#taxi hire reading

[leqonsluv3r]

heyy could you do some hcs abt re4 leon having a crush or dating a dso secretary? love your wirting sm <33

boss!re4 leon kennedy

—re4 leon!kennedy x dso!secretary reader, a headcanon list

masterlist taglist

an: jesus, i’m reading terms and conditions by lauren asher, so the timing of this request is perfect. thank you anon <33

boss!leon kennedy who has high expectations when he hires you. thinking you’ll be different then the secretary’s before.

boss!leon kennedy who watches you arrive 5 minutes late on your first day, messing with your clothes and getting started on the tasks he asks. he doesn’t usually let his secretary’s be late, gives them hell for it. but for you he’s letting it go.

boss!leon kennedy who finds it hard to focus sometimes when you come into the agency, your heels clicking and snapping him from his reports like a siren sound.

boss!leon kennedy who always lets his eyes linger on your legs whenever you wear a skirt, letting his eyes linger a little too long. he swears one day he’ll fuck you with a skirt on, he almost promises himself.

boss!leon kennedy who likes the way you giggle at stupid jokes and things that are said around the office. he even cracks a few when he stops by your desk outside his office, just to hear your sweet laugh.

boss!leon kennedy who takes time memorizing everything you like. making mental notes for all the things you love and hate. just because he’s interested in anything involving you.

boss!leon kennedy who drives you home late one night. he wouldn’t dream of you paying for a taxi or walking, not a beautiful girl like you and not in the city late at night.

boss!leon kennedy who steals glances at you in your pretty work attire as he drives you home, listening to your brief talking of the stressful workday and all the people you had to deal with.

boss!leon kennedy who makes sure that all the stressful people come directly to him instead of you. not wanting to stress you out or make you cry (heaven forbid), he couldn’t bear the sight of that.

boss!leon kennedy who asks you to be his date to the agency’s annual banquet. telling you it’s just a work date, but who is he kidding? he just wants to see you dressed up in something that’s not a tight blouse or skirt for once.

boss!leon kennedy who picks you up two days later at your place. having the address memorized from when he dropped you off that one time. he watches you walk out in a dress that leaves little to the imagination.

boss!leon kennedy who introduces you as his date, shushing you when you try to tell them that your his secretary instead. and he loves the way your brows furrow in confusion as you look between him and the agency’s finest at the banquet.

boss!leon kennedy who practically sends glares in other men’s directions, daring them to even try and talk to you. he doesn’t trust other men, not with what’s soon to be his.

boss!leon kennedy begrudgingly agreeing to dance with you as you drag him to the banquet halls dance floor. your arms slung around his neck and his hands hesitantly on your waist. your perfume like an aphrodisiac to him, hints of vanilla and coconut wafting into his nose as you two say on the dance floor.

boss!leon kennedy who drags you out afterwards and takes you to a conference room in the banquet hall. before you can protest he presses his lips against yours and you return it, immediately getting the subtle hints he’s dropped this evening.

boss!leon kennedy who peppers kisses along your jawline and grinds his erection into your hips as you kiss, your hands pulling greedily at his hair and letting little sounds slip. he sits you on a table and keeps devouring you.

boss!leon kennedy who pushes your dress up as you lay back on the table. he takes his time teasing and devouring you, making you whine and grasp at his hair like a tether. the prettiest sounds falling from your lips as he makes you moan and chant his name.

boss!leon kennedy who doesn’t care if there is a banquet going on outside the door, he’s going to fuck you regardless, give you what you both so desperately want.

boss!leon kennedy who fucks you with intention, letting you accommodate to his size as he smothers kisses and hickeys to your jawline, moans slipping from your lips as he fucks you faster.

boss!leon kennedy who, afterwards, makes an excuse that your feeling ill to everyone and takes you back to his place.

boss!leon kennedy who helps you take off your ruined makeup from the sex at the banquet and brushes out your frazzled sex crazed hair. he even gets you one of his large t-shirts to sleep in. loving how the fabric drowns out your frame.

boss!leon kennedy who swears you’ve ruined all other women for him. he’ll never be the same again, he swears it. he presses kisses all over and guides you to the bed.

boss!leon kennedy who tells you that he likes you, wants to be with you. despite his stoic persona is nervous and just wants you all to himself. and when you agree, wanting him back. he feels like he won the lottery.

boss!leon kennedy who falls asleep with you, in his bed in his t-shirt, feeling like the luckiest man ever in the world. not just because he’s your boss, but because your his now. and he’ll never let you go.

an: you guys are so creative. your requests never fail to blow me out of the water. reblog, like and my asks are open :)) a one shot will be up later this week. promise. i love you guys sm, mwah, kisses xx.

[johannestevans]

I came out as trans at about fifteen or sixteen, changed my name, and I’ve lived as a man since. As a young man doing my A-Levels, going to university, and working afterwards, I was out as a man, using he/him pronouns, using my actual name —

Two pictures of me, one at age 16, the other at age 19.

To people who had no idea what a trans man looked like, it was pretty easy to give people a funny look and say, “I’m a man,” in a tone that made them suddenly flustered and nervous, because cis people feel extremely guilty about misgendering another cisgender person in a way they don’t when they know you’re trans.

I was thin, had a lower-toned but still not masculine voice, didn’t have much of a chest — I got gendered correctly automatically maybe 30 or 40% of the time, and maybe up to 50% if I employed shame in the right way, implied I was cis with a hormonal imbalance, or if people assumed I was still a teenage boy rather than an adult.

To people who did know what a trans man looked like but weren’t trans themselves, talking to them was fucking excruciating.

I remember once when I was selling house alarms and some hideous cis girl asked, “Are you transgender?” and I immediately told her, “Nope,” as she kept questioning the point. Another time, I was in the back of a taxi when a man asked if I was trans, although thankfully when I told him, “Nope, just low testosterone,” he seemed to immediately believe me and back the fuck off.

It’s one of the reasons I feel conflicted about trans visibility — it’s great for other trans people to see a variety of trans representation, but cis people knowing what trans people are is a double-edged sword, because cis people are entitled, invasive, and often just straight-up weird about gender, most of all when they think they’re being allies.

When I started working at a hotel, my immediate boss was a very abusive woman — she was petty, vindictive, and because she had poor organisational skills and frequently got flustered by her own workload, she would take this out on any staff around her, whether that was her juniors, other management, or sometimes guests.

Her being abusive in the workplace wasn’t that unusual. Now and then the managers would misgender me, and I’d correct them, and they’d brush it off as they apologised, that sort of thing.

Because this manager identified as an ally, she flipped her fucking lid.

She went off on a tirade for some ten minutes about what a great ally she is, and how much she knows about and cares about trans people, and how a lot of people wouldn’t hire a trans person, and she volunteers with local queer groups (she was at the time a mediocre DJ, and frequently DJed at a local gay club), and all this bluster.

Over one (apparently needed) correction.

All she needed to do was not misgender me — a quick “sorry” might have been nice. A ten-minute rant about how she was a saint for hiring me?

Not really necessary.

Cisgender people hate trans people — and I know some cis people reading this are immediately raising their hackles and about to go “well not ALL cis people — “ because they’re allies, and it’s important that I know that they’re a good one, actually, and they’re a real ally.

But the reason that cis people have a knee-jerk negative reaction to trans people, intersex people, and any person that they have decided is gender non-conforming, the reason they respond so punishingly to our existence or to mild misbehaviours on our parts — such as demanding respect or correcting their mistakes — is because our very existence is an interruption to their worldview, the ideologies and biases by which they live.

They should know what a man is just by looking at one, and if they get it wrong, that’s embarrassing for them — because to cisgender people the binary male-female divide is crucial to the way they respect or disrespect others, people that interrupt their thinking on it can trigger a lot of rage and upset. A trans person represents a frightening challenge — what if they accidentally treated a man with the casual disrespect that is rightfully allotted women? What if they sexually objectified a man thinking he was a woman, and it made them gay for a moment?

If they think you’re cisgender and heterosexual enough, any of these things are their fault, and they feel very bad about them.

But if you’re trans?

Well, it’s your fault for existing that way, right? You’re the one doing genders wrong — they’re not the one that made the error!

There’s a particular rage reserved for trans men, lesbians, and any other trans or GNC person that’s perceived as being “biologically female” — because society feels the greatest gender-based entitlement over these people’s bodies, in large part due to institutional misogyny, we’re perceived as gender traitors.

Cis men hate us because we’ve ruined what they perceived as a resource for them — a source of sexual gratification and aesthetic pleasure, a breeding vessel for birthing babies, not to mention a mother with all the domestic labour that comes with; cis women hate us because they perceive us as gaining all the privileges of being male, of gaming the system, and at the same time breaking what they sometimes feel is a sort of sacred trust of femininity.

In order to cope with institutional misogyny, some cis women effectively craft a further gender-based bioessentialism — if you have a uterus and are perceived as a woman by society, you’re not just physically capable of birthing a child. You must also innately have the traits of an ideal mother — you must be nurturing and lovely, you must be caring, you must have the correct emotions, you must be submissive in the right way. But also, a woman like this must be cleverer than a man, and if she effectively parents or cares for the men in her life, she just does that because she is so smart, and men are so stupid.

Again, trans people represent an interruption to that mode of thinking. If trans people are real, and we’re the genders we say we are, all of that ideology is nonsense.

If I, a trans man, can just “choose” to be a man, doesn’t that mean that every woman that experiences misogyny is just “choosing” misogynistic abuse?

The fact that as a trans man, I experience abuses that are linked to misogyny is irrelevant — that I’m at a higher risk of sexual abuse, that medical professionals dismiss my symptoms as soon as some of them realise I’m “really” a woman and cease my treatment or cease treating me with the respect due a man; that people dismiss me and dehumanise me, either because they think I’m transgender, and therefore a lesser being, or an ugly and not sexually available woman, and therefore a lesser being.

If I’m a trans man, I must experience male privilege — why else would I choose to be trans?

And if I don’t experience male privilege in every situation, because people don’t always consider me male or legitimately male, or if male privilege in any given situation I experience is actually complicated by other factors, such as race, disability, sexuality, and so on, then I must be lying.

Passing privilege isn’t the same as male privilege — passing privilege generally refers to the privileges a transgender person experiences because they reliably pass as cisgender.

I don’t think that it’s universal — “passing privilege” assumes that everyone passes in all situations, and while I would say that I pass very reliably in a lot of mine now that I’m several years on T and my second puberty has been very good to me, this doesn’t apply everywhere.

When I’m in the hospital, for example, or otherwise seeing a doctor, I get treated with even more hostility — partially because most cis doctors practice misogyny-based medicine and are more likely to dismiss women’s symptoms or generally give them worse medical care, especially male doctors treating women. In my experience, cis female doctors are more likely to punish me for being transgender than a cis male one is.

I’ve noticed multiple times going to see a doctor, being treated as a man with all my pain or symptoms being treated as a concern, and then abruptly there’s a sudden withdrawal of care and concern when the doctor either realises I’m transgender and/or realises I’m “really” a woman.

But the thing is?

I’m pretty sure that the reason I suddenly receive such aggressive negative response is because I pass so well. When cis people realise that I’m trans, they feel even angrier and more personally betrayed, because I’ve so thoroughly “tricked” them by being a man without their permission.

Me at 24, about a year on testosterone; me at 25, about two years on testosterone. Same blouse, same vest.

But in general, day-to-day life — yeah, I’m perceived as a cis man.

Notably, a cis gay man.

Regularly, other trans guys and some butches tell me that as they began to present in ways perceived as more masculine, they noticed that women in public responded to them differently.

If they were out at night and a woman was walking alone nearby, she might cross the street to be a bit further away from them; she might choose to sit elsewhere rather than be near them on a bench; a woman alone might not want to share a lift with them.

I thought this was interesting the first few times I heard it — I hear it all the time, and it still strikes me as curious, because I don’t experience the same thing at all.

I’ve never had a woman walk away from me, or be careful not to be alone with me. Frequently, women strike up conversation with me in public, they chat to me on buses the way they might with other women — a little while ago I was waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up from the airport, and a young girl of 19 or so actually came up to me to ask if she could hotspot off my phone for a second and to ask me for directions.

It’s not that women alone shouldn’t strike up conversation with men, or shouldn’t be alone with them — but just to avoid any potential discomfort or risk of being harassed, many of them understandably avoid it.

But a lot of women see me in the street or in public places, and when they perform their internal risk assessment, I don’t prompt a red flag.

Part of it is that I’m skinny and white, sure — I’m not very physically intimidating in terms of my size, and I’m not racialised in the way many Black and dark-skinned men and boys are. Sometimes, I’m using a mobility aid like a cane, and that makes a difference, too.

But as a rule, I’m pretty. I wear make-up — I often wear face stickers and have visible “tattoos”. I’m fussy about my hair, and it shows. I dress in bright prints and florals, I wear silks and satins, I wear waistcoats and high-waisted jeans, I wear block heels.

When I walk, I sashay my hips. I hold my hands in a delicate way — I gesticulate freely, and I move my fingers when I do so in an effete way. If they hear me talk, people often guess from my accent that I’m English rather than Welsh, and that I’m more educated than I am, not to mention significantly posher.

The average cishet stranger in the street absolutely sees me as a man — and they exclusively see me as a gay one. No one ever mistakes me for a straight one, and that absolutely affects the way I’m treated.

I couldn’t possibly pose a threat of sexual harassment in many women’s eyes, because I’m obviously gay, and many cis straight women feel very comfortable with — if not entitled to — gay men’s companionship, especially white gays with effete mannerisms.

When talking about gender-based privileges for trans men and mascs, we don’t tend to consider any impact that perceptions of our sexuality can have, but because of the way gay men are sorted into a different subclass of cis masculinity than straight men, there’s a noticeable impact.

Straight people sometimes roll their eyes or look amused when they think I’m being particularly dramatic or gay; occasionally straight men wolf-whistle at me or make comments about how gay I look; people strike up conversations with me about RuPaul’s Drag Race, start chattering to me about drag, because they just assume that’s the sort of thing I would be into. I get looks sometimes on the bus if I’m chatting with friends or on the phone, or sometimes if I’m just there in front of them and I look very gay.

Most of this isn’t incredibly malicious — is it homophobic? Sure, sometimes. A lot of it is just straight people trying to understand what they think is gay culture the best way they know how.

Parents with kids actually make me the most nervous — not because there’s any danger posed by the kids themselves most of the time, but because parents can be the most vicious when it comes to homophobia. They’ll accuse gay men of being paedophiles just for existing in public and seeming a bit fruity, or they’ll get nervous about how gay someone looks in case their kids ask questions about it.

And kids do find how I look interesting — all the time, I’ll be out in public, and a kid will notice that my nails are painted or that I’m wearing high heels or that they see tattoos on my face, and they’ll ask their parents about it.

It’s anxiety-inducing for any parent when their child starts acting about a stranger’s appearance where the stranger can hear them, because they get worried about the potential impoliteness — when that stranger is a faggot, some of them get angry at me, because once again, even without their knowing I’m transgender, I’m interrupting their worldview of what the correct gendered behaviours are, forcing them to think about it, forcing them to explain aberrations to their kids.

A “normal”, “real” man is straight, after all, and does straight men’s things, like dress badly and sexually harass women and get ugly haircuts. It’s confusing, if I’m out on the streets looking fuckable.

