#just call me lot's wife | salt tag

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[nevermoredramaalt]

Hello everyone.

I planned on only reblogging and reposting certain things on this acc but I have decided I am done only reposting and reblogging. There are many problematic people in the Nevermore fandom, including the creators (ew). And specifically I have a problem with one creator who I can for sure call out. Undead_Dolly, or known as @lenores-2nd-wife on here. She’s small but she still has people she interacts with. There are a lot of things she has done and that includes being an ass to discord members in her server, and most importantly groomed one of her members who was 15. (I’m sure RnF would love her). She also allegedly said slurs against poc in private dms, but the minor no longer has the screenshots so take that with a grain of salt.

To start I will address the grooming as that's the bigger issue at hand. There are many conversations that just prove this, but I will show only a few to save time and energy. Besides these few should show just how much of a freak she is:

Tw for sexual stuff ahead;

(Sharing links to her smut….)

(Her tagging the victim to show them more smut...)

She is obviously being sexual in her conversations, and directly pinging the minor she is grooming when sharing her explicit ideas. She even makes sexual ideas about the minor’s OCs. If you need more explanation than that I don’t think you understand the severity of this. I’ve included all the short one offs she’s made for the minor, and I have screenshots. There’s a google doc at the end containing the ones the minor was able to get a hold of.

If you want more screenshots of her behavior let me know in my question box and I’ll post more as this shitstain has had tons of conversations with the victim. They even say these conversations took place in front of other minors as well bcs she has a mixed-ages server.

For less serious but ironic information she is a two faced cunt when it comes to drama on her server. She could have addressed the problem in DM’s but instead chose to embarrass the member in the general chat, and what the member had posted wasn’t that bad, it was talking about a message the member’s friend had sent. 

In conclusion, Undead_Dolly not only is a groomer and an ass, they support problematic people, and are allegedly racist. 

The fact Nevermore mods have not banned her isn’t surprising and shows they only care about banning people who actually speak up about the terrible conditions of their discord server.

Thank you for reading.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Percy jackson fic recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

In a Field of Dandelions by mrthology - Rated T

"You okay there?" she asked once she was closer, smiling in what she hoped was a welcoming manner. The man smiled back, still looking a bit confused. Nicky's breath caught in her chest when he met her eyes. His gaze was a little too vivid, his bone structure a little too perfect. He seemed a little too much more than human. Part of her wanted to run, while another part wanted to follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond. "I think so," he replied, breaking the spell. "Just trying to figure out day one, I suppose. I'm Percy!" ----- Percy and Annabeth's eldest child starts school. Percy inadvertently causes a bit of a stir, and Annabeth isn't jealous, not at all.

good does not equal Goode by vani_em - Rated G

One thing was clear: Percy Jackson was not Goode High School material.

The Overwhelming Specter of Your Mothers Book Club by 60sec400 - Not Rated

Martha Blofis stared at her son in shock. “What do you mean,” she said slowly, “that you’re married?” Her son fidgeted nervously. First, he ran a hand through his peppered hair, and then his eyes flickered down and away. Then he lifted them again and smiled meekly at her. “Paul,” she said, “I need you to tell me what in gods name you were thinking.” “Her name is Sally Jackson?” Paul said, his voice lifting as he weren’t quite sure what the name of his wife was. AKA Paul tells his mother he hasn't seen in four years that he's married. Really, the only thing she can think about is what she's going to tell her boook club.

Good Enough for Someone by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies - Rated T

Paul was quiet for a minute on the other side of the bathroom door. Percy expected him to walk away, but he didn’t. “Percy?” There was something in his voice that Percy couldn’t identify. Something like concern, mixed with something like fear… something that let Percy know he had truly and royally fucked up. He felt hyper-aware of every sound, from the dripping of the facet to the shifting weight of the person outside the door, his mind spinning as he tried to map Paul’s position like he was in battle. He heard the tiny, barely perceivable sound of fingertips brushing the doorknob, and it made him want to throw himself out the window and flee to the fire escape. Especially at Paul’s next words: “Can I open the door?” Percy bit his already-split lip, not even caring at the pain the action brought. He stared up at the fluorescent light above him. He scrubbed at his eyes, ignoring the dull flare of pain from the bruise there. He didn’t realize he was crying until the salt stung his wounds. “Percy?” Paul called his name again. “Yeah,” Percy sucked in a deep breath, even as a broken rib made his chest feel tight. “I… I guess I could use some help."

Stars on the Water by liketolaugh - Rated T

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

Oh Sugar Sugar by mrthology - Rated T

After the Titan War Percy starts feeling under the weather - he’s always tired, losing weight he doesn't have to lose, is constantly freezing, and just generally feeling lousy. But he’s kidnapped by Hera before he can see a doctor like his mom wants. Then there’s the Quest to Alaska, sailing to the Ancient Lands, falling into Tartarus, fighting the Giants in Athens, fighting Gaea herself… Needless to say, he had too much on his mind to notice a few annoying symptoms that can mostly be ignored. It turns out Type-1 Diabetes can be incredibly dangerous, especially when you don’t know you have it in the first place. Now three chapters, and featuring a much needed Percy and Nico heart to heart.

Red Ink Checkmarks by liketolaugh - Rated T

Paul joins their family a year and a half after Smelly Gabe leaves it. Percy, to his own irritation, is still sensitive about a lot of things at that point.

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by mrthology - Rated G

Percy doesn’t get migraines very often, thank the Gods, but when he does they tend to knock him on his ass for days, regardless of drugs, ocean water, sleep, ambrosia, or anything else he’d tried. He just had to wait (suffer) it out. It was just his luck that his first migraine in literally years would hit when he was visiting his father in Atlantis for the first time after the war with Gaea. And instead of waking up with one and being able to hide in his rooms, he’d have to collapse in public, right after talking to his half brother Triton. If it didn’t hurt so damn much he’d be embarrassed.

To Sir, With Love by writergirl8 - Rated T

"Here's how the game works: Because I'm one of the lucky teachers that gets to have you from seventh grade to twelfth grade, I get to watch all you grow up. When I toss this ball in your direction, I want you to say your name, your favorite color, and what you hope to accomplish in the next six years of your life."

