#the cause of and solution to all of life’s problems

[lustspren]

IMPURITIES EP. 3 | The Poison

Male reader x Kazuha

word count: 11.8k

tags: teasing (a lot), brat zuha with daddy kink is always the best zuha

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Thank goodness the tour was over, and you hadn't died in the process.

To your surprise, all the girls behaved like civilized and responsible people during the remaining weeks. Even Kazuha, who sometimes took it upon herself to give you headaches, had stayed out of the way and hadn't caused any problems with her typical bratish behavior. Eunchae was almost never a thorn in your side; she was an angel 90% of the time. But you were still grateful that she hadn't let the other 10% win.

On the other hand, Chaewon had paid you occasional visits at night to sleep with you, without causing a fuss or being too annoying. Yunjin was very much in her element; she had spent all those days training her vocal skills and composing songs in her room. The one who was arguably giving you the hardest time was, ironically, the oldest of the five. Sakura wasn't lying when she said you'd won over a hungry Yokai, as she made you come to her room at least every other day so you could fuck her in every possible hole. Sometimes you weren't very willing, whether due to mental exhaustion or stress, but you preferred that to letting her become unbearable.

When you returned to Korea, the air was relieved knowing that everyone would be able to get a break. The next comeback cycle was approaching, but you would have two and a half weeks of vacation before then. Neither you nor the girls had travel plans during that time, so you were going to continue living together in the house for a while.

Because yes, you lived together in one house.

During the first year, it wasn't like that. They lived in their usual dorm, and you lived in your apartment ten minutes away. But starting at a certain point in 2023, when Antifragile had already been a global success, the company decided to invest in a big house on the outskirts of the city for the six of you to live there. The explanation had been that this would streamline the work process and cut logistics costs. Although you felt there were loopholes in that excuse.

The girls weren't entirely happy at first, and to be honest, neither were you. Just like you, they valued the privacy of a shared dormitory all to themselves, and by now living with you, they thought they'd be watched at all times. But luckily for them, you weren't a snitch or a weirdo. The solution you implemented was simple: the first floor for you, and the second for them. On your floor, you'd have everything you needed, and if you needed to go upstairs, you'd do so with full notice. That ended up convincing them.

A year later, complaints about daily living were few and far between. They argued more often with each other than they did with you. That wasn't your problem anymore, so you didn't interfere; you simply listened to the shouting from the comfort of your floor. Occasionally, you had to intervene from the stairs to get them to shut up, but generally speaking, you were comfortable living together.

Now, having to cook for five people was a real pain, but you were lucky that Yunjin loved cooking, and she often helped you when she wasn't busy with her own things. Waking them up was also a pain sometimes, since you couldn't get into their rooms using the traditional method. No, you had to blow up Chaewon's phone with calls, and often the idiot left it on vibrate, in which case you had to turn to Sakura to do the job.

But despite the problems, you could safely say that the best time of your life had begun thanks to that, and it had been the sowing of a harvest of memories of all kinds that you treasured in your heart. There was no way you would regret it. Not for a single second.

Even less so recently, when your relationship with three of the girls had taken on a completely new dimension that promised interesting things.

None of them had commented on it, but you knew what they were thinking. The tension was palpable. It was only a matter of time before you received something. Whether it was a visit to your room, a photo, a message, a glance. Anything. And you weren't crazy to think that: days ago, when you were still in the US, Chaewon had let you know that you would receive clues. That you shouldn't expect them to come directly and ask you explicitly and that you should also do your part. You didn't entirely know how you would do that, but in time your mind would open up.

That was another thing. You still weren't entirely sure how to feel about being... whatever you were to them now. It felt wrong. You certainly weren't a prude, and you were crazy about women—especially those women. But it didn't quite feel right. Maybe it was just a matter of time before you got used to it, and you honestly hoped so, because if you dared to waste this opportunity life had handed you on a silver platter, you'd never forgive yourself.

Still, it was a situation that had to be handled with caution, because it was extremely easy for it to spiral out of control. Whether it was due to unrespected boundaries or worse: unintentionally generated feelings. You were very careful about that, of course. But you couldn't control how any of the girls felt, and that made you anxious.

Chaewon was the one you were most careful with, because to be honest, you felt a lot of chemistry with her. A little too much, maybe. And consequently, your treatment of her was... slightly different. Not too different to avoid raising suspicions, but you cut short every little intimate moment you two had after fucking with the classic excuse that you had work to do.

Although if you thought about it, you'd already let her sleep with you more than once during the tour, and a couple of times you weren't even intimate...

You were going to play dumb, yeah.

Yunjin had been the first to desecrate—as far as you knew—the roof you lived under, just a day after you'd settled back there after arriving in Korea. It happened at night, when, after she'd showered and while the other girls were sleeping, she caught you watching Breaking Bad at two in the morning in the living room, wrapped in only a stupidly short towel that barely covered anything.

Aside from that, neither Chaewon nor Sakura made a move. But not for any specific reason; most likely they just didn't feel like it. They continued to behave normally.

But Kazuha was acting strange.

Spending so much time with her over the past year helped you notice the unusual patterns of behavior. Something didn't add up. Mostly, it was small details that led you to think that. Ways of greeting you in the morning, discreet glances for no apparent reason, sudden mood swings when you interacted with her, and even leaving out of nowhere while you were all chatting together. As if being around you made her nervous.

She knew something, you were sure.

They were girls, and they spent a lot of time together, so surely one of the three had told her about their experiences with you. Everything pointed to Sakura, since she was the one she spent the most time with during those days. That was dangerous. If Chaewon or Yunjin had told her, you knew they would have been subtle about it, not sharing too much information or details. But Kura was a different breed. That girl didn't mince words, and you feared she'd have given Kazuha a wealth of details about what you and her were up to. That included how you fucked, where, when, and you were sure she'd even given her details about how big your...

Yeah, bad business. Not only because she knew, which was already a problem. But because you feared retaliation.

Kazuha might have seemed like a chill, carefree girl, with a typical joking attitude. But behind that innocent mask, you knew she was hiding a malevolent being with a meticulous way of acting. She was just the kind of woman who could tell you the best joke in the world and two hours later sell you out to some drug cartel in exchange for an Overwatch skin. A somewhat exaggerated analogy, but one that fit perfectly with her deceitful nature.

Time soon proved you right.

That day you woke up early in the morning, as usual. Sunlight was beginning to bathe the interior patio, forcing you to open your eyes since it was right in front of you behind the glass wall. After rubbing your eyes and gathering your willpower, you got up from the sofa bed you were sleeping on and walked, with the cold wooden floor beneath your feet, to the bathroom to brush your face and brush your teeth.

After finishing your basic personal hygiene routine, you left the bathroom and turned up the air conditioning since you were freezing. Then you walked to the other side of the house. In the kitchen, you went to the far right of the counter behind the island and turned on the espresso machine to let it warm up. While waiting, you sat in a chair at the dining table to quickly check your email and social media once you were sure you didn't have anything important to do.

That time of day was your favorite. Peaceful. Silent. With nothing but the distant sound of birds perching in the nearby trees. In your profession, those moments were to be cherished for how rare they were, and you let absolutely nothing disturb you during them. Not while any of the brats...

Movement to your left, just at the bottom of the stairs.

"Good morning, manager-nim," Zuha said, passing behind you to go to the refrigerator. You followed her with your eyes, your brow furrowed in confusion but also in disbelief. She was wearing only a white T-shirt that barely covered her bottom, and she was barefoot.

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour, Nakamura?" was the first thing that escaped your mouth. "Especially you."

"What time is it?" Zuha asked, her hand on the refrigerator handle. You weren't surprised at how beautiful she still looked without makeup and just waking up.

"7 in the morning."

"Oh, my biological clock must have gotten messed up," she shrugged and opened the refrigerator door, disappearing behind it. Seconds later, she closed it, a small carton of strawberry milk in her other hand. "You don't mind a little morning company, do you?"

Your gaze fell as Kazuha leaned against the refrigerator and put one leg in front of the other, pressing her thighs together and barely revealing her crotch. You quickly looked away.

"I don't care," you admitted, shaking your head. You looked back down at your phone, but a few seconds later, you looked back at her. "Are you just going to stand there or what?"

"Does it bother you?"

You inhaled a deep breath and let it out with your eyes closed.

"No, Kazuha, it doesn't bother me."

"Great."

The ten minutes you usually let the espresso machine heat up had already passed, so you stood up and went to check if it was ready. Once you confirmed it, the next step was to grind the coffee beans, but you kept them in a cupboard right above the refrigerator. You made a move to get it, but Kazuha was in the way.

"Oh, do you need anything?" Zuha asked, sipping the strawberry milk carton through the straw.

"Yes, the coffee beans," you pointed. "Please move aside."

"I'll get it for you! Hold this for a second."

Zuha held the small carton against your chest for you to take and looked up at the cupboard, then stood on her tiptoes, raising her arms, and, consequently, pushing her shirt up enough so you could clearly see her ass and cheeky black panties.

"These here?" Zuha asked, taking the bag. She didn't seem to notice you were staring at her beautiful rear end, and if she did, she didn't care in the least.

"Uh... yeah."

Zuha took them and stood back on her heels. She then took the milk carton from you and handed you the coffee beans. Her expression indicated that she was completely pretending that what happened a second ago hadn't happened. The air inside the house was cold, it was impossible for her not to have noticed.

It was foul play, and at your distinct disadvantage, since you couldn't do the same.

"Thanks," you simply said, and tried to focus on your damn espresso, which was all you'd wanted since you woke up.

As you ground approximately 15 grams of coffee, Zuha disappeared from your peripheral vision. You heard her take steps behind you, and all you heard were her sipping on the straw. It was the typical moment when a lion played dumb seconds before snapping its jaws at its prey.

After grinding the coffee, you picked up the portafilter, washed it, and dried it thoroughly with a dry cloth before adding the ground coffee. Then you picked up the tamper and applied gentle pressure to level the coffee inside the filter. Finally, you prepared to slide the portafilter into the machine.

"Manager-nim, why is Chaewonie sleeping with you lately?" Zuha asked from behind you.

The question caught you off guard, and since your brain wasn't prepared to handle both tasks at the same time, you dropped the portafilter, creating a mess of ground coffee on the counter and the floor beneath your feet.

"Fucking shit!" you cursed, slamming the counter so hard that the side of your fist ached.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry!" Zuha said. Her shock didn't seem to be faked.

"It’s okay, it wasn't your fault."

Yes, it was. But you weren't going to tell her that.

With your teeth clenched in anger, you went to the left, toward the small utility room where you kept the cleaning supplies.

"Let me help you!" Zuha said, hopping off the counter she was sitting on just as you turned the doorknob.

Zuha reached you, and with her back to you, squeezed into the narrow space between you and the door. As she did so, she deliberately pushed her hips back and rubbed her ass against your bulge to enter the room. You froze, staring into space as she grabbed a dustpan and broom.

"Zuha, you don't need to..."

"Bullshit!" Zuha interrupted you, repeating the same process, only this time she stood still for a moment while her ass pressed against your bulge. She looked at you over her shoulder. "Let me help you, grump!"

Zuha stepped away and went to sweep up the coffee grounds you'd dropped, leaving you in a state of horniness that you suppressed as much as possible. But she played another damn trick. For some reason, she found it necessary to bend over to pick up who knows what damn thing from the floor, consequently giving you a glimpse of her panties, specifically, her slit from behind. She stayed in that position for a few seconds, making sure you saw as much of her cameltoe as possible before standing up.

"Nakamura, what the fuck are you doing?" you asked, feeling your cock harden beneath your boxers. You hid it with your left fist, gripping your forearm with your other hand.

"Huh?" Zuha turned to you, wiping the counter with a kitchen towel. "Helping you. Can't you see or what?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then I have no idea what you're talking about, manager-nim," Zuha shook her head, shrugging.

Damn brat. Why the hell was she doing that? It was now certain that she knew everything. But why tease you like that? Was she resentful in some way? Or did she just like to play with her prey like cats do? It could very well have been a mix of both, which made it twice as terrifying since you didn't know how far she was going to take it before actually dropping the bombshell.

A damn mouse being stalked by a snake. Great.

"Forget it," you sighed, and went to help her with the mess you'd made because of her.

About five minutes later, the floor and counter were as clean as ever. Kazuha carried the broom and dustpan back to the utility room and came back with you as you repeated the same process with the coffee beans, her lower back resting on the edge of the counter to your left. Her gaze was attentive to everything you did, like a curious cat.

"Are you going to learn how to make espresso for the girls or what?" you asked as you started the extraction.

"No, it's just fun to watch," Zuha replied. "It's... relaxing."

"Sure," you nodded, looking up at her as you dusted off your hands. "Are you going to tell me the real reason you got up at this hour, or will you keep me guessing all day?"

"I already told you: my biological clock must have been messed up. I don't know."

You chuckled.

"If I hadn't known you for three years, maybe I'd believe you, Nakamura."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Kazuha raised her eyebrows.

"Yes."

"That's very rude of you, manager-nim," she crossed her arms and pouted. "But I think you're being a bit hypocritical."

"Oh yeah? And why?"

"Remember when I asked you in Chicago why Chaewonie hadn't woken up in her bed, and you told me it was because she had plans with Kura that night?" Zuha pushed back from the counter and faced you, staring into your eyes. "Guess what? Kura-chan said Chaewonie never went to her room that night. Who lied to me?"

Shit. She'd put you between a rock and a hard place. Kura was a damn snitch.

"She must have been playing a trick on you or something," you replied. "I'm pretty sure I saw them together that night."

"Hypocrite," Zuha snapped.

"I'm not lying to you, Nakamura."

"You are," Zuha took a step forward without taking her eyes off you, entering your personal bubble. "And the more you do it, the deeper you dig your own grave."

"Kazuha, I swear I don't know what you're talking about. She was..."

"You're fucking her too, manager-nim?" Zuha blurted out, leaving you hanging. "I know you did it with Sakura. She told me everything. So..." she closed the distance between your bodies, pressing hers against your side and her thigh against your crotch. Her shirt lifted again, and you caught a glimpse of her left buttock. "Are you going to tell me the truth, or are you going to make this more complicated for yourself?"

It took a tremendous amount of willpower not to touch her, as her toned body felt way too good against yours. Her hot breath against your neck didn't help either.

"So what if I did?" you asked, trying your best not to look at her as Kazuha rubbed her thigh between your legs. "Are you going to tell PD Nim everything or something?"

"No way. I'm not a snitch," Zuha retorted. "Come on, stop being a damn liar and speak."

As much as you wanted to, her damn thigh was being a severe distraction, keeping your thoughts from organizing. Kazuha knew it, and that's why, apart from her thigh, she reached down to grab your already hard cock and gently squeezed it to short-circuit you.

"Did the cat eat her tongue, manager-nim?" Zuha murmured near your ear, tightening her fingers around the outline of your cock through your sweatpants.

"Shit," you gasped, closing your eyes as you pressed your lips together. "Nakamura, stop playing..."

