#the work and passion for it really shows!

[2pndr]

The Final Mix

A/N: Written for a prompt by @woollypoison. Much love for hosting! This is also my first time officially writing smut. Enjoy!

Karina & Hyeri x Male Reader Smut

5.7k words

Now here’s the thing about Lee Hyeri: 

She gets it. 

She’s loud, she’s lazy, and she’s casually filthy, sure. But she doesn’t pretend this is about attachment or romance or whatever else people try to slap onto a good fuck. She moans like a banshee, curses like she’s getting paid by the word, and she’ll laugh in your face if you try to call this passion. 

It's not passion. It's Tuesday. 

You like her for that. That, and the fact that she squirts like a pornstar and doesn’t mind doing it on company time.

Desk, floor, couch, conference table—pick your battlefield. She’ll bring the war. (And open the floodgates.)

Today’s bout happens to be in your vocal booth. 

Or, happened, rather.

“Don’t fall asleep in here,” you remind her, yanking your pants up. “You drool on anything expensive and the label’s gonna think I adopted a stray.”

“Hah,” she laughs dryly. “You owe me lunch, for that one. Or, I dunno, a lozenge. I can’t feel my throat.”

You snort, still half-naked, still sweating—absolutely not in a position to debate sexual reparations.

Meanwhile, Hyeri’s lying across the vocal booth bench like it’s a fucking chaise lounge, panties twirling in her fingers, skirt still hiked up, and blouse open like the concept of modesty just doesn’t apply after three orgasms.

Which, it doesn’t, so you’ll give her that one.

There’s sweat on her chest and something else between her thighs—it yours, obviously—and she’s tracing lazy circles around her navel with one red-tipped nail. “I really think I hit that harmony this time,” she muses. “Like... actually nailed it.” She is, of course, referring to the song you’re supposed to be recording and not the chorus of moans she let out as she came all over you.

You shoot her a sceptical look, shoving a cable out of your way with your foot, hunting for wherever your belt got thrown off to. “You moaned through half of it.”

“Artistic expression,” she shrugs, reaching for a tissue. “Adds texture.”

“It adds me spending an hour editing out your sex noises,” you grimace, pulling your belt out from where she's hidden it under her. “That or we schedule another day to record.”

“Oh no,” she mocks, wiping your cum from between her thighs. “Not post-production work—y’know, the thing you’re paid to do. But,” she’s thinking now, tapping her chin with a finger, “you would like another day with me all to yourself, now wouldn’t you?”

You flick her the bird as you slip back into your button-up. She smiles like she’s won something. She has, technically. Three times, in fact. The first when you ate her out on the bench. The second when she rode you on said bench. And the third against the booth wall, displacing soundproofing with a leg around your waist, your cock in her cunt, and a finger in her ass for good measure.

But unlike your little sexcapade with Hyeri, this was supposed to be quick.

Track the bridge, tweak her verse, maybe do a dry run of the group chorus. Nothing that warranted sweat-slick skin and a room that smells more potent than a fish market. But with Hyeri, quick is theoretical. She’s chaos and lust wrapped in short skirts and high heels—all while masquerading as the Nation's Little Goody-two-shoes.

And then, like the universe itself is showing its disapproval for your pseudo-professionalism, your phone buzzes.

12:15 PM – Karina | Vocal Tracking

“Shit.”

You have exactly thirteen minutes to unfuck the studio.

Hyeri doesn’t look up, popping a mint and digging in her bag for lipstick. “What now?”

“Karina’s coming.”

She looks up. There’s a beat. Then she laughs—not shy, not sorry.

Delighted.

“Did you schedule us back-to-back, again?” she asks, sitting up, buttoning her blouse like it’s a suggestion and not an obligation. “Jesus, you’re bold.”

“I forgot,” you admit, which is true. Sort of.

You remembered the moment Hyeri finished singing the bridge. But when the Nation’s Little Sister is in your vocal booth moaning into the mic and flashing her tits, your list of priorities gets jumbled just a teensy bit.

She cackles, sliding off the bench and onto the floor like this is all the setup to a really good punchline. “Wow. Can’t wait for her to sing backup on the chorus while standing in a puddle of my cu—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Hyeri holds her hands up. “What? It’s a collab.”

Right. The collab. Two idols, one producer, and a track about heartbreak or temptation or something equally ironic. Not to toot your own horn or anything but the beat’s  good. An obvious hit.

What makes no sense is the lineup.

 Hyeri—basically retired idol turned variety darling turned actress. 90% charm. 100% chaos.

 Karina—hot as all fuck, a pillar of fourth-gen K-pop, and somehow still the weirdest girl in the room. ‘A loser in a goddess’s body’ as the internet puts it.

There’s absolutely no correlation between the two other than industry and that they’re both drop-dead gorgeous. It’s like some wacky higherup wanted the most oddball idol pairings possible. And for some reason, you’re the glue holding it all together.

The calendar notification flashes up at you again, sending you hurtling into action. “Fuck, I really thought it was just you today,” you scramble, grabbing the tissue box and frantically wiping off the bench drenched in her sweat and fluids. “Are you gonna help?”

Hyeri just shrugs. “I had bridge duty,” she begins, ignoring your pleas entirely. “And Karina’s laying down the second verse, right?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dejected and slightly annoyed. She’s not doing shit. “Just…” you begin, like this makes up for anything,”— don’t leave your bra again.”

She pauses, looking down at her chest like she only just remembered she owns one. “Shit—did I?”

You both spot it at the same time in the far corner of the room. Lace, red, costs three figures. Definitely hers. You snatch it like it’s a grenade and shove it into her tote without ceremony.

Hyeri simply grins. “Oops.”

“Can’t believe you left it in the booth last week,” you hiss. “Karina walked in and asked if you were doing your laundry in here.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That you got hot.”

“That’s not even a good lie,” she replies, quite obviously amused by the whole fiasco. “You should’ve said I was doing vocals in lingerie—very French. Very sexy.” 

“Very suspension-of-contract,” you mutter.

“Barely noticed it was gone, to be honest. Was it the black one?”

“...Yes.”

“Mm,” she nods. “Thought so. I’ve been wondering.”

“For a week?”

“I’m not particularly sentimental about bras,” she says, like it’s a flex.

You shake your head. “Do you want it back?”

“Nope. Keep it,” Hyeri zips her tote with a smile, “as a memento.”

You shrug. Can’t argue with that.

With one last wipe you finish scrubbing down the vocal booth like it’s a crime scene clean-up, which, given your contractual obligations such as: Don’t Fuck The Talent, might actually be. 

Three sprays of some bergamot mist tries to mask the smell of sex, sweat, and the lastest in your long line of poor decisions. It doesn’t. At best, now it smells like bergamot and sex. 

But it’ll have to do. 

Hyeri simply watches from her place on the floor. She’s mostly dressed now—blouse crumpled but closed, lipstick redrawn, auburn hair finger-combed into something that says either sexually satisfied or hungover. Almost normal is how you’d describe her—the faint marks just visible above her collar put an emphasis on the almost.

With a couple more sprays of  the citrus you and Hyeri are out of the booth, but you’re desk is a mess too: A tangle of wires, half drunk coffee and—

The recording light is still on.

The waveform’s still rolling.

The track: armed. The booth: live.

You lunge for the keyboard.

Stop recording.

Three peaks. Clear as day.

You don’t need audio engineering school to know what they are. You’re staring at the literal shape of her orgasms.

“Wow,” she says, squinting beside you. “It’s like… orgasmic morse code.”

You glance at her. “The fuck does that even mean?”

“Dunno,” she shrugs. “Sounded smarter in my head.”

You look back at the waveform, playing one of the peaks. 

No vocals. No takes. Just moans. Whines. Wet, slick sounds. You. Her. You in her. And then:

“Oh my fucking Gggggggod,” she moans through the monitors.

Hyeri watches your face. Smiles.

“I should delete it,” you say looking back.

“But you won’t.”

“But I should.”

“But you won’t.”

She’s right. You won’t.

Instead:

Export > Documents > Private > ALT_Hyeri_Vocals.wav

“Ooooh,” she sings, nudging you with her shoulder, a little too pleased. “Wait, alt vocals? Not even a cute name? Not even ‘HyeriMOANS_FinalVII_REALFINAL_usethisone.wav’?”

“It’s for the back-up vocals,” you lie as naturally as you breathe.

“It’s for your spank bank,” she retorts.

You don’t answer. Partly because she’s right and mostly because you’re red from realizing how much you moaned, too. Not your finest hour, you’ll admit.

“Shouldn't you be going?” You finally ask her.

“Fine, fine.”

With one last devious smile, Hyeri pulls on her tote, checks her reflection in the black of the studio glass, and re-combs her hair. “Well,” she says, turning to leave, “have fun explaining our completely professional relationship to Karina.”

“What? Why would I ever—”

“Oh come on,” she cuts in, laughing. “These fourth-gen girls? You think they’ve never walked into a studio that smells like cum and perfume? Please. I’d seriously be surprised if she hasn’t picked up on it by now.”

“Hyeri.”

“I’m serious. She’d have to be Mother Teresa to not know what’s going on in here.” 

You’re mortified. Full-body cringe—It’s delicious to her. “So, unless she’s got a cross under her clothes, you’re not fooling anyone.”

You go pale. She beams.

“You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

She pretends to think for a second before landing on a simple:

“Nope.”

At the door, she turns, planting a kiss on your cheek—sweet, sinful, smug. “Good luck,” she sings. “See you next week.”

And just like that she's gone.

You’re completely frozen. Save for the moment you spray the bergamot again. 

Five times this time.

Spoiler alert: 

It doesn’t help.

*

Karina arrives at 12:16.

Which is a little late. But when your producer’s secretly been balls-deep in your sexy co-worker, and your body has curves that put cue balls to shame, a little late is just fine.

She pokes her head in, hair in a low ponytail, gray hoodie and sweatpants on, face bare save for chapstick and what you hope is not suspicions of contract violations.

“Hey,” she chirps, offering a small smile. One of those slow, polite things that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Traffic was a nightmare. Did I miss anything?”

Only a live porno starring your dick and Hyeri’s everything.

“Nope,” you lie, voice almost cracking. “Perfect timing.”

She steps inside like she owns the place, which is fair, considering her vocals are probably worth half your paycheck this quarter. Then, she gives you a quick once-over—nothing obvious, but her eyes pause on your sloppy collar, then your flushed ears. You sit up straighter. Try not to look like you’ve just been reverse-exorcised by a woman with zero gag reflex.

Then Karina sniffs.

“New room spray?” she asks, nose wrinkling.

“Uh, yeah. Some limited edition one, I think. Intern picked it up for shits and giggles.”

“Huh.”

You try to make yourself look busy, turning away and absentmindedly double-clicking shit on your desktop, minimising and maximising random windows just to make your screen flash.  You wish you could minimize yourself while you’re at it.

“You, uh… just finished with Hyeri?” she asks, looking over.

There it is.

You nod. Neutral. Casual. “Yeah. She was recording the bridge.”

“Mm.”

Just a sound, not even a word. And yet you can practically hear the subtext screaming: Bridge, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?

You shouldn’t be scared of her. Of all people, Karina is the probably least intimidating idol you’ve ever worked with—soft-spoken, professionally polite and always just a little behind the tempo of group conversations. 

So then why the fuck does she manage to hit the nail on the head with every word out of that gorgeous mouth?

 “I could tell,” she shrugs. “Smells like her.”

You cough so hard you hit a new vocal register.

But Karina doesn’t say anything. Just makes her way to the booth.

You’re about to ask if she wants water—anything to offset the tension and your crippling anxiety—when she peels off her hoodie.

And fuck you.

It’s not even that it’s scandalous. It’s a black sports bra. Basic. Functional. Nothing that should bring a grown man to his metaphorical and literal knees. It’s gym attire. But it’s her gym attire, and that makes a world of difference. 

The bra doesn’t so much as hide her tits but politely suggest they quiet the fuck down, doing a noble yet futile job of containing what you really wish wasn’t. Because God damn if her breasts aren’t full, shapely—obscene in their perfection, indecent in their splendour. And if that weren't enough for you, right below her stomach tapers in, all sharp lines and lean muscle, just begging for you to run your hands and tongue along.

Karina tosses her hoodie onto the vocal booth bench—the same one you railed Hyeri on half an hour ago. She stretches, arms up, spine arched, that long line of torso on blatant, mouth-watering display. You pretend you’re checking the input levels, but your gaze keeps slingshotting back to her like it’s tied on elastic.

She catches you.

Which, yeah, you’re about as subtle as a cymbal crash.

“It’s really…  stuffy in here,” she remarks as she meets your staring gaze, fanning her face with one hand. “Something must have happened in here.”

Well, if she didn’t know earlier, then she definitely knows now. And she’s fucking with you to boot.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Your throat works around a lie. Futile, probably. Any moment now she could report your horny ass to a higher-up and have you on the street within minutes. But she hasn’t. So either she’s getting off fucking with you, or she wants something in return for keeping hush. Either one isn’t particularly ideal. 

“A‑ah, yeah,” you stammer. Smooth start. “HVAC’s acting up. I’ll put in a ticket.” You flick a random knob that does absolutely nothing, praying she’ll drop it. “Let’s get your tracking done before the air gets worse, yeah?”

Karina nods. Noncommittal. Disbelieving.

Man, you’re so fucked.

*

Karina nails the verse on the first pass—pitch perfect, emotion dialled, consonants crisp enough to slice butter. And for a little while, you forget about her standing in a room soaked in Hyeri’s cum.

Second pass? Even better. Third? Pure polish. By the time you hit stop for real, you're covered in goosebumps and it has nothing to do with the prospect of losing everything.

Karina’s simply that good.

You press the talk‑back. “That’s the one. Seriously, Karina—gold. Take five?”

She lifts one ear‑cup and flashes a grin. “Sure.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when the conversation ends there. Maybe… just maybe… you’ve dodged a bullet.

You lean back, arms stretching over your head, casual as you can fake it. The worst is over. You’re in the clear. She probably bought the ventilation excuse. Probably thinks nothing of the citrus-and-sex sauna she walked into.

Professional crisis: averted.

Thank fuck.

Karina hums a little under her breath, fiddling with her phone. She looks harmless. Normal. Just a girl in a sports bra and sweats, checking her messages, laughing at a reel.

Perhaps Hyeri’s wrong. Perhaps Karina’s a little too sweet, a little too spaced-out, a little too fourth-gen golden girl to know what a post-sex room smells like.

But then you let your gaze skate over her bare stomach again. Then those magnificent tits.

And you wonder how that would be possible.

You shake your head. Refocus.

“Seriously, you crushed it,” you say, half to fill the air, half to genuinely compliment. “Some of your best work, period.”

Karina beams, cheeks flushing pink. And for another second, it’s easy to forget the whole ticking-time-bomb nature of this room. To forget Hyeri’s cum still somewhere deep in the booth fibers. To forget everything except how fucking pretty she looks smiling at you.

You even start mentally scheduling next week’s sessions—like you’re gonna get away clean.

You’re an idiot.

Because then she ruins your fucking life.

“So,” Karina starts, tilting her head just slightly, “how long have you been fucking Hyeri?”

You choke on absolutely nothing. Do a spit-take with no drink.

She says it like it’s a joke. Like she’s asking if you’re out of oat milk.

Except she’s not joking.

Not even a little.

 “I—I—what?”

“I mean, I’m assuming it’s Hyeri,” she muses, tapping a finger to her chin. "She did look pretty worn when I passed her in the lobby.”

You wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You wish you could eject yourself into the sun.

You wish she hadn’t said it with that much fucking glee.

“Don’t worry,” she says in a half-shrug. “I’m not gonna tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Thank fuck.

“There is just one thing though…”

Oh fuck.

"I don’t really like being left out."

What the fuck?

"I want in."

What the fuck.

You stand up, pace around the room. Try to gather your thoughts, try to process what exactly she’s proposing here.

Karina wants to fuck you.

 You won’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. That you’re some righteous saint without the need for fantasy. 

But this is Karina you’re talking about.

It’s one thing for you to be caught with Hyeri, but Karina? Pillar of a whole generation? If the two of you were caught it’d be—

“—A PR nightmare?” she supplies. “A scandal? Headline of the century?”

You nod so fast you almost give yourself whiplash.

She just shrugs again, careless, reckless, hot as sin. "Don't care."

You open your mouth. Close it. Try again. "You—you have no idea what you're asking—"

"I do," she interrupts, stepping closer, breath frosting the booth window. Her voice is silk now. A trap you’re already caught in. "I know exactly what I’m asking."

She walks back to the bench, hands bracing behind her, legs spreading just enough to hint at what’s awaiting you.

“I want you like she has you.”

You’re not strong enough. 

You’re not stupid enough to pretend you are.

But even if you managed to steel your resolve, Karina bites her bottom lip. Runs a hand along her crotch.

"I’ve wanted you since the demo."

And you’re moving before you even register it.

*

You’ve soaked in some legendary sights on the label’s dime.

Dawn over the Han River from sixty stories up, neon Tokyo streets glitter‑wet after midnight rain, front-row seats to an Eiffel Tower light show in a suite. Gorgeous, all of them. Low-end bucket‑list kinda stuff.

But this view might just take the cake.

Sweat slicks Karina’s collarbones, soaks the carelessly lifted sports bra, gathers at the dip between her breasts, slides down to where your hands own her hips. Every grind turns your spine to liquid. Every thrust drives you deeper. And every bounce sends those perfect tits—shape and size defying God and physics—swinging in hypnotic rhythm.

“You fill me so good,” she pants, words cutting the hush of the booth, dirty and devotional at once. “Knew you'd feel this good—just knew it." She braces one palm against the glass, the other yanking her own hair into a makeshift ponytail, dragging it off her glowing face. The move juts her chest higher—an unspoken invitation, one you answer with your mouth. You latch on to the reddened mark just above her nipple, tongue finding its way around the sensitive circumference.

She whines.

You suck harder.

She tightens.

And you’re gone.

You should be thinking your job, about morality, about the very real possibility that a lone intern could wander past and see silhouettes doing something distinctly un‑PG behind the frosted glass. Instead, you’re cataloguing micro‑details: the faint scent of her shampoo under the musk of sweat, the tremor in her thigh when she sinks too deep, the almost reverent way her eyes lock on-to you when you hit that spot.

“Been wanting this for so long,” she reiterates, rolling her hips in a tighter circle. “Wanted your cock buried so deep I can’t hit a high note without it in me.”

The image alone nearly finishes you. You grit your teeth, hold your release back with sheer will and bruising fingers at her waist.

“Fuck, Karina—”

Karina leans in, panting against your mouth, grinding harder and harder, chasing her high and yours without a single shred of shame.

“Wanted you so bad,” she whines, breath hot against your ear, “thought about this every time you said my name—every fucking time—”

Your head falls back against the booth wall with a thunk.

You’re losing it.

She feels it—smiles a broken, wicked smile. “Already that close? Poor producer.” She makes a teasing cluck of the tongue, a soft caress to your cheek, then she slams down hard enough to shatter the bench. “Then give it to me,” she growls. “ Give me everything.”

You can’t not obey. 

Pressure builds and so does your pace. Driving into her with a fury you didn’t know you had in you. Karina’s moaning openly now, every last shred of composure thrown to the wind.

Pressure builds then detonates. 

Heat floods every nerve.

You break.

 She follows.

And it’s bliss.

Her cry is earth-shattering, torn from somewhere deep as she clamps down hard around you, milking you for everything you’ve got. Her thighs lock, her body seizes. She’s trembling, gasping, riding wave after wave like she doesn’t know how to stop.

Her nails rake your back, half for balance, half to brand you, and you let her. Let her take. Let her have you. Her breath stutters against your mouth as you kiss through the fallout—sloppy, greedy. A thank-you and a promise and a question all at once.

Aftershocks hit her in uneven jolts, and you revel in the way she twitches around you with each one. You’re still inside her. Still hard. Still pulsing. Still drowning in her.

KArina collapses forward, full-body flush against yours, forehead pressed to your collarbone. Her heartbeat drums against your ribs. You’re shaking. So is she.

For a long, breathless moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your combined panting, then, your lips colliding. 

You’re engrossed. And so is she. So much so that you both miss the sound of the booth door opening.

