#it is so fucking important to so many things

[electrosuite]

okay. al. i need something put into words. idk if you've seen it but in "we live in time" andrew and florence didn't hear cut when filming a sex scene. so i was wondering. could you do something where eddie has taken up acting. it's an experimental movie, so y'all are actually fucking. it's unsimulated sex. y'all don't hear cut, but you're so into it that neither of you stop. you don't notice until he cums, then you both remember the cameras.

warnings: swearing, fingering oral sex, descriptive sex, sex on camera

word count: 2.3k

a/n: i saw we live in time opening week and absolutely loved it. put andrew garfield's bare ass in more movies!!!

masterlist

One of the best decisions you'd made was moving to Hollywood to pursue acting. You loved it, and you were a natural. You could make yourself cry on command, you often lost yourself in scenes, and you weren't afraid to get nude on camera. That was something that was pretty common for the 80s, specifically female nudity.

You'd filmed many sex scenes in your career, but they were all simulated. Prosthetics, body doubles, cushions between bodies. But when you were approached to do an experimental film, one with completely unsimulated sex, your curiosity was piqued.

You were told you wouldn't meet the other actor until the day of, which turned out to be the first day on set. You were told that some studios, this one included, preferred to get sex scenes out of the way first and film the rest after. Your first impression of this guy would be when you had sex with him.

So when you were sitting on set in your tight black dress — which would be removed in the scene — and he walked in, your eyes widened. He was very handsome, just your type. He had long curly black hair, he was covered in tattoos, and immediately started joking around with the crew. He was wearing a suit, one which fit his body nicely.

When he spotted you, he walked right over and sat next to you.

"You my co-star?" he asked in a hopeful tone.

"That would be me."

"Eddie." He stuck his hand out and you shook it.

"Y/N."

"You look familiar. I feel like I've seen you in something else before."

"Maybe. Sorry, but I don't recognize you."

"I haven't been in anything big, just a couple of low-budget movies." He noticed your nervous energy. "You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry, just... I've never done anything... real. It's always been fake sex."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Well, it's a first for both of us, then. It's a first-first for me, I've never done anything like this."

"Really?"

"Yep. Never even taken my shirt off on camera."

"And you're just jumping right in, huh?"

"Why not? If I'm gonna do it, I might as well go all in."

"Well, are you at least experienced?" you joked.

"Oh, I'm experienced. Yeah." You chuckled. "Also, I was told to tell you that they had me go ahead and put a condom on so it wouldn't disrupt the flow or anything. They said you were pretty adamant about it."

"Thank god. I really don't want to leave here today pregnant."

This made both of you laugh, but it was true. That was the most important thing to you when agreeing to do this movie.

"Alright, actors in positions," announced the director, who settled into his chair next to the camera.

Before you could get up, Eddie looked back at you. "Hey, I know we'll be recording, but don't let that stop you from telling me if I'm crossing any boundaries, alright?"

"Okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Thank you."

"Of course."

The scene immediately started with the two of you standing at the edge of a bed, inches away from each other. So that's where you went, your calves touching the mattress.

You'd read over the script for this scene numerous times. There was a camera a few feet from the bed, and one strapped onto the ceiling above where you would be laying. Neither of you would speak, just moan.

You were getting more nervous by the second, the lack of space between you two making your heart pound.

"Hey," he whispered, making eye contact with you. "You still good?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I'm good." You got yourself into the acting mindset as they finalized the cameras. "Ready."

"Quiet on set," yelled the director. Everyone hushed, the silence making you realize how many eyes were on you. "Action!"

You reached up and slowly undid Eddie's tie, his eyes never leaving your face. Once it was on the floor, he pulled you in for a kiss. It was gentle yet deep, both of you taking in a deep breath. His hands gripped your sides, your palms flat against his chest.

He reached around you and unzipped your dress, letting it fall to the floor. He then effortlessly unhooked your bra and you pulled it off of yourself. So far this was exactly like some of the other scenes you'd filmed. It was always a little bit nerve-wracking to expose yourself on camera — how could it not be?

He pushed you down onto the bed, his knees on the edge between yours.

He wasn't supposed to kiss you as long as he did. It was only supposed to be a couple before he moved on, but he was going off script a bit. His hand cupped the breast visible to the camera, which was now a bit closer.

He began kissing down to your neck a bit, then trailing along your body. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, his tongue circling it. You couldn't help but tangle your fingers in his hair, knowing it would help the scene.

As he kissed down your body, he maintained eye contact with you, watching to make sure you were still comfortable with this. Once he was to your thighs, he knelt down next to the bed and pulled you by the legs closer to him.

He slowly pulled your underwear off, dropping them on top of your dress. He continued to leave kisses on your thighs, making a genuine and impatient whine escape your mouth.

The feeling of his tongue on your clit made you gasp, your hands immediately finding their way back to his hair. This was weird with cameras, and at first it made it hard for you to really get in the mood.

But he was good with his tongue. You were so used to fake moaning that the real ones that came out of you felt foreign. His hands on your thighs, keeping them spread, were also keeping your hips still.

Usually when you filmed cunnilingus scenes, they kept their mouth closed and just positioned their face between your legs. So it was a foreign feeling to actually be eaten out on camera.

He couldn't stop staring at you, you looked so beautiful. Your head thrown back, back arched, tits out and nipples hard, fingers pulling his hair.

He wasn't supposed to make you cum, the script didn't call for it. He was supposed to do this for about thirty seconds and move on to the actual sex. But he was told that if the scene lasted too long, they could just edit it down. So he decided before even meeting you that he would make sure you had at least one orgasm today.

And it didn't take you long to get there. The camera had moved now so that it was behind him and to the side, getting a shot of his back and your face simultaneously.

"Fuck," you whispered to yourself as you felt your orgasm approaching, and fast. You were worried about how you would look, actually cumming and being recorded. You were trying to remain as calm as you possibly could, but you'd never been eaten out like this.

You were much louder than you anticipated when you finally came, and Eddie had to hold you down to keep you in the shot. When he finally stopped, he was immediately back to kissing you. He was still fully clothed, so you pushed his jacket off of his shoulders.

Instead of unbuttoning his shirt, he just pulled it over his head. He had a beautiful body, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. You reached down and helped remove his belt, but he took over a moment later.

Within a minute, he was completely nude, and you got a good view of what he was packing. You were told before the shoot that you'd be having unprotected sex, and as you were already on birth control, it wasn't that big of a deal to you. Or at least, it wasn't until you were finally here. Now it was sinking in that you were about to be creampied by a guy you just met less than five minutes ago.

He was already rock hard, the sounds that escaped your mouth having gotten him bricked up immediately. He loved giving oral. It was one of his favorite things in the world. If it was up to him, he would've kept going, gotten you completely out of your mind before fucking your brains out.

He positioned himself back at eye level with you, reaching down and lining himself up with your entrance.

"That okay?" he whispered into your neck as he pressed kisses to your skin. He wasn't supposed to say that, the script calling for no dialogue aside from the natural swears that would occur. But he'd already gone against it, and asking for consent was something he insisted on.

"Mm," you moaned simply, nodding as minimally as possible.

With zero hesitation, he pushed into you, and the gasp that filled the room was almost comical. It was such a perfect porno moan that you couldn't believe it was genuine, even though it came from you.

He stretched you out so much, so perfectly, you weren't sure you could handle much of this. It was almost too much, too good.

He engulfed your mouth into his, kissing you deeply as he immediately picked up his pace. The bed was already squeaking, and your chest was already red.

The camera was above your head now, recording from an angle that showed the top of your thighs and your head thrown back as Eddie began sucking hickeys onto the skin of your neck.

That was when the scene was supposed to end. It was the shortest one in the script, which was another reason they wanted to get it over with first. But when the director shouted "Cut!", neither of you could hear him over the animalistic moans you both were letting out.

In fact, he called it about three times. But you two were so immersed, and your moans were so loud in each other's ears that it was useless. After a moment and after all the equipment was put down, the entire crew left the room and just allowed you to finish.

Out of all the times you'd had sex before, you didn't expect the best to be a completely scripted one. Eddie wasn't lying when he said he was experienced, he knew how to hit every nook in cranny in you like it was the millionth time.

When he felt himself getting close, he reached down and began circling your clit with his thumb. In the movies he'd seen, they always came at the same time. That didn't happen much in real life, but he wanted to make it look cinematic because, to his knowledge, they were still filming.

You gasped at the sudden contact, not expecting it. Thirty seconds later, you were cumming in sync, moaning into each other's mouths. He kept it going as long as he could but eventually he had to stop. Both his and your legs were trembling, sweat beading on your upper lip.

He kissed you for a moment, thinking in his head how great that would look on camera.

