#adult toys advertising

[tiredflowercrown]

I love doing research for my vacation coming up and finding out that I can get free noise canceling headphones

[officeobject]

I have NEVER seen nor imagined, cheaper chewlry (you can sort and find some really cheap ones)! I haven't bought from the website yet though, just looked around a bit. They have a lot of pretty things - like, really pretty things, which is rare for me to think in regards to shops. I don't like that I don't know which are good for tough chewers sometimes though (chewlry-wise), and that the tough ones might cost significantly more (though that is common and understandable - and they ARE made to last more and longer), but yeah, there's various styles of stuff, including jewelry (that you fidget with), which can look pretty, discrete, or like they belong on some generic clothing/jewelry/fashion site, so I haven't gotten anything (but might), and they definitely on the surface, appear to have what the advertised goal is - like, seriously, fashion fidgets for work, are right there, and they even have a few ones in pride flag colors - I FECKING FOUND ARO, ACE, AND EVEN POLYSEXUAL! IT'S LIKE EVERYONE OTHERWISE FORGETS POLY AND I'M, AGAIN, AROACE, BUT STILL (but trisexuals + triromantics get forgotten even MORE, LOL, but also they do be falling under the multisexual + multiromantic umbrella terms though), so yeah, that's very exciting!

We are Flappy Happy! We are a small Canadian business run by two autistic women.

When searching for fidget items, we’ve noticed that the vast majority are marketed towards children or the parents of children. We wanted to focus on adults that need fidgets. This partially comes from us wanting to say it’s okay to use fidgets (more than okay!), but also us wanting to include more discreet fidget items for those that may need or want them.

We carry a lot of your standard fidgets you’d expect like push pops, fidget spinners and similar.

But we also carry more discreet or adult focused fidgets. These might include things like calm strips (textured stickers), fidget earrings, fidget necklaces, and spinner rings.

Any signal boosting or help spreading the word is so beyond appreciated!

Our website is here.

Here are some photos of some of our products below!

These are some of our Calm Strips! These are textured stickers you can place on your phone, bag, etc. They can be very grounding and soothing to touch.

You can see our full calm strip collection here!

These are some of our chewables! These are safe to chew on fidget items!

You can see our full chewable collection here!

[adultdavertising]

Advertising Adult Sites | Adult Advertising | Adult Ad Network | Adult Ads

Adult advertising is crucial for businesses operating in the adult entertainment industry. It helps increase visibility, attract new customers, and build brand recognition. Given the competitive nature of this industry, effective advertising strategies can make a significant difference in reaching and engaging the target audience.

[arminsumi]

ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[snigepippi]

I mainly see puritanism when on international social media.

So I didn't think anyone in my town think much about having an online adult toy shop post large adverts at the bus stop by the train stations.

[cheolism-archive]

OH, AGONY

✰ — teaching assistant & boyfriend!lee jihoon x f!reader ✷ — summary: when you both find out that your boyfriend, lee jihoon, will be the ta for your classic literature class, it is agreed your relationship will take a temporary pause . no public dates, no pda; and, most tragically, no sex. nothing that can give away the truth to your relationship. only, it really is easier said than done. or: four times you and jihoon totally didn't have sex plus one time you did. ✰ — wc is approx. 14.5k ✷ — genre: TA au, secret relationship au, forbidden relationship au, smut ✰ — warnings: spanking, pussy spanking. derogatory language (f receiving), pet names (baby (f receiving), hoonie). rough sex, unprotected sex. masturbation (f&m) and sex toys. penetrative sex. extreme levels of delusion as to what "qualifies" as sex or not; jihoon and reader bully one another. talk pertaining to the greek tragedy oedipus rex (self-blinding is mentioned as it pertains to oedpius but not discussed in detail). ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: this fic represents two delusional adults. they are both consenting to what is going on. this fic is not an accurate representation of what is and not considered sex. also the word count may be scary, but i promise it is pretty much all smut. this fic is part of @camandemstudios first ever collab, back to school with seventeen. please make sure to give the other works lots of love!

“we have to set up rules,” jihoon announced a week before classes were to start. he closed the zoom tab, which he had preciously been using to talk to the classics professor he was ta-ing for this semester, kicking back from his desk. 

“rules,” you said, peeking over the top of your book. it was hotter than hell outside, the sort of heat that suffocated and made you feel as if you were being wrung like a wet towel. inside, however, you had a blanket tucked around your body and socks pulled up to your calves. 

jihoon wandered over to the thermostat. he frowned, reaching and dialing it down once again. if he was going to pay for air conditioning, he believed, he was going to be cold in the comfort of his own apartment. 

“it’s not fair to other students that you’re dating your ta,” he said. 

“if this is literally you breaking up with me –”

“don’t be dramatic,” jihoon chided, crossing the room to you. he picked up the edge of the blanket, slipping under and pressing his toes against your feet. “i didn’t say that. i just mean that we shouldn’t advertise our relationship to everyone.”

you closed your book, keeping your forefinger inside to mark your place. “just keep it a secret then. can’t be hard.”

“we can’t let anyone know,” he enunciated. “for real. the professor doesn’t even know. if he did, he’d reassign me.”

“then we just don’t say anything.”

“you shouldn’t stay the night.” jihoon laid his arm over the back of the couch, inviting you to cuddle into his side without him verbally giving invitation. you abided, shifting to rest your head on his thick bicep. “and no dates.”

you huffed. “jihoon, i don’t know if it’s really that serious.”

he scoffed back at you. black bangs hid his eyes. “they could accuse me of favoritism, accuse you of academic dishonesty. we need to treat this seriously.”

“maybe i should just request to change to a different section.”

“too much work.”

“oh,” you laughed, reaching over and pinching at his side. jihoon flinched, instinctively slapping at your hand. “and pretending we aren’t dating isn’t.”

“that’s why we need rules.” you kicked out the blanket, pulling it from jihoon; he grumbled, snatching it back. “don’t be a hog. anyways. we need rules so we can stick to a strict routine. that way we don’t lapse in judgment or anything.”

“so no sleepovers,” you recited, “no dates. what else? no walking to class? no kissing?”

jihoon leaned his head back against the couch, exposing the length of his pale neck. you let your eyes linger. “sleepovers, dates. no meeting in public unless in a group setting.” 

you let out a great sigh, pushing the blanket from you. snatching your bookmark, you stuffed it into the novel you had been reading. “so we’re strangers.”

“yes,” jihoon confirmed. “easy enough.”

you gasped, mouth dropping open. “easy!”

jihoon bit at his lip, and you could tell that he was already regretting his choice of words. but he wouldn’t back down – that wasn’t in his nature. “easy,” he said. 

“fine,” you hissed. you left the couch, retrieving your backpack. you brought out your notepad and pen pouch. “no sex, either.”

“what –”

“if it’s so easy,” you retorted sharply, walking back to the couch while ripping out an empty page of your notebook, “then no sex won’t be a problem for you, mr. lee. i mean – it needs to be believable, right? no getting caught.”

jihoon grimaced, moving to a sitting position on the couch. “yeah. believable.”

“we write it down,” you said, taking back your spot next to jihoon. you opened your pen pouch, letting the pens and markers spill out onto the coffee table. “we write it down and shake on it. it’s a contract.”

jihoon hesitated. “this is a little severe, don’t you think?”

you shook your head. “nope. can’t let anyone know, yeah? otherwise i’d be academically dishonest, wouldn’t i?”

jihoon grabbed your paper, creating a bullet point. “i really don’t think this is necessary.”

“but you do,” you shot back. “i mean. you were the one to bring it up all serious-like. no kissing, no sleepovers, no sex. the whole five yards, lee jihoon.”

“but a contract –”

“oh? so you’re wrong?”

jihoon huffed, pressing his lips into a firm line. “fine. no dates, no marks, no pda.”

“and no sex.”

“and no sex.”

W E E K  O N E

your eyes immediately catch onto jihoon as soon as you walk into the classroom, and while you really should’ve guessed that he was going to play dirty – because as hard as he tries to maintain an indifferent air, jihoon is just as weak of a many as any – you didn’t realize he would be playing this dirty. 

he’s wearing black trousers that fit to his thighs and ass, cinched tightly at his waist by a thin leather belt. his white dress shirt is loose around his neck, the first button undone. your eyes, unwillingly, smooth over the silver chain that winks out from underneath his shirt, alongside the harsh lines of the white tank-top he wears underneath the dress shirt and you feel, horribly, a strike of want hitting you. 

jihoon turns to you. “hello,” he says, voice perfectly neutral. his eyes don’t stray from your face despite the fact you’ve worn his favorite jeans, the ones that cling at your own ass and show off flashes of skin underneath rips strategically placed; rips jihoon has made worse over the months of being together, slipping his fingers underneath the loose threads to touch your skin. 

“go ahead and take a seat,” jihoon instructs, gesturing about the room. the desks are all modern despite the discussion taking place in the historic – well – history buildings. the desk shifts underneath you as you try to slide in, bottom of your water bottle clanging against the hard surface, and wheels carting across the marble floor. 

you stretch out your legs, staring at jihoon unabashedly. it isn’t a sin for you, the student, to be attracted to the teaching assistant. and so you look him over, watching as he turns this way and that way, trousers showing off the plush of his ass and shirt showing the wide line of his shoulders. 

you are jerked from your admiration of your boyfriend-turned-teaching assistant by a large man hurrying to the desk next to you. he’s jihoon’s opposite in almost every way: he’s easily a foot taller, and his skin is a gorgeous dark bronze that seems to draw emphasize to the bulge of his muscles. 

the man slides into the desk. it’s comically small for him, his knees hitting the underside of the desk. the desk moves as he situates himself, prompting his backpack to fall over from where he had propped it. 

“shit,” he mumbles, reaching down with one long arm, biceps bulging rather nicely, to righten the backpack. “stay up, please.”

rather endearingly, to top it all off, he has a lisp. 

he glances at you, eyes apologetic beneath his curly bangs. “sorry. not my day today.”

you huff a laugh. “i don’t know if it’s anyone’s day, let alone week.”

“true,” the man says, grinning. his teeth are white, his canines more pronounced than most people’s. “hey. i’m mingyu.”

you introduce yourself. “are you a classics major, then?”

mingyu wrinkles his nose. “no offense to classics, but i’m doing something interesting.”

“yeah?”

“business.”

you let out a loud laugh, startling not only yourself but the people around you. mingyu grins triumphantly, tongue flicking out to run alongside his teeth. you hide your smile behind your hand, trying to quiet your laughter. jihoon, you notice, is frowning at the two of you. 

“so interesting!” you say. “definitely a major filled with the best.”

“the very best,” mingyu agrees. 

the two of you continue chatting, conversation flowing naturally. he’s charming, you think, charisma practically radiating off of him.  you don’t miss how your boyfriend watches the two of you more often than not, not engaging in conversation with any of the entering students who greet him so he could keep an ear open on your conversation. 

jihoon starts class as soon as the electronic clock on the classroom computer switches to three on the dot, the projection cast onto the board. 

“first thing’s first,” he says. he leans a hand against the table set at the front of the room, though it, too, is on wheels and skirts a little as he puts weight against it. “my syllabus, you’ll find, is stricter than professor burns’s. if you come in after the clock hits three, you’re tardy; you’ll contribute to all discussions in this class, and if you don’t you’ll forgo any participation points; if you miss three classes in a row, which translates to nearly a month of absences, your grade will automatically fall to a fail and you will have to take not only this discussion over, but professor’s burns’s lecture as well. 

“if,” jihoon continues to say, voice a rasp, “you find any of this in contradiction with professor burns’s syllabus, you are more than welcome to email the both of us and address it.”

the class is silent as jihoon grabs a piece of white chalk. naturally, despite the gleaming projectors and furniture on wheels in the building, nearly every classroom is a remnant of the late 19th century: chalkboards; coat hooks; door and window frames made of real wood. 

“remember to use proper emailing etiquette when contacting anyone in the college,” jihoon announces. he begins to write on the board, chalk tapping against the black surface as he decorates it with his chicken scratch. “and to address me as mr. lee. there is a pdf uploaded to our discussion course detailing how to address certain faculty members within the college for you to browse and keep.”

jihoon steps back from the blackboard. there he’s written the title of the course, ancient grecian dramas. 

he runs a hand through his black hair, pushing back strands. “we’ll begin properly next week, once professor burns assigns the first drama for reading. i recommend printing out the reading and annotating, practicing close reading. that way when you come to discussion we can go over your notes as a group and analyze the text further.

“now. we’ll begin today by doing a writing exercise. i want you to tell me what you think of when you think of ancient greek dramas. this will also be how i take attendance – so make sure to do it.”

you rifle through your bag, pulling out your notebook. next is your pen pouch, though the surface area of the desk is hardly large enough to fit your notebook. pouch, and water bottle. 