We Hitch an Awesome Ride by ariadnes_string - Rated G

Percy and his friends get a lift from some guys who might know as much about monsters as they do.

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School by lammermoorian - Rated T

...And One Time Someone Cheated Him The story of how Percy chooses a major, gets a family, and accidentally becomes a superstar in the world of classical studies. Turns out, being able to read ancient Greek and instinctively knowing how to sail every ship ever invented is actually pretty useful in some fields.

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker - Rated G

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes. Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with. or 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out

The Boyfriend by Roselightfairy - Rated G

The cliche: Annabeth's private-school friend finds out that Annabeth has a boyfriend. The twist: This mortal already knows Percy Jackson, from long ago.

Not So Shore by bananannabeth - Rated G

Percy Jackson just transferred to AHS on a swimming scholarship, and Olivia is convinced that there's something weird about him. In order to get to the bottom of it, she decides to befriend him and his girlfriend, Annabeth, and drags her best friend Kelly along for the ride.

Gratuity At Twenty Percent by inkncoffee - Rated T

Amphitrite was no fool and she wouldn't be played for one. Not even by the lord of the sea himself. When Poseidon starts disappearing at night, Amphitrite investigates. She's not entirely sure if what she finds is better or worse than what she expected.

Deprivation by inkncoffee - Rated G

"Percy are you drunk?" Poseidon asked with a frown Or in which Percy hasn't slept in 72 hours and is surviving solely on Red Bull and blue M&Ms when Poseidon comes calling. Which is probably important, but Percy's brain stopped working twenty hours and seven Red Bulls ago so.

I hear babies cry by Eat0crow - Rated T

Percy's not adjusting well after the war. No matter what he tries, Camp Half-Blood just feels wrong. So, he decides to take off. Nico goes along for the ride.

Big Black Jelly Beans by Darkanny - Not Rated

Percy glared at him, pouting. He looked back at his dog as she chased after a bee. She was kinda bigger, he had to admit, but that didn’t mean anything, right? Granted, he didn’t really know where she went to most of the time, what with her shadow-travelling all the time. But when she was around he was very careful on feeding her healthy stuff…or the healthiest part of what was left on his plate anyway. She was not fat.

"the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room" by r1ptides - Rated G

“all I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room”

the jackson files by Ideasofmarch - Not Rated

Summary

Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Does anyone know who the fuck Percy Jackson is??? Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Whomst? Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Check rachel dares insta story Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd k Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Okay somebody find out who this kid is right damn now. - Rachel Elizabeth Dare posts a video of Percy on her instagram story. it all just spirals from there.

family tree by r1ptides - Rated G

it's a goode tradition for freshmen to make a family tree for english class. percy struggles.

Please insert your (sand) dollar here by Sugarplume02 - Rated G

Percy just wants to pay for his Chips Ahoy with the sea dollar he got from his dad. Too bad it doesn't fit in vending machines.

The guy in line behind him just wants to pay for his Cheez-its.

The Problem With Field Trips by HopeLions13 - Rated T

Percy just knows things are going to go wrong when his eighth grade class takes a field trip to a dude ranch. They always do. OR How Percy got expelled from MS-54.

[emwritesfootball]

Conversations With My Future Self | John Stones

Description: John Stones sits down at a dinner table to eat with an unexpected guest

A/N: This is a bit different than anything I think I’ve written recently, but credit to @knockmeforsixkmeforsix for her lovely idea.

Warnings: none. This isn’t really a pairing piece, but there is a magical element to this so suspend some belief please xo

Tags: @bluemoonstonesy @stonesyy

- - -

“You look familiar.” John can’t help the words that come out of his mouth, but the man in front of him warrants the statement. John doesn’t know where he knows him from, but he’s sure it’ll come to him later.

“So do you.” No clues from the man’s response as he gives John a once-over and pushes his glasses back up his nose. There’s a hint of salt and pepper in his hair and some crows’ feet around the eyes, but John has no idea how old the man actually is. “John Stones?”

John can’t help the pride that swells in his chest at being recognized, but this feeling is a little bit different - kind of like running into an old friend. “That’s me. Would you like an autograph?”

“Nah. Got plenty at home.” The man shakes his head and waves the comment away with his hand, which is when John notices the watch. It’s the same watch he’s wearing on his own left hand, but the man’s suit makes the watch look vintage. There’s no way it’s the same exact watch, though, because John had his custom-made after City won the league in 2021, engraved specifically for him. 

The two men stare at each other awkwardly until the familiar man cracks. “John. May I call you John?” John nods and the man continues. “Sit, please. I haven’t had the pleasure of eating with anyone in a while.”

John takes a seat across from the man, his curiosity peaked. “Any reason why?” He grimaces, realizing his error. “Sorry, that’s a bit personal.”

“Don’t worry about it - talking to you feels a bit like talking to a younger version of myself.”

The comment makes John feel off-kilter, but luckily the waiter shows up. John orders a pint of his favourite beer, and the man does too.

“Hope that’s not too awkward, us ordering the same thing. I was going to order that before you said it - it’s my favourite.”

“Mine, too.”

The beer arrives, and the two men take sips of their respective pints before picking up the conversation where they left off. “So, about your question. I haven’t had the pleasure of eating with anyone in a while - not since my wife and I split up.”

It’s then that John notices the tan line where a ring used to be on the man’s finger. “When was that?”

“A few years ago. We just…grew apart. She was there for the majority of my career and after my retirement but then it got complicated. You married?”

John shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got a girl, though. She and I are a bit off at the moment, though, but I’m sure we’ll be back on again soon.”

“I see.” The man mutters something that John doesn’t quite catch, but it sounds like something along the lines of Oh yes, that wouldn’t happen yet anyway - still got a few more years.

“What was that?”

The man takes a sip of his beer. “Nothing. Just reminiscing.”

“Any advice for me for the future?”

“Mm, that’s a tough one. What are you struggling with the most right now?”

John thinks for a moment, his brain scrambling for an answer. “Probably the UCL this year. The pressure is really on, and I want to be the best and help the team win the Champions League at the end of the season.”

