#low quality but i needed to pump something out

[mayhasopinions]

//the sign of four p10 spoilers

[anipgarden]

Things to Do that Aren't Related to Growing Plants

This is my second post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps! 

Some of us just don’t have much luck when it comes to growing plants. Some of us simply want to aim for other ways to help that don’t involve putting on gardening gloves. Maybe you've already got a garden, but you want to do more. No problem! There’s a couple of options you can look into that’ll help attract wildlife in your area without even having to bring out any shovels!

Provide a Water Source

Oftentimes when I see ‘add a water source’ in informational articles about improving your backyard for wildlife, it’s almost always followed by an image of a gorgeous backyard pond with a waterfall and rock lining that looks expensive to set up, difficult to maintain, and overall just… not feasible for me. Arguably, not feasible for a lot of people. And that’s okay! There’s still ways to add water in your garden for all kinds of creatures to enjoy!

There’s tons of ways to create watering stations for insects like bees and butterflies. A self refilling dog bowl can work wonders! Add some stones into the receiving tray for insects to land on or use to climb out, and you’ve got a wonderful drinking spot for all kinds of insects! You can also fill a saucer or other dish with small stones and fill it, though it’ll likely need refilling daily or even several times a day during hot times. 

I've seen people online use all kinds of things to make water features. Some go with terra-cotta pots, pebbles, and a cheap pump to get a small and simple fountain. Others use old tires, clay, and a hole in the ground to create an in-ground mini pond system. If all else fails, even a bucket or watertight box with a few plants in it can do the trick--though do be wary of mosquitoes if the water isn’t moving. In situations like these, a solar-powered fountain pump or bubbler are great for keeping the water moving while still making it a drinking option for wildlife (it not even more appealing for some)--and these items can be obtained fairly cheap online!

Bird baths are an option as well--a classic way to provide for birds in your area, they can be easy to find online or in a gardening store! The only downside is that a good, quality bird bath can be pricey up-front. However, a nice stone bird bath should last a long time, be easy to clean and refill, and be enjoyed by many birds! I’ve also seen tutorials on how to make your own with quickcrete! Bird baths will be a welcome sight to birds, as they provide a space for them to drink and bathe to regulate the oils in their feathers for flight and insulation. Putting a stone in the middle will also help insects to escape if they fall in, and provide a place to perch so they can get their own drink. You’ll want to change the water and clean the baths regularly--as often as once a week, if you can manage it.

If possible, it’s highly encouraged to fill and refill water features with rainwater instead of tap water. Tap water is often treated, so instead of using hoses or indoor kitchen water, collecting some rainwater is a great alternative. Collecting rainwater can be as simple as leaving cups, bins, or pots outside for awhile.

Butterflies and other creatures will also drink from mud puddles. If you can maintain an area of damp soil mixed with a small amount of salt or wood ash, this can be fantastic for them! Some plants also excel at storing water within their leaves and flowers (bromeliads come to mind), making them an excellent habitat for amphibians as well as a drinking spot for insects and birds.

Bird Feeders and Bird Houses

Some of the fancy, decorated bird feeders are expensive, but others can be pretty low-cost--I got my bird feeder from Lowe’s for around 10 dollars, and a big bag of birdseed was around another 10 dollars and has lasted several refills! If you don’t mind occasionally buying more birdseed, a single birdfeeder can do a lot to attract and support local birds! If you’re handy, have some spare wood, and have or can borrow some tools, you may even be able to find instructions online to make your own feeder. You may not even need wood to do so! Even hummingbird feeders, I’ve found, are quick to attract them, as long as you keep them stocked up on fresh sugar water in the spring and summer!

An important note with bird feeders is that you have to make sure you can clean them regularly. Otherwise, they may become a vector for disease, and we want to avoid causing harm whenever possible. Also keep an ear out and track if there’s known outbreaks of bird diseases in your area. If local birding societies and scientists are advising you take your birdfeeders down for awhile, by all means, do it!

Bird houses are naturally paired with bird feeders as biodiversity promoters for backyard spaces, and it makes sense. Having bird houses suited to birds in your area promotes them to breed, raise their young, disperse seeds, and generally engage in your surrounding environment. Setting them up takes careful selection or construction, preparation, and some patience, but sooner or later you might get some little homemakers! Keep in mind, you will need to clean your birdhouses at least once a year (if not once per brood) to make sure they’re ready and safe for birds year after year--you wouldn’t want to promote disease and parasites, after all. But they could be a valuable option for your landscape, whether you purchase one or construct your own! 

Again, do make sure you're putting up the right kind of boxes for the right kinds of birds. Bluebird boxes are some I see sold most commonly, but in my area I believe they're not even all that common--a nesting box for cardinals or chickadees would be far more likely to see success here! And some birds don't even nest in boxes--robins and some other birds are more likely to use a nesting shelf, instead! Research what birds live in your area, take note of any you see around already, and pick a few target species to make homes for!

Solitary Bee Houses

A bee house or bee hotel is a fantastic way to support the solitary bees in your area! For a few dollars and some annual cleaning, you can buy a solitary bee house from most big box nurseries. Alternatively, you can make one at home, with an array of materials you may already have lying around! You can even make them so that they’ll benefit all kinds of insects, and not necessarily just bees.

Though you don’t even necessarily have to break out the hammer and nails, buy a ton of bricks, or borrow a staple gun. Making homes for tunneling bees can be as simple as drilling holes in a log and erecting it, or drilling holes in stumps and dead trees on your property. You might even attract some woodpeckers by doing this!

Providing Nesting Area

There are tons of different kinds of bees, and they all make different kinds of homes for themselves. Not all of them make big cavity hives like honey bees, or will utilize a solitary bee house. Bumblebees live in social hives underground, particularly in abandoned holes made by rodents--some others nest in abandoned bird nests, or cavities like hollow logs, spaces between rocks, compost piles, or unoccupied birdhouses. Borer, Ground, and Miner bees dig into bare, dry soil to create their nests. Sparsely-vegetated patches of soil in well-drained areas are great places to find them making their nests, so providing a similar habitat somewhere in the garden can encourage them to come! I do talk later in this document about mulching bare soil in a garden--however, leaving soil in sunny areas and south-facing slopes bare provides optimal ground nesting habitat. Some species prefer to nest at the base of plants, or loose sandy soil, or smooth-packed and flat bare ground. They’ve also been known to take advantage of soil piles, knocked over tree roots, wheel ruts in farm roads, baseball diamonds and golf course sand traps. You can create nesting ground by digging ditches or creating nesting mounds in well-drained, open, sunny areas with sandy or silty soil. However, artificially constructed ground nests may only have limited success. 

Providing Alternative Pollinator Foods

Nectar and pollen aren’t the only foods sought out by some pollinators! Some species of butterflies are known to flock to overripe fruit or honey water, so setting these out can be an excellent way to provide food to wildlife. You may want to be cautious about how you set these out, otherwise it can help other wildlife, like ants or raccoons. Butterflies may also drop by to visit a sponge in a dish of lightly salted water. 

Bat Houses and Boxes

Big or small, whether they support five bats or five hundred, making bat boxes and supporting local bats is a great way to boost biodiversity! Not only will they eat mosquitoes and other pest species, but you may also be able to use the guano (bat droppings) as fertilizer! Do be careful if you choose to do that though--I’ve never had the opportunity to, so do some research into how strong it is and use it accordingly.

Provide Passageway Points

If you want your area to be more accessible for creatures that can’t fly or climb fences, allowing or creating access points can be an excellent way to give them a way in and out. Holes in the bottom of walls or fences can be sheltered with plants to allow animals through. 

In a somewhat similar manner, if you’re adding a water fixture, it’s important to provide animals a way to get into and out of the pond--no way in, and they can’t use the water. No way out, and they may drown. Creating a naturalistic ramp out of wood beams or sticks, or stepped platforms out of bricks, stones, or logs can do the trick. 

Get or Keep Logs and Brush Piles

I’ve already mentioned logs a good handful of times so far in this post. To be used as access ramps, or as nesting areas for solitary bees. But they have value as much more than that! Logs on the ground provide shelter for all kinds of animals, especially depending on size--anything from mice, reptiles, and amphibians to things like turkey vultures and bears will use fallen logs as shelter. Inside of a decaying log, there’s a lot of humidity, so amphibians are big fans of them--meanwhile, the upper sides of them can be used as sunning platforms by things like lizards. Other animals can also use the insides of logs as nest sites and hiding places from predators too big to fit inside. Fungi, spiders, beetles, termites, ants, grubs, worms, snails, slugs, and likely much more can be found inside rotting logs, using the rotting wood as food sources or nesting places. They can then provide food for mammals, amphibians, reptiles, and birds. They can also be regarded as a landmark or territory marker as wildlife get more familiar with your space.

So how do you get logs for cheap? Try Chip Drop! I talk about them more in a future post, but you can mark saying that you’d like logs in your drop, so they’ll give you any they have! In fact, you may even get a drop faster if you're willing to accept some logs. You may also be able to approach arborists you see working in your area and ask for logs. There may also be local online listings for people selling logs for cheap, or just trying to get rid of them. If there’s land development going on near you, you may be able to snag logs from trees they cut down to make space. Do keep in mind, you don’t need to have huge gigantic logs laying around your property to make an impact--even small logs can help a lot.

If possible, creating and leaving brush piles on the edge of your property can be a great boost to biodiversity--even if you may not see the wildlife using it. They’ll provide shelter from weather and predators, and lower portions are cool and shady for creatures to avoid the hot sun. The upper layers can be used as perch sites and nest sites for song birds, while lower layers are resting sites for amphibians and reptiles, and escape sites for many mammals. As the material decays, they also attract insects, and as such they’ll attract insect-eating animals too. As more small animals find refuse in your brush pile, their predators will be attracted to them as well. Owls, hawks, foxes, and coyotes are known to visit brush piles to hunt. Making a brush pile can be as simple as piling branches and leaves into a mound, as big or as small as you want. You can even use tree stumps or old fence posts near the base, and keep stacking on plant trimmings and fallen branches. Do note that you don’t want to do this near anything like a fire pit.

Don't forget, with all of these, your mileage may vary for any variation of reasons, so don't worry if you can't take all of even any of these actions! Even just talking about them with other people may inspire someone else to put out a bat box, or leave a few logs out for wildlife!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to get seeds and plants as cheaply as possible. For now, I hope this advice helps! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls Chapter 13 part 1/2

masterpost

The next patrol night, Jason’s shoulder was still a little sore from how hard Jack Fenton had pumped it to say goodbye after they’d gone ‘ghost chasing- not hunting!’ in the family van. The van and the family were both growing on him. He was going to really hate it if he had to arrest either of the Fenton kids. It might damage his relationship with Jack and Maddie.

“How was your trip?”

“Might have gotten adopted but I’m not sure why,” Jason said. He shot his grapple and aimed to get a good view of the neighborhood. He winced as it reeled him up. It was a quiet night and cool air buffeted him hard from the side. He didn’t expect trouble. He’d been seen, which was the main deterrent Crime Alley needed at this point. “Did a bit of journalism. Had an impromptu refresher on tactical driving.” He hit boots-first with relief and immediately rolled his shoulder.

“...You’re doing that shitty thing where you make it sound like you’re blowing me off with lies, but then later I find out it was all true and you make some jackass comment about being an honest guy,” Tim diagnosed. He sounded cranky about it, too.

Jason just shrugged. “Did Gotham miss me?” Horns honked in the distance. He looked in that direction on reflex; but no explosion or crash followed. He relaxed again.

“Not even a little bit. But something happened while you were in the air, actually, that might be relevant. Have time to watch?” A little red cursor appeared on the feed inside his helmet.

Jason retracted his grapple and settled in on the ledge like a gargoyle. “Go for it.” He rested his elbows on his knees and crouched. Then he redirected his focus from the real world around him to the little screen that Tim was hijacking.

“Yeah, you’ll like this,” Tim said under his breath. “Just a sec. No theory yet, but check this shit out.”

Jason grimaced preemptively.

The shared screen switched to an Arkham security camera, complete with logo in the bottom right hand corner. It showed a single occupancy low-security cell at night. A man was sleeping in the bed. The quality was crappy enough that Jason doubted he’d be able to identify the prisoner if they looked directly at the camera.

“That Waters?” he checked.

“Sure is.” A button clicked. “Here we go.”

It was hard to tell that the video was playing, aside from the seconds ticking by on the display. Jason resisted the urge to fidget. Tim had selected this part for a reason. Maybe that reason was to be a dick, but probably he was serious.

The screen went black. Then static. Then the feed started wavering across the screen in lines.

“Huh.” Jason lifted his eyebrows. “Not great quality.”

“Reminds me of the quality of Jasmine Fenton’s phone calls,” Tim muttered. “But hold on. It’s hard to see, but-”

Waters was sitting up in one frame. In the next, he was scrambling out of bed and to the floor to prostrate face down in front of absolutely nobody.

He had to make a dry comment. “Wonder why he’s in Arkham.”

Granted, Jason knew the guy was kinda right about the afterworld. But he really wasn’t conveying ‘I am a stable member of society who won’t try any more human sacrifices in a community center rental room.’

Jason squinted. “Does it look like he’s talking to you?”

“Sure does.” Tim sounded frustrated. “No sound, and there’s no chance of reading lips on this even if the angle was better.”

Jason checked the full view of the camera angle again with a sharp eye for any anomalies. Lots of people had special powers that let them go unseen. There was usually some kind of sign, though. A shadow? Something small on the floor that was disturbed? An indication that something moved because someone touched it?

If there was anyone in that room, they didn’t touch anything, and they didn’t stay long. Waters wrenched himself up and threw a fit, hitting the floor and pulling at his hair. Jason watched impassively, waiting to see how long it took for something to happen.

“Response time isn’t too bad,” he remarked. Two orderlies appeared outside of the cell and began trying to talk Waters down.

“Over two minutes,” Tim said judgmentally.

Jason rolled his eyes, because he lived in the real fucking world where that was a short amount of time to notice and reach a cell at night. On the screen, Waters started to respond to whatever was being said. He uncurled from his ball on the floor. He gradually got up. He nodded a few times. The rest of the clip seemed utterly unremarkable and Jason had to assume they were only watching it to be certain they were thorough.

When it was finally over Jason leaned back and contemplated the night sky. “You think that Jasmine Fenton is connected?” he had to ask.

“She did look up when his cell transfer would be and this happened half a day later, the last night before he got moved. I can’t think of how she’d be connected, unless you believe- well.” Tim cleared his throat. “I looked up the Fentons. They say they’re, uh.” He sounded embarrassed just to say it.

Jason could have cut in at any time with ‘ectobiologists?’ Instead, he sat back and enjoyed how uncomfortable his shitty little foster brother was about mad science. Bit rich, coming from the mental breakdown cloning guy. But hey, free schadenfreude source.

Tim sighed so hard it sent static across the feed. Jason turned on the recording function just in time to capture Tim say, “They’re ghost hunters. Ecobiologists. Hey, you sack of-”

Jason ended the recording. “Imma trim that,” he muttered to himself, and saved the file where Tim couldn’t access it. “Gonna be my ringtone for you,” he lied cheerfully. He could think of much better uses for ‘they’re ghost hunters.’

But in the interest of fairness-

“They’re not ghost hunters,” Jason clarified. “They’re ghost chasers, now. Like storm chasers.”

“Wow,” Tim muttered. “I’ll take that note down for my diary.

Jason stood up and ignored the sarcasm. “You’re theorizing that there might have been a ghost in that cell?”

[berryhobii]

Late For Work (jjk x reader)

Pairing: Husband!Jeon Jungkook x black!female!reader

Word Count: 2,223

Warnings: established relationship(they’re married!), fluff, domestic vibes, Jungkook’s a house husband, tattooed!Jungkook, smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), morning sex, somnophilia I guess? He wakes reader up with head. Kitchen sex, oral(m and f receiving), deepthroating, throat fucking, lots of spit, reader’s a whiny and needy sl*t, Jungkook is obsessed with reader(in a sweet way), begging, overstimulation, interrupting phone cliche

A/N: Hi! I’m back! I know I said this would be a Gamer!Jungkook but I kind of went off script a little, heh. There will definitely be a part 2 of this though and there will be actual Gamer JK in that. While I don’t explain reader in this, they are dark skinned. Their skin is described more in part 2. Criticism is always welcomed and I hope you enjoy!

Read Part 2 HERE!

~

When you woke up, it was to him between your legs, slurping up all of your wetness and flicking his tongue against your swollen clit. He managed to wrench 3 orgasms out of you before your alarm rang, that stupid job calling for your attention. Thank goodness you were close to going on vacation. After that, you could spend some much needed quality time with your husband.

He helped you to the bathroom, your legs feeling weak from your orgasms that were still vibrating through your body. Once you showered, did your skincare, and refreshed your hair, you found him in the kitchen, back turned to you as he sliced something on a cutting board.

Bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, your hungry eyes greedily took in the expanse of his bare, muscled back. Each movement caused his muscles to flex, the dark and brightly colored tattoos that stretched across his back shifting. He had recently finished the healing process for his brand new back tattoos—a large dragon spread across his shoulder blades, multiple flowers of different colors wrapped around his ribs, and your favorites were the abundance of clouds with butterflies resting on them. He had lots of little others like that cute smiley face on the back of his neck and that Minnie mouse bow on the back of his right arm he got on a dare after losing to Taehyung. You remember when he came home with it. You had laughed for close to 10 minutes, much to Jungkook’s chargin, his pout never leaving until he got annoyed and bent you over the couch. You still giggled but his cock taught you manners.

He heard you place your purse down on the kitchen island, turning his head to look at you.

“Breakfast is almost ready.”

You came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning in to inhale his shampoo. Your cheek rubbed against his soft skin, humming when he relaxed in your embrace.

“Morning head and breakfast? Are you married?”

He chuckled, reaching for another strawberry to slice. “I am. Very happily for 3 years. They’re the love of my life.”

“Sounds like a very lucky person.”

While you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling extra big.

“Eh. They hog all the blankets and can’t sleep unless it’s freezing cold but I guess they’re lucky to have me.”

You rolled your eyes, biting his shoulder blade. He was such a dork.

“They bite me a lot too. I wonder if I’m tasty.”

Your hands began to wander, scratching down his chest and abs until you reached the band of his low sweats. You dipped into the article of clothing, a noise of surprise vibrating your throat when you found he wasn’t wearing underwear.

Your hand grabbed at his half hard cock, beginning to pump him slowly. He inhaled a sharp breath, dropping the knife he held in the sink. Safety first and all that.

His hands gripped at the counter, head dipping low as you stroked him to hardness. When his sweats began to get uncomfortable, he moaned.

“Baby….”

You hummed, pulling away from him to let him turn around. Now that he was facing you, you could appreciate him fully—from his broad chest to his smooth expanse of his defined stomach. Your eyes trailed up to meet his, dark irises staring at you. His gaze made you feel warm all over, those earlier orgasms feeling far away. You wanted more.

Dropping to your knees before him, you grabbed at his sweats before pulling them down. His cock sprang up, the tip leaking precum. You licked your lips, gaze greedy and your throat itching to have him nestled in it.

You gripped him once again, feeling him throb in your hold. Locking eyes with him, you leaned forward to lick at his tip.

“You’re delicious.”

Your stare never broke as you licked him from base to tip. Eye contact was the quickest way to get him to cum. You too. It just made your sex feel more intimate and connected. It also fueled his ego a little to watch your sultry eyes stare up at him as he was down your throat.

After you had slicked him up enough, your hand pumped at him as your mouth sucked at his balls—his most sensitive spot. He tossed his head back, leaning against the counter, a loud moan coming from him.

Gathering saliva in your mouth, you bubbled spit all over his balls. He loved it wet and messy, something you learned after your first few times together. He was always a gentleman during your first times but that quickly changed when you started getting more and more comfortable with him. Your pussy would get so wet and sticky that he couldn’t hold back.

Coming back to his cock, you kissed along his shaft, trailing spit with you, cheeks and chin wet. You took him into your mouth, sucking him halfway in, your hand pumping what you hadn’t gotten to…..yet.

