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[jasonwissner]

3 Nights On The Road: Denver, CO to Page, AZ (Lake Powell and Hoover Dam)

[chqnified]

You know what ..... I might actually go see skz in Paris 🤨

[brent-linen-hire]

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[bizzlane15]

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[itneverendshere]

rewatching desperate house wives right now and would love to see a little something inspired by gabrielle and carlos?? maybe season 2 when he's in jail and she wants a conjugal visit. just thought it would be fun, love your work!!!

I'M THE GIRL YOU DIE FOR- r.c

pairing: canon!rafe x queenb!kook!reader

of course, you had to be here.

no one else was going to fight for rafe—certainly not that tired, old man, with his cheap suit and receding hairline.

god, you hated this place. the lighting was terrible, the walls a sad, dull beige that screamed "i give up," and the leather chairs were probably fake.

honestly, couldn’t these people at least pretend to have some standards? guess that’s what happens when you’re not the one cutting the checks.

now, instead of champagne and designer brunches, you were spending your afternoons in a hellhole like this. you stood near the chain-link fence, your sunglasses shielding you from the glaring sun.

in the distance, the inmates were out in the yard, working out, talking in groups, smoking—whatever it was they did to kill time.

who thought it was a good idea to have meetings out here? the yard was full of dirt, sweat, and who-knows-what, and the chain-link fence looked like something out of a low-budget crime show. you flicked a piece of lint off your skirt, more for effect than necessity.

maxwell finally showed up, his face blank, like he wasn’t impressed by the outfit you’d spent an hour putting together. whatever. you were here for rafe, not him.

“we need to talk,” you said, tightening the hold on your birkin like it weighed a thousand pounds. it was designer. it probably cost more than his car.

maxwell didn’t even flinch. “about?”

cheap suit, cheap attitude. honestly, if you weren’t so desperate, you’d be done with this idiot by now.

“about my fiancé.” you tilted your head, giving him your best ‘don’t play dumb with me’ look. “we need a conjugal visit. and i need you to make it happen.”

“a conjugal visit?” he said it slow, like you were asking for a miracle.

“yes.” you smiled tightly. “you know, those things where people in prison get to have a little privacy? i want you to get us one.” you rolled your eyes. god, this guy was infuriating. “isn’t that part of your job? to get what we need?”

maxwell raised an eyebrow. “a conjugal visit isn’t part of the deal. rafe’s charges are serious. i’m trying to get your fiancé out of jail, you want me to stop everything just so you can have a booty call?”

he was acting like you were asking for something outrageous.

as if it wasn’t completely reasonable for you to want to see rafe. really see him. after months. this was rafe cameron you were talking about. he had power. you had power. how could this crusty lawyer not understand that?

“i’m not asking, maxwell. i’m telling you. make it happen.”

“i said no.”

you scowled at him, “all we need is an hour. you can’t tell me no! you work for me, you will make it happen.”

he gave a fake sigh, the kind people did when they thought you were being dramatic.

“listen,” he sneered, leaning in slightly. “i’m not your servant. you don’t get to snap your fingers and expect things to just happen. newsflash—your boyfriend is in prison. not some hotel.”

oh, this smug asshole. you were about to really let him have it when a low voice interrupted from behind the fence.

“you got a problem, lady?”

you turned, eyes narrowing as you saw two inmates standing near the fence, both of them massive. tattoos snaked up their arms, and they looked rough. you’d seen them with rafe before.

maxwell glanced back at them, trying to act tough, “excuse me, but this is a private conversation.”

“private? you’re out here talking loud enough for the whole yard to hear. we heard what you said.” he tilted his head toward you, eyes narrowing on maxwell. “sounds like you’re disrespecting cameron’s girl.”

maxwell stammered, suddenly not so confident. “i—i’m just trying to explain that a conjugal visit is complicated. there are rules—”

“we don’t care.”

the second maxwell started running his mouth, you could already tell he had no idea who he was dealing with. he was still trying to act like he had the upper hand, like he was some big-shot lawyer who could push people around. you almost pitied him. almost. but honestly, he deserved what was coming.

“you’re not gonna get away with this,” he snapped, all bravado, puffing out his chest like that was going to make him any less pathetic. “you think you can intimidate me? i’ll have you all locked up for life if you so much as lay a finger on me.”

you rolled your eyes behind your sunglasses. what an idiot.

the bigger inmate—tank, you’d heard people call him—reached through the fence with a broomstick.

you hadn’t even noticed it before, but he must’ve grabbed it from somewhere nearby. he jabbed it into maxwell’s shoulder, not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to make his point. maxwell jumped back like he’d been electrocuted.

“hey! what the—” he shouted, trying to step out of range, but tank just laughed and poked him again, this time aiming lower, jabbing him in the ribs.

“you don’t make the rules here, old man,” tank sneered, poking him once more, this time a little harder. “you’re gonna learn that the hard way if you don’t shut your mouth. apologize!”

maxwell’s face was turning red now, panic setting in as he tried to dodge the broomstick, but the other guy grabbed the handle, keeping it steady while tank prodded him over and over, relentless.

“i swear to god,” maxwell was screaming now, voice cracking. “i’ll have the guards throw you in solitary! you’ll never see daylight again, i’ll make sure you rot in here!”

the inmates just laughed, like his threats were some kind of joke. and honestly, they were. you watched, arms crossed, completely unbothered, as maxwell flailed, trying to keep his balance while other inmates jabbed other broomsticks at him, from every side, like he was nothing more than a punching bag.

“you hear that, boys?” tank said, grinning as he poked maxwell one more time. “he’s gonna get us locked up for life! like we’re not already in here.” the other inmate burst out laughing. a few more guys started drifting closer to the fence, watching with interest. “apologize!”

maxwell’s face was pure panic now. “stop it!” he screamed, backing up so far he was almost falling over. “i’m serious, i’ll call the warden, i’ll—this is all her fault, if she wasn’t such a goddamn horny b—”

you gasped, insulted, ready to read him to filth but the inmates beat you to it.

“do it,” the second guy sneered, his voice low and threatening. “see if we care. you think we don’t know how to make things happen? you’d be gone before you even got your phone call.”

a few of them started yelling, and jeering, like they were ready to jump in, too. maxwell’s eyes darted around, realizing that this was spiraling out of control.