“This will sound cliche, but you just have to believe in yourself. You’re only twenty-eight; there’s still a lot more time left in your career and you’ve worked hard to redeem yourself since the 2020-2021 season. You’re a different man now, John, and something tells me you’re going to retire with Manchester City, so there’s many more years left to become who you’re destined to be.”

“I’m twenty-nine, actually,” John grumbles, aware of how petulant he sounds, but the ‘advice’ he was just given sounds like a load of utter shite. “What do you know about the man I’m destined to be?”

The man shrugs, smirks, and takes another sip of beer. “You’re on your own with that one, kid.”

“Whatever.”

The waiter comes back around and once again, the man orders the same thing as John for an entree. 

“Let me guess: also your favourite?”

“Yes. My ex-wife and I would go here every Tuesday for date night and order the same thing every time. Got so frequent that our food was practically on the table the moment we sat down.” The man chuckles fondly at the memory, and John makes a mental note to start bringing his girl here when they’re back together. He wonders why he hasn’t already; it’s right up her alley in terms of food and atmosphere. 

“What was your ex like?” John has long-since abandoned any form of nuance when asking this man questions. John feels like he knows the man, and just wants to know as much about his life as he possibly can. Something tells him that this man holds significance to John.

“Gorgeous. Older woman. Gave me my second and third children. We got married when I was thirty-two; divorced when I was forty.”

“How old are you now?”

“Fifty.”

“Have you retired already?”

The man nods. “Retired at thirty-five.”

“Why?”

“Injury took me out. Never fully recovered after that and my wife and I decided it was time for me to retire. I’d made enough money to where I could take care of us without having to find another job, but I was truly lost after walking away from my career. The five years leading up to our divorce were hard and it was ultimately why we ended things.”

“Do you still love her?” John realizes he has to know the answer to this, and the man obliges.

“In a way, yes. She’s the mother of two of my children, and I harbor no ill will towards her. Our children are past eighteen now and I know they’re well-adjusted because of her.”

“Does she still love you?”

“Yes, but it’s different now, too. We co-parented well, and we’re still good friends, but I don’t know if I would say she’s the love of my life - nor I hers. I want the best for her and I know she wants the best for me, and we just know now that we aren’t best for each other, even though we thought so at the time.”

The food comes and there’s silence as the two men dig into their entrees, enjoying each other’s company without words until they’re done. John mulls over the other questions he wants to ask, but waits until they’ve put in an order for dessert before doing so.

“Do you have any love in your life now?”

“Nothing serious. I can still sweet-talk a lady, but I don’t have anyone I want to marry again. Not sure I will.”

“Do you still keep in touch with the people you worked with before you retired?”

“Some of them, yes. I’m sure you probably already know who from City you’ll be keeping in touch with once they leave, and I know you already keep in touch with a few.”

“I do. And there’s a few on Three Lions as well.”

“Ah, yes. How is Harry Maguire?”

John doesn’t even want to know how the man knows he texts Maguire occasionally. “Still got his head up his arse playing for United. But good, as far as I know.”

“Sounds about right.”

Dessert comes and there’s more silence until the plates are empty. 

“Got any more questions for me, John?”

The bill comes and the man pays for the both of them, ignoring John’s offer to pay his share. 

“No, I think that’s it. Will we see each other again?”

The man stands and John does, too. They shake hands, and John gets a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“No matter what I’ll always be thinking of you.”

John is stunned into silence, watching the man walk out of the restaurant and disappear into the night. He runs a hand over the fabric covering the tattoo bearing those exact words, wondering if he just met a future version of himself.

He quickly dismisses the thought, though. 

After all, that’s impossible.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

can i ask what your blog title means? who is lot?

Lot is a man from the Old Testament of the Bible who was the only righteous/good/God-fearing man in his town, and so when God was going to destroy the town, he warned Lot ahead of time and told Lot to take his wife and children and flee.

God also warned Lot and his family not to look back at the destruction, no matter what. Lot's wife, however, did look back, and was immediately turned into a pillar of salt.

This was referenced by Kurt Vonnegut in his book Slaughterhouse Five:

"And Lot's wife, of course, was told not to look back where all those people and their homes had been. But she did look back, and I love her for that, because it was so human. So she was turned into a pillar of salt. So it goes."

My title "Call me Lot's Wife" started as a tag I made on some salty posts of mine where I was ranting about something or other... I think it was about the Timeless movie? Anyway I'd been making jokes about how salty I was, and so I said you should just call me Lot's wife because I'm a fuckin' pillar of salt. It's salt all the way down over here.

I liked the joke so much, and felt it described me well enough, that I decided to make it my blog title. If you look under my blog title on my blog you'll see "I am a pillar of salt" followed by my Ao3 and 'about' page links - that's the continuation of the joke in my blog title.

While obviously it originally came from that story in the Bible, personally for me I'm referencing Vonnegut. Because on the one hand, I'm a pillar of salt because I'm constantly being salty about something or other. But on the other hand... I also would look back. I can't help it.

[stampstamp]

Spoilers for TUA

A lot of the salt on the tag was about how it's out of character for the family-minded Five to start a romantic relationship with his brother's wife and I probably would've agreed outside the context of that episode. I didn't really see it as 'homewrecking' (as a lot of people on here called it) because by the time they got together they'd reached a stage where it seemed like it might not be possible to get back home anyway?

If I was stranded in a subway system, eating rats and almost getting killed topside every day for 6 years with my sibling's wife (who looks like Ritu Arya), I probably wouldn't be thinking 'oh we'd better not act on our feelings just in case we ever get home to our old lives 🙂 let's just make ourselves even more miserable by ignoring it' because the likelihood of dying was way more probable than the likelihood of getting home. They only made it home because of a Deus Ex machina, which suggests that they could've been stuck there for much longer.

And as far as they knew, they'd been missing presumed dead for 6+ years and that marriage was already failing when they left. They didn't know time hadn't passed or that Diego still wanted to save the marriage.

This turned out really long. I just feel like people weren't really empathising with the characters. Six years is the time between now and summer 2018 - so much can happen in that amount of time. I think the other criticisms about the ship are more reasonable. Idk how I feel about it but it bothers me that people claim it's ooc.