“And here I thought I came too early,” a voice says from the doorway.

You don’t look right away. You don’t have the mental bandwidth for anything beyond Karina’s skin and the twitch in your cock. 

And besides, you already know exactly what you’ll see.

Your head finally turns toward the door.

Hyeri’s grinning. “You two certainly wasted no time.”

“Hyeri,” you begin, less surprised, more irritated, “ what the fuck are you—”

“Save it,” she interrupts. “You’ll ruin the mood.”

“What fucking moo—”

In an instant Hyeri’s blouse is open again, revealing an absence of fabric over her tits.

You feel Karina tighten.

“Room for one more?” she asks with a sly grin.

You look at Karina.

Karina looks at you.

And Karina—God bless her, damn her, ruin you for life—grins. 

"Yeah," she says, voice high and sweet and so very, very gone. "Okay."

"You good with it, Producer-nim?" she teases.

You are not good.

You are very, very bad.

But Karina’s hips are still pressed against you, and Hyeri’s smile is so knowing, and your cock—traitorous, eager—twitches inside the girl already dripping down your thighs.

You’re fucked.

Yet you nod.

Reluctantly. Helplessly.

(Gratefully.)

Hyeri claps, wickedly pleased. “God, I love consent.”

Then she drops to her knees.

*

You’ve soaked in some legendary sights on the label’s dime.

Dawn over the Han River from sixty stories up, neon Tokyo streets glitter‑wet after midnight rain, Karina, sweat-slick, tits swinging and your name on her breath as she rides you into the Earth’s core.

But this view might just take the cake.

Which is ironic, because there’s no view at all.

Because Karina’s sitting on your face.

Full weight, full warmth, full heaven and hell combined.

Her meaty thighs clamp around your head, her cunt pressed flush against your mouth, slick and perfect and utterly suffocating. Her ass—round, shameless and the urban dictionary definition of fuck you—is covering everything else.

You couldn’t open your eyes even if you wanted to.

And you don’t want to.

Because the raw sensation—the taste of her dripping down your tongue, the way she grinds against your mouth with broken little whimpers—is worth more than any skyline on Earth.

You’re drowning in her.

And if that wasn’t enough?

Hyeri’s riding you at the same time.

Usually, you’d feel her braced against your chest, feel the needy, desperate grip of her hands as she takes everything you have and begs for more with every bounce.

But you suspect her hands are elsewhere: fondling Karina’s bare tits, holding her throat as they duel with their tongues. Either or works. 

Because God if that mental image isn’t Louvre material.

A lick to the clit softens Karina’s grip around your ears and you settle for sound instead.

Wet, filthy kisses sound somewhere above you. Giddy little gasps. The faint slap of a palm against skin. Karina moans into Hyeri’s mouth—or maybe it’s Hyeri moaning into hers—you can’t tell, you don’t care. 

“Fuck, you’re cute,” Hyeri purrs against her, the smacking of lips resuming instantly.

 You feel the words vibrate through Karina’s body, then feel her clench around your tongue.

“Sensitive too,” Hyeri adds. “You like it when I touch you here?” Karina gasps, the result of having her pussy licked and her tits caressed.

Karina tries to answer, but it comes out as a high-pitched whimper instead.

Hyeri laughs softly—not cruel, but giddy, drunk on the power she holds. 

 You hear the slick sound of their mouths meeting again. The sticky, obscene sound of a kiss that isn’t meant for cameras or fans or anything else where clean and polished is the expectation.

Just raw, messy and private.

Karina breaks away from it first, panting hard, lifting her hips just enough that a thin string of slick snaps between your mouth and her pussy.

You catch a glimpse of her when you blink up—face flushed, eyes glassy, lips and nipples swollen from Hyeri’s assault. 

You’d worship her if you could breathe.

But Hyeri’s hand is curling into Karina’s hair, tugging her up—gentle but insistent—and she moans like she’s been waiting for it.

"On your hands and knees, baby," Hyeri coos through another kiss, brushing the hair out of Karina’s sweaty face. "Be a good girl for us."

Karina whimpers, flushed and dazed, but obeys without hesitation, scrambling off your mouth and onto the bench, ass high, head low, presenting herself so shamelessly it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

The second she’s steady, Hyeri slinks in front of her—legs spread, pussy slick and glistening, thighs trembling from earlier—and cups Karina’s flushed cheeks in her hands.

"You know what to do.”

Karina doesn’t hesitate.

She dives in, mouth open, tongue flat against Hyeri’s cunt, licking her like she’s starving for it. Like she needs it more than air.

Hyeri gasps, hips twitching, hand fisting tight in Karina’s hair.  She catches your eye over Karina’s bowed back, grinning like a cat who got the cream.

“Well?” Hyeri says to you, mid-moan. “You just gonna sit there and look pretty?”

You don’t need more encouragement.

You’re behind Karina in an instant, hands gripping her hips—tight, possessive—and line yourself up.

One push. Slow? Yes. Deep? All the fucking way.

Karina cries out into Hyeri’s pussy, body arching towards the flat of the bench. Hyeri laughs, breathlessly. Her hand strokes Karina’s cheek almost tenderly, but her words are anything but.

“Fuck, you’re loud,” she teases. "Who knew you were such a slutty girl?"

You thrust into Karina again, harder this time, savoring the ripple of her ass you do, the obscene wet sounds filling the booth as she tries—and fails—to keep up with both of you.

"He was like this with me, too," Hyeri purrs, hips rolling against Karina’s mouth in lazy, devastating circles. "First time he fucked me? Thought I was gonna cum at the first thrust.”

You’re turned on by the memory, driving yourself intoKarina harder.

Karina whines around Hyeri’s clit, her thighs shaking, her slick dripping down your cock every time you bottom out inside her.

Hyeri threads her fingers tighter in Karina’s hair, guiding her movements now, rocking her face exactly where she wants it.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Hyeri croons, locking eyes with you again. “Makes the prettiest fucking sounds.”

You can’t do anything but nod, the tightness and sight stealing your breath.

Karina's arms tremble where she braces against Hyeri’s thighs. Her moans are constant now—muffled against Hyeri’s.

And you’re so close you can taste it.

Hyeri gasps, grinding down against Karina’s mouth with reckless, frantic need.

"You close?" she teases, voice shaky but still smug. "Gonna fill her up while she makes me cum?"

“Fuck yeah,” you manage to get out. 

Your hand finds its way to Karina’s clit: extra stimulation to make her tighten, to get her closer to her own release, to motivate her to suck Hyeri even harder.  

Your strategy works like a charm, and you’re graced with the sight of Hyeri’s head’s rolling back, a sharp cry escaping her as she cums all over Karina’s face.  “Fuuuuuuck me,” she exclaims, thighs clenching around Karina’s head, hands yanking her closer like she never wants her to stop.

Karina whimpers too, grinding her ass back against you in frantic, desperate little jerks, her own orgasm building with nowhere to go.

And then you snap.

You grab Karina’s hips, pull her flush against you, and empty yourself inside her with a strangled groan, spilling deep into her own trembling body.

Karina falls apart between you both—moaning and sobbing and soaking the bench with her release.

The three of you collapse together, sticky and shuddering and utterly spent.

And despite being suffocated and impaled at the same time, Karina perks up again. She’s still panting, still catching up on oxygen, but that doesn't stop her from asking:

“Now who’s ready for round two?”

*

The booth door swings open.

Hyeri’s hair is a disaster, Karina’s everything is either red, swollen, glistening or all three, and you’re pretty sure you’ve left fingerprints in places you’re contractually forbidden to even think about.

 (And probably teeth marks, if Hyeri’s wincing is anything to go by.)

And yet, somehow, you’re all laughing.

Half-dressed, fully wrecked, riding the tail-end high of the worst—and best—decision you’ve made in years, but still: laughing. 

Karina tugs the hem of her hoodie down like it might erase the obvious evidence of a threesome. Meanwhile, Hyeri buttons maybe one button of her blouse and calls it a day and you’re wiping sweat off your forehead with the sleeve of your shirt when you notice it.

The recording light is still on.

The waveform’s still rolling.

The track: armed. The booth: live.

You lunge for the keyboard. 

Again.

Stop recording.

There are fourteen peaks this time.

You know exactly what they are before Karina even asks, hobbling over as she pulls her sports bra back over her tits.

“What are those?” she asks, peering at the screen with curious eyes.

Hyeri’s already smiling, smugness just emanating from her. “Our orgasms,” she says proudly, like they’re her children.

“Wait, it was recording? The whole time?”

“Courtesy of me,” Hyeri says, with an even bigger smile now. “Turned it on while you two were getting busy. “

“Surprised you’re smart enough to know how,” you tease. And she hits you right back, literally.

“Ow!”

“Gonna fap to this one too, are ya?” she cackles.

“He’s gonna what?” Karina squeaks, slightly turned on.

You barely make it three seconds into the collective laughter before Hyeri steamrolls right through it.

“That’s it!” she exclaims, snapping her fingers. “This could totally work!”

"Work?" you echo. "What do you—?"

“We use this,” she begins with manic glee, dragging the track into the main sequence, “in the final mix.”

Karina’s eyes light up. "Wait, that’s genius!”

You’re frozen. Horrified. Horny.

“We could layer it in,” Karina continues. “Just subtle. Like an Easter egg.”

“A very hot Easter egg,” Hyeri adds, giving you a wicked eyebrow waggle.

You can barely think up a response. Between the countless hours today you’ve spent having sex, agonising about losing your job, and simply dealing with the pair of women before you, the amount of fucks you can currently give is strewn remarkably thin. 

Not thin enough, though.

“This,” you say, pointing to the screen,“is a horrible idea.”

It’s Hyeri’s turn for her eye’s to light up. 

“Hear that Karina?” She steps closer to you, hand going to your exposed cock. “Sounds like he needs some convincing.” 

“Mm,” Karina hums in agreement, fingers making their way up your chest. “Definitely does.” 

You groan, running a hand down your face.

You’ve already lost.

 “...We’ll put it in the song.”

“Yay!” they both squeal at once, pressing quick, sticky kisses to either side of your cheeks.

You sigh, sitting back at the console, exhaustion setting into your bones.

But you’re already thinking about it.

You’re thinking about how those breathy, desperate little sounds could melt into the track.

How no one would ever know except the three of you.

How every time the song plays, it’ll remind you of the heavenly feeling of Karina’s pussy on your tongue and Hyeri’s cunt on your cock.

You sigh.

You’re weak.

But with the two of them broaching yet another round, who could possibly blame you?

Your hand finds the mouse.

Export > Documents > Private > Vocals — The Final Mix.wav

What a fuckin’ Tuesday, huh?

[lostwrlds]

WITH LOVE, ON YOUR BIRTHDAY ── NAGI .ᐟ

( 📡 ) summary; picking out the perfect gift for seishiro nagi was no easy feat, but after flying a thousand miles to surprise him on his birthday – you discover the only present he really wants is you. 11K

✩ lost notes ! happy birthday to my glorious king seishiro nagi !! my goat fr !! also if ur reading this thank u for supporting the first fic on my blog, i'm excited to share more with u soon !! sorry 4 any typos & enjoy international nagi day mwah ⋆˙⟡♡

✩ warnings ! minors, blank & ageless accounts do not interact. fluff & smut, female reader, pro player nagi, characters are adults. long-distance & newly established relationship, unprotected sex, clothed sex, dry humping, oral fixation, somnophilia, overstim, coercion, breeding, creampie, praise & pillow talk.

── © LOSTWRLDS ╱ 2025.

you would think that seishiro nagi would be any easy person to buy a birthday gift for. 

whilst in your eyes, he’s far from plain and simple, the white-haired striker takes pleasure in the things that come easy. like naps on sunny afternoons and golden rays that filter through half-drawn curtains to kiss at your skin or rainy nights curled up on a cosy couch, blankets pulled over your head as your breathing syncs up. he likes the nothingness of quiet, downtime and alone time away from the hustling bustling world that roars his name whenever he makes a powerful or unpredictable play. 

to you, seishiro nagi is extraordinary — in every possible way. not only is he extremely gifted and a natural at the sport he plays, but he is sincere. when he’s out there, he’s got his heart on his sleeve with the intention of pushing himself beyond his own limits. he takes on the challenge, the adrenaline and the rush not just for himself but for his team. he moves with purpose, revitalised energy like he’s more than just the title bestowed on him. seishiro is not just the lazy genius to you. perhaps you’re a little biased, because you find yourself lucky enough to be his girlfriend. to be the one thing that motivates nagi aside from the tase of a freshly formulated goal. 

but he truly is beauty personified to you. not just fresh snow white hair, calming pools of grey for eyes, and a tall yet muscular physique. though bonus points, he is everything. your own personal drive to do and be better. 

that’s why you feel as though he needs the perfect gift, so you can show seishiro that he motivates you to succeed just as much as you motivate him. most of what he does is for you, not just his ego. 

it’s only right that you treat him the same way.

so a video game for his birthday could suffice, but as a big time soccer player earning big time money — he practically owns almost every game to have ever existed. there’s not a piece of jewellery in the world that might ignite a bit of passion in him, except for the black studs he wears when he’s not on the pitch and even then, nagi never changes them. he’s a creature of habit, he likes things the way they’ve always been and disturbing that would be less than an ideal present. you’d go for more little homely house plants, but between his hectic schedule and the sleep he craves when not working, you think the white-haired striker would struggle with raising a high maintenance army of greenery.

everything seishiro nagi usually wants and typically likes… they aren’t things that you can wrap up with luxury paper and a pretty silk bow — they’re circumstances caused by a butterfly effect starting many months ago. you can’t put a perfect day into a box and call it a gift, no matter how many times nagi tells you that all he wants is you. you’d feel bad if your presence was his only present, what would you have to show for as his girlfriend? 

compared to the likes of other bluelock wags, stags and partners…you find it hard to come up with something that will prove your worth. diamonds and flashy cars, expensive trips and gourmet foods aren’t something you can afford out of your own dime and you’re not even sure seishiro would care if he wasn’t able to share these experiences with you. but that doesn’t stop the nagging, itching feeling that peels through the layers of thick skin like a bug that bites. this would be your first time celebrating nagi day with him as a couple. you at least want to make it special.

it would be the perfect time to prove yourself worthy of every little drop of love he so tenderly showers you with — almost as though you’re one of those mini cacti he raises back home.

an opportunity arises once the bluelock team departs the country for an away game right around the time of the genius striker’s birthday, meaning that you wouldn’t be able to celebrate with one another in person. in a way, you were relieved — the time apart would give you more time to search for the right gift but being long distance was never easy. not for the two of you, so used to being wrapped up in one another’s arms and scents. and when seishiro’s teammates insist on flying you out for his birthday; to cheer him up between practises and matches — that gnawing sensation you’d been feeling, the dire need to prove yourself as the perfect footballer’s girlfriend dials back. just a touch. 

he’s been missing you, he always does. it’s evident in the way that his plays become more sluggish and his mannerisms grow dazed and drowsy —  like he’s out of it. sometimes, seishiro can’t function without you there, up in the stands to cheer him on — it’s too much of a hassle to be his best when his girl isn’t around. who is there to show off to? who is there to make proud? without you, there’s barely any motivation to win.

so maybe that’s what he needs… to touch you, feel you, kiss you again. instead of a ridiculously fancy gift. maybe you’ve been selfish, ignoring the one simple desire your boyfriend had for a day dedicated solely to him rather than choosing to focus on how that would make you look in the eyes of world, instead of how you looked in his eyes. 

no insecurity of yours is worth the cost of his happiness.

therefore, on the eve of seishiro nagi's birthday ( may 5th and not the 6th ) with a prepaid ticket from isagi in hand, you nervously board a plane set to land halfway across the globe in a matter of hours. and hope in your heart that your arrival is enough to satisfy the genius striker’s birthday wishes. 

you’re quiet when opening the door to seishiro’s hotel room — instinctively flinching until your  shoulders are raised high enough to level with your neck at the offensive buzz it makes upon scanning your keycard for entry. it’s a spare from swiped from yoichi, you shove it into your back pocket with baited breath and pray that it hasn’t roused your sleepy boyfriend.

the room itself is shrouded in darkness, inky black painting the contours and corners from where the curtains are drawn to their max and every light switch is turned off. you can just about see your hands in front of you, deciding to shrug off your backpack and leave it by the door with your suitcase to avoid stumbling over it while your vision is impaired. after a few moments of blind feeling, you adjust to the dimness around you — guided by the familiar scent of baby-safe detergent and the sound of soft snoring towards the luxurious king size bed where your sweet boyfriend snoozes soundly.

it’s crazy, how your mind and body works to find him even when your other senses are down. nagi’s calm and safe aura lulls you into his orbit and you don’t ever seem to find yourself fighting it. perhaps he feels the same way about you. drawn to you like a moth to a flame, dying happily by it’s light.

your gaze lands on him, curled up in a heap under high-thread count bedsheets and blankets. comfortable. safe. you’re desperate to be near him after time apart, eager to inch past the barriers of his skin and make space for yourself in his rib cage right next to his heart because you cannot believe that you convinced yourself to stay away from him in the name of gift wraps and tags. kicking your shoes off at the foot of the bed frame, you crawl onto the mattress, hands and knees sinking into its plush memory foam like quicksand.

sitting back on your knees whilst hanging over the sleeping striker, your brain is able to piece together the truth in the meaning of his name. calmness. the sensation washes over you like the gentle lap of waves against a serene, picturesque shoreline — seishiro nagi looks so calm while he sleeps. as though he’s an angel resting or passing time on the fluffiest cloud in heaven. the thought makes you smile softly to yourself in the dark, a hand moving to brush stray strands of snowy locks away from his pretty face. 

“sei,” comes your attentive whisper, hidden beneath the quietness of night. your boy. all yours. so beautiful like this, you’d hate to interrupt his sweet dreams. “baby, wake up…” he keens into your touch even under the guidance of sleep, lifting silvery locks splayed across crisp, flat-ironed pillowcases to nuzzle against your palm. the sound of your voice fails to rouse him, and for a moment you contemplate slipping behind him and joining his deep slumber… but you just want to see his eyes.

see them and know that you’re wanted. 

so you try again, raking your nails through the shaggy roots of his hair and scratching at his scalp. you miss his voice, his scent, his touch. this is easier than forcing yourself to stay away from him, much less of a hassle to desire nagi’s proximity than to deny it. 

“seishiro…”

this time, his body answers your call and the mattress squeaks under the weight of his stocky frame rolling over until his back hits the sheets. still, though, he doesn’t wake. moving quickly, you seize the opportunity to clamber into the lazy genius’ lap — straddling his hips, pelvis to pelvis, as you admire him from above. “mph…baby?” he grumbles at the familiar, pressure of your body on his, still constricted by the misty fog of sleep. he reaches for you because he knows it’s you, instantaneously and it’s cute how even then he searches for you, like you would him. 

he likes your warmth, the smell of the shea butter lathered onto your skin, the closeness — like a safety net. the world is so bothersome without you, that’s why he can’t help but react to you even while he rests. not that you mind and even though you really should sleep after such a long flight, surprise him in the morning, everything within you is screaming at you to take more. give more.

