#one of those fuckers did it on purpose

[walking-loather]

"their hands brushed as she handed over—" blah blah whatever do u know how HARD that shit is to manufacture???? To authentically brush hands or what the fuck????

[batsplat]

your negative takes on recent tennis rivalries pleaseeee🙏🙏🙏

ps. you’re a treasure

okay so I'll do the copy paste thing from what I did just cut from the initial post, which was my polite 'I'm attempting to write a reasonably neutral post' approach

so, this may come as a shock, but obviously I'm a bit of a fan of rivalries. we do have some bangers in tennis history, rich narrative texts, but... well. the landscape out there hasn't been great for the past decade or so. sometimes you can get invested in match-ups between specific players that are fun to watch and interesting tennis-wise, but it's all very much about the sport rather than the personal relationships between the different players. I enjoy matches between all three or ryba, sabs and iga!! but also. they are coworkers. you do kindaaaa get the sense sabs and iga aren't particularly fond of each of other, but it's all perfectly cordial. again, the tennis is great, I support them in all their endeavours, but it's very much the tennis itself you need to look for for the drama (also they don't play each other as much as I'd like, but that's a conversation for a different day)

you do still sometimes get some fun beef but it's very much isolated dumb stuff like the fritz/rinderknech "have a nice flight home" thing. this isn't going anywhere story-wise but it's fun in the moment

speaking of men. obviously the most important rivalries for the last however many years have been between various big three/four members, and federer/nadal specifically is extremely popular. tennis-wise, I still think federer/djokovic was the most fun match-up, and at least there was a little tension there because federer used to hate djokovic. they've played a lot of matches that are worth watching!! also they've finally mostly retired so it's not super relevant any more, but well tennis fans as a collective are very big three-pilled so you'll hear a lot about these blokes

and now there's alcaraz/sinner. they've only really had one match that was good start to finish (uso 2022), but definitely some fun ones (miami 2023 and wimbledon 2022 are probably the other ones that stand out, their most recent match was very much in the 'long does not equal good' category). plus, they're quite good at producing highlight reel content, like this one point everyone remembers (shown here from every angle... tennistv produces longer videos for single points than the wta releases for most finals). it's an interpersonally warm rivalry between two young guys who are both very successful and will presumably win everything for the next decade. again, I'd suggest trying to become a fan of one of those two

this was the polite way of phrasing it!! everything below here is quite rude and negative, peace and love to all

okay, let's ditch the thin veneer of neutrality, here's what I actually think: it is completely baffling to me how popular quite a few of these rivalries are, I don't get it, I have never understood it, I will never understand it. tennis went 'what if we had rivalries without narrative tension' and everyone just kinda rolled with that? mind you federer/nadal early confrontations were happening at the same time as clijsters/henin, who were like?? dude it got so bad henin said she had never been friends with clijsters so nothing clijsters and her father said could hurt her ("nothing was broken between us because there was nothing to break" ???? ffs). which is obviously not true!! but it's so... she denied the friendship ever existed and called it all pr like that's so SAD! look, this is beside the point, I'm not talking about henin/clijsters here, I do understand why people aren't that into a rivalry that was at its peak like two decades ago and federer/nadal were still playing slam finals in 2k17 (a dark dark time for some fans, federer had already HAD his decline and then he was suddenly winning slams again like tf). and to some extent I go 'well clearly people will just be into anything if you have two successful blokes' but there's clearly quite a lot of genuine passion there? like I'm not denying the passion EXISTS, people do clearly care about these guys, it's not all a psyop by Big Fedal who have suckered people into caring for these two dudes. and I'm not denying the tennis is great! I still personally prefer the match-ups that involve djokovic, and also the match-ups that involve none of those three, but fundamentally I have been watching these matches for like!! so many years! it's part of my childhood, I have enjoyed plenty of these matches, the tennis is obviously otherworldly. I have hot takes on a bunch of their matches, I can have the goat debate with you, I can give you the rundown on surface-specific match-ups and how long since nadal won a set on hard court against djokovic and federer's peak year domination rate and what they all did at madrid and blue clay and yec and golden masters and all that shit, of course it's part of my dna as a tennis viewer too!! I did usually have a slight order of preference in my head when I was watching big three match ups to have someone to root for (it's different now but back when I was a kid it was djokovic > nadal > federer, these days federer's redeemed himself a little bit in my eyes by having the decency to retire and I was radicalised against nadal). but like!! what's the narrative hook! I need somebody to explain to me what the story here is. these guys are all very good at tennis and they are racking up their titles and it's so!! whatever!! no tension no arc no real interpersonal development once federer stopped being so bitchy about djokovic. twenty plus slams who CARES, what are they doing this for! it's all so?? ugh

anyway now that I've taken a potshot at the most popular rivalry in men's tennis, I should quickly back it up by saying I feel almost the exact same way about the second most popular one (at least on tumblr) and also feel nothing for alcaraz/sinner. that one was still like... vaguely palpable? when alcaraz was clearly a way better player but struggled in that match up and also was way more invested in the rivalry than sinner was. but well, sinner is world number one now so THAT'S been ruined. again, sit me down and explain to me what the narrative stakes here are. like, if sinner wins that roland garros match, he'll be fine? alcaraz will be fine? everyone will be fine? their relationship is basically 'friendly coworkers', zero chance of anything more substantial developing there. now, don't get me wrong, I'm not gonna pretend like I'm massively into the current state of the women's game when it comes to rivalries either, but at least I have a base level of fondness there for the top players and am ideologically inclined to hype up any rivalries there whenever they come along. also, quite frankly, it DOES matter viscerally more to them!! iga spends a lot of her time kinda like,,, on the edge, the way she was in tears when getting physio after the naomi match, united cup last year, a bunch of her 2021 matches, like she's so intense and so tightly strung on the court that you do really get the sense that a loss could just cause her to have an existential crisis. there's so many unanswered questions about her ultimate potential off clay, I'm still proper curious about her story develops. and then with aryna, she's obviously ALSO so intense but in a different way, and she feels every single emotion so completely and entirely and iga has beaten her in one of those infamous semifinal chokes and it's kinda... you know, aryna also feels like she has something to prove, and you can tell they both really really want to beat each other. there's something there!! it's something real! I'm always seated whenever we actually get to see them play

that being said, yes, obviously I do think we're not exactly peak rivalry potential in either gender. the men's is more egregious because the way the game has shaken out since like,,,, 2004, is incredible top level domination by just a few guys. and now, yes, I'm aware I'm a fan of another sport where this was also incredibly true. but. the key difference is that the aliens had the decency to not be so fucking boring about it. sure on paper they were as a PACK winning everything, but good lord were they screaming crying throwing up whenever things went mildly wrong for them. like!! they despised each other and they needed to beat each other, which makes ME care!! I'm not saying I NEED rivals to hate each other, though it sure does help for my investment levels, but I need a narrative hook! borg/mcenroe had a narrative hook, evert/navratilova had a narrative hook (unfortunately that narrative hook these days is 'being united in transphobia'), agassi/sampras had one HELL of a narrative hook. noughties wta tennis about fifty million narrative hooks!! when I watch alcaraz/sinner, I just try and enjoy the tennis (though their roland garros match was mid as shit so what's that all about) but like... I don't care? or I care because one of them has pissed me off recently. I do fundamentally watch most of men's tennis as a hater, and admittedly this is accumulated bitterness over way too many years, but I do also think it's frustrating! tennis gets in its own way with this whole gentleman's sport business, the amount of wanking people do over federer/nadal in particular is truly insufferable... this is a sport filled with millionaire tax evaders and they'll have you believe that smashing a racquet is not only not fun (obviously it is) but also some kind of arbiter of morality. congrats to nadal for not smashing a racquet in his career!! could we please get his thoughts on gender equality in prize money? oh... okay. hm. this isn't supposed to be some gotcha, these guys all suck. but ultimately I would prefer not to engage with this sanitising and pearl clutching, given they do all suck, over shit that fundamentally does not matter while giving them a pass over all the stuff that DOES and instead maybe just have some fun. maybe you need to be single-minded and kind of dull to be good at men's tennis these days, maybe it's inevitable, doesn't mean I don't find them boring and pointless. there's some people who just enjoy like,,, watching greatness, endlessly racking up numbers and reaching the pinnacle of the sport or whatever, that's not me, I need there to be a story

thing is, right, obviously I'll still watch these matches (though I have massively turned it down this year, especially on the men's side - I did have a kind of breaking point this january where I was like 'wow I don't think I can ever care about anything any more?' and broadly speaking this has proved to be correct). I've tried hard to like a lot of these men because, god knows, it'd be a way more pleasant experience if I could trick my brain into it, but I can't! I think they're dull! fundamentally I'm too embedded in this world to ever be able to leave it. but I think it's funny when fans go 'oh people who are into drama don't appreciate the actual sport' like buddy I can basically guarantee I know more about the sport than you do. I Just Think that actually interpersonal relationships do also enhance the actual sports, like this shit is a conversation right,,, it has its history, it's a development over time in terms of your tactics and your knowledge of your opponent's tactics and so on, your expectations going into every match. when you have an interesting interpersonal dynamic, the sport also becomes more interesting... it's actually pretty straightforward lol. a lot of tennis is in the head, rivalries are also in the head, you're playing the other guy (gender neutral) as much as you are the actual ball. I get super annoyed by fans who are too busy being nostalgic to actually enjoy the players we have now, and I really don't like it when people call iga boring for instance, but I do also have a little bit of that. love the game, hate a lot of the players, simple as. bring back agassi calling his pet parrot more interesting than sampras in his autobiography, we used to be a proper sport

[kelin-is-writing]

i... i read your name as 'kelvin'🧍‍♂️ im sorry 😅

well, my name gets misread a lot, so i'm not surprised anymore 😂😂

sometimes it gets read as kevin others as kenny, this is the first time someone misreads it as kelvin lmfao

but yeah... my name is kelin, pronounced as ké-lìn. it actually annoys me more when peoples don’t put the right accent when pronouncing it than when they misread it lol still!!! no biggie anon, there’s no need to apologise 😋

[roturo]

-; ੈ♡˳ MINISKIRT

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU TEASING THEM WITH A MINISKIRT! ★༉‧₊˚✧

(gojo satoru, geto suguru, choso kamo, nanami kento)

contents: smut, nsfw, sub behavior, PRAISE, miniskirts, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, whimpering, overstimulation, edging, jealousy, sub-space, fluff, possesive behavior, all of them being DOWN for you, and lovesick for you.

A/N: wrote this while watching the office and drunk so npr, and proabably took so long to write because of this.

gojo satoru

He knows what you’re trying. That’s why he doesn’t give in. And it’s much more difficult when that tiny miniskirt is the color of his eyes, matching perfectly with a top as small as your skirt of his hair color.

Bending over the table just so he could see the matching panties while you ‘try to have a closer look to what Nanami is showing you’ – And he doesn’t know what angers him more, the fact you’re doing this to annoy him and probably other people behind you are watching your panties which he’s trying to cover with his body, or the fact Nanami is more likely watching your tits through that tiny top you’re wearing right now. 

He pinches the back of your thigh, making you squeak and sit again as a reaction– looking to your side finding Satoru giving you a glare easily expressing ‘stop what you´re doing’ – and maybe that’s what makes you more eager to tease him now that you’re feeling the wetness coming out of you.

And you know he’s suffering right now. Not only because he’s jealous, but because you’re giving a small piece to someone else of what he supposed it was his.

“Nngh- please baby, i’m sorry- but I couldn’t stand him watching how precious you looked” His cries went to deaf ears as you rode him, edging him for the third? fourth? time. He had some ‘childish’ (that’s what you called it) outburst because he couldn’t stand you teasing him like that, and suddenly after pinching your thigh moved you towards his lap after you sat so you could feel his raging erection and broke Nanami’s chair with the cursed energy he couldn’t control coming out of his body. Something completely new for him.

“Please princess, it was just- You’re so beautiful I can’t let anyone to- I… I just can’t get enough of you.” He ghosted his lips with yours, trying to kiss them but you wouldn’t let him. You were close to another orgasm too, he was yearning for your touch, begging to whatever god stronger than him so you could give him permission to cum.

Who would’ve thought, huh? 

If Mahito, Sukuna or any of those fuckers watched him lose control to a girl they woulc’ve laughed at his face, but if they experienced how good it was to be inside of you, feeling your liquids coat him and his pelvis while they come out of you— even though you don’t let him cum, they would’ve understand. 

But he won’t let them get even 2 meters near you.

You started kissing his neck, marks that will be very prominent in just some hours, his whimpers bringing you to heaven even with how slow you rode him, just one thrust and he swears he could cum– overstimulation taking the best of him, you just pecked his lips one time and did as what he imagined and failed to keep it in.

“Aw baby, you ruined it! Why couldn’t you wait for me? Wanted to cum so badly? It’s okay, but cum again, okay? Be my good boy and make me cum again mhm?”

geto suguru

Are you doing this on purpose? Or you don't really notice? He swears people could see his raging erection from 10 meters afar, quirks of having a big cock, i guess.

And it’s so fucking embarrasing trying to hide it with the shopping bags you gave him to carry, not only he looked in an awkward position while walking, but the friction– and having you infront of him walking with that mini skirt, would make everyone crazy.

He swears he could just cum while walking and watching your hips move and tease him with your body. 

But you just were clueless. Getting excited to find the store you were looking for and do small jumps which had him rolling his eyes to conceal his need for you.

And he was getting needy. Spraying kisses all over your neck when he back-hugged you, he was making it obvious now! Rubbing himself on you, he needed it.

When you finally arrived home, he couldn’t stand it anymore, throwing away the bags somewhere in the kitchen carrying you– having to steady yourself by grabbing what you could from his back and not fall face into the floor while your legs were hanging on his front.