[fantasyideas1]

Asian porn The girl kissed the guy, and his penis wrapped around his legs and he crawled home like a snake His middle fingers shoot lasers he aims and insults How did you manage to get irradiated in a laser tag That car engines have a volume control, and bass, with the sound of a man peeing in continuous panos He can't poop without the composition of a Valkyrie flight, a scarf and pilot glasses from the early twentieth century, a cap (a woman flying an airplane), this song is needed to drown out his cries, he has a lot of toilet rituals and superstitions, especially after oriental cuisine New fashion boutique. Star thongs, star venereal diseases, hello I want germs and venereal diseases, names famous girls and women, the store is called celebrity microbes, very important and pretentious microbes and viruses coming out of the limousine, this limousine is very strange, as if the tunnel is a penis, I hope there is wi-fi there, I heard that only in the anus area, but there is a dangerous ghetto Oh don't invite your friend, why, he's a silent killer of a great mood She is our super-secret weapon, dubious super beauty model spy, her penis shoots with a laser, and farts with poisonous gas within a radius of five hundred meters, well, you gave everything away Have you taken these pills? From this, a large, thick clitoris grows, now you understand women much better, I noticed that you now have two tubercles In the production room, and I'm not at all interested in your drug den, you musicians can only count up to three, so you are far from Mozart When you say important, cool speeches, always insert an unexpected word: olle Your wallet is like a used condom, after a beach holiday with your wife, she shredded your budget Your wife fucks your brain without lube and with a vibrator, all you hear when she screams is a buzz And at the end of the book, he hit the girl he loves in the nose and passionately kissed an unfamiliar, busty blonde, and they got many, many busty sons A woman goes on maternity leave, vacated her workplace, turned on the peg peg alarm, ten years have passed, and they are still waiting for her Mutual support in Kazakhstan. Not bad, not bad, of course it sucks compared to me, but it's not bad that, you yourself are not developed in this field of activity, oh sorry, I hurt your feelings You are moderately scandalous today, I'm just not in the voice, mi mi mi, so listen here Gray hair, hair styling gel, chrome steel Egoists think about their ego: uh, ho? What should I do to make her shut up, call a welder? It is unlikely that he will succeed, you saw her mouth, the whole airfield will fit, I'm scared when she speaks next to me He rarely blinks, it's scary, he's just a dream of any photographer Why do many girls have their mouths open, but like sex dolls The employee tells the head of the department what you have under your shirt, is it a bulletproof vest? No, it’s just that the previous employee had a knife, yes, you have a gunshot wound, these are previous employees whom I unfairly fired and stole their bonus and salary, you know how difficult it is to find a good employee, this is a wound, I trained on myself, checked my body armor How does the mafia have fun, what happened to you you kick the burning ball of the severed head of the snitch somehow sad, we will go to hell right? Let's hit, but for now we'll keep kicking the ball while we can Her fat folds are like a crumpled bed and her old skin is like old crumpled paper. So the crunch in the chips ad is the crunch of salted bones, people who like chips, crunchy bones like crispy chips

Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich

[arborvitas]

me vs tm fandom 

[seriouslyaliens]

then eleven realizes who river is and just??? happily fuckin prances off????? without explaining it to his best friend(s) himself???? amy’s infant child just dissolved in her arms and the show really glosses the fuck over how traumatic that must’ve been for her after waking up mid-labor and giving birth in absolute terror and being stuck with the people who violated her mind and body in some of the worst kinds of ways i’m so mad. 

[meanmisscharles]

So, I've had this conversation with a few people, but I'm going to bring it here, because I'm pissed off and that's a valid a reason as any.

The questions: Should I, as a person of the African Diaspora give Our Flag Means Death a chance? What about the 'issues' with Taika Waititi? What about the issues around the rl people that the show has put at the center of the show?

So, the thing about The Real Stede Bonnet and Edward Teach is NOW well known. They were a slave owner and involved in the slave trade and Blackbeard (Teach) even has rape on his rap sheet. Could they have picked someone better, or created new characters, wholecloth? Sure, but that still comes with the same issues, because the reality of pirates during the Golden Age of Piracy is that they were these people that dealt in these things.

The SHOW tries to not put that front and center, which would make it an unwatchable experience for Black viewers that care about that. It does not always succeed in this attempt. There is NEVER anyone but Stede Bonnet's family shown at his Barbados home. Maybe we're supposed to think that his white wife is June Cleaver-ing it up and taking care of that estate on her own. Maybe we're supposed to think that his 'paid servants' have clocked out for the day. Who knows? It doesn't actually work though, since one of his crew members is referred to as a slave and another called a 'darkie' (which also happens to be the only contemporary slur for any group used). There are 'servants' on a party boat full of French people - like okay. Everyone had servants, then? Servant implies a salary and...just. It's clunky and I think they needed to think about things a little more fully, but it's not AWFUL.

All I can say is, they try and it's not painful to watch.

Taika - well, he is executive producer, but he's not the showrunner, David Jenkins is and Taika is not a writer for s1. The writer's room is very diverse, with one of the better episodes being written by a queer Black man; John Mahone. I'm not saying that he isn't problematic, but I am at the point where I have to watch something I like and work around other issues. He doesn't detract from it, for me. I don't hate him like I hate the blatant racists that are the main cast of What We Do In The Shadows, which I will not ever watch for any reason.

There are Black characters who have agency and they are great! They are very much also a reason I enjoy the show and got past a lot of the other stuff mentioned above.

The fandom: Trash. Lots of talented artists, writers and there are good people in it, for sure. HOWEVER, it's not a good, or safe place for Black fans and people will put their heads down, or complain, because you're making 'their fun place all icky with racism talk'. The uzsh. They talk a lot about CURATING YOUR EXPERIENCE, as if racism will stick to a tag you can block effectively.

So...it's a good, queer show with good Black and PoC representation. Take what I have to say about it with a grain of salt and perhaps stick a toe in and check it out. S2 is in the works - if you like it, then you'll be set up for enjoying that.