“it’s just me, sei,” you coo and swallow down the ardour that begins to mount in the depths of your throat, like soot from the fire of lust sparking in your lower belly. “don’ worry,” exhaling sharply, you swoop down to press the wisps of a kiss to the tip of his nose — more so to calm yourself down, distract yourself from the desire that you unwillingly allow to spread through you, than anything else.

you can’t control your hips, the way they subtly grind down on seishiro’s lap while he snoozes away so preciously. he’s too pretty, too soft, too warm. he makes it unable to resist. a craving for more spreads across your brain like a sheet of rain during a storm, slipping into the deficits and dips of your brain — clouding your mind with lust. you act on the feeling tingling just beneath the surface of your skin, pushing the heat between your thighs against the subdued hardness trapped behind signature grey sweats that hang low on the striker’s taut hips.

the soccer star visibly relaxes as a result of your subtle affections and sinful movements, the uneven crease between his brows fades into nothingness whilst his adorable pout does the same — only, rather than going back to sleep, seishiro’s ashy grey eyes begin to flutter open and you’re soon face to face with the man you love more than anything in the world. “‘m not worried,” he quips quite directly, the baritone notes of his voice caked in a layer of exhaustion. nagi’s back bows from the bed, his cruelly slender waist jutting upwards to match your pace. “what are you… what are doing here?”

he’s breathless beneath you; lines of sleep still caressing the prettiest patches of his soul, already ready to give himself to you despite just barely returning to the real world. the sight of him sends an unbearable ache down the segments of your spine, crackling at your pelvis and shooting to clit nestled against his crotch. “it’s your birthday, sei,” you whisper, feeling shy as if you weren’t just intent on using his body tonight. not that nagi would mind, it was something he loved. being close to you without asking. “i flew in to surprise you…”

large, veiny hands land on your hips causing goosebumps to rise across their expanse like chicken skin, not guiding you but simply holding you in place — stopping you from retreating into your shy little shell away from your boyfriend's moonlit gaze. nagi raises a brow, quickly checks the date on the digital clock banished to the night stand, and then exhales deeply through his nose — expression vacant and tired but eyes swirling with a bout of mischief. 

hidden desire contrastingly dances through the smoke screen flecks dotted around his pupils too, telling you that his touch isn’t as innocent as one may first think.  “oh… yeah, it is,” his thumbs slip under the loose hem of your shirt, a comfortable one from your apartment back home with his scent intertwined with each little stich and loose thread. a pleased hum rumbles from the depths of seishiro’s chest once the pads of his thumbs make contact with the marred surface of your skin, drawing lazy circles against it. “flew all this way f’me, huh?”

“always for you.” 

“what a hassle.” there’s no malice in his tone and when he licks his lips, wetting them from where they’ve dried up during sleep, and basks in the way your line of sight instantly drops to his tongue — pretty pink darting out and swiping over micro cracks and crevices in otherwise plush, fleshy lips. seishiro appreciates…you. only his girl would fly across the globe to be with him on his birthday, that’s the kind of love and passion that motivates him to be better. good.

everything has a point when he’s with you.

“it’s not, i mean, it wasn’t,” your breath hitches as nagi’s gentle touch coasts over your skin whilst it warms, turning to an almost bruisingly tight grip that allows him to  pulling you back and forth over his lap. the white-haired striker knows exactly what he’s doing, lazily building up an undeniable tension that coils in your stomach and muddles up all of your thoughts.“anyway…i know it’s late a-and we should probably sleep,” incoherent musings come out as a rush, tangling with the heated particles that buzz in the night air — so full of mounting lust and kinetic energy. 

you’re rambling, you’re turned on and you’re flustered all at once. 

but that’s just what he does to you, and it’s so much worse when you’ve been away from each other for too long. seishiro hardens between your supple thighs before either of you can realise it, his erect and pulsating cock nestled between your clothed folds — catching on the hood of your clit through even layers of pure cotton and polyester. the feeling of him beneath you, so ready and so giving, has your steadiness swimming — the strength to keep yourself up already faltering to the point where you need to rest your hands against his firm chest. “but i was wondering… what you wanted for your birthday?” 

he hums at your dizziness, pushing your shirt up further. “nothin’ special,” comes his half-hearted reply, focus landing on the subtle rise and fall of your chest — trailing down to the softness of your tummy that he exposes to the word. “just you. like this.” nagi’s eyes darken, a storm brews within them — you can see the cogs whirring in his tired mind almost as if he’s calculating something. 

the white-haired soccer player bucks upwards experimentally, only once, pressing more of his girth against your pussy as it slickens with anticipation and you realise…

he’s measuring just how much of himself will fit inside you. 

the thought makes you groan with your  lips caught between your teeth — biting down hard enough to draw blood. flavours of iron would be enough to distract you from your aching clit and the soaked through gusset of your panties, but it wouldn’t take away how much you want him in this moment. “sei…” using a warning tone, you paw at his pecs and lean down to hide your embarrassed face in his neck — ragged breaths tickling the milky skin there.

just the mere implication of nagi comparing his size to you, imagining how he’s going to fuck you has you panting like a puppy in heat.

you’ve taken him many times before, in plenty of different ways… that doesn’t mean you’re not shy about it. nagi could have anything he wanted today — you may be new to this girlfriend thing ( girlfriend of a football star no less ), but you know that the world is at his fingertips. so, to think that your boyfriend, as handsome and as desirable as he is, can only think of fucking you for his birthday, it messes you up. does something to you. flusters you until you fall apart and your pieces are beyond repair. 

“i mean it, don’ want anything fancy. just you. on top of me like this. feels good…” seishiro continues to rasp, shaking out his pearlescent bed hair that seems to catch the light of the moon in the dark. something about his laziness is so sexy to you and you’re sure there’s a dark spot on the front of both of your sweats from how much his deep, sleepy voice makes your cunt gush and contract around nothing. “please, baby. you’ll do that for me, yeah?”

“yeah… yes, i can.” you’re nodding your head eagerly before the words have even been strung together — gasping shakily against seishiro’s skin as his hands trail down to your ass to squeeze fleshy cheeks, using them to pull you down against his prominent bulge. he slots between your legs perfectly, like he belongs underneath you or you on top of him. you hardly hold back the moans tucked into his neck, your fingers wrapping in silverdust locks while you hug his head — wanting to be impossibly closer to him.

whilst he appears to be in more control, nagi is no better than you are. he feels like he’s on fire, burning up with the feverish need to fuck you, make you his, fill you up. oh god, how he’s missed this. the adrenaline pumping through his veins, swirling around in the blood that rushes through his ears and down to his cock as it oozes against your covered cunt. there’s only two things that have ever gotten seishiro nagi this rilled up — one of them being you. his beautiful fucking angel; a simpering mess above him, clinging on him and depending on him for pleasure. “mmph, good girl,” his praise runs like molten sugar right through you, sugary enough to make you feel like you’re high despite the late hour. “want you to ride me. will you do that f’me too?”

seishiro squeezes your ass between deft fingers as if to ground himself. they feel so good on you, his lips pressing open mouthed kisses just beneath your ear lobe feels even better. nagi won’t let you go when you’re like this — so sweet and on the verge of collapsing on top of him. he has to soothe you because it soothes him, as if touching you and holding you and kissing you is the only thing that could possibly make him feel alive.

“anything you want, sei.” you reply weakly, lost  under the blanket of the night, you rut and grind against one another like two lovers leading each other blindly. you’ve hardly even started and you’re already close to tears just from having the striker’s sweatpants rub your clit until it’s raw and sticky. 

“i want you.” he murmurs firmly, his cadence still rough with sleep. you barely register his next movements, your entire thought process and any feedback turned to sluggish mush when your boyfriend suddenly pushes you both to sit up — his mouth slothenly finding yours in a languid lip lock. it’s slow, sexy and all-consuming, as if seishiro is trying to make you a part of him. his tongue licks into the crevices of your hot, wet mouth as you pour delectable, dulcet whimpers and whines into him. 

your breath tastes like spearmint like you’d brushed your teeth on the plane, but still has underlying notes of you. all he wants is to swallow you down, never come up for air no matter how your lungs may burn and beg for oxygen. nagi has missed this. he needed this. you find yourself chasing his mouth, his sinful tongue as it rolls over yours — wetly whining between pecks because you need nagi so bad you can hardly put it into words. fingers comb through pure white hair, noses knock against each other and become neighbours, whilst hands grow bolder and finally tug more forcefully at your clothes — impatient, ready to free you and expose you to possessive, fluttering sleepy grey eyes.

eventually the need to breathe outweighs the need to kiss each other and your lips glisten with sweat once you finally manage to pull away from the striker’s greedy grip on you. “arms up, angel,” blue lock’s lazy genius commands under his ragged breath, his tone firm but laced with affection. nagi lifts the hem of your shirt once you do what you’re told, throwing the article of clothing into the abyss of his hotel room. your bra receives the same treatment, exposing your nipples to cool-ish air.  “let’s take these off, they’re in our way,” a beat of silence passes, most spent on ogling the goosebumps that form at your chest like pin pricks — your boyfriend pings the elastic of waistband, causing you to yelp in surprise. “what a bother.” he pacifies you by rubbing cruel circles around your areola until reaching the hardening bud in the middle and pinching it.

in a flurry of fabrics, your own sweats are tugged down and tossed away with your panties — leaving you completely vulnerable and bare to your boyfriend’s manic, starved stare. he drinks you in like you’re the first woman he’s ever seen, the first glass of water to be found in a never-ending stretch of desert sand. before you can even make a move to cover yourself, wrap your own arms around the swell or your breasts — seishiro grasps your wrists a little too eagerly, nearly startling you out of your feverish skin when he pulls them down to have your palms resting on his chest. 

only after he’s sure you’ll be a good girl and stay in place, does he release his hold on you. but it’s far too late for that, by now your soul is tethered to his by strong ropes of longing and lecherousness.

“don’t forget what you promised me,” lifting his hips, nagi repositions himself on his back and yanks down his sweats  — moaning loud at the dark patch you’ve left on his crotch. tucking the waistband of both his pants and his boxers under heavy cum- filled balls — too drained to take them off properly. only then does his cock spring free, slapping sloppily against his toned abdomen, abs prominent through his light sleep-shirt. the lazy genius’ size is just as impressive as he is, where he is long and curved, he is also thick. idiotically pretty, his tip a delicious rose pink shade which might as well be vermillion red from how sore he is — oozing a viscous stream of cream from your earlier ministrations. pale blue gradienting to purple veins wrap around his cock like delicate ribbon on the perfect present, kicking to life as dopamine and other happy hormones rush to his shaft. 

the sight of him is hypnotic, calling to you like a siren’s song and you feel all of your self control slipping away when your hips jump forward — encasing his milky-tipped cock between your syrupy folds, rocking yourself back and forth. back and forth. back and forth over him — driven by the spark of ecstasy pulsing at the sticky sensitive pressure nub hidden between your puffy pussy lips every time his bulbous cock head nudges against it. you’re like a puppet on strings and seishiro your puppeteer, his pillow soft mewls and breathy, pleased laughter leading you through this impure performance. 

claggy, cloying sounds reverberate between your sweltering sexes that rub salaciously against each other — ad-libbed by the gentle sighs the two of you share. echoing in a sweet symphony of love making that only serves to dizzy you and make the world spin on its axis. all you feel, smell and taste is as him. all of him mingles with the air fizzling in the intimate night and all of you is put on display for his viewing pleasure. you are his present, his reward for working so hard. his everything.

eventually, a shaky hand reaches between your intertwined mess of half-dressed, half naked limbs to gluttonously grasp at the lazy striker’s chubbed up cock. you’ve had enough of grinding and humping at him, your whole body is aching for more. there’s a twinge of pain that blossoms in your lower belly and spreads throughout your sopping mound because she’s oh so desperate to be filled. 

you need him inside or you feel like that flickering wildfire of unadulterated lechery raging inside might burn you alive. blacken your organs and taint your soul with sin. you’re rushing, to put it simply, hotly pressing nagi’s mushroomed, pitifully creamy and red tip against the tight ring of your entrance as it flutters around nothing. squeezing droplets of your arousal onto him which helps act as the perfect form of lube.

nagi tuts at your impatience, he’s never liked to rush, always taking his time to make you fall apart but it’s so entertaining to see you crave him like this. so badly that your pretty face crumples above him like your world is falling apart and you’re about to shed some of those precious angel tears for him. “e-easy, angel,” he voices quietly, soft spoken words quickly turning into a hiss as your spasming hole easily circles and glides over the tip of his dick. “my birthday’s just begun…” from there, those very same comforting, warm palms from earlier take hold of your ass — pulling you forward as the white-haired soccer star aligns himself with your entrance and rolls his cock up into you. 

you do the rest of the work, it is his birthday after all, and push down to meet him halfway — burying your face against his stardust freckled skin and biting shoulder to cope with the delicious stretch as his weighty, viscous girth bottoms out inside of you. “slow… go slow, baby. want this to last. wanna feel you…” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, when you’re finally, finally fully seated down on him. though, it’s not long before seishiro throws his head back into the lush hotel pillows with an alluring whine — lips parting wide enough for you to see the strings of saliva that connect the roof of his mouth to his strawberry tongue, drool sloshing across its surface. “hah…mmm, angel. you’re so, m’fuck, you’re s’fucking tight.” 

if you had the brain cells to function, you’d agree. say something dirty in return, but you’re so exhausted from your flight and too worked up to even process full sentences — you’re just about conscious enough to relish in the feeling of his cock nestled perfectly along your rippling wet walls. almost as if they’re welcoming him home. “s-sei,” you whinge all babyish against his neck. “missed how you feel…” a displeased huff from him coasts along your skin as you pull back, but now you’re able to look at him with those beautiful, shiny bambi eyes that make his gut twist and his thick precum to pool deep inside of you. “‘s so big. feel so full.”   

“you can take it. yeah, pretty thing?” he coos; oxygen escaping from his lungs as if the air he breathes is thinned from how high he is — like it would to at a mountain top. because he is. high. high on you like you’re some kind of class A drug. high on the way you feel, wrapped around him so warm and wet — hugging him close, cunt locking around him to keep him inside. he’s high like he’s an addict and he never wants to give you up, never wants to go to rehab to get over you. so he trains you, makes you work for your own high to ensure that you’ll never ever leave him. “you promised me, s’my birthday.” 

a shaky sigh lays wet on your lips, your lashes fluttering against the exposed parts of his skin.  “uhuh… promised.” 

with that, you sit up straight and dig your knees into the crumpled duvet half discarded on the bed — peeling your salt-licked skin away from nagi’s so that you can lift and drop your syrupy cunt down on him steadily. you move up and down, up and down — picking up more momentum each time your pussy goes from suctioning around the swell of his base to just barely squeezing his miry tip. at first, you’re slow, sensual — just like he asked, airily squealing like a lamb at the slaughter house with each thrust. skin sluggishly slaps on skin, accompanying the glacé gripes clawing their way out of the inside of your throat whilst his deft digits splay out against your bare back — fingertips tucking themselves into the divot where your spine is. seishiro strokes along the length of it, sending an electrical current straight up to your brain, causing you to short circuit. 

again, despite his hands exploring and touching you, he does nothing to guide or help you navigate magnetic push and pull between you both as you make love — he’s leaving that all up to you, you are supposed to be spoiling him on his birthday after all. you’re too buzzed off him, too hooked on seishiro nagi to mind that he’s laying still beneath you, only pushing up when you’re too shallow when pushing down. instead, you savour the feeling of his thick cock and it’s prominent veins dragging against your soft, silken walls. 

creamy strings of your arousal cling to each blue ridge that spirals down his shaft, the probable cause of the lewd, squelch of your sex when you grind down on him — let him fill you to the brim once more. “angel,” he simpers, swollen lips escaping the prison of his perfect teeth just for a second as he inhales the waves of lust radiating from your pores. “do you know how wet you are? how good you feel…?” his praise runs like honey through your system, urging you to move atop him with more vigor — your grinding increasingly impassioned as you ride him feverishly. nagi’s rough palms become hot and tacky against the slope of your back but he refuses to let go of you — holding you there, making sure you can’t pull too far off him because he feels like he might die if his dick isn’t safely tucked inside your dripping cunt.

“yes,” you say without really understanding what you’re responding to, your own hands slipping up to shimmering milky-toned shoulder blades and the base of seishiro’s throat — not squeezing. just grounding yourself and reminding him to keep his hazy, stormy eyes on you no matter how blurred his vision may get. “s’all ‘cause of you, sei. o-only you get me like this…” you manage to cry out, but now you’re crying in two different ways. through your voice and your cunt as it bounces on nagi’s drooling cock. you just want to make sure that he sees it, the way your seams start to loosen and the threads of your sanity unravel because it’s his fault you’re like this. 

“not fair, angel. fuck, y’not bein’ fair…” he pants in reply, gaze dropping from the twist of your face to between your glistening thighs; enamoured by the way his chubby cock rhythmically disappears into your swollen pussy. you have no idea how much seishiro needed this, how his fist and pretty pictures of you just weren’t enough to keep him going. he wonders if you know the effect you have on him, shattering the pieces of his soul with you being the only person able to put him back together again. “won’ be able to function without your pussy on me…wanna stay like this forever.” 

nagi’s focus flickers back up to meet your line of sight whilst his slender fingers dance across your body, swallowing down a thick whine when he uses them to spread your nether lips — showing off small waves of your sweet nectar as it glazes his thighs and shaft. “fuck, dont you want that too, angel? keep you full of me forever. like this…” he comments avidly, grinding up into you for a moment furthering your pleasure by jamming his cockhead against your g-spot just to prove his point. “would be such a hassle to do anythin’ else. you could just be with me…”

you tremble and your muscles tense at the new sensation, you blossom under his words and observation — drowning in the storm of his hazy eyes whilst blood dotted with lustful hormones course through you rapidly, stinging right at your exposed clit. every drag of his length against your salacious insides ruins you for everyone else, you could imagine a world where you’re fucked and ruined by him every day and you like it — the idea goading you to ride him faster, harder, clumsily slamming yourself down on him to your heart’s content. 

even from underneath you, relaxed and only lazily bucking up into you on occasion ( when he thinks you need it or deserve it ) — seishiro has so much power over you. he’s the only one able to make you bounce on it until there’s a dulcet crack in your voice and white hot tears are stinging at your waterline — your bodies in a dance together in a way that only lovers know, making you both experts in tangled limbs heaving moans. such levels of intense passion and intimacy have your sodden mound seizing around the white-haired striker, causing a hiccup in the way he lovingly and slowly begins to pound away at you from below.

to be fair to him, you’re very motivational. those dreamy sighs you let out and those  bedroom eyes you look down at him with. those lush lips that you lick in concentration... the list goes on. each little thing about you is like another carrot in front of a prized horse; you’re something he wants to chase after, someone he yearns for. being with you is just as thrilling as the soccer he plays for a living, every time your bodies touch and connect like this, accompanied by a sense of vulnerability that trickles into the humid air — nagi is reminded of how lucky he is to have all of you. you’ll forever be his greatest gift.

in the dead of night, mere hours into his birthday, you give yourself up for him — rip open your chest and bear your heart all for seishiro nagi, the muscle beating rapidly behind your breasts as they sway from the force of your hips crashing down to match your boyfriend’s pace. “wan’ that, wan’ you,” you bleat, sounding so much needier and aroused than ever before — your sugary voice layered over musical tracks of sweat-drenched skin slapping wetly on skin. “please… need more. more of you always. don’ wanna be without you ever again…” 

“mmnn, pretty thing. you’re so perfect,” the striker groans low and sexy, sending a rush of hot dopamine over your tired brain and arousing it further. “want s’much more but you’re not even done riding me yet,” seishiro cocks his head to the side, moonlight locks spreading out across the pillows like refracted pattern from a gem that’s caught light. if he shimmers, then you shine — glowing in the dark from the sex and light sheen of sweat clinging to your naked flesh. “gonna kill me with how pretty you sound ‘n how needy you are…” his hand that once parted your folds now dances its way up your pelvis, traces over the chub at your waist and smooths over your soft tummy — feeling for how deep he’s gotten, churning up your guts while you languidly roll your clenching cunt over him.

next they toy and tug on your hardened nipples, circling your sensitive areolas just to make you twitch whilst the supple mounds of flesh bounce with every thrust. collar bones, the base of your throat, the tip of your chin — they all end up grazed by an adoring touch, acting as checkpoints in your boyfriend’s whistle stop tour of his favourite parts of you. of course, he continues his trek until he’s reached up high enough to brush a thumb under the curve of your bottom lip. 