The last time I was travelling, I was sitting in a restaurant in the airport, and some boys at the next table were staring at me.

“Dad, why is that man wearing makeup?”

“I don’t know, some men wear it.”

“How come?”

“…”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that wherever a faggot goes, little boys will be asking their mildly homophobic but well-meaning and liberal parents questions about that man’s physical appearance.

A classic response, and one that I overhear often, was this man’s retort: “Why don’t you go and ask him?”

Sometimes teenagers and kids laugh at how I dress, especially if they’re in groups together — and especially, too, if there’s a bunch of us visible queers together.

One thing I’ve noticed about wearing crop-tops is that some people get het-up about how hairy I am and the hair visible on my belly, or under my arms if I’m wearing a vest — because some straight people see a white twink and want to reclassify him as being part of the woman subcategory instead of the man subcategory (based on his assumed sexual availability to men), they then apply women’s rules of physical appearance to him.

After all, if I’m wearing makeup and high heels and high-waisted jeans and a crop-top, that’s like how a woman dresses — and if I’m going to dress like a woman even though I’m obviously a man, I should be held to the standards a woman would be too. I should be hairless and odourless, like a sexy child, because “sexy child” is the ideal for an attractive woman, right?

Some cishet women also hate how I dress and instead of laughing or grumbling about it in the way that cishet men do, they wrinkle their noses and get really quite scornful about it.

Some of those women’s husbands are secretly on Grindr (I know because I have sex with them), and I believe this is the closest they get to facing their suspicions as to their husbands’ bisexuality.

A photo of me from earlier this month, age 26.

I started taking testosterone some months before the pandemic started, but experienced the bulk of my second puberty’s physical effects over the course of the following years.

Subsequently, when I went to a queer event being run after about two years on testosterone, many people there hadn’t seen me out in some time. I got a lot of looks and a lot of interest, especially from other queer men, in a way I never had before — I always got a lot of engagement and looks, but many cis gay men would take a little while to warm up to the idea of me as a man if they knew or suspected I was trans.

Maybe it’s just because I’m hotter, though, right? I’m hardly the only person to go through a glow-up on HRT, and I certainly feel more attractive.

Except that several of the older men looking at me were men I’d known casually for years — and a bunch of them came up and introduced themselves. Said hi, what’s your name, I’m x, it’s nice to meet you, are you new to the city?

Because up ’til then, they really hadn’t much looked at me in much detail. Many of these men had heard me give talks, had talked to me in queer bars, had met me at one event or another, and I just hadn’t stuck in their minds — they certainly hadn’t come up and spoken to me before, let alone with such enthusiasm.

And I do want to say, like —

None of these men would call themselves anti-trans — they’d try to use the right pronouns, they’d say that there should be trans events on, and so on. But there’s still going to be unconscious biases there — whether up ’til now they saw me as a woman (and therefore just looked past me) or saw me as trans (and therefore just looked past me), suddenly I was a fully realised human being. Maybe I was attractive and fuckable to some of them — but crucially, I was also another gay man, and therefore real and worth talking to.

And I will say that this isn’t all older gay men in my community or even like, a massive majority of them — but it was enough older gay men to be noticeable.

Even entering into new gay spaces, queer men tend to be friendlier to me than they used to, more outgoing in conversation, chattier, etc.

That’s obviously not necessarily because I’m trans — like I said, I’m also hotter than I used to be, I’m older, more educated, I dress better and more confidently, etc. There’s other factors at play, and I’m not comparing friendliness to cruelty or coldness — I’m comparing it to polite apathy, which was often mild enough that I wasn’t hugely affected by it pre-T.

Some men do treat me a little coldly, but from what I can tell it’s not usually because they suspect or know I’m trans — a lot of the time it’s actually because I’m so faggy and effeminate, or they just don’t trust that I’m gonna be cool because I’m so young.

Mixed queer spaces can be another story.

Other queer people my age have often found me intimidating — I’m a pretty outspoken person, my politics are more aggressive leftwing than many people’s, and as a autistic, I speak plainly and directly in a way that a lot of people don’t care for, or can find scary and overwhelming.

Now, though?

The response to my perceived aggression is a lot more dramatic and avoidant — because now they assume I’m a cisgender man.

People often interpret me as angry or aggressive when I’m not — I can sometimes be somewhat flat in my affect, I can be a very blunt communicator, I don’t tend to beat around the bush when it comes to my opinions. All of these are pretty standard as an autistic guy, and a lot of other people have experienced the same thing I have — the interpretation of those personality traits as aggressive or argumentative.

But it’s been interesting experiencing the negative response ramp up so much as soon as I’m perceived as “really” male, even by other transmascs, queer people, and trans men.

It can be strange at times navigating broader trans spaces as someone who doesn’t look trans in the way even other trans people expect you to, where they just assume that you’re cisgender, or that as someone who already passes and has therefore “finished” your journey as a trans person, there’s less reason for you to be in community with other trans people.

Especially when it comes to trauma like…

There is an assumption by many young queer people that cis gay people are just fine now, that homophobia doesn’t impact them in the traumatic way it did older generations, or that homophobia is no longer an active impact on people’s lives — I obviously am transgender, but to be brushed off with the assumption I haven’t experienced the same extent of bigotry or negative experience because I appear cisgender always strikes me as fucked up when of course a lot of cis men have had similar life experiences to me, or worse.

I will say that again, the negative responses are from a minority, just big enough to be noticeable, and the more people talk to me, the more they relax a little about the whole thing.

It’s still funny though, like —

I met some trans friends of a partner recently, and I came downstairs without a shirt on because I was hurriedly multitasking, and watched her do a double take at my chest.

I laughed and was like, “Did you not realise I was trans?”

And she went, “No!” and we had a giggle about it.

Most of the time meeting other queer people across the board, I’m extended care and compassion and love — it’s just weird, I think, being so aware of the gendered differences in how people speak with and apparently perceive me, and how things have and do change, especially because people assume transmasculinity means a one-way journey to Male Privilege, and all the benefits it can come with.

As with any and everything else, these matters come with nuance and layers, and nothing is as simple as A to B with no complications.

[twodogs-twocats]

The Maskmaker and the Masked (Sleep Token’s III x fem reader) 18+, NSFW

You are hired by Sleep Token to design new masks for the band. But you quickly realize your relationship with III is more than professional.

Warnings: SMUT - 18+, MINORS DNI. Oral, penetration

I did my best to maintain members being masked while making this somewhat realistic. This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written, so please be kind! I hope you enjoy!

Part II

London was cold and rainy. Your head was steadily throbbing after 10 hours on an airplane, your hair frizzing out from the two buns you had carefully arranged just that morning. You felt sticky and tired.

And yet, you couldn’t help the tingle of excitement that coursed through your body. From the back seat of the taxi, you watched the rain splatter the windows as you twirled your thumbs. Excited, yes, but also incredibly nervous.

You had been hired by one of your favorite bands, Sleep Token, to design new masks for the band members. Apparently, the members of the band had found your Instagram and had fallen in love with your work. After several emails and phone calls with their manager and a couple of signed NDAs, you were emailed plane tickets and and address. And now, in just a matter of hours, you would be meeting the members to take measurements.

It had all happened so quickly, and while you felt confident in your work and thrilled by the opportunity, you were stressed about making a good impression.

A few hours later, feeling a bit more well-rested and certainly much cleaner, you followed the band’s manager through the winding corridors of an old house. It wasn’t quite where you were expecting to meet the members, but you were pleased by the aesthetic as it matched the mysterious vibe of the band itself. You made polite chit-chat with the manager, following them down a dimly lit hallway with red walls and ornate chandeliers.

Soon you heard the low thrum of male voices coming from a room ahead. You fiddled with the large tote bag that held your art supplies. The butterflies in your belly that had been softly fluttering all day long now grew into a frantic swarm.

The band manager stopped just before the door and turned towards you.

“Just remember, the band members will be masked, and you have signed NDAs that prevent you from releasing any sort of information about your time spent here with the band. I just want to reiterate that it is extremely important to the members that their privacy is respected”

You nodded. “Of course, I understand. I’m just honored to be here. I would never want to be disrespectful.” You meant this with all your heart. You appreciated the band’s desire to put their music first. You would never want them to lose that.

The manager offered you a genuine smile, and beckoned you into the room. “Right this way then.”

Taking careful steps and a few swipes at your hair (still frizzy - damn the rain), your eyes were met by the most beautiful sight.

All four members lay sprawled around a small, but gorgeously decorated room. Vessel lay stretched along a red leather couch, his legs so long that his feet (no shoes, just black socks with cat faces on them) dangled off the edge of the armrest. II was seated cross legged on the floor, clad in a thick black hoodie, reading what appeared to be a drummer’s magazine. IV stood by a window, sipping at a beer with his hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy black jeans. It was like staring at a piece of art far more spectacular than anything that lined the walls of this old manor. You weren’t even sure if you were still breathing.

Yet it was III that really caught your eye. He lounged casually in an overstuffed chair at the back corner of the room, long legs pulled up into his chest. His hair hung loosely around his mask. He wore a dark blazer and his trademark checkered socks. In a split second, you felt your body tune into his intense energy. He was incredibly attractive.

You had only a few moments to take them in like this, glorious in their peacefulness, before they realized you were there. Then it was all hugs and handshakes, smiles and questions.

“How was your flight? Not too dreadful, I hope.” Vessel asked you, taking your hands in his, their warmth welcome after the chilly weather. You were caught off guard by his voice at first, as you realized you had never heard any of them speak.

“Lovely to meet you, Y/N. I’ve admired your work for so long,” II offered, gazing at you rather intensely from piercing blue eyes.

“Come, sit.” IV said, clearing pillows off of the couch. You could see his eyes crinkled in a smile behind the fabric of his black mask. “We ordered pizza!”

It was at this very moment that your stomach grumbled loudly. You hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

This was received with gregarious laughter, but it was a quiet chuckle just behind you that made the hairs stand up on your neck. While you were being fretted over by the other members, III had managed to come up behind you.

“My my, we can’t have our girl so tired and hungry,” he spoke gently into your ear, his voice causing a shiver down your spine. Placing his large hand on the small of your back, he guided you firmly toward the couch. As you made to sit, his hands gently pulled the tote you carried from your shoulders. Everywhere III touched he left a burning imprint on your body.

“What else can I get for you, love?” he asked, kneeling before you and resting a hand on your knee. “You have come such a long way for us. I want to make sure you are well taken care of.”

Hot. He was so stupidly hot.

“I’m alright III, thank you.” You replied, trying to stay professional, even as his hand was burning a hole through your jeans. “Some food sounds lovely.”

“Good,” chimed in Vessel. “No work now. Tonight, we would just like to relax and get to know you.”

Soon the pizza arrived, and you spent the rest of your night immersed in delightful conversation. You talked about everything, from favorite foods to childhood pets, even playing a round of Never Have I Ever that left you laughing until your belly ached. Little by little, you felt yourself ease into their presence, becoming more comfortable and more capable of being yourself.

Still, you couldn’t help but notice the way III continued to look at you, his eyes always focused on you, lingering, assessing. You felt a knot in the deep parts of your gut. Was he checking you out? You felt like it was possible, but you didn’t want to read into it. You had a job to do. So instead, you continued to relax into the joyful company until the late hours of the night.

The next day was measuring day. You had everything you needed ready to go in your tote, and your head was swimming with ideas. The fact that your work was going to be worn by such talented musicians still felt unreal. Even more unreal after the incredible night you had just had. You couldn’t believe how sweet they all were, and they seemed just as in love with your art as you were with their music. The entire opportunity was a dream come true.

You arrived at the same manor as the night before, but this time you were led to a small sitting room flooded with natural light. Starting with Vessel, you met with each member one-by-one, having them sit on a stool in front of you while you gathered the data you needed.

While you worked, you chatted with them. They asked you questions about your art, and you asked similar questions back about their music. You listened intently, knowing that understanding their music on a deeper level would help you create better masks. Each interaction left you joyful and smiling. You still could not believe you were here with them, and how readily they welcomed you into their world.

The final member to measure was III. You could not lie to yourself, you had been the most excited to meet with him. You had spent your nighttime hours thinking about him, wondering what it would feel like to have him hold you, touch you, kiss you…

“Good morning Y/N.” IIIs voice pulled you out of your thoughts. Could he hear how loud your heart was beating?

“Good morning III,” you greeted him, plastering what you hoped was a nonchalant smile on your face. He looked ethereal, wearing a long-sleeve black button-down, and black jeans that perfectly accentuated his long legs. Just be professional, you reminded yourself. “Take a seat please, and we can get started.”

“Yes ma’am,” he quipped. Even as he sat, he still towered over you.

You pulled out your measuring tape and a pen and paper. Starting with his forehead, you drew the tape along the various planes of his face. Your fingers tickled with electricity as they studied the contours of his features under the black fabric of his mask.

The whole time, III gazed up at you with blue-grey eyes.

“Does it make it more difficult that we are masked while you’re doing this?” he asked you.

“Actually, it’s a bit easier,” you replied. “I can use the dimensions of your existing mask, rather than having to create complete new ones.”

He hummed with understanding. “Tell me more about your art. Why do you make masks?”

God, just him talking to you was getting you worked up.

“I’ve always been interested in the idea of losing oneself to one’s appearance. Whether it is a costume, makeup, tattoos, I often wonder if we use these things to hide ourselves, or to express ourselves more truly.” Your hands now measured the strong bridge of his nose. “Masks seem like the penultimate of this question. When we hide our faces, are we really hiding, or does the anonymity allow us to more fully be who we are?”

“How beautifully put.” Now you guided the tape along his jawline, feeling its sharpness under the fabric mask. Your fingers lightly traced the exposed skin of his neck, and you felt him stiffen. “A beautiful mind, beautiful art, a beautiful woman,” he said softly.

Your breath caught at his words and you shifted slightly. As you moved, your foot caught on his and you lost your balance, starting to fall backwards. But before you hit the ground, III’s strong arms wrapped around your waist pulling you towards his chest. His warmth, the strong muscles of his body, the musky smell of his cologne — all of it came crashing into you.

“Woah there love. I’ve got you.” He murmured into your hair as he continued holding you close. “I don’t need you getting hurt now. I’m not sure I could live with myself if you got hurt on my watch.”

You chuckled softly, but made no motion to pull away. “Thank you III. You just caught me off guard I guess.”

“Come now, I’m sure you’re used to such compliments.”

You felt yourself becoming braver now that you knew what he was trying to tell you. Now that his hands were starting to explore your waist, thumbs running small circles just under your breasts. “Ah, but I’ve never received such compliments from someone so…”

“Devilishly handsome?” he pulled back slightly, smirking down at you.

“So incredibly fucking hot.”

Two seconds. You felt him pause for two seconds while he registered what you said. By the third second, he had pulled the fabric of his mask up to his nose, wrapped his hands in your hair, and brought his lips down to meet yours.

The intensity of his kiss was ferocious. His teeth clattered into yours before he spread your lips with his tongue, sliding it in to meet your own. You kissed him back fiercely, as your hands explored his chest, his back, and finally ventured down to his ass.

