#modifier workers

[numerousracoons]

Sketches of Clara while in class as I try figure out her proportions (also @soy-bean-factory ‘s mistress halo idea has me couched in its grasp actually)

[branmer]

i wanna talk about my fic so badly rn

[hylianengineer]

The other thing you should be upset about: crops modified to be pesticide resistant so they can dump a shitton of toxins into the environment especially RoundUp which is a suspected carcinogen and dangerous to agricultural workers as well as ecosystems. And the weeds will evolve immunity in a few years anyway.

Support beneficial GMOs, but also support organic farming and a ban on RoundUp/glyphosphate (already illegal in France, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany). Fuck Monsanto.

Funny how that works

[lookwhatyoumademelou]

.

[beeapocalypse]

grinding my teeth. unsure of how far i can push kitty b4 she goes from offputting to straight goofy

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ── Masterlist

series summary ⸺ You and Gojo have been best friends ever since you met him in university, through your long study nights with Gojo, you met his other best friend, Suguru Geto. Although the two of you never really became close, the three of you spent a lot of time together at school. About a year or so after graduation, you had found yourself working a corporate job for some big shot insurance company in the city. Geto, on the other hand, had always been more of a background presence, he was a friend-of-a-friend. That’s why it caught you off guard when, out of nowhere, he reached out to you asking you to catch up, one-on-one. What started as a simple catch-up soon became something else, shrinking the distance that had always existed between you. pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader series content warnings ⸺ this is an 18+ series - mdni, platonic-bestie!gojo, corporate-worker!reader, reader uses female pronouns, reader has a v*gina, alcohol use, smoking (both cigs and weed), drug use, p in v intercourse, oral sex (both ways), semi-public sex, size kink, ROUGH sex, themes of substance abuse & high functioning addiction, a bit of emotional manipulation, exhaustion from working, burnout, corporate world bs, mildly anxiety inducing. taglist ⸺ @killak9mi; @nikilig; @pinkhoneydrop; @armfloaties; @sat-hoe-ru; @kaqua; @rriwyu; @erenspersonalwh0re; @dishs0pe; @rwirxles; @yourname-exee; @pyruvic; @marianaz; @you-transfix-me; @simplyyyuji; @zoldyi; @linaaeatsfamilies; @anuncalledbridge; @aseqan; @starmapz; @nina-from-317; @kang-ulzzang; @hashahasha; @maybe-a-bi-witch; @zeunys; @pandabiene5115; @shibataimu; @enchantinghonymoon; @gradmacoco; @re-tired-succubus; @aspiring-bookworm; @idkidk32; @paintedperidot; @yourfavbabigirl; @tellria; @ruby-dubydu; @susanhill; @arabellasolstice; @getosshampoo; @xoxoblueyy; @bxnfire; @ayumilk; @hanatsuki-hime; @aldebrana; @jomijase1622; @garden0fyves **if your username is striked out that means Tumblr would not let me tag you, pls check your settings :) divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai ୨୧ simplygojo masterlist ୨୧ Ao3 series link ୨୧

chapters ⸺ Chapter One; Chapter Two; Chapter Three; Chapter Four; Chapter Five; Chapter Six; Chapter Seven; Chapter Eight; Chapter Nine; Chapter Ten; Chapter Eleven (07/12); Chapter Twelve (07/26); Chapter Thirteen (08/09);

**All rights reserved 18+ © simplygojo. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform**

[pixie-inkk]

Old photo...

a commission for @pixie-inkk !!

look at this wholesome family, surely nothing bad will happen to them :]

[anaktoria-of-the-moon]

At work plagued by thoughts of a mech bigger than you can imagine.

She starts like most of them do, a Titan excavator rig modestly sized for their line: maybe a house or thereabouts, a big house. (Doesn’t matter why she signed up - perhaps a breadwinner, a lone mother or eldest sister, a daughter of aging parents nobody else will take; doesn’t matter what site they sent her to, Earth or Enceladus or Venus or Europa. She’s there, and she lets them strap her in and adapt her for the piloting interface and pump her full of protein ooze and electrolytes and hyperstimulant cocktails as obediently as the next laborer.)

Upgrades come, from big house to bigger, with shovels like hillsides and treads like highways. Still she remains in the cockpit, out only for one day every six months to say hello to her burgeoning family, who have moved nearby to make it easy on her, to meet the baby nephews and nieces whose names she doesn’t yet know.

War comes. The facility hunkers down. It just makes sense to retrofit their biggest digger with shields, to expand her arsenal a little more, give her a better engine, pour all their leftover resources into making her a great guardian, and she rises to the occasion, shielding them from orbital rays, absorbing the energy and taking the pain of it up into her own engines. When the corporate rats who own the site finally turn tail and run the workers and their families band together and do the needful repairs themselves. Her nieces and nephews grow up learning engineering by the light of oil lamps from stolen Old Era textbooks and jailbroken datapads. She hardly ever now glimpses their faces with her own two eyes from within her steel shell but it is a worthy sacrifice to her, to them, for both parties know she is still there, still with them, embracing them in a great steel hug and watching through a thousand glass-lensed eyes.

Years pass. The brightest of her nieces works out how to modify the nutrition cocktail going into her cockpit so she will never age, never die, never fall sick. Somewhere in there all the metal and ceramic encloses her ever-sleeping body like a lotus flower around the benevolent, immortal form of a bodhisattva.

The outpost survives the war, somehow. Refugees hear of the little town on the colony that could, guarded by a goddess the size of a temple, and flock there. It makes sense to add to her control, among her array of sensors and actuators, the new city’s power generation and delivery system, its wall defenses, its waste management, its communications mains. Nowhere is anything safer than with her.

With all these new additions come techs and custodians to keep her in good care. They build modest crew cabins nestled amongst her treads (now rusty from disuse) so they can be close to her, the better to help her.

Slowly more and more falls under her purview, new cabins, then mezzanines and stairways and platforms between them; each generation has their own superstitions that they add to those of the last before them, so paintings crop up on her metal panels now, in nooks and crannies, often crude symbols that promise good oil changes or swift code updates, or simply depictions of their goddess, of the war she survived. Still she watches.

Her nieces and nephews are all dead now, and their nieces and nephews look on through rheumed eyes as the city attains new heights, heralded everywhere on every planet that still lives as an oasis of peace and prosperity. Still she watches.

A new company comes, enticed by the stories. They want to buy her. Buy her! The people scoff. As if you could just buy a person! - A person? asks the representative from Acher Spaceways, perplexed. - We heard she was your goddess.

She is both, of course, the goddess who lives, the goddess who is one hundred percent flesh and one hundred percent machine.

Acher doesn’t like this. They send machines - zero percent flesh, entirely drones - screaming down from the stars for a more insistent negotiation, one phrased in metal slugs and incendiary fire.

So your goddess rises up to meet them.

It is over in a short day. The drones lie in pieces; Acher, from orbit, licks their wounds, and the goddess rebukes them with a single laser blast, modified from her very first mining waymaker photonic drill.

The blast is precise and surgical. It tears apart the whole platform, spinning central axis to annular habitat space, which supernovas into a blossom of shining proof in the night sky at which the citizens below cheer.

But the pieces are falling, and soon they will pepper the surface below with molten debris, kick up dust into the atmosphere and make it all but unbreathable. The people could leave, the goddess advises them through short-wave radio bursts. They could use her emergency shuttles to escape gravity before it is too late, or they could go underground and salvage her rarest and most precious resources to survive until the surface is safe again.