He carried you all the way into your bedroom and dropped you down softly on your bed while he plastered kisses all over your thighs mumbling about how much he missed being between your thighs and how you’ve been playing games with him this entire day.

You were suddenly overcome with excitement. Your clit throbbed and you desperately needed release. Your breath hitched in anticipation. All you could think about was letting Geto finally give you what you’ve been planning this whole day. 

“You’re so perfect. So perfect f´me– and all you been doin’ this day was tease me with that tiny skirt of yours baby- had to control myself to not go crazy over ya’”

At times like this, where Geto is kneeling right in front of you with his face buried in the middle of your legs, you are grateful that you lived alone. Because it means you don’t have to hold back your moans when Geto swipes his tongue on your clit. You don’t have to hold back as he roams his tongue around your entrance.  You know you genuinely lost it when he wrapped his lips around your bud, giving it a hard suckle that made your hips bucked. Out of instinct, your hand went to his hair. Gripping around the strand of it just to push his head closer to your cunt, letting the tip of his nose pressed against it. 

He inhaled, he fucking inhaled to let your scent filled his nose as if his tongue isn’t enough to make you feel stars.  Soon enough, you are on your knees, with your face buried on your pillow, tears pooling around your teardox as Geto has his mouth back to your pussy. His tongue moves in and out your hole to build up your orgasm. 

“What happened to my teasing girl mhm?”

choso kamo

Poor him. How did he end up in this situation? He swears all he did was give a small peek through your skirt because how couldn’t he?!

You were bending in front of him! And you’re even meaner because you know he has a crush for you since….ever. Kinda embarrassing to be honest. Because he acts like a kid having a crush, even worse, like when a little kid had a crush on their old brothers/sister friends… 

But. He won't lie he loves when you punish him like this. Because you praise him for being such dork for you. 

"It's okay, baby, you're doing so well for me right now," you lean down and place small kisses on his tear-stained cheeks, his red nose with his black mark and his eyelids eliciting a broken sob from him, "Think you can handle a little while longer, puppy?"

And he’s not thinking very clearly right now– Not when you’re pumping his cock in that tempo that has him seeing stars and crying out loud for you.

“yesyesyesy princess– oh my god- oh my fucking god… i´m sosososoooo lucky to be here with you baby, I love you soo much, i’m so, fuck, nngh!”

He was coming for a fifth? six? time right now. He swears he heard something about you telling him you won’t stop jacking him off until he cums dry. 

Choso looked at you, sniffing and wrapping his hand around yours, "But I want to fuck you now..." He mumbled barely audible to you, and you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath or you would've done what he told you to.

And he’s fucking excited for that. To fucking lose his mind and body to you. To dump all his cum wherever and whenever you wanted.

nanami kento

This little fucking pervert! He acts like this ‘oh so mature guy’ when he’s just as down for you as you are for him. He tried not to fall for you once he saw you for the first time in a mission both of you coincidentally crashed into. Being from another part of the world and suddenly connecting through these annoying curses.

But what annoyed him the most was how ‘inappropriate’ you are while working. Wearing those miniskirts of different colors for work. For work!

How is he supposed to focus? How is he supposed to train? Not when you’re moving your legs with that skirt that barely covers your butt and he easily sees the figure of it and your lips begging to be released to be tasted. By him. 

And you finally have him where you wanted, right between your legs. 

Your moans echo inside your bedroom, and maybe tomorrow you will have your neighbor file a noise complaint to you, but you didn’t mind. To have Kento’s attention only to you worth everything. 

At first, Kento wasn't the biggest fan of the size difference between you two, he felt almost too big compared to you.

Well, that was before he knew how good could fuck your needy cunt.

You were just barely holding onto his shoulders, leaving scratch marks that he would not even bother covering up, holding you with ease against the wall. "That's right, bunny, say my name and mark me, let everyone know I'm all yours, let them hear how good I fuck you," Kento whined and clung to you, feeling his cock pumping in and out of your small body, tilting his head forward to look down at the connection between your bodies.

The obvious outline of his length on your lower belly made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, your trembling legs wrapping around his hips, keeping his cock buried deep inside your pulsing pussy, feeling it wanting to milk every drop of his cum.

"Fuck me, more... I need more of your cock kento, please~!"

[phoenixkaptain]

I love it when pre Original Trilogy era shows how much effort went into making the Death Star. It took decades, literal decades, and it took so much money and so many people and it was such a secretive thing and it’s staffed by millions because it’s the size of a small moon.

I cannot express how much all of the added information makes it so much funnier that Luke blew it up.

Luke destroys literally everything Palpatine built. He blows up the Death Star, which was referenced in universe as early as the second movie. He blew up the weapon of mass destruction twenty years in the making. And he blew it up pretty much directly after it’s first and only successful attack. It was operational for fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes that Palpatine had the thing he’d been building for longer than Luke has been alive, and Luke blows it up. First day retirement, but first hour retirement.

Luke convinces Darth Vader to turn back to the light side, a feat thought literally impossible by literally everybody. Sidious clearly doesn’t see Vader’s betrayal coming. Vader’s betrayal was not in his plans, nor was it something he was prepared for. Sidious is a powerful Force user with all four limbs while Vader is a man in the tin can Palpatine put him in. If Palpatine had seen Vader turning coming, he would not have allowed it to happen.

Luke literally should not even be alive. Palpatine almost definitely got Padme out of the way on purpose, and he almost certainly was trying for her unborn child as well (there was way too big of a risk that a cute liddol bebe would bring some humanity back to Anakin, and Palpatine did not want Anakin to have any humanity) Luke living is literally the first step in Palpatine’s ultimate downfall, especially once Vader finds out that Luke is his son. His very alive son. His son that is not dead, despite Palpatine claiming Anakin killed Padme. Implying that Anakin killed Padme and she posthumously gave birth. But, she didn’t give birth on Mustafar, which was the last place Anakin interacted with her. And once the mother dies, you have to get those fuckers out fast or they die too.

I imagine Darth Vader piecing all of this together is that meme with all the math floating around his head, because how could Padme have died by his hand and then given birth like two hours later?

Luke killing Palpatine is what ultimately leads to the dissolution of the Empire as an omnipotent entity. Luke killed the Empire. Luke spends a good amount of his adult life killing Empire remnants. We see that in the Mandalorian, since he’s so recognizable that Gideon immediately knows he’s fucked just by seeing an X-wing. We read it in Legends’ continuity, where Luke terrifies Imperials because he can walk into their changing room and stand in their for a minute and they don’t even notice.

Luke destroyed Palpatine’s life’s work. Everything Palpatine spent his whole life working towards, and Luke kills all of it. He blows up not one, but two Death Stars (he may not have pulled the trigger on the second Death Star, but without him, it never would have been destroyed). He convinces not one, but multiple Sith and Dark Jedi to return from the Dark Side. He is the only reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi, the biggest pain in Palpatine’s ass ever born, lives long enough to make it to the Death Star.

Palpatine went through so much effort. And just when he had finally won, when he finally had a weapon capable of destroying entire planets with a single blast, making it impossible for any planets or peoples to go against him, Luke shows up nineteen years late to the Jedi party with space Starbucks and a droid twice his age and almost singlehandedly destroys everything Palpatine ever had a hand in creating.

Luke manages to become even worse than Obi-Wan Kenobi, the ultimate thorn in the side of politicians, and Luke doesn’t even understand any politics. He wasn’t trained in diplomacy like Obi-Wan and Leia, no, he’s a farmboy who left home for the first time in his entire life, just this morning. And he is the one to destroy the Empire.

If they rewrote Star Wars and had it entirely from Palpatine’s perspective, Luke Skywalker would be his greatest foe. Luke Skywalker would be the final boss. Luke Skywalker is the antithesis of everything Palpatine believes in and he is the one character that Palpatine cannot predict. He isn’t as moldable as Anakin, he doesn’t respond to threats very well, he’s apparently impossible to kill via Force lightning (still the funniest scene of all times, the progression of Palpatine’s face falling and him looking like “what the fuck??? Is this kid rubber??? I’ve electrocuted him eight times???”), his unwavering faith in his father’s goodness makes Darth Vader want to be a better person, Luke Skywalker is the big bad of Palpatine’s story and—

There is nothing in this world that is funnier than someone’s biggest antagonist being Luke fucking Skywalker. Luke Skywalker, who saved the galaxy with the power of love and who shouldn’t exist, by Jedi rules and by Palpatine’s own attempts, and whose best friends are literally droids, which Palpatine canonically hates!

Everything about this is hilarious, this is the funniest thing in all of media, Palpatine loses absolutely everything to some backwater farmboy who fucking likes droids.

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

It Feels Like Home (Logan Howlett x F! Reader) Part 1/?

A/N: This is dedicated to anyone that requested a soft/hurt comfort Wolverine story. This is only the first part, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: "The Worst One" Logan 'Wolverine' Howlett x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + for language, mentions of abuse/assault, nightmares, showering together (non-sexual), being sick (cold), Logan being protective, deadpool and wolverine spoilers.

Word Count: 3.8K

It was just another boring Monday evening at the bar when you first met him. The floors were sticky, the jukebox in the corner crooning, drowning out the conversations only mildly interrupted by the cue balls smacking together. 

But when he entered, the room seemed to shift. His shoulders were slunched down, making him seem small but it did little to deter the others in the room from outright staring. And who could blame them? As he slid into the stool across from you, lifting his eyes to stare at you, you could feel the liquid pool inside you. The dark brown hair, tussled from running his fingers through it, lips swollen from constantly biting, and those eyes. It takes a moment before you realize he’s asked for a drink while you’ve been ogling him at your bar. 

You turn grabbing the whiskey and a glass, turning back and shouting when the owner, Jim, grabs your wrist tightly. “We don’t want you here,” he sneers at the man, no not a man a mutant, the last mutant. 

“Just give me one drink and I’ll go,” he sighs, tapping the bar with two fingers. 

“You’re not wanted here,” Jim lets go and pushes you further down the bar, ignoring how your feet stumble and you hit the counter hard, wincing. 

But the man at the bar doesn’t. “Take it easy,” he warns, eyes narrowing, “she didn’t do anything.” 

“Jim,” you clear your throat, putting down the glass and rubbing at your side, “we can give him one drink, right?” 

Jim glares and you lower your eyes, before he sighs loudly, “One drink, then he gets the fuck out of my bar.” He sticks out a finger towards you and you slowly raise your head, “and don’t fucking talk to him.” 

Jim walks back towards the office and slams the door, and you step forward, pulling out a fresh glass, putting it on the bar, and filling it. “I’m sorry about him,” you grab a rag and start cleaning glasses, “he can be a real asshole sometimes.” 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be talking to me,” you stop and glance up, catching him staring at you as he quickly drinks the shot. 

“I can talk to whoever I want,” you go back to the glasses, “and for the moment, I choose you.” 

You grab the bottle and pour him another drink, ignoring those around you staring daggers into the side of your head. “You’re making some enemies,” he grabs the drink and downs it, eyes widening slightly when you fill it for a third time. “But I get the sense you don’t give a shit.” 

“I don’t,” you raise your head, leaning on the bar, tossing a finger back and forth, and raising your voice, “these fuckers try to make it seem like they are holier than thou by judging you. But we’ve all made mistakes in our life.” 

He swallows, tapping his fingers and watching as you fill the glass, “I made more than a mistake,” he raises the glass to his lips. 

“So it was on purpose?” the glass pauses and he lifts his eyes to meet yours, “because if that’s the case it changes things.” He narrows his eyes, lowering the glass with a clink as he sets it down hard on the bar, the liquid sloshing over the rim. His silence is telling and you break contact and go back to cleaning glasses, “maybe we started on the wrong foot,” you put the glass down with a sigh, telling him your name. 

He doesn’t respond and you roll your eyes, “This is usually the point where you tell me your name.” 

“Seems like you already know all about me, bub,” he grabs the glass and tosses it back with a wince. “I’m the Wolverine, the fuck up, the murderer,” his glare could melt iron but you don’t bend easily keeping his gaze, “but they call me Logan.” 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you pour him another drink, “so what brings you to town?” 

Logan furrows his brow, “what the fuck?” 

“Business or pleasure?” you continue, ignoring him. You giggle when you glance at him, seeing the utter confusion on his face, “I’m trying to change the subject. I think you’ve had enough doom and gloom for a lifetime.” 

His eyes soften for a second, so quickly you could have blinked and missed it before he scoffs, “I’m just passing through.” 

“Where are you headed?” 

“I-” he hesitates, “I’m not sure.” 

“Stop fucking talking to him,” Ron one of the regulars stands behind him, and he slowly turns to look at him. “The boss told you to serve him one drink and get him the fuck out, are you hard of hearing? Stupid bitch.” 

“What did you say?” Logan turns all the way around and stands. The tension is electric as other patrons stand and take a menacing step closer. 

“Enough!” you shout, coming around the bar to stand in front of Logan, ignoring how he’s so tall he can see over your head. “Everyone stand down,” you lift your arms out like wrangling a bunch of raptors. “Ron, don’t be a fucking asshole!” 

Suddenly a gun shoots off to the right and you flinch curling in to cover your head, and a warm body wraps around you, tugging you into their chest. “What the fuck is going on here?!” Jim holds the shotgun and you straighten up, hands pressed to Logan’s chest, his hands still wrapped protectively around your waist. “Get your hands off my fucking bartender,” he swings the gun towards Logan who pushes you behind him. 

“Why don’t you lower the gun, bub?” Logan lifts a hand toward Jim. 

“You don’t tell me what do,” Jim aims the gun at him, “now pay your tab and get the fuck out of my bar.” 

Logan keeps an eye on the weapon, covering you with his body and pulling his wallet from his pocket, grabbing a hundred dollar bill, and putting it on the bar. He turns to look at you over his shoulder, his voice quiet when he whispers, “see you around, sweetheart,” before taking off through the side door. 

