks of yours are actually doing something, or you’re just emanating enough love to heal him all on its own. 

When you speak, it’s in an equally soft voice. “I’m going to get on the counter again,” you warn, “and I don’t want you to come after me, please.” 

Remus sighs his acquiescence. “Be careful.” 

“I will,” you promise. 

He hears the quiet thudding of your knees hitting the counter and opens his eyes, watching as much as he can in his periphery as you root around in the cabinet. Something crinkles just before you hop down. 

“What did you need in there so badly?” he asks curiously. 

You smile, proud of yourself, and hold up a chocolate bar. “This. It makes your brain release the nice hormones, right? I can’t remember the science-y names.” 

“Serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins,” he confirms as you come over. You start peeling open the wrapper. “I thought you didn’t believe in the corporeal, though.” 

You roll your eyes like he’s silly. “Of course I do. The spiritual and corporeal can go together, you know. We can use both.” 

You break off a piece of chocolate and hold it out for him, but Remus bypasses it to take your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Dove, you make some excellent points.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

[steve-faglan]

Cat // Mouse

Reader x Steve Raglan (William Afton)

TW: NON CON!! DUB CON!! DRUGGING!! HE'S MEAN!!!!!!!!!

SUMMARY: You get a job working for an old man you want to fuck. Are you misreading things? Where did that vibrator come from?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is this considered a slow burn? It felt slow to write. It's supposed to be like will they? Won't they? But it's... Well yeah. Look at this gif??????? My PUSSSY????????

WORD COUNT: so many.

Daddy issues. At least, that's what they call it. That's what your ex screamed at you about before he left you in a state thousands of miles from the one you were raised in. He said it was because you made him feel immature; less than. But maybe he was. All he ever wanted to do was drink and play video games, you craved more.

After he left, you realized you'd have to get a better paying job to cover the portion of rent your ex was paying. You take a day to really let it settle in. You cry and drink an entire bottle of wine while watching Dirty Dancing, and then you schedule a meeting with a local career counselor.

You sigh as you hang up the phone. It's embarrassing to need a temp agency's help finding employment, but you're new to this area. You don't know anyone and you're barely sure where to start.

Your alarm blares throughout your room, startling you awake. You barely remember falling asleep at all, and somehow, it feels like you couldn't have possibly slept enough. You're sluggish and groggy, but you still find the energy to get ready for your interview. You're hoping a little extra effort will get you further in a small town like this, so you spend a little more time on your makeup before heading out of the house.

The drive across town to the agency is quick and easy. You pull into the parking lot and emerge from your car, shielding your eyes from the sun to read the rickety sign that's hanging on for dear life outside the building. You huff, unsure if this was the best place to go looking for higher-paying work. When you step inside the door, a petite old lady greets you with a smile. She points to an office down the hall and tells you to knock.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

You push the unlatched door open slightly and a warm voice invites you in.

"Come in, have a seat." The man instructs. You scan over his office. It's dated, and decorated with styles reminiscent of corporate America in the 80's. You read the name tag on his desk, Steve Raglan. You take a seat in one of the muted yellow chairs opposite Steve and await his introduction.

"Steve," he extends an arm over the desk and you shake his hand, telling him your name.

"Thanks for having me, Mr. Raglan. I'm new to town, well, new to the entire coast, really."

"Wow, a little far from home, aren't we?" Steve chuckles kindly, smiling with a tightly closed mouth, spreading his mustache across his lip.

"You have no idea," you laugh exhaustedly and Steve tilts his head as if he's pondering something, but he doesn't mention it. "Anyways, here's my resume. It's not much, but uh..." You hand him a folder with your work history document professionally stored inside. Steve happily takes the folder and begins to read through your papers.

Your resume is impressive. You're well educated with a strong work streak. Your work ethic stands out to him. He's reading through your accomplishments aloud, commending each one. You're unsure why, but his praise fills you with a very specific need. You crave more and something in you tells you that you'd do almost anything to get it.

"A course in robotic engineering?" Steve's voice sounds surprised. He looks up at you with raised eyebrows. A grin spreads across his bearded face. "Huh."

"Yeah, I actually took a few courses. I never did anything with it though."

"Do you remember a lot from those classes?" He sets the closed folder to the side and casually places other papers on top of it, distracting you enough to keep you from asking for it back.

"Oh, sure. Mostly coding, I guess." You shrug.

"Coding." He repeats to himself, nodding knowingly. He can think of a million places in this town that could use a smart, pretty little thing like you. A strained silence grows for just a moment before he speaks again. "Well, Y/N. I think I have an offer for you, but it's not much of a pay raise like you'd hoped."

"What is it?" You ask, hoping for at least a dollar difference.

"Did you see Mrs. Penneman out there?" Steve points in the direction of the kind old woman who greeted you.

"Mrs. Penneman?"

"She's at the front desk. She's retiring in exactly one week. That position will be open." He goes on to talk about the ways you could incorporate what you learned in your engineering classes as they switch from mostly paper to computers after Y2K.

"What's the pay like?" You ask, already knowing you plan to agree the second he stops talking.

"Not great, but!" He pauses for a moment. "Plenty of opportunities for overtime." Steve's not an idiot. He saw how looked when he was praising you. The way the red in your cheeks was flaming hot at the mere mention of you doing a good job. He knows what he's doing to you, and he loves it.

"Overtime?"

"Of course. Switching the entire employee records from paper to digital isn't an easy feat. It's going to take a lot of time you may not have during the work day. Does this suit you or should I keep looking?"

"Oh, uh," you hesitate. Steve stifles a grin as he watches your inner battle decide between being around him or possibly making more money. "Yes, that's perfect. Thank you, sir."

"Excellent. You start Monday." Steve ends the conversation abruptly. A jarring switch from friendly and conversational to busy and indifferent. It triggered something in you. A desperate need to get that warmth back.

"Right, okay. I'll... See you Monday." You leave the office, yearning. And Steve is well aware. He sits alone in his office, staring forward as he makes plans for you. He folds his hands together and rests his chin on them as he imagines the way he'll pick you apart like a toy. You're already so desperate for his approval, you've done the hard part for him.

Monday rolls around and you, of course, wake up a little early to get ready. Of course, you don't want to come off as desperate, so you're very tactful in the way you dress and present today, your first day. You've all but forgotten your ex was ever here, let alone the fact that you moved all the way to Hurricane, Utah for him.

Nervous, but good at hiding it, you walk into the building with a beaming false confidence. You're trying to remind yourself that while Steve is attractive and older and something mysterious about him draws you in, you're still here to work and you really can't let rent slip because homelessness is not an option when you're this far from your home state.

You brace yourself for what you assume will be an extremely long day, and you hope it is. Not only for the money but the view as well. When you walk up to the desk, Mrs. Penneman is nowhere to be found. All her belongings are missing from the desk, leaving a generic canvas of an office. You glance down the hall to Steve's open office door.

"Mr. Raglan?" You knock lightly on the door, stepping inside slowly so as not to intrude. He's not there. The entire building seems eerily empty. Just as you turn to leave his office, you run flat into a broad, solid figure. Steve. You stumble before finally falling backward. You sit on the floor for a moment, red-faced, but keeping your composure to the best of your ability.

"Someone's punctual." Steve extends a hand to you, helping you up to your feet.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Raglan. I couldn't find-"

"Mrs. Penneman decided an early retirement was in store. I'll be training you, if that's alright." Steve smirks, knowing he relieved his previous secretary of her duties early specifically to have this time working so closely with you. He dressed it up as a gift to her.

"Oh, okay. Of course. Where should I start?" You smile, awaiting instruction. You cling to every word he says, the guidance, the leadership. The way his dimples deepen when he smiles in the slightest. You become dependent on making him smile simply for this reason.

Steve sets you up for data entry and asks that you let him come check your work every so often to make sure things "meet his standards." You've never been more determined to do something perfectly in your life. With unbreakable focus, you start the first few tasks. You're mindful, double-checking, efficient, and fast.

"Mr, Raglan?" You appear like an angel in his doorway. He looks up from his papers and waits for you to continue. "I finished the first portion. Could you come check it for me?"

Steve smiles warmly as he stands to follow you to your desk. The warmth of his gaze melts you from your head to your pussy.

"This looks great, Y/N. Good job." He adds the last bit just to see the way your eyes shift and sparkle when he compliments you. He leaves you to do the rest of your work in peace, but he lingers a little longer in the hallway, watching you for a moment, carefully hidden from your view.

You pick up on the data entry rather quickly and finish the very last employee record by the end of your first week. When Steve comes to finalize the task, he grabs a chair and slides it next to yours so you can both look at the screen together. You're poised and collected by now, the initial lust seeming to die down after a week of seeing him every day. Though his words of approval still cause a knot to form in your stomach.

Steve picks up on your dwindling excitement and decides this is war. As the two of you sit next to each other, he carelessly allows his legs to take up more and more space. Normally a man's obliviousness in a situation like this would boil your blood, but when his thigh grazes yours so softly, you freeze. His touch lingers and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. His face is dangerously close to yours. He leans in even closer, boldly placing his lips mere inches from your ear.

"You're a very impressive young woman. You know that?" His warm breath brushes against your ear, inviting a million little goosebumps across your skin. It takes everything in him not to chuckle at your visceral reaction. You're frozen, staring straight ahead, basking in the closeness to this man you desire so badly. A few moments pass and a light chuckle leaves his lips. Still ever so close, he speaks again. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"S-sorry! Thank you, Mr. Raglan. Sorry," you nervously laugh, wishing so badly you could go back in time and rip the sticker off your forehead that says "Fuck me, Mr. Raglan."

"Don't mention it." He suddenly withdraws from your personal space, leaving you clinging to the dwindling body heat he's left behind. His tall figure towers over you, especially so when you're sat. He's gone just as quickly as he arrived and you can't help but feel perplexed. Was he not just coming on to you? Did you project all of that onto a perfectly normal interaction? He warps your reality without even touching you.

"What the fuck?" You question aloud to yourself. Your heart is racing. Your mind is constantly replaying the moment. His voice, his words, all of it.

The next day, it starts as any other. You're replaying the day before over and over again, just as you did when you shamelessly touched yourself last night. The sound of his voice so close to your ear, the way his leg brushed against yours. Just thinking about it feels like butterflies in your stomach.

"Good morning, Y/N." Steve walks right past you. You try to return the greeting, but you're cut off by the sound of his office door closing. He's frustrated, but you're not sure why. Disappointed, but not really the probing type, you decide to just get to work. Today was supposed to be the day he trained you for a "side project" utilizing your coding skills, but you're hesitant to ask about it while he's so visibly upset.

The day continues as usual, though it does seem to drag on a little longer for you when you don't get to stare at Steve. You're straightening up the waiting area, bent at the waist to fan out the magazines. When you stand, there's suddenly a tall figure behind you. Steve is pressing the entire front of his body directly against you. You involuntarily release a small gasp when you feel what you're sure is his half-hard cock pressed against your ass. Steve takes only a second to inhale your scent and feel himself pressed against you before he whispers in your ear once again.

"You're my secretary, not my maid." He steps away and you frown, still facing away from him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I've run out of things to do." You shrug and you turn.

"Out of things to do? Already?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir." Your formality is adorable to him. And something about you calling him "sir" makes him hard just hearing it.

"Well," Steve steps closer to you now that you're facing him. He's so tall, towering over you, craning his neck to keep his eyes locked on yours. "You're such a good girl," there it is. His words make you shudder. There's no way he's fucking with you right now, right? Wrong. He once again creates a gap between the two of you.

"Good kid with a good head on your shoulders. Try not to overthink it." He smirks at your beet-red face and swiftly disappears to his office. You're becoming frustrated. It's as if by the time he walks away, you're so enthralled that you can't remember whether or not your degenerate, horny brain over-dramatized the memory. Angry and even a little embarrassed, you make your way back to your desk.

Steve sits in his office carefully listening to the sounds of your frustration. He loves the way you'd fall to your knees for him right now if he asked, but he likes fucking with you more. He hears you sigh away the sexual tension and he grins. Having this much power over someone like you. You're so smart and beautiful, what are you doing melting in his hands like that? His strong hand finds the growing bulge in his slacks, hoping to relieve any of the pressure he's been building up for the both of you.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his teeth still palming himself, picturing you bound and gagged in front of him. Maybe that's why he's so insistent on teasing you instead of fucking you on his desk like he knows you dream about. Maybe he wants the chase, the restraint. You're too easy, he wants you to be scared.

At the end of the day, you decide to say "fuck it" and see what he'll do if you match his energy. He's grabbing his things to leave when you slip into his office and close the door behind you. You're shaking-nervous, your heart is pumping at an inhuman rate. You have no idea what your plan is until it happens.

"Mr. Raglan, can I ask you a question?" You make your way across the room, passing the boundary of the front of his desk, standing with him behind it. Steve tilts his head in a bemused expression.

"Y/N, feeling a little comfortable, are we?" His sarcastic question leaves you a little more unsure of yourself, and you take a step back. "Ask away." Steve smiles innocently.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but..." You're shocked at how steady your voice is as you fall into this sultry character you've created for yourself. It's never failed you before. "I feel like there's something you're trying to tell me. It's not very subtle." You lean against the desk casually. "Am I wrong?"

"Oh, wow," Steve can't help but grin, but he quickly replaces it with a smug, sarcastic expression. "You must be the queen of subtly, right?" His snarky words catch you off guard. "No, dear. Sorry about any miscommunications on my part. See you tomorrow, Y/N."

Steve steps around you and walks out the door without another word. You're stunned silent and extremely embarrassed. You consider leaving a resignation letter on your desk and never coming back. Furious, you slam the door to your car and drive home. By the time you get to your driveway, you've calmed down and accepted that everything you thought he was doing was just your imagination.

You're still angry, unable to fully accept that you'd be that delusional, but who really knows? From then on, you put away your fantasies and focus on work and getting money set aside for rent. The next few days continue like normal, with no more "misunderstandings" or advances. Until... Steve reaches for a binder off a shelf behind your desk. As he slides in behind you where you stand, right behind your pushed-in computer chair, and reaches his long arm up to the shelf, his other arm searches for a surface to brace on. That surface is your pencil skirt-clad waist.

You gasp quietly, but you don't allow yourself to react any further. Steve has the binder in his hand, but he doesn't remove the other from your waist. He lingers, staring at the back of your head trying to read whatever emotion must be displayed on the other side. You're rigid, like you usually are when he pushes these boundaries, but he also senses your frustration and boredom. He can't help but chuckle as he steps away.

"Thank you, Y/N," he says, waving the binder as he walks away to his office. Did he even need the binder? No, probably not. You huff at your seat, officially deeming him untouchable. You decide he must just be a weird old man that doesn't understand personal space and you can accept that now that he's no longer the object of your desire.

This is what he wanted. Your indifference. It's all part of his plan. As the days continue and your attraction settles to dust, he waits for you to make a mistake, any mistake. To his surprise and perhaps even dismay, you're nearly perfect. Then finally, you accidentally double-book a client meeting that leaves someone jobless with no way to reschedule. You're horrified and apologizing left and right to the man who is more than understanding, making you feel worse.

The man finally leaves, with no job, and no meeting. You sit at your desk and mentally scold yourself for being so careless. The stress of the approaching deadline of your rent seems to be taking a larger toll on you than you realized. Steve's client meeting ends and he sends the temp on his way with high hopes. You wish him a good day and try to focus on your computer.

"Y/N, can I see you in my office?" Steve appears from nowhere in front of your desk. He moves so silently when he means to, it's unsettling. You shamefully look up from your work and nod, following him to his office. You both sit in the appropriate seats and he releases a sigh.

"I'm disappointed in you, Y/N." His opening statement crushes you. "That was a huge fuck up, was it not?" His voice is stern and the use of cursing lets you know this is not a formal scolding. You're in trouble.

"I-I know, but it's the first one I've ever made since I started, sir."

"So that means I should just forget about it, right?" He leans back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "A man can't feed his family because he doesn't know when he'll have a ride back here."

"I know, sir. I'm... I'm sorry." You sigh, eaten alive with guilt. "He was very kind."

"Did you deserve it?" He's angry.

"No." You look away from him.

"What was that?" He tilts his head, eyebrows still arched. You glance at him, confused for a moment.

"No... Sir." You add.

