#bathroom words

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Now, I can't stop calling it the Tinkletorium.

[bonefall]

Anyway. Bi and Mspec Lesbians aren't a hotly "debated" topic or even new to queer culture, it's just the newest thing that bullies who REALLY want to be homophobic and even racist use to justify harassing gay people they don't like.

It's the thinnest possible veneer of progressive language wrapped around TERF and reactionary rhetoric so that they can feel righteous for forming an angry mob against vulnerable targets. If you're gullible enough to fall for the newest wave of bigotry within the queer community, and turn on your allies because they're "confusing" or "invading your spaces," the SAME way they turned on bi/pan labels, trans people, xenogenders, neopronouns, and aroace people before this, then get lost.

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. will prob get a pt.2. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[longliveskinnyjeans]

"Laissez l'état dans les toilettes où vous l'avez trouvé" - Bathroom Wall

[sceletaflores]

thinking about college!patrick bending you over in the bathroom at a house party. 18+

you really should have known better than to let patrick take your hand and drag you away from drunkenly dirty dancing with tashi in the middle of the room.

maybe it was the two vodka redbull’s you slammed—or the joint you and tashi stole from some underclassmen trying to get into your pants—clouding your judgement.

whatever it was allowed you to let the strong grip of patrick’s hand guide you through the dance floor. weaving through crowded bodies gyrating to nelly furtado and up the stairs of whoever’s house this was until patrick pushed open the door to a blessedly empty bathroom, and yanks you inside.

you can’t even start to ask him what the hell you're doing in here before he’s got you pinned up against the door and fucking your mouth with his tongue. your surprised moan is muffled by patrick's mouth as he messily kisses you. he tastes like cheep beer and cigarettes.

"do you have any idea how fucking hot you look?" he grates out against your spit slick lips, grabbing the meat of your hips a little too harshly. "i've been hard for the last thirty minutes because you," he says, tone accusatory like you deliberately caused the hard line of his erection currently pressing into your stomach, "you did this, now you have to deal with it."

well that's how it started. now patricks got you bent over the sink of some randoms bathroom, panties pooled at your ankles and skirt hiked up around your hips as he sinks his unfairly huge cock into your already drenched pussy. "you got this worked up just from my tongue in your mouth? jesus, you're such an easy slut."

he barely gives you any time to get used to the thick stretch of his dick before he's moving, thrusting hard enough to sting your ass with the force of his hips smacking against you. "fuck! patrick— shit!" you moan loudly, grabbing the edge of the sinks counter to brace yourself. patrick's quick to shush you harshly, plastering himself to your back and shoving his thick fingers into your mouth to muffle the too loud keens and squeals he's fucking out of you.

"there's probably a line out there," he rasps wetly into your hair, leaning down to lick the shell of your ear, "you gotta be quiet baby, you don't want everyone out there hearing how much of a slut you are for my cock, do you?"

your cheeks burn fiercely as patrick's hot breath ghosts over your ear, spewing filth as he rams his thick cock into your tight, clenching hole over and over, the rough material of his jeans scratching against your skin since he couldn’t be bothered to do more than unzip and whip his cock out, too eager to get in you. the squelch that his cock makes on each mean stroke into your wet pussy has your ears tingling and your thighs shaking.

there's banging coming from the other side of the door, an angry voice shouting as the knob is jostled harshly, "bro hurry the fuck up!"

patricks pace doesn't even falter. if anything the snap of his hips speeds up. "fuck off!" his rough voice shouts back, hand moving from off your hip and up to your shoulder, letting him force you back to meet his thrusts. you moan around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel the familiar warmth start to grow in the pit of your stomach.

“fuck yeah, i can feel you fucking clenching up on me. you gonna come baby?” he grips your hair is his fist, yanking your head to the side to seal his lips on your neck. “yeah, me too. fucking shit, i’m gonna bust all in your fucking pussy baby. you better come with me. you better fucking come with me.”

that’s all it takes before you’re coming on patrick’s dick. you think you may scream, biting down way too hard on the fingers still in your mouth. patrick’s not far behind, cock giving one final jerk before he’s spraying your insides with his warm come. he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder in an attempt to stifle his groans as he comes. he doesn’t stop thrusting, letting each of you ride out your orgasms. only just as it gets to be a little too much does he stop.

patrick stays with his sweaty forehead pressed to your shoulder for a few beats, breathing heavily as he comes down from draining his balls so deep in your guts. slowly, he raises his head to meet your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. his face is flushed, curly black hair stuck to his forehead. he looks completely fucked, you both do. your hair is a mess and there’s two angry red hickeys already darkening on your neck.

patrick smirks at the state of both of you reflecting back at him in the mirror, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a stupid smug look on his face. no doubt relishing in the fact that the two of you have to go back down looking like this. he drops your hair from his fist and pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping the drool that leaked out around them as he does.

“i hate you,” you mutter quietly, still trying to catch your breath. patrick snorts out a laugh, wincing when he pulls his sensitive cock out of you. “yeah sure,” he replies, tucking himself back into his jeans and zipping up. he drops to his knees behind you, at first you think he’s going for round two but as you open your mouth to protest he starts pulling your panties up your legs and over your ass.

“you need to wear this dress more often.” he says, planting a sweet kiss on your left ass cheek, well as sweet a kiss he can while still nipping at your soft skin. you don’t respond with words, only an annoyed huff as you drop you skirt back down around your hips.

you just have to hope that it’s long enough to cover the stream of patrick’s come trickling down your thighs.

—————

taglist!

@callsign-artemis @ebodebo @yuenity

[cerise-on-top]

König Teasing Reader in His Dialect

I finally got around to writing for König being sappy with his S/O in his native tongue! Native dialect, in fact!! I'm not gonna include any translations for this one! And don't bother putting it in Google Translate either, it won't work :3c

“Du host so a liabes Gschau.”