The silence stretches, and Jim lowers the gun before turning to you with a glare, “My office, now!” 

The ass-chewing you received that night should have been enough to deter you from ever speaking the name Logan again but the next night when he showed up sitting in the same stool at the bar, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. “Hi,” you whispered, glancing around the mostly empty bar, Jim was off for the evening, and the other patrons already lost in their cups. Tuesdays were always the slowest. 

“Hey bub,” his voice is gravely and sends shivers down your spine. He waits for you to pour him a drink before catching your wrist softly when you pull back with the bottle, “you okay?” 

You pull from his touch and put down the bottle, his hand quickly retreating thinking you don’t want his touch. You put out your hand, palm up and he watches you for a moment before slowly putting his hand in your waiting palm. You squeeze, smiling at him, “I got my ass chewed out, and threatened to lose my job but besides that nothing. Jim knows he needs me.” 

“I’m sorry I got you into trouble,” he looks around, “he around tonight?” 

“No, he’s never in on Tuesdays. And he usually leaves by 11:30 each night.” The edge of his lips curves for a second before he tosses back the drink, understanding what you’re trying to tell him, and he nods. 

“That’s good.” 

The rest of the week passes much the same, Logan showing up well after midnight when the majority of the crowd and Jim have retired for the evening. The two of you sharing stories over whiskey, and 80’s power ballads. There was something safe about having Logan there, an understanding between the two of you, you’d never experienced with another. 

Each night he’d wait as you locked up the bar, walking you to your car before taking off down the street, an uneasy friendship forming. But everything changed on Saturday. You woke with a splitting headache and a fever, tossing and turning in bed, sweating through the sheets you reached for the cell on the bedstand, and texted Jim you wouldn’t be in. 

The whole day was miserable, laying there sick as a dog and trying to keep down water and some soup from the cabinet. It was around 11:00 pm when you felt the fever finally break and you lifted your phone to see the time. It only took a second through the haze to feel the utter terror take over. “Logan,” you gasped pushing back the blanket and getting dressed as quickly as possible, the whole process taking you longer than normal. 

Logan stumbled out into the alley, the crowd cheering behind him as his inebriated body slammed into the trash cans. “Taking out the trash!” Jim shouts with a grin before spitting on him and slamming the door shut. 

He didn’t bother getting up, it wasn’t worth the effort. He lowered his head back and looked at the stars sprinkled across the sky seeing a swell of clouds looming in the distance, his heart starting to beat faster at the sting in his eyes. He closes his eyes as the first drop of rain falls from the sky, and he lets it quickly drown him, his clothes plastered to his skin. 

“Storm,” he whispers her name, his chest tightening as he struggles to breathe through the pain. His friends are dead and gone, and it’s all his fault. He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t hear the footsteps getting closer. 

“Fuck,” you blink, glancing down at him and he slowly opens his eyes squinting as the water drips down his forehead. You purse your lips for a moment before sighing and leaning down, balancing the umbrella in one hand and reaching for him with the other, “Come on, help me.” 

“Leave me,” he slurs, cursing when you don’t quit, “fuckin’ leave me!” 

“Nope, not happening,” you drop the umbrella and quickly get soaked in the downpour, “come on, time to get up.” He growls, and you see the beginning of his claws break through his knuckles, “going to stab me?” You raise a brow at him, “then do it.” 

His claws retract and he sighs loudly before standing on unsteady legs, his body leaning forward to faceplant when you grab him around the waist. “Fuck,” he’s heavy, and you struggle before getting him upright and leading him toward the parking lot. 

A couple of men stand outside the door to the bar by some bikes and you try to hide his face as you shuffle him toward your car. “You finally taking one of the boys up on their offer?” they jeer at you and you smile tightly walking faster, and cursing when you hear the boots sound behind you. 

“Come on,” you urge the man beside you, “they can’t see you.” You reach the car, open the passenger door, and shove him inside, quickly shoving in his leg and turning around to lean against the door, blocking him, your breathing fast and hard from the effort. 

“Wait,” one of the men stops, squinting through the glass, “is that, that fuckin’ mutant?” They all freeze looking between the man slumped in your car and you, and you back up as they move closer. “You like mutants, slut?” they close in and you reach for the key in your pocket, hand quickly finding the pepper spray and sliding the safety off. 

The words spewing out of their mouths are vile, the rain soaking through their clothes as they corner you into the streetlight. The smell of their breaths reeks of alcohol and you go to pull out the pepper spray when one grabs your wrist and twists, smiling when you let out a painful gasp. “Oh, come on slut, we know you like it rough,” he grins.

“Let her go,” they all freeze, turning and staring at the man leaning against your car. 

One of the men, grabs your arm and pulls you into his chest, his hand running over your breasts, “and what are you going to do about it?” You squirm trying to get away from his touch, and the claws extend, his hand quickly leaving your breast to push you behind him. 

“You don’t want to do this,” Logan warns, pushing off the car and standing straight. 

“Oh, I think we do,” the man in front of you smiles, pulling brass knuckles from his pocket. You watch with wide eyes as they pull out a variety of weapons; guns, knives, and even nunchucks. The air is electric, the streetlight flickering as if it senses the tension before one of the men shouts, “Come on, let’s go!” 

Logan grins, “Let’s fucking go.” 

You drop to your knees and crawl through their legs, scrambling up before the axe drops and reach for Logan, coughing up a storm and trying to catch your breath, his claws retract as he grabs you pulling you into his chest and looking down at you with a furrowed brow. “What’s wrong-”

“Don’t kill them,” you hold the lapels of his coat, nails digging in as he growls at them over the top of your head as if they made you sick, “it will only make things worse.” 

“I won’t kill them,” he pushes you behind him with a grin, “just a little light maiming.” You nod and turn towards the car, sitting in the driver's seat escaping the rain and turning on the heater. The screams are quickly drowned out when you turn up the music, reach for a towel from your swim bag in the backseat, and dry your body the best you can. 

A few minutes later the passenger door opens and Logan plops beside you. He’s covered in blood but you don’t comment, tossing him the towel and heading towards home. The ride home is silent and when you pull into your house, he gets out before the key is out of the ignition. You scramble out, watching as he walks back towards the road, “where are you going?” 

“Listen,” he stops looking back towards you, water dripping down his face, “I appreciate what you did back there. But that is where this partnership ends, I don’t need your charity. Just follow the rest of the world and hate me, it will save you a lot of trouble.” 

He turns away and you follow, “Listen, it’s freezing outside, and I know for a fact you have nowhere to go. It won’t kill you to accept help for a night.” 

“No,” he turns angrily, “but it could very well get you killed. Those guys back there were ready to assault you for helping me. Imagine what people will do to you if they find out you let me stay here. I have enough blood on my hands.” 

“So you’re going back to the park to sleep?” you put your hands on your hips, his brow furrowing. “You’ve been at the bar every night for the past week. You leave when I do and I see you go into the park.” 

“You stalking me, princess?” he sneers. 

“No,” you shake your head, shivering, “but I see someone that could use some help. And I am offering it. Take it.” 

He watches you for several moments, and you feel your fingers start to lose feeling from the cold, shoulders trembling as you tuck your hands into your jacket. “Fine,” he bites, following behind you as you lead the way to the door, hiding your smile. Your fingers shake, the key struggling to find the lock and he holds onto your hand, his hands solid and warm helping you unlock the door before quickly pulling away. 

“You need to get warm,” he mumbles quietly, locking the door behind him and pushing you further into the house. The water pools beneath you and he frowns before sweeping his hands under your legs and lifting you into his arms. “Where’s the bathroom?” your eyes are wide as you wrap your arms around his neck, nodding towards the stairs. 

He doesn’t break a sweat as he carries you up and into the bathroom. He sits you down gently, quickly going to turn the shower on, the steam filling the room. You struggle with the zippers and buttons on your clothes, the shaking worse now that you’re out of the rain and he watches for a moment before sighing loudly. 

“Trust me,” you snap your head up, raising one brow and gasping when his claws descend on his right hand, “I won’t look.” 

“What are you-” the words evaporate when he runs the claw down your front, you close your eyes waiting for the pain but nothing happens except your clothes falling to your feet in ribbons. When you open your eyes you see his back, stiff as he faces the door, “thanks.” 

He doesn’t reply except to nod, and you pull back the curtain and pause, hesitating for a moment. “Do you want to join me?” His head snaps to look at you, his eyes on your own, never straying lower. “I don’t mean anything sexual, I just….I just thought we could both be warm.” 

His eyes change, less of the harsh lines, something complex, and his eyes keep yours as he starts to strip. You give him a moment when he hesitates at the suit hidden behind his clothes and you get under the hot water, letting it warm you up. A moment later the curtain moves back and he fills the space behind you. 

You turn towards the wall, letting out a harsh cough, and he leans around you reaching for the soap, “you’re sick,” he doesn’t bother phrasing it as a question, “why the hell were you out in this weather?” 

You turn, looking at him, water dripping down into your lashes, “I knew you would come. I thought if I could stop you before you went inside and I wasn’t there. I was trying to protect you.” 

His eyes soften, and he nods, “let me take care of you, sweetheart.” He rubs his hands together, holding them hesitantly before you step into his touch, allowing him to wash you. You relax under his touch and he turns you, stepping behind you to press his chest flush to your back, your head leaning back over his shoulder as he rinses you under the hot water. He repeats the process with your hair, allowing you to close your eyes and rest your head on his chest while he cleans you both. 

It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with a man, and you’d had sex several times before. But something about this was different, his hands tracing over your body was not sexual both of you getting comfort from the touch. 

You lift your head, and he freezes almost as though you’re going to tell him to fuck off, but instead you pump some shampoo into your head and gesture for him to bend down. He does without complaint and his eyes drift closed as you wash his hair, his hands resting gently on your hips, you take your time, washing off the dirt and grime. You can’t help but wonder when the last time he had a shower was before you’re directing him under the water to rise. His lips release a soft moan, and you smile softly seeing him so relaxed. 

He slowly opens his eyes, seeing your lips turned up and he tugs you back into his chest. The water begins to turn cold, and he quickly leans down to turn it off, before pulling you back into his arms and resting his head against your own. You feel the ghost of his lips press to your forehead before he reaches for the towels and wraps them around your body. 

He gets out first, reaching a hand out to help you out before drying you completely. “I think I have some clothes that might fit you.” He pauses, looking at you questioningly, “my ex left some of his clothes when he skipped town, they might fit you.” 

He nods, watching as you go into the bedroom, coming back out in fresh pajamas and handing him the shirt and boxers. You leave him to get dressed, waiting in the hallway and leaning against the wall with your eyes closed, your head throbbing. 

The door quietly opens and you stand up straight opening your eyes to see him in the black t-shirt and plaid boxers. “Goodnight,” he mumbles, walking past you back towards the living room. 

“Wait,” you reach out without thinking, hand landing on his shoulder, solid and so warm. He glances down at your hand and you go to pull away when he reaches for it, holding it lightly in his own. “You can sleep with me,” you swallow down the nerves, “if you want. No pressure, just..I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

He watches you, contemplation clear on his face weighing the pros and cons. He gives a shallow nod, squeezing your hand before letting go. You don’t question it, turning back towards your bedroom, Logan’s footsteps following close behind. You tug the curtains closed, flicking on the fan overhead and pulling down the covers, Logan’s hand hovers over the t-shirt before pulling it off and climbing into the bed. 

You can’t help the way your eyes trail down over his muscles and a smile tugs just barely at the corner of his lips when he opens his arms and you collapse into them. He reaches across, flicking off the lamp and you both relax into one another, sleep quickly claiming you as his breathes even out. 

Sometime around 3 am Logan begins to stir, his arms around you tightening and his breath quickening.You grogilly rub your eyes and lean back, watching his head thrash back and forth as he starts to mumble. “Jean, Scott, Charles, Storm, Beast-” he repeats the names tormented and you put a hand to his chest feeling his pulse race. 

“Logan,” you whisper, rubbing gently the crease between his forehead, “it’s just a nightmare. Come back to me,” he stills, his heart still racing beneath your palm but he slowly blinks open his eyes. “You’re safe,” you whisper, his hand clutching the one on his chest tightly, his eyes wide, frightened from his dreams. “You’re safe, come back to me,” you tighten your grip on his hand, “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Everyone leaves me,” he whispers, brokenly, pressing his forehead to your own, your heart shattering for this man. 

“I won’t,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his head into your chest, “you’re safe here, you’re home.”

I hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!

[beef-brisket]

@things-arent-what-they-seem66 @fanofstuff01

Hanahaki Disease

The day of the failed extermination was the end of many things for Lucifer. The end of Heaven's terror, the end of his isolation, the end of the Exorcists, but most importantly, it was the end of the First Man.

He had his fun, taunting Adam for anything and everything, his weight, his wives, his attitude. He knew there was no way in Hell Adam would ever be able to beat him, let alone hurt him. But it was fun to rile him up, fucker did put his hands on his daughter. He deserved it.

Feeling Adam's mask break open under his fist was so incredibly satisfying, but not as much as feeling the bones in Adam's face crack and snap as he landed blow after blow. Just when he was about to do something horrific with his Hellfire, he felt a warm touch on his shoulder.

Looking up, he was met with the face of his daughter, begging him for mercy. Of course, Lucifer felt a teeny tiny weeeny bit bad when he saw how much golden blood covered Adam's face and clothes. But that feeling quickly left when he crawled out of that crater to spew more self-righteous bullshit.

After that, everything was a blur. The sudden silver blade sticking out of Adam's chest, to him falling, landing on the ground with a sickening crack. The tiny maid on his back, stabbing him over and over. And laughing while doing it.

