#I was going to do an art response but it was taking too long for me to get around to so here!

[gayspacepiratesss]

Hiiii friends I made a thing!!! 💕 An illustrated mini-fic, to be precise.

The art part isn't quite finished but I think the last three illustrations might take me longer and I wanted to share what I have so far. There are six color plates now and eventually I hope I'll have nine. I'll do a separate art post when they're all finished for folks who aren't as interested in the story!

I wrote this because I was thinking about trauma, and Neve's love for Docktown, and how two people who take too much responsibility for things might try and fail to help each other. About how breaking out of regret prisons isn't something most of us get to do just once, but over and over again: new chapters in the same old story. Plot twists that get a little better each time, if we're lucky.

I think Neve and Rook are lucky, but you be the judge of that. 💕

***

Red-eye

In which Neve gives new meaning to the phrase "Cry it out" and Rook fights gravity with exactly the amount of success you might expect.

Content note: Some mild hurt/comfort, references to blood, angst, and many feelingsy illustrations.

-~-

The veins are starting to fade, but her eyes are still red. Staring herself down in the mirror, Neve Gallus can't honestly tell if it's the Blight or sheer exhaustion that makes it impossible to recognize her own face.

The days since Elgar'nan's fall have been hard for a happy ending: the work of digging friends from the rubble, patching injuries and broken bridges, burying or burning the dead.

Neve's gaze flickers past her reflection towards the slight, sleeping figure on the sofa behind her.

Rook has been there for all of it. Minrathous, Treviso, Arlathan. First to volunteer, last to leave at night. She's never been afraid of heavy lifting.

You showed up. You always do.

...but where am I?

In Dock Town, the ocean always made her feel like she could breathe. Here, the blue light of the aquarium is drowning her again. Cold shadows run restless across her face, almost dancing with the black traces etched into her skin.

She slips out the door alone. Again.

-~-

"Again?"

Rook sags against the wooden railing opposite Hal's fish stall, her shoulders tight even as her face falls.

The older man squints sympathetically. His hands scale the day's catch with expert automatic movements, but his eyes stay with her. "Earlier this morning," he confirms. "Same time, same story."

Every day for the past month. Early, late, in between. As soon as there was a moment they might talk, Neve disappeared. If Eann "Rook" Aldwir had ever been the praying kind, now—not the fall of Minrathous or the rise of the Evanuris—would have been the moment she was on her knees.

I would burn worlds for you, but I couldn't pull you back when it mattered.

What have I saved if I didn't save Neve Gallus?

She runs a hand through her hair, putting on a rosy face to match, and forces a grin she doesn't quite feel. "Ah, well. It's been hard for everyone, but..."

"... mmhm." Hal nods. "Time is what the city needs, maybe. Time, and they'll remember..." his voice fades. Suddenly he is very busy with the mackerel.

... that she loves them. That she always loved them. That she never—she didn't—

"It was Elgar'nan and Ghilan'ain—" Rook can't quite hide her frustration.

"I know." Hal chops a fishhead slightly too aggressively. "They'll know."

But does she know?

From the street, a shout as ropes go up to raise new scaffolding—there's work to do on some of the dockside apartments, newly in danger of tumbling into the sea.

Eann buys a fresh skewer and sinks her teeth in. "If oo fee er--" she ventures, mouth full, eyes already on the next task.

"I'll send her your way," Hal finishes.

But he won't. They both know.

-~-

They both know. Everyone knows. Neve Gallus, protector of Docktown—until she destroyed it.

She takes a long drag from her pipe, staring across the city from her perch above the Lamplighter—one of the only buildings to go unscathed by the massive tentacles of Blight that she, personally, had directed. The elegant cruelty of Elgar'nan's choice wasn't lost on her—if anybody knew how to target Minrathous' weak points. If anybody knew the city's secrets. Set her against the place she loved best and watch it fall.

In the moment, it had been a pleasure.

How do you come back from that?

When Treviso had been ravaged by the Blight, her heart broke for Lucanis—but her relief for her own people had blunted the pain. She remembers the moment Rook showed up on the field, one step behind Neve and Tarquin, one step ahead of the dragon. She remembers her own disbelief: "You came."

Eann had never looked smaller than she did against that burning-black sky, her skin—so pale it was almost blue in a certain light—flushed and uneven, jaw set against her fear. And Neve had never loved her more—a thought she had shoved down immediately, fiercely, completely, as she skewered a nearby Venatori with ice.

They won that day. Parts of it, anyway.

And when Minrathous did fall, it was Neve's fault. Not Rook's.

-~-

"Not Rook's!" Elek Tavor has brought his Threads. He shoos Eann away from the complex dance of ladders and platforms they're erecting to shore up the dockfront. "That's your job, nughead! I need her here!"

Gang members and locals set shoulders together against the weight of newly-cut stone and crumbling Blight, clearing the one from the ruined apartments and storefronts to make room for the other. They look like a training montage or an inspirational poster—if training smelled like clotted blood, and inspiration felt like vertigo.

He winks at her from over a pulley, tossing her a safety harness and a length of rope. "You're too good for us gutter rats."

She straps in, eyeing the higher floors. The corruption still needs clearing before they can fully assess the damage. It's not especially stable, but she'd rather risk her skin than someone else's. "Better a rat with wings, huh?"

"Better you than me."

She doesn't argue. Instead, she climbs -- reaching hand over hand for a better view. The city shrinks and shifts as she pulls herself above it. The Cobbled Swan blends into the paper seller stalls and merchant alleys, already in business again with whatever scraps they each could scavenge. The sea's slate mood gives way to a smudge of sky and stone, reflecting up the cliffs across the channel.

I know you're there.

Tucked somewhere among those caves and crawlspaces is a detective with a shattered heart, blowing smoke rings and tearing herself to shreds. Rook has watched her disappear, slowly but surely, with every day of "recovery." To rebuild something is to see what was broken, to go over the damage in fine detail. To catalogue every blow. But for Neve, it is cataloging her own sins, her own failures, in a neat series of boxes to be checked and confirmed with evidence. For Rook, it has been watching that soft face flinch and flatten with each victory, each moment of hope, as though it were a nail in her heart's coffin.

But Neve still comes to the city for solace. She can't help herself. And so Eann haunts Minrathous, signing up for tasks that don't really need her, checking in on the people she knows Neve loves. Looking for answers in The Case of the Blighted Dream. The Broken Detective. Docktown's Ghost.

She has tried to be patient. So. Patient. But sometimes the most ungenerous part of her thinks, I broke out of my prison. To find you. To have this.

Now I'm losing you to yours.

Distracted by the weight of her thoughts, Rook barely notices when the stone she reaches for crumbles in her hand—until it pulls the harness anchor with it, the whole wall of the second story giving way. There is a sharp jerk, and she is falling—

Falling?

Falling.

But even as her heart freezes in her throat, it is still pulling her across the water. Even as she braces for the impact, her eyes are still half-scanning the cliffside for a tell-tale flash of teal, a smudge of smoke.

-~-

Smoke.

Neve squints suddenly, her pipe drooping between slack fingers. Smoke? By the docks?

No. Dust.

Something is falling.

But the channel is not wide, and she realizes with growing horror that she can hear the sound not just of stone, blight, beams crumbling, but also voices. Shrieking, wavering. "Look out!" "Back up!" "Clear it OUT—"

And then: "Rook!"

Someone is falling.

Rook.

A blinding, burning fear bites into her chest. The pipe clatters to the ground. If she was drowning before, she is choking now, clawing her way to the surface of a dream she has been walking in for weeks. Trading pains of the past for a present that sears her lungs and surges down her spine.

Mages cannot fly, but all that is left of Neve in that alcove as she bolts through passageways and across rooftops is a pipe's worth of tobacco and the shadow of a thought, echoing like a stone dropped in a dry well.

Wait for me. Wait.

-~-

“Wait.” Eann coughs wetly, throat clogging with dust and something unpleasantly, unexpectedly—oh. Blood. Well. She drags herself up on one elbow, waving Elek and the others back slightly, hissing as the movement sends a shock of pain through her body. “Wait, dammit! I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

Time turns to sludge as familiar brown eyes meet hers, topped by brows knitted together in fury and fear. “Not hurt? Not climbing walls alone?”

Neve kneels beside the shaking elf, hands already moving, telling Eann’s blood to stay inside her body, her bones to know themselves under the weight of stone for seconds rather than minutes. It’s no small feat, and she is immediately sweating. They both are. “Not the Maker's own damned idiot?”

In spite of herself, Rook laughs. Weakly, painfully. “No,” she wheezes. “I am that.”

Neve’s eyes flash and then flood, tears of rage meeting her perspiration as she gingerly eases one hand under Eann’s head, using the other to clear what stone she can. “What were you thinking?”

It hurts to think. It hurts to breathe. But to Rook’s surprise, it hurts more to look up into eyes that are actually seeing her for the first time since the fight for Minrathous. A face that is furious but not masked. She coughs again, her own eyes burning, unsure if her chest is seizing from the weight of stone or just the love of Neve Gallus. “I—”

You look for lost things. Well, I look for you.

“They need you,” she finds herself choking furiously. “I was thinking they need you, and you’re not here, and I—am—so until you come back from your fucking pity party—ow—”

Neve is already on her knees. She can’t fall further. But the red spilling across the stones is more than time can stop, and she knows she needs to do something—quickly.

Eyes on me, Rook. Stay with me.

“Me?” Her rage is half for show, until it isn’t. And her heart is beating half a step too fast, and half too slow. “You think they need me? Look at me! Look at this.”

If it wasn’t for Neve, the stone would be as sturdy as it ever was in Minrathous. Hal’s fish would come out of the water in nets, not dredged from the surface with glassy eyes. She ripped through the Cobbled Swan, she crushed the lean-tos and shacks of the alleyways to little more than crumbs. She is the reason her tiny, tidy apartment stands in ruins and the cats go hungry. Docktown would be better off if it had never known Neve Gallus to begin with.

Rook screams. It is partly words. “I need you!”

And Neve is ripping her best coat into ribbons because she can’t slow time and send people for bandages, for medics—and there is.

No.

Time.

But she feels her face go numb, and her hands are shaking, and her burning red eyes fly up to meet that fierce, clear gaze. She wants to answer, but she has no answer.

Stay with me.

“What was the point—of all that—if—” Rook’s face is flushed, but Neve thinks flushed is better than pale, better than empty, better than gone. She uses the tiniest push of frost magic to calm the angry red of bones and flesh forced out of place. To stop the swelling before it starts. Almost mechanically, she wraps strips of her dragon coat around Rook’s arm and chest, shattering rocks with one hand as her other shields that stupidly precious rose-crowned skull from further damage.

“—if it didn't bring you back?” Eann rasps.

Neve is shaking so hard now that she can’t bind the fabric properly. She’s not sure it matters. “Bring me back for what?! So that I could—I would—” What can she do, anyway? She’s no healer. If Emmrich were here—or Harding—but they aren’t. And I am going to lose you, and I am going to deserve it. “So I could watch you die?”

Sharp, ragged sobs. “So you could be here—with us—” It’s not easy to cry and suffocate all at once, but Eann is making it work. “Not alone—with everything—”

The black traces of Blight on Neve’s skin mingle with sweat and stone, forming a filigree mask across her face. She feels her grip on the air, on the time around her start to slide.

Not yet. “Rook—”

Eann reaches up with her one free hand. Presses Neve’s forehead to her own, Blight and all. Her body is looser now, heavier—she, too, is struggling to keep control. Sound leaks through the barrier around them. Is someone… shouting?

Her eyes are closed. Her energy directed only towards the point where her skin touches Neve’s.

“Stay. With me,” she whispers. Please.

And Neve Gallus, despite her best efforts, is out of time. She winds her fingers through that rosy hair, and lets a deep, heavy sound tear through her throat. Not knowing, not caring what it is.

I’m here.

Around them, into sound and color and light, the city explodes.

-~-

The city explodes. Scraps of sound and light fracture through Rook’s mind, almost artful—a pastiche of pain and motion with occasional splatters of blessed black unconsciousness. Emmrich is there, then Maevaris. The Lighthouse might feature at some point. Definitely there is blood. So much blood. Then black again. And then—

Ow.

Teal-tipped fingers are laced around her hand. The bedspread beneath them is clean. The hands are not.

“There you are.” Neve has not slept in a long time. Her voice catches. “Oh. I—”

I almost missed you. Missed this.

Where was I?

Rook reaches to cup her fingers around the detective’s cheek. Instinctively, Neve presses closer, lifting her shoulder to cradle the gesture.

“You showed up.” Eann finds that smiling hurts more than she expected. She doesn’t care. ��You always do.”

Neve lets out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I could have made better time.”

The light plays across her face, still silt-stained and shadowed. Eann rubs some of the dirt away with her thumb, wincing at the not-yet-mended motion of various body parts, ignoring them in favor of something far more pressing. Then she stops. “Your eyes. Neve…”

A flash of something like fear. “Oh, they must be awful—”

“No.” Eann pulls the detective closer. She kisses the eyelids, the cheekbones, the saltworn freckles. The dusted brows. Beneath the dirt, there is only the warm brown of these features she knows so well. Beneath the exhaustion, there are only shades of caramel and acorn and leather in those bright, faltering eyes.

Holding the other woman's rueful, aching, anxious face between her palms, she inspects it with great seriousness. Her own blue gaze holds steady beneath a vaguely crinkled brow.

“Neve, the Blight—it’s… gone.”

And this time Neve doesn’t need a mirror to look for her own face. To recognize herself. Something more like a laugh than like a sob curls through her throat and hangs in the air between them, weightless. “Is that so? Maybe you knocked it out of me.”

“Knocked it out of you!” Rook’s wheeze is its own commentary. “Remind me not to pick a fight with a pile of rocks anytime soon.”

“Maybe just pick fights with me, for a while.”

“Mm.” Rook still hasn’t let Neve go. Their noses bump together. “I don’t only want to fight with you…”

“Later.” Neve pushes back, smirking gently. A promise, not a refusal. “You did very nearly lose that last one. But I’ll be here.”

“What happened—” Eann is serious now, her hair falling earnestly into her eyes. “Neve. It happened to everyone. And I know—it was awful. But we can’t—I can’t—”

Not without you.

Neve pushes the hair out of Rook’s face. “I’ll be here.”

This time, when she shuts the door, it isn’t on her way out.

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Arts and crafts

So Dew with the broken bones on his boot am I right?

Anyway Aurora and Phantom are responsible and you cannot tell me otherwise

“Is he asleep?” Aurora whisper-shouts from where she hovers at the bottom of the stairs. 

Phantom nods, motioning for her to come over. They try not to move too much though from their spot tucked under Dew’s arm. He is a light sleeper after all. One sharp jostle and his eyes will blink open. 

Aurora grins as she practically bounces over to the lounge area on the bottom portion of the bus, bag of markers in hand. She looks at where Dew’s foot is propped up like a cat watching a bug fly. 

“Can you keep him asleep?” She does not look up at Phantom as she whispers the request. 

“Probably,” they match her tone, “but is this really a good idea? Wouldn’t it work better if you did it while he’s awake?” 

“Oh but where’s the fun in that? Think about the look on his face when he wakes up and sees it.” 

“Yeah alright okay.” As Phantom concedes, their lichtenberg figure scars glow softly. Ozone wafts through the air as a purple light pulses under the hand resting on Dew’s chest. Keeping someone who is already asleep unconscious should be easy even for a ghoul with a weaker connection to their element. 

“Okay go ahead.” Phantom nods, confident that Dew will remain knocked out. 

Aurora grins as she uncaps her silver marker. She pulls up a picture of a skeleton on her phone before dropping to her knees in front of the table Dew’s foot is propped on. She hesitantly grabs right above the boot, just under his knee. Her eyes flick up to his face. When not even a muscle twitches, she trills quietly and gets to work. 

“You should make it accurate,” Phantom cranes their neck to watch her, “make the bones all broken.” 

Aurora laughs, covering her hand with her mouth so she is not too loud. She nods, “This is why they pay you the big bucks bug.” 

“I don’t get paid,” they deadpan. 

She shakes her head as she outlines the shape of bones, and bone shards, over each strap of his boot. Once she is satisfied with it, she begins filling them in. The sound of marker rubbing against the material accompanies Dew’s deep breathing and the lull of the bus. 

“There,” she announces as she sits up straighter, “all done. Now he’ll be back in uniform.” 

“Send a picture to Swiss.” Phantom grins. It was his idea after all. He made the first joke about drawing on the boot. The bones probably would have ended up there sooner if he had not gone back to the Ministry. 

She snaps a picture of her masterpiece with her phone, screen illuminating her face as she opens her messages. “To Swiss and Cumulus and Aether and Sunshine. How long do you think it’ll take before the entire Ministry has seen the picture?” 

“Considering Swiss is Copia’s right hand ghoul now, it’ll probably end up as a mass email.” They both laugh as they imagine everyone back home and on the road getting that notification. There is a hint of sorrow in their chuckles, but they do not dwell. Too tired from the ritual to let their moment of trying to cheer Dew up turn into something mournful. 

Aurora does not return back upstairs to her bunk once she puts her marker away. While Phantom still has their quintessence coursing through Dew’s body, she lifts his other arm and curls up next to him. She smiles at Phantom as they both settle in, resting their heads on each of Dew’s shoulders. They get as comfortable as they can and let their eyes slip shut, slowly lulled to sleep from the moving bus and the warmth of a fire ghoul. 

Once he is absolutely positive they are both asleep, Dew cracks open his eyes. He fights the smile that threatens to light up his face. 

“Brats,” he huffs, though his voice drips with affection. He turns his head so he can press a featherlight kiss between both of their horns. As he shifts to get more comfortable, his phone buzzes. He frowns, using his tail to grab it off of the table. He squints at the brightness of the screen. He once again has to fight off the smile he can feel pulling at his lips. 

Dick cheese: 

Finally. Accuracy. 

He throws his phone back down. If he texts Swiss back now, he knows he will not sleep for the rest of the night. He learned that lesson one too many times last tour with Aether. So, he closes his eyes and settles in as a rusty purr begins to vibrate through his chest. 