A gentle twilight it was, the sky donning a beautiful coat of orange. With the few fluffy clouds floating by, you watched your boyfriend glow in the soft evening light. It was almost magical, the way the sun set behind the mountains, the way it created a halo of utmost pulchritude on König. He was a rough man, who found it within himself to be as gentle as one would never imagine. His hands were calloused, but the way he caressed your face made it seem as though he was a lover by nature. Although he may have killed more people than you have ever known in your lifetime, that fact barely came to mind when his voice would call for you. Strong his accent, yes, but with it came a sense of familiarity that you would get nowhere else. König was a beautiful man. If you could have, then you would have knelt in front of him, allowing him to tread his fingers through your locks. If you could have, you would have slung your arms around him, burying yourself in his warmth and scent. But alas, all that came to mind was confusion. What did he say this time?

“You know my German isn’t that good just yet. You gotta be patient with me. Can you translate?”

With a certain glimmer in his eyes, he smiled as he shook his head. “No, I’ll let you figure this one out. It would be boring if I translated everything for you.” But even so, he walked towards you, quiet as a cat, hunting for its prey. All there was to devour was you, unity through the purpose of consuming one another. He stood still in front of you, eyes almost hazy as he seemed a little unfocused. He was a hunter, but whenever you were around he laid his weapon to rest, craving your attention more than he felt the bloodlust. You calmed him more than any restful night ever could. Your touch was the remedy for his loneliness, his fear, his anger. And this time, it was his turn to repay you, gently running his thumb across your cheek.

“Du bist mei ois. Für di leib i. I bin dir so vü schuidig. Söbst wenn i dir die Wöd gebn darad, warads ned genug. Danke für ois. Bitte bleib bei mir so laung wies nur geht. Hah, i reid grod so vü Scheiße, aba des stört mi ned. Du mochst mi so fertig, aber i hob di so lieb. Eigentlich wuid i heite schiacha zu dir sein, oba i kauns afoch ned. I bin so verliebt in di.”

Should you feel angry at him? For all you knew he could have been cursing you worse than any string of English words ever could. And yet, his expression betrayed him. That gentle smile, that soft gaze, that tender touch. König let out a content sigh, placing his hands atop your shoulders. It was evident he wanted something, he wanted more, but all he could do was stare as love overtook every fiber of his being. In that moment, he wasn’t a hunter, he wasn’t a fighter, he wasn’t a soldier. If there was one thing he could call himself, it was yours. Your boyfriend, your partner, your loved one. It didn’t matter as long as it was in relation to you. He pulled you into a tight embrace. His pride was a wall made of steel, but you burned yourself through the metal and settled down in his heart. All you knew was that he was so much kinder towards you than he gave himself credit for.

“Love, I’ve got no idea what you’re saying.”

“Brauchst a ned. I wü afoch nur so mit dir bleibn. I mechat di für imma so hoitn. Du bist so liab. I hob so vü Scheiße im Militär durchgmocht, oba es wor’s ma ois wert wal i di kennanglernt hob. I darad ois no amoi so mochn. Bitte sei ma ned bes, oba i glab es is gscheita wennst ned wast, wos i grod sog. Du suist mi ned als schwochn Maun sehn. Oba nur damit du’s wast, es gibt kan Menschn auf dera Wöd, den i liaba hob als di. I hoff, dass ma ewig zaumbleibm kennan.”

“Are you being sappy right now?”

But the only response you got was him holding onto you as though you were a beautiful, fleeting memory. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you resigned yourself to your fate. He could so very easily snap you in half, and yet he chose to use his strength to make you feel protected. Indeed, König was a different man with you. You knew him as the anxious colonel that was still capable of leading people. Deadly precise, viciously efficient, always successful. And today he felt as giddy as a child watching its first rainbow, all because he was with you.

“Ich hab dich ganz doll lieb.”

Finally, some words you could understand.

“Love you too, König.”

[julykings]

summer’s end

[moonlightsdream]

Words on Bathroom Walls (2020) — dir. Thor Freudenthal     

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Li Zeyan’s Reliance Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 依靠之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

⚠️ Additional Warning ⚠️ while the entire date is not spice-themed, but the steamy parts are borderline dangerous and highly not recommended if you don’t qualify for the 17+ age rating (CN server). so, the call is yours~ :>

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

【Subbed Video】

─────────────

【Chapter 1】 

MC: [on the call] …We need to find some local media outlets that we can potentially partner with for our ad campaign ASAP.

MC: [on the call]  Also, email me a copy of the revised design proposal for the main exhibit booth.

As soon as I hang up the phone, a flurry of work notifications causes my phone to vibrate again. I roll over on the soft couch and can’t help but heave a sigh.

MC: Sigh…

[MC’s Company Name] has undertaken several major projects this year, and all of them have been executed very successfully. The company’s reputation is also gradually expanding beyond Loveland City.

Last month, our company bid for a large-scale project in collaboration with Copenhagen City Council and Loveland City, and I worked overtime for over a month for this.

However, just as we were about to secure the project smoothly, we were maliciously intercepted by the competing company Shuanjian Media. In the end, it was due to LFG stepping in that we were able to resolve the situation with a narrow escape.

Even though the project has been secured, a lingering sense of defeat from being backstabbed and making critical errors remains with me, refusing to dissipate from my mind.

Perhaps because of this, I’ve recently spent the majority of my time being on top of all kinds of tedious work, afraid that if I don’t handle them in time, it will lead to further consequences.

The sound of steady footsteps gradually draws near, and I turn my head to see Li Zeyan walking towards me. He places a cup of hot Longan tea on the coffee table next to me.

LZY: This is already the eighth time a certain someone has sighed tonight. What’s so thorny about the project that got you on edge?

I put my phone down and, somewhat coquettishly, open my arms toward the person in front of me.

MC: We’re planning an exhibition for the project in Copenhagen. Just finalized the venue today and now ironing out the details.

He readily responds to my cue and enfolds me in his arms. His fingers trace their way up my neck, massaging the skin there in a soothing manner.