That touch seemed to light him up even more, as suddenly he was picking you up to carry you towards the couch. He laid you on your back, spread your legs apart with his knee, and then proceeded to kiss you again as he knelt over you. This time, his kiss was more measured, slow and sensual. Your attention drifted to his knee pressing up against your core. He bit your lip gently. “Y/N, my love, you tell me when to stop, alright?”

“Alright,” you replied, gazing up into those stunning eyes, lids now heavy with lust.

You continued to kiss passionately while his hands explored your body, and then traveled up under your shirt. He took your breast in his large hand, thumb circling your nipple. “You are just perfect, aren’t you?”

You bucked to his touch, as your own hands worked to remove the buttons of his shirt. As he poised above you, now shirtless, his hair beginning to shine with sweat, you felt as though you were looking at a god.

“III?” You said softly, tracing a finger down his chest.

“Yes, my love?”

“Let me worship you.”

He growled at your words. You gently guided him off of you, until he was standing before you. Getting down on your knees, you started to unbutton his pants while his hands circled through your hair.

When he was fully unclothed, his massive length sprung out towards you. You were going to spend every second treating him like the god he was, you thought to yourself, as you took him in your mouth.

“Y/N,” he groaned. “That feels so fucking good.” His fingers in your hair tightened, and you welcome the little bite of sensation. You continued to pleasure him, savoring his taste, enjoying the way his breath sped up at your touch.

After you had taken your time with him, you felt a soft touch at your chin. “My love,” he said, taking your face to look up at him. “It is my turn to worship you.”

III guided you up to stand before him, and began to undress you. He took his time, letting his fingers caress your skin, kissing you along your collarbones, your shoulders, and down your chest. Once you were fully naked, he took a step back to admire you. Your body burned beneath his gaze.

“You, my love, are a work of art.”

And then his hands were everywhere. They wrapped around you, pulling you close. You felt his cock, still wet from your spit, pressing into your belly. His hands grabbed your ass, your waist, and then began drifting towards your center until his long fingers landed softly on your clit.

You let out a soft gasp, realizing how much you had needed him to touch you there. He traced lazy circles around your clit as he kissed your neck. You knees began to tremble at his touch.

Seeming to sense your inability to keep yourself upright, he guided you back to the couch and laid you down, fingers never leaving the wetness between your legs.

“I love how wet I’m making you,” he whispered, smirking. “My girl deserves nothing but absolute pleasure.”

You whimpered at his words as your hips arched towards him, wanting more.

“Tell me what you want, my love,” he breathed into your ear. “Tell me how to pleasure you.”

You looked into his eyes, meeting those cool blue depths. “I want all of you III. I want to feel you in me.”

It was like your words had released the final thread. III kissed you again, claiming your lips in his, as he pushed himself inside you.

It felt like heaven. His body in yours, your lips in his, the heat of your bodies like a fire between you. He rocked his hips in a steady rhythm, hitting you deep in your center every time, filling your eyes with stars.

Eden.

His fingers worked their way into your mouth, flooding you with your own taste. Your eyes met, locked together while III pounded into you, deeper with every stroke.

You came together, your body catapulting into a realm of intense pleasure as his fingers gripped the soft flesh of your hips, his head falling back as he reached his own climax. You relished in the warmth, the sense of fullness within you.

Slowly, your breathing softened. III pulled you close, and you both spent a few quiet moments settled in each other’s presence. The rain had started up again, spattering the windows and softening the daylight.

III’s fingers traced soft circles on your back as he held you. “Y/N, my love, I could do that forever.”

You knew in your heart you felt the same. So you pulled III closer and held on tight.

[maitredorsia]

If I was in American Psycho I would not be Patrick Bateman’s girlfriend. I’d be one of his dudebro business buddies. I’d flirt with him, Tim, Craig, and David with just enough plausible deniability to not be ostracised, in the vain hope that maybe one of them will reciprocate. I wouldn’t get any work done, I’d just sit and chew bubble gum and read magazines and listen to music all day. My secretary would hate me. I’d be notorious for sending viruses in group emails. Patrick would want to kill me. They’d mock me for being a huge simp for my girlfriend who would also hate me. She’d be cheating on me with a rotating cast of my colleagues. I’d fall in love with an escort whom I hire twice a month and cry to the boys about it. I’d get banned from Dorsia for reasons unknown. . I would be the funniest mf in Pierce & Pierce . I’d get hit by a taxi while high on coke and die.

[chimimon]

Cab Boy

Modern AU - Touya x f!Reader

Disclaimer! What you are about to read contains the following: vulgar language, creepy co-worker, some stalking. Again if I’m missing something pleeaassseeee telllll meeeeee.

& and I have to say is… I started to get lost after the third draft. And then I wrote something for Nanami because I was going to loose my mind looking at manga panels of Touya for any inspiration, but I want to thank E.P.! You’re a real one and I love you for being an English major drop out. I would give you a big fat platonic smooch if HR wouldn’t beat me for it :’)

On velvety old car seats that softly gleamed under the streetlights, you completely melted in the backseat. With your legs to one side, leaning against the window, you watched the city fall behind you and your taxi. It was like dreaming with your eyes open, or like lying down while sitting up. The car smelled of cigarettes and cologne which added to the scene of the night drive.

The release of tension on your hips from standing in place for nearly four hours felt painful, and more so with every bump or hitch in the road. Comically they were just one chair short when you arrived at the main meeting room. But they were sure to save you a spot at an uncomfortably high countertop to type out company dialogue and bullet points. The burn in your wrists couldn’t be soothed as you rolled your balled fists around every couple minutes. The hollow ache only inched further up your arm. In the corner of your eye, you caught your driver’s gaze in the rear-view mirror before he warned you of an upcoming bump, mindful of the back of your head resting against the glass.

“Thank you.” You yawned with outstretched arms and legs, now readjusted and upright. There were still thirty minutes left until you arrived outside your apartment and the driver was staring again with smiling eyes. You thought to ask, “Have I seen you before? Did you pick me up last time?”

“I might have.” A soft tap followed the rhythm of his sentence. “But I drive a lot of people.”

You hummed with a lifted chin. The streetlights blurred the tips of his white hair, and you felt mesmerized by the green and red that paled in it. “Do you like driving all those people, sir?” You crossed a leg sitting tall. Those feathery strands of hair rolled from one shoulder to the other.

“I don’t mind it if most of them are like you.”

“Like me?” You leaned forward and with a lazy raise of your brow. “What about me?”

The red light made him look pink as he looked to you over his shoulder. A black medical mask covered his mouth as he answered. “Quiet, sober, pretty… most things I like in a passenger.” he said thoughtfully.

The word pretty lifted you up again, uncrossing one leg before crossing the other. “Right.” You whispered, and then laughed. Before you could open your mouth to ask for his name you remembered you called the cab online. With the ride information pulled up you looked at his information and smiled.

“Touya Todoroki,” your driver stiffened at your playful tone. “Do you get big tips for calling passengers pretty?”

A deep and airy chuckle was exactly what you wanted to hear. “We’ll see.” He sang after a moment.

Soon the door opened, you exited, and just like that you were home. Before you jogged up the stairs you turned to cordially thank him. You replayed the banter under the yellow light of your doorstep. “Touya,” you read to yourself. I can’t afford it, but I’ll tip you big tonight.

-

Over end of day coffee and toast, a transfer hire was talking your ear off about paperwork for company plans. The never-ending praises for management and how they “ran a functionally tight ship” made your coffee bitter and toast cold. It felt suffocatingly humid as both the heating and conditioning vents aimed at you in the break room. It had been cold outside, so it was a little too warm inside as boring conversation added to the creeping heat. You lifted up and off the wall from leaning against it as the man spoke. It became apparent that he was not going to let you slip past idle conversation. Every step you took away to leave he took equal steps forward to follow. There was also his wandering gaze on your outfit which you felt he could have at least tried not to be so obvious about. He was clearly appraising your waist, blouse, and neck. The thought of him undressing you with his eyes made you button your collar closed before making haste to your cardigan draped over your chair.

This man was not giving up. At some point you had stopped nodding, equipping your knitted armor of acrylic and cotton, as you began to sit down. “If you're hungry after work, we can-”

“I’m sorry,” You quickly cut in. “But I can’t afford any overtime this week. And, oh- damn. I need to get back to my amazing manager.” Every part of your face smiled but your eyes, ignoring his clear attempt to ask with a lie. “Sorry, but if you don’t mind.” Both hands were put up as you shrugged. “It’s a tight ship, sir.”

Finally, he was leaving. It was like watching a big kid drag their feet away from a playground, but he was finally leaving. With the whole encounter in mind, it was decided that there was no hurt in securing another ride tonight. Sure, going home by taxi added thirty minutes to what was normally a 10-minute rapid train ride, but there was no point in having that man insist on lunch again while you walked to the station; or worse, having to find out that he’s got a car to drive you home in.

Touya saw you had requested another ride and at once claimed your ticket. As the confirmation screen loaded, he noticed your request was made ten-minute’s ago and that he may have just missed you. He crossed his fingers before he dropped his head in relief, grinning as the location details appeared on the screen. This afternoon you had some instructions.

Please pretend to be annoyed that I’m “late”, and speed off once I get in.

Interesting, he thought to himself while he sped over, arriving a little earlier than your pick-up time. Touya tapped on his steering wheel again in anticipation before he exited the car. Without shame he hoped you were wearing another skirt that hugged your waist and hips or that this time that your hair might be down.

As you approached the car Touya was leaning on the passenger side, smoking a cigarette with another black mask resting below his bottom lip as he waited for you. The clicking of your heels in their quick stride drew his empty stare up. You were wearing opaque black tights, an A-line heather skirt, and a baggy cream-colored cardigan, looking especially stuffy with the white-collar button down. As soon as your eyes met, you smirked, and he pulled up the mask before you could take his features to memory. You bowed in pretend apologies, and he clicked his teeth. With some dramatic flair he flung open your door, side eyeing as you got in before smacking it shut. Touya dropped his cigarette onto the street, pressing it into the concrete before he climbed into the driver's seat. As he dropped in, he caught sight of a stalky man staring bullets into your temple.

“Running away from your boss?” He said through rear-view mirror. Touya noted how your face softened in relief as soon as he hit the gas.

“He’s kinda higher up, so...” the window fogged as you spoke to your reflection. “I guess you could say that.”

“He looks like a skinny, uptight asshole.” Touya muttered.

You smirked. “More like a skinny, uptight creep.” a chuckle escaped your lips as you turned to his light blue eyes, smiling at you again. Under gray skies in the late afternoon, they seemed cold. “But I'm happy to see you again, Touya.” You turned to look out the other window.

He slowly blinked and felt something bubble in his chest. “How sweet,” He said too honestly, “Well... I’m sure my acting skills are deserving of another nice tip.” He lifted a brow to the road.

“Oh?” You rolled your eyes. “You think I have that kind of money because I walked out a fancy glass building?”

“Are you saying you only have money for boys that call you pretty, ma’am?”

Ma’am brought an embarrassed blush to your face as the word dripped into your ears. “Do you drive in search of a sugar mama?” You kept up.

“Are you judging me?”

“Just a little.”

Touya clicked his teeth again three times before his voice polished itself into something flirty. “You’re quick, aren’t you?”

Your attention snapped to his reflection as the heat traveled down your neck. Touya ate up the suppressed smile that was cupped in your hands. You leaned toward him again as he entered a freeway.

“Ah, so you aren’t.”

“I think I’m beginning to question my happiness in seeing you again, cab boy.”

“Oh, she bites too.”

“And you don’t, Touya?”

“Just a little.” He purred.

You fell back into your seat and did some people watching at a red light. “Cab boy,” you quietly let out in a quick laugh.

It was the kind of laugh that tightened his jaw and causing him to grip the steering wheel for self-control. Touya was on the clock after all, and you were a paying passenger.

-

It’d been a week since he saw you, and he was worried you actually couldn’t afford anymore cab rides. If it weren’t completely illegal for him to ask for your account information, just to gather a lucky set of numbers, he would have offered to drive you around for free.

The first time he picked you up was after receiving a request from an older man, so when you and another young woman entered his car, he was pleasantly surprised. You were clearly annoyed, giving him the cold shoulder before talking with a voice that warmed him right up. But you weren’t speaking to him, you were shutting down some poor sucker on the phone with a smile on your face, a taunt in your tone and rolled eyes. You were meanly turning down the man that ordered the cab and he liked it. This vague idea of you lived in his head for a couple of days until he realized he was headed back to that same cooperate office. With all the luck he used driving you around the first time, it was like hitting the jackpot when you hoped in again alone.

It was written all over your body that you were just so tired, taking up all the room in his back seat, wondering if you would stop him from joining in to take up more. Innocently- he thought. But if Touya liked you rude, he liked you better embarrassed. The word pretty did so much to you for just a moment, he could see you falter as he tested the water; watching for go signs as if he could act on them while behind the wheel.

Three rides just days apart was where he felt his luck run dry. Just enough to miss his favorite ride for the week and when Friday arrived, he was starting to think you were using another service for drives. That bugged the hell out of him all afternoon.

-

Persistence can overcome any obstacle for as long as you harassed the right woman and tonight, in a cold restaurant sitting across from a man that couldn’t take any hints, that woman was you. As drinks were dropped off at your table, he talked about how endearing he found your game of hard-to-get.

“You're just this snippy thing in a frumpy cardigan. But I thought like, like God! If she just looked a little harder, she might appreciate what I’m doing, cause you like roses, right? Women like roses?”

A finger traced circles on the rim of your glass, “They’re pretty, sure.” You knew you were blinking too much, sighing too much, drinking too much water. There was little to no eye contact from your end and honestly, the whole “I’ll at least get a free meal,” thing was not worth this.

“Why don’t you order something to drink? How about a omething as sweet as you, little missy?”

Like hell you were gonna get drunk near this guy. But for just a moment you began to wonder... what would Touya have called you? Would he have asked if wanted something stronger? Would he have even taken you here? Would you have been better off calling for another ride to sit in casual conversation? Without realizing it, you had started to smile at the thought of a taxi driver and your date took it as a sign to reach across the table for your hand. The sudden contact made you jump as he continued to pride himself in the choice of venue, and how he detests men who like something fruity.

Not a single man in your office interested you, but your manager was going on and on about how this temporary transfer was going to take the department places if the team was on their best behavior. What he meant to say was that he’d get a good raise if he babysat a stockholder's son. But once he caught scent that this guy liked you, your manager visited your desk often. Asking you to show this guy how to use certain things in the office, how to label faxes and emails, things that your date knew because they were a transfer, not a new hire. And more time together meant digging deeper to find more excuses to turn him down. All of them were fairly honest and nice, but when he placed his hand on your arm during lunch, pushing your resolve aside with brute force, something sick possessed you to finally say yes to make it stop. It was just luck you would cave in on his last week there. Of course he’d snatch you up the night he leaves the department.

And here he was. Still moving his god forsaken mouth. “Are you gonna look at the menu?” He rested his chin on his fist, making himself taller. “Or are you trying to keep that figure nice n’ light for tonight?” He giggled.

With wide eyes, you thinly smiled, slowly reaching for your stomach. “I actually, I think I’m catching something.” You giggled in nervously.

“Oh, excited I see.” His teeth were too white, and it felt like your eye was twitching.

“I, no I actually...” Your scooted out of the booth, holding your stomach tighter. “I just- can you just excuse me for a second?”