Here is the thing - every pilot is augmented, and most augments are for the benefit of the plainly physical, for strength and speed and stamina and sharpness of perception. When her people augmented her, they augmented something else entirely. With every new module, every sensor upgrade, every painted symbol and hidden shrine, they gave her a superhuman capacity not for stamina or speed or strength, but for love.

It is her love that saved them, so they must save her back.

For two days they work tirelessly, the whole city, while above them the shattered pieces of Acher Spaceways looms ever closer. When they are done the treads are gone, the cabins dismantled, only the little drawings carefully preserved under coats of abrasion- and heat-resistant paint. And under her, their city, their Haven, lie rockets, ten of them, repurposed from the old all-ore crucibles, fit to move an asteroid.

She’s out there somewhere by Orion now, they say, the fourth jewel in his belt. And she has only grown: from three thousand then to three hundred million. Creatures from all over come to pay her their respects, or to visit lovers, or to live there themselves. There is always room in a body that is ever expanding, like the cosmos itself. Over all of them, she watches, eternal.

Among all the stories they tell of her, they repeat this one the most - how she tore apart a whole space station for the sake of her people, knowing she would die if she failed, for how can a whole city hope to flee? She guards them, and in turn they do not abandon her. They are two halves of the same whole, they say reverently, love manifest - the people and their city; this pilot, this great machine. This Haven.

[cosycafune]

SUCK UNTIL YOU CAN'T ANYMORE.

usually, you're not allowed to enter kento's office -- scheming. however, your mouth's filled with kento's -- trying not to get caught as you suck him dry. sure, he's going to punish you later. but that doesn't matter, right now. your job is to be a good girl and handle it.

acts: cock warming, oral (m) receiving, masturbating, gagging, crying, mascara streaming, and trying not to get caught. mdni 18+ masterlist.

MESSY, gasping for air, gagging mercilessly, that’s what you’re doing. Doing as you’re beneath Kento’s desk, listening to his assistant blabber to him about the disorganised workers – on the phone. Kento knew doing something like this was heavily forbidden, but he couldn’t resist his girlfriend’s doe eyes – twinkling naively as you pretended to reach for something under the table. Only to trap Kento, sucking contently away on his cock – glancing up at him.

“Give me…a second,” Kento grunts out, muting his phone before he lodges his cock further into your mouth – listening to you struggling to take all of his cock.

Kento has a streak for slight roughness.

“You wanted…this,” Entertained, Kento softly mutters. Murky cognitively, Kento hurls his head back while he shoves your mouth impossibly close to his cock base.

“Hmm, that’s… it, princess,” Struggling to converse, loudly moaning, Kento lustfully glimpses down at you – struggling to fluently breathe.

“Mhm,” Each vibration you sent causes Kento to buck his hips intensely into your mouth, engrossed by his colossal cock knocking against the back of your throat.

“L-Look at you,” Kento grunts out, picking up on your prettily playing with your soppy cunt – desperate for more contact from him.

A moaning mess, Kento grins at your smeared mascara, your dignity completely thrown out and disregarded. He knew it was more disregarded the moment he noticed you completely at his mercy, waiting for his full spurts of cum exploding in your mouth. It takes him finishing so deeply within your mouth, for your eyes to light up with satisfaction.

“‘Gonna have to punish you later,” Smitten, Kento chuckles – grunting with satisfaction at his balls being emptied by you.

You’re everything.

--

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[tranquilreign]

competitive much? | oneshot

- © tranquilreign - all rights reserved | DO NOT STEAL, TAKE, or COPY any of MY WORK without MY PERMISSION.

🗒 details

pairing; jungkook/reader genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers, tattooartist au! warnings; swearing, lustful thoughts and slight lustful actions, jungkook's an ass, mental health, anxiety attacks and mentions anti-depressants. word count: 2.9k

🖋 synopsis

competitive (adj.) kuhm·peh·tuh·tuhv having or displaying a strong desire to be more successful than others.

nothing boils your blood more than your co-worker jeon jungkook. both of you competing to be the best, and he always comes out on top. but this time, he takes it too far.

🖇links

jungkook masterlist main masterlist request | request rules prompt list

Today might be the worst day of your life. You had finally had a female client who was more than happy for you to tattoo her. She had explained her idea. A snake, but as you went further down its body, it slowly formed into a trail of flowers. It was your clients' way of showing the representation of beauty and danger.

When she first arrived, she was uncertain about what she wanted. However, after a few sessions of conversation and design work, you both agreed on a final concept that she loved. Now, she sat not in your chair, but in your co-worker Jungkook's chair.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Jungkook had emerged from the back just as your client arrived for her appointment. He glanced over your shoulder and scoffed at the design in your hands.

"Fuck off Jungkook," you muttered. "Afternoon! It's good to see you again, Clara."

“It’s great to see you as well! I’m really excited for this,” Clara exclaimed enthusiastically.

You smiled, turning the iPad in your hand to face her. Clara gasped, looking at the design in awe.

"I know we initially agreed on a final design, but if you take a closer look here," you said as you zoomed in on the tail, "I've modified some of the flowers into wilting roses and thorns to further emphasise the balance between beauty and danger."

"It looks amazing! I think this is such a good addition to the design!"

"Great! When you're ready, I can take you through the back to help you get set up with the stencil," you smiled, opening the small door that connected the two registers.

"If you don't mind me butting in." You let your head fall back at the voice. Jungkook. You spun on the spot, a fake smile evident.

"Yes?"

Jungkook held out his hand, silently asking to look at your design, even though he had seen it earlier. Reluctantly, you shoved the iPad into his hands. Clara looked at Jungkook, her eyes filling with desire. This happened every time a female client walked into the studio. And to say it pissed you off would be an understatement.

"You see, changing the snake's mouth from closed to open transforms your tattoo into something far more menacing. While snakes are captivating in their beauty, it’s the moment they prepare to strike that they become truly terrifying," Jungkook explained as he confidently handed back the iPad.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice, we'll think about-"

"That is truly amazing!" Clara praised. Jungkook smirked, glancing at you for a moment.

“I’ll get this stencil printed for you and tattoo you myself,” Jungkook stated firmly, as if your presence didn’t even phase him.

"Yes, please!" Clara beamed, allowing herself to be escorted through the back and into Jungkook's chair.

You stood there in shock, aware of how competitive Jungkook was when it came to clients. This felt like a low blow, even for him. You moved to the back and stood beside him, prepared to help as he set up. You hurried around the room, gathering any inks Jungkook needed for the upcoming tattoo. Once you finished, he sent you back to the front desk.

Sitting in the chair at the first register, you tapped your stylist gently against your iPad, having lost motivation to create any new designs for the studio. A few hours had gone by when Clara was ready to leave. She had bid you a farewell, handing over a decent tip for Jungkook.

"Well, how much did she leave me?" Jungkook asked smugly, emerging from the back.

Without saying a word, you slid the money along to him, staring out the window. He slid the notes into his hand and counted each one slowly, trying to rub it in more. Typically, you would bite back, arguing with him for stealing another client from you. But this time, you felt defeated.

"I'm going to go for my lunch," you muttered, pushing past Jungkook and grabbing your worn leather jacket.

Jungkook's smile faltered for a moment, finding it strange you hadn't begun to argue with him. He always liked it when you started yelling at him. There was something about you being angry that really turned him on.

There was no denying Jungkook found you extremely attractive. When you first walked into the studio with your job application, Jungkook knew he was going to hire you immediately. He was truly mesmerised by your work, finding how you viewed art inspiring.