“you idiots!” he screeched, his voice high-pitched and panicky. “you’ll start a riot! they’ll lock all of you down—no more yard, no more visits, nothing! you’re gonna screw yourselves over!”

but they didn’t care. the guys on the yard were getting riled up now, shouts echoing across the open space. some of them were banging on the fence, rattling it hard enough to make it shake.

“apologize to the lady!”

one of the other inmates reached through the fence, grabbing at his sleeve, yanking him forward. maxwell screamed, struggling to pull away, but the guy held on tight, his grip ironclad.

“come on, boys!” someone yelled from the yard, and suddenly it was like the floodgates had opened. more and more inmates rushed toward the fence, shouting, banging on the metal, some of them reaching through, trying to get a piece of the action, “apologize!”

you adjusted your sunglasses and turned to leave, your heels clicking against the pavement. you hope they kill him for you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚

you were dressed to the nines, as usual, in a designer dress that probably cost more than what the guards made in a month. even in this drab setting, you looked like you belonged on a yacht, not here, in some depressing room meant for criminals and their girlfriends.

you strutted toward him, your lips glossed to perfection, knowing full well that the bratty smile curling your mouth would drive him insane.

it always did.

rafe was already sitting there, arms crossed, looking as exasperated as you’d ever seen him.

his jaw was clenched, and the muscles there twitched. he was not happy.

you smirked. of course, you weren’t expecting a warm welcome, but at least you got to see him.

“hi, baby,” you purred, batting your lashes as if you weren’t here to make his day harder. “missed me?”

he just stared at you for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying to find some ounce of patience. then he let out this long, heavy sigh, rubbing his hand down his face before finally looking at you again.

“you—” he started, then stopped, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek in frustration. “you started a riot because you wanted a conjugal visit?”

you tilted your head innocently, like you didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

“almost,” you corrected, as if that made it any better. “it wasn’t like they actually did anything.” you waved your hand dismissively, the gloss on your lips catching the light as you smiled.

“you—” he stopped, biting the inside of his cheek again, trying to rein it in. he was always like this—prone to temper, to obsession. the need to control everything. especially you. “do you know how close it came to getting out of control? the guards were ready to lock the whole place down. for days. you think that would’ve been good for me, huh?”

you shrugged, not really fazed.

“he was being a dick to me, baby. what was i supposed to do? that lawyer was useless. i wasn’t just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that.”

his eyes dropped to your mouth, unable to resist.

“he was the best lawyer in the fucking county.”

“they clearly need new ones then.”

rafe groaned, trying to keep from losing it completely.

“he almost called me a bitch!”

“were you acting like one?”

“and so what if i was?” you leaned back, crossing your arms, the movement accentuating your designer dress. “he was the one acting like an asshole. he’s lucky i didn’t throw my drink at him. if i’d had one.”

he looked like he was about two seconds away from unleashing his deranged side, rubbing his hand over his face again, like that was going to somehow make all of this disappear.

“you don’t get it, do you? you can’t pull this shit in here, baby. it’s not the fucking outer banks. people don’t just let you get away with whatever you want because you look good and throw money around.”

you rolled your eyes, flipping your hair over your shoulder.

“yeah, well, maybe they should. you don’t see me lowering my standards just because you’re stuck in this dump, do you?” you gestured around the room, your nose wrinkling at the depressing, beige walls. “god, i mean, who chooses these colors? it’s like they want people to lose their minds in here.”

he scoffed, “that’s what you’re worried about? the color of the walls?”

you pouted, “what else was I supposed to do? sit and wait for him to do nothing? ’m not stupid.”

"you're lucky you're even allowed in here after that stunt.”

you gave him a sweet, almost patronizing smile, teeth digging into your lower lip. "aww, baby, are you worried about me?”

"stop," he snapped, "this shit isn’t funny. you think i want to spend the next month in solitary because you couldn't keep your mouth shut?"

you didn’t flinch. in fact, you smiled even wider, enjoying how worked up he was getting.

“don’t be so dramatic. it wasn’t like anything actually happened.”

"you're out there playing power games with people who don't care about you,” he tapped two fingers against his temple, brows slightly raised,“they won’t bow down because you’ve got money or a pretty face."

"maybe not, but they’ll listen if i push hard enough," you said coolly. "and guess what? they did."

he clenched his jaw again, running his hands through his growing hair in frustration. he looked like he was fighting every instinct not to explode.

"you really think you're helping me, don’t you?"

you crossed your legs slowly, adjusting your dress so the fabric draped perfectly. “would you rather have me fuck someone else? y’know… a free man?”

that got a reaction. his eyes flickered with something dangerous, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in close.

“you wouldn’t.” he whispered, the words laced with venom and amusement at the same time.

your smile turned wicked. “wouldn’t i?”

his fingers twitched on the table, the way they always did when he was seconds away from grabbing you.

“you’re really testing me right now,” he said slowly, his fingers drumming on the metal table between you. "you think ’m stuck in here, so you can play your little games? make me jealous?”

you held his gaze, unbothered, your lips curling into a defiant smile. "’m just reminding you that i have options. ones that aren’t sitting in a prison cell.”

he chuckled darkly, though there was nothing funny about the look in his eyes.

"options, huh?" his voice was edging on borderline strained. "and what makes you think i wouldn't kill any man who even looked at you?"

"you’d have to catch him first, wouldn’t you? and we both know you’re a little… tied up at the moment."

his hand shot out, gripping your lower cheecks with a force that sent you spiriling, remembering how he used to manhandle you anytime he got his hands on you, your faces were almost touching.

his eyes were wild. possession. obsession. the kind of dark love that made you both feel alive.

“you’re mine. no matter where i am, no matter who else you think you can have. you’re mine.”

“then get the stupid conjugal visit,” you hissed through your teeth, “’m horny.”

“’m not asking you. ’m telling you. you don’t have options sweetheart. you never did.”

you felt your pulse quicken.

god, he was insane, but that’s what made it so intoxicating.

he was right. no matter what you said or did, no matter how much you tried to push his buttons, it always came back to one thing: you belonged to him.

“i’ll get you your damn visit,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, “but ’m not doing it because you demanded it. ’m doing it because you need to be reminded of something.” he leaned back, letting go of your face, his fingers printed into your cheeks, keeping his eyes locked on yours, “you’re mine. and i’ll make sure you remember that.”

you rubbed where his grip had been, the throbbing sensation making it clear that he hadn’t lost his touch—he never did.

you grinned as you leaned forward, closing the space between you two again, “i’ll be waiting, baby.”

rafe’s smirk widened, his eyes burning with that possessive glint you knew all too well. there was no escaping him, not that you really wanted to.