[zafirosreverie]

Their reaction to your child calling them “mom” for the first time (KH’s characters)

H's tags: @midnight-lestrange @mochiadria @emilyprentissslut @nerdyanon @academiagaymess @annie-mit-ie

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

Agatha Harkness:

It took her by surprise. It was not uncommon for the witch to have her baby next to her while she practiced in the basement. Of course, she never did dangerous spells in the presence of her little witch but she loved to feel her presence next to her, it helped her to concentrate better. This time, however, a little babble interrupted her. Agatha knew that her daughter was starting to try to speak, even though she still couldn't, so she smiled but she kept working on her spell, until...

"Ma-ma"

You immediately ran to the basement when you heard the explosion.

"Agatha Harknes, I swear to Tonatiuh, if something happened to my daughter, I'm going to-"

You stopped when you saw your daughter laughing and repeating her first word while your wife smiled and cried with pride.

Olivia Octavius:

It was something totally unexpected and honestly hilarious. You had always known that your daughter was intelligent and ahead of her age, but neither you nor your wife expected this.

It was one of those nights, you know? The fact that the spiders knew about Liv's alter ego was annoying, but you and your little octopus were safe, knowing that no one knew of your existence or connections to Doc Ock. And yet that hadn't stopped the spiders from attacking when Liv was in her civilian form.

It had happened very quickly, honestly, one moment you were having dinner with your family and the other there were 6 spider people fighting against Doctor Octopus. You trusted your wife, but you had to get your daughter out of there. It was when you turned around with the baby in your arms that everyone heard it.

"Ma-ma"

Time seemed to stop while the little girl extended her little arms towards the supervillain. Neither you nor Liv had expected her to recognize her, you had always kept Doc Ock away from your daughter.

It was a surprise to everyone, but at least the spiders had the decency to walk away not to drag you or your baby into the fight, and the happiness and pride on Liv's face was the best.

Ursula Gernsback:

You frowned when you walked into the store and found your son in Hugo's arms. The man was a great friend and he cared a lot about the baby, but it was strange that your wife let someone else carry him. She liked to spend as much time as possible with her baby.

"Hugo?" you asked carefully "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah we're fine" he smirked "Ursula, on the other hand...she's temporarily off duty"

You worried, but your brother-in-law (as you had decided to call him) just laughed and told you how your son had said his first word, calling Ursula "mama", which had caused a short circuit, making Hugo take her to the back and take care of the baby. You laughed at that, your wife was really adorable.

You woke up the woman and laughed at her reaction to seeing you. She was happy, proud and in awe.

"He called me mama, human!"

You smiled and hugged her tightly as she projected what her systems had recorded. Advantages of her being a robot.

Carla Dunkler:

The first time Jackson called her "mom" was a reality check for Carla. It was an awakening, it was really understanding what she had done, what her life would be from that moment on. It was understanding that that little life in her arms depended on her. It was terrifying.

Several years later, when the two of you had already moved in together, she had another similar reality check. You were a single mother like her, which had been a great support point for both of you, as you understood each other perfectly. Your daughter was adorable, educated and she was always cheerful, she also loved spending time with Jackson and she never hid her affection for Carla. It was strange, but the woman quickly began to see her as her own daughter.

One morning, while you were having breakfast, the girl asked for the salt and your girlfriend passed it to her without thinking. Your daughter's next words made Carla freeze, Jackson blinked, and you smiled.

"Thank you mommy"

Carla looked at you and your smile widened. The brunette really understood the enormous change in her life. That you and that girl loved her. That she had a new and loving family.

Eve Fletcher:

For Eve, having you and your baby was a blessing. You had a little less than a year dating her, but your baby already felt safer with the brunette than she ever felt with your previous partner. She was always following Eve around the house when you visited and getting her out of there was quite an odyssey, because she never wanted to part with your girlfriend. And you could see that the older woman was so happy about it.

Now, you knew that your daughter, although she was already walking, was a little behind in speech. She was a year and a half and she still hadn't said her first word. It worried you a little bit, but the doctor had said that she would talk until she was ready and not to worry. Eve had tried to help and she had made you feel better about it.

It was a surprise for both of you when your daughter decided that her first word should be "Eve." You supposed that made sense, she adored the woman and the name was short and easy to pronounce, but still, you were so happy. Your girlfriend had blushed, but her smile gave her away.

The second word, however, was an even bigger surprise. Your daughter was in the arms of the brunette while you were walking through the park. The baby was playing with the gold chain around Eve's neck when she dropped the bomb.

"Ma-ma"

It took all your willpower not to laugh at Eve's incredulous and adorable face.

Jennifer Barkley:

That she accepted you with a child was a miracle, one that you didn't want to take advantage of, because you knew that she could change her mind at any moment. It said a lot about her feelings for you, but even so, you never took anything for granted.

Your son was a polite, quiet and kind child, always respecting everyone and staying out of the way when Jen was in the room. She had never been rude to him, but your son was not stupid, he could feel that there was something weird there.

However, we all make mistakes. And your son was just a boy. Damn the moment your girlfriend asked about his day. It was a nice conversation, but when Jen complimented him on his grades, he just...it came off.

"Thanks Mom"

The three of you fell silent. Your son knew he had screwed up, Jen was frozen in her place and color left her face. You just looked between them, not knowing what to do. The older woman simply apologized and got up, quickly leaving the room. Your son felt terrible and he apologized to you many times, but you assured him that he had done nothing wrong.

Later that night, after putting him to bed, you could hear Jen crying. You approached her, not knowing if you would have to apologize to her or defend your son. She told you, much to her regret, that she was confused.

She had never wanted children, and if she was honest, when your son called her that, she was terrified. However, it was also a blow, because it was to recognize that your son did see her as a mother, even though she had not done anything to deserve it. And she felt bad.

You hugged her and reminded her of all the times she bought things for him, how she was always including him in her plans, how she was aware of his education and all the things she might haven’t thought much about, but that to you and your son meant a lot. You assured her that you would wait for her to make a decision and, if she wanted, you could always help her become worthy of the title your child gave her.

[rosesutherlandwrites]

Heads Up Seven Up Tag!

Thank you so much to both @jibrilstevenson and @laurysilvers for tagging me! (I feel like I got tagged by someone else too, but now I can’t find it in my notes for the life of me)

I think this has made the rounds of most of my friends already because I’ve been so slow getting around to it, so if there’s anyone following me who hasn’t got a tag yet who wants to play, please take this as a tag from me and share a snippet from a WIP!