"I think you're getting too comfortable here, Y/N. 'It's not very subtle.'" he quotes you and your face ignites with blush.

"O-Of course, sir. I'm so embarrassed. I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be embarrassed. Do better." You nod and begin to stand to leave when he leans forward with a softer expression. "Coffee?"

"What?" You don't even mean to ask him to repeat himself, it was just such a jarring switch in tone.

"Coffee. I just made it." Steve stands and crosses the room to a little black coffee maker in his office that you'd never noticed before.

"Uh, sure." You accept, hoping the caffeine will give you some sort of drive to improve your current work performance. Steve pours you both a cup and passes one to you. They're the same cup, but his looks comically small in his large, nimble hands. You take a few sips of the hot, dark liquid and begin to feel light-headed.

Everything around you seems to melt away. You've completely disregarded where you are or why you might feel this way. You try to stand and you drop the still-full cup on the office floor. Steve watches it all leaning against the table across the room. He nonchalantly sips his coffee as he waits for you to collapse. Just as he planned, the minute you get to your feet, your knees buckle beneath you. You're out before you hit the floor.

"Look at this. Look how little you think of yourself the second you hear how disappointed I am." Steve chuckles as he lifts your unconscious body. You're bound and gagged in the back seat of his '79 Ford Fairmont as he makes his way to an undisclosed location. Yeah, that one.

You wake up with a deep, sharp gasp as if you'd been holding your breath the entire time. Your head is spinning and your vision is blurry as you try to scan your surroundings. It's a dank grey room littered with failed attempts at his "side project" he'd mentioned to you weeks ago. Crumpled endo-skeletons and half-built robot heads cover each corner while wires and bolts cover the rest. Your heart begins to race and you try to rise from the cold, metal table you reside on, only to find that your wrists and ankles are strapped in place with thick leather binds.

"What the fuck?" You mumble to yourself as you continue to try to wake up. "Hello?! Help! Help me, please!" You scream and thrash on the slab.

"They all say that, you know? They always scream for help as if anyone's coming." Steve slowly enters the door. His tie is loose along with a few buttons, and his sleeves are haphazardly shoved halfway up his arms. His normally carefully combed hair is disheveled and damp with sweat as if he'd been hard at work before entering this room.

"'They?'" You tremble, rattling the metal.

"Of course, you're the first for this type of venture, I guess. Normally I just skip to killing," he chuckles, removing his tie. You're in a state of shock, sheer disbelief. Hearing that last word sends you into hysterics.

"Please don't kill me, sir. I- I won't fuck up again, I promise. Please-"

"Shut. Up." Steve's stern voice cuts directly through your pleas. "I haven't decided yet."

Tears flow steadily down the sides of your face as he begins to grope you. His rough hands explore every inch of you. His calculated hands knowingly leave bruises on your tender skin.

"Please..." You whisper with your eyes tightly shut, afraid of every movement he makes.

"Sweetheart, if this part scares you, I'm not sure you're gonna survive what comes next." He's only inches from your ear as he whispers. Your body shudders with terrified sobs. The cries only get louder when you feel Steve cutting off your clothes. You're too afraid to fight him off, unsure of whether any injuries you may acquire would be accidental or not.

"Why are you doing this? I-I literally came on to you!" You try to find reason in his actions, mostly to distract yourself from the fact that you're completely exposed, the remnants of your clothes a tattered mess beneath you.

"Where's the fun..." he drags the tip of his knife softly from your ankle to your navel as he steps closer to your blushing face. "In that?" He continues, positioning the weapon to stab through your abdomen, should he press down with any effort at all. Goosebumps erupt over your skin. "Now, are you going to shut your fucking mouth or do I need to shut it for you?" He places a gentle hand on your cheek. You nod frantically, looking into his eyes. They look so calm.

You hate to admit it, but the way he touches you seems to attempt to dig up that insatiable attraction you felt for him not long ago. Your fantasies never ventured to this genre, but you used to dream of him making you orgasm. You're torn from that memory when you remember his admittance to murder and how you know that means you probably won't make it out of this room.

Steve places the knife to the side and slowly slips his middle finger inside you. You gasp, and he plunges away, growing rougher with each stride. He curls his knuckles and watches your face closely as your crying eyes roll back into your skull. You yank against your restraints, trying to squirm away from him, but he's ruthless.

"You're so... Peculiar, Y/N." He removes his fingers from you and cleans them of your undeniable arousal with a pocket handkerchief. "I almost caved when you confronted me in my office. So bold. It's been a riot just picking at you." Steve reaches a hand into a desk in this mysterious room and retrieves an unknown device. You gasp as he slips the small, cold object inside you.

"What are you-" your question is swiftly silenced by the small remote in Steve's hand activating a powerful vibration from the item in your pussy. His free hand rubs rhythmically up and down your clit, stimulating you further. Steve stares down at you as you melt away into pleasure, ashamed and silently begging for more. He's laughing at you, hovering his head over yours as you anxiously avoid eye contact.

"Look at me," he demands, but you can't. You shut your eyes. He releases a breathy chuckle and raises the intensity of the vibrating gadget. "Don't start enjoying yourself or I might have to really scare you." You don't want to know what that entails, so you force yourself to look into his soulless blue eyes. The eye contact deepens the red shade that washes over your cheeks and Steve shakes his head, laughing at you again.

"Why are you so embarrassed now? Would you still be this shy if I'd bent you over my desk like you wanted? You're so much tighter when you're scared." Steve abruptly removes the vibrating toy from between your legs. You whimper pathetically in the absence of stimulation. He leaves the room and returns with yet another machine. This one's larger, a box.

He places the box down between your legs, as close to your throbbing entrance as he can get it. The side of the box facing you is adorned with a hole housing a phallic shape made of soft, silicone material. Your heart is bound to give out at this pace. The box itself covers a mass of gears and wires, a motor to power the rod in and out of its destination. You.

"We'll start it out slowly for you, how's that?" Steve presses a button and the machine pushes into you, slipping in easily as your body clearly craves it. You whine and cry out in pain as the machine stretches you out, slowly boring in and out of you. "If this thing's too big for you, what makes you think you could've taken me?" He laughs as he leans against the desk and watches the mechanism fuck you out. Every so often, he increases the speed.

Finally, it's maxed out. You're squirming and wailing in overstimulated pleasure and pain.

"Please! Please, I can't take it- I can't-" your begs are ignored. Steve places a rough hand around your neck, carelessly cutting off your oxygen and blood flow while his other hand delicately flicks your clit. That's it, that sends you over the limit. You climax harder than you ever thought possible, drenching the machine that's still fucking into you as your body quivers. Steve allows you to breathe again and takes his sweet time powering down the penetration machine.

You're shaking. Your tear-stained face is frozen in a look of exhaustion. The last thing you're able to do is move or speak. Your breathing is a plethora of hitched coughs and gasps and you flinch at even the possibility of being touched again at all.

"I think you might be ready now." He unfastens your bindings and takes a step back to observe. You don't move at all, not a single muscle. The truth is, you can't, even if you wanted to. Steve smirks, pressing a foot-lever under the table that lowers you right down to his waist. Two powerful hands hook under your legs and pull you so your beaten hole is perfectly accessible to him. You cry out as he moves you.

"I-I can't, Steve. I-" Your nearly inaudible mumbles are knocked from your mouth as he lands a hard open palm slap across your face.

"You're going to." He makes quick work of his belt and quickly aligns himself with your entrance. At one point all you wanted from him was this, but now you'd rather be anywhere else. Your cheek is ablaze, covered with a spreading stinging sensation. You're too distracted by the pain to notice Steve rearing back. He slams into you at full force, throwing his head back in ecstasy.

"Nooo!" You whine, unsure of how much more your body can truly take.

"Fuck!" He's almost primal when he's inside you, digging his fingertips into your flesh like he intends to take it off your body. "After all of that, you're still so fucking tight."

He reaches to your breasts and roughly gropes at the delicate skin. Your weak hand tries to tug at his wrist, but he simply flicks you away like a pest, continuing the assault. He slams into you, hoping to do more harm than anything, smiling at your sobbing face. Your makeup is a smeared mess and your hair is in disarray from the way you fought back on the table. You look pathetic to him and he loves it.

"You want to be filled up, don't you sweetheart?" He huffs, slowly approaching his climax. Your eyes open wide and a new wave of fear and adrenaline shoots through you, but you're still too weak to manage. Steve easily pins your wrists by your shoulders and thrusts deeper and deeper, hooking his hips to temporarily reach the very limit of your cunt.

"Please don't! Mr. Raglan, please!" You beg between gasping sobs as you listen to his labored breaths become unsteady. His agonizing thrusts lose their rhythm and suddenly you can feel his thick erection twitching inside you, brushing your G spot and carrying you over the edge again as well. You didn't even think that would be possible at this point.

You and Steve ride out your highs. He continues to pump into you making a heinous sound as he fucks his cum deeper inside you. To his surprise, he remains hard, so he continues to rut into your destroyed pussy until his legs threaten to give out. Steve finishes inside you a second time, laughing as he watches your horrified face realize how full of him you are. He's taking his time pulling out of you, playing with your cum soaked clit until you finally pass out from exhaustion.

Steve releases a breathy laugh as he fastens his belt and collapses in a chair nearby. You're lying there, naked and dripping cum from your swollen, demolished pussy. He can't get enough of this view. His original plan was to just get rid of you when he was done here, why not? But this is too much fun for him. Maybe he needs a new pet.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Peace & Quiet (poly!SatoSugu x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot) 

“How's this for relaxation, hm?” he teases. “Just what you needed, right?” 

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which you realize peace and quiet aren’t ideal with your two noisy ass (yet extremely attractive) coworkers renting out the same Airbnb as you while visiting the hot springs on a business trip. But lucky for you, they know another way to help you relax.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana Use; Truth or Dare; Skinny Dipping; Coworkers to Lovers; Poly Romance; Exhibitionism; Mutual Oral; Cum Eating; Dirty Talk; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; Unprotected PIV Sex; Mild Degradation; Clit Play; Spitroast; Creampie; Throatpie; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: In honor of JJK S2 dropping next week, I decided to give my favorite idiot duo some love. And if I'm not uploading as regularly it's cuz I'm on a cruise lol. Enjoy! -Jazz 🩷🩷🩷

Read on AO3 here!

********

You audibly sigh as you sink further into the deep depths of the comfortable, heated water.

Nothing but the sound of bubbling water and chirping birds fills the summer air around you. The shaded trees hanging above you allow you shade from the summer sun’s rays peeking through the green leaves, making the warm water feel even better when it isn’t below the bright rays of the sun.

You loop your arms over a nearby rock and lie your head against the wet surface. ‘Paradise,’ you think with a content smile. 

You’ll have to thank your company again for picking such a great spot for your Airbnb. It isn’t that close to the new city you’re in, but close enough that the drive there isn’t exhausting. It’s pretty quiet and the trees surrounding the area allow you just enough privacy to tan naked if you wanted to. But you’d die before you’d do something like that.

You still can’t believe you were picked for such an amazing opportunity! You’ve always wanted to go on a business trip for your job ever since they started doing raffles. You’ve been working with your company, one of the largest corporate tech companies in Japan, for five years now, so you hoped that your boss would see your skills and work ethic to allow you the responsibility to travel.

Really, it was mostly because you were desperate to get out of your home for a while, whether it was a local trip or one overseas. You’ve heard of trips in the U.S. and some in the U.K. and only dreamed of traveling there. When your boss announced to you a month ago that you were chosen for the business trip to a local career convention for the next four days, you were ecstatic. You immediately began packing as soon as you got home. 

Your boss and his team wanted to ensure that you were absolutely and completely comfortable during your stay for the remainder of your business trip. They paid for everything: the Airbnb you’ll be staying in for the next three days; the train ticket; the food stocked up in the freezer and fridge; and the prepaid Visa card loaded with $550 that will allow you to buy whatever you wish and not have to constantly put your own money down.

So far, you were living. The schedule you currently had consisted of trips to the convention center in the city from 11 PM to 3 PM to talk to potential buyers, clients, and hires about the company. After 3 PM, you were free to do whatever you wanted. Not to mention you’re being paid $35 an hour, even for the hours you weren’t working! You couldn’t have asked for a better trip. You hit the fucking jackpot. 

“Yo, Geto!” a familiar voice annoyingly yells from inside the house. “Where’d the fuck you put my shorts? I told you don’t move my shit!”

You heavily sigh, annoyed. Well, you almost hit the jackpot. Take away the two inside that you’re forced to work with this week and you would’ve been perfect. “I told you, I don’t have your fuckin’ shorts, Gojo,” another voice, deeper than the other, growled. “Try lookin’ outside. You might’ve hung ‘em up.” 

“Oh, no,” you groan, wishing neither one of them would come outside and ruin your “me time”. You haven’t had much time to yourself since you got here since you’ve been preparing for presentations at the convention fair and sitting in on meetings with your boss wanting to check up on you. Plus, with them constantly wandering throughout the house, you’ve been less comfortable exploring the Airbnb. 

Just your luck, both of them come waltzing out of the sliding door that leads to the backyard and the home’s personal hot springs where you currently sit. “I told you they’re not– oh, look, Geto! She finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

Gojo’s teasing pisses you off for some reason, but you refuse to give in and look at him. It isn’t worth it. They aren’t worth it. “C’mon, ‘Toru, leave her alone,” Geto grumbles. “You can clearly see she’s relaxing.” 

“And I can hear you,” you sharply reply. “You two aren’t very discreet. Or quiet.” You slowly open your eyes to regard your two coworkers, but you instantly regret it. Though they are both extremely annoying with their loud mouths and disregard for relaxation time, what makes them even more annoying is how fucking fine they are. 

First, there’s Gojo Satoru. Cocky, arrogant, and too easy-going for your liking. He is incredibly smart to have gotten the job he does (he’s in a department much higher than yours), but he barely does his work and takes lunch breaks way longer than he’s supposed to, which he also tries to get you to go on. He’s also a huge flirt. It gets annoying watching him flirt with every single girl that walks into your department from your cubicle, his charm coming off dickish to you. The guy is a slut! He knows exactly how to get a woman with his silver hair, Colgate smile, and intense blue eyes. 

And then there’s Geto Suguru. He is the complete opposite of Gojo, but he is equally as arrogant and annoying. Though you’ve never seen him flirt in front of you, he comes off as a know-it-all during meetings and like he’s much better than everyone, including the higher-ups. He is just as handsome as Gojo with his long, black locks that he often wears in buns and ponytails, strong jaw, and deep, black eyes. 

You’ve had the displeasure of sitting with both Gojo and Geto during meetings and working with them on a few projects throughout the years but with other people. This is the first time you’ve been assigned to work with them one-on-two. Not to mention being in the same space as them for longer than a day.

The first day you came here was manageable since you sat in a different seat than them on the train and most of the day was spent at the convention center. The night it was over, you made a beeline for your bedroom and never came back out. It was good that you did too because those two are so fucking loud. If it wasn’t them arguing, it was them playing music. If it wasn’t music, it was the TV playing too loud. 

You know you can’t spend the rest of the trip like that. But them being so damn hot doesn’t make your situation any better. They’re both tall, standing at six foot something, and have their own set of muscles. While Gojo is a bit slimmer and sinewy with muscle, Geto is much thicker in terms of body mass and muscle with broad shoulders and a six-pack you could bake cookies on.

The truth is that you’re very attractive to them. How could you not be? You just adore big men! And everything about them is big to you: big hands, big feet, big everything. You’ve had to force yourself to look away from their crotches many times when you’ve caught them in their tight-ass work slacks. Even at your height in heels, they stand a head taller than you which intensely turns you on. 

But you’ll never tell them that or even allude to it. You’ve watched many of your female coworkers flirt with them, give them their cake, and then get shot down later. You don’t need that kind of distraction or drama in your life. You made a vow to yourself to stay away from dating and fucking coworkers. ‘Just stick to your work,’ you’ve told yourself. ‘Just stick to your goals.’

No matter how much Gojo’s laugh makes your heart pound. No matter how badly you want to feel Geto’s big arms wrapped around you. No matter how much you want to feel their hands and lips all over your body. You can’t do it. You have too much to lose fooling around with men like them. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Geto says, actually sounding sorry about it, “but Gojo just left his shorts and he won’t shut up about ‘em.” He looks mildly annoyed while Gojo is panicking. “Have you seen ‘em?” he urgently asks. “They’re Calvin Klein? Red?” 