“enjoy your time behind bars,” you added, standing up slowly, your movements deliberate, making sure he had a full view of your ass as you walked toward the exit. “maybe i’ll find a way to keep myself busy until you get out.”

he didn’t answer, but you could feel his eyes burning into your back as you left the room.

you knew you were pushing him, playing with fire, but that’s how you both liked it. this was the game you played. you couldn’t wait for him to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

[ceruark]

liquid courage

synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever

It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.

After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.

Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.

It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.

You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.

You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.

Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.

(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)

As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.

Aventurine: hey. you in?

The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.

One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.

You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.

You: yeah, what's up?

His response was instantaneous.

Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?

Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?

You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.

Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.

"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.

Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.

Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.

You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.

Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"

"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."

"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"

"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."

You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.

"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"

Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."

You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.

"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.

Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.

"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."

He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."

Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."

You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.

You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.

Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"

It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.

"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.

Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.

"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"

His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."

Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"

"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.

Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.

And then he started to take his coat off.

Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.

"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.

When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.

Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.

A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned. 

"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."

You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."

Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."

You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."

"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.

"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.

"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.

You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."

You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."

His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"

His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."

"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."

The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.

You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.

"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.

"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.

You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."

In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.

"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."

The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.

He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.

"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."

There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"

You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."

"Yes," he said, "I did say that."

Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."

His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.

"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.

You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."

"I've dreamed of holding you."

Oh. That complicated things.

You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."

He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"

You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."

He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"

You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."

He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.

You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.

You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.

You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.

Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Housing is a labor issue

There's a reason Reagan declared war on unions before he declared war on everything else – environmental protection, health care, consumer rights, financial regulation. Unions are how working people fight for a better world for all of us. They're how everyday people come together to resist oligarchy, extraction and exploitation.

Take the 2019 LA teachers' strike. As Jane McAlevey writes in A Collective Bargain, the LA teachers didn't just win higher pay for their members! They also demanded (and got) an end to immigration sweeps of parents waiting for their kids at the school gate; a guarantee of green space near every public school in the city; and on-site immigration counselors in LA schools:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

Unionization is enjoying an historic renaissance. The Hot Labor Summer transitioned to an Eternal Labor September, and it's still going strong, with UAW president Shawn Fain celebrating his members victory over the Big Three automakers by calling for a 2028 general strike:

https://www.teenvogue.com/story/uaw-general-strike-no-class

The rising labor movement has powerful allies in the Biden Administration. NLRB general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo is systematically gutting the "union avoidance" playbook. She's banned the use of temp-work app blacklists that force workers to cross picket lines:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

She's changed the penalty for bosses who violate labor law during union drives. It used to be the boss would pay a fine, which was an easy price to pay in exchange for killing your workers' union. Now, the penalty is automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And while the law doesn't allow Abruzzo to impose a contract on companies that refuse to bargain their unions, she's set to force those companies to honor other employers' union contracts until they agree to a contract with their own workers:

https://onlabor.org/gc-abruzzo-just-asked-the-nlrb-to-overturn-ex-cell-o-heres-why-that-matters/

She's also nuking TRAPs, the deals that force workers to repay their employers for their "training expenses" if they have the audacity to quit and get a better job somewhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/14/prop-22-never-again/#norms-code-laws-markets

(As with every aspect of the Biden White House, its labor policy is contradictory and self-defeating, with other Biden appointees working to smash worker power, including when Biden broke the railworkers' strike:)

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

A surging labor movement opens up all kinds of possibilities for a better world. Writing for the Law and Political Economy Project, UNITE Here attorney Zoe Tucker makes the case for unions as a way out of America's brutal housing crisis:

https://lpeproject.org/blog/why-unions-should-join-the-housing-fight/

She describes how low-waged LA hotel workers have been pushed out of neighborhoods close to their jobs, with UNITE Here members commuting three hours in each direction, starting their work-days at 3AM in order to clock in on time:

https://twitter.com/MorePerfectUS/status/1669088899769987079

UNITE Here members are striking against 50 hotels in LA and Orange County, and their demands include significant cost-of-living raises. But more money won't give them back the time they give up to those bruising daily commutes. For that, unions need to make housing itself a demand.

As Tucker writes, most workers are tenants and vice-versa. What's more, bad landlords are apt to be bad bosses, too. Stepan Kazaryan, the same guy who owns the strip club whose conditions were so bad that it prompted the creation of Equity Strippers NoHo, the first strippers' union in a generation, is also a shitty landlord whose tenants went on a rent-strike:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/20/the-missing-links/#plunderphonics

So it was only natural that Kazaryan's tenants walked the picket line with the Equity Stripper Noho workers:

https://twitter.com/glendaletenants/status/1733290276599570736?s=46

While scumbag bosses/evil landlords like Kazaryan deal out misery retail, one apartment building at a time, the wholesale destruction of workers' lives comes from private equity giants who are the most prolific source of TRAPs, robo-scabbing apps, illegal union busting, and indefinite contract delays – and these are the very same PE firms that are buying up millions of single-family homes and turning them into slums:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/08/wall-street-landlords/#the-new-slumlords

Tucker's point is that when a worker clocks out of their bad job, commutes home for three hours, and gets back to their black-mold-saturated, overpriced apartment to find a notice of a new junk fee (like a surcharge for paying your rent in cash, by check, or by direct payment), they're fighting the very same corporations.

Unions who defend their workers' right to shelter do every tenant a service. A coalition of LA unions succeeded in passing Measure ULA, which uses a surcharge on real estate transactions over $5m to fund "the largest municipal housing program in the country":

https://unitedtohousela.com/app/uploads/2022/05/LA_City_Affordable_Housing_Petition_H.pdf

LA unions are fighting for rules to limit Airbnbs and other platforms that transform the city's rental stock into illegal, unlicensed hotels:

https://upgo.lab.mcgill.ca/publication/strs-in-los-angeles-2022/Wachsmuth_LA_2022.pdf

And the hotel workers organized under UNITE Here are fighting their own employers: the hoteliers who are aggressively buying up residences, evicting their long-term tenants, tearing down the building and putting up a luxury hotel. They got LA council to pass a law requiring hotels to build new housing to replace any residences they displace:

https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2023-11-28/airbnb-operators-would-need-police-permit-in-l-a-under-proposed-law

UNITE Here is bargaining for a per-room hotel surcharge to fund housing specifically for hotel workers, so the people who change the sheets and clean the toilets don't have to waste six hours a day commuting to do so.