“open up, sweet thing,” nagi taps his fingers against your mouth and if you focus enough through the fog of your mind — you can even smell yourself on his fingertips.

obediently, your lips part — warm breath coasting along the pads of nagi’s digits before you take them into your greedy little mouth. you happily suck on what your boyfriend gives you, two fingers pressing down on the drooly palette of your tongue, your frenzied emotions become subdued like someone has wiped you mind and you’ve become a clean slate — where all that remains is the white-haired striker pumping up into your hot, juicy pussy each time you slam it back down on him. 

a quiet ‘fuck’ drifts from seishrio’s open mouth, drawing your attention to his strawberry tongue poking at the inner epithelium of his cheek as he sets his mirthy sights on you while your hips roll like a rushing river over him – occasionally pulling his throbbing, seedy dick from the snugness of your creamy cunt. the striker admires you like you belong in a museum. as though you’re a flawless piece of oil-painted art or a perfectly smooth marble statue – even with all the parts of you that you pull to pieces or despise. the view from where he is, down there, is one he tries to sketch into his brain for all of eternity… because he doesn’t want to forget and he wants something to remember you by when the time comes for you to leave. 

you’re so beautiful, licking between his fingers, thick globs of frothy spit seeping from the corners of your mouth. he has to fight the urge to sit up and taste it on you – instead choosing to fuck your mouth like you fuck his cock. the striker presses down on your tongue to make you writhe in his lap, and although he’s the one technically in control, you are the reason for the gentle thrum of ecstasy vibrating through his lean, athletic frame. “you like that? does that feel good? sucking me in from both ends…” the player asks, his voice shaky and increasingly husky from how lovestruck and turned on he is. 

having him pressed up against the walls of your blisteringly hot slit, nudging against that one special spot deep inside your swollen pussy fries your brain – causes your jaw to slacken while you sleepily suck on his digits. your poor pussy even trembles around him, catching on the ridges of his length that plunges in and out of you. “feels s’good, sei… so, so good–!” your words are muffled by the way he strokes at your tongue, drowned by spit, because you really do feel like you’re about to see the pearly gates of heaven. its evident in the way your eyes roll back into your skull and sex squelches at every thrust. 

yet, it's not enough for him, seeing you like this is still not enough to appease nagi’s ever growing appetite. like the egoist within him on the pitch, he has a sickly urge to devour you – especially when you lean away to sit back on your haunches, using your grip on his thighs as leverage to keep working yourself down on his thickness – cunt locking and unlocking around his frothy base that stretches your little hole. you don’t stop, shifting your hips in slow sensual movements to help him sink deeper into you and pulsing against hot, viscous and squishy pleasure spots dotted along your insides. spots that only he can reach. “love the way you fuck me, pretty girl,” seishiro feels like he’s losing his mind underneath you, stuck between chasing the sweltering heat of your insides and kicking back to enjoy the show entirely. “but ‘good’ isn’t good enough…need you to feel like heaven. make it even better, baby.”

he groans lowly and relishes in the feeling of your warm wet walls tightening around his erection, pulling his digits from the splashy cavern of your mouth – seishiro drags them back down your body, leaving a tacky wet trail in their wake to reach between your doughy thighs for what lies between your fat pussy lips.

with your hips rocking together fluidly, your boyfriend is careful when letting the pad of his thumb graze your aching clit as it rears its adorable little head between your nether lips. frantically, you grind against his digit and stain it with your thick, trecaly essence. everything is coated in everything that you leak, the mess worsened by the tiny spurts of precum nagi rewards you with. although, it does help his impressive size glide through your sugar-coated lining of your gushy walls. every time his fingers flick against your puffy pleasure pearl, you’re one step closer to crumbling above him.

something. you need something to ground yourself. overwhelmed by exhaustion and love and desire. “g-god, s-sei!” squealing like a lamb being taken to the slaughter house you lift a hand from his clothed leg, over his knee and reach for the bottom of his sleep shirt. “please…pleasepleaseplease – need more. wan’ more. a-anythin’ from you. for you,” you’re babbling brainlessly with no idea of what you’re begging for – the delicious burn of his girth against the tiny, tensed rim of your entrance distracts you from even thinking straight. “wanna feel you, sei,” you add onto the tail end of your mewled words whilst you continue to paw at his last remaining article of clothing. fishing for his stupid shirt. still, you remain timid and shy despite how you moan like seishiro’s perfect, personal little whore.

that’s okay. your boyfriend likes that look on you. stupid, dumb and sleepy on his cock. his heart roars in the left side of his chest but circulates passion and excitement through the rest of his body. you turn seishiro nagi on in more ways than one. physically and mentally — he can’t help but get all worked up around you, even in the dead of night.  “you want this off? can you ask me nicely, angel?” he chuckles leisurely, mouth falling open to mock your seraphic moans whilst he relentlessly toys and pinches and draws shapes on your viscid clit.

“c-can you take it off, please sei. been good,” you drawl, all high-pitched and whistle-toned like a puppy begging for the treat in its owner’s hand. seishiro has you on a tight leash, his little well trained pet – even if he doesn’t mean for things to end up that way. neither of you really mind it, though.

a bemused, fond smile tugs at the seams of his lips because you really are so perfect for him. the perfect gift. he’s thought about it about a million times tonight. it all rushes to his head, messing with the sleepy tendrils curled around his consciousness; the way you claw at him, the way the silverness of the moon catches on the saltine-perspiration on your skin and your glistening slit that leaves webs of slick on his sweats and pubes. he tortures you for a little bit longer, signing his signature against the most sensitive part of your sex for a few seconds longer – happy to see you jolt, hear you practically sob above him before he relents. “yeah, yeah… been so good f’me, sweet angel,” nagi releases your poor clit and then uses his arousal painted fingers to remove his shirt. he takes the fabric hem between his pearlescent teeth – revealing exquisitely carved abs shaped by his soccer career to your delirious gaze. “always gonna give my pretty girl what she wants…”

your lungs threaten to explode as your gaze rakes over him and oxygen in them fades to nothing when your boyfriend tugs the article of clothing the rest of the way off. you choke on a moan, the fluid motions of your doughy hips faltering for a moment. the second his chest is laid bare to the humid, sex struck air you’re immediately jumping forward to press your naked chest to his. now, you feel complete. content. with your hearts beating against each other in sync like a promise of loving each other eternally, made in the depths of the dark. you feel fully connected, skin on skin, nipples brushing against each other – it makes you tingle, makes your pussy drip down his balls like a never ending tap in this new position. you’re so shamefully wet that crude slaps drown out the sounds of your shared laments.

“want you. only you, sei.  h-hah, fuck!” you simper softly, the sound warbling with the threat of crying. “love you s’much, i love you.”

just as your tears start to spill over the edge and flow down the apples of your cheeks, strong and safe arms wrap around your shoulders – anchoring you to seishrio’s lap and cock, giving him the leverage to pull you up and down on him in a nasty, passionate manner. you’re so close now, impossibly so, and you love it because you get to hear the striker in ways no one else ever will. his deplorable, breathy whimpers coast along the shell of your ear heatedly and pick up when he begins to jackhammer into you with levels of motivation he dedicates only to you.

you make seishiro nagi want to do the unthinkable. the unspeakable. he would move mountains for you if you asked, if it were possible. he’s never wanted to do that for anyone other than himself when playing soccer.

you may be falling apart on top of him… but you’ll always be able to control him as much as he does you.

the bed below, as expensive and sturdy as it may be, begins to creak beneath the weight of it all. squealing louder than you do into the crook of seishiro’s neck as you dampen it with moist moans tears. he’s angling his hips up to press directly against your g-spot, grey eyes wild like an uncaring hurricane whilst he taps into his ego to make you see stars. and you take it, no matter how brutish his sluggish thrusts are, pussy eagerly swallowing him down. “love you, angel. my perfect angel, huh?” he grunts slackly and in restraint. you love him and if you say it again, especially in that voice, he’ll break in ways that only men in love will know. you just… do that to him. make it so he could cream your insides before he’s ready to. “you… y’really do it t’me, baby. can’t help it when ‘m with you… jus’ end up going crazy.”

his eyelashes flutter against your damp cheeks and his voice begins to wander into a dark slur that you willingly sink under the surface for. it brings you closer and closer to the edge, and you’re so tired from the flight out here and the work you’ve put into fucking your white-haired soccer star that you’re not sure you can hold it back. “y’make me crazy too,” you pant, too out of your mind to say more, muttering praises into his skin, clenching down on him to the point where your arousals mingle and foam at the thick base of his pulsing length. you hug his head, intertwining your fingers in his sweat-locked silver hair and tug on it as if it’ll keep you tied to earth instead of floating out of the atmosphere from the pleasure. “a-are you close? need you to cum inside… been waitin’ for it. missed it…” 

oh, how he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the idea too. filling you up with a hot round of his seed until it was practically pouring out of you. breeding you. the two of you aren’t strangers to the dangers of him cumming inside – nagi hardly ever pulls out if he doesn’t have to. most of your intimate moments end in that way, with a spent cunt and a drooly cock, the result of many lazy early mornings started by the kick of his morning wood against your backside and nights like this. it's too much of an effort and too much of a mess if he cums anywhere else. and also, it’s much more a plus to focus on watching your face as he pumps you full and feels you struggle to keep it all in. 

“need it that bad, huh? so soon?” he’s being a little mean without really meaning to, licking over the front of his teeth and grunting as he increases the weight behind his thrusts – eager to push you as close to the edge as possible. his dick throbs in the embrace of your deliriously addictive walls from where you’ve got him fucked up beyond imaginable, but he keeps it together, long enough to ruin you and hear you sniffle from the overstimulation. “almost, angel. almost. can you hold on f’me?”

you said you’d do anything for seishiro and at the time, you’d meant it but now your muscles are achingly wary and your eyelids are growing heavier, and heavier by the second. just as you shake your head ‘no’ a loud and childish sob bursts from between your lips, wet and whiny while your hole flutters loyally around his drippy dick. no, you don’t think that you can hold back, not like this, not when it hurts so good and he’s fucking you numb and dumb. 

all you can do is reply in a pitchy squeal, nearly missed by the wet sounds of you dowsing him in your sweet nectar, soaked sex slapping down on him in an uncoordinated manner. “‘m close…c-can’t–!”

still, you squirm about and you do your best to catch up with nagi’s new insane pace, his unrelenting stamina… even the backs of your thighs start to burn from the exertion — a subtle stinging tingling sensation underneath the supple flesh  from the friction against seishiro’s sweatpants and its waistband.

“‘course you can, always do,” white starts to froth at the entrance of your ravaged pussy, a mix of his precum and your juices bubbling up to leave opaque milky streaks along the length of him – clinging to the veins decorating his shaft. “c’mon, s’too much of a hassle for you to give up now, thought you wanted to be my present? make me feel good?” his words are breathlessly patronising, causing your body to jolt and jerk above his own, your hips fumble in their rhythm but that doesn’t stop you from gushing about the place either. “or is it that my poor baby is gettin’ tired…”

keening hoarsely, his voice still under the authority of sleep – nagi’s gaze slowly but surely hones in on the point at which your bodies join, taking in the sight of his pre-cum coated cockhead disappearing in and out of your puffy pussy repeatedly. his sights trail upwards to where your tummy bulges from the sight of him and he imagines how beautifully you would swell with his seed – he can’t wait any longer, not for that. 

in response to his speculation, you nod this time, desperate for relief or second to relax since your limbs are on the verge of giving out – head flying back as a result of the formidable momentum nagi uses to pummel your pretty pussy. “y-yes!” you damn near scream, not caring how loud you sound nor how late it is. “sei i-i’m… ‘m too–!”

you don’t get the chance to finish your hiccuped and heaved words, not that they make sense in between your shrieking and pleasure-filled cries, only because your loving, lazy boyfriend is snaking his bulking arm around your waist in addition to the one around your shoulders. all so that he can keep you tucked into him whilst he rolls you both onto your sides. “you’re that tired, baby? you don’t wanna fuck me anymore?” seishiro is teasing you of course, a tender smile splitting across his sweaty face whilst he fixes you both in this new position. with your calf now thrown over his slender hip and your head safely nestled into a pillow, nagi captures your lips in a searing hot and sloppy kiss before you have a chance to cry or whine about how mean he’s being. consoling you in a way as he assumes control. “s’okay, angel. don’ worry, i’ll got’cha. ‘m gonna take over, take my present now…”

only then do you remember how large seishiro is. how the sheer size of his frame is able to manhandle and dominate you. how small and safe you can be with him. you suppose he likes it too, where he gets his motivations from… the ability to commandeer you.

whatever he had commented to you had been all the reassurance you needed to hear before losing all sense and control and coordination – going limp in seishiro’s consoling hold. between your cute little please and airy, dreamy wails your lips smack against the soccer player’s – in tune with his measured grinds and ardent stream of lunges into you. his grip on you barely gives him the room to pull out from your tight, blistering mound… and it’s not like your body gives him the permission to either – your preciously greedy cunt squeezes down and locks his fervid, pre-cum pearling tip against your gummy walls. 

“f-fuck…” seishiro drawls, whiny and romantic – like what you would imagine an aphrodisiac would sound like if it could make a noise. “y’keep suckin’ me in, angel. i can get s’deep like this…” he switches it up, going from rapidly circling his hips to gentle, purposeful pounds – stringing you along on a trip to your high. with such little space between you both now, you can feel his blistering hot breath coasting along your cupid’s bow, leaving the ghost of his mark along your sweltering skin as you gush around him – marking his cock and his balls as your own with your cream. “feel that… me, right here?”

whether you mean to or not, your pussy spasms around him – keeping him there. choking the life out of nagi in a way he can’t help but enoy. he feels like he’s being rewarded for loving you just as much as he is motivated to fuck you. he never knew sex could be this amazing until he met you, and now touching you..being with you is all that he wants. especially on his birthday.

pressing your forehead to nagi’s, you nod again – lost in your own lassitude and the sweep of delectation that laps at the inner parts of your soul. “r-right there, sei. need you r-right there,” you say tranquilly, barely able to keep your big wet bambi eyes open as the white-haired striker’s sappy cock massages that spongy spot nestled deep within, the one that only he knows how to find. “p-please don’t stop sei!”

your shared arousals form an elixir of love that seeps into the bedding beneath the lazy bump and grind of your bodies – it adds shine to your clit that drags over nagi’s pelvis, webs over your skin and wafts into the air, so that it smells like sex. the two of you are everywhere. everything and it only heightens the passion you have for one another. “not gonna, angel. n-never gonna. as long as i have you…” seishiro retorts, licentiousness lining the ridges of his throat, rattling about between the bones in his ribcage.

always. forever. an eternity. is what you want to say. you’ll have him for as long as he has you. you can only hope that where your words fail you, the erotic enthusiasm you have when you kiss him can make up for it. cupping his cheeks whilst you both lay on your sides, grinding and groping at each other – you lean forward and lick the trail of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and track it up to his plush, parted lips – where he kindly feeds you his airy moans and stray straggles of his spit. all of which you accept, wanting whatever he gives you to fuse with your body and soul, whilst keeping you sedated. tongues roll over one another agonisingly slow, adding the thrumming bliss tangled in the panted breaths the two of you exchange. your kiss speaks a million words in a million different ways and languages, portraying the love and adoration you have for the lazy genius. 

cherry red outlines seishiro’s lips, emphasising just how swollen they’ve gotten from constantly being meshed and melded against your own. “did so fuckin’ well for me… all night,” your boyfriend murmurs pensively, his words punctuated by the pervertted plap, plap, plap of his breeders balls against your syrupy mound. “really is so unfair how perfect you are f’me, angel. my pretty girl…my dream girl.” he adds through gritted teeth, making a home between your cream-soaked folds, rubbed and fucked raw – pushing back and forth between them to relieve the building ache in his erection. “g-gotta make you feel it…make you cum.”  

throughout his lazy rambles, your boyfriend’s grip ( in the mess of tangled limbs ) cascades down to handle your waist – roughly circling you on him like a well-loved rag doll while he plunges into the quivering tackiness of your pussy. an orgasm starts to burn through you like paper being held to the flickering flame of a candle and you’re not sure how much more of this you can take, being able to hold off is usually an easier task – but not today, on his birthday, when his usually soft eyes are flooded with a desire so dark the black of his pupils eclipses any colour in his eyes. 

“’m going to. g’na cum, sei,” a hearty sob burts free from your lungs, shaking your body down to its core. the visage of seishiro, your beautiful boyfriend, in front of you becomes blurry from your salty tears but you can still make out the rouge flush to his skin and the crease between his brows caused by your pleas for release. “feels so, so good. lemme cum on your cock… please–!” juicy, wet sounds stack like bricks in your hotel room, a symphony of whimpers and simpers that accompany the perfectly pitched notes from seishiro bucking into your sickeningly deluged hole. japan’s favourite genius leaks an endless stream of precum, a creamy white like the loose strands of his hair splayed across the pillows – the pre-release oozes against your ribbed insides from his bright red tip and aids his movements. they’re smoother, easier, helping him glide in and out of your clenching cunt like it's nothing. despite how tight you are around him, pussy fluttering with the intent to keep him in.

that’s how you’re reminded of his sheer size; accommodating to the way his cockhead so sweetly kisses your g-spot just by having his cock nestled inside. he throbs, fat and inflamed from an oncoming orgasm and the load he’s saved for you in his balls, weighing them down as they swing with each rut of his taut hips. “yeah?” nagi questions you groggily, swallowing thickly at the sight of you straining to stay awake and present in front of him. “you gonna cum f’me, angel? s’gonna be the best fuckin’ birthday present i’ll ever have…” he can tell that you’re there, teetering on the edge of sanity and heaven on earth. viscous drops of your treacly essence runs through your slit, spiraling down the purplish blue veins pulsating on his shaft. he’s right behind you, ready to catch you if you fall.

if he could, the soccer star would selfishly keep you writhing like this for hours, slowly making love to you until you slip from threads of consciousness. it is his birthday after all, he’s sure you’d let him… but it’d be too much effort to ask you to hold on for that long. not when you sound this wet, not when you’re blubbering and crying for him – weakly grinding on him. “that’s right. take it. take my cock, you know you can do it. gonna… gonna make you cum, i promise. s-swear it…” he coos to you like it’s a promise over the crude sound of your sexes slipping over one another. 

both of your shaky arms hug his head once more, grazing the sweat-darked curls on the nape of his neck and you arch forward on your side to press your chest against his – craving that closeness, whimpering happily as his heart beats against your breasts bouncing between your bodies with each uncoordinated and sloppy thrust. nodding your head agreeably, your next words hang between your teeth – panted out from your mouth as it slowly falls open. “‘hmygod, sei. sei please, ‘m cumming! oh… i-i’m cummming!” you don’t last much longer as your release sneaks up on you like a thief avoiding streaks of moonlight. the ropes that had been twisting in your tummy since the start of your midnight escapade finally unravel and the world around you shatters, seishiro’s hold on you being the only thing tying you to it. darkness floods your vision, black spots dotted around the corners of your love tinted lense – you don’t even realise you’re passing out from how hard you’re cumming either. you squirt fast and hard, clear streams of your own arousal spewing from your swollen cunt and rendering you useless in nagi’s strong arms.

white noise buzzes in your ear but he holds you close through it all, pulling your head down to rest against his bare shoulder to help muffle the deliciously loud wail tugging on your vocal chords. the louder you sound, the more seishiro likes it. he likes all of it really, the way your pussy drowns him in your mess and nearly forces him out, it’s exactly what he needs to reach his own peak. pushing an arm past your head, he grasps at the soiled sheets and carefully rolls you onto your back – using the last of his stamina and energy to make himself cum missionary style. as if chasing after something that’ll slip away too fast, nagi speeds up his thrusts whilst little whinges and whines spill from his cherry-bitten lips. 

“f-fuck. fuuuck, ‘m cummin’, pretty thing. gonna put it inside. won’t need to clean up, won’t ruin the sheets…w-won’t–!” the white-haired striker rasps without a care in the world, stumbling over his syllables – spit pooling on the palette of his tongue whilst he rocks into your soiled cunt harder and harder. you don’t have the strength to respond, weakly cradling the back of his neck in one hand while your nails rake down his back using the other. tears like dewdrops cling to your fluttering lashes as you watch your boyfriend fall apart above you – orgasm stacking painfully in his pelvis and practically tearing through his mountainous frame as he fucks you through the remaining aftershocks of your own high.

a final ripple of your pussy around his drippy dick opens the floodgates and his orgasm breaks the surface. nagi pushes himself as deep as he can go, every inch of himself snuggled salaciously against your honeyed walls before he finally lets go. he shakes like there’s been an earthquake, gargling against the shell of your ear whilst blisteringly white hot seed spurts against your squishy, gummy insides. there’s so fucking much of it, a layer of opaque cream smearing over your abused folds, painting you with his claim. seishiro’s cream sloshes about, but he doesn’t pull out – languidly rolling his hips into you so that he can make sure it sticks, lubing up your sex as he fucks himself further into your naked cunt.

silence trickles into the room, not uncomfortable, but instead completely content – broken only by your shared and shuddered breathing. you relish in the way he intermittently throbs and he, in the way that you convulse around him as he softens. for a moment, it’s just the two of you and no one else in the world, simply able to come down from your highs and calm down while hugging each other close.