“Haven’t seen ‘em,” you deadpan, “but there is a washer machine in the basement. Maybe you left ‘em there.” Gojo whines, running his hands down his face. “They’re the only good ones I bought! The other pair is too tight on me.” You make a noise of disgust, pushing away the thought of Gojo in some tight-ass swim trunks, the outline of his bulge on display. “I didn’t need to know that.” 

Geto hides a laugh while Gojo gives you a glare. “Oh, so sorry,” he mockingly says. “What are you doin’ out and about anyway? You were in your room all day before when we weren’t working.”

You glare back at him, not at all liking his tone. And mostly, because he’s right: as soon as you were done at the fair, you hid in your room, unpacked, and chowed down on the complementary snacks and wine stored in your room all afternoon. When the evening finally came, you snuck downstairs into the kitchen while Gojo and Geto played pool in the basement and grabbed yourself a slice of the pizza they ordered earlier that day, and the snacks and water bottles stored in the fridge. 

“That’s none of your business,” you curtly say to him, “but I was tired. My bed was too comfortable to leave.” Gojo hums in agreement. “I feel that,” he sighs. “Whoever decided to put that mattress in my room needs either get their dick sucked or their pussy eaten.” You scoff in disgust to yourself, shaking your head at his brazenness. “By you?” Ghetto asks, raising an eyebrow at his friend. 

“With the right amount of whiskey is me, sure!” Gojo laughs, wiggling his silver eyebrows at him. Geto shoves him hard, earning another goofy laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” he scoffs before turning back to you still in the heated water. “Look, we’ll leave you alone so you can enjoy yourself. Gojo was supposed to help me cook dinner like he was promised he would last night.” He side-eyes his friend. “That’s why I had to order pizza.” 

“I told you I was unpacking!” Gojo argues, but Geto’s fixed stare never fades. You attempt to not laugh by biting your lip, humored by their dynamic. Gojo is like the chaotic younger brother while Geto reminds you of a more dignified and mature older brother.

“Fine,” Gojo groans, craning his neck back, “but you’d better help me find these shorts. And I’m not cuttin’ no vegetables either.” 

He purposely bumps Geto’s hip as he walks back into the house, keeping the sliding door open as he does. Geto turns to you, his facial expression unreadable and slightly offputting due to the fact that you can’t identify it. Why does he have to be so goddamn mysterious? “Enjoy yourself,” he says before disappearing back inside the house, shutting the door behind him. 

“Thanks,” you quietly say to yourself. You are now finally left alone to your own devices, which is what you wanted all along…right?

When the sound of chirping birds and rustling trees comes back to you, you decide that yes, you do want this. A few minutes after taking a long soak, you grow tired of the water and are in need of some sun. You pull yourself out of the hot springs and swipe your bikini off of the lounge chair sitting by the brink where you have your tote bag. 

Making sure the guys aren’t around, you change and lay a towel out on the chair before settling down, lying back, and laying your sunglasses on your eyes. Then you reach for your MacBook Air and balance it on your knees, proceeding to get some work done in time for tomorrow. You also take a few sips of the wine you poured for yourself earlier until the entire glass is empty. 

Your productivity doesn’t last for long. The sounds of nature are so peaceful and pretty and the wine is so strong that you find yourself drifting off to sleep. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, your laptop still in your lap. The sun warms your face and the water continues to bubble, serving as some amazing ambiance for you.

It is a short nap, however; one that you’re not too happy about. You are rudely awakened half an hour later by the music blasting from inside the house, the bass jumping and pounding in your ears. Irritation flares within you as you sit up, tearing the sunglasses off your face. 

‘These two,’ you think, annoyed and angered. These emotions only increase when you hear Gojo’s shrill laughter over the music. Don’t they have any kind of sense or respect? 

“Oh, my Gooood!” you growl, your frustration reaching astronomical heights. You toss your laptop off of you and into the seat as you get up and storm over to the house. You pound on the glass door with your hand before yanking it open, the music nearly destroying your eardrums. “Would you turn that fuckin’ shit down?!” you holler into the living room. “I’m tryin’ to fuckin’ sleep here! Goddamn!” 

You’re so angry that you don’t even see Gojo and Geto’s shocked expressions as they crouch near the stereo near the TV, trying in vain to fix the volume. Before they can say anything, you slam the door shut and storm back over to your chair where you dig into your bag for your earbuds. Once you find them, you shove them in your ears, turn up the Jhene Aiko song you had paused from the train ride, and desperately try to get your sleep back. 

Surprisingly enough, you do, but only because the music coming from the house is successfully cut off. You don’t realize it though because you’re knocked out. When Gojo finds you, you’re sprawled out on the lounge chair in your white bikini, mouth open and shades on. You don’t realize what he’s doing to you until you feel his hand brush your leg.

You startle awake, finding him standing above you like a handsome eclipse. You flinch at his touch, alarmed and confused. “W-What are you–” 

“Relax, princess,” he chuckles. “I was just puttin’ this on you so you weren’t layin’ here in your bikini.” He nods down at the towel he placed on your body. “You never know what kind of animals or creeps are sneakin’ around here.”

He juts his chin towards the trees and brush that stretch for miles, giving way to nothing but wilderness. You realize now that you fell asleep in your bikini, completely exposed to anyone…including your coworkers. “Geto is finished dinner,” Gojo says, ignorant to your utter embarrassment as you clutch the towel to your body. “We got steak, steamed vegetables, and brown rice if you want some.” 

He is shrouded in darkness, similar to the trees surrounding you as the sun sets on the summer day. The heat has subsided somewhat but the sticky humidity is still in the air. The sky above is painted with twilight and cotton candy clouds that stretch across the blue canvas. How long have you been asleep?

You are speechless, just staring at Gojo and wondering what the hell is happening. “T-That’s okay,” you softly stammer. “I’m gonna eat a little later.” He shrugs, stretching his muscled arms over his head. “Suit yourself. By the way, sorry about the music.” 

You continue to stare up at him blankly. “Huh?” you dumbly ask, your mind still hazy from your nap. 

He snickers at you, making you flush even more. “The music from earlier,” he clarifies. “We tried turnin’ it down, but the stereo broke. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound that mad…or be that loud.”

He adverts his eyes from yours as if he’s ashamed to look at you. It confuses you. Does he feel bad or something? While he certainly should because he ruined your relaxation time, you can’t help but feel a strange tug in your stomach at the sight of his eyes–so downtrodden and void of that usual glint in them.

“Anyway!” he exclaims, putting on a smile. “I’ll tell Geto to save you a plate.” He leaves you sitting there before you can say even say anything. Once he’s gone, you sit back in your chair and bring the towel up to your chin. 

“Dammit,” you sigh, feeling guilt twist in your gut. Maybe you were a little too harsh earlier. After all, you were drinking and that heavily influences your behavior. You know you’ve been standoffish and cold to both of your coworkers this entire trip, and yet despite that, Gojo still came out to make sure you were okay and Geto still fixed you a plate. Maybe you could give some of that kindness back. 

After swallowing your pride, you wrap yourself in the towel to cover your body, gather your things into your bag, and venture into the house to find your coworkers. As soon as you hear Gojo’s big ass mouth, you find them in the beautifully-decorated kitchen with its black granite counters and hardwood floors.

Geto stands at the stove with his back to you, his muscles flexing beneath his black tee, while Gojo sits at the kitchen island chomping down on his steak in his Crocs and white crop top that exposes his hard abs. You do your best to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at the sight of them.

“Hey,” you call from the threshold of the kitchen. They instantly stop what they’re doing to look at you, looking almost shocked that you’re standing in front of them. Nervously, you fiddle with the strap to your bag. “Um…the water is really nice if you two wanna go in. I’m finished and just doin’ work if you want any room.” 

Gojo practically drops his fork. “Hot springs just for us?” he excitedly says. “Fuck yes! I’ve been waiting to get a taste of this.” Geto turns and leans against the edge of the counter, revealing the apron he’s wearing. It only makes him sexier to you. “Same here. I was so exhausted after yesterday that I never got a chance to. I was hopin’ to get some time today since the fair was so early this morning.” 

“Now I really have to look for these shorts,” Gojo announces before jumping out of his seat and zooming past you for the stairs. You watch him, quietly giggling to yourself. When you turn back to Geto, he’s already staring at you. “So you’re okay with us bein’ out there with you?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you. 

The question perplexes you. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask, confused. He crosses his big arms over his broad chest, making your throat go dry. “Well, you just act like you don’t wanna be bothered by us. I mean, don’t get it twisted: I like alone time, too, especially in a place like this.” His words make the guilt churning in your stomach even worse. Have you been making them feel like this the entire time you’ve been here?

‘Well, of course, stupid!’ your subconscious screams at you. ‘You barely talk to them or hang out with them, even when they’re in the same room as you! What did you expect?’

You would’ve thought that them taking a hint would make you feel accomplished, but all it does is make you feel weird. And not in a good way. Realizing you’ve been silent for too long, you scramble to answer Geto. “I was gonna go to my room to make a call,” you lie. “And it’s not that I don’t wanna be bothered by you guys, but…” 

Your brain does mental gymnastics trying to find a logical explanation for your behavior towards them: ‘Because I’m introverted’? ‘Because I’m shy’? ‘Because I’m sexually attracted to you both and being around you makes me wanna tear off your clothes and shove your dicks in my face?’ 

Gojo’s hard footsteps coming tumbling down the steps again, so hard that the hardwood steps creak. “I found my shorts!” he happily announces, presenting his red swim trunks to you and Geto. At the sight of you standing in the kitchen, his smile fades. “Uh…am I interrupting somethin’?” 

Geto glances at you before looking back at his clueless friend. “Nah,” he immediately replies. “We were just talkin’ about the water. Supposedly, its minerals strip you of all the dirt in your pores.” He walks across the threshold of the kitchen to walk past you, giving you a whiff of his cologne and the spicy scent of cinnamon. It makes you clench your thighs together.

As he walks up to Geto, he gives him a smirk. “You could use a dip,” he chuckles before running out to the hot springs with Gojo right behind him, calling him all kinds of bitches and hoes. Being left alone in the house allows you to breathe and you lean against the kitchen wall, calming your pounding heart. ‘Why do they have to be so goddamn fine?’ you think in anguish. 

Once you compose yourself, you take the plate Geto wrapped in foil from the stove and slink into your bedroom to eat. The food is orgasm-worthy, to say the least. The steak is the right amount of juicy and tender to your liking, the vegetables are crisp, and the rice is warm and hearty.

Geto is an incredible cook. And he’s incredibly sweet. What gets you is the fact that he saved a plate for you despite you not sparing him so much as a glance for the past two days you’ve been here. Neither one of your coworkers is half bad, you realize when you finish your dinner. Though they’re loud and chaotic, they’re also very sweet and personable. 

It is this fact that gives you the courage to swallow your pride and return to the hot springs when you hear Gojo and Geto chatting and splashing about outside your window. You make sure your towel is wrapped tight around your body before you take a deep breath and venture back downstairs to the backyard.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sheer sexiness that is currently occupying the hot springs in the set of two. All you see are pecs, abs, and muscles on muscles along with a few scatterings of tattoos on tanned skin dripping with water. Gojo has a few tattoos you can see on his collarbone, neck, and lower hipbone while Geto only has one–a large, red dragon on his back that curls over his shoulder blades. 

With the way the steam rises from the water to surround your coworkers, it reminds you of a raunchy romance book cover that you see in airports and grocery stores. You’re already considering this to be a bad idea with how reactive your body is to them–your heartbeat begins to accelerate; your body temperature rises; your pussy jumps excitedly. 

But it’s too late to turn around and go inside when Gojo notices you standing there, a glass of wine in his hand. “Oh, and she returns!” he teases, his crystal blue eyes peering up at you from over the steam. “To what do we owe the pleasure, Your Majesty?” Geto, settled on the rocks with his big feet in the water, rolls his eyes. “Ignore him. You want a puff?” You then notice the blunt settled between his thumb and forefinger. 

You shake your head as you slowly walk around the pool of water to the other side, as far away from them as possible. “I’m good,” you softly decline. Gojo gives you a smirk as he sips his wine. “Why? Too scared?” Geto splashes water at him with his foot. “‘Tarou,” he criticizes, “don’t be a dick.” You don’t let Geto’s teasing bother you though, simply smirking at him as you settle down on a rock. “I don’t really smoke like that. Plus, isn’t smoking prohibited here?” You slide down to stick your feet in, sighing at the warm water caressing your feet.

Gojo snickers at you, giving you a mischievous wink. “Only in the house, according to the rulebook, but they’ll never know we smoked out here.” With that said, he wanders farther into the water, softly moaning at the feeling. The sound makes your stomach flip. “Ah, shit, that feels good,” he sighs as he leans back against a nearby rock, his eyes fluttering closed. You can’t help but notice how long his lashes are. 

Geto does the same, sliding down the rocks and keeping his arm up to spare his blunt. Once the water hits his body, he lets out a deep moan that lights a fire in you too. “Mmm, it sure does,” he sighs. Noticing you from across the way, he smirks at you. “You sure you don’t wanna join us? The pool is big enough for another person if you want another dip.”

The sound of another dip in the warm water sounds heavenly, especially with the ache you feel in your neck. But you shake your head, already coming up with a good excuse that doesn’t involve jumping their bones. “I got my dip already, thanks. If I get in again, I’ll fall asleep and I need to check these emails for–” 

Gojo cuts you off with a groan. “That’s all you ever fuckin’ do is work!” he whines, scowling at you from across the way. You scoff, rolling your eyes at the man-child. “Not true,” you argue. “I have a life outside of work, thank you very much.” You turn away to look at the swaying trees, ignoring the flush Gojo’s scoff causes you. “Shit, you could’ve fooled me.” 

Geto chuckles to himself, making you gap at him. “You think so too?” you ask, shocked. The long-haired man shrugs, puffing on his blunt. “It’s just weird to see you not behind a desk,” he chortles. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes intense. “Actually, I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you out of your work fits, now that I think about it.”

You cross your legs in the water, paranoid that he can see up your towel. “It’s a nice change though. You could use some relaxation.” You raise both brows at his gull. “Me?” you parrot incredulously. “I could use it?” 

“You think nobody notices how tense you are?” Geto asks, humored. “With the way the boss works you out, I’m shocked you haven’t had a breakdown yet. Everybody talks about how good you are though.” You don’t know if he’s lying but his words make you blush regardless. "Yeah, you know your shit,” Gojo agrees, pouring himself more expensive wine. “It’s a shame you’re so uptight though.”

You gape at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Did he just…?

“I am not uptight,” you scoff, offended. “It’s not my fault I give a shit about my work and my reputation around the office.” You purse your lips at the white-haired man, judging him with your eyes. “You date much?”

You don’t know if it’s the steam creating the illusion but you believe you see Gojo blush. “She’s got you there, man,” Geto chuckles, puffing on his blunt. Gojo gives him the finger before turning back to him. “First of all, I can’t help it if my coworkers find me attractive. And second of all…are you okay?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, why?” Gojo cocks his head to the side, looking worried. “You’ve been rubbing your neck for the past five minutes. What, you thought we didn’t notice?”

You now realize that you’ve been, in fact, rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t even realize it. Quickly, you snatch your hand away. “It’s just a crick. I’m fine.” You crane your neck back in an attempt to ease the ache but that only makes it worse and you bite back a whimper of pain. 

“You’re definitely not fine,” Geto replies, sounding concerned. Seeing both their eyes enveloped in concern for you makes you want to hide away. “You’re the frontman for our company!” Gojo exclaims. “You think I can stand there and talk to people?” You quirk a smile at him, deciding to be witty even when you’re in discomfort. “If you tried.” 

Gojo crookedly smiles at you, making your stomach flip-flop. Goddammit. “Get in the water, Y/N,” Geto firmly says, putting his blunt up on an ashtray near the rocks. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He, too, gives you a crooked smile that has you thinking less than holy things. “Unless you want us to,” Gojo adds, suggestively raising his brows at you. 

You know that this is a very bad idea. The fact that you can’t foresee what could happen if you decide to take up their offer and soak with them is one that rubs you the wrong way. How can you be so sure that things won’t take a wrong turn if you do this?