Lucifer watched as an angel with one arm ran over to Adam and pulled him onto his back. Her begging was hard to listen to. It was affecting a deep part of him that was making him feel sympathy for the pathetic bastard. He couldn't have that.

So, he threw them out. Every single one of them. Forcing the army to leave their dead to be feasted on by the cannibals.

Lucifer helped his daughter rebuild. He even cooked some pancakes for everyone.

It wasn't until he was sure everyone at the hotel was asleep that he went out to check the carnage. At least, that's what he told himself. But it was a useless lie as he beelined for Adam's body.

Lucifer felt sick as he saw the state of it. Most of his stomach was gone, his limbs bitten down to the bone. But the most painful thing was his wings. They were broken, snapped, and torn apart. Eaten.

He was eaten.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the man twitched. And groaned. A bubbling noise escaped his throat, golden blood running out of his mouth.

He's alive.

Lucifer knelt down, his hand hovering just above his chest. It was definitely raising and falling. It was very weak, but it was still happening.

That's when Adam said his final words.

Adam: ...h-hate... you...

Lucifer watched as his eyes became empty. No feeling or purpose behind them. No holy light.

The day of the failed extermination was the end of many things for Lucifer. The end of his old friend. The end of all the good memories he had from Eden. The end of his hope to repair things with Adam.

But, the day after the failed extermination was the start of many things for Lucifer. The start of seeing Adam's chest slowly start to raise again. The start of Adam's stay at the Hazbin Hotel. The start of Lucifer's own personal Hell. The start of hanahaki disease.

It started the first day Adam was at the hotel. The man looked broken and defeated. He didn't even argue with Charlie when she told him about what he'd need to do to stay here. And she wasn't holding back, and neither was Maggie.

She had her spare pressed into Adam's neck the whole time. But the light in his eyes was gone, the need to fight back. He was still healing and was quite the horrid sight, but even that didn't give him any mercy from the members or workers at the hotel.

He watched Adam limp his way to the room Charlie said was his. The whole time, he said nothing, even when Lucifer made a few small threats to his life of he tried anything.

Lucifer felt a tickle in his throat, and he coughed and cleared it.

Lucifer: Hm. Weird. Better not have caught anything form those fucking angels.

Little did Lucifer know that was the start of something truly horrible.

[fhrlclln]

miguel o’hara x assistant!fem! reader pt. 2

hi!! UR GIRLY JUST TOOK THE UPCAT (ISKOLAR NG BAYAN WISHING 🤞🏻✅) anyways here’s part 2 cuz i desperately needed to cool off after taking that very hard exam but anyways.

here’s part 1 of this lil dirty fic!!

nsfw under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

miguel wouldn’t admit it but… it was kinda pathetic on his part he had to go so far to poke you around until you two exploded with each other. not that it wasn’t his thing for snapping at people but he did sometimes take a lot of that behavior of his on you. but he couldn’t help it, you know? do you even know how fucking hard he was controlling himself back the moment you signed up for him? how eager you were to work beside him when the spider-society was created? did you even know the nights he spends jacking off when you came around wearing that same black pencil skirt you were wearing that hugged your ass so perfectly? how the way you practically challenged him on arguments and so? how that look on your face when he towers over you made his dick go hard?

no.

so yeah, your his fault really.

“fuck…” he groans out as you gripped his hair tight between your fingers. nails scratching his scalp as you bucked your hips against his mouth, cunt rubbing on his face as he slurps, taking every juice your sweet pussy leaks out for him. only for him.

“so sweet, cariño. ‘s practically happy to see me.” he sighs out between his kisses and slurps, drowning in, giving you every bit of pleasure like he feels when you tell him or practically whine for him to give you more. he’ll give you everything really.

“miguel. please. need you more.” you huff out, it’s been a good handful of minutes since he started devouring your cunt like a starved man. man practically ripped your underwear with his fangs and hands as he threw it somewhere across the room. but you wanted him so much more, practically missed the way he was towering over you a while ago.

“what’d i say, huh?” he breaks away from your cunt, lips messy and wet as you stared down at him with teary and lustful eyes. “i’m being nice.” he kisses your thigh again, nipping it lightly as he finally stands up. your eyes shoot down to see the evident bulge on his spider suit but you knew that wasn’t the entirety of it knowing that damn suit is so damn tight on his body. not that you didn’t like the

“it’ll be even nicer if you get in me.” you cooed, a little breathless as you opened your legs wider. he lets out a little laugh as he ducks down to kiss you. you sigh happily between his lips, getting to grip his shoulders as he starts removing the buttons on your blouse.

“mhm. can’t even wait for it, huh? that desperate for cock, amor?” he grins between your lips as impatience took over him when he saw your pretty little bra concealing your breasts, he had to cut it off as purposely retract out those claws he’s hiding making you squeal at the sudden movement. the sharp snap of your bra shredded.

“miguel!“

“shut it.” he says, tossing the ruined lacy bra over his shoulder as you pouted, wriggling out of your blouse as he bends down to capture your nipple between his teeth, careful to be gentle knowing his fangs. you sigh out, caressing his tousled hair as miguel turned his attention to the other one while his hand reached to cup his crotch, groaning as he relieved the pressure a bit in the area.

“mierda. open those legs wide again, cariño.” he commands, tapping your thighs. “hurry up.”

impatient fucker. you roll your eyes, even in sex he was still taking the leadership role. “if you weren’t so keen shredding my bra off, we would be doing so much-“

“that mouth ain’t gonna shut up, huh?” he tsks as he grips your hips tight, pulling to him for your crotch to be flushed against his making you shut up.

“‘s rude interrupting me every damn sentence, you know.” you grumbled grinding down, gasping a bit when the warmth of his cock was replaced, expecting his tight suit you were gonna be grinding on. you look down, seeing the suit opened in that area, you look puzzled, knowing how advanced his suit is but you didn’t expect this? you thought the feature was mainly for his upper body, seeing countless times he was injecting himself with that drug he uses. rapture?

“that’s cool.” you tilt your head to the side, grinning seeing how flushed red his cock was. the tip angry and swelling with precum.

“and it’s rude to stare, sweetie.” he retorts from your previous complaint. he grips himself as you place kisses on his neck up to his lips, hugging him close as your feet wrapped around his tiny waist, the tip of his cock nudging between your folds. he sighs out, pushing in as he rests his forehead against yours. breaths mingled, heat tingling, the way your walls welcomed him with that searing wet warmth he dreamed of every night. fuck, he was in heaven. you gripped his shoulders hard, clawing on his muscles, he was big, too big and girthy but you couldn’t stop now.

“‘s so big, miguel.” you whined, naked breasts squishing on his hard chest, nipples hard as ever as you stared at his red beady eyes. “so big…”

“yeah, i know, but you can take it, can you? i know this sweet pussy can take it.” he whispers, kissing you softly. “be a good girl and take my cock.”

“mhmm…” you moaned as he slowly but surely pushed in further, gripping your ass tight as he slapped them both making you whine.

“so good, so fucking tight and wet. ‘s dripping.” he chuckles as you groan out when he bottoms in, crotch flushed against each other, your clit close to his abdomen.

“oh, god…” you tap his shoulders, wanting him to move but he knew you had to adjust first to his length, he didn’t wanna hurt you in anyway.

“be patient.” he whispers harshly, slapping your ass again, making you buck your hips.

“i am!”

“doesn’t look like it, amor.” your heart flutters again at the endearment. miguel smirks as he gives in, liking the way you get all so shy all of the sudden. he thrusts experimentally, feeling your walls slightly unclamp around his cock which makes him groan out when you clamp around him again. you stare down to where his cock is finally moving, it’s all a stupor now in your mushed brain as miguel grinned from above when he stills for a moment, half of his cock out, leaving you writhing for the fullness you crave.

he slams back in almost immediately, you yelp gripping tightly on his big biceps as he starts thrusting, pounding into you relentlessly now. miguel groans as he watches you helplessly gripping on him, he knew you’d tire out as he watches you with smug-ass grin when you lean backward, elbows resting on the desk, head tilting back as you closed your eyes, a chorus of moans and whimpers coming out of your lips as he fucks you good.

“good girl.” he praises as claws on your waist, biting his lip hearing those wet squelches emit inside of his lab along with your breathless voice begging him for more, to go harder. he, of course, listens as he adjusts you to tower over your leaned frame. kissing you with much tongue and teeth. his hearts pounding uncontrollably when you spit out how good he is and when you finally open your eyes and grin at him when you catch him staring at you in daze and quiet admiration.

shit. he’s got it bad.

he groans when he notices you getting a little pitchier in your moans, your legs around his waist constricted and your walls clamped around his cock tight, signaling you’re almost there. he smirks, one hand reaching down to rub that clit a few times, still pounding hard until you finally shoot up and squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking up ferociously as his cock still drove into you.

“close. ‘m close.” he pants, groaning out as you watch him in awe when fastens his pace, slamming in hard as he cums inside you. you smiled, feeling the warmth shoot inside you as miguel panted and slumped down a bit in front of you with his one hand keeping him leverage from crushing you and ruining the desk with both of your weights. a moment of silence transpires as you caress the back of his neck, kissing him lightly of whatever skin you come in contact with as miguel panted next to your ear.

“that was not supposed to happen.” he says, a little stupefied as you chuckled, rolling your eyes as you cup his cheeks for him to look at you. seeing those red eyes dilate, practically teary and puppy eyed when you peck his lips. he pulls out slowly, you two hissing together at the loss of contact as the cool air of the lab regulated your sweaty bodies.

“maybe it did have to.” you only say, a much more deeper meaning behind it as miguel went quiet, the expression on his face clear as ever, he was thinking about it. you smiled, pulling him down for a kiss in which he happily obliges.

“mierda, woman. you still not tired?” he asks between kisses in which you giggled, shaking your head causing him to growl as you widened your eyes.

“let me rest first, o’hara!”

“you started it-“

“i did not!”

｡･:*˚:✧｡

EYY PART TWO FINISHED AND LEFT IT ON A HAPPY NOTE <3 MORE MIGUEL FICS TO COME GUYS IM NOT DONE 😈

[evilminji]

You know one of the purposes of Lining?

Shock Absorption.

If the Zone is the Inter- and EXTRA-Dimensional Lining, connecting, containing, and generally powering all of Multiversal Creation? The Great Primordial Soup? The Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, from which we came and too which we return?

If the Zone itself is basicly the place between Universe, where your soul goes to get washed down, cleaned up, recharged, and sent out to wherever the next random portal takes it? To BECOME whatever you happen to find? An infinte recycler and Multiversal management?

The great metaphorical Yggdrasil, grown far beyond few branches, into an incomprehensible forest of one?

Well!

That kinda changes things! And also nothing! Because it means that those who remain? Are basicly squatting in the DMV's attic. Have built bunkers, under the country's main power generator. They really SHOULD move along. Granted, there is no one to MAKE them... but like...

That's cause no one thought anyone would NEED too?

Lol. Don't they feel silly? Anyway, I'ma put MY house over-! *wander off to go squat in the rafters*

Yeah, the CONCEPTS are native. But those probably just generate naturally. It's all the Souls constantly flowing through. Lots of background Sentience and Memories and such being washed away into the air. But? Then these lil souls were like "yeah, but if THEY get to stay... me too! D:< " "no, you can-" "ME TOO" and then they stopped listening and did what they wanted.

Good thing we have literally infinte amounts of room.

T...there's so MANY, you guys.

But! Not the point here!

*smacks white board* Realities! The Die too sometimes! And get born! A beautiful process, really. You can find Reality Beads if you know When and Where to look, some times. They, OBVIOUSLY, don't last for very long. Since they are basicly just seed universe. The explosive growth takes them almost immediately out of our range of perception, as they Begin.

Foundations of all Life and such.

But good God are they MAGNIFICENT!

However, sometimes? The REVERSE happens. If you find the area of the Zone your in? Is getting... "wavey" is the best way people describe it. Distorted. Fun house mirror. As though your vision has weird wrinkles that are distorting and stretching your view of things? Get Out. FAST.

If it's only SLIGHT? Barely noticeable? You can grab your Lair. IF, and ONLY IF you are NEARBY! If not? Remember. Things can be replaced. YOU? Can not.

Cause that "wavey"-ness? Is the final stage of Realm Entropy. The universe that portion over the Zone is covering and connected too, is all hollowed out. And about to CAVE IN. You DO NOT want to be there when that happens!

Remember! You see "waves"? Fly for three days!

Get to the edge of the affected area then KEEP GOING for a full three days flight. Warn everyone in you path. We stay safe together, guy. Collapses are NO JOKE. People get... well. Let's just say it's NOT a nice way too go.

Knowing this of course? We should all be SAFE right? Respectful if Awed distance from Reality Seeds, run like he'll if "waves"? We Gucci?

.....Sooooorta.

*flips Whiteboard to other side, to reveal a cartoonishly drawn Supervillian labeled "Asshole"*

Behold! A Terrorist!

It's a charged word. Not used lightly. But THESE fuckers? Oh ho ho! THESE fuckers?! "Ooooh~! Look at MEEEEE! I'm gonna play with FORCES I DONT UNDERSTAAAAAAAND! Destabilize my whole funckin UNIVERSE! Kill countless TRILLIONS OF TRILLIONS! Cause life was bad to me personally and I'm mad about it! Wah wah wah!!" ASSHOLES!

These fuckers? Cause Collapses. Blow Outs. Weird Fucked Up Cancerous Real Growths. You ever seen the Cleaners? No? You don't WANT TOO. They are basically eldritch, deep sea, angler fish looking mother fuckers THE SIZE OF SOLAR SYSTEMS. They travel in SCHOOLS.

BIG ONES.

When Realities collapse, they "fall off" as it were. Detach. And have to get recycled. All the countless impurities of Life eaten way to a blank slate. So it too, can start again. Thus the Fish. But! They ALSO eat anything "problematic".

