#the good thing about working at the same museum

[r0-boat]

Whb AU where everything's the same but the Demons are dragons

Something something Bible quote something something dragons are the devil something something whatever cool ass lizards.

Satan

A white Wyvern with blood red markings, It's piercing red eyes, The same color that stains the ground and on the scales of his true form, burn with a fire ignited from wrath burning ever constant. Contrast to his white scales and ghostly tattered wings It's horn sit like a crown atop his head It's tips speckled with that same red color, his markings end at his tail which slithers on the ground does it approaches you.

The smallest of the seven, and hates it. Always snarling and huffing when he's angerly yelling at another king You can see his pupils go into pin pricks as you can see his throat glow a orangen yellow as smoke begins to seep out from his mouth.

Satan has fine scales and spines along his head neck all the way down to his tail which like to puff out like an angry cat when he's agitated making him look like a puffer fish with wings.

Satan prefers his human form when he's not fighting seriously, since it gives him an excuse to use his horde of fast vehicles and weapons. Hehe; He likes sharpie explody things. Despite being their king his dragon form is actually the smallest even among his subordinates.

When his scales are about to shed they turn black before falling off. His scales can be sharpened and used for many things. Including daggers and sometimes even bullets or the heads of arrows. The scales are sharp and light.

Mammon

The onyx mane of this lung dragon glitters like jewels working beautifully with the gold scales and horns That decorate this beast. Black markings adorn his face and down his body like tiger stripes. He is benevolent in his in his own way. His golden eyes shine with Greed. Anything that his eyes fancies is his. His metallic scales shimmer like gold, And they are worth more than their weight in gold.

Lung dragons are usually elegant elegant yes but delicate no. His scales are smooth and as hard as stone. He loves them very much So much so He always keeps his tail or at least part of his scales showing from his human disguise.

A shame he never got a painting done of his late father He was the most beautiful bronze you've ever seen if you thought his mane was beautiful before His father was wild and flowing. He could grow it out if you like.

When his scales fall he likes to keep them His favorite thing to do is contact his jeweler fasten his scales into jewelry so he can adorn his favorite subjects and other things he likes with them. It's a good way to staking his territory He's not the only dragon who does this.

His scales are not only great for jewelry but also armor However given how much Just one scale go for and you do need a lot for a single piece that covers your body It is extremely expensive. Mammon has two bedrooms, His normal human one and his dragon lair where it's just decked with shiny gold coins and other jewels have too many imperfections for his personal treasure museum.

Leviathan

Wyrms, large ugly serpents found tumbling through the earth or in the deep depths of the ocean. But this one, This one is different It's pearly smooth scales reflecting vibrant pinks and purples. If you look closely you could see Platinum underbelly. It's silver eyes glow and pierced through you unreadable unmoving watching your every move as its tail holds you in place. It's Envious heart itching to coil around anything it fancies hiding it from the rest of the world that isn't itself. At the same time wanting to squeeze until the potential threat's lights go out.

He hates His true form his everything. He doesn't even shed his scales like the other kings instead His scales all come off at once like a snake shedding his skin He itches like crazy. When this happens he spends most of his time in a hot bath his human disguise half faded his torso is still human but everywhere else is serpent.

He prefers his human form for very obvious reasons... Hands; legs. When he's not in the room His subordinates fond over briefly in the early years when he took his human form as he was not used to standing on two legs. Even now if you're very lucky you can catch him stumbling over and hopefully you'll live to tell the tale.

As a dragon, he is more called blooded than his relatives. Levi craves warmth. Craves it. His entire body is constantly cold, and as much as he hates to admit, human bodies are very warm. So once winter starts, congratulations, you are now his human heat rock by force. Take everything you touch that is his and warm it up right now! Even though he looks like he belongs in the water and can swim very well, Levi's sensitive to temperature Even if water temperature in particular doesn't harm him. Leviathan prefers warmer tropical water.

Leviathan's true form is actually the biggest, But you'll never know since he's always coiled up. Despite not having limbs in his true form He's perfected his magic to use long snaking appendages to grab and hold whatever he wants.

Beelzebub

The more food a dragon has access to, the bigger it gets. Even though these kings of lizards grow very slowly, there is only one exception. Despite Fae Dragons supposedly being miniature, the Gluttonous appetites of the inhabitants of Abyssos make these dragons grow and grow. Its insectoid velvety wings shimmer with greens, yellows, purples, and oranges with intricate patterns. It has one horn similar to a unicorn but it's head is crowned with a ribbon like antennae. Start the beast It's tale with flexible fins stir in the air like rudders on a boat as it flies in place looking at you with interest... Or perhaps hunger?

While the other kings roars shake the ground His is song like and rhythmatic sending chills down your spine as it echoes through the sky.

In his true form Beel Actually has two pairs of jaws You just can't see his other pair since it's attached giving it the illusion of his normal maw. He also has mandibles folded on both sides of his cheek. They blend into his face so well at first glance you could never notice until you look very close. This translates to his human form albeit more like lines on his face and an unhingable jaw.

He is the most insectoid of his class all other fae dragon are not only well smaller than him... They're also more butterfly like where he is more moth like. Very fluffy! And please don't freak out when in battle he loses a wing or two unlike insects that when their wing scales break they will never grow back His wings and limbs can constantly grow back forever. In fact the scales on his wings always shed like pollen. It's shimmers like glitter.

He also eats his clones a fact that he loves to tell you with a smile just to watch you squirm. You remember other facts about insects and if you ask him that if he eats his lovers he just silently stares at you his smile widening more.

Lucifer

You thought he was a Drake at first glance, but then you realize The feathering nubs on his back where his wings should be; he was a dragon, The Dragon. He is a perfect amalgamation of scales and feathers. Its feathers and scales were white as snow other than the bright red horns on his head, the red scar across his body, and, of course, hisbehold. It. His snout was narrow, raptor-like. Just like his White irises glowing through the black voids of What should be white and his sharp black curved claws. As he lays before you, his wings or what's left of them move to spread out like a prideful peacock. If he could still soar, what a sight it would behold.

Lucifer once was an angel turned into a beast as a punishment for his own pride. He is still used to this draconic power as he has not fully mastered transforming and staying in his human form. He occasionally preens what is left of his wings. And other feathers. Pin feathers are the bane of his existence, and he can't reach the ones on his wings. Tiny human hands are always a blessing to have around. He can't help but move his giant dragon snout, trying to preen or pick at your own. He knows humans do not have pin feathers, but it feels nice.

He could always heal himself just like any demon can but he refuses to Even when his scales grow back in places he doesn't want He purposely picks them off. When his scales are grinded into a fine powder they're curiously bitter to the taste but a very potent with magical and medicinal properties. Ingesting the powder and/or god forbid the scale is highly ill-advised without proper preparation at as it is very poisonous.

"This is my son little brother." The beast grumbles in his true form He disappears for a second only to come back with a young man dangling from the collar He is leaning lanky His clothes slightly overgrown as if the tailor had no idea how to make clothes for a human. What really got your attention was his blue hair with icy blue eyes. you can't tell if the hair has been dyed or natural You've seen crazier shit in hell So it wouldn't surprise you. Lucifer puts him down and exclaims "He is human just like you. He needs human friends, please get along." This man has A pendant around his neck radiating magic. Perhaps this is what he uses to slow the growth of his tiny kid.

His true form is the largest of the seven without his wings. Sometimes he forgets he doesn't have them It's kind of awkward when he's trying to fly before realizing he can't. An odd thing he's picked up, instead of running how you would expect a dragon to run He actually gallops like a horse. He will admitly deny no matter how wrong he is. Perhaps he picked this up from watching horses.

Belphegor

With its long serpentine body sprawled across its layer at first you thought the black serpent was another one of Leviathan's kind But that's when you noticed upon the snoring beast front limbs folded as its face smushed into the pillow. The Lindwurm moved suddenly spooking you the mountain of pillows and blankets fell off its face as you got a better look. It's jet black main usually slipped back messy. It turns out dragons also get bedhead. It rolled Sloth-like onto its stomach It's whole body rotating with it that's when you saw more of its fur it's serpentine body stretched out with its One pair of front limbs letting out a loud yawn It's sort of reminded you like a cat.

Leviathan hates his long serpentine body but Belphegor fucking loves it. His long body if it weren't for a size could fit anywhere. Well that won't be a problem anymore actually since one of his beloved and very smart and very hardworking subordinates is currently working on a chemical compound that could shrink dragons down to size... Just think of all the napping spots!

If it weren't for the fact he lacks hind legs he would look exactly like a lung dragon. Belphie does not care. Walking sucks ass, how could anyone humans or dragons in their human form put up with walking on two legs. It's so much easier to slither. In fact he hardly uses his front limbs for anything other than support when he wants to lay down in a different way.

If it weren't for humans being so fragile he would absolutely lay right on you. Lindworms being a weird mix of Lungs and serpents they are also more cold-blooded. Unlike Leviathan who dreadedly hates cold anything. Belphegor loves the cold It makes him feel nice and sleepy. He doesn't like having too much warmth The only warmth he wants is your body heat. Congratulations another cold reptile laying directly skin contact onto you.

His room is a lot larger with a fuck ton of pillows and blankets all in one corner That's how he likes it when he is sleeping that's when he has less control over his forms as he shifts freely in his dreams be careful when you're snuggling him. And if it wasn't for a very nice subordinate of his, he would lay his entire collection of anime manga and other otaku stuff in a pile right next to his giant nest.

Asmodeus

This Drake moves in a way that disturbs you as it stalks and circles you. Its wild eyes roamed your body with such lust that it made you shiver. This dragon has perfected his form so well that he has many forms. But he prefers his "natural" appearance, bland, unassuming, smooth, leathery skin as black as night. The only thing with a splash of color is the thorns, chains, and flowers he decorates with. And a single blood-red eye. His hatchlings His beloved babies steam to take all sorts of draconic elements, whether feathers, scales, or fur.