In cold silence, the man's face dropped as you walked past. Nearly running to the restroom, you hid yourself in a stall and pulled out your phone to request another cab. If you could help it, you were going to walk straight past him in hopes he wouldn’t follow if he caught your stride. The cab was confirmed, and you gave it five minutes before you could dart out of the restaurant and down the street. But he started to text you at the two-minute mark, followed by a call.

As soon as it went to voicemail, you blocked his number and walked as fast as you could. The cold night air snuck up your back and shoulders as you began to run a block down and around the corner. There was a set of stairs on the side of a closed café, you pulled out your phone to see the status of your ride. There wasn’t a car to be seen slowing down, and you were getting antsy to leave the area. The site said your ride should have been there, but instead of an engine you could hear footsteps echo from the direction you came. Without looking you went further into the neighborhood to weave through an alleyway. There had to be a convenience store somewhere, and you were going to find it. And a convenience store there was.

As soon as you made your entrance, you saw the man you were running from turn your way. You ducked as the echo of your low pump heels felt like a target was placed on your head. You weaved through a medicine aisle, jogging on your tippy toes to mute your steps. Damn it, you gently kicked off your heels, speeding barefoot on the cold plastic flooring, completely abandoning your shoes. The goal was to be in another stall while you calmly found a new ride. You pushed the door open with your back just to be sure your date hadn’t already spotted you. But as you rushed in, you slammed into another man before the door could close.

“Oh shit.” Your stomach hit the floor as you turned to see the back of another tall man. “Shit! Sorry!” The sound of costumers nearby stopped your outstretched hand from pulling the door open to leave. “I- ah.” You said to the floor, with your heart in your throat.

The stranger was wiping his hands off with a paper towel and did not care to look at you. “Yeah, yeah.” He said about to push his way out. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me-” Touya stared at the back to your head, and your hand on the handle before allowing his gaze to drop.

Oh, he thought. It’s you. How lucky.

Before you could completely turn around to face him, someone tried to push open the door. Touya quickly pushed the door closed with hand planted beside your head. You looked back and up at him with wide eyes and lifted shoulders. To him you looked self-conscious and noted just how different it felt when you weren’t blushing. You looked wild, taking heavy breathes in and out, wearing a short dress that was falling off your shoulder. He watched your eyes focus on his, then he watched your brows furrow, and finally this dog like charm brought on a nervous smile. “No way.” you whispered. “You’re late.”

“I’m never late for you, princess. I’m anything but late.” His smiling eyes taunted. “Besides, someone beat me to it.”

“It? To what-?”

The sound of urgent stomping grew as a man got closer. “How does a door without a lock get stuck?” You heard a familiar voice whine.

“Damn it,” you could just smell the alcohol past their paper white teeth. “Touya stay with me.”

“What-?”

Before the door could be completely swung open you dragged Touya into a stall. He quietly laughed and watched as you climbed onto the tank of the toilet before he locked the stall behind him. “You’re fucking ballsy.”

The thought to say something smart was chased away as your pursuer entered a stall across from you two. He had started to mutter insults about you before turning his attention to an incoming call. You shushed Touya with a finger to his mask, completely unaware of the shit eating grin that hid underneath as you wildly eyed the slit in the stall door.

He turned to door as well, squinting while trying to listen in on this mysterious man you were hiding from. “Well. Go on.” He tilted his head and waited.

“That stupid girl from the analytics department. Yeah. Yes, yes. Her.” You eyed the ceiling in which his voice echoed from. “Yeah, well I’m over here blowing money on drinks for us, and she runs away before she’s gotta put out.”

Touya’s felt his mouth open. He was staring at you before you stared at him, pointing to the inside of your mouth and pretending to gag.

“Yeah well, whatever. I’m over it. Yeah. No, like. No exactly. Seriously. You wanna spoil some chick and- no literally. I know she’s here. No, I’m not- No I wasn’t trying to follow her- I… I have her shoes in my fucking hands.”

With a click and open of his stall, the man had left without washing up. You started rubbing your fingers together as you thought about the impromptu physical contact he made at the resultant.

“I see.” Touya leaned against the stall staring at your bare feet. “So... bad date?”

“Bad is underplaying it.” You whispered still, relaxing a bit in Touya’s presence. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

“I’m off tonight.”

“Oh.” You looked to the side in deep thought. “Oh, okay. It...” finally clicked.

“You said I was late?” He tilted head. “What was I late for, hmm?” He taunted, enjoying how you squinted your eyes at him.

“Nothing apparently.” You crossed your legs on the tank and leaned forward in relief, rubbing your temples. “Nothing I’m fine now.” You stepped down on the lid before stepping onto the floor. The scent of some soapy cologne held you in place as you thought about the man still being outside. “Can I ask you to-” you paused again, taking a deep breathe with some clear anxiety. “Can you leave with me?”

“You know how that’s gonna look, right?”

On cue a blazing heat settled into your face, feeling the embarrassment overwrite anxiety as you seriously contemplated bolting straight to the station barefoot. With a nod and a deep breath in, you dropped your head. “Touya, please?”

That pushed a button. “Please what?” The precious look through your lashes pulled him in. “Go on?”

“Please walk me down the block? You jerk?” You batted your lashes cutting through bashfulness with a grin.

“You got it, baby.”

Touya took you under an arm to hide you in loose hold. The soapy cologne did not hide the sewn in stench of tabaco. It stung on inhale and made you lightheaded as you kept walking. You could feel his grip tighten as you two stepped out the store. When his arm didn’t loosen after going a block down, you slowed down. “Touya, you’re good.” You lifted your hand to peel off his arm, which he did as soon as you touched him.

“Are you sure?” He dug into his pockets to dangle a set of keys. “I can drive you home.”

“I can’t afford that tonight.”

“I don’t want gas money.”

“It’s okay, I-” you stopped yourself as the thought that you were shoeless, a little sweaty, and in a dress occurred.

Touya scratched his neck from in the collar of his hoodie, waiting for you to finish. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you’re face, pal. So, I can’t ask you for a free ride.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He sounded a little annoyed. “But you can ask to sit pretty under my arm while check-out eyes us down?” Touya dropped his head, deepening his eye contact with you. He had these doll-like lower lashes that held your attention.

“Apparently…” that stung so you backed away. “So, thank you for that I guess.”

Touya was taken aback, kicking himself for being blunt as you sucked in half of your lower lip. “I’m kidding.” He started to play with a string looped around his ear before flicking it off, suddenly exposing his face. “It’s no big deal.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “How convincing.” you sighed, wistful of the whole night. Touya put his arm out again, waiting for you to walk into him before walking you to his car in a lot another block away.

The silence was thick as he opened the passenger door for you, watching you drop in and shyly get comfortable. His car was clean, empty, and smelled just like his taxi. A sudden Dejavú hit as he hoped into driver's seat. It was foreign to be front passenger of any car, let alone one Touya drove. The car hiccupped as the engine turned, you watched his hands on the wheel when your trail stopped mid-way. It was a stick shift and once Touya got onto the main road, his attention alternated between his hands, feet and the street. He was the heart of the car and it was fun to watch it beat up close.

Touya could feel your gaze as he shifted gears. He smiled a when the down shift caught you off guard and wondered if you had ever been in a manual before.

“Here.” He opened his palm on the top of the shifter. You reached over and gripped the knob, feeling the car shudder at the red light. As soon as the light turned green his hand landed on yours to take off. The car took deep breathes before it trilled at the gas pedal. Touya’s hand was soft, his fingers rested in between yours, and with each shift up you could feel the nighttime moths flood your stomach.

He bit his lower lip pensively and squared his gaze forward as he drove. As soon as he got to sixth gear of the freeway, he smoothed over his thumb on yours. Normally he would have taken his hand off the stick, but he was dragging out the physical intimacy of whatever this was. He wanted more, and selfishly placed you hand in your lap with his lingering on top. When Touya began to lift his hand, you lifted yours as well to re-lace your fingers with his.

That same burn in your hips returned but it was accompanied by cold feet and arms. The adrenaline was leaving your body and you shuddered at its exit. The chatter of your teeth began to rival whatever was playing on his stereo. Touya unceremoniously tore his hand from yours and laughed when you softly pouted. The car slowly leaned into another lane as Touya took off his hoodie. With his knee he brough the car back into the lane as he slipped off the last sleeve. Your look of bewilderment made him flush as he placed his hoodie on your lap. “Put it on,” he nodded self-consciously. “Come on...” He sighed.

You faced him with a cheeky smile and he rolled his eyes. Thinking back on it, his hoodie looked big on him but seemed to grow on you as soon as you slipped it over your head. With your knees to your chest, tucking them in for warmth, you breathed in all the lingering cologne and cigarette smoke in the neck.

“Thank you.” You tilted your head toward him and hummed.

“No problem, princess.”

[glass--beach]

hi !!!! :3 so, pd seems, in my reading like its a decent part about the kinda mass surveillance and commodification of personhood shit the world has got going on rn, in a kinda (yes, its cliche, but the radiohead influence makes it a bit more palatable) modern ok computer-esque way. anyways, i wanted to ask u, what motivated u to write about these subjects especially ??

i am transgender and so so scared

near every single person in the world carries a camera on them at all times with the capability of broadcasting its view to all of the internet. we have a culture of emotional armor and swords built to slip between its plates, to be angry or afraid or upset or even the wrong kind of happy is cringe. those who believe in some shadow government in some hidden room somewhere spying on us at all times are delusional - this is wrong - where labor can be outsourced for cheaper it will be. taxis are expensive to run, making people drive their own cars and find customers on an app for measly pay is much more cost effective. giving a music writer a salary is too pricey compared to hiring freelancers on a per article basis. and now surveillance has been, like so many other things, outsourced to civilians and their cameras and smartphone apps. a man sitting oddly on a couch is cheating on his girlfriend, a fold in a woman’s clothing is a hidden penis, we are the panopticon and the prisoner… this is the “society of control” - freedom as tyranny.

the nature of reality is at stake in our culture - “what is a woman?” “a woman” - those who refuse to understand transgender people are helplessly tied to some “deep reality” - “i know what you are!!” - which is ultimately an enforcement of the status quo socially constructed reality. transgender people recognize reality as something socially constructed and seek to bend it to their liking… pronouns and chosen names are after all meant for others to use rather than ourselves, they are third person terms, gender never worms its way into the terms “I” and “We”. our personhood is defined by other people, and can be invalidated or revoked by others… the insecurity created by this tension is ripe for advertising. take this boner pill, it will make you more of a man. take this injection, it will make you a woman. we are defined by our outside, our house, our car, our clothes, our skin, our bodies.

this is where the “family nexus” concept comes in - groups of people create their own pockets of reality. to christians, god is real and to deny this is insanity. to hardcore atheists, believing in god is insanity. to many psychiatrists years ago and some still today, to believe to be a different gender is insanity… and the insane deserve less rights than the sane, they don’t even know what is best for themselves. queer people seek to create a new sane. or rather to go “insane” in our own way the same way anyone who believes in anything does. create our own nexus where our experience of reality is simply true.

hope that helps at all and makes any amount of sense

oh yeah ok computer… maybe i’ll go off about that another time… much of the themes and sound of that record were a jumping off point for us. written in the 1990s, the end of history, time has marched on and yet we are still here stuck in capitalist reality. “did you lie to us tony” as if labour could ever do something about the fact that post 1991 “there is no alternative”… deeply tragic record but love runs through all of it undeniably… maybe i’ll go off about that in another post…

[ao3-rex1223]

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Ada Wong x Bi!fem!Reader.

Warnings: threesome, bisexual reader, polyamory, oral sex (m and f receiving), p in v sex, fingering, voyeurism, creampies, slight dubious consent but reader is 100% into it.

Summary: You are a maid hired by Leon and his wife, Ada. When you arrive to their mansion, it turns out they have a much more personal job in mind.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!

“Looks like this is the place,” you mumble to yourself, double checking the address on the piece of paper in your hand. You stand in front of a tall cement fence, closed by an iron gate. It surrounds a large, opulent mansion. The taxi that dropped you off slowly pulls away from the curb. You approach the gate and key in the code. You hear the motor kick into gear and begin pushing the gate open. As it slowly slides across the walkway, you grab your suitcase and start pulling it behind you, its wheels clacking on the hard, concrete walkway. You take a deep breath and sigh. The Kennedy's mansion is definitely something to behold. When you finally reach the front door and knock, a butler answers. He's a middle aged man, perhaps in his fifties. He smiles warmly at you and leads you inside.

“You must be the new hire,” he says calmly. His voice is gruff but welcoming. His years of service as a butler are evident.

“Yeah.” You nod politely and give him your name. “I'm from Geri’s Maid Services.”

“My name is Graham. Master and Mistress Kennedy are looking for more of a…personal attendant rather than a maid…but I promise it pays very well.” He gives you an exuberant smile.

“I'm sure I can handle it,” you reply confidently, although you've heard the stories. Five other maids from Geri’s attempted this job and quit after a week, even with the exorbitant amount of money they could have made. On top of that, you know there were other companies before that who sent maids who also didn't last. The contract is for six months. Surely you can handle living here and waiting on them for six months, right?

Finally, the happy couple enters the room hand in hand. Leon and Ada Kennedy. Both are agents for the government or the military, if you remember correctly. You've never seen a more perfectly beautiful pair of humans. Leon is completely dashing; strong and built like a tank. His face is chiseled to perfection. You could easily see yourself kissing every inch of his gorgeous, square jaw. His jeans are rather loose fitting, but you can still see the outline of a fantastic, long, girthy cock. What you wouldn't give to choke on it…or bounce on it…fuck anything would do. And his wife, Ada, good God, she's an angel! Your mouth waters looking at her delicate face. Her lips are soft and a cute, warm, pink color; totally kissable. Her petite body is fucking perfection. Her small breasts could fit in your mouth and fuck if you don't wish you could make that image a reality.

“You must be the new help,” Ada comments with a mischievous smile, her beautiful eyes twinkle as they watch you. Her voice is lyrical. You could listen to her read the phone book and be entertained. Her gaze trails down your body appreciatively, lingering on your voluptuous breasts.

“Yeah,” you confirm and give your name again.

Leon’s eyes travel your form as well, smiling slightly. “Mmm, I hope you decide to stay…we've had such trouble finding good, loyal employees,” Leon adds. He turns to his wife, looking at her lovingly. “Haven't we?”

“Mhmm,” Ada attests and kisses Leon affectionately. “We have some…unique needs…but as long as you do what we ask, you'll make a fortune for yourself. Who knows? If you do well, we'll even extend your contract.” She winks.

What could be better, you think to yourself. “That sounds great to me!”

“Graham, show her to her room, please, then give her a tour of the house. Ada and I will be outside on the patio,” Leon instructs. He keeps his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the French doors that lead to a large patio.

You follow Graham to your bedroom. It's a nice size, plenty of room with a nice bed and a large walk-in closet, not that you have that many clothes. You hang up what you brought and then follow Graham on a tour of the spacious mansion, patting yourself on the back for wearing comfortable shoes.