Thanks to @milfbahorel for saying they wanted something from A SWEET STING OF SALT, since it’s changed so much from when they last saw it (the very first draft!) to now (a real live book releasing spring ‘24). For context, this conversation between Jean and her best friend Laurie takes place just after New Year’s 1833. Jean’s been meddling in her neighbours affairs, and the situation has taken a TURN, leading to an argument between her and her mentor Anneke about if it’s safe for Jean to return to her own home outside of town.

“There's no talking you out of this thing, is there?”

Jean caught her breath, pressing her back to the wall beside the kitchen door before she realized it was only Laurie. Anneke must have gone to bed, but her son was still up, sitting alone in the dark parlour, staring into the last orange embers that remained in the fireplace. Their shifting light deepened the lines in his face, turning him haunted and fey. “Can't sleep?”

Jean shook her head. “You either?” She pulled the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders tighter. “I shouldn't have said that, before. About her not being my mother. She's always been as good as.”

“She'll forgive you; you know she will.” Laurie turned to look at her, throwing his face into shadow. “You can't push everybody away, Jean.”

Laurie had only been refusing to talk to anyone about anything real for the best part of two weeks himself. Jean almost said pot calling kettle, but caught herself, thinking better of it. She’d already let her mouth run quite enough for one day. She squinted at the mantle clock, but it was too dark to make out the hands. “What time is it?”

“Late.”

“Don't be an ass.”

Laurie sniffed, and went back to staring sullenly into the fireplace. He didn't say anything else, so Jean went through to the kitchen and poured herself the glass of water she'd come down for from the jug beside the pump. She wasn't going to push Laurie if he didn't want to talk, and he'd have done the same for her.

“G'night, Laur,” she said, starting back up the stairs.

“I'll take you out in the morning.”

Jean stopped.

“I’ll borrow the wagon from Burgoyne's. But I'm coming out there to visit you a couple times a week if you won't let me stay. At least until we know for sure nothing's going to come of this whole mess with Silber and his wife.”

“Laurie—”

“That's my condition, Red. It was bad enough before, you all the way out there on your own where anything could happen and no one'd know for days, Ma’s right about that. But as long as you let me check on things, I'll back you with her.” Laurie shifted in his seat, reaching for the brass poker beside the hearth. “I can tell how important it is to you, being out there for your... for Muirin.”

Jean supposed it might work, him coming out to visit. After all, he'd not been home in ages, and everyone knew they were as good as siblings. It would look a lot less suspect than him setting up permanent camp in her house, at any rate. Hopefully it would settle Anneke's nerves some, too. “All right,” she said. “Thanks, Laurie. I knew you'd understand.”

“Right,” he said, quiet. “Go get some sleep, Red.”

Jean left him sitting in the dark parlour before the fireplace, pushing the last glowing coals about with the poker, like peas on a half empty plate.

[whorunwithwolves]

So, uh, my friend made a thing.

[galdrhapt]

i really wish g.alina k.rasskova wasn’t like...the only source on s.igyn things bc i do love a lot of her writing and quotes n shit (hence why i’ve reblogged them here) but fuck if she ain’t MASSIVELY problematic (hence why i tag her name on said reblogs in case people are not comfortable seeing any of her work) and she’s also largely to blame for the whole “s.igyn as a child bride” upg which i positively loathe for a variety of reasons that should be obvious. 

[anlian-aishang]

How to Play

A troll on the ladder, pro-gamer Levi has dealt with many of them before. But when this one claims that he can't please his wife, Levi knows that a ban is not the only way to shut him up.

special thanks to a generous anon for feeding me ideas to this fic! I love you and cannot thank you enough!

Word count: 2100

Tags: levi x reader, smut, trashtalking, fucking with an audience, modern AU, fem!reader

<WARRIORS>zeke_the_fr34k

vs.

<SCOUTS>l_ackrmn [and his little toy]

Is he serious?

Just a few stretches outside of his base, his lookout caught a jagged red blur speeding closer and closer inbound. Toggling to his mini-map, brows knit together in focus then rose in startle. The twelve workers that his opponent started with were being sent across the map.

Levi shook his head and frowned, it wasn’t going to be a long one.

It was a strategy he never prepared for because it was a strategy that did not work. With thousands of dollars on the line, throwing all one’s workers away was throwing all one’s chances of winning away. They would have to be stupid, sadistic, or both to try it.

However, tournament play and server play were different beasts. For some, the server was an off-season practice zone. For others, it was a way to climb the ladder, no matter how cheap or temporary the gain.

l_ackrmn being the former, zeke_the_fr34k being the latter, it was a clash of opposites -

- and that was before they turned their mics on.

// // //

The second the flurry ran up his ramp, Levi already knew the outcome of this game. His instincts, his instant understanding, his knowing what to do in every situation, they were the qualities that had landed him this career - what had made him the champion of tournament after tournament. His loss was imminent, but he was not going down without a fight, at least, not without a few words to say.

Unmute. “Haven’t seen this since 2009.”

Lighthearted banter went unreciprocated. It was something you often warned him of, that his voice was so deep and flat, any stranger would immediately label it salt.

Lifetime player Zeke Jaeger, or as Levi knew him - zeke_the_fr34k, had dealt with plenty of that on the server. So much so, that he learned to thrive on it. The more pissed off he could make his opponent, the better, and the better he played, too. Regardless of intentions, any words would be combatted. For him, it was half the fun.

“What’s this? The back-to-back Blizzcon champ brought down by a worker rush?”

Levi rolled his eyes, body language as if it could be seen through the monitor. “Is this what you spend your days doing? Trying to revive a dead strategy?” The game was lost, but he was not a quitter. At the very least, this was an opportunity to practice - which, after all, was what he came for. Frantic clicks filled the air between words, “Kinda sad.”

“Former Open Cups champ dies to ‘09 worker rush - ” his tone dripping with mockery, “in what he himself calls a ‘dead strategy’.” Laughs reverbed in his headset, “That’s the sad part.”