"have you ever laid with a dragon?" He says with a smile...."Do you want to?"He also has a half form like Levi, But it looks less clean and more werewolf-ish more monstrous. He almost always shifts when he's trying to mate with you.

His horde is the red prison, delicious little sexual freaks that he collects in all corners of hell. And he thinks you'll be the prettiest addition of them all. He will shower you with all his treasures; all of them.

Instead of a powerful flame like all the others, he breathes a neurotoxin. His saliva is also toxic. With sharp serpentine-like fangs, he can control the right dosage. Only four dragons of the seven have venom. Leviathan's venom paralyzes, Belphegor makes your body go numb and limp, Lucifer's saliva thins your blood; Asmodeus's venom is sweet to the tongue and heavily intoxicates. Making his victim nice and suggestible.

His lack of wings does not concern him in the slightest. Even if he could magically produce wings, he couldn't fly with them; it would only be for show. Who needs flying when you can have someone big and strong? Carry him... No King will ever volunteer.

Bonus lightning round with random demons :D

Sitri & Amy:

Lindwyrm and Drake They fight a lot sometimes they'll turn into their true form Sitri trying to strangle Amy. As he tries to bite and tear into his flesh. I see Amy as a Drake that will run at full speed before tackling full force into an enemy while Sitri rather wait for an ambush strike.

Beleth

Tatzelwurm It's like a snake lindworm cat, It's an Alpine folklore animal but it looks very yokai like. His venom but also have the same alcoholic properties as Asmodeus, His flame is very weak He only uses it to light his Cigarette.

Naberius

Hydra in his true form his emotions split into three heads.

Stolas

Cockatrice I love him, bird lizard with his little crown. *Adds Fluffed up cockatrice trying to look scary here*

Bael

Fae Dragon, in my head he has a butterfly dragon trying to mimic a moth! Insects in the animal kingdom love their mimicry!

Foras

amphiphere You can pry this headcannon out of my cold dead hands. He would just look like Leviathan but with feathers and wings, and with more Sakura pink color. His wings are very soft so he flies silently.

Barbatos

Salamanders are a combination of drakes and lungs with multiple limbs. They have lots of limbs, and they are said to have fire capabilities. But this one seems to never use those combustible flames, instead soaking in the sun in a field of beautiful red roses.

Zagan

Wyvern Zagan never uses his true form around you because he wants you to feel more comfortable with him. When he is in his true form he just stares at you like how a big dog stares at a little kitten before picking you up like- 'This small thing is mine now.'

Bimet

I'm so stuck between Lung and Kirin AAA. Lung fits him more but I have yet to use Kirin... Maybe that one horse character from the new chapter can be a Kirin.

Gamigin

Human because it's funny, Lucifer and his tiny human baby. Whether he is a full-grown adult or a child is up to you. I just thought It'd be cute for a scary dragon to haul a small toddler around on his back.

[nephtheless]

OWV Young Founders ::3

::D

Okidokie, time for some Audacity Factory HC...

HCs I've picked up from various places (and some of my own) regarding the founders:

Esker is the oldest, and sort of just happened to inject themself into the whole thing out of concern for the younger 4. They share a living space with Slate, are a Mechanic/Tree keeper, and taught Slate a good amount of what they know (think this last bit might be something I saw in a fic on AO3 by erosophic)

*gets sidetracked by that damn hat...* *grrr*

Slate and Gossan were once super close because they are close in age, but then, well, stuff.

They used to work in the mines together before Slate moved on to building/maintaining other machines around the village (@merrydock 's the official 'Miner Gossan's pioneer :D).

I HC Gossan, Tuff, and Feldspar share a living space near the mines.

Merry had some awesome thoughts on how the first ships were probably modeled after the mining rig, therefore Gossan had a hand in designing them (especially the cockpit). I imagine that the same could be said for the safety gear the astronauts eventually wear as space suits?

Feldspar is the second youngest of the founders. They are chronically ill (based on @elwensa 's comics) and feel driven to enjoy life as much as possible as a result (which means they don't give a damn about putting their life in danger while chasing thrills). They can't work in the mines because of their lungs, but they can fill in where they're needed with a bunch of other things around the village. I saw somewhere the idea of them doing Firewatch duty along with Tektite. This may also be merrydock's HC... *scratches head and wills away dementia*

Hornfels is the youngest, and the brainy (nerd) one of the bunch (@rondoel 's rendition of them is priceless!). I would think they'd be a good teacher before they went on to become an Astrophysicist/Ground control/Museum curator.

*takes a breath*

Yeah, that's it for now... factory closed :)

Oh, I'd anyone's interested, I have written some fanfic exploring the dynamics between the founders in their early days. You can check them out here: AO3 | TheLesserNeph (specifically the 'Postcards' series and 'MECO')

[cptnflints]

there’s left over pizza and cold beer in the fridge but i have to wait for my wife to come back from work first and truly no one has known suffering like me

[extemporaneousmusings]

15/11/23

Today I:

-read soooo much fic :)

-did some further thinking and now feel better about things after being kinda shook following my return session in PT for my ankle yesterday. It's more of an issue in the short term than I realized and she gave me a lot to think about. I am going to have a conversation with an ortho specialist about the prospect of some surgical intervention, but today I really came to terms with the fact that I don't need to make a decision about anything major until I have more information, and land a job with benefits that are better than my student health insurance

-got Jamila's # :))) we are going to brainstorm in-universe ketterdam fic ideas :))) I'm so excited!

[skipppppy]

The life of Stanford Pines must be so bizarre from the perspective of a random townsperson who doesn’t know him. Imagine you live in a sleepy lumber town, where the most interesting thing you’ve heard this week is that a plot of land on the outskirts of the woods was sold and someone has started constructing a cabin on there.

You later learn by word of mouth that he’s a phd student doing some kind of long-term research project. You don’t see his face until one night he comes blasting down the street on a trail of destruction, eyes yellow and glazed over, trashing public property, inflicting gruesome injuries on himself, and laughing like he’s on an erratic, drug-fuelled bender. He then goes home and locks himself in his cabin again. This becomes a cycle; he stays isolated for weeks, then comes out once in a blue moon to wreak havoc and be a nuisance to the authorities.

Then one day it stops. He doesn’t come back out. The next time you see him he’s at a grocery store looking completely different to how you remember; his hair is grown out, he’s put on weight, his clothes are completely different and he’s stopped wearing glasses. Some townsfolk finally work up the nerve to talk to him and you learn that he invited them to his cabin on a tour. His home is apparently FULL of dangerous research equipment and the scientist, who had allegedly been very quiet and level-headed on the days he wasn’t having his “episodes,” has had a complete personality change, he’s loud and confident and less than honest and a little sleazy but a damn good salesman and entertainer.

He hosts tours out of his home for the next 30 years. Over time he’d changed it into a museum of sorts that sells overpriced knickknacks to unsuspecting tourists, but aside from his shady business practices he’s a well known member of his community. He changes up the exhibits every few months, brings his niece and nephew to stay one summer and they become town darlings, and even exposes a beloved public figure for running a spyware scheme.

One day you hear he got visited by the FBI. They start going round town asking about him. A week or so later he gets arrested. The town goes CRAZY theorising why but then there’s a massive earthquake and in the chaos of that you forget what happened to him. One minute you hear that the feds were surrounding his house and the next they’re all leaving like they forgot what they came for. Another week later he resurfaces and announces he’s going to run for Mayor, dominated the polls, wins the popular vote, but loses his position immediately due to an extensive criminal record.

Then there’s gossip that he completely changed his appearance again. He’s lost his fez and is walking around in a coat and cable knit turtleneck in the middle of the July heat. Then you hear from someone else that he looks the exact same and didn’t change anything. Then you see two identical men walking down the street, one matching the description you saw. People are BUZZING to know what happened and you eventually learn that the “new guy” was actually the same Scientist and the guy that had been running the museum was his twin brother who stole his identity after he went missing. Then the apocalypse happens

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[okwonyo]

⠀ LOVE BETWEEN ⠀⟡​ ⠀HUSBAND!JAKE

ii 𓈒 ❛❛⠀엔하이픈, ─────⠀제이크ㅤ ⠀❜❜ 5OO fluff non-idol au & skinship crying ࿁ ⠀ fem!rea.

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i saw this in a vision 💌

reblogs (≧ᗜ≦) &feedbacks ╱ click

husband!jake who has always dreamt of finding his person at a young age, of marrying as soon as he could and spending the rest of his life with his lover.

husband!jake who never dates anyone because he knew he would date to marry.

husband!jake who knew exactly it was you, when his gaze landed on you.

husband!jake who asked you out on a spring day. who proposed to you on the same day two years later.

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

husband!jake who did everything in his power to make the day he says ‘yes’ to you be on the same day a year later.

husband!jake who cried when he saw you walking down the aisle in your beautiful dress.

husband!jake who, with a shaky voice and tears streaming down his face, vowed to forever cherish and take care of you. to be yours forever, no matter what happens.

husband!jake who likes to run his left hand over his torso to feel his ring roll around his finger.

husband!jake who likes to, whenever you are together, to play with your wedding ring as you talk to him— or anyone.

husband!jake who reminds you that you weren’t the ‘marrying type either’ when you refuse to do something with him. such as having ketchup and mustard matching halloween costumes.

husband!jake who already called you his wife way before he proposed to you. now that it is real, he can’t stop talking about ‘my—beautiful, gorgeous, amazing—wife’.

husband!jake who never misses any anniversary because that day is the one that matters the most to him.

husband!jake who, when a bit tipsy, keeps asking you if the guy that is married to you knows how to fight.

husband!jake who puts his left hand up, showing of his wedding ring proudly whenever someone asks him how he is doing.