“h-happy birthday, sei,” you whisper once your voice allows you to, it’s cadence still rough from the sex. “i love you…” 

“love you most…” fatigue sinks its claws into the white-haired striker, who collapses on top of you at the first chance he gets. he nuzzles against you as he goes, closing his eyes and peppering your wet face with soft little kisses as if to help soothe you both. “mmm. happy birthday to me, i guess,” comes his exhausted, yet pleased, hum. “you okay, angel?” nagi’s still regaining his ability to speak properly, a pleasant buzz crackling like static over his brain whilst he inhales through his nose, memorising the scent of your union. of you. “went too hard, i think.” everything feels right when you’re together like this, more peaceful and safe. exactly what a relationship should be

so, you shake your head, searching for grey eyes that meet your own with a doting gaze. “you were perfect,” you grin tiredly, growing shy underneath him. “i hope i was too…”

“the best, always are,” he’s quick to reply, checking you over for bruises and hissing as you clench around him. nagi can tell that you don’t want him to pull out, that you need him in close proximity to properly come back down. so, he clings to you, rubs small circles into the parts of you he can reach and just… loves you. as best as he can. “stay with me, lay with me. don’ wanna let you go just yet. you’re my present after all.” seishiro pouts entirely too cutely, doing a complete one-eighty to the man who was wrecking your insides just mere minutes ago.

humming you feel yourself begin to lose the fight to sleep – choosing to bask in nagi’s warmth and love instead of stay wide awake. “all yours.” you sigh out, completely reassured that your presence alone is always going to be enough to keep the lazy egoist happy on his birthday. more than happy.

seishiro nagi will always want you, always need you, always love you – especially when you fly across the globe to be with him on his birthday. 

falling asleep together, with your fingers intertwined and your hearts beating in sync.

RIGHTS RESERVED © LOSTWRLDS 2025. the content seen here belongs to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[dantes-jacket]

Let’s not waste any more time

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: request #11!! Your ex bf cheated on you and kicked you out. Dante takes you in and a month after staying with him you two have a passionate night. Will everything be okay in the morning? SMUT!! Don’t interact if you’re a minor. Fluff and angst. This is long and I was too lazy to check it over, so if there’s some grammar problems no there isn’t…

You’re heading back to yours and boyfriend’s shared apartment after a long day of work at Devil May Cry. Your boss ended up trashing the place while he was “training”, so long story short goofing off with a new weapon he got and underestimated the damage he’d cause. Today just ended up as a clean up day and reorganizing. You were the one mostly organizing everything while Dante cleaned.

Today though you dressed up really nice because it was your one year anniversary with your boyfriend Jeffery. You two were going to go on a fancy date once you got off of work so you decided to get yourself in the mood earlier. As soon as you got to work Dante let out a long whistle, “Damn babe, you look great. What’s with the fancy clothes though? Wait is there meeting I don’t know about?”

You shake your head, “No there’s no meeting today. But thank you, I’m dressed up today because it’s my one year anniversary with Jeffery.”

“I see,” Dante just nods. He wonders why you’re still with that dick. He’s done nothing but mock you and hurt you your entire relationship but you’re still staying with him. Just break up with him already so he can ask you out and treat you right. “I hope he knows he’s a lucky guy to have a showstopper like you as a girlfriend.” He then spins around and goes into a back room.

The compliments he gave you fills you with butterflies. You showed your boyfriend your outfit before he left and he didn’t even acknowledge it or compliment you. But Dante never hesitates to compliment you or speak his mind. He always notices when you have something new or you changed your style. He’s always on top of it. You know it’s wrong to harbor feelings for someone else while you’re in a relationship but you just can’t help it. Dante is every you want in a relationship.

Although he’s never been one to pursue relationships so that’s why you gave up trying to get his attention. That’s when a friend set you up with Jeffery and now you’re here. You always wonder what it would be like if you never stopped and Dante was interested in relationships. Would you two have gotten together or would he have already been in a relationship? You don’t know but you can’t focus on the little details.

The thoughts running through your head are bitter while you walk back home. Is your boyfriend even going to appreciate tonight? You give him the benefit of the doubt and try to get your thoughts off of your incredible hot, smart, caring, strong, silly, and loving boss. You ride the elevator up to your floor and walk to your apartment. You unlock the door and go to call out for your boyfriend but you hear a weird noise coming from the bedroom.

You go to put your stuff down on the table near the door but you see some bags filled with something. Ignoring those for now you head to your bedroom. The door is cracked and the closer you get to it, you can hear it. Moans. Ones that belong to your boyfriend and another girl. You push the door open and see it now. Your boyfriend doing the neighbor.

“Jeffery?”

The man in question doesn’t even bother to look at you or stop what he’s doing. “Your stuff is by the door, get out. I found a better girl worth my time.” You see your neighbor smile slyly at you and moan extra loud next thrust just to spite you. You know it’s fake because this man is bad in bed. Bad probably isn’t even the right word but you’re so shocked you can’t even try to think of a better insult.

You back out of the room and go right back to the front door and grab your things. As quickly as you can you get outside and stand in front of your apartment building, or well now your old apartment building. You step out of the doors to be greeted by a downpour. Great your first night homeless you’re going to get drenched! The cards of fate are truly against you today.

But you can’t stay here. This whole thing just pisses you off. The longer you’re here for, the more you want to go back upstairs and yell at him. Tell him he didn’t mean anything and say you have a much better man than him in your life. Before you realize you walked all the way back to where than better man is. You look up and see the bright sign lighting up most of the ground and emphasizing the rain. You shuffle your bags to one hand to knock on the door.

You hear a low groan before heavy footsteps coming this way. Before the door opens you can hear Dante saying “We aren’t open come back tomorrow-“ before opening the door to see you standing there. You two just stand there for a moment breathing heavily while staring at one another. “Hey- shit you’re crying and drenched. What the hell happened!?”

Crying? You didn’t even realize. You know they are sad tears they are frustrated ones. You open your mouth to respond but immediately close it. How can you ask him to help you? That seems unfair. He has so much on his plate and you’d take his home and free time away from him. Never mind you’ll just leave.

“Sorry just never mind.” You spin on your heel and try to walk down the steps but stopped by an arm on your hand dragging you inside.

“No you don’t. You’re going to get out of the rain and come inside. Then you’re going to tell me what the hell happened within the last two hours since I’ve seen you.”

Dante shuts the door behind you and rushes off to the bathroom to get you a towel. While he grabs a towel he tries to process what is going on. You were just excited to go on your anniversary date but now you’re here with bags in hand and soaked while crying? Oh man if he ever sees that clown of a man you call a boyfriend he’ll be six feet underground buried to next to all the demons. Snapping out of his thoughts he rushes back to you.

He sees you shivering and standing like you don’t know this place. He walks over and hands you the towel and then pulls off your jacket and throws it on the floor.

“Okay give me a brief summary before I have you go and shower to warm up.”

“He was sleeping with someone else,” you murmur so quietly and if he didn’t have enhanced hearing he definitely wouldn’t have caught what you said.

Dante sees red he clenches his jaw, “He what?” He says in a low threatening tone, “I’m going to kill him.” He side steps you and puts a hand on the door handle but you gently place yours on top of his.

“Don’t he’s not worth your time.”

“I don’t care-“

“Plus I want you here…” you admit quietly.

He suddenly pulls back his hand like the door handle had just shocked him. “I’m right here and not going anywhere. Go ahead and showering and I’ll put your things in my room.”

“Dante I can’t take your room, I can just go stay in a hotel-“

“No absolutely not. You’re staying here until you find a place. Now go shower before you get sick.”

You relent to his demand and head off to the bathroom. You do grab one bag and just hope it has your toiletries and at least an outfit to sleep in. You start the shower and strip out of your wet clothes. You look at yourself in the mirror and see your tear stained face with your makeup smudged. You look like a mess and you showed Dante that. You’re never going to be able to live this down. How are you going to show yourself to him now after this?

Luckily you chose right with your bag and was able to take a nice and refreshing shower. You scrub your skin hard to get the memory of that assholes touch off. You want him to be purged from your memory. Maybe you ask Dante if he knows a demon that can take that memory from you. Knowing him though he’d freak at your question and lecture you on why you should not seek a demon out.

He’s already acting different since you got here. He probably just feels bad and doesn’t have any other reason behind it. Or maybe he does? You’ve never seen him so mad even when demon knock on his front door and ruin his place. His eyes glowed with an anger you’ve never seen before. Maybe he did actually have other intentions. Wait… could he like you back???

A knock at the door disrupts your overthinking. “Hey you okay in there?”

“Oh um yeah! I’m almost done.” You stutter out and turn off the shower. You quickly dry yourself off and throw on some pajamas. Your pajamas are short shorts and a tiny tank top. Oh god, how are you suppose to walk around like this in front of him in his own house!?!

You open the door and give him a sleepy smile. He smiles back but eyes widen once he gets a glimpse of what you are wearing. He tries to get his mind off of it because he feels his dick twitch and harden. He clears his throat, “Uh I changed the sheets on my bed so it’s all good for you.”

“Oh thank you! You didn’t have to, I already feel bad for intruding.” You comment while avoiding eye contact with him.

Dante gently places his hand on your cheek and makes you look back at him, “You’re not intruding. I want to help.”

“Thank you.”

“Let’s get you to bed okay?” You just nod and follow him. He points out where he left your stuff and says feel free to take your time in the morning. He bids you a goodnight and heads back downstairs.

You lay down in his bed and instantly hit with warmth and his scent. You know he changed the sheets but they still smell so much like him. The spot you’re laying on is pretty warm which means he was probably laying in bed when you got here. Your heart pangs feeling bad you not only disrupted his peaceful night but that you made him give up his bed. You know he told you not to worry but it still weighs on your conscious. You decide that you’ve done enough thinking and close your eyes. It’s not long after until you fall asleep.

•

You and Dante fell into a nice routine over this past month while you stay at his place. The work has gone smoother than it ever has. You basically hold down the fort while Dante is out on missions. Or when he’s here your communication has gotten a lot clearer. You wouldn’t change this for the world.

You two have also gotten a lot closer this past month. You two will go out to the diner or make home cooked meals together. You’ll also watch movies, play board games or his dancing game or just sit on the couch and gossip all about some of the people that come to the shop.

Tonight you’re here by yourself. Dante won’t get home till later and you don’t know what to do. On nights like these it seems like the day drags on and on. It really rubs it in your face that he isn’t here. You sit on the couch debating what to do.

The door then opens and the smell of pizza hits your nose. Ah he finished his mission early. You turn to see the man smiling and eager to see you. He calls your name, “You won’t believe it! The person I just helped gave me the payment, pizzas and some expensive wine! We are royalty tonight.”

You laugh at his excitement. You grab the pizzas and wine from him, “You can’t have this after you shower. You’re covered in blood.”

“But-“

“No shower no pizza.”

“You’re cruel!” He clutches his hand over his heart. He puts on a dramatic little show and when he sees you’re not budging he relents. “Fine. If my beautiful maiden wants me to shower before I eat, I will do just so!” He then dashes to the bathroom.

You go and set everything down on the table in front of the couch then go to grab napkins, plates and glasses. By the time you’re bringing all this stuff out Dante is out of the bathroom. Someone was obviously eager.

You make plates of pizza for you both while Dante pours some wine for the two of you. You two eat in silence but it’s a nice silence. This is nice. Dante is different than anyone else you’ve eaten with. Dinner can be enjoyed in silence without having to talk to one another. The presence of each other is enough.

Dante finishes his slices first and before he goes to grab more he points out, “Did you know you’ve been here for one month now?”

Taking the time to think about it, you have. This time has flown by and it’s been great. “I didn’t really think about till now.”

“Then let’s call this a celebration yeah?”

You grin at him, “I like the sound of that.” You hold up your wine glass and he reaches for his. “Cheers!” You say in unison while clinking your glasses together. The first sip of wine is strong. The client gave Dante the good stuff.

The night goes on and more pizza is eaten and the wine is all gone. You can feel yourself being tipsy. You’ve never had that strong of a wine before and you’re really feeling it. You look at Dante who is focused on something else in the room. You get up and declare, “I’m going to clean up.”

You get up and try to move around Dante’s legs but end up falling. He is quick to catch you but clumsily. Which leads you to the position you two are in now. You’re in his lap with your hands on his chest while his hands are tightly holding onto your waist. Your heads are barely apart that your foreheads are almost touching. You two both just deeply look into each other’s eyes without saying anything.

“Dante,” you whisper deciding to break the tension.

You see him swallow but never takes his eyes off of you, “Yeah?”

“I-“

“Can I kiss you?” He cuts you off with a harbored breath.

“Please.”

He surges up and connects your lips. The kiss is hot and lustful. His tongue sneaks his way into your mouth and aggressively fights against yours. You barely have a chance to connect yours with his to move in sync. He’s going rough and not letting go of control.

He pulls you closer to him that’s when your core comes into contact with his length. You feel it already hardened and bulging in his pants. The newly added friction makes your panties get even more wet than they already are. You can’t help but crave more and grind down onto him.

You moan at the new friction which causes him to groan and pull back from the kiss. You two are panting heavily while enjoying the friction you’re both getting. You’re so close, it’s embarrassing but you can’t help it. You’ve finally get the chance to be with the beautiful man you’ve wanted for years. You can’t help but be excited.

Your speed picks up and Dante senses that you’re close. “Are you close baby?”

You lean your forehead against his and whine, “So close. So so so so close, uhhh Dante-“

“Shhhh, I got you.” He starts to thrust up to add the more friction you’re craving. From the extra movement from Dante you’re sent over the edge. You throw your head back and scream out his name followed by a long moan.

Dante can’t tear his gaze off of you. You’re so breathtaking like this. How you look when you hit your high only makes his dick harder. He feels like he’s about to bust in his pants but he can’t. He can’t ruin this at all. He can’t mess up his chance to be with you. He has to make sure he doesn’t cum before you two get to the main event.

After you finish you fall onto Dante and he’s quick to wrap his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “Such a good girl for me.”

You whimper at his comment and push yourself back to look at him, “But you didn’t come…”

Dante’s trademark smirk finally makes an appearance, “You’re severely mistaken if you think we are done.”

“What-“ you’re then carried up to his bedroom where he slams the door shut with a kick. You flinch at the sound and wonder how the hell the door didn’t break with the contact. Dante gently lays you down gently onto his bed. Sensing your worries about the door he leans down and whispers, “It’s fine, not like it’s going to do much anyways. The neighbors are going to hear you anyway.”

Your face burns bright red to his implication. Dante goes back to lean over you and laughs at your reaction. He thinks it’s adorable how easily you flush at his comments. You do the same thing when he compliments you. He’s grown to love it so much.

He leans down to kiss you again but this one is much softer and slow compared to the one you two first shared. Your lips move together and have no rush behind it. You both are savoring this kiss.

Dante breaks the kiss first again but he doesn’t stop. He continues down your chin to your neck. He spends some time sucking, licking and kissing your neck. You start to feel the heat down there again. You jerk your hips to try and get some friction again but feel his big hands slam your hips back down. He pulls back from your neck a bit, “There’s no rush baby. Let’s enjoy this.”

You groan in frustration, “Dante please-“

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

“Danteeeeeeee,” you cry out.

“What? You gotta be more specific because as I see it, I’m touching you right now.”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Baby I just said I’m touching you.”

You cry out in frustration, “Dante I want you to touch my pussy.”

“See, was that so hard?”

You go reply to his snippy remark but are cut off when his finger slip past the seam of your shorts and into your panties. He runs his finger up and down your slit feeling your wetness and your cum from earlier. He groans at the feeling, “This all for me?”

“Yes only for you,” you whine while trying to grind onto his fingers.

Seeing your neediness and since you responded oh so well to his question he decides to reward you and insert two fingers into your wet hole.

You moan loudly at the intrusion. His fingers are so long and thick. They get places you can’t even reach with your own. He sets a steady pace and moves his fingers around a bit. Until you moan even louder and arch your back. Perfect, he found it.

Dante found that spot that makes you see stars. He quickens his pace and pressure to bring you closer to the edge. He knows you’re close again because you are starting to clench his fingers tighter.

All you can get out besides breaths is his name and more. Dante has mercy and doesn’t tease you again and adds another finger and starts to rub your clit with his thumb. He starts to follow the path again he was following earlier with his kisses. He kisses down your neck to your chest until he gets stopped by that tank top that has been taunting him for the past month.

He pulls down your tank top to continue his path. Before he pays attention to your breasts he mumbles, “You little minx for always wearing these tiny tank tops and shorts around me.” He latches onto your nipple and starts sucking while alternating between rolling the perk bud around in his mouth.

He brings his other hand up to massage the breast his mouth isn’t attached to. This sends your body into over drive. You clutch at his hair tightly and scream. You pull at his hair to keep him as close as you can and silently beg him not to stop.

With the extra stimulation he can tell you’re close to your climax. He rubs your clit harder and faster which helps send you over the edge. Your back is arching off the bed again while you let moan after moan out. It’s music to his ears and he wishes it could be on repeat in his head forever.

He lightens his speeds and touch when he feels you start to come down from your high. He pops off from your nipple and looks at your blissed out face. You have tears rolling down your face while you’re trying hard to catch your breath. He then pulls his fingers out of you and then watches you groan at the loss feeling.

Dante watches you blink slowly, “You back with me sweetheart?” He then puts his fingers in his mouth and licks your essence off of them. You moan while watching him do that and it’s only turning you on once more.

Between breaths all you say is “more.”

Being the gentlemen he is, he does as he’s told. He pushes himself off the bed and you whine, “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere baby,” he laughs out. “I gotta get undressed before I undress you.”

There’s that adorable blush he loves. But he can’t tell if that’s from his comment or how you feel looking at his body. He stands before you completely naked with his muscles and dick being flaunted. He knows he’s long and thick, so it’s going to hurt a bit but he’s determined to make this amazing for you.

He then leans over the bed and quickly undresses you after he gets your permission to do so. Once your clothes joined his on the floor he’s back to hovering over you. He lines himself up with your hole and looks back at you, “It’s probably going to hurt, just tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“Promise.” You lightly smile at him.

He begins to push in slowly to let you get use to his size. He pushes in a bit and lets you adjust and continues that until he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Once he gets closers to fully being inside you he hears you wince and pain on your face.

“Shit baby I thought I told you to tell me to stop if it hurts.”

“No please don’t, just push the rest of the way in. I’ll adjust I promise. Don’t stop.”

Dante bites his lip and pushes in the rest of the way fast to connect you both fully. You scream and scrape down his back with your nails. He groans at the feeling of your wet and warm walls around him but also the burn from your nails. It’s taking everything inside of him not to pound you into this mattress.

He waits until you give him the go ahead to continue. He feels your nails ease up in his bad and your body loosen a bit. Dante looks down he sees you shake your head.

He pulls out a little bit and pushes back in immediately. Once you get use to the pace he pulls out more and more until the only thing left in is his tip. When he sees that you are comfortable and pleasured face he increases his pace and strength.

He’s pounding into you hard and fast. He feels you trying to grind up into him to match his speed and that only makes him go even more feral. Dante places both hands on your hips and pounds into your hole even faster than you could have thought.

You’re “singing” again. Your moans, groans, screams and screeches are the only thing living in his mind right now. Each time he hits your g spot and you scream out his name he only wants to go harder and faster.

“That’s it, sing for my baby girl. Let everyone know who is fucking this pussy so good.”

“DANTE!” You scream out as he abuses your hole.

“I’m going to ruin this pussy so no other man can think he can even come close to me.” He grabs your face with one of his hands. His eyes a steely focused but are blown wide by bliss, “This pussy is mine.”

His possessiveness makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You did your nails deeper into his back, “All yours, only yours. Always has been.” You say between bated breaths.

“Damn right baby.”

“Dante…. so close, please.” You keep repeating please.

Dante buries his head into your neck and continues his pace, “I know I’m close too.”

After a couple more thrusts you feel the tether almost snapping. You cry out his name again and he pulls himself out of your neck. Your eyes are closed as you wait for bliss.

