#seem like the most obvious candidates

[mikkeneko]

....now considering whether I want to write a 'Find the shapeshifters' fic for SVSSS too

[defmaybe]

That's So True

12 Days of Christmas: Day 10, January 3rd, 2025

aespa’s Uchinaga Aeri/Giselle & Yoo Jimin/Karina x Male Reader

5.3k words

Christmas Masterlist

The chatterings of the party goers fill the house, with a faint hint of Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True hanging in the air. The place reeks of cheap perfume (you added the cheap part by yourself, you really don’t know which is expensive and which is not), beer, and rum.

You’re somewhere in the house, playing a game with your friends, and your friends of friends. The bottle spins, as the players are watching it expectantly, anticipating the next candidate for truth or dare. It slows down, and the sounds of people’s breath hitching can be heard as the tip of the bottle goes near them.

(The stake here isn’t anything more than shame, really. Still, it’s a pretty huge predicament for college students.)

Finally, it stops, claiming Yoo Jimin as its victim. You watch her whine in slight disappointment, but there’s a glint, there’s a glint in her eyes that shows something more—excitement.

“Truth,” Jimin says.

You’ve always considered yourself lucky to be within Jimin’s radius, even if it’s just being a friend of a friend. There’s the obvious—her gorgeous, angelic features. You swear you can just look at her face all day without doing anything else, and that would’ve been enough for you.

Then, there’s her personality. It’s another thing you’ve always admired. She’s a leader, a goddamn 4.00 achiever, the perfect epitome of a student. She’s a debate team president, and now she’s sitting in the same circle as you, playing truth or dare, ready to be asked the most embarrassing questions.

“So,” Beomgyu begins, tapping his knees in a rhythm. He’s the faculty’s drummer, after all. “Alright, I couldn’t think of the question. My bad, guys”

The others watch Beomgyu with a slightly annoyed expression (they still love him, of course).

“Don’t start if you don’t know how to continue, man,” Jimin scoffs, turning to others for a spark to her question. “So, anyone?”

Nothing seems to run through your mind at the moment. You’re not an idea kind of person, to say. Your mind is blank.

“What is the worst–” Taehyun utters, but he seems lost on where to go next. The words hang in the air without closure “–fuck.”

“Is that fuck an exclamation, or it’s a part of the question, huh?” Jimin playfully teases him. “I mean, I can answer that if it’s the latter~”

God, she’s so charismatic.

Taehyun chuckles. “I’ll go with the second choice, then,” he says.

Jimin lets out a mischievous smirk. “Well, this is about two years ago, more or less,” she starts her story, as everyone in the circle gathers around to listen intently.

“I was fucking a guy, riding him like crazy. He was whimpering and moaning and all that stuff, you know? I thought he was perfect, being a submissive little slut like that,” Jimin says, an expression of wrath forming on her face. Fuck, she looks so hot when she’s mad. “I’m still mad at him, goddamn it.”

You only nod along with the story like the others, listening to her carefully.

“Everything was going so damn well. God, I even remember how he moaned like a bitch, ‘Nghhh~ Jimin, your pussy feels so good. Jimin, I’m your little man-whore, nghhh~’, like that,” Jimin mocks the poor man’s words while also mimicking the riding movement. You can see her breasts moving along with her motion.

This is fucking arousing. You’re starting to feel the tent inside your pants forming. Imagine being Jimin’s little man-whore like that, watching her tits jiggling while she’s on your cock. A few more shots and you could’ve been drooling all over the floor, being a laughingstock for all of your friends like that.

“That–That’s a very vivid imagery, Jimin,” Minjeong adds. The others are nodding along with her.

Jimin shrugs. “Guess I can be a bit–shameless, you know?” she says with a giggle, making the crowd smile along with her.

“Alright, back to the story. I was riding him, and he was moaning,” Jimin continues. “Everything was going fine. Then he fucking slapped my tits.”

You can see Minjeong clenching her lips, hard. She’s trying not to burst out in a huge laughter, so is Taehyun, so is Beomgyu, so are a lot of other guys in the circle.

Jimin shoots the crowd a glare, whining in frustration, “Come on, guys! He fucking slapped my tits!” Jimin then slaps her chest softly, and that breaks the group.

The crowd erupts in laughter, unable to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. Kai is already on the floor, dying from the hilarity. You can’t help but chuckle along with the guys.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!” Jimin shouts, but the laughing crowd doesn’t seem to care, still laughing. You watch as Jimin leans back, watching the scene unfold around her, annoyed.

“Hmph!”

“Alright–Alright,” Yizhuo says, still laughing. She then reaches out to her friend for the bottle. Yizhuo wiggles it in her hand slightly, before she spins the bottle again, bringing the crowd’s attention to the object. The bottle rotates. Everyone, mostly still smiling, are watching it with anticipation, ready to see who will be the next victim of the game. Gracie Abrams’ That’s So True seems to repeat itself. The DJ probably forgot to turn the repeat function off. The guitar rings around the house. The bottle continues to spin, continuously slowing down second by second.

And it stops.

At you.

Fuck.

“Since Jimin picked truth–”

“Yeah, I know,” you quickly cut Yizhuo off. “Dare me something.”

You glance around the group. The men are thinking. The women are thinking. They’re probably trying to imagine the most embarrassing thing they can do to you.

“Hmm,” Beomgyu makes a thinking sound before seemingly having an idea. “Grind on somebody’s lap for thirty seconds.”

Your eyes widen in shock, trying to comprehend Beomgyu’s words. “Grind?”

“It’s the worst I could think of without taking off your clothes,” he nonchalantly says, shrugging.

“He could’ve done it for thirty-one seconds, you know,” Soobin chimes in, and the circle erupts in laughter, as you watch the events unfold shyly.

“Ha–alright, man,” Beomgyu says, still giggling. “Who’s going to be the lucky person here?”

The laughter subsides, and the circle focuses their attention on you. You look around the crowd, all red and flustered. Fuck, what is happening?

“I–uh–”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin blurts out with a loud burp, eliciting a few giggles. “I’m already taking a lot of flak tonight, so–come grind on my lap, pretty boy.”

Your eyes widen once more, not believing the words that just came out of Jimin’s pouty lips. Is she–Is she inviting you to grind on her lap? Your mind goes haywire. Your breathing quickens. Fuck, you can’t focus.

“C’mon, you’re already a bitch either way.”

You slowly get up from the floor, all anxious. You walk towards Jimin, who’s invitingly spreading her legs wide, gesturing you towards her.

As you reach Jimin, you lower your plump ass onto her lap. Jimin’s hands creep up your waist, gripping you in your place. Your body shudders at her touch.

“Alright, someone get the stopwatch,” Taehyun says. Yizhuo would be the one to do it, setting the timer at thirty seconds.

Your ass is hovering just above Jimin’s lap, leaving a small space because you just can’t bring yourself to. Suddenly, Jimin pulls you down onto her crotch, making you yelp.

“Nghhh!”

Jimin bursts out a laugh at your submissive response. Her hold on you is firm. She’s only allowing you to move sideways. Yeah, you’re definitely not leaving her before the timer runs out.

“Ready?” Yizhuo asks.

You take a deep breath on top of Jimin before replying, “Y–Yeah.”

“Alright, go!” Yizhuo then presses the start button.

Thirty seconds left.

You move on Jimin’s crotch awkwardly. Your hands find their grips on her strong shoulders. You feel the friction between your ass and her lap heating you two up in the space between. This feels so weird, yet so weirdly comforting. You somehow feel so safe on top of her like this.

“Mmm, just like that, bitch,” says Jimin, and you can only smile shyly in response.

Twenty seconds left.

Jimin starts to thrust her hips up your ass, making you bounce softly on her, her hands still gripping onto your waist tightly. You’re trying so hard to stifle your moan from coming out and embarrassing yourself.

You feel–reduced, reduced to her little man-whore, yet you find comfort in it. Your eyes start to flutter. Your vision is filled with stars.

“C’mon, moan for me. I fucking love it when men moan,” she encourages.

Ten seconds left.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s Jimin’s charm from below you. Your moans leak out from your lips as your movement quickens. You’re feeling like a bitch right now.

“Nghh~”

“Fuck, yeah! You’re putting on some show, pretty boy!” Jimin cheers, and that only spurs you on. Her hands are tightening on your waist. Your motion becomes more and more frantic. You’re revelling in the way she’s talking you down into her bitch.

“Alright, time’s up, guys.”

Your hands find purchase in her hair, as you grind her crotch recklessly. Your whimpers are echoing through the room. Through your narrowed eyes, you see Jimin watching you like a predator, smiling wickedly, taking in the view of her nasty little slut grinding on her lap like this.

“Guys.”

Your pants are tightened from the sensations pooling below your ass. Your whimpers become loud moans. You grind on her crotch as quickly as possible, and it feels so great, being reduced to her little man-whore like this. You swear that you can just do this forev–

“Guys!”

You’re snapped out of your little trance. It takes a blink of an eye, and you see Jimin laughing under you. Around you, the guys just watch in shock (there’s nobody filming, luckily), some having their mouths hanging open, some having their eyes widened.

“Time’s up,” Yizhuo says, showing you the zeroes on her phone.

“Oh, s–sorry,” you reply, before regretfully leaving Jimin’s lap. She’s still laughing under you.

—

You chug in a cup of beer, and another, and another. You’re still trying to make sense of what just happened earlier. You just grind on top of Yoo Jimin’s lap recklessly, moaning and whimpering on top of her. 

God, you were such a bitch.

“Hey.” Suddenly, a sound comes from your back, sounds familiar. You turn back to face its owner.

It’s Aeri, right hand holding her beer cup.

“H–Hey,” you reply nervously. The image of your intimacy with Jimin is still playing in your head.

Aeri shoots a look of concern towards you. “Are you okay? You seem a bit–red,” she asks.

“I–I’m okay, just a little drunk,” you answer, trying to brush her off the fact that you were just dry humped Yoo Jimin minutes ago.

“By the way, the guys were just talking about you,” Aeri says with a giggle. Her thumb is pointing towards your friends’ group that are trying to impress the women. “You grind on Yoo Jimin’s lap?”

Fuck.

You can only stand still in your place, unable to move a limb.

Aeri laughs at your petrified reaction. “Oh my god, you’re such a slut!” She gives your shoulder a friendly slap.

“I–It was a dare, Aeri,” you say apprehensively. That’ll prove fruitless, of course. She’s already thinking you’re a slut. She’s still laughing at you for doing so.

You wouldn’t call Aeri your closest friend, even if the distance between you and her is smaller than that of you and Jimin. You two greet each other in class. You two greet each other outside of class, but that’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

Aeri is more of a carefree type than Jimin. Getting a B is already an achievement for her. She drinks twice a week, stays over at somebody else’s place once a week. Her friends would call her a slut, and she’d happily accept it.

“Are you going to grind on someone’s lap again tonight?” she asks, giggling. “Or maybe eating some ladyfingers~”

“My god, Aeri.” You slap her shoulder softly.

“Alright, see you around!” Aeri says. You wave at her, and she waves back, before she disappears into the crowd again.

Why are you even here?

—

You’re sitting alone on the bed in the house’s bedroom. There’s a Little Fish poster on the wall. The owner sure has some taste. A few vinyls are stacking on top of one another near its player.

You’re trying to comprehend what just happened earlier. You were grinding on a popular girl’s lap, then another one came in to mock you. Oh god, it’s over.

A knock on the door pulls you out of the destructive cycle you’re in, at least.

“Yes?” you utter, and the door opens.

It’s Jimin. She’s peeking through the space between the door and the wall, as if to make sure that no one else is in the room but you (well, there’s no one else here). She then quickly enters the room, closes the door, and starts walking towards you.

“Uh–okay?” you say, puzzled by how she’s acting.

“Heyy,” Jimin greets you again. She seems a bit more–drunk?

“Hi, Jimin.” You figure that you should apologize to her. You just embarrassed her and yourself like that, and her nonchalant reaction may have been a mere defense mechanism!

“Look, I’m sorry about that dare. I should’ve controlled myself better. I’m sorr–”

Your train of thoughts is derailed by her fingers invading your mouth, making your entire body shudder in surprise. Your eyes open wide at her action. Fuck, what is she doing?

“Strip, now,” Jimin orders, drunkenly, fingers playing with the insides of your wet cavern, before she pulls them out, leaving you empty.

“Wh–What?”

“I said ‘strip’, bitch boy. What the fuck is so hard about that?” Her eyes are barely open.

“B–But–”

She plunges her wet fingers into your mouth again, stifling your slutty moans and whimpers. Her hand reeks of alcohol and something that screams her.

“Slut,” Jimin drunkenly utters, before using her free hand to unbutton your shirt, slowly revealing your abdomen inch by inch. “Just–ugh–be a good boy and listen to me, alright?”

You are starting to get lost in the haze of desire, and you can say nothing but nod at her filthy words. Your hands go to your belt, hastily unlocking it from your slutty waist. Your pants come off a little too easily, now pooling on the ground. Your cock only has your boxers left to cover it.

“A slut with a big cock–” Jimin chuckles, using her free hand to stroke your cock from the outside, and you can only moan into her filthy hands “–fucking perfect.”

You’re still sucking on her fingers enthusiastically, like a common whore. Your hands can only sit still by the sides. You don’t dare to touch her body again yet after what happened out there.

“You can touch my tits, you know. You’re standing like a rock, and it’s fucking weird,” Jimin says, and that gives you the permission to her voluptuous breasts.

Your hands start softly, from merely wandering on her tits from top to bottom. You can feel the bra underneath her midriff shirt. It’s barely containing her chest. God, fuck, she’s huge.

“You fucking love my tits, don’t you?” Jimin asks, fingers still busy exploring your mouth. “Strip for me and I’ll let you suck on them.”

You then stammeringly pull your boxers down to your ankles, freeing your cock from its tight confinement. It springs free in excitement, and you just can’t wait to plunge it into Jimin’s puffy cunt.

Your shirt follows suit as Jimin finally unbuttons it completely. You quickly get rid of the restrictive garment, and now, you’re completely nude in front of Yoo Jimin.

“Great body,” she says with a giggle, finally taking her fingers off your slutty mouth. Jimin then takes your hands towards the hem of her top, pulling it upwards, revealing the black bra that’s barely able to contain her tits. They’re almost spilling from the confinement. Fuck.

“Yeah, I fucking know they’re big, slut. Just–wait a sec,” she sneers, as her hands reach towards the back of her bra, hastily unlocking it. And with that, the garment comes off. You’re greeted with the sight of her breasts hanging gorgeously in front of your face, with brown nipples topping them. Her nipples are already hard, so ready for you to–

“Mmm~ s–suck it, slut,” she groans, her body trembling before you, hinting the pleasure she gets from this. Her hands press you harsher into her tits, wanting you to take in the taste.