“i’ll be the happiest as long as i wear this ring,” husband!jake assures with a grin.

husband!jake who was already very clingy before and that got ten times worse since the wedding day.

husband!jake who uses the excuse ‘we are married!’ to justify his—and yours—constant display of affection.

husband!jake who needs your presence for everything. even if it’s just to do his own thing. and you need him everywhere with you as well.

husband!jake who is very good with kids. which makes your heart feel warm everytime you see how he acts with them.

husband!jake who loves lazy mornings and pillow talks until dawn.

husband!jake who keeps your picture in his wallet and set a selfie of yours as his wallpaper just to stare at it whenever he misses you.

husband!jake who, one day, decided to set pictures of your wedding all over your house's hallway. but, only pictures of the bride and only one with the groom.

husband!jake who looks at these pictures from time to time as if he was in a museum. with his chin between his index finger and thumb and all.

husband!jake who watches your wedding day’s videos on the television at one in the morning when he can’t sleep and misses you, as always when you are asleep.

husband!jake who works hard to give you the life you deserve and to spoil you as much as he can.

husband!jake who dreamed about having a wife like you his entire life and still can’t believe you are his.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[beeseverywhen]

laundry and chemistry (starring: coin cleaning chemicals)

so i saw a post on here about laundry stripping and i wanted to try it out as i live somewhere with really hard water and can’t use very strong detergents day to day as i have very sensitive skin, so it seemed like an interesting thing to try and see what happened

(my suspicion is, it will leach the dye and i’ll have to redye the towels but thats no big issue as i kinda feel like a new colour anyway and am gonna make sure i only put the same colours in together during my trial)

anyway so immediately, i read the instructions and know that some adjustments are gonna have to be made, as borax isnt sold here (banned) so i’ll need a substitute for that at the least. the post directed me to use borax, laundry SOAP not detergent, and washing soda

now straight away i know i need to be on my guard here as a lot of stuff like this will have the same name as an american thing, but be a whole different product. (cleaning products are very different here, in part cause of different regulations, but i think a big factor is actually how we clean stuff? american washing machines tend to be a lot bigger, and with toploaders you can soak stuff/have cold cycles which allows you to use laundry bleach which isnt really used so much here) when i visit my family (non us country but american appliances are common) i have a complete nightmare finding like for like laundry stuff i’m not allergic too

anyway, i’m not so worried about allergies here as after the soak i’ll be rewashing anyway. so laundry SOAP i figure they mean plain soap, like castile soap; washing soda, i figure is likely the same as the soda crystals we use for cleaning, which brings me to the borax. now this i know i definitely cant get here, so i find out that i can make a borax substitute from soda crystals and bicarb of soda, as i’m already using the soda crystals, this seems like a good option.

so i go to buy myself some bicarb, and the shop are selling a product called ‘borax subsitute’ so i decide to pick up this and the bicarb and compare the two.

so soda crystals= sodium carbonate

bicarb of soda= sodium bicarbonate

borax substitute? that’s sodium sesquicarbonate

now i’ve got the borax substitute the bicarb seems a little redundant, however. if i’m mixing any kind of chemical i want to make sure i know what i’m going to end up making, and make sure i’m aware of any risks.

leading me on the the chemistry of this all. i find myself on a coin collecting site, where they explain that by mixing sodium bicarbonate (NaHCO₃) and sodium carbonate (Na₂CO₃) with water i can make sodium sesquicarbonate (Na₃H(CO₃)₂ ) AND CO₂ (so i need to ensure i have good ventilation!)

however i clearly have no need to make my own sodium sesquicarbonate as i have ready made borax substitute. which made me wonder, as i am using sodium sesquiocarbonate rather than borax (sodium tetraborate decahydrate) is the addition of soda crystals (washing soda) (sodium carbonate) now redundant? in fact, why did the original recipe say to mix washing soda and borax, when the washing soda is made of the same components as borax (minus the borate), is there a secondary reaction involved here, or is it a case of overengineering the recipe? and what about the laundry soap? will that react as well?

when i tried to investigate further i stumbled upon sodium percarbonate, otherwise known as oxygenated bleach, and made by mixing soda crystals and hydrogen peroxide. now, while i am willing to risk the dye in the towels somewhat by stripping, i’m not looking to bleach them, so i realise pretty soon that sodium percarbonate is to be avoided

i’m not intending to add any hydrogen peroxide (don’t have any, not very common here), but i do need to make sure that it isnt in any soap that i may use. i know that castille soap is made from olive oil, water, glycerine and potassium hydroxide (lye), so i need to check that mixing the lye and the sodium sesquicarbonate is not going to make anything a) dangerous b) bleaching (like sodium percarbonate). when i tried to research this, i came across a very alarming chemistry forum post in which someone mixed the two, and it lead to a exothermic (hot!) reaction producing a mystery chemical, which they poked??? noting ‘I touched the tip of my finger to it and didn't get any chemical burns.‘ i mean i know this isnt labwork, but have some awareness of health and saftey! don’t tocuh mystery chemicals.

anyway, this reaction turned out to be a one off, likely caused by the soap they’d made containing soy oil, which introduced acid in to the mix, luckily i am not at risk of this as i have a deadly allergy to soy, so no soy oil is in the building. anyway.

by this point i’m really starting to doubt the need for additional detergent, when there is already sodium sesquicarbonate and possibly, washing soda, in the mix. i’m also starting to think that american ‘laundry soap’ is not pure soap as i’d assumed, but maybe something else entirely. looking up american recipes, they all seem to mean something different by laundry soap and some of them are using detergents, honesly i’m still a little unclear on the benefit of combining washing soda and ‘borax substitute’ when washing soda is used to make ‘borax substitute, it seems to me that changing the proprotions of ingredients is unlikely to be helpful (or may be more helpful if it makes something better i guess, but this i doubt) i’ve been hoping i might come across an old web style forum or webpage, where a chemist might explain the benefit of using 3 ingredients rather than one, and explain what is being created when they are all mixed. as i’ve yet to find this, i’ve decided to go with equal amounts of all 3 and then i will experiment with removing one ingredient at a time and comparing the results, in the future.

by comparing the various laundry detergents in my house i have found that they actually vary quite a bit ingredients wise, even tho they are all sensitive non bio detergents, one of them includes optical brighteners including oxygenated bleach, so we will not be using that one with the coloured clothes (funnily enough this is actually the one that i avoid using and only use for rugs and sofa covers and stuff as my skin plays up with it. the other ones don’t seem to have anything major that’ll react with the rest, so lets see

i have also learnt that borate requires hot water to activate it, so the americans i saw using it without hot water, probably arent getting much benefit from it

[copperbadge]

Recently I ran across an article about an art center that was doing creative expression classes for people with disabilities. Not that unusual, I've encountered that and trauma-oriented art therapy before, but it was the first time I'd come across the idea since getting diagnosed with ADHD. While the class was aimed more at high-needs disabilities, it occurred to me that I could -- if I wanted -- make non-prose art about being disabled.

Outside of my work in scene design I've never been much of a visual artist because I've never felt I had the combination of "something to say" and "a meaningful way to say it", but I started to question how meaningful and complex I really had to be to just make some statements about having ADHD. I can do it in prose, after all.

So I started thinking about how you would talk, in visual language, about things like time blindness, shame stemming from undiagnosed disability, the shift in behavior that medication can induce. Ways to express my condition to people who don't experience it. I still didn't really know how to build the pieces but whenever I went to an art museum I'd think about how I might do a gallery installation. The centerpiece of my mental gallery was a pair of barcodes, one marked "Neurotypical" and one marked "Neurodivergent".

[ID: An interior view of a small booklet, with pages marked 1 and 2, showing barcodes -- on the left, labeled Neurotypical, and on the right, in slightly weirder configuration, labeled Neurodivergent.]

And then I thought, why not make a zine? Nothing you're thinking of couldn't be put in zine form instead of on a gallery wall.

[ID: The booklet continues to pages 3 and 4; on page 3 is a postage-style label reading AUTISM with up arrows on either side, and on page 4 is a QR code labeled ADHD. The QR code technically should work but it just dumps a block of text I wrote about having ADHD into a browser.]

I grew up with zine culture in the 90s and I always wanted to make one but much like with visual art, I never felt like I had the right kind of thing to say; either I had too much to say or too little, and anyway I wasn't confident that what I wanted to do wouldn't just come off as trite and obvious. But you can make a six-page zine out of a single sheet of paper, so I did: I made Helpful Labels For Strange Brains by idab zines, a division of Extribulum Press. (i--dab is a term for a cuneiform tablet that contains a royal communication.)

[ID: The last two pages feature the same image -- a cereal bowl with a spoon in it, the spoon containing a single Adderall pill. One image, however, is captioned "Wake up. Pour yourself a cup of iced coffee. Fix a bowl of cereal. It's going to be a good day." while the other is covered in a detailed ADHD-style step-by-step process for the same actions, culminating in "It's going to be a day like that."]

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out -- the art all looks intentional and it still has that "taped this together after school" aesthetic I remember fondly from the 90s. And the confines of six pages, each only a few inches square, offers a good structure to keep things clear, simple, and meaningful.

[ID: The cover of the zine, labeled "Helpful Labels For Strange Brains" in a kind of esoteric stampy font.]

Especially nice is that if you wanted to you could just hand out the flat sheet, and let folks fold it into a booklet or not -- there's instructions for folding it on the back of the zine. Additionally I have some sticker backed printer paper so I could print it such that you could literally turn the labels into real labels.

Anyway if you want it, here ya go. You can print it on a single sheet of paper and follow the instructions on the back to fold it. I thought about selling it but I do not have the spoons to do a bunch of printing and folding and shipping.