"I'm not playing," Zuha retorted, reaching inside your sweatpants and boxers for your cock. "You wish I was playing."

How easy it would be to lose your temper, grab her by the waist, and fuck her from behind against one of those countertops. For God's sake, you were going to go crazy.

"Yes, Nakamura, I fucked Chaewon," you managed to say, but very quietly as Kazuha massaged your cock beneath her fingers.

"Excuse me?" Zuha brought her ear to your mouth, then pulled your cock out of your sweatpants and masturbated you with her five fingers at a pace that felt too good. "I don't think I heard you quite right."

You brought your hands to your head and let it fall back, feeling all your sanity drain from your body. The situation reminded you of when Chaewon and Yunjin forced information out of you at the hotel pool in New York. Same damn helplessness.

"You're a damn..." you trailed off as she moved her wrist faster.

"What did you say?" Zuha tilted her head, and before continuing her handjob, she spat a decent amount of saliva into her hand.

"F-for God's sake! Fine! I fucked Chaewon!" you finally managed to spit out loud and clear enough for her to hear.

Kazuha then stopped abruptly. Something inside you told you that you should have expected that given how everything had played out, but you still groaned in frustration. She quickly took a couple of steps back, knowing that in the midst of desperation you could try something.

"Good to know, then," was all she said, her lips curled into a damned smirk at having gotten her way. "I think I'll go back to bed, manager-nim. Sleep hit me again."

"You fucking..."

"I'll see you later!" Kazuha said, and upon reaching the other side of the kitchen island, she turned her back to you and took off her shirt, revealing her magnificent, perfect ass and completely bare back as she walked toward the stairs, her T-shirt crumpled in a line that covered her small tits.

When Zuha came back up, she left you there alone, cock out and horny as hell. You had no choice but to finish the job she'd started, using the saliva she'd left on your shaft to do it.

And well, it was the best jerk-off of your life. Why deny it?

After cumming and cleaning up the embarrassing mess you'd made, you finally settled down to drink your damn espresso, with the damned uncertainty of not knowing what the hell Kazuha wanted from you. She'd already gotten what she wanted, and you suspected it was nothing more than a green light to act without any qualms. A position that only harmed you, of course.

For the next two days, you and her didn't talk much, but that was exactly what she wanted, since she knew your attention was going to be on her anyway. Kazuha wandered around the house, usually without pants or wearing clothes that were too tight and without a bra. Like any intelligent person, you tried not to pay too much attention to her, but she had her ways of making sure you always saw her, like walking right past you while you were using your laptop or bending over in ways that forced you to lift your head.

It was a damn torment you weren't sure how long you could endure, and that Kazuha could prolong as long as she wanted until you were begging for pussy. Maybe that was what she wanted after all: for you to lose all dignity and get on your knees before her and act like a pathetic, desperate dog. You were better than that, luckily.

That day was Friday night. Chaewon, Kura, and Eunchae had recently gone out to dinner, and it was just Yunjin, who was locked in her room, you, and Kazuha, whom you hadn't heard from all day. In Chaewon's words, she was spending the whole day to herself, and they had decided to leave her alone and not bother her.

Which meant you were certain no one was going to bother you. By the time you lay down on your sofa bed, you'd already eaten dinner and taken a shower, and were snuggled up under your blanket, reading a book with ambient noise in your AirPods to help you focus.

A while passed, and you were completely immersed in your reading, already feeling relaxed and ready to sleep in a couple of hours.

Until you felt a couple of taps on your right shoulder that nearly made your heart leap out of your body. The shock was such that your book fell into your lap.

"...Sorry!" was what you managed to hear. Taking out your AirPods, you looked over your shoulder to find Kazuha standing behind you, dressed in a tight black tracksuit consisting of tiny shorts and a sports bra under which she was wearing nothing. She was all sweaty, her hair tied in a high bun. It was probably the hottest thing she had ever looked.

"This better be important, Nakamura," you gasped, feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest from how fast it was beating.

"Did I scare you that much?"

You didn't even respond, just stared at her, lips set in a line and eyes expressionless.

"Okay, okay, sorry. Well, I came to ask for your help with something."

Kazuha was breathing a little ragged; she'd probably just finished training a little while ago.

"I was going to sleep in a bit."

"It'll be quick! I promise!" She clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture. "I just need you to help me with my stretches."

You let out a deep breath. This wasn't going to end well for you, you were sure of it. It was the perfect excuse for her to tease you even more. The option of refusing was growing stronger inside you, but fuck... what a damn sexy body. Tight in every corner and glistening with sweat. It wasn't fair at all.

"Okay, Nakamura," you nodded with a sigh, swishing your feet off the couch to slide them into your Crocs. "But hurry up. I'm already sleepy."

"Hai!" Zuha nodded, and ran to find a yoga mat she'd left nearby to spread it out in the space between the carpet and the glass wall that led to the inner patio. "Just stand behind me, okay?"

"Behind... you?" You wrinkled your brow, taking hesitant steps to stand on the mat with her.

Kazuha was the one who turned around so her back was to you. Your gaze inevitably dropped to her ass, and then quickly back to her when she looked over her shoulder at you.

"Hey, focus," Zuha chided you.

You raised your hands and shrugged.

Zuha looked straight ahead again, and took a couple of small steps back to be as close to you as possible, her ass rubbing against your crotch. Then, she opened her feet to the sides and bent fully forward to plant her hands against the mat, stretching her back. But it also gave you a prime view of that beautiful ass you were tempted to grab.

"Put your hand on the center of my back and push down, manager-nim," Zuha said. "I hope you don't mind the sweat."

You didn't mind in the slightest. Not when it came to her. To be completely honest, you could perfectly well lick every drop without objection.

Carefully, you placed the palm of your hand above Kazuha's lower waist and pressed down. Kazuha let out a low, almost inaudible moan and proceeded to stretch out on both sides, touching her toes with her fingers. A couple of seconds later, she straightened and turned around. You were so close that her body heat spread to you.

"Hold still," Kazuha said, taking a couple of steps back before bending forward again, this time keeping her back in a straight line before holding onto your waist. Her face was dangerously close to your bulge. "Do the same to my back."

You weren't sure it was necessary; she seemed to be doing all the work herself. But you didn't hesitate, placing your hand in the same position as a moment ago to apply gentle pressure. Kazuha groaned again, and you were petrified when she craned her neck slightly and pressed the tip of her nose against your bulge.

"Nakamura..." you said under your breath, but she didn't seem to hear you.

Kazuha craned her neck a little further and pressed her mouth against it before standing up again, an amused look on her face.

"Are you finished?" you asked with a glimmer of hope, feeling yourself starting to get hard.

"Almost there," Zuha replied, turning her back to you again to kneel on the mat. "Come on, behind me. Above my heels."

You sighed and obeyed, kneeling with her heels below your crotch, which was essentially rubbing against her ass. Kazuha must have sensed how hard you were, because you managed to catch a hint of a smile on her face.

"You'll do the same to my back," Zuha said, before bending her upper torso down, arms stretched out in front of her, head between them. Her ass looked delicious again under your eyes, round and firm as it was raised. Besides, the tiny shorts made part of her asscheeks peek out. If only you could pull those damn shorts down and...

With your eyes closed so as not to lose control, you placed your hand where Kazuha indicated. But this time, just to treat yourself, you pushed your hips forward a little and pressed your hard bulge fully against her ass. Kazuha moaned under her breath as she discreetly pressed her ass against you as well. She wasn't even stretching properly anymore; she only cared about whatever you were doing at the moment.

"Wah," she sighed, finally sitting back on her heels a few seconds later. "That feels so good."

"Are we done?" you asked, looking away with your hands in your lap. You had no idea why you were covering your boner if you'd already made her feel it on purpose, but you did it anyway.

"No, but all that's missing are my legs," Zuha replied. "And that's the most important thing."

"Of course it is," you said, tired.

Kazuha gestured for you to move to the side. As you did, she lay back on the mat facing you, her arms tucked into her body and her legs together. Then, she brought up a bent leg and grabbed the top of her calf to press it against her torso.

"You know what to do, right?" Kazuha asked, peeking out from behind her knee to look at you.

"You're assuming I know more than I actually do," you replied, kneeling beside her.

"Just press my thigh as far toward me as you can. It's easy."

"What if I hurt you?"

"You're not going to hurt me, silly. Come here."

You could have done that perfectly well from where you were, but Kazuha patted the opposite thigh. She wanted you to sit there, probably because it was the closest your crotches could be to each other. A meticulously malevolent being, you weren't wrong about that.

Cursing under your breath, you went and straddled her where she'd said, pressing her thigh toward her body with both of your hands. Aside from the cold sweat, her flesh felt firm beneath your fingers, the product of years and years of her ballerina training and now her workouts.

"Mmm, I think there might be a better angle for this," Kazuha murmured, and writhed beneath you to lower her position, consequently pressing your crotches together. Only then did you realize her pussy was poking through the fabric of her shorts, and your painfully hard bulge was rubbing against it.

"Fuck, Nakamura," you gasped, your fingers circling the back of her thigh. "Is this really necessary?"

"You agreed to help me, didn't you?" Zuha asked, glancing at your privates rubbing against each other.

"Yes, but..."

"Then don't complain. Now for the other leg."

You let go of her thigh so she could stretch out her leg and you could straddle her. She then brought her other leg up, and you held her thigh towards her body. The torturous process was the same. Now your cock was throbbing, and you didn't know where to look to hide your embarrassment.

"Having fun, huh?" Zuha ventured, and you knew what she meant without even looking at her.

"I think we have different concepts of what having fun is, Nakamura," you replied.

"You're wrong. It's the same for both of us. You're just more closed-minded about it than I am."

You chuckled. What a damn nerve she had, saying that.

Before you could respond, Kazuha lifted her hips and deliberately began grinding against your bulge. She even made you release her thigh so she could get better range of motion. Her crotch then began massaging your cock up and down, making you gasp.

"This is your concept of fun?" you asked, looking into her eyes.

"I don't know... you like it?" Zuha tilted her head and looked down at your bulge. She bit her lip. "No, you definitely like it. That's a silly question."

It was about to happen, you were sure of it. There was no way out. And since there wasn't, you finally dared to take a step forward.

Somewhat hesitantly, you placed your hand on Zuha's toned abdomen, then slowly lowered it until your thumb was touching her pussy. Zuha smiled, biting the tip of her tongue, and moaned when you circled near what you knew was her clit.

But just when you thought she was reaching out to return the favor, she put her hand on your abdomen and pushed you back with unexpected force. You fell onto your ass as she pulled away.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you said through gritted teeth, feeling the anger grow up within you.

"Thank you for your help, manager-nim," Zuha said, standing up. Her mischievous smile made your blood boil. "I know you must be very sleepy, so I'll let you go to bed."

"You're fucking despicable," you said as she picked up the mat, pulling it out from under you.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" Zuha raised her eyebrows, rolling up the mat. You didn't respond. "Yeah, I thought so."

Zuha then tucked the rolled-up mat under her arm and blew you a kiss before heading back the way she came, leaving you once again with a painful boner under your shorts and horny as hell. You cursed under your breath. It was partly your damn fault, for not having the balls to take charge of the situation. But what could you do? It was just common sense, since your position didn't give you the freedom to do whatever you wanted. Caution, you called it.

But your reasons for caution were running out, as was your patience. It was clear she wanted you to do something, and she wouldn't be like the other three girls, who would make their wishes clear from the start. No, Zuha wanted you to take the initiative, and she was poking you with a stick like a sleeping animal, just to see how long you could hold out until you swallowed your pride and gave in to your anger.

You had already swallowed your pride when you touched her a few moments ago. Now it only remained to see how much further your patience threshold could extend until you exploded, and that wouldn't be far.

That night you slept bitterly, not even wanting to masturbate to appease how horny you were. You would save yourself for her, for when the time came.

The next day passed peacefully. The girls had arrived from dinner in the early hours; you knew this since they woke you from your sleep just to notify you. They slept until 2 p.m., and later everyone—except for Eunchae, who went to visit her parents—was getting ready downstairs to party.

"Kim Chaewon, don't you dare turn off your phone," you warned, walking beside her as you escorted them out. Sakura, Yunjin, and Kazuha went ahead. "Keep me up to date as much as you can. I get anxious when you all go out."

Chaewon stopped and took your hand, careful not to let the others notice. That made you look at her.

"I promise to keep you updated, sweetheart," she said softly, taking a step toward you that immediately made you nervous. Her eyes landed on yours. "Stop worrying so much and trust me."

All the anxiety and worries subsided with that. A strange sense of relief washed over you through her sweet tone of voice and sparkling eyes. Hell fucking no. If you started having feelings for that girl, you were screwed.

But instead of drawing a line and making your position clear, you squeezed her hand in gratitude and gave her a small smirk. It felt good to do so, so you didn't regret it. At least not yet.

"Fine, sorry," you nodded, letting go of her hand. "What time are you planning on coming back?"

"Around 2 am," Chaewon replied. "Depends on how quickly we get in. I don't think it'll be long."

"Take care, then."

Chaewon glanced quickly at the girls, and when she confirmed they weren't looking, she stood on her tiptoes to give you a small kiss on the cheek before joining the others. The spot where her kiss fell felt warm, and now you had the emotional tide against you for not having been quick enough to avoid it.

You quickly said goodbye to the girls and followed them with your eyes as they left the house. But Zuha stopped suddenly and looked at them with a hand on her stomach and a furrowed forehead. On pure instinct, you took a couple of steps forward, worried.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Kura asked.

"Cramps," Kazuha replied, slouching slightly. "I think I need to go to the bathroom."

"Oh, we'll wait for you then."

"No, no," Zuha shook her head, putting one foot back inside the house. "I know this won't stop for a while. Go without me."

"Are you sure? You've been saying all day you needed a drink."

"I'd rather have my stomach healthy than a drink."

Kura pouted.

"As you wish," Kura took her hand in a rather motherly manner. "I'll call you later to check on you, okay?" Then she looked at you. "Manager-nim, make her some chamomile tea, will you?"

"Sure," you nodded.

Kazuha hugged the girls goodbye and closed the door herself. You stood there in the hall, waiting for her to turn to you.

"Do you need anything else?" you asked her as she walked toward you with a pained expression. "I'll make you the chamomile right away."

"I'm fine," Zuha replied, passing by you. "I just need that and rest. Thank you."

Zuha hurried up the stairs to the second floor, and you went straight to the kitchen to prepare her chamomile. Minutes later, the water was boiling, ready to put the sachet in. You would leave it for about ten minutes to let the flavor settle. While you waited, you decided to text her.

The minutes passed, and there was no response from her. You didn't find it strange; she was probably feeling really bad and had her phone away. It was best not to pressure her.

When enough time had passed, you took out the chamomile sachet and threw it in the trash. Then, you went to the fridge to find a lemon and cut it in half, to add a small splash of juice to your tea. Finally, you poured the tea into a porcelain cup and added sugar, not too much so as not to overpower the chamomile and lemon. The smell made you want to take a sip yourself.

