#it’s late.. yeah that’s my only excuse for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inadaydream99 · 2 days ago

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The Office Dynamics

A/N - I had so much fun writing these! Each of these are inspired by characters and scenes from The Office

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only!

Chan

The Late-Night Desk Conversations

While chan has to stay late every night to keep on top of his copious amounts of work, you choose to stay. Not because you’re so dedicated to your role, but because it’s an excuse to hang out with him. And so, it’s become part of your daily routine to be the only two left at work after hours.

As expected, it’s just the two of you once again, the glow of your computer screens and the sound of the rain tapping against the office windows. You break the steady silence with a yawn, stretching dramatically, which makes Chan glance your way. “Need a bedtime story?”

You smirk. “What, like The Tragic Life of an Overworked Employee?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re hilarious. Remind me why I put up with you?”

You grin. “Because if I weren’t here, you’d have no one to make fun of your disastrous caffeine addiction.”

It’s moments like this that make your heart flutter. It’s just so quiet, easy, and comfortable.

There are times when you can tell he wants to go, but he always lingers by your desk a little longer, as though he’s waiting for something… maybe he’s hoping you’ll ask him to stay… like right now. There he is, loitering. And you weigh the thought for a second as it crosses your mind.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard, pretending to still be focused on your work. But the words aren’t making sense anymore, and neither is the way your heart beats just a little faster when Chan doesn’t immediately grab his things to leave.

Instead, he stretches again, arms reaching over his head, his sweater riding up just slightly before he lets out a soft sigh. “Alright,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He just looks at you, eyes flickering with something teasing yet unreadable. “Tell me, how much more suffering do we have left?”

You glance at the document in front of you, but really, you’re stalling. “Depends,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “Are we talking about tonight’s workload or the existential kind?”

Chan chuckles, shaking his head. “Both, obviously.”

You exhale dramatically, tapping your pen against your desk. “Well, tonight’s suffering is about… thirty more minutes if we really focus.” You pause, then add, “Existential suffering? Probably lifelong.”

He lets out a low laugh, and the sound does something dangerous to you.

“See, this is why I like being around you,” he muses. “You make my impending burnout entertaining.”

You smirk. “Happy to help.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the rain outside and the occasional clatter of keys. Chan, now sat back in his chair and not making any real move to leave, spins his pen between his fingers before finally speaking again.

“You know,” he starts, quieter this time, “you don’t actually have to stay late every night.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.

“Says the guy who practically has his name engraved on this desk?” you counter, trying to keep it light.

He smiles, but there’s something softer in it now. “I mean it. You could go home. Get some sleep. Not stress over this job like you do. I’d still be here.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You could go home. You could leave him to his late-night habits, his empty office, his half-drunk cups of coffee and his relentless need to be the last one standing. But you don’t. You never do.

Maybe he knows that. Maybe that’s why he stays by your desk longer than he needs to.

You could say something. Ask him why he always waits until you’re done before packing up. Ask him why he notices your yawns, your stretches, the way your fingers slow on the keyboard when you start getting tired. Ask him why he lingers.

But instead, you just smile.

“Yeah,” you say, looking back at your screen. “I know.”

Minho

The Post-It Note Pranks

Your daily routine with Minho consists of endless banter, stolen glances, and… a Post-it note war. A little unusual, yes, but it’s been happening for so long that neither of you can remember how it started… only that you’re both incredibly competitive and stubborn.

Today’s round begins when you stick a note to his monitor: Try to look less busy today.

It doesn’t take him long to retaliate with one on your keyboard: Try to do actual work today.

And so the war escalates. You retaliate with a note on his stapler: I licked this.

So Minho counters with one on your favourite coffee mug: I spit in this. (He didn’t. Probably. Hopefully.)

The next morning you arrive to find a hundred yellow notes covering your desk, each reading: I win.

You huff, turning to the culprit. “Minho-”

But then, from the corner of your eye, you spot a pink one hidden under your keyboard. Sheepishly picking it up, you read: By the way, you look really pretty when you’re annoyed.

Well, that made your heart skip an unexpected beat.

You continue to stare at the note, your heart pounding a little too fast for your liking. Then your eyes flitter to find Minho, still watching you, with his chin propped on his hand and that infuriatingly smug smirk on his lips. He quirks a brow, waiting for your reaction.

Feeling irritation at his clear attempt to fluster you into submission, you grasp a pen and scribble a reply before closing off the few steps to his desk and sticking the note right onto his forehead.

He blinks up at you, momentarily stunned, before peeling it off to read: That’s cheating.

But he simply chuckles, the sound low and amused, and you’re too aware of how close you’re standing. His eyes flick from the note back to you, and for a second, the office noise—keyboards clicking, printers whirring, distant voices—fades into the background.

Then he leans forward slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch, and murmurs, “You’re just mad because you liked it.”

You scoff, crossing your arms even as heat creeps up your neck. “In your dreams.”

He hums, twirling the note between his fingers. “Maybe.”

Before you can fire back, he casually sticks another Post-it onto your wrist. You glance down, expecting another teasing jab.

Instead, it’s just a simple message: Lunch?

You hesitate for only a second before rolling your eyes and scribbling your response. When you slap the note onto his desk, he barely has time to grab it before you’re already walking away.

He flips it over and grins.

Try to keep up.

Changbin

The “Fake Dating” Bet

You and Changbin are always fake-flirting in the office. It started as a joke - dramatic declarations of love, exaggerated winks, calling each other “babe” just to get reactions.

But then your pesky colleague Jisung bets that neither of you can keep it up for a full week without actually catching feelings.

You and Changbin just share a smug side glance. Challenge accepted.

Day one and you’re already getting alarmingly used to it: Changbin leans against your desk, smirking. “Morning, darling. Did you miss me?”

You roll your eyes. “Tragically, yes. My heart aches without you.”

The problem? You do miss him. You do feel your heart race when he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. And by day two, when he casually pulls you into a side hug and murmurs, “You know… we’re really good at this,” you wonder - what if we weren’t faking?

Day Three: You’re officially losing it.

Changbin’s hand finds the small of your back as he guides you through the office, and instead of rolling your eyes or making a joke, you nearly lean into it. When he calls you babe in that lazy, affectionate tone, your stomach does an embarrassing summersault.

Jisung is watching. He’s always watching, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he observes every lingering glance, every subtle touch. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to.

“You’re getting soft,” you murmur to Changbin when you’re alone in the break room. You mean it as a tease, but it comes out quieter, more uncertain than you intended.

Changbin raises a brow, stepping closer. “Am I?”

He’s so close. The air between you crackles with something that wasn’t there before—except, maybe it was, and you were just too busy pretending to notice. Although, you don’t step away. And neither does he.

Day Four: You’re so screwed.

You tell yourself you’re overthinking it. That this is just the nature of the bet. That Changbin isn’t actually looking at you differently, and your heart isn’t racing faster than usual when he throws an arm over your shoulders and keeps it there, fingers idly tracing patterns.

Then, after a long day, you find yourself walking out together. It’s dark, the city buzzing with life, and Changbin hesitates before speaking.

“You know this is the last day, right?” His voice is softer than usual, like he’s testing the weight of the words.

You nod. You’ve been thinking about it all day. Tomorrow, the bet is over. And then what?

Before you’re able to spiral, Changbin reaches for your hand. Not dramatically, not for show—just a gentle brush of his fingers against yours, hesitant but hopeful.

“We don’t have to stop,” he murmurs.

You should laugh it off. Call his bluff. Make a joke about it. But instead, you allow his fingers to thread through yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I know.”

Hyunjin

The Office ‘Secret Handshake’

You and Hyunjin have a dumb, overly complicated handshake that started as an inside joke but has now become a thing that everyone knows about and finds incredibly annoying.

It’s all dramatic finger snaps, spins, and an unnecessary over-the-head high-five at the end. Everyone rolls their eyes when you do it, but neither of you care.

Until one day, during a particularly boring meeting, when you glance at Hyunjin from across the conference table. Without a word, you start subtly miming the first move under the table.

Hyunjin bites his lip to hold back a laugh before mirroring your movements. You both manage to get through the whole sequence without breaking eye contact, even as Chan - your long-suffering team leader - sighs, “I know you two are doing that stupid handshake.”

After the meeting, Hyunjin nudges you, grinning. “Maybe we should make it our thing for real.”

Your heart skips. But before you can question him on it, he sends you a wink and strolls away.

You stand frozen in the hallway for a second, replaying Hyunjin’s words in your head. What does he even mean? The handshake is already your thing. It’s dumb, ridiculous, and completely unnecessary—but it’s yours. Unless…

Your thoughts short-circuit for a second, the thought coming into your mind and destroying your rationality.

By the time you’re able to shake yourself out of it, Hyunjin has long disappeared, but you can still hear his whistling from down the hall - sounding so casual for someone who’s just wrecked your entire brain.

And it’s not until mid-afternoon when you see him again.

Acting on impulse, you grab onto his sleeve just as he passes you in the break rooms entrance. “Okay, what did you mean earlier?” You try (but miserably fail) to sound casual.

Hyunjin just looks at you with a slow, knowing grin spreading across his lips. “What does what mean?”

You narrow your eyes, knowing that he’s acting sheepish because he thinks it’s funny. “You know.”

He tilts his head, pretending to think, then suddenly steps closer. The break room is luckily empty, but still, the space between you feels too small. “Are you asking if I meant us?”

Your breath hitches, the air becoming so thick you feel like you’re about to suffocate. He watches you for a moment, his confident stare burning into you - trying to read every emotion and thought that flickers behind your eyes. “Because I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it.”

Your brain short-circuits again.

There’s no way he isn’t enjoying this - he has that glint in his eye, the one he gets when he’s teasing but also dead serious. And the worst part? You can’t even think of a good response because you want more, too.

Before you can properly process it, Hyunjin reaches for your hand and, with a dramatic flourish, initiates the first move of your handshake. Automatically, your fingers snap into place, muscle memory taking over. The spin, the sync, the final over-the-head high-five - it’s all the same. Except now, as your hands linger just a second too long at the end, Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“So?” his voice is softer now. “Our thing?”

Your heart pounds, but you can’t fight your grin.

“Yeah,” you smile, lacing your fingers through his before he can pull away. “Our thing.”

Jisung

The Office Supply Heist

Jisung has a bad habit of stealing things from your desk - pens, sticky notes, even your stress ball. Every time you call him out, he plays dumb. “What? Maybe you’re just bad at keeping track of your stuff.”

But you’ve finally had enough. So you set a trap. Leaving a small notebook and pen on your desk, you write on the first page I know what you’re doing - so when he flips it open he’ll see.

Sure enough, Jisung swipes it within the hour.

When he flips the notebook open and sees the message, he bursts out laughing. “Okay, maybe I take your stuff. But only ‘cause it’s yours.”

You cross your arms. “That’s the worst excuse ever.”

Jisung shrugs, twirling your stolen pen between his fingers. “Or… it’s the best one.”

You roll your eyes, but secretly? You kind of love it. Nonetheless, you scoff, shaking your head as he continues twirling the pen like some kind of smug magician. “So what, you steal my stuff just for fun?”

He smirks. “It’s more entertaining than ordering office supplies like a normal person.”

You narrow your eyes. “You do realize the company provides free stationary, right? There’s literally a whole cabinet full of it.”

Jisung tilts his head, pretending to consider this. “But those don’t have the same charm. Yours are just… better.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he counters, grinning. “It’s like stealing fries off someone’s plate. They just taste better.”

“That is not the same thing!”

Jisung just shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “Agree to disagree?”

You shoot him a glare before holding out your hand expectantly. “Give it back.”

He hesitates, twirling the pen one last time between his fingers. “Hmm. Nah.”

“Jisung.”

“What?” He leans back in his chair, completely unfazed. “They’ve got sentimental value now.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “They’ve been in your possession for thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, and in those thirty seconds, they’ve become my favorite stationary.”

You lunge forward in an attempt to snatch the pen first, but Jisung is faster, jerking his hand away just in time. Laughing, he tucks the pen into his pocket before grabbing the notebook and standing up. “Tell you what - if you want them back, you’ll just have to come steal them from me.”

Before you can argue, he winks and strolls off toward the break room, leaving you sitting there, half-annoyed, half-amused. You sigh, shaking your head. This is not over.

Felix

The “Accidental” Coffee Dates

Felix always seems to be in the break room at the exact same time as you. Suspiciously so.

“Wow,” you say one morning, entering the break room at the same time you do everyday to retrieve your first cup of coffee. “What are the odds?”

Felix blinks innocently, but his cheeks tinge just the slighted bit pink. “What do you mean?”

“You definitely time your breaks to match mine.”

He grins sheepishly, “Maybe I just happen to also need a beverage at precisely -” he pauses to check his watch, “10:03am?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? So you don’t just come in here to check what mug I’m using so you can steal it from me later? Because somehow they always end up on your desk?”

Felix smirks. “Well, maybe I don’t want a whole coffee and I just like sharing yours.”

Well, that makes your heart stutter.

Felix watches in amusement, waiting for whatever sassy comeback you’re coming up with. He’s never flirted with you so blatantly before, but it’s clear he’s trying to figure out if you’re into him too.

You hesitate, your fingers tightening slightly around your mug. The break room feels smaller somehow, quieter, the usual hum of the coffee machine and the distant chatter of coworkers fading into the background. Felix is still watching you, his smirk softened into something more patient, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll take the bait.

Your mind races through the past few weeks - the way he always seems to find a reason to linger when you walk in, how his “accidental” coffee thefts have become a running joke, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Maybe it really was time to stop pretending this was just about caffeine.

You take a slow sip of your coffee, then tilt your head. “So, what you’re saying is… we should just only share one cup from now on?”

Felix grins, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression. Surprise, maybe. A little anticipation. “I mean, if that’s what you’re offering.”