Your tongue licked all around him, cheeks hollowing as you sucked him. His hand grabbed at your hand, hips bucking into your throat. You removed your hand from his cock, instead gripping his thighs, giving him the okay to go hard.

Using his other hand to grab the back of your neck, he began moving his hips in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slip in and out with ease.

“You like that cock in your throat, baby?” His raspy voice talked down at you. You moaned around his cock because fuck yes you did. You could feel your panties sticking to you, the fabric probably ruined beyond rescue.

He pushed your head all the way down, holding you there, nose buried in the hair at the base of his cock. Tears sprang in your eyes, throat constricting around him. Your nails dug into his thighs, leaving red marks in your wake.

When you began to sputter and gag on him, he let you go. You inhaled a deep breath, coughing and trying to pull air back into your lungs. Your bleary eyes looked back up at him, your hand coming to pump at his slick cock again. Sweat dripped down his chest and stuck his hair to his forehead. He looked good enough to eat.

“Give me more, baby.” Tongue hanging out of your mouth, you were ready to take everything he gave you.

Fuck.

A few more pumps of your hand and harsh suck to his tip and he was cumming in your mouth, filling your cheeks. He shivered as his orgasm racked him, mouth dropping open in a silent moan.

You didn’t immediately swallow, letting him regain his breath. You patiently sat back on your heels, bright eyes staring up at him.

His hand reached out to grab your chin, tilting your head up. “Open.”

You obliged, dropping your jaw to show him his release in your mouth. He felt his cock jump at the sight. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“Swallow.”

And you did, opening your mouth again to show him you had obeyed.

He helped you up from the ground, grabbing under your thighs to lift you and place you on the kitchen island. His lips hungrily moved against yours, his hands pushing your pencil skirt up until he could access your thong. His warm hands grabbed both sides of the thin string, giving it one harsh pull and it snapped. He worked at the buttons of your blouse next, careful not to pop any of them in his haste but truthfully, he could care less. Once it was open, he pulled down the cups of your bra, letting your breasts spill out.

You moaned as his hands pinched at your nipples, little sparks going up your back. He pulled away from your mouth, a whine coming from you but it was quickly covered when his mouth sucked in your left nipple. Your hands buried in his hair, humming as he worked both of your nipples to stiff peaks. He bit at the skin of your breasts, further darkening the hickies he placed there just last night. Once he was satisfied with his work, he pulled away to kiss you again.

“Fuck me, baby. Please. I can’t wait anymore.” You were starting to grow more and more desperate. Those orgasms from earlier just weren’t enough. You needed his cock right now.

He smirked at your whiny tone. His cock was hard again, throbbing to be nestled in your warm and tight walls but he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Pecking your lips once more, he bent down slightly until he was level with your pussy. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them apart to get more access to your dripping heat. You barely had time to balance yourself on your hands before he was diving in, eating you out like a man starved. His tongue licked and sucked at your clit, abusing the swollen bud until your legs were shaking.

His eyes looked at you from between your legs and goodness were you a sight to see. The way your mouth dropped open, your breasts all marked up, and your watery eyes threatening to spill. He could eat you out for hours, not even stopping when you were crying and begging for him to let you rest.

You didn’t even realize how desperate and close you were until that band was snapping and you were cumming all over his face. One of your hands buried in hair, pulling him closer as your head fell back. Your toes dug into his shoulders, almost pushing him away but he remained firm, delivering licks to your clit.

Once you were shaking in overstimulation, he pulled away, licking his lips of your sweet juices.

He stood back to his full height, pulling you closer until your hips hung off the edge of the counter. You felt his cock rub against your sensitive pussy, flinching away a little at the almost painful feeling. But you were so desperate for him that you didn’t care. You just wanted his cock inside you. Now.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him to you again. Tears fell down your cheeks, bottom lip wobbling. “P-please….no more teasing…”

He could hold himself back anymore either. He pecked your temple, hands digging into the nest of your thighs. “Okay, princess.”

The head of his cock rubbed against your slick folds, bumping your clit a few times making you shiver.

Just as he was about to push in, the loud blaring of your phone broke you apart. Realization struck you, your eyes widening.

“Oh shit! My meeting! I’m late!” You hastily reached for your purse, digging in it until you found your phone. You quickly answered it, apologies falling from your lips.

After you hung up, Jungkook helped you from the island, your legs buckling but he held you up.

You sighed, leaning against his sweaty chest. “Ugh, darn you and your magnetic dick. Why did you distract me?”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “You stuck your hand down my pants. You started this.”

You growled, biting his pec lightly. “You woke me up. You started this.”

He harshly gripped both of your ass cheeks in his hands. “Do you want me to finish it?” His suggestive tone matched his eyes, his stare sending shocks straight to your pussy. Was that meeting really important? You could just quit your job and live your days with Jungkook’s cock down your throat. You’d clock in faithfully every day.

You whined, pushing him away. “I’m already late. Stop tempting me.”

He gave you that cheeky smile again but let you go, making sure to deliver a slap to your ass as you walked away.

Once you had brushed your teeth again and fixed your makeup and hair, you rushed to the door. Jungkook was already waiting for you with a bagel and your lunch bag. Your heart warmed at the sight of him. He took such good care of you. An idea of a surprise date swirled in your head.

You smiled when your eyes met.

“Here. I packed your lunch and since breakfast got cold, I made you a bagel. Eat the whole thing.”

You walked into his arms, hugging him tightly, his warmth sinking into your skin. “I love you.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you more.”

After embracing for a moment longer, you reluctantly pulled away, not wanting to leave him but you knew you had to work.

He kissed away your pout. “I’ll be here when you come back. I promise.”

You sighed but nodded, expecting a final kiss before you finally walked out of the door but instead, his hand grabbed your throat to pull you closer. You gasped at the sudden movement, eyes widening as they locked with his. His smile had dropped, only a mischievous smirk left in its wake.

“And when you come back, I’ll fuck you on every surface in this apartment.”

Your thighs rubbed against each other, excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to say something but you were silenced when he shoved the bagel in your mouth

“Have a good day at work.”

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Breaking the Surface (Sex Pollen Kishibe x f!Reader) MDNI

Due to dwindling devil hunter numbers, you accompany your former mentor, Kishibe, in a run of the mill Devil acquisition. Upon encountering the devil, you both begin to experience some...side effects.

wc: 12.9k Ao3 Masterlist

Warnings: SEX POLLEN AND THEREFORE DUBIOUS CONSENT!!!! (if that is not your thing, please be on your way and we will see you in the next one, love you), enemies to fucking, mean Kishsibe, smoking, drinking, aphrodisiacs, age gap (like late 20s/30s and 50), kissing, spit, sex in an alley, blood (both Devil and Human, but not that much), hypnosis, sex marathon, doggy, missionary, sex marathon, cum, a lot of smell/scent stuff again.

What a joke.  

The thought hung between the two of you, Kishibe in the driver’s seat, and you in the passenger, grumbling out the window. The disgruntled huff rattled in both of your skulls, throbbing against the increasing headache. Neither of you wanted to be here. Or rather, neither of you wanted YOU to be here. Makima bade you join him on what should be a simple execution with little to no complexity. Kishibe was the top of the top, with literally no need for backup taking down a middling level devil. You were perfectly capable, but not even really exceptional, but not a rookie who needed more demonstration either. But, instead of getting your own assignment or group to lead, you were stuck basically being the audience and late report filer for today’s excursion. Your day would consist of standing around, trying to stay out of the way, while he did all the real work, and you’d have the paperwork while he drunk himself stupid back at home. You sighed out, feeling the tension in your head building, the pencil callus on your middle finger already aching. 

“How much further?” You huffed, glancing at the time, disheartened to find it was already approaching mid afternoon. 

“Why, you got something better to do?” Kishibe’s eyes stay locked on the road before you. 

“Better than watching you kill a devil barely half my threat level? Yeah, anything else.” You roll your eyes, squinting as the late morning sunlight peered over the drop down visor.  

He didn’t respond, just carried on driving as if you hadn’t even spoken to him. 

You roll your eyes again and remember Makima's instructions when you had complained, “You’ll go in as a team, numbers are slim right now so everyone pairs even if their ranks don’t align. No one goes alone.” 

Public Safety was scrambling, for personnel, for intel, for quality hunters. Hours had become brutal, late nights bleeding into early mornings with barely time for a shower at home. The office floor was growing more barren every day. Chairs which had once been home to colleagues now sat empty, pushed into desks with dust collecting personal effects that would eventually be collected and trashed by the custodial crew. Everyone was on a razor edge, feeling the impending fate breathing down their necks. Irritability was at an all time high.  

“—total bullshit.” You mumbled, shaking your head and pulling at the skin of your fingers. 

“I didn’t remember you having such a shitty attitude before.” Kishibe took a smooth right turn. 

“It’s been a long time since you were my teacher, Kishibe. A very long time. And I have a perfectly fine attitude, when my time isn’t being wasted.” 

Kishibe grunted in response, taking another turn and stopping the car. 

“Get out and fill the back right tire. It’s getting low.” He commanded, voice passive. 

You looked around the windows realizing you had pulled into a gas station’s air pump. The dashboard didn't even have a tire pressure warning. Was he just trying to piss you off?

“It’s your car.” You settled into your seat further. 

“You’re under my instruction.” 

“What?” You rolled your neck to face him with lidded cold eyes, “ Your old knees can’t get that low anymore, maybe you ought to take a back seat on this one, huh?” 

“So which is it, am I a decrepit old man who can’t do anything alone or am I too good to be wasting your precious time as my caddy?” He glared at you, watching your face contort in indignation, the squeak of your teeth grinding egging him on, “I’m just confused, your story’s inconsistent.” 

“Fuck, fine!” You took off your seatbelt and got out, circling to the back of the driver’s side and unscrewing the valve cap and attaching the hose.

Air hissed rhythmically into the tire, which inflated itself. It was barely flat to begin with, he was just proving how easy it was for him to do whatever he wanted. He had always been an asshole, even beyond the time you had known him. Your months training under him were grueling. He pushed you hard, kicked your ass harder. But it was effective, you learned to take a hit, how to avoid taking said hit. For a while you found yourself admiring him. His power, his speed, his agility and experience. In your early days as a devil hunter, you had found yourself drawn to him. Wanting to know about whatever tragic backstory had scarred him, damaged him so that he became so callus, so vicious. Secretly wondering if you did well enough, or lingered long enough after hours if he would confide in you. Maybe he would even---- no. You didn't allow yourself to finish that thought, at least not often. He may be handsome and fit and strong, but he was mean and probably certifiable. He was one of those guys who was born an asshole and despite his heavily borrowed time, he would one day die an asshole. 

The day was not starting well, at this rate it would be a miracle if you both held out long enough to actually face the devil. The pump began to beep, alerting you that the tire was full. You reset the machine for the next user and walked around the car and slipped back into your seat. Kishibe looked over at you boredly. You got your hand coated in whatever car road gunk, now turned them ashen and tried to brush off the bulk of it onto your pants, feeling the ickiness of it sink into your palms. 

“Gonna get dirtier than that, you sure you're up for it?” Kishibe mocked your disgust, starting the car and looking just barely backwards to back out of the pumping station. 

“I don’t remember you offering to get your hands dirty.”

Silence settled between the two of you. The drive continued, the car hummed, the radio was barely audible. Some  You turned your attention back to your cuticles, allowing the sound of wind rushing past the cracked windows to fill the silence. 

A dance pop song played on the radio, something about a woman begging her cab driver to get her to her booty call faster, before she changes her mind. Being desperate and touch starved was a feeling you knew well, especially as of late. The late nights had recently cost you your most recent in a string of casual lovers. One too ‘sorry, stuck at work.’ flake outs too many. You couldn’t blame them either, it wasn’t like you were all that present when you did manage to make it to your dates. Dating outside the company would always carry this barrier, between yourself and civilians. But dating within the walls of Public Safety carried all the traditional “don't shit where you eat” consequences, with a perfect cherry of “they, or you, will die horribly and leave the other to mourn” on top. You knew getting into Devil Hunting would make your life harder, potentially even shorter, but not getting laid? You’d rather be torn apart by the next devil you saw than forgo a good, consistent fuck. Or maybe you were just annoyed because your lover ex lover, as of late had dumped you, it meant you wouldn't be having sex this week, making this the fifth week in a row for you. Over a month of no sex. You can’t remember the last time you had gone without this long. The distraction of work kept your day-mind occupied, but when you’d return home, for however briefly, you found yourself starving for the touch of someone else. You were an effective partner for yourself, you knew your body well and particularly how to orgasm quickly and quietly, aiding your slip into sleep. But it wasn’t the same, you couldn’t lose yourself in the same way you could when you were with someone else. The way your mind would be consumed by the wholeness of the act; their movements, their body, the smell, the sight, the sounds. You’d find yourself stuck in your own head, barely rubbing out an orgasm before rolling over and falling asleep. It had been too long. Far too fucking long. 

Even thinking about how much you craved sex began to make you wet. You felt the tug behind your navel, alerting your attention lower. You fidgeted in your seat, the sun in your eyes once again, the heating of your skin making your suit jacket feel restrictive and stuffy. 

Kishibe noticed your wiggling. He watched out of the corner of his eye as you unbuttoned your jacket and tried to shrug it down your arms. Between the seatbelt and the cramped passenger side it was an awkward little dance that finally got it off you. He stayed focused on the road, praying the traffic would lighten so he wouldn’t be stuck in this ever heating box with you. You lay your jacket in your lap and adjust your seatbelt, not realizing how it found its place right across the center of your chest. Kishibe’s eyes didn’t even hesitate before peeking at the cleft between your breasts. Your shirt's fabric pulled tight, making the gaps between the buttons stretch, giving him the faintest glimpse at your skin underneath. A few rapid blinks cleared the image long enough for his eyes to turn his attention back to the road. He swallowed, tilting his neck to onside until it cracked. 

He needed a cigarette, he needed his flask out of his coat pocket, he needed something to stimulate him. Something to consume his mind other than the growing, burning thoughts. It was just the nature of the assignment. It was infecting the air of the car, shaking you both with its humid imagination. 

The Lust Devil. The Devil grown from the fear and shame of sexuality, ranging from infidelity, adultery, sexual violence, to personal repressive shame, etc. attraction and sexuality was a sensitive topic for nearly everyone alive, making its corresponding Devil powerful. Although, from the intel gathered by the information sector, its raw power wasn’t extensive. Its defensive power was harder to get an idea of, the previous reports that had been filed had been vague at the most helpful and fully redacted at the least. Hence why the top devil hunter was tasked with its capture. It had most recently been spotted in one of the shadier clubbing districts that Tokyo had to offer. Not a lot of tourists, nothing flashy, just a strip of bars, pachinko parlors, a few behind-the-false-wall establishments that were illegal, but documented. Likely favored by police or lawmakers in the area who could be bought out to turn the other way. Corruption was rife, making it the perfect breeding ground for devils. The sun was beginning to sink, the early afternoon was stretching, inching toward sunset. Finally Kishibe pulled the car into a car park six blocks from the suspected nest. He turned the key, plunging the car into silence. It felt suffocating, at least the awkwardness of the drive had been somewhat mitigated by the ambient car noise and the radio. You both hesitated for a moment before you moved to unbuckle your seatbelt. The click of the belt covered his sigh as he followed suit. You both exited the car and began to make your way out to the street. 

The air had been sticky but an evening chill tingled the back of your neck, cooling your cheeks, which you realized had been burning. He reached into his breast pocket, retrieving his flask, unscrewing the cap. You rolled your eyes at his dependence, redressing yourself in your uniform jacket. He took a sip, your eyes crept over, watching the way his throat tightened. The stubble running down his neck was getting lighter, as was the scar from lip to ear. When you had met him, it had still been pink at its deepest points, the cross hatches where staples had once been were more pronounced, which now were faded and pale. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed whatever vice he had stashed away in advance. When you looked back up to his face he was looking back at you. He extended the curved silver flask to you. You accepted, taking a sip, trying to ignore the thoughts about the stick of his lips still lingering on the spout. You took another quick one, letting what you now knew was whiskey scorch down your tongue and throat. It was harsh and spicy, scouring down through your chest, spreading its warmth, bringing you closer to your center. You let out a long breath and handed it back and continued walking silently.

The crowds hadn’t yet died down. Throngs of people bustling in and out of buildings, waiting for crosswalks, car horns, wind, the taste of the whiskey, your senses were sharpened by circumstance so it all washed over you. Ordinarily you would have found yourself pushing through crowds, but Kishibe, at his imposing height and build seemed to create space for the pair of you. The uniform helped, that black tie and jacking becoming symbolic for people to know to leave Devil Hunters to their work, not try and engage, and certainly to not get in the way. It wasn’t long before you reached the cross street of the last reported sighting. There was no guarantee the devil would still be there, or even in the area, but you would have to start somewhere. Your left thumb had been subconsciously clawing at the cuticle line of your ring finger, it wasn't until you felt the wetness on your fingertip that you realized you had broken the skin. You pulled your hand out of your pocket and watched the blood on your nail bed bead up until the surface tension broke, making it drip down your finger. It felt auspicious, something about it made your stomach twist. Trying to put it to the back of your mind, you wiped it across your pants and pressed forward. 

Kishibe noticed your delay, and it pushed him over the precipice. The car ride, the attitude, the tire, was whatever, but you were in the field now, there wasn’t room for more of your bullshit. He gripped your arm, pulling you to the side further from the street, a hushed scold coloring his tone.

“You going to make it?” He scoffs. 

“What?” You tried to tug your arm back, his strength making your attempt look foolish.  

“You’re off your game.” He squeezed your arm harder “You can’t do anything if your mind isn’t here. Whatever problems you have with scheduling or pairing, just deal with it tomorrow. But I need you here.”

He was right, you had let too much of your external frustration seep into the task at hand. Letting your personal gripes influence work would get you killed, you had seen it first hand. Before you could tell him he was right, he spoke again. 

“If it’s a problem with me, I don’t care what you think I did. I don’t care that you think is a demotion to work with me. I don’t care. I chose you because I trained you well, you have experience, and I trust you. But it isn’t your choice. You do the job you're given, got it?” 

“You--” Your brows wrinkled, “you chose me?” 

“And regretted it nearly immediately. What the fuck happened to you?” He bit. 

“I--”, you were speechless, your callus complaining in the car ringing in your ears, the selfish indignation with which you had entered the mission, “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

It was such a stupid thing to say, but it was all you had. The truth was you had missed working with him, but the stress of the job had become so overwhelming, and the years had stretched on with less and less contact, it became really easy to forget that he had been a good partner. 

“Don’t apologize to me, just fucking tighten up.” He scoffed, releasing your arm and straightening his back, “Just do your job, don’t die, when we get back and I'll rescind my request.” 

He started to turn to continue the walk but you reached out to stop him. 

“Captain wait,” You started but a crash from the alley closest to you stopped you both in your tracks. 

Stepping in time with one another you rushed to the opening of the alley, peeking around the edge of the bodega on one side and seeing nothing but shadow and the colors of sunset. Deep reds and oranges filtering over the tops of the dumpster, stretching back and back further. Two fire escapes were nearly touching about eight feet above your head. This alley didn't have a dead end, it looked to stretch at least a block and a half back, with two internal alleys stretching perpendicular about twenty feet back. It was a tight fit, but pretty standard. The time for discussion was over, you had to get to work. 

Kishibe stepped into the alley first, his dark eyes sharp and locked on the intersection between internal alleyways. You stepped in behind him, taping off the exit, indicating to any wandering pedestrians that there was a possible gas leak. Why devil hunters needed such benign sounding rouses, was above your pay grade, but still never quite made sense. You followed behind him closely, but far enough back that you could see around his broad frame. For a man as big and tall as he was, his steps did not make a sound. You couldn’t even hear the rustle of his jacket as he pulled a twenty centimeter bowie knife from his chest holster, it seemed to just extend from his hand silently. You pulled your own, smaller, but much thinner blade, from an internal pocket in your coat, along with a spool of razor thin wire. He stopped silently and you stopped not even a foot behind. If someone were to see your bodies in profile, they would see the two of you made the same shape, a light bend in the knees grounding your feet, torsos leaned forward, eyes and ears open, hands tight around your weapons of choice. You slipped on a pair of thin sheepskin gloves, something that wouldn't be penetrated by the sharp wire.  