You were about to take the cup to her when you received a message. It was her, and you almost slipped on the first few steps. There was a damn tap-to-see photo.

If you had dropped your jaw any further, you probably would have opened a hole in the floor. The photo was of her in a hot, skimpy lingerie set that you couldn't figure out how she managed to put on so quickly. It consisted mostly of interconnecting black velvet straps that ran all over her naked body, forming a triangle above her navel, from which two straps branched off on either side to connect with those that ran down to the sky-blue lace bows she had around each thigh, while the third went up to connect with the straps that circled the outline of her small tits to form a choker around her neck. The panties also consisted solely of straps, which highlighted her beautiful, perfectly shaved pussy. The icing on the cake were the lace details here and there: under her breasts, on her shoulders, the bows that encircled her thighs, and a small piece between the square formed by the straps over her pussy.

Very hot, yes. The boner had been instant. But you were overlooking something very important: that damn slut had fooled you all.

You hurriedly left the cup of chamomile tea in the kitchen and then ran to the second floor. Up there, you moved with long, impetuous strides, breathing like a rabid bull. When you reached the room Kazuha and Chaewon shared, you flung open the door and entered like an unstoppable force of nature, slamming it shut. The mythomaniac princess was on her own bed, face down, her back to the door. From there, the view of her naked ass was perfect.

Hearing you enter, Kazuha looked over her shoulder at you. She raised her calves to cross her feet and block your view of her pussy.

"I'm so fucking tired of you," you said, taking slow steps toward the bed.

"Yeah, but does this lingerie look cute  on me or nah?" Zuha asked.

That was it. You couldn't take it anymore.

Almost without thinking, you took off the sweater you were wearing and threw it on the floor, striding toward the bed. Kazuha rolled over and positioned herself on her back, just in time for you to pounce on her and crash your lips against hers.

Kazuha moaned as she received your kiss, immediately wrapping her arms around your neck and her strong legs around your torso. She arched her back, pressing your bodies together and giving you the space to slide your hands underneath. You ran your hands up and down her back, feeling every muscle beneath your fingertips. Then you moved down to her thighs, pressed on either side of your waist, squeezing and rubbing them with the palms of your hands, careful not to damage the lace of the bows.

"Mmm, you took a while," Kazuha moaned against your lips, and reached between your bodies to grasp your cock through your sweatpants and knead it. She quickly got you hard. "You even made me use my last weapon."

"Last weapon? You've been running away from me all these damn days, what the fuck did you expect me to do?" You snapped, as Kazuha pulled down your sweatpants and boxers a little, freeing your hard cock.

"Have I really been running away, manager-nim?" Zuha asked between kisses. Her fingers wrapped around your shaft, rubbing it slowly. "Or is it that you just didn't have the balls to tame me this whole time?"

Oh, so that's where it was going, huh? Good.

"You're a fucking insufferable slut," you murmured, testing the waters.

"Mmm, yes," Zuha moaned, and moved her hand faster on your cock. "Tell me that again."

"I said two things. Which one? You're more of one than the other."

"Oh come on, stop playing around, manager-nim," Zuha gasped. She really wanted you to repeat it.

"You wish I was playing around, Nakamura."

You pulled away from Kazuha's lips and went straight down to her small breasts. Kazuha inevitably had to let go of your cock to place her hands between your neck and jaw, moaning as you took one of her nipples into your mouth and licked it with the tip of your tongue. There you sucked until her mound was covered in saliva, then moved on to the next. And after attending to each breast, you decided to indulge in a kissing spree all over Kazuha's upper body: collarbone, shoulders, arms, and finally her abdomen.

Kazuha gently gripped your hair as you ran your tongue down her stomach and placed wet kisses around her navel, your hands resting on her thighs. From there, you moved down to her lower abdomen, and then to the point where the straps and lace blocked the path to her pubis. You had to lower your body further to be between her legs, but not to eat her pussy, that would have been what she wanted. Instead, you opened her legs and took them behind her knees to kiss the inside of her thighs, teasing her with a touch of her pussy but always staying mere millimeters away.

"Is this fucking revenge or what?" Zuha asked with a whimper, still even though you didn't have her so tightly in her grasp. She was right where she wanted to be. "Do you think I don't deserve to have my pussy eaten?"

"No. You don't deserve it," you replied flatly, happy just to kiss and feel her soft skin and firm muscles against your lips.

"I only got you horny twice!" she protested, as if it was nothing. "You could have done something about it, but you didn't have the balls."

"You better shut up, walking microwave," you warned, standing up to remove your sweatpants and boxers. "Don't make this any harder for yourself."

"Or what? You'll just stand there and watch me have my way again?" Zuha chuckled, but the smile faded when you spat on your cock and took the tip into her pussy. "Oh wait! Fuck!" she moaned.

Her pussy was as tight as you imagined, but it didn't take much effort to fill her stifling walls with every inch of your shaft. It felt so stupidly heavenly that you rolled your eyes with a moan.

"You've been playing with yourself today, huh?" you asked, your hands pressing her thighs back, noticing how easily your cock slid in and out of her.

"Maybe," Zuha managed to reply between soft moans. She brought a finger to her mouth and nibbled on the tip as she watched you slowly fuck her.

"You knew your plan would work out perfectly, and you prepared for when I couldn't hold it in anymore. Fucking slut."

Without realizing it you'd repeated the word, and it quickly sank into Kazuha's body. She arched her back a few inches off the mattress and placed her hand between her breasts, sliding it down her abdomen to her pussy, rubbing circles over her clit. But you were quick to grab her wrist and pull it away, bringing both hands above her head to pin them to the mattress.

"I didn't say you could do that, did I?" You raised your eyebrows, looking down at her since her face was right under yours.

At that moment, a spark seemed to ignite in Kazuha's eyes, which softened and lost the arrogance of a few minutes ago.

"You're right, daddy," Zuha purred. "You never said I could touch myself."

Well, great. Not only was it enough for Chaewon to use that little word with you, but now Kazuha would also join the club. You weren't going to complain tho. It was simpler and more fun to accept the role with open arms.

"That's a good girl," you gasped, and with both hands holding her wrists against the bed, you began to fuck her like you'd been wanting to do all these days. Hard, and rough. Above all, rough. Seeking to release all that pent-up frustration she had sown in you.

Zuha's moans began to flow freely through the room, in perfect harmony with the sound of your gradually faster thrusts. She kept her legs wide open for you, and offered no resistance to your grip on her wrists in a show of pure submission. Too bad you didn't have handcuffs handy.

Zuha begged for a kiss with her gaze, which jumped from your eyes to your lips. To please her, you flexed your arms and lowered your body, meeting her cute, parted lips. The angle now forced you to move your hips slower, but at the same time, you were hitting spots in her pussy you hadn't previously reached, causing her to stifle whimpers against your lips.

"Yes daddy," Zuha moaned. "I fucking love that, keep it up please!"

Zuha pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and arched her back, her tits now brushing against your chest. She was close to her orgasm; you could tell by the way she made a show of closing her thighs around your torso and by the way her moans faded to give way to heavy gasps. You would have allowed it with Chaewon, but you weren't going to be so forgiving with her after she'd made your life miserable for so many days. So just when she thought she was about to cum, you released her wrists and pulled out of her.

"Daddy, no!" Zuha protested. Her eyes filled with tears. "No, please! Let me cu-"

Her protests fell short of nothing when you knelt to her left, grabbed the back of her neck, and guided your cock into her mouth. Kazuha took it with a whimper, but hollowed her cheeks as she pumped her head and sucked on your cock.

"I decide when you can cum," you said, brushing her hair behind her ears and then tying it back into a ponytail with your left hand. "Is that clear?"

Zuha looked up at you as she pumped halfway into your cock and nodded. You let her do the work at first, just to give your lower body a rest, and she was doing an excellent job with her mouth and tongue. She took you out for short periods of time to lick your tip and kiss your shaft all over, trying to please you enough to soften you up. It almost worked. But before she could continue, you made her stop so you could take control and fuck her mouth.

"Be a good girl and take all that cock for daddy," you panted as you pushed a few more inches into her mouth. It didn't fit all of it: you soon ran into the natural barrier that made her gag. But it was more than enough. "Oh fuck yes."

With one hand in Zuha's makeshift ponytail and the other on the right side of her neck, you began pumping your hips back and forth at a steady pace, getting faster as the seconds ticked by. You could tell Zuha wasn't used to that sort of thing, but she was enjoying it despite her gag reflex triggering over and over again and making a mess of her own saliva.

Soon your thrusts became aggressive and frantic, causing the pool of saliva building up inside Zuha's mouth to soak your cock and spill in thick drops onto her small tits. Zuha didn't bother asking for a break, whether out of pride or to show you she was a good girl. Either way, you gave her a hard time when you pushed her head down onto the base of your cock. She gripped your thighs out of inertia, closing her eyes as you nuzzled your tip into her throat. A few seconds later, you were forced to pull out when Zuha started coughing.

"Now it's not so fun leaving me hanging, huh?" you asked, letting go of her hair and neck. Zuha's head fell and bounced against the mattress as she coughed.

"If I hadn't, you wouldn't be like this right now," Zuha gasped, coughing again. Then she grabbed your cock and moved her hand over it slowly, not caring that it would get drenched in the thick layer of saliva covering your shaft. "It's perfect."

You pulled out of her and went back between her legs to lie on your stomach, wrap your arms around her thighs, and finally plant your mouth on her pussy. Zuha arched her back and sighed in relief, as if she'd been wanting it for a long time—which she probably had. The case wasn't much different for you: tasting that delicious meat dish went straight to your deepest fantasies, repressed by what you thought was the harsh reality of never being able to achieve it. But now you couldn't be anything but grateful for the twists of fate, because her folds were so soft and delicious that in a normal situation it would have taken an entire construction crew to pry you away.

"I thought I didn't deserve you eating my pussy," Zuha said, stroking your hair.

"Let's just say you've done enough to earn it," you replied, and proceeded to go up to her clit.

"Also to cum?" she asked, but you didn't respond.

Following the canons established by your past fantasies about her, you ate her pussy as if it were the last chance you'd ever have. A little over a minute passed when, in the same characteristic pattern, Zuha was about to cum. You continued as if you knew nothing, with a relentless emphasis on her clit. You took her to the very limit.

Close...

Close...

Until you rose up to leave her pussy and let her orgasm hang.

"Oh my god, no!" Zuha whimpered, desperately trying to grab you and return you to her pussy, but you slipped away. "Please daddy, no!"

"I said you deserved me to eat your pussy," you said, grabbing her left leg behind the knee to push it back and insert two fingers into her pussy. Zuha whimpered. "I never said anything about cumming."

"And how do you expect me not to cum if you do that?" Zuha asked, as you began pumping your fingers in and out of her.

"That's your problem, not mine."

"But-!" Zuha bit out a protest as your fingers sped up. She had to take a moment to gather her words. "But daddy, I'm so close! I can't hold it!"

"Yes you can, and you'll be able to," you threatened, your left hand fingers digging into the back of her thigh. Your fingers were fucking her wet pussy fast. "So don't you fucking dare cum until I tell you to."

"But I want to cum!" Zuha whimpered, her hands clutching the sheet. Tears pooled in her eyes again, and one trickled down her cheek. "Please!!"

"Stop whining like a brat and hold it!" you snorted.

Another tear or two trickled down Zuha's cheeks as she looked everywhere but down. She brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her screams, and bit down on that same hand when it balled into a fist. Her breathing, on the other hand, showed how desperate she was, as her chest rose and fell like a bellows about to burst. It was admirable, to be honest. In her position, you wouldn't have lasted two seconds.

"Please!!" Zuha insisted, now truly crying because of the way her lower lip trembled.

"A little more..." you said under your breath, staring at her. Your wrist was starting to tire. "Hold on... Now cum, slut."

Zuha exploded with such force that she tore the sheets off their edges and let out a scream so loud you were sure it could have been heard on the street at that time of night. Her violent orgasm was accompanied by a pleasant surprise: an intense jet of squirt that you let out freely as you pulled your fingers out of her, soaking her buttocks, the sheets, and part of your knee.

"What a good girl," you praised her, watching her thighs tremble. "You made a whole damn mess tho."

Zuha looked at you with tear-filled eyes, arms open at her sides. She hadn't bothered to wipe her cheeks. Her buttocks and thighs were soaked with drops of squirt.

"Keep fucking me, daddy, please," she said in a small voice, bringing two fingers to her pussy, rubbing them a few times between her folds, and then bringing them to her mouth to suck on her own fluids. "I can handle it like the good girl I am."

"Let's put that to the test then. Turn around."

Zuha rolled over and onto her stomach. Her sweet spot, that firm, round ass, was now entirely at your disposal. You placed your hands underneath her and made her raise her hips. She got the message and spread her knees to the sides, lifted her ass, and arched her back, leaving only her chest and hands against the mattress. It was the perfect backshot position, and the damn lingerie still intact only made it much better.

Without wasting time, you grabbed your cock and drove it into her pussy, in a single smooth motion that made you both moan in unison. Her pussy walls embraced your cock from all directions, squeezing it hard and warming her up. Zuha, with her head resting on her crossed arms, looked over her shoulder and locked eyes with you. Then you, with your hands on her waist, began to fuck her.

Going slow at first was something you did on purpose, mainly to feel every possible texture of her pussy in detail, but also to admire the view of her perfect raised ass with a cock constantly disappearing between her butt cheeks. But that soon became insufficient for you. So you made a sudden change of gear.

"Mmmgh, does my pussy feel good when you fuck it like that, daddy?" Zuha whimpered, now being pounded and jolted by your thrusts.

"It must feel better for you, right?" you asked through gritted teeth, and you slapped her left butt cheek before squeezing it. "This is what you've been wanting for days."

"Oh, you have no idea," Zuha replied with a sigh. "I haven't been able to stop imagining how well that cock could fill me up ever since Kura-chan told me everything."

"That damn snitch," you grumbled.

"Thanks to that damn snitch, you're fucking me hard from behind like a whore, don't forget that. Mmmgh!!"

You gripped her waist with your fingers tightly gripped and your pelvis collided with her ass with hard slaps. Zuha opened her arms from under her head and extended them to the sides, elbows bent, to crumple the sheets between her fingers. She understood that she no longer had any restrictions on cumming, and she did so after a few brief seconds.

But you felt in perfect shape to continue, nowhere near cumming even though your engine was revving at full power and she looked that hot. 

Zuha squealed in despair as you continued your thrusts through her orgasm. Now you had one hand on her bare, muscular back, and seconds later you reached up to grab a handful of her long, black hair and pull her head back. She came again after a few seconds, and the spasms forced her to drop her hips back onto the mattress. Your cock inevitably slipped out of her pussy.

"Do you need a break?" you asked, slipping out of character a little since she looked exhausted.

"I appreciate your concern, but no," Zuha replied, bringing her legs together so her buttocks squeezed against each other. "I said I could take it. So don't be so kind to me, daddy."

"Well, if you insist..."