[jsmainblog]

more spence headcannons!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a/n: uhm i love him so we gotta do more

warnings: some nsfw!!!!

spencer is one of those guys u see on tiktok doing the 'buying the number of books my girlfriend can hold' thing at barnes and noble

spencer is the biggest fan of u playing with his hair

his hair probs feels so nice despite having no hair care routine

spencer has a scrapbook just like his mom and has some photos of the both of you in it

spencer is a tits guy

u can't like not say that he is he just is 🤷‍♀️

like not just big ones he appreciates them of all sizes yk

i feel like i have said this before but brooo if ur riding him he goes freaking weak

spencer is a big fan of laying ontop of you

"spence ur crushing me" "well i can't actually crush you i'm insanely skinny so🤓☝️"

spencer is a big music nerd

like now im not talking modern music im talking old music

he's got classical, he's got jazz, he's got 70's rock, he's got 70's pop, he's got 80's pop, he's got 80's alternative, he has grunge music from the 90s, he has heavy metal, he's got numetal

like if u ask him to put a cd on he just goes over to his bookshelf and go "you mean the orignal or do you want the remastered?"

he's a late bloomer

i mean thats kinda cannon but he was going through puberty a bit later than most

like he never actually stopped growing its so freakish

ik spencer has a natural sleeper build he probs does like an hour at a gym a week maximum

spencer would probably date someone quite intellectual but also really creative like art, music, film, design, graphics yk

it kinda balances out the overly logical side of him

chronic converse wearer (same man same)

he lets u draw on his converse!!!!!!

he probs would want to live in nyc or london if he didn't have to live in DC

ex weed smoker

"well yeah how else did i survive college like 3 times?"

showers and baths with you >>>>>>>>

"ur so pretty yk that?"

MUSEUM DATESSS

u don't even need someone telling u about the history u have spencer so ur set

strangley good at every musical instrument he touches

his biggest thing is trying to understand u

inside and out he wants to get into ur head and know what ur thinking all the time

he knows he's not u but he tries

work calls when he's away for a long time

everynight he's away without miss he calls u

sometimes u guys sext or have phone sex if ur both feeling a little lonely

[ybklix]

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

[bohemianblasphemy]

This song, a secret relationship with Spencer where everyone is flirting with his girlfriend because no one knows they’re together. Spencer gets anxious about it until he finally cracks and says “She belongs to me.” 🥰

He’s so cute I melt everytime 🥲

It was a rare event that the BAU was able to hold any form of event- let alone a bustling office party.

Soft music, clinking glasses and conversations filled the bullpen as you walked in, taking in the familiar surroundings.

You had opted to wear a black mid length dress- not too formal, not too casual but it was enough to turn heads, gazes falling upon you.

There was only one set of eyes hat you were focused on however, ones the belonged to one Spencer Reid.

He stood talking to Emily- chewing her ear off with some of his many fun facts of wisdom, before he caught your figure from the corner of his eye, turning to look at you.

Those brown eyes raked over how you looked in that dress- God it took all his strength to not lose his mind over how you looked. Spencer smiled at your arrival, his eyes gleaming with affection for you.

You mirrored that same glance toward him, seeing him in a nice button up shirt with the top two buttons undone with black slacks.

Spencer and yourself had been together for a while- this was unknown to other as you kept to yourselves, not out of shame but just to keep things private, for your eyes only.

The clandestine dates to a museum or gallery, staying at each others apartments, sneaky glances and touches as you sat next to each other on the jet… it was exhilarating.

But it was hard to keep it secret when people around you kept checking you out.

You walked down the few steps into the sea of people, exchanging hellos and small talk as you made your way over to Spencer, before a familiar voice from behind called to you.

“God sweetheart… you look good.”

Turning on your heel, Derek Morgan grinned at you- his eyes roving over how you looked at the front. “Thank you Morgan.” You replied, looking at him as he crossed his arms, continuing his compliments.

“No like… you look straight out of a movie, that dress on you is gorgeous, baby.” He chuckled his eyes glazing over you again.

Spencer could see Morgan’s eyes over you from across the way, his jaw clenching as he stood there with you.

Albeit Morgan was harmless in his words, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the pang of jealousy that coursed through him. He knew that you wouldn’t be reciprocating his flirty remarks, but just the thought of his girl being chatted up to by someone else made him irritated.

You were his, and no one was going to take you away from him.

“Hey Reid, you okay?” Emily waved her hand in front of his eyes, grounding him back from his trance. Her eyes turned to the direction of where he was gazing to, seeing Morgan and yourself talking.

“Sorry.. just- just a bit distracted, will you excuse me a moment?” He smiled half heartedly at Emily, before walking toward you. “O-oh okay…” she mumbled, watching on confused as Spencer make a beeline to you.

“No Morgan, you know that I’m not going to go anywhere else but my own home tonight…” you rolled your eyes at Derek’s joke about him taking you home, before you felt a familiar arm snake around your waist.

Spencer stood beside you, his hand on your hip- a display of affection that was once done in secrecy, now in front of a work colleague and close friend.

Looking up at him, you gave him a puzzled look, which he reciprocated with his charmingly awkward smile he had adorned on his face- the glint of adoration in his eyes as he looked at you.

Morgan’s expression turned amused at Spencer’s display, cocking an eyebrow. “Hey there pretty boy… feeling cosy there?” He chuckled, observed the both of you.

Spencer turned slightly to face you, looking down at your eyes and lips before leaning in to give you a soft kiss- which was a shock to your system, your eyes widening as you both locked lips in front of Derek.

Derek’s eyes nearly popped out of his head in shock, along with various staff members gasping or whooping at the two of you in your embrace.

Spencer pulled away and held you close to him, leaving you breathless at the situation as you watched him turn his head to Derek.

“She belongs to me…” he said, looking at him with an unreadable expression as Derek jokingly raised his hands in surrender. “It’s all good man, she’s all yours… catch up later yeah?” he chuckled winking at the both of you as he walked away as Spencer nodded in response to him.

You were still in shock- not only from the kiss that you both shared, but now the cat was out of the bag of your relationship. “W-what was that?” I whispered, looking up at him.

“That was me not letting another person take your love away from me…” he said, flashing another smile at you- making you giggle at his jealous nature that had come to the surface. “Such a dork…” you joked, bringing him in for another kiss- a solidifying moment of not being so secretive about your relationship with each other anymore.

[bootsukki]

AITA for saying my 5-year anniversary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?

aita series masterlist next part

wanings: angst, communication issues, swearing

The restaurant buzzed with the sound of clinking glasses and lighthearted conversation. Tsukishima sat at the end of the table, picking at his food, his usual expression set in a cool, indifferent mask. Across from him, his girlfriend, (Y/N), was laughing at something Yamaguchi had said. The group of friends had gathered for dinner, as they often did, the easy camaraderie between them keeping the atmosphere light. Yachi and (Y/N) were sat side by side, murmuring about something as they picked out pieces of their food.

“Hey, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi started, cutting into the relaxed mood. “You guys have been together for four years now, right? Any big plans for your five-year anniversary coming up?”

The question made (Y/N)’s heart flutter. They hadn’t talked much about their anniversary yet, but after being together for so long, she had imagined something special was in the works.  (Y/N) had been feeling kind of sad the past days, not seeing Tsukishima enough due to reasons he hadn’t explained to her but she still had the hope of it just being a busy time at the museum. Tsukishima had been training a new coworker, Mia, and although she didn’t like her that much, she kind of understood that there were a lot of protocols at the museum that had to be followed. 

She turned to look at Tsukishima expectantly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Tsukishima, though, didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he took a sip of water, leaned back in his chair, and shrugged. “It’s just another day,” he said flatly.

The smile vanished from (Y/N)’s face instantly. The words hit her harder than she had expected, like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, a thousand thoughts racing through her mind, none of them good. After everything they had been through, everything they had shared, was their five-year anniversary really just another day to him?

She glanced around the table, everyone else had fallen silent, awkwardness creeping in. Yamaguchi shifted uncomfortably, clearly not expecting that kind of response. The rest of their friends exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether to laugh it off or change the subject.

Tsukishima wasn’t big on surprises and they always made plans for dinner but he hadn’t said a thing yet. (Y/N) had the silly dream of him proposing and she even told Yachi about it. Not only Yachi, but him as well which he answered with a smile.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, forcing a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Just another day, huh?” she muttered under her breath, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Tsukishima’s brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “What?” he asked, his voice sharper than usual.

(Y/N) clenched her fists under the table, anger starting to simmer in her chest. “You really don’t care, do you?” she said quietly, but there was an edge to her words that caught everyone’s attention.

“Care about what?” he asked, sounding genuinely confused but annoyed at the same time.

“Our anniversary! Us!” (Y/N) stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Lately, it’s like you don’t even care anymore! You’ve been staying out late, barely texting me, and now this? ‘Just another day’? What the fuck, Kei?”

All of their friends stopped their conversations as they saw (Y/N) standing up.

Tsukishima’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “You’re being dramatic. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’ve barely been home! You don’t talk to me, you don’t ask how I’m doing, and now you say our anniversary is just another day? What am I supposed to think?”

(Y/N) could feel everyone’s eyes on them, but she didn’t care. This had been building up for weeks, and now it was like a dam had broken. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her emotions swirling between anger and hurt.

Tsukishima sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

“You don’t see why I’m making a big deal?” (Y/N) couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tears of frustration were welling up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of everyone, completely embarrassed about the situation. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve been so distant, and I don’t know what’s going on with you anymore.”

Tsukishima’s eyes flickered, but his face remained stoic. “You’re overthinking it.”

(Y/N) felt like she had been slapped. His words felt dismissive, like he didn’t care at all about her feelings, like her fears and concerns meant nothing. She grabbed her bag from the back of her chair, her hands trembling with anger and hurt as some tears finally made their way out, coating her cheeks.

“I’m done,” she said, her voice shaking. “Sorry guys.”

“(Y/N)? Where are you going?” Yachi asked her, worried as she looked at their friends, clearly not knowing what to do.

“I don’t know.”

With that, she turned and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving their friends sitting in stunned silence.

Yachi grabbed her bag and coat, sending Tsukishima a glare, saying something under her breath and following (Y/N).

After (Y/N) stormed out of the restaurant, Tsukishima sat there, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, the tension rolling off him in waves. He felt the eyes of his friends on him, but he didn’t dare look up. The heaviness in his chest, the kind he could usually ignore, was now impossible to shake. (Y/N) was not wrong about it, he had been spending nights at the museum, working overtime and taking paperwork home. He woke up during the night to go into his office at home and keep working, completely stressed. 

If she only knew…

Yamaguchi shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing toward the door where (Y/N) had disappeared. “Tsukki…” he began softly, but Tsukishima cut him off with a sigh.