Kishibe put his unarmed hand behind his back, showing you his palm. A signal he had taught you to mean Target Present. You took in a silent breath, he did the same. Finally you could hear the soft rustling of the devil. No, it wasn't rustling. It sounded almost like it was…talking? Like hearing a whispered conversation happening two rooms away, you can hear that there is talking, but you can’t hear what it is or even make out the voices. This didn’t sound like a voice, more like a collection of voices. It was just barely audible over the road noise and wind. But he could hear it, and now so could you. Whatever you were going to kill tonight was right behind the corner. You pushed your now gloved index finger into his palm softly. Your way of telling him I’m ready. 

There hadn’t been an alley to your right in over a block, so it was likely there was a dead end at the end of this corner.

 What Devil would corner itself? 

Before you could express your concern Kishibe stepped forward again. Then once more with his inhuman speed. Your body followed, attaching one end of your spool to the corner's edge and rushing behind him to line it along the opening, quick to attach the other side and duck underneath. He moved so fast you could barely see the Devil in front of you. It was so much…smaller than you anticipated. Only a few feet tall, thin and lanky. It was a deep grey/blue, shiny and goopy. You couldn't study it too long before you strung another line to the first ducking down to create an identical nearly invisible block a few feet lower. 

Kishibe was making quick work of rushing and slicing where he could. The Devil seemed to be making little effort to fight back, just hopping from one spot to the next. It was fast, too fast, it seemed as though it was apparating in different spots rather than moving. Left and right, behind, in an unpredictable rhythm that had Kishibe pivoting sides more than doing any damage. He was usually silent when fighting, but you heard the huffs increasing in volume as he struck out. You watched closely, trying to decipher some kind of pattern in its movement. 

Behind, right, behind, left, right, behind, left, behind….

When it struck you. Why wouldn’t it just go up?

The alley wasn’t covered, the area had only a single fire escape on the left building’s wall. You estimated it was only nine or so feet above you. From there it would be a swift jump/climb for the creature to escape to the rooftops. 

It doesn’t want to escape. 

“Kishibe!” Your voice clawed out of your throat, with no permission of yours. 

Kishibe lunged to the right, finally catching the end of the gelatinous tail, lobbing off a few inches. The Devil, now trimmed, jumped to the left. Kishibe’s eyes were fixed in the way the tail’s nub was stuck to his blade. Only for a moment, a split second of distraction considering his arsenal. Deciding between using a different blade or sticking with this one. You rushed the creature as soon as you saw his stutter step, closing in on the fighters. Just in time for it to unfurl a long, proboscis tongue. It uncoiled itself vertically like a butterfly would, taking only a fraction of a second before expelling a fine mist over the both of you. Kishibe squinted, not wanting to close his eyes completely in case of a follow up attack, but you couldn't help it, the sting in your eyes, making you squeeze them shut. It made you cough. It tasted like nothing, but the inhalation was jarring. It felt like steam, it smelled like…ambergris, or sweat or lilac. Something warm and rich and deep. Not bad, just full. And organic. 

“Don’t breathe in.” Kishibe commanded, breaking his own instruction by extension. He could feel whatever the liquid was on his lips, on his tongue, tingling the buds as the sank in. 

Finally the amalgamated voice joined into language, or perhaps the mist granted you a level of understanding you didn’t previously possess. 

Too late. 

Kishibe didn’t allow it to continue its speech, bringing his blade down through the eye of the Devil, further and further until the thing was nearly bisected. It twitched briefly before stilling itself, blood pooled around its body. 

You both had the same realization. 

“This wasn’t it.” You vocalized for both of you, no Devil would have gone down that easily, or cornered itself. 

“No it wasn’t.” Kishibe sheathed his knife, his flask found his hand, “This is just a piece of it. Probably not a very big one.”

You sighed, looking down at what remained of the bait that you had so easily fallen for. A Devil that could split itself into smaller, independently functional parts. It was horrifying to imagine the magnitude of what a power like that could do. The thing looks even smaller now split and limp on the ground, it could be useful  to try and bring it back with you, give the lab team something to study. You saw plasma or some kind of internal fluid spreading out further, faster and thinner, than the blood was. You crouched closer, trying to examine the opalescent liquid. 

“Don’t get too close.” Kishibe warned, using the upper arm sleeve of his coat to wipe blood from his face. 

You felt the dew on your own face, swiping one finger across your cheek, looking at it. Shiny, thin, with a small iridescent sheen. It was the same. Whatever sap was leaking out was the same thing the Devil had sprayed you with. 

“Flask please.” You asked. 

Kishibe handed it to you wordlessly. You dumped its remaining contents onto the asphalt. 

“What the fuck—“, he started but you tuned out. 

You tried to scoop as much of the fluid up as you could into the now empty flask. You couldn’t really get that much but even a few milliliters would be enough to study. Your heart began to pound, thoughts of poison and infection raced through your mind. If whatever that was was going to try and kill you, gathering some of the source would be the quickest way towards inoculating yourselves. 

“We have no idea what that shit was that it sprayed at us. We need a sample.” You stood up from your crouch handing the flask back to him. 

“You could’ve let me clear it first. That’s just wasteful.”, he took it back snappily, shaking his head. 

You rolled your eyes, of course he would find a way to complain about you potentially saving both of your lives. 

“Whatever. If you get sick and need this, I hope you live long enough for me to say I told you so.” You removed your gloves, “We have to be close to the nest, why else would it send out a scout?” 

Kishibe cleared his throat and blinked a few times. His head was starting to spin. That swimming, swirling feeling he usually only allowed himself once he was back home and there were no more devils to fight, no more choices to be made, only thoughts to silence and sleep to wait for. He hadn’t drunk nearly enough to be that drunk already. Usually when he was drunk his mouth felt dry, but now he was close to drowning. Swallowing down excess saliva over and over. This was something else.

Your heart was still racing, your mind chasing it down. You were starting to sweat, clammy hands and cheeks chilled by the wind that leaked into the alleyway. You felt on the verge of a panic attack, you were starting to panic when you felt it. A lick of yearning pulling at you. A pulse emerging from your clit. Your panties all too quickly became wet. Your nipples peaked and strained against the fabric of your bra painfully. Your mouth whetted itself, your tongue feeling loose and floppy among so much moisture. You no longer cared to examine the body of the Devil crumpled beneath you, you looked up to Kishibe. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, they seemed to be endless pools of abyss, begging, pulling, thralling you into them, into him. You had never noticed quite so closely the details of his face; high, pronounced cheekbones, hollows so symmetrical that even the long healed gash on his left cheek couldn’t take away the beauty. 

You had seen a picture once, of him in his 30s. It was buried in some file, it wasn’t a great picture, he was bloodied and bruised, you hadn’t read the whole report attached but you could assume it was some kind of incident report. In this moment, in this alley, with whatever drug was now being carried by your bloodstream, you saw him for the younger man he was once. The same man he had always been. Only for a moment, his hair fluffy and dark, skin supple and bouncy, lips not yet wrinkled by time, full and wet. Those same lips faced you now, years of smoking seemed to have skipped aging this part of him. The eyes never change, the ones in the picture had been just as cavernous, just as unreadable. Like a shark, catching the wounded, wiggling fish it had traced for miles. The black iris and pupils bleeding together, stark against the white sclera. No wrinkle or bag in their periphery would ever make those eyes less terrifying to be caught in. Those shark eyes held you steady in their gaze. 

“What?” You asked, panted, actually. 

He didn’t answer, just looked you over, taking in every inch of your body. 

“Kishibe, what?” 

He cocked his head just barely, that god awful neck crack sending a jolt straight to your flooding panties. 

“Stop looking at me like that. What is it?” Your cheeks burned, everything burned, you needed to loosen your tie or take your jacket off or fuck take everything off. 

“Do you feel it too?” His voice was different, rough, strained. 

Your blood fell cold again, despite the burn in your cheeks. Piece of the puzzle were falling together, but fuck you didnt have it in you to dare look at the whole picture yet. Your brain was starting to fuzz, boundaries of station and taboo blurring together. 

You looked up at him with concerned eyes, pulling your jacket down your shoulders and dumping it onto the dirty ground without a second thought.  “This isn't good. I feel…sick…”

But that wasn't the right word, you felt your body aching, heating and cooling too rapidly to maintain, shivers and sweats commingling into an internal hurricane. 

“What do we do? Do we just---” You couldn’t speak the lewd ideas out loud, shame clogging your throat, making it hard to breathe. 

He took one carefully measured step toward you. He wasn’t sure what to do either, he didn't have enough blood in his brain for reason, too much of it had fled to his cock. Which now strained against his pants so hard that he worried for the integrity of the button. You looked so concerned, but so good, the grime of combat appeared a better enhancement than the finest makeup in the world. Your eyes were large and wet, not crying but filling with moisture the same way his mouth was still drooling. You saw how you shifted your weight, a small gasp escaping you as--he speculated-- the inseam of your pants pressed too closely against  you. Fuck he wanted to give in, to take it away, he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he thought this might actually be the thing that finally kills him. 

You shifted again, uncomfortable under his gaze. You pulled at the knot of your tie, tugging it loose, praying it would give you some kind of relief. It did not. You undid your top buttons, hoping the evening air would cool your neck. He could see the sweat beading along your neck, for a moment he tasted the salt and sweetness on his still stinging tongue. Kishibe groaned, this was not helping his situation at all. His dick strained further, his heart wasn't even aching any more, it was spasming. Painfully. Was he having an actual fucking heart attack? 

“Okay fuck it.” He gasped out, he felt lightheaded, this was happening too quickly“This will get worse before it gets better, I need to fuck something, now, and I don’t know how long I can hold out and I know you feel it too.”

He said it. It was actually out there, hanging in the space between your two overheating bodies. Even just hearing him speak those words aloud you felt a microsecond of repose, only to bring the intensity of sensation all crashing down on you once more. It was too much to bear, you sunk to the ground. You thought you might vomit, or faint, not from repulsion, obviously not, just from the overwhelming feeling of your own blood pulsing against your ears. You keeled over onto your knees, trying to fight your body. 

Kishibe’s bad knee cracked as he crouched down to your level, one tentative hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. You moaned at the firm, warm pressure of him touching you. A broken, weak moan. One that sent him ailing once again. 

“It’s some kind of aphrodisiac…”His hand moved up and down the line of your spine, not daring too low, or too high, staying contained in the benign, sexless rectangle of your shoulders, “But a strong one.”

You nodded, his words sounded like you were underwater, you could barely make them out, the sensation of his hand on you was too distracting. 

“So what? Is it some kind of trap? A distraction?” You pled. 

“Maybe.” Kishibe’s hand stilled, he moved to sit beside you, no longer able to keep himself on his knees, “pretty good defense. Keep your opponent…” his eyes flicked down the front of your shirt, then back out quickly, “occupied. Then attack.”

Your eyes flashed open, hoping to find his face again,“So we have to move. We can’t stay here.” 

“Can you even stand?” Kishibe avoided your eyes, leaning his head back to the night side, showing you the full length of the side of his neck. 

Drool fell from your lips, you could feel the sensation of his stubble against your tongue, the thin skin under your teeth, the muscles against your lips. Your pussy pulsed again, reminding you of the cause of your wandering mind. You looked down where your spit had pooled and saw it was laced with blood. Not a lot, but more than none. Whatever this was, it was doing something to you internally. Something bad. Kishibe’s hand, once on your back, gripped the back of your neck and turned you to face him. His face was deadly serious. A blood vessel had popped in his left eye, a small red moon surrounding the dark planet. This wasn’t some avoidable awkwardness, or some traversable terrain with no consequences, this was becoming life or death.

“Do you trust me?” He had brought your face so close to his own, you could smell the tobacco on his breath, the whiskey, something sweeter. 

“Yes. Kishibe please…make it stop.” You finally begged. 

He kissed you hard, the traces of blood in your mouth invading his own. You pulled him in by his shirt, scooting yourself closer to him, the gravel underneath you digging in its teeth, making holes in your pants. He was already undoing the fly of your pants when you took your first breath. You wanted to feel him, his body, his heat, anything, you ripped through his buttons, a few of the poor bastards making their new homes amongst the garbage surrounding you. If your younger self could see you now, in the arms of your mentor, surrounded by filth and death, about to cross every boundary she knew kept you apart, she would…honestly, you probably would be elated. Pervert. 

“Open your mouth more.” Kishibe bossed. 

He spoke in sharp, clear commands when you would work together, but still you were shocked his voice in this situation would feel so familiar. You followed suit and obeyed, opening wider, welcoming in his tongue. You grabbed at his chest, his side, his back; you didn't hesitate before digging your fingers into his skin, feeling the muscle, the skin. You pulled him closer. He had one arm wrapped around your back, the other finally unfastened your pants, making no delay in slipping two of his thick fingers inside and under your panties. 

“Oh….. fuck…” He shuddered, pulling off your lips, his head and eyes rolling back in time. 

You were so wet, if your pants had been any color other than jet black, how wet you had become would be so visible it would look as though you were incontinent. He felt your sticky arousal coat his fingers. Slipping into the wrinkles of his knuckles, where the skin made room for joints to move, part of him hoped they would never leave. He hadn’t even thought about how careful he should be with you. You were strong, an excellent hunter, great speed, regularly taking devils and beasts twice your size down in a single afternoon. But this was different,he knew that and he still couldn’t stop himself from plunging both his middle and ring fingers into you hard. You cried out, your recent break in sexual contact leaving you unprepared for such immediate insertion. In a flash the hand that had held you up by your back had dropped you, and now covered your mouth, pressing you against the pavement. Your eyes flew open, pebbles and debris digging into your back. But nothing was worth feeling except for him inside of you. His thumb brushed against your clit and your hips jerked up. He fed your pussy his fingers again and again, keeping a steady pace. You pushed your pussy harder against his hand, grinding your clit against his palm. 

“Fuuuuuuuck, Kishibe.” You crooned against his hand.

“That’s it baby, open up.” He spread his fingers inside of you, “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You opened your eyes, surprised at the affectionate name, but were stopped when you found him watching the place where his fingers entered you. After a moment of blissful watching he looked back up to you, his mouth hung open in a permanent state of breathlessness. His tie hung loose but still knotted around his neck, his lips were already swollen. Pink and perfect, your spit and his combined reflecting the moonlight back at you like a blue light.  You pulled him down to kiss you again, this time moving your tongue into his mouth. With your free hand you unbutton your own shirt more, stopping at your navel when you feel pressure start to build behind your womb. You tried to pull off his lips to warn him what was to come, but he held you in place. 

You came with no warning, quicker than you may ever have, a hearty whine ripping from your throat. He gasped, looking down again and seeing your cum trickling down his wrist. He looked back up to your eyes, a smile on the corners of  his open mouth. Before you could speak he kissed you again, moving his body over yours, before pulling you up to your feet. Your legs shook like a foal, but you didn’t need to count on them because Kishibe turned you and pressed you against the brick closest to you. The corners of the grout lines dug into the skin of your chest and your face. Kishibe’s lips had moved to your neck, teeth and tongue joining to worship your skin. One hand dug its nails into the brick in front of you, the other reached backwards to try and touch him. You felt the fabric of his shirt, hanging loose to one side, you felt part of his belt, he wouldn’t stop fucking moving. 

“I want to touch you, stop.” You wanted to sound stern, but his lips behind your ear made you whimper your instructions, “oh kishi…”

Your eyes rolled back and you pressed yourself against the wall harder, sticking your ass out. Kishibe blindly found your hand between your bodies and guided it to the front of his slacks. You gasped, he moaned into your neck. 

Finally. 

Your hand mapped his length, and his…girth. It wasn’t the longest dick you had ever encountered, but jesus christ it was the thickest. That was why he had said he didn't want to hurt you, you realized. This thing could do some real damage. You could feel his heartbeat through his pants, he shuddered against you, pressing you into the wall further, as your hand found the end, circling over the tip of his cock. 

“You’re not going to make me cum in my pants like some teenager.” He gripped your hair.

You gasped at how rough he was being. You usually had to beg for this kind of treatment. His breath was hot and damp on your neck, you circled his wet tip again. 

“You sure about that?” 

He released your hair to rip your pants off your hips, down to your knees, “Positive.” 

His belt jingled and you heard the unzip of his fly, a moment later you felt the engorged tip pressing between your legs. Fear flashed through your body, making you gasp again, tears slipped from your waterline, but your body pushed your ass further into him, sliding his cock further, so it was nestled perfectly against your folds. You shivered, the anticipation of the real point of no return, coning at you fast. You whimpered out a small, scared cry. 

“Please Kishibe, please…” you begged, “be gentle with me.” 

Kishibe stopped, the pulse in his heart lurching at how pitiful you sounded. A twinge of…maybe remorse(?) causing hesitation. He never intended for this to happen like this. You didn’t deserve to be rushed through fucking in some back alley, just steps away from an open metropolis. You deserved a bed, and privacy, and time. He would be lying to himself if he had never imagined a night with you. He knew better, he knew the nights he had spent alone, imagining just how to draw out these exact sounds from you. How he would find you alone at the bar, after some not technically mandatory, but certainly expected social time with coworkers, bring you back home and finally have you all to himself. He would indulge himself in fantasies of your body, how it would feel under him, how your hips would strain to straddle his lap, how your breasts would look freed from all bindings, no clothing to keep him from the decadence of your figure. He would have been kinder, he hoped at least.  This wasn’t anything like he had imagined. Maybe it was loss that pulled at him now. Mourning for the first night he hadn’t even realized he valued so heavily. He chose then that, despite the circumstances, and despite his arousal plagued mind, he would try his hardest to give you something closer to what you deserved. What he deserved. 

Despite the burning desire taking over his body, he slowed, moving your hair off your neck, laying tender kisses among the still indented bite marks and blooming bruises he had already laid. 

“I’ll be gentle. I promise, I’m going to take it away, okay?” He didn’t have to turn your face this time, you craned your neck to meet his lips again. 

This kiss felt different, kinder, more unified. But the bliss was supreme only momentarily, when he finally began to enter you it was immediately surpassed. You weren’t sure if it was the effects of the aphrodisiac or if it was just him, but the pleasure overwhelmed your every sense. The moon bloomed, taking your vision over completely, pleasure blinding you. A long, howling moan was released into the night sky. It was unclear who sounded it, but it didn't matter. He pushed further into you, until he was fully inside, his hips flush with your ass. You were panting, gasping, no longer kissing him, desperately trying to relax to allow him inside of you, you were gripping him too tight, he couldn’t move. 

Kishibe was struggling, you had a hold on him so tight, too tight. His back was hunched at an odd angle because of his height, he couldn't have access to your neck or lips and stand up straight. He couldn’t stay immobile like this, the strain was already becoming too much. 

“I’m sorry, I have to.” He grunted, pulling his hips back, forcing your muscles to let him go. 

Your body shook, choppy whines came from you as he thrust into you again. You were gripping the wall as hard as you could, digging your nails into any textural abnormality you could find. Your cheek stung against the brick as your face scraped against its rough surface. 

“I know. I know. Breathe, baby, breathe.” Kishibe couldn't stop his hips, which carried on finding their pace, but he tried to give you soothing words to take some of the pain away. 

 His increasingly powerful thrusts made it hard to get a steady breath, but you focused on breathing deep and not holding it or hyperventilating. After a few deep breaths, you could feel your pelvic muscles softening, the lubrication of your previous orgasm, the mess of arousal brought about by the Devil’s poison, and his pre cum soothing the stretch. The pain wasn’t gone, but it was being overshadowed by the bliss of being full of him. You weren’t even out of your clothes, your pants were around your knees, your shirt hadn’t even been unbuttoned completely, the fabric of your bra caught on the texture of the brick, your jacket had been discarded…somewhere… but it didn't matter. You were full of cock, his cock, and suddenly it was clearer to you than ever before that this was where you belonged, wet and oozing, limp and drooling, ready for him to use you how he pleased.