“Open your eyes.” Dante demands.

You open your eyes and blink the tears away and look at him. His bright blue eyes are barely there due to his pupils being blown wide. “Look at me when you come.”

Those words send you over the edge and you watch him while you coat his dick in come. He groans at the feeling and almost burst right there. He holds himself back so he doesn’t ruin your high.

“Baby I’m close, where-“

“Inside!”

His eyes widen, “Are you sure?”

“Yes please, fuck please just cum inside!”

“Well who am I to deny a request from my girl.” He does one final thrust and empties himself into you. He falls on top of you and catches his breath. He feels your hold loosens on his and he looks up at you.

Your breath is evening out but you feel asleep. He laughs at the thought. He really did push you, he got three amazing blissed moments out of you. He gently pulls out and goes to grab a towel to clean you up. Dante wipes you down and himself then throws the towel on the floor.

He hops into bed and pulls you into his arms. With this post nut clarity he wonders how this is going to change the dynamic between you two. He wonders what you’re going to think and say in the morning. He tries not to place himself with those thoughts and just enjoy the feeling of you in his arms because this might be the only chance he gets.

•

You wake up to the sun shining brightly in your face. Did you forget to close the blinds before you went to bed? You curse your forgetfulness and go to get out of bed to close them so you can go back to sleep. You’re then stopped when you feel a strong grip around your waist. You slowly turn around and see Dante behind you. Naked.

The memories pop up from the night before. You and Dante eating pizza and drinking wine on the couch then next he got three orgasms from you and came inside of you. Holy shit. What did you do!?

You try to wiggle out of his grip but he’s quick to pull you into him, “Stop just go back to sleep.” He mumbles into your shoulder.

You can’t take the thought of it anymore. You probably ruined all of this. You can help but let the sob stuck in your throat come up. You feel Dante instantly shift and hover above you once again.

“What’s wrong?” He frantically asks.

You press your hands to your face and sob, “I’m so sorry. I ruined all of this. I’ve liked you for so long and now I took advantage of you. I forced myself into your house and now I took advantage of you. I’m so sorry. I hate myself of all of this. I’m so stupid.”

Dante is quick to pry your hands off of your face. You lock your gaze with him and see him looking pissed. Great now you mad him mad. You want to hide again and not see that face again.

“Don’t you dare say you’re stupid. That is one of the last things I’d ever use to describe you. You didn’t do shit. You didn’t ruin anything. I knew what I was doing last night and getting into. I also knew I wasn’t going to leave you on the damn street because I want you with me always. I don’t regret anything and never will. I have liked you for the longest time and now that I have you I’m not letting you go so easily.”

“You… you like me?”

“Yes, I have since you started working here.”

“Dante… I’ve liked you since I started working here. I tried to flirt and get your attention but it never seemed to work that’s why I started dating my ex.”

His eyes widen, “What? You did?” You nod and he hangs his head, “Fuck, so I could have had you earlier.”

You know he’s saying that to himself and not to you. You let him work out his thoughts and what he wants to say next.

“I am so sorry.” He picks his head back up but now he looks determined, “I promise from here and now you have my full undivided attention. I really love you and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

You beam up at him, “I love you too.”

He flops back down on you and cuddles you like you’re a teddy bear. “Now that’s settled, back to sleep we go.”

[cextile]

what about you attracts people?

one → two → three

how to read this pick a pile tarot reading ♡ the images above are your pick-a-pile options — see which image immediately pulls you in. If nothing stands out right away, take a moment to look at each pile/image. the one your attentions keeps coming back to is likely your pick. If more than one pile calls to you, trust that too. You can read both and take what resonates. And hey, if none of them feel like a match, no big deal. Not every reading is meant for right now. Come back another time — this reading isn’t going anywhere. 

pile one

very whimsical vibes.. plus you're very aware of your responsibility towards nature, towards the environment. you may be an animal lover.

I think I need to talk about your past a little bit. did you like to escape to your head pile 1? you used to try to cling onto your childhood self, trying to hold onto that innocence amidst a harsh reality that demands you to cope and keep up. some of you might have dealt with insane self-sabotage from addiction possibly.

HOWEVERR, there's been a massive shift. you're not just surviving — you’re thriving. you’ve taken the challenges and turned them into stepping stones, and now you’re moving toward new beginnings.

If i would have to describe you, you would've been a stagnant pond, but you guys are just so free flowing now?! like a gentle, rapidly moving river... striving and working hard.. for tommorrow, yk!?

you may not realise this, but that is INSANELY attractive. no kidding.

they want to help, they want to stand by you as you do the things you do. this ethic of yours just so goddamn sexy, they've seen how much you've improved, how much you have transistioned, carbon to diamond story.

you show affection towards others by providing for them, working for them. you define yourself to others through your resilience, your passion, your practicality, and your growth. it's an inspiring journey for those who watch you evolve.

all your vibes are just so <3

pile two

hey guys let me tell you, your aura of abundance literally speaks.

you just give off very opulent vibes...

for you guys also, I'm getting you guys also similar to pile one have been really contradictory to what you were and what you are right now. it's crazy like also like you might have had issues like you might have had a lack mindset in the past but you guys right now just scream abundance...... kudos

You guys are very grounded, very generous, very loyal, prosperous.

you are the IT person. You guys are extremely secure in your sense of identity. Also, you give off this nurturing energy.

that's the reason why people attracted. like how do I say this, you guys just give off thewizardliz energyy yk!!?

also i have to say more opportunities are coming to you. people are going to approach you because of the energy you give off.. they want association with you. but um i need to give a heads up because i'm seeing deceit. there might be people who see the shine and want to take advantage of it, so just be careful...

pile three

the cards literally went rogue for this pile. they were legit jumping out everywhere lmfaoo.

the vibes you guys give off, is like those fiery bubbles in boiling water hahaha. socially, you are like bright flames, open to experiences. You guys are the kind of people who are out there, and the people you interact with are consumed with your fiery energy yk? like you consume people with your personality.

You guys are very confident, very out there you guys are. I am seeing you did deal with a lot of isolation before & have dealt with many people lessons,, so kudos honestly for you to step up and just be so out there and just be lovely people.

people are attracted to you like moths to a flame.

You guys have very firm boundaries though. like you give people a lot of grace, but you finally withdraw when you see that they’re not just harmful to you — they are dangerous to your people too. so yeahh the moment those fucks start acting out with others? you are GONE.

and you do that so effortlessly... I am getting a scene that the people you cut off are just going to be observing you from a distance, and you'll just being your usual radiant self, smiling and talking with others and not giving a single fuck. no because something about that is rlly attractive too haha.

ooof to conclude you guys just have a very sexy (state of mind) & warm energy around here. I feel instinctively pulled to tell you some of you guys to practice some exercises for grounding yourself tho. keep a balance.

that's it for this reading. this was my first pick-a-pile ever! I really hope you enjoyed.

let me know how accurate this was

with love,

Ananya.

[spiderb00bs]

- I DIDN'T GET THE HYPE

Jenna Ortega x reader  

“maybe Jenna's fans had underestimated you"

Genre – fluff        warnings - none 

(request) 

Now playing – Donk, by Beyoncé

“I think i wanna go back to school, and have my locker full of pictures of you. So give me that A in biology, i'm graduatin' soon"

“I didn't get the hype.” 

That was one of the phrases you saw most about yourself on social media. Ever since you started dating Jenna, people always seemed to have a certain opinion about what you looked like. Which was ironic, because those same people had never seen your face completely. The paparazzi always caught you at times when half your face was covered with a cap or a mask. 

Jenna knew you weren't much for cameras, always working behind them. You hardly used social media, and when her fans discovered your profile, you had to keep it private for your own safety - and comfort. Even so, your girlfriend's fans still managed to get into a small part of your life. They discovered your passion for video games, literature, music and science. And it wasn't long before people on Twitter (r.i.p), started calling you Jenna's nerd. 

You never minded the comments, even you knew that Jenna was too much for you, so the fans' surprise didn't bother you. In fact, you even agreed with some of them. Even you don't know how you pulled a girl like Jenna. The fans were split almost equally, half of the people thought that underneath the glasses and masks you wore on the street, there was a beautiful, hot girl. While others simply thought you were a nerd. And you were fine with that. 

Jenna, however, always wanted you to go to an event with her. As much as the brunette didn't like the constant showing off, she kind of wanted to show you off to everyone. So here you are, getting ready with Jenna's team for the red carpet of “Death of a Unicorn”. 

You certainly weren't used to so many people working on you. Hands adjusting your shirt, helping you put on your blazer, fixing your hair, putting on some make-up. Damn, you didn't know how your girlfriend dealt with all that. 

“Are you ready, honey?” Natalie, your girlfriend's mother entered the room, approaching you with a smile on her face. 

“Oh, well... I don't know...” You stammered, looking at the make-up artist next to you, only for the woman to laugh and shake her head positively. 

“She's ready.” 

Smiling at the woman, you stood up from the make-up chair as you walked alongside Mrs. Ortega. Your hands were ringing, and you couldn't lie that you were completely nervous at the thought of being on a red carpet. 

"Relax, darling, you look really beautiful. I'm sure people will love you two together." Natalie said, seeing your obvious nervousness. 

Your steps slowed, until you were face to face with the door to the room where your girlfriend was standing. 

“It's just that I'm not used to all this.” You said, nervously adjusting the collar of your dress shirt. "All this public stuff makes me a bit nervous. But I'd do anything for her." 

It took no more words for Mrs. Ortega to understand who you were talking about. The woman's smile opened instantly. 

“That's good to know.” 

Opening the door handle, you let your girlfriend's mother in first. Taking a deep breath, you entered the room, only for your breath to go out again as soon as you laid eyes on your girlfriend. The black dress with the plunging necklines that made you want to stare a second longer, the hair falling past her shoulders, the make-up, just how beautiful your girlfriend was in general. 

“Wow, you look wonderful, mi amor.” You said, grasping Jenna's hand before slowly lifting it and making her turn around. 

The brunette's laughter echoed around the room, only for her smile to widen when you pulled her towards you. Jenna's eyes sparkled as she looked at you, and yours were no different. You knew the power you had in Jenna, and she certainly knew the powers she had in you. 

“Did you like it?” The woman asked, tugging at the collar of your shirt, making you move closer to her - if that was even possible. 

“I loved it!” You emphasized, kissing Jenna's lips slowly. 

As much as you wanted to, you knew you couldn't smudge Jenna's makeup, so all the passion and that hint of aggression you wanted to give her would have to be saved for later. 

“All right, lovebirds, let's go or we'll be late.” Enrique said, clapping his hands, making you and Jenna laugh. 

The ride in the car was tense for you. You couldn't deny to anyone how nervous you were. It was almost impossible, your hands were shaking slightly and all you wanted to do was turn around and go home. But you had to do it, support your girlfriend, this was all very important to her, and if she wants you to be there for her, you will be! 

Noticing the way your hands moved, and how your leg hadn't stopped bouncing since you got into the car, Jenna grabbed your hand, intertwining the two of your hands and placing them on top of your restless leg. Taking a deep breath, you looked up at her, the brown of her eyes doing a phenomenal job of calming you down. The reassuring smile, the squeeze on your hand, the kiss she left on your shoulder, over the fabric of her chic shirt, all made you calm down.

“You'll be fine, mi amor.” Jenna said, looking at you with those doe eyes you knew so well. “Do you trust me?”

“With all my heart!”

"Good! Because we're about to do it."

You felt the car park, the beats in your chest getting slightly faster as Enrique told you how to act. You just nodded positively, before the car door was opened for you to get out. The flashes followed you momentarily, but you didn't let it affect you, turning around and holding out your hand so that your girlfriend could have some support to get down.

"Thank you. I love you!" She said, stopping for a second next to you, ignoring all the paparazzi and people shouting her name.

“I love you too, superstar.”

Smiling, Jenna pulled you by the hand, the two of you once again being blasted with camera flashes as you posed for red carpet photos. I mean, Jenna was landing, while you were trying to keep up with the whole situation happening in front of you.

At some point, you stepped back a little, just so your girlfriend could take a few pictures by herself. The weight of your cell phone in your trouser pocket reminded you that maybe this would be a good moment to keep it. Opening the camera, you imitated the paparazzi, pointing the lens at the beautiful woman in the black dress, taking several clicks, which - almost automatically - became your new wallpaper.

You followed Jenna to interviews and all this stuff, staying with Enrique and her team at times when she needed to be alone. Whatever it was, you didn't mind, it was great to see the woman you love achieving everything she deserves, and you loved every second of it.

The next morning hit you hard. The drinks you'd had last night seemed like a bad idea now, and despite wanting to get up and take the longest shower of your life, you stayed in bed because of the weight on your chest. Jenna was still sound asleep, snoring and making cute noises as she practically drooled all over you.

Smiling, you groped for the bedside table, reaching for your phone to take a cute souvenir photo, one of a thousand. But your plans quickly changed when you saw how many notifications you had, almost all from Twitter. You opened the app, scared and curious to see what you'd done so seriously to get so many comments.

The internet is crazy!

Hi guys

I hope you are all well! Sorry for taking so long to update, it's just that I have a lot of ideas on my main blog. But don't worry, I still have some drafts that I'm going to finish, so they'll be ready to be posted here.

for now I took advantage of Jenna's request.

Stay safe and drink water,

xoxo, spider.

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `falling away, dean winchester ༘♡

summary: dean returns home after his time in hell, and he's different. cold. word count: 833 pairing: dean winchester x reader now playing;｡･:*♫♪ falling away from me - korn

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

He’s distant now.

You’re unsure if it was because of you. That you’ve been too much, too pushy, too… caring?

It’s hard to tell anymore. There’s no love. He doesn’t look at you with adoration at all. There are longing stares, sure, but Dean’s longing for something that he can’t figure out.

You try to hold his hand, to brush your fingers along his and envelop him in yours. He falters, removing his hand from you.

The silence that follows is worse than a fight. At least with yelling, there’s a sort of communication. Passion. But this? It’s cold. Detached. It’s like he left something behind in Hell, and it wasn’t just his soul.

“Dean,” you tremble. “Please talk to me.”

“I can’t.” He snaps.

Your breath stops in your throat. “You think pushing me away is going to help fix whatever the hell’s happening in your head?” You huff, and his lips quiver. He’s holding something back.

“Say something,” you plead, frustration creeping into your voice. “Please. I’m right here.”

His gaze finally locks with yours, his distant stare washes over you, something icy and dismal.

“I don’t love you anymore.”

It takes him a minute to admit it, but you feel in your heart that he’s telling the truth. You stare at him for what feels like forever, waiting for him to tell you it’s a joke. That he still loves you.

That everything is okay.

“What do you mean you don’t love me?” Your heart rate speeds up, your cheeks flushing hot. “What do you mean? Dean, what do you mean?” You repeat, begging him for an answer. He won’t look at you. He can’t.

“I’m not the same guy from before,” he starts, his voice lowering. “I’m not the same guy you fell in love with. You think I’m the same version of me that’s still worth trying to save. I’m not. I can’t do this anymore.”

The tears that have been threatening to spill for weeks suddenly fall, but you try to hold them back. This isn’t real. It can’t be, right?

Right?

“But I love you. And I know you love me, too. Please don’t do this.”

He clenches his fists, his jaw tight with tension. “I’ve made up my mind, Y/N. You don’t get it. I can’t be the same as I was before. I don’t deserve you.”

You blink your tears back, anticipating something else. Something more. Something that tells you, deep, deep down, that he still loves you.

“If I tell myself I don’t love you, it’ll be easier to stay away.”

“Stay away?” You pry, feeling like you’re interrogating him. He nods.

“I’m scared.” He admits, his once dry, soulless eyes now glossy. Showing some sort of guilt. Showing that he does care, even if it’s a little bit. You allow him to keep going.

“I’m scared that I’m going to hurt you, that I’ll drag you down with me. That you’ll get sick of me and leave anyway.”

“So you think pushing me away will solve everything? Dean, that’s not how it works. You need to let me in so I can help you. I’m with you for a reason. I care about you immensely, but you can’t shut me out. That’s not love.” You look at him — really look at him as if you’re staring through a one-way mirror. It’s impossible to tell how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking. You just hope that he’ll agree.

Dean’s face crumples, and for the first time since coming back from Hell, you see the weight of everything he’s been carrying. The guilt, the fear, the anger at himself. He looks everywhere but you.

“I don’t know how to be what you need.” his voice fragile. You reach out to him, your hands gently cupping his face. You move toward him, closing the space between you. “You need to let me help you. Let me be here for you, Dean. You don’t have to carry all of this weight alone.”

Tears flow down his face, vulnerability taking over his whole being. His body sags under the weight of it all, allowing his head to relax in your grasp. He places his hands on your hips, gazing down at you feebly.

“I know you’re scared. You don’t need to be. I’m right here.” You reassure him as more tears fly down his face. He swallows his emotions back, like you’re not supposed to see him in any other light. You move your hands to the back of his neck, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You pull him into a hug, caressing his hair as he sobs quietly into your shoulder. His large frame trembling as he breaks down in your arms. He grips at your shirt desperately, his other hand in your hair. “I love you. I’m sorry.” He admits, and this time it’s the truth.

The love you both share isn’t gone, it just needs to be rebuilt. Brick by brick. Together.

[zepskies]

Funnily enough, this is the first time I've ever written a professor AU! But thank you, lovely!! I loooooove the color scheme of the moodboard Liane created. It matched my personal aesthetic so well and the classic lit in there just provided the perfect creative fuel! lol 💕💕

thissssss is such a beautiful and bittersweet description 💗💗

Oh thank you!! 🙏🏽 I worked really hard on that little intro - really helped me set the scene.

this was such a clever “meet cute” !! 😩 (I mean not really given they are very aware of each other but like, personal meet cute?) and yeah judging by sir-stares-a-lot off to the side, i’m glad dean was there to assist her <33 public transportation can be exhausting sometimes fr 🤦🏽‍♀️

ehehe yes it's a kind of "meet cute" for sure! Oh God yeah, Dean was really needed there to assist in multiple ways lol. Public transportation can be scary for a woman alone, especially late at night!

I actually ended up having to withdraw from college a while ago (:/) but man if I had him as a professor ??? I would’ve had perfect attendance for sure 🫠💓

Oh no! I'm sorry to hear that. 😥

Very much agree though lol. If Dean were my professor, I'd never miss a class. 😏 And I'd have to record every lecture bc I probably wouldn't be able to catch everything he was saying lolll.

i went from aww to real to aw :/ and finally to how the hell did those girls find out 😭 but I will say my nosey ass is intrigued 👀 lmao

Oh you know how news like that travels. 🥲 That's definitely going to be a subject explored in the series!

boy if you don’t watch out :| i’d pull my taser out idc 😭

LMAO that gif of disappointed grandma killed me! 🤣 But yes, I'd threaten to tase him in the dick idc either 🙃

literally!! the other day this guy got unnecessarily close to me at the bus stop so i gave him a dead stare and asked if i can help him with something in a flat tone as I backed away from him, then he tried playing dumb like mannn I ain’t trying to hear all that, move !!🤚🏽

omgggg guys really do try it, don't they? So creepy. lmfao and you pulled out the "Can I help you??" 🤣

Sometimes you really do gotta --

I personally adore when someone talks about something they’re passionate about. it’s so refreshing because they actually care and you can see it, hear it. like personally I don’t really have a passion for anything anymore lol which i’m fine with now, it just makes it that much better when I encounter someone who does have that passionate spark, like yesss pls tell me all about that subject 🙂‍↕️♥️ i mean correct me if i’m wrong (<3) but you seem to have such a big passion for writing, like it shows how much you love to do this, how much you care and all the effort that goes into the entire process. it all reflects in your writing !! every time you write interesting tidbits and fun facts I find them so interesting. you seem like the chill english teachers i’d get along with, in the best way ofc !!💘 (ex-teacher’s pet here 😔😂) also I hope i’m making sense lovely, brady isn’t the only pothead here lmfao 😭🫶🏽

Yesss I feel the same way! I love it when people are passionate about a subject. I'm sorry you don't feel like you have that passion for something right now, but I hope you do discover something new to enjoy and geek out about. 💗💗

Oh you're very right about that lol. Writing and storytelling is my passion and one of my key creative outlets, so I've studied it and tried to make it my career too. Fanfic though is very self-indulgent for me lol. It's mainly where I come for escapism and to try new things creatively in my writing. I'm so glad you find the "tidbits/fun facts" interesting!! 🥹💕💕 Since I also teach English, this was a really fun story for me to write lol. I think I'd love to have you in my class! I'm on the whole very chill with my college peeps (though I can't be as much with high school 🤣).

lmaooo girl no worries, you're making perfect sense 😘

yesssss keep gathering her up in your warm strong arms dean 🙂‍↕️🙏🏽 lmfao

Right? Even I melted while writing that part~

this was truly such a wonderrrrfull story 💛 the mutal pining is killing me but it’s so good!🫠 idiots in love…except they’re both really smart and it’s not love yet, they’re just pining…but still!🤠

Aww thank you, my lovely!! 🥹💓💓 I'm so glad you enjoyed it! The mutual pining is gonna be tough to start with, but I think these two are going to "give in" sooner than you might think. We'll see when I actually start writing the rest of this. 🤣

10 'Til Midnight

Pairing: Professor!Dean Winchester x Student!Reader

Summary: A chance encounter outside of the classroom shifts the way you see your professor. Forever.