Jimin reeks of the earlier alcohol, with a hint of salt on her nipples. She has been sweating a bit. God, imagine if you get to taste her after a workout, her body slick, shining with sweat. The salty taste on her tits permeates your tongue. You get to taste her sweat like that. What an experience that would be?

You keep sucking on her tits like there’s no tomorrow. When you suck on one side, you’ll use a hand to knead on the other, feeling the divine softness in your hand. You’re hungry, and only Yoo Jimin’s breasts can satiate your burning hunger.

“Wh–What a bitch,” Jimin sneers, but that only drives you further into the seemingly unending lust of yours.

Suddenly, Jimin grabs onto your hair, yanking your head back to face her beautiful features. It hurts, but in Jimin’s hand, your cock only grows harder and harder.

“Alright, get on the fucking bed,” Jimin orders, and you quickly complies with it.

Jimin follows you onto the soft bed, climbing onto it while her eyes are roaming your pliant body. She’s almost drooling at the sight, seeing you all being submissive for her like this.

She quickly discards her shorts and her already-drenched panties, and you can only watch her show in awe. Her pussy looks nothing short of puffy, so mouthwatering.

She then climbs on top of your pliant body, ready to fuck you senseless on your cock. She lines herself up with your length, before slowly lowering herself down.

At the first contact, both of you groan with the intense pleasure coursing through your bodies. Her pussy feels utterly diving, so fucking tight. Your breaths come out in a stuttered rhythm. Your entire body trembles in pure bliss.

“F–Fuckkk~” you mewl. Your mind can barely register anything but the tightness of her pussy enveloping your thick cock.

“Y–You goddamn s–slut, why is your–ugh–cock so b–big?” she moans, her body shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her.

“I–It’s g–genetics,” you answer her coyly.

Jimin bursts out a laugh on top of your cock, clearly amused by your reply. “God, you’re such a bitch, aren’t you?”

You can only shyly giggle. She’s almost at the hilt now, but the pleasure is already too intense for you.

“G–God, you’re so damn tight, J–Jimin,” you utter, unable to make sense of her otherworldly grip on your cock. God, she’s so tight.

“Th–Thanks,” she replies, her voice still stern. Her hands are drawing lines on your chest with her neatly-manicured nails. The sensation is just too much—on your abdomen, on your cock, on your mind.

Finally, she’s at the hilt. She screams in pure ecstasy. You’re splitting her open with your cock. Both of your eyes are fluttering in bliss. This feels so good.

“Oh f–fuck, you’re so–so big!” Jimin shouts. You watch as her hands are shaking on top of you, unable to handle the sheer size of you.

You say nothing, instead creeping your hands up her pillowy breasts, adding another hue of sensation to her. You start to play with her nipples, making her body spasming on top of you.

“G–Goddd~” she mewls.

Jimin then moves back up. Your cock reappears from the base once more. The feeling around your cock is ecstatic—her inner walls grazing your cock like this. It’s insane.

“Nghhh~” you moan, trying to comprehend the feeling.

“I–I’m going down now, s–slut,” she says, before ramming back down. The sound of flesh slapping into each other echoes through the room.

“Fuck!” Both of you scream in unison, involuntarily.

She moves up again, then down, then up, then she finds her rhythm on your cock. Her pussy feels unreal. She’s gripping you like a vice, so tight, so right. Without knowing, you’re plowing into her pussy with reckless abandon.

You pound her roughly with any force you have, aiming to fill her womb with your salty nectar. The sounds of moaning and flesh slapping rings through the room. The room reeks of sex. Your hands creep up onto her big breasts again. They feel so soft in your hands, and you decide to give them a firm squeeze, making Jimin’s body writhe above you.

“G–God, y–your hands, s–so good,” she says, voice barely above a goddamn whisper. Her back arches. Her eyes are fluttering. She’s falling apart.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your trance. Your motion comes to a halt in surprise.

“Heyyy, I know you guys are in there~”

Fuck, it’s Aeri.

Jimin quickly covers your mouth with her drool-stained hand, not wanting you to alert Aeri of your presence. She’s still grinding your cock recklessly, and you’re doing your best not to moan like a slut (even if you already are).

“I–It’s–ah–just Jimin here, A–Aeri,” Jimin says, trying to hide the fact that she’s using you as her fucktoy. Though the evident stutter in her voice gives way.

“C’mon, Jimin, don’t hog him just for yourself. I wanna use him too! Pleaseeee~” Aeri pleads. You can feel the desperation coming from the outside.

“Ugh, this fucking woman,” Jimin scoffs, hips moving on top of you in a hypnotic motion. Her breasts are jiggling as she moves. “Just–don’t forget to lock the door!”

You hear a happy giggle from the outside. The door opens, and here comes Aeri, still in the same clothes as the time she called you a slut earlier in the night. Though she’s already in the process of hiking up her crop top up. Her bra is slightly visible.

“Wow, Jimin, he’s already inside you? Naughty, naughty girl!” says Aeri as she closes the door. A loud click is heard.

“Tsk, says the college’s slut,” Jimin scoffs, before she goes back to riding the soul out of your pliant body.

“God forbid a woman be a little slutty, I guess,” Aeri sneers before taking off her crop top.

Aeri’s cup size, though not as large as Jimin’s, is still pretty damn impressive if you’d weigh in on this topic in the men’s circle. Her bust is also barely contained by her lacy bra, can’t see why someone wouldn’t be caught within her presence.

Your eyes are glued to the barely contained breasts of Aeri’s, despite being buried deep in Jimin’s cunt. Aeri sways her hips playfully, pulling you into another trance. It doesn’t stay for long though. Jimin calls you back into action with a flick on your taut nipple.

“Hey! Don’t–mmm!”

Jimin plunges her fingers into your mouth for the umpteenth time, it still works, of course. You’re still sucking her slender fingers like a whore (you’re a whore, her whore). Your hands roam over her body to have a grab on her large bust hanging gorgeously above your face.

“Fucking wh–whore,” Jimin sneers, unimpressed by your antics, although drowning in the pleasure of being touched by you. She seems to really want you as hers, doesn’t she?

“Ngmm~” you can only whimper out.

“Oh, come on, Jimin. Don’t be so harsh on him!” Aeri protects you, as she slowly takes off her bra, waiting to use your body in some way. “Don’t want him to cum so fast. You know how much of a slut he is, right, baby?”

You nod sheepishly with Jimin’s fingers still inside your mouth. Degradation only makes you cum faster, and you wouldn’t want to piss Jimin and Aeri off by cumming before them.

As Aeri’s bra comes off, you’re greeted with her perfect breasts. Her dusky nipples are already hard, ready to be sucked and nibbled. You’re so ready for the second pair of tits for tonight.

“Oh, c’mon, Aeri. You’re distracting him!” Jimin whines, her hands are trying to divert your attention back to her bouncing on your cock. It works, sometimes. You can see Aeri giggling in the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, alright, how about–” Aeri takes off her shorts and panties in a single swoop, putting her mouthwatering cunt on display for you “–I sit on his face.”

God, she looks so delicious naked like this.

Back to her latest words first, though. Did she just say she’s going to sit on your face?

“Seems fair,” Jimin replies, gesturing Aeri to your vacant, unused face.

“Wait, I can’t–”

“You can, slut,” Jimin commands. Her voice is stern. Her pace on your length remains reckless, trying to coax the cum out of your full balls. “Don’t think you have any say in this, bitch. Tonight’s my–no–our night.”

You only whimper in response. You’re going to get double-teamed by Jimin and Aeri, and you couldn’t be happier than this.

Aeri then climbs onto the bed, approaching you like a predator eyeing its prey. She puts her legs on both of your sides, caging your head with her meaty thighs. Her pussy is just right above you. And slowly, she lowers herself onto your face, ready to suffocate you with her cunt.

“Oh god,” you utter, so lost in the throes of pleasure Aeri is about to give you.

She lowers just one of her knees close to your head. You’ve seen a video on this before. It’ll help the woman to not get tired too quickly. Her pussy is so close to your face now, and you can do nothing but stick your tongue out, ready to eat her out.

“Oh, and,” Aeri says, halting her motion slightly, making you groan in disappointment. “Do you want to kiss me, Jimin?”

“Ah, not my thing. Sorry,” Jimin replies with a polite smile, keeping her movements erratic on your cock. God, this feels so good.

“It’s fine,” Aeri says, before completely sinking herself onto your face, making you take in her taste.

“Fuckkk~” Aeri screams. Her body is shaking in the pleasure you’re giving her. Her hands grip onto the sides of your head tightly. She doesn’t want to let you go.

It’s not hyperbolic to say that Aeri’s taste is insane. You’re completely hypnotized by her flavor on your tongue. She has the perfect amount of saltiness, and the perfect amount of musk. Aeri’s pussy is driving you haywire, even if it’s in a different way that Jimin is making you feel.

“So–perfect for–a facefuck, god!” Aeri shouts, starting to ride your face like it’s hers (it’s hers).

The sensation is unreal. Jimin is trying to pump cum out of your cock with her grinding motion as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy), while Aeri is riding the shit out of your face as if you’re her fucktoy (you’re her fucktoy). The scent of her pussy is filling your nostrils, and you can’t help but grab onto both women’s breasts.

“Goddd~” Aeri groans, body shaking on top of you. Jimin says nothing but letting you play with her tits, though a few whimpers are leaking out of her lips.

Aeri’s juice tastes so damn good, and you’re happily lapping her up hungrily. Her juice is running down your chin to your neck, creating a filthy trail on your pretty face. You’re revelling in her taste. You’re revelling in the way you’re pleasing her. You’re revelling in the way she fucking keens on top of you.

“S–So, you’re not all just a pretty face, huh?” Aeri asks, her taut body trembling on you. She keeps riding your face frantically. God, she really is going for it.

You answer with an even more intense movement of your tongue, making Aeri scream on top of you. She grinds on your face even faster and faster.

Inevitably, you’re going to reach the precipice. You can feel the heat pooling in your crotch. You’re going to cum inside Yoo Jimin’s pussy!

“Nghh~ g–gonna cum,” you say. It’s barely coming out with Aeri’s cunt on your mouth like this. 

You hear Aeri giggle softly above you, body trembling in pleasure. “Well, this is rather fast, isn’t it?”

“You’re late, Aeri,” Jimin says, slightly dissatisfied with Aeri’s complaints. “Maybe you can come here instead of whoring out while he’s balls deep inside of me.”

Aeri giggles again. “Fineee~ just let me know when you guys are fucking.”

“G–Girls, gonna c–cum–nghn.”

Both Jimin and Aeri quicken their pace on top of you, chasing their own orgasm. They really want to cum with you, don’t they?

“A–Alright, I’m c–close–ah,” Jimin utters. You can hear her frantic breathing from below. Her grip on your waist becomes tighter. Your left hand alternates between her breasts, giving them the treatment they deserve.

“M–Me too,” Aeri says. Her muscles tense up under your touch. Her brown nipples are harder than ever. The three of you are going to cum at the same time!

“Nghh, I–I’m so c–close, girls. C–Can I cum inside you, J–Jimin?” you ask. The feeling is irresistible now. You’re so, so close.

“F–Fucking fill my–my womb, bitch,” Jimin scoffs, her voice stern. “Breed me like–like the whore you are.”

Her words spur you on, as you thrust up into Jimin’s cunt as fast as humanly possible. Your mouth ravages Aeri’s folds recklessly.

Jimin would be the first to break. Her cunt gushes out clear liquid onto the bed. Her body spasms on top of you. You can feel her wetness pooling on your stomach. Aeri follows suit. Her squirt leaks out of her pussy onto your face as you happily drink it. Both of them scream, forming a cacophony that fills the room. 

“Yes! Yes! Fucking–Fucking love this cock.” Jimin shouts. You aren’t so sure who’s going to hear that, but you don’t care. You’re about to cum inside of her.

“G–God, I’m painting your face so good!” Aeri says.

You let go. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of cum into Jimin’s womb. You’re breeding Yoo Jimin with your cock. Your entire body writhes under both women’s bodies. 

“I can feel it twitch inside me!” Jimin says excitedly, softly raking your body with her nails.

Your eyes flutter in ecstasy, unable to make sense of the sensations on your body. There’s the feeling of Jimin’s ass on your cock. There’s the feeling of Aeri’s thighs on your face. There’s the scent of sex and sweat filling the room. That’s So True can still be heard. It just won’t stop, will it?

Finally, you come down from your precipice. You’re panting along with the women, trying to catch your breath in this post-orgasm bliss. Fuck, that felt good.

“Slut,” Jimin sneers, getting off from your cock at the same time as Aeri unlatches herself from your face. “Bathroom, now.”

You quickly comply with her order, getting off from the bed and walking towards the bathroom. You feel so submissive, so pliant, yet it feels so right, being their little bitch boy like this.

“One more round?” Aeri jokes, giving your ass a slap, making you yelp.

“Oh, definitely,” Jimin says, determined in her voice.

“M–Maybe, I gotta take a break.”

—

[bogor-o]

OKAY so first off my narilamb au is specific to my lamb n nari bc 🤪 but imma start off w/ an incomprehensible copy/paste of a ramble i had

all these ramblings are still rough but u kno!!!!

it's a bridgerton au specific 2 my narilamb(ovidia/narinder) where the bishops would be the closest to the bridgerton family equivalent and Shamura being the head of family trying to help their siblings find courtship so they will be set but narinder would be the most difficult of them all because hes stubborn and convinced that being married would make him miserable and every season hes had several interested suitors but hes rejected them all until he comes across ovidia, now considered a spinster after several unsuccessful seasons because all their previous suitors found them too high maintenance and itd be no different with narinder but itd be similar to bridgertons kate/anthony situation and they're so into eachother it makes them look fucking stupid!!!!