Once you had relaxed, Kishibe could finally get some real rhythm going, finding his hips pistoning on instinct rather than by his input. The friction, the wetness, the sweat, the smell, the sound, he was hypnotized. He no longer cared about a passerby hearing you, or if the real Devil was waiting in the shadows to ambush you, he didn’t care about anything. Anything except feeling your pussy around him every second for the rest of his life. He needed this, he needed you. He had always needed you. He bit hard on the back of your shirt collar, trying to stop the moans and grunts from escaping him. His last fuck had been some random pickup two weeks ago, she was fine, sexy, didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that was pretty much all of his criteria these days. But sex with her felt like a sneeze compared to this. He began to wonder if he was actually a virgin all the time, and this was what sex actually was.

“Harder Kishi, harder….please.” you begged, deepening the arch in your back, begging for his fat tip to kiss the wall of your cervix. 

You weren’t as tense now, still tight, but not dangerously so, he could go full force and not hurt you, and fuck was he ready to. Kishibe bent you further, one hand on your hip, the other on the back of your head. He pulled all the way back so that just the very tip was pressed against your hole. In the same moment, he gripped your hair, pulled your head off the wall and snapped his hips forward, your hands kept your shoulders from hitting the wall too hard, his hold on your hair kept your face safe. But nothing could have prepared you for the burst of pain/pleasure that filled your nervous system. Without any time to prepare, he repeated this action. He found a new rhythm, brutal and fast. Out to the tip, in to the base. You didn't even realize the volume of the choked cries you were letting out until his hand found its way to your mouth again. One finger pulling at the corner of your mouth, making your gag. 

“Shut up.” His stern voice was back, the gentility had vacated when he felt himself bottom out,“you want anyone off the street to come back here and see you like this?”

Both you and he didn’t miss the way his hypothetical made your pussy clench around him. 

“Or maybe you would?” He snapped his hips again, deeper, sending you gasping, “You want everyone to see what a slut you are, huh?”

He was a man possessed, nothing that came out of his mouth had crossed his mind before, and yet it felt truer than saying his own name. He continued:

“Everyone should see me fucking you, so they know. Your perfect little hole is all for me. I can’t believe you had this the whole time and you kept it from me.” He brought his hand down on your right ass cheek, “How dare you. This pussy was made for me.” another spank, “This pussy belongs to me, understand. Your body belongs to me.” he spanked you again, on the same exact spot. 

You screamed at the third spank, the skin was so hot, you could already feel it welting. Your wetness was spilling down your legs, his harsh hands and possessive words making you wetter with every syllable.  

Another spank came, “Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You!”

A kind rub over your cheek brought down your defense, before he spanked again, even his own palm starting to sting, “and who does your body belong to?”

You cried out again, his hips relentless as he tortured you, “You! Kishibe, you!” 

“Mmm, good.” He smoothed a hand over your wounded cheek, only to dig his nails into the sensitive meat, lean into your ear and speak again, “and who do you belong to?”

“You! Kishibe you, I belong to you.”

He dug his nails in harder, “Who?”

“You Kishibe, you!” You tried again, only to see him raise his hand out of the corner of your eye. 

“Captain!” You tried again. 

The hand cracked against your skin, “Wrong again.”

Your legs were barely hanging on, the assault on your ass making your knees shake and your arms scrape down the wall.

“Who am I?”

It hit you. 

“Master.” You sighed out, knowing you had gotten it, the name he felt most suited him when he had this much power over someone, “I belong to you, master.” 

Pride blossomed in his chest, he brought a non threatening hand down across your aching backside, petting your hip softly, feeling the down hairs at the base of your pelvis grow coarser as he parted your center, his middle finger finding your clit. 

“That’s right, baby. Good.” He circled your twitching clitoris. 

Your legs shook harder, ‘Master…master I can’t I ca--”

But you did, you came again, spasming around his cock, which he buried deep inside of you for you to ride out your climax, still petting at your clit. He continued until you gathered the strength to pull his hand away. 

“awh..”He cooed in your ear, “can’t take it anymore, can you?” 

You shook your head. He began moving his hips again, pumping into you again and again, “Poor girl, can’t keep up with the old man, huh?” 

These taunts seemed not of his own creation, but he still couldn't stop them.

“How long have you dreamt of this? Years? And look at yourself, was this what you imagined? Pants around your ankles, surrounded by trash, falling to pieces after barely getting started?” He mocked, “How disappointing, all that time to prepare and still you can barely keep up. Looks like I got to you too late.” 

But that was when you heard it. He heard it. The words were not his own. The voice, it was covered, influenced…filtered in some way. Coming from his desperate mouth, but not his. He noticed it too. It was getting closer, the real Lust Devil, not one of its parts. There was no telling how little time you would have before its arrival. He stilled his hips, against every screaming cell in his body that wanted to continue. 

“Stand up.”he ordered, and despite your trembling legs you did, “we have to move now. Break the wires.” 

In a Devil hunting first for you, you pulled up your pants, lamenting the amount of liquid arousal that would now find its home in your panties, and donned your gloves to remove the razor wire from the alley’s opening. Adrenaline and endorphins keeping your hands steady, you felt empowered, more so than you had crumbled on the floor in pain prior to this whole endeavor. Maybe the two orgasms had worked some of the effects to the back of your mind, hitting snooze on the incline, however brief. Your watch read 7:58 pm. 

“Should we—?” You started, feeling like maybe this was your chance to take this thing down for real. 

Kishibe, who had now tucked himself back safely inside his slacks, still achingly hard, rushed past you, grabbing your hand and turning the corner towards the exit. 

“Nope. We are in no condition to fight.” He pulled you along, you could barely keep up with his leggy gait. 

“But I feel like—…”

“Fine! I’m in no condition to fight. Come on.” He tugged you further towards the street. 

You kept your eyes on his back, the street lights in front of him giving him a corona of light, making him seem deific. You heard scuttling, shambling behind you, growing closer. The voice returned, or maybe it had always been there? But now you heard your own voice, and Kishibe’s, your pants and grunts together, his nasty taunts, your pleading begs. You had joined whatever collection this thing was creating. You didn’t dare look back. You knew about Sodom and Gomorrah, about Orpheus and Eurydice, you knew better than to look back when you were so close to salvation. 

Kishibe pulled you both out of the line of the alley, and you both burst into the night street. He stopped a few steps from the alley’s entrance, in the open light of the street, you bumped into his back, but he was quick to physically guide you to his side instead, keeping one arm around you, still desperate to have you close. The beast didn’t venture into the light. It stayed eight or so yards from the entrance, away from prying eyes. It made no sound or retreat, but it made no charge either. And that was good enough for Kishibe. He tugged you along, pulling you past the much smaller crowd, and back in the direction of the car. The ache was building again inside of you, how could it be asking more from you already. He hadn’t even cum once yet, by your own mental calculations he was probably running on pure adrenaline. 

“Kishi?” Your voice was still hoarse. 

He kept walking. 

“Kishi, baby?” You tried again, slowing your pace just slightly. 

He tugged you further, still not waiting for your question. 

“Kishibe, what’s the plan?” You got tired of waiting for his permission, you stopped, “you can’t drive like this, I can’t either. It's at least thirty minutes back to the office, and I don’t think we can do much there!”

“Fuck!” He stopped and turned to face you, coming close, his voice threatening, “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t find somewhere else. 

His other eye had a small hemorrhaged vessel as well. Two identical spots in either eye. Your heart burned at the sight, at his desperation. He needed you, he needed you to find somewhere where he could relieve himself, where he could have you at the fullest with no interruption, either from peril or from prying eyes. You flashback through your entrance to the area, what had you passed, what had you seen? There was something, there had to be, or else you wouldn’t feel so sure of it. You just had to remember. Fuck! Your mind was still scrambled. He was growing restless, his grip on your arm growing tighter and tighter. He inched closer and closer, you became aware of the passersby, witnessing you bruised and scratched in the grip of a much larger, desperate man. It wasn’t a good look. 

Wait..

“A love hotel! We passed one on the way here! It had a lit up sign in the front window!” You finally remembered. It couldn’t have been more than a block away. 

He groaned, picturing the check in process and the seedy room,. But fuck, if he was ever desperate, it was now. 

“Find it.” He ordered, letting you lead the way. 

You took his hand and led him down the sidewalk. You were right, it wasn't even three full blocks away. A tall building, a large neon flower in the window, a white awning hanging above.. 

“Just, don’t talk, okay?” You told him as you walked inside he rolled his eyes but followed you.

A bored looking clerk sat at the desk, he had a pair of bulky headphones plugged into a walkman on his desk. A chime rang out as you entered, but the music must have been too loud, he didn't flinch. He didn't move until you approached the desk. He ripped off his headphones as though you were his boss catching him slacking off, but his frightened eyes grew suspicious as he took in the pair of you. Your shirt was buttoned wrong, your tie was lost somewhere, as was your jacket. Your cheek was bleeding, bruises on your neck unhidden by the haphazard collar. Kishibe looked no better, blood on his shirt, which was missing quite a few buttons, tie still on, but barely, his hair was a mess. His usual stoic scowl had been replaced with a harsh glare trained directly at the clerk, his foot tapping like a caged animal.  

“Excuse me, hello. We would like to check in.” You tried your best to sound casual.

“Um…” The clerk hesitated. 

“We’re…”You thought on your feet and said the first thing that you could think of, “Engaged! We just got engaged, I mean. And our..in laws! Yes, our in-laws are in town and we don't have a lot of privacy and we just want to…celebrate.” 

The clerk eyed you both again, analysing you and Kishibe individually and no doubt trying to parse together how you would fit as a couple. 

“We would like an overnight room.” You continued, trying to remind him of the actual task at hand. 

Kishibe was stunned by your plan, by how bold it was, and how poorly you were pulling it off. You worked at a secret (ish) organization, for fuck’s sake. But he was amused by your efforts, so he doubled down with you. 

He wrapped a big arm around your shoulder, leaning over the desk, “Maybe something with a tub.” 

The clerk nodded, whatever was in front of him was none of his business, he saw plenty of strange pairs come through the lobby. And anywhere there was no way he was getting his ass kicked by this guy at his current pay rate. 

“Yeah…okay,I just need a credit card to put on file.” He finally explained. 

Your wallet was safely tucked in the car, you didn’t have anything. You hadn’t even considered this part, how could you have not thought about this? Kishibe pulled a leather card carrier from his coat pocket, not a credit card but his Public Safety clearance badge and slapped it down on the counter. 

“How’s that card work?” He hissed. 

The clerk scanned it briefly, sighing, probably lamenting the admissions given to government workers and retrieved a key from the corkboard behind him and handed it over. 

“Whatever man, just don't break anything.” He had checked out of the conversation the moment Kishibe had approached, he put his headphone back on, “Fifth floor. Check out is at 10am.” 

Kishibe took the key and his badge and pulled you toward the elevator. 

“Thank you!” You waved to the clerk, just barely getting it out before the elevator doors closed. 

You had half expected Kishibe to pounce on you the moment they did, but he stayed still. Watching the numbers above the door illuminate and dim. 

“So when’s the wedding?” He finally spoke at the illumination of the third floor. 

“Shut up, it got us here, didn’t it?” You laughed. 

“Right, it was your stellar in-law cock block story that got us up here, and not the government issued free pass badge.”, He cracked a smile. 

You both laughed, the chime of the elevator alerted you the doors would open on the fifth floor. The tag on the key was for room 5102, close to the elevator. Kishibe pressed you forward by your waist, leading you out of the elevator and down a few doors to the room. He unlocked the door and you stepped inside. The room was fine, a large king bed placed in front of a boxy, but relatively new tv. A radio clock on one night stand, a lamp on the other. The door shut and locked behind you, Kishibe fasted the chain lock, the dead bolt, and the handle lock, then turned back to you. He saw the abrasion on your cheek, the blood beginning to dry. He took your face in his hands, running his thumb along the outside of it. Guilt pulled at the back of his brain, but fuck he couldnt hold out anymore, he circled his other arm around your back and pulled you in to his mouth. Without the urgency, without the danger, he could kiss you and feel like he earned it. He kissed you deeply, tilting your head back, tasting your mouth, pushing you back toward the bed. You melted in his arms, finally feeling them for how sturdy and safe they could be. Your tongue pushed against his, his hand frond your hair, you found the front of his pants, unbuttoning them quickly. Where his belt had gone was a mystery, but none of your concern. You pushed them off his legs until your knees met the edge of the mattress. You tugged at the rest of your shirt buttons, pulling it off of you and tossing it aside, your tie followed. He finally let you leave his kiss to pull his own shirt over his head and off, his coat seeming to have disappeared. You both shuffled out of your pants and underwear, You reached behind to unclasp your bra, shrugging it down your arms. The process taking only seconds but feeling like a frigid, isolated eternity separated from him. It was like you were magnetized, pulled together by a gravitational force that took everything in you to resist. He stood in front of you, bare, studying your figure, trying to commit every inch of your body to memory. Every freckle, every scar, every bend and shadow of muscle, every fold, everything. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to see you in your truest form, wanton and waiting. He thanked whatever evil caused this Devil’s creation, and cursed himself in the same breath for doing so. But trailing his hands up your curves, to take hold of your full, perfect breasts, he found himself brought to his knees before you, a zealot at the altar of you. You let him push you back onto the bed, the cushioned mattress underneath you was nirvana compared to the grit and gravel he had taken you on before. Your legs spread themselves, no longer needing your guidance, no longer held together by your barely removed pants. Kishibe’s wet tongue moved up your leg, he could taste your sweat, and he reveled in it until he found his next vice, your legs were still coated in the arousal that leaked from you, sticking to your skin under your pants and now coating his tongue, destroying his mind. Or what was left of it. 

Tasting you brought him higher and higher, cleaning your soiled thighs, swirling his tongue over the top of your knee, flattening the soft hairs with his tongue, spit laying them flat in his wake. Your hips jerked up as he joined you on the bed, agile body moving between your legs. He pulled your legs further apart, not bothering to look at your face. No, his eyes were fixed on your pussy as you spread open for him. Your perfect, drooly, needy cunt parting itself, drawing him forward. He made no effort to stop the line of saliva that dripped from the corner of his mouth, he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything, anything except hunger, except want, except need. Perfect folds and layers, ready for him, begging for his touch, you really were made for him. In a single look he forgot every piece of fine art he ever saw, every inch of his earth that any numb skull could have called glorious, he knew glory now. True glory. And he needed it to be his, to claim it for his own. 

Kishibe had moved to his knees, hands firm on your legs to either side of him, hunched over your body, you felt shy under such an intense stare, right to where you were most vulnerable. You reached up and brushed your fingertips over his cheek and back around his ear bringing his attention back to your face. 

“Kishibe…”You moaned in a whisper. 

You looked so desperate underneath him, the pillow lucky to be graced with your hair, him, even luckier to bear witness to such beauty. Your mouth hung open slightly, pupils blown out under heavy lidded eyes. Your breasts rising shakily with panting breaths. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore, Kishibe please,” You begged, tugging him by his neck, “Fuck me.” 

The jolt that sent through his body could knock out every electrical grid in Japan. He pulls your hips down to him, then lifts them to be level with his own. Holding you up with one hand, his other aligns his cock with the hole he could now picture with perfect clarity. His dark eyes caught yours, he watches them fly open as he penetrates you. Finally able to take you how he needs, he is able to slide into you deliciously, pressing against your g spot. Your back arches up under his hand, but he follows, not able to stand being parted from you. It would take an act of God to remove him, at this point. Your tight walls tremble around him, working their hardest to allow him inside. It was bizarre, impossible, inhuman. You subconsciously press against his stomach. Pushing him away, unable to handle the deluge of pleasure and pressure he is causing.

He grips your hips harder, bruising them, and presses into you more, “where do you think you’re going.” 

You whimper as he presses against your cervix, grabbing at the bed sheets, trying to leverage your hips back, but finding the bed is blocking your escape. And still your legs wrap around his hips, torn between trying to pull him inside further, and trying to free yourself.  One of his rough hands leaves your hip and he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. You melt back down into the bed, giving him the room to pull his hips back. Kishibe leans over you, laying you back on the bed, blocking out the still illuminated overhead light with his shoulder as he thrusts into you again. He squeezes your hand harder with every thrust. His lips find your neck again, your hands wrap around his neck, tangling in his soft, white hair. He fucks into you fast, pushing himself, and your poor body to their limits, you have no choice but to hold on and succumb to the waves of pleasure. 

He kisses you again, lips hot and swollen, “So good.” 

He repeats it like a mantra, again and again as he bottoms out inside and pulls back. He can’t do anything but repeat it. The friction, your lips, finally having you for himself since this whole ordeal began, he can’t last. 

The praise, the feeling of him inside, the relief of a bed under you, the feeling of his pelvis rocking against your clit, it all becomes too much and you feel yourself tighten around him. You know he feels it too because he grips your hand and breaks the kiss to cry out in delicious agony. 

“Don’t--.”Is all he manages to let out before his climax blinds him, the lamp light blooming white and over taking all his senses. 

The obscene sounds he makes and the sight of his pleasure scrunched face push you to follow him, cumming for the third time. 

His cock pulses inside of you, painting your insides with his cum. He feels like it will never end, he doesn’t want it too. Kishibe wants to see your tummy swollen, a trail of cum dripping out from between your legs, your face covered in it, your tongue full of it. He wants you full, inside and out, marked as his, full of him, for all to see. He wants you round and pregnant, showing off everything he has done to you. He wants to see you helpless and bred, full breasts ready to be fed from. 

He’s losing his fucking mind. 

He had never wanted children in his life, he made medically sure of it nearly two decades ago, but right now if he could stitch it back together himself he would. Coming back to himself, he sees you panting below him, and nearly cums again. Your mouth hinges open, and your tongue flops out. 

“Spit.” You huff. 

His face must have betrayed his surprise. 

“Please, I need it, please,” You please, “Spit in my mouth, please, Kishi.” 

He takes your face in his left hand, tilting it back, extending your mouth even more with his thumb on your chin. He lets a full, slow string of saliva fall from his mouth into yours, watching it slip down your tongue. You lap it up eagerly, leaning up to lick some stray fluid off of his chin. Your pussy squeezes him again as you move. You keen back happily, the taste of him in your mouth, and the feeling of him inside of you bringing you a blissful feeling of balance. 

“Nasty girl…”He chides, leaning back onto his knees, watching your eyes flutter closed. 

A smile upturns your perfect lips, “mmmmmhm.”

“I have to pull out now.” He warns, you let out a long, displeased whine as he does. 

Coming down from your own high, you catch your breath on the bed, only reopening your eyes when the bed sinks next to you, you turn your neck to him. His flushed, bruises on his neck, his chest, scratch marks on his arms and chest, the two red bursts in his eyes, you hadn’t realized you were so rough on him. He looked over your figure, seeing the abrasions on your chest from the brick, the marks of his teeth, the bruises his hands left on your body, the cut on your cheek. A Pair. 

You brush a disarranged hair off his temple, gentle fingers feeling the sweat cooling on his brow. 

“How do you feel?” You whispered, voice hoarse. 

He moves onto his back beside you, taking your hand in his, kissing the back, and bringing it down to his chest, over his heart. You could feel the rhythm steadying itself.

“Coming down.” He studies your face, “How do you feel?”

You nodded, “Good, a little sore.” 

“Do you think it’s over?”

You shrugged, “I feel better? Less like I am going to die, which is good.” 

He nodded, his mind was clearing, the virus releasing its hold on him. He tried to remember his usual bedside manner,“You should probably…you know…”

You smiled again, moving carefully to sit up, “I didn’t expect you to be so diligent about UTI avoidance.” 

He leaned up on his elbow, “You don’t know me as well as you think.” 

“I like what I’m learning.” You flirted, standing and walking to the small bathroom. 