You tap your fingers against your mug, considering. “Mmm. I don’t know. Feels like a dangerous precedent.”

“Dangerous?” He leans in slightly, elbows resting on the counter. “How so?”

“Well,” you muse, pretending to think it over, “first it’s coffee. Then maybe it’s lunch. Next thing I know, we’re getting dinner, and suddenly people start thinking it’s a thing.”

Felix hums in amusement, nodding as if this is a very serious concern. “Sounds risky.”

“Very.”

He takes a step back to fully assess you, folding his arms. “And would that be such a bad thing?”

There it is. The shift from playful to real, the challenge hidden beneath his casual tone. He’s putting the question out there, giving you a choice. Your heart instantly kicks into overdrive.

You could brush it off, keep playing the game. Or you could take the leap.

You exhale, setting your cup down on the counter, exactly halfway between you. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Felix’s smile is slow, knowing. Then, he picks up your cup, slowly lifting it to his lips, taking an exaggerated sip before handing it back. “Guess so.”

Your fingers brush as you take it, and just like that, the game changes.

Seungmin

The Mutual Roasting Sessions

Your entire relationship with Seungmin revolves around mercilessly making fun of each other. It’s just how it’s always been between you, so effortless and lighthearted. And you know he’s as addicted to it as much as you are.

For example, yesterday when you walked past his desk, you caught a glance at him scribbling something, working away like a maniac and couldn’t resist: “Seungmin, you literally have the handwriting of a serial killer.”

“At least I write things down. When’s the last time you actually met a deadline?” He’d quipped after you, throwing you a quick glance that revealed just a hint of his smirk.

Okay, you admit, that was fair… you do have a habit of being a little late with deadlines.

But were you about to let him get away with it? Absolutely not. However the next day, you were mid-roast when Seungmin had suddenly leaned in closer, smirking. “You know, if we ever dated, our love language would just be insults.”

Your first response was to let out a snort, followed by an “If we dated?”

Oh, you’d regretted that right away. It’d only taken half a second to notice the way his smirk faltered. But Seungmin had been thrown off by your reaction for just long enough to let slip the flicker of something real behind his eyes.

“Shut up,” he’d muttered, looking away.

Then later that same day, you’d caught him sneaking a glance at you, and suddenly, the teasing didn’t feel so lighthearted anymore.

Which brings you to present day and, for the first time in forever, Seungmin seems off his game. It’s subtle, but you notice it - the way his comebacks aren’t as sharp, the way he hesitates a fraction of a second too long before responding. The way he keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

If the other day hadn’t happened, you would have found it funny, the King of merciless teasing suddenly being flustered? Hilarious. But now, you can’t help feeling awkward - wishing you’d not made a joke out of him before.

In an attempt to restore your normal dynamic, you try to test the waters. The next time you see him, you make a show of stretching before dropping onto the seat beside him with a sigh. “Man, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Seungmin.”

He raises an eyebrow, suspicious. “Finally admitting I’m the best thing in your life?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “I mean, who else would insult me so consistently? I’d have to pay someone.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile but refuses to give you the satisfaction. “That’s true. You’d be lost without me.”

There it is again - that tiny hesitation, the way his gaze flickers to your lips before snapping back up. You should let it go. You should let the moment pass. But you’re insistent.

Instead, you tilt your head, feigning curiosity. “Hey, Seungmin?”

“What?”

You lean in slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you. His breath hitches.

“Were you serious?” you ask, voice quieter now. “About… the dating thing?”

For a second, Seungmin does nothing. Then, he scoffs, but it sounds a little forced. “You think I’d actually want to date you?”

You don’t even flinch. “I think you wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn’t at least think about it.”

Silence. A long, charged pause where neither of you move. Then-

“Shut up,” he mutters again, looking away.

But this time, when you catch him sneaking another glance at you, he doesn’t look away so fast. This time, he holds your gaze for just a second longer. And this time, you maintain eye contact with him, trying to prove that you’re not as against the idea as you’d initially made out to be.

Jeongin

The ‘Fake Office Enemies’ Game

You and Jeongin pretend to be workplace rivals for fun. You’re not sure how, or why, it started. All you know is that you’re both on the same strange wavelength and just get so much fulfilment from it.

“You got the last blueberry muffin?” you gasp.

Jeongin smirks, taking a slow, deliberate bite. “Should’ve been quicker.”

So you decide to take it up a notch, escalating things by dramatically declaring, “Jeongin is my nemesis!” in front of the entire office.

To your surprise, he steps closer, grinning. “Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”

You hesitate - too aware of how close he suddenly is. His smile is still teasing, but there’s something softer in his eyes. Something almost fond.

“…I’ll get my revenge,” you say weakly.

Jeongin hums, tilting his head. “Looking forward to it.”

The game, it seems, just got a little more complicated.

You tell yourself it’s nothing - just another moment of playful rivalry, the same as always. But as you settle back into your seat, trying to shake the heat lingering on your face, you can feel Jeongin’s eyes still on you.

The rest of the office drones on, people returning to their work or previous discussions, but your mind is elsewhere. You’re too aware of Jeongin sitting just across the room, the way his fingers drum idly against his desk, the occasional amused glance he sends your way like he knows something you don’t.

When lunch finally rolls around, you make a quick escape, heading toward the break room for a moment to collect yourself. You shouldn’t feel this flustered - this has always been a game. A silly, harmless, pretend-rivalry game.

But the way Jeongin had leaned in earlier, the way his voice dropped just slightly, the way his smirk had softened at the edges… It didn’t feel like just a game anymore.

You shake your head, reaching for the coffee pot, only to find it completely empty.

A familiar voice hums from behind you. “Looking for something?”

You turn, already knowing what you’ll see. Jeongin, holding the last fresh cup of coffee in his hands, lifting it to his lips with that signature smirk.

You narrow your eyes. “You did that on purpose.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says innocently, taking a slow sip.

Your hand twitches at your side. “You do realize this means war?”

Jeongin tilts his head, pretending to consider your words. “Hmm. Does it, though?” His gaze flickers down to you, the teasing light still in his eyes, but something else lingers there too. Something almost expectant.

You don’t know why your heart speeds up at that look.

Before you can come up with a witty retort, he steps forward, lowering his voice just enough that you can feel the shift in the air between you. “You’re taking this rivalry thing pretty seriously,” he muses, tapping a finger against the coffee cup. “Almost like you actually care about beating me.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “Of course I do. What kind of nemesis would I be if I didn’t?”

He grins, leaning in just a fraction closer. “Oh? So if I stopped playing along, you’d miss it?”

Your breath catches. It’s a simple question. A playful one, really. But for some reason, you don’t have an answer ready.

Jeongin watches you carefully, the smirk on his lips softening ever so slightly.

For the first time since this game began, you feel like you’re standing at a line. One you hadn’t even realized existed until now. And you have no idea what happens if you cross it.

“…I’d just find someone else to be my office enemy,” you say finally, forcing a casual shrug.

Jeongin clicks his tongue. “Ouch.” But there’s no real offense in his voice, just that same easy amusement, the kind that always makes it hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking.

Then, before you can react, he lifts the coffee cup and presses it into your hands.

Your fingers wrap around the warm ceramic instinctively, blinking up at him in confusion. “What—”

“You can have this one.” He grins. “Consider it a peace offering.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re plotting something.”

“Maybe.” He winks. “But you’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?”

And with that, he turns and strolls out of the break room, leaving you standing there, holding the coffee he’d stolen for himself.

Your so-called enemy just let you win. And you don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he did it, or the fact that you kind of liked it.

#skz fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #skz oneshots #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids oneshots #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids fic #kpop fluff #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots

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bookie-bookdust · 2 days ago

Note

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ominis’ hat. If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to write a little blurb about it? Where is it from? What drove him to purchase it? What does it look like, precisely?

The smut was so well written, but I’m really invested in the hat.

HI @horizontaldancer0!!!! I didn't forget this message. I'm so sorry I'm late. I was spiraling lololol. BUT thank you so much for messaging me about my fic!!!! You aren't the only one who was obsessed with the hat, and you made me laugh so I wrote a little prequel for you💙 It's entirely crack and absolutely ridiculous.

For context for anyone reading this: This is from my smutty crack fic How to Defuse a Ravenclaw - the one where Ominis wears a stupid hat.

Ominis Gaunt was a man of many fine attributes: impeccable taste in music, the dexterity of a sly niffler, a Pureblood name that granted him access to any room he required (and the dwindling coffers and crippling trauma to match—but that was beyond the point).

One of his lesser respected qualities was his timeless fashion taste. Especially necessary next to Sebastian who always seemed to exclusively wear mismatched socks, shirts ill-fitted to show off his physique so the buttons strained. Ominis’ wand shuddered as it detailed Sebastian’s sloppy appearance most mornings, dressed and ready for breakfast, already whining about that damned demented Ravenclaw as if she wasn’t the highlight of his day.

But it was Friday evening at the Three Broomsticks that finally pushed Ominis to true fashion enlightenment.

The tavern was sticky—hot. His wand dizzily attempted to paint the scene like a carefully plotted map. The place was filled to the brim with Hogwarts students and locals alike. Every table was packed, every glass in use, grubby dirty digits fingering the free nuts.

He wanted to leave. Immediately. Sooner than immediately that he’d trade it for instant combustion if it freed him from listening to Weasley and Prewett wailing some Irish sea shanty. Imelda was on their backs shrieking the correct lyrics.

“Truly. A mending charm isn’t mending anything. It’s putting off the inevitable.”

Sebastian and his literal murder accomplice glared at each other, pink-cheek-drunk at this point by evidence of multiple empty steins littering their tabletop in the corner. They’d been arguing over the true capabilities of mending charms all day, and Ominis’ head splintered in a headache.

“And? What’s the problem with a quick fix until then?” Sebastian huffed, throwing out a hand.

It hit Ominis in the face, and he smacked the idiot’s arm away. “Will you watch yourself?”

But they ignored him, too busy in this sorry excuse for foreplay they’d been doing since they’d met.

“The more you use one, they stop working,” she said.

“That’s what she said.” Sebastian snorted.

“Freak.” She swung.

He lurched back, knocking Ominis’ glass straight down his front.

“You featherbrained imbeciles,” Ominis shouted, standing, and they sank into their seats. “I have had quite enough.”

“Omi, wait—”

“Stop calling me that ridiculous pet name.” He stormed off, shaking out his sticky hands.

He rounded the corner for the lavatory when he crashed into someone.

“Excuse me, you useles—”

“Jumping toadstools. I am so sorry.”

He straightened, all the blood rushing out of him. “P-Poppy?”

“You’re soaked.” She gasped, sniffing. “Is that brandy?”

“Um, yes.”

“What happened?” She squeezed his arm, delicate fingers burning through the fabric of his shirt.

His mouth dropped open and snapped shut. Words. He needed words.

“Sebastian happened. And his stupid girlfriend—”

“Oh yeah, he’s practically in her lap right now.” Poppy snorted, leaning to look past him.

His wand flared to seek it, and he covered it with his hand. He did not want to witness that. He was already damned enough to his wand’s unannounced detailing of random erections.

“So, you’re okay then?” she asked.

He shook his head, blinking. “Um, yes. I’m excusing myself for some fresh air. My ears are bleeding from Weasley’s howling.”

She laughed, and a silly little spark danced in his chest.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I thank you for the,” he motioned to himself, “cleaning.”

Cleaning??? By Salazar, was he illiterate?

“Of course.”

Silence stretched between them, and Ominis let his wand outline every detail he could get. The nervous fidget of her fingers, her soft locks tucked behind her ears, the missed polish on her shoes.

“Would you mind if I joined you?”

His heart gave a very incriminating thud, the pulse of his wand matching.

“Why, of course not. I’d be honore—um, elatat…Yes, please come to me. On me. WITH. Come with me. Outside.”

If only the Slytherin gene had been transfiguring into a pile of snakes and not speaking to them.

Her lips twitched, but she granted him a formal nod and took the lead down the busy aisle out of the Three Broomsticks.

Chaos boomed around them, students trading shanties for some awful medley about a whore’s tits that had Sirona smacking a broom over Leander’s head.

“Not in my place of business, Mr. Prewett. To the Hog’s Head if you want to behave like that.”

Ominis’ wand flashed in warning, and he tugged Poppy against him just as Andrew Larson and Everett Clopton barreled past, tipping a table. Three Gryffindor girls shrieked.

The two stumbled to their feet, attempting to fix the mess, but they knocked a chair in the path.

“Merlin’s beard.” Poppy surged back, rubbing against Ominis’ front.

He nearly fainted. “Hurry,” he cleared his throat. “Before Miss Ryan starts blasting students.”

They stormed for the door, so close to some damned peace and quiet when a sniveling voice called from behind him.

“Oh, Mister Gaunt."

He halted.

Of course now.

“What do you want, Hobhouse?” He pointed his wand right at the fool’s nose, catching on his nostril so the boy jerked back.

His wand highlighted the tall cylindrical object on Hobhouse’s head, and Ominis dropped his hand.

Was he wearing…

“Is that a top hat?” Ominis snorted.

Hobhouse grabbed the rim of the black velvet with a scowl. “So what if it is?”

“You look like a damned fool.” He knocked if off Hobhouse’s head with a smack of his wand and it decked an unsuspecting sixth year in the face.

“You’ll pay for that, Gaunt.”

Ominis huffed a dry laugh, and the Three Broomsticks fell to drunken whispers and hoots. “What are you possibly going to do, hm? Throw a tantrum? Do you even know how to use your wand?”

Hobhouse unsheathed it, knocking it against his hip, and it clattered to the ground. He scrambled for it, straightening.

“Oh, oh my.” Poppy stepped back, fighting a smile.

“You’re embarrassing yourself.” Ominis sighed.

Hobhouse threw a blast, and it whizzed overhead, dinging the light fixture.

“How dare you—”

“Boys, please,” Sirona shouted.