Levi clenched his teeth and shook his head. One by one, his supply plummeted. Outnumbered 12 - 10, 12 - 9, 12 - 8...

“Fucking shit.” Levi hissed. It was not the loss that had him riled, but the audacity of this asshole. So cocky. Was he proud of himself for this cheap and mindless strategy - could it even be called a strategy?

“No no no, wait.” A snicker barely stifled, Levi could hear his finger brush the microphone as he moved to cover his mouth. “You know what the real sad part is?”

Controlling the few units he had left, Zeke’s babbling was the furthest thing from his mind. That was until a few scathing words demanded his attention.

“It’s that your wife is married to those fingers.”

It was only then that his thoughts became scattered, his clicks slowed, his APM plummeting. Of all the stupid shit he had heard online, and he had heard a lot of it, nothing else had ever made him feel this way - had ever thrown him off his game this much.

For one, he always kept his personal life so private, how did… how could he…? Maybe some crazy fan had noticed a recurring figure at his tournaments, maybe someone in his clan had leaked it out, maybe it was just some lucky shot in the dark - that he did in fact happen to have a wife that he loved and cared for, more than anything else on earth.

More glaring, though, was the slander. He knew better than to let it get to him. Of course, you were happily married to him. Of course, he did just fine with his fingers. Not to mention, someone that played the game in such an idiotic way was far too stupid to have any idea about anything. As his vision grew red and ears started to ring, however, his calm demeanor, his sensical mindset, his entire composure began to waver unlike ever before. A seething anger started to overtake, blinding him from logic and reason, and clouding his vision with revenge revenge revenge.

Three swift fingers hit the hotkeys to put his opponent on silent, he did not need to hear any more from this fool. What he did need, though, was the last word. F10 pulled up the menu, mouse hovered above the resign button, but the moment before he clicked out, he laid the foundation for his return.

“Rematch in 5.”

// // //

There was something about 4 AM.

Staying up that late, it meant there was something to be done - something urgent, something enjoyable, something worth sacrificing sleep.

Sex and video games, that was what 4 AM was to you two.

That was as much thought as you gave it.

Somehow, you had landed on his lap, and when you were riding him, your thoughts only had so much reach. Who cared how you got here? All that mattered to you now was the pleasure you felt and how to get more of it. A cold-blooded and heartless chase for your orgasm alone.

When it got to a certain point, even he was somewhat lost to you. What you noticed were his lips on your neck, his arms at your sides, his length deep within you, his tip slamming your end. Meanwhile, his eyes focused on the screen, his fingers dancing along the keyboard, hand tight around the mouse - you could not care less.

Little did you know, he was playing three games at once. There was - of course - the video game, then the added task of keeping you blissed, and finally - the dynamic of dueling his opponent.

It was an added challenge, what a distraction you were. All he wanted to do was to roll his head back, slam his hands down on your hips, and fuck you with all he had. But before those wants were needs: to win his game, to make that Zeke fucker bite his tongue and eat his words.

Levi nudged himself closer, nuzzling himself into your neck, “You enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

Continued bouncing, exertion had you nearly out of breath, “Y-Yeah.”

Chuckled breaths fell on your skin, making you hiss through your teeth. He rocked his hips just a little, causing you to squirm likewise, “I can tell.”

The stir he gave was riling. It one couldn’t be far off. You felt your throat seize up, your insides swirl. Your tells were clear to both of you - the first climax was nearing.

High-pitched and breathless you sounded, he decided, It’s time. It was no manipulation, but his purely filthy thoughts, “You’re so cute, you know that?”

A quick assessment of the match’s status, he knew he could afford it: to lift his finger and thumb from the keyboard and pinch your hardened nipple, drawing more of those yearning cries. “What if we let them listen in?”

“N���ngh…” You ground yourself against him, in search of that one angle. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Your indifference right at the start, his jaw dropped. The perfect mix of adorable, tenacious, and downright shameless, it was precisely why he fell for you. Still, that combination never failed to surprise him, least of all at a time like this.

It was not that you had played into his hands, but that you were his perfect match. It was exactly what he had hoped for, but he thought it too good to be true. “Should we let them hear?”

You winked one half-shut eye open, squandered his jaw with your shaking fingers, “Levi, you heard me.” A tight pinch, just on the border of painful, before you brought your touch to his headset and flicked that mute switch - doing the unthinkable for him.

Prompt was your return to what you came here for. You fucked him from base to peak, each oscillation making your voice louder, your cries more frantic.

You knew the dam would crumble soon. “Levi, I… I…!”

“Go on,” he sucked bruises along your skin, licked his lips of your salt, “I wanna hear you scream, baby.”

And he wanted Zeke to hear it, too.

// // //

Easy was the choice to keep you unmuted and to keep his opponent silenced.

Nothing would turn him on more than having you ride him to finish after finish of yours. Likewise, nothing would kill the mood more than hearing the snide voice of that bearded shit.

Zeke was infamous for stirring shit online, it was time for a taste of his own medicine.

Levi cranked up his input sensitivity, capturing both your voices plenty loud.

“Does it feel good?”

Arousal dripped down your quivering thighs, “Isn’t - Isn’t that obvious, Levi?”

Silent were his words, but tangible was the single laugh that tickled your shoulder. “You’re so tight, but so wet...”

That teasing of his, you knew to submit now - or it would only get worse. Delaying or outright denying your impending climax - it was an unthinkable, unacceptable risk.

You openly admitted, “Only for you, Levi.”

He snickered. Knowing it was safe to, he lifted his hand from the keyboard and used it to pet your head, “Come on,...” he sighed, “cum all over me.”

This dirty talk, how fast it came, was catching you off-guard. So quickly were these sweet nothings tonight, but that was the thing, they were not nothing to him. He was not only talking to you, not only trying to flatter you, but there was an additional audience he had in mind.

Even though he was silenced, the evidence was obvious: this plan of his was working. Zeke walking his units into his own self-defense mines, flying his transports over Levi’s turrets, move-commanding rather than attack-commanding his army - thus handing it to Levi’s - ripe for the slaughter.