But when you both looked over at where the crew was, they were gone. You were confused, wondering why they didn't film as much as possible.

"Oh my god," you said, looking back up at Eddie. "Did they yell cut?"

His eyes widened. "Did they?"

"Did you hear them at all?"

"No, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation. "Holy fucking shit."

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck."

"That's kind of hilarious."

He pulled out of you, pulling the condom off before grabbing one of the robes from the crates behind the camera, tossing another one to you. He opened the door to the rest of the set and the crew's heads shot up to look at him.

"Did... you yell cut?" he asked the director.

"Yep. Three times. You guys were so into it we figured we'd just let you finish."

That was when you laughed even harder, your head fuzzy and body tired.

After everything was cleaned up and you were heading back to your trailers, you caught up with Eddie outside his.

"Sorry we didn't hear cut earlier," you apologized.

"I'm not." He smirked slyly, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Do you think you'd do something like this again? Real sex on a set?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. With the right person."

"Well, if I get another opportunity like this, you're the first person I'm recommending."

"God, please do." His voice was raspy now, seductive, sultry. Normally you didn't pay any mind to men who flirted with you. But something about actually fucking Eddie seemed to form some kind of bond, maybe just in your head.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a napkin, which had your phone number written on it. You leaned in close, wanting this to stay between the two of you.

"Well, if you ever want to do something without cameras, call me." You turned around to walk to your trailer, his eyes glued to your ass the whole time.

He swore he could get rock hard again right now if he wanted to. Something was different about you. You were one of the best fucks he'd ever had, and he intended on using that phone number sometime soon.

[sleepynoons]

AHHHH help i need someone to pick me off the floor and bring a mop over

hi it's me again sorry for existing in the same timeline as you

anyway sooooooo many wonderful perfect amazing show-stopping things about the finale

uh first of all, kudos for the perfect break between pt 1 and pt 2 - it's incredibly seamless, and it ties all the loose strings together, and really, the thing that stuck out to me about this whole story is simply how Cohesive it is. super hard to execute that as a writer, so really, really impressed by that.

onto more specifics.

first, i so appreciate the portrayal of reader as being very sexually active, and in my mind, hypersexual. i mentioned previously about how we don't really know the full story with suo, and that applies to reader as well. we don't really how reader grew up, what her likes/dislikes are (besides sex and bad sex, respectively), what family life was like before getting kicked out, etc. not sure what you had in mind, but there's a sense i have where i truly, truly believe reader is not actually a very reliable narrator!!! i think there's some avoidance!!! some dense and forgetful behavior that is meant to elucidate and confuse us as readers!!! and funnily enough, suo helps us gain clarity.

anyway, i think hypersexuality rep is important, in general. a big part of it isn't just feeling horny 24/7. there's some very real problems with low esteem/self-respect, feelings of disgust, internalized misogyny + objectification, and more. i think this fic also treads this balance very carefully, in that it recognizes that sex work is really just a means to get by, in the most neutral sense possible. it's not always glamorous, it's not always violent. as someone who's done a ton of research and activism in sex work, especially at the intersection of sex work + immigration, i really appreciated this rep.

in terms of reader and suo's relationship, this is really where i wanna dive into it. it's very clear i love them and i love them together, but it's not just their alikeness that makes them work. it's their shared history, their leniency + strict expectations for each other, and so much more.

the specific word choices and phrases really drive this through – "being gutted by suo" "mortified" "pavlovian response" and so many more

their banter is really the cherry on top as well.

also wanna emphasize this more - despite how romantic they are with each other (in their minds), they're also so sharp and judgmental – and i mean judgmental. lowkey kinda like asian parenting LOL like reader wants the best for suo, but now that suo's become a yakuza, that's a grudge she's keeping for the rest of her life. similarly, suo wants reader to stop fucking around and actually practice more self-control, but because she doesn't listen, he's gotta take matters into his own hands and edge the living shit out of her. sexual innuendos aside, literally asian love. like fine we'll deal with it if you don't listen but just know we're holding it over your head for the rest of your goddamn life LMFAO ik it's kinda toxic to other folks who may not have grown up in such an environment - and i'm not really gonna have an opinion on whether it's valid/justifiable or not -, but as someone who grew up with tiger parents + somehow managed to be somewhat emotionally close to them, this type of love is really smth i treasure a lot.

and i think that's the whole point of the fic, for me at least. reader and suo want to take care of each other. they want to cherish the time they have together. but at the same time, it's realistically impossible not to hurt your loved ones. i think it's so easy to say certain things are dealbreakers and to just walk away, but even irl, sometimes it's also just... hard to walk away. idk maybe i have a really convoluted sense of love and romanticism, but i am 100000% convinced love is difficult and honestly not really worth the payoff sometimes, yet reader and suo kinda don't even care if the payoff's worth it. like we'll hurt, we'll love, and we'll just see how it goes bc we just care that fucking much about each other. i wonder if they'd still choose to be tgt even if they knew they were making each other incredibly unhappy... bc they're each other's person ykwim.... anyway, some more food for thought for me... heheh

also,,, sex scene had me quaking,,, i totally read the tags and saw p*ssy inspection and wasn't shocked,,, totally was prepared,,, haha,,,, ha

anyway, sooo much love and thanks again, op. i may have gone off the rails, and thought or interpreted shit you didn't even think about or agree with. point is, haven't thought so much about a fic in so long, and i really was so enraptured with every word, every cadence, every paragraph. apologies for the brief spam in your inbox, but i really hope, no matter where you go, you keep writing. thank you so so so much, truly, for sharing this with us.

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[moralesluvr]

Hey!! Would you ever do like fluff with mom!billie (like some headcannons or something?)

aweee yes this is so sweet !!

fluff w mom!billie

billie is most definitely the ‘fun’ mama

she’s always taking your little ones to candy stores, parks— she always tries to catch a break to make time for you and your babies

she doesn’t like being away from the kids at all. she will be quick to cancel interviews or shoots if you or your babies really want some family time

family’s always #1 to her. always.

you and billie don’t having the same eating habits, as she’s vegan and you’re not— but you both agreed not to push anything on your children

they do eat pretty healthy though, fruits and veggies are a part of every meal they eat (she praises this)

billie doesn’t realize the importance of a bedtime. if your kids wanna go somewhere, she’ll just load everyone up in the car and go there

“babe. the kids are supposed to be asleep at 9:30, why did you take them on your taco bell run at 1– something in the morning?”

she’d just shrug with a laugh, “sage and celeste really wanted a baja blast, was i supposed to say no?”

but if it becomes a pressing issue, she’ll push the bedtime they’re supposed to have

mom!billie is ALWAYS singing.

singing the kids to sleep, on the way to school, in the kitchen— it’s constant

your son, sage, 100% learned guitar from finneas and billie loves to sing along while he plays

celeste, your daughter, has such a beautiful voice, but she’s just a little shy. so billie definitely gives her private music classes in your at-home studio to help with her comfort

everyone sings together. even if you can’t sing, everyone will be in the car jamming out and singing along to the song

when sage was born, billie was always slightly terrified of being a mother

he was your first child and she had pretty much no knowledge on children

but after reading literal manuals that maggie gave the two of you, she naturally became the best mother

she definitely wasn’t always perfect. she tries her best, but there’s moments where she may lash out on your kids or get annoyed when she’s really stressed

mom!billie is 100% an apologizer.

billie thinks that just because they’re kids doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve apologizes. if she fucked up, she’s gonna take ownership for it

“mama’s sorry, kiddo. whenever i get like that, just tell me, okay? the way i said what i said wasn’t okay. you do need to listen to me, but i need to listen to you, too. i love you, okay?”

soooo very big on saying ‘i love you’

she wants your kids to know that they’re her entire world, and saying i love you regularly is definitely a part of that

dropping them off at school, she’s hollering ‘i love you!’ out the window before she drives off, which definitely embarrasses your kids lmao

before bed, it’s a necessity. tomorrow isn’t promised, and billie won’t take a single day with your family for granted

we know that bills sometimes can swear like a sailor, but around your kids, she watches her mouth, at least when they’re young

as they grow into teenagers, though, her authentic personality will show a little more.

she doesn’t want your kids to cuss at you or at her, that’s her rule. if they’re saying something to express themselves then she doesn’t really care too much, it’s just about time and place

does not fuck w drugs. like as they get older, if she finds out your kids are dabbling in that shit, it’s WRAPS

when your kids were babies, she prioritized going outside and actually doing things, not just being glued to a TV or ipad all the time

has def written many songs about your kids, a lot of them are unreleased because she likes to include personal details sometimes, but she def has a few songs sprinkled in her discography

billie doesn’t like when your kids are mad at her or when she has to harshly discipline them, but she will. quickly.