“you can email it,” jihoon clarifies after a moment of silence. “make sure you label it accordingly.”

hurriedly you pull out your laptop, pushing your pen pouch aside and setting it on top of your notebook. you shift in your seat as your laptop boots back up, and you can’t help but glance up at your teacher’s assistant.

jihoon, being a classics major and your boyfriend, has introduced you to ancient greek plays before. it’s not like you’re completely foreign to the subject; he’s dragged you to more than one play in order to get some assignment credit, notebook on his thigh as he jotted down notes in the dark of the theater. 

sometimes he takes to reading to you different passages – especially those that move him or he thinks are particularly ridiculous. he pours over the text religiously, like a priest would the gospel; analyzing every line, drawing meaning from the colors of robes to what isn’t being said at all. he looks at these little black words on white pages, words written thousands of years ago, and is simply transported into another lifetime. 

it’s endearing; it’s special. 

the first time you had noticed him, jihoon had been surrounded by pages of a poem. later you’d learn it was by some jeffrey guy from the medieval period and was about a group traveling for worship. whatever it was, didn’t matter. 

what had mattered was him. 

he was disheveled. the white printed-out pages of the poem were scattered along the table in the university library, the uniform black-and-white pages interrupted by annotations written in colors of the rainbow. the highlighters and pens were scattered themselves, abandoned by post-it notes stuck to every page. 

he had three empty energy drinks in front of him. the hood of his hoodie was pulled up over his hair, the black fabric matching the dark circles under his eyes that told you he had been at this for far too long. 

you had gone and got him a water; brought it back to him. listened to his theories about color, about how he thought it meant something; how this poet had chosen every word so carefully there’s no way that color didn’t mean something. 

you, a distinctly not literary fanatic, had not understood; you still don’t. 

but his eyes always light up and his voice begins to carry this urgency that betrays his adoration for the art, and you just can’t help but let yourself get caught in his orbit. 

so you open up an email and begin to write.

Mr. Lee, 

My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. He’s shown me quite a few, and we’ve attended more than a handful plays

you shift in your seat, thinking. as you move, however, your arm knocks against your pen pouch and sends it to the floor. 

the noise as it hits the floor isn’t as thunderous as it would have been if your water bottle had struck it, but it’s still loud enough for you to wince. it breaks the still of the room, your classmates shifting in their seats and throwing glances at you. 

before you could move from your seat, mingyu is. he’s quick to grab your pouch, smiling gently at you as he offers it. his hands are so big they span the length of the pouch, a beautiful golden tan that only seems to boost his natural beauty. 

“think you dropped this,” he says in a harsh whisper. 

you bite back a laugh, teeth digging into your lower lip as you smile. grabbing the pouch from mingyu, you whisper back a quick thanks. 

you glance up towards the front of the room as you settle back into your seat. jihoon is looking right at you, frowning, arms crossed over his chest. his white shirt isn’t fitted, and it struggles against his bulging biceps as he crosses his arms. 

for a moment you just look at him, taking in your boyfriend’s form; how the shirt clings to his arms, trousers to his thighs. 

there’s a dinging noise of an email landing in an inbox, and then jihoon is moving from the front of the room and around the table to his laptop. 

you return to your email. 

Mr. Lee, 

My boyfriend is a Classics Major, so when I think of Ancient Greek Dramas I think of him. He’s shown me quite a few, and we’ve attended more than a handful plays. A lot of them are different than what I’ve expected. Some of them seem like they came right from Ancient Greece; others are more modern. I have noticed Ancient Greek plays seem to be more twisted than what a modern author may come up with. 

Sometimes I don’t understand really what a play is about. It gets all muddled, especially when they don’t change the words for a modern audience. Still, my boyfriend is super sweet and helps me along. 

you hesitate for a moment, and then you sign your name. opening a new tab, you pull up a bookmark and add one last finishing touch beside your name. 

– °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖°

you are more exhausted than usual. 

it’s as if all of the good vibes and rest you had managed to scrape together over the summer break were eradicated in one day. as soon as you managed to get to jihoon’s apartment you were discarding everything; shoes at the door; backpack next to the couch; bra onto the floor. 

his bed was perhaps the most comforting place you knew besides his arms, and so you slunk towards it. you made quick work of your pants, one knee pressing against the mattress as you shook your other leg, jeans flopping to the floor dramatically. 

you followed suit on jihoon’s bed. 

burrowing into his sheets, you couldn’t help but breathe him in. he was a hot sleeper, and so more likely to sweat during the night. his sheets smell like his sweat, though not the stinky sort he gains from his daily workout. instead, it's the natural musk of him that permeates your nose, deep and distinctly lee jihoon. 

you allow yourself to drift. nothing exists besides jihoon’s bed and you. 

then the door to his apartment is opening and closing, a voice with a slight rasp calling out to you. 

“here!” you call back, voice slightly muffled by the sheets. you press your face against them again, eyes fluttering shut. 

jihoon slowly makes his way across the apartment. he mutters something about your discarded clothes and backpack, but you pay it no mind. jihoon pauses when he enters his room, and you can practically feel his eyes on you; roaming the bare expanse of your back, the supple flesh of your thighs. 

“good day?” you kick out a leg, wiggling your toes. 

he makes a humming noise, and then he’s stepping further into the room. 

“long one,” he says. “forgot how fucking awkward everyone is on the first day.”

you shift, moving your face so you could watch him. jihoon crosses to his dresser, fingers messing with the cuffs of his white dress shirt. you can see the moment he gets the button, the fabric sagging around his wrists. 

oh. 

sitting up on the bed, you watch as he begins to work on his other cuff. he peers out the window, chatting as he does. 

“professor burns is the usual,” jihoon announces. “hasn’t changed in the – what? five years i’ve been here? i swear she rambles like no one’s business. if it wasn’t my job to babysit the students and not her, i’d say something – but fuck, you know?”

once he’s undone the buttons on the cuffs of both of his sleeves, jihoon begins to work on the buttons falling down the middle of the shirt. his fingers are deft and quick as he presses them through their holes. 

you can’t help but think of his fingers on you. how nimble and skillful they are against your skin; how he dances them up and down your flesh as he presses kisses against your skin; how they seem to know just where to go and just what to do against your body, rubbing at your nipples and pinching at the undersides of your tits to get reactions from you. 

because fuck, jihoon’s fingers –

sometimes even watching him write you can’t help but get horny. how his fingers grip his pen, how he spins it around his fingers absentmindedly. how they alleviate pressure on the pen as he writes and stops. watching him write, sometimes you can’t help but think about his fingers at your clip, a harsh presence as they rub down on you once moment and gentle the next, fingers skimming your clit as they massage the gummy area around it. 

watching his clever fingers as they make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, you can’t help but yearn. your eyes see nothing but his fingers; ears hear nothing of his conversation. it’s just you and jihoon’s hands and the way your cunt clenches, pussy leaking into your panties. 

then jihoon’s pulling off his dress shirt, and he’s wearing a tank top underneath. 

you want to scream. 

not to say jihoon doesn’t look good in a tank top. because he does. fuck, he does. you always find yourself admiring jihoon’s shoulders and arms when he’s in a tank top no matter what sort of mood you’re in. 

(one instance in particular you had been full of energy, ranting about a coworker who didn’t know what she was doing and had been kept around for far too long. and then you had looked up at jihoon and let your eyes selfishly roam over the broadness of his back, the curves of his bulging arms as he cut up meat. all sense had abandoned you in that moment, and before you knew it you were grabbing at his shirt and pulling him to you, tongue running along his skin.

not exactly your proudest moment, but.)

maybe the combination of his trousers and tank top shouldn’t be as sexy as they are, you think hysterically. his tank top his tucked into his pants, and, torturously, his fingers reach down to pull the hem free. the hem of his tank top settles around his hips, showing off just a sliver of skin. 

jihoon raises a hand, running his fingers through his black hair as he continues to talk about something-or-other. 

and his white tank top rises up his stomach. 

you can see the hairs that lead from his belly button down, down, down. you can see the pale expanse of skin that you know is soft and smooth to the touch. you can imagine your hands pressing against his skin and sliding underneath his trousers; can imagine the restrictiveness of his trousers as you tuck your hands into his underwear, fingertips skimming alongside the base of his cock. 

you’ve never pretended to innocent when it came to lee jihoon; never pretended your mind didn’t run wild with salacious thoughts. 

and you weren’t going to pretend now, because – 

because in your mind your hands were rubbing at the base of his cock, mouth at his collar and licking along his collarbones. he was moaning in you ear, soft and breathy, and you were moving down onto your knees, your own fingers unbuttoning his trousers. 

jihoon reaches down, fingers swiftly pushing off his socks. “hey, by the way, i sent you an email response to your attendance discussion for today.”

you don’t speak, eyes roaming over the expanse of his back, still covered by fabric, like a starving man before a feast. 

jihoon peeks at you. “it was sweet.”

“yeah?” 

he doesn’t say anything else. jihoon’s eyebrows raise, silently prompting you. 

you let out a loud, horrible groan that tears at your throat. the insides of your thighs are warm as you move across the bed to grab your discarded phone, the wet fabric of your panties catching against your skin, cold and shocking. 

jihoon begins to chatter once more as you swipe on the email notification. he’s quiet in public but you can’t help but treasure how talkative he becomes afterwards; how all the little snide comments he’s kept to himself are let loose. 

you look at the email. 

you furrow your brows. you look over it again. 

I am glad to see at least one of the students in our discussion section will not be a complete novice to Greek theater. I hope after this semester you will be able to engage with your boyfriend in a more informed matter when it comes to his passions. 

However, despite how sweet your email was, I do have to remind you to please stick to proper email etiquette. Your use of – °˖✧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚✧˖° is highly unprofessional, and I urge you to not include such things when emailing any staff or faculty or teaching assistants. For this misconduct, you will be deducted a point from your discussion grade for today. Please keep this in mind for the future. 

Well wishes, 

Mr. Lee

your jaw drops open. 

“you fucking deducted me for my emoticon?!” 

“we agreed to be strangers,” jihoon reminds you. he removes his pants. you can’t even find it within yourself to be horny. the warmth of your cunt is overtaken by the red-hot anger that licks through your veins. “and it’s inappropriate to send your ta heart and sparkle emoticons.”

“it’s a fucking – oh my god,” you reach towards the top of the bed, fingers grabbing the corner of his pillow. you tug it to you. “it’s not that serious.”

jihoon steps out of his pants. his thighs are thick and pale, and when he turns towards his closest you can see how snug his black underwear is against the supple curve of his ass. fleetingly, because you are angry at his audacity, you allow your eyes to follow the curve of his asschecks and how the band of his underwear rests low on his hips. 

“teaching assistants and students aren’t to have any sexual relations,” jihoon recites. “it’s contract. if something happens, your little not-that-serious emoticon is evidence.”

you grab the pillow fully, swinging it around your body and at jihoon. it hits him in the middle. he lets out a soft noise of surprise. “you’re such an ass.”

jihoon shrugs. “we signed a contract, baby.” 

he tucks his thumbs underneath the waistband of his underwear, and then he’s pulling them down his legs. you don’t even have it in you to look away. you marvel at his naked lower half. his cock, thick and flaccid, hanging between his thighs. the dusky color of it; the dark hairs that travel from underneath the hem of his tank top to the base of his cock. 

jihoon pulls on a pair of grey joggers, concealing his cock and thighs from your eyes. “listen. i don’t want to be the bad guy. but we really can’t be risking anything.”

his cock is covered and he’s talking about something entirely different, but you’re still thinking about his dick. you’re still thinking about his dick as he walks from the bedroom, bare feet softly hitting the hardwood floors. 

you trail two of your fingers along your bare thigh. his dick, flaccid and thick in your hands. it feels like it’s been forever since you’ve had your hands or mouth or fucking cunt around his dick; forever since you last pressed your thumb against the slit of his cockhead, since his raspy, gentle groans were being pressed into your skin. 

you skim your nails along the soft insides of your thighs. 

it’s not like you’re sexually depraved. you and jihoon just had sex the other day. but there’s something about this, the situation, being strangers, that makes you feel as if you’re starving. 

your fingers move to your panties. you let your nails delicately linger alongside the lips of your cunt through the fabric, little sparks – little pieces of glitter, almost – making your toes curl. 

fuck lee jihoon, you think, and then you’re sliding your forefinger down between your pussy lips. you don’t move the fabric of your panties. leaning back against his bed, you let your finger drag down and push up, your wetness soaking your panties. 

his bed envelopes you as you lean back. tilting your hips up and bracing your feet against the mattress, you add another finger to the stimulation of your pussy. you let your fingers grow rougher, let them dig in slightly to the sensitive area around your clit. 

your fingers find your hole, stretching the fabric of your panties to reach in. 

“fuck.” 

your eyes flutter open – when did they shut? jihoon is standing at the entrance to his room. his long hair is pushed back from his face by a black headband. in one hand he holds a metal water bottle. 

his eyes are wide, his sweet lips parted as he stares at that spot between your thighs. 

jihoon shuffles further into the room, placing his water bottle on top of his set of drawers. you’ve begun absentmindedly petting your pussy, once again dragging your fingers over your clit lazily. 

jihoon presses his knees against the foot of his mattress. 

you hum, twisting your wrist. you press your thumb against the side of your clit, your fingers dipping once more to your hole. this morning you had chosen to wear a pair of pink panties. you don’t regret it now. you’re so soaking wet that you know jihoon can see the shape of your cunt through the fabric. 

your fingers begin to contract. you massage your pussy through the fabric leisurely, rhythmically. you drag your thumb down from your clit to meet your fingers, press your fingers down to barely sink into your hole. 

jihoon lets out a deep noise. he braces his hands against the mattress, makes a motion to crawl towards you. 