After you've seen the whole property, Graham brings you to the patio where Leon and Ada are in the pool. Your eyes widen as you take in the sight. Ada’s legs are wrapped around her husband’s waist. Her cute little tits are on full display as Leon had moved her bikini top up to expose them. He gently suckles on one of them while thrusting upwards. You can't exactly see what's happening below the water, but you know he's inside her. Ada bounces with each thrust, her free breast jiggling tantalizingly. You see Leon's ripped arms holding her steady against his rock hard chest as he fucks her. Ada moans loudly, her erotic noises getting louder and louder as she approaches climax. You freeze, both aroused and embarrassed by the scene unfolding before you. Ada lets out a pleasured cry as she cums, her face contorting in ecstacy. Leon pumps a few more times and growls loudly as he spills inside her. They kiss passionately then help each other back into their swimsuits and climb out of the pool. Both turn to you with welcoming smiles.

Leon speaks your name with his husky, post-coital voice. “Have you settled in?” He asks casually as though you didn't just watch him fuck his wife in the pool.

Your jaw fumbles a bit as you try to compose yourself. “Um…yeah…I did…”

The couple walks toward you, Leon's arm affectionately draped around Ada's waist.

Nervousness grips you, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You feel compelled to apologize. “Listen, Mr. Kennedy…I'm really sorry…for…”

“Hey, it's okay. There's nothing to apologize for,” Leon reassures you. He gently places his hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His touch sends a jolt straight to your core. You whimper. He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle. “It's good you're here,” he begins. “Ada would like a bath since we're done swimming. I need you to attend to her.”

You gulp, your pussy tingling at the idea of seeing her naked. “Of course, sir,” you manage to choke out.

Ada smiles at you hungrily. She curls her index finger at you, beckoning for you to follow her. She leads you through the house to the master bedroom with an ensuite master bath.

“Draw the bath,” she commands and slowly removes her bikini. You drop to your knees in front of the faucet and force your eyes to keep attention on the bathtub, but all your mind can see is her pert breasts bouncing up and down earlier when Leon fucked her. You manage to draw the bubble bath and fill it with essential oils. She steps into the tub and you get a view that makes your mouth run dry. Her pussy is perfectly shaved; a delicious looking morsel that practically begs you to kiss it. You're not sure which lips are fuller; the ones between her legs or the ones on her face. Just as quickly as her perfect cunt comes into view, disappears beneath the soapy water. You don't see it, but she smirks intently at you as she watches you appreciate her lithe body.

“There's a washcloth in the cupboard,” Ada instructs. She says no more, but you assume she wants you to wash her. Your heart races with anticipation and the gusset of your panties gets even wetter. You frantically search for the washcloth and when it's finally in your hands, you grin with pride. You return to her side and dip the cloth in the bathtub and begin washing her neck and back. She lets out a soft sigh that’s dangerously close to being a moan. You suppress a shiver of delight and move to washing her arms. The tops of her breasts are visible above the bubbles and shift slightly in the water as her breathing steadily increases. With shaking hands you gently drag the washcloth across her chest. She lets out the softest moan. You nearly faint, so close to touching her breasts with your bare hand but the washcloth blocks you. Fuck.

You continue washing her body, meanwhile your mouth is getting drier and drier by the minute. You avoid her pussy and continue on to her legs. She lifts them out of the water to ease your access. You wash them thoroughly and when you're sure you've gotten everywhere, you begin to pull away. She catches your wrist and stops you. “You missed a spot,” she purrs with a seductive grin.

“Mistress?” You ask, trying to sound respectful but not wanting to presume she wants your touch in such an intimate place.

“Since you're new…” she begins. She takes the washcloth from your hand and sets it on the side of the tub. “The cloth is too abrasive for this…particular area.” She guides your hand in the water to her soft pussy.

You try to suppress a groan but fail miserably. She chuckles at your reaction. “Well, go on. You know what to do,” she instructs with a smirk. She lets out a content sigh, desperately hoping you’ll do what she wants. You gently begin rubbing her inner thigh where it meets her outer lips. Her breathing deepens and she closes her eyes, a soft hum of pleasure spilling from her throat. You continue rubbing her most intimate area with your hand under the guise of washing her. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Fuck, is this really happening, you think to yourself.

Growing more bold, you dip your fingers between her outer lips, feeling her slick cream mixing with the warm water. “Mmm that's it, honey. Just like that,” Ada coos. Her body flushes with the pleasure you bring her. She spreads her legs, relaxing her body under your touch. You circle her folds, avoiding her clit for now, instead teasing around the hood. Her hips buck slightly, splashing a bit of water on you, as if you even mind.

You tease her pillowy soft cunt for a while then slide a finger inside her slick, warm heat. The moan she lets out makes you absolutely feral. You slip another finger inside, curling them both while your thumb begins circling her clit teasingly slowly. Her back arches. “Fuck,” she moans, drawing out the word. You find her g-spot, rubbing it tenderly and she nearly bucks herself out of the tub. A loud, choked moan escapes her lips. Suddenly, you feel her walls squeeze your fingers like a vice, practically sucking you in. She moans and whimpers as she rides out her orgasm. When she collapses, panting, back against the wall of the tub, you withdraw your fingers, smiling with lust in your eyes. Ada smiles at you and gently cups your face with her hand. “You'll fit in perfectly here, sweetness,” she purrs.

You tentatively lean in toward her, your clothed breasts pressing against the edge of the tub. She closes the remaining distance by leaning her neck forward and joining your lips together. Fuck she tastes amazing. You shyly peck her lips at first, but then you feel her tongue slide across the seam of your mouth. You slide your jaw open, granting her access. She slips her tongue inside, tasting and exploring you. You moan happily, your hand automatically reaching out to cup her breasts. They're small, but soft and perky. You tweak and pinch her nipple, already hard between your fingertips. A delectable yelp vibrates into your mouth. “Naughty little girl,” she purrs. “Come, let's see what other trouble we can get into.” She stands from the tub and watches you until you get the message that she wants you to dry her. You quickly grab the soft, fluffy towel from the warming rack and gently pad her dry. She drops the towel and leads you, naked, back into the master bedroom.

Leon glances up from his phone as he lies casually on the bed. He’s wearing gray sweatpants and nothing else. You can see every thick, hard muscle on his upper body. Your pussy begins to drip all over again. “Sounds like you two had a nice bath,” Leon comments with a smirk. Your face flushes with a fire like heat as you realize you just finger fucked his wife and he heard everything.

“We've got a keeper, love,” Ada comments and gently places her hand on the small of your back. She guides you toward the bed. You can see Leon's dick growing hard inside his sweats, tenting the fabric. “She's good with her hands. I'd be willing to bet her mouth is just as good,” she adds. Leon's dick twitches visibly at her words.

“Really?” Leon asks with a wicked grin, his eyebrows up. He reaches down, cupping his half chubbed cock over his pants. He looks directly at you and smirks. “Well then, how about you settle that wager for us, yeah?”

You nearly choke with excitement and nod your head eagerly. You practically float to him. He adjusts his legs, spreading them out for you. He pulls his sweats down just enough to free his thick cock. “Holy shit,” you exclaim quietly, and hungrily eye the beautiful appendage.

Leon snorts with your reaction and grabs the base of his cock, gently flopping it around and enjoying watching your eyes follow every little movement, enraptured. You swallow hard and crawl on the bed. “Wait a minute,” Leon begins. He gives his cock a slow stroke. “Take off your clothes, baby girl. Let me see that hot body of yours. Can’t wait to see those fat tits of yours.”

You whip off your shirt and bra as fast as you can, your plump, supple breasts now on display for him and Ada. You follow up with your pants and panties. He hums with approval. You drop back to your hands and knees, settling between his thighs. You lick your lips then stick out your tongue and slide it up in a stripe from the base to his tip. You plant a kiss right where he's leaking precum. He lets out a guttural moan, dropping his head back on to the pillow. His hand remains at the base of his massive length and he gently taps your lips with it. You match his rhythm and lick each time he brings it back to you. Eventually, you growl and take your prize, engulfing his gorgeous dick in your mouth. He bucks his hips, hitting the back of your throat, but you just moan, sending pleasurable vibrations through his cock as more precum leaks, coating your mouth. You bob your head up and down, twisting and swirling your tongue around the massive shaft. The hand around his cock moves to your hair, gripping tightly and guiding your movements as he bucks his hips up to your face.

His moans come out like a symphony to your ears. You take in a deep breath and go down farther, taking him so deep you think he might hit your stomach. Your gag reflex kicks in, but you fight it with everything you have.

“Such a good girl,” Leon purrs. “You like choking on cock don't you?”

“Mhmm,” you answer with a hum as you continue sucking him. Your spit drips down his dick as his precum stimulates your saliva.

Ada crawls up next to Leon and kisses him deeply. He moans into the kiss and reaches up, grabbing her breasts with his massive hand. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth. Moans and whimpers from everyone fill the dimly lit room, along with the arousing scent of sex.

It doesn't take much longer to push Leon over the edge. He explodes in your mouth, filling you with cum, which you swallow greedily. You keep your lips wrapped around him until the last globs of his essence spill onto your tongue. Ada grabs your arm and pulls you up to lay on her. She kisses you aggressively, licking her husband's cum from your mouth. You happily share with her.

“Fuck,” Leon moans as he watches the two of you make out.

You share a few sweet kisses with Ada, then she gently pushes your shoulders down, guiding you to her spread legs. You tremble with anticipation and settle in front of her delicious, wet cunt. You kiss her thighs, teasing your way up, licking and sucking her sensitive skin. She squirms and grunts, desperate for your mouth to ravish her. Leon leans over and takes her breast into his mouth, suckling gently while massaging the other with his hand. She moans happily and as you finally take a lick up her slit, you taste her delicious cream. Fuck, she's got the sweetest pussy you've ever tasted. You close your lips around her soft folds and drink up that addicting essence. She cries out, bucking her hips so wildly she almost knocks you off the bed. “Fuck yes! Eat my pussy, baby!” She cries out. You wrap your arms around her legs to hold her in place. She tangles one hand in your hair and the other in Leon’s. You continue eating Ada’s incredible cunt happily, your own pussy dripping with slick, begging to be touched. Yet, you ignore it for now since you're feasting on a goddess.

You slip your middle and ring finger inside her, remembering where her g-spot is. You curl them, massaging that sensitive spot inside her walls. “Oh fuck yes!” She screams. You feel her legs and abs contract as she nears her orgasm. You double your efforts, sucking her clit hard and flicking your tongue across the sensitive nub. You work your fingers harder inside her, trying to push her over the edge. You moan into her, adding the vibrations of your voice. With that, her climax crashes over her like a tidal wave, her body writhing beneath you. Her legs fight against your arms, but you hold them in place.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leon is rock hard again. He gives his cock a few strokes while staring luridly at you. He grabs your arm, pulling you on top of him, much like Ada did. He kisses you passionately, tasting his wife on your lips. “She's got a fucking delicious pussy doesn't she?” Leon asks with a devilish grin before shoving his tongue in your mouth.

“Yeah…I could eat her all night,” you agree between hot kisses. Leon smirks and moves his hands down to your hips, guiding you onto his cock. Your eyes roll back as his massive length fills you, stretching you with a delicious pain.

“Is that a promise?” Ada remarks playfully. She watches with lust in her eyes as you take her husband's cock inside you.

You're too ecstatic to answer her. Instead, you throw your head back as you sink down onto Leon's dick, burying him balls deep in your cunt. His tip presses on your cervix and you let out a groan of desire. “Oh fuck…” you moan. He starts to lift your hips so he can shove his cock inside you again.

“That's it, ride my cock, baby. You've been wanting this dick since you walked in, haven't you? Wanting to take this cock and eat my wife's sweet cunt, huh?” He bullies his cock inside you again. “Fuck…you’re so tight.”

“Yeah! Fuck…fuck yeah!” You admit as you wordlessly set a pace together, pulling yourself upward just to slam down onto his hips and meet his hard thrusts.

“Good, cause we wanted to fuck you too. God, your perfect, fat tits and tight little ass… Couldn't resist you if we wanted to. Fuck, wanna stay buried in your sweet little pussy all night.”

Ada lays down on the bed beside you two and lazily strokes her clit with one hand and pinches her nipple with the other. She watches you and Leon intently with a lustful smile on her face.

Your breasts bounce as you ride Leon. One of his hands reaches up to cup and squeeze them.

“Such great fucking tits. I think I'll fuck them later,” he declares, panting heavily as he fucks you. He turns to Ada. “What do you think baby? I'll fuck her tits and you can eat her tight pussy. I bet she tastes good.”

Ada moans. “Fuck yeah…that sounds perfect. I've been dying to get a mouth full of her cunt since I saw her,” she admits with a wink. She rubs circles around her clit.

You drop your gaze back down to Leon, your jaw clenched tight as pleasure rips through your whole body. You bounce faster and Leon's thrusts become more erratic. Ada picks up her own pace as well, bending her legs and plunging two fingers inside herself. You're too focused on the huge cock ravishing your pussy right now to hear Ada’s sweet serenade of erotic sounds. The pressure builds, a mixture of pleasure and pain coursing inside you as his dick slams into the entrance of your womb.

“Gotta cum for me baby,” Leon encourages. “Cream all over my dick and I'll fill this tight fucking cunt. Stuff you like a pastry.” He moves a hand down to rub your clit.

The cumulative intensity is finally enough to send you over the edge. With a cry and tears of overwhelming pleasure rolling down your face, you throw your head back and cum. Your pussy grips the cock inside it like a vice, sucking it into a void of hot, wet sex. You brace yourself on his chest as you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

Leon follows suit, pulling your hips down tight against his and groaning loudly as he spills his load deep inside you. You're so full of cum you feel it leaking out around his cock. You both turn toward Ada in time to see her make herself cum, legs kicking and back arching. Fuck, she's like an acrobat during orgasm.

You roll off Leon, his softened cock slipping out of you. His cum leaks down your legs but you don't care. You wear it like a badge of honor along with the sweat on your body and Ada’s taste still lingering on your tongue. Lying on your back you exhale, exhausted but oh so satisfied. Ada leans over you and kisses you deeply, gently caressing your face. Leon kisses your neck and rubs your stomach.

Your eyes slip closed as the three of you spoon together on the luxurious bed, your heart never having felt so full and satiated.

[hughungrybear]

So, I guess the original timeline goes something like this:

1. Korn and Tonkla are lovers. Korn has also just inherited the illegal online gambling business from his dad. Meanwhile, Great and Title are bffs.

2. Great committed a hit-and-run against the woman in Ep 1. No hints whether she survived the incident.

3. Dome witnessed Title abducting the gf and made everyone know through their class GC. Title retaliates and kidnaps Dome.

4. Great became an accomplice/witness in killing Dome. Dome's body was later found and processed by the police led by Win. As a result, Win meets Tonkla at the morgue.

5. Korn's leadership was sabotaged by outside forces leading to him asking for help from Fah's dad. He ignores Tonkla's desperate attempts to reach out while he solves the family business' problems (and fucking Fah as payment, quid pro quo). Also, a shareholder was assassinated.

6. Win was removed as lead investigator by his superior. Probably because it was hinted that Tle's family is as rich and powerful (maybe moreso) as Great's parents. Win and Tonkla become lovers, with Win promising he'll continue investigating Dome's death for Tonkla's sake. Korn gets kicked out of Tonkla's house (and life). Win also meets a possible witness (the GF's friend in previous eps) and gets threaten in the process.