ALRIGHT now to get more into it, as far as family and dynamics go, obviously with Shamura being the head of the family they very meticulously keep things in order and its why their considered one of the most affluent families and they've very easily found partnership because it was probably more business than anything but it works for them, and when time came for kallamar to start looking it was smooth because of how enthused he was, and it was really obvious with him how many wanted in

the way i see it, nothing is strictly monogamous, but it's seen as "lower class" to have too many spouses because the merging of so many families is probably seen as greedy, desperate, something something for one reason or another-- that said, kallamar definitely has multiples, and if not for being such a prestigious family and shamuras own reputation, it couldve been worse so they got a freebie there

but with narinder, having seen the way his brother is with his spouses vs the way shamura is with theirs, hes seen an instance of a loveless business deal in one, and complete obsession to the point of disregarding everything else that hes so fucking disinterested in courtships especially in the way its been presented to him

hed be able to hold off shamura long enough to get away with putting off courting anyone, a lot of it having to be about "focusing on his studies and career" and while hes had PLENTY of potential suitors come knocking but he's always turned them away but when time comes for heket to debut its when the pressure is really on for narinder

THEN on the flipside there ovidia who has been insistent on taking on every role in their family, the head of which is the oldest matriarch who has yet to decide on who the next head will be and they have TRIED to court people but every potential suitor has just not lived up to the impossible standards theyve set but even WHEN theyre about to settle- something goes wrong and the courtship sinks and its always on the others terms

their family is large, but theyre only wealthy in the sense that such a large family that sticks together can hardly fail when everyone does their part. that alone make their name well known even if its unconventional

its at the start of the latest season that they try again where they first meet narinder and while everything almost seems perfect, the chemistry is almost instant but then they get a little too candid and ovidia talks too much about their situation and it triggers the part of narinders brain that fears becoming like shamuras marriage and a scathing remark both stuns and pisses off ovidia

one second everything is amazing, they seem to be on the same wave length, strong goals the other respects, even finding an initial attraction in the other but then he opens his mouth and theyve had it

they blow up at him and suddenly everything he does pisses them off and they'll start nitpicking everything about him and be right and their observations piss him off and then he starts going off on them along the lines of "i can see now why each season passes you by" to which ovidia is ready with a "as though your own haven't? one is left wonder if studying is why you've put off finding a spouse, or if that mouth of yours is to blame"

it self destructs right then and there and while they have no intention to cross paths again, of course they do

and it becomes some kind of pissing contest to find a spouse before the other does just to prove a point to the other than they CAN in fact find one and they both end up sabotaging each other unintentionally bc theyre still so into each other and in the short time they've gotten to know the other and even through the bickering it becomes apparent theyve put effort to remember things

its stupid, its messy, its what it is and im still thinking about it more.............

[pixii33]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺?

You were out of breath, heart pounding from the sprint you had just made across town, dodging pedestrians and traffic like your life depended on it. In many ways, it did.

You were late.

Of course, you were.

Balancing high school and your part-time job had already stretched you thin, and now you were trying to squeeze in an interview for a babysitting gig with one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the city. If you could land this job, it could make a huge difference in your life, maybe even help with the tuition you could barely afford.

But as you stood there in your slightly wrinkled school uniform, hair mussed from running, you couldn’t help but feel entirely out of place. Surely, the other candidates—who had likely arrived on time, impeccably dressed—had already made a much better impression than you ever could.

You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Before you could even process the sound of your knuckles against the wood, the door swung open to reveal a scene you hadn’t anticipated.

Inside, the vast living room was in utter chaos. The elegant furniture was scattered with toys, and the air was filled with the high-pitched wails of a very upset child. A child was in the middle of the room, throwing a toy dragon at a group of nervous-looking women.

“NO! NO! NO! UGLY! UGLY!” he screamed, his tiny face scrunched up in a mix of anger and tears. His mother, stood nearby, looking harried as she tried to calm him down, but nothing seemed to work.

The women—the other candidates, no doubt—were doing their best to placate the child, offering forced smiles and cooing words, but it only seemed to enrage him further.

You froze in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Every instinct told you to back away slowly and leave this mess behind, but you were already here, and this was your last chance. So, swallowing your nerves, you stepped into the room.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the world had stopped. The moment the word left your lips, Aegon’s crying halted abruptly, his tear-filled eyes snapping to you. His mouth fell open in a perfect little ‘o,’ and for a second, you were terrified that you had somehow made things worse.

But then, to your astonishment, his expression softened, a toothy grin spreading across his chubby face. Aegon dropped the toy he had been ready to launch, pushing past the other candidates as if they were invisible, and toddled over to you with an excited gleam in his eyes.

“Pretty,” he declared with the certainty only a toddler could muster. You felt your face heat up as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you.

Before you could react, Aegon wrapped his small arms around your leg, clinging to you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “Up! Up!” he demanded, his tiny hands making grabby motions toward you.

You stood there, frozen in shock. This was not going at all how you had imagined. The other women looked on in disbelief, some with obvious annoyance, as Aegon’s demands grew more urgent.

“Up! Up!” he repeated, his voice wobbling as tears began to well up in his eyes once more.

Panicking, you quickly bent down and scooped him up into your arms, praying you were doing the right thing. The moment you did, Aegon’s tears dried up, and he burst into a fit of giggles, snuggling into your neck as if he had known you his entire life.

“Mine,” he announced to the room, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You could feel his breath tickling your skin, his little body warm and soft in your arms. He nuzzled closer, sighing contentedly, while you stood there, stiff as a board, unsure of how to process what had just happened.

Alicent stepped forward, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and… was that relief? She looked between you and Aegon, a soft smile curving her lips as she took in the sight of her son, who had moments ago been a terror, now transformed into a content little angel.

“Well,” she said, her voice laced with amusement, “it seems Aegon has made his choice.”

You blinked at her, still holding the toddler close. “Wait… you mean…?”

Alicent nodded. “The position is yours if you want it. I’ve never seen him take to someone so quickly.”

You looked down at Aegon, who was gazing up at you with wide, adoring eyes, and felt a flutter of something warm and unfamiliar in your chest. It wasn’t just relief—it was something more. Something that told you this job was going to be more than just a way to make ends meet.

You smiled awkwardly, still trying to wrap your head around it all. “I guess I’m your new babysitter then.”

Aegon beamed at you, his little arms tightening around your neck as he whispered, “Mine.”

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Imaginary

G/N. Some fluff cos I miss him too. Masterlists

Everyone has heard about you in Workers.

At first, they had thought it was just the delusional ramblings of their executive, Ryuhei Kuroda.

Finally driven mad after Mitsuki's absence and making up tall tales about a mysterious new person to take the edge off the heartache.

You're the cutest, the prettiest, the smartest he would gush to anyone within earshot. You had a smile that could light up the darkest corner and a warmth that could thaw the coldest person.

Supposedly.

Kenta has had the misfortune to hear all about this. And Mandeok. And Yuseong. And Eugene.

Your name has been crowbarred into conversations that really have nothing to do with you. Into meetings and conferences and awkward journeys in the car that no matter how many times Ryuhei is asked to shut up, he will still find a way to bring you up.

Most of it should have been easy to ignore. His friends and colleagues figured these made up stories would soon fade away.

Then the delusion worsened.

Ryuhei's phone wallpaper was changed to a picture of the two of you. The sun's glare was a bit too full to make out all your features, filter a bit too strong, and well-

It all seemed a bit too fake. Whether with the power of Photoshop or AI was anyone's guess.

The lower level workers nodded and smiled politely whenever Ryuhei showed them that picture of you. All the senior team just ignored him.

And it was sorta easy to ignore. Except the number of pictures grew and grew.

Until it becomes obvious that you are real or Ryuhei is spending a psychotic amount of time creating fake couple pics. The evidence that you are not the result of his imagination working overtime is beginning to look pretty indisputable, yet no-one truly, one hundred percent, ruled out the latter.

"Very good," Eugene comments, not even looking and pushing Ryuhei's phone away when it is thrust in his face.

Ryuhei beams. "Thanks!"

.

.

The truth startles everyone one evening.

As the Workers employees finish for their day, making their way out of the building and starting their commute home, they spot you waiting in the reception area.

How could they not recognise you? Ryuhei has been showing your face around constantly.

You... You are so much sweeter than Ryuhei is used to. None of the edge or malice that Mitsuki had. One look at you and it's obvious.

No air of manipulation or wrong-doing. Definitely not a likely candidate to drug a man and erase his memories.

Someone normal, without the baggage that comes with their sort of lifestyle.

And maybe with you and Ryuhei, opposites attract.

Eugene's eyes flicker towards you as he walks past. Mandeok, flanking his left, manages to control his jaw from dropping and Yuseong, on the right, shrugs.

Kenta arrives a couple minutes later and double takes. Confusion clouds his features. He stares for a beat too long to be considered polite then also leaves.

You don't notice Kenta or any of the odd looks diverted your way. Your eyes are glued to your phone, soft smile on your face as a series of texts and selfies from Ryuhei come through:

😣😭

Soooorry 😭😭

Just finishing work

*Photo of Ryuhei on the verge of tears in an empty office and a laptop glares behind him*

I hate that you have to wait for me

I hate not seeing you

I hate Eugene

I'll kill him 🤬

Stupid bastard

You're the best

🥰🥰

Thank you for waiting for me ❤️❤️

*Photo of Ryuhei giving you fingers heart and a kissy face*

You text back, short and sweet:

I'll always wait for you

Not even five minutes later, a blur of blonde hair and muscles falls into your lap and wraps you tightly in his arms.

"Fuck work," Ryuhei snarls before turning to you with a toothy grin.

All previous venom is already forgotten as he smothers your face with kisses.

[roxistic]

The Amazing Digital Circus Episode 3 Analysis and Theory (MAJOR SPOILER WARNING!)

Am I the only one who felt like this line was a little out place in the context of what Kinger was saying before?

Until I realized something.

It implies something specific. And it's foreshadowing.

What it implies:

People abstract when they feel not wanted or not loved. Queenie didn't feel wanted or loved (we don't have enough information to know why).

Kaufmo didn't feel wanted or loved and we have enough information to give us an idea as to why (people stopped laughing at his jokes; he was convinced there was an exit and nobody supported him in this idea/gave up on him/couldn’t help him in his obsession).

We're given a red herring to divert our attention. Pomni thinks Ragatha is feeling unwanted, unloved, or unappreciated by her because Pomni has ignored or been cold to Ragatha’s efforts to support her. So she turns to Ragatha and thanks her. It is important, but it distracts from who this was really alluding to.

It's Jax.

Everytime somebody shows another person that they care, he looks upset.

When Pomni shows care for Gummigoo by trying to take her with him after his reality has been shattered.

When he asks Pomni how “being stuck with the nutcase (Kinger) was” and Pomni says it "wasn't that bad, actually."

And most infamously, the face he makes for a fraction of a second before Kaufmo’s funeral.

He knows nobody likes him. He knows he isn't wanted. Gooseworx herself said that nobody likes him (which you can find on her Tumblr blog as I have hit the image limit on this post.)

Even without that statement, it’s obvious in the show. And following the logic presented here, it’s likely he will be the one to abstract. If not fully abstract, then something drastic will happen with him and he might come dangerously close to it or he may partially abstract similarly to how Pomni did in her dream sequence at the beginning of episode 2.

It would be up to the others to catch him before it’s too late and talk him down from it… somehow. Despite everything he’s done. Despite being a jerk and a bully at every opportunity.

Gooseworx said it would be somebody we wouldn’t expect. Jax seems to be the only person consistently having fun on Caine’s adventures by trying to cause as much chaos as possible, so we wouldn’t have expected him to just give up. But because of what we’ve seen and Gooseworx herself saying nobody likes him, I’m betting on him being the most likely and vulnerable candidate for abstraction.

Unless this too is a red herring and Goose is playing 5D chess with us. But that’s just a theory.

[mielzu]

warnings. cheating (w zayne dw), not proofread im going insane thank you, all over the place this is pure word vomit

Nothing could have prepared Zayne for what he was about to see the moment you stepped in his office for a checkup. Weekly, perhaps it stretched on more than it should have — made a few exceptions and adjusted schedules knowing it was you who was occupying his time.

Then you brought him, Carter. Carter. From Xander Sciences. The one who gave you flowers to get close. The one he supposed to keep at bay— held your waist and kissed your cheek.

Was it enough to feel rage in his heart? Fair to judge and scold you for dating Carter? Who, God knows what he and his team are doing with those experiments and prolonging patients with a faulty heart like yours.

And it seems you too, were promised a cure for your heart. What Zayne could offer ten times over. Give up his life. His heart. Take his heart, oh please. Why give yours to another who isn't him?

Terror as it was, an added nightmare to numerous, neverending ones he usually experienced, was perhaps a wake up call to him. An eye opening as one say. Zayne is always up for a challenge, was this even one if he had already lost you? What of those moments stolen in the dark? In his own office. Zayne holds you more so dear than Carter does and time serves as it's reminder and proof of why he is so much a better candidate than Carter does. But then again.

What's a battle you've already lost? Does it hold such purpose when he knows in his heart he could never have you now that one knocked and opened yours. He doesn't hope it's locked. He prefer to believe it's still open. Ready for someone —Zayne, to properly close it and claim as his. Whatever... that could ever mean.

Time flies and Zayne was nothing but supportive. Gave you his regards after apologizing for implying that Carter is a person who cannot be trusted, someone who's face should be gone and beaten to pulp, frozen and thrown to break in pieces and never be meld in again. You forgave and forget. After all, Zayne is a long time friend, he knows what's best for you and sharing his opinion on the man you're dating is normal.

That's what you tell yourself.

Your weekly checkups became way earlier than expected and doubled in days when you're having certain problems with how you breathe or when it aches after such missions that left you calling on him for help instead of your boyfriend you can't even text a simple 'hi' these days. Zayne arrives fast and efficient. Tending to you the best he could, presents you with sweets and goods to take home. Even patting your head down to your ears sometimes, like an owner to its cat. Affection, was it. But that was just Zayne.

Nothing unusual.

As time goes by, Zayne can confirm you see him more than this boyfriend of yours. He doesn't say anything of the topic, only occasionally asking what Carter is doing, what is he up to? Does he love you—No. Of course, he won't ask that no matter how he's aching to do so.

Zayne was only being a friend. Lunch dates, dinner dates, checkups that lasts more than it was intended to, the way he touches your face, caressing the apple of your cheek so pretty he couldn't stop until you point it out. Those eyes of his pleading in silence that you became visibly confused because Carter wants to have a date with you but what about Zayne?

“You haven't finished your meal, I'm sure he can wait a few more minutes.” He's right, right? Carter can wait and he will, Zayne makes sure of that. Every. Time.

Every time Zayne tells you to stay you do.Carter's calling for a meet up near your house? Oh, you're shopping with Zayne for groceries! Another date because he missed the other due to work? Oh, Zayne has you occupied with the topic of the movie you're watching, letting you get it out of your chest why you think this character uses his girlfriend to get what he wanted. It's so... so obvious. You're upset at your boyfriend.

Most of the time Carter is working and missing in action, calling you after a day or hours to keep you hanging, kept you hoping.