“cel, stop touching that before we have an issue.”

“why is this assignment not turned in? get it done by tonight or i’m gonna have your phone.”

she disciplines them in a way that’s kind of funny, though. maybe not to your kids, but it makes you giggle

“sage i swear, i don’t wanna keep hearing this whining about you poking your sister. leave celeste alone or i’m going to cut your fingers off.”

“bro, why do you have a missing assignment in guitar? you PLAY it at home? i swear, you just be doin’ shit.”

even though sometimes discipline is necessary, and hurts sometimes, billie loves your babies till the day she dies <3

send an ask to be added to my taglist !

taglist: @vharperr | @47lake | @hopingforgoodblogs | @zendayasredbottoms | @chrissv4mp | @mseilishmwah | @justtr | @natbelovasblog | @lovelyy-moonlight | @bilsdillldough | @billiesrighthand

[derww]

for @heartcircus.

its not like zam actually tries to talk: he stands, carefully holding his notes, just staring at spawn, noticing one familiar face after another, feeling like all thoughts in his head became too heavy, and then just. turns around. and leaves.

you know, all of the princezam nature is to oppose, is to fight. but the last seasons taught him about just how important it is to appreciate people around, to do not only for yourself but for them too. and just today he promised to not interfere with mapicc's plans.

he can't fight, but he can't support. so he leaves. first time in many days, he has no words to say anymore.

all of it is just too familiar, and memories of the past cloud his mind and make every part of his body weak and stale. story repeats itself, and hed hate to see it continue and weave hemself into it, so he does not. i need some time to be alone, he says to derapchu and goes almost to the border – to sunny hill, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.

this time something in it reminds him too heavy. he doesn't build a castle. instead, he builds a hut.

it's not so bad, he says to himself, laying firewood in the stove, it's not season 4 anymore, noone will backdoor the server and mapicc will stop. sooner or later. i cant fight him, but i dont have to. everything will end. and then ill go back.

he feels so fucking tired. only now he understands just how tired he is. so he lies down. and sleeps. and sleeps. and sleeps.

it never gets better; the tombstone of exhaustion only presses him down harder and harder. he sleeps and sees dreams. he cooks himself food and eats it, feeling no taste. he plants flowers and takes care of them. sometimes he talks to derapchu. he never tells where he is.

only in so slow time he suddenly understands just how misplaced he is. he's patch on patch, stitched over and over again with scraps of fabric, no matter how worn or unsuitable they may be, over and over and over, stitched with scars running through his spine. he is a trace of something forgotten, overlaid by images of other people and experiences, accustomed to it so much that it feels like himself. he sleeps and sees no nightmares. maybe it's for the worse.

so far from anyone, without any real goal, Immersed deep into himself, he easily starts missing hours, days, and weeks. time doesn't feel real, and he, at the end, too. people write him. sometimes he answers. he never agrees to meet.

i'll go back when the mawn thing will be over; he promises to derap but hardly believes in it himself. something makes him feel like he has nothing to come back to. this house is also not his home, but it's at least silent here.

derap persists, but in the end he gives up too. and, in the end, he is left alone. he grows dandelions in the field around. when an unfamiliar flower appears in the field, he does not prevent it from growing nearby.

he blinks and feels like he missed a whole week. sometimes he just lies there and doesn't move. he doesn't feel the softness of the pillow, the springy floor under his feet, and, after all, he doesn't feel pain either. a ringing void freezes in his head. he feels tired, but sleep doesn't help.

he missed a moment something changes.

something about how the world exists around him. something about how forest smells like. something about how the grass is rustling under his feet. something is wrong, but he barely makes himself care. it doesn't matter, not really, but time still slows down. he slowly dips his hands into the loose earth, feeling the coolness and texture. nothing here belongs to him, but that's not the point. he plants some poppy seeds. one of them ends up in a pot on his windowsill.

i'm fully okay, he says to derap while not being able to remember what he ate today, i'm just in retirement for now. i will go back to you, i promise. i just need some time.

the boards under his feet creak differently. sometimes something whistles, like an unfamiliar bird. sometimes it seems to him that the grass next to the house is crushed.

isn't this a true peaceful life, he asks himself. to run away from everything and be alone. in the end, there is no way to harm anyone if you are alone. he feels like he was running a marathon all this time and only now stopped.

he adds blue orchids, but their blue is drowning in the red. he takes the smallest orchid inside and turns it into a magnificent flower. In a moment of weakness, he takes the cornflower inside. the next one turns out to be an orange tulip. he doesn't comprehend it.

is it what i wanted in season four, he asks himself. this place strangely reminds him of it. he reminds himself of it, too, allowing himself to feel anything. he still can't decide if it's a good thing. 

the rain is pounding on his window. someone is knocking on his coffin lid. poppies fill the whole field.

i miss them, he writes on a paper. but i can't go back yet. not while spawn is someone's. not while i have to fight my best friend.

when he comes back from the forest, his house still keeps warmth. his footsteps are echoing, and his diary is open by the wind. i miss being able to decide, this page says. i was good at it once.

he doesn't feel sick. he feels dump. the green in his cape is starting to fade.

sometimes it seems to me that i won't be able to overcome this, he writes. but I know i can handle it. i always can. i will overcome anything. i just can't give up.

the forest smells of pine and fir, and it has not been lost in the trees for a long time, wandering far beyond the edge. the forest always brings him back when he wants to. it never holds him by force and generously supplies him with tree cones and wet moss. he always comes back because he has nowhere to go.

this time, when he comes home, he has a visitor. he is not surprised: he calls them by name, nods, makes tea from fir needles.

mapicc rests his head on his elbows.

– lets go home, – he says. zam shakes his head.

– to mawn? – he asks.

mapicc squints.

– yes.

– i won't.

– why.

zam looks at him almost regretfully.

– because i refuse to fight you, – he answers simply, – and i will have no choice but to.

– even fighting me is much better than- than whatever this is, – mapicc remarks irritably.

– i don't want to fight you ever again, – zam signs, – i know you like me as your enemy. i do not.

– you don't have to fight me. join me.

– i hate everything you've created, – he answers with pity, – and i can't change it. please, leave me alone. do whatever you want to do. and one day i'll be able to go back.

– i dont understand why you oppose it so much. you haven't even given it a try. is it, like, that bad? people love it; you can love it too.

zam shakes his head.

– did you really come to convince me to love what I hate?

– i came to invite you to my thing.

– not this time.

in the end, mapicc still leaves. only after that zam takes his floor apart to find a secret passage under the boards. it leads to a dug-out underground room filled with anything. there are books everywhere. an unmade bed. and a pot with a dandelion in the middle of the makeshift countertop.

mapiccs room, says the sign. he adds a glow ink to it and looks around again.

for an infinitely long moment he considers just starting to live here.

[devildomwriter]

You Go To See A Christmas Carol Part V

You expected a few mishaps on a trip to the human world to see a Christmas Carol, but you never expected quite so many or how far things would escalate. The play is over but the trouble isn’t and it’s time to get the hell out of dodge before Michael finds out.

Diavolo: “Ahahahahaha.”

Luke: “Ugh.”

Leviathan: “This is going to go viral.”

Once the party was finished properly, curtains came to a close and opened again with the staff taking a bow. Lucifer among them, having effortlessly blended into the cast as their hero.

Everyone slowly trickled into the hallway and you froze in place as you looked at the parking lot from the window.

MC: “Hey guys…”

Diavolo: “Yes, MC?”

MC: “Yeah…there’s no way we’re getting back to our cars…”

Barbatos: “Is there an issue? Oh my.”

Luke: “I’ve never seen so many cops! What happened?”

MC: “…Levi said we were part of a convent.”

Leviathan: “You said you got kidnapped!”

MC: “Technically the truth!”

Belphegor: “While we’re at it…you should know the card declined for the popcorn and none of it was paid for.”

Barbatos: *sigh*

MC: “I’m gonna go crawl in a hole somewhere. I do not wanna deal with this.”

Lucifer: “Why do you two suppose there are police searching the building?”

Mammon: “I don’t know! Maybe cause you beat me publically and a fancy butler joined in!? Or maybe cause Asmo fucked a couple of cops! Or maybe because you sent the cops there to help me away and everyone saw that shit!”

Lucifer: “I see, so it’s your fault.”

Mammon: “How is it my fault!?”

Lucifer: “If you hadn’t stashed seventeen weapons on you before entering a checkpoint then I wouldn’t have had to search you and neither would Barbatos!”

Lucifer: “And you Asmo! Instead of having the cops report a false alarm you had sex with them and made them disappear somewhere!”

Asmodeus: “I don’t know how the legal system works okay!”