Like tumors. Cancers. Poisoned, Multiversal Threats. Those quote on quote "God Killers".

Yes. Yes this IS part of why you DONT want to be near a Collapsing Reality.

No I WON'T explain how I know.

I DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT.

*smack the board with pointer* pay attention.

Jason Todd. Not! An Asshole. Sexy thighs. Fancy lil hair strip. We all miss him. But! He's off living his "no really, I'm totally alive, guys" hot girl summer or whatever. We are going to respect that! But!!! How did that happen? When he was DEFINITELY Hella dead?

Superboy Prime-y Pants. Who IS an ASSHOLE.

Because THAT fucker? PUNCHED HIS REALITY SO HARD IT NEARLY SHATTERED. Oh, no, I'm sorry! He punched SOMEONE ELSE'S reality! Because he is a tantruming MAN CHILD! And NOW? Now, Your Majesty, that WHOLE ASS Reality is more hair line cracks then border walls! One good shove? It'll cave in. Killing every soul inside.

The Cleaners are ALREADY circling.

It needs to be patched. Immediately. But that's not something normal ghosts can DO. The Zone won't LISTEN to us. Nor allocate the energy for it. The Concepts of Healing? We can't even FIND them.

We need help.

Please help them, King Phantom. You're the only one who CAN.

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @ailithnight @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[kingkatsuki]

Everyone leaving a business course in Japan knows that Dynamight PR is THE job to get. Everyone strives and works for it without really knowing what they’re getting into. They just know it’s the highest paying job you can get and you’ll either never need to go job hunting again, or you’ll have an amazing job on your CV. That is until they work there and realise that Dynamight is a dog that cannot be contained by his PR team and the reason you get hired on the spot if you go looking for other jobs is ‘well if you can work for Dynamight, you can work for anyone’

I could write about this trope for hours I’m so obsessed with it— he’d make your job so insufferable whilst simultaneously being the best part of it😫

On paper, a job at Dynamight’s agency is the dream for anyone in business— never mind a student fresh out of school with no experience. Strict NDA’s meant there was little information about what a job working for Dynamight’s PR team was really like, but the fact that his current manager was signed off sick for stress should’ve been an indication of what the job would be like for you.

You didn’t meet Dynamight during your interview, even though it was held at his agency. A fact you found a little peculiar, thinking a Hero climbing the rankings would be invested in who he’d have as his PR assistant— especially as it could help further his career, but it didn’t surprise you. Dynamight was one of the most in-demand heroes, with the media, fans and public desperate for his attention. Of course he wouldn’t have the time to interview everyone that applied for the job.

But you didn’t even meet Dynamight when you got the job. The three weeks since had been surprisingly calm, surprisingly easy. You’d spend your days filtering through emails, most of them from fans who’d beg for a chance of meeting the Pro, or autographs or merch. Not unlike a lot of the emails from the media, trying to arrange interviews or publicity stunts while trying to offer their fees.

The only complaint you’d received was from a young photographer that hadn’t known any better when he shoved his camera directly under Bakugou’s nose during a rescue mission, the hulking Pro carrying an injured civilian over one of his broad shoulders as he grabbed the camera with his palm. The heat of his quirk no match for the intricate technology as it melted beneath his touch, effectively destroying the memory card as he let it drop to the ground. The only evidence a blurry, charred JPEG of Bakugou’s angry face as he reached out for the device. The complaint quickly settled with a new photography set as compensation, as well as a well scripted apology from the Pro. An apology, which you soon realised, was carefully scripted by yourself and signed by the Pro-Hero himself.

“What do you want?” You hadn’t expected these to be the first words your new boss would say to you, and yet here you were.

“Oh, I’m your new PR assistant,” You understood now why people felt intimidated in his presence. Crimson eyes shot you a glare from across the room before he quickly went back to the laptop on his desk, even though thick-rimmed glasses he still felt as intimidating as ever. Even if he did look much cuter like this— “I just need you to sign this apology to the photographer from last week—”

“I ain’t fuckin’ signing that shit,” He scoffed, “Tell that prick he’s lucky it wasn’t his head.”

Now you understood why there were always vacancies available for this job.

You were certain Dynamight wasn’t trying to make your job difficult on purpose, he always seemed to answer your calls when he was inside his office— even if it was usually with an abrupt “what?”. And he even agreed to tone down his aggressive views online, “Fine, sweetheart. I’ll cut the fuckin’ politics. But you know those fuckers need tellin’ how dumb they are”. The peace could only ever be short lived, because no matter how hard you tried, things just seemed to get worse.

If the hero commission weren’t a bunch of pussies Deku wouldn’t be number one for another year in a row.

“Oh my god,” Your eyes squinted as you read the tweet at six in the morning, before you’d even had a chance to wake up and get ready for the day.

The likes and retweets continued to grow as you began to get messages from your team at the agency, and the media as you contemplated just never coming back.

Usually someone in the IT department would lock his account just in time, or intercept the tweets but it wasn’t always quick enough. You really were in the trenches as you decided to take matters into your own hands. Scrolling to your contacts as you called your boss immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose to try and calm the migraine you knew was coming on.

“You’re callin’ a bit late for a bootycall, sweetheart—” He grunted, his breathing laboured on the other side of the phone so you assumed he was at the gym. Or so you hoped, not wanting to imagine him on top of another woman whilst talking to you, “Don’t you start work in an hour?”

“Cut the crap, Bakugou,” You snapped, irritated by the offensive tweet mere hours after he’d promised to tone it down, “You said no more ridiculous tweets.”

“You said no more ridiculous tweets,” He mimicked your tone, “I’m just posting pure fuckin’ facts and you know it. If the commission weren’t so far up Deku’s ass I’d be number one by now.”

“No,” You growled, “If you weren’t such an insufferable asshole all the fucking time and actually tried to show up to some of the events that were organised for you, you might actually have a chance of changing public perception of you. Nevermind the simple fact that Deku had better numbers than you this month. Deku’s number one because he deserves to be, but you deserve it too. So maybe if you fixed up we could get you there, but instead you choose to be a jerk.”

You couldn’t believe the words had left your mouth. Every single ounce of annoyance and irritation you’d felt working under Dynamight for the past month had spewed out in under thirty seconds. The emotions you’d kept bottled up every time you received a new complaint or read a new interview or post from Bakugou, now released from your system.

And even though you were certain that you’d lost your job now, at least you could say that you’d given your notice in style.

“Well shit,” You heard the running stop on the other side of the phone as you assumed he paused his treadmill, panting into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, sir,” You sighed, “Maybe it’s better if you get someone else for the job—”

“I like it when you’re pissed, sweetheart.” He cut you off completely, catching you off guard, “I’ll see you in an hour. You can tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

[stinmybubs]

"I want you."

AN: Hi hi! I haven't ever really posted on tumblr because I'm so obsessed with reading lol, but I just decided to say fuck it and write wtv I think of.

18+!! Please be advised there will be mature content! Minors I cannot control you but DNI if you do see this, thank you so much!

AFAB! Reader! x Bakugo Katsuki

Bakugo is a hothead, we all know this as a fact. Getting close to him wasn't that easy, you found him a bit annoying because of his constant yelling every time someone tried to be nice to him.

You never considered Bakugo Katsuki as your type, maybe Kirishima, Midoriya, a little bit of Denki, hell Mina sure was up your alley. But the way you saw the hot headed boy changed a bit overtime, it was his calmness. He never really got out of line unless provoked or wanted to show off a bit. Which you found awfully cute.

It was the little things. Noticing how he treated those he kept around him, just the cute ways he'd refuse to make eye contact with people especially when he was embarrassed.

Sooner or later you found yourself staring at him more often, noticing how beautiful he was, yeah beautiful...but also how awfully hot he was. His biceps, chest, arms, legs, everything was just so ugh. The way he looked in tank tops just made you drool.

AN: Okay okay I'm getting off track of actual head cannons I am so sorry its been so long.

B Katsuki He notices how you stare, and cant say he hates the attention you give him, of course he loves it. He revels in it.

B Katsuki You never noticed, but he always kept an eye on you. Not only was he too afraid to speak to you but he knew you didn't see him in a good way. I mean you made it pretty obvious from the beginning and by the way you used to look at him. He was never too good at properly talking to someone. Especially people he liked. So he started with small things, trying to be calmer even though everything everyone said was stupid. He just wanted you to like him, but he didn't know if you ever will.

B Katsuki When he noticed the staring, his heart skipped. It made him nervous and he never knew where to look. But now, its time to show off even more knowing you're watching. He tried looking over from time to time to see your reaction to what he was doing, did you like it? But one time he saw you looking everywhere but his face and the smirk on his face when he found out...his ego inflated so much that day.

B Katsuki The worst part of trying to drop hints at Bakugo was hot but frustrating, the way you'd purposely bend over in his line of sight, or the way you'd purposely unbutton your shit whenever it was "hot." But the fucker never even looked your way or said anything.

B Katsuki Oh he noticed, he noticed your little tease. And how he longed to touch you. But what pissed him off about you doing this was how the other boys could see this, especially on one particular day.

Class 1-A decided to collectively work out together, especially try to motivate the non-athletic classmates. Your workout clothes weren't that different from the rest of the girls, a tank top and some work out shorts. You and the girls were kind of slacking off until Bakugo came over yelling for you guys to stop fooling around and actually work out or in his words. " Leave ya' takin up space." And with that the giggling was over.

"Ugh..." You groaned, leaning against a wall to regain your energy. You quickly grabbed the small towel you had resting on the bar while you were attempting to bench press, wiping the icky sweat from your forehead and chest.

"Eugh, water...need.." This time you weren't even attempting to be a tease, you just wanted some fucking water. You bend over to check the time on your phone, lowering your head with a hand on the wall, resting your eyes with a sigh.

"Ugh...we've been here for only 30min." You sigh, lifting yourself back up and stretching your back. Not realizing the fuming Katsuki staring at you.

"Oi' fuckers I didn't say you can stop workin' out!"

Bakugo yelled, noticing a handful of guys staring at you. Denki, mineta, Kirishima, and Sero. Now he's pissed.

AN: Uhhh, this turned out to be wayyyy more than headcannons. Safe to say that this is going to have a pt.2! Yay my first 2 parter! I cannot write long stories so :3 Oh! I am recently getting back into writing so I am very sorry if the grammar is horrid and the story sucks it was off the top of my head as I wrote, no pre-plan, no nothin. I am very sorry! But thank you for reading. <3

[hitomisuzuya]

I know we talk about gamer Scara but I need to suck him off till he’s overstimulated while he plays

Fuck or make him rail us while we try to play

Gamer!Scaramouche x fem! reader. Smut. Overstimulation. Scara receiving.

Freddy is back at it again, guys❤️ I'm not sure if this was a request or not, but I wanted to write something for it anyways.

Scaramouche was starting to have a problem focusing, his fingers shaking as they hovered over the keys on his keyboard. He wasn't signed into Discord, thankfully. He didn't need shitheads chattering in his ear while he was trying to listen and look for Freddy. That fucker was on the move again.

All he needed was his your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He'd cummed twice down your throat by the time he got to Night 3. He was on Night 5 now, and you hadn't stopped sucking.

"Fucking hell," He groaned, his fingers shaking as they found the back of your head. His cock throbbed in your mouth, making him hiss as she pushed it down onto his cock.

You coughed on purpose, wanting him to feel your throat spasming around his cock. You kept your eyes focused on him, watching literal tears well into his eyes from over stimulation.

Scaramouche hastily brushed them away, cursing because he had taken his other hand away from the keyboard. You slurped loudly on his cock, curling your tongue around it as you sucked. His thighs trembled when you trapped his cock against the roof of your mouth with your tongue, grinding it against the roof of your mouth.

"I'm gonna cum down your throat again if you keep sucking like that, slut," He said in a shaky voice. You bobbed your head up to suck on the head of his cock.

That was what you wanted. This boy had some payback coming, after all. You'd even removed your panties so he could look down to see you stroking and rubbing yourself.

The kitten licks you flicked over the tip of his aching cock made him push your mouth back down on his cock again, thrusting into your mouth until cum spilled into your throat.

"Tag out..I tag out.." He moaned, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He could barely focus enough to bring up the security camera screens for you to look and see where those fuckers were, shakily guiding you to sit in his lap.

Scaramouche rested his head in the dip of your shoulder, watching you evade Foxy closing in at the last second. You were already poised to catch Freddy. Which was so hot of you, by the way.

As much as it frustrated him when you did better than he did at a game, especially when you were so shy about actually playing them yourself, it also really turned him on.

He nearly moaned when you shut Freddy down, sending him back with his top hat between his legs to try again. You took a deep breath, leaning back against Scaramouche's chest.

"Fuck, I want you so bad right now," His hands found your hips, moving you back in his lap. He lifted you so that the head of his cock pressed up against your clit.

Let's see how well you would do while he bounced you on his cock, fucking you senseless while you tried to play. He wanted to see you struggle like he did.

When you started to try and grind down against his cock, he abruptly lowered you down onto his cock. "Don't you dare pause the game," He hissed in your ear, bouncing you on his cock as he thrust up to bottom out inside of you.

He almost could breathe for a moment, your cunt felt so good clenching around his cock. You gasped in pleasure, trying to squirm as he held you still in his lap.

As overstimulated as Scaramouche was, he couldn't stop grunting and pounding into you. One of his hand squeezed around your breast, pinching your nipples to ground himself as his cock throbbed strong from overstimulation.

Now you could barely concentrate. His cock was kissing deep into your cervix, making you quake in pleasure. Your orgasm was building up to toe curling intensity. You could only try to struggle to bounce on his cock while he held you still, moaning high pitched the stronger your orgasm built up inside you.