AN: Here’s a one-shot for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! This also fulfills a request for one of my lovely Patreon members, @redhoodieone, who wanted to see AU Professor!Dean with a plus-sized student!reader. The reader is a graduate student (mid-20s) and Dean is in his 30s in this, so not really a wide age gap, but we’re still flirting with a gray area here lol.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: graduate student!reader, plus-sized!reader, Shakespeare geekery, mythology and other nerdy classic lit. references, AU Brady sighting, sexual tension, mutual pining(?)

The ash cloud of exhaust rose up from the sidewalk steam grates. It infiltrated your nose as you hurried down a few well-worn concrete steps and into the bowels of the subway, a transition into deeper darkness.

To you, that acrid, mini plume of pollution was the smell of New York City; old cigarette buds and weed hash, fresh tequeños and hot dogs wafting from the open door of the bodega on the corner, mixed with a whiff of piss.

This was the city of broke creatives clinging to their fragile dreams with both hands, usually while the natives rolled their eyes. You were one of those shiny happy people with a dream and the battle-tested will to make it happen, especially tonight. You finally got to see a play on Broadway, an excellent production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

You replayed your favorite scenes in your mind like 1940s movie reel, except it was live in technicolor. An unconscious smile spread across your lips, but you had to hurry. Your train was about to leave in…

You checked the time on your phone—ten minutes to midnight—and compared it to the digital sign up ahead. Your eyes widened.

Shit! One minute?!

You had no choice but to try and run in your heels. That had you skidding to the open doors as they began to close, but you just managed to slip inside, albeit literally slipping with a yelp.

A man saved you by grabbing hold of your arm and waist before you fell, bunching the fabric of your coat beneath his hand. You gasped when you stared up at a familiar face. A sharp jawline covered with stubble, just neat enough to be respectable; dark brows shaded over green eyes, trained on you; bowed lips pursed with confusion.

“Professor?” you said, breathless and shocked.

He was just as baffled, but he finished helping you up as your name fell from his lips.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded and thanked him for the save, still catching your breath.

“Here, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a couple of empty seats on the subway. You joined him in sitting, though you ignored the stare of the guy standing closest to you who was holding onto a rail. He wore jeans and dirty hipster Vans, a brown bomber jacket and a gray beanie. The stench of weed and cheap cologne clung to him.

And his gaze followed you until you sat down. Slightly unsettled, you were subtle in the way you angled yourself toward the man beside you.

Professor Dean Winchester.

He really was the last person you expected to see on your way home tonight. You still couldn’t believe you ran right into him!

But then, you noticed the playbill sticking out of his coat pocket (his coat looked more expensive, a dark charcoal gray with a high collar, and it suited him).

“Oh, you…you saw the play too?” you said in excitement, showing him your own playbill that you fished out of your purse. You’d told him about it a month ago, after his lecture on fairy lore. You thought he might enjoy a play that was all about the convergence between the fairy realm and the human realm.

He’d admitted that he’d never seen a Shakespeare play live, but he said he’d look into it. You didn’t think he was actually taking you seriously though.

“Uh, yeah, I did. I’ve never been a big Shakespeare guy, truth be told, but you hooked me,” he said. When he smiled, it made the corner of his eyes crinkle a little.

You couldn’t help but smile too every time you noticed that…even though it made your cheeks warm in a blush. He really had no business being this handsome. And the suit? All crisp and black, paired with a classic, off-white dress shirt and a black pinstripe tie.

Clearly he’d dressed for the occasion of going to the theater, because usually he was one of the chillest professors you knew. He showed up to class in jeans, boots, plain henleys and jackets, though never without his watch, a classic leather time piece with a silver watch face and bold black numbers. It was so vintage, you’d asked about it once when you met with him to talk about one of your essays on Native American burial practices. He’d told you that the watch belonged to his father, who passed away a few years ago now.

“So what’d you think?” you asked. “Weren’t the sets beautiful? It was so ominous and creepy in the ‘forest,’ and ethereal too, like the fairy realm part of it.”

He nodded, smiling slightly wider at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, was a good production. The actors were top-notch.”

“Oh, incredible. That was the best Bottom I’ve ever seen.” You paused, realizing what you said, and a nervous giggle tumbled out of your mouth. “Well, the character. Not the ass—donkey—whatever. You know what I mean.”

The man laughed, rich and deep and washing over you pleasantly, even though you half covered your face in embarrassment.

“Can’t argue with you there. The ass was hilarious,” he smirked.

Another giggle, and you flipped through the playbill again to distract yourself from looking at his ruggedly chiseled face. Why, oh why did he have to be so fucking attractive? And somehow he was still single. You’d heard some of the girls in your class whispering about it after class one day—a full-on engagement that fell apart two years ago.

“But really, the actors who played the couples in the love quadrangle were awesome,” you said. “Helena was my favorite.”

He raised his dark brows. “Really? The girl who gets shit on the most in the play?”

That was another thing. He didn’t really talk like any professor you’d met in your life. You let out a snort of laughter.

“I don’t want to be her, I just think she did so well at showing that vulnerability,” you explained. “There’s nothing worse than being in love with someone who doesn’t even see you, you know?”

He tilted his head, his amusement fading as he listened. You felt emboldened to continue your thought.

“In her mind, she’s probably thinking, ‘Well, even if he’s yelling at me, at least he’s acknowledging I exist,’” you said, “which is incredibly sad and isn’t giving Shakespeare many brownie points for feminism, but it’s a reality that some women go through.”

After a moment, he seemed to see your point with a nod of his head.

“That’s fair,” he said, arching a brow. “Though I gotta hope you don’t let any guy talk to you like that.”

You shook your head with a smile, but before you could answer him, your phone slipped off your lap and tumbled to the dirty subway floor. You twisted away so you could reach down and grab it, but you caught that whiff of cheap cologne again. Gray beanie guy let go of the rail and bent down to scoop up your phone before you could. You offered a polite thank you and went to take it back, but he held it out of reach at the last second, giving you a teasing smile.

“How about I put my number in first, so you can call me when you get home,” he said. “I’m Brady, by the way.”

That oh-so-gracious offer was followed by a glance down your dress. You sat up straighter, adjusting the collar of your coat back over your neckline with a weary huff.

“Ah, you know what, I’m good with just my phone…please.”

This was why you kind of hated the subway. You didn’t know when you were going to have to interact with a creep trying to steal your phone, shoot his shot, or look down your dress as a consolation prize.

You held out your hand expectantly, but still, “Brady” didn’t take the hint.

“Aw, what, you have a boyfriend or something?” he asked.

“Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?” You sighed and decided a white lie was best here. “Yes, I have a boyfriend. Now give me my phone, please.”

“Hmm. Is it like beginning stages, or...?”

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, maybe we can grab a bite to eat, theeen you know. If things are going well, we could take things back to your place,” he said, his brows popping with sleazy suggestion. He still held the phone away from your grasping hand in frustration.

“Hey,” a deep voice cut in. 

You hesitated, glancing back at Professor Winchester. He glared up at Brady with a stony look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Give her the damn phone,” said the professor. His tone boded no argument.

Still, Brady pushed his luck.

“What, you her boyfriend or something?”

The professor didn’t bother to answer the question, but he stood from his seat, his long coat draped down all six feet and change of him, broad shoulders and calm confidence. He stared down at the lankier, scruffier pothead. Then he held out his hand.

Brady shifted back on his heels, seeming to realize that he didn’t want this version of Midnight on the Orient Express—the kind that ended up on the 6 o’clock news the next morning. With a roll of his eyes, Brady dropped the phone into your professor’s hand, complete with a dickish quirk of his lips. Professor Winchester gestured at him to fuck off.

“Walk away,” he said.

To your astonishment, the Brady just tossed him a “fuck you, bro,” and went to the other end of the car. You stood up too, just as the subway pulled to a stop. Professor Winchester handed you the phone.

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

“Is this your stop?” he asked, still glancing back with a suspicious eye at the asshole still glaring at your backs.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Okay, come on,” the professor said. He laid a guiding hand on the small of your back and joined you in stepping out of the subway car. To your relief, Brady stayed on the train.

“Thank you,” you said again. “Really, you didn’t have to miss your exit for me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean said, with a shake of his head. His frown was still in place just thinking of that fucking loser. “I’ll have better peace of mind knowing you got home safe.”  

Once you told him that your apartment was another few blocks away, he knew he was going to be walking you home. You told him you weren’t that new to the city, but in his mind, it still wasn’t a safe neighborhood for a young woman to be walking around by herself at this time of night.

He had no other motive than that, however…

He’d been pleasantly surprised to see you tonight. You were a flash of scarlet that tumbled into his arms, the scent of your floral perfume teasing his nose before he caught sight of that little dress clinging to your curvy form, ending just a couple inches above the knee. But you drew your wool coat closer to your body, hiding the tantalizing flash of red from view.

It was for the best, he thought, as he cleared his throat and tried to find something else to focus his eyes on while you two walked together. He couldn’t help but land on your face again, on your pretty painted lips.

A deep, full-bodied red.

It was a familiar shade. You’d worn it before, while chewing the end of a pen absently in concentration during one of his lectures on the difference between skinwalkers and shapeshifters—those long, pointed nails tapping a quiet rhythm against the plastic. It was one of your many quirks, but only now did he realize how much he’d actually noticed about you. If nothing else, he always knew he had your attention.

He also knew you were getting a master’s degree in English, and you were taking his class as an elective. You’d actually sought him out before the semester started to make sure you got a spot in his class.

“Sorry, sir, I know it’s early. I’ve just been trying since last year to get into this class, and I really wanted the chance to take it before I graduate this year.”

He’d shifted in his swivel chair with his jean-clad legs casually crossed. He bounced a tennis ball against the wall, as was his habit. (Mostly because it bothered Benny, who had the office next to his.)

The repetitive bounce really helped him to think sometimes; it was basically his version of a fidget spinner.

“You like mythology that much, huh?” Dean asked.

“Oh, yeah!” you said, as your eyes lit up. “I find it so fascinating how every culture in the world has their own stories that have still survived for thousands of years. Some of them even overlap. Like, maybe it’s technically a different creature, but they have the same name, just in another language. Or it’s the same creature, different backstory. It’s like any novel I’ve ever read—similar tropes, but the style, the packaging. That’s what becomes new and creative.”

Amusement tugged at Dean’s lips.

“Same candy, different wrapper, right?” he offered. His reward was your bright smile.

“Yeah, exactly.”

He’d approved your request without a second thought. Unlike 95% of the students who came and went through his classes, you weren’t just smart. You cared. You had a passion for this stuff…and it mirrored his own.

“So, uh, you liked that play, huh?” he asked. Wanted to rub his hand over his face right after. Smooth, Winchester.

But it succeeded in brightening your eyes again.

“Oh yeah. People tend to think of it as one of Shakespeare’s sillier plays, but it drops some interesting ideas about love, for example.” All while you spoke, you spun vivid gestures with your hands.

Dean’s remained in his coat pockets, but watching you made his smile deepen. He liked when you got like this, so animated and alive with your thoughts. It threatened to draw him out of his somewhat jaded shell.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked. Not because he really wanted to talk about what some sixteenth-century ye olde-y English douche thought about love, but because he wanted to hear you explain it.

You didn’t disappoint.

“Well, there’s the famous Lysander line, ‘The course of true love never did run smooth,’” you said, “but that’s not even my favorite. That’s boring. That’s every rom-com ever, from Harry Met Sally to While You Were Sleeping, all the way to He’s Just Not that Into You, and Crazy, Stupid Love.”

Dean had to interject. “You watch a lot of chick-flicks, don’t you?”

Your lips puckered, but the amusement in your eyes answered his question.

“Like I said, I think Helena is the most underrated tragic figure in the whole story. Yeah, she’s pretty much a doormat, following Demetrius around even though he claims he’s in love with her best friend. Even though he curses at her, threatens to kill her if she keeps annoying him, following him around like an abused puppy. We can agree, he’s like, the biggest asshole in existence, right?” you said.

“Oh, very much agree. You want some coffee?” Dean asked, pointing to a guy selling warm pretzels and drinks from his vendor cart on the side of the road. It had stopped snowing a few days ago, but the February air was still sharp and bitterly cold at this time of night. If only it were midsummer.

“Uh, you know what, I could go for some tea. Thank you,” you said. But you didn’t let that derail you from your thoughts on Shakespearean love. You were still waxing literary analysis while you dug into your purse to find your wallet, but by the time you got it out, Dean had already paid for both drinks and a large soft-baked pretzel.

Your brows furrowed. “Oh! I meant to pay for my part—”

“Don’t worry about it. Here, take half,” Dean said, and he shot you a smile while handing over your hot tea and half of his pretzel. He got your eyes to light up for a different reason as you took the treat. You thanked him with a sweeter smile.

Then you took a bite, and you kept talking.

“But then she says, ‘Love can transpose to form and dignity.’ It can make us act like idiots, right? I mean, back in high school I wrote my boyfriend’s essays for a whole year because I didn’t want him to fail English, and let’s face it, he could barely spell his own last name.”

“Yikes,” Dean chuckled. Sounded like a GED and a gas station job in that guy’s future.

“Right? And what did he do? He dumped me the week before prom because he knew Ruby Summers would put out.” You rolled your eyes, accepting Dean’s sympathies with a gracious nod and a dismissive hand wave. Still, he hoped all you’d given to that guy was your time.

"Well, the guy you're seeing now better be treating you better," he said.

You blinked, your brows furrowing a bit in confusion, until realization dawned on you.

"Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," you said with a small chuckle. "That's just what I tell pushy weirdos on subways."

Dean was tripped up for a second, but he eventually quirked a smile.

“So anyway, my favorite bar of the whole play is what Helena says in Act 1,” you said. “‘Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.’”

In that moment, Dean’s eyes were a little too captivated.

But you broke the spell.

You glanced ahead to continue along the crosswalk with him, taking another warm, soft bite of pretzel.

“And that’s why Cupid’s always painted like a blind baby…or something like that,” you said. You laughed a little, and you seemed to realize just how long you’d been yapping his ear off. You came to a stop at what he assumed was your apartment building, but you suddenly got quiet. Embarrassed.

“Sorry, once I open my mouth on this stuff, I can’t really stop unless someone stops me and tells me I’m literally killing them with words that don’t make sense.”

“You’re making a whole lotta sense to me,” Dean replied. And he realized that he meant it. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. I like that.”

Your mind seemed to be a hamster wheel on steroids, but he kind of liked that too.

“Well, did you like the play?” you asked, smiling in embarrassment. “Sorry, can’t remember if I even asked you that yet.”

He chuckled. Even if you had, he didn’t mind answering again.

“I like it more now, hearing you talk about it,” he said. But maybe that was too honest. He padded it with something more appropriate, as your instructor. “It makes sense, since you’re an English major, but your passion always comes through in your essays. I’m really glad you decided to take my class this semester.”

You demured further at the praise. “Oh, thank you. It really is my favorite class so far this year, but…that’s because you’re the one teaching it. You're really good at telling stories. You make them simple and easy to understand, even when we're talking about hell hounds and old ghost stories, or the uh, Oedipus complex, or something.”

Dean chuckled, but it was his turn to be touched, even if it surprised him too. You were just so honest and free enough to speak your mind. It was refreshing.

“Well, thank you. Glad to hear at least one person’s getting something out of it,” he said, his smile warming for once.

You smiled too, looking at him through your lashes. “All right well, thanks again for walking me home. I’ll, um…see you on Monday-ayy!”

You stepped up onto the first stair leading up to your apartment and caught an icy patch with your red-bottomed heels. A gasp fell from your lips as your arms spun out to catch yourself on anything that could keep you from falling, and that happened to be Dean—specifically his coat, and then his biceps when he moved in fast to keep you upright.

He ended up gathering you into his arms while you clung to his coat. Your red nails bit into the dark fabric. In his mind’s eye, he could imagine them popping the buttons of his dress shirt, carving shaky lines of heat and pleasure across his skin.

Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to rid himself of that image, his jaw ticking in response. But another one just replaced it when his gaze met yours, half-lidded and shocked, but…contemplating.

Hot breaths mingled in between, puffing visibly on the cold air.

“God, I’m sorry!” you breathed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He cleared his throat past the slight roughness in his voice. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um…Take Two,” you said, laughing weakly.

You aimed to let him go and continue on up the stairs by yourself, but Dean couldn’t stop himself from trying to help you. He held your elbow at least, with a hovering hand by your waist in case you slipped again. When you finally made it to the door, you paused and turned to look at him over your shoulder. Again, that look in your eyes said you were debating something in your mind.

“You okay?” he asked again.

You nodded. “Yeah, I just, um…you know what? Never mind. Uh, good night!”

Dean nodded, giving you a casual salute. He didn’t leave until you got in the building safely, but for his entire long walk home, your face wouldn’t leave his mind. That look of internal conflict, like you’d been weighing some kind of pros and cons. He had to wonder…

Had you been about to invite him up to your apartment?

But no. Fucking no. He dismissed that thought as soon as it came. He was almost ten years older than you.

Didn’t stop Catherine Zeta-Jones from hooking up with Michael Douglas. She’s barely pushing fifty while he’s halfway into Senior Depends.

Second problem. Career ending and reputation ruining and his own clock punch at the local 7/11—kind of a problem.

You were a student.

Grad student, came a whisper from the back of his mind.

In Greek mythology, the golden apples of Hesperides in Hera’s garden were guarded by a dragon. The Norse gods also believed in their own version of immortal golden apples, harvested by the goddess Idunn. Sounded a bit like Eden, right? As in, the Judeo-Christian Garden.

As in, forbidden fruit.

What did they all have in common? There was always a consequence for the taking and sampling part. The question was, is the price worth how good it tastes?

Remembering the feeling of your soft curves under his hands, Dean had a feeling it would be more than fucking worth it.

But he shook the thought from his head, his fingertips digging into the soft insides of his coat pockets.

He was your professor. That was where those thoughts should end.

You didn’t even see him that way…did you?

You shucked your heels off as soon as you got inside your apartment. You heaved a deep sigh and shed your purse, your coat, your earrings and necklace, which you set down on the nightstand in your bedroom. You sat on the edge of the bed and fell back onto the creaky mattress.

Your hands came to rest lightly over your stomach, a safe place, while you thought back to how Professor Winchester held you so tight. Secure. Gentlemanly.

How he looked at you, his green-eyed gaze falling to your lips, like he was contemplating the best way to close that distance, bowing his head those last few inches and…

You forcibly shook your head. He was your goddamn teacher.

It didn’t matter that he was probably the youngest faculty member on campus, and you were a twenty-five-year-old graduate student. Whether or not the man was “age appropriate,” he was still your professor. You couldn’t think about him like that.

And he absolutely didn’t look at you like that…

Did he?

AN: Sorry again for all the nerdy lit. tidbits, but I had fun. 😂 I'm thinking about expanding this into an actual little series, so let me know what you think! ❤️

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[bullet-prooflove]

Okay so ignore me if you don't want to answer this but I have to ask... you had Allegra and Robby on the betting board, does Faye and Jack make an appearance on the betting board?

This is actually a great question. I’m sorry this ended up being such a long response!