All the while Zayne is delighted of this discovery he found. See, Zayne always makes time for you. Never once he left you hanging except for those he purposely led you astray because he didn't want to worry but you still do. You're adorable and he felt bad. His emotions were consuming him.

You were particularly disheartened about Carter once more as one does when a boyfriend promised a date for the third time and canceled last minute. Made you wait for hours on end only to call a friend, in this case, Zayne and expressed how you felt. You didn't cry, nor were you surprised, simply dissapointed your own boyfriend can't make time for you for one day you thought he's off work.

You weren't thinking much. Zayne is the closest friend you've ever had since childhood and now you're both adults and still supporting each other through thick and thin — it was so easy to give in.

Perhaps because you were vulnerable you let him comfort you in ways he does sometimes but it was different this time. His thumb brushing along your cheek, a soft snicker on his lips as he tells you to expect such negligence from a man like him. Carter is notorious for his work in Xander Sciences and Zayne had seen him work before. No man like him would give you the time in the world and stop his constant operations in sacrifice for a few moments with the woman he asked to be his.

“Why don't you focus up here,” Zayne breaks your train of thought, gently poking at your forehead with a soft smile. His finger draws on your skin so gentle it made you giggle, until he was cupping your face, giving you a look which could only translated as - “I'm here, am I not?”

A total mistake it was. But it kept happening. Again. And. Again.

Zayne asks you to stay and you do. Zayne asks to massage your shoulders and you said yes. Knowing what you two would be doing, you always comply to his demand.

A moment you're watching a movie and the next he's between your legs, groaning at your taste while your eyes roll back, fingers tugging at his locks all while the phone Zayne had thrown somewhere in the room vibrates alone with the sender 'Carter' calling.

Then to a party, to your place. At his office desk, you're beneath, now your turn to be between his legs. Face flushed with embarrassment and arousal, lips stretched with the thickness of his cock, cheeks hollowed, “So pretty, keep doing that,” and you do, swirling your tongue around his length before he guides your head to take him deeper before holding you to stay there for moments too long, nearly restricted of air before he pulls out with a hiss. His cock glistening of your saliva coating him through, a string connecting your tongue to his cock, raging and twitched at the sight of you.

Zayne can't help but chuckle low and deep as you part your lips again without his command, pushing his tip past your lips and watched in quiet awe how well you take him in, how you looked too damn good not to cant his hips just a little to make you whine around him, feel your warmth spreading once more before he's in deep your throat again. “There you go...” he leans on his chair a little more, eyes closed while his hands grasp your head firm and pushed forward, your nose squished as Zayne finally reached his peak and you drank it all. No waste.

And another event had graced you an invitation. Carter was late. Zayne noticed you were chewing on your lips, looking around, staring at every possible corner of the room, even the stage to see if your beloved boyfriend was there but to no avail.

Zayne, the caring friend that he is, reassurances you that he might come. might.

And if he didn't, maybe it's a sign.

“Dance with me,” he whispers to your ear, leading you towards the dance floor and ignoring your muttering of that wretched man. Zayne wanted to dance with you, that's what he's going to do. “It won't hurt to forget about him for a moment,” maybe he was right, with how much you were with Zayne this should be with no issue.

Who knew you'd end up losing yourself in his sheets. You weren't even drunk. Zayne was being clingy, wouldn't let you go until he was sure you were coming home with him because of some excuse you've already forgotten this moment. Hi body was hot and so was yours. Zayne says the liquor was at fault in this, it wasn't yours.

“I'm drunk, help me?” so you help him, in his bed, shirtless with eyes yearning for you. triggering the feeling you kept hidden for so long. He's making excuses and you're letting him.

Zayne grasps your hips onto his, you hide your face by nuzzling against his cheek. Tightly closing your eyes and thinking of how he feels inside you while Zayne gently utters praises and reassurance, poisoning your mind that this wasn't your fault.

“I got careless, we ended up drinking, don't we? I'm all the way in, has he reached this far inside you?” he grunts and groans directly in your ears, your moans echoing in his.

You never had a drink, and you're a hundred percent sure Zayne did not dare take one either. This was a nonsense, surely, not an excuse but you liked the way Zayne held you close with those sharp eyes of his you got lost in. The guilt fading away as the night progresses.

That morning you left his place faster than you ever could. going back to Carter to have a lunch date.

Zayne was disheartened but he knew you'd come back.

You wanted out immediately, telling yourself it will never happen again.

But it did. every time you say “This is the last time.” Zayne would agree with you, hold you again, and again, and again. Until the cycle repeats.

Zayne was getting more impatient each time you'd leave immediately so the moment you're by his door, looking down at your feet before gazing up to him— Zayne did everything to etch himself onto your skin, inside and out. He started to leave you sore and unable to walk for days turned weeks, literally. You'd call in sick, he would send health certificates to your team so he could have you again.In those days you were with him Carter was none the wiser.

Flowers would be at your desk, your home, takeouts when you forget to eat, lunch and dinner dates like before. Kissing by an isolated corner, heated touches during checkups even if there's nothing wrong with your heart—maybe there is, it wasn't his. But he knows he's getting close.It came to such a point where you'd be begging him to stop this. Zayne will agree, towering over you, slender fingers that has memorized your sweet spots already caressing your chin as he leans in.

“This will be the last time? we're over?” Zayne kisses your lips briefly, lifting your chin when you nodded at him.

“Carter— he's... he's getting suspicious,”

“He's not. I promise, I'll do something about it.” There he goes again, the same solution and miraculously it works. you don't know how and you don't want to ask.

“Last time.” he smiles, humming before his lips brushes against yours again. “Try not to end up on my bed again, miss hunter.”

[morlock-holmes]

Still thinking about that Astral Codex Ten AI Art Turing test...

I mean... Obviously the one on the right is the human one. Is this some kind of prank? Am I on candid camera?

My suspicion is that what this test demonstrates most conclusively is that we are so thoroughly bombarded with images that we have developed the defensive measure of paying as little attention to them as possible.

We get the gist and then move on as quickly as possible.

Here's someone who did much better than I did on this test explaining their results.

This demonstrates fairly conclusively that nearly all the AI images Alexander chose do in fact, have "tells" which are extremely plain when you attend closely to the details.

In fact, I managed to get 2 out of every 3 correct even with an incredibly lazy and fast-paced assessment carried out on my phone without much recourse to fine detail.

There are two trends I noticed in the comments of the results post.

First, a significant number of ACX posters harbor a suspicion and resentment towards art and good taste, which leads them to suspect that all artistic judgement is essentially arbitrary and based on clout. They don't notice the difference, so there must not be a difference.

Second, a number of people who are clearly AI skeptics gave ground and accepted the idea that the AI images were lacking in "tells" and were especially good, and instead attempted to attack the test on the grounds that this kind of curation was itself unfair.

Both responses indicate, to me, both a fascination with images and a kind of, for lack of a better word, illiteracy about them.

And perhaps most interestingly this illiteracy doesn't seem to obviously vary between pro and anti-AI readers.

To go back to the side by side landscapes up there, the landscape on the left probably has the fewest obvious "tells" of AI art, maybe of all the AI images.

It's also just, you know, a much worse piece of art than the one on the right?

To go back to what I said in an earlier post, the painting on the right draws the eye down the hill. The two figures on the path are expertly set off so that even though they are barely suggested with just a couple of brush strokes, they immediately stand out and draw the eye, causing you to follow the same path they are taking down into the village.

Contrast the image on the left. Which part of the painting is your eye drawn to first? It could really by almost anywhere. No part of the picture is more important than any other, there's very little contrast between, say, the village on the right and the wildflowers on the left. What detail there is is largely because, well, otherwise there wouldn't be a painting.

If you asked 100 art critics which of those paintings was by a renowned master and which one you found hanging in a dentist's office I think all 100 would give you the same answer.

Or take this one:

If you really, really zoom in on the hand on our right, the anatomy is probably wonky, but I didn't notice that, I just thought,

"Okay, but, like, what is this angel, like... Doing?"

This figure, painted in this style, is rife with symbolism. Most likely an angel, or at the very least Icarus, it ought to be extremely clear what sort of emotional/cultural/allegorical/etc. meaning is being communicated, but it is just sort of... looking off yearningly towards nothing.

Culturally, it's just not something that a human would paint as a finished piece.

Actually in general AI seems to tend to either not have a clear focal point, or to have one extremely obvious subject placed right smack dab in the center of the frame.

One of the subtle visual gags in Monty Python and The Holy Grail is that the peasants are often doing things that look, on very cursory examination, as though they are some kind of agricultural activity, but actually they are just hitting random patches of ground with a stick or sitting on the ground and moving mud into a big pile.

And same with this Angel; it looks, at casual glance, to be doing "Angel type stuff" and if you just keep moving you leave with the impression that everything was fine.

But if you stop yourself, go back, and ask, "Wait, specifically what is it doing?" you really can't come up with anything more specific than, "Angel type stuff".

This sort of vagueness is also a tell of AI art.

If what I'm saying sounds a bit frustrated or mean-spirited I think it's because looking at this test has solidified something that I haven't really been able to articulate before, which sort of sums up to the vast majority of talk about AI, regardless of what the conclusion is, evidences a strong emotional investment in images paradoxically combined with a sort of estrangement from them and often even a strong resentment towards them.

Both pro and anti-AI imagery camps contain a tremendous number of people who feel imagery as a kind of imposition, with AI as either an emancipatory force aimed at a tyrannical art world bent on crushing us with arbitrary, incomprehensible images or, on the other hand, as a tyrannical force set to flood us helplessly with a set of incomprehensible images almost entirely against our will.

[i314flix]

the one where jake seresin likes to call it ‘welfare checks’ whenever he’s checking how you are—but let’s be real, everyone knows that it’s only an excuse he uses because he can’t seem to erase the uneasiness he feels whenever he knows you’re not fine.

pairing: jake seresin x fem!reader

word count: 5.8k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, enemies to lovers au; ft. naval aviator!reader

warning/s: swearing, alcohol consumption, making out, sexual innuendos, daddy issues(?), mentions of feeling pressured, mentions of drunk driving (nobody drunk drives here though), mention of a near death experience, most likely wrong info about naval aviators and the nature of their job sksks i'm sorry this is strictly fiction okAY

opening note. idk how this ended up being almost 6k LMAO. but anyways, i was so inspired to write this one scene (which you can read below) and ended up just adding so many details and back story that now here we are???? hope you guys like it though! jake seresin brain rot is real and i'm admittedly a goner for—as glen once put it—navy draco malfoy 😭

Jake knocks on your door three times, patiently waiting and looking around the street as if he’s afraid that someone followed him here. He knows that it’s unwise to be at your doorstep at this hour, but he was done eavesdropping and subtly asking around about your absence, bothered that it’s been almost a week and you haven’t been attending training like you should be. He heard Phoenix tell Bob that you were taking a short break because of the near-death experience you had while flying along the course last time, in fact almost quitting entirely if it weren’t for Maverick who instead offered you to breathe for a few days and then come back to see if you still wanted out of the mission. You were considered by your fellow TOPGUN graduates to be one of the captain’s top candidates to lead the mission, so Jake understood why Maverick didn’t let you off the hook that easily.

A few seconds pass and he contemplates on knocking again or leaving, deeming this idea as ridiculous—but then he sees the lights open and you’re peeking through the curtain of the small window beside your front door, disappearing again only to unlock the dozen locks on your door and opening it to greet Jake who meets your gaze immediately.

“What the hell are you doing here?” is the first thing you say, flummoxed by his presence. You and him aren’t exactly the closest among the crew, and there have been several times in which you’ve displayed how annoyed you were by everything Jake either says or does.

“I’m visiting you,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t been in training for a week now. Are you quitting or something?”

You stare at him, appearing in deep thought or perhaps attempting to read his mind, and suddenly, you’re closing the door.

Jake widens his eyes in surprise but is quick to extend a hand out to prevent you from doing so.

“Really?” he complains. “You’re going to slam the door in my face?”

“Look, Hangman,” you begin, sighing and making your tired state known, “if you’re here to give me shit, don’t, because I have no will to show you the patience I typically have on a normal basis.”

“I’m not here to give you shit.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“I told you—I’m visiting.”

“For what? To make sure that I’m not going back so that Maverick can assign you as team leader?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay. I heard you’re doing fine, but I just wanted to see it for myself.”

You’re quiet again, and you revert back to staring at him, as if you’re waiting for him to admit that this is just some prank. Jake doesn’t say anything though, he just returns your stare, appearing sincere for once, worried and waiting for you to realize that he’s not aiming to piss you off every time an opportunity presents itself.

You open the door wider. “Now you see me.”

“You doing good?”

“I’m doing good,” you affirm. “Just… I don’t know. Going through some stuff. Mixed thoughts—feelings—I don’t think you’d understand.”

“Try me.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“I’m here and it’s past 11 p.m.,” he says. “If I didn’t want to be bothered, I would have done this welfare check another time.”

You snort at the term he used in visiting you. “Are you sure? You don’t peg me as a good listener, to be honest. I don’t want to pour my heart out and end up listening to your life story instead.”

“I’m not like that. I could be a good listener if I tolerate the person enough.”

“You hate me, though.”

He laughs. “I don’t hate you, Goldie.”

Goldie. Jake liked your call sign because he liked the way you scowled whenever he was the one who utters it. The story behind the name was that your very first squadron saw a picture of you wearing these ridiculous platform gold sneakers when they were snooping around your Facebook profile, finding a photograph taken years ago by your mother at some family gathering you no longer remember. Eventually the joke turned into them calling you Goldie, and when the callsign review board was held, every member of the squadron voted for it to be your call sign and got it approved.

“I find that hard to believe,” you say. 

“I just like driving you insane,” he admits with a smirk, and now you’re more reminded of the Hangman you know. “It gives me great pleasure to get under your skin. You never know how to fake that look on your face whenever you’re mad—it’s very funny.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Sure.” He shrugs.

The edges of your mouth twitch. “Fine, come in. I have beer. Or wine if that’s what you prefer.”

Jake contemplates about it—because like what he thought of earlier when he arrived on your porch, it’s unwise to be here. It wasn’t like in TOPGUN or the Hard Deck wherein there were other people around you for him to always be cautious of his actions; he’s afraid that he slips up or let his repressed romantic interest in you get the best of him since he has you alone.

At the same time however, he just didn’t care enough about the consequences for him to miss this chance of getting to know you better. 

“Beer would be nice,” he tells you as he steps inside.

You nod and turn to head to the kitchen.