[lair-of-the-white-worm]

Hi! I know you've been asked this before so I apologize, but will you be continuing EOTY with a new chapter soon? I'm very curious! It's one of the most well written dark stories I've seen for OW

Thanks for the compliments, I really do appreciate it. I wish I was in a good enough mood to return to you but. This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a bit now, because I have a lot of anons asking similar questions about my fics and they get overwhelming, but I just wanted to answer this one frankly; most likely No. I will NOT be posting a new Employee of the Year chapter anytime soon. I don't know if I'm ever going to post another chapter period. I want to apologize in advance for how long this response is going to be. But I've been accused of some pretty heinous things lately and I feel beyond sick. A sour taste has been left in my mouth about my writing. Writing was my outlet and I feel horrid about this.

I didn't want to post anything about this publicly. I didn't want to post anything about this to my friends, be it here or in private conversations. I have been trying and trying and trying to let it go, and move on, because I hate arguing on the internet, but I'm at my tipping point. An Oddtumblr user named sei/the/zordokon, as well as a user going by glenglam/324 have been saying and doing some insanely sick shit to my friends. (please, for the love of all that is sacred, do NOT sent them any cruel messages to these two. I know I'm talking to a wall when I say this, but I do not condone or endorse any anonymous harassment or hate mail whatsoever. I am too old for this. Do not send them anything. I want them to leave me alone and this is why I am angry. They cannot keep me and my friends' names out of their mouths, and it's made it's way to people I trust now, so I can't take it anymore).

They have accused me, my beloved partner Roman (this-game-has-themes), as well as my mutuals and dear friends including ghostmoor and several other individuals of condoning and fetishizing rape and incest in the art and fanfictions I create. I already have immense posting apathy. This has put the nail in the coffin for me. I try to post for myself and nobody else, but this has left me sick. I cannot stand rape kinks. I struggle to write the explicit scenes in Employee of the Year because it was mentally taxing. The story is not supposed to be "kinky", and if anyone reading it thought that was what it was then I have to say you've come to the wrong place. The story is meant to be traumatizing. It is meant to be disgusting. It is meant to make you want to toss Molluck down several flights of stairs. The reader is supposed to be made sick by it because I don't want people to like what Molluck is doing in the story. Writing that story had been immensely therapeutic for me for coping with My Own Baggage about Things that aren't much anybody's business but my own. But I didn't make that clear enough it would seem. So now the entire story leaves the sourest taste in my mouth and I can't stand to look at it, knowing that what people have been taking from it is that "I get off to rape".

I cannot stand incest. It makes me sick. It makes me vomit. It is one of the most sensitive subjects for me and I can only stomach it when it's being depicted in a way that demonizes it. However, what Glenglam and Sei have been doing lately is accusing my Abe & Alf content of being incestuous. Which makes me feel rotten to my core, that anyone under the sun could look at my works of Abe and Alf and think that was what I was trying to do. They have been telling strangers I support incest. My art was so kindly shared by OWI themselves on Twitter and other socials, and they were genuinley telling people it was fucking incest.

I don't have the energy to post all the horrid, vile, insulting, sickening shit that Sei and Glenglam have said about me and my friends to others. I realize now that a lot of the cruel messages I was receiving a bit ago may have been coming from them. It makes me sad. It makes me sick. I haven't even gotten into all the transphobia coming from them, but I don't want to post about it because talking about it makes me find my own body disgusting. I should have gotten the hint when I first shared my trans headcanons in front of Sei's mun, and she instantly shut them down. But that's old hat.

I don't want to post anything anymore. Because I considered them good acquaintances. Even though we were not friends. I would have never posted anything about them, to anyone, had they just left it all alone. They don't like me, they don't like my friends and they don't have to like me. Or my friends. But spewing this vitriol about me to other people in the fandom, making posts about me and my friends and then deleting them when word gets to us, ACCUSING ME AND MY FRIENDS OF CONDONING INCEST AND RAPE BECAUSE THEY WANT PEOPLE TO SHUN US, I can't stand it.

I haven't shared this much fanfiction and artwork in ages. Oddworld was such a wonderful outlet for me and it still is. But if these are the sorts of horrid things people in this fandom are going to accuse me of, I hesitate to share content further. I had no desire to post anything about Glen or talk about her to anyone else until now. I had known of Sei for years. I thought her a wonderful, wonderful artist. Just because we were not friends and she made me uncomfortable on many occasions did not mean that I wanted to fight her, insult her, or anything of the sort. I only gave her criticism when it was asked of me. I was direct with her when I needed to be. We did not click as friends. It did not bother me that we did not click as friends. But this is BEYOND the last straw.

Since this is quite literally the only post I will be making on this matter;

Sei and Glen, if you're reading this, fuck you both to hell. I am done holding my tongue. I am done giving you both the benefit of the doubt. Fuck you for the disgusting shit you've accused me and my friends of. Keep my name out of your fucking mouthes, keep my friends names out of your fucking mouthes. You don't know anything about me, who I am, why I write, you don't know anything about it. You both had no respect for me as a trans person, you currently have no respect for me or my friends as individuals, and you have absolutely fucking destroyed the last shred of respect I had for either of you, as well as any motivation I had to post my content, because I will forever feel sick to my stomach every time I see you in the tags, every time I see you interact with my friends acting like you're innocent, every time I hear your name or see your art I will be reminded of the ROTTEN shit you have done and said to me and about me and my dear friends. When I met you, you were artists I looked up to and respected. After getting to know you, I wish I never fucking did.

This fandom is small. So it's hard to keep these things contained. It's hard for me to avoid these things. I'm still fairly new here, and I am so upset that my welcome into this fandom has been turned on it's backside by the last persons I thought would do such a thing. And I feel horrible even posting this because I know they have friends who are none the wiser to this situation who are following me and I am so, so so incredibly sorry. But I am at my boiling point.

Anyways. Posting will be slow from now on. This whole debacle has made me feel disgusted to my core. I want to privatize all of my Abe and Alf art as well as all of my fanfiction, knowing that people are running around telling people these soul crushing fibs.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I was listening to the podcast with Aisha and Oliver and they got to the cursed storyline that we all hate. And I just love how Aisha is pointing out how people were like since when did this show suddenly care about realism. I know she was saying other people said it but a part of me thinks that’s what she thought too lol

I admit I was a little confused by the wording here but if I'm reading it right you're talking about when Aisha discussed Bobby's death, and how the show didn't kill off characters, but Timmy here decided it "wasn't realistic" that the main characters never died. I agree with you - I could be wrong in how I interpreted what Aisha said but - in my opinion she was saying, "we're dragged online all the time for not being realistic, THIS is how you want to change that? We've had eight seasons enjoying not caring about realism and NOW you care? for THIS?"

Last season Bobby was "dead" for far, far too long. Medical experts and even just people with common sense and the ability to google were like hey, he shouldn't be able to recover mentally, if you're without oxygen for that long you're brain dead. Tim knew this. He didn't care. He literally said he didn't care. He wanted the drama.

So yeah, using the "we have to be realistic" argument is absolute bullshit and from my understanding of what Aisha was saying, yes, she absolutely agrees with us that it's bullshit for him to say that.

You want a show with realism you watch The Pitt. You want a show for campy fun you watch 9-1-1. It was a comfort show for many. We had a shark on the freeway! A tsunami in Los Angeles!

In killing off Bobby the show betrayed itself. And while Aisha is far, far too classy to say "yeah this was bullshit and I'm pissed as fuck" in an interview, I think you could tell that she agreed with the outrage. The cast has been very clear (well, Kenny and Athena and Peter and now Aisha and I think also Oliver? so I think we can infer everyone is on the same page here) that they disagreed with and were deeply upset by the decision, with varying levels of diplomacy in how they express their opinion. Which honestly... pisses me off more than the actual story.

To me, the story is paramount. The story trumps all else. I don't care if I fucking hate your guts beyond all reason, if I was an actor and you were my costar playing my romantic interest, I am going to give it all I've fucking got, because I'm not going to ruin the story. I believe in that very strongly. Whatever is going on in your real life or behind the scenes, you drop it the moment it comes to your art, no matter what medium that art takes. You owe it to your audience. You ask them to trust you to follow you on this journey, and so in return you need to be worthy of that trust.

However, at the end of the day, a story is fiction. If you're in an abusive work environment, don't put up with it. Quit. If you need time off, take time off. Real people always matter more. There is a big difference between "I'm a closeted queer person and being a messy bitch about it so I'm going to throw a bitch fit if they make my character queer because god forbid I separate church and state a little" or "my coworker is an entitled arrogant asshat and so I hate kissing him" and "my boss is sexually harassing me" or "the crew is being forced into dangerous working hours that will get them killed." Y'know? Drama versus wellbeing. Fix your damn self versus save yourself.

And so what makes me angriest is that real people got hurt in this. The audience is hurt because you took advantage of the trust you built with them. Those are real people who trusted you. Your cast is hurt, because you betrayed them. You hurt them. Real people. They didn't want you to do this. At least two of them have admitted they begged you not to. And you ignored them, because power was more important to you than taking care of the people who are your responsibility.

Stay classy, Aisha. I'd die for you. If your husband ever takes you for granted I am outside your home with roses. Also you're so valid for falling in love with Bear please hug him for me and tell him I love him muchly.

[arolesbianism]

Time for more eternal gales isat au, this time featuring Sier as Isabeau, creating a sprite I can never use next to Aris’ because despite my best efforts it would make them look tall

[catcultcafe]

What would be each of the characters reactions if we decided to dress up as them? Like, we made our own outfits, bought the clothes and makeup or whatever, and we looked like them.

P.S Love your art

Green - They're doing the whole now we both won't be virgins clone joke and constantly teasing you about it even months after like "They say imitation is the highest form of praise... So you must think I'm really hot. But we all already know that.~~"

Natan - Freeze, he is freezing. Depending on what you do next he'll either run away or if you give him space to breathe he'll eventually cry. He'll just be there in your arms a confused blubbering mess.

Carter - Probably just confused, he may think you are also a naga\snake person too and you just undisguised yourself. He'd honestly think you're a little weird.

Billie Jean - He honestly wouldn't know how to react. They are a little high-functioning autistic and have learned how to react properly to things by watching others so she would probably just blink at you for a second and then go over and hug you and call you a cutie or smth.

Raine - HOW, How are you cosplaying Raine. That would be so difficult. Even if you did Raine would see all the flaws anyway and would probably point them all out that way you can have a better cosplay.

Ray/Ace - He's seen people cosplay themselves before so if you do he wouldn't be the most shocked. But if you choose to cosplay as Ray he's going to be like "Why didn't you dress up as Ace. They are so much more interesting."

Annabelle - She just thinks you're being a goofball and would go over and ruffle your hair.

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 “𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊” 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

“We need to talk,” you say, trying to keep your expression serious as you stand before Xavier.

Rather than responding, however, he simply extends his hand toward you.

“Xavier? Did you hear what I said?”

Without a word, he gently pulls you toward the large beanbag in the corner of the room. Before you can protest or explain that your serious tone was just a joke, he’s already settling into the cushion, bringing you down with him.

“This... not now,” he murmurs, positioning you against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His deliberate movements make it clear—this is his strategy for avoiding whatever discussion you’re trying to initiate.

“I was just—” you begin, but Xavier has already closed his eyes, his breathing starting to deepen in that familiar pattern.

You sigh, realizing he’s purposely choosing sleep over conversation. As his arms tighten slightly around you, keeping you securely against him, you can’t help but wonder if he saw through your playful ruse or if he simply decides that any conversation beginning with ‘we need to talk’ isn’t worth staying awake for.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

“We need to talk,” you announce as Zayne walks through the door.

He pauses mid-step, his eyes immediately fixing on yours. He sets down his belongings without a word and takes a seat beside you, giving you his full attention.

“Go ahead,” he says simply.

You hadn’t expected such immediate, focused attention, and your planned joke suddenly feels less humorous under his intense gaze. You hesitate, considering whether to continue the prank.

“I’m listening,” he prompts when you don’t immediately speak.

You decide to come clean. “There’s nothing serious to discuss. I’m just happy to see you.”

His expression doesn’t change, but he holds your gaze for a long moment before rising from his seat with a relieved sigh. “I’m happy to see you, too,” he smiles before adding, “But, please, don’t start conversations with ‘we need to talk’ next time,” he says. “Those words create unnecessary anxiety.”

He moves toward you, his demeanor softening slightly. “If you want my attention, you have it. No need for dramatic preludes.” He caresses your head briefly before heading to the kitchen.

Later, he brings you a cup of coffee and sits beside you. “Now, did you want to talk about something else? Or was the goal simply to see me worry?”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

“We need to talk,” you announce from the doorway of Rafayel’s studio.

The faint smile that usually dances across his face when he paints vanishes instantly. His whole body seems to stop functioning—even the glass of water halfway to his lips remains suspended in air, forgotten.

His eyes—wide and alarmed—fix on you with such intensity that your playful mood instantly evaporates. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stares at you with growing dread.

“What—” he finally manages, voice barely audible. “What did I do?” he whispers. “Did I miss something important? Was I supposed to be somewhere?”

You can almost see the memories flashing behind his eyes—all the times he’s flaked on commitments to his art exhibition, all the responsibilities he’s brushed aside for spontaneous ocean swims for inspiration, and all the times he’d flee from social gatherings.

“It was a joke,” you interrupt his thoughts quickly. “Just a silly joke. There’s nothing wrong.”

Relief floods his entire body. “Why would you scare me like that? Now my mind’s blank and I can’t paint anymore,” he huffs.

He ‘punishes’ you with all-day cuddles to make himself feel better.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

“We need to talk,” you say, entering Sylus’s office with a deliberately somber expression.

There’s the briefest pause in his movements before his composure returns completely.

“Do we now?” he responds, leaning back in his chair. “What is it, sweetie? Enlighten me about this matter that demands such a grave introduction.”

He gestures to the seat across from him, watching you closely as you sit down. His expression reveals nothing, though you catch the slight narrowing of his eyes as he studies your face, preparing responses for various scenarios.

“I’m waiting,” he says after a moment of silence.

You can’t maintain the charade under his intense scrutiny and break into a smile. “Actually, there’s nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Are you trying to see how I’d react? I assure you, I was completely unaffected.” Despite his claim, there’s a hint of relief in his posture as he leans forward.

“Your mind stopped working for a split second there, didn’t it?”

“Careful,” he murmurs, reaching across the desk to brush his fingers against yours. “Next time you cry wolf, I might just show you what happens when I’m genuinely concerned.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

“We need to talk,” you announce, keeping your voice serious as you enter Caleb’s room.

He looks up from his phone, and for just a moment, his demeanor falters. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the concern vanishes behind a bright smile.

“Nooope. No, we don’t,” he declares, tossing aside his work. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until after dinner. Or tomorrow. Or never.”

You try to maintain your serious expression. “Caleb, I’m being serious here.”

“And I’m seriously not having this conversation,” he replies, already guiding you toward the door with an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go get some food instead. Or watch that new movie at the cinema. Anything but ‘talk.’”

“You’re aware that avoiding the topic only makes me more curious, right?”

“Of course,” he grins, “but if I keep you entertained long enough, you might just forget about it.”

“You were scared,” you tease.

“Absolutely not,” he insists, though his grip on your hand tightens slightly. “I just have a strict policy against conversations that start that way. They’re banned in this relationship, effective immediately.” He pulls you closer, his playfulness restored now that the perceived threat has passed.

Two posts for today 😼

[gimmick-blog-bracket]

@hellsitegenetics

I love them

I didn't know I needed to know that the weed-smoking girlfriends post was genetically a wolf, but I did, and I do. Also puts great stuff on my dash.

it’s so fun to be scrolling unhinged posts and then boom. an organism!

so many moths‼ also, unexpected comedy with some of the matches

perfect blend of silly and informative, and makes for an excellent punchline at the end of a long post. puts creatures on my dash. literally what more could you ask for

It's a really unique blog concept and a lot of times the results are pretty funny. It's great when the sequence matches the post content too!

Creatures 👍

Finds beautiful creatures out of the mess of the hellsite

Offers finality AND gives us a creechur.

I love them. English speakers talk like moths

If this blog wins, they could run the text of the winning announcement, and determine the post's genus and species!

They're also very good about tagging the type of creature depicted in the results, so as long as you mute tags of creatures you don't want to see, it's a very fun time seeing iconic legacy posts (and new submissions) being reduced down to a string of letters and assigned a random species of fish or moth or something!

uhh it’s cool

BLAST

There are so many weird bugs in the world

Yippee!!

If, as Haldane said, God has an inordinate fondness for beetles, then surely this blog proves that Tumblr has an inordinate fondness for moths.

Top tier blog as a geneticist, I love seeing obscure organisms and MOTH

Admin got rate limited after trying to blast the bee movie

the knowledge of biology to pull this off (i have taken one biology class in my life) and also the work to find all the strings honestly deserves quite a bit of praise

This gimmick blog has it all: science, pictures of animals, interaction with the text of other peoples' posts, interesting information, and a unique and fun premise. As a biologist, I'm rooting for hellsitegenetics to reach the end and take the tournament, because it is truly a standout among gimmick blogs.

If they win, perhaps this blog too shall become a cool organism :3

@making-you-in-spore

Incredible works of art from a limited medium, the blog favors quality over quantity and I am always in awe when a dancing creacher in Spore [2008] crosses my dash.

His spores often take him multiple hours to create, and he will go through astounding amounts of effort to commit to the bit. He made his cull poll in spore and then blew it up. Hes also super responsive and active and seems really eager to share his creation techniques and spread the joy of making things in spore [2008]. His blog almost singlehandedly sparked a significant resurgence in interest and playerbase of a 16 year old game that most people see as nothing but a meme. Hes just a guy who likes spore [2008]

i say vote for making you in spore because seeing them blow up their opponents after they win is hilarious

[fucktoyfelix]

Choking Safety

I've been seeing some kind of scare-mongering type posts going around about choking during sex, so I wanted to address how to approach choking in a safe way. Choking is not a 0 risk activity, but it is also not so dangerous that you will just randomly die either. Anyone who does martial arts will confirm that thousands of teenagers are being successfully trained to choke each other safely (for self defense) every day! There's no reason you can't learn to do it too.