Yet despite his huge crush on you, he would tease you as if there was no tomorrow. Riling you up until you exploded, yelling at him. You'd sometimes even throw a book or two at him.

But you both knew this type of stuff was only banter. Right?

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Without saying another word, you left the studio and crossed the street. You slowly made your way into the coffee shop, sitting at an empty table and ordering a cup of green tea through the cafe's mobile app.

You sat, questioning whether or not you really should be working at the studio when you were barely getting any work done. At the moment, women are the ones mostly looking to get tattoos, which means that it was game for Jungkook.

He was attractive. Very attractive, and he knew he was. Every opportunity, he would flirt with any potential female client who walked through the door. That made sure they would choose him as their artist.

You were so torn. The whole reason you wanted to work with Jungkook is that you had seen his work all over Instagram. And he was good at what he did. An added bonus was that he was incredibly hot. You could have screamed when you first saw him in person. His long hair fell in front of his face, and as he read your application, he gently played with his lip rings.

You couldn't help but stare at his muscular arms. His right arm was fully covered with tattoos that extended down to his knuckles. You noticed the way the muscles tensed slightly as he turned the page of your application. He sat lazily in his chair, his legs spread open slightly, giving you a full view of him. You bit your lip, as dirty thoughts began to creep in the longer you stared. With a clap of his hands, he pulled you out of your fixation.

"This looks really good. But I do have other applicants. I'll get back to you by the end of the week to let you know if you've been given the job or not."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Your lunch had flown by, dreading going back into the studio. Yet, you walked in and completely ignored Jungkook, sitting back down at the register across from him.

Jungkook watched you walk right past him. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was unsure how to take your sudden silence. But he had decided to not take it too seriously. Jungkook was about to speak when you suddenly spoke up.

"I'm not feeling too great all of a sudden," you whispered, your face scrunching in discomfort.

"Oh, well, if you aren't feeling well, go home," Jungkook suggested.

"I think that may be best." With that, you gathered your belongings and stepped out the door, leaving Jungkook behind to look after the studio.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

It had been a week since you had gone home, and Jungkook was growing worried. You had messaged every morning, mentioning how you were feeling worse with each passing day. By the end of the week, Jungkook had decided he was going to check up on you.

He sat at the register, watching as the clock slowly ticked by. He began to grow impatient at how slow the days had been since you weren't in.

It was as if you not being here was making the days drag on for longer. They were boring. With no one to tease or wind up it was truly lonely in the studio.

"Fuck it," he muttered, grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling on it. He stuck it to the window and locked up shop early. He walked to his motorcycle, getting ready to head to you.

"I should get her some snacks and medicine."

Jungkook put his jacket and helmet on, speeding off down the busy street to get to the pharmacy before it closed. Luck, however, just didn't seem to be on his side. Every traffic light turned red as he approached the crossings. He grew more frustrated as he drove to his destination, having arrived just a few minutes too late to the pharmacy.

He cursed, thumping his fist down onto his thigh. He spun around, heading back in the direction he came, deciding to just head to the corner shop across from your house.

All he could think about was how unwell you seemed. It was strange of you to be off sick for so long. Even when you were sick with the flu, you'd force yourself to come in until Jungkook had to physically push you out the door to go home.

Now here he was, standing in front of your apartment door, snacks in hand. He was nervous, and he didn't know why. Still, he knocked. He waited for a moment until you opened the door. Jungkook frowned at you. You didn't look sick at all.

"J-Jungkook," you stammered, shocked at his sudden appearance. "Why are you here?"

"You're not sick!" he exclaimed, forcing himself into your apartment.

You closed your eyes, knowing you were caught. Shutting the door behind you, you slowly spun around to look at him. And Jungkook was furious.

"Yes, I'm not sick."

"I've had to look after the studio the whole week, without you! And you've been fine. I should fire you for this."

"Then do it!" you challenged, catching him off guard.

"Excuse me?"

"Go on, Jungkook. Fire me. Honestly, I don't think I care anymore," you continued, crossing your arms over your chest.

"What?" Jungkook asked, more confused than before. You laughed bitterly.

"Oh, come on, Jungkook. Ever since I started working with you, all you have done is make me feel like I am worthless. You sit there and belittle my work, stealing my clients."

Jungkook stammered, not knowing what to say. He stood silent, watching as tears welled in your eyes. You attempted to blink them back, but instead, they ran down your cheeks. It broke Jungkook's heart to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"I'm sorry, princess. I didn't realise-"

"Of course you didn't realise. Because if you're not busy treating me like a slave, you're trying to fuck every female client that walks through the door!"

You had begun to hyperventilate, anxiety taking over you. Jungkook watched as you slowly sank to the floor, eyes widening at your state. Jungkook dropped the snacks in his hands and immediately knelt in front of you. Gently, he took his hands in yours.

"Y/n, try to look at me okay?" he spoke softly. "Hey-hey. Look at me."

Chest heaving, and eyes bloodshot with tears, you attempted to look at him. He guided one of your hands to his chest, allowing you to feel his heartbeat, his breathing.

"I want you to focus on me and try to copy what I do, okay?" You only nodded.

You watched as Jungkook slowly inhaled and exhaled, his grip tightening slightly around your hand, reassuring that everything was okay. Your breathing slowly began to ease as Jungkook's grip tightened gently around your hand, and you slowly started coming back to your senses.

"Good. Good girl," Jungkook soothed, moving his other hand to stroke your hair.

Having your breathing under control again, you pushed yourself forward into Jungkook's arms, crying silently. Jungkook took this moment to hold you close, looking around the room, noticing the bottle of antidepressants sitting on your coffee table.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I know an apology isn't good enough for all the shit I've put you through. But truly, I am sorry," he whispered, gently planting a kiss atop your head.

You pulled back, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe away your tears. You didn't look at him, ashamed of your vulnerability. Jungkook sat patiently, waiting until you were ready to speak.

"I'm- sorry," you spoke in barely a whisper. Jungkook leaned back, surprised at your words.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, princess," he cooed. "If I were aware of how you were feeling. I wouldn't have continued. I guess my way of conveying my feelings didn't come across as intended."

You rubbed your eyes, looking at him, surprised. You hadn't expected an apology or a confession from him. You had expected him to be angry. Furious that you had been skipping work. Yet here he sat, his hands in yours, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"Yeah, you have a funny way of showing it," you spoke, choking out a laugh. Jungkook chuckled slightly.

"You take all the time you need, okay? I don't want you feeling like you have to come into work now because of this conversation."

You smiled.

"I know, I was going to come back in a few days anyway."

"I see," Jungkook muttered. "I know this may seem like a bold thing to ask. But can I stay the night? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine-"

"I'm serious, Y/n," Jungkook cut you off. "I want to make sure you're drinking plenty of water and eating, even if it's a little bit."

You paused before finally nodding. He smiled, standing up, holding his hand out for you to take. You slid your hand into his, allowing him to pull you up into his arms. He was quick to let you go, though, not wanting to smother you. Jungkook watched as you walked off into he bathroom.

Only then had he noticed you wearing a pair of short baggy shorts and a cropped tank top. He bit his lip, trying his hardest not to lose himself at a time like this. Instead, he followed behind you, watching you closely as you brushed your teeth. You spat out the toothpaste and looked at him in the mirror's reflection.

"You know you don't need to monitor me. I'm not going to run away," you teased.