Ominis lunged, the two a swirling force of swatting hands when someone pulled them apart.

“At least duel it out. Merlin, you look like pissy housecats.” Sebastian fisted their shirts.

“This is silk.” Ominis shoved him off. “Go snog your girlfriend.”

Sebastian blanched, glancing behind him. “You know she’s not—”

“Let’s just go outside and cool off. Before someone loses an eye.” Poppy cut in, grabbing Ominis’ hand.

“That’s right. Listen to Peculiar Poppy.” Hobhouse snorted.

“You.” Ominis summoned the hat, jamming it down over Hobhouse’s head so he busted through the top.

The room erupted.

“My hat!” Hobhouse shrieked.

Sebastian yanked Ominis back, hauling him away from that sniveling rodent and straight out into the cold. The soothing quiet hit him instantly, and his shoulders eased.

“I can see myself out, thank you very much.” Ominis shoved him off.

Sebastian laughed. “You’re something special, mate. Sirona’s going to send you a howler for that.”

“Let her.” Ominis smoothed out his shirt.

“Goodness.” The doors swung open, and Poppy tripped out. “That was worse than two male hippogriffs fighting for dominance. It’s absolute chaos in there. Sirona is threatening to shut down.”

“Shit.” Sebastian ran back inside. “Behave, Omi,” he called over his shoulder.

“Don’t call me that.” Ominis scrubbed his face, taking a seat on the curb.

Poppy plopped down beside him close enough that their arms brushed, and he purposefully put his wand away. He didn’t trust himself not to unnecessarily probe her.

“That certainly was interesting,” she said.

“Hobhouse is an absolute menace to wizardkind. Wearing a formal top hat to the Three Broomsticks? Is he a circus ringmaster?”

“I don’t know. I sort of like hats.” Poppy shrugged.

“So you thought that top hat looked good on him?”

“Merlin, no. I hate Hobhouse as much as everyone else.” She snorted. “I just think a classic hat can make a wizard look quite smart.”

Ominis blinked. “Right. Of course.”

Smart.

Quite smart.

***

The next morning, he barged into Gladrags Wizardwear.

“Show me your finest hats this instant.”

Augustus Hill’s teacup dropped with a clatter. He rushed out from behind the counter. “I apologize, Mr. Gaunt. I didn’t have you on my schedule for this morning. I would have had a selection prepared.”

“It’s a last-minute fashion emergency.” Ominis crossed his arms, his cheeks heating.

He’d sat up all night thinking about hats. And Poppy. But also hats. He’d worn them before—obviously. But the options were endless. He needed something with versatility, durability, comfort…

“I just received a new pattern for top hats.”

‘How egregious.” Ominis could have vomited. “This isn’t for formal wear. I won’t be caught dead like some people wearing top hats out to pubs.”

“Right.” Fabrics rustled, tissue paper crinkling as Mr. Hill dug through his shelves.

Ominis drifted to the far side of the store, his wand highlighting a mannequin twirling an onyx hat around its index finger.

He summoned it, tracing the velvet. It had a wide flat rim, an indented crown, with a matching velvet band.

“Tell me about this.” He held it up.

Augustus Hill paused, obvious confusion swirling off him. “That’s a Homburg hat. They’ve grown to popularity with the Muggles. They come in a variety of fabrics.”

“Fascinating.” Ominis rolled it in his hands.

It was ironic, eclectic, good for the changing seasons. He held it up, placing it atop of his head. He’d need a new one of course. Not this used sock of a shelf item.

But it was perfect.

And there you have it! There's the story of his short but passionate whirlwind romance with his stupid hat. RIP lol. I hope you enjoyed!🥰

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fanfic #listen idk either lol #hogwarts legacy ominis

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getosbabymuva · 1 day ago

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spend the night?

• drabble, previous history, but no established relationship, you’re a forgetful sleepyhead. a/n: i def have a type (men w dark hair)

word count - 467

your body slowly starts to become lighter when you stir awake, feeling the presence of someone looming over you.

“you talk in your sleep, you know that right?”

your eyes flutter open and you let out a surprised yelp to see sero with crossed arms, amused at your position. sitting up against the arm of the couch, you rub your eyes, “hanta, you scared the fuck out of me.”

a bit delirious, you search through textured throw pillows for your phone, only to pull it out of the confines of your jacket. wincing from the bright light, you open your phone and furrow your brows at the time. “it’s 3:00 am?” you whip your head around to sero, as if he was the one that kept you here.

he yawns in response before plopping on the couch next to you. “yeah you were supposed to leave a looong time ago.”

finally becoming more aware of your surroundings, you remember the events that lead up to this moment. you and a few friends had came over to sero’s house for a get-together, telling your friends you’d drive yourself back home, but you must’ve fallen asleep before having the chance to even do so.

“you know.. you can just stay the night. it’s pretty late to be on the road right now.” sero suggests casually, clearing his throat.

“really? it’s okay?” he nods. “you can head out in the morning. what type of friend would i be to kick you out at a time like this?”

this was true, he is worried about your safety, but he’d be lying if he said that this wasn’t an excuse to be able to spend more time with you.

you nod your head in agreement, but you’re unable to gloss over that “friend” statement. friend, really? after everything you’ve done together?

“alright well,” you sigh as you start to stand up, “you got anything i can sleep in?”

“in my room, you’ll find something in my closet. you can take the bed.” sero says, scratching the back of his neck.

before you can protest, he takes your hand into his and leads you upstairs. “don’t fight me on this.”

you’re taken aback by the sudden contact, but you don’t pull away. you reach his moonlit bedroom, which is surprisingly clean for someone who parties so often.

“okay.. get comfortable, yeah? ill be downstairs if you need me.” the black-haired boy states, standing across from you between the doorway. before he starts to walk away, you grab his arm.

“hold on, wait a second.” you say, disappearing into the room and coming back with a hefty blanket from the corner of sero’s room. “you don’t want to be cold down there.”

he shoots you a smile, gladly taking the blanket from you. “goodnight.”

#sero #mha #chloë’s drabbles!#getosbabymuva #fluff #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #sero hanta #sero x reader #my hero academia #mha hanta sero

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t0ast-ghost · 11 months ago

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Autocorrect changed Elim to slim so.. hi

My name is- WHAT

My name is- WHO

My name is- chicka chicka

Elim Garak

I’m getting assassinated for this one

#it’s late.. yeah that’s my only excuse for this one #…sorry #star trek #star trek deep space nine #ds9 #ds9 garak #elim garak

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avid-adoxography · 2 years ago

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I have nothing to say to defend myself.

Just take it.

#self shipping #the thematic whiplash. the just some guy energy below vs the absolute menacing aura above. the cringe on my face.#this picture sure has everything uh jcbdfjdhc *head in hands sobbing*#back at it again with meme redraws because it's the only thing i can draw lately #better than nothing! but still...#also shout out to will ferrel for having one of the hardest faces to draw. my god.#he's the only one i got a reference for. everyone else got drawn from memory and it showssss fbjfbfjfj #buddy the elf #yeah no i ain't tagging him as a f/o. despite the uhh... well.. *vaguely gestures at the obvious red flags*#f/o: king Cornelius (the Horned King)#f/o: Ricardo #f/o: Sturm #avid-art #now if y'all excuse me I'm throwing myself in a bottomless pit. bye 🕳️🏃

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arolesbianism · 9 months ago

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I am rotating Light so hard in my head rn girlies who just straight up fucking torture ppl cause she can

#rat rambles #rain posting #oc posting #I <3 iterator gore and body horror if I was a better artist Id draw the horrors shes inflicted on some of these poor bastards #Im also brainstorming ideas for some more iterator ocs both so I can have more iterator ocs who arent chronically offline and so that I can #make them be some of lights victims and put them through some truly horrific shit #light vc omg haiii I saw you noticed some of the organisms I pumped into your bloodstream finally Ive been waiting sooo long to show this #stuff off so feel free to give mild resistance to my demands so I have an excuse to permanently disfigure your puppet :3 #I have one girlie vaguely conceptulaized and some vague ideas for the sort of roles I want the others to have in their lil friend group but #its all still very very vague concepts Ill have to brainstorm some more to get more solid ideas for them #in the meantime Ive also been thinking of some potential unparalleled innocence hc stuff #nothing super concrete but I am slowly building some new hcs that will relate to the tortured girlie I have some ideas for #but yeah I had a blast telling my friends abt synchronized light today and getting my intended reaction of aw thats cute that turns into #horror as I progress down the timeline #my intent with these two is for them to initially come across as rly fun and cute and just generally very easy to connect to only for the #immediate second layer to their characters to fucking evicerate all of those feelings #also parasite horror is both some of my favorite (cause its horrifying) and least favorite (cause I can get legitimately paranoid) shit #and just the image of being an iterator and realizing that there is malicious shit inside of you that you werent able to immediately detect #is so delightfully fun to me especially considering how vulnerable a lot of these iterators probably already felt just letting the #construction and repairs happen only to find out that that vulnerability Was abused horrifically and that its far too late to stop it #anyways I need to go talk to myself in the shower to brainstorm some more lol

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narugen · 9 months ago

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GWUH i love when comments tell me how i might have prolonged certain aspects of my fic but then reassure me it Gets Better to read (very important to meeeee).. thank u to user swirling wind of repetition ur comment made my DAY!!!!! (crying)

UGHHELDEWOSKPENEPEJDPSKEKDKE SOMEONE TOOK THE TIME TO WRITE ALL OF THIS IM SICKKKK IM SO TOUCHED

#egg boils #comments #<- was that my tag #UGHHHHH THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY.#I ALSO GOT MORE COMMENTS AFTER THIS AND I. WE FRUCKINB CRODEEEE #FAVE #save #also smth abt the angst is that it was literally the basis of the fic bc i wanted hoshina to be comforting her each time and i know his own #thoughts must’ve been so frustrating to read MY BAD REALLY like what is ur problem girl but also #<- thinking abt it i did make hoshina confess First Verbally which is woah. in its own sense bc all this while he would only initiate to #comfort or help his captain…. but when he doesn’t have that excuse of reaching out anymore n she’s the one who takes care of him instead 🤔#i guess that also helps him gain a bit more confidence and see where he truly stands beside her #like yeah flowers r cute and all but the confirmation she wants him and will stay by his side too.. (something she said previously and Then #proceeded to do so when she found him in the dojo) WHICH BTW. she figured out smth was wrong w the text messages but never got the chance to #find out properly bc she’d always miss the timing. girl who’s been staying on base recently and KNOWS where hoshina wld go when he can’t #sleep but never catches him bc she’s either too late or he never shows up (choosing to lie awake in bed instead)#ARGHHHHHH MY HSMN #hoshina afraid to take the first step but he does it anyway DOES IT ANYWAY BECSUSE HE WONT LIVE FOREVER AND i think with the raid on #tachikawa base and other significant deaths it gets a lot more Obvious

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the-kipsabian · 2 years ago

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done with the second worst part of cleaning, i have vacuumed

#i still need to clean some tabletops and wash the floors #but then im DONE #getting a bit too late to my liking tbh but lmao im dysfunctional. at least its getting done #oh yeah and then i gotta put the rest of the laundry away. pretty sure thats everything then #would have loved to take out more trash but they didnt empty the bins today so i cant fit more cardboard in there #you wouldnt believe the amount of boxes i have in this house.... and yet only one fits a human head!#which reminds i should probably put that one away for the checkup i dont. think i wanna answer any questions #the giant kip banner on my wall might already prompt some questions and im not ready for that. like they shouldnt come in to judge my place #its purely to check the quality of the apartment and if anything needs fixing etc #but excuse me i have anxiety and like a two meter tall kip banner on my otherwise empty wall LOL #anyways. gonna wash floors. clean counter tops. put away laundry. make really late dinner. and then see if im gonna write or just pass out #yay productive day i guess. tho i am sweaty and tired lol #sorry ramble tags i need to pour my break into something lol #night is an absolute mess on main

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show-us-kaidenshenandoah · 6 months ago