7. Tonkla (for reasons undisclosed yet) learned who killed his brother and proceeded to do some quick street justice on Tle (involving paying a girl to drug him to sleep so that Tonkla can bash his head in). Win finds a body with the same head injuries as Dome's. Meanwhile the same superior who told him to get off Dome's case is now harassing him for being too slow in solving this one, which tracks if that was really Tle's body they found. He also got a name on the murder prints (though we don't know whose it is).

8. Nan is secretly working with Tyme to bring the Sriwat Cargo Business down. She sleeps with the creepy ass manager but gets caught and shot while trying to gain more evidence.

Now, this is where it gets murky with the new timeline. Ignoring the 4-minute time loops in between, we have:

1. Great calls an ambulance on the woman he accidentally ran over. She survives but she also eventually hires a killer (Ep 5) who shoots both Great and his mother dead (or near death, as in Great's case), which brings us to the first minute of Ep 1

2. The family convinces Great to visit the woman where he meets Tyme. Tyme learns who Great is and decides to be close to him for revenge.

3. Great saves Dome and brings him to the hospital. Great and Tyme becomes officially acquainted. Tyme also saves Great from vengeful Tle.

4. Dome wakes up on a hospital bed. Curiously, nobody called Tonkla despite Dome being confined in the hospital for (what looks like) a few days. He did not visit his beloved brother in the hospital nor picked him up when he was discharged. We see Dome riding a taxi and talking to Tonkla on the phone. But when he gets off the taxi and greets Tonkla, he vanishes (just like the cat in Ep 1). In this sense, both Dome and the cat were like echoes to Tonkla. We don't see Tonkla in this new timeline. He is, for all intents and purposes, stuck in the original timeline.

5. Great keeps seeing things related to Tyme that had not happened outside the 4-minutes (i.e., seeing them have sex when he bumped Tyme in the hospital, reading "can you forgive me" on that note attached on the cup of Thai tea instead of "Don't forget to go to the hospital".

6. Great and Tyme go on a sweet date involving claw machines and ends the day with a(n almost) kiss.

7. Nan calls Tyme while trying to escape. Tyme dares to attack Korn but gets identified by Great in the process.

I feel like there is something to be said on Tyme's tendency to prolong the "inevitable" just like Den accused him of doing with a dying patient in this ep. Coupled by the fact that Tyme doesn't seemed to sleep (based on the off-cut remark from the janitor in the gym is Ep 2), it seems Tyme somehow holds the key to this whole mess.

Also, why is Tonkla absent in the new timeline?

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (2)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Part 2 focuses on a bit of context. I’m sorry that not much romance is happening, it’ll exist later I promise. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Eventually, you grow bored of watching the three of them interact. It all goes exactly as the story says, anyway, down to the dialogue. Instead, you step soundlessly into the hallway and up the stairs to the attic.

You like the attic of this house. Warm sunlight spills in during the afternoons, and when it gets too hot in the summer, opening the window lets in the sea breeze. Not claustrophobic, but cozy. Your feet bring you to your usual spot, the narrow window seat. You have always preferred small spaces. Floyd once laughed and compared you to fish that hide in coral reefs.

Your fingers dig under the cushioned seat and lift it to find a compartment. Nestled inside is what seems to be a regular notebook. You place your hand on the cover and let your magic roll over it like heavy fog. Its plain, blank pages fade into the appearance of a manuscript—no, a stack of printer paper stapled together that contains the information that completely changed your understanding of this world. This humble manuscript tells the “original story.”

You found it while cleaning the attic. Neither Jade or Floyd could confirm its origins or its author. The cover page is blank, save for the title: (Y/N)’s Story. At first, you thought it was a prank that the two were playing on you, so you read through the entire thing. The writing is immature, rampant with purple prose, and the grammar has more than room for improvement. Neither twin writes this way. Floyd lacks the patience to write past a page and Jade is too much of a perfectionist. They could have hired someone, but there are too many personal details in there for your comfort. You decided to put it down and mull it over.

The very next day, Jade ate an unknown mushroom and proceeded to find out that his body strongly disagreed with it. For three nights, he laid in bed with a fever. At first, you thought nothing of it, but the description of the mushroom he ate was uncomfortably familiar. The manuscript mentions this event as a quirky flashback meant to create insight to Jade’s character. Of course, it brushes off the absolutely miserable state he was in for the comedic factor. This alone was not enough. You needed more proof.

The next one was Floyd. He took a broom twenty meters off the ground before his mood suddenly flipped and he could no longer come back down. The story mentions this in another flashback, but does not mention your involvement in flying up there and helping him down. Only the information relevant to the main characters is important enough to mention. Again, it could easily be brushed off as a normal Floyd antic if it weren’t for the detail that he rode and nearly broke his mother’s broom. It was the first and only time any of you had seen it. Their mother, like most merfolk, is not fond of flying.

Once is a coincidence. Twice is suspicious. You confided in the twins. They, understandably, said you were being paranoid. Weeks passed until the next major event, and this time, you could no longer ignore it. This time, the event nearly uprooted the entire Leech Mafia.

You did not watch it happen. You received a text from Jade that asked you to come to a private hospital with an uncharacteristic urgency, so you tipped the taxi driver handsomely to push the speed limit and skirt around traffic laws. When you arrived, you found Mr. and Mrs. Leech lying in pristine white hospital beds with ashy faces. Someone cursed their dinner. You had to physically grab on to both twins—Floyd so that he wouldn’t start breaking things, and Jade so that he wouldn’t immediately leave and track down the assassin himself. You understood those sentiments, but at the moment, both of them needed to be there.

No matter how many specialists they hired and bribed, nobody could figure out how to undo the curse. Luckily, or perhaps not, their parents fell into comas. Their life was still intact, but to what extent? For how long? And most importantly in a logistical sense, who would run the Leech Mafia?

Jade was the one who decided he would take up the mantle while pretending to be his parents. Too many beings, human and merfolk alike, would eagerly sink their teeth into their organization if word got out that the bosses of the largest syndicate of the Coral Sea were comatose. The idea was to stop all in person events and have him run the operations behind the scenes. Floyd would help, of course, but his fickle personality made him unsuitable to run such a large and complex network. Not that he wanted to. He hated all that responsibility.

When things settled down, you brought their attention back to the book. Rereading it with the recent developments regarding the twins’ parents made the cheesy, ridiculously over-exaggerated story seem like a threat. Did someone write it with clairvoyance? Did the assassin write it before committing the crime? Or, in the most unlikely scenario, is the story written by someone from the future? Regardless, after much discussion, one thing was clear: if real life progresses the way the story is written, then not only will the Leech Mafia prosper, the most important people to the twins will be cured with relative ease.

The solution is simple, given the rules which the story operates under. (Y/N) attracts the love and attention of anyone rich, famous, beautiful, talented, or otherwise an eligible bachelor. Thus, through heavy-handed author intervention, she becomes friends with a certain Vil Schoenheit. It so happens that he can brew potions and cast curses with his eyes closed, and anyone who can make such things is always careful to keep in mind how to unmake them as well. Vil, with all his natural talent and hard work, is nothing short of a genius when it comes to such unsavoury usages of magic. Such a complex curse takes him months in the story to dispel, but the most important thing is that he does manage it at the teary request of the story’s favourite protagonist.

The twins and Vil graduated from the same high school. Although acquainted, they are far from on good terms. With his connections in the entertainment industry, it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize the two eel merfolk with the surname Leech are related in some way to the infamous Leech Mafia run by merfolk. Vil, despite his villainous air and name, is at heart a terribly good person. As soon as he realized the twins were involved in organized crime, he cut off contact completely.

But of course, the lovable (Y/N)’s doe eyes and fluttering lashes make him cave in. She can be quite useful in her own right.

You make yourself at home on the window seat, rereading the next chapter of the story. It is a nervous habit rather than out of necessity. By now, you can probably recite the story word for word by heart. The misspellings, the unpolished grammar, every bit of what seems to be a novice writer’s fantasy of an idealized romance. The mystery of the author’s identity constantly nags at you. What are their motives? How did they manage such a thing? The more you think about it, the more questions arise.

Sunlight makes its slow journey across the attic floor. When Floyd’s head pops up through the trapdoor, the patch of light on the wall glows a saturated orange.

“They left,” he announces, boredom seeping into his tone. Never one to be idle. “Whatcha doin’? Reading it again? It’s not gonna change, y’know.”

“I know.” If only it would. You bookmark the manuscript exactly where the story is currently at and slip it back under the window seat. Without your magic to feed the concealment spell, it returns to the appearance of a regular, blank notebook. It’s a precaution you took in case it goes missing. “Do you want to go on a short trip with me?”

His eyes light up and catch the fiery remnants of the setting sun. The yellow one seems to glow, while the olive one displays more gold flecks than green. Sometimes, it can be easy to forget that he isn’t a hyperactive, harmless puppy, that a single swipe of his claws can tear out a windpipe.

Danger presents itself in various ways with him. Everytime you get into his car, you regret it. In fact, you regret the day you didn’t stop him from getting his driver’s license. How he got the license is a mystery in and of itself. The way he drives is most certainly illegal, and the scenery flashing past the windows could very well be your life flashing past your eyes. When the expensive sports car finally screeches to a halt, you slump back in your seat and take several deep, shaky breaths.

“Remind me why we couldn’t get your private chauffeur to bring us here?”

Floyd’s grating laugh scratches its way into your ears. “Because it’s way less fun!”

You would beg to disagree, but a conversation like that goes nowhere with him, so you relent. You get out of the car, Floyd laughing at your unsteady legs, and ring the doorbell of yet another ridiculously large mansion.

Azul personally opens the door. Normally, his housekeeper answers the door and shows you to his office. He must be feeling somewhat worried in his own way. He leads you to the basement, his hands fidgeting with a small device.

“I don’t get it,” Floyd whines, draping an arm around Azul’s shoulder. “Can’t we just use Jade’s Signature Spell?”

Azul brushes him off and adjusts his shirt, the slight tick in his eyebrow giving away his annoyance. “We will have to wait until he gets here. You know Jade is . . . occupied at the moment.”

With bringing the lovely (Y/N) home and fussing over her humble lifestyle, no doubt. Since he must be the perfect love interest, he must cater to her every need even as she refuses his help, so he is likely making her dinner at the moment. He’ll surprise her with his knowledge of recipes to use with foraged mountainous plants and fungi, even though he comes from a family where money is not an issue. Rich, but not a spoiled brat. Mature enough to take care of her. Playful and unconventional to endear him to her.

“Knock knock, Handfish. You there?” Floyd raps his knuckles against your temple. Instinctively, you step away from him. He isn’t known for holding back his strength.

“Yeah.” You collect yourself and focus on the task at hand. No use wondering what Jade is doing right now. You have the story memorized—you know what he’s doing.

You enter a dim room. It is such a cliché. Surely, Azul should be more tasteful, but he’s always had a love for theatrics.

A man sits tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face flushed and angry. A handsaw tattoo stands out on his neck. This is Thug Number One, the extra who pulled you and (Y/N) into the alley earlier today. Recognition flickers on his face when they land on you.

“You’re that bitch who ran away! You—”

“What did you just call her?” Floyd’s teeth flash dangerously as his pupils shrink to pinpoints. One hand comes up to roll a shoulder back, popping his joints like he’s getting ready to throw a punch. Some habits never change. There hasn’t been any reason for him to get physical lately. He must be itching for a fight. “You wanna say that again? Come on. I dare you.”

Thug Number One shuts his mouth and looks to the side. No sane person would respond when the slightest nudge might set him off. Ever the crafty one, Azul orders Floyd to stand down. He’s playing the good cop for now.

“Now, now, Floyd. I understand that you want to protect the honour of our good friend, but let’s calm down and talk this out rationally.” What a load of lies. You know Floyd too well to assume that he’ll get angry on your behalf for something like this. He just wants to expend energy. “Yes, let us have a civil conversation—”

“Like hell! You tied me up and left me in this chair for hours—”

“And it would have been longer if we did not decide to visit you on a whim.” You stand in front of him, scrutinizing his face. No particularly outstanding features. He is, after all, just a nameless extra to the story.

Of course, he does have a name. Barry Moore, male, thirty-four years old. A low-level soldier of the Carpenter Mafia who joined two years ago. No family, no friends except his drinking buddies, no real connections. You texted Azul with a request to dig up this information about him while holed up in the attic. He mentioned that he’d expect payment, but you are not too concerned. You are not stupid enough to hand him a blank cheque.

“Barry Moore. I suggest you cooperate.” You pull a chair over and sit in front of him. “It is not my hobby to get violent.”

“You totally should, though.” The dim lighting casts unsettling shadows over Floyd’s face. “You’ll look just like a red handfish. It’s the look that suits you the best, y’know?”

He would think it’s entertaining. A memory of when you first met flashes through your mind. Silvery puffs of breaths in early spring air. Bright splashes of red on sand. Nails dripping blood. Red Handfish.

“I don’t need to right now.”

He huffs and kicks Barry Moore’s chair, making the poor thug flinch. “Booooring.”

“Cry about it.” You turn your attention away from his pout and study your captive. Information on his background is too limited. There is little you can exploit from his personal connections. Nothing tangible or emotional to threaten him with that you are aware of. So you either bribe him with something he wants, or . . . “Instead of me, maybe you should have some fun, Floyd.”

A sharp leer cuts across his face, his razor-like teeth glinting in the harsh light. Slow, lumbering steps bring him closer until he towers over Barry’s hunched body.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Handfish.” His cackles bounce off the bare walls. Madness shines in his golden eye. “Why didn’t ya say so earlier? I’ll make sure to take reeaaaal good care of him.”

[akaikali]

TMAGP EP 30 SEASON FINALE REACTION (SPOILERS)

OH MY GOD IM IN CLASS OK HERE WE GO READING THE TRANSCRIPT I'LL LISTEN LATER

i hate the episode name btw

SAM YOU FUCKING IDIOT SHE'S NOT ANGRY YOU'RE IN DANGER YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER AAAAAAAA YOU'RE GONNA GET YOURSELF KILLED (also the transcript saying he sounds "ill" i don't like that)

"alice means well but she doesnt really understand" oi celia what do you mean she doesn't understand she got attacked by the same thing sam did

"my head is killing me" i dont think this is a normal headache ALSO IM SO SUSPICIOUS DONT TAKE THE PILLS SAMAMA KHALID COME ON

"all goes to plan" WHAT CELIA WHAT (they say like they're surprised that she's sus)

"ticket officer, not paid enough for this" NONE OF US ARE BUDDY

oh jesus christ colin is gonna end up dead isnt he. and possibly teddy too. both of them acted the same way based on alice saying she was busy

waiy. colin is in the office, but lena and gwen are in the office too?? also lena is gonna end up dead and gwen is gonna feel guilty isn't she

OH NEVER MIND. GWEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO GET FUCKED. I REALLY HOPE LENA GETS TO GO HOME TO HER SPOUSE AND GOES "yeah fuck THAT I'm glad I'm out of there"

wait they KNOW it was one the train??? wtf???? and why is celia so calm about this

"what unit did you say it was?" "Seventeen-" SEVENTEEN RIGHT HERE-sorry I'm coping with jeonghan's enlistment date okay

CELIA WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO YOU MEAN CALL IT A HUNCH. GIRL ARE YOU SERVING THE EYE?????