Jungkook hummed, simply leaning against the door frame, watching you with arms crossed. Rolling your eyes, you went back to brushing your teeth. You glanced at him in the mirror a few times, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Y/n," Jungkook spoke suddenly.

You had just put your toothbrush in its holder when you turned to look at him. He was closer than before, but still respected your space. He silently asked to hold your hand, which you agreed to with a nod.

"I love you," he whispered. "Since the day you walked into my studio. I knew I wanted you to work, not for me, but with me. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and you are all that's on my mind to this day. You drive me crazy. So much so I can hardly contain myself when you come into work wearing your cargo's and a t-shirt. It's so simple, but you pull it off like it's nothing. You are simply... perfect."

You didn't say anything. Instead, you pulled him in by the collar of his t-shirt and crashed your lips against his. He was shocked for a moment, then regained himself, allowing his lips to mould with yours. Passion burned inside both of you, as hands began to wander to places one would expect. You only stopped when you felt his hand begin to slide underneath your top.

"Sorry. I got caught up in the moment," Jungkook responded quickly. He stepped back, removing his hands from your waist. A sensation which you missed.

"Next time, we'll go there," you teased moving towards him and running your hand along his chest. He shivered at your touch, something you were enjoying very much. You gave him another quick kiss, leading him into your bedroom.

"I love you, too. Now, let's get some sleep."

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

hello there! thanks for taking the time to read this one! i wanted to write this, in hopes it brings some awareness to the seriousness of mental health. i, myself, am currently suffering with anxiety and depression, and have found that, as of recently, writing had been a way to help put me as ease. i hope with me writing this I have not offended as it was not my intention, but to show that people experience anxiety and depression in many different ways, and no one should be judged on it.

tranquilreign~

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The real reason the studios are excited about AI is the same as every stock analyst and CEO who’s considering buying an AI enterprise license: they want to fire workers and reallocate their salaries to their shareholders

The studios fought like hell for the right to fire their writers and replace them with chatbots, but that doesn’t mean that the chatbots could do the writers’ jobs.

Think of the bosses who fired their human switchboard operators and replaced them with automated systems that didn’t solve callers’ problems, but rather, merely satisficed them: rather than satisfying callers, they merely suffice.

Studio bosses didn’t think that AI scriptwriters would produce the next Citizen Kane. Instead, they were betting that once an AI could produce a screenplay that wasn’t completely unwatchable, the financial markets would put pressure on every studio to switch to a slurry of satisficing crap, and that we, the obedient “consumers,” would shrug and accept it.

Despite their mustache-twirling and patrician chiding, the real reason the studios are excited about AI is the same as every stock analyst and CEO who’s considering buying an AI enterprise license: they want to fire workers and reallocate their salaries to their shareholders.

-How the Writers Guild sunk AI's ship: No one's gonna buy enterprise AI licenses if they can't fire their workers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[lawofcollage]

From a Campaign Perspective: Why Endorsing Kamala Harris Makes the Most Sense

Yay, Biden stepped back! (if this is how you found out and not the supernatural alert system meme... oops)

Let's talk about why Kamala Harris makes the most sense even if she, like Biden, is not one of our first choices (though she's higher on my list, certainly)

(My credentials: Former campaign worker, poli sci degree, etc)

It'd be really fucked up for him to step back and cause a PR disaster for the Dems. Kamala Harris has been at his side this whole time. Stepping over her, a woman of color who has already been doing much of the work, would cause a public relations crisis.

Kamala Harris has name recognition. We know who she is, and we at least vaguely know what she stands for. Name recognition is hugely important in an election and we do not have enough time to build it right now. This is not the time to pick someone that we've never heard of before or even vaguely never heard of.

She's run a campaign before. She knows how to do this, she has a platform that she can modify a little as needed and be ready to go over night. She has the donors from last time and everything.

She's already got a campaign schedule for Biden, she can modify that easily to suit her own needs and has more freedom to campaign than the current president because she's *not* the current president, she doesn't have COVID right now, and she's not older than dirt.

She is perfectly capable of making Trump look like a fucking idiot on stage. The highlight reel is gonna look so much better next time, hopefully.

Personal speculation: I think people are far less likely to sit it out with her name at the top of the ticket.

So what should you be doing right now?

Let's start simple. Understand that Biden did what many of us wanted right here. He stepped away from the campaign he was running and handed it off to someone younger. Fuck yeah!

Also remember that anyone who encourages you not to vote likely has an alternative agenda that involves you having less power to use your voice.

Ok, what else?

Check your voter registration here.

Not registered? You’ve moved and it’s out of date? Update your voter registration/registration here.

Don’t forget to vote up and down the ballot! Local elections matter, and hopefully you’ll find someone you’re a lot more passionate about on a local level.

And make sure your friends do the same!!!!

This website also covers what you may need to bring with you the day of. Some states require you to bring your ID, for example, so go check.Your state may have early voting options, and you should definitely use those! They make life a lot easier. You can check those out here.

P.S. Make sure to check your voter registration closer to the election as well, just in case. Probably sometime in September would be best, but just keep an eye out.

[ktownshizzle]

Masterlist

My name is K and this is the byproduct of my Min Yoongi and Bangtan Sonyeondan brainrot. In other news, Jeon Wonwoo of Seventeen has also been contributing to my sanity’s decay.

Please remember all stories herein are purely fiction. I do not claim to know BTS or SVT irl. I put warnings in every chapter. Please be guided by them, so you can have an enjoyable reading experience. I do not have an upload schedule. I will turn on my requests soon, but for now please enjoy my ongoing and completed stories below. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing without my express permission to do so.

About Me | WIP update | Buy me a ko-fi | Simpler M.list Join my permanent taglist Minors DNI

Wild & Free

Status: Completed

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: Everybody says they want to marry Min Yoongi. But what if he only wants to say 'yes' to you. Alternatively: While on the last leg of their PTD tour, Yoongi discovers there was such a thing as drive-thru weddings in Las Vegas - spontaneous, wild, exciting - something his pretty little brain can't seem to process having lived the last decade of his life planned to perfection by his management team, which includes you. When he goes down a rabbit hole of Youtube videos about The Little White Wedding Chapel (Omo! Michael Jordan got married there!), he starts getting all sorts of ideas - all of it starring him and you. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Childhood friends to lovers, Idol!au, Coworkers to lovers (reader is a HYBE employee)

Terms & Conditions

Status: Ongoing

⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Teaser | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to? Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Love & Lullabies

Status: Ongoing

⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 Teaser | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.) Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (tbd), idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Friends & Fools

Status: Completed

Click here

Summary: You and Yoongi have always been just friends—inseparable since childhood, roommates in the city, partners in navigating life’s chaos. At your high school reunion, the questions start: Are you two finally together? Uh, no. But as the night goes on, and Yoongi looks at you like that, hmm—has everyone else seen something you’ve been too scared to admit? Genre: Fluff, Suggestive, non-idol!au, best friends & roommates to lovers

A Christmas Encore {Holiday Fic}

Status: Completed

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it. When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again? Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

Let Me Love You {Song fic Drabble}

Status: Pending

Click here for the Preview

Honey & Citrus

Status: Completed Read here

Summary: You haaate your job, but at least there’s this sexy eye-candy at your favorite cafe to distract you from your miserable 9 to forever grind. Your simple, casual nods with him, turn into a silent caffeine war when, after his small act of kindness, you buy him his coffee—and he refuses to let the favor go unanswered. Suddenly, you’re locked in a daily battle of who pays first, and just when you think you’ve reached a stalemate, fate (and a very nosy barista) throws in a twist you never saw coming.