Photo

a loved one of mine sent me this post back in June, but i was immediately afraid of being a party-pooper so i didnt post my reply publicly but, now, ive had more than enough emotional distance from the knee-jerk anxiety of "oh no what if i correct people and everyone sends me hate and doxxes me" that im like "oh yeah i should post that" lmao (if i already did this: sorry, chronic memory loss stinks. i dont remember having done this before lmao)

if you dont like reading a long thing of text to get information btw, totally get it, here is a video link to Jessica Vill's video about the topic which will walk you through identical information if that is your preferred way to process/learn

also: you can easily google and wiki my sources, these arent hard things to verify once you know to look them up to begin with. but i did include screenshots below as my various sources; as well as evidence of "yeah, it would be super easy to fact-check me about this if you feel so inclined" [transcripts of images will be my reblog of this post under a read more, bc tumblr kept throwing a fit otherwise if i did it here] nonetheless, never blame people for not knowing what they didnt know. the misconception is absolutely the fault of PBS (for not fact-checking the author of that article pre-publication if nothing else) for publishing an article preying on the Black community's pre-existing attachment to Betty Boop for clicks. i wont be going into that article itself that had so terribly misreported, esp since PBS already apologized, im just reporting the information i know

i will add the following corrections to what i said in that DM:

i do not "blame" anyone above for the misinformation. if i "blame" anyone, it is PBS for claiming Fleischer consciously based Betty Boop's personality and design on Esther Jones, which you can see in the screenshot above; where BlackHistory.com cites and quotes that said misreported article. thats who i was groaning about in my DM, the PBS article; i was not nor was i ever attributing misinformation to come from @rikareena or @lveshae, but especially not @rikareena who fact-checked and was lied to by (a) said misinformation and (b) there not being an editorial within the snippet SAYING "oh btw sorry, our source we mentioned was bad actually. PBS apologized for the misinformation and not fact-checking it and we should too for spreading it without fact-checking our source ourselves". you should always google your facts and that is exactly what @rikareena did. it was not anybody in this post's fault that these sources were based on misinformation. do NOT blame or send negative attention to any tumblr-user/individual person within this post or outside of this post, istg, demand better of these website-sources instead (esp to have fact-checking teams themselves) and not individual people omfg

we do have few photos of Little Esther (you can see all of them in Jessica Vill's video), not just one. but they all are of her as a child. we have NO confirmed photos of her as an adult. also, to clarify, Little Esther was who i was talking about in regards to lost media, we have VERY little records of her performances (to which im glad people HAVE been looking into her and finding more about her that we can confirm is definitely her through this misreport. i love that she is re-gaining fans and her story is being shared, very big silver lining of this whole thing. if you're into uncovering lost media, please do look into her and help find more about her) also, she goes by "Baby Esther" and "Little Esther" as well as her name of Esther Jones/Esther Lee Jones

the photo i said was maybe her as an adult was incorrect. you'll see it below, it's the "Do Tell by James Van Der Zee, circa 1930" portrait that has oft been misattributed to Esther Jones. we do not know who this woman modeling for him had been

the cosplayer in question i mentioned was specifically Olya Gussy. she dressed up as Betty Boop and was photographed in 2008 by Retro Atelier. she is often misattributed as being an adult Esther Jones, which she is not

part of why i can never remember Betty Boop's primary "original" voice-actress is because Betty Boop has had SO MANY, even in just "classic Betty years". but i was specifically thinking of Mae Questel. the main three classic 1930s Betty Boop voices were Mae Questel, Mary Hines, and Bonnie Poe, but there were also several others in the 30s alone. but, yeah, when i was trying to talk about Betty Boop's voice-actress, it was Questel specifically who was in my head

i got my information wrong about the Betty Boop musical "Boop!". i got confused; i blame my chronic memory loss, but still my bad. anyway. it has so far ONLY been OFF-Broadway and is DUE to be ON Broadway in 2025 (get hyped!!! im so excited!!). off of Broadway, it has so far only been in Chicago according to the Wikipedia. and though it only had a had a short run in Chicago overall, the entire time it WAS in Chicago, Betty Boop was played by a Black musical actress: Jasmine Amy Rogers. love her, go support her!!

here are various screenshots with more information. feel free to look into them and/or the court-case on your own time. this is just "yep, shallow 2+2=4 levels of using google/wiki to fact-fact" on myself (which, to reiterate: is NOT a diss on anyone who didnt know what they didnt know, outside of this post or within it, idgaf, i do not tolerate trolls and dickheads being mean and utalizing me/my posts as a weapon to do that with) and show my sources in a more visual way

so yeah!! Betty Boop absolutely should be claimed by Black people since she has so many connections to Black American art within her performance, and Betty should 100% be drawn as a Black woman by any and everybody who wants to depict her that way

but also dont give Fleischer Studios credit for things they didnt do. they did not utalize Ether Jones in their initial conception of Betty in any purposeful or concious way; they did not design a Black animated female character in the 1930s. do not give them that credit that they have not earned. Fleischer Studios only utalized Esther Jones to get out of a court-case they had with Helen Kane. them accidentally creating a character whose performance is heavily in connection with Black American artists, like Esther Jones, is VERY DIFFERENT than them basing a character off of Esther Jones or being inspired by her in of by itself. do not give them flowers for making a Black female character star in her own shorts (and then rescind said flowers-that-they-didnt-earn for how she then "became white-washed" like that PBS article misreported) when they just?? didnt do any of that?

(also this is mostly unrelated but bc it is tangentially related to "dont give Fleischer Studios credit for things they didnt do" thing: if you know me, youll see me specifically crack jokes about Betty Boop being wlw and/or about her "he/him butch girlfriend, Freddie". im talking about her canon boyfriend, Fred or Fearless Fred, who is a human (unlike her also once-canon boyfriend of Bimbo, the anthropomorphic dog). do not take me making jokes about headcanons and how "Fred's design is too sapphic to be a cis man" as legitimate fact. youll see the internet jokes of a similar vein sometimes, im definitely not the originator of that joke)

Betty Boop is for everybody in the same way as youve likely seen that Hatsune Miku trend where everyone is making a cultural Miku re-design to their specific ethnicity or way of life; we've seen Betty Boop be flexibly "for everyone" tons of times, even outside of her being a nostalgic tribute to the flapper girl era (a cultural niche in which women of ALL backgrounds took part). in classic Betty Boop cartoons alone, we've seen:

Betty Boop as white/white-passing (especially any time they copied Helen Kane which Fleischer Studios did OFTEN and didn't even HIDE until it became a legal issue; but also Helen Kane wasn't even being that original. baby voices like Betty Boop's was a common gimmick of actresses then and Helen Kane's catch-phrase wasn't even her own. i still personally think Fleischer was copying Kane, but also it makes 100% sense why she lost that lawsuit),

we have had Betty Boop be Jewish (the most obvious being parents in some shorts speaking with thick Yiddish accents, implying she is the daughter of immigrant parents, most famously in the "Minnie the Moocher" short as part of the set-up before any music even began to play),

we've had her be rotoscoped dancing using Indigenous Hawaiian dancers, in their regalia, and given a tan (multiple times but my favorite is "Bamboo Isle" for sure),

we've had her collab with Cab Calloway (a famous Black jazz musician for anyone who doesn' recognize the name) along with others and had Betty Boop's catchphrase ultimately come from Baby Esther's scatting, along with other instances of Betty Boop's performances having connection to Black American performance-art

and, hell, you could even make arguments about Betty Boop as a cowgirl in her "Nan McGrew" parodies. cowgirls and cowboys were a largely queer and/or POC group, paid very little but allowed a lot of freedom of expression and welcomed isolation, until America cinema and the like white-washed cowboys to hell and back. you could see Betty Boop as anyone of any identity, really, but especially as being of the marginalized in that vein

Fleischer Studios did definitely (accidentally popularize infantalization in animated women woah who said that, who brought up my special-interest) only announce that they used an alagamation of flapper women in their design to better shoot down Helen Kane, but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. Betty Boop IS the 1930s tribute to the flapper era of the 20s and all the women from there, of all skin-colors and ways of life. anybody can cosplay or draw Betty Boop. but Black people especially do have a special connection to Betty Boop that cannot be denied and is v beautiful

(i could talk for a few hours about Betty Boop, and i will be the first to admit this isn't even her first "well, originally..." debate concerning her as a character, much less the breadth of her impact OR all aspects of her history. there's all the ways she did steal/borrow from Helen Kane, at least in my opinion; her impact of infantalization in animated women's designs; her hyper-sexualization and how theater at the time functioned (in a sexual way*) and her specific "gags in the margins"(*��2) animators would make; her almost movie about her and her father that a lot of Betty Boop fans have dug up and shared the conceptual work of around; and even the debate of her age as that is constantly in flux depending on where you look and at what time of history (*×3). all of which i mention in an "if you liked learning about Betty, there is a lot more to look into learning about her" way rather than an "ask me, ask me, ask me" way)

(said * clarifactions will be with the aforementioned reblog to not make this post even LONGER than it already is lmao)

anyway. again: A++ art though, absolutely love it ♡

boop-boop-a-doop

#betty boop #esther jones #baby esther #little esther #esther lee jones #long post #ps. the wiki bit about the PBS article is a bit confusing bc theyre throwing years around around #to clarify: 2015 was when the article was published. well within the same month it was posted (probably the same week ngl but #idk for sure) they posted an editorial on the bottom of the article apologizing and saying they were wrong (in no small part #bc Fleischer Studios themselves contacted them yiKES YIKES YIKES lmao). so these articles from 2017 and everything?? real sHIT FUCKING #JOURNALISM like youre telling me yall could scroll to the bottom of the article??? bc i KNOW it was at the bottom i SAW IT BACK IN 2015 #anyway. i guess?? PBS realized people were still citing them and went ''y'all really not scrolling to the bottom?? really??? yOURE #GONNA GET US IN TROUBLE jfc you guys we dont want a court case from the people who own Betty Boop and the defunct Fleischer #Studios about libel and apparently we cant trust yall sO YOINK'' and then in 2021 allegedly deleted the article according to wikipedia #(i dont care enough about PBS' article to check if it was deleted) the one thing i will grant these other articles is my #chronic memory loss makes shit fuzzy so MAYBE the editorial apologizing was posted as late as EARLY 2017. okay MAYBE. but i fucking dOUBT IT #BC??? HELLO?? FLEISCHER STUDIOS MESSAGED THEM??¿???¿¿? but idk MAYBE its a 2015 article that went viral in 2017 so Fleischer didnt know #until then?? buT THATS ME BEING FUCKING GENEROUS. I REMEMBER SEEING THE FLEISCHER MESSAGED THEM AND SEEING THE ARTICLE LINKED AND READING #IT AND THE APOLOGY AND I SWEAR TO GOD IT WAS 2015 I REMEMBER BEING IN HIGH SCHOOL but idk maybe i was visiting a teacher at the time i #saw it and my memory loss is making shit fuzzy bUT 2018 ON GOT NO FUCKING EXCUSE AND I REALLY DO THINK ALL THIS SHIT HAPPENED IN 2015 I JUST #AM WELL USED TO MY MEMORY LOSS FUCKING WITH ME. THATS MY ONLY DOUBT. NOT WHAT I ACTUALLY REMEMBER. BUT THE FACT THAT I KNOW IVE #BEEN CONFIDENT BEFORE ONLY BE WRONG AND BETRAYED BY MY CHRONIC MEMORY LOSS. I SWEAR THE EDITORIAL HAPPENED IN 2015 #but yeah the wiki makes it sound like they didnt have to apologize for years ans that they did a quick ''sorry!!'' and delete. nah lmao

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homosexualcitron · 1 year ago

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Maybe the anxiety meds didn't work the first time nor the second time nor the third time but i believe that it will work this time

#well at least it will force me to sleep not too late #the only thing it does on me is making me want to sleep for 24 HOURS which is way too much i don't want that #i'm as anxious and even more because it makes drawing or anything i want to do much more difficult #“then why did you take it again” I HAVE TO GO TO THE DOCTOR TOMORROW I HATE IT i know it won't help but idk.. we never know...#i tried to late my body heals by itself but uh i'm probably making things worse and should not wait too much #not a big deal (i think?) but yeah #i hate it!! i don't even know where i'm gonna go there is some doctors where i live but idk which one i'll pick #the only on i saw in over year doesn't take new patients and it's a good excuse to finally find a referring physician #i think that's the word.. anyway!

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jellofish-plant · 1 month ago

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Proof of Existence

Pairing: Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Reader Summary: You were used to waiting up for Jason after patrol, but you weren’t expecting Robin to be the one to climb through your window instead. Damian Wayne is determined to prove that Jason was lying about having a girlfriend, and unfortunately, that means invading your apartment at an ungodly hour. Things only escalate when he calls in reinforcements, and by the time Jason actually arrives, he finds you in the middle of a full-blown Wayne family interrogation.

Warnings: Fluff, sleep deprivation, Batfamily chaos, Jason being grumpy but soft

[Masterlist]

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you glanced at the clock. 2:37 AM.

Jason was late. Again.

You weren’t exactly worried he was Red Hood, after all but you hated waiting up for him, exhaustion pulling at your limbs while the city lights flickered outside your window.

You barely had time to close your eyes before you heard a rustling noise near the fire escape. Immediately alert, you tensed, but before you could reach for your phone, the window slid open.

A small, caped figure landed silently in your living room.

You blinked. “You’re not Jason.”

Damian Wayne Robin, Gotham’s tiniest menace straightened up, arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized you with a critical gaze.

“So you are real,” he muttered.

You stared at him, still half-asleep. “Excuse me?”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Todd claims he has a girlfriend. I assumed it was a delusion. But…” He took a step closer, inspecting you like a rare specimen. “You exist.”

“Uh… yeah?” you said slowly, watching as he started pacing around the apartment.

“This is unfortunate,” he muttered to himself.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “It’s almost three in the morning, Damian. Did you break in just to confirm I’m not imaginary?”

“I could have waited for Todd to bring you to the Manor, but that would’ve taken forever.” Damian wandered over to the bookshelf, tilting his head as he scanned the titles. “Hmph. Your taste in literature is acceptable.”

“Oh, thank God, I was really losing sleep over that one,” you deadpanned.

Damian ignored you, already moving to your kitchen. He opened the fridge, scowled, then closed it again. “You don’t eat enough protein.”

You groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Jason is going to kill you when he finds out you’re here.”

“Tt. I doubt it.”

Unfortunately, before you could kick him out, he pulled a communicator from his belt.

“You’re not—”

Too late.

“Drake, come in. I have urgent news,” Damian said, voice completely serious.

There was a brief static crackle before a groggy voice responded. “Damian, it’s late. What could possibly—”

“She’s real.”

Silence.

Then—“No f**ing way.”*

You groaned loudly, covering your face with a pillow.

A few minutes later, your front door actually opened, this time with a key Tim Drake, still in his Red Robin suit but looking like he regretted every decision that led him here.

“Oh my God,” Tim breathed, staring at you like he’d just seen a ghost. “Jason actually has a girlfriend.”

“Why does everyone think I’m fake?” you demanded.

Tim grinned. “Because Jason refuses to let us meet you. Honestly, I thought you were just an excuse for him to leave family dinners early.”

Damian huffed. “As if Todd would be clever enough for that.”

You sighed. “Okay. Great. Mystery solved. You guys can leave now—”

Knock knock.

Oh, come on.

The door opened again, and in strolled none other than Dick Grayson—Nightwing himself—looking far too excited for this hour.

“Ohhhh, this is fantastic,” he said, beaming as he took in the scene. “We finally have proof! Jason’s not making it up!”

“I hate all of you,” you grumbled, pulling Jason’s discarded hoodie over your head as if that could make them all disappear.