"we want your teeth" JARED HOPWORTH??? IS THAT YOU????

now who the FUCK is this custodian hold on checking the VA list-ok nvm not breekon or hope i was wondering bc. yknow. custodian. maybe a reference

this custodian is so real he's like "yeah no this ain't any of my business you do you boo"

LMFAOOO THE TAXI DRIVER THINKING SAM IS CHEATING ON ALICE WITH CELIA AND THAT SHE'S GOING TO KILL THEM BOTH

THE CUSTODIAN JUST YELLING "SHUT UP" IS TAKING ME OUT OH MY GOD AND THE KNOCKING ACTUALLY STOPS

get archivisted bro

oooo okay so hilltop centre got a bloody history. but also who is this "he" that hired the custodian? also the fact that he refuses to come in the daytime is very interesting because usually people would find it less creepy at daytime but he seems to be more comfortable at night?? which is giving the dark but ok

poeple ARRIVED???? NO WAY THEY CONFIRMING THE CRACK AT HILLTOP ROAD CONNECTS HERE ALONG WITH MOST PROBABLY OTHER UNIVERSES

"why the outfit was so mismatched, why the clothes were been pinned in place" okay this is kind of reminded me of the stranger for no particular reason????

OH THE FUCKING OWNER DIED OKAY

SORRY AS HE TURNS TO CONCRETE?????? WHAT????

a precipice????? sorry is there a whole-ass different world??? also celia wtf do you mean "almost"??? yeah sam its about time you asked her more questions

Sam's headache is not comforting me i don't think its normal WOOOOOO CONFIRMATION THE UNIVERSE-JUMPER CELIA

ahhh there it is. she was using him as a balance because she hoped getting him close enough to the magnus institute would make him enough a balance.

IS THE ARCHIVIST STOPPING HER???? ALSO SAM WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU JUST TELLING HER TO DO IT????

god sam you fucking idiot i love you. she betrayed you and lied to you and yet you still fought the archivist for her. also alice coming here worries me because i think she has a close connection to the magnus institute too and she might get sacrificed

NOT AGAIN???? OH MY GOD DID HER PARENTS DIE IN HILLTOP ROAD?????

gwen you're gonna get yourself and everyone killed oh my god

...see i dont know if i trust that now. i know celia hesitated but who's to say she wouldn't take the opportunity to push sam? or even not done anything when she had the chance to save him? i mean...i guess she did say "even though..."

MAN. SAM. I KNEW YOU WERE PROBABLY GONNA DIE FIRST BUT DAMN. STUPID MAN. I LOVE YOU.

i dont think sam is dead i mean celia fell through the rift and lived, who's to say sam couldn't do the same? the question is, which universe did he fall into? and will celia tell alice the truth about what she was planning?

mainly, though, i need to know whats going on with colin because WHAT DID HE MEAN WITH FR3DD1 WHAT HAPPENED. AND WHAT IS GOING ON WITH TEDDY.

[rainbowsky]

Anonymous asked: Serious question - Does this type of public fan behaviour not land the boys in troubles? [link redacted] Funny question - what will be DD’s reaction if he sees this bus? Will he feel shy or happily take pic and send to GG?

Hi Anon! ☺️

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

Anon is talking about the bus and taxi that BXG had wrapped in GGDD graphics for the Tencent event last night.

This is something BXG do whenever there's a big event like this, especially ones there's a chance they'll both attend (these types of things are planned well in advance, long before BXG would know for sure whether GG would be attending).

One bus and a taxi is actually pretty low-key compared to some of the things BXG have done in the past. It's not unusual for them to do multiple buses, digital billboards, etc. and they even lit up the entire exterior of the arena with BXG graphics/slogans for Weibo Night a couple years ago.

Solos love to make it seem like turtles behavior is risky or dangerous, but I find that notion totally ridiculous. These are fan materials and all in good fun. Bystanders will immediately recognize it as such, and are unlikely to take it too seriously or get offended.

At the end of the day, GG and DD are the only ones with any power to put a stop to these things and they haven't, so I think that says everything we need to know. I've talked about that a bit in the past.

So, Anon, not to worry.

As for GG and DD's reaction to things like this, there has been some discussion of that in LRLG rumors in the past. I'm especially thinking of the light banners at Tencent 2020. You can read more about that event here.

Fake rumors are fake rumors, but I think it's a pretty safe bet that they and their teams find these things amusing and heart-warming. There are plenty of examples but here are just a few:

Back during DDU they filmed a segment where DD was driving with the other DDU brothers in the car. DD was driving by a group of BXG and honked at them (some were clowning that the pattern of his honking sounded like BJYXSZD because he was doing 7 fast honks, taking a pause and then 7 again).

One year for DD's birthday BXG hired a digital billboard truck to drive around the Hunan TV building all day (where DD was filming DDU). The truck was decked out in BXG graphics and with a loudspeaker blaring GG's voice from the BTS yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY WANG YIBO", and there were fan repos of DD, the other hosts and Hunan TV employees laughing and taking pictures.

GG was seen smiling at BXG balloons during his visit to Milan.

When DD was in LA his car was driving by a group of BXG who were standing on the streetcorner holding balloons and chanting BJYXSZD, and DD's assistant was filmed laughing and taking photos/video from inside the car.

There are countless examples of GG and DD appearing to look at and react to BJYX light banners and headbands.

I'm sure there are many more examples I could add, but you get the general idea. I think it only makes sense that GG and DD would find these things mostly cute, and appreciate the support.

Related posts:

Thread about GGDD and the supertopics. Original post here.

What turtles might mean to GGDD

Do you think they're aware of how fans interpret things?

Do you think GG and DD enjoy BXG fan works?

Can I also add that I found this light banner from last night's event especially hilarious:

[bonbonchocolates]

Masterlist

Hi!

Everything I am going to post here is originally from my Wattpad account. So please don't come and accuse me of stealing someone's work. My Wattpad account @bonbon_chocolates.

My name is Natasha. I am 18+ and I love to read and write dark books. I am a huge Kpop stan. I stan a lot of groups but BTS and (G)I-DLE are my ults.

I post dark content so read at your own risk.

Husband

Summary: When your husband cheats on you and an old classmate of yours comes to the rescue....

I Don't Know You

Summary: When you attend a party with your best friend and the next morning you find out that you are married.....

Nothing yet......

Devil In Disguise

Summary: When your boss is not who you think he is........

You Are Mine

Summary: A simple game leads to something sinister

Stepdaddy

Summary: When your stepfather's intentions are not good.......

Wedding

Summary: When your best friend had different intentions for you.......

I Love You

Summary: Your best friend's elder brother whom you thought hated you turns out to be obsessed with you.

Mi Amor

Summary: You are attending a BTS fanmeet for the first time. Nothing can go wrong right?

Want You Back

Summary: When your ex wants you back.....

No Escape

Summary: When you fell in love with the wrong person......

Husband

Summary: When your husband cheats on you and an old classmate of yours comes to the rescue....

I See You

Summary: It all starts with a text.....

Mirror

Summary: When you release the devil trapped in a old mirror.

Obsession

Summary: When you are hired to babysit a 26 year old but he is not as innocent as he seems to be.

Twins

Summary: Something is off with your husband today......

Bad Boy's Obsession

Summary: When the bad boy of your school develops a crush on you.....

Mate

Summary: When you get lost in the forest late at night and your best friend betrays you.

Game Over

Summary: When you and your friends get trapped in a game......

Tinder Part 2

Summary: When your best friend creates an account on Tinder account for you....

Idol

Summary: When the new producer of the company wants you..........

Wish Tree

Summary: When the wish tree fulfills your wish.........

Doll

Summary: When your stalker got bored watching you in the small screen of his laptop so he decides to pay you a visit.

Psycho

Summary: When your psychotic patient is obsessed with you...

Taxi

Summary: When you take the wrong taxi.....

Clown

Summary: When the past comes back.....

Revenge

Summary: When he decides to avenge his brother.........

Bunny

Summary: When your friend asks you to look after her pet bunny........

[nenelonomh]

human resource management pt.2

i've begun posting my notes in tumblr post format to revise for my exam tomorrow (this was written on 27-05-24, i'm probably going to schedule though to avoid spamming). here's the second hrm topics post!

part 1 | part 3 | part 4

in the last post, we looked at demographic change, employee welfare, and flexi-time. this time we will focus on the gig economy and immigration.

the gig economy is characterised by the prevalence of short-term contracts or freelance work as opposed to permanent jobs. for example, freelance, delivery drivers, taxi services, contract services, and other flexible work opportunities. a huge example of this is uber - which is an app that offers various 'rides' to assist people to reach their destinations.

businesses can use gig workers by hiring them as independent contractors, in the place of full-time employees. this is a cheaper alternative for the business, as it saves on employee benefits and rids the need for training employees.

however, gig work limits workers' potential for career development, lacks job security and secure income, and the worker misses out on employee benefits.

compliance with labour laws and regulations can be complex when managing gig workers. companies must understand legal requirements and adapt their hrm policies to address gig workforce management.

immigration refers to the action of moving to live in a different location with intentions to stay in the area. this is not the same as labour mobility, since immigration is the movement of people for non-work-related reasons.

one advantage of immigration on businesses includes the filling of job positions that domestic workers cannot be placed in. also, the company may benefit from new points of view - and gain a niche marketing opportunity.

negatives of this topic are that migrant workers may be unfamiliar with federal laws and regulations, and the workers may be more unproductive than the local employees. therefore, a business may need to invest more time into the foreign employee.

///

again, hope this post was fun to read! it's definitely more fun to post than read over my notes.

❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

[nohoperadio]

My favourite author is Iris Murdoch.

I don't think I have favourites in any other category, it feels like a bit of an artificial concept usually, but it would be silly to deny this one. I was halfway through my first Murdoch novel (at age 20 or so) when I felt certain I was going to have to read them all (there are 26). My feeling was that I would have stayed true to that even if every other book she wrote had been terrible. I'm sure that's not true, but I say it to illustrate that she inspired a deep and irrational loyalty in me very early on that hasn't waned over time. I've been reading between one and three of her books per year since I started, deliberately spreading them out so as not to deplete a valuable resource too soon, although presumably I'll just start rereading them at the same rate after I've finished. I've read 21 out of 26 so far.

Maybe someday I'll have something to say on here about what draws me to her books so strongly. Not right now though. What I want to say today is that I usually like her opening lines very much, she often starts with some very punchy compact moment that feels weirdly complete already even as it clearly stands in need of unpacking, if that makes sense to anyone else. This post is going to be simply a compilation of some good ones. Let's say 10 of the best, in no particular order.

I'm defining "opening lines" as not literally just the first sentence but enough to cover the first self-contained "moment" of the book, which is a bit of a judgment call for sure but you can be confident I've judged correctly in every case. For The Philosopher's Pupil (but no others) I've blatantly cheated by entirely skipping a sort of prologue chapter because I think the opening of the next chapter is both more opening-like and more compelling, I acknowledge that this is illegitimate but you'll just have to deal with it. Okay here goes.

---

The Unicorn

'How far away is it?'

'Fifteen miles.'

'Is there a bus?'

'There is not.'

'Is there a taxi or a car I can hire in the village?'

'There is not.'

'Then how am I to get there?'

'You might hire a horse hereabouts,' someone suggested after a silence.

---

An Accidental Man

'Gracie darling, will you marry me?'

'Yes.'

'What?'

---

The Bell

Dora Greenfield left her husband because she was afraid of him. She decided six months later to return to him for the same reason.

---

The Philosopher's Pupil

I am the narrator: a discreet and self-effacing narrator. This book is not about me.

---

Bruno's Dream

Bruno was waking up. The room seemed to be dark. He held his breath, testing the quality of the darkness, wondering if it was night or day, morning or afternoon. If it was night that was bad and might be terrible. Afternoon could be terrible too if he woke up too early. The drama of sleeping and waking had become preoccupying and fearful now that consciousness itself could be so heavy a burden.

---

The Sacred and Profane Love Machine

The boy was there again this morning, and the dogs were not barking.

---

A Fairly Honourable Defeat

'Julius King.'

'You speak his name as if you were meditating upon it.'

'I am meditating upon it.'

'He's not a saint.'

'He's not a saint. And yet—'

---

The Message to the Planet

'Of course we have to do with two madmen now, not with one.'

'You mean Marcus is mad too?'

'No, he means Patrick is mad too.'

---

The Red and the Green

Ten more glorious days without horses!

---

The Sea, The Sea

The sea which lies before me as I write glows rather than sparkles in the bland May sunshine. With the tide turning, it leans quietly against the land, almost unflecked by ripples or by foam. Near the horizon it is a luxurious purple, spotted with regular lines of emerald green. At the horizon it is indigo. Near to the shore, where my view is framed by rising heaps of humpy yellow rock, there is a band of lighter green, icy and pure, less radiant, opaque however, not transparent. We are in the north, and the bright sunshine cannot penetrate the sea. Where the gentle water taps the rocks there is still a surface skin of colour. The cloudless sky is very pale at the indigo horizon which it lightly pencils in with silver. Its blue gains towards the zenith and vibrates there. But the sky looks cold, even the sun looks cold.

I had written the above, destined to be the opening paragraph of my memoirs, when something happened which was so extraordinary and so horrible that I cannot bring myself to describe it even now after an interval of time and although a possible, though not totally reassuring, explanation has occurred to me. Perhaps I shall feel calmer and more clear-headed after yet another interval.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Fifteen.

Huge thanks to my usual lovelies for your continued reads and beautiful words on this. I apologise for not reblogging my thanks or getting back to comments, I'm all over the place at present with my need to be taking strong painkillers so thus losing track! You are appreciated hugely by your author, though :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,290

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Miss, you are not gaining entrance. I am asking you to move away from the doors, miss. I will call the police. Men with cameras, please do not obstruct the frontage, I am asking everyone to move back. Now.”  

Sergio Manzo, the manager of the Milan Suite Hotel certainly had a much politer manner when dealing with nuisances than the wall of security guards who exited the first taxis in the convoy arriving, standing in a line either side of the frontage, the people they were employed to look after moving from the second and third cars at speed. Flashbulbs flickered brightly, questions fired at two individuals in particular, and one woman being blocked from getting anywhere near them shouting her nonsense. 

“Adrien! Adrien, I’m here! Please, look at me! I have a room at a hotel ten minutes away, just like we arranged!”  

His hand tightened around his wife’s, making sure she got into the hotel and out of the madness first, hearing Shane, their chief of security bellowing.  

“Do not touch me. Get back, now!” he directed at Serena, him and Greg pushing back as she tried to shove her way past them. “Jess, Jen, come on! Run in, quick!”  

With the last two plus Sunni within the foyer, the manager closed the doors, the hotel’s own security moving to guard the front, photographers still taking pictures through the glass doors and windows, and Serena still screaming for attention.  

“If she continues, we will call the police and have her removed,” Sergio spoke, shaking hands with Sunni, with whom he’d been liaising with regarding the situation of them being followed through Europe by the woman still making a scene outside. Luckily, every hotel had been sympathetic to the ongoing problem, but Sunni knew it was likely the last thing any of them needed. It was the last thing he needed; his job made exponentially more difficult in organising every move they made. 