That Tricky Hickey

Status: Completed Read here

Anonymous asked: Very specific request: Yoongi and you are into each other except he doesn't make it obvious. You guys are complete opposites (you're extroverted and emo and he's introverted and into rap). Your bff is dating Jimin. You + maknae line + Yoongi go on vacation. Long story short Yoongi gets mad that they're flirting with you and he proceeds to get drunk. The boys have to wake you up to take Yoongi to his room and put him to bed because he keeps asking for you. Yoongi asks you to sleep in his bed with him and gives you some pjs. He then starts marking your neck and confesses to liking you and you put a subtle stop to it because he is drunk and rub his back so he can fall sleep (fluff ). The next morning he sees your neck and is mortified but you decide to be bold and straddle him (whatever smut you want to write) and yeah that's pretty much it. I've never made a request before but it's my take of the classic there's only one bed to share situation :) You're very talented and I love your writing!

Nerd & Nerdier

Status: Completed

⋆.˚ Series Masterlist ⋆.˚ Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

Sweet & Spicy

Status: Completed

Read here

Summary: Turns out some cravings are just so hard to ignore. Genre: Fluffy fluff, idol!au, strangers to ?, Reader is ARMY

Yet to come

Yet to come

Yet to come

Yet to come

Yet to come

Banners by the uber talented @glossdebut

[nevadancitizen]

-> ROT IN PUREST GOLD

synopsis: you've been skipping through universes ever since you touched the source of the hexgates. through everything, you've never stopped searching for your viktor -- now, you've found him, and you just want to go home.

word count: 2.7k

ships: viktor/reader

tags: angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, pre-established relationship

notes: inspired by purest gold by miracle of sound. and this is my first shot at writing viktor.. lmk if i got anything wrong ^_^

related reading: Oh Viktor, My Viktor (What Could’ve Been)

It’s been years since you saw Viktor. Many years – artificial years. Years spent close, away, at a distance but still observing. But they were never your Viktor. 

Viktor with the accented voice and the long face. Viktor with the work ethic of a hive of worker honeybees, tireless and continuous. Viktor with the eyes of pure gold – never pyrite or brass with a yellow twinge. He’s always been made of the purest gold.

None of them ever could’ve replaced him. With all these alternate universes you were hopping between, you met plenty of Viktors. Some came close, but none replaced him. It wasn’t their faults; they couldn’t compete with a memory. 

You were a variable, too, so you couldn’t blame them completely. You went by different names, had different stories. Anything to make this depressing, grueling trudge through many lives more tolerable. 

Some things made things less annoying, like cars. (Well, sometimes. Sometimes they were a nuisance.) Cars are one of the things you think your Viktor would’ve liked to study. To take apart, to put back together, to modify and make better. You could see him becoming a real torque dork while listening to Speedfreaks FM. 

Mostly because that’s what he insists on listening to when you drive him to his doctor’s appointments – both of which you’re doing right now. Well, this universe’s version of him insists on Speedfreaks FM, and insists on you not calling him a ‘torque dork.’ Differentiating the Viktors from each other gets really complicated really fast, but giving them numbers feels dehumanizing. (If you did, this Viktor would be V-24. You’ve been keeping track.)

You turn on your blinker and wait for an opening to drive into the parking lot. Beneath the chatter of the radio hosts, you can hear Viktor tap his slender fingers against his forearm crutch in the passenger seat. Another difference you’ve noticed – both his outward fidgeting and his different mobility aids. 

When your turn comes, you turn your car into the parking lot. You slowly let the car drift, your foot hovering above the brake in case someone needs to cross. 

You turn down the radio a few clicks. “You think you’ll need your wheelchair?”

Viktor is silent. You take your eyes off the road for a split second and glance at him. He’s looking out the side window, at the plaza’s tall buildings and a sign that says Pueblito Plaza. 

“Viktor?” You say. “You hearing me?”

You pull into a parking spot and put the car in park. Worry eats through you – you don’t know what’s happening. Why is he acting like this?

He’s turned in his seat, looking through the back window at the buildings. There’s amazement on his face and for a second – a split second – he’s there. He’s your Viktor. 

But he’s not. He’s not. 

Those eyes are not gold. They are topaz and they are citrine. They are the yellow-orange that accompanies the sunrise. Beautiful, yes, but not yours.

“Where… are we?” He asks, his voice soft and wonderful.

“We’re going to your doctor appointment,” you say. “With… what’s her name? The pulmonologist. And then you have a CT chest scan.”

“No – the nation,” Viktor says. “What nation are we in? I have never seen technology like this.”

He runs a hand over the console of the car, then over the glovebox. He opens it, then looks inside. Nothing but napkins from fast food places and a laminated copy of your car insurance. 

“What’re you looking for?” You ask. You turn the key, and the car shuts off. 

“The power source,” Viktor says, looking at the key in your hand. “May I?”

“Viktor, you’re not cleared to drive,” you say, your voice growing sterner and firmer. “The doctors said your legs are… too weak or something – I don’t know.”

You clutch the key (and the carabiner it’s attached to) tighter in your hand. The charms hanging from it jingle and clink together. A small cog and a toy that looks like a spark plug make a metallic click as they collide.

“What is that?” Viktor reaches out, but just barely stops himself from touching the spark plug toy. You pause for a second, then give him the entire carabiner. 

Viktor holds the spark plug toy up to his face, inspecting it closely. He lets the rest of the charms on the carabiner dangle freely. You watch him – watch his eyes. A spark of gold. A fleck of cooler color in a pool of a warmer, yellowish orange. 

He sets the pad of his thumb on the hex of the toy (the hex here is a piece of metal on a spark plug fitted for a wrench – not the hex you were used to, so long ago). He wiggles it back and forth, then spins it. The hex spins with a barely-audible metallic rasp, like a fidget ring.

“It’s very intricate for a toy,” Viktor says. “Who made this?”

“Wh… you did. You gave that to me,” you say softly. “Why don’t you remember that?”

A quiet question nags the back of your mind – is Viktor getting worse?

You silently beg that you’re right. In a twisted, selfish way, you want him to get worse. You’ve taken care of Viktor before. Watched him die in multiple dimensions. In some of them, he even died in your arms, his golden eyes fading and his hand falling from your cheek.

You know what it’s like to watch him get worse. You’ve done it before, seen it before. You know what to do, how to grieve. You don’t know what you’d do if this is… Viktor. Viktor for real. Your Viktor.

“Are you trying to stifle my curiosity?” Viktor asks, a teasing smile on his face, his eyes still on the toy. 

“You gave it to me… I don’t know, six, seven years ago?” You say. You turn so that your shoulder is leaning against the car seat, facing him. “A spark plug. It’s important to the engine. I don’t remember how. And now… I’m failing your test.”

Viktor puts the carabiner down on the console. He laughs, and he’s looking at you like… you don’t know how he’s looking at you. But it’s something familiar. Something long-lost that you’ve been yearning for. 

“How could I test you on something I barely know anything about?” He asks. His smile falters a little.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you say, smiling. (His laughter always manages to make you smile.) “You know everything there is to know about cars, trucks, motorcycles…”

Viktor’s smile turns forced and confused. His eyebrows furrow a little. “I… have no idea what you’re talking about…”

And then he says it. He says your name. Your real name, your true name – the name V-1 called you. The name the real Viktor called you. 

It goes through you like a cold shock. A baptism in electrified ice water. You want to put your hand to his throat and ask, “What the fuck? What the hell did you just call me? Who’re you talking about?” 