Mammon: “While we’re at it, you didn’t have to stay and bow now did you!?”

Staff A: “Hey!”

Staff B: “We found them!”

Lucifer: “Great, just what we need, more witnesses.”

Director: “Listen here, I don’t know who you think you are—“

Lucifer: “All of you. This was a bad dream. Go to sleep.”

The dozens of human staff, actors, and the director fall to the ground asleep.

Asmodeus: “Oh, yikes! Someone totally got a concussion just now! Is that blood…?”

Lucifer: “We’re leaving.”

Mammon: “How!? The cops know what you and I look like.”

Asmodeus: “But not me!? That’s a crime!”

Lucifer & Mammon: “Shut up, Asmo!”

Asmodeus: “Hmph.”

Mammon: “Everyone quiet, MC is calling me.”

MC: “Hey Mammon…where are you guys….okay and why are you not in trouble…they’re asleep…blood?”

Diavolo: “I don’t think this conversation is going anywhere good.”

Satan: “It’s not a conversation they’re relaying information.”

Diavolo: “Yes, either way…”

MC: “Teleport? There are cameras everywhere we can’t just teleport out in the open. The fact we’re up here staring at the cops is already suspicious.”

Staff B: “Excuse me, everyone?”

Barbatos: “I’ll handle this.”

Solomon: “Who is that?”

Barbatos: “No one important.”

An alarm suddenly blares through the building and you all look at each other.

MC: “Is that an alarm?”

MC: “Mammon was that you guys? ….Did he hang up on me?”

MC: “Ugh, whatever. Everyone go down the stairs and make a run for the cars if they start chasing you. Try not to look suspicious. Beelzebub carry Luke.”

Luke: “What? Why do I have to run too? I didn’t do anything!”

Simeon: “Don’t worry Luke, we know.”

Diavolo: “That sounds like a good plan but why don’t we just teleport into my limo instead?”

Leviathan: “Yes, please!”

Belphegor: “Yeah, I don’t feel like running.”

Barbatos: “I’ve returned young master.”

Diavolo: “Good. We’re teleporting into the limo.”

MC: “In front of windows?”

Diavolo: “Okay…Barbatos disable the camera in the stairwell and everyone follow me.”

Barbatos: “Yes, my lord.”

Everyone crams their way into the stairwell and Diavolo snaps his fingers. You fall back against a cushioned seat in Diavolo’s limo, relieved.

Suddenly the limo door slides open and Mammon is thrown into your lap.

MC: “Oof!”

Lucifer: “Drive! Drive!”

Asmodeus: “Hey, don’t leave me!”

Lucifer yanks Asmodeus inside and they lay there on the floor as the limo pulls away while cops run towards the parking lot.

Mammon: “Haha! Too late suckers!”

Lucifer: “You’re in so much trouble.”

Mammon: “Why me!?”

Barbatos drives the limo into an alley where it could safely teleport you all back to the Devildom into the driveway of the House of Lamentation.

One by one you all crawled out of the limo. You held your stomach in pain from absorbing the impact of Lucifer tossing Mammon into the back. Lucifer unlocked the door with some difficulty and everyone, Diavolo included walked inside.

Lucifer: “I’m going to go lie down.”

Leviathan: “Guys turn the tv on quick! The human world news channel!”

Satan: “Which one?”

Leviathan: “I don’t know, whatever was local.”

MC: “You think they’ll be talking about it?”

Leviathan: “I may have seen something about a demon cult on the internet…”

Simeon: “A demon cult?”

Solomon: “Hehe, this should be good. I haven’t been in a large news scandal in a while.”

MC: “And you still aren’t, this is the brothers’ mess. And potentially mine…”

Solomon: “Potentially? You’re the one who said you got kidnapped.”

MC: “I didn’t publically beat anyone.”

Leviathan: “I found the channel, be quiet!”

News Reporter: “Thanks Jim we’re back on channel 8 bringing you the latest on the Christmas Carol chaos.”

News Reporter: “Witnesses say they first noticed something was wrong when a group of men with colorful hair began to harass a security guard. Minutes later one of them broke away from the line and began violently beating another in a nearby parking lot, they were soon joined by a white man wearing traditional butler attire. To make things worse when the cops did arrive they left after being waved off like nothing happened.”

Cop C: “I don’t recall even being at the scene to begin with. We got a call about a hate crime taking place and that’s the last thing I can remember.”

Lucifer: “A hate crime…”

Barbatos: “Oh dear…”

News Reporter: “The guard Matthew Vallinci details that they all went by strange names and referred to the black-haired one as Lucifer.”

Guard: “I’m a practicing Catholic, I knew something was weird about them from the beginning and then one of them told me they were there for Diavolo. I’m a third-generation Italian I know what that means, it means Devil! They also said something about kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome and drugs.”

All: “…”

MC: “My bad…”

Guard: “Even weirder when me and Larry asked for the truth they told us they were the master of the seven rulers of hell or somethin’ and wished us a good night. They were completely psychotic.”

All: “…”

MC: “In my defense… …I did not think that would get back to me…”

News Reporter: “Among claims of demons, convents, human trafficking, and public acts of violence there are still no answers as, despite all the cameras, the people involved are nowhere to be seen.”

Leviathan: “…”

Asmodeus: “…”

News Reporter: “Hang on a minute…I am getting word now that the security cameras have been reviewed and reveal some rather shocking things.”

MC: “It’s all downhill from here folks.”

Luke: “This can’t get any worse!”

Belphegor: “You underestimate us.”

Lucifer: “I need some Demonus.”

Diavolo: “Absolutely not.”

News Reporter: “In a video too graphic to share two of the cops from earlier in the case abandoned finding answers on a possible kidnapping crime and were recorded having sex with one of the convent men. Neither has been seen since.”

All: “…”

Asmodeus: “There were cameras down there! We need that footage! Then I can find out what bitch stole my Devicci necklace!”

Mammon: “I cannot believe that’s the only reason you’re concerned, people would pay so much money to see that shit!”

Lucifer: “ Shut the HELL up.”

News Reporter: “Furthermore in some unexplainable footage the man from earlier is seen again with his victim and after snapping his fingers the production crew for The Christmas Carol all seem to faint simultaneously.”

*The footage plays*

Diavolo: “Well…this is going to take a while to cover up…”

News Reporter: “Other infractions by these individuals include public intoxication—“

Lucifer: “…”

News Reporter: “Theft of food—“

Beelzebub: “…”

Belphegor: “…”

News Reporter: “Threats to staff—“

Barbatos: “…”

Satan: “…”

MC: “…”

News Reporter: “And grooming.”

MC: “What!? Who the fuck did that!?”

News Reporting: “The group was spotted with a child who seemed to shout in distress before the beginning of play, something about “Chihuahuas.”

Luke: “Nooooooo.”

Leviathan: “You’re a legend, Luke.”

News Reporting: “One server is shocked by the allegations made upon the group as the man with red hair had given her a tip large enough to pay off her Student loans however psychological analysts suspect this was a way to groom her into the convent by winning her affection.”

Diavolo: “…No…”

MC: “Oh yeah, she said to thank you. I forgot about that.”

Diavolo: “…”

News Reporter: “So what really happened here? A convent, a stunt, a new TikTok trend, or a demonic cult? We’ll have more for you after these commercials.”

All: “…”

Ringing echoes in the common room.

MC: “…Who’s phone is that…”

Lucifer: “I think it’s mine?

Lucifer: “…”

Lucifer: “Nope. I’m too sober for this, Simeon you answer him.”

Simeon: “Hm? Oh…it’s Michael.”

Diavolo: “Tell him hello for me.”

Simeon: “Yeah…I don’t know if I should.”

Simeon: “Hello— ….no…it’s me Simeon…Lucifer is…”

Lucifer: “Away.”

Simeon: “Drunk.”

Lucifer: *sigh*

Simeon: “No. MC is fine…Diavolo was not trying to kidnap anyone he was just doing a good deed. The cops? I have no idea…”

Simeon: “Asmodeus, where did the cops go?”

Asmodeus: “I have no idea I just said to take a vacation.”

Simeon: “Yes…yes…don’t worry I will…tomorrow? At 12:00? Okay…I’ll let him know. Goodbye…”

Simeon: “Well…the seraphs are working on erasing memories and proof…also we’re all temporarily banned from the human world.”

MC: “But I live there!?”

Simeon: “Right…Michael says not to tell any more kidnapped jokes…he also asks that Leviathan not upload videos of his brothers to the human internet.”

All: “…”

Lucifer: “Those…were…YOUR videos, Levi?”

Leviathan: “Th-there were others!”

MC: “Well, I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough Christmas cheer for one day.”

Mammon: “Is that what that was supposed to be? You humans are pretty weird.”