Kishibe watched your behind sway as you left him. Once the door was shut behind you, he fell on his back staring up to the ceiling. Everything that had transpired tonight flashed through his mind, his cock had hardly softened but now it ached again. Would this ever be over? And when it did, what would become of you two. The poison still plagued his mind, it was a logical jump to assume it was still affecting you too. He didn’t know how to be around you after this, he couldn’t even begin to picture the logistics of bringing you back to work, seeing you everyday and knowing everything he knew now. He wanted to know what you thought, if you felt differently about him, if this was a bizarre, horrible accident that ruined any kind of real feeling that could have existed between the two of you. He couldn’t bear waiting anymore, he had to be close to you again before this ended. He stood, joints clicking, dick hard, and crossed to the bathroom door. He knocked.

“Yeah?” your voice rang from the other side of the door. 

He hesitated, pressing his forehead against the wood, fighting back the words that were about to come out, “Can I come in?” 

You were silent behind the door for a few seconds, he wasn't sure how he expected you to respond. 

“Sure, it’s unlocked.” Your voice came again. 

He turned the nob and opened the door, you were standing at the sink, cleaning the cut on your cheek. 

“Got lonely in there?” You smiled at him through the mirror, and it warmed his fearful chest.  

Kishibe wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you from behind as you carried on dabbing a cool cloth on your face. He hummed an affirmative response, against your neck, smelling deep the smell of your skin. He occupied himself pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder while you finished. His eyelashes tickled behind your ear and you caught his eyes in the mirror as you giggled. 

“You’re clingier after sex than I expect.”

He kept your gaze in the mirror, “Expected, huh? Thought about this before?” 

Why lie, call it exhaustion, or maybe the poison was still working on you, “Yeah.” 

He didn’t flinch, still looking at you through the glass, “Me too.” he confessed. 

You turned in his hold, the reflection no longer enough of a view for you, you had to look at his face, his real face. 

“So why didn’t we ever…?” 

He shrugged, “Didn’t seem right,” but that wasn’t the full truth, “Didn’t want to lose you.” 

You were touched by his admission, his vulnerability. Certainly the influence of adrenaline crash and hormonal endorphins racing through both of you. You felt your throat tighten, your tear ducts start to burn. Sex always complicated things, especially when jobs and feelings were involved. Depending on how the morning played out, this could be the last time you had the chance to be exposed and alone with him. 

“I don’t want to lose you either.” One hot tear fell from your eye, stinging your freshly cleaned cheek. 

Kishibe wiped the tear away, his face still as unreadable as ever, “then you won't. Not yet.”

“What do you want? From all of this, I mean.” You asked him, not accusation or malice in your voice. 

Kishibe sighed, smoothing your hair and holding your face, “I want to enjoy being here with you, while we work this out of our systems. Tomorrow morning I would like to drive you home, so you can rest. We will file the report, be only as honest as we want to be, give the sample to the lab, clock out, and then figure it out from there.” 

Then he moved his hands down to your shoulders, pulling you even closer and kissing you hard. A kiss that was devoid of the Devil’s influence, no hungry, tasting tongue, no hot, fevered breath.  Just his lips sealed to yours, your body pressed against his, and a promise to try. When he pulled away he spoke again, 

“But right now I want us both to get in that tub.” 

The night didn’t end there, the waves of fervent arousal lapped over both of you again and again, but the tide had gone out. The coast was cleared, leaving a sparkling landscape on which the both of you could relax.

Epilogue

The bath had been the perfect remedy for your bruised and abused body. It soothed Kisibe’s aching joints. He washed and rinsed the debris out of your hair, you cleaned the blood off of his hands and neck. His fingers worked over you, bringing you a slower, gentler climax. Back in the bed, clean and dry, you reciprocated his generosity. Sucking, kissing, swallowing everything he had given to you so brazenly before. Laying together in the dark, sleep was hard to find. Whenever you thought it would overtake you, bringing you back into an embrace to pleasure yourselves and each other. Eventually, morning came. Whether you had woken up to the sunlight, or you were too engaged to realize it had come up, was unclear. 

You left the hotel in the early afternoon, returning to the car which had a citation for exceeding the parking meter. Kishibe drove you back to your apartment, pulling up and parking outside. 

“Okay.” He turned to you, the light of day illuminating complexities that hadn’t yet been considered, “They won't be expecting us back until tomorrow, anyway. So you should try and get some sleep.” 

You nodded, “Yeah. Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.” 

“I meant the car.” You teased. 

He chuckled. You didn’t want to get out, you weren’t ready to be done. Tomorrow would mean talking about what happened, reports had to be filed, incident reports, lab tests, possibly declaration of relationship forms. You gnawed on your lip. Kishibe watched you closely, seeing you weigh out each thought, waiting for the perfect way to phrase what you were after. 

You met his eyes, the devious flicker in your eye that he now knew the motivations of intimately shining at him once again,“You wanna come upstairs, take a nap and fool around a little?”

Kishibe sucked in a breath through a sly smile, his exhausted cock already jumping forward at the chance. 

“Absolutely I do.”

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed, I really enjoyed writing this piece and I hope that comes through!! Fuck I want this man so bad. literally so bad. Let me know your thoughts, I always love hearing what you do/dont like. Anyway, thanks again! See you next time! - Doodle <3

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Long Ride p.1

A/n: I had this idea a few days ago and just really wanted to write it for other people who might enjoy it, full disclosure I wrote part of this in a room full of people and was panicking during that so there's a part I feel is significantly lower quality than the rest lmao I hope you enjoy is nonetheless and if you have any requests let me know and I'll be happy to write for it :3

Warnings: Smut, car sex, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, age gap, I think that's it but if you catch anything I missed please let me know :3

Link to part 2

The streets of L.A. where you lived with your boyfriend, Slash, were always so lively. Every turn led to a new version of the city and it amazed you everyday. Except for today.

You stared out the window as all the streets passed you by and it wasn’t the same. You weren’t passing through all the fun party spots, you weren’t heading to some neat studio. All honesty you had no idea where Slash was taking you, all you knew was that the buildings were all boring and bland and it was driving you nuts.

Slash had the radio on low, playing some oldies songs and you enjoyed the music. It bled into the background so you could at least distract yourself with your thoughts.

Letting your mind run while you sat there with nothing much better to do was great until your mind began wandering in... other directions.

Soon your thoughts trailed away from what the rest of your day was going to look to what Slash’s fingers would feel like inside of you. You knew the answer, of course, but the idea was more than intriguing right now.

You reached for Slash’s hand. Thinking you just wanted to hold his hand he happily accepted the touch and held your hand right back, giving it a small squeeze. You smiled at his hand, long, thick fingers entangled between your own, slimmer ones. His big rings causing an uncomfortable heat to form between your legs.

You bit your lip and pulled his hand to your thigh. Slash quickly glanced at you but then kept his attention on the road. “What are you doing?” He asked in that sweet soft and raspy voice of his.

“Nothing.” You answered as you began sliding your shorts down. Slash looked at you again and gave a quick slap to your hand when he saw what you were doing.

“I have to get to a meeting, what are you doing?” You bit your lip again at his stern tone.

“Come on, it’ll be fine.” You groaned, rolling your eyes at him. “I’ll do all the work, I just need your hand.” You told him and pulled your shorts further down your thighs. Slash shook his head at you but didn’t protest any further. He took the rings off his fingers and dropped them into the cup holder so they wouldn’t get in the way for you.

Once you got your shorts off along with your underwear you took his hand and brought it to your clit, waiting for him to circle it like he normally would. Only he didn’t. His hand lay there limply in yours. You looked up at him with a pout, to which he responded by shaking his head again. “You wanted to be a big girl and do it yourself, so do it yourself.” He said with a shit eating grin that told you he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You scoffed at him, but he was right. You said you’d do it yourself and you would do it yourself. Using his hand.

Slowly you pushed one of his fingers into you, you were already soaked so it wasn’t hard. Unlike Slash who had a very visible tent in his jeans.

Slash stuck to his words and wasn’t moving his hand at all, not even curling his fingers. Nothing. So it was up to you to roll your hips to get some friction going.

You ground against his hand, pumping just the one finger in and out of your hole until you were ready for another, the familiar stretch drawing a whine from you. Slash kept driving as if nothing was happening. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as you fucked yourself on his hand, loud moans ripping from your throat, mostly in an attempt to get him to do something.

While you were riding his hand you were touching yourself, trying to mimic the way Slash always does when you’re watching movies. Lazily but with a sense of urgency, teasing you then giving you exactly what you had been begging for in the most intense degree. I didn’t matter, it was the same. Even so, you were still getting close with whatever it was you were doing right.

The familiar knot built back up in your gut, your eyes crossed as it was about to burst. You had the seat pushed back, your legs were parted as far as you could get them in the seat without bothering Slash as he drove along his way.

You clenched around Slash and your back arched but before you actually hit your release he pulled his hand away, taking any pleasure you’d derived from it as well. You whined loudly and sat up, looking at Slash with a pout and teary eyes. “Why would you do that?” You asked, still playing with your clit in a desperate attempt to feel something again.

“I don’t need you making a mess in my car.” He stated bluntly. You glanced around again at all the boring buildings and landscapes as you drove past them. You whined and tried to get yourself off on your own hands, rubbing your clit, pumping your fingers in and out of your hole. You couldn’t help but cry, it wasn’t the same without him. No matter what you did, if you curled your fingers, if you went faster, it didn’t matter. That knot was no longer there, not waiting to burst.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, soft sobs left you as you desperately attempted to get yourself over the edge that just seemed to be moving further and further away.

Slash pulled into a parking lot. There were no other cars in the small space, the building attached to the lot was very obviously abandoned with broken windows and it was covered in art. You watched Slash get out of the car and come around to your side. He opened the door and stared down at you. “Get out.” He ordered.

“What? Why?” You asked, your voice weak and shaky still. Slash let out a heavy sigh before reaching over you and unbuckling your seatbelt. You quickly pulled your shorts back up but you didn’t have time to do them up as Slash pulled you out of the car. He wrapped an arm around your waist and walked with you towards the abandoned building.

You kept looking around as you went, looking for anyone around or any sign of what he was doing. Just something, anything. Slash led you to the alley between the abandoned building and whatever the other place was beside it. It was gross and stank from the industrial garbage bin shoved in there.

Slash shoved you against one of the brick walls, a place where you were mostly hidden by the garbage. He got your shorts off again then pulled himself out of his jeans.

He pushed between your thighs, using your slick as lube. “Happy now?” He asked, his voice harsh in your ear. You whined softly and nodded. Slash scoffed and shook his head. “Fucking bitch.” He mumbled as he aligned himself with you before pushing all the way in with one thrust. You let out a moan as he slid in, hitting your sweet spot as he did so. Slash’s hands gripped your hips, you were sure to find bruises later.

Slash didn’t wait for you to adjust and started thrusting in and out of you at a brutal pace. Your jaw was slack as whines and moans left you like a second language. He hit deep inside of you while his fingers went to work on your clit, rubbing aggressive circles over the sensitive nub. He bit and sucked your neck, leaving dark marks leading down to your shoulder.

That familiar knot built up in your gut and finally you felt like you could hit your release. “Fuck, Slash-Slash, ‘m gonna-gonna cum.” You managed to get out. Slash didn’t stop, he didn’t say anything. Your legs buckled and shook underneath you, the only thing keeping your standing were Slash’s arms around you. After teasing and abusing your poor hole Slash let you cum and you squirted all over the brick wall and concrete ground, soaking your shorts and beneath you as well.

Slash pulled out and slapped your ass. “Better now?” He grumbled as he did his pants up. You turned to look at him and leaned back against the wall. Your breathing was heavy, there was a thin layer of sweat coating your body. Your gaze wandered up and down the man before you.

“You-you didn’t finish.” You mumbled, looking at his crotch. Slash nodded and threw his arm over your shoulder again so he could lead you back to the car.

“I have a meeting to get to.” He said, rubbing your arm. “I’ll finish dealing with you afterwards.” He opened the passenger door for you and reached over to buckle you in, slapping your thigh as he pulled away and closed the door.

[tameodesza]

꒰ modus operandi ₊　⠀᱖⠀⠀꒱

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Pornstar!Shawn x Director!Bret ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

♡ Summary: Bret had worked a lot of odd jobs throughout his career, but he never thought his film degree would lead him to the set of a porno.

♡ a/n: This ended up being way longer than I expected, as always. AO3 link.

NSFW 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Bret was a seasoned film director in Hollywood. He’d worked numerous gigs throughout his career – commercials, sitcoms, low-budget indie films, and a short stint as a cameraman for some obscure wrestling federation in his younger years.

He’d done it all – or so he thought.

When an industry friend called one day asking him to direct a project on short notice, he wished he hadn’t broken his rule of not answering his landline on his day off.

He’d barely gotten the phone off the hook when he heard the distressed voice over the line. “Bret! Buddy! Need a huge favor. My director backed out last minute. Can you fill in?”

 “What happened to your guy?”

“Fucked off to Aruba. Something about his ex trying to serve him with child support papers. Now I’m out a director! Please, Bret. I promise it’ll be worth your while.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Bret leaned a shoulder against his cheap wallpaper, pinching the bridge of his nose. He should’ve hung up right then. But work had been a little slow for him lately, and with his bills piling up, it was unwise to turn down any work.

Bret hid his sigh as he asked, “What’s it for?”

-

Bret almost backed out of the project himself once he learned the details. But he couldn’t turn down the money. It was almost three times the amount he made on his last project. So after a day of briefing and understanding his requirements, Bret pulled up to a discreet film lot second-guessing his life choices.

Now, Bret had worked a lot of odd jobs throughout his career, but he never thought his film degree would lead him to the set of a porno.

Red leather couches, neon lights, and a lingering smell of sex greeted him as soon as he walked through the doors. He looked like a deer in headlights as his eyes scanned the room. He was far from modest, but he wasn’t sure what to expect working in such a lewd environment.

Then his eyes landed on the star of this project – Shawn Michaels.

Shawn was one of the most popular adult film stars on the scene. Many dubbed him as porn’s ‘Golden Boy,’ a name he earned due to his beauty, charm, and onscreen performance that left his viewers lusting for more. He was a hot commodity, but his success hadn’t come without sacrifice.

Despite his profession, Shawn, in fact, did not bareback his way to the top. The rumor spread like wildfire early in his career when people speculated on his quick rise in the business. With the amount of people Shawn came across promising him roles for a quick fuck, the idea wasn’t farfetched. But Shawn liked to believe he still had a sprinkle of morals left and turned down every offer.

Instead, it took working on a handful of crappy deals, unsafe work environments, and sketchy underground projects that probably never saw the light of day for him to catch the eye of some important people. Through rounds of networking, he managed to get signed to one of the top agencies in adult entertainment, Heartbreak Talent.

With his agency behind him, Shawn rose from the underground and began working on high profile projects with some of the most popular porn stars in the business. No longer was he meeting up in some dude’s moldy basement, but rather an actual set with regulations. He began pumping out quality content and selling his own merch on the side to make more money. When he began getting invitations to attend events put together for the top stars in the business, he knew he’d reached the upper echelon of adult entertainment.

Shawn sat in his makeup chair dressed in nothing but a white robe. He never understood the need to powder his face when all he was going to do was sweat it off. But he’d long given up on trying to understand the things they did.

He trailed his fingers through his styled hair to fluff it up a bit but came to a stop when he spotted Bret’s unfamiliar face in the mirror. Fit, tan, pretty eyes, and curly brown hair? The man was gorgeous, Shawn mentally declared as his eyes tracked Bret’s movement across the room.

Shawn almost mistook him for an actor with those looks, but soon realized the attractive man was the director. Shawn was accustomed to working with the same few directors, so it was a rarity to see someone new. And luckily for him, the beautiful man was directing the final scene of his project – a three-part series centered on Shawn banging the pizza guy.

“Delivery!”

Shawn smiled as his eyes shifted to the deep voiced man walking up behind him wearing a cheap shirt with a pizza logo in the center. It was his favorite co-star, Big Dick Diesel. Favorite because working with him always felt easy and they made a lot of money together with their onscreen chemistry.

Shawn snickered, tilting his head back to peer at the man. “Glad to see you got your lines memorized.”

“It’s easy when it’s my only line along with ‘You ordered an extra large?’”

They laughed quietly between themselves. “Yeah, I’m not expecting to win any Oscars with these cheesy lines. No pun intended.”

-

The sound of skin slapping, leather squeaking, and exaggerated moans filled the air as Diesel jackhammered his dick into Shawn’s ass. Shawn rested against Diesel’s chest, allowing his body to be used like a toy while his eyes flirted with the camera. He gave another loud moan and threw his head back when Diesel wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Yes, big daddy. Fuck me, fuck me! Don’t stop. Fuck!”

Shawn was in his element, and though much of his onscreen performance was an act, Diesel was one of few co-stars able to squeeze a real moan out of him. But as seamlessly as the shoot was going, something had been bothering the blond. And the source was the man behind the camera.

Shawn was used to directors praising him throughout scenes, commenting on how hot he was, how great his ass looked, or how good he took dick. It was a huge boost to his ego and encouraged him to pull out more tricks for the camera. But between sucking off Diesel and riding the man’s dick into oblivion, Shawn couldn’t help but notice how quiet the new director was.

Instead of ogling over Shawn, Bret kept a straight face, only speaking when directing Shawn and Diesel to change angles. It was strictly professional, something that Shawn wasn’t used to. It had him second-guessing his performance, wondering if Bret was too nice to tell him if he was ruining the shot.

After a final hard thrust, Diesel abruptly stilled, filling his condom with cum as Shawn continued to ride him through his climax. The blond came soon after, and Bret never felt more like a perv as held the shot on the cum oozing down Shawn’s dick.

Shawn ended the scene with his last line, “How’s that for a tip,” a dopey smile plastered on his face as he gave Diesel a kiss.

Bret was gone as soon as he yelled ‘cut’, robbing Shawn of seeing his beautiful face once more. Shawn sank back into Diesel, letting out a slow breath as the man lazily wrapped his arms around him. He squinted when Diesel pulled out, never getting used to dismounting the larger man.  

An assistant brought over a pair of robes, and after getting dressed they made plans to meet up at the bar later that night. Diesel was one of few people Shawn could fuck and go out drinking like nothing happened, something he cherish about their friendship.

Shawn was late to leave, choosing to freshen up at the studio since it was closer to the bar. Upon leaving the building, he was pleasantly surprised to find Bret standing on the curb waiting for his ride. Something told him to keep walking, especially because Bret seemed to be of few words. But that only made the blond that much more curious.

“Hey.” Shawn approached with a dazzling smile.

Bret was barely able to make eye contact. It felt odd having a normal conversation with the blond after seeing so much of him exposed. “Hey.”

There was a long pause that Bret didn’t seem likely to fill. Shawn shifted his feet in the awkward silence, pulling out a cigarette as a distraction. Before he could light it, he noticed Bret eyeing the stick. “You smoke?”

Bret averted his eyes. “Trying to kick the habit.”

“Oh.” Shawn swiftly put the cigarette back in the cartridge.

The conversation was drier than the Sahara desert, but that didn’t stop Shawn from shooting his shot. He moved closer to Bret, examining him with inquisitive eyes. He was cute, even cuter up close. “Have you acted before?”

Bret crinkled a brow. “No…why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering why a pretty face like yours stays hidden behind the camera.”

Bret’s cheeks heated up, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. Shawn smirked, knowing he had Bret right where he wanted him.

But just then, Bret spotted his ride cruising up the street. He found his words, answering curtly, “I’m not interested in the spotlight.” Then he grabbed his camera bag, entering his brother’s brown Cadillac before it could come to a complete stop.

Shawn watched longingly as the car pulled off with even more interest in the mysterious director.

Bret eyed Shawn’s image in the rearview mirror with conflicting thoughts of his own. But his thoughts were interrupted when Owen asked blatantly, “So how’s the porn gig?”