First you should be familiar with some basic anatomy of the neck and throat:

The carotid veins on both sides of the neck and the trachea/windpipe in the center are the most important things to be aware of. If you want to enjoy the psychological element of having someone's hands around your neck with relatively little risk, you can do "choking" play that avoids putting any pressure on those arteries or the trachea. As with all choking play, safety is highest when both parties are fully sober. I'm not actually sure if there are people out there who are into having the windpipe or trachea blocked. This tends to hurt like fuck and cause an autonomic choking response. You'll know if you went too far center because generally the bottom will be like "WTH". I don't know if there is a way to do this play safely or not as I don't have experience with it. It probably carries some risk of the trachea collapsing which would be a hospital trip for sure. Most choking play is done with the intention of cutting off the blood supply to the brain by applying pressure to both the left and right carotid arteries. This type of choking is not really "breath play" because of the way it works (though many people refer to it that way.) This creates a pleasant light headed feeling, but is also where the higher risk comes in. It often doesn't take long for a person to lose consciousness once these arteries are blocked, often less than 10 seconds. Sometimes getting completely choked out is the goal, sometimes not. Either way, the top has to pay very very careful attention to every aspect of their bottom's body language. Once you realize that a person has lost consciousness, the choking must stop immediately. Because of this: the most dangerous way to do this kind of play is alone. (hence all the auto-erotic asphyxiation deaths you hear about) It goes without saying that intoxication also dramatically increases the risks. It's not recommended to lose consciousness this way on a regular basis. It's just not good for your brain to repeatedly go through, especially in rapid succession. Generally, the more time spaced out between this type of play: the better. Though some people may have medical conditions that make the risk higher, as long as you stop choking when you reach the desired headspace, this play is approachable. Anyone who's REALLY into the idea but feels unsure or scared, I highly recommend taking a few martial arts classes. MMA guys do this to each other all the time! For sports! The key is just stopping at the right time. There are two main ways to go about blocking the carotid arteries. The main one used in martial arts and self defense is the rear naked choke.

This type of choke is incredible effective at choking someone out quickly and easily. The forearm and the bicep are squeezing each artery until the desired effect is achieved. The risk here is how quickly it works in combination with not being able to have a visual on your bottom's facial response. When someone loses consciousness they will go limp and begin twitching somewhat. This is normal, and you should stop immediately if you notice those signs. The more common method of choking play during sex is what looks more like typical choking. Facing your partner, using both hands.

You want to find the arteries with both hands, and use the meat at the base of your thumbs to apply gradually increasing pressure upwards towards your partner's head. You can keep the thumbs tucked to avoid accidental pressure on the windpipe. (Though this is not required so long as you remember not to apply pressure to the windpipe.) This type of play has a few safety benefits. First, you can see your partner's face so it's more obvious when you can see they've hit a headspace that is desirable. Additionally, it's just a little more difficult to find the arteries and push up on them correctly. If your goal is to get a little light headed without losing consciousness, this is more easily accomplished with this type of choke. However, losing consciousness is still a risk and both partners being fully alert will ensure the lowest risk environment. I know choking play is incredibly popular, even 'vanilla' people participate in this type of play on a regular basis without really knowing the technical details. Most of them don't get seriously hurt...but knowing what you're actually doing with risky play is a base component of risk aware consensual kink. Anyway I hope people find this helpful! Happy choking!!

[foreveia]

take two ⤨ iwaizumi hajime

⨭ genre; fluff, idiots to lovers but like they're actually so dumb

⨭ pairing; iwaizumi x fem!reader

⨭ word count; 5.7k

⨭ descriptions; your boss has been trying to set you up with her son for months, but as it turns out at the holiday party... you've already met him before.

⨭ warnings; explicit language and dialogue, no graphic content tho, alcohol

⨭ a/n; fun little short fic to fill the fix to publish something lolol enjoy this iwa love dump as i work on my next long fic (tell me in the comments if y'all like these better)

song i listened to writing this: 'hold your breath' by chase atlantic

one.

There are exactly three things you know to be true about Iwaizumi Emi:

She is the best divorce attorney in Tohoku, possibly the country.

She is the kind of woman who could negotiate her way out of murder charges and secure the victim’s house in the settlement.

She is, without a doubt, trying to set you up with her son.

You respect her. You admire her. You are, on occasion, lowkey terrified of her.

Which is why you’re currently sitting at your desk, nodding at all the appropriate intervals while she breezes through yet another pitch about why her son and you are, in her professional opinion, a perfect match.

“He’s back from Irvine for the summer,” she says, skimming a property settlement document like it personally offended her. She tosses it onto your pile nonchalantly, and you let out a short sigh because it’s just more backend filing to do and, despite your adoration for your career path and real passion towards legal work, entry jobs in the firm are mostly busy work. “I really think you’ll like him. He’s—”

You tune out. Not in an obvious way, of course—no, you’re a professional. You sprinkle in the occasional mmhmm and sounds great so she doesn’t catch on, but this isn’t your first rodeo. You’ve heard this pitch before—multiple times. Hajime is intelligent, responsible, not an idiot like some of these men out here, blah blah blah.

It’s not that you have anything against him, really. It’s just that you’ve spent months perfecting the art of dodging your boss’s matchmaking attempts, and frankly, you don’t have the energy to entertain her latest scheme.

“You’re finally going to meet him at the firm’s ball this weekend,” Emi continues, finally looking up from her paperwork, her smile entirely too satisfied.

You blink. “Oh.”

“He’s excited to meet you too.”

Now that is new. Usually, these monologues are strictly one-sided—I told him about you! and You two will get along so well! But he’s excited to meet you too? That’s an escalation. That’s a game-changer. That means he knows about you. He has an opinion about you.

You resist the urge to groan. Instead, you summon a polite, professional smile—the same one you use when dealing with particularly insufferable clients. “Looking forward to it,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the woman who could single-handedly end your career if she wanted to?

In reality, the only thing you’re looking forward to about the ball is the open bar. Being in your early twenties means being woefully broke, and you’d be lying if you said the thought of unlimited free alcohol wasn’t a strong motivator.

So, you strike a deal with yourself: you’ll put on a fancy dress, endure painful heels, and let Emi parade you in front of her son like a prize show poodle—all in exchange for an endless supply of pinot noir, cocktail shrimp, and, if you play your cards right, an entire bottle of champagne to sneak home in your purse.

It’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make.

two.

Because you’re an adult with an absolutely thriving social life (read: you have two friends who are willing to tolerate your bullshit after 6 PM), you, Yachi, and Kiyoko are now seated at your favorite little izakaya, wedged into a corner booth with plates of karaage and a pitcher of beer between you. 

Kiyoko is talking about wedding venues. Because she’s engaged. To Tanaka. Which is objectively insane because in your head, they’re still in that “grossly obsessed with each other but pretending they’re just friends” phase, even though they’ve been together for years. The whole thing is a crime against single people everywhere, but you are supportive because your already jaw-dropping friend is somehow glowing even brighter now that she has a fat rock on her ring finger. She looks lighter, happier. She deserves it.

Yachi, meanwhile, is explaining—between delicate sips of her beer—that she’s too swamped with work to even think about dating. Which, yeah. Fair. The woman works harder than most people you know, so you respect it.

Then, as the conversation naturally shifts to your love life (as it always does, because you’re the group’s designated mess), you sigh, sinking into your seat dramatically.

“I haven’t had sex in months.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kiyoko and Yachi both roll their eyes in unison, like they rehearsed it.

“Oh my God,” Yachi mutters.

“You cannot still be caught up on GDD,” Kiyoko says flatly, pouring herself another drink.

“Okay, first of all,” you say, holding up a finger, “it is not about him. It’s just a general fact about my current state of being.”

“Uh-huh,” Kiyoko hums, entirely unconvinced.

“Second of all,” you continue, undeterred, “GDD was life-changing, and I feel like I should be allowed to mourn the lack of that level of—of excellence in my life.”

“Life-changing,” Yachi repeats, deadpan. “You hooked up with him once.”

“Yeah, and my life was changed.”

GDD—Good Dick Dude, as he has been dubbed by your dear, unsupportive friends—was a guy you hooked up with in January after a truly legendary New Year’s Eve party.

The night itself had been pure chaos. Hinata had somehow scored an invite to this insane rooftop party—one of those bougie, exclusive, if-you-know-you-know events where you absolutely do not belong but somehow manage to fake it enough to get through the door. He’d gotten a few plus-ones, which is how you ended up there, sipping champagne you definitely couldn’t afford and making out with a guy who, to this day, remains one of the most mind-blowing hookups of your entire life.

Gorgeous, buff, and dangerous with his hands. The kind of guy who knew exactly what he was doing, which, honestly? A rarity these days. You barely remember his name—something short, easy to moan—but you do remember his stupidly perfect smirk and the way he all but ruined you against the nearest flat surface.

But then the party ended, the night faded into a haze, and you never saw him again.

Which is fine. It’s fine. Really.

You’re definitely not still thinking about it.

Kiyoko takes a sip of her beer, unimpressed. “You’ve been on, what? Five Hinge dates since then? Six?”

“Seven,” Yachi corrects.

You point at her. “Exactly.”

Kiyoko gives you a long, slow blink.

“I mean that as proof that I am not hung up on him!” you clarify. “I’ve been trying, okay? But the bar is in hell. Do you know how many ‘we should get drinks’ texts I get from guys who put crypto investor in their bios?”

Kiyoko sighs. “Okay, but let’s be real—are you actually giving any of these guys a chance?”

You open your mouth. Close it. Frown. “I mean… like… conceptually?”

“Right.”

Yachi, forever gentle but devastatingly perceptive, tilts her head at you. “Is it possible,” she says carefully, “that maybe none of these guys are measuring up because you’re subconsciously comparing them to him?”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

Is it ridiculous?

Because, okay, maybe—just maybe—no one has quite lived up to that night. And maybe you’re being a little unfair to the dating pool by expecting every single guy to have that same kind of chemistry with you. And maybe you do occasionally find yourself staring at random ceilings, wondering where GDD is now and if he even remembers you.

But still. That doesn’t mean anything.

You’re pretty sure.

“I hate you guys,” you grumble, stabbing aggressively at a piece of karaage.

Yachi pats your hand sympathetically. “We know.”

Kiyoko, ever the queen of smooth topic transitions, nudges the conversation in a new direction. “Speaking of your questionable taste in men, your boss is still trying to set you up with her son, correct?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the booth. “Unfortunately, yes. And now, apparently, he’s excited to meet me.”

Yachi perks up. “Wait, so you are meeting him?”

“At the firm’s ball this weekend,” you say, waving a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get a little wine drunk, take advantage of the seafood bar.”

Kiyoko raises an eyebrow. “So, you’re not going to entertain the idea of this Hajime guy at all?”

You scoff. “Absolutely not.”

Yachi hums, tilting her head in that way she does when she’s about to say something devastatingly reasonable. “I mean… what if Emi’s right?”

You blink. “What?”

“What if this is it?” she says, half-teasing, half-genuinely curious. “Like, what if you meet him and he’s actually your soulmate? Imagine if this whole time, your boss has been playing the long game, orchestrating your love story like some kind of corporate fairy godmother.”

You snort. Loudly. “Right. Because that’s totally my luck.”

Kiyoko and Yachi exchange a knowing look, but they let it go.

You take another sip of your beer, shaking your head. Hajime Iwaizumi—whoever he is—is not the love of your life.

That would be insane.

three.

You had to pull out your graduate school formal gown from the back of your closet for this, but wow, you really forgot just how good you look in red.

Your day-to-day work attire consists of pantsuits and button-ups, neatly tucked into cautiously ironed trousers, so you’ve honestly forgotten how nice it is to get dressed up once in a while. There’s something about slipping into a gown that fits like a dream, sweeping your hair up just right, and swiping on that perfect shade of lipstick that makes you feel invincible. Like you could negotiate a million-dollar deal, steal the firm’s best clients, and seduce someone’s husband all in the same breath.

Not that you would, obviously.

Probably.

The venue is ridiculous in the way all law firm events are ridiculous—held in a ballroom large enough to house a small country, chandeliers dripping in gold, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne and fancy bruschetta topped with fucking caviar of all things. All this just to celebrate another year of making money off people’s divorces. Incredible the way capitalism works.

You’ve barely made it through your first glass of wine before Emi finds you.

“There she is,” she croons, linking her arm through yours. She looks positively radiant in an emerald gown, diamonds at her ears, and the kind of effortless elegance that comes from winning. You’d respect it more if she weren’t actively dragging you toward your inevitable doom. “Come on, sweetheart. Hajime’s here, and I cannot wait for you two to finally meet.”

You bite back a sigh, because of course. No warm-up period, no buffer—just straight to the matchmaking. “Can’t I get a few more drinks in me first?”

She waves a hand, utterly dismissing your complaints. “You’ll like him. I know you will.”

You doubt it. But you let her lead you anyway, mostly because you know resisting is pointless: your boss has the world’s most spell-blinding smile and enough charm to always get her way. Emi always wins.

She stops near the bar, where a man stands with his back to you, broad shoulders wrapped in a sharp black suit, one hand resting on the counter as he talks with someone just out of view.

Emi squeezes your hand. “Hajime,” she calls, her voice warm.

The man turns.

And every thought in your head immediately ceases to exist.

Because standing before you, looking unfairly good in a tailored suit and sipping from a glass of whiskey like he isn’t single-handedly ruining your life, is GDD.

Good Dick Dude.

Hajime Iwaizumi is Good Dick Dude.

Your brain short-circuits. This is not happening. This is some kind of fever dream, a cruel trick played by the universe to punish you for your sins.

Hajime’s sharp green eyes land on you, recognition flickering behind them, and then—oh no. 

He smirks. Like he knows exactly what’s running through your mind right now. Like he remembers everything.

Emi, completely unaware of your crisis, beams. “Hajime, this is the associate I’ve been telling you about.”

His mischievous, more than just amused smile widens. “Oh, I know who she is.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Because that voice? That voice is the same one that had whispered filth against your neck four months ago. The same voice that had laughed when you moaned his name. The same voice that had ruined you in ways you still haven’t fully recovered from.

You are going to die. Right here, right now, in the middle of this godforsaken gala.

“Hajime Iwaizumi,” he says smoothly, offering a hand. His palm is rough when you take it—calloused, strong, a stark reminder of exactly where those hands have been. His grip is firm, steady, and entirely too knowing.

You swallow, pasting on the best Oh wow, I am totally not spiraling internally smile you can manage. “Yeah,” you say weakly. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Emi beams, clasping her hands together like she’s just delighted by this new revelation. “That’s wonderful! I knew you two would get along.”

You let out a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a strangled choke. Hajime is still watching you, head tilted slightly, like he’s enjoying this: like he can see the exact moment you realize how deeply, horrifically screwed you are. Because there is no way Emi knows. She’s too composed, too pleased. If she had any inkling that her son and her associate had met four months ago in a completely inappropriate context, she’d have you both buried in litigation faster than you could say conflict of interest.

Which means Hajime is choosing to be a menace.

God, you’re going to kill him.

“Hajime just got back from Irvine a few days ago, for the start of his summer break,” Emi continues, completely oblivious to the absolute war waging behind your polite smile. “I’ve been telling him all about you, of course.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You have?”

“Of course I have!” Emi nods enthusiastically. “She’s one of the brightest associates we have, Hajime. Sharp, diligent, absolutely ruthless in negotiations—she reminds me of myself when I was her age.”

Your lips twitch. You do enjoy being compared to the most terrifying woman you’ve ever met, so it’s really too bad that this entire situation has you currently dying inside.

Hajime hums, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah,” he says, voice dipping just slightly. “She’s definitely memorable.”

Your entire body lights on fire.

Memorable.

Oh, he’s being insufferable on purpose.

Emi sighs happily, taking a sip of her champagne. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your drink in Hajime’s face. You want to rewind time and never step foot into that rooftop party.

Instead, you just smile tightly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hajime grins at your suffering. “So,” he says, tilting his glass in your direction, “how have you been?”

You resist the urge to kick him in the shins. “Busy,” you say, voice clipped. “Working.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, that does sound like you.”

You stiffen. Hajime, you realize, is having the time of his life watching you squirm. And it’s only going to get worse.

Because Emi suddenly claps her hands together, eyes bright with mischief. “Oh! I should leave you two to chat,” she says. “Get to know each other properly.”

Oh. Oh no. Emi. Emi, please.

But before you can protest, she winks at you—winks, like she’s a fairy godmother orchestrating the perfect romance—and disappears back into the crowd.

And just like that, you are alone with him.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” he says, smirking, “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”

Your jaw clenches. “You smug little—”

“You look good,” he interrupts smoothly, scanning you from head to toe. His gaze lingers, appreciative but blatantly teasing. “Red suits you.”

God, you want to strangle him. You cross your arms, willing yourself to stay calm. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

He chuckles. “I had a feeling.”

“A feeling?”

He tilts his head, as if contemplating. “Well,” he says, “it wasn’t confirmed until I saw you.”

You glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that reaction?” He grins. “Not a chance.”

You hate him. You hate that he looks so effortlessly good in a suit. You hate that his voice is still just as devastating as you remember. You hate that even now, months later, you can still feel the phantom weight of his hands on your hips, the rough scrape of his callouses against your skin, the way he had murmured just like that, baby against your ear—

You inhale sharply. Nope. Absolutely not. We are not thinking about that right now.

Hajime, unfortunately, definitely knows what you’re thinking about. His smirk is downright criminal. “So,” he says, leaning in slightly, voice low, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

You refuse to give him the satisfaction of blushing. “Oh, shut up.”

He laughs, warm and amused, and you are horribly aware that this night is only just beginning.

four.

Hajime happens to actually be a pretty intelligent and funny person, which is making it much, much harder to dodge his attempts at flirting and his mother’s attempts at forced-proximity matchmaking.

It was supposed to be easy. You were supposed to sip your wine, endure some polite small talk, and then fade into the crowd before Emi could corner you into any serious you’d make such a beautiful couple talk. But instead, you’re somehow still here, talking to him, because Hajime Iwaizumi is annoyingly easy to talk to.