MC: “Says the man who brought seventeen different weapons to a theatre!”

Mammon: “I forgot about em!”

MC: “Literally, how!?”

Luke: “Guuuuuys!”

All: “…”

MC: “Yeah?”

Luke: “I-I have an idea!”

Barbatos: “Yes?”

Luke: “T-today got sorta messed up and Asmo didn’t even get to see the play at all and Mammon missed the most important parts and we were all super worried about earlier so…can we watch the Christmas Carol movie together?”

All: “…”

Beelzebub: “Popcorn?”

Satan: “I’ll start making it.”

Leviathan: “I’ll get the blankets.”

Lucifer: “I’ll get the Demonus.”

Simeon: “Someone stop him, please.”

MC: “I call remote privileges!”

Diavolo: “Ooh I can’t wait! What version shall we watch?”

Meanwhile in the Celestial Realm

*news report ends*

Seraphim: “…”

Michael: “…”

Michael: “…Did anyone record that?”

Raphael: “I did.”

Michael: “Play it again.”

— FIN —

Previous

[mymoshangthoughts]

something i think about with regards to og!shang qinghua

i totally think he smashed mobei jun's face in with the rock

like okay the scene plays out basically the same, except instead of thigh-hugging, the original goods was groveling and hiding and dodging and only BARELY managed to survive for long enough for mobei jun to faint

so here he is, surrounded by corpses and a fainted demon and theres this big ass rock over there and he's like "yeah, thats the pragmatic thing to do"

but see, airplane and the original goods both vastly over-estimated the ability of a rock to kill a demon lord. so yeah, mobei jun has a nasty broken nose and he wakes up feeling like death warmed over in the middle of the woods but he's alive (this is btw the exact reason that the system was willing to let airplane do it, bc it wasnt gonna kill mobei jun anyway and it was what the og goods did)

and he was JUST conscious enough to see the original goods bash his face in

so mobei jun is sitting there like "okay, yeah, so imma find that fucker and imma enslave him and then when he runs out of use to me, imma kill his ass" because he's angry enough right now that simply killing og!shang qinghua just does Not feel good enough

and their relationship over the years is basically a big game of cat and mouse with them trying to fuck each other over. mostly the original goods trying to kill mobei jun and mobei jun just like "no imma wait to kill him until AFTER ive had a thorough revenge but fuck he makes it tempting to kill him right now" and og!shang qinghua highkey actually reminds him of his uncle. they're both the two-faced type who can smile to your face and stab you in the back and he's sorta thinking "if i cant resist killing one stupid human until the opportune time, how am i going to not kill my uncle??"

and basically it's just like..... lowkey shizaya (drrr!) vibes between them? and look, mobei jun is Very satisfied when he finally kills that worm og!shang qinghua but he also feels a certain loss because even though theres srsly no love lost between them, the original goods was basically mobei jun's companion for longer than anyone else in his life (enemy? frenemy? rival????) and it's just a sort of weird empty feeling after he's dead

and i just like thinking about how Different their relationship was because i like thinking about all of the changes that airplane accidentally created because he really didnt know that much about their original relationship. og!shang qinghua was such a footnote in the novel that there really wasnt any time spent on "oh yeah, og!moshang has a super weird hateship and shang qinghua did backstab mobei jun but that wasnt actually NEW, og!shang qinghua tried to kill off the king of the north at least once a month or so"

anyway i think the distinctions in the relationships are important for moshang reasons, because airplane and og!shang qinghua ARE different people, so they had to have made different decisions over the years, and those differences are why mobei jun was very much in love with airplane and not in love with og!shang qinghua

(altho i do enjoy og!moshang, but i will die on the hill that their relationship is different and whatever love might exist between them would be different. my hcs might not represent accurately how og!moshang's relationship was canonically but i just think it's important to make those distinctions)

but all these thoughts lend themselves to "what if pidw!mobei jun met airplane!shang qinghua?" because look, if they really were collaborating for so many years, he would KNOW og!shang qinghua. and as such, it wouldnt take him long to be like "okay but you're seriously NOT shang qinghua tho?!?!" and i love his confusion. like i dont think he'd show up and be like "guh, shang qinghua, gotta kill that rat again", i think he'd show up and be like "......well thats definitely shang qinghua's skin but that sure as fuck isnt shang qinghua"

and look, i want the chaos of that.

pidw!mobei jun and svsss!mobei jun discussing why the fuck shang qinghua is a completely different person and coming to their own conclusions (also naturally realizing a thing or two about cucumber-bro bc thats the other big notable change between worlds. bing-mei is fine, pidw!mobei jun always know that bing-ge is secretly pathetic)

also potential for kidnapping? like pidw!mobei jun nabs airplane with the intention of learning just who the fuck he is. leaving absolutely no room for discussion bc he's determined to figure this shit out. or maybe he just approaches his other self directly. or fuck it, if he goes straight to bing-mei because he's like "okay this is above my pay grade, boss of this dimension will prolly have an idea of whats happening"

also double penetration with two mobei jun's and one airplane lmfao. look im a simple man with simple pleasures

altho on the note of og!shang qinghua, thinking about this diabolical fuck does have my inner villain fucker thoroughly entertained and i wanna think about au's with both airplane and og!shang qinghua in play

there's always the good ol' sibling au's (which will always make me scream to the fucking sky "why the fuck wasnt airplane given a NAME so that i dont have to make one up for him!!!"), those definitely have the appeal of i can keep airplane!shang qinghua's design the same

so lets go with.... shang jingqi (original flavor) and shang feiyu (airplane), for simplicities sake while i explore stupid au ideas lol

so lesseee shang feiyu is born as shang jingqi's twin but since qinghua is a courtesy name and he doesnt actually know og!shang qinghua's birth name, he just knows that ONE of them is supposed to become "shang qinghua" and get killed by mobei jun. and look, he tries really hard not to get attached to his twin. he's used to keeping emotional distance from family, this should be fine, easy even. his twin even has a sort of asshole personality. so if he just doesnt get attached to shang jingqi and just lets the og plot eat up his twin, everything will be just fine and he can live a peaceful life, right? RIGHT???

but ofc he gets attached. bc even tho shang jingqi has a shitty personality and might actually be the original shang qinghua who backstabbed mobei jun and deserved what he got--look, thats HIS treacherous asshole and shang feiyu is ATTACHED okay

so shang jingqi and shang feiyu BOTH wind up joining cang qiong because shang feiyu isn't gonna just leave his twin to die but also he doesnt wanna die so he's really trying to figure out a third option to figure out how the fuck to dodge this all shang-murderfest thing when one day his brother comes home from a mission like "so i might have murdered a demon lord with a rock??" and shang feiyu is going to FREAK OUT bc either that was mobei jun and he is Not Dead and Coming For Their Asses or it WASNT mobei jun and its someone who would make mobei jun Very Angry if was harmed and shang feiyu is ready to hug as many thighs as he needs to so that they can get out of this alive!!! but shang jingqi already has a bit of a murder-boner for mobei jun, even moreso when he realizes theres like Chemistry between mobei jun and his brother and just Nope. that aint happening.

shang feiyu: i am trying to keep you alive wiLL YOU PLZ STOP TRYING TO PISS OFF THE DEMON LORD?!

shang jingqi: and IM trying to protect your ass from demon cock, thank me later

shang feiyu: ?!?!?! WHAT DOES THAT WHAT

[wikipediette]

emotional motion sickness

General g/n headcanons; mentions of abuse dynamics in relationships, talks of physical, emotional, and mental abuse, if these topics trigger you please dont read

so I'll start with the idea of being on earth with Jimmy, I'd like to imagine that curly set you two up, hoping that you'd rub off on him

Your first date you meet and you're charmed by him, he's a sarcastic, flirty, handsome man with a sense of humor (albeit a dry sense of humor)

people like Jimmy are VERY charming and can pretend to be a certain person to draw you in. Then slowly up the ante until you feel trapped

He starts off cute, comes a little late to dates, clothes wrinkled, flowers bent. But hes apologetic and you cant help but feel bad for him

As you get deeper into the relationship the faults start to show.

Maybe a year or so in he starts asking about friends. Nothing too dramatic just an occasional "who's that?"

And at first its cute! He's just worried and protective. But it slowly gets more and more controlling.

One of the first things an abuser will do is isolate you to make it hard to leave them. so he asks you to stop talking to a few people, coworkers or group project friends.

if you question it he will get very intense very fast and uestion why your so hesitant to cut them off.