The house is a standard bungalow. When you walk in, you’re met with the living room, and then a few steps away from that is the kitchen. On the left side of the house, there’s a hallway leading to what Jake assumed to be the bedroom and washroom. He takes a seat on the sofa upon your instruction, scanning his surroundings and taking in the actuality of the situation he allowed himself to be in.

“Here you go.” You hand him an opened beer and he mutters his thanks, watching you go to the chair near him and plop down.

There’s silence, the two of you just drinking. You engage in small talk for a while, conversing about the most trivial things and matters that he’s not that even keen to know. The topic bounces on and on, until he can’t help but finally break it, impatient now and wanting to know what’s really been going on with you for the past few days.

You smile, amused by his little outburst. “You really want to talk about what’s bothering me?”

“I'm certainly not here to drink and talk about how hot it is on the beach.” He points out. “Just get on with it. You don’t have to tell me your whole life story. Just tell me why you’ve been gone since the accident.”

He catches you wince at the mention of an accident. “I’m resting.”

“You’re resting?”

“Yeah. It’s what Maverick wants me to do. He insists that I take a breather and then go back once I’m feeling better.”

“And have you been feeling better?”

“No,” you admit. “Actually, I…” you hesitate, flickering your eyes to Jake who’s listening intently. “Fuck, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You’re the last person I should be—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“I know. But that’s the thing, Hangman,” you say. “I think I have to tell someone about it or else I’ll end up more conflicted about the whole thing. And you know what? You might actually be the right person for this.”

“How come?”

“Because I don’t give a damn whether I have  your approval or not.”

He scoffs out a laugh. “Wow. Thanks, I guess?”

You grin; you loved teasing him as much as he did the same to you. “I’m planning to quit.”

His hand halts as he’s raising it to get another sip of the beer. He didn’t expect you to drop the bomb that quickly. “What?”

“I want to quit.”

“Because of what? Because of a near death experience? I know your record, and this isn’t even the first time you experience an occurrence that involved—”

“It’s the third time,” you clarify before he’s even done speaking. “I promised myself I’d quit if I almost ended up dead three times.”

“That sounds ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“I never wanted to be a fighter pilot, Hangman.” You confess and he’s stunned by the revelation.

It seemed impossible and untrue. You graduated at the top of your class and you have the reputation of being one of the best in the field. Your leadership skills were top tier, your flying was superb, and you were fearless in the face of danger. He didn’t understand how a person who didn’t want this occupation to have all those qualities and be an overall amazing naval aviator.

“You’re lying,” he says, not knowing how to reply to that other than accusing you of being a liar.

You lean back on your chair, bringing your feet up and holding your knees together. “It’s because of my dad. It’s the typical shit you hear about a daughter wanting her dad’s approval. He’s just… he used to be a fighter pilot himself—and then he got into an accident, lost one of his legs after it happened, and got forced to retire.” You bring the rim of your beer bottle to your lips. “I think he was depressed for a while. He didn’t talk that much anymore and when he did, he was always so angry. Mom always encouraged him to talk to a therapist, just to release all the pent up frustration he must be feeling about what happened, but he refused. He didn’t believe in therapy. He was convinced that he could solve it all on his own.

“Anyway, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I thought if I could live the life he couldn’t continue and be a naval aviator myself, he’d feel better—or at least, he’ll be the father I used to have. Turns out I was right. Do you know how much he changed when I told him I sent an application to the Naval Academy? He was so pleased. He did a complete 360. Suddenly, it felt like I was his daughter again. It was clear to me then that if I wasn’t Goldie, I wasn’t anyone worth knowing.” You bite your lip, trying not to get emotional. Jake can see that, noticing how your lips are slightly quivering and how you’re avoiding eye contact. “But in a way, I still had some self-respect left. So that’s why I told myself that if I almost get myself killed in three different instances, I’d quit and I wouldn’t care about what Dad thinks. I’ll just go and live my life how I’d want to live it.”

“And last time was the third time.” He reiterates.

“Yep.”

He nods and downs the last gulps of beer.

There’s that silence again, but it’s not awkward. Jake is absorbing everything you just shared to him and you’re trying not to regret the fact that you told all of that to Jake. It’s a story you’re not used to disclosing to just anyone, especially not to someone like Jake who before this night was the reason why your temper was often brought to its highest limits. Yet you can’t deny that a huge weight has been lifted off your whole body thanks to the impromptu venting session; you appreciate the manner in which he stayed quiet and let you finish talking, not once interrupting and not once taking his attention away from you.

“Does Maverick know about this?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m already drafting my request for resignation.”

“You know that most of the time, those requests get rejected, right?”

“Yeah.” You groan, finishing your beer as well. “But I don’t care. I’d at least try. Then if they won’t allow me, maybe I’ll just orchestrate a fourth near death experience and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jake cuts you off and you raise your eyebrows at him. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“I was just joking.”

“It’s not a good joke. You know better than to joke about things like that.” He’s serious, the most serious you’ve seen him in a long time.

He’s right. You know he is and it pains you to admit it to yourself. You swallow hard, abruptly ashamed. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just all over the place these days.”

“It’s fine.”

“I was being stupid.”

“You’re going through a hard time.”

“I’m sorry for trauma dumping.”

“It’s alright, Goldie.”

You stand up, getting his empty bottle and trudging to the kitchen to place them on the counter. “If you want to go, you’re free to. It’s late.”

“I can stay here if you need company.”

You laugh humorlessly. “I don’t need babysitting.”

“It’s not babysitting.” He pushes himself off his seat and follows you. “I just don’t feel good leaving you in this state. You’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m okay,” you correct him. “Like I said, I’m just all over the place these days. I need time alone to think and be sure of what I want to do.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great loss to the Navy if you quit.”

You snort. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. Why do you think I like pissing you off? It’s because you’re competition. You’re almost as good as me.”

You’re leaning on the counter and Jake’s standing beside you, his hand a few inches from your waist. 

“Actually, I’m better than you, Hangman.” You smirk. “And maybe so is Rooster. He’s certainly better than you when it comes to being a leader.”

“Yeah, but I’m faster than him.”

“You’re reckless compared to him.”

“I can beat him in a dogfight.”

“He doesn’t leave his teammates behind.”

“Yeah, he forces them to go as slow as he is.”

“It’s not a bad thing. He’s being careful.”

“Slow doesn’t equate to being careful.”

“It doesn’t matter. I like him better than you anyways.”

“You like him better? You sure about that?”

You don’t know how it happened but you’re suddenly standing very close to Jake, your faces tilted towards each other that you’re certain if one of you moves any nearer, you’ll end up kissing. You’re reminded of how the squadron often teases you both, saying that the reason you bickered a lot was because of the sexual tension that both of you shared, but you always made an effort to deny it, declaring that there was no way in hell that you saw Hangman in the sense and you’d rather make out with a frog than the said cocky pilot.

Being in this situation with him right now though? After sharing a beer and letting yourself show your most vulnerable side to him? Seeing how genuinely concerned he is for you? How he actually see you as a highly skilled and capable naval aviator? It messes with your head a bit, makes you think that maybe you’re just really excellent with pretending that you’re not affected by his stupidly handsome smile, or drawn to gazing at his toned body whenever he’s in his uniform, or distracted when he’s sputtering off nonsense meant to rile you up and instead you’re noticing how pink his lips are, how soft they must be, how dozens of girls have fallen victim by his charm and how good he must at working those lips of his…

“You’re staring,” he whispers.

Your eyes move up. “What?”

Jake grins, like he understands what’s happening at this second. “You’re staring at my mouth, Goldie,” he says. “Is there something on my mouth?”

You shake your head. Your cheeks are warming up. Your heart is beating faster. You’re aware that he’s teasing, that he wants to get a reaction from you, and you’re annoyed that he’s getting what he wants. “It’s late,” you repeat your statement from earlier. “You should head back. Get some sleep.”

He thankfully steps back and you exhale.

“When are you coming back?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.” You start leading him to the front door. 

Once you’re there and opening the door for him, he stops for a second, looking at you. “Hey, if you need someone to talk to… you can call me, alright?”

You find yourself smiling in amusement. “Tonight doesn’t make us friends, Hangman.”

“Good.” He returns the smile, sly and that teasing glint still in his eyes. “I don’t want to be friends.”

Before you can quip back a reply, he’s saying goodnight and marching down the steps of your porch, going inside his car and driving off.

****

You came back two days later and returned like you never left.

He didn’t talk to you again after that night. You didn’t call if ever you did need someone to talk to, and he didn’t approach you unless he really had something to say. You two weren’t avoiding the other per se; there just wasn’t a need to be within the other’s vicinity nor the obligation to initiate the conversation that much. However, in Jake’s case, he wanted to check on how you were doing, especially after being briefed on why you were having second thoughts about your position in the Navy—he just didn’t think it was okay for him to do so, not when he had a feeling that you didn’t want acknowledge the fact that you did tell him your story out of everyone in the squadron.

Eventually, it was decided and announced by Cyclone that Maverick would be appointed team leader to conduct the mission, seeing him to be the most fit among the graduates he was supposedly training for the job. Maverick chose Phoenix and Bob to accompany him, picked Rooster along with Payback and Fanboy to head the second strike team, and assigned Hangman as the emergency action pilot.

Jake saw how you were disappointed not to be given responsibility for anything for the mission, which didn’t make sense since you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. He figured you must have been looking forward to being appointed nonetheless, maybe driven by your desire to make your father proud still that you were willing to go on this dangerous operation to please him.

“Hey,” you called just as he was about to hop on his aircraft. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He grinned, tilting his head at you in a mocking manner that makes you regret for saying anything. “Are you going soft on me, Goldie?”

You scoffed, but you were flashing him a grin in an instant. “You wish. I just don’t want you to get yourself killed so I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, that’s totally why.”

“Shut up, Bagman.”

He gave you a wink before carrying on with what he was doing while you made a show of rolling your eyes before walking away.

After that, despite how the events weren’t as smooth sailing as you liked, nobody ended up arranging anyone’s funeral and Jake was even hailed as one of the heroes since he successfully saved Maverick and Rooster when they were heading back to the carrier. 

And now, the whole squadron is doing some kind of post-mission celebration. It’s held in the Hard Deck, the bar near the naval base, and as Jake drinks with the rest of the crew and secretly relishes how everyone no longer saw him as only an arrogant pilot but an arrogant and reliable pilot, he finds himself trying to spot you among the crowd of aviators and every significant staff that made this mission successful, wishing he can know what are your thoughts about what has happened today.

“You see Goldie anywhere?” Jake asks Javy, placing the empty bottle of beer on the counter.

Javy scans the area and shakes his head. “No. But I think I saw her going out earlier.”

Jake nods.

Without further ado, he decides to go out of the bar and try starting his search there. He’s grateful he doesn’t need to explore the whole seaside to spot you plodding to where he’s guessing your car is parked, your legs wobbly and all, appearing you’re preoccupied with no regard to your surroundings that allow him to catch up beside you inconspicuously. As soon as you notice him though, you’re blinking multiple times, pausing for you’re surprised to see him here when you know he should be with the others.

“Jake,” you say, and he ignores the odd feelings that erupt in his chest upon hearing his name from your lips. “What are you—”

“Welfare check,” he explains. “Where are you going?”

You laugh out loud. He realizes you’re a bit drunk. “These welfare checks are becoming frequent.”

“It’s the second time. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Two times is too much for you.”

He changes the subject. “You’re not planning to drive home when you’re drunk, are you?” 

“No, I’m not that stupid.” You scoff. “But I was planning to sleep in my car, just until I’m feeling okay to drive.”

“I can drive you home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let me do it anyway.”

You stare at him and he holds the stare, green eyes piercing through yours that you can feel right in your core. You’re mesmerized, caught in the moment, similar to that time in your kitchen, and before you understand your actions, you’re handing him your keys and going to the passenger’s side.

****

You don’t verbally invite him in but he follows you regardless, taking the sign of you opening the door wider for a few seconds as he walks from behind the invitation itself. You allow him to act as some shadow as you cross the living room and go to the kitchen to get a water bottle from the fridge, no words spoken from the both of you, and it’s only when you turn around to say something that it’s dawning onto you how it was maybe a bad idea to have him over.

You trust Jake as a man who won’t take advantage of you, but you don’t trust yourself with the thoughts you’ve been having about him lately. After that night when he did his first ‘welfare check’, you couldn’t shake him off your mind as fast as you usually could; you’ve spent a lot of your free time thinking of him and how you don’t exactly hate being in his presence like you’ve been telling yourself. Worse, you’re considering how you might truly be attracted to his infamous charm, captivated by that Texan accent and confidence whenever he went, steering the attention of everybody in the room.

You watch him take slow strides in your direction. You’re not moving, you’re not attempting to get away, and when he stops directly in front of you, your heart is doing that thing again—palpitating and striving to burst out of your ribcage.

“Are you going forth with your resignation?” he suddenly asks.

“Not yet, I suppose. I talked to Maverick about it today, and he’s offering to endorse me to the Admiral and Vice Admiral to make me an instructor in TOPGUN.”

“And are you taking it?”

“Maybe.”

The lights inside the house aren’t open. It’s only the lamp you had beside your sofa; its warm hue illuminates your faces and creates this sense of intimacy that you can’t brush off. Jake’s expression tells you he’s in deep thought, as if he’s having a dilemma of his own, and you’re under the impression that perhaps he’s confused with what’s going on right now as much as you are.

“If you take that job, then you’re staying here, aren’t you?” he guesses, and you shrug.

“Most likely.”

“Then there’s no chance we’ll be deployed again in the same squadron.”

“I wouldn’t say there’ll never be a chance again but—it’s a high possibility,” you say. “Why? Can’t stand to be directly in the same team as me anymore?”

He chuckles. “Partly.”

“Partly?” you exclaim. “You really don’t like me that much, huh?”

“It’s not that. You think I’d be here if that was the case?”

“You said the other day you didn’t want to be friends.”

“Yeah, and being friends is still the last thing I want with you.”

“Fine by me. My feelings are very much mutual, I assure you.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you’re not understanding what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m glad we won’t be placed in the same squadron again because there wouldn’t be a conflict of interest.”

You’re left speechless, the implication of his words causing you to overthink. Is he telling you what you think he’s telling you? Are you completely missing his point? Is he just messing with you? Playing mind tricks to have you wrapped around his finger? Whatever it is—whether your suspicions are right or not—you don’t let yourself think about it further, for this tension between the both of you is heightening and there’s a voice in your head that tells you to kiss him to find out what he really sees you as.