LZY: If I remember correctly, the preparation period for this exhibition is quite long, and there’s no need for your recent overtime to catch up on the schedule.

MC: You’re right, but the coordination needed for various aspects of a multinational project is quite intricate. Starting earlier allows more elbow room…

MC: Plus, the reason I’ve been working overtime isn’t just for this project. The business interview you’re starring in will also be recorded tomorrow.

MC: It’s the final episode of the year, so I cannot afford any slip-ups!

LZY: You’ve already confirmed the program sequence with me three times today. What could possibly go wrong?

While speaking, Li Zeyan sits down next to me and draws me into his arms.

MC: After all, the external press would absolutely kill to have their names in the show where the CEO Li of LFG is making an appearance. So, I definitely need to be 200% cautious.

Nestled in his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent, I make a conscious effort to relax my somewhat tired brain.

LZY: If you encounter any difficulties, reach out to me at any time.

MC: I’m facing difficulties right now, and I’m in urgent need of CEO Li’s encouragement!

I pucker my lips and lift my head to approach him. The corners of Li Zeyan’s lips curl up slightly, and he lowers his head–– a soft, warm touch descends before leaving just as quickly.

Though fleeting, the tenderness of the moment washes over my heart. I nuzzle his chin with the tip of my nose, feeling perfectly content.

LZY: [chuckles indulgently] Dummy, you’re so easily satisfied.

MC: Why wouldn’t I be? What could be more soothing than a kiss from CEO Li?

MC: As for work matters… CEO Li has already helped me a lot, so I’ll work hard and handle the rest on my own!

LZY: We’ll talk about the “working hard” part later. But if you keep dawdling like this, the bathtub is gonna need a refill of hot water.

MC: Hehe, right now, you should say something like, “Honey, it’s bath time~”

LZY: …

Ignoring the speechless look in his eyes, I lazily shift my position and nuzzle his neck, then stand up with a smile.

MC: Would you like to join me for some relaxation time?

I notice that his fingertips seem to tense up for a moment. Before he can really come and “arrest” me, I make a face at him and dash into the bathroom.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 2】

Soaking in the warm bath, I feel the fatigue in my body dissolving into the water.

Just as I’m about to use my phone to find a drama to watch and completely clear my mind, work messages begin popping up one after another on the screen, and I subconsciously click on them.

MC: [to herself] So, the collaboration partner we agreed on before has backed out…?

As part of our tourism project with Denmark, we are planning to establish recreational and promotional zones in both cities, and we have found an experienced collaborator in the relevant field to partner with.

MC: [to herself] Everything was already talked through and all set, so why are they bringing up issues with the company’s capital chain at this critical juncture?

I feel my insides somewhat burning with rage, so I give Anna a call. She also sounds just as angry and swiftly catches me up to speed on the situation.

Anna: [on the call] I did some digging, and it turns out one of the shareholders of this company has a very close personal relationship with the owner of Shuangjian Media.

MC: [on the call] Shuangjian Media?

Isn’t that the black-hearted company that tried to sabotage our tourism project?

Anna: [on the call] We initially partnered with them because of their experience in cross-border tourism projects, but now wrangling with them is more cumbersome than it’s worth. I think it might be better to take this opportunity to switch to another company.

MC: [on the call] …let me think about it.

I release a sigh and hang up the phone, then bury my face in the water, blowing bubbles as a mild head throbbing creeps over me.

The perfect company… As I ponder on this matter, a face flashes through my mind.

As a matter of fact, I have casually mentioned this project to Li Zeyan before, but he didn’t show much interest in it.

Should I… go ask him?

Even though I know in my heart–– LFG is the ideal choice that can’t go wrong, for some reason, I can’t seem to bring myself to voice my thoughts.

I can’t always turn to Li Zeyan to help resolve my problems every time I run into one.

No longer in the mood to soak in the warm bath, I reach for the shampoo and press the nozzle, intending to wash up as quickly as possible.

I press down hard twice, but the bottle only emits a sputtering sound, and the last remaining bit of shampoo drips pitifully into my palm.

MC: …

Akin to a sudden spark explosion, it instantly triggers a denotation of all the built-up frustration inside me.

I take a deep breath, jerk myself up from the water and throw on a robe, intending to head for the cabinet to find a new bottle of shampoo.

Little did I know, the moment I step onto the tiled floor, I feel my feet slip out from under me, and my body uncontrollably begins to topple forward––

With a loud thud, the immediate sensation of pain shoots up my knee.

MC: [in pain] Hiss…

The pain causes my eyes to burn hot, and I slide down onto the bathroom floor, rubbing my knee.

A flurry of somewhat anxious footsteps echoes outside the door. Moments later, the door is flung open, revealing Li Zeyan’s face, tension written across his entire countenance, an expression that is rarely seen on him.

LZY: [panicked af]  What happened?

The blast of cold air from the open door causes me to shiver. Noticing this, he closes the door before squatting down beside me.

MC: …I slipped and banged my knee.

As he looks at my slightly reddened knee, a hint of helplessness crosses his expression.

LZY: [sighs with infinite indulgent resignation] Restless.

His warm thumb massages the area around my reddened knee, causing the jumble of fretful emotions in my heart to instantly turn into a surge of grievances and pour out.

I blink, trying to dispel the mist clouding my vision. The finger caressing my skin pauses for a moment before suddenly landing at the corner of my eye, catching me unawares.

LZY: [even more indulgently] Crying because it hurts too much?

MC: …no, it’s not that!

MC: It’s nothing serious, just that I got a call from Anna earlier. There’s been… a minor hiccup with the tourism project.

Pouting my lips, I recount to Li Zeyan the “bad news” I’ve just received.

LZY: Do you need my help?

This seems to be the second time he has asked this question. I struggle with myself for a moment before shaking my head.

MC: There’s… no need for now, but if I can’t handle it myself, I’ll definitely reach out to CEO Li.