“Are you being held against your will?” Dick asked, only half-joking.

“No, but I will commit a crime if you don’t let me sleep.”

Before Dick could respond, the window slammed open again.

“What the hell is going on?”

Jason stood on the fire escape, mask half-off, hair a mess, and murder in his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Jason,” Tim greeted casually. “Nice place.”

Jason’s eye twitched. “Are you—why—” He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “It is three in the goddamn morning.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you said dryly.

Jason turned to you, taking in the way you looked tired, wrapped in his hoodie, blanket half-falling off the couch. His jaw tightened. “Baby, why are you still up?”

You gestured vaguely to the three idiots in your apartment. “Ask them.”

Jason’s glare could’ve set the building on fire. “What the hell are you all doing here?”

“Confirming she’s real,” Damian said simply.

Jason groaned. “Are you kidding me? You—” He pointed at Damian. “Go home. You—” Now at Tim. “Stop enabling this. And you—” Dick raised his hands before Jason could finish.

“Relax, Jaybird,” Dick said, smirking. “We’re just excited to meet the girl you’ve been hiding.”

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate all of you.”

“Are you two really dating?” a new voice cut through.

Stephanie Brown Batgirl was standing by the window now, her blonde hair messy from a night’s patrol. She crossed her arms, raising a brow at you. “I’m sorry, but I had to see for myself. I really thought it was just some weird ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ thing.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m just here for the popcorn,” Duke Thomas The Signal grinned from the doorway, joining the chaos with his own brand of enthusiasm.

Jason stood frozen, arms crossed, looking like he was about to explode. “This is not happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” Dick teased, leaning in and nudging Jason. “You can’t hide her anymore.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “I swear to God…”

“Jason, relax,” you said, trying to calm him down, but your voice still laced with amusement. “Your family’s just a little... excited.”

Jason turned to you, his expression softening just a little. “I’m sorry, baby.” He pulled you close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t expect them to turn up like this, but…” He shot his family one last glare before pulling you closer. “I think I need some alone time with my girlfriend now.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“You know what, fine,” Tim sighed, pushing himself off the wall. “We’ve gotten the proof we need. No more interruptions. You two have a good night.”

“You guys are the worst,” you muttered, laughing as Jason huffed beside you.

And when they finally filed out, leaving you alone with Jason, you sank back into his arms, letting the chaos of the Batfamily fade into the background.

Jason chuckled softly, kissing the top of your head. “Well, at least they like you.”

You smirked. “Yeah, I think I’ve officially been inducted into the Batfamily now.”

Jason snorted. “They’ll never leave us alone again, will they?”

“Not unless we’re really convincing at family dinners,” you teased.

Jason sighed, but there was a fond look in his eyes. “Maybe we’ll make a run for it next time.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like a plan.”

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brattyspence · 4 months ago

Text

sober thoughts | s.reid

summary: pining!reader makes a drunk call to spencer after going out with friends, and is aggressively trying to flirt with him.

tags: reader is DRUNK! alcohol!! dont read if thats not okay!!, fluffy as fuck, spencer is the most gentle of gentlemen, pining!reader, reader wears makeup/dress/heels, spencer is lowkey bad at flirting but he shows affection in weird ways, one use of Y/N (sorry i know)

a/n: this has been bouncing around in my head for a while. sigh.

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

He was used to seeing you tipsy, if that was even the right word for it.

You were friends, after all. Best friends, even. And the fact that he lived only a few doors down from the pub the team frequented made it stupid not to offer his couch to you after going out with the team.

You weren’t a heavy drinker by any stretch of the imagination. Every now and then on a Friday night, you’d head out with the team and have one, maybe two drinks if you were feeling particularly adventurous–but you still didn’t want to drive home, especially when he was offering his home to you. Truthfully, you just liked getting to hang out with him. You liked getting to exist in his orbit and discuss a random topic late into the night. It had become normal for you, an excuse to do something together that didn’t revolve around work.

What was not normal was the fact that it was a Saturday at 11 PM and you were really drunk, calling him.

Your contact photo filled his screen, illuminating the dark room. You weren’t one to call, preferring the convenience of a text. Especially this late, which worried him a bit. He picked up quickly, tucking the phone to his ear.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Hey, Spencer?” It wasn’t your voice. “This is Molly, Y/N’s friend. I’m sorry to call so late. We’re out with some friends from college celebrating someone’s birthday, and she got… like, drunk drunk, kinda sloppy… and she’s been blabbing about you for a while. She wanted me to call you.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, preparing himself. “Can you put her on?”

“Yeah. Not sure you’ll get anything out of her, though. Here…”

He can hear the general chatter and chaos of the bar over the call. There’s some rustling sounds before you finally take the phone.

“Hi,” you say, your voice dripping with a certain kind of fondness. He can hear the smile through the screen.

“Hey,” he replies. ”You having fun?”

“Oh, Spencer, I was… I haven’t heard your voice in so long. What’re you…” you trail off, lifting the phone from your ear to answer someone else. “Sorry. ‘S so loud in here.

He chuckles to himself. “I saw you yesterday.”

“Yeah, ‘nd that was… Oh, I can’t do math right now. A long time ago.”

“Are you okay?”

On the other side of town, you were sitting in a barstool, swiping your finger along the beads of condensation rolling down the glass of water in front of you.

“Mhm. ‘M good. Fine. Drunk.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he smiles. “Are you gonna be able to get home?”

“Uhh…” you pause. “I was gonna Uber… but then I thought that maybe… if you weren't busy… we could hang out…”

He could vaguely make out dialog on the other end of the phone. Some kind of “Girl, this sounds really pathetic,” followed by a “Shhhh!” in two other drunken voices.

“But I could also make Molly order me an Uber,” you added. “‘S okay. Nevermind.”

“No, you're not getting in an Uber inebriated. That’s ridiculous.”

“‘M not inebriated.”

A background voice comes back. “Yeah, you are.”

Spencer sighs into the phone. “Just… send me your location, please? I’ll come get you.”

“O-kay. ‘M sending it right now, jus’ tell me when you-”

The call went dead before you could finish your thought, which he chalked up to some kind of drunken user error. A few seconds later a text came through

You: dropped a pin

You: its molly again. let me know if you got this

He responded, relieved that you had someone looking after you, before getting ready and grabbing his keys.

You were sitting on a bench outside the bar. The air was cool and crisp, but you were warm, your skin clammy from the alcohol. You had been mumbling something incoherent about Spencer, he’s just so good to me, Molly, and oh, god, I don’t know what to do with myself, and…

Molly, who had been trying to sober you up (unsuccessfully), was standing in front of you, arms crossed, listening to your incessant rambling.

“...��nd sometimes he talks to me, ‘nd I have no idea what he’s talking about but he’s so hot when he’s smart. You should hear, it, Mol’.”

Cars pass on the street behind you, filling the silence momentarily. Molly looks over her shoulder, scanning the street before turning back to you. “Alright. Be quiet. He’s here”

“Don’t care.”

She puts her hand out to help you up, which you accept rising to your feet. You’re surprised by how unsteady you feel, but you focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll make fun of you for this tomorrow,” she says.

You only have a few seconds to grumble in protest before Spencer reaches you. He scans you quickly, chuckling to himself.

“You are a mess,” he says, amused.

You feel slightly infantilized watching Molly hand over all your personal effects to him. You weren’t even sure when you’d put down your wallet and keys, much less where, but you’re thankful she picked them up and not someone else.

“Good luck,” She tells him. She pats your arm before turning back to the bar, leaving you alone on the street with him.

“You okay?” He asks. You watch him shuck off his jacket, which he helps you slide over your arms.

“‘M fine,” you reply. “Warm.”

“Because you’re drunk.” He keeps his eyes trained on the zipper of the jacket, or really anywhere that isn't you in that dress. “Alcohol is a vasodilator. So you feel warm. But it's forty degrees outside, and hypothermia doesn't care.”

You pout at him, watching as he pulls the zipper tab up enough to shield you from the cold. Only then does he really look at you.

“I wanted you to see my pretty dress,” you pout. Your words come out slurred still.

You meet his eyes for a split second. He opens his mouth, seemingly about to reply, but quickly decides against it. He shakes his head as if to clear the thought.

“Come on. We gotta get you home.”

“You don't like it?”

“I didn't say that.” He tucks a hand under your arm as you begin back down the street, keeping you steady.

“So you do like it?” You look over at him, your face more excited than he was expecting.

“It’s very pretty,” he replies.

Your shoulder bumps his as you walk, seemingly unable to maintain a straight path along the sidewalk. The click of your heels against the pavement is uneven, despite your efforts to maintain some kind of composure, and unfortunately for you, he’s right, and it's freezing outside. You make steady progress down the block, placing all your focus on not falling flat on your face. Thankfully, he doesn't live all that far.

“D’you think I look pretty, too?” You ask, approaching the steps to his apartment.

“What are you trying to do?” he asks, looking down at you. He takes in the slight flush of your cheeks as the effects of the alcohol battle the chill in the air.

“I’m trying to flirt with you. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, you're going to be difficult all night, aren't you?” He sighs, ignoring the question. He pauses outside the door, keys in hand, and unlocks the door before guiding you inside.

“You don't ever want to flirt with me.”

The door falls shut behind you with a clunk. The room is dark, with only the distant light from a lamp somewhere across the room illuminating it. You squint when he turns on the big light.

“That’s not true,” he says, quietly. If you weren’t hanging on to his every word, you might have missed it. He carefully unzips the jacket, tugging it off your shoulders and setting it on the table.

“So why won’t you flirt with me right now?”

“Because you’re drunk,” He guides you towards the couch, his touch still careful as ever.

You flop down onto the cushions. The leather sticks to your legs as you sit. Being the gentleman he is, he has already left pajamas out, his pajamas, you’d since claimed as your own, with the blanket you steal every time you stay over.

“So what?” You begin working at the clasp on your heels, fumbling with the leather straps to no avail.

“So, you’re drunk.” He repeats, reappearing in front of you. He sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, and hands you a pack of makeup wipes. “Do you need help with your shoes?”

You nod. A soft breath of laughter escapes him as he leans in to help you take them off, setting them on the carpeted floor.

“Spence,” you look at the pack of wipes. “Why do you have these?”

“Because every time you’re here you forget them,” he replies.

“Oh.” You rip them open. “You don’t have a secret girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies, lowering your foot back to the ground.

“You don't let other drunk girls sleep over?” You paw at your eyeliner, effectively smearing it around more than removing it.

“I don't let anyone sleep over,” he says, taking the wipe from you. “Just you. Close your eyes.”

“Because you love me?”

His fingers find the underside of your chin, gently tilting your face towards his so he can finish swiping away the last of your eyeliner. Maybe you’re blushing as a result of the alcohol warming your bloodstream, but the more likely answer is him, at this proximity.

As soon as he’s done wiping your eyes, you open them again to look up at him.

“You’re bold when you’re drunk,” he says, smiling. He sets the used wipe down on the table.

“Mhm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I’m not going to,” He says. “Sorry. Go get changed.”

“That wasn’t a ‘no’,” you say. You collect the clothes off the couch and slink across the apartment into the bathroom to change. You don’t bother shutting the bathroom door before slinking off the dress you were wearing and sliding on the pajamas he’d left for you. Once you finish, you collect your dress off the floor and make your way back towards the couch, settling right into the cushions as you frequently did on nights like this.

You were formulating another complaint about his lack of reciprocation, but your thoughts were interrupted as he pulled the blanket on his couch over you. Your blanket, or at least one you’d claimed as your own during one of your nights spent here. He had already turned off the ceiling fan, which you’d always insisted off when you slept over. You followed him with your gaze as he turned the lights off, swapping them instead for a smaller, softer light somewhere in the kitchen, remembering the way you’d always insisted he leave a light on somewhere, just for you. Your phone was already charging on a side table, your heels sitting nicely by the door, your keys on his key holder, evidence of you, everywhere, details that were distinctly for your comfort. Maybe you had missed his signals.

“I think you do love me…”

He reappeared a moment later, crouching in front of you with that look. He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Go to sleep.”

“And I love you. And I called you because I wanted to tell you that.”

“You really need to sleep it off. You’re saying things you don’t mean.”

“But I do mean it,” you whined. “I swear. Ask me again tomorrow.”

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he laughed.

“But I will. I promise,” you replied. “No bedtime kiss?”

Of course, this time you did pick up the way he looked at you.

“No, honey. Maybe tomorrow.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #fluff #spencer reid fluff #my things!

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usedpidemo · 9 days ago

Text

Taste (Newjeans/Njz Minji & Danielle)

9k words

—————

No matter how you look at it, one thing is for certain: you’re absolutely screwed.

Aside from having two uninvited guests at your front door this late in the evening, those very same people are, in the company’s words, marked persona non grata. They’re everywhere. They’re a byword. They’re beyond saving. It’s a public relations nightmare for anyone caught in their crossfire. At least that’s what the agency wants you to believe.

All the less reason to trust their intuition when they’re this damn pretty. It’s a convincing guise. Furthermore, you have common ground to stand on: that this is merely a job, that you’re only there for the pay, and nothing else.

So now:

“How’d you end up getting my address?” you ask the girls, knowing full well you never interact with your coworkers, let alone the idols in the building.

“We—” Danielle rolls her eyes in the direction of her partner, Minji, prolonging the word. Smiling, playful, searching for a compelling reason in real time—and failing. “We have our ways.”

Suspicious. This whole situation raises many red flags. But one look at both of them. Drop dead gorgeous. You wouldn’t be surprised if they came here straight after one of their photoshoots, and their makeup gives off a strong indication. If not for your job, you’d let them in, no questions asked. But you’re a bit numb to it—just a little—if not for the fact that you see them at work everyday.

“Can we please come in?” Minji implores you, sounding innocent in contrast to the flirty Danielle. You hardly need any further convincing.