“I know,” Tsukishima muttered, rubbing his temple. He could already feel the irritation bubbling beneath his skin. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about (Y/N), but how was he supposed to handle all of this at once? Work had been relentless, and every spare moment he had, he was trying to plan their future. He’d never been great at expressing himself—something (Y/N) knew better than anyone—but it seemed like this time, he had really messed up.

The table had fallen into an awkward silence, none of the others quite knowing how to break the tension. Tsukishima didn’t stick around for long after that. He tossed some cash on the table, muttered a stiff goodbye, and headed home.

As he arrived home, he texted her, messages left on delivered. He hated going to sleep without fixing their problems.

Running a hand through his hair, he called her. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her. How was he suppose to tell her everything without spoiling everything he has worked and planned for? Would she even pick up?

"What?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, just the faint sound of Tsukishima breathing before he finally spoke.

"Where are you?" His voice was steady, calm—too calm.

"I’m at Yachi’s." Her words came out clipped, tension already thick between them. "I needed space."

There was another silence, and (Y/N) could practically feel the weight of it pressing down on her. She had expected him to ask more questions, maybe show some concern. But instead, he was quiet.

“You didn’t say anything,” Tsukishima finally said, his tone flat. “You just left.”

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched. She could already feel the frustration rising, boiling just beneath the surface. "You didn’t give me much reason to stay. You didn’t even try to stop me.” she shot back, her voice colder than she wanted it to be.

His sigh was audible over the phone, a soft exhale of frustration. "You’re overreacting."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Overreacting? Was that really what he thought? After everything they had been through the past year with moving and the stress of his new job and deadlines of her book, all the nights he came home late or didn’t come home at all, brushing off their anniversary like it meant nothing—she was overreacting?

"I’m overreacting?" she repeated, her voice rising. "Kei, you’ve been disappearing for days, barely talking to me, acting like I don’t even exist half the time. Do you know how that feels? Do you even care?"

"Of course I care about you," Tsukishima snapped, his calm demeanor slipping for the first time. "But you’re making a big deal out of nothing."

(Y/N) let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet room. "Nothing? So me feeling like I’m losing you is nothing? Our anniversary is nothing? Us is nothing to you, is that what you’re saying?"

Tsukishima didn’t respond immediately, and the silence that followed only made her anger flare hotter.

"I didn’t mean it like that," he muttered, but his voice lacked any real conviction. It sounded more like he was trying to calm her down, to brush aside her feelings.

"Then what did you mean, Kei? Because right now, it feels like you don’t care. It feels like you’ve already checked out of this relationship." (Y/N) stood, pacing across Yachi’s small living room, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Yachi was probably listening to their conversation but she couldn’t care less about it. She sniffed. “You act like I’m supposed to just accept this. Like it’s normal for you to disappear and not talk to me. Like I’m supposed to just be fine with it. We've been together for almost 5 years, we should know by now how to communicate with each other."

"You’re not giving me a chance to explain," Tsukishima said, his voice dropping, more annoyed now.

"Then explain!" she shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. "Explain to me why you’re never home! Explain why you can’t even be bothered to talk to me when you are! Explain why our anniversary is just ‘another day’ to you, when it’s supposed to mean something! Explain why it feels like I don’t matter to you anymore!"

There was a long, suffocating silence.

"You don’t get it," Tsukishima said finally, his voice low and cold. "You don’t understand what’s going on, why I…”

"Because you won’t tell me!" (Y/N) felt the words rip from her throat, raw and desperate. "You won’t let me in, Kei! You won’t let me help, and then you act like I’m the one being unreasonable? I’ve tried. I've tried to gvet you to tell me what is going on, why you come home that late... I’ve tried to be patient, but I can’t do this alone."

"I never asked you to do anything alone," Tsukishima muttered, but his tone was distant, like he was speaking just to end the conversation.

"That’s the problem!" (Y/N) yelled, her frustration bubbling over. "You don’t ask. You don’t say anything. You just keep everything to yourself and expect me to be fine with it. But I’m not fine, Kei. I’m not fine with you shutting me out. We are a couple, we should be there for each other, in good and bad situations but you... You don't care about it."

Tsukishima sighed again, and this time it was heavier, like he was already tired of the conversation. "I don’t have time for this right now."

(Y/N) froze. The words cut deep, the final nail in the coffin. 

"You don’t have time for this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "You don’t have time for us?"

"That’s not what I meant," he said quickly, but the damage was done.

"No," (Y/N) said, her voice steadier now, but full of cold, quiet anger. "I think that’s exactly what you meant. You don’t have time for this. For me. For us. I guess you have all the time in the world for Mia."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Don’t twist my words," Tsukishima said, irritation clear in his tone now.

"I’m not twisting anything. You’re the one who’s been distant, who’s been shutting me out. You’re the one who doesn’t have time for me, and I’m done pretending like that’s okay. You're the one always doing things at work, spending an absurd amount of time at the museum, spending nights at the office, door closed as if..." She bit her lip, her throat tightening with unshed tears, not daring to say what she was thinking about. About him possibly cheating with the perfect Mia, who had the same interests at him. Mia, who threw herself at him just to get his attention. Mia, who was perfect and could talk about everything Tsukishima loved... She wanted to throw up just by thinking about it. "I can’t keep waiting around for you to decide whether or not you want me in your life, Kei."

Another long silence.

(Y/N) felt her heart drop. She had wanted him to fight for them, to say something—anything—that would reassure her that this was just a rough patch, that they could work through it. But instead, all he gave her was more distance by saying nothing to her.

"Tsukishima, are you going to say something?”

For a moment, she thought he might say something more, but the line stayed silent. The weight of their words hung in the air, unspoken truths pulling them further apart.

"That's my answer then. I’ll come get my things tomorrow," (Y/N) said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady, though her heart was breaking. 

"What? (Y/N), don’t say things like that. Don’t even think about it." Tsukishima muttered, his voice cold and distant again.

“How can I not?” She was now sobbing, Tsukishima’s heart breaking at the sound of her hurting. “You are not willing to even tell me that you want me in your life.”

And just like that, the call ended, the silence on the other end of the line as heavy as the emptiness that now filled the space between them.

*****

“It’s 2 in the morning.”

“I know.”

“You know that I have a kid sleeping upstairs, right?”

“Yes.”

Akiteru tsukishima looked at his younger brother, making way for him to enter his house. Without notice, the younger sibling had made his way towards his brother’s house, not knowing what to do. Akiteru had already noticed the tension radiating from his younger brother and made him some tea.

“You look like hell,” Akiteru remarked, setting the cups on top of the coffee table.

Tsukishima shot him a glare, but it lacked its usual sharpness. “Thanks,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Akiteru leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Tsukishima didn’t respond right away, staring at the grain of the wooden table as though it held the answer to all of his problems. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I messed up with (Y/N).”

Akiteru raised an eyebrow. “What kind of ‘messed up’ are we talking here?”

“The kind where she walked out and told me she would get her things from the apartment,” Tsukishima admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He hated saying it out loud, but he couldn’t deny it any longer.

Akiteru’s expression softened, his usual teasing tone nowhere to be found. “What happened?”

Tsukishima explained everything—about the dinner, his cold response to the anniversary question, (Y/N) accusing him of not caring, and how he had been spending nights working late. 

When he finished, Akiteru let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’ve been under a lot of pressure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… Kei, you can’t just shut her out like that.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Tsukishima snapped, frustration leaking into his tone. He regretted it immediately, but Akiteru didn’t flinch.

“I know,” Akiteru said calmly. “But what did you think was going to happen? You don’t talk to her, you’re distant, and then you dismiss your anniversary in front of all your friends? Of course she’s going to feel like you don’t care.”

“Akiteru, I…” Tsukishima sighed. “I’ve been working late to get a few days off of work, so I can take her on a trip and propose.”

Tsukishima’s shoulders sagged. He had been so wrapped up in trying to plan the perfect proposal, trying to juggle work and life, that he hadn’t considered how it all felt to her.

“I’ve never been good at this stuff,” Tsukishima admitted quietly, his voice raw in a way that it rarely was. “I thought I could just… handle it.”

Akiteru smiled softly, “Propose? Are you serious?” The younger man nodded, placing his forehead on the table.

“I fucked up.”

“Kei, relationships aren’t something you just ‘handle.’ They’re messy, they take work, and sometimes you have to talk about the hard stuff, even if it sucks. But if anyone’s worth the effort, it’s (Y/N), right?”

Tsukishima’s heart clenched at that. (Y/N) was worth it. She was worth all of it—the frustration, the awkward conversations, the vulnerability. He had never cared about anyone the way he cared about her, and the thought of losing her because he had been too proud or too stubborn to open up made him feel sick.

“You need to talk to her,” Akiteru said firmly. “Skip the proposal part. Tell her everything. Tell her about the trip. I promise you everything will be alright.”

Tsukishima nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, sleep catching up to him.

*****

AITA for saying my 5-year anniversary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?

Hey, Reddit. I (M23) have been dating my girlfriend (F23) for almost 5 years. Our anniversary is coming up soon, and it’s kind of a big deal since it’s our 5-year mark. I have been working overtime to get money and time for an surprise anniversary trip for us and I haven't been home that much and when I came home, I kept working during the night. My best friend (M23) and some others friends, including my girlfriend, were out for dinner, when he asked me about my anniversary plans. Without thinking too much, I shrugged and said, “It’s just another day.”

My girlfriend started to freak out to the point of leaving the restaurant and the apartment.

AITA?

User 1:

YTA!!!!!!! OF FUCKING COURSE she would freak out about something like that! Anniversaries are important and more so when they are about milestones such as this one. You need to fix this ASAP.

User 2:

Dude, I can't defend you on this one, YTA. That was a shit show. You could have told her that you weren't in the mood to celebrate or something but instead you said it in the worst way possible and in front of other people. That would probably broke her heart.

User 3:

YTA. you could have told her you had a surprise planned or something.