Hearing me respond this way, Li Zeyan doesn’t press further, and he simply places his palm on the side of my knee.

LZY: Does it still hurt?

Listening to his tender tone, I can’t help but gently hook my finger around his.

MC: It hurts… I can’t get up.

LZY: [laughs helplessly] When a certain stubborn someone fixates on something, there’s no stopping her, but she’s oddly honest when it comes to being afraid of pain.

MC: I’m just being a little persistent, is all. I can’t always have you be my safety net every time there’s an issue… ouch!

My knee twitches slightly, and a dull ache once again surges through my knee, reminiscent of spreading out along silken threads.

LZY: You can’t solve two things at once, so take them one at a time.

LZY: Do you want to take care of your knee first, or deal with the work matters?

MC: …knee.

The air in the small bathroom with thick with white steam, and even Li Zeyan’s faint sigh seems to blend into the steaming hot vapor.

LZY: [lets out a complex laugh; it’s of sb who is all-knowing of all happenings but is infinitely indulgent towards you]  Then listen to me.

MC: [confused]  What…

–

Before I can finish my sentence, Li Zeyan has already shown me through his actions how I should “listen.”

A soft touch imprints on my skin, and a burning sensation spreads from my knee along my skin to my entire body.

I jolt slightly and freeze for a moment. The patch of skin kissed by that softness tingles, and it seems like even the pain is slowly dissipating.

LZY: Don’t fidget; it might make the pain worse.

The deep, slightly hoarse tailing note of his voice, accompanied by the sound of running water, causes me to subconsciously draw my leg back a little, only to have it restrained in place by that hand again.

A gentle sensation, carrying with it a slight chill, seems to pepper its way over my knee, and the painful spot feels as if it’s being licked with cherishment and care.

All the senses in my body seem to be concentrated on that one spot, and I can’t help but take a light breath.

MC: Li Zeyan… 

LZY: [SO SOF– but you can also hear he’s THERE–]  Hm?

MC: …It’s nothing, I just wanted to say your name…

The fingers supporting my knee tighten slightly, and a surge of scorching breath sweeps over me, swallowing my trailing notes.

I follow his breath and, bit by bit, probe deeper, my heart in my chest pounding in synchronization with his increasingly rising body heat.

Warm water continues to gush from the showerhead, soaking both Li Zeyan’s clothes and mine without distinction.

A body temperature hotter than mine gradually closes in, and I feel as if I’m drowning in this steamy heat swirling in the air.

The lingering colorful bubbles from the shower gel float into the air, then burst open with a pop, leaving behind a soft chime drowned out by the sound of water.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 3】

Even though I gave up on the bubble bath halfway, ended up having to take a second shower, and by the time I went to bed, it was already the middle of the night, I still woke up early today.

[MC’s Company Name] annual business interview program is scheduled to shoot its final episode today, and Li Zeyan will be appearing as the heavyweight guest in this installment.

I have postponed all my other work and arrived at the studio early to ensure every detail of the shoot is absolutely flawless.

The soft white light from the softbox projects onto the light gray background wall, dimly reflecting the shadows of people hurrying around.

Standing in front of the filming equipment, I direct the production crew to adjust the set.

MC: This table needs to be moved a bit more. It doesn’t look well-positioned at the moment.

MC: Turn the reflector on the front left a little more to the right… there, perfect!

MC: The set is almost ready. I’ll go and check on the guest first.

—

After saying hello to the supervisor, I head to the dressing room.

Li Zeyan, clad in a suit, sits in front of a vanity mirror, his bangs swept up, causing his somewhat piercing eyes to be enhanced with an even deeper intensity.

The moment I walk in, those eyes precisely capture me from the reflection in the mirror.

MC: How is the preparation coming along, CEO Li?

LZY: Not bad. Is everything taken care of on the set?

Detecting a hint of jest in his tone, I walk over with a smile.

MC: Yup, that’s why I’m here to check in on this side of things–– CEO Li is our important, esteemed guest after all, so we can’t afford to be negligent.

MC: Therefore, today, my entire day belongs to you, CEO Li.

I wink at him through the mirror and catch a subtle smile playing at the edge of Li Zeyan’s lips.

I sit down on a stool nearby and watch the makeup artist styling Li Zeyan.

From this angle, his ocular orbit and the bridge of his nose appear even more defined, accentuating the depth of his eyes all the more.

MC: CEO Li’s side profile could outshine many stars on the cover of fashion magazines without competition.

LZY: [laughs in spite of himself] …always laying it on thick.

Even though he says this, the slight arch at the tip of his brows betrays a hint of delight.

Spellbound, as I continue to watch him, my phone suddenly vibrates twice, and a message from Kiki pops up––

Kiki: Boss, great news!!

In the chat window, a push notification jumps into my sight, and a few familiar words grab my attention.

MC: [reading the news] “Shuangjian Media Faces Major Crisis! Multiple celebrities under its banner are implicated in tax evasion scandals, and the investigation is underway. The amount of tax evasion has reached up to…”

Upon seeing the number below, I take in a sharp breath of air.

With such a large amount of tax evasion being investigated, it’s sure to land them in serious trouble.

Although I have caught the wind of some rumors before, suddenly so many people being exposed at once seems more like a deliberate action…

A vague idea surfaces in my mind. I instinctively look towards the man not far away, only to lock eyes with him directly.

LZY: MC.

I haven’t even noticed when, but his styling is already complete, and the makeup artist has left the dressing room, leaving only the two of us.

The slightly slim-fitted suit highlights his already tall and straight stature, and his slender fingers unhurriedly adjust the cufflinks. He looks in my direction, lifting his head slightly.

LZY: Help me out.

I raise my eyes and see a rose gold collar pin loosely hanging from the collar of his light gray shirt. 

I walk up to him and carefully fasten the collar pin. My fingertips inadvertently graze against the skin of his neck, eliciting a slight quiver of the Adam’s apple beneath the collar.