“Sure.”

Without a second thought, you let them walk through the door, and it’s only after they’re inside that you realize: you’re making a huge mistake.

But in the heat of the moment, you reason to yourself that it's a rare occasion; it’s not often you hang out with fellow coworkers after hours, and you’re really stretching that coworker label. Finding excuses to let them in your place.

Minji and Danielle take their seats on the living room couch without even asking, but you allow them. Meanwhile, you’re rushing to the fridge, trying to make do with your leftovers of takeout and canned food you have lying around.

“Don’t worry about us. We’re not hungry,” Minji shouts from the living room, but her plea goes through deaf ears.

“Yeah, we don’t really eat much,” Danielle adds, but it hardly changes anything.

Even from the kitchen, you can hear them mumble in the background, mostly incomprehensible to your ears, even while you’re preoccupied with heating the food in the microwave. Taking a few glances from a distance every now and then, still pretty from afar. Thankfully, they’re busy with each other to catch you snooping. You never expected this. These same idols that appear untouchable and have their own private rooms in the building, that never really take a second glance at everyone else—casually hanging out at your place.

To keep your mind from spinning further away from the consequences, you let the food out as soon the microwave’s timer hits zero. You’re hoping this is a quick and casual visit, but based on what you know so far, with the company’s situation in mind, you sense that they’re here for a specific purpose—and it’s certainly not to make friends.

As you offer the reheated food before them, Minji smiles at you, raising her hand. “We already ate,” she says, smiling respectfully, “But thank you.”

You set it down on the table regardless, knowing they won’t take a bite anyway. It’s the thought that counts.

Taking the couch opposite them, a brief silence fills the room, the tension gradually brewing as neither party is willing to break the silence. Until—

“So,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs, feeling a lump in your throat, unable to follow through, but you muster up the resolve to speak: “What are you here for?”

The two girls pause, ruminate on their response, on their intent, trying to find a way to sound convincing. You see the pair exchanging brief glances at each other, with Danielle looking more anxious and deferring to Minji to be their mouthpiece. As much as you want to threaten them, you can’t—not when they look like that. A perfect blend of gorgeous and innocent.

So you’ll let them be. Give them all the time in the world if needed. You’re not their corporate overlord, after all. If anything, you’re in the same position as them somewhat, a slave to the system on the outside looking in.

Eventually, Minji opens her mouth. Swallows her throat, pulls on the collar of her shirt. Talking slowly, ensuring every word is emphasized, she says, “I know this might be hard for you to do, since it’s your job and all, but—”

She suddenly second guesses herself, her gaze heading in the direction of the table, unable to face you. Danielle’s been looking at her, and you can tell the exact moment her confidence drops through her body language.

“But?” you say, tone low, in an effort to keep them at ease. Probably not the best sounding or worded, but it’s already done. You already know what she means—hell, you had a slight clue that they wouldn’t be here without cause—but you just need them to say it outright.

“We need sensitive information from HYBE’s documents to get us further in the public’s good graces,” Minji forces herself to speak, trembling, “You know about our situation right? You know how much that company hates us—how they want us to take it, and then they’ll shelf us.”

“Yeah. I mean—you’re no different than us, right?” Danielle tries to empathize, finally turning her eyes on you, twinkling, pretty, “You probably hate this company, too.”

And to be fair, Danielle’s right: you hate HYBE with a burning passion, even when you’re in charge of cleaning all their dirty work. But the NewJeans predicament has turned that hatred up to eleven. There are even days where your overtime extends till the dawn trying to save this company’s ass from themselves and from public scrutiny. It’s a thankless job. You’re fed up, and the only thing keeping you from leaving is how the market everywhere else sucks.

So you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Help them at the expense of your job, career and future, or refuse, and possibly get caught in the fire when they continue their tirade against the company. Worst case scenario, they win, and HYBE goes under, and you’re left with nothing. Essentially, you’re delaying the inevitable.

Either way, you’re screwed.

And then, you bring up an overlooked point:

“But this is my livelihood,” you tell them, blunt, direct to the point. As much as you’re willing to take that risk, you are also aware of the consequences, and everything else at stake. At the end of the day, you’re still an average joe living off the bare minimum to survive, but Minji and Danielle are millionaires with brand deals, hit songs, and coming from wealthy backgrounds. Most idols in the industry are like that. Their reputation may take a hit, but not their wallets—something you simply can’t endure. “You will be fine regardless, but what’s in it for me? I get nothing from helping you guys.”

Your response leaves them dead silent. You can sense the realization falling on their faces, and the air of defeat in their body language. Unable to look you in the eyes, the two women sit on the couch, every breath deep. Even from across the table, you can feel the weight put on their shoulders. The despair.

If this is their way to draw sympathy, it’s working to an extent. You do feel bad for them. But you’re looking out for yourself, first and foremost.

“We know how that feels, and we’re sorry for asking a lot from you,” Danielle finally speaks, breaking their silence, before pouring herself a glass of water and taking a sip. “But you have to understand, we also need work too. They won’t let us. So we need not only the public’s favor, but also incriminating evidence of workplace malice to force their hand.”

It’s not a convincing enough argument.

“Think of it,” adds Danielle, leaning forward, “You’re not only gonna help us, but also anyone in the future who ends up in this situation too. We can fight against the system.”

And you’re certainly not the hero type.

“Dani, I’m sorry, but I can’t help.” you say, rising from the couch and picking up the food. As you walk back to the kitchen, you add, “My job is far too important to let go that easily. If there’s any other way, I can offer my help, but not at the risk of my livelihood.”

“I know, I know, but we really really need it,” Danielle continues to implore you, persistent and unwilling to accept any other answer than a ‘yes.’ Minji sits beside her, quiet, deep in thought. You’d assume that being the eldest, she’d put a stop to her member’s antics, but no. She’s convinced that there’s no finality in your answer, that you can change your mind with enough begging and pleading. “Please. You help us this one time, we never ask for anything from you ever again.”

She goes on to list a few of the incentives they’ll give, ranging from signed albums and merchandise to free concert tickets which you have no interest in. Add in a positive word to her mentor, but you know damn well that even without this mess, she’s not to be trusted with. You’re struggling, yes, but not desperate.

“Maybe for a few million, I could do it,” you joke, knowing it’s too much, even for them. It’s the greed they mention and condemn in the Bible. Obviously, they don’t react positively to your counter offer.

“Please. Reduce that to a hundred thousand, and maybe we’ll consider it,” Dani remarks, huge emphasis on maybe, and it elicits a light chuckle out of you.

“Like I said, it’s gonna take a lot for me to risk my job. I also understand you’re also trying to work freely, and I hope you can win your case, but I can’t freely give up my only source of income like that.”

“Right, right.”

You can tell they don’t want to be told the same thing over and over. But here they are, repeatedly begging as if they didn’t hear a single thing you said. What else did they expect?

Danielle then looks to her partner, hoping to get something out of her after exerting this much effort to no avail. And then:

“Hey Minji,” she calls to her, before curling her hand in front of her lips, whispering into her ear. By the way her brows rise, a fresh idea has struck her head like lightning. Minji looks at her, not buying it, but as she rattles on, you see her turn more and more convinced at the notion.

Perhaps it’s the fatigue beginning to settle in, but you seemingly catch a quirk and a subtle grin on both women’s lips.

What they’re up to—it’s no good.

“We’re asking: please help us,” Minji appeals to you one more time. “A few hundred thousand you want, right? We’ll each give you a couple so it adds up to a million. All five of us. So you can help your family out and you have bail in case you ever get caught and arrested.”

“Thoughtful offer, but I’ve made up my mind a long time ago,” you tell her, having convinced yourself the deal has fallen through. “It’s getting late,” you say, turning your gaze to the wall clock, approaching midnight. “It’s been nice having you, but I’ll see you guys at work tomorrow and then we can talk about it.”

As you’re about to show them the door, Danielle calls to you, drawing back your attention. “Wait.”

You face them to see Minji taking off her denim jacket, leaving only her cropped shirt and pants, giving you a clearer view at her toned belly. Danielle’s not far off too, wearing a similar fit as Minji, all the way down to the blue jeans, the key difference being her tight, body fitting shirt, emphasizing her chest.

Yeah, they clearly went here fresh off a photoshoot, makeup and all.

“What are you doing?” you ask as Minji tosses her jacket onto the couch.

“We seriously need your help, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get you to help us,” is Danielle’s reply, sultry with a hint of venom laced somewhere. The two women step forward, positioning themselves into a makeshift trap. Of course you’re frozen in place, unable to move as they corner you, seize you with their hands, their gaze traveling up and down your figure. “Don’t you think we look pretty?”

The twosome stroke everywhere—at your hair, at your skin, at your clothes, poking into your most carnal desires. It’s one thing to see beautiful girls like them at your workplace on a daily basis, but up close and like this—their beauty hits harder. Their hands reach down to your pants, squeezing on your balls, forcing a deep grunt from your lips.

“Jesus, fuck—” you moan, tilting your head up, the sensation overwhelming. “Not like this. I can’t.”

Yanking down your pajamas, Minji and Danielle take turns stroking your cock through your boxers. Back and forth, with their hand around wrapping the tent forming in your bulge, both women shooting a passionate gaze through your soul.

Your fight is completely nonexistent.

“Good enough to convince you now?” Danielle says, her breath hot against your skin.

You regain enough lucidity to glare back through the pressure, rasping, “I still need the money though.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the two girls release their grip on you, promptly taking a step back, leaving you gasping for air.

“Only after you give us what we want,” Minji demands, crossing her arms, shooting you a confident smirk.

“And what makes you think I’ll do that?” you reply, unconvinced that they will fulfill their end of this bargain.

Minji eyes you, as if expecting that very response, and wiggles her hips like she’s on stage, slowly pulling off her jeans, teasing the slightest hint of underwear before stopping.

“Nice try, but I need your word,” you remark, tilting your head, playfully pouting your lips. “I need to know that you’re not pulling on my leg. That you’ll give everything you promise.”

“Such as?” Danielle asks.

“Your pussy. And the money. I better check my account and see a million there tomorrow.”

“Don’t we look trustworthy enough?” she remarks, feeling slighted at your lack of faith.

“Maybe. For all I know, you just want to run up your pockets with the company’s money,” you tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “And who knows what else that devil is telling you. You seriously don’t need her to be successful. Anyone ever told you that?”

“I’d tell you that you’re out here asking for money like a broke bitch, but hey—since we need your help, I’ll let that slide,” Danielle replies, her grin shifting to more of a scowl. “But because you asked, here.”

She whips out her phone and taps rapidly on the screen before showing you. A transfer of $200,000 from her bank account to yours.

“Trustworthy enough?”

You merely nod in agreement. You’re getting somewhere.

Grinning, she approaches you, her eyes wide open, demanding once more, “Now give us the data.”

Not flinching, you quickly retaliate. “You’re still missing one thing.”

“Only after you give us the data.”

“Only after you give me the honor of fucking you both.”

“Please stop.” Minji steps between you two, her glare pointed at Danielle, taking the role of mediator. “We’ll send the rest tomorrow, so don’t worry. And we know you’ll give us the data after.”

“At least someone gets it,” you remark, smug. This is all new to you.

“Don’t act like we wanted this.” Now it’s Minji’s turn to act condescending, redirecting her gaze in your direction. “You know very well this wasn’t our first plan—or second–or third.”

“I know.” Your hands are already pushing down on your pajamas, leaving only your boxers and the evident bulge behind it, suffocating, desperate to be freed.

—————

“Show us your bedroom,” is their command, straight and to the point. A request you’ll never decline, not in any universe. By the time you lead the two girls there, all their clothes are on the floor, making a trail of their tracks. They don’t give you the opportunity to watch them undress, and to be fair, it’s completely all on you—so focused on the future, that you never look at what’s right ahead.

Nevertheless, even under a dimly lit room, you mark their svelte figures, their fine, tangible curves. Divinely made, as if they were created by the gods themselves.

“God,” you comment, eyes wide, in awe of their bodies, your mouth watering, starstruck. Any compliment, no matter how small, serves to stroke their ego. It’s all over their lips—their taunting, playful smirks. Minji’s sweet bearing can’t hide that. The need for praise and attention never grows repetitive. Like they were born for it.

“If you’re gonna stare there and just watch,” teases Danielle, as both girls walk past you and toward the bed, continuing to goad you. “We wouldn’t mind that.”

Your brain hard resets itself, and you eventually catch on. Turning around, Minji and Danielle are standing on opposite ends of your bed, examining, testing to see if it can shoulder the weight of you three together. At least that’s what you think.

“So—not even gonna finish the job, huh?” you say, referring to your boxers and the way they handled your balls a while back.

“Wasn’t part of the agreement,” is her reply, direct, laughing. “Could have said: ‘I want your pussy, your mouth, and the money,’ but it seems like you need the money more than anything.”

And God damn it, they got you. Again.

“But since I’m in a giving mood today,” Danielle continues, sauntering toward you, slow, seductive, flattering, until her breath is hot against your skin once more. You feel it again: the measure of her hand on your balls, the grip of her fingers piercing through the thin fabric, tight and suffocating. Turning her gaze to Minji, gesturing with her eyes to follow.

The sensation renders you helpless, but that’s only Danielle. Add in Minji’s fingers, the tug of those damned briefs down your legs, leaving you at your barest—and sure enough, you’re drowning. So hot to the touch, so overwhelming to the senses, like you’re breathing in nothing but nitrogen. Tilting your head up, moaning like that’s the only thing you can do—and that’s exactly it: you can only voice out your pleasure through this madness.

“Feels good, right? Never had girls do this to you before?” Danielle never lets up, continues her assault on your senses and your life like it’s a form of personal revenge. You’re too preoccupied with their touch to catch their satisfied expressions, only in brief, flashing blurs. You don’t even acknowledge how they’ve added a few kisses here and there on your collarbones and shoulders, all while taking turns to fondle your balls and stroke your cock.