So you do. You kiss him, closing the gap between your lips and throwing your arms around his neck to tug him closer. It’s probably because you’re drunk that you’re brave enough to execute such a crazy gesture; you think how liquid courage indeed does wonders to your brain and your ability to know what’s wrong and right. And you can literally hear the gears in Jake’s brain moving as he stands there, hesitant at first to reciprocate, but eventually succumbing to it with an intensity you didn’t know he’s capable of giving, a hand falling on your hip while the other presses against your cheek, his fingertips inching forward to your hair that you quietly moan at.

Every sense you have is enhanced as the two of you make out. You can discern the pounding of your hearts; you can hear every pleased sound he makes as well as yours; you’re aware of every action he does, what he decides to do with his hands which moves to your waist, to your back, and lower… and even lower than that… 

However, it ends as fast as it starts, and before you can properly react, Jake’s already breaking the kiss.

 He looks grudging. It’s clear that he didn’t want to stop. “You’re drunk,” he whispers, an explanation to why he still did.

“Just tipsy,” you correct, about to try kissing him again but he dodges it, instead placing a lingering kiss on your cheek that spreads chills all over.

“We’re not sleeping together unless you’re sober.” His lips are on your ear, and you’re awfully getting mixed signals. It’s like he’s saying no yet continuously seducing you.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I drove you home because you are.”

“No, you insisted on driving me home.”

“Because you were planning to sleep in your car, Goldie. Come on, are you seriously arguing with me on this?”

You groan, frustrated. Your head is starting to hurt because of the aftermath of the kiss and the thinking and the analyzing when it comes to what he’s saying to you and the actions he’s showing tonight.  “Am I getting the signals wrong? Isn’t the reason you went here because you want to sleep with me? You just told me you didn’t want to be friends—because obviously, friends don’t fuck.”

Jake’s laughing once more. It certainly doesn’t seem you’re sober from the way you’re talking to him, too blunt and careless. “You didn’t read the signals wrong. I do want to sleep with you.”

“Then why are you rejecting me? I’m practically begging here. It’s goddamn embarrassing.”

“____,” he utters your name, still grinning in amusement yet his features are softer now as he stares at your half-lidded eyes boring into him, “if you were any other girl who’s asking me, I’d gladly sleep with you. You’re not some girl though—and I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“What?”

“I want to date you.”

“Okay, hold on.” You whip your head back in shock but you’re not pushing him away which Jake takes as a good sign. “Are you kidding? You better not be messing with me right now.”

“I’m not messing with you.”

“There’s no way in hell you want to date me, Hangman.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

“You don’t even know me that well.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to elope and run away with me.” He chuckles and steps away, giving you a bit of room to breathe. “I’m just saying I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

You stare at him, waiting for the punchline that’s never going to arrive. “You’re nuts.”

“Hey, you’re the one who kissed me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I thought you only wanted sex!”

“I still want sex.” He smirks and you squint at him in distaste. “But after a couple dates maybe. I take it slow with women I actually like.”

“You take it slow? You?”

“In relationships and in bed—if that’s your thing.”

“God, you’re giving me a migraine.”

You head to the part of the kitchen where you have a pouch of medicine for instances like these. From your peripheral vision, you see Jake already getting your unfinished water bottle to hand it to you as soon as you popped the aspirin in your mouth. 

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” he says. “You should rest.”

“I should wake up from this nightmare.”

“I didn’t know jumping on me and begging for sexual intercourse was part of your nightmares, Goldie.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Go to bed. I’ll leave right after.”

“How are you going back to the Hard Deck?”

“I’ll book an Uber.”

“Okay.”

You let Jake usher you to your bedroom, saying that he’ll visit you first thing in the morning. You tell him that he doesn’t have to bother but he replies that he needs to do another welfare check which you roll your eyes at, reckoning that it was cute the first time but now it was getting old and corny. He just laughs at you, for what seems like the nth time that evening, the reality of what happened between the both of you is beginning to sink in—and you’re not freaking out anymore. You think you kind of like it; you like the idea of Jake taking you seriously and conveying how serious he is by making his intentions clear.

“Good night, darlin’,” he says, brushing a portion of your hair away from your face.

You take a deep breath. You still kind of want to jump on him still but you immediately push those inappropriate thoughts away.

“Good night, Jake.”

****

The next day, a huge part of you genuinely thinks that everything that transpired last night was only an infuriating almost-sex dream. 

You would have slept all day if it wasn’t for the heat of the sunlight seeping through your windows. When you opened your eyes, you saw that it was past 11 a.m. and your head was already killing you, causing you to sit up and head groggily towards the kitchen to wash your face, brush your teeth, and find the aspirin that could help with the headache. You’re the type of person who prevents a matter from worsening while it’s still possible, and you don’t want to spend the rest of your day wincing and complaining about your condition when it could easily be solved.

The moment you swallow the medicine, your brain thinks it’s the perfect time to bombard you with memories of what commenced the day prior. In an instant, you’re remembering the drinking, and then Jake driving you home, that odd tension between you two, and—oh, God. The kiss. The conversation after the kiss. Jake confessing what he felt for you and what he was going to do about it now that he said it out loud.

As if on cue, a knock pulls you away from your thoughts and like a robot, you mechanically go to your door to greet whoever it is that’s on the other side. You don’t even have the energy to peek through the curtains first like you usually do, and you realize that it’s a huge mistake that you forgot that step because once you’re swinging the door open, there’s Jake on your porch.

“Woah, not so fast.” He puts a firm hand on your door as you attempt to shut it on his face, very reminiscent of the other night. “I see you’re not planning on using an amnesia card on me because of yesterday.”

You grimace at the reminder. “Go away. My head hurts and I can’t deal with you today.”

“Good thing I bought hangover soup then. Can I come in?”

“No.”

“What if I say please?”

“Still no.”

“Alright, come on,” he’s still resisting the force you’re putting on the door to close it, “at least take the soup.”

You glance at the paper bag he’s holding and reach for it. However, he slyly moves it to the opposite direction.

“Hangman.” You grit your teeth.

“If you’re taking the soup…” he trails, “then that means you’re agreeing to a date. Will you still take it?”

It’s ridiculous. It’s such a middle school tactic, you think—yet there’s a little something fluttering inside your chest, a bit amused at how Jake is approaching this. There’s truly nothing like a man who goes out of character for the woman he adores; from the manner in which he’s acting, it’s apparent that he’s not afraid to show you a side of his personality that isn’t the usual macho, cocky, and self-absorbed one. Somehow, even if you’re aware that he’s going towards the cheesy route, you’re digging it.

With a roll of your eyes, you snatch the paper bag from his grasp and saunter back to your kitchen.

“Are you coming in or what?” you call, noticing that he hasn’t stepped in.

He strides to where you are, this cheeky look on his face as he reverts to his standard overconfident self. You remark how he goes after you, soon caging you by the sink while you’re getting the utensils from its designated cabinet to use for this so-called hangover soup he brought with him. You’re not fazed despite the proximity and how this scene mirrors last night when you face him, even raising your chin a bit higher to appear further composed.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he says.

Jake makes a familiar show of his eyes flashing from your eyes to your lips, smirking, and just when you think he’s leaning down to continue where you left off, you tease him by placing a palm on his face and gently shoving his face away.

“Shut up, Bagman.”

gentle reminder: this author is a sucker for validation so please don’t hesitate to share your thoughts about this! ♡

[eddiemunsonbrainrot]

The Importance of the Tiger Pride poster on the season 5 bts video

I’m slightly insane so I spent 2 hours this afternoon analysing the entire video, and this tiger pride photo caught my eye as a little detail no one has mentioned. This may be a bit of a reach BUT the stranger things crew repeatedly show how important even tiny parts of the set are to this character.

The tiger pride poster is obviously in support of the Hawkins tigers, and what is drawn on there is a paw print. But I don’t know if it’s just me but I think that’s an odd way of drawing a paw print. The pad isn’t the right shape (on the poster it more looks like a heart) and the toes are too thin. Here is the poster, then what a tiger paw print should look like. I know they’re a bunch of high schoolers who have made this poster, but this feels like deliberate foreshadowing.

Keep the heart shape in mind.

Additionally, the paw print is coloured in red, which seems an odd choice. The tiger colours are orange and green, literally shown behind the poster, so it would make sense if it was either of those colours. So if we flip it upside, it actually looks like a red bleeding heart.

And you know where we have seen a very important red heart before - on Mike’s shield on Will’s painting

There are many reasons this heart could be included.

I think including this little detail ultimately ties together the importance of the painting to everything Mike does this season, and how it is essential in everything he does, if it is showing up in insignificant places like a poster at school.

However, since the heart is bleeding it could also suggest that Mike gets hurt, or alternatively, his shield gets damaged. We know that he has been building up an emotional shield/guard for the past two seasons, so this could go show that this season this is broken down and he is finally truthful to himself. He stops trying to push Will away, and push his feelings for him aside. Furthermore, to have a bleeding heart means to be a softhearted person, which reinforces the idea of Mike opening up this season.

It could also suggest that since Mike is protecting the whole party with his shield that he fails to save everyone and feels like it is his fault. I think the obvious candidate here is Will, since he is undeniably the person Mike cares most about in the party. I think this links well to the theory that since each season starts with Mike being late to something, he will be too late in saving someone (or so he thinks)

Just some fun little thoughts, let me know what you think.

TL,DR: Mike will be EMOTIONAL this season

[ozzgin]

I can order a yandere cute (kawaii), who maybe because of his cute and innocent appearance managed to get close to his beloved, but maybe this boy is not only cute and has a very disturbing past...

When you described a cute yandere with a messed up past, all I could think of was Kanato from Diabolik Lovers. This one's less of an asshole though. Hopefully. I also wasn't sure what you had in mind for 'disturbing past', I may have gone overboard.

Cute!Twisted! Yandere x Reader

Children will say the strangest things. Such as the marriage promise you’ve received from the little boy you befriended a long time ago, when you were rather young yourself. Yet sometimes the words aren’t entirely devoid of meaning. He definitely hasn’t forgotten his intentions, and your current fiancé is a mere delay to his plans.

TW: mentions of abuse, obsessive behavior, violence, small age gap, death

He still remembers the day you met, so clearly and vividly. His most cherished memory. 

It was particularly cold despite the sun and his feet were hurting. He didn't have the time to put any shoes on, he ran out the moment he'd heard the sound of glass breaking. 

Mother was so scary when she'd get upset. The bulging eyes, the screaming mouth, the wild hair scattered over her face, darkening her features.

What if she were to follow him outside? No, she was never mean in front of others. Then again, the street was empty...He bit apart the skin on his fingers in panic. 

"Isn't it a bit late for pajamas?"

His eyes darted up and met hers. A girl somewhat taller and older, holding a basketball under her arm and staring intently, visibly confused. He was, after all, shivering outside by himself, barefoot and in sleeping garments in bright daylight. He blushed in embarrassment. 

"I snuck out for some fresh air."

"Rebellious already, huh?" She smirked and walked over, dropping herself on the sidewalk next to him. "I'm (Y/N). Do you live in the area? We could hang out when you feel like it. No need to sit by yourself."

She pointed to a house unexpectedly close. Has she always been nearby? Then again, he was never allowed outside. Besides the spontaneous escapades in order to avoid the burning rage, he didn't see other people much. It had always been him and Mother. 

For his own good, really. At least that's what Mother used to say. When she wasn't angry, she'd cry and hold him tight, telling him how much she pities him between hiccups and candid sobs. A vile creature like him would surely be mocked by the rest of the world. Not his fault, the poor little angel. Alas, his miserable fate still had a glimpse of hope, because Mother would never abandon him. He would always find acceptance from her all-forgiving heart.

And yet, there was always the seed of suspicion in the depths of his mind. Her sweet, soothing words felt like a hot slap over the blooming wounds already adorning his body, shaping a paradox.

Then he met you. You didn't seem to be disturbed by his presence. The following days, whenever he approached you, you'd welcome him with the same warm smile. Just like you promised. He couldn't find the ridicule he'd so often been warned about.

The puzzle pieces didn't fit together, and it became painfully obvious once Mother confronted him about his secret outings. Somehow her wrath had faded. Her shouts were mere waves echoing from somewhere distant, only grazing by his ears. She must've noticed his indifference, too, because she began rummaging her pockets for the basement key. Perhaps an old fashioned discipline would have helped him regain his voice. But the dark, cramped walls of the basement no longer frightened him. During his time spent outside, he had discovered a fact of stunning novelty:

He didn't have to listen to her. Staring into her ferocious, bottomless pits, he only found the reflection of (Y/N)'s face. Her peaceful, loving expression, devoid of pain, or fury, or punishment. 

His little hands reached for the box cutter.

"It's you that has to go downstairs, Mother. You're a liar. I hate liars."

Was it the right choice? His small outburst had ultimately cost him your company. That evening he politely called emergency to let them know his Mother had gone mad. And so they dispatched a couple of officers to investigate the gruesome cadaver, sprawled along the stairs with too many gashes to count. They shyly investigated the basement, and a social worker carefully inspected the little boy's abundant markings. This couldn't have been a suicide, but the tearful, frightened eyes of the child kept them from pressing further. Whoever had stepped foot into their home that day most likely did him a favor. Nonetheless, he was now essentially orphaned, requiring an adult, and was swiftly shipped to the first available relative.

He didn't have the time to meet you one last time. A shameful departure given his final meeting: completely inebriated with ardent affection, he dared to present to you his innermost wish. One day he'd marry you, he was certain of it. You chuckled and extended your pinky finger reassuringly. A sealed deal. 

All he had was your name and your promise and God, how dearly he clung to them every night, every passing year. His true glimmer of hope.

You're scrolling through your emails, waiting for the bus to arrive, when a gentle tap on the shoulder startles you. Behind you is a young man, although the soft, feminine features give him more of an androgynous appearance.

"May I help you?"

"You're (Y/N), aren't you?" he bats his eyelashes expectantly. 

"I am, but how do you-" 

You gaze at the stranger intently. The big, innocent eyes, the childish demeanor, there's a certain familiarity to it. Who could it be? Suddenly you're overwhelmed by nostalgia. 

"It's you! How many years...? And you haven't changed one bit!" You laugh merrily at the sight of your shy, quiet friend, all grown up. 

"H-hey now, surely I look more mature this time." He tries to emulate a somber frown as a way to prove his adulthood. "Do you have time? I'd love to catch up."

He missed you so much. 

"Right now is a little difficult, but I'll tell you what. Why don't you come over to our place in the near future?"

Huh?

"This way I can introduce you to my fiancé!" You flash him your phone in order to exchange numbers, enthusiastic about the surprise reunion.