Which is not fair. It’s not fair at all, actually.

He makes it look effortless, like this isn’t completely unhinged, like it’s not absolutely deranged that your boss has spent months trying to set you up with a man who has already—

You take a sip of your wine. You are not going to finish that thought.

Hajime watches you over the rim of his whiskey glass, looking entirely too entertained by this whole situation. “You seem tense.”

“Gee, I wonder why.”

His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t argue. “Hey, could be worse,” he says. “At least my mom has good taste.”

You choke on your sip, feeling the bubbles tingle in your nose and really regretting every life decision you’ve made in the last six months. “Oh, my God.”

He laughs, tilting his glass in a mock toast.

You squint at him, wary and slightly annoyed, unable to fathom how he’s not also dying at this situation. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, all easy amusement. “I’m just saying—this could be a lot worse. Imagine if she was trying to set you up with someone actually terrible.”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, swirling your wine. “You’re already pretty high on my list of worst-case scenarios.”

“See, now that hurts.”

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live.”

Before Hajime can respond—before you can regain any sense of control over this conversation—Emi appears out of nowhere, her eyes shining.

“There you two are!” she says, absolutely beaming. “It’s time for the first dance!”

You freeze.

Hajime—the absolute traitor—just raises an eyebrow. “First dance?”

“Yes! It’s tradition,” Emi says, already ushering you toward the ballroom floor. “Senior partners and their dates open the dance floor—it’s been that way for years.”

You dig your heels into the floor. “But I’m not—”

“Now, sweetheart,” Emi interrupts, entirely ignoring your panic, “you wouldn’t want to break tradition, would you?”

You stare at her, betrayed.

She smiles.

Oh, she planned this.

Hajime, standing beside you, lets out a quiet, amused sigh before draining the last of his whiskey. “Well,” he says, offering you a hand, “guess we should give the people what they want.”

You glare at him. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “That’s why you’re still holding my hand.”

You drop it immediately.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from leading you on to the dance floor. His hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently to the center of the ballroom; you’re struggling to ignore the far too many pairs of eyes on you two as he rearranges your arms around his neck.

And—oh, hell.

You forgot how solid he is.

His grip is firm but steady, his palm warm where it rests against your back. He moves easily, like this isn’t completely ridiculous, like your brain isn’t currently melting out of your ears.

“Relax,” Hajime murmurs.

You scowl. “I am relaxed.”

His lips twitch. “Yeah, totally.”

You hate him. You hate the way he’s looking at you—amused, interested, entirely too smug for someone who has already ruined your life once.

He leads you into a slow, easy step, and goddamn it, of course he’s good at this, too. His movements are effortless, confident. He keeps the rhythm perfectly, and you hate that you match him so well.

He tilts his head, watching you. “You’re thinking really hard about something.”

“No, I’m not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Right. So you’re definitely not thinking about how good I am at this.”

You promptly step on his foot. He laughs, and it ignites your hatefire even more.

“Asshole,” you mutter.

“I was going to say you look good tonight,” he muses, unfazed. “But now I don’t know if you deserve the compliment.”

You glare at him. “Shut up.”

Hajime smirks. “Touchy.”

He spins you as the music hits a crescendo, dropping you abruptly into a dip that catches you heavily off-guard. It makes you lock your fingers tighter around his neck, and when he lifts you back up, you nearly slam right into his very, very firm chest (what the hell, is this man made entirely of protein?), face first.

“What the fuck?” you huff, a little winded. “You are actually a horrible human being.”

Hajime hums, tilting his head slightly, his eyes flickering with something too smug, too entertained. “You keep saying that,” he muses, voice low enough that it barely carries past the space between you, “but I think you just like having someone to complain about.”

Before you can deliver a scathing reply, he tugs you a fraction closer. It’s subtle, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but you feel it—the shift of his fingers pressing against the small of your back, the way your body slots against his just enough for warmth to pass between you.

Your breath catches, and it’s infuriating how he notices. How his hold tightens, like he can read every single thought running through your head and is thrilled by it.

“You’re such a dick,” you frown, shifting slightly, trying to put some space between you.

Hajime chuckles, and the sound is entirely too satisfied. His mouth is right by your ear, so you practically feel it more than you really hear it, when he murmurs, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because that—that—is not fair.

That is the kind of thing a man should not be allowed to say in that voice, in that low, teasing rumble, into your ear, while holding you against him like this.

It happens before you can even think about it.

Before you can register that you are, in fact, in the middle of a ballroom at your company’s annual gala. Before you can process the reality that Emi is somewhere in this crowd, and she has already been insufferable about this whole ordeal.

Before any of that can hit you, you grab the lapels of his stupidly well-fitted suit, tilt your chin up, and kiss him.

It’s instant, sharp, devastating. Your hands tighten against his chest as you crash into him, and Hajime—because he is the worst person alive—immediately reacts.

One hand presses firm into your back, the other finding its way to your jaw, fingers curling just slightly as he deepens the kiss without hesitation. His lips are warm, just the right mix of soft and steady, and when he angles his head just so—his nose brushing against yours, his thumb skimming your cheek—you feel yourself sink, like he’s pulling you under and you don’t even mind drowning.

It should not be this good.

It should not set your pulse racing like this, make you forget for a single, damning second that this is the worst possible thing you could be doing right now.

But it does. And for just a moment, nothing else exists. Not the party. Not the music. Not the fact that literally everyone is watching you right now. Just the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his fingers at your back, the way he exhales sharply like he wasn’t expecting this either, but he’s not about to stop it, not for anything in the world. 

And then you remember where you are.

You rip yourself away, blinking rapidly, your brain racing to catch up with what you just did.

And that is the moment you hear it: the loudest, most delighted squeal of your entire existence.

Your stomach plummets.

Because standing at the edge of the ballroom, her hands clasped together in sheer glee, is none other than Emi Iwaizumi herself. And she is positively vibrating with joy.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she gushes, and the way she looks at you is the exact way someone would look at their child who just announced they were getting married. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect together!”

Your soul leaves your body. You stare at her, horrified. You slowly turn back to Hajime—who, because he is an absolute menace, is still standing entirely too close, still holding you just slightly like he isn’t ready to let go.

And he is smiling.

The kind of smile that says I win. The kind of smile that says he is absolutely going to remind you of this for the rest of your natural life.

You physically have to stop yourself from shoving him away.

Instead, you inhale, sharp and deep, and will yourself to stay calm. Emi is still talking. She is still gushing. And you cannot deal with whatever she’s about to say next, so before she can so much as breathe, you turn back to Hajime, seize his wrist, and drag him off the dance floor, because if you don’t get away from this immediately, you are actually going to die of secondhand embarrassment and shame.

five.

This is because of your dry spell.

Your dry spell is the reason why your entire sense of self-control and awareness have gone out the window, and the reason why, now that you and Hajime have successfully escaped the ballroom onto the balcony, he is doubled over laughing and you are actually freaking out.

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, pressing your hands to your face. The cool night air does nothing to soothe the absolute catastrophe unfolding inside your brain. “I kissed you. I kissed you in front of everyone.”

Hajime straightens, still grinning like an asshole. “Yeah,” he says, entirely too pleased. “You did.”

You drop your hands, glaring. “Fuck you, dude. You’re not helping.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t aware I needed to.”

You let out an incoherent noise of distress.

Hajime, because he is insufferable, just leans against the balcony railing, watching you unravel like it’s the best entertainment he’s had all night. His tie is slightly loosened now, his jacket unbuttoned, and somehow, he looks even better like this—a little rumpled, a little amused, looking at you like he already knows how this is going to end. 

That is actually unacceptable.

“This is your fault,” you snap, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You goaded me into it.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Oh, so I made you kiss me?”

“Yes,” you declare, with full conviction, even though you definitely grabbed him first. “You set me up.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really can’t handle taking the L, huh?”

“I can handle it,” you insist. “I just don’t want to.”

His lips twitch like he’s trying very hard not to laugh again. “So you kissed me against your will?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tilts his head, amused. “Interesting. Because you seemed pretty into it.”

Your jaw drops. “I—you—shut up.”

He chuckles, and God, his voice is all warm and low and pleased with himself, and you really need to get it together before you do something stupid again.

You exhale sharply, crossing your arms and shifting your focus to the city skyline instead. Sendai stretches out before you in a sea of golden lights, a stark contrast to the absolute nightmare happening in your head. 

This is fine. You can recover from this. You just have to never, ever acknowledge it again.

You square your shoulders, turning back to him. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to go back inside, pretend this never happened, and move on with our lives.”

Hajime hums, considering. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work.”

You squint. “What do you mean that’s not gonna work?”

He pushes off the railing, taking a step closer—too close, enough that you feel it again, that ridiculous, stupid warmth that shouldn’t still be there after all this time. “I mean,” he says, slow, deliberate, “you’re acting like that kiss was a mistake.”

You blink. “Because it was.”

He lifts a single eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, but it comes out way too defensive, and Hajime knows it.

He grins. You decide that you hate him.

“I’m sure,” you insist, crossing your arms tighter, like that will somehow make this whole situation less insufferable. “It was a heat-of-the-moment thing. A lapse in judgment. That’s it.”

Hajime tilts his head, thoughtful. “Okay. So if I kissed you again right now, you wouldn’t like it.”

Your entire brain short-circuits. The audacity. The unbelievable nerve.

You gape at him. “You wouldn’t.”

His grin widens. “Wouldn’t I?”

You hate how smug he looks. You hate that your stomach flips at the idea of it. You hate that you don’t immediately shut it down.

He watches your expression carefully, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, like he won’t actually do it unless you give him some kind of sign. Which is so much worse, because it means he’s giving you the chance to say no, to walk away, to end this before it can spiral any further.

But you don’t.

And that—more than the kiss itself, more than Emi’s squealing, more than the public spectacle you just made—is what finally sends you into full-blown panic mode.

You do want him to kiss you again.

You stare at him, pulse thrumming, brain caught in a violent tug-of-war between denial and desire. And Hajime? Hajime is watching you with the patience of someone who knows he’s already won.

“Say it,” he murmurs, voice low, steady.

You scowl. “Say what?”

“That you want me to kiss you again.”

Your jaw clenches. He’s baiting you, letting you choose, waiting for you to meet him halfway. You exhale sharply, tilting your chin up. “You’re so full of yourself.”

His mouth twitches. “Not an answer.”

“Fine,” you snap. “I want you to kiss me again.”

Hajime grins. “That’s all I needed.”

And then, he does.

This time, it’s slower, deeper, not rushed by the heat of the moment. He takes his time, like he’s savoring it, like he’s memorizing the way you melt into him. And you? You let him. Because, goddamn it, you were never winning this battle.

When you finally pull away, breathless, he smirks down at you. “See? Not a mistake.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He laughs, pressing another quick kiss to your forehead that feels far more intimate than a casual pair of friends-with-benefits should. You, scandalized, shove him away, but Hajime just grins, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, pressing your fingers to your forehead, like that will somehow stop the ridiculous heat crawling up your neck.

Hajime hums, smug. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You are still standing here. You could have left, could have walked back into that ballroom and pretended this entire thing never happened. But instead, you’re here. On this balcony. With him.

You shift, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So… what now?”

Hajime leans back against the railing. “Dunno. Guess that depends on you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why do I feel like you already have an answer?”

“Because I do,” he says plainly, in a way so nonchalant and effortless it could only be said like that by him. 

You exhale sharply, tilting your head up to the sky, like the stars might have some kind of solution for this. “You know this is gonna be a thing now, right?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “A thing?”

“Yeah,” you say, making a vague gesture between the two of you. “A thing. Emi’s gonna lose her mind. She’s probably already telling the senior partners that her matchmaking career is a success.”

Hajime laughs, the sound easy, effortless. “Yeah. She probably is.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “I am never going to live this down.”

“Probably not.”

You squint at him. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”

Hajime shrugs, then reaches for your hand, tugging you forward so suddenly that you nearly stumble into him. His hands slide down to your waist, thumbs brushing over the fabric of your dress. “I could,” he murmurs, close, too close, “but we both know I wouldn’t mean it.”

You scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he says, smug, “you still kissed me. Twice, actually.”

You glare. “Stop counting.”

“No promises.”

You groan, pressing your forehead to his chest in sheer exasperation. “This is my villain origin story.”

Hajime just laughs, wrapping his arms fully around you, and you hate—hate—that it feels nice, that it feels right.

“Hajime,” you say, voice muffled against his suit jacket.

“Yeah?”

You lift your head just enough to meet his gaze. “If we’re doing this, you are legally required to make it up to me with at least two fancy dates. Minimum.”

Hajime smirks, like he was already planning on it. “Deal.”

“And no getting too smug about this, either,” you squint.

He tilts his head. “Define ‘too smug.’”

You groan, shoving at his chest. “God, I hate you.”

Hajime just catches your wrist and grins, pressing a slow, soft kiss to your knuckles. “Sure you do.”

You really don’t. And both of you know that very well, because he has his mother’s spell-blinding smile and you have always been a sucker for them both.

⨭ closing; churned this out over one 3 hour writing sesh bc i got this idea in my head and had to see it through. not proofread and very very hastily written, but i like her anyway. #comment #reblog #lemme know ur thoughts mwah xoxo

[rodolfoparras]

The art of tardiness

Pairing: Unspecified Male Character x Male reader

cw: 18+, possessiveness, anal fingering, anal sex, top male reader, bottom male character, age gap, morning sex, writing on skin, feminization (hole referred to as cunt)

Synopsis: sometimes calling him yours just isn’t enough

There were times you were sure that your boyfriend was dating two different people.

One was the young man who’d swiftly tuck his tail between his legs at the smallest comment made about his relationship. That man could admit that he lacked experience compared to his much older partner, could admit he probably wasn’t his partner’s ideal type with his scrawny frame and short height, and he knew that even if his boyfriend were to look past those things, the people around them would never do it.

Then there was the rabid dog in the shape of a young man, that barks and bites at any potential threat, such as hostile comments made about his relationship. He’d look you straight in the eye and tell you not to make comments about a relationship you know nothing off, hell he’d get in a physical altercation if you provoked him enough.

And then of course there was the desire to bite the hand that feeds him, devour his person down to the bone so he wouldn’t have to share him with the world. He or rather you were pretty good at keeping this desire at bay but sometimes you just couldn’t contain it especially early in the mornings, when he looks like a sight to behold with his lazy smile bleary eyes, thin white sheet doing nothing to cover up his naked body.

You want to keep him in bed, mark him up, make him cum over and over again til all he can remember is the feeling of your cock

Unfortunately things aren’t that easy, especially when he has to get ready for work in half an hour, but stubborn as you are, you don’t let him go, dead set on marking him up as much as possible.

At first he’s too lost in bliss to notice what you’re doing, letting you suck and nip on the sensetive skin while desperately clinging onto your body, that is til you bite down hard enough to draw blood and the man jerks in place, wide eyed and suddenly too aware of what you’re doing.

“No marks” he says, even goes as far as to scruff your neck, as if you’re nothing but a disobedient dog to him “I have work, remember?”

“Please?” and you know that you must sound rather pathetic but honestly you couldn’t care less, especially not when you notice that a couple of marks have already started to bloom on his skin.

“So goddamn possessive what am I gonna do with you huh?” He says, while keeping a vice like grip on your neck “Should I let you write your damn name on my forehead? Would that make you happy hm?” He says gaze much softer as his thumb strokes your neck.

Even though he hadn’t intend to do so, his words gave you an idea and you immediately find yourself reaching for the night stand, hand blindly rummaging through the drawer.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He says, brow raised but it doesn’t take long before realization strikes him “Absolutely not,”

You turn to the other man , practically giving puppy eyes. This time you do feel a tad bit of embarrassment but not enough to give up on this battle.

“I can’t go out like that,”

“You won’t,” you immediately say “I’ll do it somewhere you can cover it,”

“Jesus Christ kid,” he sighs out and pinches his brows but despite his words you know that his resolve has crumbled.

You’re quick to grab the first best pen before straddling his waist, the late night escapade having left him in nothing but a thin white sheet covering the most sensitive part of him but you can still feel you cock head rubbing upon the cleft of his ass as you settle down.

“Cheeky bastard” he breathes out, fully aware of where your mind’s gone to.

You only hush him response, muttering how you have to be focused before you attempt to put the marker to his arm.

But before you can do that he grabs ahold of your egg wrist, a firm look painted on his face “promise me it’ll wash off,”

“Promise,” you say with a shit eating grin on your face.

And as you proceed to put the marker to his skin, you realize that you’re at loss of ideas on what you could write on him. It’s like you wanted to do so much when the idea first struck your head but sitting here you almost feel overwhelmed by all the options that you have.

You play it safe at first, writing out your name just below his pec, a move that has the man squirming beneath you.

“Tickles,”

“Sorry,” you say, not an ounce of sincerity in your tone as you draw another scribble on his forearm. It’s you and him- well it’s supposed to be but your artistic skills only allow you to draw two stick figures holding hands.

For a moment there are no words exchanged as you continue draw on his skin. You do a couple of doodles here and there, some ridiculous other more scandalous. You even write some words on his skin- some being your name others being lewd quotes, everything done within range where he’d be able to hide it beneath his clothes.

“This enough for you kid?” He says, when the majority of his chest is covered in little scribbles.

He probably didn’t mean anything by those words. But the ugly monster residing inside couldn’t help but take this as a challenge especially when he says that as he lays naked in your shared bed, soft smile on his face, the scribbles of your name clearly showing under the rays of sunlight protruding through the bedroom window.

Instead of responding to him you grab ahold of his wrist, black marker writing out the letter M on his skin, bold and big, just within the range of where he can pull on a shirt if he wishes to hide the word. The letters I N E are soon added in place, big bold and curling around his underarm.

The word mine now lays written on his forearm.

But you don’t stop there, eyes flicking over to his furry stomach that looks awfully bare before you take a marker to it and start writing your initials all over it. This time around the skin isn’t as forgiving, straight lines turning jagged from coarse hair and faded scar. Not that you mind and neither does the little monster residing inside.

You continue writing on him, covering as much skin as he allows but truth be told you don’t know how his clothes will be able to cover up some scribbles, not that you plan on telling him that right now.