Labor unions and tenant unions have a long history of collaboration in the USA. NYC's first housing coop was midwifed by the Amalgamated Clothing Workers of America in 1927. The Penn South coop was created by the International Ladies Garment Workers’ Union. The 1949 Federal Housing Act passed after American unions pushed hard for it:

http://www.peterdreier.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/Labors-Love-Lost.pdf

It goes both ways. Strong unions can create sound housing – and precarious housing makes unions weaker. Remember during the Hollywood writers' strike, when an anonymous studio ghoul told the press the plans was to "allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses?"

Vienna has the most successful housing in any major city in the world. It's the city where people of every income and background live in comfort without being rent-burdened and without worry about eviction, mold, or leaks. That's the legacy of Red Vienna, the Austrian period of Social Democratic Workers' Party rule and built vast tracts of high-quality public housing. The system was so robust that it rebounded after World War II and continues to this day:

https://www.politico.eu/article/vienna-social-housing-architecture-austria-stigma/

Today, the rest of the world is mired in a terrible housing crisis. It's not merely that the rent's too damned high (though it is) – housing precarity is driving dangerous political instability:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/06/the-rents-too-damned-high/

Turning the human necessity of shelter into a market commodity is a failure. The economic orthodoxy that insists that public housing, rent control, and high-density zoning will lead to less housing has failed. rent control works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/16/mortgages-are-rent-control/#housing-is-a-human-right-not-an-asset

Leaving housing to the market only produces losers. If you have the bad luck to invest everything you have into a home in a city that contracts, you're wiped out. If you have the bad luck into invest everything into a home in a "superstar city" where prices go up, you also lose, because your city becomes uninhabitable and your children can't afford to live there:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/27/lethal-dysfunction/#yimby

A strong labor movement is the best chance we have for breaking the housing deadlock. And housing is just for starters. Labor is the key to opening every frozen-in-place dysfunction. Take care work: the aging, increasingly chronically ill American population is being tortured and murdered by private equity hospices, long-term care facilities and health services that have been rolled up by the same private equity firms that destroyed work and housing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

In her interview with Capital & Main's Jessica Goodheart, National Domestic Workers Alliance president Ai-jen Poo describes how making things better for care workers will make things better for everyone:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-12-13-labor-leader-ai-jen-poo-interview/

Care work is a "triple dignity investment": first, it makes life better for the worker (most often a woman of color), then, it allows family members of people who need care to move into higher paid work; and of course, it makes life better for people who need care: "It delivers human potential and agency. It delivers a future workforce. It delivers quality of life."

The failure to fund care work is a massive driver of inequality. America's sole federal public provision for care is Medicaid, which only kicks in after a family it totally impoverished. Funding care with tax increases polls high with both Democrats and Republicans, making it good politics:

https://www.dataforprogress.org/blog/2021/4/7/voters-support-investing-in-the-care-economy

Congress stripped many of the care provisions from Build Back Better, missing a chance for an "unprecedented, transformational investment in care." But the administrative agencies picked up where Congress failed, following a detailed executive order that identifies existing, previously unused powers to improve care in America. The EO "expands access to care, supports family caregivers and improves wages and conditions for the workforce":

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/04/18/executive-order-on-increasing-access-to-high-quality-care-and-supporting-caregivers/

States are also filling the void. Washington just created a long-term care benefit:

https://apnews.com/article/washington-long-term-care-tax-disability-cb54b04b025223dbdba7199db1d254e4

New Mexicans passed a ballot initiative that establishes permanent funding for child care:

https://www.cwla.org/new-mexico-votes-for-child-care/

New York care workers won a $3/hour across the board raise:

https://inequality.org/great-divide/new-york-budget-fair-pay-home-care/

The fight is being led by women of color, and they're kicking ass – and they're doing it through their unions. Worker power is the foundation that we build a better world upon, and it's surging.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/13/i-want-a-roof-over-my-head/#and-bread-on-the-table

[brent-linen-hire]

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[flighthotelgo]

Flight Hotel Go is a comprehensive travel service platform designed to streamline the booking process for flights and hotels. Whether you're planning a vacation, business trip, or a quick weekend getaway, Flight Hotel Go offers seamless options to book both your flight and accommodation in one go. The platform provides users with a vast selection of airlines and hotel chains worldwide, ensuring competitive pricing, real-time availability, and tailored recommendations based on personal preferences.

[atzaurora]

Can I ask for a Yeosang x reader where he follows her after concert and wants to take her on a date( she's a fan) and so on the date someone spills a sticky drink so he takes her back to the hotel and let's her shower but brings her clothes and it's gets smutty from when she walks out in just his shirt and panties

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] spilled

❥ 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓: Yeosang

➤ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem!fan!reader x idol!yeosang

➤ 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: imagine (smut)

➤ 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: strangers to lovers, fan x idol au

.ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ: 18+/smut/suggestive content, MDNI!!! manual sex, unprotected sex, m & f receiving

➤ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Her bias asking Y/N out after the concert was definitely not her plan, but she was more than happy that this was how her evening was going. On the date someone accidentally spills a drink on her dress. Yeosang takes her to his hotel to take a shower, but things take a quick turn after she walks out wearing only his t-shirt.

➤ 𝒘/𝒄: 2.8k

➤ 𝒂/𝒏: I hope you like how it turned out! it might be a bit rushed in some parts but I tried my best :3 I'm working on all of you guy's requests so be a bit patient please, writing takes a lot of time sometimes.

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]!

[𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here!

[about me] + [guidelines]!

Thousands of fans had gathered under the vast canopy of the stadium, their excitement palpable as the night sky darkened above them. The stage stood like a gleaming fortress of lights and screens, a beacon of anticipation that drew everyone’s eyes forward. You stood near the bottom of the stage, your heart pounding as you waited patiently for Ateez’s performance to begin.

The venue was enormous, a cavernous space that hummed with the collective energy of fans whose anticipation filled every corner. The walls seemed to vibrate with the echoes of chatter and excitement, creating an atmosphere that was both electrifying and overwhelming. Clutched tightly in your hand was your prized possession—a VIP pass that had cost you a small fortune, but promised an evening you would never forget. Your heart drummed in your chest, its rhythm growing louder with every passing second.