He vacantly stares at the lockscreen depicting an unknown man holding you close to him. When he searched for your name online, he didn't find anything regarding a relationship. He didn't expect this. He shouldn't have expected this. His fingers tighten around the small velvet box in his pocket. 

Did you forget your promise to him? Or was everything a lie? No, you wouldn't...you couldn't...He fucking hates liars. But you're not one of them, are you? You're not like Mother. No, no, no, no. Breathe. It's his fault. Of course, naturally. He vanished without a word and you must've thought he abandoned you. How careless of him. How terribly rude to blame you for his mistakes. It's okay, it's alright. He'll make it up to you. Sweet, darling (Y/N). 

"Are you okay?"

He looks up and notices your worried face. 

"Me? Yes, definitely. I was just a little surprised. Hehe. Who would've thought?" He grins and winks at you. "I have an even better idea! Why don't you two come to my apartment instead? I never got the chance to congratulate you for your engagement."

"Gosh, haha, don't worry about i-"

"Please. Pretty please?" He pouts dramatically, holding onto your coat, and you blush slightly at the adorable display. "It's my way of thanking you for the nice childhood memories."

"You really have your way to convince people, huh?" You ruffle his hair and he lowers his head, enjoying the touch. "I'll let my fiancé know."

"Such a cozy place you got yourself!" You beam at the lovely atmosphere of the room. Everything is bright and inviting. 

"Uh huh. The ladies must love you." Your fiancé follows up in agreement, snacking on the fancy appetizers. 

The young man places a tray on the table and hands you both a glass of sparkling wine. 

"Do you live alone? I refuse to believe you don't have a girlfriend." You joke and turn to your partner. "He was a real loner back then. Never saw him around other kids."

"Don't out me like that, (Y/N)!" He pinches your cheek humorously. "As a matter of fact, I do have a girlfriend."

Your fiancé raises his eyebrows, encouraging the boy to continue with details, while he gulps down the pleasantly aromatic drink. Must be expensive. 

"Then why didn't you bring her here? I want to meet her!" You whine. 

The man fiddles with his glass, observing the air bubbles that rush to the surface. 

"You already know her."

"Oh?"

Distracted by this knowledge, you stretch for your own glass and accidentally grab the one belonging to your fiancé. Before you can bring it to your lips, your head swings to the side and you can instantly feel your cheek throb, numb from the abrupt impact of someone's hand. 

"Don't fucking touch it!"

Your childhood friend is standing before you, equally shocked by his act. He stares at his reddening palm and his face twists in terror.

"I-I'm...Oh God...I'm so sorry, (Y/N). I just, I didn't know what else to do. You have to understand, please. I'd never-"

As you listen to his erratic apology, you hear the wheezing coughs of your fiancé. His breathing is irregular and he scratches his throat, unable to verbalize his struggle to you. A white foam begins to form in the corners of his mouth. You try to get up, but the man's fingers dig into your face, forcing you back on the chair. 

"Shhh shhh, it sounds uglier than it actually is. Trust me. Do you see now? I had to be a little rough, otherwise you would've gotten hurt. Hey! Look at me." He cups your cheeks with both of his hands, squatting in front of you. "Let him settle down. It won't be long."

Your vision becomes blurry.

"He needs an ambulance. Please. What did you do with the drinks?" You manage to blurt out.

"Won't make a difference."

He rests his gaze on your features for a few moments, admiring them dreamily. 

"It breaks my heart when you're sad like this. Didn't I say this is an engagement celebration?"

Without breaking eye contact, he pulls out his treasured box and opens it in your lap, revealing a ring.

"I know I disappeared without a word, but I truly had no choice. This is my way of begging for your forgiveness. Not a day went by without thinking of you, (Y/N). I, heh...I actually got this many years ago. Just carried it in my pocket in case I ever found you again." 

He giggles awkwardly, stroking your cheek protectively. 

"So don't cry. I've kept my promise after all, didn't I? Aren't you proud of me~?"

By the time his little speech ends, the room has filled with silence. Your fiancé is slouching on the chair, still and quiet. The young boy picks up your limp body, humming cheerfully. 

"You'll be the prettiest bride in the world.

Mine and mine only."

[catboybiologist]

Honest question, why bother voting if you live in California?

Like it's not going to change the outcome for sure

So the most obvious reason is that the president isn't the only thing you vote for. Local candidates and statewide measures are in the ballot too. And those are ABSOLUTELY worth voting for. This is big fucking reason number 1. California has ballot propositions right now on ending slavery as a form of criminal punishment, rent and housing reform, and a dangerous crime and punishment bill.

This alone should be more than enough reason to vote in California, I'm begging you (general you, not the asker, I'm p sure you're not American iirc).

As for the president, yeah, I was initially with your other ask that "voting third party will send a message", BUT, I've had some major shifts in how I view my vote.

One, no state is as safe as you think it is. I know "red California" seems like a fairy tale, but remember that we're the state that gave the world Reagan. There's a vicious undercurrent of neoliberal right wing mentalities here, and I don't want to abstain from the vote in the year that this current takes over enough.

Florida used to be a swing state. Now it's solid R. And there are endless examples.

This year it's not gonna happen, of course. Hell, we're Harris' home state. But I'm a little too scared to make that judgement call right now.

The other shift I've had is in the way that parties view their votes. These thoughts are way more poorly formed and I know people are going to judge me for them, so please don't pounce.

Major politicians don't view abstain or third party votes as protest votes. They view them as demographics that they've already lost. Permanently. They view them as either lazy young people who won't vote, or idealists who they can't appeal to. And yeah, maybe I fit that bill.

Right now, the messaging the Dems need to be sent is that yes, they can actually get a turnout.

Federal presidential candidates aren't going to try to appeal to people who are voting green. They're going to continue appealing to center suburbanites and forgetting about the left.

Does all this mean "blindly rally behind the Democrats"? God fucking no. It means plug your nose, mark a piece of paper, and hope they win because they'll listen at least the TINIEST but more when you raise hell in the future.

The question also is, do I believe in the Greens at all? Or is it just a "stick it to the Democrats" vote? And is giving the Greens legitimacy an unintended side effect, or an intent for that vote? I don't want to say personal answers to those questions

[coryosbaby]

Camera Ready ✧･ﾟ: Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: Neither of you really care if anyone sees.

Warning: exhibitism, voyeurism, p n v, riding, they fuck in the arena while it’s being televised, spit kink, size kink, creampie, switch ! Finnick, switch! Reader

⭒

“You know you could walk a little slower, sweetness. ”

Finnick’s voice blares out teasingly into the morning air as he trails behind you. Your hair sticks to your forehead in sweaty strands, your body on high alert as you make sure to scope out any remaining candidates that aren’t on your side. Which isn’t much, considering you have Katniss and the others, but it’s still a good idea to be cautious. To your relief you had found Finnick in the woods last night. And as much of a victor as you are, the dark makes you nervous. So he had allowed you to sleep beside him, curled up with his arms wrapped around you. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but when he sleeps it seems that he tends to get handsy. And when the warmth of his body was beside you, you couldn’t resist letting him throw you into his embrace.

“Maybe you could walk a little faster, pretty boy.”

He chuckles at the nickname, his pace finally catching up with you so you can see the cocky smile on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Your friendship is like this, a lot. Flirtation, playful banter, and a few hook ups every now and then since the two of you met at a capital event one year. And now, even when you’re supposed to be enemies, you’re working together. It’s just a connection, an order that makes you both flow freely with each other and get the things you desire.

You ignore the way Finnick’s hands ignite flames on your skin and the way his smile makes your heart flourish. You also ignore the way you feel the constant need to protect him and keep him alive. In this game, you can’t have anything serious.

“Mm..” you reply. “Sometimes.”

Your hands wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. He smiles, that pretty crooked smile, and presses a kiss to your temple.

And then, you hear a snap.

You and Finnick are both on high alert then, and turning around you’re both faced with a victor. Not an ally, it seems, as she’s pointing a knife at the both of you.

It doesn’t take long before she’s dead, but it’s still a bother to you. You don’t like murdering these people, and you’ve never liked the whole idea or subject of the hunger games. The first time you had won, but at what cost when they’ve sent you right back in?

It’s kill or be killed. And as the woman’s blood splatters on your face, you sense that familiar feeling of rage from the first time you killed creeping back into your psyche. That rage that loathes the capital, loathes those stupid fucking districts as they fall into the ground. And your knife doesn’t stop the assault on her as you make sure she’s dead. It’s better, this way, to overdo it so they don’t have to suffer. Finnick is surprised at your strength and skill, he always has been, but he finds it best not to bring it to attention.

As you two walk away, the woods begins to clear. And then you both watch as you see the Arena come into view, dark and blood soaked.

“Great,” you mutter. “More to show the people.”

It’s obvious that everything is being recorded, but this is the most clear spot. As you sit down on one of the rock formations, your lean back to watch the clouds and the orange sunset. Finnick sits beside you, his neck and chest splattered with blood. And after a moment, you begin to speak.

“I don’t like doing this.” You state. “It’s all bullshit. It’s psychotic.”

Finnick nods in agreement, his jaw clenched as he watches the stains on your shirt.

“We should give them a show.” He says. “Do something that we know they can’t get away from.”

And that’s when you get the idea.

You look at him, a mere glance. You’re both probably sweaty and disgusting, but even now Finnick looks absolutely god like. You know he’s chiseled, under that gray suit. And you know what big thing lies underneath the crotch of his underwear.

You smile, your hand coming to rest gently on his muscled thigh. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he watches your palm begin to move up more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. He doesn’t seem completely against the idea, though. Because then that cocky smirk you know so good and well is plastered onto his face, his hands finding there way to the exposed skin of your shoulder. He leans over and kisses your collarbone, gently. You huff, your lips moving to graze the spot below his ear.

“If they want them a show, let’s give them a show.”

Seeming to be on the same page, Finnick crashes his lips into yours in a bruising kiss.

Meanwhile, at the capital, the monitors in the room begin to awkwardly watch as you push Finnick down onto the rocky arm. His back hits the floor with a grunt, and then he’s watching as you sit up and unzip the back of your suit. He groans when your tits are revealed to them, full and sitting in all their glory. He brings his hands up and gropes one in his hand, feels the soft skin and your pert nipples being brought to attention. You tut when he tries to move his fingers down to your pussy.

“No, Finn.” You coo. Your nails scratch his addam’s apple, and he flushes as you begin to climb on top of him. “No touching there until I say.”

He groans when you press down against his growing bulge.

“You know if we don’t hurry we could die, right?” He huffs.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, baby. We both know fucking me again is the last thing you want to do before you go.”

He can’t deny that, and as you demand that he lift himself up and unzip his suit down to his thighs, he follows your directions with desperation. You watch as you pull his briefs down below his balls, watch as his girthy length springs to full attention. He moans when your hand connects to his skin, and begins to jerk him off with vigor. You can feel a tension in the air, the feeling of being watched extremely prominent. And it shouldn’t get you so wet, but it does. So you bring yourself to eye level with Finnick’s cock, and spit down on him, quick to shove his tip into the warm confines of your mouth. He makes a deep sound in his throat, and you move away teasingly when his hips try and move his cock farther into your throat.

“C’mon, sugar.” He says, overwhelmed. “Don’t be mean.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and do what I say, Odair?” You demand. You slap his cock, and he groans, legs beginning to tremble at the pain and pleasure mixing. “Besides, I’m not letting you use my mouth right now. I just needed to get you wet.”

He whines in protest when you pull away from him. But then you’re pushing your suit down, past your calfs and onto the ground.

So help you, if you’re going to die it’s going to be like this.

When your pussy is revealed to him, Finnick’s cock jumps and he sits up to guide you to his lap. He’s warm, his cock drooling and messy. You don’t hesitate to rub his tip against your clit, your thighs holding his lean body down.

“Please, y/n, fuck!” Finnick stutters, the feeling of your wet silky cunt making him go crazy.

You smile as you finally guide him to your entrance, and sink down. His cock fills you up to impossible levels, his balls pressed flush against you when he finally bottoms out. His hands go to your waist, and when you bounce on him, his eyes roll back and he cries out like a bitch in heat.

“Jesus Christ.. you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Love your pussy so much.”

“I know, sweet boy.” You moan when he grazes a soft spot inside you. “It f-feels good, doesn’t it? My little pussy feel good around that big cock?”

“God, yes. Cmon, ride me harder, momma. I know you can.”

And when you begin to fuck him faster, he brings his hands down to your ass, and begins bucking up into you with a feral pace. Your arousal makes him keen, makes his brain turn to mush the moment your scent hits him. You look so beautiful, so flushed and perfect, and something snaps inside of Finnick, then. His fingers spread your cheeks apart, and his voice is raw.

“Bet you like this, huh? The whole capital watching you get fuckin’ destroyed by my big cock? Hm?”

You gasp at his words, your fingers clawing at his chest.

“Finn, baby, fuck!”

“You love it, don’t you?”

No reply. Finnick slaps your ass harshly, and you yelp at the sting. His hands grab your throat in a harsh grip.

“Answer me!” He demands. You cry out, trying to nod the best you can, and then uttering out a “Yes! Yes sir!” As his large hands cut off your air supply.

“That’s my fuckin girl.” He replies. His fingers rub your clit, leaving your throat as you gasp for air and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy gushes all over him, soaking his cock and balls and the rock below the both of you, and without warning Finnick is grabbing your hips with his large hands and turning you over so you’re beneath him. It’s quick, and you’re incredibly surprised. You wrap your legs around him as he begins to pummel you, now with more leverage and strength, and his cock feels like it’s destroying you from the inside out. You don’t complain, though. And when Finnick’s hips begin stuttering, you know he’s about to cum.

“C’mon, baby, cum inside me, cum in my pussy!”

Your words spur him on, makes him leave bruising marks on your wrists as he holds them above your head and begins to cum in thick, messy ropes. Your walls practically milk him of everything he’s got, and when he’s done you can feel the stickiness of his seed dripping off his cock and onto your thighs.

He buries his face in your neck, then. And with a small laugh, he pulls himself out and begins to lick his cum out of you. Your middle finger comes up into the air as he does it. A sign, as the victor from district 4 eats your pussy. A big ‘fuck you’ to the capital.

The cameramen and people at home watch in shock and awe. There’s a debate of whether or not they should turn it off, and after a while everyone becomes too distracted by the images on screen to worry about it. The next day, none of the other tributes look at you both the same.

Because at that time, they had been watching, too.

@emsbookcase

[elbiotipo]

What if life evolved in a rogue planet. What would that look like?

This could be surprisingly possible!