A somewhat scorching breath caresses my bangs, leaving a tickling sensation.

LZY: [laughs in amusement] Why are you zoning out?

His warm fingertips are on my neck, gently grazing the skin there intermittently.

MC: Just saw some good news that came as a relief for body and mind, that’s why I was a little distracted.

MC: Shuangjian Media, the company that intercepted [MC’s Company Name] before, has hit a roadblock… I wonder who “played the hero to uphold justice.”

I smile and wink at him, trying to discern any inkling of a clue from his expression that would confirm my guess.

However, he simply lowers his eyes slightly and looks at me, a barely perceptible arc forming on his lips.

LZY: [chuckles softly, but that’s a mastermind chuckle i tell you lmao] That’s quite nice.

MC: Li Zeyan, you…

A knock on the door cuts me off, and the voice of my assistant comes from outside.

Assistant: Boss, CEO Li, it’s almost time for the shoot to begin.

MC: Got it, we’ll be right there.

I purse my lips, suppressing my urge to inquire further, and loosen my hands, intending to escort Li Zeyan to the filming studio.

To my surprise, the pair of arms holding me within show no intention of letting go. He lowers his eyes, his gaze intent upon me.

LZY: Given the importance of this shoot, there ought to be an additional step in the preparation process.

With his head lowered, Li Zeyan leans in towards me slightly. A gentle and familiar breath assaults my senses, and his soft finger pad presses between my lips and teeth, hinting at something ambiguous. 

I cradle his face and lift myself up on my toes.

Our breaths intertwine for a brief moment, but a gentle ripple is left in my heart, reminiscent of a dragonfly lightly touching the water’s surface.

MC: So, even CEO Li needs a little encouragement before stepping in front of the camera?

LZY: I learned it from a certain someone.

The light in those deep eyes remains locked onto me, shimmering slightly, radiating a glow that seeps into my heart.

LZY: And it’s very effective.

—

Such scenes are run-of-the-mill for Li Zeyan. His tone remains steady throughout and devoid of any trace of tension.

LZY: The economic situation this year isn’t conducive to expanding the business scope or making risky investments, but there are more opportunities in the lower-tier markets compared to previous years…

As I watch Li Zeyan through the camera lens, the soft light, which leans more on the cooler tone, accentuates the depths of the man’s countenance all the more.

He speaks at a measured pace, but each word is uttered with an inexplicable sense of certainty.

Host: Although CEO Li mentioned just now that this year isn’t favorable for expanding business extern, LFG seems to be steadily venturing into new fields this year.

LZY: As a matter of fact, LFG has not been as stable this year as it may seem from the outside. On the contrary, we’ve encountered more crises than in previous years.

LZY: The failure of some investments has even put us under the preying eyes of many industry peers.

LZY: But fortunately, I’m not alone in holding up LFG, and LFG is not an isolated island––

As he speaks, his gaze seems to subtly shift towards me behind the camera. In that brief second our eyes interlock, the corners of his lips curl upward into a small smile.

But when I focus and take a closer look again, it’s as if that fleeting smile was never there.

LZY: LFG was able to weather this year’s storms without any mishaps not only due to our decisions but also thanks to the countless colleagues who worked tirelessly day and night to recover the company’s losses, as well as to the support of our subsidiaries.

LZY: Especially the companies that LFG has invested in. Without them, LFG would’ve encountered even greater challenges this year.

Li Zeyan’s straight-from-the-shoulder remarks leave even the host a little taken aback, an expression of surprise settling on their face.

Host: It appears that even LFG, regarded as the lion king in the eyes of the others, has times when it rides the waves to advance.

LZY: That’s inevitable; no one walks a solitary path in this society.

LZY: Having your own plans and making decisive choices is important, but choosing the right people to move forward with is equally important.

I am slightly taken aback.

This was not in the script; it’s obviously an impromptu remark from Li Zeyan.

I’m not sure why, but these words suddenly make me think of those eyes gazing into mine in the bathroom last night.

The unnecessary persistences in my heart seem to quietly start to disintegrate. I tightly clench my fingers and pull my attention back to the show.

Host: We can tell that CEO Li is speaking from the heart. It seems that not only for the company but also for you, CEO Li, personally, do you have someone who can be considered as your exclusive “valued person”?

This time, I clearly see the smile in his eyes. I hold my breath slightly, waiting for the answer that I may have already known for a long time, yet can’t help eagerly anticipating––

LZY: [while looking at you] I do. It’s a well-spring that will never run dry, even in the desert. No matter what trouble may arise, I know without a doubt––

LZY: [while looking at you] She will be by my side forever.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

After the interview concludes, the filming crew and I head to the Central Grand Hotel.

To celebrate the completion of year-end work and the official wrap-up of the show, [MC’s Company Name] is holding a team-building celebration party here.

Perhaps because the end of the year is drawing closer, a festive atmosphere gradually begins to permeate, filling the banquet hall with laughter.

Being spurred on by this pure joy, I also end up having a few extra drinks.

I find myself feeling a little woozy, until, finally, Li Zeyan takes the wine glass from my hand and escorts me all the way to the lounge of the suite.

—

Inside the room’s bathroom, I turn on the faucet–– the cool water flows over my hand, washing away the slight tipsiness from the alcohol.

After the buzz from the alcohol has worn off a bit, I exhale and push open the bathroom door.

—

The lights in the room are not lit, and a familiar voice can be heard drifting from near the window. He seems to be on the phone with someone.

LZY: …got it. Email it to me.

The high heels under my feet tread on the soft carpet, barely producing any sound as I walk quietly to the floor-to-ceiling windows––

Outside the glass windows of the high-rise, thousands of lights spread out into the distance like a dazzling mosaic of stars.

Li Zeyan is lying on the carpet, the neon lights falling upon him in soft, colorful specks.

I sit down by the freestanding panoramic bathtub not far from him, watching as he hangs up the call.