Bret shifted his eyes from the mirror to Owen with a look of annoyance. “I really wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Pardon me. How’s the ‘adult entertainment’ gig?” Owen said with a shit-eating grin.

Bret sighed into his palm, wishing he hadn’t told Owen. He wanted to keep it under wraps, but with his car being in the shop, he had no choice but to let his nosy brother know why he suddenly needed a ride to an obscure location across town. The only comfort he had was knowing Owen would keep it to himself. Bret didn’t want to give his family another reason to clown him on his career choice. Though his parents were supportive, his siblings never believed he’d make it in Hollywood despite the success he’d had.

He answered flatly. “It’s a job.”

“Oh, it’s more than just a job-”

“Owen. Please. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“…You’re no fun.”

-

“Think he’s straight?” Shawn seriously asked after slamming his shot glass on the counter.

Diesel smiled into his drink, knowing the director had caught Shawn’s eye. He shrugged. “Don’t know. Makes it a whole lot more awkward he’s shooting gay porn if so.”

“He’s so cute,” Shawn blurted. Subtlety had never been his expertise. “It wouldn’t be fair if he’s straight.”

“Talk to him and find out then.”

“I tried. Getting a conversation out of him is like trying to squeeze water out of bread. It ain’t gonna happen.”

Diesel snorted. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing. You know the number one rule in the business. Never fall for y-”

“Your co-star, yes I know.” He’d learned that the hard way with Marty. “But no one ever said anything about the director, Dies.” Shawn gave a mischievous grin and Diesel could only shake his head as he ordered another drink.

-

Bret was asked (begged) to work on a few more projects, many of which starred Shawn. Apparently, the previous director was still on the run, and Bret’s impressive camerawork made him the top choice for a replacement.

When Shawn realized that Bret was directing more of his films, that began his mission to find any stupid excuse to talk to Bret. He likened the man to an old car’s engine. He just needed to be warmed up before running properly. They needed to get on speaking terms and he’d woo the man in no time.

He pulled out all the stops - asking Bret which angle he looked better in, asking Bret to roll the footage back after finishing a scene, and asking Bret of his opinion on outfits he should wear, even though there were stylists on set with more qualified opinions. 

The process was slow and steady. Bret remained standoffish for a while, finding Shawn’s chatty nature annoying at first. But with each attempt, it seemed that Shawn was able to get a bit more conversation out of the quiet director.

Shawn draped a robe around himself as he huddled closely to the monitor. He’d just finished up a scene with another top star, Hunter Helmsley, before making his way over to Bret. “Wow. My ass looks great.”

Bret glanced sideways at the blond, rolling his eyes with the shake of his head. He hadn’t known Shawn for long, but he was quick to learn of the blond’s self-obsession. Then he noticed Shawn’s sudden frown, his eyes laser focused on the screen. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you cut that in post?”

Bret scrunched his brows, looking back at the screen that showed Shawn on his knees blowing Hunter. “Why?”

“You don’t see that? The way my stomach folds there?” He pointed towards the bottom of the screen. “It’s unflattering.”

Bret looked closely, rewinding and pausing the video to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Honestly, Shawn looked fine. But the look in Shawn’s eyes told Bret the blond didn’t feel the same. It was an eye-opening moment for him as he realized the confident blond struggled with the image of himself.

“Shawn, I promise you it looks fine.”

Shawn gave a doe-eyed look. “Really?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Shawn looked back at the screen, finding it hard to believe. But he believed Bret was being honest. He was too blunt not to be. “Ok. I trust your opinion. Thanks, Bret.”

-

Shawn’s a genius. He was sure of it when he thought of a plan to get Bret alone. His agency had asked for him to submit some updated promotional photos to use on their website, and Shawn knew just who to ask for help.

Bret grew suspicious when he pulled up to the ‘set location,’ which was nothing more than Shawn’s high-rise condo. His mind raced on the elevator ride up, clashing against the slow classical music that played around him, as he speculated over the real reason Shawn invited him to his home.

Bret first toyed with the idea of it being a setup. Maybe he was going to get robbed of his expensive camera equipment. But, no. Shawn didn’t seem like the type of person to do that. Then he wondered if he had the wrong address. But that couldn’t be when the concierge had expected his arrival and pointed him to the direction of Shawn’s suite.

Once the elevator dinged, he settled on Shawn’s request being legit. He was due for new pictures, and Bret was great with cameras. Of course the blond would ask for his help. He was psyching himself out for nothing.

But when Shawn answered the door with his signature smile and messy hair, scantily clad in a see-through white silk robe with his lingerie slightly visible beneath, Bret was unsure of the blond’s intentions.

“Don’t be shy. Come in.” Shawn opened the door wider and Bret’s nose was hit with the inviting smell of his expensive cologne.

Bret entered hesitantly, but his nerves settled upon seeing the white backdrop in Shawn’s living room. When Shawn rounded him after closing the door, Bret pointed to his attire and asked, “Is this for the photoshoot?”

Shawn smirked as he walked backwards, opening his robe to reveal the white lace thong underneath. “Of course. What else would it be for?” Bret chose not to answer.

It started out innocently enough with Bret directing Shawn to flattering poses before taking a picture. But Shawn was a natural and didn’t need much direction. He knew just what his viewers would want to see.

Things took a turn when Shawn began flirting with Bret in his not-so-subtle manner. “Hey, can you pull this down a bit?”

Bret was busy looking through the photos when he glanced up to see Shawn on his knees with backside facing him. Shawn had rid himself of his robe, leaving ass cheeks exposed in his thong. He threw his head over his shoulder, waiting for Bret to take the bait.

Bret’s breath hitched before swallowing spit down his dry throat. It was funny, really. He’d seen the blond naked so many times, and in more compromising positions than the one he was currently in. But it was something about being alone in Shawn’s home that seemed so…intimate? Inappropriate? Yeah, that was it.

Or maybe Bret was thinking on it too much. The photoshoot was for porn promotional photos. It’s nothing out of the norm given the circumstances.

Bret cleared his throat. “Sure.” He set down his camera then walked over and kneeled behind the blond, unaware of Shawn’s growing smile. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the thin fabric. “How low?”

Shawn turned his head inches from Bret’s face. “Just below the crack. Gotta leave them wanting more, you know?”

Bret gulped audibly in their close proximity, his eyes flitting between Shawn’s eyes and his lips. He was toeing a dangerous line and needed to stop himself before crossing it. “Right.” He looked away and turned his attention back to Shawn’s thong, tugging it down to Shawn’s liking.

It was hard for Shawn to hide his disappointment when Bret walked back to his camera.

-

Diesel knew Shawn was down bad when the blond called him over to drink at his condo that night.

Shawn nursed a bottle of Hennessy as he moped, “I don’t think he’s gay!” You’d think someone cut off Shawn’s hair the way he was in hysterics.

Diesel chuckled, “Because he didn’t fuck you as soon as he walked in?”

“Exactly!”

“Maybe he’s a gentleman.”

“Or straight, like I said.” He took another swig.

Diesel should have been more compassionate, but he thought this was hilarious. Shawn always got whatever and whoever he wanted. Always. This was the first time Shawn was so verklempt over a man not fawning over him, and frankly, Diesel thought it was a humbling experience.

“Well, I don’t think you throwing yourself at him’s the answer. Look at how long it took for him to say more than a few words to you. You’ve gotta take it slow.”

“I’ll lose a race to a turtle if I go any slower.” He flopped on the side of his couch, whining in the cushion.

Diesel rolled his eyes at the dramatic blond.

-

Bret sat at his desk looking through the photos he’d taken. Shawn made it seem like he needed the photos urgently, so Bret wanted to make sure he had some good ones picked out of the batch. His finger hovered on the ‘next’ button when he came across a photo that brought a tender smile to his face. It was an off-guard photo he’d taken of Shawn as the blond pulled a piece of lint out of his hair. It was a softer image of Shawn, one that wasn’t full of the lust his company wanted, but one that spoke of an innocence behind those lustful eyes. Bret thought Shawn looked prettiest this way when he wasn’t trying to put on for the camera.

Though it wasn’t obvious to Shawn, Bret was dealing with his own conflicted feelings towards him. Bret met many beautiful people in his line of work, and none of them compared to Shawn. But he knew better than to dip his toe in the water when it came to talent. He’d seen many men and women get blackballed in Hollywood as a result of onset relationships that went wrong. Bret took his career too seriously to risk it.

But he’d be lying if he said his mood didn’t lift when Shawn spoke to him. Or that he didn’t miss Shawn’s presence when he worked on projects the blond wasn’t a part of. Even if Bret didn’t have much to say, he just liked listening to Shawn talk, the blond always having an interesting story to tell.

He’d smile whenever Shawn complimented him, even more so when Shawn would shout triumphantly at the fact that he was able to will away Bret’s signature frown. There were also the few times when Shawn brushed past him and sent a wave of butterflies in his stomach that he tried to ignore. But the butterflies would soon dissipate after yelling ‘action’ and filming Shawn fucking or getting fucked by other men.

Shawn was at the top of their business for a reason. He was a showman, putting on a performance that would leave anyone watching with envy. Bret knew himself well enough to know that a fling between them wouldn’t work. He was a jealous man, something he wasn’t proud of. And with Shawn’s line of work, it would be a tough pill to swallow watching the blond share his body with someone else.

Filming Shawn with his well-endowed screen partners, like Diesel and Hunter, didn’t make Bret feel any better when he wondered if he’d be able to please Shawn all the same.

Bret set down his camera, coming to the conclusion that he needed to keep the blond an arm’s length away for both of their sakes. But that was easier said than done.

-

As Bret predicted, working on set with Shawn became much more difficult once feelings got involved. No matter how much he told himself to ignore it, seeing Shawn being taken by a man, sometimes multiple men at once, was hard for Bret to stomach.

It became even tougher filming rough scenes where Bret couldn’t discern if Shawn’s pain was real or part of the act. It took a mental toll on Bret because he actually cared for the guy.

There came a point where it was too much and Bret had to intervene.

“Cut! Let’s reset, guys. The lighting’s off.” Truth was Bret needed an excuse to give Shawn a break from the abuse his body endured.

His skin raised in nasty welts across his chest from the whip his screen partner, Undertaker, had been using.

“You ok?” he asked Shawn who laid on a table, breathing heavily. He seemed out of it but gave a shaky smile.

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

But that wasn’t nearly as bad as the time Shawn struggled for air as his co-star, Razor Ramon, forced his mouth down on his cock as he came, ignoring Shawn’s frantic taps on his thigh.

Bret was close to stopping filming, but just as he moved, Razor pulled Shawn’s back head, causing the blond to cough up spit and cum that hadn’t made it down his throat. What was even more bizarre was the fact that those around him seemed unphased as if they were desensitized to the brutality of what happened to Shawn.

Bret called for someone to bring over a towel and he helped clean up Shawn’s face. “I’m fine, Bret.” His voice was rough with misuse.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound like it. But before Bret could further question him, Shawn grabbed a robe and left the room without another word. Bret was concerned but gave Shawn the space he clearly needed.

Bret waited for the room to clear out to address Razor. The man had just zipped up his duffle bag when Bret approached. “You nearly killed him, you know that?”

Razor turned around with a lifted brow. His accent was thick, toothpick hanging out of his mouth as he said, “Listen here, chico. I don’t tell you how to direct. So don’t tell me how to fuck. If you got a problem with it, go back to directing insurance commercials.”

He flicked his toothpick in Bret’s face before stalking out of the room.

-

Bret realized there was something more between him and Shawn when they began hanging out outside of work. It started as Shawn asking Bret to spot him at the gym the one time Diesel couldn’t come. Bret should’ve said no, especially with how complicated things were with Shawn. And with how left the photoshoot went, there was no telling what Shawn would pull out from his hat of tricks. But how could he turn Shawn down when begged him with those baby blues.

Surprisingly, they’d done just as Shawn asked – spotted him. Nothing more. So when Shawn began asking Bret to join him on other outings, he didn’t see any problems with it. If anything, Bret looked forward to it. It gave him a reason to get out the house and experience new things he probably wouldn’t have had it not been for Shawn, such as wine tastings and apple picking. It was something so pure about seeing Shawn get excited about finding the juiciest apple in the orchard.

Through these outings, Bret got to see a different side of Shawn that only those closest to him saw. He got to know him not as the Heartbreak agency’s sex symbol, but as Shawn the person.

Having Bret’s company meant more to Shawn than Bret could ever know. As much of a socialite as Shawn was, he had very few real friends. It could get lonely sometimes when everyone was too busy to hang out with him. But Bret always seemed to make time.

It was during a morning hike that Bret learned the most about Shawn.

They sat down at a picnic table, needing a break from their hike. Shawn chuckled as Bret tried to hide his exhaustion. He handed over his water bottle since Bret hadn’t brought his own. “Here. Drink up.” Bret cautiously eyed the bottle and Shawn said, “I promise I don’t have cooties. Scouts honor.”

Bret snorted and grabbed the bottle. He took a few sips and handed it back. “Thanks. I should’ve brought my own. Wasn’t expecting it to be so hot today.”

“Oh, please. This is nothing compared to Texas.”

“Texas?”

“The accent didn’t give it away?” Shawn snickered and took a sip of water. “I’m from Texas. Born and raised.”

“How’d you end up out here?”

“The same as most of us – the age old tale of dreaming to make it as an actor in Hollywood.” He turned his head, looking at the Hollywood sign in the distance. “Except it didn’t work out for me. Or maybe it did, depending on how you look at it. It takes a bit of acting skills to do porn, right?”

Bret had never given much thought to what Shawn did before porn, but he hadn’t expected to hear he was a struggling actor. “How’d you get into adult entertainment?”

“I was desperate for money. I’d managed to score a few commercials, but the pay didn’t even cover half of my bills. One day, I saw this ad asking for a nude male performer. I wasn’t entirely sure what the gig was for. Something about taking candid photos, but I didn’t care. I needed the 300 bucks.”

Bret’s eyes widened. “Only $300?!”

“Hey, I told you I was desperate!” Shawn laughed loudly. “If it makes it any better, they upped the pay to $500 when I agreed to have sex on camera.”

It didn’t make it any better. “And showing up to a random location for sex didn’t scare you?”

Shawn waved a flippant hand. “It was fine. The ladies were nice.”

“Ladies?”

Shawn curled a brow, entertained by Bret’s reaction. “Is that so shocking?”

“Kind of. I mean, I just thought you only did gay porn.”

“I did whatever paid the bills. It’s a shame, really.”

“There’s no shame in that.”

“You don’t think so?”

“No. You did what you needed to survive and have been fortunate enough to make a living out of it. You should be proud, Shawn.”

Bret expected that to put a smile on the blond’s face. But a somber mood came over Shawn as he looked away with a faraway look.

Shawn whispered, “If only my family thought the same.” The words left him quicker than he realized. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get personal. Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s ok.” Bret reached out a hand, breaking his arms-length rule as he placed his hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Your family. Do they…are they not supportive?” He could relate with that.

Shawn gave a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nope…They disowned me. Dad wasn’t particularly happy to learn we had a porn star in the family.” He looked down at his hands, not wanting to see Bret’s pity.

“Oh, Shawn.” Bret rubbed his hand gently on Shawn’s shoulder in comfort. “How did they find out?”

Shawn sighed. “It’s embarrassing really. My dad’s neighbor called him over after finding a gay porn magazine under his son’s bed. I was on the cover, wearing nothing but a Christmas-themed G-string.”

Shawn had fond memories of that photoshoot. It was the first time he’d met Hunter, kickstarting their decade-long friendship. It just sucked that the memory was overshadowed by the events that followed.

“Once the secret was out, he cut off all ties with me. Said I was a cancer and needed to repent for my sins. Everyone else in the family followed suit and I haven’t spoken to them in nearly ten years.”

That was a hit to Bret’s chest. He couldn’t imagine the hurt Shawn had gone through. He had his battles with his own family, and he knew they’d have a lot of questions if they ever found out he directed porn. But he also knew his parents would never even consider disowning him. It bothered him that someone as bright as Shawn went through something so dark.

Bret scooted closer and said, “I’m so sorry you went through that, Shawn. You didn’t deserve that.”

Shawn struggled to believe that. He’d spent many years wondering why he couldn’t have gone for a normal job like his siblings. Wondering why he gave up so easily on acting when the going got tough. He brought his family so much embarrassment and shame, it was hard not to believe he deserved to get thrown out of the family. But Bret’s words brought him some comfort.

“Thanks, Bret.” He let out a breath, contemplating what he’d say next. “Since I’m being so honest, can I tell you something I haven’t told anybody else?”

“Of course.”

Shawn stalled. “I’m…I’ve been thinking about leaving the industry.” Bret’s eyes bulged at the announcement. “I know it’s crazy. Porn has done me a lot of good. It’s gotten me out of a rough place in my life and I’ll always be grateful. But,” Shawn sighed heavily.

Bret could practically feel the stress radiating off Shawn. “It’s taken its toll on you,” Bret finished for him.

Shawn looked relieved. “Exactly. I feel a little guilty saying it because I’m so lucky to be as successful as I am. But time is finite. Looks fade. And I don’t know how much longer I can depend on my appearance for money.”

Bret nodded. “That’s valid. What’s stopping you from making the jump?”

“I’m scared, Bret. I tried going the traditional route, working an honest job, but this is where it landed me. This lifestyle is all I’ve ever known. What if it’s the only thing I’m good for?”

Shawn’s eyes began to water, and Bret quickly soothed, “Hey. Hey listen to me. You’re worth so much more than this, Shawn. So much more. You’re the only one holding yourself back from making that leap. No one else is, but you. If you decide to stay in the industry, that’s fine. It doesn’t lower your worth as a person. But if you really want to leave, I will be here to support you 100%. I mean it.”

Shawn was touched, his eyes watering again from Bret’s kind words. He’d never had anyone put so much faith in him. He’d been afraid to tell his industry friends about his thoughts on leaving, knowing they’d selfishly want him to stay. And part of him thought Bret would feel the same way.

But the sincerity behind Bret’s words moved Shawn so much that he couldn’t help but kiss him in gratitude. The kiss was short, and Shawn was quick to pull away realizing what he’d done. “Shit. I’m sor-”

Bret placed a hand on the back of Shawn’s neck, pulling him into another kiss before he could finish. Bret shouldn’t be doing this. He really shouldn’t. It went against every rule of caution he set for himself. But he didn’t care that he was breaking the rules of professionalism. He didn’t care if Shawn would never be his. All he cared about was sharing this moment with a guy he’d grown to care about.

They were both breathless, eyes half-lidded when he pulled away. “I’ve been wanting to do that for some time.”

Shawn gave a bright smile as he internally celebrated. He couldn’t wait to rub it in Diesel’s face. “Me too.”

-

They hooked up as soon as they made it back to Shawn’s condo. The door had barely closed when Bret pinned Shawn against the door, liplocking with him until they both couldn’t breathe.

A trail of clothes was left on the way to Shawn’s bedroom, and they fell onto Shawn’s California king bed in a naked heap. If Bret was nervous about his performance, it didn’t show that night.

Shawn allowed Bret to take control, the blond responding positively to every intimate touch. Bret was so tender with him, something Shawn rarely experienced in his sex life. Every part of him was sensitive and for the first time in a while, sex didn’t feel like a job. He didn’t feel the need to perform or be over the top. He wasn’t having sex for millions of people to see, but for him and Bret only.

Every kiss, every moan, every plea for Bret to fuck him harder were all genuine. It was an intense moment for both of them, and they felt even more connected to each other when they came.

“I want to be with you.”

They both uttered those words at different times in the night – Shawn when Bret pinned him against the door, and Bret when Shawn laid on his chest dozing off in post-nut clarity.

-

Bonus (because idk when to stop writing lol):

🥀 Shawn doesn’t leave adult entertainment 100%. After getting with Bret, he cut out pornos entirely, but still participated in some semi-nude risqué photoshoots. He’d even posed in Playgirl one time. The crew tried so hard to get him naked, but Shawn wasn’t showing his dick to anyone but Bret. It was a good compromise. He could still show off his body but wasn’t getting fucked by other men. The money wasn’t as quick as Shawn was used to, but he still made a decent living.