Scaramouche's fingers feverishly rubbed your clit, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your finger smacked on the keys to bring the cameras up on the screen again. Opening your eyes, you focused your vision through blurry tears of pleasure. "G-Gotcha," You exclaimed, it sounded more like a moan of bliss instead of victory.

You stopped Freddy again.

Right as you squirted all over his cock, your thighs trembling and your body twitching. His grip tightened on your hip, his thrusting turning sloppy before his cock throbbed cum inside of you.

"Don't you even move off of my cock," He sighed happily, resting his chin in the dip of your shoulder again. He wanted to watch the rest of Night 5 while his fingers stroked over your clit.

[thebisexualwreckoning]

Armand's backstory and how I, your local bengali vampire fucker and armand's 24/7 defence lawyer, am going to make him bengali and muslim while still keeping it showcannon accurate

(Note: this is not meant to be taken seriously and is very much just written because I was bored and had time on my hands and if i have gotten anything wrong please correct me)

One thing that always annoyed me about IWTV showcannon is the fact that armand pre-marius days were either left majorly unexplored or made absolutely no sense to the time period. Which, I find pretty surprising considering the care and sensitivity Louis' new backstory was handled with by the same creators and show writers.

We know 3 things about Armand and who he is as a character in regards to his ethnicity:

His birth is Arun

He is Muslim

And that he was taken from Delhi somewhere around the early 15th century

For the purposes of this essay, we are going to assume all of this is true and not something Armand made up to get sympathy from both Louis and the audience.

Armand's birth name being Arun, while incredibly lazy, does make his identity as a bengali man much easier to confirm. My own full blooded formerly bangladeshi grandfather has the name Arun and Arun continues to be an incredibly popular bengali name for boys to this day. The problem arises when it comes to his religion.

The thing about the name Arun is that it's an incredibly *Hindu* first name, given that it is quite literally one of the names for the Hindu god of the sun (Source: I'm Hindu and confirmed with my mom who is sitting beside me scrolling on facebook). While muslim people can have the name Arun, given that Bengal was still an independent kingdom around the time which Armand would have been born in, his parents being hindu would have been likely.

However, around a similar time, the Mughals were setting up shop in, you guessed it, delhi and the surrounding region. Now, my proposal is as such: During the same time period, many parents sold their children to zamindars (land owners) for money or food or land. Young Arun's parents did the same thing. Now, this zamindar either sells armand to someone else immediately after who takes him delhi or takes young arun to delhi himself where he either sets up shop with him or once again sells arun to someone else.

Seperated from his parents and newly immigrated indenture (because yes, mughal era punjab and bengal were different kingdoms and as such this would count as immigration) to a kingdom which had just gone through a major political upheaval and had a new ruler forcibly converting people to islam, arun, who has no ties to hinduism given that a. he is a child and b. his hindu parents very much just sold him into slavery, converts to islam as well as a safety tactic.

Thus child arun grows into teen arun and he has never known anything of his life before delhi but those first few years that he spent in bengal and has definitely had no contact with hinduism and has been a devout muslim for the vast majority of his life. Here is where things get a bit iffy. There are two ways how the rest of this can now go.

Route no. 1, armand's indenture is sold to the portuguese, the portuguese take him to europe, marius buys him, everything proceeds as it must.

Route no. 2, the overly complicated, book and show canon accurate version which requires some significant suspension of disbelief and handwaving to accomplish but i like it so i'm still writing down this crack theory. Also we're doing this in dot points now because i'm getting tired:

We know armand speaks crimean because daniel mentions it after he catches fake rashid praying

crimea was part of the ottoman empire during this time period.

the ottoman empire had relatively friendly relations with the mughals because they were afraid of babur.

crimean ottoman merchants buy armand's indenture

armand ends up in crimea

crimea and kievan rus, book armand's original homeland's complex relation means armand ends up in kievan rus.

Things proceed as they did in the books for how armand goes from kievan rus to under marius's hold

and that's all i have, this has been your local crack theorist on tonight's armand show. see you next time.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Soldier and Medic dating a short feisty reader

Short and Feisty S/O

Words: 734

Swearing: 1 in Soldier | 2 in Medic.

This motherfucker only enables and encourages anything you do.

He’s also considered one of the more ‘feisty’ mercs. (He’s not very short though.)

So he’s always more than willing to join you on anything you do.

You’re now never able to go anywhere alone. (Could be him or one of his raccoons.)

Whenever you two are in battle he’ll try to stay near you, but can never guarantee it.

Isn’t someone who will purposely tease you about your height.

While he does occasionally make remarks he doesn’t even realise he does.

Likely you’ll just climb onto something if you can’t reach, so he’ll stand back, announce his appearance but only watch in case.

If you ask though he will grab you the needed item.

Quickly enough into the relationship he gave you your own helmet. (Your initials are carved on the inside.)

Also given a title. (You’re now Captain, no fighting him on this.)

He’s the type of guy to just throw you over his shoulder.

Nothing is making him drop you. (Maybe, just maybe if Demoman asked.)

***

“UH, SOLLY!”

Hearing his name yelled from down the hall, he swiftly poked around the corner. Finding Engnieer looking worried as he looked around, jumping when he noticed the familiar helmet looking back at him.

“We kinda need your help out ‘ere.”

“WHAT’S WRONG MAGGOT?”

Engineer scratched his chin for a few seconds before opening his mouth, only to be cut off by the door next to him –which led outside– being slammed open. Missing him by mere inches, and the person that came through was, unknowingly to him, the cause of this problem. You.

In your tightly grasped hand, was a hat. Specifically Sniper’s. Not sparing a glance back at Dell as you saw Jane. Rushing off and away from the door just in time for Mick to rush through, unable to grab you as you moved. Only now did Jane realize what was happening.

Standing taller as you successfully got away, taking your spot right behind him. Peering out to see Mick sigh, hunched over as he walked away. So did Engineer, not before he gave the last words.

“Just make sure it gets returned in the same condition.”

He will actually encourage you from time to time.

It’s the fact he still needs time away from… you and everything you're doing.

He’s more ‘feral’ than feisty on the field. (Also off the field, when doing his medical things… Even you stay away from all that.)

Is 100% a teaser.

This fucker won’t shut up about everything, especially your height and specifically the height difference.

Internally panics if he ever catches you climbing on things.

He’ll rush over to pull you off (Most times he puts you down, but now always.) before grabbing the thing himself.

Majority of the time Archimedes will stay away from you. (Whether Medic says so or not, who knows?)

Climb this bitch.

He will freeze in his steps and shut down, a great tactic if he’s teasing you.

Will never stop thinking about it until he dies. (But even being in hell doesn’t stop him.)

Has offered to increase your height by… some sort of means alright. (Many times mind you.)

Gained the habit of just grabbing you, by one of two ways. Either like a cat, holding you so he’s out of reach. Or under his arm, where he has gotten stratched.

Has and will speak German to you, especially if you don’t understand it. He enjoy’s watching you become more and more riled up over it.

***

Anyone who walked near Medic’s office could only hear noises, all of which shouldn’t be happening in any medical office. But unless they took a look in they could only guess who was messing about, with those guesses being you bothering Medic.

He could focus with all the ruckus you were making, seemingly interested in the most basic objects in the room. All before dropping them not where they belonged. Cupping his face in his hands as he muttered something, which you could only assume was about you. Unaware of you hearing him and now interested in his words.

“What ‘cha just say?”

“Sie sind unausstehlich…”

Hearing you huff in response to his words.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me I’ll ask someone else!” Medic only looked up when he heard his office door shut and the faint shouting of, “HEAVY!”

***

Sie sind unausstehlich - You are obnoxious

[hazbinshusk]

Hi there! I saw your prompt request open so I thought about...Blitzø x Fem! Angel! Reader from the Kiss Roulette with #39 Prompt. A tentative kiss.

The C.H.E.R.U.B.S made heaven looks so bad after what they did in the living world. So, an angel is informed about this so she apologizes to the Imp's company. Knowing there's no need to fight between both worlds. Blitzø feels some kind of warm and kindness coming from the angel. Wanting to get to know more about her and the heavens. Maybe even teasing her about wanting a taste from heaven with a kiss...With fluff and maybe spice (I kinda had the idea a bit but the rest can be up to you)

So, I already sended you this request but then I found out I wrote the wrong number (Hope not to go wrong with this one this time so I dediced to wrote the name in case I wrote the wrong number).

thank you for being so patient! I had a little fun with it so it fit my voice a little better, but I hope you still like it :) also 'bible-thumpin' boytoys' might be one of my favourite bits of dialogue I've ever written for blitzø. anyway, heres...

prompt #39: a tentative kiss

“Okay… you wanna run by me again exactly in the fuck you are?” Blitzø says, an eyebrow raised as he lounges back in his chair, feet kicked up on the desk between you. His expression reads as disbelieving, but he still manages to take the moment to let it turn appraising, even predatory as he runs his gaze down over your figure. “’Cause you don’t look a single fuck like those cotton candy freaks that fucked with us up top.”

You smooth your fingers over the fabric covering your thighs, banishing non-existent wrinkles from your slacks. You were perched straight-backed on the chair opposite him, entirely aware of the three other demons listening in from the other side of the door. “I’m a CHERUB… or, well, an associate of CHERUB. I’m not heaven-born, I just liaise with the department.”

“Ohhh, so you’re one of the goody-two-shoe-fuckers that get to go topside after they bite it?” the imp asks, leaning forward slightly. His tail waves slowly back and forth behind him, and part of you wonders if he’s doing it on purpose – like he’s trying to offend you by making sure you notice every one of his demonic traits. “You must’a been borin’ as shit to end up with the Holy Rollers.”

You shrug a shoulder, amusement twitching at the edge of your lips despite yourself. “Must have.”

“So, what?” Blitzø continues, a kind of cavalier smirk playing over his features. “Your bosses all pissy ‘cause we kicked your buddies’ asses halfway back to heaven and now you’re… what? Here to make it even? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, you’re cute an’ all, but I’m pretty sure we can serve your ass back to ya on a silver platter.”

“You think I’m cute?” you ask, and Blitzø grins. You shake your head, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’m not here for some kind of avenging angel deal. Dearie told me… told the department how it all went down, and—”

“That bambi bitch’s name is Dearie?”

“—I wanted to apologise for what happened.”

Blitzø’s eyebrow arches again. “You wanted to apologise. Not your bosses.”

You swallow, pressing your lips together.

Shit.

You weren’t exactly here on sanctioned orders; Lord, if anyone found out that you’d hijacked a portal to come down here… well, you’d probably end up in the same predicament as Cletus, Colin and Keenie. And honestly, spending the Father only knows how long trapped in the mortal world with them for company… Maybe you should have thought this through.

“I, uh… it’s important that the relationship between Heaven and Hell stays civil—” you say, and the imp snorts in derision.

“Yeah, you feathery fucks seem to be real concerned with keepin’ the peace.” he replies snidely, and your brow furrows in confusion at the comment. He leans forward in his seat, giving you that appraising look again that makes something inside you flutter. You push it down, swallowing. “Speakin’ of, shouldn’t you have a rack on you?”

“Excuse me?” you say, offended, and you can’t help but glance down at your chest automatically.

Blitzø snickers, letting his own gaze linger there for a moment before he waves a hand towards the space over your shoulder. “Wings, sugar. Shouldn’t you have a pair?”

“Oh,” you feel a blush creep into your cheeks at your presumption. “I do, they’re just… kind of a pain to have out all the time. Besides, this way I can… blend in a little better down here.”

Blitzø huffs a laugh, pushing himself up out of his chair. “Nice try, tits. But there ain’t no sinners down here that look like you.”

That fluttery feeling blooms inside you again, tickling low in your belly and floating into your chest as he rounds the desk towards you. He leans against it, claws curled around the edge of the desktop beside his hips, his legs only a few sparse inches from your knees. You jump slightly as you feel something touch your ankle – the point of his tail brushes against your pant leg as it waves slowly beside him. The imp’s smirk widens at your reaction.

“And none of ‘em dress like that, either.” he points out. “Pride ain’t exactly the place for business casual.”

You glance down at yourself again, at your pressed pants and button down, before looking back up at him from under your brows. You find yourself trying for the same playfully sarcastic tone he’s been using on you. “You saying I should have tried for the leather look?”

Blitzø blinks, caught off-guard by the change in your tone. Then, he smiles again, sharp-toothed and thoroughly entertained. “Definitely. Personally, I’d love to see those legs of yours all wrapped up in tight, black…”

“Mr. Buckzo—”

“Call me Blitz.”

“Blitz,” you correct yourself. “I’m here to try and establish a diplomatic relationship between—”

“You ever thought about it?”

“Huh?”

Blitzø grins. “Takin’ a walk on the dark side. See what you were missin’ out on by playin’ good girl for God all those years on Earth. They might have invented their own brand of fuckin’ up in Cloud Cuckoo Land, but I can guarantee your bible-thumpin’ boytoys ain’t got nothin’ on me.”

You flush, and that seems to amuse him more. “Are you… seriously… hitting on me right now?”

Blitzø’s smile doesn’t waver. “You tellin’ me you’re not interested?”

Casting a glance back to the door, you struggle to find an appropriate response. You jump again as he suddenly leans forward just as you turn around to face him again, bracing himself over you by gripping the arms of your chair. It effectively cages you in, and your breath catches in your throat as it brings his face so, so close to yours.

You swallow, and he smirks.

“I… I came here,” you repeat, trying to keep the waver out of your voice. “To try and mend… fences between our organizations…”

“Mm. You wanna make amends?”

You nod, biting your lip. Blitzø’s eyes flicker down to catch the movement. His tail is switching slowly behind him again.

“You wanna make it up to us for what your dick co-workers did?”

“I—”

“Show me how much.” he challenges, eyes half-lidded and downright… seductive. You shift in your seat, face aflame. “C’mon… you know you want to. One little kiss to show me how much you care… maybe a quick, five star fuck if you feel up to it—”

“Jesus Christ…” the curse comes out as barely more than a breath.