MC: Was that about work?

LZY: Mm. I heard [MC’s Company Name] is looking for new partners for the Denmark project. I’ve asked the marketing department to draft a proposal. Once it’s finalized, I’ll send it over to you.

MC: But… weren’t you not very interested in this project before?

LZY: It’s true that the profit margins of this project are finite for LFG. However, if we approach it strategically, it could be a breakthrough in the Nordic market.

Seeing my somewhat baffled expression, he raises an eyebrow.

LZY: Since a certain someone has been dragging her feet, I have no choice but to take the initiative and propose it myself.

LZY: Or perhaps you already have other choices in mind?

MC: Of course not!

I don’t shy away from meeting those deep eyes of his squarely. My heart skips a beat, and I’m reminded of the question I’ve been holding back all afternoon.

MC: Before I give you my formal answer, I also have something I’d like to ask CEO Li––

MC: Shuangjian Media artists were found to have engaged in tax evasion. Helping [MC’s Company Name] vent some frustration this way… that was CEO Li’s doing, wasn’t it?

LZY: After all, a certain someone has been frowning and being glued to her phone even during meals for the past two weeks because of the troubles this company has stirred.

LZY: It’s best to take care of it early on, so it doesn’t take up more of your energy.

I’m momentarily stunned, and as I reflect on the recent events, a surge of emotions suddenly intertwines in my heart.

MC: So, CEO Li, what you are subtly reminding me is that I’ve been too occupied with work recently and have been neglecting you?

LZY: [you can’t hear me, but I’m screaming––]  I simply want to have the share that’s rightfully mine.

His understated words convey a hint of tenderness that’s impossible to miss, and it sears into my heart, making the swaying toes of my feet pause mid-motion.

MC: Li Zeyan, thank you. Even though it may sound very formal, I still want to say thank you.

LZY: I wonder who was the person that said before that, you and I, we are one identity?

I’m slightly taken aback for a moment–– I did seem to have said those words not too long ago.

At the time, FengZhen Group was making moves against LFG, and I couldn’t be more grateful to be the one who could stand by his side.

–

[Tidbits]: It’s a call-back to Li Zeyan’s 2024 CNY UR: Burning Imprints~

–

MC: [teasingly]  I believe I said “and LFG” at the time.

LZY: [confidently shrugs off LOL] Same thing.

LZY: Both LFG and I are enmeshed in many complicated relationships, and more and more branches and leaves are slowly growing outward.

LZY: So there’s no need to be so anxious. You’ve long been the sharpest blade capable of breaking the siege for LFG.

The lingering haze that has been weighing on my mind for the past half a month suddenly clears up. In its place, there arises a kind of sweet and surging fluttering sensation, and it’s overwhelming enough to fill my entire heart.

I did seem to be a little too anxious, so anxious that I overlooked the fact that I didn’t need to be in a hurry to rush forward. The unshakable position by his side will always belong to me and me alone.

I lower my eyes, my gaze tracing the contours of his outline obscured by the darkness.

MC: Li Zeyan… you will forever be my first choice.

–

As the words leave my lips, my ankle is suddenly clasped by a warm, dry palm.

Followed by a sigh that almost blends into the night, a twinge of pain shoots through my calf––

My eyes widen, watching as Li Zeyan’s lips meet my skin and nip me gently. He raises his eyes to interlock with mine, and I can see a hint of dissatisfaction swimming in their depths.

LZY: [GOSH THAT SULKY YET SEXY TONE] You’ve hesitated for too long.

Warm fingertips trace upward along my calf little by little, as if offering a kind of appeasement.

The worries haunting me every now and again, concealed in the darkest recesses of my heart, are set alight and burned to ashes.

MC: …I didn’t take that long.

LZY: Since I am your first choice, don’t hesitate.

His fiery breath snakes slowly up the inside of my knee, accompanied by comforting words tinged with a layer of inexplicable rosy hue, causing one to become addicted.

The soft touch rests gently agains the bend of my knee, causing me to shiver involuntarily. I chuckle softly and look at him with a semi-playful gaze.

MC: Um… Mr. “First Choice,” could you help me with something––

MC: Tell me, what can I do to make you happier?

Not waiting for me to finish my sentence, the pressure on my thigh increases slightly, and suddenly my body feels lighter.

The cry of exclamation hasn’t even left me before I find my entire person already wrapped in strong, solid arms.

LZY: You knowingly ask the question.

His deep eyes are so close to me, almost within reach. I can clearly see countless sparks surging beneath them, stirring up an ambiguous and inexplicable heat.

LZY: [chuckles softly] Also, while I said I would help you, it doesn’t mean you won’t have to pay the price.

LZY: After all, I don’t do business at a loss.

LZY: You still have time to think about… what you can give to pay me.

My heart is filled to the brim. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, bury my face in the crook of his neck, and release a sigh of contentment.

The throbbing and undulations of his chest pound against my body again and again, and even the depths of my very soul seem to be trembling along with the motion––

Filling up my entire being.

──────────────────────────────────────────

[bergerhandcuffs]

No no ,the fym luis is dead? ,NOOOOO SILLY,he is in vendetta! He's just waiting for leon to come back so that they could cuddle again

(Two versions cuz I've gone blind)

[t0oth-r0t]

venn diagram of devon bostick’s characters that is heavily inspired by @goatcheesecak3

[morganski-19]

The One With the Stupid Frat Boy

(flashback to how Steve and Robin became friends)

Robin’s not exactly sure why she showed up to this party. Or how she ended up smack dab in the middle of make out city. A mission that started out trying to get something not disgusting in her cup turning into dodging couples left and right.

She should honestly just go home. Back to her dorm room after finding the roommate that dragged her here. Said she had to get a life and not just study every day. Robin didn’t come to college to fuck around. And so what, she likes to study. Learning a new language was fun for her, she could already speak four fluently, what’s one more.