And he doesn’t seem to care that much as his gaze carefully follows your movements, breathing growing heavier and heavier with each second that passes.

At some point you feel the need to get closer to him even though you’re practically sitting ontop of him, swiftly shuffling around til you’re slotted between his thighs, carefully drawing a line from the crevice of his knee down to the groove of his left thigh.

He continues to watch you with attentive eyes, as you add a triangle to the end of line, the marker reaching dangerously to where his balls lay hanging between his thighs and from where you sit you can smell his musk hitting your nostrils, can feel his thighs clench beneath your fingertips , can now see the way the black arrow is humorously pointing straight to the furley ring of muscles.

It’s impossible not to reach out to the spot between his legs, a curious finger swiping over his sensitive skin and pulling a gasp out of him“Hah!”

Your eyes flicker up, cock twitching at the sight of the man who already looks so wrecked before looking back to the marker in your hand, moving it back and forth til the line on his thigh grows in size, doing anything just to busy your mind because you’re supposed to draw on him not fuck him, remember that?

But it’s not long before your attention is back onto his burning heat, a glob of spit landing onto the sensitive skin before your finger circles his now wet rim.

“What are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you slip the tip of your finger inside, watching the way he jerks in surprise, the sudden movement jacking up the straight marker line, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Jesus Christ kid,” he breathes, voice dripping with both arousal and amusement as you continue to sink your finger inside of him.

“This alright?” You ask, and push til you’re knuckles deep before giving an experimental curl of your finger.

Another gasp escapes his mouth, hips bucking up into your touch “ hah -now you ask?” He says, but despite his words the man nods at your question.

That’s all it takes for you to work a second finger inside, this time coaxing a hiss out of him,“easy there kid going to break me,”

You can’t help but chuckle at that”Think you’re giving me too much credit pretty,” you say but decide to move your fingers at a much slower pace, watching the way his body once again relax onto the sheets as contented hums escape his lips.

You continue curling your fingers inside while drawing onto the man; circling birth marks and scars you find pretty, drawing arrows across every inch of skin while watching the way he twists and turns in the sheets with every brush of your fingertips “so fucking pretty like this drives me crazy “

At some point you stop drawing on his skin, turning all your focus to the fingers buried inside him.

You don’t even notice the way tears have started to gather at his eyes, nor the begs and please continuously escaping his mouth, too entranced with the sight of his hungry hole practically swallowing up your hand.

It’s only when he grabs ahold of your wrist that you snap back into the present moment, now noticing how you’ve left the pen to bled out on the white sheets, and how the ink on his skin has already started to smear.

The gruesome monster inside tells you that you need to find another way to mark the man.

Within moments you’re grabbing ahold of his legs, pushing his knees up to his chest til his cunt is on full display, not wasting another second to line your cockhead up with his entrance before pushing inside him.

“Ah fuck! Insatiable dog,” he barks out, not having expected you to do that but that doesn’t stop him from practically clamping onto you as you bottom out: heels digging into your ass and nails digging into your back as you start driving up into his hungry cunt.”mpf fuck just like that keep going kid“

Who’s insatiable now? You think to yourself, a strangled chuckle escaping your lips as you continue to thrust into his tight wet heat.

It doesn’t take long before you’re setting a steady pace, thrusting so erratically he’s practically choking up on the moans that are trying to escape his lips, bed frame frantically rocking against the wall every thrust of your hips.

“Ah! Fuck! Going to - hah going to kill me,” he says through choked sobs, hands madly clawing at your back as if he’s losing his footing on this world.

And as you look down at the beautiful mess he makes, you can’t help but notice the shadow of a bulge showing on his stomach, right below the spot where your initials lay.

Once again you feel the zealous monster within you take the steering wheel, hand pushing his legs past his ears, before drilling into him.

“Say it “ you grunt out, hands keeping a vice like grip on his thighs, pushing his legs so far back you’re sure you’ll split him in half if you keep it up “Come on come on say you’re mine”

At first he’s at a loss for words, barely even able to catch his breath with the way you’re erratically thrusting into him but eventually he manages to respond to you.

“Yours yours all yours fucking fuck I’m cum-“ he splutters out, hole erratically clenching down onto your cock before he cums in hot thick white streaks, across both his and yours abondmen “‘m sorry ‘m sorry” he slurs out, while he continues to shamelessly fuck himself back onto your cock.

Something about that sight is enough to triggering your own orgasm

“Fuck!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut before youre hit with hot blinding pleasure.

The world around you blurs out, ears ringing loud as you continue to ride out your high before you eventually slump down beside the man.

“Jesus Christ,” you say, ears still ringing loud, world barely coming into focus. “That was-“ you begin but trail off once you can’t seem to find the right word for it.

A laugh rumbles through the older man’s chest, his big hand cradling the back of your neck before he says “got that right kid,”

You look up at him only to be left speechless at the sight.

See people always said that a relationship with someone so much younger than him would ruin him. You’d hear it over and over again while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he was having about this “sudden” relationship.

You never really understood what they meant until you saw him sprawled out on your bed, gaping hole stuffed full with your cum, and every inch of his skin covered in your initials.

At least they knew he was yours to ruin.

Yours

Yours.

Yours.

That little insatiable monster that can't seem to find rest rises to life again, coaxes you to slot your lips against the older man’s, tongue slipping into his mouth and licking along every nook and crevice, leaving the taste of you behind for anyone that would dare kiss him.

It takes one more kiss before he prys himself away from you, and walks over to the bathroom on shaky steps, the sight of his inked ass is the last thing you see before the door closes behind him.

You slump back into bed with a smile on your face, the taste of him still lingers on your lips, the previous string of events practically burned into your iris and for a second it all feels like a dream that is before you hear your name being shouted behind the bathroom door followed by a string of angry words “why won’t this shit wash off,”

Oh well…

[javelinbk]

Ok, here it is. We've had the 'insane things Paul has said about John' list, now here's 'insane things John has said about Paul'*

*Note: Some of these are ‘John said to me’ quotes rather than words from John himself, so take these ones with a grain of salt.

And because so much of John’s Paul-induced insanity reflected in his actions, some (dis)honourable mentions…

Cutting up a girl's clothes and calling her a whore for sleeping with Paul (from the Beatles Anthology book)

Being mean to Jane when Paul first meets her

Defending Paul after the LSD controversy time and time again

Writing 'I'm always perfect' on a photo of Paul and 'funeral' on a photo of Paul & Linda's wedding

Getting upset about Too Many People and writing How Do You Sleep in response

Mocking the Ram photo with a pig

Using the 'Let Me Roll It' riff in Beef Jerky

Having a fight with Yoko and immediately running off to Paris

Other icebergs…

Insane things Paul has said about John

McLennon - by @frodolives

Paul McCartney - by @frodolives

Sources, full quotes and some others that wouldn't fit under the cut!

"If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with" - The Mike Douglas Show, 1972

"Things are still the same between us. He was and still is my closest friend, except for Yoko" - 1971 interview

"He said to me, 'Artie, you worked with your Paul recently … I'm getting calls … that my Paul wants to work with me and I'm thinking about it … How did it go when you worked with Paul?'" - Art Garfunkel anecdote (submitted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

Mintz: There's one name that has not come up in our discussion [...] Paulie. John: Yes, we did! We got Paul in it. And I object to that 'Paulie' business - 1973 interview (submitted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"If anybody said anything bad about Paul, John'd take a swing at you. He'd say, "You can't talk about Paul like that". Paul was his best buddy" - Alice Cooper anecdote

"I'm entitled to call Paul what I want to, and vice versa; it's in our family. But if somebody else calls him names I won't take it." - 1974 interview

"Paul was one of the most innovative bass players that ever played bass. And half the stuff that’s going on now is directly ripped off from his Beatle period." - 1980 interview

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?” “Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.” - Loving John by May Pang (1983) (submitted by @big-barn-bed)

"The Boulevard Saint-Germainegreer shone in all its springbok glory as he stepped lightly on some French loafers toward the waiting arms of Comrade Amie" (and a lot more) - Skywriting by Word of Mouth

"My cheri my pau pau, do you remember when we were at a cafe on the left bank? You could not find your garter? Because it was on your little prod" - John's song demo (submitted by @thewalrusespublicist)

"I'm just like everybody else, Harry, I fell for Paul's looks." - Harry Nilsson anecdote (submitted by @thegirlwiththeaxe)

"He also looked like Elvis. I dug him." - John in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (1968) (submitted by @lesbianjohnlennon)

As the limousine edged through the screaming fans outside the cinema, John said laconically, 'Push Paul out first, he's the prettiest.' - Victor Spinetti, Up Front: His Strictly Confidential Autobiography (2006) (submitted by @fishfingerpies)

I could even hear what they were saying off-mike; ‘Oh Paul, you’re so cute tonight.’ was met with the reply 'Sod off, Lennon.’ - concert anecdote (submitted by @rabiessnail )

'Are those jeans tight, Paul?' That was John. 'What do you mean tight?' 'I can see your suspender belt through 'em and your stockings. You've got ladders in them.' Victor Spinetti, Up Front: His Strictly Confidential Autobiography (2006)

John: It sounds a vaguely good idea but I wouldn’t have my wife or any of me friends wearing them. Paul: Well, you’ve had us wearing them. John: I know, Paulie, but you’re so well-built - 1964 interview

Ringo: And I Love Her, yeah I love that one …and the way you sing it knocks me out, man. John: And the way that camera goes over your head… I thought, 'hello' - 1964 interview

"Meeting Paul was just like two people meeting.  Not falling in love or anything.  Just us.  It went on.  It worked." - John in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (1968) (submitted by @i-am-the-oyster, @thewalrusespublicist)

"Hey! Did you dream about me last night? …Very strong dream. We both dreamt about it. It was amazing! Different dreams, you know, but I thought you must’ve been there…. I was touching you" - Let It Be sessions, 1969 (submitted by @adriennefrombrooklyn)

"We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other. Now we do the Buddhist bit… arms around. It’s just saying hello, that’s all." - - John in Hunter Davies’ The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (1968)

Houghton: How do you feel about Paul McCartney now? John: Uh, we’re – haha. [laughs] This is like a joke: “We’re just good friends.” We’re – we’re pretty close now, like I was telling you before. - 1974 interview

"Nobody ever said anything about Paul having a spell over me, when I was with him for a long time. Or me having a spell over Paul. They didn’t think that was abnormal, two guys together. […] Why didn’t anybody ever say, “How come those guys don’t split up? I mean, what’s going on backstage? I mean, what is that Paul and John business? Why – you know, how can they be together so long?” - 1980 interview

"When I’m up against the wall, Paul, you’ll find I do my best" - Let It Be sessions, 1969 (submitted by @iiiiiiits-m)

"The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists." - 1972 interview (submitted by @big-barn-bed)

“When we sang together, Paul and I would share the same microphone. I’d be close enough to kiss him […] So we’d be playing these concerts, in front of thousands of people, but the only thing I could see was Paul’s face. He was always there next to me – I could always feel his presence. It’s what I remember most about those concerts.” - Elliot Mintz, 'We All Shine On: John, Yoko & Me' (2024)

Paul: There’s a story. There’s another one – ‘Don’t Let Me Down’. “Oh darling, I’ll never let you down.” Like we’re doing— John: Yeah. It’s like you and me are lovers. Paul: [reserved] Yeah. [pause] John: We’ll just have to camp it up for those two. Paul: Yeah. Well, I’ll be wearing my skirt for the show, anyway. - Let It Be sessions, 1969 (submitted by @alienoriana)

"The early stuff – the Hard Day’s Night period, I call it – the early period, was the early equi– se– what I’m – what I’m equating it to is the sexual equivalent of the beginning of a relationship, of people in love. And the Sgt. Pepper-Abbey Road period was the period of maturity in the relationship. And maybe had we gone on together, maybe something more interesting would have come out of it." - 1980 interview (submitted by @thewalrusespublicist)

"I mean, there were quite a few women he’d obviously had that I never knew about. God knows when he was doing it, but he must have been doing it" - 1972 interview

“It’s just handy to fuck your best friend. That’s what it is. And once I resolved the fact that it was a woman as well, it’s all right. We go through the trauma of life and death every day so it’s not so much of a worry about what sex we are anymore. I’m living with an artist who’s inspiring me to work." - 1971 interview (note: I know the 'best friend' here is Yoko, but the implications, baby...)

"He rang up and said he’d got this job and couldn’t come to the group. So I told him on the phone, “Either come or you’re out.” So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me. But it was a long trip." - 1971 interview

"This song was written by an old estranged fiancé of mine called Paul" - Introducing 'I Saw Her Standing There' at Madison Square Garden, 1974 (submitted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"The person I actually picked as my partner, who I’d recognised had talent, and I could get on with, was Paul" - 1980 interview (submitted by @crepesuzette2023)

"It would not have been the same. It would have been a different thing. But maybe it wouldn’t either. Maybe it was a marriage that had to end. Some marriages don’t get through that – that phase. It’s hard to speculate about what would have been." - 1980 interview (submitted by @thewalrusespublicist)

"I was living with Paul then, so I wrote with him. It’s whoever you’re living with. He writes with Linda. He’s living with her. It’s just natural" - 1971 interview

"It's like when the lawyers come into the divorce, you know? And that makes it a whole different ball game, you know… 'speak to my lawyer'" - 1973 interview

"It was never a legal deal between Paul and I. It was a deal we made when we were fifteen or sixteen, when we decided to write together, that we’d put both our names on ’em, you know." - 1980 interview

"And “go out and get her,” you know, and forget everything else. So subconsciously I take it that he was saying, “Go ahead.” On a conscious level, he didn’t want me to go ahead. So subconsciously, he… The angel in him was saying, “Bless you.” The devil in him didn’t like it at all. Because he didn’t want to lose his partner." - John talking about Hey Jude, 1980 interview

"When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that" - 1974 interview

"And it’s really lawyers that make… divorces nasty. You know, if there was a nice ceremony like getting married, for divorce, then it would be much better. Even divorce of business partners. Because it wouldn’t be so nasty." - 1971 interview

"It’s like asking a divorced couple, “What day was it that – that decided you to – that the marriage wasn’t going well?” I didn’t – there was no date." - 1976 interview

"I’ve compared it to a marriage a million times, and I hope it’s… understandable for people that aren’t married, or any relationship. It was a long relationship." - 1976 interview

"I’ve only selected to work with – for more than a one night stand, say with an odd thing with [David] Bowie, or an odd thing with Elton [John], or anybody who was hanging around – two people. Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono. Okay?" - 1980 interview

"I seen through junkies, I been through it all, I seen religion from Jesus to Paul" - 'I Found Out' lyrics, 1970 (submitted by @johns-prince)

“I’m glad that’s over. I feel like I’ve been keeping a vigil for him. Not that I care, you understand.” - John, according to John Green, Dakota Days (1983)

"One girl very shyly gave George a button badge which said ‘George for PM.’ ‘Why would Paul McCartney want you?’ said John to George.” - Hunter Davies’ The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (1968) (submitted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

John: "I was trying to put it 'round that I was gay, you know-- I thought that would throw them off… dancing at all the gay clubs in Los Angeles, flirting with the boys… but it never got off the ground." Q: "I think I've only heard that lately about Paul." John: "Oh, I've had him, he's no good." - 1975 interview (submitted by @johns-prince)

And I had a little upstairs, an unusable upstairs, and I kept a radio up there. Very faint. All of a sudden John said, "Is that Paul?" I thought it was somebody he knew named Paul. I didn't see anybody walk by. I said, "No." On the radio, Paul McCartney. We never mentioned anything about The Beatles. This little, low sound you could barely hear, he picked it right up. So, it just made me aware of how much attuned he was with The Beatles after they broke up.. - Gary Tracy, John's optometrist (slightly different version here)

John: "I've always thought there was this underlying thing in Paul's 'Get Back.' When we were in the studio recording it, every time he sang the line 'Get back to where you once belonged,' he'd look at Yoko." - 1980 interview (submitted by @johns-prince)

But in mid-January 1973 Lennon and Ono quarrelled publicly at another party. “I wish I was back with Paul,” Lennon reportedly said. - Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Battle for the Soul of The Beatles. (2009) (submitted by @notgrungybitchin)

'From time to time John would say to me ''I wonder what Paul is thinking about, right now.'' I said John, I've only met him a couple of times in my life you know … I have no idea. And John would ask ''Do you think he thinks about me at all?''' - Elliot Mintz (submitted by @thewalrusespublicist )

“He was always saying, ‘I wonder what Paul is doing.’ When John and I were together, and this is about a week or two before our relationship ended, I remember him saying, ‘Do you think I should write with Paul again?’ I said, ‘Absolutely. You should because you want to. The two of you as solo performers are good, but together you can’t be beaten.” - May Pang

“Yeah, I miss Paul a lot. It’s been a year since I’ve seen him. He came over with Linda to me place in New York. Course I’d love to see him again. He’s an old friend, isn’t he?” - 1974 interview

"I never thought we’d come to that, because I didn’t think we were that stupid. But we were naïve enough to let people come between us." - 1971 interview

‘Paul? My dear one’ - 1980 interview (submitted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"I’ve read cracks about, “Oh, the Beatles sang ‘All You Need Is Love’, but it didn’t work for them,” but nothing will ever break the love we have for each other." - 1972 interview

'"I just saw a girl who said she saw John Lennon walking down the street in New York wearing a button that said, "I love Paul." She asked him: "Why are you wearing an 'I love Paul' button?", and he said: "Because I love Paul." - Harry Nilsson anecdote (submitted by @bluewater9)

[kerosenee-kisses]

change of scenery | itoshi rin x reader

summary: rin is a little irritated about spending the night at your apartment for once. you try to convince him that it’s not so bad 

a/n: this is my first time writing smut/fic, let alone sharing my writing on here eek! i was on a reading ban for the week and this what my brain decided to do with all the free time i had. pretty sure i was possessed when I wrote this. banners by @cafekitsune! thank you!!

cw: 18+, afab reader, pro player!rin, no specified pronouns, established relationship, marathon sex, overstimulation, oral sex, vaginal sex, finger sucking, nipple play, squirting, they just fuck a lot, ok? rin down horrendous for reader

wc: 4.3k

“Stop sulking, Rin.” 