You want to… but you can’t. You’re frozen until Viktor places a hand on yours.

You jerk it away, cradling both hands to your chest and scrunch back against the car door. “Don’t touch me.”

And he says your name again. Again, in that tone that invites sympathy, but mostly pity. He’s pitying you. You’ve gone through this too many times, with too many therapists.

“You – Viktor,” you say, his name coming out in a gasp. There’s a lump in your throat and you feel almost nauseous. 

“You’re not… you’re not the real one,” you grind out. “You’re not my Viktor, so stop acting like it. In th– in this universe, you’re just a friend, and that’s it.”

Viktor is silent, his mouth agape. “My love –”

“Don’t! Please,” you say. The words escape you before you can do anything. “Please, just don’t. Who – who told you?”

“Who told me what?” Viktor asks. His voice is still soft and sympathetic and sickly sweet.

“That you’re… you were…” You slump against the car door. Your elbow knocks against the steering wheel.

You look at him again. Your eyes dart between both of his, looking, observing. They’re not gold anymore. Well, they never really were, but now they’re… they’re opaline – pearlescent. A whole kaleidoscope in a drop. This is something different, but, still… it’s almost like you can sense him. This is the true Viktor – your Viktor. 

“I was there, Runeterra, the core of the hexgates, and then… I wasn’t. I’ve lived twenty-three lives before this. My first memory of… here… is of my fifteenth birthday party. I had to grow up all over again. Make new friends, go to a child’s school. I didn’t have anyone. And you –” Your voice catches in your throat, on both anger and sorrow. “You left me here! You left me to do this all alone!”

“I would never.” Viktor’s cold hands meet yours. He cradles them both. “I would never leave you, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

“But you did!” You grip his hands as tight as you can, trying to savor the feeling. Tears well at the corners of your eyes. “You left me with this… this rot. These gilded Viktors that look like you, act like you. And it hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Viktor says softly. “You’re hurting me, too.”

You blink, then realise what you’re doing and loosen your grip on his hands. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He breathes out a soft laugh, then brushes his thumbs over your knuckles. “It must’ve been lonely, all by yourself.”

“You have no idea,” you say, your voice breaking a little. You blink hard, and a tear runs down your face. “We went to an arcade, and I spent all my quarters on you. We went to a museum, and I bought you a small paperweight of a statue that was on display there. We went to this weird, exotic place – Great Britain, I think it was called – and we shared tea and scones. And, no matter what I did, it… it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t right. It… he wasn’t you.”

“I’m here now.” Viktor gives your hands a gentle squeeze – much softer than what you gave him. “How long has it been?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you say tearfully. “Time moves differently here. Maybe… sixty years? I’m not sure.”

“Sixty?” Viktor balks. “Oh, my love…”

His hands slowly, carefully, move away from yours. Cold fingers meet your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut on instinct, head tilting down into the touch. Viktor cradles your face, both his thumbs brushing back-and-forth over your cheeks. 

 “I dreamt of you,” you say softly. “Every night. And I thought of you every day. Just… thinking of you, every moment I could spare.”

“Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Viktor says. 

You shake your head and lean further into his touch. “I’ve waited so long… so long. And now you’re here, and I – I don’t know what to do.”

He moves his hands, the tips of his fingers splayed across the sides of your neck and his thumbs gently pressing into your temples. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “This is nice, though. Just… you being here is nice.”

You lean forward, placing your hands over his to ensure they stay in place. “It felt like eternity, waiting for you. Just waiting, and longing. None of them could replace you.”

You open your eyes, just the slightest bit, and take Viktor in. Good god, he’s Viktor. He’s your Viktor. No longer the purest gold, but something new. Something better. Something life-bringing and something with infinite mercy.

“That is flattering, coming from you,” Viktor says. “You could have anyone you want – anyone across twenty-four universes. And you chose me, in every single one? That is the highest praise I could receive.”

You breathe out a laugh as your eyes shut again. “Shut up.”

“Eh… if you continue to act like this, I don’t think I will,” he teases. In a softer, warmer tone, he adds, “Your face is getting warm, too. I can feel it.”

You groan and hide your face in Viktor’s hands further. Even though you act like you hate it, you’ve missed this – you’ve missed this immensely. His teasing, his compliments that make you feel like you hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars by yourself. 

“Maybe you’re just getting warmer in general,” you say softly. “Maybe you’re getting better.”

“I have gotten better,” Viktor says, his voice light. “In our universe… I… I have touched the Arcane. I have been healed, and I am a healer. A herald into a new, better world – not only for the Undercity, but for the whole of Piltover.”

You shift his hands so that they’re resting on your cheeks and open your eyes, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “That sounds nice. I’m… sorry you had to do all that without me.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Viktor asks. “It’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know. I just…” You sigh. “I blamed it all on you, and I was angry. Real angry. But it wasn’t your fault – it wasn’t anyone’s. I was angry and I took it all out on the memory of you.”

“Do you really think I care?” His voice is soft as he swipes a thumb over your cheek. 

“No,” you admit after a moment. “But, still…”

“You are occupying your mind with the past and what-ifs,” Viktor says. He draws a hand over your scalp, his fingernails lightly digging into the skin there. “Focus on the here, the now.”

You shudder and melt into his hands. Your eyes, though still closed, sting with a fresh wave of tears. 

“I missed you,” you choke out. 

“You’ve said that already,” Viktor says. 

“I can’t say it enough,” you say, your voice sticky and wet. “I was your champion in the arena. I was your personal knight. I was the chieftain of your armies. I was your tool, your instrument. And you were my everything.”

“You are my everything,” he says. His tone is so sincere and heartfelt that it makes your throat seize up. “Why would you ever doubt that?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “It–it’s just that, all these memories… I was so many people, and so were you. And some things blur together, and it gets hard to differentiate everything, and…”

You groan and lean into Viktor’s touch. You glance up into his eyes, still opaline. “Everything got so complicated so fast. I just wanted you – the real you.”

“It’s okay, my love.” His hands move to hold your jaw, to draw you closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“But I feel like I have to,” you say. “I just… I just want you back. I wanna go back to the Viktor I know. I wanna go home.”

“We can go home,” Viktor says. “I can take you home.”

“Then take me home,” you say, almost too quickly. “Viktor, please.”

“You don’t have to beg,” he says. There is no teasing or hidden malice in his voice. He just wants you home, too. 

Viktor’s hands slide to the back of your head, his palms almost cradling your skull. He presses his fingers down and tilts your head forward, towards his. Your eyes flutter shut as your forehead touches his. 

It’s white. It’s the bright, cleansing light of some sort of heaven. Heaven? Haven? You’re not too sure. You’re not sure you can bring yourself to care, either. Not when you’re here – not when your Viktor is in reach. Not when you can touch him, hold him, talk to the one you love. The one you’ve been pining for, fighting for, losing and winning for. From somewhere between sixty years and eternity, you’ve been wanting him. And now he’s here. Your Viktor is here. 

It’s unbelievable. Your Viktor is here. 

The memories of your past lives, the former realities you’ve lived, meld and blur into distinct feelings. Visual memories blend into base emotions. A warrior’s pride. A traveler’s wanderlust. A teenager’s excitement. A knight’s confidence and courage. A chieftain’s insecurity cloaked as hostility. 

They melt away into contentment. A gentle wave lapping at a quiet shore. Acceptance. 

You are healed. 

You are home. 