“Appreciated, Sergio. Thank you very much for your co-operation, and I apologise for bringing this to your establishment. There isn’t much we can do, though. Travelling from country to country, it’s complex in how we handle the situation.” he explained, the manager nodding. He sped through the check in process, everyone being shown to their rooms, Serena remaining outside with her continued wailing.  

It had been a complex procedure of strategy to outwit her so far over the course of the tour, sometimes managing, often not to thwart her. Departures in vehicles with blacked out windows from the rear of hotels, restaurants and other public places were often facilitated, managing to lose her by the time she had scrambled into a taxi, or at times when she’d had a hire car, gotten herself behind the wheel.  

Jade and Adrien had attended a film festival in Rome a few days prior, luckily to no Serena related issues while walking the red carpet together, although Shane and Greg had been in attendance, just like they were wherever they went by themselves. It was stifling, but entirely necessary. After all, the nature of crazy could not be predicted, and risking their safety was something nobody was prepared to gamble on.  

At least things had turned around in the press for them as far as the whole situation went, the consensus now erring to the side of truth, that the girl in question was nothing more than a deranged fan, her stalking of the couple taking up column inches now rather than anybody putting credence in her claims to be having an affair with Adrien. In a situation that was far from their control, it was a small saving grace.  

“It sounds fucked up, but I almost wish she would actually try something, you know. So she can be arrested and slung into a cell,” Jade spoke, looking out of the hotel window, glad it backed onto the rear of the property. Feeling him move behind her, she grasped the arm that wrapped around her chest, stroking it, laying a kiss. “It’s pissing me right off, now. This is one of the best tours we’ve ever done, and it has to be spent looking over our shoulders, ageing poor Sunni by about ten years with all the extra logistics he’s having configure, too, and impacting everyone.” 

Adrien was in full agreement. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about going home early, you know, to see if she follows me, give you guys a break from it. I’m not about to chance that though, not with her fixation being on you, too. Plus, that’d mean missing seeing you get to play with the dancing horses, and I’m not about to do that.” 

With it of course being very well known that Jade was a keen equestrian, the Spanish Riding School in Vienna had invited her and Adrien for a private tour of the facility, once she had fulfilled her touring obligations throughout Europe. They’d even said she could ride with them during morning exercise, an honour that had sent her into the realms of squeaking disbelief when their management had called to inform her of the invite.  

“I can’t wait, I really can’t. And I’m glad you haven’t gone anywhere, darling. I’d worry too much; in case she did follow you. I thought he might’ve been being overzealous to begin with, but Sunni’s right. We have no idea what she could be capable of. At least if it continues when we get home, we can deal with it efficiently,” she sighed. Obtaining a restraining order while travelling through multiple countries was sadly not possible. 

It was wearing on her, but he was proud that she remained level-headed and pragmatic in the face of the harassment. Not once had she reverted to former bad habits when dealing with stress. “Yeah, she’ll be slapped with a restraining order. I hope that perhaps since we live so remotely, it’ll make it more difficult for her to pursue us.” 

“Maybe, yeah,” she interjected with, fingers tickling his inner forearm. 

“You not being on tour will help, too. She won’t be able to follow us quite so easily, not knowing which cities we’ll be in and when. I guess it helps that we won’t be home for long either until we leave on vacation. Is it naive of me to hope that she might get bored?” 

“Maybe a touch,” she confessed, leaning her head back to look at him, nuzzling his chest. “You’re right though, about her not knowing our itineraries. She won’t have a clue.” Turning in his arms, she draped hers around his neck, staring up at from beneath her long lashes. “I’m done with talking about the nutter, though. In fact, I’m done saying anything, unless it’s sexual.”  

He chuckled, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “Anything specific?” 

“Hmm, maybe a few things,” she hummed, reaching to press a kiss against his neck. “Like how I I’m going to ride you slow into that big bed after I’ve let you fuck my mouth.”  

Oh, the blaze that burned through his blood. “Mmm, yeah. I could definitely go in for some of that. Eventually. See, I have plans of my own first, Mrs. B.” 

She licked her lip, nails raking softly down his chest. “Oh, you do, hmm?”  

“Yeah.” His fingers trawled up her neck, pushing against the plush of her pout. “Suck 'em," he instructed, watching as the first and third digits vanished between her lips, her eyes not leaving his for a second. “Now turn around.” 

Once facing away from him, he walked her over to the corner of the room where a full-length mirror was stationed, positioning her before it. His lips rained hot over her neck, hand plunging beneath the waistband of her long, clingy black skirt. “You’re gonna watch how pretty you look when you come.” 

Giving him the total control of her as ever worked like an accelerant upon her arousal, his long fingers wasting no time for tease as they slid between her folds, rubbing long strokes over her clit. Moving her near waist length curtain of pale blonde hair, he continued those neck kisses, his other hand vanishing within her strapless top to stroke her breasts through the thin lace of her bra, that base to tip of his fingers stroking pressing a little firmer, adding a slight rotation.  

“Fuck,” she gasped, her head thudding back against his shoulder, turning to lay molten kisses at the side of his throat. “Fuck, right there.”  

It pattered down her spine like holy rain, her dew quickly drenching his fingers, Jade feeling his heartbeat amping up against her back. She had never known a man before him who thrived so much on being a giver of pleasure, leaning back against him to feel his cock hardening against her lower back. “I bet you can’t wait for me to sink down on that beautiful, big cock, can you baby?”  

He hummed a chuckle, teeth sharp at her neck. “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty mouth with it before you do.” With the continued skimming of his fingers over her hard little bud, he had her panting wantonly as she felt herself set to fall apart, like an ancient tower about to topple, little pin pricks of bliss warming over her veins as the coil within her tugged sharply.  

The syrupy bliss of it rolled over her bones as his fingers quickened, her cries filling the air like a sonnet as she felt it burst, her legs a little weak, his arm slipping to her waist to hold her tight as her release shone bright over her, removing his drenched fingers and pushing them into her mouth again. This time, he hooked them behind her teeth, thumb pressing beneath her jaw, gently towing her over to the bed and pushing her down to sit on the edge.  

“So fucking sexy,” she purred as he pulled off his t shirt, her hands moving to unfasten his jeans, “and he’s all mine.” Her tongue licked at the line of dark hair descending his navel, their joint undressing having him naked swiftly, Jade letting her tongue skim a lick over his hipbone while curling her hand around his cock.  

Bringing her lips to the tip, she kissed the slit a few times, a tang of precum glistening her cupid’s bow, the taste of him bursting over her tongue as she took him into her mouth. The need spiralled within her, wanting him with every fibre of her being, her hands curling around his back to drag her nails up and down. It sent sparks through him, his hands raking through her hair, letting her control it for that moment.  

It sliced sharp through the pit of his stomach, the blade of pleasure evoked by her mouth moving back and forth, a grunt of approval echoing his throat when she paused to spit on the thick of his cock, watching it glisten as it trickled down the shaft. “Dirty girl.” 

“Just the way you love me.” she chirped, once again swallowing him hole. It barely took any time at all for her to have him out of his mind, the way she looked up at him while having him buried deep in her throat, the continued drag of her nails, the way she moaned as she sucked him, god.  

It was a crime of thought that anyone, even for a second, would ever put credence in him straying from her.  

She was his golden-haired, blue-eyed goddess, his hands tightening their pull in those sunlit blonde tresses, his hips beginning to sway against her mouth. His heart crashed like a storm within his chest, sparks of heat rolling through him, his limbs feeling light and tingly the faster she moved her mouth against each plunging push between her lips. Just playing with her had amped him up beyond reason, Adrien feeling the blissful waves of release beginning to yank upon his nerves already, her nails like sensual daggers as they clawed at his back.  

The rubbing of the ridge of his cock against the back of her mouth made him weak with the force of the heat charging through his blood, the need to fuck her consuming him, like a demon vying for release. Pulling back, her pushed her further onto the bed, parting her thighs wide and filling her with one swift thrust, their mouths locking in hot, messy kisses full of desire.  

“I thought you were going to let me be in charge?” she panted, propping herself up on an elbow, the other arm draping around his neck. 

“So did I. The way you just sucked my dick gave me other ideas, though, and they all involve holding you down while I pound you into this bed.” His hand grasped her neck, flattening her to the mattress, the press firm but the hold gentle, hips beginning to pound against her as he watched the blue fire of her irises start to burn. The savage onslaught was tempered a little as he slowed, giving her all-in, all-out thrusts, moving his thumb to push it between her lips, watching her hum each moan around it as she sucked, her eyes inked with arousal.  

He forced all of the breath from her lungs with every hard shunt back inside of her, the outward drag of his cock slow, making her walls pulse and glimmer, little moonbeams glowing through the dark of her desire. Pulling his thumb away, his mouth met hers, kissing the plump of her lips, biting the lower, letting it slide out from between his lips as he rutted her deep, so deep he drew all manner of wails from her. 

She felt him hitting her every target within, building pace steadily, until they rutted together in frenzy, groans filling the air as they lost control, her nails dragging his chest as she began to flutter around the deep punch of his cock. The flint strikes burned bright, and she chased every spark, sucking his tongue, her nails imbedding and tearing down, Adrien releasing her neck to press both her hands above her head, driving into her like a piston as her waves crashed like a storm against his shore.  

It pulled him under with her, bright white bursting behind his eyelids, his muscles all softening as he fell to the stars of her arms, mouth peppering kisses against her neck.  

“You’ve... bloody... ruined me,” she panted, hands stroking his clammy back. He went to say something, comically crossing his eyes and shaking his head, making an ‘uh-uh’ noise. “Did I get my mans all pussy drunk, huh?” 

“Mmhmm.” She loved it when she rendered him beyond words, Jade laughing gently. He had just enough comprehension to set an alarm on his phone for an hour, falling into a little sex coma as Jade referred to them as, while she got up and had a quick shower before dressing, heading down to the bar.  

“Skippy! I need a smoke, come with,” Jen announced as soon as she saw her appear, the women turning and heading out to the front of the hotel, the drummer poking her head around the door. “Is it safe, man?” 

The security guy nodded. “She is somewhere further up the street, so for now, yes.” Moving to the side of the doors, they lit up, Jen raising her eyebrows at how awkwardly her friend moved.  

“Lemme guess, you’ve had your man on ya?”  

Her grin broadened. “Oh yeah.” They shared giggles full of mirth, Jade continuing. “Now, don’t get me wrong. My husband is perhaps the most talented lover I have ever known, but the bloody hips!” she exclaimed quietly, Jen nodding as she motioned to her own inner thighs.  

“Right? Jesus in a tutu, those slender guys always murder your fucking inner thighs with the hip bones! And we ain’t got much meat on us anyway, for god’s sake! This is why I like a chunkier dude, gives a little padding, man!” she chuckled.  

“I’m so bruised,” she snickered, “walking like Woody from Toy Story. Poor little cooch is all busted up an’ all.”  

Jen snorted, throwing her head back, the security guy sending her even further when he overheard and tried hard not to laugh. “I am familiar with the Toy Story,” he grinned, shaking his head. “You ladies are very funny.” He then looked down the street and groaned, seeing a sight that the police had already come to deal with, the girl who had been obstructing the hotel frontage.  

“Oh, joy,” Jen moaned, nodding in her direction. “We gotta incoming Serena. God, this bitch is unreal. And her parents, man! They gotta have heard something about this, and she’s just out here in the wind, throwing her crazy all over the damned place!”  

“Adrien said earlier that it’ll be so much easier to manage once we’re home. If she continues, we can just have her served with a restraining order,” she replied, closing her eyes tightly with a sharp exhale when she heard shouting begin. 

“Jade! I want to talk to you! I want you to know that you won’t come in the way of my happiness with Adrien. He’s divorcing you as soon as he gets back to the US!” 

Every instinct within her said to ignore it, but this girl, she was pushing her too far. “Did he? Prove it.”  

“I can’t! I’m not allowed near the front of the hotel!” she shouted.  

“Then Jen and I will come to you, and you can show me all these messages he’s supposed to have sent you, or you can show me the call list on your phone. I know his number from memory, so I’ll be able to see for myself then, won’t I?” 

“You aren’t coming anywhere near me! I don’t have to prove anything to you!” 

“Well,” she scoffed, “I think you do, if you’re trying to convince me that my husband is cheating on me, or else what’s your end game here?”  

“Easy, Skip,” Jen whispered at her side, resting a protective hand to her waist. Jade hadn’t actually raised her voice once, but she could see her back and arms visibly beginning to stiffen.  

“My end game is getting the man I love, and you out of the picture! He was with me while you were on stage in Berlin, you know!” 

The only place Adrien was at the Berlin show was backstage, earplugs in, with a cold, damp towel over his face as he tried to stave off a migraine. “You need help, Serena. Please go home and see somebody about this, because deep down, you know it isn’t true. Look at how much money you’re burning through, and for what? I don’t believe you, you have no proof of your claims, and my husband only knows you exist because of your continued harassment of us. It’s sad. Please, just leave. I don’t even hate you; you know. I just feel really sorry for you, petal.” 

“Oh, you think you’re so fucking special, don’t you? He doesn’t love you!” 

Jade took a last drag on her cigarette, stubbing it out and placing it into the receptacle on the wall, Jen following suit. “Yes, he does. And I think that’s what pisses you off the most. Go and find somebody who will love you back, Serena, because my husband isn’t it.”  

“You have much grace, Mrs. Brody.” the security guard nodded as she walked back inside, wrapping her arm around Jen, her friend reciprocating as Serena continued her yelling from the other side of the street. Oh, how she couldn’t wait for that particular annoying background noise to quieten. 

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • ko-fi •

• A Collared Lamb •🍑• Robbie Paulson x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Robbie takes his first steps into a BDSM relationship.

• One For The Road • 🍑 • Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Cecil forgets he invited you over.

• Cariño • 🍑 • Jake Lockley x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: You’re pretty good at procuring hard to find items for others, for the correct price. So when Jake Lockley hires you to steal an Egyptian artefact it should all be plain sailing. Right?

•Free Ride•🎀🍑• Jake Lockley x afab!Reader x Steven Grant • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

• Blue Blood and Rain • 🍑 • King John x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: You're the personal attendant to The Dowager Countess of Bowhale, who was visiting the court with her son.

• Personal Time • 🍑•Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: You're helping Steven to find his reading glasses when you accidently find his personal toys instead.

• Dark Necessities • 🍑 • Jake Lockley/Marc Spector/Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Before he left Egypt, Jake destroyed all the remaining ushabti’s – setting all the previously imprisoned god’s free. Including Set.

• The Boy With The Thorn In His Side• 🎀 • Steven Grant x F!Reader • Rating: T  • Series • Summary: Steven Grant’s day is going poorly to say the least. He’s lost days, missed his date and now a stranger has sat down opposite him who seems to know him? It would be nice if our favourite Gift-Shopist could catch a break.

• Private Dances • 🍑 •Culb!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Blue's bitten off more than he can chew when it comes to you.

• Tear Down My Reason • 🍑 •Asylum!Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Your friend and follow patient has seemingly disappeared. There surely has to be some clue of her whereabouts in Blue's office.

• Trine • 🍑 • Anselm Vogelweide x Blue Jones x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series • Summary: Blue needs to make a deal with Anselm, Anselm has other things on his mind.

•How • 🍑 • Nathan Bateman x F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Series •Summary: After the events of the film, it’s decided that it’s best for everyone if Nathan has a babysitter.