Finally, the lights dimmed, and the crowd’s chatter transformed into a deafening roar of cheers. The giant screens flickered to life, casting their glow over the darkened stadium, and the members of Ateez emerged from the shadows, their faces a blend of fierce determination and playful smiles. The beat dropped, and the crowd surged forward like a tidal wave, sweeping you along with it.

Your gaze locked onto Yeosang, your bias, as he took his place in the spotlight. He was a vision—every movement precise, every note flawless. His warm brown eyes scanned the crowd, and for a brief, electrifying moment, they met yours. Time seemed to freeze as he held your gaze, and in that instant, it felt as if he had reached out and touched you, making a silent promise that would soon be kept.

After the concert, as the crowd began to disperse, the adrenaline still thrummed in your veins. You lingered, watching as fans slowly made their way out of the venue, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Then, in a moment that seemed too surreal to be true, you saw Yeosang making his way through the throngs of fans, his eyes searching. It was a daring move, one that could have easily gone unnoticed, but the universe had other plans.

He spotted you standing alone amid the remnants of the concert—discarded merchandise, half-eaten snacks, and empty water bottles scattered across the floor. He approached with the confident stride of someone who knew exactly what he wanted, his presence magnetic.

"Excuse me," he said, his voice cutting through the lingering noise of the stadium like a gentle caress. "Would you like to go out for dinner with me?"

You blinked, your mind struggling to process what was happening. Did Yeosang, the idol you had admired from afar, just ask you out?

"Are you serious?" you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest.

A soft chuckle escaped Yeosang’s lips, his smile widening as he noticed the flush spreading across your cheeks.

"I know it’s sudden," he admitted, his tone warm and sincere. "But I’ve been wanting to get to know you better. Tonight felt... different."

Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could think twice, you nodded, your nerves giving way to a flutter of excitement. "Yes, I’d love to."

His smile deepened, and he extended his hand toward you, his fingers brushing yours in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. "Great," he said, his voice laced with anticipation."Come with me."

With your hand in his, Yeosang led you through the backstage maze to a waiting car. The ride to the restaurant was a blur, filled with nervous laughter and stolen glances. The tension in the car was thick, but it was a tension that felt charged with possibility. Every time you caught his eye, your heart skipped a beat.

The restaurant he brought you to was a hidden gem, tucked away from the bustling city streets. It was the kind of place where stars dined in peace, shielded from prying eyes by the cozy, intimate atmosphere. As you were seated at a candlelit table in a secluded corner, you couldn’t help but marvel at the surreal nature of the evening.

The food was exquisite, each dish more delicious than the last, but it was the conversation that truly captivated you. Yeosang was attentive, his gaze never leaving yours as he asked about your life, your dreams, and your aspirations.

"So," he said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes full of genuine curiosity, "what’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance to?" Caught off guard by the question, you paused, considering your answer.

"I’ve always wanted to travel," you confessed. "There’s so much of the world I haven’t seen yet." A thoughtful smile played on his lips. "Where would you go first?" You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through you at his interest.

"Maybe Europe," you said. "Italy, specifically. The history, the culture, the food... It’s been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember." "Sounds like a perfect destination," Yeosang said, his voice laced with admiration.

"I’ve been there a couple of times for work, but I’d love to go back just to explore, to really experience it." His gaze softened as he added, "Maybe one day we could go together."

The implication of his words made your heart race. After some more talking you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, but fate played a cruel trick. As you stood to leave, someone bumped into you, sending their drink splashing down the front of your dress. You gasped, the sudden coldness of the liquid soaking through the fabric and embarrassment flooded your senses.

"Oh no," you muttered, your cheeks burning as you tried to dab at the stain with a napkin. But the damage was done, and the wetness seeped into the delicate material of your dress.

Yeosang’s reaction was immediate and comforting. "Hey, don’t worry about it," he said, his voice full of reassurance. Without a moment’s hesitation, he added, "Let’s get you cleaned up. My hotel is just around the corner. You can shower and change there."

Your heart raced with a mix of gratitude and nerves. "Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother." "It’s no bother at all," he replied with a gentle smile. "Come on, I insist."

The ride to his hotel was short, but the tension between you two had grown, now tinged with a different kind of anticipation. As you walked through the hotel lobby, his hand on the small of your back, you could feel the heat of his touch, a silent promise of what was to come.

In the plush surroundings of his suite, Yeosang handed you a towel and a change of clothes—a simple, oversized shirt. "You can use the shower," he said, his voice low and intimate as he gestured toward the bathroom. "Take your time."

You nodded, offering him a shy smile as you retreated into the bathroom. The steamy embrace of the shower was a welcome relief, washing away the stickiness of the spilled drink and the lingering nerves. The warmth of the water soothed you, but it also heightened your awareness of the situation—of the man waiting for you just outside the door.

When you emerged, wrapped in his shirt and only your panties, the soft fabric clinging to your damp skin, you found Yeosang standing by the window, gazing out at the city below. He turned as you entered the room, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you in his clothes.

"You look beautiful," he murmured, stepping closer, his gaze lingering on your bare legs and the curve of your hips.Your breath hitched as he reached out, his hand tracing the outline of your shoulder. His touch was light, almost reverent, but it sent a shiver down your spine. "Yeosang..." you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation.

His fingers trailed down your arm, his gaze never leaving yours. "I’ve wanted this all night," he admitted, his voice thick with need. "But I didn’t want to rush you."

"I don’t want you to stop," you confessed, your heart pounding in your chest. The honesty of your words seemed to ignite something in him, and before you could say another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both tender and demanding.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as he guided you toward the bed. You tumbled onto the soft sheets, the fabric of your shirts the only barrier between your heated bodies. His hands roamed over you, exploring every curve, every inch of your skin as if memorizing it. He kissed along your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and leaving behind a trail of marks that would remind you of this night for days to come.

As his hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt, you felt his fingers brush against your stomach, sending a ripple of pleasure through you. He paused, looking into your eyes as he pushed the fabric higher, revealing more of your body. "You’re stunning," he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he took in the sight of you.

A blush crept up your neck, warmth spreading through your body as you felt his gaze, heavy with desire. "Mhm~ Yeosang..." you breathed, your voice laced with need.