As if you weren’t already in the gutter, it gets worse.

Dropping to their knees, their lips kiss the tip of your cock, and Christ. It demands your entire resolve not to come undone right then and there. You’re biting on your lower lip, sighing deeply and holding your breath, doing everything in your power to not buckle underneath all the pressure building and building. All it takes is a little spark to create fire. There’s no stopping it; you can only hope to contain it for as long as humanly possible.

And that’s just the initial contact.

A brief glance at what’s beneath and behold: it’s imagery straight out of your deepest fantasies. There’s no other way to spin it; it’s pornographic. Minji and Danielle down on their knees, taking opposite ends before your cock, their fingers wrapped around your base and on your balls, with your hands gripped on their scalp, on their long, dark locks. Soft hums and little kiss sounds coming from below fill the room and satisfy your ears. The control is nonexistent; in reality, it’s them who are having their way with you, setting pace, constantly putting you on the backfoot with little resistance on your end.

And to be quite honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

They know what makes you tick. What gets you to fold. What pushes you to give out.

Bobbing their heads back and forth, kissing up your length, slowly but surely covering your cock in their spit, determined to make you crumble. Demanding your attention, demanding your all. They have you exactly where they want.

“Yes, God, fuck yes—fuck—so fucking good—” you sputter, hanging your jaw wide, your vision dulling, utterly in awe at how natural they both are at giving head. Like this is far from their first go-around, like this is routine. It helps that their lips are shaped in a manner meant to fit cock.

Like they’re meant for you.

Their breath lingers on your skin, sends shivers down your spine. A hint of satisfaction at hearing you moan and give them their due praise.

Slurping deliciously on your shaft, Danielle pushes herself ahead of Minji, her nose brushing against your groin, taking you deep into her throat. She gags—chokes—on your cock; a little too much too soon. Her partner slowly draws her back, but Danielle slaps her hand away, refusing to quit like it’s a vice, like she can’t live without it.

Sucking, licking, tasting every inch of your cock, leaving you short of breath.

It was never a surprise that Danielle was the needy one. Even before tonight, she looked natural for the part.

Eventually, she does concede and pulls out regretfully, equally as overwhelmed as you are. Spit fills the sides of her lips, dashed with your precum. Minji looks at her with disgust; this wasn’t part of the plan.

The mischievous girl she is, Danielle taunts her with a wordless gesture before giving way, implying that she’s better at giving head, inciting a little competition.

Shaking her head as she inches toward your cock, Minji takes some time to apologize: “Sorry about Dani. She can be—a little too much. Even for us.”

To say Danielle is a little too much would be underselling it—she’s the devil incarnate.

But back to the matter at hand. Minji is much more gentle at taking you in. Still that’s a hilariously low bar, because she, too, can’t help but shove your cock deep in her throat after a little taste.

And your perception of Minji gets flipped on its head. She grabs your thighs like she were to fall if she lets go. You can see the effort; her suction is stronger, her cheeks are hollowing out, and the determination on her brows. She’s taken Danielle’s challenge personally. At this point, the original goal has been completely lost in the shuffle.

Minji meets your eyes while your cock is comfortably lodged deep down her throat. Humming a saccharine melody, mouthing incomprehensible jargon, seeking your approval.

By the glint in her eyes—she won’t take no for an answer.

All you can do is endure, hold on a few minutes longer, perhaps more—mind, body, and spirit willing. You’re dangerously close to falling apart. Her mouth is an inescapable prison; torturing your senses with unbelievable amounts of ecstasy. You can only wonder how you’re still standing after this much pleasure in the form of sensory punishment.

She’s daring you to say the magic words. You can’t take it any longer.

So you yield.

“Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum—” Before the pleasure becomes overwhelming to form coherent speech.

In response, Minji graciously pulls out, but not without inflicting a little more torment. She releases her grip on your cock with a satisfying, neuron activating pop from her now stained lips. Still, you have no time to catch your breath as they’re back onto you as quickly as they retreat, their fingers coiling around your base, stroking you hard and fast over the edge without restraint.

“Cum for us,” you hear their demand, their shaky breaths making your cock throb beyond control. “Cum all over our faces.”

And who wouldn’t?

You’re thrusting wildly at air, having quietly accepted the inevitable. There’s relief in knowing how fucked you are regardless. It makes letting go all the easier.

Body trembling, legs wobbling, stomach churning. Cumming.

Spilling into the void, your eyes completely slammed shut, unable to bear the pleasure any longer.

Minji and Danielle are waiting at the other side. Taking every pulse, streak, rope of your cum with their greedy mouths wide open, tongues sticking out. You’re doing exactly what they want, using their faces as a canvas, making them an outlet for your lust. The gushing sensation burns every fiber in your loins, breaking you down until you’re milked completely dry.

The aftershocks linger long after.

When you regain a semblance of clarity, you’re greeted by a pair of mischievous and triumphant smiles. Minji and Danielle are presenting your own handiwork: their faces completely covered in your cum, dripping down their lips and chin. Tongues swiping their wet lips clean, happily drinking you all up.

The image is permanently seared into your memory. You can never look at them the same way after this.

And they stay there, grinning from ear to ear. On the floor, letting you soak it all in. How you’ve ruined their faces and reputation. How you’ll eventually ruin yours. Behind the friendly facade, they’re no better than anyone else—willing to throw everything on the line for even a slight competitive advantage.

You can’t get over the fact that you’ve committed what’s essentially sacrilege. Never mind their current predicament; this can be its own scandal.

Before you can fully make sense of everything, the pair break their silence. Their eyes linger on yours. One after the other:

“You taste so good.”

It doesn’t sound playful or teasing in any way. It’s a sincere compliment, and that’s what makes your heart flutter.

And then your body gives out. Instinctively falls back onto the edge of the mattress. Laying down comes second nature. It had been a long day, and Minji and Danielle more than left you completely spent. Any other circumstance, it would be easy to call it a night.

But there’s still work left to do, and the girls will make you hear it.

“Hey, you’re not done, are you?” Minji’s already on her feet, hitting your ribs, keeping you from falling unconscious. “You still owe us your end of our deal.”

Looking at her through lidded eyes, your response comes out slurred, as though you came home hammered after five drinks. Only one word is clear: “—Laptop.”

Minji hears you, tells Danielle to search for your laptop before returning her attention. “Where?”

“Living room. At my desk.”

Minji straddles herself on your lap as she gives Danielle the command. You’re preoccupied by the lovely sight hovering atop you to notice the loud yelp that rips throughout the apartment, followed by a choir of apologies from a whiny, low voice. You can only hope that your neighbors don’t knock; you can only deal with two uninvited visitors at this time.

“Sorry. I—I tripped over a loose wire and almost landed on the TV. Oops.” Danielle returns to the bedroom with your laptop in hand, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Lean back,” is Minji’s command, and you effortlessly comply. Even with her ass resting on your lap, she’s as light as a feather, letting you wiggle back onto the headrest with little difficulty.

Danielle joins you two in bed, resting the laptop on your bare chest. Then Minji clambers over to the side opposite her member, lifting the screen. “We did our part. Now do yours.”

You give Minji a tired, thousand-yard stare. As if telling her, ‘Really?’ after what transpired moments ago. She reciprocates the sentiment. No words necessary.

In a few ways, she reminds you of your boss. Only she’s way younger, hotter, and kinder sounding.

With a deep sigh, you fire up the laptop as the members lean over to make sure you follow through. A few clicks here, a password there, entered one letter at a time, and you’re inside the classified data storage like they wanted. Thousands upon thousands of sensitive folders, files, and documents—they have no idea where to start.

“All of them. Send all of those,” Danielle demands, in a rush.

Pausing, you give Dani a frustrated glare, also telling her ‘Really?’ with your raised eyebrows.

“We don’t need all of that, Dani.” Minji’s eyes laser in on a specific file reading Competition. Pointing at it, she says, “Send this one. That one looks interesting.”

Even though you’re responsible for data security, you are as clueless to everything as the idols are. You don’t even have access to the executive floor where all the corporate shit is involved, nor do you have entry to where the idols stay. Your job is to keep data stored and hidden from the public, no questions asked. But you click anyway, following along without hesitation, ignoring the possible consequences.

It’s far too late to renege.

“Can’t believe I’m willingly doing this shit for the devil,” you comment, knowing where this information will eventually end up. It’s akin to selling your soul. You’re starting to regret everything.

Minji has a suggestion. “How about you send it to our emails instead?”

“Still gonna end up with her. I’ll just drop it anonymously on the internet. I don’t care anymore.”

So you log in to your private job forum account on a site where frustrated workers can vent frustrations about their companies. There had been a fair share of ex-employees airing out their grievances against the agency, most of which are buried by obvious bots and snitches.

There’s no burying what’s gonna come out now.

Typing up a simple paragraph, attaching the entire folder full of documents, carrying all sorts of information about who knows what.

With a deep breath, you hit Post, and may God have mercy on your soul.

You close the laptop, but Pandora’s box has been opened.

Now it’s all on them.

The reward is worth the trouble, at least at the moment. Minji and Danielle each plant a peck on your respective cheek for doing the deed. Smiling after the kiss, gently caressing your hair, mumbling: “Thank you. Really.”

You merely shrug, as if you’ve set off a devastating bomb with world-shattering consequences.

Danielle removes the laptop off your chest, setting it aside by your bedside shelf. “So, what now? Which one of us do you wanna take first?”

And perhaps you need it—need the adrenaline of Minji and Danielle getting fucked, ruined to bits. Something to clear your mind from what’s to come.

In the midst of the anxious calm, Danielle finds new ways to break tension. Her stomach rumbles loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Minji laughs—heartily.

It’s enough to get a light chuckle out of you too. Their charm comes off as natural.

“Scratch that. Minji, you go on ahead,” she quips, before rolling out of bed and limping straight to the kitchen for a bite.

Never mind that she didn’t ask you about what’s available, or that you’ve even allowed her to take from the fridge, or that the food you offered them has gone cold.

“You heard her,” Minji says, pressing her hands on your chest, rolling herself back, your cock inches away from her ass. “Sit back and relax. Don’t have to do anything.”

Slowly but surely, Minji adjusts, demanding your attention stay on her face. Her glow, her beauty is undeniable. It’s in the little things. The light brush of her hair. The tiny scratches she’s leaving on your skin. The small, gentle air kisses. The anticipation gradually builds as you feel your cock hardening once more. Perfectly devised, all done purposefully to keep you on edge.

“Gonna let you in me now,” she murmurs, descending onto your shaft, the pressure of her fingers deepening on your skin, keeping her eyes on you. Your breath hitches, like time has come to a complete standstill, the suspense at its apex, and then—

“Oh fuck!”

The words may be delivered light and airy, but they rip through your ears like thunder. Burying herself to the hilt, Minji crumbles almost instantly, body fidgeting uncontrollably. Her jaw slacks wide, eyes slam shut, her mind overridden with the sensation of your cock deep in her pussy.

On your end, you let out a deep groan, the only feeling registering in your mind being: Wet. Minji’s so goddamn wet.

“So big—so fucking big—” Minji whines, choked up, her fingers pressing deep into your skin like she’s trying to tear you to shreds. Unable to move, it’s evident that she’s still new to this, new to the feeling of your cock.

It’s not intentional, but her face is melding into something pornographic. Such a sweet and pure looking girl, fragile and delicate to the touch, shattering to pieces.

Her pussy is anything but pure.

“Christ—Minji—so fucking—” you mutter, gasping for breath as your hands claim rest on her waist. The last word in your sentence finds itself stuck on the edge of your tongue, but your little resolve lets it fight its way through: “Tight.”

That one word seems to light a fire in Minji’s soul, because she begins to move. Dragging her hips upward, the suffocating pull of your cock unwilling to let go of her cunt, the musical squelch. Your shaft reappears for a moment, covered in her slick, coated in her nectar, before it falls back into its rightful place inside her. She crashes onto you again, and the sensation hits as hard as the first time.

Minji drops her head low. Lets out a grunt. A single thrust and she’s already fighting for dear life. Her features are morphing erratically, all muddled and incapable of remaining still. Her abs tense, that already lean figure shrinking more than physically possible, but she’s not done. Gritting her teeth, your cock sends her head in a tailspin, driving her crazy.

“Have I ever told you how fucking big your cock is?” she asks, like it didn’t register in your brain the first time. Hearing it from her saccharine voice never grows tiresome.

“Nope. Not at all,” you joke, which she spurns with a shake of her head.

“God, it feels so fucking right,” she remarks, and you share the sentiment. Like you’re meant for each other.

Perfectly positioned and angled inside Minji’s cunt, you’re more than happy to sit there and stay in her warmth all night long. Let her figure her way out. Instead, you guide her through, giving her torrid, deep strokes. Hands roam the curves of her svelte figure, admiring her at her most vulnerable. Even when she looks fucked like this, she’s still flawless.

Though her breaths are shaky, Minji gathers her bearings and paces along. Slow and steady, her hips rising and falling onto you like waves, sending ripples through your body below. Everything is falling into place. It’s euphoric. She’s got her head held high; you’re holding her like she’s your grandest prize.

Composed, calm, certain—Minji follows the beat of your drum. It’s finally sinking in. How truly sweet it feels.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Spearing, thrusting into her, your bodies crashing into each other, filling your ears with a chorus of dry, airy moans, backed with the wet sounds of skin against skin. Your breaths hitching, bouncing around the bedroom, spilling out into the rest of the apartment. At this moment, it’s only you and Minji, making the most of what little time you have left.

Minji bounces on you. Tits, ass, her body naturally falling into your grasp. As quickly as she recaptures it, her composure is falling apart. You have a hand on her cheek, squeezing yourself a handful of flesh before giving it a playful slap. She yelps, but she pushes on. Demands you keep going. That you use every inch of her.