User 4:

Bro...

author's notes: this will have a 2nd part, out in a few days! :)

[hcneymooners]

⋆ thinking about model!cait & model!reader.

ꕮ you and model!caitlyn find one another unexpectedly, your friendship a perfect firework across an otherwise tedious skyline of existence. she has a strong reputation comprised of a perfect work ethic, but a "bitter aftertaste" of a personality. the coworker who says this is notorious for being vicious, so you smile palely and take the assessment with a grain of salt.

ꕮ model!caitlyn whom you first meet backstage at an indie designer's debut show, whom you keep running into backstage. she's softer than you expected with her deep blue hair tugged up into a topknot, balancing like an artist on a tightrope. her cheeks are dusted with a metallic blush that shimmers weakly every time her cheeks bunch and loosen, the movement repeated as she chews on an apple.

ꕮ model!cait who is the last to go on most of the time, as are you, so you watch as she keeps to herself amid fashion week and is the first one out at the end of every show. it's the same cycle of working up the courage to speak to her, to show her that you aren't whispering along with the rest of the girls sitting beside you, but your little streaks of bravery are blotted out by the hot lights of your twin vanities and there's nothing left by the time she calls her car.

ꕮ you finally see her at the right time, finally send her a tight smile that you meant to be fuller with a little wave. she's at the mouth of the door, head bent back as the movement coordinator orders her to be earlier tomorrow for rehearsals because she's opening this time. she's surprised at the soft spread of your teeth towards her, and reflexively she smiles back. congratulations, you tell her and your voice is strong. thank you, she says.

ꕮ and you think that's the end of things but then you get stuck in the open half of a prop plane with her. the set is an elaborate platform to showcase the newest alice+olivia spring-summer collection. the two of you swing like a pendulum across the floor, tumbling into one another. her body is lanky, almost awkward, and she smells deeply of iris, lime, and rose.

ꕮ "you smell good," you whisper with a hand on your stomach because you think you might throw up. she smiles, surprised, and you understand exactly why they scouted her.

ꕮ after that, your relationship grows almost lazily like ivy. you run into her everywhere: the grocery store, the members club right across your townhouse, the museum where you went to see the quilt exhibit. one day you just take her hand and interlink it with yours, promising her a delicious bowl of pho and saying that you'll teach her to haggle prices at the little market you're going to after this—the one owned by the khti with kind eyes.

ꕮ she follows you, lets you swallow her, and basks in the solidarity of finding someone who doesn't hate her for once. you find out more: that she's a nepotism baby (her mother is a top designer), that she dislikes a lot of who she walks for but doesn't think she deserves to complain, that she majored in philosophy and military history at university but dropped out in her junior year, that she's been thinking of going back. "go back," you tell her with a soft smile. "i'll go with you."

ꕮ you go back to school together: her to finish her bachelor's, you to get your master's.

ꕮ when you're off-duty, she calls you. it's always at the same time—she's very structured, you notice—which means you always find yourself rushing through the rooms of your home, trying to find where you last tossed your phone.

ꕮ it's 2007 then, so it's a thin slab the color of ice with the logo of the most prominent tech company at the moment. you're always worried you're going to drop it, that you'll lose her, so you memorize her number to call her from a pay phone when you're somewhere different in the world.

ꕮ on call, she tells you about the first time she walked paris fashion week, how her hands wouldn't stop shaking even after she'd made it back behind the curtain. you share your own story of tripping during milan, catching yourself at the last second while your heart drummed against your ribs.

ꕮ "i was there," she tells you, laughing gently. the words cut out a bit as she moves around, and without thinking, you speak to the ache in your chest and say, "i wish you were here."

ꕮ backstage becomes your sanctuary together. you learn to recognize the slope of her shoulders when a designer has been particularly cruel, and she learns exactly how you like your tea when you're running on your fourth show of the day. "chamomile, splash of honey," she murmurs, pressing the warm cup into your hands. her fingers linger against yours longer than necessary.

ꕮ you rest your head on top of her jutting shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as she adjusts the alligator clips in your hair so that you're more comfortable, switching out your perm papers for new ones so the stylists won't yell about the crinkles.

ꕮ there have been many times when you've sobbed into her lap or she into yours, bodies run ragged after doing 10-20 shows in a day or two. it's never too much work to soothe her or for her to coo at you, quieting you until you fitfully fall asleep.

ꕮ you start sharing hotel rooms to save money, but really it's because neither of you can stand the loneliness anymore. you always share a hotel room now with two beds, just for you to wrap around her in only one. these are the best times of travel: caitlyn in her cotton hollister boy shorts and her long-sleeved soccer camp tee, hair lumped into a loose knot at her neck as her chest rises and falls gently with her breath.

ꕮ you huddle closer every night, late at night. you order room service and critique the collections together. she has strong opinions about necklines, and you can spend hours discussing the politics of sizing.

ꕮ sometimes you fall asleep mid-conversation and wake to find her having tucked you in.

ꕮ the industry starts to notice your friendship. "the ice queen has finally thawed," they whisper, and you hate how they talk about her like she's a puzzle to be solved rather than a person. but she just squeezes your hand under the table at fashion week parties and whispers, "let them talk." you realize you'd let them say anything as long as she keeps holding your hand.

ꕮ your first kiss happens in taipei. you're both half-delirious from lack of sleep, sharing a pepper bun in the early morning before shows begin. she has a dot of sauce on her lower lip, and you reach out without thinking, thumb brushing it away and coming to your mouth so that you can suck it clean.

ꕮ "oh," she says softly, and then you're colliding, kissing desperately and tenderly among the crumbs and cups of cucumber water, dawn breaking over the city of azaleas. she breaks away because she can't stop smiling and you can't either, and her hair looks like blue fire in the sunlight. you kiss her again because you can and drag her by the hand down the street, your water sloshing as you try to make it to the show on time.

ꕮ together, you start to imagine a life beyond the runway. she talks about teaching military history to undergraduates, her eyes lighting up as she describes battle strategies and political maneuvering. you sketch out plans for your own vintage styling firm, something small and carefully curated with a tight clientele.

ꕮ "we could do both," she says, and you love how she always includes you in her future.

ꕮ life begins to slow down without either of you meaning for it to. it's subtle at first: you start saying no to castings that don't excite you, and caitlyn realizes she hasn't done a full fashion week in nearly a year.

ꕮ you find yourselves going to the same places more often—your favorite cafe, the record store that still carries CDs, the bookstore where cait always beelines for the history section while you browse vintage magazines.   

ꕮ caitlyn buys a dog before you do—a retired racing greyhound named laguna with eyes too soft for the world. you tease her about how predictable it is, how of course she'd choose a creature as long-limbed and elegant as her. but then you find a pocket bully in a shelter with a wiry coat and the sweetest underbite you've ever seen, and suddenly you have two. your inbox fills with emails from brands who want to feature them instead of you.  

ꕮ there's a video of you and caitlyn sitting on a blanket in central park, sharing a bagel slathered thick with avocado while your dogs sprawl between you. someone posts it on youtube with the title supermodels—THEY'RE JUST LIKE US and suddenly laguna and your little bully (you named her venice) have their own fanbase.

ꕮ people start recognizing you not for the runways, but for the dogs. “cait, i think we’ve peaked," you joke, showing cait a feature in a fashion mag about “all the best supermodels have turned dog moms.”   

ꕮ one day, cait tells you she’s serious about completing her phd. "i think i’m ready," she says, her fingers twisting the hem of your sweatshirt. you kiss her forehead and tell her you've been looking at spaces for your styling firm. "i think i'm ready too."  

ꕮ leaving modeling feels like shedding skin. at first, you both keep a toe in—an editorial here, a campaign there—but eventually, the industry moves on without you, and neither of you mind. 

ꕮ the mornings are slower now, filled with newspaper crossword puzzles and late brunches. your lives feel like the belong more to you than before. sometimes you still wake up expecting to rush to a casting, but then laguna whines at the door, and venice jumps onto the bed, and you remember you don't have to be anywhere except beside her.  

ꕮ you start teaching styling workshops, curating looks for indie films, slowly building your firm from the ground up. caitlyn, true to her word, finishes her degree and starts lecturing. she still paces when she talks, still moves like she’s walking the length of a runway, but now it’s in front of a room full of students who hang onto every word she says about ancient war tactics. 

ꕮ you don’t understand any of it, but still you’re proud of her. you sneak into her lectures with a ball cap that does nothing to disguise you, a polaroid camera in your hands as you take pictures of her for the keepsake box underneath your bed.

ꕮ your home becomes filled with old fashion week spreads pinned open like faded butterflies, shelves lined with history books, and a basket of dog toys that always end up in the middle of the floor. life is lovely. not perfect, but good nonetheless.

ꕮ and then one day, years later, you're walking through a square—maybe in new york, maybe in london—when you look up and see her face on a billboard. it’s an old campaign, maybe one of the last ones she did, and the sight of her, frozen in time, steals the breath from your lungs.   

ꕮ you call her.  

ꕮ "hey, baby,” you say when she picks up. "i just saw you on a billboard."  

ꕮ there's a beat of silence, then her voice, warm and teasing. “wasn’t expecting to hear that bit of news. tell me, was i beautiful all blown up and life-sized?”  

ꕮ you smile, tilting your face toward the sky. "yes. but they don’t know how much more beautiful you are in person."

© hcneymooners.

⚚ notes: for @marieeeluvsyou & @srooch.