“I’m not sulking,” he says gruffly from his place on your bed. 

“Then why are you pouting, baby?” You rub his calf to coax an answer out of him. When he fails to reply right away, you ask. “Is this because we’re at my place instead of yours?” 

“I just prefer sleeping in my own bed,” he mutters after a while. 

“It’s not like I live in a hovel,” you laugh.  

“I know that. It’s actually...nice here.” 

“So, what’s the problem? You’re acting like I forced you to come over.” 

In the 6 months that you and Rin have been seeing each other, you only recall two other occasions where you both spent the night here. As much as you love your apartment, your boyfriend seems intent on keeping you hostage at his. You’re not complaining; he’s the one with the pro-athlete money. Enough to afford a massive apartment that could fit three of yours, complete with state-of-the-art appliances and exorbitantly priced furniture in every room. Seriously, his mattress alone could cover 4 months of your rent. 

Under normal circumstances you would have been getting a running start to hop onto said mattress right about now but, unfortunately for Rin, you have an ungodly early meeting to lead tomorrow. Which means it’s in your best interest to be at home when you wake up, with all your belongings at your disposal instead of fighting to break free from Rin’s sleepy embrace only to realize you accidentally packed a blouse with a massive stain on the front or forgot your work computer in your other bag. 

When you’d informed Rin that you wouldn’t be going home with him on the car ride after your date, he’d visibly deflated, but didn’t say anything. After 20 minutes of driving in silence, he parked in front of his building after all. Before you could even protest, Rin had turned on the hazard lights and jogged inside. He returned only a few minutes later with an overnight bag.  

“Obviously, you didn’t force me,” he scoffs. “I just like being around you. And since I live closer to the stadium than you, I–forget it.” 

“Noooo, don’t do that. Now you have to tell me! Please?” You say with a super effective pout on your face.  

Rin clears his throat and looks away from you. A bright blush blooms from the column of his beautiful neck, across his high cheek bones and up to the cute tips of his ears. His response is so quiet that you have to move right in front of his face to hear him the second time. 

“I said, since I live closer, I can spend more time with you in the morning before practice.” 

It takes a minute to process what he’s just admitted to you. Sure, he said it with the sourest face ever, but his sincerity makes your heart melt.  

“You are so cute!” A statement punctuated with a kiss to his still pink cheek. “I’m sorry if staying the night here is more inconvenient, but I promise to make it up to you. Is that ok?” 

Rin only nods. You press another kiss to the corner of his lips and retreat to your ensuite bathroom to get ready for bed. 

“Aww, don’t miss me too much, I won't be long! I know you’d rather I stay cozied up to you all night.” 

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes. “Just hurry up.” 

You can’t help but giggle once you close the door. In Rin’s world, missing 10 minutes of cuddling in the morning would surely spell his demise. And like the good partner you were, you intended to tease him for his dramatics. Only a little.  

After you've showered, you open up your cramped closet at the opposite end of the bathroom. Both racks on either side nearly buckle under the weight of all your clothes. They effectively obscure the tall dresser at the very back. You shove some of your heavier coats out of the way to open the top drawer. From it, you pick out an outfit you’d been saving for a rainy day: a silky orange slip and matching thong.  

You return to the washroom to dress in front of the mirror. The nightdress gives short a whole new meaning. The frilly white hem barely covers your ass, and it’s taken in on the sides to really accentuate your hips. The sheer material adorning your breasts is covered with a delicate lace flower detailing, and a cute orange bow sits in the valley of them. 

“Oh, I’m gonna kill that man dead,” you laugh at your reflection. You feel positively edible in this. Rin won’t know what to do with himself.  

You don’t do much else in terms of preparation. Moisturize your body, finish your skincare routine and brush your teeth. You don’t want Rin thinking you’ve planned anything special at all. Honestly, you want to make him feel a little insane. 

Rin is watching a match on his phone when you emerge from the washroom.  

“Finally,” he sighs, but doesn’t look up right away.  

“Sorry, the water felt so good. I couldn’t bring myself to get out.” You walk around the bed to get to your side.  

He pauses the video mid-goal and his eyes widen as he takes you in, but you busy yourself with getting comfortable beside him. 

“Who’s playing?” you ask, eyes trained on his phone. When he doesn’t answer you look up at him and frown. “What’s wrong?” 

“Is this what you normally sleep in?” he asks.  

“Uh, when I’m at home, yeah.” 

“But I’ve never seen you wear anything like this.” 

“Because I always borrow your clothes when I sleep over.” These days your sleepwear consists of a pair of boxer briefs and an oversized t-shirt. 

“It’s not like I’ve never stayed over here before now,” Rin complains. 

“Both those times were in the dead of winter. It’s hotter now and I’ll definitely overheat with you clinging to me all night.” 

“I don’t cling.” 

“Sure, whatever you say baby.” You lay your head on his chest. His heart thunders erratically beneath you. Loathe as he is to admit it, Rin is easy. Maybe even easier than Aiku. That makes you snort. Yeah right. 

“What’s so funny?” Rin asks sharply. 

“Nothing really.” You offer him an innocent smile. His Adam's apple bobs at the sight of it. “Can I have my kiss goodnight now, please? I’ll probably fall asleep soon.” 

“Seriously? You’re going to bed now?”  

“I’m gonna try to. I want to get to work early to go over a few things before the meeting. I’m a little nervous about it. What reason do I have to stay up?” 

He narrows his eyes at you but puts his phone on the nightstand all the same. Rin readjusts you both so you can lay on the bed and he on his side. He brings one hand up to your cheek and draws closer to give you a lingering kiss. You know he’s hoping you’ll take the bait, deepen the kiss yourself so he can later claim that you were the one begging for it.  

“Thank you, Rinnie,” you sigh against his lips. “I love you, good night.”  

You give him one last peck then make a big show of yawning and adjusting your pillow. You close your eyes even though you wish you could see the confusion likely marring his pretty face.  

He cracks much quicker than you expect. Not even 10 seconds pass before he shakes your shoulder and says “Wait, wake up. I need another kiss.” 

Rin kisses you so intently that you can hardly breathe. Each brush of his lips is an admission of his adoration. You hum contently into his mouth, and he groans, almost pained. He cradles your cheek once more, pushes his tongue into your mouth, desperate to caress your own. He tastes minty sweet, and you feel delirious and lightheaded the longer the kiss goes on. His hand travels the expanse of your body leisurely despite the increased frenzy of your kiss. From your neck down your sternum and over your breast. Heat travels along the right side of your body until he settles on your hip, petting the bare skin there. 

You reach a hand into his soft hair and tug, just enough so you can get a few breaths in. Rin hisses at the sensation and presses closer to you. You smile wickedly when you feel him hard against your thigh. 

“Oh? What’s he doing here–” 

“Sit on my face,” Rin blurts out.  

You blink at him. Not exactly the response you were anticipating, but you’ll take it. He has the grace to appear embarrassed, at least. 

Rin rolls you both so he can lay on his back with you on top of him, chests flush with each other.  

“Please? Just do it.” His hands glide up and down your lower back in a bid to convince you. 

“A third kiss goodnight? Aren’t you the sweetest.” You reach under your slip to remove the matching panties, but Rin catches your hands to hold them in place.  

“Leave those on.”  

“You’re the boss.”  

The heated look he gives you as you crawl up his body strikes the flint of your desire and sets you aflame. Those viridescent eyes track your every move, his willing prey. You settle your thighs on either side of his head and grin down at his very serious face. 

“Hi there.” You push his hair back from his forehead, trace his brow fondly. “I like this view.” 

Rin nips at your thigh, and you yelp. He runs his tongue over the bite before sucking a mark into your flesh. Your breaths leave you with labored exhalations, and your nerves are alight with excitement.  

“Same here,” he says, mystified. His warm breath fans over your cunt and arousal gushes out of you. Rin kisses along your thigh, stopping just shy of the edge of your thong before turning his attentions to the other. He feathers kisses along your skin that leave you twitching. 

“Stop teasing me,” you whine.  

“You know, your patience is severely lacking,” he says, but the set of his brows, the haze over his eyes, they tell on him; he’s even more eager than you.  

Rin kisses you at your core through the sticky material of your underwear then softly licks from your entrance up to your clit. You shudder at the featherlight affection. Another broad lick has you sighing, the next, sinking your fingers in his hair to yank him closer.  

“Fuck,” he groans miserably before he pulls your panties aside and licks your soaked flesh. You moan at the direct contact and briefly rock your hips forward. He gives your clit wet, sucking kisses that have you clutching the headboard hard for balance. But Rin licks and sucks on your poor clit like he has no other option.  

His hands skim over the silky fabric of your dress, gliding from your waist up to your breasts. He massages them gently, pinches your nipples until they are taut between his fingers. Your hips surge forward again, and Rin takes it upon himself to grasp your hips to guide you along his face. Your stiffened clit grazes his nose each time he pulls you forward. Tears prick at your eyes as you cum with a silent cry of pleasure, and Rin contently laps up the release between your legs. He doesn’t let up at all, relentless in his pursuit of your second orgasm. You shakily lift yourself just out of reach and he makes an aggrieved noise in protest. 

“Come back here. I’m not done with you yet,” he says breathlessly. He tries to pull you back down, but you manage to shuffle away from him, just enough so you can turn around to face the tent in his boxer briefs. 

“Let me at least make you feel good too.” You glance at your boyfriend over your shoulder. His eyes are dark with hunger, molten pools of teal lust.  

As you free him from the confines of his underwear, he rids you of yours completely and sets on you at once. Rin grabs your ass and pulls you back down on his face. He massages your cheeks and spreads you open so he can devour you more thoroughly. He presses his desire into you with his fingers, communicates his unfettered want with his tongue on your sex. 

You delicately lap at the pearlescent pre beading on his slit, and more spurts onto your tongue in the process. You lick and kiss along his smooth shaft and you feel Rin’s erratic breathing against your center.  

You wrap your lips around the reddened head of his cock and suck. Rin swears sharply, driving his hips up involuntarily. You nearly choke around the length of him.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Rin says against your thigh. You mewl a bit pathetically when he gently draws your clit back into his mouth and laves his tongue over it. You try your best to match his rhythm, hollow your cheeks once you take him back into your mouth and suck hard. You love the feel of him on your tongue, savor the taste of salt on his skin. You bob your head lower when he starts to moan into you. The vibrations make you twitch, on the precipice of another delicious orgasm.  

When you reach the base of his cock, Rin wraps his arms around your waist and shifts you both onto your sides. He presses his face even deeper into your drenched folds. His one hand splays across the small of your back possessively, his other arm wraps around your bent leg so he can caress your knee.  

It’s taking all your willpower to focus on Rin’s pleasure when he’s eating you out so fucking good. Your stomach spasms in response to the obscene slurps and groans coming from him. You feel like the forbidden fruit, and Rin is in the garden trying to eat the core itself regardless of consequence.  

The fact that he’s so desperate for you to reach your next peak sets you off. Your entire body melts, down to your bones. 

You wrap an arm around his muscular thighs to help push more of him down your throat. The wet warmth of your mouth enveloping him completely has him cumming in tandem with you. The slightly bitter taste of him is addictive, you swallow as much as you can.  

You pull off of him, panting and feverish. Your throat is sore, tears stain your cheeks, and your entire body feels raw. You jolt when Rin leaves one last sultry kiss on your pussy before he sits up. He removes his boxers in one swift motion and pulls your limp form into his lap. The casual display of strength coupled with the look on his face, still so serious with want, is much too erotic for you to bear.  

Rin licks his spend from your chin and your swollen lips before he kisses you. The combined taste of both your arousal is an effective aphrodisiac, you feel like you’re in heat, ready for more of him despite how sensitive you are. You suck on Rin’s tongue, and he bucks up against you, hard. You can’t help but match his movements. Each time the head of his cock catches on your opening you suck harder on his tongue.  

“Rin, please. Ah! I need more.” You can’t wait a second longer, you hold his cock at the base and guide it into you. You’re so wet that he slides in easily, and you both moan once he fills you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, meeting his thrusts fervently. When he really starts to press into you, planting his feet onto the mattress and driving his hips hard and fast into yours you dig your nails into his back and scratch. Rin groans harshly. When you scratch him again, he guides you onto your back, takes your hands and presses them down into the bed above your head.  

He pulls out just to the tip, then fucks back into you with a sharp thrust. You throw your head back into the mattress, eyes screwed shut, and moan his name. You didn’t know he could reach so deep inside you. It makes your head feel syrupy.  

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look only at me,”

You suddenly feel shy beneath his heated gaze, spread open like this. He grips your waist and your hands gravitate to his biceps. He moves slowly; each measured thrust of his hips deliberate in their purpose. 

“Mmm, feels so good Rin,” you whimper. You lock your legs around his lower back and roll your hips against his. You reach for the back of his neck and pull him close so you can suck on his lower lip. Rin fucks you hard. He pistons his hips at a dizzying pace and a drawn-out moan punches out of you. His hands slide to your ass, and he pushes his cock in even deeper. He drives himself into you fervently, and you marvel at his stamina. Despite the sheen of sweat covering his body, he doesn’t seem the least bit tired.  

He breaks your kiss and you whine, chasing after him; a glistening web of saliva connects your lips still. He severs it to lick against the shell of your ear and ask, “Are you gonna cum for me again?”  

Your body locks up, mouth falls open as you scream out in ecstasy. He keeps fucking you through it, but his rhythm falters shortly after you’ve come down.  

Your chests rub together as you both try to calm your breathing. But your nipples harden with every breath you both share, so your lust stays at fever pitch.  

Rin kisses your cheek almost reverently. He sucks love bites into your neck, your clavicle, your breast. Mouths at your nipple through the material of your dress. The friction of the lace paired with the wet heat of his mouth has you panting. He pushes the strap of your nightdress down your shoulder and licks at the stiffened peak. His tongue drags a path across your sternum to your neglected nipple, yanking your other strap down so he can suck on it. You grip his hair so tightly that he moans around your breast. He retaliates by lightly pulling at your nipple with his teeth, and you hiss.  

Rin slowly kisses your heaving stomach, licks along the ridges of your rib cage. More kisses down your hip bone until he’s back between your legs. Rin places each one over his shoulders before he pushes his cum back inside with two fingers. He curls them against that spongy spot that has you thrashing under him.  

“Fuck,” you whine. “I can’t-I can’t cum anymore.” 

Rin spits on your already messy folds and licks it back up with a firm drag of his tongue. Your hips jolt up and you cry at the overstimulation.  

“You can. It’s for me.”  

You gasp when Rin pulls his fingers out of you. He braces his arms around your middle as he lifts himself onto his knees, dragging your lower half off the mattress completely, along his dripping chest, and up to his waiting mouth. Your dress bunches up at your waist; heat flares up your body at being half dressed so indecently.

You fist the blanket beneath you and stare up at him in awe. Being his singular point of focus like this is uniquely intoxicating. You force each shuddering breath out slowly so you can at least comprehend the amount of pleasure you’re feeling. 

“Why are you being so quiet?” He pushes three fingers in and flicks his tongue against your clit. You scream his name loud and clench the sheets even tighter. Rin shudders and leans back further, bearing most of your weight. You whimper when he pulls his fingers out again. But he lays them against your quivering lips and shushes you. He pushes the digits past the seam of your lips, drags your essence across your tongue. You moan around them wantonly. 

“See how good you taste?” His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop, and he fucks them back into you, knuckle deep and desperate. Rin wants nothing more than to discover the locus of your desire, and you are endlessly turned on by that fact. You arch up from your place on his chest, chasing his mouth. He sticks out his tongue for you to grind against but it’s not enough. 

“Rin, please,” you whisper.  

“Fuck. Say my name again.” He pulls away once more and you sob at the loss of him. 

“Rin. Please fuck me baby.” 

Your boyfriend paws at your chest and wraps his wet lips around you, slurping lewdly. He scissors his fingers in your spasming heat until lightning seizes up your overwhelmed body. You cum with his name on your lips, an ancient chant, a benediction.  

He lays sweet kisses on your inner thighs as you come down from your high.  

“Oh my god,” you pant. “I love you. You’re so good at that.” 

Rin’s breaths tremble as soon you say it. You shiver when he pulls his fingers from your tight heat. He lays you back down carefully, and kisses each of your ankles as he carefully removes your legs from his shoulders. 

His arousal grows as he takes in the state of you. Your dress only covers part of your midsection. You take in slow, heaving breaths that make your breasts jiggle. The movement enraptures your lover so easily. He settles back into the pillows and assesses you curiously. 

“You can give me one more, can’t you?” 

“Oh, again?” you gasp. 

Rin takes your hands in his and pulls you onto his lap. He nestles his cock back into you, and he admits with a flushed face “I’m in love with you. Of course I want to keep fucking you.” 

Rin doesn’t even give you a chance to tease him before he laces his hands with yours and pounds into you. He knows he can keep you quiet and wring one more climax out of you. 

You brace your hands on his and snap your hips down hard. Your vision goes white as you mindlessly fuck yourself on Rin’s dick. Your rhythm falters but Rin grabs your hips and bounces you in his lap. 

You’re certain you black out when he gathers your slick on his fingers and swipes at your trembling clit. Arousal squirts out of you and soaks Rin’s chest and pelvis. You scream and moan his name as you slump back against his bent knees, and Rin swears under his breath, hurriedly pulling his cock out of you. He fucks his hand furiously and rests his tip on the hood of your clit so he can cum in your pubic hair and on your chest. 

When your eyes meet, the air gets forced out of you completely. Rin’s eyes are mesmerizing. Like the darkest of nights, illuminated by thousands of distant stars. Once Rin realizes that you’ve been staring at him stare at you, he arranges you into the pillows and retreats to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth to gently clean you up. Rin sweetly kisses along your hairline and at your temple as he does. You can’t keep your eyes off of him as he pulls the straps of your dress back into place. This is a side of him you’ve never encountered before, and it certainly has a heady effect on you. 

“Stop staring at me, creep,” Rin grunts. His face flushes hotly. “You said you were nervous for tomorrow. This helped you relax, didn’t it?”  