"is there something your not telling me?" He asks, he had both arms caging you down onto your armchair, his body leaned down to look at you closely. "No!" You exclaim sitting up as best you can with him so close, "I just think it's weird you suddenly aren't ok with me and danny talking anymore!" He laughs but it holds no humor if the look on his face is anything to go by "I know you probably didn't notice but he's constantly flirting with you, he obviously wants to fuck you." you begin to mentally look over your conversations in your head, had he? Was there something you missed? Something misinterpreted? "Really?" You ask, doubting if you really should be talking to a man who liked you while in a relationship. "yes! that's why I don't want you talking to him, he's trying to take advantage of you." you sigh before nodding "yeah, sorry I... didn't even realize" "its fine" he says softly holding the back of your head to lead you into a kiss "I just want to keep you safe".

so you bite and agree, you slowly begin to cut less important people out. As you do he'll pavlov you, with each friend you pick off he'll love bomb you. kisses, hugs, gifts, sex, sweet talk, pet names, bragging about you. He'll play into whatever you want as long as you follow his rules.

When it comes to the biggest hitters like family, close circle friends, and best friends he'll wait a few years to cut them out

He'll plant ideas of a us vs them mentality.

they just want to break us apart.

they're jealous of us.

your too good for them.

they don't treat you right.

they're the abusers.

i'm the only one who REALLY loves you

and after so many years with him, despite your ups and downs you cant help but do what he says because you just don't see him as this horrible monster everyone's making him out to be.

you love him and he loves you!

people just don't understand your dynamic,

they don't know him like you do.

when it's bad its bad but when it's good its so damn good.

and his lonely act works well too, besides curly he doesn't really have any friends.

he has acquaintances and coworkers, but friends? no.

if you broke up with him he'd have no one. and you've been together so long it'd be such a jump. going from deep conversations and intense love to asking about a person's favorite color? fuck that.

when he has you were he wants you that's when all hell breaks loose.

you barely go anywhere and if you do he either needs your location the whole time (probably makes you get life360) or has to be with you, hand on hip, glaring at anyone who talks to you.

when you two get invited to parties he'll play nice (after all he is in public) and let you roam.

you'll talk to people you haven't in a bit while he drinks and talks to curly.

and its times like that that makes the worst moments feel worth it.

speaking of the worst moments.....he's a very jealous person, he constantly is worried if you're cheating on him.

he'll argue with you and wont relent till your crying and exhausted.

then once he thinks you've proved yourself he'll scoop you up and let you cry on his shoulder. murmuring that he loves you and he sorry.

he'll open up, say he knows there's something wrong with him, and he's sorry hes like this, that you deserve better and he's trying.

"I'm sorry" Jimmy softly says into your ear. cradling you like a baby in his arms. your arms are around his neck, your eyes burn with drying tears and sleep, your nose is stuffy, your throat is dry from yelling and sobbing for hours. the rocking isn't helping your sleepiness. "I'm sorry, I know there's something wrong with me. Please don't leave me"

trying to leave in these situations is probably the worst thing you could do

now I'm not under the impression that Jimmy would be overly physically abusive given that his character is all about the subtleties of abuse.

BUT! I do believe he'd restrain you, push you, grab you harder than needed, ect. If you tried to leave him while arguing.

He doesn't like you taking control of the situation and it gets him very mad, as a result he'll force you to stay where he wants.

But he doesn't explicitly hit you as that would leave marks

he wouldn't want you to be bruised because that would bring suspicion to the safety of your relationship.

And most of the relationships abuse is kept to a level that could pass as normal to others.

I think having a friend like curly in these moments that always tries to smooth things over without any bridge burning would definitely lead to him unintentionally gaslighting you about it.

side note: ok this is the first time I've really written in this format, made a romantic x reader, AND this is also my first time posting x reader onto Tumblr lol. apologies if this is ooc I never refreshed myself on Jimmy's character simply bc I don't have the time for that lol. this is also based off of my general knowledge of abusive relationships. if anyone wants more plz let me know i really wanted to try writing fanfiction seriously for a while now lmao, bye :)

[bookie-bookdust]

Stupid things Sebastian Sallow would do to get you to talk to him after a fight

We all know the silly Slytherin doesn't know how to shut his mouth. So fights are a given. But what would he do to get you to speak to him again? Time for another round of shitty headcanons (if you could even call them that lol).

Tightens all the lids of every jar in your home.

Eavesdrops on your interactions to use as leverage.

Hides all the books. The fucking books!!! Mr. Walking-Library-Sallow over here 100% confident you'll seek his help, meanwhile you'll just go to the book shop.

Releases a baby spider into the house (and regrets it immediately when he's too afraid to heroically catch it for you).

Just begs. The boy begs.

Steals your wand.

Hides said wand and helps you look for it.

Sets something important on fire. Like the kitchen.

Somehow gaslights you into apologizing and then relenting immediately when you call him out on it.

Pouts.

More pouting.

Tightens his fists at his side like a toddler.

Blames a third party in an attempt to get you to side with him.

Depending on what Seb you got into a fight with, he might imperio you or obliviate your memory hehehe.

Follows you around and attempts to assist with every minor event so you owe him.

Waits at your door/common room door, making anyone who passes by uncomfortable with his glaring.

Sends so many goddamn owls. They never stop. There's a parchment shortage. No one has been able to write to their loved ones in weeks.

Literally in your house like Edward Cullen demanding to speak to you. Yes he climbed up a tree and through the window. Yes there's a twig stuck in his hair. Please, just stop screaming and hear him out.

Actually attempts talking to you (and ends up in another fight).

[artistsfuneral]

Witcher a/b/o ramblings~~~

Geralt keeping the secret that he is an omega and not knowing that Jaskier is an alpha. Even though Geralt is using suppressants, he can still feel something very lightly bubbling away like he's near his heat and it's making him a bit clumsy. This in turn is making Jaskier feel super protective and he's absolutely oblivious about it until Jaskier accidentally uses alpha voice when they are traveling one day, trying to save Geralt from tripping over a large rock 🤭 Geralt's knees buckle and he maybe whines a little because sure why not, let the man whine, he's an angel hahah 😂 and they both pretend they didn't just experience that together - but how long can they keep that up....

I like to think of Jaskier slowly peppering in little dominant alpha protective things for weeeeeekkkksssss testing the waters and Geralt nervously leaning into it, wanting to be looked after but terrified that he's not allowed to indulge because witchers shouldn't need looking after, they're meant to be the protectors ...

👀🤭

Oh yessss pls!

alpha voice is such a good concept if you do it right and I can totally see the two of them slowly getting into it like-

Jaskier giving Geralt his half-eaten dinner because he's full and he knows witchers have such a high metabolism, Geralt wants to refuse because he doesn't need babying, he can make his own damn decisions and- "Eat." oh. oh okay, maybe just a bit? 🙁 if Jaskier thinks it's important enough to use his voice then maybe he should eat?

one day Geralt gets incredibly overwhelmed (sensory overload or maybe task overload) and Jaskier wants nothing more than to soothe his poor hurting omega but he's so stubborn! so after hours and hours of Geralt not getting better because he doesn't want to accept the fact that he's not doing great, Jaskier finally snaps "For fucks sake. Listen to me!" and Geralt's head snaps around and he's staring at Jaskier wide eyed and confused and he whines because he has no idea what to do and so Jaskier gentles him out of his panic with so many soft words

and maybe someone is talking shit about Jaskier and Geralt starts growling, ready to punch that damned motherfucker who dared to- "Geralt, stop." and he freezes, looks at Jaskier wide eyed because what does he mean? isn't he allowed to fend for his alpha's honor? doesn't Jaskier want Geralt to protect him anymore? 🥺

but it turns our that "No, sweet thing, I just don't want you to hurt yourself on my account. You're so precious to me."

and Jaskier tries to talk about it with Geralt but Geralt is absolutely not up for that! (feelings? no, never heard of them) until one day, he hisses at Jaskier, that he doesn't need to talk about this because he trusts Jaskier. trusts him to never use his voice against Geralt like others might and Jaskier has his oh. oh. moment.

and then one day, Jaskier asks Geralt to kneel. And oh he kneels so prettily. and it's like something between them just clicks into place

[changingplumbob]

CW: Low level sim spice, language - Guide to content warnings

Sun poured in the windows and on to the bed. Glenn loved being outside but a nice sun ray inside could be good to. While he was playing absentmindedly with a tennis ball Silver lay beside him scribbling away.

They had officially been courting for a year and while Glenn thought asking Silver to get a place of their own would result in a great woohoo session it had instead resulted in the werewolf deciding to make a pros and cons list about every single neighbourhood he'd ever visited.

That left Glenn horny and bored, not a great combo.