[moonchild9350]

You Can Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

summary: your friends tell you about a brothel that resides in your city, a place to live out your deepest desires.

pairing: sex worker Jeongin x fab!reader

genre: smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 3.0k

warnings: takes place in a brothel so sex work, munch innie lol, overstimulation, edging, pussy job, protected (do) and unprotected sex (don't), removal of condom, creampie, squirting, soft dom reader, soft? sub innie, cum tasting, dirty talk, messy sex lol, brief mention of blood, vocal innie hehe

notes: Innie just looks so innocent in these pics idk just had to write something haha. i hope you like it! (lightly edited)

if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, and like ♡

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permissions. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

General Masterlist

It was the weekend, another exhausting week over and done with. You knew you wanted to unwind this weekend and after talking with your friend, you knew just the activity that would help you relax.

Your friend told you about a brothel in town, filled with men who are waiting to fulfill your every desire, no matter what it is. You were curious about the experience, never having been to one, so you decided to sign up right away.

You loved picking out your prey for the night, explaining what you wanted and how. As the time got closer to your reservation, you decided to get ready, as you bought the perfect outfit.

You slipped on your lingerie, the red a striking color on your skin tone, followed by your mini dress. It hung perfectly on your thighs, your curves accentuated and your breasts perched beautifully showing just enough cleavage. You slipped on your heels and eyed yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your look. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, as your ride had just pulled up to your house.

The brothel offered its own transportation, allowing you to arrive in style, and who were you to deny the opportunity to be chauffeured. A sleek, black car awaited you, the driver waiting by the backdoor ready to escort you into the vehicle. You accepted his help and slid in. He closed the door and got back into the drivers seat, putting the car in drive and pulling away from your home.

The ride was short, as the brothel was just downtown, nestled in between two office buildings. To the ordinary passerby, they’d never guess what was going on between the walls of what seemed like another regular office building. You walked over to the receptionist, giving her your name.

Only a second more and her face lit up as she located your reservation.

“You are booked with Jeongin, correct?” She asked, her eyes scanning the computer screen before looking at you for confirmation.

“That’s correct,” you said, giving her a smile.

She nodded her head once and then went back to eyeing the computer screen, her nails click clacking occasionally on the keyboard as she finished checking you in.

After a few moments more she looked up and said, “you’re all set. Jeongin is waiting for you in room 143. I hope you have a great time and if you need anything please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

You followed where she gestured, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way down a long hallway. There were doors on either side of the hall, a placard with the room number placed perfectly in the middle. Other than the soft music that played overhead, it was silent.

Arriving at your destination, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door three times. You listened carefully for a response, grasping the door knob and turning when you heard a faint “come in.”

You stepped into the room, your eyes instantly roaming over your surroundings. It was stylish but cozy and not too big. There was a window at the far end of the wall, with sheer curtains pulled across, blocking the outside world from looking in. A couch sat in the corner, fluffy pillows littering every section. Your eyes continued to roam, taking in a bathroom to your right, the lights off except for a mini nightlight in the wall. Finally, your eyes landed on the queen sized bed in the center of the room, outfitted with a white downy comforter, and piles of pillows.

A man got up from the bed, his eyes directed right at you.

“Y/n?” He asked, wanting to confirm the right person was in the room.

“That’s me,” you replied, “and you’re Jeongin?”

He nodded and smiled, little dimples popping up with the gesture. Jeongin was cute, his face chiseled but with a hint of babyish features. His hair was perfectly styled, the strands framing his face haphazardly. He was dressed in all white, his shirt unbuttoned half way to reveal a portion of his chest, the outline of his pecs poking through the gap.

Jeongin was outfitted just how you wanted him, innocent appearing and ready for you to ruin.

“I’m ready for you,” Jeongin replied as he sat on the bed and looked at you in a way that made your pussy clench.

You smirked at his eagerness and sauntered over to him, your heels click clacking on the tile floor.

“Yeah baby?” You cooed as you kneeled on the bed to get closer to him.

He merely nodded his head, his big brown eyes locked on yours. You maneuvered yourself so you were lying on your back, your dress riding up your thighs and teasing him for what was underneath. You spread your legs, displaying your panties that now was sporting a small wet patch to Jeongin.

He eagerly scrambled towards you, spreading your legs as he got comfortable in between them. You sighed as he began to press soft kisses up your thighs, edging closer and closer to your core. Right when he got to the place you needed him most, he switched legs, kissing the flesh there as he stroked your other thigh.

Once he was satisfied, he dragged his lips on your skin until he reached your pelvis, his nose brushing the fabric of your panties. He breathed in your scent, his pupils dilating and cock twitching at your scent. Jeongin pressed his plush lips against your pussy again and again before spitting on the fabric and pressing his tongue flat against your covered entrance before licking up towards your clit.

You let out a low moan as he repeated the motion again and again, teasing you until you were writhing under his grasp.

“Take em off baby,” you cooed.

Jeongin let out a whine before disconnecting his mouth from your pussy. He reached up to grasp the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs before tossing them away. He immediately attached himself back to your pussy, his tongue darting out to play with your clit.

You laid there completely relaxed as Jeongin ate you out, as he lazily played with your clit, edging you to the point of tears. His mouth felt so good, your slick continually leaking out of your entrance and onto his face.

As he sucked your clit into his mouth, he shoved two fingers within your warmth and instantly curled them upwards, stimulating your sweet spot and causing you to see stars. You gripped his hair and tugged, moaning at the vibrations his mouth was giving you as he groaned.

His fingers were steadily moving in and out of your pussy, the pressure against your sweet spot causing pleasure to spread throughout your core as his tongue batted at your clit. You were close so you began to thrust your hips in tune with how he was fingering you.

“Ahh gonna come baby!” You squealed as he picked up the pace.

You felt the warmth increase and the coil tighten within your belly, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You took a breath and Jeongin bit at your clit and you let go with a loud moan as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you while sucking gently at your clit.

You arched your back as he continued to suck, your legs attempting to close at the overstimulation, but finding it difficult to do so as Jeongin held your legs open. He pressed himself further to your pussy, licking up your slick, making sure not to waste a single drop.

“Mmm too much,” you whined as you tugged on his hair attempting to lift his head up, but it was no use as he buried his face even more so he could continue to give attention to your clit.

Without warning, your orgasm hit you once more, lighter this time around but still powerful nonetheless. You whimpered as you let the feeling take over, staring up at the ceiling as stars danced across your vision.

Finally, Jeongin leaned back as he licked his lips, his face shining with your slick. He grinned as he took in your pussy, his eyes landing on your folds soaked with his spit and your cum, to your puffy, swollen clit that was peaking out so perfectly.

You slowly sat up, your hair a mess, and the straps of your dress hanging haphazardly on your shoulders and smirked at Jeongin.

“Lay down for me,” you said shifting so Jeongin could take your spot.

Once he was comfortable, you slid your dress off and crawled towards your lover for the night. Your hands slid up his legs, running gently over the fabric of his pants before reaching his bulge. You gripped him through his pants, smirking as he let out a whine at the pressure you were applying.

“Take it out please, please,” Jeongin whimpered as he pouted at you.

“Should I take out your cock? Do you deserve it though?” You teased back.

Jeongin quickly shook his head, strands of hair falling in his face. “Please?” He asked once more.

You were satisfied with his plea, so you gripped his waistband and dragged his pants down his legs watching as his cock sprung from its confines and nestled against his belly, nice and hard.