“Look, at you. Takin’ the Lord’s name in vain.” he chuckles. “Careful, baby. You spend too much time down here, and you might find you like it.”

“It’s Hell, not a holiday.” you point out. “I’m not exactly worried about wanting an address change.”

“Yeah?” he retorts teasingly. “Prove it. Give me a little taste of Heaven.”

You waver for a moment before your sense of reason finally gives way to your curiosity. You reach up, curling your fingers in the front of his coat. Blitzø actually looks surprised as you lean up, meeting his lips hesitantly with your own.

They’re surprisingly soft and warm against yours, and the stiffness in his body eases as he relaxes into the embrace. When you pull away, you exhale in the hopes of steadying yourself. Blitzø meets your eye for a moment, and then his lips are on yours again, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

You can feel the sharp points of his claws in your hair, against the soft skin by your ear, but instead of unnerving you, you find it excites you, spurs you on. When your lips part he touches his tongue to your bottom lip, and you sigh into his mouth. Your hand leaves his chest to slide over the side of his neck to curl around the nape of it, and you’re surprised to hear him moan quietly into the kiss. It thrills you more than it should, as does the way his tongue slides against yours.

Your fingers brush against one of the spikes at the back of his head, and you jerk away from him, his teeth grazing your lip as you do. Blitzø blinks as though dazed, shaking himself as you suddenly push your chair back and stand, the chair legs screeching obnoxiously against the carpet.

“I should… I should go.” you stumble over the words, grateful that the imp doesn’t move to follow you as you back away from him a few steps. “My… my friend can only keep the portal open for so long before they notice I’m gone. So, I should…”

Blitzø nods, recovering himself. “Right. Yeah. Yeah, you should… yeah…”

You give him an awkward, tight-lipped smile, holding out a hand for him to shake. “It was… thank you for meeting with me, Blitz.”

He laughs at your sudden propriety, shaking his head in amusement as he closes the distance between you and takes hold of your hand. Instead of shaking it, he turns it over, bending down and brushing his lips against the back of it. Blitzø holds your gaze as he does, and you can’t help the bashful smile that flickers over your face.

“Anytime.”

send me a prompt and either husk or blitzø

[juyeonszn]

POISON IN MY MIND

PAIRING lee hyunjae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 5.54k

GENRES smut ﹒ some angst (but very little)

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, ceo/ceo’s son!hyunjae, assistant!reader, power play tbh, hyunjae is an asshole (for what he thinks is good reason), another jacob bae appearance, juyeon is also mentioned, there’s a rain scene bc i love my rain scenes <3, hyunjae is a stupid idiot, making out (aggressively), nipple play, no foreplay lol, unprotected sex, sex on a desk x2 — but one is missionary & one is doggy? style?, overstimulation, degradation, brat taming?, creampie lol, the aftercare is there i promise

SUMMARY who really cared that you supposedly hated your boss?

MORE HELLAURRRRR FAWNTOBER DAY 4!!! im hoping i have no delays with the rest of the fics but idk bc the burnout is starting to kick in….. someone pls help…. it’s bc my brain is making me write more than i planned 😭 anyways! pls reblog if u enjoyed!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

“Look at you, rutting against me like a fucking bitch in heat,” Hyunjae growls, lips beside your ear as he pounds into you from behind, your hair wrapped tightly around his fist. “Thought you hated me, sweetheart.”

“I— fuck— I do,” you whine, back arching off of the desk and into his chest. “I hate you s-so goddamn much.”

Okay, let’s rewind for a bit of context.

Truly, you hated Lee Hyunjae. He was such a pretentious prick, always dead set on being right about everything. He couldn’t stand those who he felt were inferior to him, those who he thought were incompetent. If he felt you couldn’t do your job to his standards, he’d fire you on the spot.

Despite not being the CEO of the company himself, he practically carried all of the perks that came with the position. That was only because he was the actual CEO’s son and the future heir to the conglomerate his father owned.

You had the unfortunate pleasure of being his assistant, tied to doing his bidding until your contract with the company timed out. You originally applied for the job for two reasons. The first was due to the fact that you genuinely loved the initial purpose pushed forward by the CEO. He shared a lot of similar ideals with you and had spectacular visions for bettering the business world. The second was because at the time of your application, you wanted to be the CEO’s assistant. And that was what you’d gotten hired for.

It paid more than well enough and it was your dream job. You loved what you did for at least the first year and a half. Until he announced that he’d be retiring within the next couple years and his son would be taking over as a form of practice for being in charge when he inherited the entire conglomerate.

You’d never met him in person before, only hearing the high praises Mr. Lee had for his precious son. So on his first day, you had extremely raised expectations for the male. You dressed your best (not that you didn’t put effort in before) and put on your sweetest personality, wanting to make a good impression on your new boss.

Imagine the disappointment you felt when you realized he was nothing but an entitled asshole.

He made you feel stupid, as if you didn’t know how to do your own job. What started as sitting in on important meetings and going over different documents with Mr. Lee, turned into running errands for Hyunjae and cleaning up his messes. If you weren’t out buying his coffee or grabbing his dry cleaning, you were sorting his paperwork for him and making sure he was prepared for his upcoming conferences, as if he wasn’t capable of doing so himself. You felt like a fucking babysitter rather than an assistant; like an errand boy rather than an employee.

You were so incredibly tired and it had only been four months. A few, tortuous months of you being treated like you hadn’t already given an arm and a leg for this company. Half of you wanted to just throw in the towel, rip up the damn contract right in front of the fucker and walk out of those gold plated double doors for good.

“Just push through, Y/N,” Jacob sighs over the video call. “Your contract ends at the end of the year, and if you still feel like quitting, then that’s that. You don’t have to worry about renewing or trying to reinstate your job.”

You were on your lunch break, holed away in one of the many unused conference rooms on the top floor. Hyunjae was being extra irritating today and if you didn’t speak with a voice of reason, you thought you’d make a drastic decision that would alter the course of your life forever. Whether that was tossing your employee contract in the shredder, or committing premeditated murder, the world may never know. Shout out to Jacob Bae.

“What if I push him out of the floor-to-ceiling window in his office? I could make it look like an accident. Everyone would probably rejoice instead of mourning him, because we would all be so much happier.” You throw the back of your hand over your forehead. Well, that answers that.

“You’re not killing anyone. If you got caught, you wouldn’t look good in a prison jumpsuit. Orange isn’t your color.” Jacob shakes his head, rolling his eyes playfully.

You gasp scandalously, sitting upright to gape at him. “What the hell? Yes, I so would! I would make that prison jumpsuit my bitch—“

Someone clears their throat behind you, causing you to flinch, whipping around in your swivel chair to find the culprit. When it’s none other than Lee Hyunjae staring back at you, you feel like your life has just flashed before your eyes. You wonder just how much of that conversation he heard before making his presence known.

“Um, Cobie, I’m gonna have to call you back…” You don’t allow your friend time to respond, ending the call before he can incriminate you more than you already have.

Hyunjae leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his absurdly broad chest. Did this guy have to wear the tightest dress shirts possible? Maybe it was time for him to update his wardrobe. You tuck your hair behind your ear, slowly standing up from the chair. His expression is unreadable, not that you ever had it easy when it came to understanding the many faces of Lee Hyunjae.

“Mr. Lee, what— uh— what can I do for you?” You ask with a slight waver in your tone. So much for not incriminating yourself. He purses his lips, taking a step closer to you.

“Juyeon can no longer accompany me on the trip to Tokyo next week. Which means you’re second on the totem pole,” he says simply, loosening his tie. “Better pack your bags, ‘cause I’m not taking no for an answer.”

This was horrible.

You were mentally cursing Lee Juyeon over and over. Why did he have to back out at the last minute? This was the one part of the job that you couldn’t allow yourself to do. You’d much rather drive in circles around Seoul and grab iced Americanos than be in a completely different country, with no other company aside from Lee Hyunjae himself.

When he gave you your demise, you immediately tried to get out of it. Your excuse was valid; you didn’t have a passport and that’s kind of essential when traveling to another country. But even then, it wasn’t enough to get you out of this predicament. Being the rich, influential man he was, Hyunjae had your passport expedited and sent to your mailbox within a couple days. You gave up after that.

There was nothing he couldn’t do.

Except maybe being tolerable. You think that was most likely his only fault. He could’ve been the complete package had he mastered the art of bedside manner. His father was one of the kindest, selfless men you’d ever met. You were often curious why those same traits didn’t translate to his son. Then again, he had probably been raised as a spoiled brat who got everything his heart desired.

To make matters worse, you had one of those suites with a Jack and Jill bathroom, meaning he could enter yours without difficulty if he wanted. You supposed that was because the rooms were reserved with him and Juyeon in mind. Perhaps the case would be different if you were the first pick for this trip.

You let out a deep exhale, waiting outside of the conference room that Hyunjae was currently in. This was meeting number seven, and the last of the day before you could finally go back to the hotel and relax. You’d be flying back to South Korea the following day on the Lees’ private jet. All of your time in Japan had been spent both sitting in and sitting out of board meetings, so much talk about business plans that you felt dizzy.

All you yearned for was a nice warm bath and some room service, wanting to call it an early night because of your flight in the morning. You were exhausted, eyes growing heavier and heavier the longer Hyunjae sat in that room full of old men that came from bloodlines of money. Even though it was your job to be here, you felt so out of place. There were moments you found yourself contemplating your career path. You were surrounded by people who could just sign a check to get rid of their life problems. That wasn’t you.

Before you can fall down a rabbit hole, the door to the conference room is swinging open and Hyunjae is storming out, some of the other board members calling after him. Your eyes widen and your eyebrows furrow, your body springing up to follow after him. Wearing some flats instead of heels was probably the smartest choice you’d made today, making it less of a struggle to chase after your boss.

“Mr. Lee!” You cup a hand around your mouth, trailing him like a lost puppy to the elevator. It closes before you can get on and you groan, running a hand through your hair frustratedly. As you wait for the next one down, you call the driver so the car is waiting out front. According to the recent weather notification on your phone, it was pouring outside.

The elevator dings when it arrives back at the floor you were on and you hurry to get on, pressing the lobby level aggressively in hopes it would move faster. Even the soothing music playing over the speakers isn’t enough to calm your nerves, picking at your nails as the numbers transition to the corresponding floors you pass. This was one of the numerous occasions you wished your boss wasn’t so impulsive. What did they even say to him in that meeting to cause such a reaction?

The doors open and you’re rushing out, frantically searching for Hyunjae in the lobby. You spot the driver parked under the carport, waiting. Your feet carry you to the car, knocking on the window to get his attention. He rolls it down with a confused look.

“Have you seen Mr. Lee?” You ask, a bit winded by all of the running you’d been doing.

“I thought I saw him walk that way,” he points ahead, though it hardly answers your question. “I didn’t realize you weren’t with him.”

Just fucking peachy. He was making you chase him into the rain now? You needed a pay raise.

Thankfully, it’s a breeze to spot him, since he’s the only person in the crowd without an umbrella. You pinch the bridge of your nose, forcing yourself to walk out into the cold rain, weaving through pedestrians to get to him faster. He’s not much further from you, but you’d rather drag his ass back to the car sooner rather than later, the precipitation seeping through your dress shirt and pants, chilling you to the bone.

“Mr. Lee!”

You reach for his wrist and wrap your fingers around it, yanking slightly to yield his focus. He turns around with hardened features, but they soften just enough for you to notice when he realizes that it’s you. Your lips form a flat line, eyelashes coated with a mixture of mascara and rain water, obscuring your vision.

“I don’t know what happened in there, but I don’t have it in me to ask. Please, can we just go back to the hotel?” You ask almost desperately, teeth beginning to chatter. He frowns, but nods nonetheless, letting you pull him to the safety of the carport— where you’re free from the unrelenting pelts against your body— and into the car.

You don’t say anything the whole drive to the hotel you’re staying at, biting your tongue because you were afraid you might blow up on him over his stupidity and get yourself fired. Your bottom lip quivers and you hug yourself for warmth, the car’s heater failing to bring back the color in your cheeks. In spite of hating nearly everything about him, you thought the one good thing Hyunjae had going for him was his wits. He might’ve been stuck up, but he was smart as hell. Except right now. In your books, he was the biggest idiot in the history of idiots.

The silence continues even after you’ve arrived at your hotel, shadowing you into the elevator and to your respective rooms. You don’t acknowledge him, unlocking your suite and entering to avoid any conversation. The remainder of your energy for the day was used when you were attempting to save him from getting fucking hypothermia.

You stand in the shower until your fingers have pruned, resting your forehead against the frosted glass as the scorching water battered your back, easing the tension in your muscles. While changing into your pajamas, your phone buzzes with a text message.

[9:23pm] mr. lee (DNI): i don’t know if u’ve eaten already, but i ordered a lot of food if u’d like to have some of it.

[9:24pm] mr. lee (DNI): left my bathroom door unlocked so u can just let urself in

Your lips purse as you mull over his offer. It wasn’t exactly an olive branch, but even if it was, you wouldn’t take it as such. You had too much pride for that. Instead you viewed this as him just feeling guilty for having you pursue him in the rain. That was definitely not in your job description. Perhaps he wasn’t as heartless as he made himself out to be, and he just didn’t know how to extend an apology without being awkward about it.

Reluctantly, you give in.

[9:27pm] you: sure. be right there

You slide your feet into your slippers and shuffle through the four doors between the two of you that lead to his suite. It takes everything in you to not visibly react to the difference between your rooms. His is so much more spacious, with enough room for a table and couches, aside from the usual desk. Even he looks expensive, a silk pajama set adorning his body— the first few buttons undone to give you a glimpse of his chest, though it hardly leaves room for the imagination.