“You look lost,” a random guy with blond hair says to her. A slur to his words. “If you need help finding somewhere quiet to sit in for a while, I could help you with that.”

Robin swallows the want to throw up. “I’d rather you show me the nearest dumpster than go anywhere alone with you.”

“Woah, freaky.” The guy clearly doesn’t get the hint. He gets so close that Robin can smell the alcohol on his breath. “That’s ok, I’m into freaky chicks.”

“Ew, gross,” Robin pushes him away. “If your brain worked for two seconds, you would clearly see that I’m not interested.”

Whatever type of face the guy was trying to make before turns sour. “You didn’t have to be so rude about it, jeez. I was just trying to be nice.”

“You can be nice without trying to get in my pants. Which I have already said I’m not interested in. You can go fuck off now.” She shoos him away with her free hand.

“Hey, listen here, bitch.”

A hand comes between Robin and the guy, pushing him away from her. Another guy stepping between them, shielding Robin from whatever insults where about to be thrown her way.

“Back off, Chad, she’s clearly not interested,” the new guy with what appears to be a few braincells says. He crosses his arms, making himself into a calm but large presence.

Chad starts to say something, but cuts himself off with an eyeroll. Finally walking away and leaving Robin alone.

The new guy scoffs, whispering, “Asshole.” He turns around to face Robin, face softening in a way that makes her feel safer than she has all night. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she says more shaken than she would like to admit. “Just another asshole, right.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand in front of him. “I’m Steve.”

Robin shakes his hand with an intrigued expression. “Robin.”

A group of people walk behind her and, accidentally, someone bumps into her. Making her trip forward and spill what was left of her drink down her shirt.

“Fuck,” she says, fruitlessly wiping the stain with the back of her hand. “Tonight really is a load of shit.”

Steve very gently puts a hand on her upper back, leading her gently to an empty bathroom. “Don’t swear it all off yet. You never know, you could meet a really hot girl that could turn it all around.”

The bathroom door shuts behind him with a lock. Steve immediately crouches down to look around in the cabinet under the sink. Giving Robin some relief as the situation finally registers in her brain.

She was locked in a bathroom with some random guy she just met minutes ago. Realistically, she should be freaking out about this. But she’s not. Instead, she laughs when Steve makes a little victorious sound and emerges with an almost empty roll of paper towels and a stain eraser. Handing both of them to her and turning to sit on the toilet.

No pressure, no expectation. Just doing something kind for a stranger.

“Is that hope for finding a hot girl for me or for you,” Robin says. Wetting a paper towel, starting to dab at the stain on her shirt.

Steve snorts. “Mainly for you. I’m sort of seeing someone right now and I’m not a cheating asshole.”

“How’d you know I liked girls.”

“I recognized you from the LGBTQ+ student alliance club. I try to attend meetings when I can, but my practices get in the way for most of them.”

“I thought you looked familiar. That makes so much sense now. If you were straight, I probably would have punched you in the face right now.”

That makes Steve laugh. “I hope you’d give me a better treatment than most. Even when I thought I was straight, I still respected people’s sexualities.”

“Who are you seeing, another member of the club?”

“No, she doesn’t have the time. You might know her if you read the school paper, Nancy Wheeler. She’s too busy trying to whip that into shape along with the million other clubs she’s in to be an official member.”

“And she won’t care that you’re currently locked in a bathroom at a house party with a random girl?”

Steve laughs again, like he’s talking with an old friend. “Like I said, I’m not a cheating asshole and she knows that. And you’re a lesbian, so I’d be doing a terrible job if I was.”

Robin abandons trying to get the alcohol out of her shirt. She leans on the wall, sighing and letting her head hit it. “As nice as this conversation has been, I think I’m going to head home. Try and beat my roommate there so she can’t bring any guys back and kick me out. Even though she will still try.”

Steve makes the most judgmental face known to man. “One of those?”

Robin nods with a snort.

“Could be worse, she could do it even if you were in the room. Not fun, let me tell you.” He stands. “Come on, I’ll walk you home. Don’t need any more frat guys hitting on you.”

Robin follows Steve as he breaks a path through the crowd. Feeling the intense relief when the night air hits her. They walk beside each other to the freshman dorms.

“How did you know Chad anyway? You don’t seem like the guy to hang out with assholes.”

“You’d might be surprised to learn that I am a reformed asshole. Different than the one Chad is, but still an ass. You can thank Nancy for knocking me out of that. But me and him met last year when I was looking to join his frat. We actually hooked up at a party last semester.”

“No way,” she gapes.

Steve nods. “Yes way. Not good, let me tell you. Way too cocky and full of himself.”

“See, this is why I date women. We have a much better track record of reciprocating pleasure.”

“Not all of us are terrible, some of us know how to give a good time.”

Robin comes to a stop in front of the door to her building. “Well, this is it.”

“Here, give me your phone for a second.” Steve holds out his hand, where Robin places her phone. He finds her contacts app and types in his number. “Let me know when you get back into your dorm. I’ll come save you if your roommate brings anyone back.”

“Don’t need you saving me twice in one night, I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.” He pauses. “But, if you ever wanted someone to talk to, it’s there. Not going to force you or anything, but I had a good time talking to you tonight. I think that we could be really good friends. If you gave me a chance.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “And texting some random guy I met at a party is such a great way to make friends?”

Steve holds up his hands in defense, walking away backwards. “You said it not me.”

He runs into a bush behind him, cursing and making Robin laugh. She waves goodbye and scans her ID to get into the door. Immediately pulling out her phone when she gets to her dorm to text Steve.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles, @eriquin, @grtwdsmwhr

@croatoan-like-its-hot

[their-we-go]

based on an interaction i read on the wall of a bathroom stall at my university

[turnipoddity]

have you read this fic, "much like suffocating"? just finished it and aaa it's so goood and right up your alley I think!! it's so sweet and angst-y and hot and sappy and Hhhhhh domestic chainshipping!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51666286#main

- 🐰R1

I HAVENT READ THIS ONE AND OH THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL

[wormdebut]

13 for the wrapped game, also, you're wonderful and talented. as if spotify wrapped itself wasn't already great, now we get new worm words from it, hell Y E A H

Oh BOY LEX. Do I have a MESS of a Blurb for YOU. #13 on my Spotify Wrapped is Barbie & Ken by Scene Queen and Set It Off. Enjoy whatever this is.