“no,” you say, words slightly slurred. “no. one point, remember?”

jihoon’s brow furrows. 

you reach down with your other hand, legs spreading wider. with your other hand you pull at the flesh of your pussy lips, offering your fingers more space to work with. you shift your hand, making sure to keep one lip in place. your other hand – the one with soaking fingertips – strokes up and down, up and down, up and down. 

jihoon’s hand settles on your ankle. you kick out. “no sex, yeah?”

jihoon lets out a strangled noise you’ve never heard from him. 

you let your eyes fall shut. you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. letting out a soft breath, your fingers begin to glide up and down your cunt more quickly. 

you begin to focus on your clit more. your hand that was holding your cunt lips moves up, focusing on baring the area around your clit. with your other hand you begin to stimulate the direct areas on either side of your clit. you are still working through your panties, but you’re so wet that the friction is almost nonexistent; your fingers just slide, massaging into the flesh. 

you begin to set a rhythm. you rock your forefinger and middle finger against the sensitive area around your clit. you rock once; twice; then you’re dipping your fingers down the length of your cunt, down to your hole; you drag them back up, and begin your elaborate play once more. 

it’s somewhat treacherous. it would be easier if it was jihoon. you would be able to fully relax back into the bed, just have to lay there and take it. 

but: no sex. 

so you slowly build up a climax, toes curling and chest arching up. it’s not sudden, not unexpected. it’s a slow climax that has your cunt tingling, head dropping back against the pillow. 

you continue to slip your fingers against your clit, dragging out your climax, continuing through it. 

eventually you come back to yourself. 

your wrist hurts; your fingers are cramping. discomfort takes over you more than lust, and so you relax your body back into the bed, hands moving from your pussy. 

and you look at jihoon. 

your boyfriend drags his gaze up from your pussy to your face. one of his hands is wrapped around his cock. he hasn’t taken it out of his joggers, just as you hadn’t taken off your drenched panties. you can see the thick outline of it through the grey fabric. the dusky head of it rises from the waistband of his pants. 

his hand disappears into his pants. you can see his knuckles as he drags his hand down the length of his cock. you pay special attention as his hand reappears, thumb bullying the fat head of his dick. 

you hum, stretching your arms above your head. you extend one of your legs, the other leisurely arching against the mattress. 

you let your hands wander along your chest. you aren’t doing it to stimulate yourself but to draw jihoon’s attention. to help him along, you suppose. 

his eyes follow the trailing of your fingers. one of your hands cradles a tit, the thumb of your other pinching a nipple against your forefinger. 

eventually jihoon lets out a groan, dropping his head. short spurts of cum pulses from his cock, soaking his hand. jihoon continues to fuck his fist through it, hissing and letting out breath moans. 

you feel sedated; satisfied. so does he. jihoon crawls up the length of the bed to plop next to you. he doesn’t cuddle against you. he just lays his body next to you, thick muscle of his arm against yours. 

“no sex,” he breathes out. 

“no sex.”

W E E K  F I V E  

you are going to murder your teaching assistant. 

the halls of the history building are nearly vacant save for the lone straggler. lee jihoon has his office hours late enough in the day to where most classes are over. most everyone’s day is over. 

but you are far from being done. 

the ta offices are tucked back with the professor offices, closed off behind a heavy wood door that matches the old style of the rest of the building. you get to the door a few minutes before his office hours officially start, glaring down at the screenshot on your phone. 

While your writing response over Medea is sufficient, I am loath to remind you to use proper citations in the responses. Otherwise it will be considered plagiarism. As a warning, your letter grade for this assignment will fall a whole grade. 

again: you were going to murder him. 

why couldn’t he just let you off with a warning? why did he immediately jump to taking your grade for the assignment down? he was being completely unfair and you weren’t going to stand for it. 

the clock on your phone switched to a minute closer to his office hours. 

still five minutes away. 

whatever. 

you reach out for the door knob, twisting the cold metal in your hand. the door is heavy to open, but you jam your shoulder against it and swing it open. 

the teaching assistant office is a room with three desks pressed against the wall on each side. there’s hard, uncomfortable chairs; two sockets in the entire room. 

and lee jihoon, sitting in one of the chairs with his cock in his hand. 

immediately your boyfriend flinches, eyes wide as he looks towards you. once jihoon sees it is, in fact, you and not some poor student walking in to request help. 

then, like you weren’t even there, jihoon turns away and begins fucking into his hand once more. 

you hurry through the door, shoving it shut behind you and pushing in the lock. 

all the while you don’t look away from jihoon. 

his teeth sink into his lower lip, and his head tips back to reveal the long column of his pale throat. his black bangs fall around his face, not obscuring a single centimeter. 

jihoon’s hand works quickly, furiously, over his dick. precum drenches the head. when he drags his hand down he hisses, face wincing. 

you move across the room, shrugging your backpack onto the ground. 

the assignment and grade having left your mind entirely, you kneel before jihoon. he peers down at you, eyebrows raised wearily. “no sex,” he reminds you. 

“no sex,” you agree. 

you raise your hand to your face. it’s the easiest thing to spit into your palm, to replace jihoon’s hand with your own. as soon as you squeeze around his dick jihoon lets out a low, raspy noise. 

his cock is thick and perfect in your hand, the heavy weight of it tempting. you want it in your mouth; want him to be fucking his cock down your throat. 

instead you let him fuck your hand. you move your hand down. the slide is slightly rough, your spit and his precum not quite enough. jihoon likes it, though; you know he does. his breath is harsh and labored, his eyes squeezed shut. 

you twist your wrist as you move your hand towards the head of his cock. you press your thumb into the slit of his dock. 

“gonna cum,” he warns you. 

then you think back to your letter grade. 

meanly, perhaps even cruelly, you drop your hand to the base of his cock and squeeze, cutting off his orgasm. jihoon lets out a startled, irritated noise. 

“my assignment.”

“fuck,” he grumbles, one of his hands raising to push back his bangs. “are you serious?”

“let me off with a warning,” you say. you keep one hand around the base of his dick, tight and trapping. your other hand goes to his balls. you hold them, thumb gently swiping over the flesh. 

jihoon’s breath shutters in his throat. 

“a warning,” you demand. 

“fuck,” he says again. “fine. a warning.”

triumphant, you let a large smile take over your face. you begin to move your hand once again. 

W E E K  N I N E 

“now that you’ve finished properly with oedipus rex,” jihoon begins, rounding the table at the front of the classroom, “let’s get some opinions. raise your hand if you enjoyed the play.”

more hands than not raise around the room, including mingyu’s. you shoot him a betrayed look. the past nine class weeks the two of you had been close, sitting next to one another during lecture and discussion. you traded conversation and thoughts more often than not, using one another to bounce ideas and theories. 

and for him to have enjoyed the play? 

jihoon moves to lean against the desk. he crosses his arms over his chest. this time he’s wearing all black. it seems to lengthen his figure, stretch him out, as well as broaden the line of his shoulders. 

he looks good. 

“let’s get some opinions on people who didn’t like the play.” immediately his eyes are on you, calling out your name. “you didn’t enjoy the play.”

traitor. 

you shift in your seat. “uh. no, not really.”

“why?”

you were going to suffocate him in his sleep. 

“it’s rather –” you break off, searching for words. you weren’t the literary student; he was. “i don’t understand him, i guess.”

jihoon tilts his head. “him? sophocles? or oedipus?”

“oedipus,” you clarify. 

“can you explain a little further? what exactly don’t you understand?”

you bite down on your tongue for a moment, trying to gather yourself. the classroom is silent as you wait, unintentionally putting pressure on your shoulders as you realize they were all waiting for you to speak up. 

“he – oedipus – he’s sort of stupid, isn’t he?” someone chokes behind you. you ignore them, looking at jihoon. despite him putting you on the spot like an asshole, he’s still your boyfriend. his face isn’t harsh, isn’t judging as he watches you struggle for words. for a moment he isn’t your ta – he’s your boyfriend. he’s your boyfriend and you’re having a plain, casual discussion. “i mean. he knows the prophecy. but he just does whatever he wants anyways? he’s just – he’s got no common sense.”

jihoon hums, tapping his fingers along his forearms. “so his arrogance has made him entirely unlikable to you. are there any redeeming treats, do you think?”

you shake your head. “it makes him deserve his ending, i think. he thought he was above it all.”

jihoon nods. “i see. remember that argument for your paper. that’s a big question that needs answered: does oedipus deserve his ending? you could analyze that further and get a pretty solid base for your essay.”

he begins to question other students about whether they liked the story or not, leaving you alone. the remainder of class flows as such, ending with jihoon gently urging everyone to write down their thoughts to revisit for the essay. 

you gather your things and put them into your backpack. mingyu loiters next to you, hands stuffed into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

“what’re you doing after this?” he reaches down and grabs your backpack after you’ve zipped it up, slinging it onto his shoulder. “wanna hit the library? we could bounce some more ideas around.”

smiling, you begin to agree. 

jihoon calls your name, having gathered his own things and lodging his foot in the heavy wooden door, keeping it ajar. “do you mind coming with me to the office for a minute or two? i want to talk about what you’ve said during class.”

you swallow back a sigh, throwing jihoon a firm-lipped smile. mingyu swings your backpack back off his shoulder, handing it to you. “good luck.”

you make a face at him. mingyu doesn’t know the true nature of the relationship between you and jihoon, but he does know that you’ve visited jihoon during office hours more than once. not a week has gone by without you setting foot into the little ta office, setting your printed-out versions of whatever classic the class was working on. 

“print every story out,” jihoon had advised, voice carrying that air of superiority he always seemed to gain when the two of you were sat in the dark office. “mark it up. it’ll help you pay close attention to every line.”

jihoon leads you to the ta office, weaving through the throngs of students making their way through the marble halls. you sort of want to reach out and grab onto his shirt, just to ensure he stays visible. but you don’t. 

another ta is in the office, steadily working away at their own homework. she throws a smile at the two of you as you enter. “hey, jihoon.”

“hey.” he crosses into the room, setting his laptop in front of the chair that he had, only a few weeks ago, received a rather satisfactory hand-job from you in. “your office hours are over, aren’t they?”

the other ta nods. “yep. just working now. never seems to end.”

jihoon settles into the wooden chair, flipping up the screen to his laptop. he had to change it from the selfie the two of you had taken during a hike, matching dandelion flowers tucked into your ears. now a mountain range greets him. “we’re gonna be discussing oedipus rex.”

“won’t be a bother to me!”

you push over a chair close to jihoon, the feet of it scraping against the floor. 

“pull out your notes,” jihoon says. he pulls up his own version of the play on his computer; they’re scans of his own copy, scribbles and highlighted passages littering every single page. “we’ll go over what exactly prompted you to think this way about oedipus. it’ll help you get a real solid foundation for the essay.

“so,” he says once you have your notes spread out. “oedipus is a flawed character. there’s no doubt about it. the stage directions themselves reveal as much.”

as he talks, raspy voice droning on and words blending together in your mind, jihoon’s foot begins to slide across the floor. you can’t help but look at it, watch it. his black leather shoe moves from in front of him, slowly, silently, gliding across the floor to nudge against your own shoe. 

“he does whatever he wants, that’s what you said?”

you nod. 

“during discussion you mentioned that he knew the prophecy and ignored it,” jihoon says. his foot now fully rests against yours. it’s just one point of contact, and yet it seems to electrify you; warm you up. you can’t help but focus on it, like a cat watching a bird through the window. 

“but he doesn’t,” jihoon says. “he thoroughly believes his parents to be the king and queen of corinth. according to oedipus, and forgetting the context we ourselves know, he has escaped his fate.”

his words fade out. jihoon’s hands settle on his keyboard, a single finger absentmindedly tapping at a key. it’s not hard enough to do anything. it’s just a simple tap, a fumbling gesture. 

his shoe shifts. he presses his foot against yours from toe to heel. 

the other ta in the room begins to collect her things. you listen to her as she moves about, closing her laptop and shuffling papers. 

jihoon shifts in his chair. his knees spread out. his trousers strain, just slightly, against his thick thighs. the barest sliver of pale ankle slips out from beneath his trousers, his black socks hidden beneath the leather lip of his shoes. 

the ta opens the door; closes it behind her. 

“his character is one the citizens of greece would have identified with – at least the ones in athens,” jihoon says, and then he’s turning his face towards you. feeling rather caught, you meet his eyes. “so why do you think he deserves his ending?”

you furrow your brows. you’ve gone over this. “because he actively chooses it through his arrogance. he ignores the prophecy.”

jihoon sighs, lips pursing together. “you haven’t paid attention to a single word i’ve said.”

your mouth falls open a little. “i have!”

“haven’t,” he corrects. 

jihoon stands from the chair. you miss being able to see the skin of his ankle. he crosses the room, hand falling to the door knob. he locks it. “i think we need to work on your attention span, don’t you?”

your mouth goes dry. he begins to unbutton the cuffs of his black shirt as he moves back across the room. he pushes up his sleeves, shoving off his thick forearms. “jihoon?”

jihoon sits back in his wooden chair, legs automatically spreading out. one of his hands rests on the armrest of the chair, while he set his elbow on the other, using it to prop up his head. jihoon raises his brows at you. “well?”

“what?”

he sighs, as if burdened. “take off your pants and underwear.”

you snap your head towards the door. after verifying no one had magically walked through, you look back at jihoon, hissing his name. “what are you going on about?”

“we need to work on your memory,” he explains matter-of-factly, voice taking on that arrogant lilt he so often gets when in this room. jihoon likes this, you think; likes being in a position of power over you. likes being able to boss you around; able to tell you what to do. 

with one last glance at the door, you stand from your wooden chair. jihoon watches unabashedly as you work your pants down over your ass. you leave both your jeans and underwear on the hard floor of the office. 

jihoon pats his thigh wordlessly. 

you feel heat rush towards your cheeks. you’ve sat on his thighs before, have ridden them before. but it felt so fucking different to be lowering yourself onto the thick muscle in a university office, your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, the backs of your hands lightly brushing against the wood of his chair. 

you don’t do anything for a moment other than just sit on his thigh. the fabric of his pants is like silk against your skin, and you can’t help but slowly, hesitantly, rock your hips down onto him. 

jihoon’s hands go to your hips. he tilts his head back, the curls framing his temples brushing against the corners of his eyes. 