Levi watched those little mistakes become big mistakes, more and more frequent as well. However thrown off Levi had been by Zeke in the prior match, Zeke was ten times more thrown off by you now. Trash talk had its moments, but hearing a pretty girl, her angelic voice, the calls of Levi’s name, and his ensuing groans, it was a whole nother league. Hearing the dirty talk of his rival, the orgasms of his wife, both while he was getting his ass kicked? Zeke wondered if it was some weird dream he was having, but the vividness of his units' blood, of the pain in his fingers, of your voices were all proof otherwise. For once, Zeke found himself speechless.

Levi's focus remained intently on the match, the one he was quickly seizing. As the red figures on the screen vanished, as his chances grew up and up, he allowed himself a single moment. For just a split second, Levi’s mind took a step back from the game to the scene.

Heart fluttered hard in his chest. Maybe he would tell you, maybe he wouldn’t, but he could not recall a time he had loved you more. You probably would have slapped him if he told you what he was deciding between: back then - the first look on your wedding day and now - the time that you rode him while he played and let his opponent listen in, he could not decide which memory he would cherish more.

That was, until you muttered, “Can I have your fingers, Levi?”

A new favorite.

// // //

At the least, he knew he had married the right one. At the most, he wanted to marry you all over again.

It was much longer than the rush match from earlier, but still fast enough to be classified as a quick win - decisive enough to be called an easy win.

Zeke tapped out, not with a GG, but a “Fuck y-”, forfeiting the game before his words came through - a bright white Victory! took up Levi’s screen and encased your body in a neon glow.

A deep sigh of relief, but not even for a second did he forget who this all was thanks to. Levi arched his hips, a rewarding thrust. Hot hands and hardened fingertips met your clit and circled. The first of many praises. “You’ve been such a good girl for me…”

“Yeah?” You slowed your pace down to a tantalizing rock.

“Oh, yeah...” Warm hand rubbed your shoulder, sending chills down your spine. Arms tucked behind your back and below your knees, as he stood up from his chair and away from his desk, he simultaneously lifted you into a bridal hold.

Fast and hard was his kiss on your lips. At last free to do what he had wanted all along. Levi spoke into your mouth, “Let’s get you to bed.”

His princess had earned her thanks.

// masterlist //

[captnjacksparrow]

Hi! Hope you are doing well. :)

So is it true that Japanese and Chinese fans thought Sakura raped Sasuke sometime in the blank period and hence Sarada was conceived? Really? Are they serious? People would think that? Why? Don't they know Sasuke but at all?

Hahahha but it's kinda sad.

Am good, anon. Thanks. 😍😍😍

MILD TRIGGER WARNING : USAGE OF WORD ‘RAPE’ IN THIS POST.

To be honest, Am a new watcher who started this series just 5 months ago and binge watched obsessively for about 4 times.

I honestly don't know how fandom reacted back then.

But I heard Japanese fandom tagged Sakura as a Toxic Stalker after the Gaiden was released. For the sole reason, she chased after him during the blank period even though he specifically told he wanted to be alone and she was very persistent. The term 'persistent' was used by Kishimoto to explain her toxic obsession.

People think Sakura raped him because of her behaviour throughout the series. At every given chance, she always touch/hug him without the neccessity. She was like this ever since her genin days and Sasuke always pushed her away. And if you notice her behaviour in the War Arc, God!!!! She literally acted out like an animal in heat waiting for her partner to mate at any time. 🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢🤢

Every time when she was near Sasuke, she was constantly vying for his attention. So you see, this extreme rabid animalistic behaviour made fans to assume that she might have raped him. Since Sasuke was feeling guilty already for the crimes he committed, she might have guilt tripped Sasuke by saying, ‘Do you remember Sasuke-kun, you tried to kill me with your own hands?’ or something along the line and then somehow stuff happened. Poof!!!! Sarada was conceived.

This theory was even more consolidated when Naruto Gaiden was released. This is what Sasuke asked Sakura after seeing her for the first time in a decade.

If he really understood her love and loved her back deeply, the first thing he would've done is to smile and ask her 'How are you, Sakura? Are you alright?' or ‘Thanks for the help, Sakura’ or ‘I didn’t expect to see you here’.

So, you tell me Anon, will you ask your partner 'Why are you here, exactly?', if you meet her after 10 years?? and with that grim face???

Kishi decided to make Sasuke ask the latter. Which evokes the question, ‘Does he really love her?’

This panel drove everyone to that conclusion when Sarada asked Sasuke ‘Whether your feelings are connected to mom?’

Sasuke could’ve simply said, ‘Because I love Sakura’, ‘Because I love your mom and she understands what I feel’

But Sasuke, without any smile, said bluntly that ‘Because we have you Sarada’... It definitely hints like someone living in a relationship just because of the child. Not because of the Wife. 

If you loves your partner very much, you should show your love by putting your partner on the high pedestal before everyone. Your child should be the product of that love. It shouldn’t be like your love is extended to your partner because of your child. 

All these interactions screams  'Dysfunctional family’ for everyone. 

Throughout the entire novel, I never saw Sasuke call Sakura by her name, not even once. He called Naruto’s name a lot though. LOL. To add more salt to the injury, he refused to kiss her even though she asked him coquettishly. Grrrr.....

Connecting all these canonical facts, Sakura chased Sasuke (as Karin says above) and probably Sasuke might have injured himself in one of the battle. Sakura being a cringe woman, as always, tried to hug or force herself on Sasuke without his consent. Then stuffs could have happened. 

All in all, this sounds like a mild low-key rape to me. LOLL.

What’s more pathetic for me is, Sarada was born in Orochimaru’s hideout. (Puke!!!! 🤮🤮🤮). You know what kind of a creepy place it is!!! Why wasn’t she laboured in Konoha Hospital?? It’s not like a baby will form today and comes out tomorrow. Even if she found out about her pregnancy after 3 months, she still had 7 months to deliver her baby. Why didn’t she go to Konoha after finding about her pregnancy?? Is Sakura that horny to travel with him despite being pregnant?

When you dig deeper into details like this, it only gives you even stronger disgust towards Sakura. It might lead you to think, ‘Probably Sakura could’ve raped him’.

But I believe this is one way of seeing. A valid one.

I see a different perspective anyway.🤷🏻‍♀️