Glenn: Are you done yet

Silver: If by done you mean all the places that start with A then yes

Glenn: You can't have actually been to that many places

Silver: I'm ancient remember, I've been lots of places

Glenn: True. It must be a lot when you're 207

Silver: I wouldn't know because I'm not 207

Glenn: *sighs* But I want to fuck

Silver: And I want to make sure we don't move somewhere in hunter territory. Which of those things is more important

Glenn: Definitely my pixel parts

Silver: I thought you were practicing making the ball hover

Glenn: I was like... three hours ago

Silver: *smirking* Dramatic much Babycakes

Glenn: You know you like me dramatic

Silver: I do but I'm trying to focus on our future

Glenn: All I need is you, four walls, a roof and a dragon

Silver: Excuse me?

Glenn: I could be argued down to three walls

Silver: I meant the dragon

Glenn: Oh. Would you not want a dragon

Silver: Can't say I've ever seen a dragon. Kind of thought they were a myth

Glenn: Says the werewolf who is in love with a spellcaster

Silver: If they are real something tells me they don't make great house pets

Glenn: I mean yeah, the bigger ones couldn't even get inside a house

Silver: See

Glenn: But there are smaller ones

Silver: How does one get a dragon? They're not trafficked are they

Glenn: I mean magical creatures sometimes are but there are legitimate channels for the domesticated ones

Silver: If you tell me there's a dragon rescue down the road-

Glenn: Not down the road but- Would you let me have a dragon

Silver: Not in our bedroom

Glenn: So that's a maybe for in the house

Silver: I don't know. How are they with kids

Glenn: Some breeds are great, super protective of them

Silver: Okay well what I don't need is one breathing fire at me if I tell a kid off for making a mess

Glenn: No I know, I wouldn't let you get burned Beefcake

Silver: I can't get burned

Glenn: That's what I'm saying

Silver: Yes and I'm saying werewolves can't get burned. My clothes could get incinerated but not me

Glenn: Wait really

Silver: I mean technically I could get burned with wolfsbane but I couldn't be set on fire or anything

Glenn: Damn, wish that was the case for spellcasters

Silver: You are rather delicate

Glenn: Just like my flowers. Are you done now?

Silver: Is it Brind- e- l - ton or Brind -l - e - ton?

Glenn: We are not moving there are we

Silver: Don't know, haven't done the pros and cons list yet because someone keeps distracting me

Glenn: With my good looks

Silver: With your big mouth

Glenn: Hey! My big mouth happens to be of great use to you

Silver: Only when you've spent the day being a brat

Glenn: Well we need to be somewhere where we can adopt a kid

Silver: You say that as if I don't know

Glenn: Do you want a spellcaster or a werewolf

Silver: I don't know. I mean I do miss seeing the young wolves in the pack

Glenn: Do baby werewolves like chew on the furniture

Silver: What are you doing to my hair

Glenn: Nothing, just hold still. Going to answer my question?

Silver: Don't all kids destroy furniture in one way or another

Glenn: True but I mean there's accidentally starting fires then there's teeth marks

Silver: Baby spellcasters start fires?

Glenn: I mean when we're young we kind of have access to a bunch of powers we don't know how to use so stuff can happen that we don't know how to undo

Silver: Don't know how to undo? Such as?

Glenn: Well my trademark green hair? Not intentional

Silver: Bullshit, you're trying to mess with me

Glenn: Because I want your attention

Silver: But wouldn't my attention be so much better in a house of our own

Glenn: Fair. Okay hold still I'm going to get a picture

Silver sighed and tipped his head forward so the ball fell off and rolled away on the floor.

Glenn: Aww, you looked cute

Silver: Don't I always

Glenn: Nah. You're the hot rugged sexy one and I'm the squishy cute one. Well, squishy cute with abs

Previous ... Next

[martian-astro10]

I was just studying about Arudha lagna and Upapada lagna, they are very important for a person's public Image and Marriage, and bro, First of all, it's fucking complicated and then, for a good and happy married life, there are 4 things and for a bad one there are 25, like......"If you have this, then abuse" "if you have that, then divorce" "if this, then something else", at this point, just tell me what is needed to have a good marriage because the indications for a bad marriage are just that many, I'm about to cry, lol. THIS IS SOOO CONFUSING. In ancient India, the first thing that parents would do after the birth of a child is get their birth chart made, and then the astrologer would list down their strengths and weaknesses and just tell what their life would be like word for word, I feel like I don't even have 1% of that knowledge and like It's just so sad.

I don't know if it's true or not, but I read somewhere that Chanakya used numerology and astrology to gain advantage in wars and all, BUT he was also a master of strategies and economics, dude was just an all-rounder, but what I'm trying to say is that It kind of sucks that nobody alive today will even come close to what we had before. Our books were literally burned, the knowledge that is available to us is just so scattered and limited and I HATE IT. There is so much I don't know, so much that I need to learn, knowledge is limitless. I wish we had chanakya's original notes, not just his, but the other scientists and astrologers of India as well. GOD, we could do so much, accomplish so much. Also, dude was not even a misogynist, he literally had female assassins in his group but people, ESPECIALLY Indians, tend to eat up whatever weird rumour that the Britishers make up, so....here we are. We don't have any of his original documents, all of the info available is just translations of what people think he wrote and they use that to discredit him. Why the fuck would those who colonized us want us to see our potential? I thought it was common sense but I'm starting to realise that common sense is very uncommon these days. We used to be so slay man.

People really need to read age of propaganda by Anthony Pratkanis and then connect the dots to India's history that we nowadays learn about.

[mewovivi]

Undertale had taught me so many beautiful things like

Importance of friendship

I can be fat and lazy and still cool as fuck

[onlyangelicc]

those eyes ~ Nicholas Alexander Chavez

{ warnings ; semi-public intimacy , pda not much else i dont think!

summary ; slightly smutty , you drive him crazy and things get heated on the drive back to the hotel }

as you walked out of the door into the crowded area of the into the upscale section of nyc cameras were flashing, people yelling at you and nicholas. you quickly became shaky, you held nicholas's arm tight, not being used to the new environment. you held onto him for some sort of comfort

he opened the door and watched you find your seat in the large black suv, him following. his hand quickly finding its place on your fabric covered thigh once seated. you placed your hand on top of his, and looked over as the door to the car shut. the flashes and screams subsided.

after the car started to pull away, you un-tensed and let out a sigh. "sorry baby," he said rubbing his thumb against your thigh, squeezing gently. you looked over at him, laying your head on his shoulder. "its okay, i like being here for these big moments." you replied sweetly.

after all it was the season premiere of Grotesquerie, it was, in-fact a pretty big moment. just from the press tours, ads, and trailers from the show the people knew it was going to be a good one. you loved it, you were so proud. and being here with him during this was important to you, and him.

he smiled, "i know but I understand how stressed you get. the hair and makeup trailer is way less crowded and you dont have to do many outings like these; if any." he responded. his caring words warm your heart, "i know, thank you for caring. i love you nick." you squeezed his arm softly.

"on a good note, your makeup and hair skills really paid off. you look fucking amazing, my pretty lady." he purred, although youve been together for almost 3 years, these comments still gave you butterflies. Along with adding a blush on your cheeks to the blush that was already there.

he saw the effect his comment had on you and giggled. "youre so cute." he said taking your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb against it and pulling you into a kiss. you blushed again as you two kissed.

he smiled and kissed your neck softly, you held back a whine. And felt warmth between your lips as he held your neck in his large hand, kissing it more. "nicholas," you protested, truthfully, not wanting to. And he knew that.

"hmm?" he hummed again your neck, pulling away from your neck, rubbing his thumb against it. "knock that off." you replied sternly, through a small grin. he laughed, and shrugged, "fine.." smirking at you.

for the rest of the drive back to your hotel he hummed along to the songs the driver was playing on the radio while rubbing your thigh with his hands. glancing at you every so often, admiring your frame in the tight fitting red dress.

good god, his hands were the death of you. his hands moved with such little thought but it literally drove you insane. you loved the size of them, the veins, the roughness but also softness of them. just everything. you were aching to feel them in ways you have before.

after a few minutes of practically drooling over his hands you arrived at the hotel. the driver stepped out of the car and opened the door for you and nicholas. nick climbed out first, then helped you out of the car. his hand placed on your ass to walk into the hotel.

the two of you walked through the hotel lobby to find your way to the elevator. nicholas pressed the button making it light up orange, and the arrow pointing up above the elevator. the elevator dinged and you stepped in, nicholas's hand guiding you on your lower back. he looked at you as the doors closed.

his eyes, thats all. they were always so expressive. wether he was sad, angry, happy, stressed, annoyed, tired, or whatever the case was. that was one thing you loved about him. you always knew how he was feeling even if he didnt want to tell you. you then noticed how big his bulge was, wow.

after looking at you for a second, he pressed you again the wall and leaned down to kiss your neck. you laughed with his sudden forwardness, as if you weren't a little riled up as well. you moaned as he attacked your neck. "mm, are those pants a little tight?" you say teasingly, rubbing over it. "shut the fuck up." he says directly your face to his, kissing you softly.

then your time was over, the two of you snapped out of it as soon as the doors opened to your floor. luckily there was no one there, but, you still needed to hold it out until you got to the room.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

tags

@jschlattisfuckinghot

[spametc123]

The phrase “maybe the curtains were just blue” is genuinely so harmful to media literacy as a whole. Yes, things can just be the way they are, but almost everything exists with context. Do you exist or do you exist because of everything that has happened in the world? Your parents met, you didn’t die that one time when you were eight, you’re the person you are because of that awful haircut you had in seventh grade. You exist because of all of that.