“now,” he says, “you think oedipus ignores his prophecy.”

you look down at your boyfriend, pouting at him. “you’re punishing me because i have a different opinion than you? about some old play?”

jihoon presses his lips together. then his hand is coming down sharply on your outer thigh, the sound acutely piercing your ears and reverberating in your head. he rubs roughly at the skin after, thumb swiping against the patch of skin as it turns violent with anger from his slap. 

“because you’re ignoring the text,” jihoon says. his hand slides from your thigh around to your ass. his fingers dig into your asscheek, contemplating the weight of it. “it’d be one thing if you had actual evidence that wasn’t in conflict with what sophocles was telling us.”

“if you’re trying to get me wet,” you say, thumbs tapping against his shoulders, “i’m not sure this is the way to go.”

jihoon moves the hand that was on your ass back to your hips. he squeezes the flesh beneath his hands, and then he’s slowly leading you into a rocking motion. it’s not much, but there’s enough connection between your cunt and his thigh to have a gentle swell of lust licking at your pussy. 

“don’t be smart,” he says. 

“you act smart all the time,” you snap back. you keep rocking your hips. “why can’t i?”

he scoffs a little, nails slightly digging into your skin. instead of any pain, they send a little spark of heat through you. “i’ve got degrees in this,” he explains. “i’m literally allowed to talk about this.”

“now,” he says, “oedipus never ignores his fate. he says as much. he believes polybus and merope to be his parents. when he becomes doubtful, he confronts them: ‘. . . i went to mother and father, questioned them closely . . . so as for my parents i was satisfied . . .’”

for a moment you’re speechless. and then you let out a loud laugh despite yourself. “you little fucking nerd, reciting oedipus rex to your girlfriend while she’s rubbing herself on her thigh.”

jihoon’s jaw tightens. he moves, hands on your hips pushing you up and off of him. once you’re standing, he joins you. as soon as jihoon is on his feet he’s pushing you around, moving so your bare ass is against his front. then he pushes further, pressing your body against the table in front of you. the edge of your table reaches your upper thigh, and so it’s easy for jihoon to place his hand against the middle of your back and press you until your front is firmly against the surface of the table. 

as soon as your chin is touching the cold table, jihoon is bringing his hand down sharply against your ass. you can’t help but let out a startled shout, body jerking from underneath him. 

“be good,” he murmurs, hand now gentle as he rubs at your skin in apology. “listen to your ta. trying to help, baby.”

“you’re being mean,” you say, toes curling against the frigid office floor as his hand travels to rest against the curve of your ass. 

“wouldn’t have to be if you’d be good,” he says. jihoon moves his hand down, the tip of his forefinger gliding against the area where your ass and thigh meet. “you gonna be good for me?”

you shift, moving one of your arms so you can rest your face against it. forehead pressing against your forearm, you nod. 

“good. now oedipus believed polybus and merope to be his true parents. he was still desperate to avoid the prophecy, so he abandoned his princely title and corinth. he wanted to be free of it, baby.”

his fingers tip inwards. your entire body tenses as his fingertips press alongside your folds. he doesn’t do anything further; doesn’t insert them. instead he just keeps them there, absentmindedly shifting his hand. 

“he is arrogant,” jihoon absconds, allowing you a single point. “we see that in the beginning. ‘. . . the world knows my fame: i am oedipus.’”

jihoon waits for a moment after quoting the play. when you don’t do anything other than let out a shaky breath, he rewards you. jihoon slowly moves his fingers against your cunt. he trails his fingers up and down your length. he maps out the full expanse of your pussy. his fingers slide up over your hole, which was now leaking and clenching properly. he brushes his digits over your clit almost clinically, giving it no more attention than the rest of you. 

“but he doesn’t ignore the prophecy. he believes he’s foiled it until he forces the shepherd to tell his story. he refuses to stop; refuses to listen to reason. he’s arrogant, yes, and hurtles straight towards the horrid truth of his parentage and marriage without a second thought.”

jihoon slowly, tortuously, slips a single finger into your cunt. his finger isn’t so thick to cause any discomfort. instead your pussy welcomes it, clenching around the digit. you can’t help but bare down on his finger, hips searching for more.

later you’ll remember to be mortified by the fact your boyfriend got you wet while talking about sophocles. 

but now you press your eyes shut, fingers lightly scraping against the surface of the desk. 

jihoon pushes his finger all the way inside of your pussy. you can feel it when it’s fully in, his knuckles scraping against your flesh. 

you cart your hips back, trying to get his finger to graze that special spongey place. 

“be good,” jihoon says, and then he’s retracting his finger from your cunt entirely. 

you let out a small gasp, brow furrowing. you turn your head to peer back at him. “hoonie….”

jihoon laughs at you, and then he’s lowering himself to press his chest along the line of your back. jihoon presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, one of his hands still holding tight to your hips. “you’re so cute when i’m fucking you,” he says, mouth moving against your cheek as he speaks. “you always get so cute. what is this?”

you pout at him. jihoon presses another kiss to your cheek, and then he’s standing. 

this time jihoon slides in two fingers. you frown, insistently pressing your forehead against your forearm as the stretch of his fingers slightly burns. it’s not unpleasant, of course. just a gentle burn that signals the walls of your pussy stretching to accommodate him. 

“there,” he says, satisfied. “now. where was i?”

he’s silent. you realize he’s waiting for you to speak, to prove you were listening. 

you let out a strangled groan, trying to think back. he had a single finger inside of you and it wasn’t enough. you try to think. you try to think of a single word to say that isn’t fuck or more; try to think despite the way jihoon is slowly angling his fingers towards your front, pressing them up. 

you can’t help but press your thighs together in anticipation. 

jihoon clicks his tongue, and then he’s pulling his fingers out. you let out a whine, trying to push yourself away from the desk. 

both of his hands go to your shoulders, keeping you firmly against the surface. “stay still,” he warns you. “i know you have a listening problem but i didn’t think it was this bad.”

there’s a rustle of clothing behind you. “don’t look,” jihoon says. “keep your face against the table.”

you can’t think of a reply, can’t think of anything to do other than what he says. you wonder if you should feel ashamed of how easily you become compliant for him. 

“oedipus doesn’t ignore the prophecy,” jihoon restates, and then he’s pressing his front against your ass. he’s taken off his pants and is just in his underwear. you can feel the shape of his thick cock against your ass, can feel it’s hard length along you. “he just believes polybus and merope when they say they are his true parents. there’s no harm in that. anyone would want to believe it when the people who raise them say they are their true parents.”

jihoon rocks his hips against you. his hands are holding your hips still as he, essentially, humps against your ass. 

“so in that regard your argument has a fallacy,” jihoon announces. 

a fallacy? 

you want to say something biting about how he’s able to even think about fallacies and arguments when he’s humping your ass, but then jihoon is returning two of his fingers to your pussy and you elect to keep silent. 

“he is arrogant, though,” jihoon says. he pushes two of his fingertips into your hole. you clench hungrily around them as if your pussy was trying to suck them in. you wonder if you’ve always been so – so whorish for him, or if it was a recent development from not having been properly fucked in nine weeks. 

“his pride is something that transcends time,” jihoon carries on. he doesn’t press his fingers any deeper inside of you. he rests the tip of his ring finger just barely against your clit. he doesn’t move it either; just rests it there, taunting. 

“everyone can think of a political leader who is too arrogant for their own good,” jihoon says. “it’s a tale as old as time. sophocles set the precedent with this story. a king on top of the world who listens to no one, only to be brought down to his knees by fate.”

jihoon begins to slide his fingers in. he does it leisurely, slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. 

“the evolution of his character is a fascinating one,” jihoon says, his ring finger leaving its place to instead rest against your hole. he doesn’t slide it in. you want to buck your hips back and force it inside. “arrogance to being humbled in every sense of the word. he is only wise until he can no longer see; only sees the truth once he is blinded

“do you remember,” jihoon says, “what he says after he blinds himself?”

you shake your head against your arm. his two fingers are nearly settled entirely inside of your pussy. you want them so deep inside of you that you can feel them in your throat. 

involuntarily you clench around his digits. 

jihoon clicks his tongue. his fingers stop moving in you. “what did i say? be good. none of this shit.”

you let out a little whine, your free hand curling into a fist. “sorry,” you say, unable to keep your voice from pitching up in desperation. “i’m sorry, hoonie.”

“say you won’t move,” jihoon instructs, voice seemingly detached. “say you’ll be a good girl for me and won’t move.”

your lower lip wobbles. you feel somewhat humiliated like this: your front pressing against the surface of a ta desk, shirt rucked up along your stomach and bare toes curling against the marble floors of the university history building. your boyfriend pressing all up against you, fingers stuffed into your cunt, telling you what to do as if you were some pathetic whore, desperate for a cock inside. 

but, because you are exactly that, you repeat his words, feeling wetness trickle from your pussy. “i’ll be good,” you whimper out. “i won’t move. i’ll be a good girl.”

jihoon lets out a quiet, nearly-silent huff of laughter. he retracts his fingers from your pussy, and immediately you’re feeling panic strike you. 

“be patient,” he chides you as you begin to press back against him. three of jihoon’s press against your hole. “be a good girl.”

jihoon pushes his three fingers into your pussy. you let out a high keening noise like a wounded animal, eyes squeezing shut and cunt eagerly drinking his fingers up. they’re nothing like his dick, aren’t as thick or delicious, but they’re something. 

the stretch burns and you wiggle absentmindedly, relishing in it. the burn is acute and hot and you yearn to press into it, to take more and more and more. 

“good,” he says once all three of his fingers are stuffed inside of you. “you look pretty like this, baby. you know that?”

you whine. you don’t move. 

jihoon’s three fingers press up, and when they bump against your bundle of nerves you can’t help but wiggle back, searching. 

“do you remember?” he repeats. “what’s the first thing oedipus says after he’s blinded?”

you shake your head. you don’t know how he expects you to think about anything. you feel as if you’ve been strung along, as if he’s been tugging at a chain and you’ve been stumbling behind him. 

“‘oh,” jihoon quotes, and then he’s lowering himself to press against you. his mouth it against your ear, his fingers shifting within your pussy due to his change of position. when he speaks again you can hear his voice as clear as day despite how he murmurs, and it’s as if he’s wrapped entirely around you; as if he’s consumed you. “‘oh, the agony! i am agony.’”

jihoon presses his fingers back into you so the tips of them were pressing against your pleasure spot once more. 

“he’s felt true agony now,” jihoon explains. he keeps his fingers still now. “he’s an icarus fallen to the earth. his wings of wax have melted. he’s a king with his word left in crumbles; with his queen dead and children made of sin. he’s nothing.”

jihoon’s nose presses against the shell of your ear. “his arrogance was his destruction. can you tell me more about it?”

you open your mouth to speak. you can’t. and even if you could, it isn’t as if your brain is working. there’s nothing inside of your mind. the lust, the desire, that takes over your body is so big it swallows up everything else and renders you dumb. 

jihoon huffs out a laugh, mean. “fine. at least do this to prove you’ve listened to me: tell me the first thing oedipus says after becoming blind.”

you feel as if he’s surrounding you. you can feel jihoon’s weight along your back, can feel his fingers inside of your cunt, stretching you out. you feel so keyed up, so ready for something. not something – him. you want jihoon. you want him carnally. you want his dick stuffed inside of your pussy. you want his mouth on your neck; want his hands on your tits. you want him pressing your face into the desk and drilling into your pussy. 

you open your mouth. an embarrassing noise comes out. 

“come on,” jihoon says. “you can do it.”

“‘oh,’” you breathe out, trying to remember the exact words. “oh, agony! i’m — i’m agony!”

jihoon must judge your vague quotation as good enough. he moves off of your back, and you can’t help but whine, wanting his weight settled against you once more. 

his hand shifts inside of you. 

he slides his fingers out. you can feel your cunt resisting the slide, pussy clenching down on his fingers. 

“hoonie,” you beg. 

“be good,” he chides you. “remember. no sex.”

and then jihoon is thrusting his fingers so forcefully into your pussy that you can feel the sting as his knuckles hit your ass. the sharp noise of skin hitting skin rings out. you can barely process it before he’s withdrawing his fingers and fucking them back in just as quickly. 

jihoon finger-fucks you harshly, as if it were his dick he was shoving inside. your ass jiggles with each thrust back in. you whine and cry, and you can feel your ass begin to smarten from the sting. but you still arch back and meet each thrust of his fingers eagerly, craving the pleasure-pain. 

it’s rough and you can feel the orgasm, that string he had been messing with for what seems to be hours, begin to tighten. 

“want,” you pant out, fingernails scraping against the desk. “want you, hoonie. please, please, please.”

“beg, baby.”

you let out a cry. there’s tears at the corners of your eyes. “please, hoonie. i want you. want you, want you. i want you, hoonie.”

your voice breaks off, tight with emotion. 

jihoon lets out a curse, and then he’s dropping behind you. jihoon shoves your leg up, and you follow suit, placing your knee on the able and giving him access to your pussy. jihoon shoves a hand against your thigh, keeping it in place on the table. 

his mouth licks a stripe from where his fingers plunge into your pussy to your clit, taking that aching muscle between his lips and suckling. 

when you orgasm it’s harsh and loud, fluids gushing from your pussy and soaking jihoon’s face. he takes you into his arms, pulling you to the floor with him and pressing kisses to your face. 

“good girl,” he murmurs, voice raspy and comforting. the office is drenched in the smell of pussy – of your pussy – and his nose shines with your release. he ignores it, his clean hand pushing back stray strands of hair from your face so he can press a sweet kiss to your nose. “good girl.”