He responded with a slow, sensual kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips before delving deeper. His hand traveled up your torso, fingers finding your nipples, already hardened with anticipation. He teased them gently, his touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

You gasped into his mouth, your back arching off the bed as his fingers worked their magic. The fabric of your panties grew damp with your desire and you could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh, a silent reminder of the pleasure yet to come. The anticipation was unbearable, a delicious agony that left you trembling beneath his touch.

Yeosang’s lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your neck. He nipped at your collarbone, each gentle bite sending a new wave of heat coursing through your veins. His hands were everywhere—roaming across your chest, sliding down your sides, exploring the curves of your body as if committing every detail to memory.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locked onto yours as he slipped the oversized shirt off your shoulders, revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the room. His eyes darkened with desire as they raked over your exposed form, his lips curving into a small, appreciative smile. "You’re breathtaking," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, his lips claiming yours in a way that left no room for doubt about what he wanted. His hand trailed down your stomach, his fingers brushing teasingly over your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. You moaned into his mouth, your hips instinctively rising to meet his touch, desperate for more.

He didn’t rush. Instead, he took his time, savoring every sound you made, every tremble that passed through you as he continued to tease you. His fingertips circled your clit with a gentle, maddening touch that left you on the edge, your body aching for release. When he finally slid two fingers inside you, your eyes rolled back with satisfaction, the feeling of being filled up felt so good.

He looked down at you, watching how you frowned as he slid his fingers in and out of your aching cunt. His fingers curled up, applying pressure against your walls, which almost made you cum already. But it wasn't until his pumps became deeper that you felt close to releasing. Yeosang started to hit your good spot over and over, the knot in your stomach tightening.

You shattered, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your cries filled the room, a symphony of pleasure that echoed off the walls. But Yeosang wasn’t finished. He continued to kiss you, to touch you, his voice a soft murmur in your ear, whispering sweet nothings that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers pumped in and out of you continuosly, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge once more.

"Fuck—" you groaned, feeling how the pleasure build up again, his fingers knuckle deep inside your hole. "It feels good, doesn't it?" he asked, but from the way you clenched around him, he knew that you liked it. "Let go for me," he coaxed, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved faster, deeper, building you up again. "I want to feel you cum."

His words, combined with the relentless pleasure he was giving you, pushed you over the edge a second time. You came with his name on your lips, a cry of pure ecstasy that left you trembling beneath him. Your body tightened around his fingers, the sensation so intense it left you breathless.

As you lay there, panting, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Yeosang withdrew his fingers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He stripped off his own clothes with a speed that made you smile, the urgency of his movements betraying his own need.

His cock stood at attention, hard and ready, and your heart skipped a beat as you took in the sight of him, fully revealed for the first time. He climbed onto the bed, his body covering yours, his skin warm against yours as he settled between your legs. He kissed you deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his fingers, leaving you breathless once more.

When he finally slid inside you, the feeling was almost overwhelming. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. Yeosang groaned, his breath hitching as he felt you tighten around him.

The rhythm you found together was instinctive, each thrust perfectly aligned with your body’s needs. His cock brushed against your good spot with every movement, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making you see stars. The world around you blurred, leaving only the two of you, moving together in perfect harmony.

Yeosang’s lips never stopped moving, kissing every inch of you, leaving a trail of hickeys on your skin like a secret map only you could trace later. His hands were everywhere—exploring, caressing, claiming you as his own. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust brought you closer to the edge, until you were teetering on the brink, your body trembling with the force of the pleasure building inside you.

"Yeosang," you gasped, your voice breathless as you felt yourself nearing your peak once more. "I’m so close."

He responded with a low groan, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more deliberate as he chased his own release. "Let go," he urged, his voice rough with need. "I want to make you cum so good."

His words were the final push you needed. With a cry of his name, you came, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your nails digging into his back as you clung to him. The sensation of you clenching around him was too much for Yeosang and with a final, deep thrust, he followed you over the edge, his release warm as he filled you.

The two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets, your hearts racing in sync with each other’s, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat—a heady perfume that seemed to seal the bond between you. The silence that followed was filled with contentment, a quiet peace that wrapped around you both like a warm blanket.

After a moment, Yeosang gently pulled out, and you felt the loss of him immediately. But before you could protest, he was already moving, retrieving a soft cloth to clean you up with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice soft as he wiped the remnants of your combined liquids from your skin.

He smiled down at you, his eyes filled with warmth as he discarded the cloth and returned to your side, pulling you into his arms. "No need to thank me," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just holding you like this is enough."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek as you drifted off to sleep, the events of the night playing over in your mind like a beautiful, surreal dream.

As you fell into a deep, contented slumber, Yeosang held you close, lost in his own thoughts of tonight's events.

[forensicheart]

You.

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max is furious after you cost him a win and the tension between you is high, maybe it's time for Max to settle it

Warning/s: Self degradation

“What the fuck was that?” An angry voice yells from behind you making you turn around only to be pushed, two hands hitting your chest hard and making you stumble back.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you? Couldn’t handle another loss to me, huh?” The man standing before you accused.

“Listen Max, it was an accident, I swear” You tried to defend.

Max Verstappen. Formula 1 champion and your teammate. This wasn’t the first time he had yelled at you. When you first joined RedBull you had been a rookie to Formula 1, you had made a few mistakes that cost Max wins or even points. While the rest of the team had understood, knowing this was all new to you Max had not cared, seeming to be harder on you than anyone else on the grid.

“You still got on the podium” You knew fighting Max wasn’t going to get you anywhere so you simply tried to reassure him.

“Third place. I got third place Y/n. I would have won if it wasn’t for you!” The fire in Max’s eyes merely grew as he stepped closer to you with every step. “Whatever. You don’t get it. You’ll never even have a chance to win like I do. I mean how did you even make it into F1?” Max scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest. Max’s words in these moments had never affected you, you knew he was just mad, probably saying things he didn’t mean and would regret later. But as he spoke those words to you, ones he hadn’t said before, you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. Maybe you were just tired from the race, you hadn’t slept very well last night either having stayed up late to go over your strategy.

“You’re right. Sorry Max” You sounded noticeably hurt and this made Max’s eyes dart to meet yours only to find tears beginning to fall as you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Shit” Max swore once you were far enough away, his hands rubbing his face as he let out a breath.