Tossing his pants elsewhere, you straddled his legs and nestled your pussy over his length. You began to rock your hips, his cock slotting perfectly between your folds, the tip catching at your clit with each thrust.

The feel of your pussy dragging against his cock was too much, the pleasure he was receiving causing him to let out a groan that rumbled deep within his chest. Jeongin’s eyes went straight to your pussy and his hands on your hips as he helped guide you over his length.

You were wet, your slick coated his cock and aiding in the glide as you fucked yourself over his length. His cock felt good, the vein that ran along his length hitting the right spots as you thrusted your hips.

Jeognin let out a mewl as he bit his lips his eyes snapping to yours. “Gonna come, shit…don’t stop. Please, please, please,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Yeah? Gonna come? So good for me,” you said breathlessly, as your orgasm was steadily building.

You looked down briefly at where your pussy was gliding effortlessly against his cock and what you saw nearly made you come right there. It was messy, your cream coating his length and the head of his cock was an angry red, drops of precum leaking from the slit. You looked back up at Jeongin, taking in his fucked out state, as his bit his lips so hard, he drew blood, the red droplets smeared across his bottom lip.

With a yelp, you watched as he let go, his cum spurting out onto his belly and your pussy, the white substance adding to the mess that was already present. His release triggered yours, your high hitting you for the third time that night. You continued to thrust against his length, riding out your high as the pleasure slowly simmered away.

You slowed down until you came to a stop as you tried to catch your breath. Jeongin was in no better state, his body glistening with sweat, his pupils dilated and full of lust. You barely registered that he was getting up until you were flat on your back. You stared up at the man above you with wide eyes, surprised at his bust of confidence.

He was still hard and you could tell it was bothering Jeongin as he was desperate to be inside you. You watched as he rolled a condom down his length as it was the rules of the brothel before he brought the head to your entrance and pushed in.

You let out a moan at the stretch, trying to even out your breathing as he continued to sheath himself inside you. Once he bottomed out, he didn’t give you a chance to adjust but instead began to draw his cock in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace.

You were turned on even more as he whined and whimpered, his voice high pitched and strained as he fucked you with force. His eyes trained on your breasts, watching as they bounced up and down with each thrust. He groaned as his hands reached out and gripped them, messaging the flesh and pinching your nipples. You clenched around him as he flicked at the nubs, the sensation of pleasure traveling down to your core.

“Fuck! This pussy oh my god!” Jeongin moaned as his hips slammed into yours.

“Fuck me harder baby,” you moaned as he adjusted himself so he could drive himself deeper within you, so much so you could feel his cock kiss your cervix.

“I’m. Trying.” He said as he punctuated each word with a thrust.

He brought your legs up over his shoulders and leaned down over you. You could feel yourself get even more wet, the evidence present with the sound your pussy made with each drag of his cock within your walls. You were close, the feeling spreading within your belly. You felt your breath increase with each thrust of his hips, as a different sensation started to build. You have only felt this way a few times, most men not able to get you there, but apparently this would be one of those times.

You relaxed further into the pillow as you looked Jeongin in the eyes. His pace increased ever so slightly and you could tell he was close, his groans increasing as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Na uh baby, don’t you dare come until I do,” you warned, smirking as his eyes snapped open and stared down at you.

“But, I don’t think I can hold it,” he whined as a pained moan left his lips.

“Too bad, make me come and then you can okay?”

Jeongin took a breath and nodded his head in resignation. You smiled up at him and gripped his arms as he fucked you. He angled himself differently one last time, this time his cock dragging against your sweet spot, causing you to mewl out at the sensation.

You felt your orgasm build more steadily, the feeling building until it was right there, slowly spilling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. Jeongin grinned before pressing down on your lower belly, the added pressure causing you to squirt, your fluids threatening to push his cock out of your pussy. However, he just shoved his length harder within you, reveling in your pleasure as you thrashed around beneath him.

Jeongin had made you come and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He withdrew his length causing you to whimper at the sudden loss, before he gripped the condom and pulled it off of his cock. It was against the rules, but rules be damned. He wanted to feel you fully as he filled you up to the brim with his cum.

You gasped as he sheathed himself back within you and fucked you at an inhuman pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling up the room. You let out whimpers, the overstimulation now to much, however, you just laid there and took his cock, as you slowly found yourself slipping away and succumbing to the pleasure.

“Shh,” Jeongin cooed as he pushed your hair from your sweaty face. “This will be between you and me yeah?”

You nodded in consent, understanding that this would be your little secret. At your admission, Jeongin snapped his hips into yours one last time before stilling, his orgasm hitting him hard as he came deep inside you.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before withdrawing his cock, his cum leaking out of your entrance and down your ass. Jeongin quickly dragged a finger through the fluids before bringing it to his lips, moaning as he tasted the mixture of your arousals.

You laid there exhausted and spent, your body sore and aching from the abuse it had just received. You both were silent as you came back to reality, the only sound was the loud, rapid beating of your heart in your ears.

Finally, you sat up and faced Jeongin who was sitting next to you.

“That was amazing,” you said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah? I’m glad,” he said as he grinned, his cheeks turning a ruddy color at the praise.

“Aww you’re so cute!” You teased as you tried to pinch his cheeks just for him to chuckle and try to evade your advances.

After a while, you both found yourselves lying side by side, your bodies sticky from the mixture of your cum and his and dried sweat. Your mind drifted off to how his mouth felt on your pussy and how he took care of your body like no one else before. You may have to visit him more often. But, you had one night with him now and you weren’t going to waste it.

Getting up, you straddled his body and scooted up to his head.

“Ready for dessert?” You asked as you began to lower your pussy over his mouth.

Jeongin just licked his lips and gripped your hips bringing your core to his tongue.

“Oh!” You squealed as he dug in.

As they say dessert is sometimes the best part of the meal and Jeongin would definitely have to agree.

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divider by @cafekitsune

[hopeluna]

Satoru's sure his heart is going to wrench itself away from his chest any moment now.

Today's run to his favourite bakery was supposed to be like any other. He had given his students a rare day off today. The air held a little humidity but was otherwise pleasant. The bakery owner's cat hissed at him and strolled over for pets as usual.

Everything was normal. It was normal up until he caught a glance of you from the corner of his eye.

Satoru almost gags at the sappy feeling bubbling in his stomach like acid. From what he can tell- it's clear that you are tired, maybe you are here on a break from work. But god, the light seeping in from the window seems to be soaking into your skin and making it glow. He can tell from the sluggish movement that you are sleepy, but you still offer a small, appreciative smile to the worker taking your order.

He only snaps his eyes away when the owner's cat, Mochi, starts bumping her head softly on his leg. Satoru takes his package of sweets and baked goods from the elderly owner, wondering about you.

Why has he never seen you here? Maybe you're new here? Because he's sure he would've noticed you before.

"Oh my god! Aren't you the cutest thing?"

Satoru's oh-so-charming smile at whoever called him falls as fast as it had appeared. You are beside him, crouching and petting at a purring Mochi. You. You are beside him.

Shit. Satoru internally cringes at how lightheaded he feels. You look even more beautiful from up close.

A car honks in the distant, as the sound of the bell above the bakery's door jingles with new customers coming in. Satoru's ears feel like they're stuffed with cotton. Everything is muffled. The growing sweat from his hand bleeds into the paper package of his sweets, making it soft. He faintly registers you cooing to Mochi about coming back here again for the sweets and her.

Satoru walks away then, with a giddy smile on his face like a lovesick teenage boy. He'll have to come back here too after returning from his mission in Shibuya.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.