You straddled her thighs and guided your cock between her buttocks, rubbing it between them before returning to her pussy. As you went back inside her, you leaned forward to lie flat on top of her, grabbing her chin to turn her head and kiss her. Zuha moaned against your lips as you fucked her with slow, deep strokes.

After kissing her for some long seconds, you braced your hands against the mattress and lifted yourself up to move harder, thrusting up and down. Zuha dropped her head and let the right side of her face rest against the mattress.

"Oh, daddy, you're filling me up so good," Zuha moaned, glancing at you. She reached out and found a pillow to hold onto. "I can't wait to feel all that hot, sticky load inside me..."

"Can you stand up?" you asked between gasps. "There's a particular way I'd like to do it."

"I think I know what you mean," Zuha nodded. "Let's do whatever you want, daddy."

You immediately pulled off her and helped her stand up off the bed. Her wobbly legs made you hesitate about whether it was a good idea or not, but she didn't seem close to giving in to them. And instead of complaining, Zuha did her iconic Antifragile leg lift as soon as you stood between the beds, only instead of lowering it back again, she rested it against your left shoulder and let her calf fall behind your back.

"Oh... my... god," you said to yourself, amazed not only by Zuha's flexibility, but also by the stamina she had in her support leg and how hot her pussy looked.

"Is this what you had in mind, daddy?" Zuha asked, one hand on your chest and the other resting against the wall for balance.

"Oh, that's perfect," you nodded, placing your hand on her thigh to rub up and down while the other rubbed her abs. "Are you sure you can hold yourself like this?"

"I can," she agreed. "But you'd better hurry or my legs might give out on me."

Without needing to say anything else, you grabbed your cock and guided it back inside her. The sensation was completely different now: it was tighter inside her, much tighter. It was like putting your cock between two damn hydraulic presses that threatened to crush it. And god, it felt fucking delicious. If you thought your climax was still far off before, you had to reconsider that now, because as soon as you started fucking her in that position, your body entered a state of ecstasy you'd rarely felt in your life, as if all your blood was flowing faster to give you a surge of energy.

For Zuha it felt just as good, or at least that's how it seemed from the way she moaned louder than she had a moment ago and dug her natural nails into your abdomen. Her legs didn't seem close to giving way, but it got really tough for her when she came again, and her supporting leg wobbled. You held onto the leg she had draped over you as tightly as you could, keeping her from falling to the floor. In the process the lace bow on her thigh loosened, but the straps were intact.

Zuha's solution was as simple as it was perfect: she sacrificed the balance the wall gave her to press herself against her own leg and clung to your neck with her arms, so that her head was next to her knee and your faces were inches from each other. Of course, you kissed her, concentrating entirely on how good her pussy felt amidst such hard, fast thrusts.

After a moment, you entered the downward spiral. One thrust after another against that tight pussy with every inch of your shaft, Zuha's moans against your lips, your bodies now sweaty. It all resulted in the most mind-melting and electrifying orgasm you'd experienced to date.

"Oh my fucking god!" you moaned, shooting spurt after spurt of thick cum into that tight Japanese ballerina pussy.

"Oh daddy that feels so good," Zuha sighed, letting her head fall back. Her fingers gripped the back of your neck. "Actually I think I'm going to... Mmmgh!!"

Zuha went through her own sensual orgasm as you emptied your balls inside her and felt her muscles and pussy contract. You kissed her long, luscious neck, still moaning to yourself until your climax subsided. Then you stayed like that for a while, balls deep inside her and holding her close to catch your breath.

"You came a lot, daddy..." Zuha whispered in your ear. "You've been saving yourself for me, haven't you? That's adorable..."

"I'd rather not answer, Nakamura," you replied, placing more kisses on her neck and jawline. "All I know is that you're so fucking hot."

Zuha pulled you in for another kiss, this time slower and more passionate, and gave you a gentle push back to ease you out of her. You both looked down to see your cum spilling onto the carpeted floor beneath your feet.

"You know this floor is a fucking pain to clean, right?" you asked.

"It's not like you clean it regularly," Zuha retorted.

"And neither do you."

"Yeah anyway," Zuha looked up and met your gaze. "Will you sleep with me for a while, daddy?"

"Just a little while," you nodded. "Do you want me to help you take all that stuff off?"

"Oh yeah, please," she sighed. "Putting it on was a pain in the ass."

"No surprise there."

Zuha pulled away from you and sat on the edge of her bed. You helped her remove the entire piece of lingerie, being careful not to pinch her with the straps. It wasn't until Zuha was completely naked that she lay down on the bed, facing the wall, with her back to you. And as soon as you lay down next to her, she pushed her ass back to be your little spoon. The mattress didn't have a sheet, as she'd pulled it out from the edges while you were fucking her, and it was all wrinkled in one corner, so you could snuggle up comfortably to close your eyes.

But you couldn't afford to get too comfortable and sleep too much. Zuha still had a lie to maintain, and if Chaewon caught you there, it was going to be a huge mess for her. So you never really got to sleep.

After a couple of hours, you woke Zuha up, and together you set about making the bed and cleaning as much as you could. By the time the girls returned, everything was in perfect natural order: Zuha asleep in her bed in comfy clothes, and you lying on your couch.

No one ever suspected a thing.

------------------------

[england-would-fall]

We know what you are, First Son of Liquid Courage

[not-poignant]

hi pia i just wanted to respond to what you said in your tags about the burnout w chronic illness. and i dont mean to condescend or blame but i think your burnout came about because you are an absolute beast of a writer!!!!! the amount of words you were pushing out consistently had me wondering what kind of spell you must’ve been on. (in a good way, except it turned out to be harming you) you worked really really hard for a long time, i think harder than many healthy people even (my chronic illness could never). i know you also enjoyed writing (we enjoyed it too!), but that workload honestly never looked sustainable. the astounding part is not that you burned out, but that you managed to push for so long, despite your handicaps and hardships. want to be careful not to sound like im praising/blaming you. but you’re really just build different than a lot of folks. i hope you had time to recharge so far and keep taking it easy. i do miss your updates but i can assure you im fine waiting, as are your other readers! its really okay! get better soon 💐🐀💓

Hi anon,

This is very kind of you to say, but tbh, I don't think many people know how much some writers can, well, write.

I might seem like an over-achiever, but there are writers out there who easily write around 6000-10000 words per day, and release a book per month. I have met successful authors who aim for 150k or 200k at NaNo, because 50,000 words is 5 days of work to them.

It's hard for me to comprehend, because I know I can't do that. But likewise, I think many folks don't realise that I actually used to write a lot more than I do now!! For some years it was normal for me to write 50-80,000 words every single month. NaNo was a joke. That caused burnout, and so I adjusted down to a 25,000 minimum monthly wordcount which sometimes felt so easy that it was absurd. I now have a maximum which I have to adhere to per month (50k), because it's too easy to go past it.

For me, writing is relatively easy. It's still work, yes. I still need to put time into it. But I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who hasn't done it for thousands and thousands of hours. I don't need to put in the same amount of time as someone who can only touch type at 80 wpm, when I touch type at 120-150 wpm.

The amount of stories is an issue, and the number of chapter updates is an issue, but the actual output re: words themselves really isn't. In fact I've written more words this month than I did last month already, and will very likely hit my monthly minimum with the next chapter.

The things that contributed to my burnout are multifaceted. Getting a puppy. A death in the family. Not having access to the mental health drugs I need to function for a long period of time. Friendship disintegration. These things can cause burnout in anyone, even if they are working very sustainably, because they all require separate labour on top of the labour that someone is doing for their job.

When I come back from hiatus, I will not be writing less. I don't believe the wordcount is the issue and haven't for a long time. I will be scheduling out less chapters, because admin is overwhelming to me. If you told me that my job wasn't writing anymore, but I had to schedule + figure out when to post twice as many chapters, I'd fail, lmao.

So I will be addressing admin stuff! But the amount of words I was pushing out, anon, was completely sustainable, and in fact a highly reduced number compared to what I was pushing out 6/7 years ago. Anon, I have been pushing out this many words or more for 5 years without stopping until now. It's felt comfortable. It's been so much less than what I used to make myself write.

So yeah, again, it can be hard for people who don't do this professionally to imagine writing at this level. And all professionals are different. I couldn't write 150k for NaNoWriMo, but the people writing 100k a month find that extremely easy to do. How I feel about their output - that it's impossible (because it is for me) is not how they feel about their output. For them writing 50k a month to make it easy might be extremely laughable to them, like, 5 days of work and then they get 25 days off. That's sometimes how I've felt about 25k (though it's more like 10 days of work to me - which is great, because I have chronic illness lol, so I need a lot of rest days and periods).

The amount of words I was pushing out consistently will be the amount I go back to because that is truly the most sustainable part of my job. I don't expect folks who haven't plugged in as many hours into writing, and who haven't written millions of words to understand, but the fact is the more you do something, the faster you get at it. The more practice you have, the more competent you become.

That was actually how I knew the burnout was so bad, because the easiest part of my job - the words + the writing - was impossible last month, and I only ended up with 14k for the first time in 5 years, and had to make a call.

The reason the hiatus is so frustrating is that so much of it is being caused by external factors, and not actually the job itself. Like yes, I am working on too many stories, and I can address that, but I was actually doing much higher wordcounts when I was working on less stories.

It's all the extra stuff that becomes very overwhelming! But I'll get there anon, and my wordcounts aren't going anywhere.

[syauska]

Mutually assured destruction

This is cinema actually

[today-i-am-thinking-about]

the fantasy of not having to be responsible for your own self-improvement

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 (𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟓) - 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, NON- CON, dark!Wanda, kidnapped, drugging, mind control, mommy kink, enchanted strap, breeding kink, dumbification, praise kink, manhandling

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: With Vision gone Wanda found a new way to have her perfect family. But for that she has to take drastic message

𝐀/𝐍: let’s pretend it’s yesterday

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

Wanda longed for one thing, a family, something picture perfect like you’d see in the sit coms she used to watch. But with Vision gone, she thought she could never reach her goal until she had found you. Pretty and young the perfect wife for her causes.

There was only one problem you already had a man. Which made her more angry with each day passing. How could a man claim over something which was clearly made for her. The only solution was to steal you away from your life, make you forget so you wouldn’t linger after the things which were bad for you.

Around her cabin in the Canadian woods she had build a small hex. A hex you couldn’t cross but was still big enough to make you feel like you could prow through the forest. But first she needed to catch you on your way home as she had mapped your daily schedule perfectly.

Wanda walked three steps behind you her hoodie hiding her face. Until you crossed in the dark valley leading into your Appartement. Hastily she had caught up to you her fingers casting a spell before you fell in her arms unconsciously.

When you regained your consciousness, waking up in clean white sheets with sun streaming through the window. Something was off, but you couldn’t remember what. You had memories of a life with a woman who seemed familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

When you stood up and found the kitchen the same unfamiliar woman was cooking breakfast, Wanda, had you just forgotten the name of your own wife? “Oh baby you’re awake already” She pulled you against her chest “Do you still have the headache from yesterday baby?” She asked her hand petting over your hair. “W- What? I can’t remember” Her perfect smile distorted a bit, became creepy even. “That’s because you haven’t had your pills yet baby” She spoke in a soothing voice as if it was the most normal thing for her.

She kept preparing for breakfast, cutting some strawberries because she knew she liked them. While she was focused on you her accidentally cut her finger, and the hex flickered for a split second and all the memories can crashing down on you. With from shock widened pupils you stared at her and she knew she had to act fast. “W-here am I?” Tears were building in building in your eyes. “Let me go I- I have a boyfriend, f- family”

She lounged at you manhandling your body on the couch “you don’t need them! All you need is me, I can tell what’s good for you and what not” She pressed you down hard the tears were already wetting the couching of the couch. “You’re just a dumb little girl who needs mommy to tell her what to do”

“Please don’t” You begged but her magic was already making you forget again. You’re brain soon felt like mush. You barely registered her pushing up your shirt and pulling your panties down “that’s a good girl all dumbed down and obedient” She played with your sloppy cunt. “You’re so wet baby? Do you like mommy playing with your little pussy?”

“Yes mommy” you mewl pushing your hips into her hands “Mhm that’s thats right… let mommy do all the thinking” She unzipped her own pants pulling them down to her thighs to reveal her enchanted strap. She alined herself with your sloppy cunt. Roughly she pushed into your tight hole splitting you open.

You mewl pressing your hips against her, like the desperate whore you were. She was harsh with her thrusts not caring about your desperate cries for release as they were only backround ambiance to the slapping of skin.

“You’re so tight for mommy” She cursed under her breath feeling every inch of you as she fucked you raw. “F- feels so good” You cried your throat raw from the screaming. “I’m gonna fuck you so full your gonna carry my babies”

“Yes” you chanted feeling your stomach tighten as you were just about to cum. “I’ll get you a full that’s what you want?! My dumb little housewife always ready for my dick?” She mocked her hand slapping your butt.

“M- Mommy, I- I’m close” You mewled biting down into the pillow you were clinging on. “Cum with me baby make me proud and cream over my cock” She fastened her hips again and you squirted all over her abs. She released her seed shortly after pulling out to finger her cum back into you. You were too far gone in the trance as you feel asleep on the couch. In a few hours you would be perfect for her that she was sure of.

@jolyssereed

[zincbot]

i think it's fun to sprinkle a little personal issue into a dnd character, exaggerate it to make it that much easier to dissect

[syauska]

Elves were the first to pioneer stimulant infused alcohols, the legends say. Elvish 4loko can turn a man into a rampaging elephant or strip the varnish off the deck of your elvish forest treehouse. Or if you're inventive with how it's served, both in a row!

Any setting where the elves have weaker booze than the dwarves isn't committing to the bit

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- i might have severe baby fever, idk.

pairing- husband toji x fem!reader

——————————————————————————

Contrary to his name literally meaning “blessing”, Megumi was nothing short of a curse during bath time. He absolutely hated it, and he made it his tiny life’s mission to make sure his parents dreaded it as well.

“Megs, please just.. work with me here,” Toji pleaded, exhaustion brewing inside of him, his hands desperately trying to keep the squirming child before him tame.

You’d gone to run some errands, leaving Toji to attempt bath time alone, his previous confidence shriveling into nothingness the second he heard little Megumi cry as soon as he was dunked into the warm water. At three months old, he was the perfect child, quiet and happy, tame in every aspect of life, a fact that seemed to be nothing but false when Toji was the one left in charge of watching him.

Toji didn’t even think it possible for something to cry as much as Megumi did without passing out, but he had been proven wrong before, the wriggling thing in his hands wailing his heart out to try and convince his dad to let him out. “I’m sorry baby, but you did this to yourself,” he huffed, gently rubbing bubbles along his son’s belly, tiny feet kicking water up at him, Megumi clearly trying to escape the horror of his nightly bath.