So, nothing pisses me off more than when someone uses an incomplete quote. “A jack of all trades is a master of none” without the second half: “but oftentimes better than a master of one” (everyone say thank you Shakespeare) has an entirely different meaning. The first half by itself is utilized to shame people into ignoring things they love or are interested in; meanwhile the full quote praises people interested in a variety of things. Ignoring context literally erodes the meaning behind anything. Machiavelli said “it’s better to be feared than to be loved.” Wrong. Loud incorrect buzzer. Kind of. As Malcolm Gladwell writes, “it’s not wrong, exactly, it’s just incomplete.” (Or something like that anyways.) Yes, Machiavelli did write that. Congrats! But you forgot a kinda, semi, VERY FUCKING IMPORTANT component of that quote. “It is better to be feared than to be loved if one cannot have both.” It should be common sense right? I wish. Ask anyone about their opinion on the incomplete quote and see how many of them think they’re revolutionary when they say “oh I’d rather have both!” If the full quote doesn’t seem to make a difference in your mind, great! But there’s still more context that you need to know to actually understand it (let alone teach it (Mr. History teacher that is NOT a philosophy teacher and should not try to be one)). The quote is from The Prince, a writing in which Machiavelli talks about what makes a good leader. In his opinion, The Prince should know when to utilize love and fear to his advantage. Be loved by your people and feared by your enemies. Seem more trusting than you are so you can see who is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He says that one should prefer to be feared than to be loved in time sensitive situations, not sustainably. That when things need immediate change being feared makes a stronger and more effective leader (which is unequivocally correct and I’m tried of hearing otherwise). So again, without context: a random quote that no one agrees with or really understands at all, whatsoever vs. with context: the assertion that in times of need it is better to be respected and feared than it is to be loved. Or, a personal favorite “dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.” I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am. Oh wow! So cool, he thinks therefore he is - being capable of thought means I exist, how neat! Not wrong, sure, but lacking context. What makes the philosophy so powerful is the fact that it’s a paradox. You doubt your existence, therefore you are capable of thought, therefore you exist. Because you doubt your existence, you prove that you exist. But if you are then confident you exist, do you no longer exist anymore? And now you doubt it again. Without context, it’s just words on a page, nothing notable or interesting. Without looking for the context it’s yet another thing people will complain about having to learn because “why does it even matter?”

It’s the same with characters. Armand is batshit fucking insane, yes, but he only is that way because of who he is. The tv show fails his character when they age him up, because even with some of his backstory, he is the way he is mainly because he’s eternally trapped in the body of a 17 year old. ____ is too trusting! Maybe in different circumstances, yes, but that character is the way they are because of the life experiences they’ve had. ____ is the right amount of trusting for the life they’ve lived.w

It’s the same for people too!!! Please find it within you to have basic human empathy! Someone is the way they are because of their life experiences. You can’t have something happen to you, good or bad, and not be affected by it. Someone can only change if their experiences change. No, it’s not your responsibility to change someone’s behavior or to tolerate it, but it is your responsibility to try to understand why someone is the way they are.

Empathy and media literacy are so clearly intertwined it’s would be comical if it wasn’t depressing. Read between the lines, try to understand things that you don’t get immediately. The curtains aren’t just blue. It doesn’t matter if it’s to represent sadness or just because it’s the author’s favorite color or even because the author was so indecisive they made someone else pick it, there’s still a reason. Anti-intellectualism is the curse that keeps on dooming us all.

[losticaruss]

not sure if people have already posted about this but i think it's important to share. i know they've posted follow-ups on tiktok (and maybe ig), including the statement that it is OFFICIALLY happening CHRISTMAS EVE AND CHRISTMAS DAY. DECEMBER 24 AND 25. there's also an official list that includes, but isn't limited to, spotify, tiktok, ig, ANY meta products, hulu, netflix, and the like. genuinely this is SOSOSO important

[ID: a tiktok from @/skyfisherforskyfish.

audio begins:

"i've moved on from feeling spiteful. im officially feeling... diabolical. the next big thing we can do to harm big business- after you've cancelled your amazon subscription, after you've cancelled your audible, after you've moved your money out of big banks and into local credit union, after you've figured out a way to buy local- the next big thing, ladies and gentlemen, is the data strike of Christmas 2024. why would a data strike be effective? because data is the most valuable asset on earth, right after human suffering from denying people who need healthcare, healthcare. that is actually the reason behind the tiktok ban. it's not about national security, it's about the data war that's happening between the united states and china. Christmas is a very pivotal moment, because all of the gifts are purchased, and now companies get to observe what you do with the money and gifts you've been given. your data is critically important right now for training their models and training their campaigns going forward on how consumer behavior is influenced by the holidays. that's not the only thing. following the shooting of the united healthcare ceo, the surveillance state has absolutely exploded in popularity- as you can see, many cities particularly los angeles (where i live) expanding their budgets for next year to use video surveillance on its populations. it's horrifying! it's dystopian! it's entirely preventable. the data strike is one to two days where we simply get off social media. you do not give them a second of your time for advertising dollars, for data mining, for any of it. this would not only kneecap the marketing budgets of big businesses, which have already been spent, they've already been expended, you will only ruin their r.o.i.. you will also prevent them from furthering the expansion of the surveillance state. you could directly say fuck you to zuckerberg and musk easily, with no pain. further, it's a great opportunity because during the holidays, we're pretty busy anyways, and you're there with family. and i know you're like 'oh, i don't want to hang out with my family, i just want to tap out!' challenge yourself. even if you're not having a good time, just have a time, rather than being completely numbed out by your screen, don't you think? one day won't kill you. two days would be a superhuman feat and i would be so impressed, i'd be so proud of you. you could also save on carbon emissions, because it requires a lot of energy to run this app (tiktok) and all of its servers, and every other social media. i have already seen such an enormous amount of collective action taken- people cancelling their amazon subscriptions, people taking their money out of big banks, going to local credit unions, decentralizing their purchases, starting small, local community gardens, going back to their libraries- people are taking action, and just because you don't see it online does not mean it's not happening. in fact, i want you to be absolutely aware that the reason you're not seeing it online is because it is happening. together, we can do the data strike of Christmas 2024. please share this video, please encourage your friends and family to take this shit seriously because the effect and the impact we could have on the market, on the surveillance state, and on the environment is legitimately enormous, and i believe in us. thank you for watching, i know this video is long, i know you've got shit to do. have fun scrolling. talk to later, bye."

/end ID]

[thetepes]

It’s wild to me that there’s these small circles where the people in them have deliberately chosen to be part of it where everyone is transfem and into incest, rape, other “kinks”. Like they specifically curate their spaces to be full of transfems who like this crap. And then they think it’s transmisogyny when we call out everyone in the group for liking horrid shit.

No Karen, it’s that you specifically created a predator den for transfems that happen to predators. Obviously not every fucking transfem is a predator, y’all have been picking the ones who are to collude with you. And obviously not every predator is a transfem. There’s probably similar predator dens across tumblr where it’s full of specific other identities. We would gladly call them out too

I agree.

There are circles of transmen, of women, and men who do the same thing. We just happened to stumble across this mostly transfem rat nest because it was too close to another.

It is important to say not every transfem is a pred. It truly is and not just because it's true, but because so many of these people have been groomed into thinking they don't have a choice. Into thinking these rat queens/kings/royalty need protection because they're so oppressed and abused when they're the ones abusing others. No matter how much they've been hurt, it doesn't give them the right to do the same to others. Nothing gives them that right.

Just look at them, they think they're the popular girls. They think this is normal when they are in an extremely niche miniscule clique on a niche website that's user pool is smaller and smaller every year.

I used to be in similar spaces, you have to work to get out of them. You have to break your back and force yourself to grow and be a bigger person than these fake "friends" have suppressed, suffocated, and stunted you into being, but you can do it.

Your autism isn't what is holding you back or making you this way either.

It's happier out here in the sun, kids, it really is. Even when it's hard to be out in it.