W E E K  T H I R T E E N

you think, fleetingly, that you’re not being fair. 

but then you remember that girl – girl, because she can’t be any older than eighteen, fresh out of high school and far too young to be sniffing around your boyfriend – and how she pressed close to jihoon as she showed him something on her computer, and you can’t help but think you’re not being harsh enough. 

with that in the forefront of your mind, you ease the hot pink dildo in your aching cunt. you can feel fluid gush from your pussy, a slick combination of your own desire and the generous amount of lube you had massaged onto the dildo. 

the stretch burns, stretching the walls of your pussy. it’s a stark, acute contrast to the three fingers you used to stretch yourself, and you couldn’t help but arch your back up off of jihoon’s couch, toes curling and mouth dropping open. 

you can feel the fluids leak down your pussy, sliding along the curve of your ass. 

good, you think. sink into the fabric of the couch so from now on, whenever he sits here, he has to smell your cunt. 

your hand stills once the base of the dildo is flush against your ass. you shift, hips tilting as you try to relieve some of the sting. 

you stretch out for your phone, glancing at the time. the dildo is pushed from your pussy by the movement. 

jihoon will be home any minute. your hand returns to the dildo, pushing it back into your pussy. your cunt sucks it in, eager and greedy. 

clenching down on the dildo, you can’t help the thrill of satisfaction that shoots through you. you feel so delightfully full, as if some part of you was a gaping hole that needed to be filled. 

well – 

you suppose that line of thought isn’t too wrong. 

you grab the dildo, fingernails digging slightly into the jelly-like texture. you slide the dildo from your cunt. despite how much lube you used, despite how wet your cunt is, the dildo still is slow to slide out, your pussy clamping down to try and keep it in place. 

you pull it out until just the tip of the dildo is pressed against your hole. your juices glint evilly on the dildo, a long, thick string along the side of it. 

slowly you ease it back inside. you tip your head back, foot pressing down on the cushion of the couch in an attempt to mentally steady yourself. it’s a dragging sensation that has impatience licking at your brain, trying to push its way to the forefront. 

you pump the dildo in and out, in and out, until you are satisfied that the burn from your pussy stretching to accommodate it is no more. 

you draw it out. 

and then you force it back in, sharp enough for the gelatin balls to slap against your ass in a poor mimicry of the real thing. 

your free hand goes to your tit, framing a pebbled nipple between two of your fingers. you massage it, pull it, as you harshly fuck the dildo in, soft pants escaping your mouth as your body begins to ignite with pleasure and the wanton desire for more. 

you can’t help but want. it’s as if the desire is written into your dna, lining the fabric of your entire being. you want to be fucked, want to be thrown onto your front and taken from behind; want jihoon fucking his fat cock into your pussy in one swift motion, forcing your pussy to stretch around him. 

you want jihoon. 

you could devour him, you think as you crook the dildo up towards the front of your body, searching for your g-spot. you would devour him whole. you would take and take from him until he’s entirely yours, body and soul. 

the lock to the door clicks. you hurriedly bring the fingers messing with your nipple up to your mouth, licking at them before taking the nub between them and rolling. 

the front door to jihoon’s apartment swings open, your boyfriend stepping through. his eyes immediately catch on you, naked and wanton. 

“what – fuck –” he shoves the door shut behind him, loud and firm. “what the fuck are you doing?!”

you slide the dildo from your pussy, slow and torturous, ensuring he’s watching. jihoon’s eyes, naturally, flick down to your pussy. the dildo is still slick with fluid, and you can where the more dense of your fluids stain the pink of the dick. 

“what are you doing,” he repeats, dropping his leather bag to the floor. 

“taking matters – ah,” you moan out, massaging your gummy g-spot with the head of the dick. “taking matters into my own hands, jihoon; what else?”

his hands go to his shirt. jihoon hurriedly pushes at the buttons of his white dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor after he’s done. his trousers follow suit, and he leaves them behind with his shoes and socks. 

“what are you doing?” you grin at jihoon toothily, echoing his words. “no sex, remember?”

jihoon moves towards you regardless. he had done his hair that morning, gelling it back. now a few stray strands frame his temples, giving him a perfectly disheveled look. his tank top does nothing to conceal his collar bones, the line of his shoulders proud and wide. 

his hands find your thighs. he separates your legs, baring your pussy entirely. 

you still your hand, just keeping the dildo snug inside of you, refusing to move it further. “what are you doing, jihoon?”

“looking,” he retorts, eyes dancing around your body as he takes you in. you think you look like some perverted creature, carnal desire and desperation written onto every centimeter of skin. 

“don’t touch,” you chide him, moving an leg from his grasp. jihoon tightens his hold on the other as you press your foot against his chest, lightly pressing in a piss-poor attempt to push him back. 

jihoon rolls his eyes at you, nose crinkling and mouth twisting into a sneer. 

“oh,” you breathe out, sheathing the dildo fully inside once more. his eyes meet yours. you let a grin take over, unable to help but tease him. “‘oh, the agony! i am agony!’ isn’t that right, hoonie?”

for a split second you can see shock take over jihoon’s features, catlike eyes widening. a strike of triumph hits you, feeling as if you are the cat that got the canary. 

but then jihoon is grabbing the dildo from your hand. he pulls it out, the slide making your mouth drop in a gasp and body arch up off of the couch. 

“h – hoonie –!”

“agony,” he hisses, and then jihoon is shoving his boxers down to his knees. 

his cock bounces from his underwear, slapping against the fabric of his tank-top. it’s thick and angry, and when he runs his hand along it, rubbing at the head, a thick marble of precum leaks from it. 

“no – no sex,” you say, voice hoarse as you subconsciously keep your eyes on his cock. you’ve been starving for jihoon’s dick for so long, and here it is, thick and pulsing in front of you. 

and like a starving woman in front of a table overflowing with food, you eagerly welcome jihoon’s dick when he presses the tip against your hole. you spread your legs, knees knocking against his hips as he presses against you. 

jihoon keeps his dick in hand, not entering you. he rubs his dick up between your folds, a soft curse escaping his lips at how wet you are. once he’s at your clit he stops, rubbing the head of his dick against you. 

“fuck –” your voice is taking on a whining tone, and you can’t help but fleetingly wonder what happened to you showing jihoon who’s boss, making him witness just what he’s missing. but that thought is gone from your mind as soon as it enters, and instead you’/re pleading with jihoon. “please, hoonie – please fuck me, please.”

he sighs, the tip of his cock pressing against your hole. still, he doesn’t enter you. “i thought we agreed on no sex,” he says. “no sex until the semester is over.”

you cry out, hips trying to shift upwards and force his dick inside. jihoon pulls back. “please – put it in. it won’t count – won’t count if you don’t cum in me, yeah? won’t count if i don’t cum around your dick.”

jihoon lets out a loud, shivering groan that seems to release from the depths of his soul. 

jihoon presses his dick into your cunt. the head pops past your entrance, and then he’s sliding home. 

your pussy takes jihoon eagerly, sufficiently prepared by your fingers and the dildo. his dick is just slightly thicker than the dildo, and so there is a pleasurable sting that burns at your core. it’s not horrible, and you let out a moan as you cant your hips up. 

jihoon doesn’t stop pressing into you until his balls are against your ass. his hands are on either of your legs, keeping you spread for him. jihoon uses his grip on you to push himself back, bringing his cock out of your cunt slowly. the drag of his dick is delicious, is everything you’ve been missing for months. 

you’re not sure if this is just because you haven’t been fucked appropriately since august and it’s in the middle of november, but you feel completely overwhelmed by jihoon. 

his cock feels so good inside of you. it’s thick and warm, and when he shifts his dick presses up towards your core. his blunt head presses against your g-spot, and you can’t help the little mewl of approval that escapes you. 

“feels good,” he breathes out. his eyes flutter, nails digging into your skin. “you feel so fucking good.”

jihoon pulls his hips back, leaving your pussy save for the tip of his dick. he lingers, the fat head of his dick keeping you plugged. 

when jihoon thrusts in, it’s rough and well-aimed for your g-spot. you let out a shrill noise, eyes rolling back. you don’t know if sex has ever felt like this before – if you’ve ever felt so overwhelmed just by a single thrust. 

your hands scramble, grabbing at the couch. “hoonie!”

he slides out; fucks back in. 

jihoon’s pace is rough, as if he’s making up for lost time. as if he’s determined to mold your pussy back into the shape of his dick. he uses your pussy, uses you. he uses your cunt in an almost detached way, as if you were some random fuck and not his treasured girlfriend. 

eventually jihoon is pulling from your cunt with a strangled moan. his dick is drenched with your fluids, thick strings decorating it like lewd jewelry. jihoon palms his dick, and then he’s thrusting into his hand once, twice, thrice before he cums onto your stomach. 

he lets out a moan, a gasp of your own joining. his cum is thick and hot. you want to shove it into your pussy. 

jihoon’s hands go back to your thighs, and then he’s dropping to his knees. 

“can’t wait to fuck you,” he groans, “can’t wait to fill you up. as soon as finals are over, you’re mine. got it? you’re mine.”

then his tongue is licking a stripe up from your cunt to your clit, and all other thoughts leave you. 

W E E K  S I X T E E N

the lecture hall, just like most of the rest of campus, is nearly deserted. 

you had left your apartment as soon as the email about your final grade dinged your phone, delight and want immediately turning at your stomach. you had been looking forward to this day for months: the day you and jihoon were finally free to fuck (and publicly be in a relationship, but that wasn’t the most pressing matter at the moment). 

jihoon was at the front of the large room, talking to the last stragglers of the exam he had to oversee. you rush down the steps, unable to help the broad smile on your face. 

your boyfriend looks up as you thunder down the auditorium, and you catch the moment his own face breaks out into a wide grin. 

he calls out your name as you step off of the last step. 

the student he’s talking to waves goodbye, and you take the spot where he had been standing. 

“hey,” you say, unable to keep your smile tamed. “how’s it going?”

jihoon rolls his eyes at you, folding his arms over his chest. this close to him you could smell his cologne, the sharp smells of amber and vanilla. he was wearing his white dress shirt again, though this time it was dressed up with a simple black tie. 

“glad it’s over,” jihoon murmurs. 

you glance around the room. there’s two girls at the back, talking excitedly as one of them packs up their things. 

“took you forever to grade the exams.”

jihoon scoffs. “as if. you turned it in last night at midnight.”

you shrug. the girls begin to make their way out of the room, calling out good-byes to jihoon. 

“all things considered,” he says, raising a hand in acknowledgement towards the girls, “this semester wasn’t so bad.”

you laugh at him. “it’s been agony to me,” you say, knowing how loaded the word is for the both of you. 

the heavy wooden doors shut solemnly behind the girls. it’s as if a switch flicks off in jihoon’s mind. his eyes visibly soften before you, his smile taking on a gentler shape. 

“i missed you,” he says. he doesn’t say anything else; that isn’t jihoon’s way. he’d write a thousand poems for you and keep them locked away. he’ll say three words, i missed you, and his meaning will include a hundred other things: i love you; i adore you; i want you close to me always; you bewitch me. 

“i missed you, too,” you echo, hoping he feels the weight of your simple response. 

jihoon keeps his face passive as he opens his arms, and you go easily into his embrace. you burrow your face into his neck, breathing him in. he wraps his thick arms around you, pressing you close to his body. 

for a moment the two of you just exist in this little universe. 

jihoon is the first to pull away, though he doesn’t go far. as if magnetic, you tilt your lips towards him, meeting his mouth halfway. 

the kiss begins gentle and solemn. it’s the end of a sentence, finishing the semester, which had been filled with tension and desperation, with a sweet embrace and soft lips. 

you separate your mouth from his. you skim your lips along his chin, following the edge of his jaw. you trace the edges of his face with your mouth, trying to memorize the shape of him. 

“i missed you,” you say again. 

jihoon is silent. he sinks a hand into your hair, cradling the back of your head. he guides your face back to his, his lips pressing a long kiss to yours. 

this time when jihoon kisses you it’s firm. his mouth is insistent against yours, devouring you in a way that leaves you breathless. he presses you back, his tongue sliding past your lips. 

jihoon walks you backwards until your thighs are bumping against the table. he keeps your head still, tongue licking into your mouth and exploring. 

his free hand slides beneath your shirt, grabbing at the flesh of your hip. 

“hoonie,” you say, pulling back from his mouth. jihoon hums, pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth. “want you.”

“got me,” he returns. 

despite his gentle words, jihoon’s hands move quickly against you. he tosses your shirt and bra aside, mouth attaching to your neck as soon as you are bare. his hand slides down to the waistband of your pants, fingers dipping past it. jihoon presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, eager to reefamiliarize himself with your body entirely. his nips at the curve of your tit, and then his mouth is suckling at a pebbled nippple. 

you whine against him. you run your hands overh im. you feel the curve of his own pecs, feel the flat plane of his stomach, still hidden by his shirt. you tug at his tie, and then you’re molding your hand against his straining erection. 

jihoon groans against you. “careful,” he says. 

“we shouldn’t get too carried away,” you return. your fingers find the button of his trousers nonetheless. it’s the easiest thing to pop it through the hole, loosening his pants. “we should go home. anyone could walk in.”

“‘oh, the agony,’” jihoon says, and then he’s turning you around and pressing you against the table. 

he’s quick to pull your pants and underwear to your ankles. jihoon helps you step out of them, leaving them in a discarded mess by the leg of the table. 

he smooths his hands over your legs and thighs as he stands, his tough heavy and warm. jihoon positions you; slides his hand along your leg and pushes it up onto the table, foot dangling over the edge. 

he slides two of his fingers inside of your pussy. you clench down on the intrusion, biting down on your lip. 