Back in your driver room you gathered your stuff as sobs racked your body. You had never been so hurt by Max’s words but today you had finally had enough. Max was right, you thought, why were you even in Formula 1? You were nowhere near the talent of any of the other 19 drivers on the grid.

Once you were in your hotel room that night the tears had stopped but the thoughts hadn’t. You had doubted yourself like this before but once you were accepted into F1 it had all stopped, you had finally convinced yourself that you were good enough, that you were talented and ready for this step. And with one sentence Max had made all that confidence, all that hard work, come crumbling down. Now you sat in your bed, a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized white top covering your body as you scrolled through the hotel channels. It felt like you had been searching for a decent channel for forever before a knock sounded throughout your room. Glancing at your phone the time read 1:04am. Who the hell needed you at this time that couldn’t just text you? You made your way to the door regardless, pulling it open and almost closing it as soon as it revealed who was on the other side. With fast reflexes the door was stopped, the hand gripping the door tightly and you sighed letting it be open.

“What do you want Max?” Max gave you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher before responding.

“You told Christian you want to leave Red Bull” Now that certainly wasn’t what you had expected to hear him say.

“How do you know that?” You questioned.

“Why do you want to leave?” Max ignored you and made his way into your hotel room in a haste.

“Come on in” You rolled your eyes sarcastically as you let your door close shut with a click.

“Why would you ever want to leave? This is your dream Y/n and you’re amazing at it!” Now it was your turn to scoff at Max.

“That’s certainly not what you said earlier” That made Max stop his pacing and look at you stunned.

“This is about what I said earlier?” You only nodded, your arms folding across your body, suddenly feeling very vulnerable under Max’s gaze.

“Y/n. I didn’t mean any of that, I was just angry, you shouldn’t leave Red Bull just because of some small words I said” You shook your head, you could feel the tears coming back.

“They weren’t just words to me Max, you confirmed every doubt I’ve ever had about my talents. So I’m not only leaving RedBull but I’m leaving racing for good"

"Don't be stupid Y/n" Max scoffed causing you to sigh as your frustration grew.

"I'm just not cut out for this" You declared throwing your arms up as the tears became more evident in your eyes. Max stayed silent for a moment, his eyes searching yours as he hurried to find the right word before taking a slow step towards you, a gentle look on his face you had never received before.

"I understand the feeling Y/n, those words I said earlier? I swear that I didn't mean any of them, not even in the slightest. I have grown up having to always be the best, no exceptions, so any step back upsets me and that is no fault of anyone but myself" Max took a breath, hesitating as he reached his hands out to take hold of yours.

"I let my emotions take over at the worst of times and that is something I evidently need to work on. But you, Y/n, you are irreplicable, not just in F1. You are kindhearted, caring, selfless, understanding, you take care of others needs before your own. Your effortlessly entertaining and being your teammate never feels like a job. You're still new to this and I haven't done my part in helping you adjust at RedBull but your driving proves your worth in this team, in F1, without leaving any room for questions" You're left speechless, staring at him as tears silently fell down your face, your shock and appreciation evident as you took in the genuine look on Max's face.

"Max- I- I don't know what to say" You struggle to speak through your emotions but Max just raises a hand to gently wipe your tears away as he offers you a warm smile.

"Just promise me you'll at least give racing one more shot?" Without a second thought you find yourself nodding in agreement causing Max's smile to grow.

"Good. It would be a shame to lose such an incredible person" You offer Max the same smile he gives you and wordlessly he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hold. Your arms find home around his waist as you burry your face in his chest.

"Let's get you back on top of that podium then" You speak with determination pulling back slightly to look up at Max once more.

"I think I can go a few races with it if it means getting you up there" Max's words make you smile widely as you burry your face in his chest once more. You were liking this dynamic a lot more.

[moonwayne]

Weak

logan x gn!reader

warnings: angst, cussing, mention of blood and injury, arguments, my rushed writing

Request: i love logan and i love angst!!I would like to read about an argument (one that is difficult to resolve or forgive) because I haven't seen much of that around here. That would be great! Thk 🫶 - @daugheroferuri

first time writing for Logan, let me know if you like it!

Logan had always struggled with his past. The reminders of trauma showing themselves in arbitrary moments and the constant battles he faced as part of the X-Men was no help. You had been with him for a handful of years now and as a fellow mutant you had stuck by his side for years, supporting him through countless fights. Your empathetic healing and manipulation abilities had come in handy whenever it came to persuading an enemy or alleviating a teammate’s pain. But this wasn’t without a cost. Every change of the mind or lapse in judgement you inflicted on to others no longer had an effect, but removing and forcing pain blockers took its toll on your body. Every use had left you exhausted, nearing a dangerous line of losing consciousness on multiple occasions. Needless to say, Logan was against you using your pain-relieving powers.

In recent days, the strain of the distance forced between you and him at his hand, had been damn near debilitating. As you sluggishly strolled into Charles’ office, you noticed him and Hank talking lowly in the corner. With a heavy sigh, you plopped yourself into a nearby chair, waiting as the two finally noticed your presence.

“Ah! Y/N! H-How’s your day?” Hank stuttered out, face burning with a embrassed blush, as if he’d been a child caught with something he shouldn’t have. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously before turning to Charles, who matched Hank’s guilty expression and strained smile. You moved your eyes from one to the other a few times, before focusing on Hank and feeling around in his mind.

“Hey! Don’t d-“ He sputtered, cut off by your determined voice. “Hank.” You said, pleading with a tilt of your head. “I can practically see your guilt. You’re very bad at hiding things. Just tell me what you know.”

His face burned again, and he flicked his gaze towards the professor in apology before mumbling out a quiet “Well.. Logansortofdiscoveredanewthreatthatcouldendangerallofourlivesandcountlessinnocents. Heleftlastnight.“ He finished with a meek smile.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You breathed out, exasperated at the confession and the situation as a whole.

“Y/N, you must understand-“ Charles injected then. “No Charles! Don’t you see? I’m tired of understanding.” You rose your voice, digging your nails into your palm harshly. “He thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

You scoffed. “He only wishes to protect you.” Charles finished, having found his way over to you in the process, and wrapped a hand around yours comfortingly. “Logan does not know any better.” You rolled your eyes as you yanked your hand away from his harshly, standing up.