But seeing the way your coworkers are looking at you, so worried despite being semi-naked and wet, is making you want to throw caution to the wind and say ‘fuck it’. Finally, after assessing your options, you decide. “Whatever,” you huff passively, “but only until my neck stops hurting.”

You don’t look at them as you gently climb down the rock so you don’t see the look Gojo and Geto share, calling BS on your comment. When you slide down into the water, your body immediately responds positively to the hot, bubbling water. The ache in your neck is immediately eased as are your tired muscles. “Mmm, wow,” you groan. 

“Right?” Gojo chuckles in agreement, taking an empty glass from beside the wine bottle. “It feels much better at this time of day, don’t it? You want a glass?” You know you shouldn’t take the glass from him but the wine just looks too crisp and cold to refuse. And it is crisp and cold, and has hints of fresh fruit, when you take a sip. Then you are taking three, then four, then five. 

Before you know it, you are gravitating faaaaar away from your original spot at the end of the hot springs pool until you’re about arm’s length away from both Gojo and Geto. The wine works quickly, making you feel warm and bold. Bold enough to side-eye the blunt that is settled in Gojo’s fingers now as smoke puffs from between his pink lips. “Actually, pass that over here,” you say before you can stop yourself. But you’re here to relax, right? Might as well do it right. 

Gojo and Geto share a look of shock. “I thought you said you don’t smoke like that,” Geto says, a humorous smirk on his face as Gojo passes you the blunt.

You carefully take it between your forefinger and thumb. “I don’t, but this is the first business trip I’ve had. Might as well celebrate.” You take a short puff, letting the smoke fill your lungs, before exhaling, the tickle in your throat making you cough.

Gojo laughs as you cough and you flip him off. “Oooh, I like this side of you,” he teases. “Not that your princess-y attitude isn’t a turn-on either though.” You take another puff before passing the blunt back to Gojo.

“So you think I’m stuck up?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. Gojo shares a nervous look with Geto who just shrugs. “Not…entirely,” he carefully replies.

You gap at him, gobsmacked. So it’s true! “We’ve just never seen you really talk to anyone before, including us!” he quickly adds. “You should hear what others say about you.”

Though you don’t want to know, you hate how you care. Especially how much of that has influenced these two and their thoughts of you. “I’m not stuck up just because I don’t date coworkers,” you scoff indignantly. "I just don’t need that type of drama, especially from you two.”

Geto raises an eyebrow, not looking irked but more curious at your jab. “What does that mean?” he asks. You don’t know if it’s the weed or the wine starting to talk, but it’s fucking screaming with every bold word you utter. “It means I’ve heard a bit about you two from the women around the office. You both get around.” 

The two look at each other and begin to laugh, making your body flush hot in the water. “Hey, if the opportunity comes to have some fun, I’m gonna take it,” Gojo chuckles, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “And for the record, I’ve dated coworkers that weren’t just hookups but real, genuine relationships.”

Geto nods as he passes his white-haired friend the blunt. “Same here. But you can’t stop two people from findin’ each other attractive or one not deciding to embark on a romantic relationship. Sex is just sex for some.” 

You avert your gaze, not sure if you should even respond or allow yourself to partake in this convo. How’d you even get here? Geto takes your silence for a different perspective though. “You don’t agree?” he asks as he sips his wine, his pink lips now wet from the liquid in his glass. You quickly snap your eyes back up to his face. “It’s not that I don’t, but you’d might as well not date coworkers at all if all you’re lookin’ for is casual sex.” 

“So you’ve never dated anyone at work before?” Geto asks, sounding shocked, smoke billowing from his lips. “Not even before workin’ for this company?” He passes you the blunt again, but you’re not sure if you should hit again. You’re already feeling light and slightly dazed from it. “No,” you answer truthfully. “That just…isn’t me. I’m way more focused on my work.” 

You pass the blunt back to Gojo who passes it to Geto. “Then you need to get unfocused and relax yourself,” he encourages, smiling crookedly at you. “And I know a perfect way that isn’t just with weed. Who’s up for a game of truth or dare?” He gives you reach a mischievous smile, a gleam in his eye.

Geto stares at him in disbelief. “What are we, twelve?” he scoffs. Gojo glares at him, splashing water at him. “If you don’t wanna play, you don’t have to, dickhead,” he scoffs. “Y/N and I will happily play a game and leave you out of it. Won’t we, Y/N?” 

You don’t know what it is that makes you give in. Perhaps it is the warmth of the water or the wine or the soft, almost pleading look in Geto and Gojo’s eyes trying to get you to chill. But defeatedly you do. “Fuck it,” you sigh, throwing all caution to the wind. “Let’s play a round.”

Surprisingly, your agreement influences Geto too as he places his blunt up on the ashtray. “Whatever; I guess I’ll play, too.” He leans back against a large rock, tossing one big arm over it, giving you a good look at the water cascading down his broad chest. 

Geto claps excitedly. “Now it’s a party!” he excitedly cheers. “We’ll start with me and then go around. So, Geto, truth or dare?” Geto's dark eyes cut over to you through the steam rising from the water, making your heart leap. “Dare.” The white-haired hottie turns to give you a mischievous smirk. “I dare you to do one lap around this pool naked.” You and Geto blink at him dumbly. “You’re kidding,” you both say in unison. But Geto is deadass, staring his friend down and daring him to say no. 

“Fuck you,” Geto growls, but gets out of the pool regardless. You watch as he does, unable to keep your eyes off of his big, wet body and muscles that ripple and flex as he moves. When he is finally out of the pool, he stands with his back to you and begins to take off his trunks. When he finally takes them down his waist, it just about causes a nosebleed when you get an eyeful of his tight yet plump and toned ass, slightly paler than the rest of his tanned body. You don’t even want to see what his dick looks like. Luckily, he keeps his hands cupped over his junk as he begins to do a lap around the pool, much to his dislike and Gojo’s amusement. 

You’re unable to laugh, still staring at his ass. It’s just so plump and squeezable and– “He’s got a nice ass, right?” Gojo whispers, suddenly beside you. He stares you down with those crystal blue eyes, making your mind go blank. “It’s okay; you can look. I don’t mind sharin’ the view. You should try seein’ it every single night like me.” He gives you a wink that makes you realize what he’s saying. “Wait…are you–” 

“Dating?” he finishes, chuckling at your shock. “Don’t tell him I said that. We’re still keepin’ it on the low.” This newfound information only confuses you more. So if they’re dating, are they also dating other people? Do they do so separately or together? And what about the sex? And how come this hasn’t spilled to the work departments? You’re sure there is someone at work that has been with both of them if this is the case. Sex…with both of them. The idea makes you feel strangely hot. 

You’re so dissociated that you don’t even realize that Geto has gotten back into the pool…without his trunks. You find them drying on a nearby lounge chair. ‘Oh, God,’ you lament to yourself. ‘Why is this happening to me?’ 

“Happy now?” Geto gruffly asks his coworker…and boyfriend, apparently. “You just wanted to see my dick, probably.” Gojo just smiles and turns his attention to you. “Your turn, Y/N.” Against your better judgment, you take your glass of wine and take a sip. “Gojo, truth or dare?” you ask.

Geto gives him his signature, lazy smirk. “Dare.” You swish the wine around in your glass, thinking of a good dare that isn’t dirty or won’t make your clit jump at the sight of his body. “I dare you to��drink the hot springs water.” The white-haired hottie laughs, waving a passive hand. “What? Too scared?” you challenge, smirking at him. Gojo’s eyes widen an inch, shocked at your gall. That’s all it takes for him to crumble. After gulping, he bravely dips his head down into the water and takes a sip. Geto gags in disgust while you hysterically laugh. Poor Gojo comes up seconds later and swallows every ounce of the water, looking positively sickly afterward. “How do we taste, ‘Toru?” Geto snickers, earning a splash in the face. 

“Your turn, Sugu,” you say and then flush, realizing what you just said. Geto doesn’t seem to realize it though, and if he does, he doesn’t say anything. “Y/N, truth or dare?” He asks, his deep voice like a rumble beneath the surface of your desire. “Truth,” you say, earning a scoff of pure disgust from Gojo. 

“How come you don’t like us?” he bluntly asks. You blink at him, wondering if he’s joking, but he’s deadass. His fixed stare tells you so. It’s such a random question that it takes you a moment to process it. “What?” 

“How come you don’t like us?” he repeats, fixing you with a very intense stare. Gojo does the same, his eyes locking with yours from across the water. “I wanna know that too, actually.” You’re frozen, unable to think, speak or move. You weren't expecting this. “You’re puttin’ me on the spot?” you scoff, irritated by Geto’s question. “What, was this a setup?” Geto scoffs as he takes a short puff of his blunt, smoke billowing from his soft, plump lips. “You set yourself up for that one, mama. So you gonna answer it or what?”

He cocks his head to the side, his eyes slits that barely move from yours. Gojo continues to stare at you, both silently and patiently waiting for you to answer. It is as if the water got ten times hotter. You don’t want to answer, but you also know that they’ll probably keep pestering you about it and remind you that this is part of the game. “No, I don’t dislike you,” you defeatedly sigh. “What gave you the impression that I don’t?” Geto is happy to enlighten you. “Well, for one, you never really wanna talk to us, you’ve barely said anything to us on this trip–” 

“And you’ve been hidin’ away in your bedroom since yesterday,” Gojo adds. “I mean, my social battery can run low too, believe it or not, but we’re startin’ to think you hate our guts.” Though he says it jokingly, you can tell from the saddened look in his eyes that he means it. Guilt twists in your gut and you officially feel like the bitchiest person in the world.

“I don’t,” you say apologetically. “And I’m sorry about earlier when I yelled…and that I’ve been actin’ like a bitch. I just don’t hang with coworkers too much. It’s not my thing, like dating. I find a lot of the people I work with to be…” You trail off, searching for the right words that the alcohol and weed are making especially difficult to do. 

“Annoying?” Geto offers. 

“Fuckin’ insufferable?” Gojo asks. “Or maybe that’s just our department.”

You giggle softly at their comments. “No, and no. But people don’t really talk to me too much anyway because I’m, as you say, ‘uptight’.” Gojo raises a curious eyebrow at you. “And you’re okay with that?” 

You stare down at the water, not wanting either of them to see the downtrodden look in your eyes. While you’d love be more social at work, you also know that this is probably for the best. “If it means I won’t have anyone backstab me and destroy my rep at work, then yeah. It’s not like I don’t have friends though, but I don’t do dating.” It sounds absolutely pathetic, but you just can’t have anyone distracting you from your work or have you get caught up in the realm of workplace drama. If that means missing out on meeting someone nice or possibly catching some dick despite every other woman in your department doing the same thing and being left out of the conversation, then so be it. 

Geto hums like that is damn shame. “That’s too bad,” Gojo tuts, “because the motherfucker who manages to scoop you up would be lucky.”

If a record scratch had any place in the conversation, it would be now. As soon as your ears catch Gojo’s words, your eyes widen and your heart skips several beats. ‘Da fuck?’ you think, confused. Where the hell did that come from? And why the fuck was it so damn smooth?

You stare at Gojo who stares at you right back, completely confident and incredibly intense. “You’re lookin’ at me like you can’t believe what I just said,” he comments, cocking his head to the side. "You really don’t see how fuckin’ pretty you are? That’s a damn shame ‘cause you absolutely are.” He sips his wine like he didn’t just say those incredibly flirtatious and random ass words. Like he didn’t just make your heart pound and your stomach jump. 

Your eyes flit to Geto and he’s giving you the same look that Gojo is: flirtatious; intense; extremely unfriendly. He looks like he wants to dick you down from where you’re sitting. Right then you feel the tension in the air return, but this time, it’s fueled by sexual energy and feelings unexplored and unacknowledged. Until now, that is. You grip your towel tighter to you, staring down at the water instead of your coworkers’ unyielding gazes. “Y-You’re just sayin’ that,” you laugh incredulously to yourself. 

“Oh, are we?” Gojo challenges, causing you to nervously bite your lip. “Geto, truth or dare?” You don’t know why you look up, but you do, finding Geto’s eyes still targeting you. “Dare,” he replies, his voice but a deep growl. You swear your pussy turns into a goddamn heartbeat. Gojo smirks at you from behind his wine glass, a mischievous gleam in his icy blues. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.” 

You blink at him dumbly, his challenge slowly processing in your head. “W-What?” you squeak. You look to Geto, hoping he’ll be just as confused and alarmed as you, but instead, he’s still looking at you like he wants every single piece of you. “You don’t have to dare me to do that,” he softly growls.

Suddenly, faster than your mind can process it, he is standing in the water and making his way over to you, his big, muscled body on full display…including what lies down below. You nearly forgot he is completely naked now after completing Gojo’s dare.

Though you can’t see him beneath the dark surface of the water, you can see his dark happy trail and toned stomach leading down the dark patch of curls where his cock is. You picture it being long and thick, just swinging like a pendulum between his thick, three-trunk legs. His long, black hair cascades down his broad shoulders in wet waves like snakes as water droplets drip down every inch of his skin. You find yourself wanting to lick each one off. 

You know you should stop this. You should call it off and get out of the water. But something inside of you–that rebellious, raging fire inside of you–stops you from moving, even as Geto is finally in front of him. Though he is close enough that you can smell his scent–like vanilla and cinnamon–and feel the warmth radiating off of him, he gives you enough space to leave if you wish or even push him away. He is still patient and considerate of how you feel.

You’ve never felt so…taken care of. That's the right term, isn’t it? You’re too stoned and tipsy to think about it. 

Geto peers down at you with those violet eyes that make you feel like you’re waltzing through a field of lavender. “Are you okay with this, sweetheart?” he whispers, concern in his eyes. “Just tell us to stop if you don’t want this.”

You shouldn't want this. You shouldn't want to have any part in this mess. But you find yourself silently nodding. He then cups one of his big hands against your face, making your eyes flutter closed from the pleasure his touch evokes inside of you. 

And then his lips are on yours. His kiss has to be one of the best ones you’ve ever had in your life. It’s a kiss you can only find in Disney movies or storybooks: magical; tender; it sweeps you right off your feet. And yet it is so sensual and seductive, his lips seducing you with every single slow movement against yours.

Gojo takes his other hand to cup the other side of your face, holding you in place as his kiss deepens. At some point, you feel his tongue lick tantalizingly at your bottom lip, silently asking for access. You allow it to him and his tongue swirls with yours, creating sloppy, suckling sounds that make your pussy clench beneath the water. He tastes of Moscato.

Finally, he pulls away, but doesn’t stray too far from your lips. “Truth or dare?” he asks you, his voice low and breathless. 

You’re breathing heavy, your mind blank and dizzy from the kiss. You almost ask him to repeat himself. “Dare,” you hear yourself answer.

Gojo presses another long, deep kiss against your lips as if you can't get enough. “I dare you to kiss Gojo,” he says in a low, lustful tone. You nearly get whiplash with how fast you turn to look at Gojo.

He is already moving in close, a hungered look in his eyes. “Shit, I’ve been waitin’ for this for years,” he exhales before his lips cover yours. While his kiss is still just as intoxicating and swoon-worthy as Geto’s, his is also rougher; wetter. He teases and plays with you, nipping at your bottom lip with his teeth and swirling his tongue around with yours, even sucking on it slightly. 

It feels oh-so good. You find yourself grasping at Gojo’s broad shoulders, running your hands down his biceps. You feel his hands move to hold your waist, never once going under the towel, but your body tenses as if he does. Though you want to melt into this kiss and take whatever Gojo gives you, at the back of your mind, you’re still apprehensive of where this could go. You can’t believe any of this is happening.

Gojo notices this and moans disapprovingly against your lips before pulling away. “You’re so tense, babe,” he coos, concern in his blue eyes. You look down at the rippling water, hoping to gather your thoughts if you look away from him. “Is this too much?” Geto worriedly asks, his deep voice from behind you causing your heart to flutter. “Do you want us to stop?” 

The fact that their concern for your comfort makes you wet––and not at all from the water at this point. Despite you currently being sandwiched between two very big and buff men who could certainly make you do whatever they wish, they don’t and you’ve never felt safer.

You also feel quite fearful of that feeling and the desire to let go. How can you be sure it won’t lead somewhere else? What if you indulge in these inhibitive desires now and regret them later? What if your coworkers find out? Then you’d be the talk of all departments. 