You see, Toji would feel bad for his baby had he not been the cause for the bath in the first place, the mashed carrots he had for dinner ending up smeared down his face and front, far from the target of his mouth. Said carrots began to fade away from the whimpering Megumi’s skin, turning the water into a soapy orange. His little body fit perfectly in Toji’s large hands, the newborn scrunch still apparent as baby Megs’ legs squished up to his belly in a useless attempt at kicking his dad’s fingers away.

The crying problem only escalated as soon as Toji introduced a washcloth into the picture, Megumi squealing, kicking and writhing with so much force, he might as well have been a full-grown adult.

Without your seemingly ‘all-knowing’ insight when it came to parenting, Toji rushed to find his own solution, grabbing a used bottle of soap that appeared to be extremely bubbly, hurriedly pumping out the liquid into the water filled basin, praying that the mysterious substance would somehow, someway, quell the curse possessing his son.

It was almost as if Megumi was hypnotized or something, because the instant the familiar smell of his mother hit his nose, his screaming cries died down to nothing but little babbles, coos leaving him in a low, comfortable purr. You see, it wasn’t just any old soap bottle. No, it was the soap you had used to bathe Megs the night after you’d come home from the hospital after giving birth. Toji remembered just how surreal and peaceful the night was, so he could understand why the familiar scent would coax his baby into a severe bout of relaxation.

Finally quitting his incessant wriggling, Megumi relaxed in Toji’s hold, the smell of the soap slowly coaxing him into a sleepy state, his little nose wrinkling and eyelids occasionally fluttering open and closed. Toji hadn't noticed before but his tiny fingers began to wrap around his pinky finger, holding onto it in a playful manner.

“hm-” Toji hummed, finally understanding the cause of his son’s untamable mood. “You just miss mama, huh?” he murmured, gentle as he picked up a sponge, running the soft material along the cooing baby’s chest and belly, sudsing up his little body, taking advantage of the sleepy mood that seemed to come over the boy.

“Yeah.. me too,” was all Toji could think to say, honestly relating to the fit his son had thrown over missing his mother, Toji feeling the same way but without the screaming and crying to show it. Finishing his gentle cleansing, Toji leaned down to press a kiss on the sleepy Megumi’s forehead. "Let’s get you to bed," he whispered, hand cupping some water to rinse him with before he gently lifted him to his chest, head resting against his shoulder.

It was a breeze the rest of the night, Toji falling victim to sleep as well, he and Megumi alike in a sense that they both enjoyed resting more than anything. The couch was the chosen spot, Toji lying shirtless against the large piece of furniture, Megumi’s blue, fuzzy onesie warm against his chest as they dozed off, a large hand resting against the tiny baby’s back, holding him safe and sound even while unconscious.

He couldn’t explain it, but being alone with his child, his baby, kindled a feeling of comfortability, of pure contentment, in his chest, he knew that no matter how untamable or stubborn or confusing Megumi could be at times, he would always be his son, his little curse of a blessing.

——————————————————————————

[mv1simp]

inspired by my fav @piastrification thank you for being in my walls 🫶🫶 hope you enjoy!!

Streets ♥️

Max Verstappen x PR Manager!Reader

we play our fantasies out in real life ways, and no final fantasy, can we end these games, though?

6 months ago, F1 champion Max Verstappen traded in his status as "serious cat dad with road rage issues" for "Genius. Playboy. Millionaire. Philanthropist". Since then you've been fighting absolute demons as his PR manager to keep his reputation clean in the media. After you tell him you've had enough, he proposes a very interactive solution to your problem.

Content includes: Humour, crackfic, fluff, so much sexual tension, 18+ MDNI, smut, playboy!max, exasperated manager! reader, a very well rounded fic for once?! 4.7k WC

If someone asked you where it’d all gone downhill, you’d have to say it started because of that greedy paparrazi rat Henri - photographer at the MonacoDaily, otherwise known as every PR manager’s sleep paralysis demon. Because this particular paparazzo had a nasty knack for capturing celebrities just as they made the most atrocious decisions known to mankind. And he had an even nastier knack for threatening to sell said photos to the highest bidder. Truly, it was a dark day for any media team when they were forced to bargain with such a foul demon, who’d be able to go toe to toe with the likes of Satan himself.

So when your phone dinged at 5am on a peaceful Sunday morning, only to reveal the 7th (7th!!) message this month from the very same greedy little rat, you threw it across the room. Only to then remember you devastatingly had not been born into a Dubai oil family and you needed this job to pay Monaco rent. The text turns out to be a photo of your aggravating client - Max Verstappen, F1 champion driver, loving father to two cats, and more recently, certified manwhoreTM. He’s living upto your nickname for him, pictured in some nightclub with a half naked blonde sitting on his lap. Alright, alright, not as bad as you were expecting, you could even photoshop the girl’s hair colour to match his current girlfriend’s one maybe? Well, except the brunette woman glaring behind him is his current model girlfriend of the month. You hear a ding, another text from Henri - this time with just a 😈 and 💸👀. You throw the phone back against wall.

Three hours later you’ve cleaned up the PR nightmare and are banging on Max’s apartment door. He blearily lets you in, shirtless and still looking half drunk, but you don’t hesitate to yank him by his beltloops and drag him to the dining table (after quickly checking out that broad chest of his, though, cause goddamn. You’re just a girl.)

Ow, ow, what the hell, Max groans as he’s shoved into a chair. Please. As if you could do any real damage in your 5 foot frame to the 6 foot driver. Slamming your hands on the table for some dramatic flourish (you’re never beating the theatre kid allegations) you give the Dutchman a piece of your mind, demanding to know what his problem is, does he know how many people you’ve had to bribe this month to stop #SluttyMaxEra trending on twitter?? And yes, you know he broke up with Kelly 10 months ago but can’t he just process this healthily and go to therapy instead of having a hoe phase and hooking up with every third woman in Monaco?

Max looks insulted at this slight to his honor. He retaliates by accusing you of buying into the patriarchy and slut shaming him (-That’s not how that works but pop off king, is your deadpan response), and telling you he’s very much over Kelly, okay, it was an amicable breakup (-Sure, Verstappen, that’s why you’d only played Lana Del Ray for a whole month afterwards, huh?) and well, what’s the issue, he’s a hot and rich guy in Monaco, it’s not his fault women just want him? Would it not be #misogynistic of him to deny women the opportunity to explore their sexuality?! He smirks, pleased with his defence.

You groan, slumping down on a chair and burying your face in your hands, muffling your groan of wholesome cat dad Max comeback whennn. Max rolls his eyes at your theatrics, asking if you’d finally lost the plot.

You try cleaning up the PR messes you’ve been making, Max Emilian, you hiss furiously, remember Ibiza? Santorini? The goddamn yacht party over summer break when he got with the captain and her deputy?! (Even now, thinking of that leaking online gives you heartburn.)

Which yacht, Max says cockily, the one where he got with them one after another or at the same time?

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t even known about the threesome, so you suppose you should be grateful that wasn’t another mess to clean up. But a deeper, insecure part of you can’t help but wonder why the only woman Max doesn’t seem to want is you.

And sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to be one of his girls, under his strong body for once instead of on the other side of his hotel wall, having to drown out the very satisfied female moans and headboard bangs with noise cancelling headphones. Like always, you push that thought down quickly.

You, good sir, are for the streets, you announce, standing up and deciding it was time to leave before your delulu, jealous thoughts decided to resurface. Seriously, you mutter under your breath, you didn’t care if his current side quest was to fuck 10 times a week, but could he at least stick to one person for a bit and not make more work for you-

Max’s hand slams the front door back closed as you started to open it. You freeze, turning back to look at him smirking down at you. You hadn’t expected him to follow you down the hallway and you gulp nervously for the safety of your job - you might have taken the roasting a bit too far.

Instead, you get a sly, Oh, so I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, just with one person?

At your awkward nod, because yes, that would significantly ease your workload, he continues, enjoying teasing his uptight, pretty manager - then were you gonna offer yourself up? After all, there’s no PR messes to find out about if it’s you, right?

You blink at Max, completely stunned by the 180 this conversation has taken. Your expression is so adorable that he couldn’t resist a you’re so cute when you’re acting all jealous, you could’ve just asked if you wanted him to fuck you, ya know?

That promptly reminds you you’re dealing with an an absolute manwhore. RIP celibacy era Max, you’ll always be famous.

Um, absolutely fucking not, keep your STDs to yourself, you hiss, flushing head to toe, and furious at the desire in you to give into the devilish proposal. He encourages you to think about it, still smirking, relaxing his grip so you can mercifully flee far away from his intense gaze. Jesus, when did he learn to rizz a girl up like that?!

You don’t take his proposal seriously at all, ignoring his cocky looks at you over meetings all week (also, he’d texted you his clean STD result to assure you he was a #SafeSexKing.) But that weekend, your refusal comes back to haunt you when you’re on a well deserved night out with your girlfriends and your PR manager senses start going off. You narrow your eyes as you spot Max in the dark corner of the nightclub, hands all over a mystery redhead. She’s not going to be a mystery much longer though - if you’d spotted them it was a matter of time before fan’s phones did and then you’d wake up to another goddamn text from your sleep paralysis demon, Henri.

You don’t even have to think about it twice. Saying goodbye to your friends, you’re at Max’s side at a very impressive speed given your 6 inch stilettos and tight sparkly minidress, and once again dragging him off by the beltloops and into an open bathroom.

He lets you yank him away, smirking when he sees you lock the door for good measure. Sweetheart, he greets. So good to see you. Finally realised you couldn’t resist me?

You practically climb him like a tree while telling him to shut the fuck up and pay attention at media training day next time, because what kind of PR crisis did he have unfolding out there? And just this once you’ll help him out, you say breathlessly in between deep kisses, but this isn’t a regular thing -

There’s not much more talking from you because he has you moaning up against the wall next, fingers buried inside your tight little pussy as he talks you through an orgasm, and then another when he splits you in half on his cock. (Once again, manwhore, who carries a condom in their jean pockets?!)

Unfortunately for your self control but very fortunately for your sex life, it is not in fact, a “one time thing”. Your trusty rose vibrator is glad for the break as you’d been taking your year long frustrations at your dry spell out on her. Especially when coming home after staying in hotels where you’d had to book out rooms neighbouring Max’s, so no one else overheard the raunchy vocals of different women every night.

Like Max said, with you, there were no more illicit PR messes to find out about in the middle of the night. You’d redirect him everytime he gave you bedroom eyes (At the pre race debrief. Post race debrief. Weekly team plan meeting. Over zoom calls? Seriously?) - gently taking his large hand and guiding him to a much more hidden, PR crisis-friendly area. To your surprise, Max actually sticks to his word and only hooks up with you - admittedly, multiple times a week (Not that you’re complaining. Turns out he was just as good in bed as he was on the track. Except this time he was definitely not finishing first...)

And for a while, everything is going well. There are no more weekly scandals scattered across trashy celeb magazines about Max. Your boss is gushing with praise, so impressed that you’ve finally managed to talk some sense into Redbull’s problem child (ah, if only she knew, but she never would, because the goddamn CIA couldn’t torture this info out of you) and best of all, you haven’t gotten a text from papparazzi rat Henri in weeks!

So of course, Max Verstappen decides that things are getting just a little bit too quiet for his liking, you had to earn your generous PR manager salary, that he paid for, right? His new, numerous tactics to stir the pot had included:

Going to clubs with no private bathrooms so you’d had to sit on his lap in the VIP lounge as he pulled your panties to the side to slide into you, barely hidden under your flimsy dress. You’d held back your moans and prayed the bass was too loud for anyone to hear

Sitting right next to you at every team dinner or business meeting so that he could sneak a large hand up your thigh and tease your pussy for fucking hours, often just as you were about to speak. And when you’re clenching the table so hard your fingers were white, he’s bending under the table to pick up a pen or something but instead left teasing licks and kisses on your aching core. You'd learnt very quickly not to wear a skirt.

Picking you up in his 2 seater Aston Martin instead of the much more appropriate discreet, spacious, 5 seater Audi he owned - so when he was too pent up after a bad practise session to wait till he got home, he'd get you to go down on him right there in the car, sometimes even as he drove, instead of parking in some hidden backstreet. It was so dirty, that he needed you so desperately that he didn't care about being caught by anyone peeking in through the half tinted windows. Because if they did look, they’d find his head thrown back in pleasure as he moans, his fingers tangled in your curls as he moved your drooling, pink lips up and down his wide cock-

Anyways, you get the picture. And he’d escalated this all the way to the paddock, which was insane because there were always multiple cameras trained on the current F1 champion. It’s the one place you two couldn’t sneak off without a very high risk of being caught, as evidenced by the one and only time he'd managed to get under your skin in the garage. He'd had you pinned up against the wall in some narrow side hallway as he whispered how fucking sexy you’d looked today, wearing his hoodie to cover up the hickies you hadn’t realized you’d woken up with and paired with some tiny denim shorts. Having the 6 foot champion huskily groan that he couldn’t focus on his free practise everytime you bent over to pet a passing dog, or when you innocently sucked on the Redbull flavoured lollipops and then the goddamn ice cream from the truck they’d brought in - was quite the power trip, you admit. So you guided his lips from your neck as he tries to add to the growing bruises on your neck and redirected him to your waiting lips instead, steamily making out as his large hands squeezed your thick ass like he’d been thinking about all day-

Max?!?

You instantly pull back from the driver and turned to see a flabbergasted looking GP - Max’s race engineer. His jaw is wide open as he looked at you two with round eyes. You’re fumbling to explain, trying and failing to push Max back - who looks rather annoyed at the intrusion and semi-glares at GP with narrow eyes. You hiss at the younger man to stop being rude and slip underneath his arms, going over to guiltily apologise to GP only to be met with You too?! How did he get you in his bed, you hated how much of a slut he was! Seriously, does he have a magical dick? Now you stare at GP in shock, unsure of how to respond to his question while Max starts laughing behind you. You make him join you as you promise to GP that he will never have to witness this again, because there will be no unprofessional behaviour of any sort on the paddock after "BootyShorts Gate" as you thereafter dub the incident. Regardless, GP still shoots you both wary glances and begins the habit of announcing his arrival and waiting 10 seconds before turning a corner in the garage, earning him many an odd look. Dramatic, really, was this where Max gets it from?

Max, of course, was very displeased with this new “professionalism” rule you'd set down - on the paddock was when he'd get the most tense, the most horny and desperate to have you underneath him, after all - and he made sure you knew it. You deliberately ignored his heated gaze on you as you interviewed him, or his lingering touches when he helped you hold your microphone up to his much taller frame, large hand wrapped around your small ones clutching the mic. Or his recent favourite, which involved standing next to you to help pick out the insta pics post-race (something he'd notoriously always hated to do) - except now, he conveniently happened to be shirtless, his toned abs and broad shoulders on display, running a hand through his sweaty tousled hair.

This last seduction tactic had sent you fleeing to Checo's garage to seek out the other Redbull driver's PR manager and beg on your knees for a client swap, surely, the sponsor benefits are legendary for whoever Max's PR manager is -

Nope. Nuh uh, no way, Checo is the breeziest driver ever to look after. The other manager pauses. Well, except for the occasional political military coup scandal in Mexico. But still, I'd take that any day over El Manwhore.