Hyunjae sits at the table, various sushi roll platters in front of him. He holds up his chopsticks as he scrolls through his phone mindlessly, glancing up when your slippers shuffle against the floor. He takes in your appearance as quickly as he can without making it obvious, the corner of his lips curling up when he sees the teddy bears on your feet.

“You know, I didn’t think you’d come,” he starts after a few minutes of eating in an awkward quietness. “Not just here, to my room, but on the trip in general. I thought you’d put up a bigger fight to get out of it.”

“It’s part of my job, Mr. Lee.” You say flatly, taking away as much emotion from the statement as you could to avoid getting in an unnecessary argument.

“We’re not at work and it’s outside of working hours, Y/N. You can call me Hyunjae.” He tries to meet your eyes but they’re focused on picking at the skin around your nails, legs criss-crossed on your seat.

“Why do you go by Hyunjae?” You decide to ask, glancing up at him finally. “Your dad said your birth name was Jaehyun.”

“I don’t remember when exactly it was, but when I was in grade school, a classmate called me Hyunjae by accident and it just stuck. I’ve never really liked the name Jaehyun, if I’m being honest. It was a common name, and well, you of all people should know that I’m all about my individuality.” He leans back in his chair a bit, folding his arms over his chest. You ignore how it makes his pectorals squish together. God, you were no better than man…

“Is that why you’re nothing like your father?” You don’t mean to say that out loud. The thought popped into your head, as it always does, and for some reason this time it just shimmies its way through your mouth. You press your lips together, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden tension that arises in the room.

“I’m well aware of what you think of me, Y/N,” he chides, tapping his fingers against his biceps. “You may think you’re good at hiding it, but I’m very perceptive. And I also overheard that conversation with your friend— the one where you were plotting my assassination and whatnot.”

“Are you open to rebuttal?” Perhaps you should just stop talking, maybe pause the hole you were digging yourself into. Did you want to keep your job? Sure this was all off the record, but be fucking for real, it was Hyunjae you were speaking with.

He shrugs. “Shoot. Let’s hear it.”

“You’re kind of a narcissist,” you kick off strong, hitting him right where you think it may hurt. “You don’t take in the consideration of others, and you always have to be correct. If someone even slightly disagrees with you, you lose your shit. You’re condescending, you’re a perfectionist, you’re hot headed, and after the stunt you pulled today, you’ve exhibited that you’re also really fucking irrational. I’ve done so much in the time I’ve been with the company prior to you, I’ve given so much of myself for the improvement that your father was aiming for and you took all that hard work and crushed it between your fingers, just to have me running around like I’m your maid.”

Hyunjae wears an amused smirk on his lips, like he couldn’t be bothered with your grievances. Your eye practically twitches, irritation boiling up like water ready for a pasta dinner. You stab your chopsticks into a piece of sushi with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re cute when you get worked up,” he hums, carding a hand through his hair. “I almost want to keep my thoughts to myself.”

You choke on your saliva, smacking yourself on the chest to regain control of your breathing. Whatever you were expecting him to say wasn’t that. Should he even be calling you that? He was your boss. Not just that, but you sort of hated everything there was to hate about him. The tiny compliment shouldn’t make both of your heartbeats quicken.

“W-What are you talking about?”

Hyunjae stands from his chair, walking around the table to sit on the edge of the desk in the room, not much further away but enough distance to keep you calm. He rolls his neck, scratching at the nape to relieve some of the awkwardness seeping into the suite. “My father has done nothing but sing your praises since he hired you. I know how capable you are of this job, Y/N. I know that you’ve accomplished more than individuals who have been with the company even longer than you. Trust me, I know.”

“Then why do you discard me the way you do? Why do you treat me like I don’t know what I’m doing?” This time you don’t stop the emotions from creeping beneath your words, your voice cracking just slightly. If Hyunjae heard, he makes no effort to show it.

“Because, I had to keep myself as far from you as possible,” he admits, finally making eye contact. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I was fucked. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you and as your boss, I couldn’t do that. As my father’s son, I couldn’t do that. So I resorted to the next best thing, making you hate me and having you do shitty side tasks to separate myself from you. I thought, ‘If she thinks I’m the worst boss ever, she’ll want nothing to do with me’. And that’s exactly what my goal was. But now you’re here in Tokyo, alone with me in my hotel room and I’m starting to rethink that decision.”

You stare at him— mouth agape, heart in your throat. Once upon a time, you believed Lee Hyunjae was one of the brightest, smartest businessmen of your generation. It seemed that he just wanted to go and prove you wrong on that today, in multiple instances. How could someone be so fucking stupid? You were genuinely curious what went through his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” you scoff, a laugh devoid of humor sneaking in along with it as you stand from your own chair. “Actually unbelievable. What made you think that was a good idea? You made me feel like I wasn’t good enough to be in this position because you didn’t think you could keep it in your pants around me?”

And just as you’re about to leave, he wraps his fingers around your wrist to stop you. You were getting a weird sense of déjà vu. He pulls you into his chest, your body sandwiched between his legs as he holds you close to him. Your eyes are wide and your lips are parted. (Though you don’t know if it’s out of shock, sudden arousal, or both.)

In this proximity, you can see every small detail of his face. From the freckle on the bridge of his nose to the thick eyelashes framing dark eyes to the softness of his lips. You’ve never had the opportunity to properly look at Hyunjae, always too pissed off to even be within ten feet of him. But standing here— face-to-face, eye-to-eye— you’re starting to wish the object of your hatred and many complaints wasn't so handsome.

“If you push me away now, I’ll leave you alone forever,” he breathes, hands fisting the material of your pajama top, as if that would ground him. “If you tell me there’s absolutely no possibility of you wanting me back, I’ll let you go back to your room like none of this happened.”

You don’t respond. The words are right there. They’re perched on the tip of your tongue, just anticipating to climb out of your mouth and put him in his place. It’s been months of constantly feeling like you were meaningless to the company you’ve given so many sleepless nights to— months of second guessing just how much you’ve actually contributed. But with one glance down to your lips with eyes resembling the night sky, Hyunjae has managed to wipe all of that from your memory.

So instead of turning around— instead of walking through the four doors that divide your hotel rooms— you stay planted between his thighs, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling his lips onto your own.

He groans into the kiss, tightening his grip on your shirt and bringing you closer to him. You feel him against your stomach, hard and ready for you, ready for any contact you’re willing to give him. It’s so much and too little at the same time, fingers slipping beneath your top and searing your skin.

He nips at your bottom lip, as if asking for permission to permeate your mouth with his tongue. You welcome the wet muscle with gratitude, moaning when it tangles with yours. The blunt edges of his nails dig into your lower back when the sound hits his ears. You tug at the hairs on the base of his neck, one hand sliding down the front of his body to feel him up.

Through the thin silk of his pajamas you can make out the outline of his sculpted torso. If Hyunjae was more coherent and less intoxicated by your lips on his, he’d tease you for your desperation. But because he's neither of those, he, too, finds himself clawing at every bit of fabric of your clothing he can, longing to touch anything he can get his hands on. You feel drunk, and you wonder if he makes you feel like this with his lips alone, what else can he do?

The straps of your top fall off your shoulders the longer you stand there, making out like it was second nature to both of you. When you take a step back to catch your breath, lips swollen and glistening with a mixture of both yours and his saliva. Your chests are heaving up and down, foreheads resting on the other’s.

“Can I take that as a yes?” Hyunjae rasps, pushing your straps further down your arms. You whine, connecting your mouths again. This was embarrassing enough, you didn’t want to have to say the words out loud. Saying it out loud made this real, and you didn’t want to accept the fact that you were about to fuck your boss.

He chuckles against your lips, undoing the buttons of his shirt without parting from your kiss. You help him toss it somewhere in the room, your hands groping his arms and squeezing his biceps. He spins the two of you around so you’re the one with the edge of the desk on your back. His arms hook under your thighs, placing you on the surface so it’s less strain on his neck as he leans down.

You instinctively spread your legs to make room for him, throwing your head back with a drawn out sigh when he presses two fingers to your core. Even with your panties and your flimsy pajama shorts in the way, the pressure relieves some of the ache you feel in your gut. Your top slips off enough that your bare breasts are now on full display for Hyunjae. He keeps circling your clit through your clothes, mouth enveloping one of your peaked nipples and tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

“C-Can’t hold on anymore,” you whimper. “Need to cum on your cock.”

Something shifts in Hyunjae when he hears you beg. You’d always been so set in stone when it came to standing your ground, so for you to surrender yourself to him, in spite of reiterating how much you despise him, it did a number on his sanity. You have no idea what you’ve just done to him.

“No foreplay? Think you can handle it, sweetheart?” He goads, but his fingers dip into the waistband of both your underwear and your shorts to pull them down your legs anyway.

“You’re talking a whole lot for someone who’s still wearing their pants.” You bite back, but almost immediately retract your words when he rids them, revealing that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them. No fucking wonder you could feel him so much.

He’s huge, like so huge you kind of regret skipping the foreplay. But it was too late to go back now, your pride as big as his dick. One of your hands reaches to wrap around his length, your teeth finding purchase on your lip as you stroke him gently. Every pulse and every vein beneath your touch has you curling your toes in excitement. He hisses when your thumb swipes over his tip, collecting the precum that’s formed there.

Hyunjae drags you closer to the edge, prying your legs wider so he fits perfectly between them. You guide him to your entrance, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses into you. He’s not even fully sheathed inside of you, but the stretch is so fucking delicious, stinging just enough that it provides pleasure rather than pain. He pulls out to drive back in and repeats, a little deeper each time he does.

When he bottoms out, his hips snap into yours, large hands keeping your thighs apart as he begins to thrust into you. His cock is snug within your warm walls, kissing so deep inside that you start to see stars well before the coil in your abdomen has begun to wind up. The noises leaving your mouth are insane, loud and echoing throughout the hotel room. It made shame bubble up in your chest, because why couldn’t your detestation overpower the urge to crumble at his fingertips?

“Fuck you’re so tight,” Hyunjae groans, eyes concentrated on where his cock slips in and out of you. “You needed this, huh? Needed me to fuck you real good? Like a filthy slut?”

You’ve never thought you’d be into degradation. In fact, a man calling you demeaning names actually pissed you off. So you felt like you’d end up picking a fight if ever in the situation where someone tried to degrade you. However, the words falling from Hyunjae’s lips have the opposite effect on you. They have you clenching around him and mewling like a goddamn pornstar.

His pace is relentless, inching you closer and closer to your breaking point. He lays you flat on the desk, one hand gripping your hip and the other sneaking to your clit. His thumb rubs ovular motions into the engorged skin, his body folding over yours to capture your lips with his. He swallows your cries when your climax washes over you suddenly, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Hyunjae pulls out before he can follow suit, flipping you onto your stomach like you were a fucking pancake. He bends you over the edge of the desk as his thumb continues to circle your clit slowly, languidly just to ride out your high. He propels forward, his dick still so hard as it breaches your hole once again. He curses, extra sensitive after depriving himself of his own orgasm.

You push back on him, wanting to feel him even deeper. Your whole body burns beneath him, his chest slick with sweat as it presses you flat to the desk. You need him everywhere, God you want him everywhere. It’s not enough to have him buried inside of you. You need to be one with him; one body, one mind, one soul. You need him filling your senses— blinding your sight, obstructing your scent, stealing your touch, invading your taste, muting your hearing.

Okay, now let’s resume.

“Look at you, rutting against me like a fucking bitch in heat,” Hyunjae growls, lips beside your ear as he pounds into you from behind, your hair wrapped tightly around his fist. “Thought you hated me, sweetheart.”

“I— fuck— I do,” you whine, back arching off of the desk and into his chest. “I hate you s-so goddamn much.”

“Yeah? I’m sure you do. You hate me so much, yet you want me to fuck you full of my cum, don’t you? Gonna let me finish inside you?” His voice is exerted, and you can tell he’s close. But you are too, so you’re not above pleading for your sweet release. Not when it rewards you so well.

“Mhm,” you whimper, cheek smushed to the surface under you. “Please, Jae… Need it so— oh my god— need it s-o bad.”

Hyunjae hikes one of your knees onto the desk, allowing him to plunge extensively. Your clit bumps the edge, that coil in your stomach fracturing little by little until it’s busted completely and you’re a babbling, incomprehensible mess. The sight of you fucked absolutely stupid tips Hyunjae into his own spiral, painting your velvety walls with thick ropes of his cum. He lets his forehead fall on your shoulder, rocking into you with delayed groans as he spills all he has to offer you. It’s so much that even his cock plugging you up isn’t sufficient to keep it from dribbling along your thighs.

You’re both too winded to move, much less fathom what just happened. You feel him panting on your back, eyes shut as you also attempt to regain your bearings. Where the hell do you go from here?

“H-Hyunjae…” You wince when he stirs inside of you. “Can— uh— can you pull out?”

He grunts as he carefully does what you’ve asked, running a hand down his face when more of his release trickles out of you. He knew you couldn’t afford another round. Just by looking at you he can see how spent you are. What you needed was another bath and some good rest. Without skipping a beat, he reaches out to tuck some strands of your hair that were stuck to your face behind your ear, wiping away the sweat that glued itself there.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he says, grasping your hands and caressing the backs with his thumbs. “But that can wait until tomorrow. For now, just let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay.” You agree, tone no more voluminous than a whisper.

You did have a lot to discuss pertaining to tonight, but that wasn’t a priority at the moment. Who really cared that you supposedly hated your boss? All you could focus on was how gentle his fingers were as he washed your body for you, massaging your muscles so delicately you might as well have melted in the palms of his hands. And all you could pay attention to was the hushed sound of his voice as he kissed your temple and lulled you to sleep, within the comfort of his arms.

Yeah. You could revisit the whole Lee Hyunjae hatred train another day.

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