🥀 The adjustment was harder for his peers more than it was for Shawn. They threw a big going away party and his friend Goldust pleaded for Shawn not to rob the world of ever seeing his perfect ass.

🥀 Shawn still got asked to make random appearances in videos, mainly by Goldust. They’d filmed many threesomes together, and the payday was always worth it. But he shut down every request as he didn’t want to risk anything with Bret.

🥀 Bret still directed porn here and there whenever his industry friend asked. But he eventually stopped when he received a short call from the man: “Hey. Our guy’s back. Turns out the kid wasn’t his. So he’ll be taking over the next project. Thanks for your help, Bret!”

🥀 Bret entertains the idea of him and Shawn making their own sextape. Surprisingly, Shawn was the hesitant one as he was no longer interested in having his intimate moments caught on camera. They tried it once, and watching the tape back made Shawn realize how hot they looked together

🥀 Out of all of Shawn’s filming partners, Bret thought Hunter was the oddest by far. Their scenes usually consisted of a mix between dad jokes and comedic sketches before blowing each other.

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Sanji (College Halloween Party)

🍳Sanji🍳

Word Count: 708

Part 1

Sanji had watched you enter the room dressed up as a knight, it was something he expected of you. You weren’t one to usually dress up as a prince or princess, and always wanted to be the hero of the story going out of your way to help those in need, he found it charming and one of your many good qualities.

He soon made his way towards you out stretching a gloved hand towards you, “Would you like to dance?” he questioned you giving a low bow. He gave you a gentle, flirty smile. He had been interested in you for a long time, and his attempts at flirting hadn’t worked as you were interested in hm as well but hated his wandering eyes.

“Knights really don’t dance,” You told him, “Our job is to protect our royalty,” You knew he was going to dress up as a prince, you had purpose chosen your outfit to fit his. You had a long crush on the cook on the college campus. Whenever you visited the 1000 Sunny he was the first to greet you and offer you a drink free of charge. You had foolishly gotten hope that he might like you. Never having felt such affection from anyone and his words and how he flirted made you feel so important but felt heartbroken when he flirted with other people just the same way.

But you were unaware he felt the same way about you, you played hard to get giving him a bit of a challenge, toyed and teased him when he flirted with you. You would flirt and tease back having him laugh at your jokes or leave him surprise with your quick comeback. Even while you were clumsy and awkward at times, he found that also charming.

“Well then,” he said grabbing your and giving soft kisses on your fingers.

You could feel your face heat up, as the blond-haired man didn’t move. Your heart rate increased, how his lips lingered longer than it needed before he pulled you into his arms and held you one arm snaking around your waist, “I still think I need a dance partner though,” he flirted.

“I am not good at dancing,” you finally answered as the music was pumping, you could feel the music on your feet and moving up your chest as you neared the dance floor. Is arms were still around your waist holding delicately so you wouldn’t fall as he walked backwards his eyes were on you and just you. And you noticed that as your heart continued to palpitate faster. How did he always leave you so winded but excited.

“Then leave it to prince to protect his knight,” he flirted back, finally in the middle of the dance floor did he take you dancing. He was in complete control as he held you his hands on your body holding you close as he danced and as promised he never let you fall as he would catch each clumsy mistake and made it seem more natural. Soon you were having fun of yourself laughing as he dipped you or spun you around.

“Damn,” he whispered, “you are amazing,” It was meant to be a whisper only, him expressing his thoughts out loud as he watched you spin again and laugh. You had eyes following you, and he knew those eyes. Some of jealousy, some of envy that he was dancing with someone was amazing and wonderful as you. But the music had stopped for a brief moment when moving to another song and you paused.

“What?” You had heard his words, and he was staring at you also having stopped and suddenly the world was frozen. It was just the two of you now, as he stared at you before walking up to you again and whispering words to you again.

“I think you are amazing,” this wasn’t him flirting, he was telling the truth.

“I think you are amazing too,” You whispered back his was moving his lips closer and before long he captured your lips deepening the kiss. His arms around you and your arms around his neck as a slow song started playing.

“Happy Halloween,” he whispered breaking from the kiss.

[maxybabyy]

part two to this (run coach Max)

There’s a disclaimer that he has to click away before it lets him start the download, ‘Parts of the audio may be corrupted, this run can be replaced with – ‘ Daniel barely reads it before he clicks away to press start.

“This will be a lovely run, I can already tell,” Max says on the app. “You of course pressed start, so here we are. Always this makes me feel really good because I get to coach you, so thank you for starting this speed run with me!”

He lets out a tiny laugh, and Daniel echoes it, kicks his feet into a run.

“Right now, we are of course just warming up, so you have to run nice and easy,” Max says as he goes over the structure of the run, the five minutes of warm-up before they begin on the fartlek, on the ever-changing paces that already seem daunting. “If a 7 is your 5k pace, then this should be a 3 or a 4 only.”

There’s a noise on Max’s end of the recording, a voice that doesn’t belong to him or his sound engineer. The quality is worse too, he reckons, a quiet static in the background that isn’t usually there in Max’s runs.  

Daniel doesn’t mind, Max’s voice is clear in his ears, and that’s all he needs.

He runs the first three intervals with no strain in his knee, pumps his legs to match the pace Max tells him to hit, forces himself to keep running when Max reminds him to move during the recovery periods, “Do not stop, you are doing so well for me. This is a really lovely time to get your breath back, but please do not stop moving!” Max says in his ears. He sounds breathless too, and it takes Daniel another moment to realise that Max must be running along on his side of the recording.

Usually, Max is the voice of composure, steady and calm in his ear as he guides Daniel through his run. Sometimes GP will chip in, reign him in if Max wanders too far off a tangent, but it’s clear from the clean and crisp audio that they’re usually in a studio somewhere.

It makes something stir low in his stomach, the thought of Max off on his own, in his running kit and pocket microphone as he pushes himself to set another best time, to make himself feel good too. If Daniel listens harder, picks at the more pronounced accents of Max’s words, he can almost convince himself Max sounds younger too.

His body aches, but he’s barely running, too busy listening to the way Max’s voice is heavy in his ears, how he pants through another 30-second interval at mile pace.

“Next, you will have the last 30 second interval, so make sure you keep going hard,” Max says. “You will maybe want to deflate but keep your pace strong. Promise me you will not stop until we finish, can you do that for me?”

Daniel groans and digs his nails into the meat of his palm, wills his dick to stay soft. He’s almost home, almost at the house where he can strip off and touch himself without being labelled as the fucking neighbourhood pervert who gets off on running.

“For the last interval, I want of course your best pace,” Max tells him in between punched-out breaths.

It should be illegal for guided runs to sound like this, breathless and demanding, erotic, almost pornographic if it wasn’t for how often Max tells him to keep running. Like this, he can almost pretend, close his eyes and lose himself in the way his body feels, just a hair’s breadth away from the real fucking thing.

It makes sense then how hard it had been to find. The recording hidden away in the depths of Max-guided runs, without their usual flair and light-hearted descriptions that had drawn him in the first time. Left to be forgotten, unheard and unused lest anyone else stumble upon it.

He wonders if GP had to tell him. If GP had listened to the recording, to Max panting into his ear, begging him not to stop, to keep going hard, to make it the best he’d ever done, and knew what it sounded like. If Daniel is the only one getting hard during fartlek runs.

“It is maybe not your fastest pace, but it is what makes you feel the best at this point,” Max continues, voice soft like silk. It makes a shiver run down his sweaty back. “Keep going until I tell you to stop, just a little more, please do not stop! Three, two, one – “

Daniel slams into the door as his legs shake underneath him.

Max is winding down the run in his ears, recommending another few minutes of running to cool down. But Daniel cannot listen, he’s barely even able to breathe as he forces the run to be over, shaky fingers on the screen.

He kicks off his shoes and marches to the bathroom, his phone left shamefully in his pocket. He’s almost at the door when Scotty finds him. “Looking good, Ric,” he says, touches his arm.

Daniel grunts and turns to look at him, wills himself to stop shaking.

Scotty looks great dressed in a sweater and a nice pair of slacks. His hair is done up nice and there’s an unusual glow to his face. Scotty always looks good, but tonight he looks fucking hot, so Daniel does the only thing he can think of and pulls him in for a kiss.

Daniel feels desperate, turned on by Max’s pants in his ears, the thoughts simmering in his mind all the way home. Scotty kisses back, laughs against his lips and leans into Daniel’s chest when he wraps his arms around him.

“Endorphin high, eh? Must have been a great run,” he says, smirks. His hand rubs lazily over his dick, and Daniel feels his entire body seize. He could come from this he knows, the heat low in stomach coiled and ready for release, but he doesn’t want to. It’s been ages since he’s come from anything that wasn’t a hand, and he aches desperately for a real fuck.  

“Wanna make it even better?” Daniel asks, mouth still pressed against his. His hands find Scotty’s hips, pull him in close until he can grind his dick against his, slow rolls of their hips until Scotty is breathing heavily too. They stumble into the bedroom together, the bed still unmade from how he left it this morning. “You could fuck me, yeah?”

Scotty spreads him out on the bed, pushes his shirt up to his chest, drenched in sweat. He kisses across overheated skin, digs a nail into Daniel’s nipple before he looks up at him, loose smile on his lips, “Had a bum knee, didn’t you?”

Daniel snorts, and it almost doesn’t sound bitter.

They’ve been able to fuck for a while now, longer with Daniel on top, but Scotty has never liked that. Had barely wanted to try it when Daniel had brought it up, bottoming. Daniel had taken it in a stride, doesn’t care either way. Doesn’t want to fuck someone who doesn’t want to be fucked, so they make do.

“Did, but it’s all better now,” he says instead. He pulls Scotty down for a kiss, hooks his good knee around his hip to pull him in, shivers when Scotty finally fucks down against him, “Promise.”

Scotty laughs, sucks his teeth. He raises himself to one of his elbows so he can look down at Daniel, brow furrowed when he finally meets his eyes again, voice almost soft when he adds, “We don’t have the time for that, Ric.”

“It’s fine. Reckon I’m still good from this morning,” Daniel says desperately. It feels worse than before, bitter to almost have to beg Scotty for this, to be fucked.  

He had thought they would do it this morning, got up before the alarm to open himself up. Bent over the sink with too much lube and a shit angle, but it was worth it to slip into bed, to wake Scotty up for a morning fuck. But Scotty had other plans, a breakfast with his agent that couldn’t be moved, lunch with the team.

Daniel had been so annoyed with himself for assuming that he had just sat there watching as Scotty with the tacky lube drying in his ass.

“Need a quick finger or two maybe, but like –“

“Dan, the Strolls are coming over in like forty minutes.”

“The Strolls? What?” Daniel asks, lets his knee fall back onto the bed. He does the maths in his head, knows Lance is supposed to be back in Canada now, preparing for the next race.

“Chloe is joining us for dinner. You offered to make Grace’s pasta for her, remember? I had to go get the wine for it and all,” Scotty says, smiles softly like it’s Dan’s fault but he doesn’t really mind, is fond of him anyway. “Have to get our asses moving, yeah? But like, I can do a handy before your shower. Would you like that?”

Daniel feels the way his dick has started to flag, overwhelmed with emotions he doesn’t remember. But it seems dumb to say no now, when he worked so hard to get them there. So he nods, smiles a little and says, “I mean, if you insist.”

[tauforged]

got any tips for beginner aquarists? :O

any advice i’d give is highly dependent on what you’re looking to accomplish — all fish are very different and have different needs! however in all my years working in the aquatics department at a pet store, i’ve found that water quality can be hard to grasp for some people — understandably so, it can get complicated, but it’s very important for the health of your fish. here’s some of the important stuff that i learned the hard way so you don’t have to!

- FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY. DECHLORINATE YOUR WATER!!! seachem prime is the most concentrated dechlorinator you’ll find at most stores at 2 drops per gallon, and it lasts a good while. it’s got a strong sulfur smell to it in the bottle, but unless you massively overdose it you won’t smell it in your tank. the #1 mistake people make is not dechlorinating their tap water before filling a tank or doing a water change, and it sucks because it’s such an easy fix but can totally wipe a tank. always pre treat your water!!

- if you’re going to be using tap water, consider testing your water’s pH at the very least so you know what you’re working with. pH is integral to the health of aquatic animals down to a cellular level — if your pH is too high or too low, it doesn’t matter if you’re doing everything else right. keep an eye on that shit.

- if you need to adjust it, look into more natural ways to do so rather than bottled pH booster or reducers (sometimes chemical additives can react with eachother in funky ways). to raise your pH, put a mesh baggie of something like crushed coral sand in your filter. to lower it, look into driftwood that leeches tannins - it’ll turn your water a bit brownish, but that’s okay. in fact, a lot of fish in the hobby naturally come from waters thatre tannin-y, and will be quite alright with things a little murky!

- if you can’t use your tap water for whatever reason, bottled spring water is next best. distilled is really only good for topping off after water has evaporated, but it lacks a lot of minerals thatre important for your fish’s health, so don’t JUST use distilled.

- the larger a volume of water you’re working with, the more forgiving the entire tank system will be. i usually don’t recommend going smaller than ten gallons for your first tank — maybe a 20long or 29 if you want lots of options. you can definitely make tank volumes smaller than ten gallons work (i’ve got a planted low tech 3gal that’s been going strong for quite some time now) but it’s generally a lot more finicky and will be much easier for a mistake to snowball into an emergency

- filters are good! please use a filter on your tank. in general every tank should have a mechanical filter for water movement and to help maintain good bacteria (more on that in a bit), an airline bubbler to help keep the water moving and make sure it’s oxygenated, and a heater because most fish in the hobby are tropical and like things toasty.

- make sure you get a heater with a built in thermostat that will shut off if it gets too hot, ideally one that you can adjust instead of a pre-programmed one. they’re a bit pricy at box stores because they’re the ‘advanced’ option, but hygger is a solid brand and you can get a really nice one of theirs with a temp control dial on amazon for like 20$.

- PLEASE NEVER EVER EVER LEAVE YOUR HEATER PLUGGED IN WHILE ITS OUT OF THE WATER!!! it will overheat and break and is also a fire hazard. i recently had my water level on my reef tank drop due to a pump malfunction and the heater was SMOKING when i got home from work and found it. it will also make your heater thoroughly nonfunctional, and replacing them is a pain. most have a minimum waterline marked, make sure you pay attention to that. unplug it during tank maintenance if you’re worried about it not being fully submerged.

- you’re going to want to be patient. while you COULD fill a tank with water and then plop fish into it the next day, you’re not going to be as successful as if you’d aged the tank a bit and allowed a biofilter to establish itself . i recommend doing some research about the nitrogen cycle and nitrifying bacteria, but the long and short of it is as follows:

— biological waste (fish poop, uneaten food, dropped plant leaves if you have live plants) in your tank produces ammonia. ammonia is highly toxic to fish even in small amounts, so you want this to be as close to 0 as possible.

— there are certain bacteria that will process ammonia into NITRITES. nitrites are still not great to have a lot of, but are much less toxic than ammonia.

— there are OTHER bacteria that will then take those nitrites and turn them into NITRATES. nitrates are the least toxic of the three, and so your end goal is to establish a healthy population of these various bacteria so that any available ammonia is quickly processed into nitrite, which then becomes nitrate. nitrate can only be removed from the system via a water change, but some is absorbed by plants as well. you still definitely want to do water changes even in a well planted tank.

- there are lots of different ways to introduce these bacteria populations to your tank and establish a biofilter. bear in mind that you want to treat your biofilter like any other living thing, so make sure things like temperature and pH stay as consistent and stable as possible. ideally, you want to decide what sort of fish you’d like to keep and then figure out what their preferred ranges are, and then keep your tank at that for the entire bioseeding process

- if you want to do it au naturale, these bacteria will colonize any body of dechlorinated freshwater if given enough time. you want to add a source of ammonia (some people will buy cheap feeder fish and put them in there, but i find that a bit unfair to the fish as if it doesn’t go smoothly they could suffer from ammonia burns or other health issues. plus, it could introduce all sorts of parasites and pathogens to your tank that can be a pain to clean out without hurting your bacteria) . the safest and cheapest way is to ‘feed’ your tank with little bits of fish food every now and then

- either invest in a test kit, or find a fish store that can test for you. chain stores like petco or petsmart offer testing, but they use the cheap strip tests that are probably the least accurate. they’re mostly good for telling you ‘yup, ammonia is there’ but not actually indicating if it’s decreasing over time or not. do some digging to see if there’s any local fish stores in your area that can test for you, and ask what methods they use. chemical tests are good for giving a ballpark and generally the highest quality the average hobbyist will get. i use a spectrophotometer at work so i’m spoiled LMFAO but you don’t need all that

- you want to see an initial spike in ammonia, which will then start to go down. you don’t want it to go down TOO much and starve your bacteria, so keep feeding your tank as this happens. eventually, you’ll also see a nitrite spike — this is good! this means the first group of bacteria are here and working hard. once the nitrites start decreasing you will hopefully see nitrates start to go up, and then congrats, your tank has a biofilter!! you can start adding animals now, although make sure you don’t have too much leftover ammonia or yucky food on the bottom first. i would start small — nerite snails are the roombas of the freshwater aquarium world, so you’ll want a couple anyway. add these first. if they’re still chillin after about a week, you’re good to proceed.

- this process can take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months. the longer you wait, the more well established and stable your tank will be.

- you CAN buy bottled bacteria to speed this process up a bit — your success may vary. most of the stuff you’ll find on shelves at a pet store likely isn’t alive anymore, but it doesn’t hurt to add because even if the bacteria are dead, you’re still adding waste material to help kickstart your cycle. the brand i’ve had the best luck with (and that we use for bioseeding systems at the aquarium i work at) is dr tim’s. not sure how many stores carry it, but you can find it online easily. there’s freshwater and saltwater versions, make sure you get the right one.

- even if you’re adding bottled bacteria, i would still let the tank run empty for a couple weeks. this lets you make sure all your equipment runs well and lets you play around with decor or lighting without stressing any fish out.

- when adding animals to your tank, do so gradually to avoid overloading your biofilter with ammonia. how gradually depends on tank size, but it’s always better to be more cautious than not.

- information about the hobby in general varies in quality depending on where you get it — so seek information from as many sources as possible! look through forums! read articles! ask the guy at your local fish store! ask another guy at a different fish store! don’t take any one source as fact, but bear in mind that not everyone may be right. the more opportunities you take to learn, the faster your knowledge base will grow and the easier it will get.

- tank size is its own beast, but my rule of thumb has always been that there’s never any such thing as giving a fish TOO MUCH space, but there’s absolutely such thing as not giving them enough. a betta fish, for example, can SURVIVD in 1-3 gallons of water… but will absolutely thrive in 10-20. in general, take a recommended tank size for any species as the bare minimum if anything.

- most of all, don’t be afraid to make mistakes! it happens to everyone, and it’s part of learning. anyone who tries to make you feel bad for not knowing something is just being rude. if you’re willing to learn, that’s the most important thing!

- pet store employees usually aren’t experts, but they’ve got questions they’re obligated to ask before they sell you an animal. if they deny you a sale due to tank size or something like that, don’t argue with them. they’re not judging you personally, they’re just doing their job. if you absolutely must lie to them to get them to give you the fish, at least be consistent with it. nobody ever likes having to go ‘well actually…’ halfway through scooping a half dozen fish because you let slip that you only have a ten gallon after insisting you have a 40.

- unless you have a pond or space for several hundred gallons of tank, stay away from goldfish. they’re adorable, i know, but they’re carp. they get big. they live a long time. they poop so much. they aren’t worth the hassle for most people.