“don’t –” you sigh out, turning over your shoulder to look at him. “i’m ready.”

jihoon blinks at you for a moment, and then he’s cursing. “slut,” he says, though his lips twitch up into a grin. 

he doesn’t bother undressing all the way. you can feel the fabric of his pants bunch against your ass when his cock is buried deep inside. his cock stretches you so delightfully. you feel as if you’re finally whole after an eternity of missing something. 

maybe you really are a slut. 

jihoon slides his dick out slowly, making you feel every centimeter of his cock. the glide is nearly on the side of too-dry, but your eyes roll back nonetheless, nails scraping against the wood of the table. 

“fuck,” he breathes out, and then he’s punching his dick back into your pussy. 

you rock forward on the table, the edge of it digging into you. you don’t mind it. instead you push back, meeting his thrust. 

“missed you,” jihoon says. you wonder if he’s talking about your pussy. you wouldn’t blame him if he was: you missed his cock, afterall. 

you missed out his dick feels within you, heavy and stretching you out. you missed how he fucks into you, how his hips slap against your ass. you missed the sting of him fucking you, the sting of skin against skin coupled with the electric sparks of pleasure that shoot through you when the blunt head of his cock hits your g-spot. 

jihoon fucks you as if you were reuniting. which, you suppose, you are. he fucks you as if he’s treasuring each thrust, as if he’s making sure each rock of his hips is perfect to make up for lost time. 

you can feel the fabric of his shirt when jihoon presses his front against your back. his black tie dangles beside your face. he uses his weight to keep you against the table, his hips picking up pace. 

he practically jackrabbits into your pussy, hips frantic. 

“missed you,” he says, and then he’s grabbing your face to press another open-mouthed kiss to your lips. there’s no finesse: it’s just as messy as the way he fucks you. spit slides from mouth to mouth, tongues meeting and tangling. 

he’s devouring you, you realize. he’s gobbling you up, owning you inside and out. 

jihoon reaches down, his fingers finding your clit easily. he slips his fingers against your clit, the wetness of your pussy making the glide easy. his fingers against your clit are just as frantic as his hips fucking into you, and the combined sensation brings your orgasm crashing down around you more quickly than you would like. 

he slows his hips to a stop as you cum around his cock, whining high at the back of your throat. it’s overwhelming. you haven’t cum around his dick in months. his cock stretches you still, and every minute shift of your hips back against him has his dick pressing against all the sensitive places. 

“good?” his voice is raspy against your hair. 

you nod. 

jihoon pulls back, and you hiss at the feeling of his dick leaving your pussy. 

he doesn’t stay gone for long. jihoon maneuvers you onto your back. he grabs each of your thighs, holding them up and baring you to him. you can feel the juices of your release as they slide down your cunt. 

he thrusts back in. immediately you’re tossing your head back against the table, eyes rolling back. your toes curl. 

jihoon hooks your legs over the crook of each of his arms, and then he’s setting a harsh pace once again. his grunts are loud againsts the quiet of the room, the slapping of skin against skin sending heat rushing up towards your face. you feel too high strung, feel as if your neurons and electrons are buzzing around underneath your skin. you want to move away from his cock and how it tortures you, pressing against your g-spot as sensitivity rears its ugly head; you want to fuck down onto his dick until you’re unable to walk. 

when jihoon cums, it’s copious. it’s too much. you feel his dick throb within you as he spills, filling you with hot seed. it’s so much; you want more. 

jihoon pulls his dick from your pussy only once he’s finished. he isn’t done with you, though. 

he slaps his palm against your cunt, the sensation acute and electric. 

you want to cry. you don’t want him to ever stop. 

jihoon slaps your cunt again, and then he’s hooking three of his fingers inside of your pussy. he thrusts him inside in the same fashion he did his cock: harshly, roughly. the sting of his knuckles against your flesh isn’t unlike the sting of his hips. 

when you cum, it’s with a loud sob. he presses the fingers of his free hand against your clit, rubbing it once more while his fingers keep pressing up against your g-spot, relentless in his mission of wringing you dry. 

after it’s over, you hold out your arms. 

jihoon gathers you into his embrace easily, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you know you should hurry and dress, know that it’ll be a matter of time before someone wanders into the room. 

you don’t care. 

instead you just bask in the attention of your boyfriend, forehead pressing to his shoulder. 

[traumasurvivors]

My partner and I are in a really rough spot financially. I know that's true of a lot of people right now, so I totally get that people can't afford to purchase stuff.

But I thought I'd share this in case some people might be interested in purchasing and can afford to do so:

I have a stim toy business called @flappyhappystim. Our website is www.flappyhappystim.com. We sell stim toys, with a focus on ones for adults like fidget earrings and stuff like that. We offer free worldwide shipping on orders of $70 CAD or more (we cannot cover or predict import fees though.) Here's our Tumblr advertising post.

I also have an Etsy workbook I did awhile ago. It's called Building Resilience. You can find it here. It's about $6 CAD.

I also have two books I wrote on my Etsy. The first one is called a Survivor's Guilt, and is a book I wrote about what I learned on my healing journey, and a hope to offer validation to others. You can find it here.

I also have a poetry book, the second part of a set of books. It's poems I wrote as I began healing. It's here.

Both the poetry book, and book about my healing journey are $1.25 CAD which I think is about $1 USD.

[coochiekrab]

Share with us your moral dilemma... perhaps we can help?

This is going to sound stupid

but i keep finding myself saying (in my head) “that’s really childish, you are a grown adult grow up” to people i see online who have made their entire online persona an ode to “healing their inner child”; a 39 year old Pokémon fan with a room full of Pokémon toys and cards and games talking about how they went to 20 stores in one day and couldn’t find any Pokémon cards, a married woman giving a tour of her bedroom sized squishmallow collection, someone with a masters degree pulling hundreds of Labubu blind boxes on TikTok live etc etc. i know this is me trying to compensate for being a very Ungrown Grown adult myself. In like 3 weeks I’ll be 24, “””” unemployed “ (formally), with no drivers license, no car, no real financial responsibilities outside of my own subscriptions and credit card bills, no desire to date or have sex, no desire to Work a Formal Job, no desire to smoke or drink, and Medium Desires to buy stupid plastic trinkets and games on eBay all day. All i do is hobby and do fake job. Im Extremely Childish in every sense but i feel like I’m above these people because its just not my whole online persona? The moment it clicked for me that this might be conservative propaganda working on me was when i said “ew grow up” to a woman advertising her Very Cutesy Frog Overall Dress that she designed and manufactured while using silly doggo heccin booper language and i was like oh wait. Im mad at non conformity. I like non conformity. My brain says I need to grow up but all the things that Facilitate growing up in my head are conformist and i don’t want to look like i just gave up on my values. Especially around driving sex and alcohol lol

[megalony]

You Invited Everyone?

This is an Eddie Diaz request by Anon, I loved writing this I'm so into writing for fluff dad! Eddie at the moment. Any feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Chris is very excited about going out at the weekend, so much so that he manages to call uncle Buck at work and tell everyone where they are going.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mummy,"

Turning on her heels, (Y/n) looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen where she knew Christopher was. She paused in her ministrations of tidying up the table where all his colours and books were spread out like a crafts explosion had taken place in the dining room.

Her back arched out and clicked into place and she rose a brow when her boy came into view.

Chris slowly walked around the island in the kitchen, one hand brought up to his face where he was biting down happily on his thumb, a cheeky but obscured smile on his face. And in his other hand, he held out the paper she had printed out only this morning which he had been obsessed with since he saw it.

He held the paper out in front of him and padded through to the dining room towards her, giggling loudly when he watched her stand upright and place a hand on her hip.

"And just what are you doing with that, mister?"

"We're going," Was all he could say, muffled around his thumb that he was about to bite through with how happily he was chomping down on it. He shook the paper until (Y/n) reached across and kindly took it from him.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead, ruffling his curls in the process before she bypassed him and headed back into the kitchen, knowing her boy would be hot on her heels. She could hear his hysterical laughter and his stomping footsteps catching up to her since she was purposely walking slower than normal.

"You know we're going on Saturday, baby." (Y/n) reached up on her tiptoes and pinned the paper back to the fridge with the Thomas the Tank Engine magnet Chris had picked out last month.

By chance when she was scrolling online, (Y/n) found an advertisement for an event happening at the park this weekend. There was going to be a dinosaur themed event from eleven until two in the park for anyone to join, free of charge. There would be a bouncy castle, some balloons and games and it was encouraging kids to dress up and bring toys.

With Chris's newest interest being anything to do with dinosaurs, it seemed like the perfect activity for him. He could go on the bouncy castle, he could join in the games like he did at sports day at school and he could show off all the fun facts he had been learning about the 'dino era' with Eddie.

It just so happened to be Eddie's weekend off work too and all morning since Chris noticed the print out stuck to the fridge, he had been in the best mood (Y/n) seen in a long time. He couldn't stop laughing, he was constantly clapping and rewatching The Land Before Time and he had gotten his latest colouring book out about dinosaurs so he could prepare himself.

The only issue was that he had to wait five days and waiting wasn't his strong point. They never told him about plans until the very last minute so if they had to adjust or change things, Chris wouldn't be upset or disgruntled. But (Y/n) knew even if Eddie couldn't end up going this weekend, she and Chris would and it was something for him to look forward to.

"Daddy, tell daddy." Chris tried to reach up to grab the flyer again until (Y/n) swooped down and lifted him up so she could sit him on the kitchen counter.

She stood between his swinging legs, placed her hands down on the counter either side of him and kissed his nose, then his cheek, then his forehead.

"When he comes home from work, you can tell him all about it and see how excited he will be."

"No, ring daddy. We need to tell him."

"He's at work, he can't always answer the phone. Remember, we only call for emergencies." She pressed another kiss to his forehead and leaned down to nuzzle into his shoulder when he looped his arms around her neck. He was trying to butter her up, to get close and make her go soft so he could get his way.

They only rang Eddie before or after his shifts at work, they didn't ring when he was on duty unless it was an emergency like when Chris slipped and had to go to the emergency room.

It was adorable just how excited Chris was about going to this event, but he was desperate to tell Eddie. He wanted to see how happy his dad was going to be when he found out what they had planned for the weekend. Chris wanted to tell everyone, he had already been promised that he could tell Abeula in the morning when they went to visit her.

"This is emergency, call daddy."

"No, pretty boy. You can tell him tonight before bed."

Chris whined and tipped his head back but he was still smiling and when he looked forward at (Y/n) again, he reached his hand out beside her head and made a grabbing fist.

"Mine," He pointed and grabbed towards the flyer.

They both knew what he was going to do. He would carry it round with him all day, keep it safe and stare at it over and over. (Y/n) would have to read it to him at least four more times today and explain what it said and what it meant. She would tell him what would be there, what he could do and where it would be.

"Alright, let me find the laminator."

"Yay!"

He clapped his hands when (Y/n) put him back down to his feet and he followed her like a puppy as she grabbed the paper and backtracked into the dining room again. If he was going to carry it around, which (Y/n) never minded him doing when he was in this type of mood, she was going to have to laminate it. Otherwise it would be drenched in dribble and spilt drinks and food and by the time Eddie came home the paper would be ilegible and (Y/n) would have to print off dozens more for him.

Chris sat next to (Y/n) at the table, watching eagerly as she ironed out the creases in the paper before she carefully placed it in the plastic sheeting. He always found it fascinating when either of his parents laminated his pictures or photos or anything he needed for school. It meant he could bend them and drool and crinkle and eat near them and he didn't ruin anything.

He started to pat his hands down on the table when it passed through the small rectangle heater and he started to laugh when (Y/n) shook it to make sure the creases were out and it was stuck together.

"Now it will last for daddy to see it tonight." (Y/n) handed it over and packed away the laminator while Chris took it happily and trudged through to the living room.

He sat himself down on the floor in front of the coffee table with the paper one side and a dino toy on the other side.

"I need a quick shower baby, can I trust you in here for five minutes?" (Y/n) ruffled his hair when she followed him through and she quickly went onto the tv planner and put on an episode of Land Before Time. It would keep him occupied and (Y/n) knew when the end credits rolled that it was her timer and she would have to hurry if she wasn't ready.

"Yeah,"

Chris would never do anything wrong or bad if (Y/n) had to clean up or go for a shower but she knew his attention span would differ.

If she took a while in the shower and they were home alone, Chris would start rooting through his toy boxes and litter the place to find something to occupy himself with. The last time (Y/n) had taken a while sorting through her and Eddie's wardrobe, Chris had took it upon himself to try on Eddie's uniform and spare pair of boots.

Safe to say when he fell in the boots and sprained his ankle, (Y/n) knew fifteen minutes was the maximum amount of time her boy could be left safely to his own devices.

"I won't be long," (Y/n) kissed his temple again before she headed down the hall to her room to get a change of clothes and a towel from the hamper. It was always easier for her to shower before tea and then after they ate, Chris would have his bath and a story in the living room and when Eddie came home, it would be time for him to go to bed.

A smile lit up Chris's face as he started to rock back and forth, shaking the flyer back and forth to hear the shimmying noise it made when the plastic creased and wiggled.

He wished Saturday was tomorrow so he could get up in the morning and go to the event as soon as possible. He didn't want to wait.

"Daddy…" Chris giggled to himself after a few minutes of watching the episode on tv. His eyes kept drifting to the flyer, he wanted to tell his dad where they were going at the weekend, he wanted to give him the surprise and hear how excited Eddie was going to be.