[jadeharleyinc]

the scale of AI's ecological footprint

standalone version of my response to the following:

"you need soulless art? [...] why should you get to use all that computing power and electricity to produce some shitty AI art? i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources." "i think we all deserve nice things. [...] AI art is not a nice thing. it doesn’t meaningfully contribute to us thriving and the cost in terms of energy use [...] is too fucking much. none of us can afford to foot the bill." "go watch some tv show or consume some art that already exists. […] you know what’s more environmentally and economically sustainable […]? museums. galleries. being in nature."

you can run free and open source AI art programs on your personal computer, with no internet connection. this doesn't require much more electricity than running a resource-intensive video game on that same computer. i think it's important to consume less. but if you make these arguments about AI, do you apply them to video games too? do you tell Fortnite players to play board games and go to museums instead?

speaking of museums: if you drive 3 miles total to a museum and back home, you have consumed more energy and created more pollution than generating AI images for 24 hours straight (this comes out to roughly 1400 AI images). "being in nature" also involves at least this much driving, usually. i don't think these are more environmentally-conscious alternatives.

obviously, an AI image model costs energy to train in the first place, but take Stable Diffusion v2 as an example: it took 40,000 to 60,000 kWh to train. let's go with the upper bound. if you assume ~125g of CO2 per kWh, that's ~7.5 tons of CO2. to put this into perspective, a single person driving a single car for 12 months emits 4.6 tons of CO2. meanwhile, for example, the creation of a high-budget movie emits 2840 tons of CO2.

is the carbon cost of a single car being driven for 20 months, or 1/378th of a Marvel movie, worth letting anyone with a mid-end computer, anywhere, run free offline software that consumes a gaming session's worth of electricity to produce hundreds of images? i would say yes. in a heartbeat.

even if you see creating AI images as "less soulful" than consuming Marvel/Fortnite content, it's undeniably "more useful" to humanity as a tool. not to mention this usefulness includes reducing the footprint of creating media. AI is more environment-friendly than human labor on digital creative tasks, since it can get a task done with much less computer usage, doesn't commute to work, and doesn't eat.

and speaking of eating, another comparison: if you made an AI image program generate images non-stop for every second of every day for an entire year, you could offset your carbon footprint by… eating 30% less beef and lamb. not pork. not even meat in general. just beef and lamb.

the tech industry is guilty of plenty of horrendous stuff. but when it comes to the individual impact of AI, saying "i don’t actually think you’re entitled to consume those resources. do you need this? is this making you thrive?" to an individual running an AI program for 45 minutes a day per month is equivalent to questioning whether that person is entitled to a single 3 mile car drive once per month or a single meatball's worth of beef once per month. because all of these have the same CO2 footprint.

so yeah. i agree, i think we should drive less, eat less beef, stream less video, consume less. but i don't think we should tell people "stop using AI programs, just watch a TV show, go to a museum, go hiking, etc", for the same reason i wouldn't tell someone "stop playing video games and play board games instead". i don't think this is a productive angle.

(sources and number-crunching under the cut.)

good general resource: GiovanH's article "Is AI eating all the energy?", which highlights the negligible costs of running an AI program, the moderate costs of creating an AI model, and the actual indefensible energy waste coming from specific companies deploying AI irresponsibly.

CO2 emissions from running AI art programs: a) one AI image takes 3 Wh of electricity. b) one AI image takes 1mn in, for example, Midjourney. c) so if you create 1 AI image per minute for 24 hours straight, or for 45 minutes per day for a month, you've consumed 4.3 kWh. d) using the UK electric grid through 2024 as an example, the production of 1 kWh releases 124g of CO2. therefore the production of 4.3 kWh releases 533g (~0.5 kg) of CO2.

CO2 emissions from driving your car: cars in the EU emit 106.4g of CO2 per km. that's 171.19g for 1 mile, or 513g (~0.5 kg) for 3 miles.

costs of training the Stable Diffusion v2 model: quoting GiovanH's article linked in 1. "Generative models go through the same process of training. The Stable Diffusion v2 model was trained on A100 PCIe 40 GB cards running for a combined 200,000 hours, which is a specialized AI GPU that can pull a maximum of 300 W. 300 W for 200,000 hours gives a total energy consumption of 60,000 kWh. This is a high bound that assumes full usage of every chip for the entire period; SD2’s own carbon emission report indicates it likely used significantly less power than this, and other research has shown it can be done for less." at 124g of CO2 per kWh, this comes out to 7440 kg.

CO2 emissions from red meat: a) carbon footprint of eating plenty of red meat, some red meat, only white meat, no meat, and no animal products the difference between a beef/lamb diet and a no-beef-or-lamb diet comes down to 600 kg of CO2 per year. b) Americans consume 42g of beef per day. this doesn't really account for lamb (egads! my math is ruined!) but that's about 1.2 kg per month or 15 kg per year. that single piece of 42g has a 1.65kg CO2 footprint. so our 3 mile drive/4.3 kWh of AI usage have the same carbon footprint as a 12g piece of beef. roughly the size of a meatball [citation needed].

[paradoxicalwritings]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ◦ smut, drinking, mature content, mdni

𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 ◦ nsfw | fem!reader | reader is a writer | college tsukishima | tsukishima but a little sweeter | drinking | drunken confessions | reconnecting with high school crush | tipsy!smut | 3.4k words

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𝐯.𝐢.𝐩. ◦ @takes1

It’s funny how the world works. When you walked into your favorite cafe in Sendai, you didn’t expect to see him. You also didn’t expect him to look as good as he did. His hair that always had a slight curl to it was now much longer, touching his ears now, his new glasses fit his face shape much better now and gave him a much more put together appearance, not to mention he was muscular now.

As you waited for your mocha to be done, you contemplated talking to him. It has been well over two years, and it’s not like you two were on bad terms when you last talked; the two of you just loved tangoing over the lines of annoyance and fondness. 

“Mocha with an extra shot of espresso!” the barista called out, setting down your paper cup. You thanked them, drumming your fingers against the cup as you steeled your resolve. 

You leaned into Tsukishima’s line of sight, smiling, “I didn’t know you were allowed in places like this, Goliath.”

For just a second, he was taken aback, but in typical Tsukishima fashion he didn’t let himself be without a retort. He pretended as though he couldn’t see you, looking above your head, “Where did that sound come from?” He looked down, directly into your eyes, “Oh, that’s where that irritating sound came from.”

You both stopped for a second, just staring into each other’s eyes, taking the other in, then you both started laughing. You always found his laugh particularly beautiful. It was higher pitched than his normal voice, with a slight scratch to it. Even when he managed to cross the line between fun jabs and mean comments, his honey-sweet laugh softened the blow.

The chair screeched against the hardwood floor as you pulled it out to sit in front of him. He shut his laptop and propped his chin on his fist, “To what do I owe the pleasure, (Y/N)?”

You took a sip of your drink, “Pure coincidence, I fear.” You looked him up and down from your seat, you still couldn’t believe how different he looked, “What have you been up to, Tsukishima?”

He looked off, pretending that he didn’t want to drink in your appearance, “Well, Uni, of course, as well as the volleyball team. I recently started working at a museum though.”

You smiled, working at a museum was just so him. It made your heart ache, how despite not being in contact for multiple years, he was still the same high school boy you tried to one up every single day, “That’s exactly like you.”

You saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks, he always got embarrassed when you would point out things about him that you happened to notice, “How about you, finally doing anything interesting?”

That was always his go to jab, that you had such a boring life. You didn’t join a club in high school, instead choosing to have your own private hobbies. “Har har, Tsukki,” you took another sip of your mocha, toying with the cardboard sleeve, “I actually came here to work on my book.”

Your mind flooded back to second year, when Tsukishima happened to see you writing in your journal for the first time. You liked hand writing stories, ever since you were a kid. The genre and themes were always different; sometimes horror, other times coming of age, you even branched out into sci-fi for a time. That year you had grown a particular penchant for romance. Tsukishima grabbed your notebook from in front of you, and started reading it aloud. Your face burned in embarrassment. You got on your tiptoes, even jumping to try to grab it back, but he held it out of reach, continuing to read it. You eventually gave up, sitting in your seat with your face buried in your hands. You heard the journal be gently set on your desk. You looked up at Tsukishima, the tips of his ears pink, “You’re good at writing. You should keep doing it.”

Tsukishima looked at you, “Really, what’s this one about?”

You hummed in thought, remembering the books you said it was similar to when talking to your publisher, “Have you read Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishigo, or watched Good Will Hunting?”

He chucked, “You know I haven’t.”

You laughed too, whenever you brought up a specific book or movie and asked him if he’d seen it, it was always a no, “You’re right, I don’t know why I asked.”

The two of you talked for hours, neither of you doing any of the work you meant to get done. Neither of you really noticed the time passing, and it felt as though the two of you never stopped talking, just picking up where you left off two years ago. You both silently wished that you could stay like this forever, but Tsukishima, ever the practical one, just had to look at his watch. You say his eyes widen for a second, then looking at you, “You still have my number right?”

“Uhh, yea, why would I get rid of it?”

Tsukishima scrambled to pack his bag, “Okay, I’ll call you tonight.”

“Okay?”

🏐ˎˊ˗

You had been home for probably two hours. Your eyes were strained from staring at your laptop screen, reading the same paragraphs over and over again. Whoever said “If you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life,” was a liar. You pinched your nose bridge while you waited for your water to boil for pasta.

You heard your phone vibrate from the counter next to you. You picked it up, flashing the screen on to see who was calling. As soon as you saw the first three letters you answered, feeling the same warmth as you did when you first saw him at the cafe, “Hello?”

“Hey. What are you doing?”

You pressed the phone between your shoulder and ear as you poured the box of dried pasta into the pot, “Cooking dinner, why?”

“Ah okay.” You couldn’t see his face, but you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“You can come over, if you want to.” You prayed that he would, “Only if you bring a bottle of Chianti over though.”

He chuckled on the other end of the line, the sound making your body buzz, “Of course, send me your address.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

You grabbed your phone, quickly sending the blonde your address and unit number. This whole thing felt so surreal. When you woke up this morning you weren’t expecting this at all. Part of you wondered if the red string of fate was real and the two of you were meant to meet in that cafe today. You knew Tsukishima would say that that was ridiculous and it was just purely coincidence.

After about fifteen minutes, you heard a knock on your door. You walked down your hallway and looked through your peephole, seeing Tsukishima standing there, shifting from foot to foot and looking down the hall. You pulled your door chain lock off and opened the door, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

The two of you just stared at each other. This really was a turn of events. Neither of you expected to be having dinner with someone else, much less each other. You broke your gaze, pulling the door open wider, stepping to the side, “Come in, I’m almost done.”