“Oh, no. Don’t make it seem like you did me a favor,” you laugh.  

Rin merely turns out the light. He pulls your chest into his, rests his chin in your hair. He rubs your shoulders soothingly, and you drag your fingers up and down the expanse of his back. You can feel where the skin is raised from your scratching and your breath hitches. You wonder if he’ll let you mark him up a second time. 

You’re only half awake when you hear Rin murmur “I like this dress on you.”  

You giggle sleepily against his chest and give him a sweet kiss in the center of it. 

“You really are easy.” 

As expected, Rin is holding you for dear life when you wake up only four hours later. He follows you into the shower when you eventually break away from him, though nothing untoward happens. Nothing too untoward, at least. He was generous enough to lather your body with soap but that’s all you allowed. 

He makes you both breakfast so you can run a mock presentation for him in the meantime. Rin offers insightful feedback as you eat together, and you feel a lot better about leading this on so little sleep.  

“Show those idiots why you deserve a promotion,” he says by way of wishing you good luck. 

“Thank you, love.” You kiss him goodbye and hurry through the door. But you stop short as your neighbor stands just on the other side; hand poised to ring the doorbell.  

“Holy. Shit. You’re alive.” Your heart plummets into your stomach. "I thought I heard you screaming last night, but I wasn’t too sure, you know? I really wanted to come check on you, but I didn’t want whatever got you to get me too. Just know I lost sleep over it.” 

You stand there in abject horror. Words, what are words? Say something! 

“Scary movie,” you supply lamely, and that seems to be enough explanation. 

“Oh, what a relief. I was so worried! I’ll catch you later.” 

You’re still frozen in shock when Rin saunters up behind you. He rests his head in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, kisses the skin there with his smirking lips. 

“You know what, you’re right,” he says in your ear, raising goosebumps all over you. “We should spend more time at your place.”  

[smutallyouwant]

One-shot World Chp. 8

" Baby " Sitting

Word Count: 3.4k

M reader x Jihyo M reader x Chaeyoung

[ Cum dump baby sitter Chaeyoung ]

" Mmrhh , take it easy honey" Jihyo groaned while you're on top of her.

It's been 3 months since she gave birth to your son, Mico. The doctor said that her stitches are now fully healed that's why you cannot help but fuck your hot wife early in the morning.

" Honey, it's been so long I've been holding back since " you muttered.

" Ughhh, mhhh, honey it feels so good, I nearly forgot how big you are "

" Then take it fully today, honey "

You pushed your shaft into her womb making her bite her lips and grab your nape. Her breasts are big and it just got bigger due to lactation, her boobs are begging to be freed from her shirt. You unbuttoned her shirt and her lovely plump chest appeared in front of you. You quickly suckled on them as soon as they popped up but still making sure that your pace of fucking your wife never change as this is the key for her to reach her climax.

" Honey, don't suck on them, you can just lick them gently. The milkies are for Mico " Jihyo asserted.

You stopped sucking her titties to make sure that all of her milk nutrients will go to your son. Instead, you kissed her passionately as you made love.

" I love you honey "

" I love you too honey "

You're longing for this sight for too long— your beautiful wife under your body, paired with her seductive gaze as she takes all of your length feeling every ounce of pleasure from making love with you.

" Keep going honey, I'm almost there " Jihyo mumbled.

" Yes honey, go cum for me " You replied.

You fasten the pace slightly making her lean on her back and her spine arced.

" You're cumming honey? I'm cumming too " you asked.

" Yess, yessss! Keep going! "

" UAAAGHHHH! " Jihyo squealed.

Jihyo catches her breath as both of your body twitches, you took more strong thrusts as your cum keeps on spurting inside her.

You leaned on her chest for a while before the two of you hugged each other on the bed.

" You came so much inside me, are you in a hurry to have another child? "

Your wife teased you while she fingers her inside showing you the mess that you made.

" No it's just that it feels so good doing it with you "

" How was your art commission for that company you mentioned last night? "

" It's doing pretty good, I'll be working on the deadline this week so I'm pretty sure I'm going to be busy "

You noticed that Jihyo keeps on fingering her insides and plays with your cum.

" Do you wanna go for another round? "

" Okay honey, let's be quick "

You quickly fucked your wife from behind but got interrupted by your baby sitter's knock on the door.

" Madam, sir, the breakfast is ready "

" Let me finish first honey " you whispered to your wife.

" Yes! We're coming ! " Jihyo shouted.

" Let's stop for now, Mico is waiting for his morning milk " Jihyo exclaimed.

You're frustrated but you can't protest as your wife is just being a good mom for your child. You helped her fix herself and both of you quickly went to the dining table.

" Ohh you're such my good boy aren't you, Mico " Jihyo said as she held your son.

" Look at him sleeping so peacefully, our babysitter is the best when it comes to calming him up " you said as you stared at your babysitter.

Chaeyoung has been your babysitter for 2 months as Jihyo had to go to work after her month leave on her work. You're a work from home artist and frankly you don't even know how to take care of a baby, that's why both of you opted to hire a babysitter / maid. She's responsible for making Mico sleep and taking care of him while Jihyo is gone, cooking, and washing dishes in the morning. You're the one that cooks for dinner and for washing the dishes.

" Hey, Chaeyoung you can eat with us. I'm going straight to work after taking a bath " Jihyo said while breastfeeding Mico.

" No it's okay ma'am I can eat after you finish"

" No, no, hurry and sit so you can wash the dishes right after and you can take care of Mico " Jihyo insisted.

Chaeyoung sat down at the table and ate with you. After eating Chaeyoung quickly washed the dishes and Jihyo took her bath. You went inside your bedroom and Mico is sleeping quietly on his crib when you check him.

" Honey, here's Chaeyoung' s pay for the month. Please give it to her because I'm running late " Jihyo said.

" Take care of Mico for me okay, Chae " Jihyo said as she headed out.

" Bye honey, I'm going now " Jihyo said before the two of you kissed.

Right after you closed the door you went to your wash room and pulled Chaeyoung in.

No words were said, Chae just glared at you intently. She casually bent over the washing machine as you took off her shorts and underwear.

" Mhhhhh, Hhushhh "

Chae gently moaned and both of your breaths became heavy as you pushed your already hard cock into her.

" You're already rock hard sir " Chae said with a lustful smile.

" Yeah here's what you get for interrupting our second round. And frankly your half naked body is just too hot to see in the morning "

" Ughhhh, ughh, mhhhhh ~~ shitttt "

Chae can't help but moan as your pelvis clapped her ass at a moderate pace. You sniffed her bare shoulders, you can smell a mix of butter and garlic from her shirt probably from the fried rice that she cooked but her sweet strawberry scent engulfed your nose into ecstasy.

You reached for her perky tits to fondle them from outside her tshirt and your other arm grabbed her from the neck so you can pull her for a kiss.

" Mhhh~~~ slurps* ~~ughhh sir~~ "

" Sir~~ you really made me your cum dump"

" Yeah, I'm grateful that you're best in doing your babysitting job. But also you're the best at fulfilling my sexual desires for the past few months "

" But you can now have sex with madam Jihyo " Chaeyoung muttered with a grin.

" Why, are you sad ? This may be our last "

As you say those words, it made you think of how you ended up like this with Chaeyoung.

Approximately 2 and a half months ago...

9:30 night time.

" Arrgh, honey we can't do it. My stitches still hurt "

" I know honey, but can you at least give me a blowjob? " you insisted.

" I'm tired honey, I've been taking care of Mico all day long please let's just rest "

" I understand, let's hire a babysitter starting tomorrow so you won't be this tired everyday it's my fault that I don't even know how to take care of our infant son "

" Oww, it's alright honey come here " Jihyo said as she pulled you for a hug.

" But are you sure about that? Full time baby sitters are expensive to have these days " she added.

" It's okay honey, I'll take care of that. I have an upcoming commission for a big company and they're going to pay me handsomely "

" Okay honey, let's look for a babysitter tomorrow, thank you for understanding me " Jihyo said before you two fell asleep.

Your baby sitter arrived after 2 days and her name is Chaeyoung.

Jihyo starts to go to work and you observe Chaeyoung every time she takes care of your son intending to learn from her as you do with Jihyo. But you're finding it difficult because her petite body paired with her strawberry sweet scent makes you think of inappropriate thoughts.

She likes wearing tank tops and loose sleeveless shirts every morning and you can swiftly take a glimpse of her side boobs every time. When time allows it, you take it to stare in her exposed cleavage every time you stand up after eating.

Every time you have small talks with her, it is an opportunity to check out her incredible body. This becomes your habit every time Jihyo goes to work and before you go to your office to continue your work.

1 week after hiring Chaeyoung...

10:30 night time

You walked out of your room to go to your toilet but you were stopped by Chaeyoung wearing her usual black tank top and shorts.

" Sir, where are you going? "

" Oh it's just you Chaeyoung , please don't surprise me like that " you said as you hold on your chest.

" I'm just going to the toilet, how about you? Why are you still awake? "

" I just drank water, I observed that you're always going in the toilet this hour "

" Ahh, yeah " you said with an awkward smile.

You're embarrassed because you can't just say that you're jerking off inside the toilet every time.

" Releasing tensions every time sir? "

" Ahh, yeah hehe my stomach hurts every evening and I don't know why hehe "

You played it cool, you touched your tummy for extra acting points.

" No sir, I'm talking about that " Chaeyoung said as she points at your bulge.

You quickly turned around and made an excuse.

" Oh this is nothing, it's natural I'm heading in now "

" Maybe I can help? " Chaeyoung exclaimed.

" What do you mean ? "

" You're always checking me out sir, do you think I won't notice you glaring at my body every time? "

" Oh no, Chaeyoung that was... "

" You're a perv right? Or should I say you have a high sex drive, but madam can't have sex right now so you just jerk your dick off every night "

" So what? This has nothing to do with you Chaeyoung " you've started to get pissed.

" I'll suck your dick, will that help sir? "

" For one condition, can you please increase 1/4 of my pay? " she added.

" What? Are you serious? "

" Yes sir, I won't tell madam please just increase my pay for 1/4 of it "

" You repeated it, you need it so bad? Alright I'll help you, and you help me, sounds like a fair deal "

You led her inside the wash room, because Chaeyoung can't hide anywhere if ever Jihyo looked for you in the toilet. You leaned on the washing machine and Chaeyoung kneelt in front of you.

" I'm not an easy bottle to squeeze Chae, so you better be good at this " you teased her.

As she removed your bottom, your thick cock slapped her face. It made her face look ecstatic as she licked your base from the bottom.

" Such a thick and long cock sir, and it's not even hard"

" Suck it good, Chae "

" You can freely peek at my boobs, sir, you can even touch them if you want "

Chae said as she swallowed the tip of your length.

Chaeyoung skillfully sucked your dick until it turned harder and harder inside her mouth. Eventually she started to gag and drool flowed out of your cock.

" Fuck, you're so good at this aren't you Chaeyoung"

Her eyes glared at you as she swallowed your whole length into her throat. It shows no sign of quitting and it was so good that you can't even feel a single scrape from her teeth.

Your cock began to throb inside her mouth. One thing that she does that made it feel so good was she applies subtle but precise pressure every time she pulls her face to suck your shaft.

" Yes keep going like that, Chaeyoung "

You can resist the urge to peek at her cleavage, you removed one of her shirt straps so you can fondle her plump boobs while she suckles your dick good.

She licks your head from time to time to rest her jaw but is quickly putting it again inside her mouth. Chaeyoung looked at you with a seductive gaze.

" Yes keep looking at me like that, from now on you're my baby girl okay? "

Chae nods as she remains eye-locked at you for the rest of her work.

" Keep it like that, I'm cumming"

Chae continued the pace. You plunged your dick deep in her throat as you dump your cum in her mouth. Tears flowed from her eyes and cum drips from her lips onto the floor.

Chae headed to the sink to spit your mess and you cleaned yourself in the toilet. Chae headed back to her room and you came back to your wife straight away.

This went on for two weeks, Chaeyoung has been giving you head every night. Until one night you did it in her room and both of you can't hold back from the temptation of lust. A man and a woman inside one room, the two of you ended up fucking each other that night. You came twice that night, one on her boobs after fucking her missionary and one in her throat after she ride your dick.

From then on, the two of you looks forward to it everyday to fuck each other. Whenever you want to relax of take a break from work, you just checks on Chae if Mico is asleep, you makes her suck on you or you just fucked her in your office. Chae basically became you fuck meat, a cum dump that you can fuck whenever your wife is not around or already taking a rest. You're giving her a 25% increase in salary but she enjoys having a sexual affair with you that she never asked for another increase when you started fucking each other.

Back to current time...

" I'm cumming now, baby Chaeyoung"

" Yess sir daddy, give it to me all aargh~~~ give me you cum sir "

" Fill your fuck meat with your semen sir daddy, use my pussy as your sex toy "

" Yess babyy, take it all! "

You plunged your dick deep in her pussy as cum spurts out that made Chaeyoung scream in pleasure.

" ~~~~uyggggghhhh! "

You thrusted a few more to release every drop of your cum deep in Chaeyoung. Chae' s face became blank as she took it.

" Look daddy, I'm dripping wet with your cum " she said as cum drips out of her pussy.

" Clean up now baby, I'll head to my work now. Please take care of Mico " you said before giving her a kiss on the cheeks.

The day went on, you called Chae earlier to suck you off while you brainstormed ideas for your work. The night came and your wife Jihyo arrived from work. Mico is already sleeping. It's already 10 pm late but you wait for her every time so you can have dinner with her.

You went to bed after Jihyo took her shower.

Jihyo sighed as she lays on the bed.

" Huuuush! Finally I can rest, how is Mico today honey? "

" He's still a good boy today, Chae always does a good job " you said before laying one hand on your wife's boobs.

You kissed her and the two of you made out for a minute. But was interrupted.

" Sorry honey I'm so tired, we can just do it tomorrow after we wake up "

" But I'm already hard honey, I missed you " you said.

" You can just use Chae again, honey " she said with a smile.

You're surprised by what she said.

" What are you saying ? "

" I know you're fucking with our babysitter honey, you're going out every night and I can hear her cries and moans from her room one time I went to drink water "

" I'm sorry honey "

You can't look into your wife's eyes as she talk.

" It's alright honey I understand, you're always full of libido even before we were married, so I understand that you can't help but to have our babysitter as you fuck buddy " she said as she palmed both your cheeks.

"Plus Chaeyoung is a fine young lady, I can lend you to her as long as it's just sex and for pleasure only "

" I'm still sorry Honey, I love you so much, and thank you for understanding"

She hugged you as she whispered.

" I'll be sleeping okay? Fuck her besides me tonight "

Your wife gave you an approval and horny look as she said this. She rolled on the other side of the bed and you checked on Chaeyoung from her room, you pulled her into your room.

" What are we doing here sir? Madam might wake up "

" No she's a heavy sleeper "

You closed the door and began making out with Chae besides the door.

" Are you sure this is alright sir daddy? " Chae asked as she cupped you bulge from your boxer shorts.

" We can even fuck beside her and she won't wake up "

You sat on the bed and made Chaeyoung deep throat your shaft.

" gawlk, galwk galkw"

Chae remained her stare at you as she took your length into her throat.

" Suck it like a slut you are, baby "

Chae gave you a lustful look before you pulled her and positioned her on the bed exposing her ass in front of you.

" Aaaagghh!~~~ "

Chaeyoung screeched in pleasure as you fucked her instantly after pulling her hair.

" mmhhhh~~~ mhhhhh~~ mhhh~~ "

Chae' s moaned was muffled by her hand but you removed it.

" It's alright, baby , you can moan as much as you like "

" ~~ ughhhh, okay sir daddy, fuck me, use me infront of you wife "

Sounds of flesh banging and Chaeyoung' s pleasure cries filled up the room.

" My wife is so sexy isn't she?"

" Yes daddy, your wife has a perfect body shape, and have great boobs, she's a perfect fuck meat for you "

" ~~~UGHHH! " Chae screeched in pleasure as you slapped her ass hard.

" Don't insult my wife, you're the only one that is a fuck meat here okay?",

" I'm sorry daddy sir, your wife is so beautiful it makes me envious "

" Daddy please slap your baby's ass more, it makes me feel good as you pound hard from behind "

Chaeyoung drooled like a dog as you abided by her request.

" I'm cumming, baby "

" Yessss daddy! Fill me up with your thick cum, fill your cum dump again"

You ended up cumming inside her again, and you made her come back to her room quickly as you pounced on your wife right after you closed the door.

" You have been listening aren't you honey? Does your husband fucking another girl made you so horny? "

Jihyo nodded, this is the second time that you saw your wife's face as horny as hell. The first time is when you two first made out and had sex.

You hurriedly took of your wife's clothes and fuck her missionary so you can see her beautiful and horny face.

" Does it feel good honey? Fucking Chaeyoung beside me? "

" Yess honey, I get to look at two beautiful hourglass bodies at the same time "

" Do you want to do her better ? "

" Chae' s exceptional, but you're just the best honey, your pussy is my favorite " you said as both of you indulged in sloppy deep kiss.

" But she definitely gives off more in giving head " you teased her.

" Oh, maybe I can learn from her " she teased back.

" Do you want to have a threesome with her honey? " She added.

Just the thought of it was enough for you to reach your climax. You nodded and you fastened up your pace.

" I'm cumming honey "

" Yesss honey, cum inside me "

You hugged your wife tightly as you cum inside her. The two of you laid on the bed and fell asleep naked.

The night went through and morning came.

The day went as usual, and Jihyo was preparing to go to work.

" Don't drain it all to her okay? " she said before pinching your bulge from your shorts.

Your wife teased you before kissing goodbye and going off to work.