With his free hand curled up to his face and his thumb between his teeth, Chris looked around him, a cunning grin on his face that would have made for a perfect photo. A sparkle lit up his eyes like a magpie finding a piece of silver when he spotted his mum's phone lying unused on the arm of the chair beneath the window.

He could call his dad and surprise him.

Pushing up onto his knees, Chris shuffled across the carpet and flopped his stomach onto the chair so he could reach up and grab the phone.

He had his tongue between his teeth this time as he shakily swiped his finger across the screen to open it. (Y/n) had quite a lot of games on her phone, one section was the games she liked to play when she got chance, and the other page was for all of the games she downloaded specifically for Chris. If they were waiting in a restaurant or stuck in traffic, she would pass him her phone with a game open ready to entertain him.

But he had never called anyone by himself before. Whenever they called Eddie, (Y/n) got it set up and ringing before she handed him the phone.

"Daddy… daddy…"

Chris jumped back when a purple line lit up the screen and a voice answered. It was one of the apps, the one his dad always used in the car to get the phone to call someone.

"Call daddy. Call daddy." He repeated the mantra a few more times before huffing when the phone didn't do as requested. He clicked on a few apps but none of them were the right ones. Chris started to babble "Call daddy" until the words slurred together and became incoherable.

"Calling Buck." The app suddenly repeated before Chris peered closer and saw Buck's cheesy grin and thumbs up picture appearing on the phone and the dialling tone started to vibrate through the phone. He moved his hand and pressed the speaker button, smiling so wide he could barely see the screen.

Putting his glass of coke down on the counter, Buck shifted his weight off his elbows and stood up when he felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket. There was only a few people it could be ringing him when he was on shift, most of the time it was Maddie or the team ringing and since he was with the team, it was most likely his big sister.

Buck's brows furrowed and his lips quirked when he saw (Y/n)'s face lighting up his screen. He used a recent photo of her and Chris wearing sunglasses and sticking their tongues out for her contact picture in his phone but she didn't call Buck that often. She saw him so much that she didn't have to and things were usually arranged through Eddie.

"Hey, this is a surprise." Buck leaned his left elbow back on the counter when he answered the phone and crossed one leg over the other.

"Buck!"

"Chris? Hey bud, how are you? Can I ask why you're ringing me?" A very cheesy grin lit up Buck's face and his voice heightened a little when he heard his little friend on the other end of the phone. For all intense and purposes, Buck saw Chris as his nephew and he always called him uncle Buck.

He didn't usually call Buck up though, usually Eddie would ring and pass the phone over or the few times (Y/n) called, she would then hand the phone to Chris after having a quick word with Buck. She usually gave him the heads up of why they were calling.

"Mummy taking me out on Saturday!" The excitement was clear in his voice and Buck had to pull the phone away from his ear for a moment so he didn't go deaf.

"Oh really, where is she taking you?"

"Park, Dino Day on Saturday! Bouncy castle, dress up, big games. It's surprise for daddy." He could barely speak he was so happy and his voice had risen an octave or two.

Buck rubbed his hand over his jaw as if to hide his smile when he was the only one in the kitchen.

"That sounds amazing, I'm sure your dad will love it… Chris, does your mum know you've rang me?" He was happy for his nephew, but he was a little uncertain about Chris calling him because he couldn't hear (Y/n) in the background. If she didn't know he was on the phone, it meant Buck had done well teaching him new tricks and how to be stealth and sneaky.

And when a round of giggling and a high-pitched squeal came through the phone, Buck let out a chuckle and tilted his head back.

(Y/n) didn't know.

"You're a sneak, you know that? I think you should let her know I'm on the phone."

"She's in shower. Will you come park on Saturday uncle Buck?"

As it happened, Buck surprisingly did have the weekend off since he had worked the last three weekends in a row. He was supposed to be making plans with Maddie to go out for some lunch and spend some time together… but he could free up a slot in his schedule for his best little friend.

How could he refuse?

"You know what, I think I might be free on Saturday," He pushed himself up off the counter and downed the last bit of his drink, grinning when he could hear another round of laughing on the other end of the line.

"Bobby come too?"

"Give me a second, buddy." Buck held the phone to his ear and jogged over to the stairs. He could see the rest of the team close by the truck downstairs, they were all meandering about waiting for their next call to give them something to do. "Who's free on Saturday?" He raised his voice enough to let them all hear him as he hopped down the stairs with the phone still pressed to his shoulder.

"That depends what you have in mind, Buck." Bobby placed his hands on his hips, a sceptical look on his face. They never knew what to expect with Buck and all of them had learned not to agree until they knew what they were agreeing to.

"Apparently it's Dino day down at the park on Saturday, games and a bouncy castle. Christopher has invited his uncle Buck and the 118 to join him."

He held his arms out at his sides, a proud expression on his face at being the first to be invited to such a prestigeous event. He watched Bobby smirk and nod in agreement, Chimney silently laughed but nodded to agree. How could any of them refuse such a sweet offer?

"I think Denny would enjoy that," Hen nodded as she finished off cleaning the last speck of dirt off the truck. If she didn't get called into the station on Saturday she would most definitely join and bring her son along too. Denny got along very well with Christopher.

"We're all coming buddy," Buck waved his fist and pressed the phone back to his ear, wincing a little when Chris's squeal echoed just a little too loudly in his ear.

"What're you mouthing off about, Buckley?"

Eddie tucked his clean shirt into his trousers and tugged his fingers through his hair as he walked slowly back into the main area of the station. That last call had gotten water and smoke all through his uniform and he couldn't go another five hours in sopping wet clothes, he had to go change into the spare uniform he luckily kept in his locker.

"We're all having a day out this weekend, you included."

"Oh yeah, says who?" Eddie tilted his chin up at Buck and rose a brow. He wasn't free this weekend, he was promised to his wife and son this weekend and nothing was going to change that.

"Your son," A smug smirk flooded Buck's face as he watched Eddie's smile slip down into a frown.

"What?"

"Chris, you wanna tell your dad the surprise?"

Eddie scratched the back of his head, glancing around the station before his chest tightened when Buck held his phone out towards him. Why had (Y/n) rang Buck and not him? Why had she planned something and not told him about it? What had she and Chris been up to since he left this morning?

He took the phone and moved a few steps away, feeling his heart soften at the photo of his family that lit up the screen. It was a change to see that photo and not the ones Eddie had on his own phone. His lockscreen was him with his arms around (Y/n)'s neck, his chin on top of her head and the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on (Y/n)'s face while her hands were holding Chris's shoulders.

Her icon on his phone was a lot different though.

That particular picture was his wife kneeling up on the bed, wearing only Eddie's dark navy work top with her hair fanned out across her shoulders and a smile obscured by her biting her lower lip.

"Christopher?"

"Daddy!"

"Care to tell me what's going on? What have you been saying to uncle Buck?" Eddie moved his free hand to his hip like he would if his son were standing in front of him right now.

"Mummy taking us to park on Saturday, it's Dino day! Bouncy castle and games and I can dress up. Uncle Buck said they coming too. Surprise!"

Eddie could hear his son begin to clap his hands and his hysterical laughter made his heart jump in his chest. So (Y/n) had found an activity for them to do and Chris had decided everyone was going to share in their fun. It sounded like they were all going to have a fun, hectic weekend together. Eddie couldn't remember the last time the team did something together that wasn't running into burning buildings to save someone. And he could spend some much needed time with his family.

"Mummy did well finding that, where is she, can I speak to her?" If he was going to hear his son's voice, he wanted to hear his wife's melodic voice too and double check these details.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Chris, baby who are you talking to?"

Eddie could hear the panic in his wife's voice and it made his brows shoot up and he spun on his heels to look over at Buck. Either Buck rang (Y/n) for something or Chris had found out how to call people on his mum's phone without her knowing and if it was the latter, (Y/n) was going to have to put a lock on her phone.

"Christopher Diaz, did you call Buck without telling your mother?" Eddie's voice was stern but when he saw Buck roll his lips together and noticed the rest of the team start to laugh and cackle, he couldn't fight off his own small grin.

"Baby what have you been doing? I was gone five minutes!" (Y/n) held her hand out and waited for her giggling son to hand over the phone. She saw Buck's picture illuminating up the screen and she sighed. He had been making phone calls without her now. "Buck?"

"No, mi amor it's me. So… what's this Dino day thing me and the team are all coming along to then?"

"You invited everyone?" (Y/n) grinned down at Chris who hid his face in his hands to stop her from seeing his wide smile but he nodded through his hands. Barely able to breathe from how much he was laughing.

Their son was a menace.

[gatheringbones]

[“Fear mongering about sex is a very effective political strategy, whether it’s perpetuating the myths that porn warps our minds, that kinky people have no boundaries, or that queer adults groom children by simply existing.

Despite the risky controversy she’s courting, [Andrea] Chu needs us to know that arousal can show us what is possible. She celebrates bimboism as affirming in its very artificiality: “From the perspective of gender, then, we’re all dumb blondes.” In her book, Chu describes the kind of porn that gave her “a neat allegory for my desire to be female.” Her tastes gravitated to amateur Tumblr posts where images of women were reappropriated with the fantasy that they were former men who had been sissified by cisgender women, much like my cross-dressing clients. Porn that stars actual trans people has long existed. So has cross-dressing erotica. But it was the specific kind of second-person address content, popularized in the online videos produced by sex workers and sold through digital clip stores, that inspired Chu. This porn doesn’t just depict forced feminization; it claims to have the power to actively force feminize.

Obviously, many people have been turned on by sissy porn and not transitioned. This is the fallacy at the heart of most anti-porn arguments: one person’s reaction to an image is made to stand in for the entire medium and the entire audience. Moreover, if porn can help someone get in touch with something true about themselves, then it’s doing the best thing any art, no matter how crude, can do: use fiction to help us know ourselves better, and to make us feel less alone. Porn, in all its offensive reflections of our throbbing collective id, can teach us a lot about ourselves precisely by being so extra, with its extreme secondary sexual characteristics, extreme gaping, extreme squirting, extremely stamina-challenging intercourse positions.

A lot of people read porn very literally, and interpret its meaning when they’re not turned on, which (to continue with my WWE comparison) is like going to a wrestling match and screaming for help because it appears to you that someone is being attacked. Fantasies, whether conjured in the throes of horniness or in a drag performance, are simultaneously delightful and insulting; oftentimes this comes down to not only point of view but mood. Like all forms of entertainment, porn often both depicts and contributes to harmful stereotypes. But it’s a mistake to believe that porn is somehow more culpable than rom-coms, action-adventure, billboard advertising, children’s toys, self-help newsletters, lifestyle brands, or social media influencers in perpetuating burdensome gender norms. Scapegoating porn is not going to solve the problems of social oppression; in fact, embracing the importance of erotic art of all kinds in society can help us to better understand our true nature.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[quasi-normalcy]

We cherish the old stories for their changelessness. Arthur dreams eternally in Avalon. Bilbo can go "there and back again,"and "there" is always the beloved familiar Shire. Don Quixote sets out forever to kill a windmill... So people turn to the realms of fantasy for stability, ancient truths, immutable simplicities.

And the mills of capitalism provide them. Supply meets demand. Fantasy becomes a commodity, an industry.

Commodified fantasy takes no risks: it invents nothing, but imitates and trivialises. It proceeds by depriving the old stories of their intellectual and ethical complexity, turning their action to violence, their actors to dolls, and their truth-telling to sentimental platitude. Heroes brandish their swords, lasers, wands, as mechanically as combine harvesters, reaping profits. Profoundly disturbing moral choices are sanitized, made cute, made safe. The passionately conceived ideas of the great storytellers are copied, stereotyped, reduced to toys, molded in bright-colored plastic, advertised, sold, broken, junked, replaceable, interchangeable.

What the commodifiers of fantasy count on and exploit is the insuperable imagination of the reader, child or adult, which gives even these dead things life--of a sort, for a while.

--Ursula K. LeGuin

[play-now-my-lord]

Human society collapses as 25% of living adults transform physically into semi-animate objects. But it doesn't collapse all at once. Someday, inside of it, you come in to work and your boss is a quivering mass of artificial hair approximately the size of a housecat, stridulating and moaning. "Another day, another dollar," says your coworker Stupid James, whose empty eye socket has a SCSI cable dangling out of it. "Ha ha ha." Nobody knows how you're all getting paid anymore and it's all felt like it stopped mattering. You go home and jerk off to porn from the before times, the insolidity of it, the rubberiness, it all feels like silicone toys mooshing against each other. It's not good but it's a relief from the horrors.

You wake up - must have passed out from the torpidity of it all - and there's a hissing at the door and your mailman is rasping his glass skin against the door, terrified of knocking for fear his transformation into an electric kettle be interrupted by shattering what is to become his body. The advertisements are all in lockstep about how we're going to get through this together and it's unprecedented but not a big deal. Trader Joe's has a special on sprayable lithium grease. You think it's better to get there ahead of the rush so you call up an Uber. Guy in the driver's seat makes no conversation, seems afraid to look at you, talk to you. Can't tell if anything fucked up has happened to him yet. You slide past the National Guard attack dog checkpoint and there's a car doing donuts in the parking lot, no driver at the wheel; another car has a sandstone obelisk thrust through the driver's seat, still buckled in. You wonder if it's affecting the animals. Everyone always argues about that. "I figure it isn't," says the first person you ask, walking a stroller covered in cameras pointing inward at an apparently normal human toddler. "I figure it's some kind of punishment, you know, or the government did it, and why would they do it to animals."