“Right.” He stepped past you, holding the bottle of wine up for you, “Is this the right one? I don’t buy wine that often.” 

You grabbed the bottle from him, and snickered in your mind as you shook your head, “No… This is the wrong one.” You saw a look of “Oh shit,” wash over his face before you laughed, “I’m kidding, this is perfect.” Making your way back to the kitchen, you looked again at the label, noticing the brand, “This is actually more expensive than the one I usually buy.”

Tsukishima followed after you, “Do you prefer cheap wines?”

You sighed dramatically, “You know I’m a writer, right?”

He leaned against the counter behind you, “Well, guess it’s good that I’m here to spoil you then.”

Your cheeks got warm at that comment. Spoil you? He wanted to spoil you? Was he flirting with you? Not that you minded. Let’s just say your love of romance in second year wasn’t just because you were in those boy crazy teenage years. No, you were crazy for one particular boy back then. You plated the pasta, and handed it to him, “We can sit on the balcony, if that’s okay with you.”

Tsukishima nodded, “Yea, that sounds nice.”

The two of you walked out to your balcony, the cool breeze feeling nice after being in your sweltering kitchen. You looked at the small table between the two of you, noticing a distinct lack of wine, “Oh crap, let me go grab the wine.” You noticed his eyes linger on your legs as you stood up. 

You rifled through your cupboards for a second wine glass, not finding one. How sad were you that you never even bothered to buy a second wine glass for the possibility of guests? You sighed, relenting to your fate of being teased for drinking alone. You grabbed a tall water glass and your wine glass, walking back to the balcony.

And you were not ready for the sight in front of you, not that it was particularly notable to anyone besides you. Tsukishima was sitting in your balcony chair, arm propped on his knee, bent wrist supporting his chin. The lights of the city and the moon lit up his features. You shook your head, opening the door to the balcony, “Sorry, I don’t have a second wine glass.”

He smirked up at you as you poured wine into the water glass for him, “Not surprising that you don’t have guests.”

You sighed, shaking your head, “I fear you’re getting predictable, Tsukki.”

He took his glass from you, looking wistfully over the railing of your balcony, “You know you can call me Kei, right?”

You paused your own pouring. You could call him Kei? Sure you two talked throughout high school, but you hadn’t realized he viewed you as close enough for that. You resumed your pouring, “Right, Kei.”

The two of you ate in near silence, Kei making some remarks on how good the food was and how he never paired wine with his food. Eventually, the two of you finished eating and started just drinking the wine. It wasn’t long before you started feeling a bit of a buzz, and you were sure he was feeling it as well.

The conversation had taken a more playful and nostalgic turn as the two of you continued to drink. You went back and forth telling stories you remembered of each other from high school. Kei was leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide, and his head lolling back, looking towards you, “Do you remember that one guy in our third year class who was obsessed with you?”

You laughed, “Yea, you had to scare him off every single day.” 

He shrugged, taking a sip of his wine, “I don’t know how he never took the hint.”

You sighed, “Teenage boys can be like that,” the conversation went quiet for a pause, you chuckled, swirling your wine glass, “I think that was the only guy who ever had a crush on me in high school.”

Kei looked out over the balcony, “That’s not true.”

You scoffed, “Who else did?”

He looked towards you, his amber eyes intense, “I did.”

You choked on your wine, setting your glass down as you tried to compose yourself, “You what?”

He laughed, “God, you are dense,” he set his own glass down, “I had a crush on you since first year of high school.”

You groaned, your face in your hands, “Did you actually or are you fucking with me right now?”

Kei rolled his eyes, “I’m an asshole, but I’m not so much of an asshole that I would lie about that.”

You felt long slender fingers touch your own, pulling them away from your face. Kei was leaning down to make eye contact with you, “I think you liked me too.”

You blushed, averting your eyes. You were caught. You were enamored with him in high school. The witty banter, the care hidden below layers of nonchalance, the passion that bloomed like peonies in spring, everything that no one else noticed about him; you did. The small things that no one else could articulate about him made your heart swell with love for him. You gripped his fingers with your own, “I more than liked you.” 

You felt your arm be tugged forward, then you felt soft, thin lips against your own. This was everything you prayed for, for years, when you were in school. You would look at him as he gazed out the window of your classroom, acting as if whatever topic the teacher was talking about was below him, and imagine those pouted lips against your own. But this felt better than any of those fantasies. Your hands reached up to tangle in his hair, the blonde curls just as soft as you imagined they were. Kei’s hand pulled you impossibly deeper into the kiss by the nape of your neck.

Kei pulled back, his hand still on your neck, and while staring into your eyes and said, “We should go to your room.”

You nodded your head, a little kiss drunk, and pulled him by the hand to your bedroom. Kei was on you as soon as you crossed the threshold, his long fingers knotting into your hair, his glasses pressing uncomfortably into your nose, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you cared about was having the man you had pined over for years in your bed. He walked you back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, the both of you toppling over due to the wine.

Kei was leaning over you on his elbows, his head dropping onto your collarbone as you both laughed. Kei gestured with his head upwards, “Scoot up, I wanna be on the bed too.” You both moved up until your head was on your satin pillowcases, the blonde was on his knees over you, “You have no idea how many times I thought about it.” 

You smirked up at him, “Show, don’t tell.” 

He laughed breathily, “God, I missed you.” The two of you started fumbling to remove each other’s clothing, squeezing in sloppy kisses on the other’s body whenever possible. 

When Kei was about to remove your pants, your face burned, “My panties are ugly.”

Kei squinted at you, his glasses having been long abandoned at this point, “I don’t think there’s anything I care about less right now.” He pulled your pants and underwear off in one swoop. He was kneeling between your legs, staring at you, almost in reverence, “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” you said breathily. 

That was all it took for Kei. In his left hand, he grabbed behind your knee and pushed it towards your chest. In his right hand, he ran his fingers up and down your slit. He leaned down to kiss your neck, whispering “You’re so wet already,” against your skin. When he finally inserted a finger you sighed gratefully, head thrown back.

Kei stared at you as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, not taking long to add a second. 

“Mmmhnn-- Kei, just-just like that.”

Kei smiled down at you, “Yea? Yea, you like that?”

You pressed your forearm against your eyes, “Mmmyes, please don’t stop.”

He brought his thumb up to swirl around your clit, feeling light headed at the sound of your moans beneath him. Your back arched off of your plush mattress, “Ooh my God-- Kei!”

He let out a tense breath, like he was trying to contain himself, “Cum on my fingers, baby.” 

That was the final push that you needed, the tightness in your stomach snapping, pussy pulsing around his fingers. You threw the arm that was covering your eyes down to your side, and when you did, you saw Kei sucking on his soaked fingers. He looked absolutely debauched, as though this was his final meal and he wanted to savor it.

Once he noticed you staring, he leaned down to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back the kiss, “Like how you taste?”

You sat up, smirking at him, “I think I’ll like how you taste better,” but just as you were about to grab his dick, he grabbed your wrist.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m gonna cum immediately if you touch me right now.” 

You giggled, kissing his neck, “You act like such a virgin.”

“Careful, (Y/N).” He pinned both of your legs to your chest with one hand, “Too much teasing, and I might decide to stop.”

You reached your hand around your thighs, spreading your soaked lips for him to see, “No, you won’t.”

He groaned at the right, “Fuck, you’re right. I wouldn’t stop if the damn building was on fire.” He slapped his cock against your pussy, once, twice, three times, and slid the head through your folds. Finally, when he felt like he was sufficiently lubed with your juices, he pushed his long, thick cock in.

The two of you moaned in sync, the feeling of finally having the other was cathartic. It was the same feeling as the loss of tension in your body when you finally make it back home after a long work trip. 

Kei’s thrusts were hard and fast, but not necessarily rough. It was just like him, seeming so intimidating and uninterested from the outside, but once you break down his walls and see him for who he really was, he was just a big softie who noticed every little thing about you. 

His head dropped down, his forehead resting against your legs, “(Y/N)... Mmmnn, I don’t think I can last much longer.”

You reached your hands up, one gripping at his shoulder, and the other at his hair, “That’s okay, it’s okay, I just want you, Kei.”

He groaned, “Especially when you talk like that…”

Kei’s thrusts started to stutter, rhythm being thrown off slightly. You knew he was about to cum, and you were goading him on. You moaned breathily about how good he felt, how badly you wanted him. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he pulled out, rubbing his cock a few times before spilling on the underside of your thighs.

The two of you laid there, absolutely spent, for a few minutes. Kei was the first one to move, grabbing some tissues from your bedside to clean you off. 

When he was finished wiping off his spend, he laid down, and pulled you on top of him. You giggled at him, not expecting him to be such a cuddle bug, “That was really good, Kei.”

You felt him pout against your shoulder, “Yeah, and we could have been doing that for years if you were honest with me.”

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you squirmed in his grasp, trying to playfully smack him, “You could have told me too!”

He groaned sleepily, “Stop being so lively, just go to bed.” You stilled, and laughed breathily into his hair, deciding he was right and letting sleep take you into its loving arms.

🏐ˎˊ˗

You awoke with a groan at the sound of Kei’s obnoxious ringtone. You leaned on your elbows, watching him answer his phone.

His voice was still rough with sleep, “Hello?”

You could vaguely hear Yamaguchi through the phone, something about “Are we still meeting up for breakfast today?”

Kei’s eye’s shot open, throwing the blanket off of himself, “Shit, right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I’m so sorry.” 

He hung up the phone, threw it onto your bed, and dressed in a hurry. Just as he was about to rush through your door without saying anything to you, he kissed your forehead and said, “I’ll Doordash some breakfast for you.” Kei scrambled out of your bedroom, yelling “I’ll be back soon!” down your hallway.

You turned over onto your stomach, burying your face into your plush pillow, and just laughed. It was funny how the world worked.

𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬

@staincastle for the tsukishima header