END

[sweetreasures]

our little star

pornstar!mingi x pornstar!reader

director!hongjoong, implied seonghwa x reader, casting/filming, tears mention (no dacryphilia), unprotected sex, creampie, petnames (mingi loves calling reader doll, babydoll, etc)

[minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked]

masterlist \\ read part two (in action, seonghwa x reader)

mingi led hongjoong into the studio by the forearm, rambling excitedly about this new talent he’s discovered who is going to take his art to the next level. hongjoong wasn’t exactly in the market to acquire anyone new, much less someone as inexperienced in the industry as you. no, no, he fought back against mingi’s insistence. it would be too hard to break in a new performer at the moment.

but mingi assured his friend (and boss) that you were different. he’d seen you in action, spotting your profile on a website and scrolling through the videos as if studying a portfolio. your equipment was lacking, and the camera quality needed some work, but what mingi noticed first was how earnest you were. the scenes you performed with your partners—no matter the subject—were filled with passion. conviction. you believed in it, and mingi immediately recognized you as one of them. an artist.

you arrived an half hour earlier, wanting to gain your bearings before being presented with whatever business opportunity awaited you. seonghwa met you at the door.

“of course,” seonghwa replied following your brief self introduction. he seemed kind, reliable, and had already set off at work to make you more comfortable.

“what do you do around here…seonghwa?”

he gestured vaguely at the makeshift office surrounding you two. “behind the scenes stuff.”

you expected this answer the least. seonghwa was probably the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, and you were baffled as to how khj studios bagged someone like him when he could very easily be a mainstream celebrity. and then he tells you he’s only there to do paperwork?!

“i’ve known hongjoong forever. he said i was the only person he trusted with his money,” seonghwa leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. lying in his lap was a manila file folder, a couple sheets of paper notably sticking out from the sides. you could barely make out its text but you figured it must have something to do with you.

this was an audition, after all. and you couldn’t believe your luck.

mingi contacted you first. or rather, daddylongdick99. your eyes rolled when the message first arrived inside the inbox. it wasn’t abnormal to receive an influx of emails after you posted a new video—usually invitations for collaborations, desperate pleas for you to cream on them, or otherwise incoherent strings of words typed by a man who undoubtedly had one hand wrapped around his dick.

in actuality, daddylongdick99’s message hadn’t piqued your attention enough to open it. days passed without any response from your end. mingi was growing impatient—what was taking you so long? the letter was beautifully written and quite provocative. mingi knew you were at least somewhat aware of him, your circles running close in this industry niche. what more did you want from him, proof that he was the real deal?

the next day, he sent you another message. it was the first to show up when you checked your inbox for the day, and you were unexpectedly pleased to see the familiar username. the body of this message was empty except for two images. neither of his face—mingi hadn’t thought that far ahead. image one was a mirror shot: a figure sat on the bed, thick and rideable legs spread. his cock rested lazily against his chiseled abdomen. it was gorgeous, well groomed and reaching just above his belly button despite only being somewhat aroused. the flash from his phone obscured his upper body in the mirror.

in image two, the figure was lying down. the mirror replaced with his large hands choking his cock. his fingers were adorned in black and white silver rings. the camera flash reflected vividly off of the slick surface of his member, which now stood fully erect. shaft perfectly straight and longer than average, you noticed the vein pattern on the underside seemed tailor made to provide the perfect texture along anyone’s inside walls. the motion of the photo showed he was mid stroke, aided with a substance that looked equally of lube and semen.

daddylongdick69 was far from an exaggeration.

mingi’s plan technically worked—you still had zero idea who he was (and he’d be the first to acknowledge the apparent hubris of believing you would just from the sight of his penis). but you remembered the first message you brushed off the other day, quickly searching through your inbox to locate it.

upon spotting nothing more than a block of text, you were disappointed to say the least. but a name at the very end stood out to you. the fine hairs on your neck perked at their roots.

“song mingi. signed under khj studios.”

your breath hitched. kim hongjoong was an established indie pornographer, lovingly nicknamed “erotica’s darling”. his operation was relatively small, but he dominated when it came to producing depictions of sexuality akin to a choreographed dance. where the characters were as integral to its enticing style as the stars who portray them. you adopted a similar philosophy when you began filming, and had spent quite some time honing your skill for framing intimacy and intercourse in a way that told stories.

you knew of song mingi—one of khj’s principle actors. unfortunately, not enough to recognize the sight of his magnificent cock. but due to hongjoong’s secretive entry process for new talents, his roster was pretty small. it was rumored that hongjoong had to handpick you himself—his current team consisting potentially of people he met in bars or through random hookups. in any case, you were in awe at how in synch everyone was in delivering hongjoong’s art into the world.

the truth was far simpler. hongjoong wasn’t the most trusting person in the world, but he wasn’t in the cia either. to become a khj studio performer you kinda just had to be in the right place at the right time.

and there you were.

seonghwa briefly glanced at the clock on the wall—3:21 PM—before turning his attention back to you. he thought for a second, pushing himself up to his feet and walking to a corner of the office. there was a stationary camera set up on a tripod. removing the camera, seonghwa instructed you to sit on the couch in front of him.

“oh classic! the casting couch.” you quipped playfully. seonghwa laughed again. you were growing to like his laugh.

“i’m just getting your profile together with a few pictures. mind removing your clothes?” he uncapped the cover from the lens.

you raised an eyebrow quizzically, a bit alarmed by his urgency. you hadn’t even talked to hongjoong yet. you didn’t even know whether he was willing to give you the time of day.

sensing your uncertainty, seonghwa rested a comforting hand on your thigh. “you have something special. he’s going to love you.“ you both exchanged affirmative nods before you arose to strip.

it wasn’t exactly embarrassing to stand before seonghwa naked. your videos regularly garnered thousands of views—you sort of assumed most people in your niche have already seen you in a much more intimate state. but the way seonghwa looked at your body as he moved around you with his camera was deliberate and careful. he instructed you into various positions, each pose focused on different silhouettes and angles. seonghwa maintained a distance from you, as if photographing a one of a kind painting, too scared that any sudden movement would tear a hole in the precious canvas.

but you remained nervous nonetheless—as the afternoon progressed, you slowly realized how important this meeting was. if you wanted to build your credibility in the industry, this was it. and yet the exclusivity shrouding hongjoong in mystery left you with a thousand questions. you had yet to hear from anyone what you were meant to do today.

after a couple of shots, seonghwa had you sit down normally, knees together and facing him. he instructed you to look natural, explaining that he wanted to take the profile portrait. you followed his directions perfectly, though you had no idea what to do with your face, opting for a neutral but approachable expression.

to your surprise, seonghwa reached out to caress your cheek. he ran his thumb over your plump bottom lip, gazing down at you with a warmth you couldn’t quite place.

“still nervous?”

“no…”

“then where’s that smile, sweetheart?”

the door opened and in walked two new individuals, both of whom you knew without introduction, and both of whom looked down at the two of you with puzzled expressions.

“i don’t pay you to fuck the talent, hwa.” hongjoong remarked, annoyed. seonghwa capped his camera, rolling his eyes in your direction at his boss’s temperament.

mingi extended a hand to shake yours, “that would be my job, actually! nice to meet you.” you half expected someone with the username daddylongdick99 to carry himself with insufferable audacity. but mingi was very sweet and incredibly talkative, filling up most of your downtime while hongjoong and seonghwa deliberated over your pictures.

he knew a lot about your work. “i really loved the way you used gold to symbolize innocence. no matter what your character went through, her soul was never tarnished.”

“exactly…like pure gold.”

mingi nods enthusiastically.

you realized it right then—that these people understood your art just as much as they did hongjoong’s. you agreed to perform a scene with him, infinitely more comfortable now that you felt seen. mingi quickly stripped off his own clothes to match your state of undress. the two of you continued your discussion like old friends who casually arranged to meet for lunch.

“we’re sort of short on time right now. how ready are you?” hongjoong pointed at you, once again commanding everyone’s attention in the room.

“ready? i mean…very?” you shot a confused glance at mingi.

“he wants to know how wet you are, doll.”

“ahh.”

you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know you were soaked down to the cushion, but you inserted your hand between your thighs anyway, fingers glistening as they reemerged. hongjoong, seemingly satisfied with the state of your arousal, suggested knocking out two tasks at the same time—he would interview you and get a sense of your strengths as a performer while mingi worked to acclimate you to the size of his cock.

you perched yourself over him, positioning his tip to your entrance. it was on the larger end of cocks that have been inside you, though it wasn’t insanely intimidating. just as you steadied yourself to lower down, hongjoong began his interview.

name. hometown. years of experience. typical background information. you answered as clearly as possible, your mind alternating between hongjoong’s questions and the increasing fullness in your core. mingi’s eyes were fixed on yours, gauging your pain levels while rubbing comforting circles into your clit.

mingi was almost deceptively large, but you managed well. hongjoong asked whether you thought cum had any merit as an artistic medium on its own. sure. you lowered yourself a couple more inches.

“gah-fuck. yellow.” you inhaled sharply, stilling yourself. mingi took a hold of your waist, preparing to pull out though you hadn’t indicated that you wanted to stop completely.

“sorry…i…” the telltale signs of a blush bloomed from your cheeks. “you felt so good on my clit, i almost squirted.” you admitted, sheepishly.

the boys let out a collective sigh of relief. mingi couldn’t have felt prouder of himself, even after hongjoong smacked him on the side with a piece of mail within arm’s reach. after giving them the okay, you relaxed your pelvis before taking in the final few inches of mingi’s cock.

mingi sat upright to hold you against his chest as he bottomed out, instinctively whispering words of praise in your ear as he felt your walls adjust to his size.

“my babydoll did so good for me. so good.”

you moaned in gratitude.

“i knew you would. your sweet little cunt was made just for me, hm?”

as he spoke, seonghwa retrieved the tripod from its corner. he set it up right in front of you two—standing alongside hongjoong behind the camera.

hongjoong fiddled around with some video settings, “think of this like a screen test.”

mingi carefully reversed your positions on the couch with you now lying beneath him, his cock still resting pretty between your soaked folds.

“i want to see how well you two look together, and i want to see how quickly you can adapt to a scene.”

you and mingi nod eagerly.

“sometimes my vision isn’t exact. i need all of my performers to know when to improvise and keep the scene realistic.”

“in other words,” seonghwa shoots you a knowing wink, “he wants you to make up for his indecisiveness.”

hongjoong opted to ignore seonghwa’s snide comments, instead placing you and mingi in a scene within his work in progress production. you were a grieving woman who had lost your boyfriend years ago. as you fall into a depression, his friend remains by your side to support you during your journey to acceptance. once devoid of libido, you rediscover your sexuality with his help and decide in the end that loving him won’t replace your relationship with your boyfriend.

the most important part was portraying the intercourse in this scene as an outpouring of emotion. hongjoong motioned for mingi to set out on his pace before hitting record.

it didn’t take long for you to sink into character. you grasped at mingi’s hair, bringing him down into a deep kiss.

“fuck me, mingi. i want to feel you.” you gasped. he slowed down just a bit, allowing his length to take in the softness of your pussy and the way you clenched so perfectly around him. tears of pleasure threatened to spill over as your mouth dropped open, choking out a long moan.

“how is it now, doll? can you feel me?”

every fucking inch.

in an instant, he saw that spark in your eye—you were fully immersed. the details you worked into the scene left him in awe; your movements became more hesitant and unsure, in your grief you couldn’t possibly give yourself over completely to the pleasure. especially not with someone who meant so much to your deceased boyfriend. suddenly, your ears reddened. the lewd sounds of sex, the sweaty skin on skin, mingi’s moans as you fucked up against him and the involuntary force guiding your hips to chase your high—all of it was so embarrassing to your character.

hongjoong took notice, as well. he was no longer viewing the scene from the monitor hooked up to their camera. at some point, he had begun watching you intently. mingi was right, you were perfect at this. out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his partner. seonghwa’s hands cupped his jeans, undoubtedly attempting to hide the growing outline of his aroused cock from witnessing the scene before him.

mingi, overcome with a growing desire to protect and care for you, quickened his pace. every thrust a promise that he will always love you just as much as your boyfriend had. you trusted him enough to pin you down to the bed you shared with your boyfriend and fuck you senseless, but not enough to give him your heart? the thought made mingi tear up, and soon the both of you were bucking into each other desperately, whimpering through sobs, releases imminent.

“gonna cum…shit…gonna cum for you, doll. you feel so good around me. so ready for me.” mingi leaned in to suck on your jaw, searching for anything to ground him. he knew the most natural ending of this scene would be to cum inside of you. but he felt himself slipping—mingi never got pussydrunk on the job. cumming inside of you would cause something in his brain to snap.

your walls pulsated around him as your release came over you, soft “thank you”s pouring from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock. mingi thanked his lucky stars that you came first, and was just about to end the scene before you leaned down next to his ear.

“please. please cum in me. make me yours.” you begged as you continued fucking yourself on his cock. he clenched his abdomen, but it was all too futile. for once, mingi couldn’t focus on the scene nor your acting. he was about to make you his.

“i love you,” was all he could manage before you felt him shoot load after load into your cunt. his semen mixed with your juices as it pooled onto mingi’s lap. as the two of you stilled, you took a second to rest your head on mingi’s chest, the faint vibration of his heartbeat tickling at your ear.

seonghwa was the first to break the silence. “well?” he prodded at hongjoong. “how was it?”

“i don’t know, ask yourself. this dork nearly came before either of you.” hongjoong retorted.

mingi carefully lifted you up from his lap, the sudden emptiness sending a chill down your spine. seonghwa removed a robe from a coat rack nearby before kneeling down in front of you. that same warmth on his face brought you down from your orgasm with ease. he took you by the hands and smiled.

“you were just amazing, our little star. now let’s get you cleaned up.” helping you up onto your shaking legs, he wrapped the robe around you and led you to a shower room across the hall.

hongjoong tossed a similar robe at mingi, not caring to be as delicate with his employee as seonghwa.

“where the fuck has talent like that been hiding?” he exclaimed exasperatedly once the two of you were out of earshot. mingi rubbed at the sweat on his chest with the robe before slipping it around his shoulders.

“dude, i told you she was good.”

“and you!” hongjoong continued, his volume growing louder at the opportunity take a dig at mingi. “i love you. i love you.”

mingi’s head fell in his hands at the mocking reminder of his brief moment of vulnerability.

“fuck off.”

part two

[A/N: if you made it this far, thanks for reading! this blog will be under construction over the next few days as i move things around to make a proper navigational page. i’m also getting a taglist together! if you are interested, please fill out this form!]

[clockwayswrites]

So far this file is called 'birdritch'. Those of you who follow my art tumblr might know where this is going. I needed something light to write, been a low day. There has been zero editing or reading through and it is past 2am, sorry and enjoy! (Don't need any typos pointed out, ty.)

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“You are supposed to be home.”

Danny blinked up from his work to find Lucius Fox standing in the doorway of the lab. The man had the sport of expression one wore around a child who had just done something disappointing.

(Danny was used to the look, even if it had been a long time since he'd been a kid. Or seen his parents, for that mater.)

“Okay, but,” Danny started, “we agreed that I could start at ten and take my eight hours and one for lunch—”

“A mandatory one hour for lunch away from your desk,” Lucius interrupted.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been doing that! I’ve been eating out on the rooftop garden or even leaving the building and eating out or taking lunch to the park. I’ve been behaving, Lucius, I promise.”

Lucius raised a judgmental brow. “It’s after eight, Danny.”

“What? No. I have an alarm on my phone and everything… okay, well, that only works if my phone is charged.” Danny jabbed uselessly at his phone screen. He followed the charger, which was plugged in, all the way to the wall. He resisted the urge to let his head fall against the wall. “I guess Leslie fried the outlet again or something. I’m sorry, Lucius.”

“It’s fine, Danny,” Lucius said, “but only because, one, I know you have been trying, and two, I am going to buy you the most embarrassing alarm clock I can find and mount it to something in this lab. Now it is late and I am going home and so are you, Mr. Fenton.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Fox,” Danny said and made an exaggerate show of packing up his backpack, dead phone and all.

Lucius gave a little snort at the antics, but left with a ‘get home safe, Danny’. After his boss was gone, Danny took the time to actually make sure everything was in his bag and secure. He still didn’t get why he couldn’t just work late, but apparently WE had something of an insistence of work life balance. According to Lucius, Danny crossed the line too often and so was being kept in line. (Danny didn’t think mention he didn’t have much of a life, literally and otherwise, would help his case.)

Still, Danny mused as he stepped inside the empty elevator, the rules did keep him from becoming his parents. And that was a very, very good thing! Being a mad scientist in Gotham usually ended up landing someone in Arkham. It was just that after the chaos that Danny grew up with, going back to his empty apartment was depressing. It wasn’t as if Danny never got out and did things, it was just that all those things were mostly on the weekend. Most days he just didn’t have a reason to go back to his place.

There was no getting out of it tonight, the great and powerful Fox had spoken and Danny knew better than to try and sneak back up. He lifted his hands over his head, stretching as the elevator descended the last few floors. Oh well, at least it was before ten. He could still grab something on the way home and have a full, warm meal to take his pain meds on. By the pull along his forearm he would need them.

“Night, Bill,” Danny said as he passed the security guard who was on the evening shift. He got another ‘get home safe’ in response and gave a little wave in reply over his shoulder.

Even after the few years in Gotham, it still amused Danny how much everyone wished everyone else some sort of safe travels here. As much as Gotham was a city of hardened realists, there still was so much hope about it. Hope people got home safely, that the Bats would get where they were need in time, that the city would rebuild again and again and again. The undercurrent of hope was so strong that Danny could practically feel it moving through the city like a river.

It had been one of the reasons Danny had taken the job.

He could use hope.

He also had been very careful not to look too closely into it all. While Danny’s early life may have been dominated by the occult, he tried to stay away from it these days outside of the necessary visits to the Realm for his health. As much as the Far Frozen was full of ghost yetis, Frostbite was still a being of science and being there felt more like a cold vacation to his weird relatives than anything else those days.

Danny was actually worried that he was getting close to needing another visit. He shouldn’t, not yet. He wasn’t actually due back for another three months, but the thought of visiting Frostbite had been pulling at the back of Danny’s mind. The most annoying part of it all, is that there wasn’t any concrete reason that Danny felt he needed to go, just a lot of little things: the ache was deeper in his bones, he’d been missing noticing little things, his near constant vertigo was worse, and, oddest of all, he had been feeling chilled.

Maybe he should just take a long weekend and go for a quick visit.

Lucius would undoubtedly approve of the break.

Tomorrow, Danny would ask tomorrow.

(As long as he remembered.)