The cashier's Hawaiian shirt clashes with his skin, which has the texture and color of an American flag. "You holding up okay," you ask. You kind of expect him to be crying, but he isn't. "Nah, man," he says. "You know how it is." "I do." You dream like you do every night, of your allegedly protective Faraday garment cracking open and some pile of clutter - dust bunnies, CD-ROM drives, stacks of twenty-dollar bills - spilling out of your guts. You haven't told your therapist. You're not even sure if your therapist is still technically alive. The worst thing you can imagine, in the long run, is that you will die of old age, surrounded by loved ones, untouched by regret, no business unfinished. There's an email in your inbox in the morning and it's from your new boss

[parasolyaa]

Hi!! How are you doing?

I saw your post inviting asks and something I've been wondering is, if you could tell me about some things from Misha's childhood that are unique to Ukraine which he might feel nostalgic for as a young adult (snacks, toys, kids tv shows, etc)?

Thank you for the informative posts you make, you're awesome ☺️

hi!! i'm doing good tysm!!! couldn't be otherwise after getting an ask from the most legendary artist in this fandom, i adore your ricky art!! i'll use this post as an excuse to yap endlessly about random media that will mostly be irrelevant, but also a peek into that time and place. sort of.

the epithome of ukrainian childhood nostalgia is zhyvchyk: both a drink and a tv show (which is just an advertisement for that drink). it’s a bubbly apple soda, in other words - a drink of gods.

(also fun fact: after russia occupied crimea, they tried to make their own version of zhychyk there. they called it zhyvunchik and the only design change was that they ??cut off the arms of the mascot?? since zhyvchyk basically means “lively guy”, it was kinda ironic)

other drinks he’d definitely miss would be kvas and kompot (obligatory laughing and giggling when he calls it cumpot).

starting off with more traditional snacks, i envision young misha with a necklace of booblycks (obligatory laughing and giggling when he calls it booblicks)

also any roshen candy! (obligatory laughing and giggling when he mentions the nut out chocolates) (they indeed are called that) (they are pretty recent tho). the undying classic is crazy bee and shypuchka/fizzy boom (the darker green design is the older one).

also there are some fancy sets, associated with holidays or family gettogethers. strila/arrow, kyiv evening and kyiv cake

the thing misha would DEFINETELY love and miss is flint ?bread chips?, this is an unmatched snack. once again, darker green design is the older one, and also with a pretty wild taste. there is a big variety of those.

ukrainian childhood cartoons were mostly distributed among three channels - pixel, plusplus and malyatko tv (disney, nickelodeon and cartoon network were here too, but no point in talking abt them now). the first two usually broadcastered whatever cartoons from around the world were relevant at the time (ukrainian dub for ducktales was unmatched!!), and also a few ukrainian things. i will highlight "abetka tivi" (alphabet tv) from pixel. it was, well, a show about learning the alphabet. "auntie owl’s lessons" was another one, and there were much more episodes, usually about famous art, world history and etiquette.

on plusplus, there was a show called "fairytale with dad", in which male celebrities read out fairytales to children. something about healing daddy issues with this one. also there is a whole plusplus cinematic universe, because this show sometimes intervened with another original show of theirs about ??shapes going on adventures??. and there was a show called useful suggestions, which was universally disliked by kids for being too on the nose about the life lessons they were trying to teach.

and then there was malyatko tv. when it stopped broadcasting in 2023, everyone weeped and so did i. there were vibrant music videos, eg "turtle aha", "helper boy" (self PR for my fic with that name. sorry.) and other. and, even though this wasn’t original ukrainian content, i feel the need to mention this: malyatko tv often showed some old anime cartoons - "haidi", "pocahontas" and others. ukrainian opening dubs were ethereal. to me.

there also were old cartoon classics (broadcasted on a creepy channel called children's world, an ugly sibling of malyatko tv) - the “how cossacks” series and “there once was a dog", but there were tons more.

(also this made me remember another long-gone channel called Qtv. basically what the cool kids watched, it also shows up in every tiktok #ukrainechildhood #nostalgia #2000s video. it's showed simpsons and stuff and had cheeky editing, eg in an advertisement for death note they only showed spongebob clips to make it look like he was kira. pretty funny imo)

peak nostalgia is the show "країна у" (country u? krayina u? untranslatable title), which is a dumb sketch show consisting of shows on its own about people from different regions of ukraine. bringing this up because odesa was one of them, and, no matter if misha disliked this show or not, this definetely impacted his childhood. the schtik about "once upon in odesa" was that there were four guys in odesa and uuuuh that's it? i don't remember much about it tbh ...

there were also popular reality tv shows and stuff, i really really wanna highlight "the world inside out". it's a travel show about this dude dmytro komarov getting to most remote an unique places in the world. don't get me wrong, he was being an idiot half the time, but it was peak entertainment. he uploaded old episodes with english dub on youtube and now does charity work. props to him

back to cartoons, "fox mykyta" was a nice, more modern cartoon. it's vaguely based on ivan franko's book with the same name, which in turn is vaguely based on "the blue jackal". speaking of books, ukrainian school literature programe is traumatising asf, and i just need to mention "fedko-brigand". it's a short story about a young boy who misbehaved but only lied once, when he took the blame for pushing a rich boy in the river, which he didn't do. it's also the reason why ukrainian 5th graders all spent at least one night crying, and since rereading it, i just keep thinking about misha. i feel like he'd relate

i'm convinced every ukrainian child had this specific "abetka"(alphabet) book with rhymes to every letter. the "а-ба-ба-га-ла-ма-га" publishing house never fails with their illustrations.

also probably the most popular children's books are the ones by vsevolod nestayko, eg "toreadors from vasyukivka" and "wonderful adventures in the forest school".

about games and toys, i honestly can't recall any ukraine specific ones except "this thing but slavic!" (monopoly ukraine, stuff like that). motanka dolls count as an original toy. out of computer games, maybe the most popular one at the time - "stalker: shadow of chornobyl"? some irony in that. real life games tho? the only difference between the games of tag and kvach is the name. "сossacks and bandits" maybe... there's a bl comic with the same name btw, and i also think that's the only place where you can find the rules for it in english lol. or google translate the wikipedia page.

misha lived by the sea, so he probably played a lot of games on water, other than that - all the same things american kids experience. generally my main advise when thinking about misha's childhood is to remember he had all the same things people in uranium did, excluding canada specific media. after auntie owl's lessons came ninja turtles, and after eating flint bread chips it was only natural to sip coca cola.

also i can advise to just look up "ukraine nostalgia"/"дитинство ностальгія" on tiktok. half the time it will be uncomprehensive stuff, and the other half might be something that'd help shape the view of what it was like. this is an invitation to ask more specific things and also for my ukrainian mutuals to add on because i only scratched the surface. hope it was useful or somewhat interesting xd

[unlucky-leek]

Curse you and your tempting marketing, McDonald's...

(I legit got super lucky with this though - the town I was in has two McDonald's and the first one we went to said each branch only gets one toy / character delivery per week or something, and it's all the same character some reason? They only had Super Sonic but suggested trying the other one across town and LO AND BEHOLD they had the Edgehog himself. I think it was a 1 in 8 chance or something? Not bad considering I only found out about it today! And not only that, they let us buy the toy without the Happy Meal! Although we still ordered adult McDonald's meals lol. I could barely contain my ridiculous excitement 😆

The way I found out about this was kinda hilarious though. I was watching some training videos at work today and my mind wandered to the insane amount of Sonic media I've been consuming in the last month* for some reason, when I suddenly heard the chiming of rings above my head. I thought I'd finally lost it until I realised the TV on the wall behind me was advertising Sonic toys at McDonald's...)

* Maybe that's why I've been feeling weirdly energetic and optimistic for the last 3 weeks... Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

[tokidokitokyo]

My Favourite Japanese Children's Shows

My son is 3 and I have watched a lot of Japanese children's shows with him (screen time is family time!). Here are some of my faves and why. These shows are all from NHK E-TV. Would I recommend to use these for personal study? I am using them to help teach my son Japanese, and for this it works doubly well as I learn how children's society operates in Japan and how Japanese people learn Japanese as well as social etiquette. If you don't have a child, you might get bored easily from these as they are not designed with an adult audience in mind, and you can find much better resources online. You also need a subscription to NHK somehow to watch them, which could be difficult or costly to obtain overseas. However, I like the stories and the characters, as well as the little things I learn from watching them. If you are thinking of teaching your child Japanese this might be a useful resource.

いないいないばあっ！ Inai inai baa! (Peek-a-boo!) This show is designed for very young children and features the beloved dog Wan Wan, played by the same actor since it first started airing in 1996. Wan Wan is accompanied by a young girl, played by various actresses in a succession over the year, and other fun characters. There is singing and make-believe and crafts, as well as short segments featuring nature (animals, plants) or short animations. It's very slow as it is made for infants and toddlers, but that makes it very cute. A group of specially selected young toddlers appears for the dances and songs. Why I Like It: The animation is fun and visually appealing, the activities are play based and you can do them at home, and you learn some new vocabulary. Age: Infants to young Toddlers Clip: DVD Advertisement

おかあさんといっしょ Okaasan to issho (With Mother) This show is designed to be watched with mom (it comes on in the mornings and evenings on NHK E-TV). There are a male and female singing talent, and a male and female athletic talent, who participate in singing and acting clips. There are also a group of costumed characters that have a short story that is continued each week. It has a variety of songs, short skits, a collection of human and costumed actors, and a predictable flow that changes slightly based on the day of the week (e.g. teeth brushing days, story days, etc.). It also shows real kids doing real activities, which kids like to watch. Why I Like It: The songs are easy and catchy, the stories are easy to follow and the words are spoken clearly and precisely. Age: Infants to Toddlers/Preschoolers Clip: DVD Advertisement

アンパンマン Anpanman (Anpanman) This cartoon is a long running cartoon for children (since 1988!) with an incredible line of every toy imaginable to supplement your love for the red-bean bun man (anpan = red bean bun pastry). The story lines are simple and predictable, there are a variety of "fairy" characters that are composed of different Japanese food items, plants, utensils, and animals; and in the end the villains are just really hungry. Anpanman works to help people who are in trouble or hungry (sometimes even the villains), or being bullied by the hungry villains and the story always ends well. Why I Like It: The plot is easy to follow and you can learn about Japanese food and drink specialties via the endless supply of characters, and the songs are catchy. Age: Infants to Toddlers/Preschoolers Clip: Ending TV Theme Song

ピタゴラスイッチ Pitagora Suicchi (Pythagora Switch) Pythagora Switch is a 15-minute long show involving devices (Pythagora Switch) that are equivalent to the American Rube Goldberg machine and the British Heath Robinson contraption - basically, a sequence of events made from household objects that end with (usually) the words ピタゴラスイッチ being revealed. The idea is to encourage children to augment their way of thinking and to solve or understand what the machine will do before they see the movements happen. There are also other segments in which mechanisms are explained and shown visually. And usually there is rock-paper-scissors via a Pythagora Switch where you work out what the device will throw and try to beat it! The language in this show is more complicated because it is geared to a wider, older audience. Why I Like It: It helps me to think and enthralls my son with the moving parts. It's puzzle solving and sparks interest in the way the world works. Age: Toddlers to Elementary School Students Clip: 4 3 2 1 2 1 そうち

[rhaenin-time]

Commodified fantasy takes no risks: it invents nothing, but imitates and trivializes. It proceeds by depriving the old stories of their intellectual and ethical complexity, turning their action to violence, their actors to dolls, and their truth-telling to sentimental platitude.

All times are changing times, but ours is one of massive, rapid moral and mental transformation. Archetypes turn into millstones, large simplicities get complicated, chaos becomes elegant, and what everybody knows is true turns out to be what some people used to think.

It’s unsettling. For all our delight in the impermanent, the entrancing flicker of electronics, we also long for the unalterable.

We cherish the old stories for their changelessness. Arthur dreams eternally in Avalon. Bilbo can go “there and back again,” and there is always the beloved familiar Shire. Don Quixote sets out forever to kill a windmill… So people turn to the realms of fantasy for stability, ancient truths, immutable simplicities.

And the mills of capitalism provide them. Supply meets demand. Fantasy becomes a commodity, an industry.

Commodified fantasy takes no risks: it invents nothing, but imitates and trivializes. It proceeds by depriving the old stories of their intellectual and ethical complexity, turning their action to violence, their actors to dolls, and their truth-telling to sentimental platitude. Heroes brandish their swords, lasers, wands, as mechanically as combine harvesters, reaping profits. Profoundly disturbing moral choices are sanitized, made cute, made safe. The passionately conceived ideas of the great story-tellers are copied, stereotyped, reduced to toys, molded in bright-colored plastic, advertised, sold, broken, junked, replaceable, interchangeable.

What the commodifiers of fantasy count on and exploit is the insuperable imagination of the reader, child or adult, which gives even these dead things life—of a sort, for a while.

Imagination like all living things lives now, and it lives with, from, on true change. Like all we do and have, it can be co-opted and degraded; but it survives commercial and didactic exploitation. The land outlasts the empires. The conquerors may leave desert where there was forest and meadow, but the rain will fall, the rivers will run to the sea. The unstable, mutable, untruthful realms of Once-upon-a-time are as much a part of human history and thought as the nations in our kaleidoscopic atlases, and some are more enduring.

We have inhabited both the actual and the imaginary realms for a long time. But we don’t live in either place the way our parents or ancestors did. Enchantment alters with age, and with the age.

We know a dozen different Arthurs now, all of them true. The Shire changed irrevocably even in Bilbos lifetime. Don Quixote went riding out to Argentina and met Jorge Luis Borges there. Plus c’est la meme chose, plus fa change.

From Ursula K. LeGuin’s foreword to her 2001 collection Tales from Earthsea.