You wailed at whatever Gods had decided to curse you and took matters into your own hands, furiously plotting up social media campaign idea after idea that were exactly the kind of thing Max hated with a burning passion - hoping it would get him to back off on his tactics and wave a white flag. From viral TikTok challenges, to making him read all his cringe 2008 tweets, and even making him play fuck, marry, kill with the drivers of the grid. You'd admit, that last one had been rather funny to watch, making you chuckle as you scrolled through the comments, liking "Can't believe we got Max Verstappen saying he would fuck Lewis, kill Pierre and marry Charles before GTA 6" and "does Redbull admin know she posted this on main?!"

But despite your best efforts, it didn't seem to deter Max. If anything, he'd begrudgingly do the task and end up laughing excitedly at you - who was holding the camera - about some joke or the other and make your stupid heart flutter. You knew you definitely should not be catching feelings for your client - who'd made it very clear his interest in you was only physical. But no one needed to know that sometimes you’d log into your fake account to like the "Who got max giggling and kickin his feet and shii?" comments.

Meanwhile, Max had caught wind of your desperation for an escape attempt with Checo’s manager and had upped the ante. He slyly mentioning to Christian Horner than you were doing such a great job as his PR manager, could he pretty please have you promoted to his general manager for his non racing publicity too?

And that's how you found yourself at a Dior Sauvage photoshoot, despite your adamant protests to Horner. You were putting your Masters of Business Adminstration, first class honours, to fantastic use by babysitting a 26 year old child who liked fast cars that went vroom vroom. The only redeeming factor is that you can leave the unflattering Redbull shirt at home since this wasn't for F1 publicity and instead wear a nice outfit for once. Still, you thought it was odd that Max had so easily accepted this campaign, as he wasn't normally one to enjoy doing PR.

A few minutes later you've figured out exactly why your favourite manwhore had agreed to this campaign, because he's grinning at you while posed shirtless, toned abs and broad shoulders all on display as some pretty, busty model is draped over him. The photographer is making this even more painful for you by dragging out the shoot, making Max and the model reposition herself multiple times. You roll your eyes at the scene, because obviously they're two very attractive people who will look good together no matter what, did the photographer really need to be so extra? You stalk off at some point to make yourself a hot chocolate in the hopes it'll sooth the flames of jealousy that are threatening to consume you right now. Max approaches you when a break is called, running a teasing hand along your waist from the back and whispering you looked so fucking hot in this tight maxi dress, making you nervously look around to see if anyone noticed. Luckily, all the staff appeared busy and didn’t look in the dim corner you'd settled into to do paperwork. You hiss at him to keep your hands to yourself, Verstappen making him grin and inform you that's not what you’d said last night, in fact, you were practically begging for him to do the exact opposite-

You're glaring up at him, seriously contemplating if it’s worth breaking your contract clause to "act in the client's best interests" and mauling him with your laptop when the photographer comes up to you both with narrowed eyes. You guiltily step back, thinking he overhead Max's suggestive comments, but instead he just looks back and forth between you two contemplatively. Then, just as you were about to ask him what the issue was, he announces that you'd be replacing the model as the female for the shoot. No questions asked! he announces as you try to protest and snaps his fingers at the makeup and wardrobe artists to demand they sort you out (he gestures rather dramatically to your whole figure when he says this, making you scowl).

So that's how you find yourself dressed in a silky gold minidress with a sultry eye look, pressed up against Max's broad chest and trying not to focus on the intimate position you two are in. Max, however, has no such qualms about the position, using it to tease you further. You've been looking extra tense lately, sweetheart, he breathes, those devilish lips brushing past your ear. I know a great way to make you relax? You growl at him to shut the fuck up because oh my god, did he know how many cameras are pointed at you both right now? Besides, you mutter under your breath, it seemed like he was very interested in relaxing with that blonde model earlier.

Fighting to keep the smug look of his face, Max whispers back that there was No need to be jealous, schatje, you were the only one getting access to his magical dick. So caught up in the game you two are playing, you don't even register the photographer excitedly snapping up pictures, proclaiming that he knew it, the chemistry between these two is unbelievable!

Afterwards, as you're walking off the photoshoot, feeling all hot and bothered from Max's hands running across your exposed skin, shamelessly looking you up and down, the blonde Dutchman catches up to you. He teases you that you were going to get wrinkles at 25 if you didn't stop scowling all the time. I'm older than you, you scoff back, by a whole 6 months, in fact, so maybe you should actually listen to me for once instead of pissing me off? No problem, Max agrees, after all, he's always had a thing for MILFs. You can't help snort at his retort and then start laughing when he tries to maintain an innocent look. At least you were away from the cameras in case someone heard this, you mused.

Unfortunately, you both don't notice MonacoDaily's ratbag paparrazo, Henri, hiding in nearby shrubbery with his camera. It had been far too long without a Verstappen news scandal, he thought with a satisfied smirk as he clicked away.

And later than night, after you'd eaten the chicken stir fry he'd cooked and rewatched Cars 2 (a surpassingly more regular occurrence, these days, to unwind with him at the end of the day instead of immediately being mauled the second you stepped foot in his apartment) you made sure he followed your orders for once. Sitting him back, telling him just how bad he'd been today with all his teasing (-well, it worked, didn't it, sweetheart?) you showed him just how good you were at playing the game, too. And soon, he was breathlessly moaning underneath you as you rode him for the first time, gripping his cock like you were going to milk every last drop, teasing him with just enough pace to get him worked up but not enough to send him over the edge. And you only let him cum inside you when he begged you sweetly, making you go fuzzy at the sight of the infamous Redbull playboy being so desperate for you, and only you.

Afterwards, once you've shampooed each other's hair in the shower while gossiping about how catty that makeup artist had been, really, to imply that your pretty curls had been the problem and not her shitty styling? and Max has got you spooned against him, warm in an old hoodie of his, pressing a goodnight kiss to your forehead, you can't control the warmth blossoming in your chest any longer. And as a content sleep takes a hold of you, you can't help but wonder if Max's affections went beyond physical attraction, just like yours’ were now doing.

It turned out the opportunity to find out this answer would come the very next day, when the ding of your phone wakes you up in the early hours of the morning. It’s a very specific sound that you've set for a certain ratbag - and you get war flashbacks, hearing it now after so long. Scrambling off the bed, ignoring Max's muffled groans as you shove his heavy arm of you, you unlock your phone and gasp in horror as your suspicions are confirmed. Henri has arisen from the ashes and this time it's to deliver his sauciest scandal yet. Because a picture tells a 1000 words, sure, but he has the two of you on a goddamn video, flirting and giggling at each other as you exited the studio yesterday. There's no chance of you talking your way out of this one, as Max's large palm wanders to give your thick ass a firm squeeze as he guides you into his passenger seat. Goddamn, you knew you shouldn't have worn that tempting skims maxi dress - Max was an ass (and tits) man who couldn't be trusted to control himself in public. BTW already sold this 🥸 Henri texts. Just a courtesy FYI cuz I brought a boat with the bag from this one ✌️

You contemplate if it would be better to disappear off the face of the planet, or get plastic surgery to become unrecognisable as you chug your morning Redbull while moodily looking over the Monaco sunrise. Max joins you after a few minutes, looking extremely cute as he rubs the sleep out of his baby blue eyes and asks you what's wrong, schatje.

Taking a deep sigh (like you said, #DramaKid), you break the news. I’m going to hold your hand while I say this (- that’s really not necessary, Max interrupts) - but you know celibacy exists, right? As does having sex in a private location without the risk of being arrested for public indecency?

True, Max agrees, but what was the fun in that? Besides, you were just too hot to resist. Ignoring the butterflies at his cheesy flirting, you hold up the incriminating video on your phone as proof that it was not all fun and games, as Henri had already sold this to multiple news outlets this morning, you inform glumly. Max is strangely silent, looking intently at the video and even replaying it a few times, his eyes crinkling as a soft smile appears on his face when he hears the sound of you two laughing. Then - in a truly unbelievable redemption arc plotline from the Monaco playboy - he asks if it would be so terrible, to have this made public, to let the world know that you were together?

Well, I - you stumble over your words, - I dunno, I thought you liked that? Keeping it secret cause you just wanted a convenient hook up?

Max is silent again. Then, looking uncharacteristically nervous, he says that's not what he wants, not really, not anymore - not since he'd fallen in love with you, somewhere along the 3 months of the friends with benefits/PR manager and her problematic client situationship you’d had. And like at the very start, you don’t even need to think about it twice. This time when you shyly smile and kiss him, you make sure he can feel your love through it and know that you wanted more, too.

So you walk into work that morning, holding hands in open defiance, ready for the world to see. You’re rather confused when no one seems to be paying much attention, instead frantically trying to get the set up ready for the pre race testing. Maybe you two had not been as indiscreet as you thought and people already suspected? Or maybe you both had a penchant for drama and thought you were the main characters when you clearly were not?

You look at each other, shrug, and you give him a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’ll see him for lunch at the kebab shop on the corner, before he wanders off to the garage. Maybe Henri had a change of heart and decided not to exploit innocents for fame and money, you ponder hopefully. Maybe there truly was good in the world, after all.

And then you hear your name being called and turn to see your boss standing behind you menacingly, hands on hips. Care to explain why #MaxLovesMILFS is trending right now?

Somewhere along the Monaco waterfront, a paparazzi rat skulking in the bushes sneezes.

—————————————————————————

A/N: again thank you so much to @piastrification for inspiring this piece!! So sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoy my attempt at branching out to other fics xx tysm to you all for the requests, I am working them into my upcoming fics!! 💖

[call-sign-shark]

Of Bending and Breaking || Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Always being the one who cares for others comes with a price: you break down, but the most unexpected person is here for you: Tommy, the man you were forced to marry.

Words: 2,3k

TW: Hurt/Comfort, very tiny mention of past sexual assault, no proofreading 'cause it comes from clearing my drafts.

Notes: Aunt Isabella's is a tribute to my own aunt Isabelle who, unfortunately, died because of cancer a few years ago.

It all started with Polly shaking Tommy like a tree, her thin hands firmly grabbing his nephew’s broad shoulders: “You can’t keep sabotaging yourself like this, Tom.” These were the words that left her quivering lips as she dragged his staggering frame to the bathroom and pushed his face into the bathtub right under the tap. When the freezing water splashed all over his neck, Tommy opened his blank eyes wide and inhaled sharply, as if he had suddenly come back to life. Since Grace’s awful death, the gangster was the shadow of his former self. When he wasn’t waging a senseless war with Father Hughes and the Italian, or when he wasn’t keeping his buzzing mind busy with work, Tommy usually numbed himself with a deadly combination of whisky and opium until his deep-seated pain became bearable. It was the night he almost overdosed that Polly decided to take charge of his nephew and found him a new wife, in the hope of soothing his nephew’s mind and finding a mother figure for poor little Charlie. The idea had obviously sent Tommy in a fit of anger but Polly Gray couldn’t care less.

Regarding your own situation, it was not the opium nor the loss of a dear lover that had led you to Birmingham’s most dangerous man but rather the bump in your belly. Aunt Isabella had understood what you were suffering from the moment you had stormed out of the vardo to throw up your breakfast in the nearest bush. The tall and lean woman, whose light brown and curly mane danced in the cold autumn wind, had looked at you right in the eyes and raised one of her thin eyebrows. If there was something pleasant with her, it was that words weren’t necessary.

Yet, later she encountered Polly, with whom she had been a great friend since childhood, and explained that a powerful American man had forced his seeds in you during his stay in England. Not willing to go through the traumatic experience of aborting, Isabella only saw one solution to your problem: you needed a husband who could protect you and your future baby from the evil man with his scarred lip. A wedding would be your salvation. At the realization of what Aunt Isabella had planned for you, you tried to run away from the camp in the middle of the night but she knew you too well and soon caught you, her sly hand firmly grabbing your wrist: “Y/N! It’s for your sake! He’s rich, he needs a wife and he is feared! You’ll be safe with him, don’t you understand?” She explained, cupping your face with her long fingers adorned with claws painted in red and far too many rings. “I don’t need a man to protect me! I don’t need anyone. He’s older and he’s a criminal! Who’s going to protect me from him eh? Have you think ‘bout that?” You cried, the soft light of the sunrise turning your tears into liquid gold.

But still, you wedded him and what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life turned out to be a dull event during which you dissociated the whole time. The only memories you had in mind were two piercing and frightening turquoise eyes staring right at your soul and soft whiskey-tasting lips stealing a quick peck from your cherry lips. A kiss devoid of any form of affection. And then, the groom left.

From what Aunt Isabella told you, your husband had spent most of the celebrations with his brothers, drinking and taking bets outside of Arrow House. Months had passed and still, you felt estranged to this place and its staff. The only moments your heart lightened were when Aunt Isabella visited you, or when Charlie spent time with you, otherwise you remained emotionally closed, trapped in your own mind. Overall you could not complain: You had a house far too big for you with plenty of workers willing to exhaust every one of your wishes. Charlie was a sweet boy, who loved you with all his heart even if you were well aware that you’ll never replace his mother. As for the Shelby clan, they were cordial with you without being really friendly either. And there was Tommy…

Cold and distant Tommy, who you only saw late at night when he discretely slipped under the bedsheet and turned his back to you without uttering a single word. Busy Tommy, whose replies remained concise and spoken with a quiet husky voice each time you asked him something — at least he talked to you a little bit. Trapped in a loveless marriage, that was what you were: Tommy was more a stranger, a mere gust of wind in your life, than the love of your life.

Still, the gangster stayed true to his words and he provided for everything, never refusing to give you money when you asked, and protecting you from the man who had taken your innocence. He even gifted you a wonderful stallion because he knew how much you missed riding. In exchange for his protection and riches, all you had to do was take care of Charlie and do your best to be there for your husband when his darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

You found out about the nightmares shortly after your wedding and quickly decided to do something about it. When he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat after tasting the tunnels’ dirt and Grace’s crimson blood in his troubled sleep, you always cradle him, your fingers losing themselves in his wet dark hair to pet his head gently. At first, you feared his reaction, expecting the infamous Tommy Shelby to push you and not-so-kindly ask you to keep your distance but, to your greatest surprise, he never did. Instead, he would bury his face in your cleavage, panting and trembling, and let you reassure him. Just like he let you bring dinner to him each time he drowned himself in paperwork and forgot to eat. He never commented on your cooking skills though, even if he always handed back empty plates.

The blood on his skin? You cleaned it.

The wounds of his flesh? You never failed to patched them up.

The hole in his heart? You tried to seal it off with caresses, soft kisses, and shoulder massages. Maybe one day he would slowly turn his iciness into affection. Little did you know that he needed it. And by it he needed you. Just like the whole family. How many times did you walk the streets of Birmingham at night, seeking for Arthur and then bringing him home to take care of a wasted and high him? Far too many to keep track. Similarly, you had spent countless evenings helping Ada when she felt overwhelmed, either nursing Karl or cleaning her house when, just like her brother, she overworked herself. And finally, Polly could never thank you enough for everything you did to soothe her mind after the gallows, still haunted by the bite of the hanging rope on her throat.