‘Fuck it.’ The thought comes to your mind like a bat out of hell. At the moment, you don't care about anyone or anything else except for the two men occupying your space. You don’t care about anything except quenching your thirst and easing the throbbing between your legs. You don't care about tomorrow–just now.

You turn to Gojo, boldly staring into his eyes. “Did you really mean that?” you softly ask. “Have you really wanted to kiss me for years?” 

Gojo’s eyes widen an inch over the random question, but he doesn’t neglect to answer you. “We both have, princess. We’ve been pining after you for a long time now.” His honesty makes your heart leap.

"We just never said anything ‘cause we figured the damage was done,” Geto explains. “You know how word gets around the workplace about employees’ personal sex lives. It’s like a locker room in that bitch.” 

“And just in case you’re wondering, you’re the first coworker we’ve ever been with like…this…with,” Gojo adds. Geto side-eyes him to which Gojo grins guilty at him. “Yes, I alluded to us dating. You won’t tell anyone though, will you, sweetheart?” But you’re silent, too busy trying to understand what Gojo meant. “This?” you inquire, confused. 

“What Gojo means is we’ve never shared the same partner from work,” Geto explains. “Usually, when we have sex with a coworker, it’s something we do individually and not together. If we do happen have a threesome or something like that, it’s just a hookup from the club or the bar.” The gears in your head are slowly starting to process. “So you have an open relationship?” you curiously ask. 

“It’s just something that always worked for us,” Geto explains. “We agreed that we wanted to keep things lowkey for the time being, so whatever we do with the people at work stays between us and them. However, when we’re alone, it’s us and only us. But being with you has made us want different. Something real and not on the low…if that’s what you want too.”

They both stare you down, silent and patient but their eyes scream desire and tenderness. Two things you’re craving for right now. However, Geto takes your silence for discomfort. “We should stop. I don’t wanna overwhelm her or–” 

“Change my mind,” you blurt. The two stare at you confusedly.

“Sorry?” Geto asks, coaxing you to repeat yourself. You’re more than happy to do so, moving closer to him as you do. “You said you never told me how you felt because of how I thought about you two ‘cause of the rumors. If you’re not what our coworkers say you are and if it’s true that you feel this way about me, then change. My. Mind.” 

That is all the two need to hear. They’re on you immediately, pressing their bodies against your front and back. You are completely trapped between them, and you couldn’t be more content. Gojo’s lips move hungrily agains your neck while Geto’s mouth sucks on your neck, no doubt leaving hickies that you’ll have to cover with concealer the next morning. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls against your skin. “Such a fuckin’ tease. Makin’ us feel this way for so long…” His big hands begin to caress your hips and ass over your towel, causing you to moan into Gojo’s lips. 

The white-haired hottie chuckles into your mouth before pulling away with a wet smack. “You’ve gotta pay for that, princess,” he teasingly whispers into your ear. “Startin’ by losin’ this thing.”

He tugs on your towel, nearly ripping it off your chest. You make a small noise of protest, your eyes flitting to the brush surrounding you. “No one’s gonna see us, darlin’,” Gojo coos in your ear. “This place is surrounded by trees. It’s only us here, baby.”

Geto’s hands slide up your hips under your towel, distracting you from your nerves. So you let them disrobe you. The towel comes off, floating away in the water, leaving your bikini to be the only thing separating you from them. Then you slowly untie the strings holding your bikini together.

You let the top fall from your chest, revealing your naked breasts to them, and then your bottoms come off, exposing your naked pussy to the water. Though they can’t see it yet, you know they have the advantage of touching you if they wish. And you wouldn’t stop them. The two men are immediately dumbstruck at the sight of you, their eyes widening. 

“Goddamn,” Geto hisses while Gojo whistles at the sight of your naked body. Both reactions make you flush, a newfound confidence flowing through your core. You feel like the sexiest bitch alive.

“This definitely beats those tight-ass pencil skirts you be wearin’ to work,” Gojo chuckles as he runs his long fingertips down your sides. “So many times I’ve thought about bendin’ you over my desk while Geto kisses those pretty lips of yours.” You whimper at his naughty fantasy, wanting the same thing. 

“Or while I play with these gorgeous tits,” Geto mumbles, pressing his front to your back. One of his big hands moves to gently fondle one of your breasts, keeping his touch light. His warm palm and fingers touch every sensitive part of your breast, even pinching your hardened nipple.

A moan escapes your lips, unable to be hidden anymore. “And there’s another one for you, ‘Tarou,” the long-haired beauty chuckles, nodding at your other free breast. "Help me relax her a bit more.” 

Gojo quickly swoops in and begins suckling at the brown peak of your hard nipple, his wet tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Geto follows suit, taking your other nipple into his mouth and suckling gently on it. Your mouth falls open into an O of ecstasy, the feeling of their hot, wet mouths and tongues caressing your breasts a euphoric experience.

“Fuck,” you whimper, leaning your head back against a rock. Geto hums approvingly as he continues to lap at your nipple as if he is trying to draw milk from it. “That’s it, baby,” Gojo coos, pausing from sucking your nipple. “Just relax. You deserve this.” His pearly whites begin to nibble gently on your nipple, the slight sharpness of his teeth making you draw a sharp breath. 

‘I do,’ you find yourself thinking. ‘I deserve this.’  You deserve every ounce of the pleasure they are trying to give you. Your hands move to caress their hair, gripping the strands every time they lick or tug on a particularly sensitive part of your gorgeous titties.

Your pussy can’t take it! She’s dripping for attention at this point, begging you to put her out of her misery. Gojo must realize this from the way you whine and moan from his and Geto’s lips.“Someone’s excited,” he chortles, smirking cockily up at you. “You want me to touch you?” 

You whimper, hesitant. Your pride does not allow you to use your voice despite your desperation. Gojo just laughs, silently making fun of your dilemma. “Use your words, baby, or I can’t help you,” he teasingly whispers against your breast. His hot breath caressing your sensitive bud nearly makes your pussy’s heartbeat accelerate. You’re losing it, wanting something, anything. 

Your desperation wins. “Dammit, Gojo, just touch me!” you whine. “I want you to touch my pussy…please.” You stare into the ocean-blue depths of Gojo’s eyes, finding the sheer joy in your begging there. You don’t get to stare into them long because Geto turns your face to his and presses a passionate kiss to your lips. “Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’d better give her what she wants before she loses her mind, ‘Tarou.” 

And like a good man should, Gojo puts you out of your misery but lighting stroking your clit with his thumb. The little pulses have you seeing stars and your eyes flutter closed to see more. Gojo proceeds to press kisses to your neck, humming approvingly as he does. “That feel good?” he teasingly asks, his hot breath fanning your neck. It does…but you need something else. Something more. “N-need…need more,” you softly moan. “Please taste me.” 

A lustful look flashes across Gojo’s face. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” He nods at Geto and the dark-haired man takes hold of you by your hips, scooping you up and chuckling at your squeak. He then places you up on a flat rock, allowing you time to get used to the new environment. “Comfortable, mama?” Geto asks you, stroking your outer thigh. You nod, the summer breeze feeling cool against your wet skin and pussy that has become sensitive to everything. 

“Now let’s see what you’ve got for us,” Gojo purrs, moving forward to pry your legs open with one of his big hands. “Shit!” Geto hisses, gaping incredulously at your glistening pussy. Gojo makes a noise between a moan and a hum, filling your core with heat. “Somethin’ tells me all of that ain’t from the water,” he hums, his hooded eyes flicking up at you. “All of that for us, princess? How generous of you. But who gets the first taste?” 

He stares at Geto challengingly, but Geto has already moved in front of him to get in between your legs. “Hey!” Gojo shouts, pouting at his spot being taken. Geto pulls away to spare him a glance. “You were takin’ too long,” he deadpans. “I made the decision for you.” His violet eyes flick up to stare into yours, making your heart and clit throb. “Let me know what feels good to you.” 

You wish you could tell him everything he does feels good: the slow flicks and swirls of his big tongue against your clit; how carefully yet methodically he slides the muscle in his mouth against your wet slit; the pillowy-softness of his lips cushioning your pussy and rubbing against your clit. Your head rolls back, as do your eyes, unable to keep focus on Geto’s head bobbing between your legs. “Sugu,” you moan. “That…ah, shit…that feels really good.”

Gojo isn't a silent eater either. When he isn’t making the sloppiest, wet sounds with his tongue and mouth in your cunt, he’s talking to you, telling you how good you taste. “So wet,” he moans into your pussy. “So sweet…you taste so fuckin’ good for me.” His deep voice rumbling in your pussy only makes you gush more which he happily laps up like a delighted dog. 

You’ve fallen so deep into the pleasure Geto is giving you that you barely hear Gojo getting out of the water to instead settle down next to you. When you suddenly feel a few water droplets splash onto your naked tits, your eyes flutter open to see the white-haired hottie kneeling above you with a teasing smirk toying at his pink lips. “You look so goddamn cute like this, princess,” he sighs dreamily as if imagining his turn licking your cunt. 

Geto begins to swirl his tongue in your clit, using the tip of it to caress your clit. His ministrations cause you to whimper pitifully, the pleasure too much for you to take. Your eyes flicker down to Gojo’s groin in your face and you notice the tent he’s pitching in his trunks.

Not even thinking, your hand moves to caress his hardened dick, your puppy-dog eyes staring up at him pleadingly. Surprise flashes in his eyes before it is replaced with full-blown lust. “Oh? You want me?” he questions, smirking down at you. “How can I deny such an adorable request?” 

Without another word, he unties his Calvin Klein swim trunks and shoves them down his tanned thighs, revealing his gorgeous, thick, hard cock protruding from a patch of silver pubic hair. Your eyes widen as it pulses and throbs in front of your face, ready for all of you. Gojo raises an expectant eyebrow at you, his hand grabbing the base of his cock.

Knowing what he wants, you slowly open your mouth, covering your teeth with your juicy, kissable lips. He slowly slides his cock inside of your inviting mouth and you clamp your lips around him. A long sigh leaves his lips and his head rolls back, exposing his neck and bobbing Adam’s Apple. You continue to bob your head along his long dick, soon becoming used to his girth. 

You take one hand to replace his wrapped around his cock and begin to swirl your tongue along the head, lapping up the precum that dribbles out for you. Gojo stares down at you, his blue eyes dark and face flushed with pleasure. “Ah…fuck!” he softly moans, his eyes squeezing shut as your tongue runs over the most sensitive spots along his cock. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought of this: you with your pretty face stuffed full of my cock. You look even better than in my dreams.” 

You slowly take him back into your mouth where you begin to move your head back and forth along his cock, hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tight. Gojo isn’t quiet either–he moans and swears; whimpers and groans at the feeling of your tight, wet mouth wrapped around him. You try to follow the same pattern as Geto’s slow, teasing strokes, taking your sweet time. The sounds that leave your lips are sloppy and lewd, making your pussy clench tighter in Geto’s mouth.

When you finally feel like you’ve gotten used to him, you begin to try to take Gojo into your throat…God, is that a mistake. Already, your jaw begins to ache and your throat feels full from him, but Gojo doesn’t consider that when he gives you a lustful, deviant stare. “Want me to fuck that face, princess?” he huffs. “Nod for yes.” 

Your throat is gonna hate your ass for this later, but you nod, causing Gojo to moan at the vibrations against his dick. “Good girl. Now listen carefully: if any time you need something, if you wanna breathe or want me to stop, just tap my thigh twice, got it?” You nod once again and Geto praises you. “So obedient,” he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. “C’mon, ‘Toru, don't tease the girl. Give her what she wants.” 

Gojo doesn’t need to be told twice. Immediately, he shifts his hips and slides deeper inside your mouth, sliding across your throat. You choke a bit as he does so until you can nearly feel him touch the back of your throat. You instantly open your throat more as if to yawn and breathe slowly through your nose, trying to avoid choking along Gojo’s cock.

He doesn’t go slow either. Immediately, his hand grips your hair and he proceeds to rut into your throat, fucking your face like he is in need of it. “Ah, yes!” he moans, high-pitched and brazened. “Take it, baby. Take all of me down that throat like a good lil’ girl.” 

And you do, ignoring the sting of tears in your eyes and the ache of your jaw. Spit pools along your bottom lip and drips down your chin, causing your mouth to make sharp, sucking sounds whenever Gojo thrusts.

His eyes are wild as he stares down at you sucking him off like the best little slut he’s ever had. “I bet you’ve been feenin' for this, haven’t you?” he chuckles deviously. “I bet the thought of havin’ the both of us has made you wet, right?” 

You don’t answer, too occupied with his merciless, rough thrusts and heavy balls slapping against your chin. Gojo pulls back a bit to allow you to speak as Geto sharply smacks your pussy, making your clit jump with pleasure as soon as his palm makes contact with it. “Answer him,” he growls.

You nearly cry out in both pleasure and pain, becoming drunk on the strange mixture. “Yes!” you moan around Gojo’s cock, your words muffled and gargled. “I-I’ve wanted this! I’ve wanted you both for so, so long!” 

Gojo grins widely, sliding his thick cock out of your mouth. The sight of it being so wet and slick with your spit makes your stomach flip excitedly. “Gooood girl!” he coos, patting your cheek. “You deserve a reward for your honesty. Sugu, switch with me. I’m almost jealous seein’ you get a taste of that pussy for so long.” 

Geto is up and out from between your legs immediately, jumping at the chance to get his dick in your mouth. And shit, is it a dick to behold: he is much thicker than Gojo but not quite as long with one long, pulsating vein trailing from the pink, bulbous tip dripping his precum to the base that leads up to a patch of black hair and a smooth, toned, tanned stomach and V-line. You can't take your eyes off of him, even as he and Gojo switch positions.

Geto grabs his dick and holds it in front of you, his eyes dark with lust and need. "Stick your tongue out,” he breathlessly orders you. You do so and he begins to tap his head against your tongue before sliding himself in your mouth. Damn, is he thick! Your mouth and jaw stretch to accommodate his size though not without discomfort. 

Geto groans as he slides deeper and deeper, each inch opening up your throat more. “Deeper, mama,” he grunts. "Take me deeper.”

He gives you no choice but to do so, even though your nostrils burn from inhaling and exhaling too hard to avoid choking on his dick. You can’t help but gag on it though as your throat flexes against his shaft that begins to stroke the wet walls of your throat. He, too, begins to fuck your throat though not as roughly or quickly. His strokes are slow yet deep, touching the back of your throat with every single thrust of his hips. 

Gojo watches from the waters below, settled in between your thighs as he begins to caress your pussy. “How’s she feel, Sugu?” he teasingly hums. “Isn’t her throat heaven on earth?”

Geto only answers with a moan, his entire body shuddering at the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him. Gojo’s tongue sliding inside of your pussy nearly distracts you as he begins to work your little, wet hole. You moan along Geto’s cock as your thighs tighten around Gojo’s head. He pulls away a bit to speak, his lips glistening from your wetness. “You’re so tight, princess. All I’m doin’ is just tonguefuckin’ you and you’re clenchin’ around me. Wonder how’d you feel with my dick in you.” 

"You might wanna…ah, shit…finger her, just in case,” Geto huffs, still bumping his hips against your mouth. “Get her ready for when she…fuck yes, baby…takes you.”

Gojo hums appreciatively at the lewd idea. “Mmm, I like the way you think, Sugu.” Before you can even prepare, he is replacing his tongue with one of his long piano fingers. You practically scream around Geto’s cock as Gojo fucks you with his finger, slowly but effectively bringing you closer to the brink of madness as he strokes your G-spot. 

You can’t help it–you pop off of Geto’s cock to vocalize your pleasure and need to orgasm. “God, ‘Tarou!” you moan. “Please make me cum! I’m so, so close!”

Your toes curl against Gojo’s head and your entire body clenches as he pushes you farther toward that hill. He grins up at you, his finger still curling in your cunt in a ‘come hither’ motion that has you witnessing God. “That’s some good begging if I haven’t heard it before,” he snickers. “Cum for us now, baby. Gush all over my fuckin’ face.” 

He ducks his head between your thighs again, his tongue doing the talking now. The constant stimulation against your clit and the wet strokes of Geto stroking his dick in your face cause you to hurdle down that hill into a sea of bliss. When that chord finally snaps inside of you, you practically scream to the skies above as you gush all over Gojo’s face, your entire body tensing as the pleasure flows through your veins.