——

"Eddie!" Chrissy squeals over the radio bluetooth and Eddie can't help the smile that break across his face.

"Hey Chris! How's my best girl?" Eddie hadn't seen his best friend in months. She had gone off to IU and Eddie had stayed in Chicago working on a tattoo apprenticeship.

They had both been so busy, Eddie with his work and Chrissy was busy with college and--well Chrissy had apparently went a gotten herself involved with a metal band? Eddie was very confused about the specifics, but he had finally gotten some time off and Chrissy's band had a gig in Indianapolis tonight so, they were making a vacation of it.

"I'm so excited you're coming tonight! The band is so excited to meet you! Even though they've seen pictures, they are convinced I made you up!" Chrissy giggles and Eddie laughs with her.

"Yeah, I'm sure they think I'm a garbage best friend, but I'm gonna be the loudest motherfucker there, I swear to god. First round after the shows on me!"

Chrissy keeps laughing. "I'm glad you said it, cause Stevie was already telling everybody that my imaginary best friend had the honors of first round anyway."

Chrissy had told Eddie about Stevie. Going on, and on about her. 'Stevie is a fucking musical genius.' 'You won't believe what Stevie came up with today.' 'God, I can't wait for you and Stevie to meet, you guys are gonna hit it off immediately.' He was glad that Chrissy had found a girlfriend, she deserves the best, but Eddie would have to lay it on think when he met this Stevie chick. Make sure that she takes care of his girl.

Chrissy was a raging lesbian and Eddie was Kinsey six gay, but they were platonic soulmates until death and Stevie is gonna have to know that Eddie will kill for Chrissy Cunningham.

The bar was fucking packed. Christ. Eddie should be jealous. Before he had started tattooing he had always wanted to play music, but, shit. He was just fucking proud of Chrissy.

After he had kicked back of few shots of whiskey he was able to push his way up to the front of the crowd just as the stage lights started going haywire. The crowd was yelling and Eddie lost his shit when Chrissy came strutting out in a hot pink skater dress and chunk black doc martens. Her hair was pulled into ridiculously perky pigtails. How this was going to be a metal performance Eddie was very unsure, but he was excited as fuck to see her in anyway.

"Hiya Indy!" Chrissy yells. Eddie yells back with the audience and Chrissy squeals in the mic when she sees Eddie cheering for her. "Hi Eds!" She runs up grabbing his hand and Eddie laughs, squeezing her hand quickly, before she pulls away. "I'm Chrissy Cunningham and me and my band Versailles are super excited to be back here. Well, without further ado my boys are gonna come out here and we'll get this party started huh?"

The crowd goes wild and Eddie watches as three men come running out. There's a drummer, a bassist, and a guitarist. Eddie is stoked as hell. Watching as Chrissy hypes up the band. He hears someone in the crowd yell "Where's Steve?"

Chirssy ears perk up. "Stevie? Oh I'm sure Stevie's around here somewhere let me just--" She pulls out a hot pink flip phone. Eddie lets out a loud laugh as he recognizes the damn thing as Chrissy's first phone, from seventh grade. His laughter is cut short as a dial tone starts playing over the speakers

It's a bit.

"Hi Stevie! I--I mean Ken…Um…Are you free right now? I have a song that I need you on. Like now?" Chrissy speaks into the microphone, and the crowd zeroes in on Chrissy as she 'calls' for Stevie. Eddie is so busy being impressed with his best friends stage presence he almost misses the smoke show that comes running out from stage right.

He's pretty sure he should pick his fucking jaw up from the floor. The man has on the tightest jeans Eddie has ever seen tucked into clunky combat boots, framing his ass…quite nicely. His hair is styled far too perfect for a metal show, but Eddie is not complaining. The kicker though, is the hot pink tactical vest he has on over his shirtless, very hairy--fuck--chest. Is this a concert or is this one of Eddie's fucked up sexual fantasies?

Eddie snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide as he stares at Chrissy and…Stevie.

Oh Shit.

Eddie watches as Stevie--Steve--the source of Eddie's very confused boner right now--whatever the hell his name is--pulls the flip phone out of her hand and leans into the mic.

They both smile right at Eddie. He swears he sees Chrissy wink.

"Let's Party."

Eddie is both entertained and internally tormented throughout the rest of the show. Chrissy knew exactly what she was doing, forgetting to mention that Stevie was a) A man and b) exactly Eddie's fucking type.

Eddie liked pretty boys, and apparently this pretty boy knew how to scream, which--that was--that was doing for Eddie.

Throughout the show Eddie picked up that Chrissy did a fair amount of clean vocals and Steve did a mix between cleans and screaming. Versailles as a whole was actually pretty good, but Eddie was going to have to apologize to Chrissy, because he only had eyes for Steve.

Should he be embarrassed for popping a boner at his apparently metalheaded best friends show? Probably, but--he was not. Steve was fucking hot.

He was also a fucking menace. He kept running up to Eddie, grabbing at his hands, leaning down to scream in his fucking face, and Chrissy, when she caught him doing it, just smirked.

Eddie was gonna kill her.

Eddie leaned against the bar, waiting as the crowd around Versailles died down and spread out. He caught Chrissy's eye as she hopped off the stage running up to Eddie at full speed. She jumped into his arms, "Eddieee!"

Eddie huffed out a laugh. "You have so much explaining to do." He whispered into her ear.

Chrissy just laughed as Eddie set her down, smiling from ear to ear. "Yeah, and I think you owe a pretty boy a drink."