“Thanks Poppy.” Arthur muttered, the gravel in his voice coated with shame now that you were down clearing and disinfecting his split knuckles. The oldest brother had started to affectionately call you so for the sole reason that, according to him, you must probably grow better when blood was considering how much you had seen when patching the Shelby siblings. “Sorry for errr… For the mess.” He went on, his steel blue eyes fleeing yours.

“That’s okay.” You replied in Romani, “You, sweet idiot.” Endeared by how surprisingly soft Arthur’s harsh complexions could turn, you couldn’t help but gently put your hand on one of his cheeks. And during this tender display of affection, Arthur was convinced he had caught sight of a smile — a scarce event barely happening on your beautiful but resigned face. Comforted by the warmth of your palm, he leaned into your touch and looked at you through dark lashes, his lids half-closed.

“Tommy’s one lucky bastard to have ya for himself, eh."

"Let's both flee together then." You teased, the familiar tone of Romani language rendered even more melodious by your siren-like voice.

"Don't tempt me, little one." Arthur replied, softer than intended and probably only half-joking.

The oldest Shelby brother had barely closed the door when your smile disappeared and tears flooded your eyes. Admittedly, spending months of repressing your own anguish didn’t do any good to you despite thinking that focusing on others would have helped. Quite the contrary, all those negative emotions you had left on the back burner turned into a silent and deadly parasite that was eating you up. Dragging your tired frame to the cold and empty marital bedroom, you curled up in a ball in a corner of the room, your bruised knees pressed against your chest, “Positive. You gotta stay positive and push forwards y’see Y/N? Do the right things for the family…” You whispered to yourself as your breath started to quicken for the ball of sorrow in your throat was growing more and more. Yes, you had to smile and say that all was just fine because you knew you were lucky to be here and that you hadn’t any real reason to complain now according to the rest of the world. And yet, the truth was you were tired. So tired and overwhelmed by everything around you. With your wild soul trapped here in the mighty walls of Arrow House, you could not help but drown in an excruciating feeling of worthlessness.

You were lost in a world too difficult for you to understand. Lost and unprepared for a life that asked for too much. When you were living in the vardo with Aunt Isabella life seemed so much easier despite the lack of money and, sometimes, food. Prior to your wedding, she used to tell you that everything would become clear once you’d be a wife and a mother. You’d be an adult adult, you see? But she lied. They all lied. Even with a husband and kids, you still felt like a scared and confused child, who wanted to hide under the blanket of her warm bed and never face the world ever again. These concerns of yours? You never shared because you wanted the Shelby to keep seeing you as a reassuring presence— moreover, God knew how much their broken hearts needed your silent care.

Bringing your trembling fingers to your mouth, you muffled a first sob, convinced it would be enough to keep you from crying. What you didn’t expect was to burst into tears, uncontrollably weeping. After all this time forcing yourself to be strong, your mind had enough. As your heart-wrenching cries echoed in the room they muffled Tommy’s footsteps that were coming closer and closer. When the door flung open, you did not even move, lost in a spiral of pain and psychological exhaustion.

“Y/N?!” Tommy called you, his usual coldness swept away by a surge of panic. He closed the distance between you and him with hastened steps, and put one of his knees on the floor to be at your level, “What’s wrong, ay?” His husky voice asked, worries thickening his Brummie accent even more. You hiccuped and raised your flooded eyes towards him, parting your lips to answer. Yet, as soon as your gaze met his turquoise iris you started weeping again, louder this time. Words were at a loss by dint of never having the chance to express what you felt throughout your life. “Bloody Hell, Y/N! Speak!” Tommy hissed, his heart now drumming in his chest at the sight of his young and always-so-strong wife crumbling in bits in front of him. Never in his life, he had felt so powerless, not even in the tunnels… And, God, he hated it.

“N-nothing. I don’t… I don’t even know it’s just that— I’m so fucking tired, and lost, and confused, and afraid!” You spoke with a very fast pace, spitting years and years of repressed emotions flowing from you all the while feeling deeply ashamed of your mental breakdown. When you were done venting, you simply turned your head and waved off the topic, tears still rolling down your reddened cheeks “Anyway! You’ve got — more important things to do.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” He scolded, low voice rumbling in his chest. His strong and calloused hands, damaged by the war and hard work, cupped your face with a softness you didn’t know he possessed. For the first time in your life, his grip felt utterly reassuring as if you knew these scarred palms were not going to let you fall apart. Never. “You’re what’s important right now.” With that being said, Tommy leaned his forehead against yours and his enchanting eyes soon met yours to force you to focus on nothing else but the vast blue oceans which composed them. “I want you to calm down.”

“I can’t, I can’t—“ You tried to speak but you couldn’t, struggling to breathe under the crushing weight of your panic attack. Your mouth gaped, looking for the oxygen it couldn’t find.

“Oi!” Tommy said louder. So loud that his voice managed to overcome the cacophony of your beating heart and the buzzing sound of your anxiety that filled your head, “I want you to breathe with me, Y/N. Alright? You can do that for me, ay?” He asked, his eyebrows slightly frowned and charming crowfeet appearing at the corner of his eyes — how odd it was to see Tommy’s face veiled with something else than unsettling placidity. Caught off guard by the sudden realization of how close he was, you quieted down a little bit and soon followed the pattern of his breathing.

One long inhale through the nose, one longer exhale through the mouth, and a short pose.

Do it again.

Your shaky hands slowly grabbed his wrists in a desperate attempt to anchor you to reality. This, as well as the focus you had on his mesmerizing complexions.

His long dark lashes — you inhaled slowly.

His cat-like turquoise iris — you exhaled.

His salient cheekbones — You stopped breathing for a very short while.

The myriad of freckles — “Breathe with me, Y/N.”

The soft, hoarse lilt guided you through the dark and thick fog of your own brain, just like a lighthouse. Coming back to clearer waters, your body finally relaxed and fell almost limp in his arms. And once again he caught you, keeping you all safe against his chest. Tommy’s voice, low and steady, resonated one last time in the bedroom with a reassuring warmth as he uttered the simple yet powerful phrase, "I'm here." Each word carefully enunciated, carrying a quiet strength that soothed and reassured, like a comforting anchor in a stormy sea.

Keep your writers motivated: Reblog and/or comment if you liked it, you filthy animal! o/ English is not my first language btw.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @red-riding-wood

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

is anybody else upset that instead of authors' unions and the development of labor power, every ounce of discourse and effort towards writers making a living wage is geared towards digital intellectual property rights and digital theft protection. like i don't know about anybody else but I am actually not excited for major publishing companies to be algorithmically searching for and DMCA striking books that are "similar enough" to their copyright. I don't trust AI to be able to tell when something is adulterated metadata vs when something is just very similar. I fucking hate DRM already. I hate buying a book and either being restricted in use of my property or taking it through multiple complicated steps to remove it for an epub file compatible with calibre, where I can file and tag it appropriately.

and i don't think we're going to find any kind of salvation for writers and writing this way. I think we're going to launch another digital arms race (like with removing DRM) while continuously empowering the already wealthy to consolidate power and crush meaningful change through slap suits and the like.

and this is because digital theft is the only problem that the publishing industry is willing to address. because strengthening intellectual property protections doesn't protect art or artists, it allows the big players to better control the playing field and force it to benefit themselves.

Okay, this may prove useful.

[0luv9]

can't move on || mattheo riddle

Summary: He was done fucked, a weak man on his knees for her, mad for her, in love with her and funny enough she didn't know. Him sleeping around isn't helping him though.

Beware: angst, fluff (?), minimal plot, smoking, drugs, alcohol, she/her pronouns, second person used as well, miscommunication, misunderstandings, excessive use of swear words, both reader and Mattheo assume the worst, happy ending.

Words: 4.025k

Mattheo Riddle is in deep shit. His feelings have dug him a deep hole, a hole so deep that he could bury himself a hundred times over and still not be anywhere near the surface. He is so in love with you. And you being so fucking oblivious, mistake his advances for him being friendly. It's funny because when has he ever done something friendly? He's not even friendly to his friends, he insults them as a greeting for fucks sake. It's ridiculous how clueless you are, it was endearing at first but now it's just painful for him to watch you go on dates, that too every date with a different guy.

He thinks you've fucked them all, afterall it's him, Mattheo Riddle, he only thinks in extremes, if you've been on a date with some dude, you ofcourse had fucked him because who wouldn't do you. He resorted to the same ways, fucking his frustration out but instead of feeling satisfied, he would feel relieved for a moment and then his frustration would grow more and more, never coming close to being satisfied. He thought he could just fuck it all out, that he could just forget you, that he could just hate you. It became a routine for him, he got rougher and rougher with the girls he slept with, reaching his own high became harder and harder. It was all because of you, 'cause you couldn't see his love and make him a lover.

His reputation was worsening, his grades started slipping, he started ignoring you, becoming angry easily, snapping at anyone and everyone. Fucking girls left and right, every day was the same and he wondered why the hell he couldn't find a solution to all his problems. His smoking habits became worse, one cigarette turned into two, two turned three and now he was smoking one pack a day. His life was fucked, he could no longer think for himself, the thoughts of you with someone else corrupted his mind at all times. Everyone could see him ruining his life, he couldn't care less, he didn't give a shit about the names he was being called, most of them were true anyway.

…

Tonight was like every other Slytherin party night, except for the fact that he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, all he wanted was a drunk hookup but he had slept with most of the girls in the room and he couldn't bring himself to repeat them over. He sighed, walking off to a secluded balcony, pulling out a cigarette, it was boring, life had become boring.

"Mattheo," he nearly jerked his head in the direction of your voice, it's been so long since he's heard it. All of it coming back to him, all the feelings he was trying to get rid of came right back, knocking at his heart. He's looking for the sweet smile, the one you'd always give him when you'd talk to him but all you did was frown at him, looking at him like the onlookers who gossiped about him and it fucking hurt. "Yes darling," he greeted you like nothing was wrong, before you would've smiled at his cheesy nicknames but now you grimaced at his hoarse voice and stepped back, he quickly looked away, just like that he blew off his last chance, he couldn't face it, he couldn't see you walk away from him, he physically couldn't.

"Riddle-" "Don't, don't call me that," he whispered, it was pathetic, he knows it too but that doesn't stop him, he couldn't hear you call him that. "Mattheo, I am Mattheo," he breathed out like an affirmation to himself, as though reminding himself of the person he's losing, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his shoe. There it is, he's doing it again, acting how you'd want him to act, you disapproved of his smoking habits, you never told him to stop though, just so you know, he would stop if you only asked but you never did. You never asked anything of him, making the friendship feel one-sided, never wanting to bother him, you didn't do that with your other friends, you were openly asking them for favours albeit small, still favours, that's how friends are, looking out for eachother but no, you never expressed it, he just had to read into it. It made him feel as though he was your friend, just for the name sake, wow- he couldn't even be your friend.

He closed his eyes trying to contain himself, taking a hit from the burning cigarette, his hands were trembling, he was hurt, he could never be with you, you were making it clear. For the first time he got an actual sign of rejection and he just couldn't take it. "Riddle." It was still your voice, coming from his side, he slowly turned, there you were, standing next to him, looking at him with concern, giving him the slightest bit of hope, making his heart pound against his chest. He simply stared at you this time, unable to think of a response because you called him by his last name, you never did that. You didn't speak either, both staring at eachother, him with everything unsaid, sadness, anger, hope, longing, love, every fucking thing while you looked at him with worry painted all over your face. Mattheo hated to have people worry about him, noone was obligated to do so and he didn't want anyone to do it but right now, he didn't seem to mind, your attention was on him, worried about him. You finally looked away, placing your glass on the railing, alcohol with a lollipop in the glass, a typical you thing.

"alright, Mattheo," a small smile was tugging at your lips at his actions, "tell me, what's going on?" He didn't have anything to say, what would he say anyway? Upon not receiving an answer you sighed and continued, "Draco was telling me how different you've been-" he scoffed loudly interrupting you, ofcourse this is what it is, Malfoy sending you to talk to him, to scold him like everyone else, ofcourse you wouldn't come to him on your own, he was so fucking worthless in your eyes. “Don’t do that Mattheo-“ “Yeah? Why not? Coming here to scold me like everyone else, you know what, surprise surprise, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” He was angry, you come to talk to him after all these days and it was to tell him, that he’s bad, that he’s wrong, yes, he started it by ignoring you but you didn’t even make an effort to talk to your “friend” while he was away, it pained him to know that you didn’t even care to check up on him.

“No, I am worried Mattheo, this is not okay for you,” you moved closer, shaking your head trying to find the words, “I tried Mattheo, to catch you, to talk to you but you were always turning away, ignoring me, I couldn’t even get a proper look at you these weeks. Draco was joking about you smoking two a day, one for each girl you slept with, it was then but now, a whole pack a day? I tried to get to you, tried to see what’s been hurting you, but all I saw was your back towards me.” You paused, looking around clearly frustrated, “I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk about it, so I stopped trying but I am sorry, I can’t help myself, I care about you Mattheo and I hate to see you like this,” you looked up at him, hoping he’d understand but he only stared at you blankly, maybe you were wrong to care, he clearly didn’t want to be bothered, you sighed yet again, clearly there was no point, you could only wish for him to be better.

You mustered up all the courage you could, moving closer to the brunette who still hadn’t said a thing, “I am sorry for bothering you, I hope you win whatever battle it is that you are fighting, just know that I care and I can’t help but be worried when you are hurting, sorry if it is selfish that I want you to be better, I won’t disturb you anymore” you gave him a small smile, going up on your tiptoes planting a small kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment, holding his hand in both of your own giving it a hard squeeze before letting go. It pained you to see that he didn’t seem to care about his own life, making you feel useless for doing the same, he was dear to you, you didn’t want to let go of him but clearly he didn’t want the same, who were you to deny him of anything? So, you let go, taking the moment in before walking away, the tears were ready to fall, you weren’t going to let him see that, you didn’t want him to see how pent up you were over him when he couldn’t even bring himself to care.

Mattheo could feel his chest burn, he could feel the sting in his heart at the sight of you walking away, his knees felt weak, you cared? You tried to reach out? Yes you did, of course you did, you weren’t the ugly person he tried to paint you as, he wanted to hate you so bad, he wanted you to be wrong, he wanted you to scold him, he wanted you to hate him just so he could move on but no, he could never move on from you, even if you spat his way he’d love you. ‘Sorry if it is selfish-’ he fucking wants you to be selfish, he wants you to be selfish about him. Only if he wasn’t busy imagining you with other guys, maybe he would’ve noticed that you smile a bit more around him, just maybe he’d see your eyes looking out for him. Maybe then he would’ve seen the look in your eyes, one similar to his, but he was a fool, he’d always be unworthy of your love, you wouldn’t love someone like him, he ruled that possibility out the very moment he fell in love with you, thereby in his mind even if you actually loved him, you didn’t because he couldn’t see it.