- please never ever release fish you don’t want into the wild. if a pet store won’t take them for whatever reason, that sucks, but it’s on you. we don’t need any more invasive species. please

- please don’t flush fish that are still alive. if you absolutely must euthanize a fish, look into how to do so humanely (yes, people do this, and yes, there’s a right and a wrong way to do it)

[the-pobble-terrarium]

can I get an info dump on how you feel about princess celestia and or twilight

GIGGLES I'm glad to see interest in them !!! (assuming this is AU related)

I haven't fleshed out Twilight's and the Princesses backgrounds very much- mainly because I can't think of anything to change, but compared to in-show Twilight, the rewrite AU one is much more. quiet and threatening if you don't know her well- she's kinda got that thousand yard stare and she's more or less completely non-verbal. Her name also changes in the AU! From Twilight Sparkle to Meteor Strike!

(Here, have some old concept art!)

And as expected, Meteor- the socially awkward barely verbal anxiety horse is NOT happy when she's made a princess on the spot Speaking just off the top of my head, I think it would lead her to resent Celestia a bit for putting something so big on her without even asking, and she might begin to connect with Luna a bit more, sharing how it felt Celestia sort of just. Does stuff without asking- like she knows what’s best always. I think this would accumulate in them confronting Celestia and telling her “hey we know you think this is what's best but it’s actually not. Please ask before you make such big changes.” Celestia takes it hard at first but eventually understands sometimes she needs to take a step back and not assume.

If this where an actual MLP episode, it would probably go something along the lines of Celestia making assumptions on how to help without asking constantly, leading to a LOT of unhappy ponies confronting her on it and Celestia at the end writing what SHE learnt for once- "Sometimes you think you know what's best for somepony, but today I learnt it's important to ask before you make such big assumptions. A good friend always makes sure their friend is comfortable, rather than simply assuming they are."

Speaking of Luna and Celestia! These designs were originally made completely separate as a way to mess around with a "biblically accurate princesses" idea, but I think they could fit really nicely into this AU with a few minor tweaks!

(Sorry for such low quality, I had to pluck them from an old twitter post because I can't find the Sai file I drew them on)

That would also probably mean Meteor would gain "biblically accurate" qualities after her 'graduation' over time... Which would probably make her even freakier looking to outsiders LMAO

I also imagine the process of transformation is VERY painful for the immediate part of the spell (growing wings/a horn), and for the rest it takes time to form. What I mean by that is when a pony is made an alicorn via magic it's pulling magic from their body to form entirely new limbs, nervous systems, shifting magical components to specific parts- which is PAINFUL. And when these limbs are formed, they're small- over time they'll grow, like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis! They've emerged from their cocoon, but it still takes time for them to pump fluids into their wings before they can fly! Which means Meteors wings are more or less useless for a few months...

(“Really? I don’t even get to use these things??”)

[elliegoestodownton]

As an anon asked about my hopes for this season's PD, I'm gonna write down my wishes for both Fire and PD (I don't watch Med actively though I may start now that Sarah Ramos and Darren Barnet have joined the cast...).

Fire 🔥🔥🔥

What I wish for every year: no drama for Stellaride. I know Severide's brother will cause clashes and there's gonna be tension over the whole baby thing. If they're going down that road, then let them go through it in an organic way. Let them talk, not fight.

New Chief. It would be nice if they went for something different than the usual "new guy challenges 51 but after 3 episodes he understands how great it is, submits to the 51 way and everyone loves everybody else". We've seen that billions of times. It would be much more interesting to see how instead 51 adapts to a different leadership style.

Also the new Chief has an ex-wife (so pumped for KaDee!). I would absolutely love a sort of "comedy of remarriage" thing. I'm a sucker for second chances.

Novak is super fun and it would be great to see her develop as a character on her own, not on the basis of a romantic relationship (already rolling my eyes at the whole vibe with young Severide). Let us see her be good at her job and have loads of fun.

Speaking of Novak. A true party girl, who I feel would get along very well with Trudy (who, we have established, had a certain reputation back in the day). I am hoping for some short interaction at some point. Imagine that! Throw Violet (aka the captain of Trudy's fanclub) into the mix and I'd be very happy.

The return of Annabelle Herrmann. That's it, that's the wish. I love that menace to society.

More quality screentime for Ritter.

Kylie coming back and staying on Truck.

Mouch, my beloved! Of course, I haven't forgotten you! Just keep him alive, doing stupid things with Herrmann, but I also want to see him study and prepare for the Lt. exam. Study session with Trudy anyone? 😏 She, of all people, would know how to make him pass that test.

Plouch being Plouch.

PD 🚨🚨🚨

We might be getting patrol back with Kiana. Our prayers may have been answered. I'm hoping for less character-centric episodes and more of a balanced, choral vibe where there's also space for levity. I will be disappointed, I know, but dreams never go out of business, right?

Let Kiana stay on patrol a while. I don't want her to jump right back onto Intelligence. It would be the same as they did with Torres and we need patrol.

A recurring Petrovic, if not a regular. I like her.

It would be time for people to get promoted. I think both Kim and Kevin would be ready at this point, although it seems there will be one promotion only.

More quality screentime for Kevin. Let his centric episodes/cases go beyond race.

More girl!dad Adam.

I hope we will get to see the Burzek wedding. Keeping my expectations low on this and certainly I don't think we will get a crossover (not even Mouch as much as I'd like to), but I'd want to see some bits of the ceremony with everyone from PD there.

Also hoping for a throwback to THE wedding planner and Kim chucking down vodka at Trudy's wedding. Maybe Kim can get those $20 back.

I would still kill for a scene between Trudy and Mack.

As I wrote ages ago, and as I say every 3 seconds, more 👏🏻Trudy 👏🏻 on screen! 👏🏻 For Trudy to be involved more in cases, but also for her to have a more focused episode since she hasn't had one since friggin' S4. As I wrote here, I'd LOVE for Intelligence to pick up a case that links back to an old one Trudy worked on when she was in Robbery and Homicide and explore a bit of Trudy's career and past.

[readingtoinfinity]

Kengan Ashura (anime)

I think we all have that one media we enjoy where in the quality department it's technically quite good, but there's an edge of terrible messaging underneath we need to be cognizant of, whether it's the implicit trust in authority displayed in Paw Patrol to the fascistic tendencies of Blue Lock or anything in-between. For me, I think Kengan Ashura is that terrible message.

The main story concerns Mr. Ashura Ohma Tokita, a fighter hunting for his master's killer, and Kazuo Yamashita, a low-level salaryman working a dead-end job, who combine forces to join the Kengan Tournament, a tourney sponsored by corporations where spats can be solved with blood and fists instead of money and corporate warfare.

Kengan Ashura is made of two parts that only just combine: the tournament arc that composes the bulk of the anime, and the corporate jockeying for power of the sponsors. I have thoughts about each of them, so let's starting with the punchy bits.

The fights are quite fun to watch. Every character is technically a normal human that has worked hard enough to become something else, and they're given titles to reflect this; Ohma is given the title of "Ashura" reflecting his rage and ferocity. And like the best tournament arcs each fight is given focus, not only to follow characters you like but also see the opponents rising in the ranks.

I will also give props to the animation during the fights specifically. When the fighting gets going the animation can add a level of intensity to every punch that really gets your heart pumping, and I should know because I used this show to exercise to. But outside the fights, anyone who doesn't get a 3D model is rendered in 2D, and considering how many characters there are there's a good chunk of scenes where it's just bog-standard 2D animation from a studio that's much better at 3D. And outside of fights, these 3D models can look stiff and unnatural.

The central story concerning Ohma's master is there. Events proceed and we receive revelations about opponents and it's fine. It's neither so bad as to be laughable nor so good as to rewire my brain, it's simply there to enable personal stakes in the fights.

But stakes are a tricky thing. It's called the "Life or Death Kengan Tournament" but you'll find that most fighters survive a ton of damage, most not even getting permanent scars from the experience. The fight ensures that somebody can lose by being tapped out instead of knocked out, but it feels quite silly for the tournament to be touted as life-or-death when it's clearly not the case.

And this posturing leads me to the other half of the show, that of the corporate politics, and it's hear that the more insidious messages from the story start to surface. Ostensibly the Kengan Tournament was started as a way to prevent corporations from fighting one another, sending for representatives to take the risk and win the glory rather than risky and expensive direct rivalry. The representative fighters are introduced in the tournament with how much money they've won for their respective corporations, and it very easily gets into the billions of yen.

This is where we start to get into the problems of the show. The chairmen of these companies are projected in a sympathetic light, and the tournament is presented as a preferable alternative to corporations fighting one another, but all that leaves you with is a set of rules these chairmen agree to and abide by with one another; in other words, corporate collusion. The show may say they don't like each other, that they're working at cross-purposes, but when the whole Kengan Association is set up to stabilize the market and keep everyone making money, your ability to stomach this bit of worldbuilding will depend quite heavily on your tolerance for capitalism and especially corporatocracy.

A side note: I understand wanting to read about terrible systems and great, overwhelming powers that control the world. I like something like The First Law, which also shows terrible economic and political systems, so I can understand you may think me two-minded about it. But where First Law often just portrays these systems (neutrally or negatively) Kengan Ashura presents the system as a good thing, like it's saving lives and uplifting the deserving. It's feeding into the bootstrap myth of capitalism.

There are two people that do attempt to change the Kengan Association, one by coup and another as an internal reformer. I found both detestable, the former moreso for the violence inflicted, the latter for falling into the system and believing it can be changed for the better. The insistence on the status quo with small steps of improvement was something I really disliked about the show, and sullied my enjoyment throughout.

So you get this: two halves of a show, one, a very good fighting show with merely okay plot, and the other a weird corporate power grab with subtly awful connotations. I hesitate to say this is a turn-your-brain-off show but a second's self-reflection would certainly remove the luster of what the show is trying to be. I almost don't understand why the corporate angle was added: was it to justify the excellent healthcare? The high stakes? The posturing in the background? I don't know. It's impossible to like only half a show: you have to take it as a whole. If you like fights, and you don't mind some stupid B-plots, be my guest. It's certainly good for getting your heart rate up.

EDIT: And God damn, I'm not usually a person who cares all that much about openings, but the first opening, "King & Ashley" by MY FIRST FAMILY is perfect for the show, and they get weaker every time they're replaced.

[celestiallyslimy]

a big, unorganized rant on ai (from a human artist) 1. lack of effort and meaning ai art doesnt really have any meaning or effort to it. real artists need to put at least some effort into their art, effort that typing onto a keypad and selecting areas to edit cannot amount to. and even with minimal effort, there's still some meaning to it. a comfort character? that has meaning. maybe that character is from a show thats sentimental to the creator. an oc? how much time was put into that character's design and lore? even miniscule things can have meaning to someone. but ai? just type what you want to see and it's done. not happy? select, type again, and repeat. artists can just make what they want to see appear. if someone is up to put a lot of effort into something, (lets say an archer in the woods, for my example), this is what may happen; 1. make a sketch 2. start lineart 3. colour 4. shading 5. background 6. extra details and then, ai generative "artists" can type "archer, woods, bow and arrow, forest" until they find something they like. and then, they have the audacity to call the image they did not make "art". if someone said "i had a dream about an antro cat demon with insect limbs" and someone else drew that, who is the artist? the person who drew it. yes, the original poster made the idea, but they didnt create the result. all they made was the prompt.

for my next point, i'll be using the scream (1893) by edvard munch

the reason that the scream resonates with today's audience is because it portrays anxiety, terror, and fear. in fact, munch felt this himself[1]. will ai ever be able to feel this despair? no. it can only learn what people percieve the emotions as. it's called artificial for a reason. 2. low quality im assuming most of us know the basic concept of what lankybox is. i've never cared much, but from what i know, it's two content farmers hopping on popular trends to gain follows and views. the content lankybox makes is lazy and effortless. it's pumped out constantly, and just doesnt have anything to it other than cheap entertainment. but, ai image generators will type an idea; which takes little effort, and just adjust. it can take a few seconds up to a couple of minutes. now, i'm not doing the math, but with 12 hours on the clocks, that could be maybe hundreds of images generated in a day. annually, artists might make up to 50 pieces[2]. so, even though content farms are insulted and criticized for pumping out constant effortless videos (10 a day), ai art is considered fine because someone wrote it? someone scripted the brainrot videos too.

3. replacing jobs this is probably the most commonly talked about part of the ai controversy, but most companies say stuff like "we strive to create an ai model that will make increasingly more realistic artworks that look human!" and when artists raise concern about losing their income, they say "you wont be replaced!". yeah right. out of 2000 executives, 41% expect to employ less people thanks to ai[3]. and that's not even only about artists. this is mostly about artists but ai sucks in general.

i could write more but i dont feel like it tldr; ai replaces jobs (removing income from families), is pretty much a less worse content farm, and is incapable of doing what a human could ever do.

[charmspoint]

🌿for the writers truth or dare!

Thank you for the ask!

Ask game

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

Cradling your face in my hands

YOUR BODY IS NOT A MACHINE. NEITHER IS YOUR MIND.

Idk about you anon in particular, but I've found that I often have writers blocks the most when I push myself too much. I'm currently in a writing low, which is normal because I'm right off a really really big project and I need to replenish my energy. I also had a really big writing block when I came crashing down from 2021 when I wrote a truly dumb number of fics for me. This one happened because I got caught up in the fandom craze and tried to pump out a lot of high quality fics fast, because that is what fandom demands from writers and artists these days. Fast and quality. This of course wasted a lot of mental and emotional energy which couldn't be compensated by the at the time abysmal comment frequency (Recently I've been getting a lot more comments and I hope everyone else is too. It would feel nice to be out of this dark feedback era).

So to reiterate.

Your body is not a machine.

Think about what is happening around you in life. Are you stressed about school, college, work? Are you having social problems? Are you spending too much time online? Do you feel like you constantly have to be pumping out projects or people will stop paying attention?

From my experience, writing block is very rarely about the inability to write itself. Inability to write is a side effect of something else. A big project, complicated outside factors, external pressure, or just the fact that you got a new game and you are using all your time to play your game and not doing anything else (person who is not obsessed with BG3 atm). Usually when these are dealt with and you renew energy after them, writing will come back on its own.

You need to be kind to yourself.

I find this to be the best advice in many situations.

Pushing yourself to do what you can't do at the moment will only result in further frustration. Yes, it's good to have a writing habit, but I advocate for that to be a low goal one. My goal is 200 words a day. Sometimes I don't manage to do this because life is complicated but 6 days out of 7 I do. This keeps you on track, doesn't let your brain stale, but also isn't just torturing you.

If you are lacking in creativity you need to EXPERIENCE THINGS. Read that book you've been putting off, start a new manga, watch a movie, beyond that, take a daily walk, go to a museum, discuss ideas with your friends. I hate the phrase media consumption but I do like eating imagery and your brain NEEDS to eat. It needs to experience different art forms to be able to produce ideas of its own. Fanfiction is fine too, but unless you know a really amazing writer who brings a lot of new things into their work, I wouldn't recommend it, because in the end fanfiction is just exploration of a familiar thing. Thing you are stuck on. DON'T function only on fanfiction.

Let your material REST. If you are stuck on the fic, shove it in a folder and don't look at it for a week. Try not to think about it too much, do some of the things above and let your work rest. After a week you'll forget the finer details of it and will be able to look at it more objectively, which might help you resolve the thing you were stuck on. Also sometimes when you read your own fic a fresh you get those 'I´m a fucking genius' moments which is always great.

BE KIND TO YOURSELF.

Don't create on anyone's schedule but your own. I know how incredibly hard it is, I've felt it too, with fandom today which is overly picky, overly judgy and not very grateful. With a fandom that seems to more and more treat its creators as content machines instead of people sharing their passion projects. DON'T WRITE FOR THOSE PEOPLE. It's hard but don't write for the comments in your inbox. Don't set a schedule you can't meet. I've been writing a 17 chapter fic for almost 3 years now because I want a weekly release schedule but I don't want a weekly writing schedule. If your fic takes 6 months, a year or 10, let it take that times, don't shove it out before you feel ready.

BE KIND TO YOURSELF!!!!!!!

Realize that sometimes writing just won't go, no matter what you do. Realize that you aren't a failure or a fraud for this, that it means nothing when it comes to your skill and ability, that the greatest writers ever had struggled with the same thing. Some days you don't have time to write, some days you aren't in the mood to even do the bare minimum. These days will exist and be kind to yourself on them. Your writing won't escape anywhere. Come to terms with being human and come back to it tomorrow.

Hope any of that rant helps hzbjhvh!!!

[illarian-rambling]

Hiiiii 🫶 I am so intrigued by Mashal in the best way. If I may, can I ask for an info dump on his ~workings~? Like his systems, what they effect, what happens if something goes wrong? Does he require special upkeep?

You have the wildest, most creative OCs I cannot stress that enough.

Eeee, Sable you make my day <333

To preface, I don't know shit or fuck about mechanical stuff. Changing a car tire is about the upper limit of my expertise. So anything I say about Mashal's hardware came probably exclusively from a google search or some basic assumptions about how pressure works.

But let's start with the basics! Mashal's mind (maybe soul?) is contained within his heart rune. This is a piece of glass tubing arranged into a rough figure-eight shaped rune. An alchemical slurry of brain matter, sorcerous enzymes, and a certain species of magically mutated bacteria flow through this tubing in a constantly circulating closed circuit. All of this is contained in a little box in the center of his chest. Really, this heart rune is all that Mashal is. His metallic body can take all sort of damage, but the heart rune is self-contained, so as long as it remains undamaged, he'll live. Aside from actually breaking the rune, one of the few things Mashal is susceptible to is high temperatures, as the cells will start to denature. Cold, he tolerates a little easier, but excessive heat will kill him or at least fry his brain a bit. He tends to get kind of loopy once the outside temp hits around 110°F. Astra is working on a cooling system to solve this problem, however, it's pretty difficult to introduce new runes to the casing of his heart rune when she barely knows how the heart rune works.

His heart rune is connected to a central hydraulic pump by way of some linkage runes (these are more traditionally etched runes. Actually, his heart rune with its alchemical tubing is really weird so far as magic goes.) That central hydraulic pump powers the rest of his body by not only fluid mechanics, but also by using the presence of hydraulic fluid as an activation condition for even more runes, mainly sensory and gravitation. The gravitation specifically makes him a bit lighter, so his mechanical bits don't have to work as hard. Gravitation runes also keep his central hydraulic pump constantly moving without the need for an outside fuel source.

On to upkeep! Mashal has bigger fish to fry over the course of the couple of months the Mortal God series takes place in, so he's not the best about this, but he does need a good deal of upkeep to function. Fluid quality is a big one, since unwanted precipitates in the hydraulic fluid can scratch runes and make them unusable. This is one area Astra has to help him in, as for a full oil change, he'll essentially be disconnected from his body. Any other maintenance that has to be done on a hydraulic system, he probably has to do a few times a year. The only major difference is that he also has to re-etch all his runes once a year or so, just to make sure there are no cracks or rust that might interrupt the shape. Thankfully, his heart rune is designed to function indefinitely without interference, so he doesn't have to mess with that one too much.

As for if something goes wrong, that sort of depends on the something. I already mentioned the heat thing, but if he's low on hydraulic fluid, his movements will be sluggish and he'll have blackout moments where his vision and hearing cuts out. Actually, now that I mention senses, Mashal really only has hearing and sight. He's got a rudimentary pressure sensor so he doesn't crush everything he grabs, but that doesn't do anything for texture or tactile sensation. Astra built him a rudimentary temperature sensor, but that's more like a little HUD that tells him how hot an object he's touching is. He can't feel pain or exhaustion, though his mind remembers being human enough that he can feel phantom pain.

As for how Mashal feels about this... He honestly really hates doing upkeep on his body. It feels like admitting he'll be stuck in it forever, and he doesn't like to think about being a machine if he doesn't have to. He's perturbed also by the fact that, if he does proper upkeep, he's effectively immortal, at least in terms of aging. Thankfully, Astra's always there to talk him through things. She's incredibly adamant about keeping him in good working order and takes pride in teaching him how to do his own repairs. She also does frequently try to talk him into letting her do crazy mods on him, like a retractable sword arm or hidden recorder or built-in heelies. So far, only the sword arm has made it in, but she'll keep trying.

Ok I think this has gotten long enough, mayhaps, but please let me know if you have any questions! And thanks so much for the ask :)