Gojo appreciatively laps up every ounce of your cum, never wasting a single drop. “So sweet!” he groans. “You gave me so much, princess. You must’ve been so needy for so long.” 

Geto pauses his dick-stroking to greedily stare down at your open legs and his boyfriend’s face between them. “Hey, don’t be greedy. Gimme some of that, too.”

He ducks down to press a hand to the back of Gojo’s head and bring him in for a rough, open-mouthed kiss where their tongues swirl and hands thread through their hair. You can’t help it–you begin to touch yourself at the erotic sight of the two attractive men kissing in front of you. Gojo notices and pulls away to laugh, a string of spit trailing from his lip to Geto’s. “Uh-oh,” he coos. “Looks like someone liked seeing that. You naughty slut, gettin’ off to us kissing.” 

You whimper, unable to deny it. Geto groans while Gojo looks visibly pained at the sight. “God, you’re just too cute,” he growls, visibly frustrated by your adorableness. “It’s takin’ everything in me to not fuck you silly right now.” You can see it–his cock is throbbing and twitching for you, as is Geto’s. 

The two stare down at you as if you’re a dessert place they’re desperate to get a taste of. “What do you want now, princess?” Gojo asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips. 

You have no time to be prideful. Your throbbing, aching pussy won’t allow you to. You’re about to tear your hair out if you don’t get either of them inside of you. Your hand continues to stroke your pussy right in their faces, beckoning their cocks forward.

“I want both of you,” you beg. “Please…I can't wait anymore. I’m on the pill too, so please just fuck me right here, right now.” The you that you were before this encounter would’ve given you a look of pure disgust at your babbling and pleading to get fucked by two men you barely know. 

The duo side-eye each other, devious plans in their eyes. “You take the front, I take the back?” Gojo snickers. Geto scoffs, not even bothering to give an appropriate answer. “I could give less of a fuck where I end up. Just as long as my cum ends up all over her.”

While your pussy clenches at the vulgarity of his language, Gojo mockingly gasps, delighted at his boyfriend’s words. “So vulgar!” he giggles. “I love that.” He then gives your ass a smack, the sound reaching the very tops of the trees. “On all fours, baby. Don’t keep us waiting.” 

You do as they say, slowly getting into position, now facing Geto while Gojo settles behind you. You shiver at the feeling of the white-haired hottie’s hands caressing your ass, giving it sharp spanks every so often. Geto’s violet eyes glimmer down at you as he strokes his cock in your face.

“Open wide, mama,” he coos, and you do so, looking up at him as you obediently widen your jaw to accommodate his size. Speaking of accommodating size, your pussy is busy doing the same thing to Gojo’s cock that has just begun to slide inside of you, slow and careful. 

You tense slightly as his cock stretches out your pussy. You can’t remember when you had a dick this well-endowed. Gojo’s hands stroke your sides, easing your nerves. “Just relax, princess. Tell me when you want me to continue.” He keeps his hips still despite Geto’s slow strokes as he gently fucks your mouth. After a few minutes of adjusting, you pull away from Geto’s cock to speak.

“Okay,” you softly say, turning to look behind your shoulder at Gojo. “Go ahead. It’s just a stretch, but I’m not hurting. You can move now.” Gojo nods and begins to roll his hips into you. As soon as he does, you’re both moaning at the feeling of his cock stroking your insides. “Just as I thought,” he grunts. “You feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

You can’t even describe how he feels. His dick stretches out your cunt and strokes every single pleasurable part of your insides that have your legs shaking and body trembling. The more he thrusts, the more he rubs up against your G-spot, almost painfully so. It’s just too much! 

But Gojo holds you firmly by your hips, completely bottomed out inside of you and rearranging your guts with every single thrust. “Uh-uh, baby; don’t run for me. You begged me for this shit and now you’re gonna take it.”

He chuckles at your whines of protest and trembling body, making you feel even more like a pathetic slut. You want to escape from the constant stimulation, but the way he continues to beat your pussy into submission and drag you closer to your second orgasm is too delicious. And he’s so, so deep! The more he thrusts, the deeper he gets until he is very nearly kissing your cervix (but not too much for pain). 

“‘Tarou, please!” you whine, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Too much…so deep!”

Gojo giggles–fucking giggles–at your struggle, his pearly whites gleaming brighter than the sun. “Yeah?” he chuckles. “Just how a slut like you needs it, hm? Nice…and slow…and deep?”

He begins to rock his hips back and forth into you with every drawn-out word, agonizingly slow and enjoying the way you squirm and whine around Geto’s cock when the long-haired beauty slides it back into your gaping, wet mouth.“Don’t slack now, mama,” he chuckles, finding amusement in your sensitivity. “Don’t be a pillow princess either. You’ve gotta work for this.” 

Gojo lets out a shuddering moan, his head tossed back to the evening sky. “Fuck me,” he moans, shuddering at the way you feel wrapped around him. “With the way she’s squeezin’ around me, she’s doin’ a good job so far. We should test her and see if can still handle it.” He gives Geto a wide, evil smile from over your shoulder. “Let’s fuck her at the same time.” Geto shares the same evil smirk and you can already tell you’re in danger. 

“W-Wait, guys,” you protest around Geto’s cock, but you can’t finish the rest of your sentence as pleasure explodes in your core when Gojo begins to piston his hips inside of you at the same time as Geto. They each match the same pace and pattern, rutting in and out of your holes until your eyes are wet with tears and your body is aching for release. They fill you to the brim with their cocks, using your body for their own pleasure while also giving you yours.

“Please!” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for. Do you want them to continue? Do you want them to stop? You don’t know, your mind too fuzzy with pleasure to decide what is too much. Either way, the two devils currently filling your holes decide to do as they please anyway, fucking you like there is no tomorrow. 

“Come on now, princess,” Gojo breathlessly coaxes. “Fuck me back. Show me how much you need this shit.” You feel him prop up one leg for a better angle–one that causes your clit to tingle excitedly and be stimulated with every thrust.

You moan around Geto’s cock as you begin to shamelessly whine your hips and toss your ass back into Gojo’s thrusts, meeting him halfway. Geto lets out a loud, panty-dropping moan, his black hair like a wild mane around his face. “Fuck!” he practically bellows. “I don’t know what the fuck you just did, but she just took me deeper!” And you did–you can feel him touching the back of your burning, raw throat from it constantly being fucked. 

Gojo smirks at his boyfriend’s blissed-out expression, slightly slowing down his thrusts. “While your pussy feels amazing, sweetie, I’m not gonna lie: cummin’ down your throat and possibly on your pretty face sounds very enticing.” Finally, he pauses from fucking you despite your whine of protest. “Wanna switch, Sugu?” 

Geto immediately pulls his dick out of your mouth, his eyes flashing with lust. “I thought you wouldn’t ask.” Warning signs flare in your brain as the duo slowly switches places–Geto in the back, Gojo in the front. Your throat and your pussy are currently throbbing and aching with sensitivity from their cocks. How are you going to handle more?

“Boys…I-I don't think I can…” Gojo shushes you, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Just relax, sweetness. You don’t have to lift a finger. Just let us fuck these pretty holes the way you need us too, okay?” He flashes a white-toothed grin at you.

Before you can agree or protest, both of their cocks are sheathing inside of you once more. “God!” Gojo moans at the same time as Geto wordlessly sighs as he sinks into your pussy.

They waste no time fucking you, both sliding in and out of your body at the same time. Your body bounces from the force of Geto’s thrusts, your tits jiggling and ass slapping in time with his thrusts. You can tell he is close to his orgasm with how forceful his thrusts are. 

You’re not too far behind–you can feel your own orgasm quickly rising to the surface, your core beginning to distractedly tighten. Geto notices your shift in body chemistry and loops a hand between your thighs to rub your wet, aching clit. You scream around Gojo’s cock, sobbing at the pleasure.

“You’re close too, aren’t you, mama?” Geto asks. “I can feel that body shaking. I should speed up, shouldn’t I?” He does so, slamming his hips against you so hard that his balls begin to slap your clit. 

Gojo speeds up too, filling your nostrils and tongue with the scent and taste of him. “Maybe I should too, so you can take this fat load all the way down your throat.” He presses his hand into your hair, coaxing you to look up at him. “How's this for relaxation, hm?” he teases. “Just what you needed, right?” 

‘Yes!’ you scream in your head. This is exactly what you needed to take yourself out of you for a moment–to be fucked and used; to receive pleasure while also giving it. “Tryna act like you didn’t want this or like us,” Geto huffs, “when in reality, you’ve been needin' some dick for the longest. I bet you were burning inside just wantin’ this for yourself.” He continues to circle your clit, his fingers working overtime. “Such a greedy little girl.” 

You are a greedy girl because that second orgasm begins to rise within you with every thrust of Geto’s cock and pulse of his fingers against your clit. That chord begins to tighten again, threatening to snap very soon. “Sugu, please!” you whine around Gojo’s hard dick still deep down your throat. Your eyes screw tight and your brows knit together, no doubt giving an ugly expression. 

“Go right ahead, baby,” Geto grunts, fucking you faster. “It’s fine. Give it all to me. I know you want to, so don’t you dare hold back.”

Gojo chuckles from above you, gently stroking the back of your head. “You heard the man, princess,” he whispers. "Go ahead and cum for him. Be a good little slut and cum all over that fat fuckin’ cock. Don’t you wanna be a good girl for us?” 

Vigorously, you nod, right on the point of losing all sanity. Grunts and moans fill the air as the duo continues to fuck you, chasing their orgasms. “So goddamn pretty,” Geto grunts, giving your ass another sharp smack. “I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gorgeous. I hope you’re ready.”

Gojo is losing it too, his thrusts becoming rougher, causing you to gag around his cock and spit to drip from your bottom lip. “He ain't the only one, princess. I’m gonna nut deep inside this pretty mouth of yours, and you’re gonna love it.” 

He dips down to press his lips to your ear, gripping your hair as he does. “You wanna take these loads like a good lil’ cumslut? You wanna make us happy, right?” You whine desperately, wanting nothing more than to just cum and have them cum with you. “Please,” you whimper. “Please cum for me, both of you.” Your soft, sweet voice is all it takes for Gojo and Geto to lose the last bit of their self-restraint. 

After a few more rough thrusts that have your body shaking and your soul nearly being stripped from your body, the men finally reach their breaking point. With two long, drawn-out moans that could possibly be heard over the treetops, Gojo and Geto cum deep inside of your holes.

You gasp around Gojo’s cock when you feel his warm cum spurt deep down your throat, filling your tastebuds with the creamy, salty substance.

Geto cums deep inside of your pussy, so much that you can feel it dripping down your thighs. “Take it!” he demands in a dangerous growl that makes your stomach flip. “Take all of us, baby.” And you do. You don’t have a choice. 

At the same time, your orgasm hits you like a truck, slamming into you with enough force to have you sobbing. You pop off of Gojo’s cock, ignoring the spit and cum dripping down your chin. “Oh, my God!” you moan to the heavens, head tilted back and eyes squeezed tight as your orgasm washes over you. “I’m cumming!” you babble. “I’m cumming!” 

“Yes, baby, we know,” Gojo chuckles, gently stroking your face. He then cackles at your expression. “Look at those pretty eyes rollin’ back. Such a slutty face you’ve got there, babe.”

He squeezes your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together as your orgasm continues to rock you to your core. You wish you could feel this feeling of euphoria forever. You’re not thinking about work or this business trip or your responsibilities. All you’re thinking about is how good you feel and the men that are making you feel this good. 

Finally, after a few slow breaths, you come back down to earth though your head is swimming and your body is exhausted. At this point, the sun has left, plunging you, Gojo, and Geto into a blueish shade that twilight provides.

The crickets chirp and the cicadas buzz, alerting you that it is now nighttime. Your eyes flutter closed, unable to hold themselves up anymore. You feel tired and are in need of rest. Your body aches in the best way, your pussy feeling sensitive and full. A weak moan leaves your lips as Gojo and Geto gently pull out of you. 

“Still on earth with us, mama?” Geto softly asks, stroking your backside. “Can you move?”

You weakly shake your head, knowing damn well your legs are mush and your feet have lost their mind. Gojo giggles from in front of you, stroking your scalp. “Looks like we took the life right outta her,” he laughs. “Let’s get her in the house and under some covers.” 

Though you can’t see anything because your eyes are closed, you are aware that one of the men has scooped you up into his arms and has begun to carry you back into the house. “M-My towel,” you mumble tiredly. Your head lulls against a broad, wet chest, your ear catching the sound of a heartbeat. 

“We’ll go back out to get it,” Geto murmurs to you. “You just relax for now.”

And you do, nearly falling asleep in his arms but not enough to miss snippets of the journey from the hot springs to the house. The boys immediately take you upstairs to their bedroom where they proceed to lay you down on the softest and silkiest of sheets. You sigh when your skin immediately hits the cool sheets and soft mattress, your tired muscles relaxing instantly.

You feel the mattress dip when Gojo and Geto get into bed on either side of you, trapping you between their hard, warm bodies. “Did you enjoy yourself, baby?” Geto asks as he lifts a glass to your lips. “Here, sip some water.” 

You do so, grateful for the drink. “Mmm-hmm,” you softly reply, eyes still shut. “It was so nice…you both were so good.” Gojo chuckles from next to you, his long fingers tracing shapes down your arm. “Why, how sweet of you. It was nice for us too.”

Geto hums in agreement, looping his big arm around the back of your head to serve as a pillow. Comfortable silence descends upon you three that only comes from good sex. You feel content in their arms, in this bed with them. You feel like whatever you three are could work, no matter what your workplace has to say behind your back or on the low when they need some juicy gossip.

You want to ask them if you’re dating now or if that is even possible for the three of you, but sleep and the mingling scents of their cologne tell you that it can wait until morning. All you want is this comfort and this good, good feeling to last. 

“Y'know you really were amazing for us, babe,” Gojo coos, his lips ghosting over yours. “Just tell me somethin’. Who made you cum the hardest? Was it me or was it–“ 

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo,” Geto growls, “or you’ll be sleepin’ in that lake."

All you can do is giggle before sleep finally comes and you fall into a beautiful dream of you three, together. 

THE END. 

[aziraphales-library]

Hello beautiful librarians! Thank you for keeping me sorted with fic to fill the long gap between now and series three. (As I'm writing this S3 hasn't been commissioned yet but who knows, maybe by the time you post it will be?!)

Anyway, I'm looking for some recs for spicy fic, Aziraphale/Crowley pairing, where one of them is wearing lingerie / stockings and the other is taking their time to appreciate it fully before ravishing them. Any gender presentation, any "downstairs effort", as part of a larger fic or just a smaller delicious scene. Anything is welcome! I just saw some lingerie type fanart and I need moooore! Big thanks in advance!

Hi! We have a #lingerie tag. Here are some more fics to add...

The Way That You Hold Me by AngieWords (E)

"Have you ever had any thoughts about my other...forms?" Crowley is interested to find out how Aziraphale will react to exploring a different corporation together. Aziraphale is very interested indeed. Or: Crowley gets nostalgic for his femme-presenting days

Underdrawing by spunknbite (E)

Lace. Just a hint of it: white, peeping out from under the waistband of Aziraphale’s trousers. A finely woven pattern of sprigs of roses and briony linked together with intricate diamond thread work. There was something vaguely Victorian about it, suggesting a handcrafted wedding veil or perhaps the contents of a hope chest. The lattice clung tightly to the pale skin beneath it, pearly lace on pearly skin, creating an almost tattoo-like appearance as if the design was threaded onto his very flesh in only a shade lighter than his own tone. Well, fuck.

Pin An Angel Up by Dibs_Drabbles (E)

Aziraphale was a lingerie model for a newlyweds' magazine, under the guise of Miss Azra Fell. Despite her short-term career, Miss Fell was granted her own special edition magazine, featuring her and only her. The angel had kept it hidden in plain view, quite oblivious to the chance of a certain demon stumbling upon it. And that certain demon was very much thrilled with what he found. - Aziraphale modelled for a lingerie magazine back in 1950, Crowley finds them and thus uncovers a whole arsenal of kinks to explore for the two of them.