He called after you, he couldn’t see you walk away, not when he has so much to say. You turned around, he saw tears in your eyes, he felt like dying, it was him who made you cry, if he didn't hate himself before, he clearly did right then. With two wide strides he was infront of you, holding your face, wiping away your tears, "please don't walk away from me," he muttered, trying to get you to look up at him, you look up at him with stars in your eyes, taking his breath away, 'I want you so bad' he thinks to himself but it's false, no, he doesn't simply want you, he fucking needs you like the air you take away from him, when you look at him like that- hazy eyed, making him think that you love him but he knows you don't, he knows you don't love the guys you go on dates with, he knows you don't love the guys you sleep with, in his eyes you love to care but don't care to love, he'll be one of those guys, if it means you'll have him, even if it is for one night.

He was staring at you, looking for a sign, waiting for you to push him away but you just look at him with glossy eyes, making him weak, unable to contain himself he presses his lips against yours, you hiss pulling back, the bitter taste of smoke invading your senses, your reaction hurts him, he couldn't even be one of your guys, that's how worthless he is, his grip loosens, he tastes you on his lips, sweet cherry- the lollipop still sugary on your lips. Then you surprise him, fisting his collar, pulling him down, soft lips on his, like honey against his smoke. He loses it then and there, his hand comes up to hold your face, the other low on your back pulling you flush against him. It was heaven, eyes closed, moving in sync, savouring every second, he could feel his skin tingle, his body burn, it was pathetic how you could bring him to feel so much with the simplest of touches, and now you were kissing him, better than any dream or fantasy, it's real, he reminds himself, frowning as he concentrates trying to capture every single detail, of you against him.

Mattheo walks you back to the railings, not letting go of you even for a second. You pull away as the cold metal makes contact with your body, the sting seeping through the thin layer of your clothes. Still impossibly close practically breathing the same air, then the situation dawns upon you, you look up at Mattheo in horror. This is what has become of your love for him, he's using your attraction towards him to get you into bed, just like he did with other girls. There was no difference in their relationship with him and yours with him, evidently so. You loved kissing him but you hated the fact that it meant everything to you but all it was to him was a one night stand, your dignity would not allow it, even though you wanted him so badly. "I'm- I'm sorry but I can't," you quickly walk off, not looking back this was humiliation, you felt embarrassed.

One moment you were there kissing him and the next you were gone, he fucking hates this because he doesn't know what to do or what made you push him away. You gave him hope when you kissed him but shattered it when you walked away, you were confusing him. Why'd you kiss him like that if you wanted to let go? His hands reach out to pull at his hair, "Fuck" he grits out, it was frustrating not knowing what to do, knowing he has done something wrong. But for the most part, he doesn't know how you feel, you kissed him like you felt something but you walked away like it was nothing. He's over it.

…

He's absolutely not over it. He couldn't even stick to the plan for five seconds, images of you in his arms plagued his mind. He could only cherish that moment, he felt more alive in those few seconds than he ever did, his lips are still tingling, it's the next morning and his head is still in clouds. Mattheo for once, feels human- he feels like going to class again just so he could see you. The wound of your rejection was still fresh in his heart but so was the memory of your lips against his in his mind.

He could handle the professors' taunts, he infact muted them out and zeroed in on your face, you were avoiding him, he could see it, trying so hard just like he did the past few weeks. He saw himself in you for a moment but then you started talking to some Hufflepuff dude next to you, smiling at him so pretty, his blood started burning hot when he saw the guy touch you. You did nothing to push him away, pfft- ofcourse he wasn't Mattheo fucking Riddle that you'd push him away.

Mattheo was practically burning holes into you skull as he took a seat in the very back. Only if he wasn't so overtaken by jealousy he'd see that your smile didn't reach your eyes as you laughed at the Puff's joke, that your reactions were simply polite, a mere distraction from the pinching of your heart. You didn't want to be one of the girls he slept with, didn't want to be discarded after being used.

He couldn't even be one of your guys, he fucking wanted it to be him so bad just to have your for a night, just so you could see him in a different light, just so you'd know that he loved you. He'd gladly be discarded by you.

…

Mattheo has been searching for you, for about an hour now, you were minx- rushing out of the class before he could catch upto you. You were no where to be seen, he was actually getting worried. He was just about to enter the dungeons when he saw Pansy near the entrance. She'd know your whereabouts, she was a close friend of yours. She'd help him too, because she was his friend as well, right? Or had he destroyed every relationship he had the past few weeks. "Pans, a moment please" "oh hey Mattheo," she greeted him with a smile, that's a good sign, "umm- do you know where-" there he was, polite stuttering fucktard, "oh I know where she is," He didn't even tell her who he was looking for, confusion taking over his features, "I saw you looking at her in class, you like her don't you?" Was he that obvious? If so, why couldn't she see it? "Yeah," he finally admitted it to someone else, it was out there now, he felt some weight lift off of his shoulders, there was no denying to it, he loved her and he doesn't care if he gets laughed at for it but then his heart stops at her next words. "She's on a date with some Hufflepuff, in Hogsmeade," her voice was sympathetic, hurt was painted all over his face.

They were standing there in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before she broke it, heading towards the entrance, "You know you should tell her," she gave him a small smile, she patted his back ready to slip into the entrance, he stopped her "Why? Did she say something about me?" His voice was full of hope, hoping that maybe she had confessed to her friend just like he did right then but to add onto his sorrow, Pansy shook her head, he let his head hang low, moving his hand over his face, scoffing bitterly at the situation he was in, "but you should still tell her, at least you'll be satisfied knowing that you did something about it than do nothing." She shrugged walking in, leaving him there to think about her words.

She is right. He has to know, to know how you feel, he has to talk to you, has to let you know how he feels because in his heart, there's hope that you may like him back because you kissed him like you did. Mattheo wants to confirm that it wasn't his delusions that rendered your lips to move against his in adoration, something more than just physical. He has to hold you again in his arms-

He didn't even have to walk far away to find you, walking alone in the empty corridor but you turn around as you see him. Mattheo won't let you do that this time, he's onto you within seconds grabbing your wrist and pulling you back. "What-" "Please don't ignore me-" "I am not!" You sound defensive, taking your hand back, folding them as you look at him as though he is some lowlife human, there's a similar hurt in your eyes, one he knows a bit too well. "Yes you are, please don't try to deny it," he says slowly and carefully, he doesn't want you to walk away, "what do you want Mattheo?" You are annoyed, you stretch out his name showing your impatience. He takes his sweet time though, taking your hands in his, they feel cold, snatching away the warmthness of the action, "Why did you walk away? Yesterday?" "Why? Is there some rule against it-""no no ofcourse not-" both of you interrupting each other, you were frustrated, what was he trying to do? Did his ego take such a huge hit that you didn't want to sleep with him, like those girls he used and discarded? "Tell me why is it that you care? It's not a huge deal to you, you can have anyone else to sleep with you, it shouldn't matter that one girl decided to walk away when you have tens and hundreds lining up-" "WHAT?" He was looking at as though you were saying something ridiculous, "I cared about our relationship enough not to ruin it but you had to be there, trying to use me like you use the other girls and then discard me-" "STOP!" He holds your face in his hands, intense gaze setting you ablaze, "I fucking care, don’t think otherwise, I care because it's you, you could never be them-"

"wow- am I so worthless and unattractive in your eyes that you don't even-" "Wait, it should be me saying all of this, about you and the guys you on dates with, the guys you take to bed-" "What guys-" you both were now screaming at eachother, it was overwhelming, having to be vulnerable and admit your feelings and not understand what the person in front of you is saying. "I have not once slept with the guys I went on dates with, I'm in love with you for fucks sake but I got tired of waiting for you to love me," What.

He fucked up.

"Fuck, fuck-" his knees hit the ground as he covers his face with his hands, he's ruined all his chances by being an assuming dickhead. Heavens goodness- "FUCK!" He groans into his palms, not being able to digest what you had just said, he feels ecstatic that you love him but he hates that he's ruined his chances with you, "Mattheo-" "Fuck, I am so sorry, I've been a fool, a fucking idiot-" he pulls you down, grabbing your hands, crying because he doesn't know any other way to express it. He has lost his chance all because he let jealousy get the best of him, took illogical steps to overcome it. "I love you, I fucking am in love with you," he grips your hands tight, shaking them as he speaks, unable to control his very physical reaction, "Mattheo what-" "I thought that I could fuck it all out, fuck all the feelings away but no you were always on my mind, not just you but you with someone else, happy. I thought maybe I could resort to your ways, thought maybe I could sleep around then I'd get rid of my feelings, afterall you seemed happy doing it but you never- FUCK! I am so fucking sorry, I love you-" you kiss him, he sure was an idiot to think that you could just flip a switch and "unlove" him, what kind of love would that be? You hated to admit it, you loved him even when he was sleeping with so many girls, you loved him before he did that, a few weeks were nothing to make you hate him.

It was brief kiss, enough to silence him, tears were still running down his face- he was a heartbroken man on his knees afterall- they were only a sign of his regret, then he was at it again, apologising, "stop Mattheo, you are foolish if you think that I'll love one moment and not love you the next-" "but you don't deserve it, not after what I did-" "let me decide that. Do you love me?" Your ask is serious, so he answers you with utmost sincerity, his words soft, full of truth "I love you, more than I think I can handle," he looks down, you don't let him as you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him close, "Learn to handle it then, I am not going anywhere." For the first time in his life, does Mattheo experience pure bliss, you are a sin against his lips, he pulls you closer like a prayer because if there's a god above, he'd pray for you to be his.

...

[alexanderwales]

My son has been having some behavioral issues, so we've been doing arduous consultations and screeners and questionnaires to try to get some kind of guidance, which has been very frustrating. Everyone in the broad field of child psychology has said either "have you talked about autism" or "have you talked about ADHD", and sometimes both, because they're comorbid. But in order to get an actual diagnosis, you need to find the right people who are qualified to actually make a determination.

So a few days ago, this culminated in us finally talking to the guy who had the answers, at least according to modern child psychology, and he said that no, there's not really a basis for a clinical diagnosis of either autism or ADHD. There are still the behavioral issues, which are most of the reason we went for testing (along with some inattention, fidgetyness, sensory issues, and other things that are sometimes markers), but that's apparently something to work on with therapy and maybe will just go away as he gets older and matures.

But the other thing that the guy with the answers had to say was that maybe a lot of this can be explained by really high test scores in the cognitive stuff. We knew he was a smart kid, but the guy with the answers said that our son is three standard deviations above normal on all the cognitive tests, including an IQ test that I didn't know was a part of it, and that this is perhaps why he's so bored at school and difficult to keep engaged.

I think that's maybe part of the answer, but not the whole thing. I've been trying to prepare this child to not have gifted kid syndrome his whole life, trying to make sure he doesn't just breeze through everything and then crumble when he faces a challenge because he doesn't know what to do when something is actually tough. It doesn't matter how smart you are if you don't put in the work, if you can't overcome obstacles, if you coast through life. Those lessons do not seem to have sunk in at all, so I don't know.

But as we're getting ready to leave, my wife came in with her particular brand of humor.

Wife: So you're saying it's not too late to install some lead pipes in the house, right? That might be the solution to all our problems.

To his credit, the guy with the answers laughed, and then said, "yeah, or maybe asbestos".

Later, in the car:

Wife: Asbestos doesn't cause lower IQ. Me: Yeah, I know. Wife: I should have said something. Me: That would have been very awkward. Wife: Maybe he would have appreciated the correction. Me: I really don't think he would have. Wife: But you noticed too, right? My joke about lead was good, and his follow up about asbestos was bad. Me: My very first thought was "I hope she doesn't say something about this". Wife: You love me. Me: I do, but sometimes when we're talking to people together, I'm very aware of what you're going to say. Wife: It's not too late. I could message him. Me: I know you're joking, but please please don't. Wife: I wouldn't. Me: You wouldn't, unless it was funny. Wife: Yeah, and it would be hilarious, so ...

We at least know where the boy gets his tendency for pedantry from.

[kiddotarot]

PAC - How will be 2025 going for you ?

Hi guys , its almost 2025 so here a new reading for you . Just close your eyes , trust yourself and choose a picture.

Divider credit goes to- @uzma-qureshi :)

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Cards - 7 of cups ( r ) , 3 of cups ( r ) , 3 of sword ( r ) , The Devil ( Bottom)

Ok so pile 1 , i think this pile is for very specific group of people. You guys literally coming out from a very toxic situation it can be a relationship or a forced situation for you where you feel stuck in your current life or may you you still can feel that it's hard for you to move on from some kind of big break from life or in a very Negative situation, please take care all of you. for the first 4 month i think you you may be try to get out from your current situation and may be try to find solution there will be not much option and possibilities for you but you will try to fight from the situation that you are facing and again it's very specific so you may be feel troubled from commitment issue to a particular situation or relationship. You will try to solve all our past things and maybe work on things that provide you more opportunity and stability. Please try to walk out of any situation that hurts you either its relationship or something else. No matter how beautiful the view is, the Window hurts . There will not be a supportive environment Around you. Maybe you feel that your family members or your family are not giving you much support they have to. Or may be you try to cut yourself from other to heal within yourself. It's more likely for people who have a toxic relationship you may start To heal from the pain of a breakup or a heartbreak situation and let go of what is causing you pain , self-talk is really important in this process. All the best.

Pile 2.

Cards - Queen of cups ( r) , The sun , king of cups , 8 of Cups.

Dear pile 2 you may feel lacking support or resources around you currently or in the start of year or end of 2024. You can also feel you need nurturing or healing before entering in 2025 you need to sit and heal your innself And you may want to work on yourself this new year. 2025 looks very positive for you. You may start healing your inner child and be happy like a child like the sun card. You take care of your inner child or maybe do something which gives you nostalgia of your happy childhood days. But sure there is so much happiness and success coming for you . Your heart will be ready to experience all happiness and find the whole word in his playground or garden. You will be bright again. There will be support for you and you feel compassionate about anything to you. I see there will be financial support or gain can come for you. But be careful there can be too many choices in front of you or you may feel confused Where you should invest your money and you can feel a lack of commitment toward things or money spending. Great cards . All the best.

Pile 3 .

Cards - The magician, 9 of pentacles ( r ) , lovers , 6 of wands ( r ) .

Pile 3 , I see you are very determined about your thing and action . You are very creative currently or at the start of 2025. You have a vision And you want to manifest it in the new year. You set your goals and are ready to go for it. But be careful with spending money and how you invest it. You may try to push yourself hard and may lose your health, so take note when you are giving someone money or spending too much. It's important for you in your long term goals. Next lovers card pops out. You may find a great romantic connection or person there are high chances or you may try to take a connection on the next level to meet your soulmate. I told you are ready to manifest this in 2025 but be careful again how much you are investing your feelings and money in anything. There can be problems and delays in good news or in some kind of success but don't feel hopeless. It can be a sign of patience and keeping faith. Best of luck.