Rogue planets, for those who don't know, are planets that don't orbit any star, and wander through interstellar space. They are thought to form around a star, like our Sol's protoplanetary disk, but were ejected by gravitational interaction with other objects during its early formation, for example, two planets forming too close and the smaller one being thrown away with the bigger acting as a gravitational 'slingshot', or a star passing nearby and perturbing their orbit. It's kind of sobering to think that there must be millions, perhaps billions of Earth-like planets that were flung into interstellar space earlier on their formation or even afterwards.

This is not a very pleasant environment, isolated from the warm glow of any star, with temperatures approaching absolute zero. We still don't know much about interstellar space, and I imagine that rogue planets inside the diverse kind of nebulae or near dense star clusters would be very different. But by the most part you can expect them to be dead frozen balls of ice, as EVERYTHING freezes in this temperature. No warmth for any kind of life to be found.

Is this so, though? For starters, brown dwarfs, which are not especifically planets but let's say 'objects' several times the mass of Jupiter, are very hot, being capable of deuterium fusion (unlike hydrogen fusion which is what gives stars their energy). This weak kind of fusion does not allow them to be stars proper, but endures for billions of years. Imagine a gigantic Jupiter glowing in a dull red or magenta. Though it would be interesting to especulate on life in the upper layers of a brown dwarf, or perhaps moons that bask on the weak infrarred it emits, I don't see it particularily likely. On the other hand, organisms can thrive with minimal energy, more on that later. I can imagine, in some remote brown dwarf moon, 'prairies' of incredibly slow photosynthetical organisms growing under the weak light of a brown dwarf.

(here's some artwork of a moon orbiting a red dwarf, with source)

However, these aren't planets in the literal sense. Most rogue planets are indeed likely to be frozen balls of ice and rock. There is no star to warm them up (Earth's diverse biosphere depends on the light of the Sun, as obvious as it sounds), and no kind of life, no matter how exotic, can thrive near absolute zero, molecules just don't move enoguh to allow any kind of metabolism. Even theorized life using ammonia or methane as a solvent instead of water involves temperatures like that of Titan, Saturn's moon, which still gets some sunlight and warmth if minimal, allowing it to retain an atmosphere. Rogue planets just get none.

There are other ways of warming up a planet however. The interior of Earth is still hot from its planetary formation and the decay of radioactive elements on its core, creating volcanic and tectonic activity (though that's still disputed, as it seems that oceans acting as a 'lubricant' is needed for plate tectonics), and it's likely that larger planets would have even greater activity. It's also not the only option, a moon orbiting a large planet would have tidal forces that stretch it, producing similar tectonic activity that could melt the kilometers of ice covering them -water is actually more abundant in space that it seems- and this is indeed what happens in Jupiter's moons Europa and Saturn's Enceladus, as well as the much overlooked Jupiter's Io, which is an incredibly interesting patchwork of volcanoes in frozen temperatures. In fact, astronomers are starting to learn these subsurface oceans are actually the norm rather than the exception.

They are as you might have heard, prime candidates for life. The origin of life on Earth is still one of those debates that send scientists into academic fistfights as you can imagine, but one of the main theories involve it arising from the rich energy and nutrient environment of hydrothermal vents, which would be very common in these kind of worlds. So, if this is true, it's not unlikely that there could be countless worlds like these with life. Returning to rogue planets, subsurface oceans heated by tidal forces don't need any sunlight at all, they just need an icy moon orbiting a big enough planet at the right distance (there are other details, of course, but let's go with the basics). A rogue planet the size of Jupiter or larger could have been expelled from its original system carrying its moons, or could have captured another rogue planet in interstellar space, which would be very interesting as they both would likely have completely different origins and perhaps compositions. Similarily, a tectonically active rogue planet would be enough to melt subsurface oceans, or even surface regions like Yellowstone or Afar on Earth.

What would life look like in these worlds? You can read about speculations of life in Europa and on hydrothermal vents here on Earth to get an idea, but let's talk about it a bit. Now, you might read that hydrothermal vents are an oasis of diversity in the deep ocean with life especially adapted to them, and since they are often relatively short-lived, there are ecological cycles related to them that are still poorly understood. However, do notice that some of the most prominent macroscopic organisms in these places (like say tube worms, isopods, yeti crabs, eels) did not evolve from the extremophile bacteria there themselves, but rather evolved from life from elsewhere (from the rich, sunlit oceans) that adapted to such enviroments. The life *native* to hydrothermal vents on Earth are indeed extremophile, chemosynthetic bacteria and archea, that is, they don't use photosynthesis, their metabolism creates energy and organic structures from the surrounding inorganic chemicals (some very toxic, like sulfides) and heat, no light involved. Unlike most ecosystems on Earth, these chemosythetic organisms are the producers of this isolated food chain, entering symbiosis with other animals not only for food, but also respiration, digestions, and many more things. This is fascinating because it does prove in a very explicit way that chemosynthetic organisms can support complex ecosystems without photosynthesis.

(here's life from an hydrothermal vent, notice the crabs and bivalves, do read the Wikipedia article, it's great)

However, again, do notice that these animals did NOT evolve FROM the bacteria and archaea themselves. They adapted to these extreme enviroments from other animals that evolved in the rich sunlit biosphere of Earth, fed by photosynthesis. If it was by the chemosynthetic bacteria themselves, they would be happy (as much as a bacteria can I guess) to live down there and do chemosythesis forever. There's little evolutionary pressure for them to do anything else.

At least right now. Of course, ironically, these complex simbionts like yeti crabs and tube worms, like humans ourselves, might indeed be distant descendants of primitive hydrothermal bacteria, though from the ones that evolve to use photosythesis and consume those who did, far from the depths, so it means there was some reason for them to evolve out of the vents. Which brings the question; how and why did complex, that is multicelullar life, evolve on Earth, and where else could it evolve? That question deserves its own post or even book.

These are interesting questions to ponder when talking about rogue planets, or indeed any non-photosynthetic ecosystems like cave systems, that are also possible, or perhaps surface volcanic lakes or geysers. Our rich biosphere in Earth is fed by photosynthesis and the endless energy of the Sun. In a rogue planet, the sources of heat, energy and nutrients would be sparse points instead. In our own Earth, the organisms of cave ecosystems have extremely slow metabolisms, something like an olm (blind salamanders that are rather large, up to 40cm long) often stays YEARS in the same place, only moving to (very ocassionally) reproduce and eat. Such ecosystems are not exactly conductive to fast paced, sentient life. But if they are common, there might be millions of them across the universe, and one could especulate some of them might be chillin' on cities build around those vents, or perhaps penetrating the deep ice to see what the outside is like, or basking under nebula light in great hydrothermal systems.

In a similar way, returning to rogue planets, there is also the distressing posibility of an Earth-like world with a developed biosphere being flung away from its star by some freak astronomical event, like some star or indeed another rogue planet passing by and altering the orbits. As you might be very aware, life like Earth would die, and quickly, in this scenario. Again, the only remaining life would be in hydrothermal vents. But it would be interesting to think what kind of civilization could survive. I imagine big cave cities, nearer the underground warmth, fuelled by geothermal or nuclear energy. Perhaps greenhouses and aquariums there would preserve what remains of the biosphere.

And of course, rogue planets and objects would be great stepping stones for interstellar colonization. Perhaps instead of accelerating as fast as they can, long-lived starships might wander from planet to planet, gather resources and perhaps geothermal energy for the next leg of their journey, or settling them to get away from the faster-paced civilizations near bright stars.

If you liked this post and would like to read more, I would really, really appreciate if you gave me a tip to my ko-fi! Being a biologist looking for work in Argentina under a deranged libertarian president with the budget cuts and all is quite hard, so everything really counts!

[loriache]

honestly i'm kind of interested in the idea of laios in an arranged marriage. because obviously straight-up inherited monarchies are ...bad, to say the least! but it's what the characters are familiar with (even laios' father's extremely local, extremely minor leadership role is inherited, presumably through the male line). and it isn't just about what they think the best way to run melini is; in terms of ensuring that the other longed-lived nations respect melini's continued sovereignty, having it passed down in a manner that's close enough to their own ways for them to understand it and respect it is important. And it seems like most of the other nations have leadership through inheritance - thought that isn't confirmed for certain except with the elves.

Also, a marriage carries the potential to establish foreign allies - something melini is certainly lacking. A marriage could come with resources they'll badly need, treaties of mutual defence, money, legitimacy and political capital... not that these things can't be worked around, but if laios isn't strongly opposed, there are a lot of advantages! and i don't think he would be, because that's the framework for marriage (conferring practical advantages, building intracommunity relationships and providing a partner to do important work that he can't do) that he had grown up with. he isn't exactly a romantic and I doubt he's holding out for any sort of relationship of that nature.

Like, I don't think it's impossible that they would go with this path, because it's the most obvious and it carries a lot of advantages and it's what almost all the decision-making characters would consider normal and not objectionable. and it could be so interesting.

I think Laios would have major hangups if expected (i.e., by Marcille) to establish a genuine, romantic interest in a woman. Whether because of his sexual or romantic orientation, or just his own deep-seated trauma about rejection and being inherently disgusting and scary. And I think he'd hate the idea of having kids, too, and be very frightened of being like his father. But I don't think he'd refuse on that basis; he could cope with a marriage contract, with clearly laid-out expectations and responsibilities. And when it came to having a kid, I think he'd be reluctant to express that he doesn't want to do it, because he isn't naive and he understood when he agreed to be king it would carry responsibilities like this. It's clear from his nightmare that he already felt pressure from his parents to have children, probably magnified by the fact his father has got a position, responsibilities and wealth to pass on. Obviously he isn't a perfect martyr, so he might struggle when it comes to actually going through with it - but I don't think he'd actually, outright refuse. I think he might do it even though he doesn't want to, and I think that could be really messy in a way that appeals to me.

I don't know, there's something about negotiating these kinds of complicated situations that's interesting to me. and i love a platonic marriage. If they find a woman who has an interest in education, for example, and can work with marcille on setting up schools and universities. she'd ideally be politically savvy enough to be an able partner to laios: even though kabru can and would continue to do a lot of that, there are different spheres that a queen and a prime minister can work within!

how would their relationship work? maybe she finds laios' perspective on the world, and his frankness, unexpectedly liberating after an extremely controlled, cloistered upbringing. maybe she had a rebellious phase, has magic, or something else which makes her a relatively unpopular candidate for marriage - even as melini grows in power, i doubt that they'd be getting offers for the cream of the crop in terms of perceived value on the marriage market, because laios' relationship is a bit too ambivalent/monstrous for that, and melini too new. maybe she's a widow! an older woman, wouldn't that be cool - though they'd want her young enough that she could definitely still have kids.

certainly i think he'd be happy for her to pursue other relationships, though ideally in a manner that couldn't produce illegitimate kids. with other relationships in play, that's even more interesting. like, both kabru and toshiro have complicated emotions relating to infidelity. i think kabru would actually find it quite cathartic to be in the kind of high-status environment that rejected his mother for perceived infidelity, pursuing an affair that all parties consent to, though he'd likely be incredibly aware of the public image - since "image" is what he was rejected for. toshiro... i just really really love the way he'd feel about being the "other woman" in laios' marriage, considering his feelings about his father and maizuru. especially given how much closer he is to maizuru than his mother, being in her position...! his emotions would be so complex, it's incredibly tasty. i bet he'd make a bunch of assumptions about how laios' wife feels about it and be totally wrong, and that's so interesting. also, i think laios' wife should fuck marcille (she and falin have an open relationship).

[br4inr0tx]

Here we go with another match, this time for 🐻 Anon!

Another note, yes I’ve been gone for like two months.. Halloween season is a busy season for me every year since my dumbass decided to become a scare actor. Even better, I got sick right after! Yay! Now I’m back, I’m going to go on a marathon and get all the matches in my inbox out of the way.

TW - Toxic Replationships, Forced Affection, Torture, Guns, and Knives.

Your Boyfriend to Death matchup is… REN HANA !!

• This may have been an obvious one, but I think Ren is the best for you!

• Ren’s type is generally alt people. Anyone into nerd culture regarding media series definitely catch his attention first. Seeing an artsy, pinky person like you immediately makes him have heart eyes for you. I guess you could say he just wants an anime looking bf/gf/partner. Since you fit in that category, you got him pretty easily!

• Hazzah! You’re taller than him! Don’t think he’ll let you get away with bullying him about it. He’s a little bit self conscious, and will most likely punish you with the shock collar for it.

• As I mentioned before, Ren is a sucker for cute things. Seeing anything cute, especially something from you, can pull on his heartstrings. If you wear any anime related stuff, or even those Japanese lolita dresses, he’s going head of heels.

• He loves putting you and/or helping you pick in certain outfit. As you’d expect he loves seeing you in anime character cosplays, or just anything cute. Seeing you in lingerie is a special treat.

• Now uh.. about the bear thing. He might get mad jealous because as a beastkin fox, he’s nothing close to a bear. He might get a little lowkey offended, but it’s probably him just being bratty. He’ll get over it.. maybe.

• Unfortunately for you, Ren likes bringing up and doing the things you hate and fear, just to provoke you when you’re not feeling your best. Those little reminders showing you he’s in control are his favorite.

• While he’s mostly cheery, Ren seems to have the ability to go from 0 to 100 REALLY quickly. Some people might consider him the nicest out of all the candidates in BTD, but I like to think he’s equally as dangerous as the rest of them.

• Ren is calm when listening to you, which is good, although most of the time when you seek advice he recommends killing. Please don’t listen to him, or else he might invite his friend Lawrence over for a little fun.

• He thinks you’re super creative! All of your art makes him mesmerized. His form of art comes in the form of snuff films mostly, but I think he has a decent hand at art too.

• Ren most likely listens to anime intros, or alt electronic pop music. Think MSI or And One. I can see him vibing with your music though!

• He gives you all the sweets in the world to fulfill your sweet tooth, unless you’re bad for him. In that case he forbids you from sweets.

• He tends to talk about how much he loves you a lot. Uniquely for him, I feel like he’s the most loving out of all the guys. You tend to be high maintenance, and need reassurance, he’s your guy to remind you all the time of his love.

• He forces you to be close to him a lot. He’s always touching you, not always in hugs and kisses. Even having his claws a little ways into your flesh gives him the power boost he needs.

• Oh.. you like being abused? You already know loves fulfilling all of your naughty desires, exactly how you want them. Beg and cry all you want, once you make any sign at him for him to start, there’s no off switch until he’s says done.

• Ren is a little clinging and teasing. Like a fox, he’s sneaky and isn’t always truthful. He’s a king of manipulation, but.. this is what you wanted. I’m sure you’ve told him yourself, and now? He’s NEVER letting you go.