Spread Your Wings by foolishlovers (E)

In the glamorous world of high fashion, Crowley shines as a household name. Unfortunately, so does supermodel Aziraphale, who repeatedly lands bookings for the same jobs. When a photoshoot mishap traps them in a studio overnight, their simmering animosity escalates to its peak. Literally.

Tryst at the Ritz by almaasi (E)

Aziraphale nodded, and said, sweetly, “After dinner, Crowley, you and I, we’re going up to a private, luxury suite, and we’re going to make love.” Crowley blasted red wine across the table in a fine spray. (A fic in which Crowley and Aziraphale get a wiggle on, in the Biblical sense.)

Dangerous like Spun Sugar by Nejinee (E)

Crowley really wasn't prepared for any of this. She was a demon of hell, a fallen angel, and also - evidently - a fucking idiot. -- Or, how Crowley had never cared about the inherent sexiness of lingerie until Aziraphale started talking about her own lingerie.

- Mod D

[intoxicated-chan]

𝟎𝟎𝟏 *ೃ༄ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @/cafekitsune for the divider!!

Series’ Masterlist // Wattpad Vers.

Word Count ➳❥ 2k

(A/n) ➳❥ PLEASE READ! I’ve decided to add Olivia Octavius because I love her character. I am asking you all for your thoughts and opinions. Anyways, enjoy reading!

Content Warnings ➳❥ Swearing, manipulation, emotional blackmail, thoughts of violence…

» » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ 002 ⊰

Clickety clack! Clickety clack! Clickety clack! Clickety clack!

The sounds of your keyboard were the only thing heard in your freezing room, not like you could tell with your blasting headphones.

You shivered for the hundredth time. Your legs become sore from remaining crossed, your neck ached at your hunched over posture. In turn, you sat up. You let out a strained moan as you stretched your limbs. Your laptop was set to the side as you stood to stretch even more. The headphones were moved to be around your neck, rubbing your ears as some kind of relief.

As much as you’re determined to get your work turned in on time, your mind was distracted. The nervous pit in your stomach grew by the hour, part of it was relieved and the other, saddened. You have a scheduled meeting with your counselor in a half hour.

It’s just a half hour, no need to get all worked up. But you grew impatient, you felt like time was moving purposely slow just to screw with your emotions.

Like before, you were distracted. You couldn’t get your piece turned in on time if your own head hates you.

You changed into appropriate clothing or the weather. It was chilly out but not too cold. Just some simple sweats, sneakers and a hoodie. You brought your necessary items with you in a small bag and headed out, making sure you locked your door. Then, out You went to the campus.

You put your headphones back where they belong, and played your music. You took your usual path to the counselors office, walking random floors until you arrived on time. You arrived at their office and knocked on the door.

“You can come in, (Y/n).” You open and quietly shut the door, seeing your counselor sitting at their desk. They typed a few more words before turning their attention to you, “I noticed on your application that you’re open to internships. Are you still interested in them?”

You slip your headphones off and take a seat, “Still not sure if I am.” You admit, “I don’t think I can do work without getting paid.”

“Well, you’re just in luck.” The counselor types a few more things into their computer and turns the monitor to your direction, “Alchemax is a multinational chemical corporation. The CEO is willing to hire an intern.”

You lift an eyebrow, “A Chemical corporation? But I’m a writer.”

“I know you are but the CEO has high connections all over the place. Every student who has worked with the CEO or even worked a simple job in Alchemax now is making lots of money doing what they love. Their majors were completely different.”

You look back at the monitor, then to your counselor, “...I’m not sure if I want to do an internship with Alchemax.”

Your counselor sighs, “You do understand that Mr. O’Hara is one of the major donors. He’s the only reason that the community college is still up and running. It would be a tragedy if he stops donating money.”

Money. Of fucking course. It’s always about the money.

Your head hangs low, “This may be the chance to push your writing career forward. In the future, when you look back, you’ll be filled with guilt knowing that you had a chance. So, what will it be?”

“...I’ll do the internship.”

“That’s the spirit! Write up an email, have me as your referral, and then send it to Mr. O’Hara. I’ll write down his email.” They began writing down on a post it note, “You’re making the right choice and it’s like I told you in the beginning of your first year, I know you will become a great writer.”

You paced around your room. This feeling wasn’t nervousness, it was pure panic. Why did you let your counselor convince you that Alchemax was good enough? No, it wasn’t! You knew nothing about chemicals!

And the research wasn’t enough. There was no way a learning writer could ever work with a company with the complete opposite!

You paced around your room. This feeling wasn’t nervousness, it was pure panic. Why did you let your counselor convince you that Alchemax was good enough? No, it wasn’t! You knew nothing about chemicals!

Your email was finished, ready to be sent off. But you couldn’t. How could you not? This was your dream, to become a writer. Yet you didn’t want to become one where all eyes were on you, you wanted to be a simple writer, nothing all.

“It would be a tragedy if he stops donating money.”

You hated it. The feeling where everything was put on your shoulders and it counted on you. You couldn’t afford it if Mr. O’Hara does stop donating. You fucking hated it. You clicked send and began beating yourself up on how weak you are.

Alchemax Building // 12:50 PM

It’s almost been an hour. Where is this O’Hara guy?!

Your leg bounces up and down, as you continue to look back at your phone only for time to slowly move by. You sat here for over an hour after the receptionist told you it would only be a few minutes. A FEW MINUTES.

Why did you say yes to this again?

When you thought about leaving, the evaluator pinged and the doors opened. It revealed a disheveled and annoyed man who kept his eyes focused on the doors.

You take a deep breath as you stand, “Um, excuse me?” But he walks right by you, “Excuse me!” You say, louder this time.

The man responds with a heavy sigh, “Yes?”

“I’m (Y/n) (L/n), I’m a student at the (only) community college and I sent an email about an open internship.”

“Lyla.” He said and a woman appeared next to his head, “Were there any emails about the internships?”

“Well yeah, I read them all to you.”

“A heads up could’ve been nice.”

“Yeah yeah, I gotta check in on the R&D before they blow out another window.” She disappears.

“Right. This way.” He leads you to his office, opening the door and letting himself in first. You enter behind him, the door closing.

“As you know, I’m Miguel O’Hara, CEO of Alchemax.”

“I’m aware.”

Mr. O’Hara sits down with a heavy huff, “And then you must be aware that there is no need for an intern.”

You freeze in place, “I’m sorry?”

“If I remember correctly, you’re a writer applying to Alchemax.”

“I understand that but-”

“What purpose does a writer have in Alchemax? What purpose can you provide to the company?” He lifts an eyebrow, clearly trying to piss you off and sadly, it was working.

It was amusing to him. You could see the cocky smirk on his face as he waited for a response.

“The company was given to you. You then became the leader in rebuilding structures and in general, Earth. after numerous incidents (which is strange). But there have been gray areas in your company’s past which people like to bring up. You are thriving for change, and but at the same time, you hate change. I want to help you towards your goal and you don’t like people helping because you know you could do it yourself. The reason why the public kinda… hates you.” You now mumble, your head hanging low in embarrassment.

Shit! I said too much!

“What was your name again?”

“...(Y/n) (L/n).”

“I give you two weeks.” He sighs, “If you don’t screw anything up in those two weeks then you have a job here.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. O’Hara-”

“But if you do, then you go back to your community college and don’t even bother to try to come back. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good.” Mr. O’Hara leans back and opens his laptop, “Lyla is down at the Research and Development Department, make sure the insights are correct. She’ll explain it to you.”

“Um, of course.”

“Tenth floor.” He said before you walk out the doors of his office.

Did you forget that your heart was racing the entire time? Or that you wanted to punch him in his face?

R&D Department // 5:22 PM

“Here at the Research Department, we keep the company competitive. We stay up to date on any new material and we’re always trying to improve. But we also keep an eye on the market, any incidents.”

“Incidents?”

“I thought you told it to Miguel. Alchemax rebuilds anything after an incident dealing with whether it be a building or someone doing something stupid, Alchemax is always to the rescue!”

“I need you to pass these to Dr. Octavius and put a rush on them. She’s been asking for them non-stop.” The man shoves the stack of papers into your hands and returns to his desk.

You held back the urge to sigh and curse at the man. But you have no standing here. You were a simple unpaid intern for two weeks. If you screwed up your chance, then you can kiss your dreams goodbye.

Did I tell you how much I hate it here?

“Of course I can.”

If I know where her office is.

After minutes of looking at name plates, you finally find her office. You transfer the papers to one arm and knock on the door.

“Those better be the reports I’ve asked for.” You hear.

“Yes, they are.” You respond.

“Then come on in!”

You carefully enter her office and see that it was more of a lab than office. A strong smell immediately hits your nose and you try to keep yourself composed to make it to where the lady seemed to be looking through a microscope.

“Don’t be shy.” She said, still not looking away, “Come on over.”

You reach her desk, setting the files down, “Is that all?”

Finally, she looks up, eyeing you up and down, “A new employee? Wow, it’s a surprise that Miguel finally got his head out of his butt.”

“I’m sorry-? No, no, I’m just an intern… For two weeks.” You correct her.

“Ah! The classic two week deal.”

“He’s done this before?”

Dr. Octavius nods with a smile, “He’s done it to most of the new employees here. Me especially. He never did like my drive and focus on science.” She uses her leg to pull up a rolling chair next to her.

You sit, mainly because you didn’t want to go back onto that floor, “I’m listening.”

“The press was all over one incident when I blew up a room after I came up with another idea. Who would’ve thought a collider would explode and so he put the two weeks rule, if any of us does something stupid, we’re done for. No excuses.”

“And there is no excuse for this.”

You jump out of your seat and turn around, Mr. O’Hara stood at the door, “You have around three more hours before you have a break. Care to explain?”

You open your mouth to speak but Olivia stands and places a hand on your shoulder, “I asked her for her opinion on some new tests and if she could hand these results to you.” Handing you a thin file.

You walk over to him and hand them to you, “Leave.” He tells you, “And go home.”

You hurry out the door and not look back.

“What are you trying to do Olivia?” He asks.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She pulls off her glasses and starts to clean them.

“This isn’t the first intern that you asked for an opinion. You do understand that they are interns, interns. They have no say, they have no experience in whatever they are doing.”

Olivia puts them on and lets out a playful sigh, “And you do know that I have to warn the interns that a simple mistake ruins your mood. Everything ruins your mood.”

“They can drag the company to the ground.”

“Is that what you’re angry about?”

“She’s my intern.”

“Then shouldn’t you be teaching her?”

Mr. O’Hara shakes his head and walks out, slamming the door on the way.

“Now that is a man with issues.”

Taglist // @neteyamsbulletwound ,

[808airsoftbros]

My Wives Reaction to You Getting Harrassed at Work (Haseul/Vivi/Yeojin/Nana/Miyeon)

Author: Suddenly felt inspired to write this after listening to a creepypasta story. Anyway hope you enjoy and if you want to check out more of my works do go to the Masterlist :)

Cho Haseul

You were being bullied by your co-worker and your manager was doing nothing about it since he was his son

Being the mother of the family she wouldn't tolerate such treatment for her loved one

"What?! Let me talk to your boss!"

Would confront the manager or the main corporate office no matter how much you begged her not to

At first your manager would laugh at her until he realized that your wife was a famous kpop Idol

In just a split second, he was on his knees begging her not to expose the company and what was going on behind the scenes

"P-Please don't report this! I need this job to pay for my rent! I'm sorry not only I'll fire my son! I'll give him a raise or hell even a promotion!"

In the end, the awful and useless co-worker was fired and of course, he didn't take it too well seeing his own father screwed him but she had private security on stand-by just for this particular result

However after just five months you'd quit that job and work at a bigger company but you were still grateful for what she did for you

Vivi

You were refused a raise despite all the hard work and effort you put into the company and when you just decided to work the bare minimum you were written up for being "lazy"

"What are you serious? What fucking idiot for him not to see the talent inside of you!"

Vivi would've taken a little much of different course of action to the situation

She would first consulted Haseul who's the head of the household and recommended reporting this to your boss's supervisor

But seeing that the CEO was just as useless greedy as the manager she ended up just buying the whole company

"W-What is this?! An ownership contract?!"

"Well, sir, you should've thought about this before treating my husband like shit so from now on, I'll be running this company,"

In just no time you became her secretary and it was a win-win for the both of you now that you get be at her side 24/7

Nana

You got a customer complaint from an actress whom Nana happened to once partnered up with in the past

She'd be perfectly calm about the whole situation and unlike Vivi and the others she'd handle it her own way

"Okay darling, just leave her to me and don't worry about a thing okay~?"

Confused at first but you decided to let her run the show and enjoy it from a safe distance because you know well it will get a bit messy

She'd review the surveillance footage and prove you were just doing your job enforcing the company's policies thus making the actress the guilty one

When she gathered enough evidence, she'd confront her former co-worker and obviously she denied it and made up stories that you were being rude

"Is that so? Well, mind explaining this?"

Shocked and caught red-handed, she knew her life would be over at this moment knowing Nana could just end her career in the blink of an eye

"I-I'm sorry! Please don't turn this into the media!"

Luckily for her, Nana was in a kind mood so she just asked her to apologize, and quickly she obliged

Cho Miyeon

Miss Cho Miyeon is someone you don't want to mess with especially since she is Lieutenant of the (G) I-DLE mafia

The second she heard that you were targetted by your company she wouldn't hesitate to send men to burn their building to the ground

"What is that, my dear? Are they bothering you? Are you okay? I can just send some of my guys to burn the damn place to the ground."

Of course, you begged her not to as this wasn't the first time she committed mass murder and arson

But she'd just bought the whole company and transformed it to serve the Mafia clan

You wanting to continue to live a normal life would just get hired by a different company with better co-workers and management

"Aww~ Baby are you sure you don't want to join us~?"

Sure the offer was tempting as you'd love to be close to Miyeon but it was too much of a risk having a target on your head 24/7

Im Yeojin

Being the youngest of the family and step-sister she'd be mostly concerned about your health and well-being

"Oppa, are you okay?" "Do you need some cuddles~?"

Yeojin wouldn't really do much besides just informing her mothers

"Eomma! Oppa was being bullied! It was his boss again!"

Sadly nobody would take her that seriously as she was too adorable to be intimidating

However she doesn't need to do anything as her Eommas take care of everything for her

"Baby! Eomma said that she voted the CEO out of his office so she's in charge! Isn't that great?!"

For the rest of the night, you two cuddled in her bedroom after partying

[lovra974]

Maybe one day I'll write it...

So, imagine Pro Hero Dynamight. Although he is doing very well in his career and is in the top 10, he is still feeling trapped. He was stuck in an overachiever cycle where he had to do more and better every day. If he fails, his rank drops and goes back to square one. He had to struggle with journalist and analysts Heros 24/7 and he is very tired of it. Tired of this cycle but never being able to go out of it.

He barely goes home, he's always at his agency if not on a mission. If Kirishima was not working at his agency, he wouldn't see any other friend. He was pressured into taking care of everything on his own. And nobody managed to say a word to him about it.

He didn't see his parents for such a long time that Mitsuki is surprised he took her call. But Ms. Bakugo needed to verify if his son used his birthday present from last year. Yeah, I know, very important.

Bakugo didn't open it.

His birthday present was a ticket from a corporation called Dream Match. It's a super sophisticated matchmaker service where they pair you up with someone to do a shared dream.

A ticket cost over 5,5 millions yens. It will be lost if Bakugo doesn't make an appointment within a week.

He doesn't know it's a matchmaking service until he goes to their website. His parents told him it was some expensive vacation experience bullshit.

After pondering and conversing with Kirishima, he realizes that he is not obligated to do anything with his partner after the dream. So he goes, all nervous and suspicious, just hoping he would have a good sleep.

On the other hand, there is Y/N. She has an earth quirk and dreams to be a hero. Although she didn't attend a high-ranked Hero school, she was able to land a promising sidekick job.

But it was not what she expected. She was manipulated into signing a contract that required her to do the Hero's job, but she won't be given the post or recognition. Nobody will ever know she exists.

Although she has the same quirk as the Pro Hero of the agency, she is more powerful. And they take advantage of that. The media has no knowledge of her, she is kept in the shadow of the Hero. While the Pro is on a mission, she is there too, fighting without anyone seeing, pretending that the Hero is doing everything.

And she can't leave unless she drops her dream.

One of her friends gave her a Dream Match ticket to cheer her up. And she ends up being paired up with Bakugo Katsuki aka Dynamight without knowing.