“Harder—harder—harder—”

An easy command that’s easier to follow.

You oblige, being given the green light to Minji’s shapely ass. Back and forth, giving each cheek a vicious barrage of spanks till her skin is marked red with your handprints. Her voice goes hoarse with every whine, every mewl, every moan. Asking for more punishment, because she knows she can take it all. Body clenching, her pussy fucked beyond repair.

Gasping, trembling, her pace has spiralled out of control, riding you in fast intervals, giving you no room to breathe.

“Cum for me,” she rasps, hips gyrating quickly, her nails leaving deeper scratches on your flesh, drawing a dash of blood. “Cum in me, please.”

“You first,” is your counter, knowing you have each other’s bodies read like a book. You’re reaching your breaking point a second time. “Cum all over this cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” A simple chant, but the most satisfying one to hear. You’ve never heard her this excited, this eager, that her body naturally follows. “God—I’m gonna fucking cum so hard—”

Pushing deep into her, exerting more effort than she’d led you to believe. Your bodies working together to reach that climax. Her wispy moans turning to shouts, cries of overwhelming pleasure, refusing to dash the brakes, willing to run herself into the ground to chase that conceivable high.

It rips through her body. Breaks her clean in half.

Her head rolled back, locked in place. Your hands gripped on her waist once more, keeping her steady. Still delivering punishing strokes as Minji cums over your cock. Burning through your nerves, dragging you down with her.

You repay the favor, joining her in blissful climax moments later. Unloading into her cunt as it pulses, milks you dry again, resting your head on the headrest. Squeezing into her creamy flesh, letting Minji fall into your arms. Like it was destiny, your lips catch hers in a deep, passionate kiss.

You feel her. The aftershocks of her orgasm. Her body giving out this time, her hands clutching into an embrace, her breath against your skin. Still embedded inside her, even as the fire dies down, taking it slow, unwilling to leave the warmth of her core. Leaking onto your sheets, leaving a permanent stain on your bed.

“Minji,” you gently shake, keeping her awake. She laughs into your chest.

Staring at you with glossy, half-lidded eyes, her words reduced to a silent whisper. A fitting tone. “Still have Dani to go,” she reminds, more of a warning than a cause for celebration. Thankfully, she hasn’t reemerged from the kitchen.

“Right.”

“Need any advice on how to handle her?” she asks, like you’re about to tame a wild beast. You can only imagine how wild Danielle is.

Your hand traces circles on her back, fondles vast waves of raven silk. “Every little tip counts.”

“Just—” Minji lifts her head softly, breathing into your neck. “Fuck her like an animal. Make her scream. That’ll shut her up.”

Considering the damage Minji did to you—and she’s the gentler one—Danielle might be on a whole other level.

And speak of the devil: Danielle’s voice fills the room, boisterous and whimsy. In the time when you and Minji were fucking each other’s brains out, she regained the pep in her step—and her attitude.

“You two were fucking like animals,” she remarks, flopping onto the bed, smiling from ear to ear. As if she had overheard everything, and to be fair—you might have caused a ruckus worthy of a noise complaint. “Got me thinking, ‘Damn.’ I should have stayed put. Got me wet imagining what you were doing.”

Not a single mention of what she’s eaten from your fridge or the thought of compensation.

“My turn, girl.” Danielle gestures to her exhausted companion, her patience instantly flipping like a light switch. She gives her only one warning before forcefully pushing her to the side, taking her place on your lap. “What did Minji do, hm? Rode you? Used you like a bar of soap?

She takes a look at the stain between her legs, the sticky puddle around your groin. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

“Can’t blame her. Always loves to flaunt that ass of hers.”

There’s a tinge of jealousy in Danielle’s tone, uncaring that she can still hear her clearly.

“But since she let you sit back and do nothing, I’m gonna make you work for it now.”

Danielle spins around, presenting her petite ass and soaked, throbbing pussy for you in clear view. She’s on her fours, thrusting, pushing forward, pretending to fuck herself on your cock, causing the bed to shake.

Giving you a preview of how exactly to ruin her.

If you weren’t still completely spent from Minji, your feral impulses would demand that you rush in and lay your hands on her tight figure.

But no—even the simple act of leaning forward proves to be an immense struggle. You’re still reeling, slowly recovering from all the aftershocks. Two vicious orgasms haven’t been kind to your body in any form whatsoever.

Looking over her shoulder, hair falling directly right in her face, Danielle taunts you. “Can’t handle it, babe? Such a damn shame. I was looking forward to having that big cock of yours fill my pussy up.”

Like a corpse rising from the grave, your hand suddenly grabs her ass, catching her completely unprepared. Her mouth drops wide, playful and animated, as if it were part of the act. It’s what Danielle’s best at: pushing your buttons, setting you off, bringing out your worst.

“Did I say something to wake you up, tough guy?” Danielle continues to run her tongue, daring you to stop holding back. A little more and it’s not gonna end well for her. “Is it the fact that you can’t handle this pussy?”

Right then and there, a vicious slap echoes through the room, followed by an equally loud cry. Her cheek turning sore and bright red in an instant.

You and Danielle stare directly into each other’s eyes, caught up in the heat of the moment. Time comes to a complete standstill.

And then, she starts laughing. Uncontrollably.

Shaking her head in disbelief, brimming with delight. “I knew you had it in you.”

Her erratic change in attitude leaves you baffled. Trying to make sense of her right now won’t do you any good, nor is it worth exerting any level of effort. All you can do is watch and expect the unexpected.

“Slow learner, huh?” Danielle says, as if that’s gonna help you understand even a little. “If I hadn’t made it any more obvious, I want you to fuck me. Use me. Run me to the ground. Fuck me till I can’t walk.”

Of course you knew what she meant all along. Minji warned you beforehand. It’s just that you’re a simpler guy. She wants you to wreck her—that’s easier to follow than this roundabout nonsense.

That being said, she’s wiggling her ass before you, your hand spreading her core a tad wider. Her smaller hole and cunt glisten, gleam in the dark full of sheen. “I did you the service of lubing myself while you were busy.”

All the more to keep you from struggling. She may be a loud mouth, but she can be sensible and considerate.

Danielle’s gaze lingers, anticipating your response. There’s a little pressure to follow through and deliver on her wants. Your cock is starting to harden, ready for another round.

But you’re not there just yet.

Instead, you plant your other hand over her scalp, face her away, disgusted by her bratty face while you work. Your lower body has regained enough strength for you to climb behind her, inching close to her ear.

And with four simple words, each and every one delivered with dire importance, Danielle’s world is absolutely rocked.

“My bedroom, my rules.”

Instinctively, Danielle moans. She trembles, straightening her back as you line up your hand to give her a second smack on her sore cheek, filling the room with her cry. Minji joins you from behind, positioned over your ear to guide you through the pleasure and the process, when really, she’s only there to watch you humble her fellow member.

And you don’t give it to Danielle right away; she’s undeserving of the immediate reward.

Diving head first into her slick core, your tongue straightens her cunt, laps up her nectar, making her quiver.

“Ah—oh my fuck—”

Sloppy and straightforward, you slip your tongue into the crevice of her heat, kissing her pretty pussy, leaving Danielle a moaning mess. She’s gushing—mewling—about the discomfort, the pain, the pleasure you’re imposing on her, leaving her wanting more.

Minji calls it while you’re buried in her member’s cunt, flexing and pulsing against your tongue. Draining every little drop you can from her throbbing core. Danielle can only brace for comfort, if there’s even any, gripped to the sheets, in dire need for cock, fiending like it were a vice.

You continue to bring the pressure. Your hands coiling around her thighs, spreading them ever so wide, addicted to the taste of slick, filling your dry mouth like it were water in the desert. She’s panting, desperately seeking oxygen, losing her mind, her vision. She can only pray that the teasing will end.

Unfortunately for her, you’re not a merciful god.

Without care or concern, you stick your tongue deep into her cunt, mark her pussy like she’s yours, suck up all the cum you can take without remorse or consequence. It fucks up Danielle like crazy. A second or two longer and she would have shattered into a million pieces. If she crashes and burns before you give her what she wants, then so be it.

Once you’ve had your share of her slick, you pull back—but not without giving yourself one more sampling. The music Danielle makes from her lips is something else. A mix of moans and obscenities in every tone imaginable.

You have to remind yourself that your tongue isn’t the end goal; your load is. Yet you can’t help but slide a finger to grab another helping. This is the greed they condemn in the Bible.

Offering your soiled digit to Minji, she politely declines with a shake of her head, whispering that she has it on the regular. Some people are just insanely blessed.

But back to Danielle, she’s trembling all over, on the verge of collapsing onto the sheets. She’s under the impression that she can’t give in without your permission, and good on her for recognizing your authority over her.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” you tell her, stroking your cock inches away from her glistening cunt, rubbing your tip against her inner thigh, not giving her a second to relax. “You’re gonna regret saying all that shit to me when we’re done.”

Danielle’s already apologizing, frantically shaking her head, expecting the worst.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” she begs, like that’s gonna change the past, or the outcome. It’s too late for that.

You push your hips forward, and God—you swear your ears are gonna burst from Danielle’s endless groan.

Thanks to how soaked her core is, even before your tongue, you effortlessly glide into her cunt and impale her to the womb. Breathless, asphyxiating, overwhelming. You feel every bit of her pulsing against your cock. The grip proves to be too much. Hands around her airtight waist, your abs tensing as you take her from behind in a picture perfect moment.

And you stay there, let the sensation wash over, give it time to fully register. To keep your head sane, your fingers trail to her taut, sensitive nipples, giving them a flick and a pinch, playing a cruel game with her patience.

“Oh my God—” Danielle whines, lowering her head, just bearing the full brunt of your weight pressing over her. To her credit, she’s holding up well. “Give it to me—fuck that big fucking cock into me already—”

The more she begs, the less you’re willing to comply. Languid, painstakingly slow, agonizing. That’s how you draw your cock back, even with the smooth glide of her warmth, like you’re removing a stake from her heart, leaving her to die before you thrust right back in.

You can’t help but crack a smile, taking grip of her hair, turning it into a makeshift leash to angle her head.

“You’re so fucking tight, Dani,” you mumble against her ear, your hot breath driving her wild.

Before she can say a word, you deny her the respite, fucking her to pieces, reducing the helpless woman to a heap of tears, moans, and curses.

Pounding into her cunt, letting your bodies do all the talking. There’s hardly a need to speak. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping skin, Danielle’s tireless, lewd sounds, and your groans. The bed quaking along with your pace adds to the immersion. You’re willing to end the world just to break Dani in half.

Again and again, continuing to fan the flames, your breaths matching your thrusts. Losing yourself in the madness of Danielle’s tight, suffocating cunt. She’s encouraging you to keep going. Minji joins too. Echoing, reinforcing all these twisted ideas in your head. Don’t fucking stop. As if you had any intention to quit. When you have a pussy this fucking good, this thoroughly stretched out—

You can’t get enough.

But even your body has limits. You can only hang on for so long. It’s beyond your control now; you’ll eventually be consumed by the very fire you started. Trapped between her legs, it’s heaven and hell all at once.

“Dani—I’m almost there—”

You’re throwing it out there to the wind, expecting a playful response, a desperate demand, a call to action. Instead, you’re met with the usual: her airy moans. She’s completely lost in her own bliss, shaking, bouncing with every thrust, unable to register a single word, only cock.

It’s a strange yet beautiful sight; Danielle as your personal cocksleeve, freely used as an outlet for your pleasure.

With your brain turning to mindless mush, her pussy milks your cock for your worth. Draining every last drop, blasting specks and eventually blanks into her tight hole till it’s gushing from her cunt. Slick mixed with her juices, spilling down her legs and onto sheets, beyond the point of repair.

No time to let the satisfaction sink in. Pleasure turns to relief almost immediately. There’s no celebration nor comfort. You’re hanging on by a thread. Sinking back onto the headrest, your vision blurring, the image of Danielle’s pussy throbbing—leaking—as her body crouches down in a pool of your cum, still on her fours. From screaming her heart out, being an insufferable brat, reduced to an absolute, irredeemable mess.

Minji crawls over to Danielle, slowly guides her beside you, reassuring her that you’ve fucked her senseless. It’s the understatement of the century.

“Stay here,” you tell Minji, using the dying sliver of energy you have left as your world gradually fades to black. Leaving her with a soft smile, you lay down and finally call it a night.

The last thing you feel is the wrap of an arm over your chest. Then another. And finally, a faint whisper, followed a soft peck:

“Goodnight, sweet prince.”

—————

Unsurprisingly, when you wake up, there’s not a trace of them to be found in the morning.

Check your clock and you’re already 30 minutes behind. Sun’s already bright and overhead, so you rush through your morning routine to be at work like normal. When you get there, you’re already an hour and a half late. You can blame the morning traffic for that. But tardiness is the least of your concerns.

Overnight, the company is scrambling—even more than normal. A look at the TV screens and it’s oh so easy to figure why. It’s all over the news and social media: a high data security breach seemingly exposing the company’s media manipulation, countless backhanded statements and remarks about rival companies and various idol name drops. So much negative press that has led to calls about a deep investigation into the entire operation.

You can only wonder as to how this all happened.

And then you see them. All five together, including the same two girls you fucked the night before.

As they step into one of the lifts with their staff, Minji and Danielle are the last to enter, catching you even from a distance with a smile and playful wink before they disappear from view.

Before you can even react, your attention is drawn by a much less welcoming presence. A harsh voice calls your name as she walks past you and towards the elevators, carrying with her a reminder of the consequences:

“Come see me in my office. Let’s talk about the data breach.”

Time to put those newly acquired million dollars to good use.

————— (A/N: Thank you for the commission! Always wanted to write NewJeans/NJZ again, especially Minji, but never had an idea. Excited for their redebut, here's praying everything works out for them. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #njz smut #minji smut #danielle smut #newjeans smut

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