“I can’t do this any longer. I won’t. I am so tired of being pushed to the outside just because he simply ‘does not know better’, that’s some bullshit, Charles. And I know you know that.” You stated firmly, making your exit. “If I don’t return, I thank you for all you both have given me.” You spoke, hand grasping the door anxiously. “Truly.” Hank and Charles nodded, and watched your figure fade as you walked off.

+- -+

After searching and finding Logan’s plans in his room you concluded the threat would have been dealt with by the time you arrived to where he was in France. After a long flight and some more traveling later, you caught up to him. You strolled into the hotel and by turning up the charm, you convinced the poor receptionist to let you into where he was staying. It only took around an hour of you pacing the carpeted floor with a frown etched on your face for Logan to come storming in the room, his face already set in a hardened expression. “Y/N?” He questioned, taking in your form as you did his, noticing the healing bruises and bloody knuckles.

“What are you doing here?” He rushed over to you, hands on your shoulders as he began to push you towards the door.

“Logan, I’m here for you!” You said, planting your feet and staring up into his eyes. He shook his head in disagreement and began to push you out of the room again. “You shouldn’t have come here. It’s too dangerous.”

“L-Logan. Stop pushing me.”

“Shouldn’t be here.. not safe..” He mumbled, gathering your bags and placing them in your hands. “Logan!” You yelled now, dropping the bags at your feet and making your way over to his cowering form.

“You should be at home.” He grunted. “I need to leave. The threat isn’t dealt with.” He said, turning to leave you alone once more.

"Logan, you can't keep doing this!" You exclaimed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear. "Every time you go on these missions alone, you leave me behind, unsure of your safety. You need support with you.”

Logan's jaw tightened. "I can handle it. I've been doing this long before we met. It's what I do."

"But we're supposed to be a team," you shot back, voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "How am I supposed to just be okay with you shutting me out, okay with you making me feel like I don't matter in your life?"

Logan's eyes softened for a moment, and you thought he might wrap you in his arms and speak to you his apologies, but that was only a thought. He stiffened up and turned away, his voice gruff. "This is not about you. It's about keeping you safe. I can't risk losing you." A crack in his voice was the only sign of emotion. You shook your head rapidly, frustration and sadness boiling over. "Logan don't you see? Every time you go out there alone, I feel a piece of you slip away. I can't do this, Logan. I can't keep living everyday unsure, waiting for the day you decide you simply do not need me anymore.” You spoke, voice trembling with every word. Logan's shoulders slumped, the weight of your words seeming to have had an effect. He sighed and turned towards you again, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and regret.

"I... I don't know how to do this any other way." He mumbled, avoiding your gaze. You took a step closer and reached out for one of his bloody hands.

"Then we need to find a way together. Because I won’t continue letting you push me away. We need to stick together." You breathed, regaining some composure. “You know I’m capable of helping. I don’t understand why you don’t let me come with you.” He pulled his hand away from yours aggressively, that stony expression returning to his face.

“Y/N. Enough.” He said, “You’re not strong enough to join me on these missions.” You blinked rapidly, feeling the burning sensation of tears returning to your eyes.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you’re weak, Y/N.”

“You don’t really mean that.” Your voice lowered.

“Right now, I do.” He gritted his teeth, baring that once charming smile into a grim line.

“You’re fucking pathetic, James. We’re supposed to be together, in everything.” Your sadness slowly morphed into a rising anger. Logan's eyes flashed with anger at your statement. "You don't get it, do you? I don't need a partner. I don’t need back up. I need you to stay safe. And out of my way. If that means you hating me, or you leaving me entirely then so be it.” He told you, jaw tightening. “I tried the domestic life once. You know what happened. I won’t do it again. I mean, just look wherre it fucking got me.” He flashed his claws, a pained frown spreading over his face.

“I don’t recognize you anymore, Wolverine.” You stated. “I didn’t fall in love with this version of you.”

He sighed and looked into your eyes, his mind’s pain and uncertainty filling the air around you so thick you could nearly feel it choking you.

“I am sorry, Y/N.” He lifted his bags off the floor and with a single glance into your eyes, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, heartbroken and riddled with doubt. You didn’t know if you could ever bridge the massive chasm between you.

+-+

sorry the ending was a bit rushed. hope you liked it <3

[r0-boat]

Pt 2 to the Belphegor con groping brain rot? (I loved it)

Oh my God Yes fuck!

Here's a part two! Where you're on a train or a tight space with lots of people.

weeb whb!Belphie con groping part 2

Gn!reader could or could not be MC, they can't recognize each other.

Part 1 is here.

You're mentally kicking yourself for how far your hotel you got was. But at least you had a hotel All the other hotels were booked. And since you already broke from the tickets to Japan and the cost of comiket You are not complaining, So it was a little weird to be in a packed train with strangers while in a cat girl outfit.

You're anxieties were only enhanced when you felt the brush of someone's hand in between your thighs. And your soul left your body when you hurt a familiar voice behind you. "Hi sweetheart, it's been a bit."

Oh no Oh God no...

"Don't make a scene sugar, I got you" He whispered his hand that was stroking your thigh now coming up to Your waist pulling you against him You could feel how hard he was as you stay completely still tense against his chest.

"so beautiful and soft, You remind me of someone though I can't tell with all that cosplay, Not that I'm complaining You look cute."

He rambles on You could feel his pants going slack as something hard and wet slides in between your thighs. The shaking of the train and the pressure of your plush thighs with his cock nestled in between. Makes him twitch and you could feel it move, batting against your underwear.

"Standing here is such a drag, but if I got a pretty thing like you stroking me then it's not so bad. Move for me?"

You just wanted it to all be over so you grind against him enough to pleasure him but also not moving too much to attract attention. And with his hand on your hips helping you. Or pleasure him just enough until the train finally goes to your stop.

Tightly packed against the people in the wall He grinds into you harder, His husky groans in your ear getting you wet and he could feel it The hate between your legs the wetness of the pre-cum leaking from his cock combined with your juices staining your underwear.

"You like this don't hide it, I could feel how what you are I could smell your arousal."

He grip your hips and grinds against you harder.

"fuck I can't shake the feeling of how familiar you look, there's no doubt something about you is making me hard as a rock. Maybe I should take you home with me hm? Fuck maybe I should take you back to my hotel room so I can properly fuck you... You would like that wouldn't you?"

This isn't enough to fully pleasure him and You're nowhere near to your stop... This is going to be a long ride.