XXX

In the dream, Bakugo is an exiled Barbarian Prince. He is the heir of the Dragon throne, descendant of Hoshi the Dragon King. He lost a battle and is sent into exile by his own father.

Mercenaries are sent to kill him by another kingdom. He finds a curious lamp on his way. Once in his hands, the genie trapped inside goes out.

Y/N is the genie and had the duty to grant him three wishes. Her magic binds her to the lamp and slowly take away her humanity. Each times she uses her magic without granting her master's wish, she looses her voice for some time.

Katsuki dreams to redeem himself. Y/N dreams to be free again.

[yunamedkostobot]

Jacegan Week 2024: Day Six. Historical

1910-1920s silent cinema AU

 TW: period-typical racism and homophobia, “Birth of the nation’s” cinema success,  implied radium poisoning, mentioned Red Scare

In this au, Jace and his brothers(and a little sister Visenya) actually grew up in the whole-acting family. Their mother, whose family got poor after losing all of their money during the Long depression, started her vaudeville acting career and became the family's breadwinner from the tender age of eight and rose up to the second highest paying actress(after Lotta Crabtree). Their father is a famous musician coming from a wealthy family, their paternal grandmother is a former actress by herself and their aunt is the costume maker for the theaters. They are not really in touch with their maternal side of the family, since they did not approve of their mother's acting career.

Meanwhile, Cregan comes from the farmer’s family of Norwegian second-geheration immigrabts. His family went bankrupt in the panic of 1907, so he and his sister were left with almost no money. Cregan was forced to turn to seasonal worker, while Sara started to work at the clock fabric.

Cregan met Arra Norrey at the mill at Lawrence. They married and later had a baby Rickon together. However, since Arra was forced to work even when she was ill and pregnant, she died of influenza not so long after Rickon’s birth. It happened not so long before the Lawrence strike of 1912, where Cregan actually took a huge part: from helping to evacuate the kids to standing up against the strikebreakers.

Cregan and Arra actually loved to go to cinema to watch movies(and Arra especially loved Max Linder’s and Roscoe Arbuckle’s comedies), but after the strike is won, Cregan feels some type of rage against the cinema that it does not depict the life in its full nightmare and even the social films mostly concentrate on such things as imprisonment and abortion(he understands it’s significant though) and the films about the labor focus more on the redemptions of masters which is not the part of workers ordinary lives. He decides that no matter what, he will wear his IWW red card proudly.

He is lucky though and after the long season of season work he, with Sara’s help he gets a clerk job at one of the “ Radium Luminous Material Corporation” offices in New York. In his spare time, he writes scenarios for different studios and walks a lot with Rickon.

Meanwhile, Jacaerys is living his best life: he lives with his mother, father, four brothers, cousins and little sister, they all star in the feature films at their director-grandfather’s studio with his family, and now is set to marry his cousin Baela, who is an actress too(since it is a pre-Code times, she legally still can play any role). Her sister Rhaena, meanwhile, helps her mom as costumer.

Meanwhile, Corlys gets the news about his rivals in a Biograph(corporate spies, you know) that D.W.Griffith has left them, founded his own company and now is adapting “The Clansman” by Dixon. No need to say both he and Rhaenys are infuriated by it. They decide to start to make a counter-move and make another period drama movie to beat it(they’ll fall in beating in the box-office, but a good movie will be made).

Sadly, they did not find a good scenario for a long time. Come the winter of 1914, and only there they found the scenario written by Cregan: which tells the early life of Samuel Gridley Howe, the famous abolitionist, friend of John Brown and the founder of the Perkins’s Institute for the disabled. More precisely, it tells about his participation in the Greek Revolution and arrest in Poland.

They buy the scenario from Cregan, and Corlys, seeing that this young man has the potential of a good scenarist, gives him a two-year contract. Cregan agrees and starts to refine the scenario alongside Rhaenys. 

Both young men meet each other at the stairs, when Jace and Baela accidentally stumble on Cregan, who is going out of Rhaenys’s room with a lot of paper in his arms, cause Rhaenys has a tendency to write every scene in detail.

They cross their ways simultaneously. They see each other on the set, when Cregan sometimes approaches cameraman Elmo Tully while Jace and his screen partner are waiting for them — the partner is an actor who played young Greek Howe meets in his travels. Daemon, who is playing the older lead, does not even attempt to hide total disinterest.

They cross their path at the costume shop, when Jace sees his cousin Rhaena disciss costumes with Cregan, and his voice with norwegian accent strikes something in him does not understands.

They cross the way during the lunch break, when Jace with his stuntman and younger brother Luke are discussing something funny, and Cregan suddenly thinks how it may look like on the screen and attempts not to listen to them, but to read on their lips, but it fails miserably, since he stares on someone else’s faith without even noticing. 

Their first conversation happens when Cregan sees Jace dragging ten books about Howe Rhaenys asked about and another five illustrated books about clothes of this time for Rhaena. They talk a lot about their favorite books and Cregan mentioned he would love to read «Martin Iden» by Jack London, but he does not have a strength to go to the library after the whole work day and spending time with his son. Jace is surprised by learning that their new scenarist has the son and urges him to bring the boy to the work.

Next day Cregan finds the book he asked nearby the set.

Baby Rickon absolutely loves the studio, especially playing hide-and-seek with kid Aegon, Viserys and Visenya. Sometimes, Luke and Rhaena playfully join them. Even lesser times, Laena coo over new boy and secretly give them a lot of sweets to both Cregan and Rhaenyra’s chargrin.

During the filming and writing there are not so many incindents that may cause anybody harm. However, one day the decoration falls on the set, when Luke is making the stunts, and it takes both Jace's and Cregan's fast reactions to drag him from the dangerous zone. After this, they merely look at each other and start to laugh — to everybody's confusement.

At this moment, they are just happy men, and oh gods, they are sure that the film they are making will be great.

(It would not be great, but good nontheless. Like many films they will do after it, but this time will be remmebered as the happiest one).

(Neither Jace, nor Cregan doesn't know know, where we'll ther relationship go, and how many moments, both good and bad, they will share together. There would be a twelve movies(most of them a hystoricals, one based on personal tragedy and one of them a mix of socialist propaganda and action), temporarily break-up, not really happy marriages to women(similiar to their partners, but not actually them), arrests during the Red Scare, Luke's injury and his marriage to Rhaena, adaptation of «Martin Iden» they made together, Cregan's sister being Radium Girl, scandal based on rumours overblown by Hedda Hopper, serving as historical consultants, the world travel, La Olimpiada Popular and death — one at Madrid, and another at Jarama. So many things).

But now, at this moment, they are happy.

[blazehedgehog]

a negative question (those aren't fun i know) but what would you think of as some awful moments in gaming or gaming history?

I mean top of the list is Gamer Gate. Gamer Gate was, by the admission of the person who started it, his way of getting back at his ex-girlfriend. That's all it was. And it spiraled out of control into an entire hate movement that's still leaving ripples to this very day.

I am also of the opinion that most people who believed Gamer Gate was about game journalists were mislead and ultimately don't understand a lot about what they were campaigning against. The whole "ethics and lying in game journalism" largely stems from a growing series of misunderstandings and ignorance, which was largely exploited by bad actors to target women and minorities.

You cannot and will not convince me otherwise. Never ever.

That's because, in my 12 year stint writing for TSSZ, I took the job very seriously. It may not have paid much, but it did pay, and I did get a lot of valuable experience. And I watched friends in similar boats actually elevate their careers and become big, well-respected names in the games media/journalism space. Which gives me a better perspective than some folks have on what really goes on in that space.

I've talked about this at length many times over the years. About the weird adversarial relationship the press has with their fandom. And it's too big of a topic to contain in one single tumblr post, because it's many subjects, spanning decades. I cannot sum up why journalists used to (and still do) dunk on their fanbases, and why readers continue to value their opinions even in spite of that.

But I will say this: real, genuine corruption is a lot less common than you think. A lot of people get very twisted up in imaginary scenarios that simply do not exist. Most people in the press are simply trying to survive by whatever means the system allows them to. And I'd argue a lot of them are spiteful of their readers because some of you are genuinely insane and jump to these outrageous conclusions over literally nothing. Some folks don't know what an opinion means, or understand subjectivity, and treat it as a declaration of war.

Do conflicts of interest happen? Yes, absolutely. But with the way the market currently is, a lot of those things are necessary to keep media companies afloat. That's unfortunate, but it's not corruption. Not at the level you think it is.

When you see a website covered in ads for WAR OF DUTY 8: REDACTED OPS 4 and there's a prominent review for that same game, I can guarantee the person writing that review does not benefit from those ads and did not choose to put them there. All that money and all that blame goes to the corporation that owns the site. To the marketing managers and the CEO sitting at the end of the board room. That corporation may even go as far as to suggest edits to what probably starts out as a very honest review. But it is not the writer's fault. The writer has bills to pay. The writer needs to buy groceries. The writer needs to keep this job. The writer had real feelings and it was the corporation that changed the text.

And even then? The scenario I just described is rare.

You want to know what's even more rare? An indie developer sleeping with a writer for coverage of their game. A game, that, might I add, didn't even cost money. What was to gain there? Clout? You're out of your mind if you think that actually mattered.

Also? It's entertainment criticism. It is literally "Does this person like this piece of media yes or no?" This is not Watergate. It is not 9/11. Does honesty matter? Sure. But if you don't like a writer, go find a different one. There's a lot of us! But don't circle the wagons and prepare for battle, because that makes you a psychopath.

(Better yet: if you don't like a writer, start writing your own stuff! Be the change you want to see in the world and then understand how you're treated for that)

Which again just feeds into the idea that people who still believe that gamer gate was legitimate were tricked. It was a smoke screen. You were part of a hate movement. And how you react to that says a lot about you as a person and your values in this world.

[urhoneycombwitch]

love ur roommate Eddie but also all the time spent together between sexy times stresses me out

at least with husky neighbor Eddie he's across the hall and if you're not in the mood to see him, then you don't have to

but roommate Eddie is literally in. your. walls.

what about when you just have ugly days when your hair is a mess and you walk around the apartment smelling a lil before you hop in the shower

what about when either of you get sick and it's real nasty?

is there only one bathroom?? do y'all gotta coordinate times???

what if he insists on putting the toilet paper the wrong way around???!!! what about the hair clogged in the shower drain!!

what about the arguing and the tension and the resentment that arises from sharing a space with someone on the worst of days??

like maybe Eddie is the best roommate to ever fictionally exist ever but I can only imagine that there's gotta be some issues that arise especially when they're blurring the boundaries

and roommate!reader seems really strict and anal (same) with her rules so I figure that also extends to sharing a space

I know it's normally default to want to imagine that they figure everything out and live happily ever after, but do you see roommate!Eddie and reader being long term? how do they work out their issues with both sharing a space and finding footing with their agreement? what's the first problem to arise? and if they don't work out, what to do think is the largest issue/ what finally breaks them apart?

anon I love love love this. thanks for asking the nitty gritty questions they are so IMPORTANT!!

okay full transparency, when I started writing for roommate!Eddie I absolutely used the fic logic of “everything is perfect here” because I wanted to focus more on the relational/emotional aspect of two people who have already learned how to share a space. at the time, I think the first meeting/time it took to iron out issues were less interesting to me from a writing standpoint. however, I certainly had the framework for their backstories in the back of my head while i wrote!

I’ll share my thoughts below for those who are interested in the roommate!Eddie+roommate!Reader story. but also don’t hold me to anything I say here for future stories bc my personal canon is subject to change. lol.

in this no-magic Big City AU of mine, I imagined reader and Robin meeting in college and becoming good friends. you were in a horrifically boring history class together (Robin for her smarty-pants Psych/Art double degree and you for a Literature degree) and started hanging out outside of school. by proxy, you also hang out with Steve, Robin’s roommate, and by the time the three of you graduate you’re all good friends.

and then you’re staring down the barrel of a mostly useless degree, a shit ton of college debt, and nowhere to go. you land a job at a local publishing company, but it’s mostly boring and corporate and doesn’t pay for a two-room apartment in the heart of the city. which is unfortunate, because your last roommate (a nightmare by all accounts. quite literally never learned how to clean up after herself) moved out a month ago and you need the extra income to keep the space.

enter Steve’s mysterious friend Eddie. whom you’ve only heard wild stories about. apparently, he’s looking for a room- and according to Robin, he’s “well-mannered for a boy”. you ask a million questions before agreeing to meet with him (neither Steve or Robin gave you a straight answer as to the guy’s career which is weird…), and you make it really clear you’re not in the mood to be screwed over. or stuck with an unlivable situation. 

but your friends assure you it’ll be a good fit. and when you meet for drinks later that week, Eddie is extremely charming and honest. tells you he is, in fact, in the drugs business, but promises it never follows him home. he agrees to all your house rules. he also flirts a lot. but you learn to take that with a grain of salt.

so Eddie moves in and yeah, absolutely there’s an adjustment period. learning the rhythms of each other’s days and nights, figuring out how to split household duties, all the mundane shit that comes w/ a new roommate. there’s an awful first winter where the heat goes out; you two alternate getting colds and stomach flus, multiple nights spent sweating over the toilet or kitchen sink (one bathroom is a KILLER for the sick season). 

there’s a camaraderie that forms after those sucky cold months. you absorb into each other’s lives, friend groups, spaces that extend outside of your apartment. you become real, actual friends who enjoy each other’s company.

and also? Eddie is happy to appease. he’s not a pushover, but he is really respectful of you and your space. he puts effort into learning your little quirks, or things that tick you off (there are a lot). you both figure out early on that open communication is the best policy. Eddie’s the type to tell you if there’s something he doesn’t like or wants to change, so neither of you end up holding secret quiet grudges.  

which is why I think reader finds this whole attraction thing so scary (and uses rules as a defense mechanism sorry I wrote my own OCD into this!! lmao) like Oh, fuck. if this goes sideways, if we have a big fight or fall in and out of love and can’t be in the same room anymore… we’d have to move. I’d have to say goodbye to the best roommate I’ve ever had. our shared friend groups would be dispersed. it would be devastating on so many levels.

anyways. here’s the masterlist if u read this far and want it ;)

[ettawritesnstudies]

in the tags on a recent post you said your day job is "mind numbingly simple" do you know if that's common of chemical engineering jobs?

(i am currently pursuing a chemical engineering degree and honestly don't know that much about chemical engineering jobs. but i would not mind a simple job that gives me mental capacity left to write at the end of the day)

So it strongly depends on the kind of engineering work you end up going into and any job will vary in complexity on a day to day basis but with a chemical engineering job you have a lot of different options!

Specifically I'm a R&D Applications Engineer/Technical Customer Service in a polymer science role for a big international corporation so I'm working with existing products in a company and figuring out how to make them work for customers who are having issues.

What this looks like on a project to project basis is that we get an email from the customer or the plant outlining the problem and what kind of material they're sending us to test, I design the experiments we need to do to validate all the variables and properties, and then I spend a few weeks in the lab churning out data, then plug it into an Excel spreadsheet, crunch the numbers, throw that in a PowerPoint, and send it off to the relevant personnel.

The mind numbingly simple part is the standing in lab running through tests because it's hands-on labor that requires very little thinking once you've established your parameters. I usually just put on an audiobook or a podcast to kill time. The design of experiment can get somewhat complex and you have to be very good at time management if you have multiple projects with time sensitive lab components going on at once, but the number crunching has never required anything more complicated than 10th grade algebra. I'm not doing much chemical formulation either, just following established recipes and procedures within my company, but I'm learning more specific stuff as I go.

Now I'm only a year out of college and I've never had an internship or anything that WASN'T in a non-lab setting, so I can't speak to how something like a Process Engineer spends their time. I knew I didn't like being out on the plant floor because it's often Loud and Dirty and Sensory Overload so I tried to avoid applying for those roles. You learn a lot more about the production that way though, just not my cup of tea. You also have chemical engineers who design entire chemical plants and control systems (which is very very cool and important but I was bad at those classes lmao). Some also go the biochemical angle and get into pharmaceuticals but medicine scares me.

That's just my personal take but I encourage you to talk to your professors and upperclassman and see what they have to say! Career fairs >>>>>>> linked in for getting anywhere in this hell of a job market if your school has them and I hope you have a better time of it than I did during the COVID times. 🫡