The honest answer is no because no one ever saw it coming. Not Faye, not Jack, not their friends or colleagues. Noone except Myrna.

Jack never felt he was worthy of Faye, Faye never felt Jack liked her.

That all changed in The Asshole King when Jack saw how Faye handled that veteran. She didn’t act like he was broken and the way she treated him with music, the way Jack had been treating himself in a way really unlocked something in him. When he offers her that ride he’s really kinda saying I’m ready, I’m giving up my bullshit because he knows he’s going to be in close proximity, that he can’t keep those barriers up the entire way. And Faye makes it easy for him, she doesn’t treat him like the asshole he’s been to her because she understands he’s damaged and it’s a lot more complicated. She’s an exceptional psychiatrist, she knows what a man in pain looks like.

After The Asshole King and they do become more friendly, it never really shows outwardly. They’re both professionals, its warmer between them and people are just happy they’re getting along. Inwardly they’re both falling in love with each other, texting outside of work, swapping music choices, visiting old vinyl shops together at the weekends. It’s not dating, Jack keeps a respectable distance and Faye gives him that space because this is all so new to them both, but especially him.

Even when she takes him home after his head injury in Bob Dylan, no one thinks there’s anything to it. Robby’s even decided he’ll check in and see how Jack’s doing after his own shift when he hears about what happened. This is exactly how Robby finds out about the two of them. He lets himself into Jack’s apartment with the ‘in case I’m dead’ key because no one answers the door and accidently overhears them in the throes of passion in the bedroom. He quietly lets himself out.

When the two of them walk into work together holding hands, everyone is shocked but quite happy for them because Jack is finally starting to live again.

[specialagentartemis]

a student cited several sources that don’t exist??? Jfc using AI is bad enough but at least check that the source is real

Yeah, this is the second time I've gotten that.

The ones who do this just don't care, not really, not about this class. And I'm TA'ing for an Intro to Anthropology lecture gen ed, and about 1/3 of the students were genuinely into it and 1/3 were showing up for the grade and 1/3 did not give a crap, and that's a pretty normal distribution. But this distribution of AI papers is new. Even last semester it wasn't this bad.

The problem is that college has been full of perverse incentives for a long time, and I'm a grad student who has no power to change that. Learning is less important than Getting The Correct Grade; getting the correct Grades that you can exchange for a Degree in the shortest amount of time is the primary goal. College as commodity. Learning is nice if it happens but it is not the goal, because learning is not rewarded: grades are. And it doesn't matter to the administration, and to your tuition payments and your scholarships, if you learn anything or not. What matters a lot to those things is if your grades are good enough. So of course the students see gen eds outside their major as a waste of time: it's just a thing they have to do to get their very expensive degree, and the degree is the point. The classes, learning, those are not prioritized, not incentivized. Grades are the end-all be-all. It's awful! But it's what this system creates the incentive to do! I hate it!

I've seen a couple people on tumblr smugly say "Academics are smug assholes who hate their students, and the reason they dislike ChatGPT is that it exposes that their degree is fake and worthless." And obviously those people have never talked to a teacher in their lives, but they are missing the deeper, worse point: teachers overwhelmingly want their students to learn. ChatGPT exposes just how many students do not give a shit about the thing we are so passionate about that we made it our careers, do not give a shit that we are trying to teach them, do not give a shit about our time, because the whole college as a structure and an institution that we work for doesn't really give a shit about that either. It's rational self-interest by the students but man it hurts me as a teacher, to know that so many students not only don't care about what I have been busting my ass to try to do for them, but also think I'm stupid enough to not notice.

[rosesnbooks]

Sagittarius placements

sun in sagittarius: they are passionate about travelling and meeting interesting people. they work to live, not live to work. their free time is very important to them. life feels like an adventure, and they like people who can keep up with their pace. they can get wrapped up in their own thoughts and form strong opinions, sometimes forgetting what it's like to be someone with a different perspective. they may hurt people unintentionally because they're so focused on their goals and having fun that they forget about others or don’t give them enough attention. however, at their best, they can be very caring, and their energy can light up the room. they usually take care of their health and enjoy physical activities. they try to stay optimistic, even when life feels heavy. everyone i’ve met with this placement values humor deeply, and they often use it to cope with their issues; sometimes to their own detriment and to others’. many of them move through life at a fast pace and keep their calendar full, while others prefer to explore their interests more privately.

moon in sagittarius: super funny and magnetic. they are known for their humor—whether it's dry or happy-go-lucky, they’re naturals at it. they’re usually loved by the general public, and they know how to make people feel seen and at ease around them. they’re ambitious and like to go after their dreams. they’re willing to take risks and don’t let fear rule them. they tend to care deeply about people and have a strong moral code. they can be really empathetic and sweet. they value honesty. i think a lot of them seem untouchable—like they’re almost too good to be true, which is why people don’t always approach them or flirt with them. those who are on the toxic side want everything to go their way and may try to push their beliefs onto others. they can say really hurtful things without batting an eye, and they sometimes value power too much. hm, i also feel like there are lots of lgbtqa+ people with this placement. their looks and energy feel very youthful. they’re passionate and unique. many sag moons have wildly different qualities, and yet you can always spot them.

ascendant / rising in sagittarius: people tend to be charmed by them easily. they seem like the kind of person you can have fun with and joke around a lot. they’re independent spirits who dislike staying in one place for too long. i feel like one half of them comes off as a bit mysterious and different, while the other half seems charming and outgoing. they tend to attract attention, whether they admit it or not. they like people who can switch between topics easily and keep the convo light. no matter how approachable they seem, it often feels like they’re hiding their depth from most people—just like many of us do. they show their vulnerable side only to those closest to them, and even then, it feels like they’re still processing things and holding some parts back. their hair usually looks healthy and voluminous, and they tend to have nice skin.

mercury in sagittarius: intellectuals! they tend to keep a positive mindset and have a deep desire to be understood—and to understand the world around them. sometimes, they feel like no one really gets them. they’re smart and know how to use their capabilities in ways that benefit them. some people find them a bit insensitive or dramatic, while others see them as sweet and fun to be around. they can be pretty memeable, and they often talk a lot. some have a chaotic way of speaking—like starting a sentence about dairy products and somehow ending up in a discussion about capitalism; not everyone can keep up. their mind is constantly on the run, filled with innovative ideas. they’re drawn to people and institutions that allow them to explore their desires and seek answers to big questions. they may clash with very sensitive or introverted people because they don’t always understand how those people operate—this can lead to misunderstandings or tension. on the other hand, some of those same people might appreciate them for their attentiveness and how they gently point out when more sensitivity or grounding is needed. they’re often expressive with their gestures and facial expressions.

venus in sagittarius: one word: space. they need it. they dislike people who are too obsessive or possessive. they need room to breathe and to feel like they’re their own individual at the end of the day. they want partners who understand that. they tend to wear interesting patterns and colors, and they often like to stand out. they especially love a good compliment. they’re sensitive souls who want to experience love as something warm, adventurous, freeing, and interesting. they’re drawn to people who bring something new into their world and expand their perspective. they tend to avoid those who feel too intense or emotionally heavy. to keep them interested, little adventures and making them feel heard and cared for can do wonders. sometimes, they feel like they might be too much for others in the long run—so they look for someone reliable and honest. their love feels like the comfortable warmth of a fireplace and the excitement you get at an amusement park. they’re fun to be around, and their minds work in mysterious, interesting ways. if they decide to let you into their close circle, you’ll feel honored. some of them go through multiple partners before finding the right one, because not many people fit their criteria in terms of character and lifestyle. the toxic ones just like to cheat. they’re usually very spiritual and/or religious, and they prefer people who share their worldviews.

mars in sagittarius: these people have such intense outbursts of energy sometimes! especially when they’re talking about something they love or experiencing something exciting. once they start talking or doing something while spending time with someone, they won’t stop until they’ve used up all their energy—or you explicitly tell them to calm down lol. it’s sweet, really. they love learning new things, especially from different kinds of people. absorbing knowledge lights a spark in them. if they like you and think of you as a good speaker, they’ll listen attentively. but if you catch them daydreaming while you talk, they’re either not interested or just too wrapped up in their own thoughts. i haven’t met a person with this placement who hasn’t traveled to a foreign country multiple times, no matter their budget. they usually move out of their native country or at least live somewhere else for a while. their laugh is something people remember—it’s big, endearing, and usually fills the room. they often experiment with their hair and personal style. they’re usually not that direct and tend to act only when you’ve crossed way too many lines. but if you hurt someone they love, they really struggle with self-control, in my experience.

saturn in sagittarius: these people may have a complex relationship with religion and spirituality. despite having a strong desire to travel, things often get in the way, making the process difficult or even impossible at times. they’re very independent and like to do things their own way—which can either help them grow or create obstacles and enemies along the way. they’re charismatic and funny, and they tend to attract a lot of people, forming many connections—but rarely emotionally fulfilling ones. some of them need to learn how to rely on others more and open up when they’re feeling low. life seems to test them repeatedly until they learn to become more open-minded and, in some cases, more spiritual. some struggle in their academic lives, but those who persevere and have the means to work through their challenges often achieve great grades and experiences. they may explore different careers until they find one that truly fits them.

jupiter in sagittarius: very lucky individuals. they have lots of interests and seek adventure wherever they go. they learn from other people and cultures and are curious about all things spiritual. many of them know how to transfer their knowledge productively, so they make excellent teachers. they’re constantly evolving and are naturally good at manifesting. people are usually very drawn to their personalities—whether they’re on the louder or quieter side, there’s something familiar and warm about them. they also have a way with words, so public speaking or writing can be a passion of theirs. they’re often good-looking, have a strong sense of aesthetic, and may even be known for it. i’ve noticed they generally have longer faces and are often above-average height—or even really tall. they can have strong humanitarian desires, and they love to travel. they are truly special people♡

☆disclaimer: i am not a professional, so take this with a grain of salt☆

[cosmic-giraffe]

So I read that stupid fucking callout doc on Von and I'm gonna say my piece on it.

For those unaware, a doc was shared today that accused Von of using generative AI in her art. For the Tetro sprites, for her own personal art, and for paid commissions by fans.

As any self-respecting artist should agree, generative AI is a soulless, plagiarising waste of energy that is devoid of any artistic merit and should be shamed.

But I absolutely 100% believe that not only has Von not used AI in her art in any degree, but that the doc was made in bad faith.

I won't be refuting the doc point by point because it's 1 1 5 F U C K I N G P A G E S L O N G, but because it's also almost 1am for me and I'm too aggravated to sleep because of this whole mess.

The doc was pointing out "inconsistencies" in Von's art, claiming that she drew characters differently each time, the anatomy was fucked up, the finer details melted into each other and other stuff like that.

First of all, Tetro Pink's sprites were all drawn 2-3 years ago (iirc), and any anatomical mistakes can just be chalked up to a younger, inexperienced artist getting their anatomy wrong or not taking into consideration how hair falls and stuff like that. Given how 90% of the doc's grievances involved poorly drawn hands and impossible hair physics (in a FUCKING ANIME STYLE, WHICH IS NOTORIOUS FOR NOT BEING REALISTIC), it's pretty obvious that they're nitpicking.

Secondly, the accusation that Von's newer art is using a higher quality generative AI engine to pump out her art. This is especially heinous to me because it's literally JUST AN ARTIST IMPROVING HER SKILLS?????????

What really annoyed me too was them tearing apart Von's flowerbed thumbnails, claiming that they were "too different" from the current Pink sprites of each corresponding character.

Von has said repeatedly that the thumbnails were drawn concurrently with the series, yet again an example of her improved skills showing in her newer work.

Thirdly, Von has admonished use of AI repeatedly and threatened to kick people from the Discord server for doing such things, especially in regards to feeding her own art to an algorithm. During the lead-up to the Chapter 4 trial, somebody didn't want to access the official flowerbed thumbnail locked behind Von's ko-fi, and so fed a prompt involving her art into a generator and shared it gleefully in the server.

This is a huge slap in the face to her, as well as every other artist whose years of hard work and blood and sweat and tears have been reduced to a mess of pixels and algorithms spewing out something that vaguely resembles their art.

It's just so aggravating because this doc's author is claiming to "spread awareness" but it's fucking obvious they're jaded and wanting to tear down a small independent creator.

SOMETHING THAT DR FANS ARE FUCKING NOTORIOUS FOR.

They're so entitled, so selfish, so DESPERATE for attention that they'll mock and ridicule the creators that are making huge projects accessible to them FOR FREE, just because they feel like they can.

It's insulting, it's unnecessary, and I hope Von is looking after herself because the way things are looking, none of us deserve Tetro if this is how we allow our community to attack and dog pile the person kind enough to share her passion project with us when she's under no obligation to do so.

[amagicalmoonlight]

Imagine King trying to befriend and redeem his relationship with the color gang, he owes them a big apology and they're his son’s best friends after all.

Imagine he gets talking with Yellow, and they both chat about coding with the Command Block, and Yellow has so many questions and is so curious and wants to learn all of what King knows about coding.

Imagine King seeing all the passion Yellow has for coding, King learned to code purely to get closer to his goal of destruction, but Yellow? Yellow genuinely loved coding with all his heart, he loves to learn for the sake of learning, and he loved trying to make stuff he thought his friends would enjoy too.

Imagine King sees this, then starts to try out coding again, not as a means to an end, but for the joy of it, for the joy of creation and sharing your creations.

He shows Purple a project he’s been working on and, wouldn’t you know it? Purple also really likes coding! They work together with coding and make stuff for fun, they learn to bond through it.

Imagine Yellow, King and Purple all being coding buddies.

I want Yellow, King and Purple to be coding buddies.

[moosemann404]

Fuck you Ena-fies your Doug Ratttman (click for better quality)

Here are the sides. Originally, one side (painter) was going to have a beard, but my beards already look horrible, and half of one looked even worse. That other foot was also going to be like… a full foot, before I gave up and now it’s just shapes.

Worker was originally called Scientist, but I changed it because it’s supposed to be his ‘work face’ (aka playing nice and holding his tongue and shit. Basically a customer service face). I would have changed painter but I couldn’t think of a descriptor for it proper and ‘passionate’ didn’t feel right. It’s the side that’s more honest and prefers doing things that aren’t work or that he finds fulfilling.

The more extreme faces are extensions of this. Worker getting so worked up that it progresses to full on paranoia, desperate to keep his job + the idea that people are trying to take it away from him in the first place. Catatonic is a state of Painter failing to do its job. Either the creations are no longer fulfilling or there are so many tasks to do to complete them that he shuts down. Or people keep trying to distract him or take him away from what he’s doing.

(Also the raise lower thing on Paranoid is like the Fuzzies from Mario)

And bonus: Concept that was Wheatley!!

…you know at some point

Yeah this doesn’t look much like him but. We ball. I’ve been informed by a friend as well as my brother that sexypedia woulda gone crazy over this.

Originally I was going off the way he was a Big Screen through chapter 8 and part of chapter 9, you know, big old god face. And then something grabbed me by the throat and whispered ‘experiment with your style’ so now we have this thing as a result. I had a lot of fun doing the sort of pseudo-rubber hose style. Close ups below along with some details.

The base design I had. I never had a tv with an antenna (though I have had a thick ass bubble tv) so I looked at a bajillion references. Given that Wheatley is a certified Yapper, I went for a more talk show set background. The style of the furniture is all Retro Future when they used eye bleed orange and had big egg chairs because Aperture had a small bit of that aesthetic in the first underground section (or second??? I struggle to remember timelines). I struggled to find any actual retro future ceiling lamps because the first 30 images were ai generated. Hate to see it. Resorted to looking at eBay.

The dials and buttons are meant to be copper, since most of the TVs I saw had gold accents and it just didn’t really work out when I applied it here. I think I’m just shit at coloring metals. I would have put ‘The Wheatley Show’ on the sign but my handwriting/cursive is too dog water.

The second design I did. I tried some squash and stretch here, and I’m quite proud of it. The antenna are being tugged down, so I know there probably should be a picture but shhh, I can do what I want. I was more interested in making it look like he was pulling his hair.

I couldn’t name this one properly. It’s also closer to a shut down, but things like dread and emotional drain fit too. I debated on doing this whole thing in black and white, as early TVs didn’t have color, but after consulting some people I decided to only do it for certain expressions. He also desaturates when unsure/uncomfortable.

This one was the one I was most excited to get to. The hands can do more than just mess with the antenna, they can change the channel and click the buttons (they’re volume buttons even though I don’t think TVs had those at least not like this). There’s a number of different backgrounds that can pop up when being fiddled with, like a weather broadcast, a nature documentary, a cooking show, pretty much anything, as long as it falls into that 60-70s approach I had.

Oh right yeah there’s a guy in there.

I wanted to make him simultaneously more and less details than the guy in the screen. More detail in the bow tie and the arms, but lacking the suit detail. This one veered closer to doctor Seuss in terms of style I fear. The white side of the face is supposed to look more like a mask, which is why the iris is a different style and the smile doesn’t line up.

Bonus funny

[dropthedemiurge]

All Love for Love's Sake actors really loved this project, I can't–

I finished watching behind the scenes and cast reaction to the series, and they all kept talking about the passion for the project, incredible long in-depth preparations, not wanting to let go of this project, wanting to give and show the romance more and crying a lot, especially Taevin – he was choking up recording the last narration message, it took him 40 minutes because he didn't want to say goodbye to this project and this line was also wishing everyone happiness; and his eyes were teary in so many scenes even when characters shouldn't be crying, just because he was feeling this way for the character and story

And everyone else – working without complains, taking overwhelming amount of notes, studying all possible resources, doing tricks and giving their all for this project, striving to give the best result and working together that even camera director came up with one of the best lines in the script, everyone was so involved and ambitious...

It's so damn obvious LFLS was a project of love, and I can't. We need more BLs like this. They are still proud of it, will never forget it and they want to give more. It's such a rare case in Korean industry that still treats BLs like something unprofitable or otherwise just a trend. Kim Gyuna, Lee Taevin, Cha Joowan, Oh Minsu, Cha Woongki and everyone on the staff who worked on LFLS... I want to say thank you so much Т_Т

[creatingblackcharacters]

hello! Im currently writing a character in what has turned out to be a majority Black cast, she values her appearance a lot and really enjoys getting into fashion and presentation- shes the type of person to spend an hour picking an outfit and another two hours on makeup to go to the mall. Given how ahe is as a person and how much she enjoys looking pretty and elegant and noticeable, and that she really likes variety in style, do you have any hairstyle recommendations? I want to show a variety of hairstyles in the cast (rn I have a character who starts with an afro and midway trhough the story changes to locs as a long-term change to represent their character arc, a charactrr with box braids which they tie back in a ponytail most of the time, and a character with a short frohawk) and my current favorite options for who she is as a person and her style choice would be box braids, locs or an afro, all of which (to my knowledge) can be styled pretty differently day to day which is what she likes. She could wear wigs, but I think she enjoys deep hair care and showing off how like. This is her work her skill her passion and a representation of her soul. Im happy with any of the three first options but theyre all options other characters have and again id love some variety to show off as many gorgeous Black hairstyles as I can, so id really love your input on any other ideas or if ive misunderstood any of the three im considering for her.

Thanks!

I am a little confused; these are three different people, yes? I assume we're talking about the character that... No, actually 😅 I don't know which one you mean. OH it's a fourth person! Okay. I don't have any suggestions myself personally because there's so many styles. If you wanted to get fun, I'd literally go to my lessons and click those links on afros and twist outs and just have her try them out one by one. Or, I would go down a rabbit hole of Black hair and fashion YouTubers and Tiktokers- you could figure out what products she uses, what styles she could range in, and other details that would make it feel more authentic.

☕ Hot Chocolate: Hi! Let me start with what I think is weird issue. Putting box braids in a ponytail MOST of the time, sounds like a waste of a look. 😅 So if you want the character to have various styles Box Braids is not the way to go. Locs and an Afro are your best bet for a character that wants to rock their natural hair in various ways. I personally would suggest going to YouTube or TikTok and finding a Black woman who styles herself on the regular. I promise there are many lovely ladies that will take you through their daily steps.

[effietrinket1619]

Effie your Lanternfam TikTok AU is driving me nuts and if I end up downloading the app it's all your fault (in a good way)

Jess posts a video of John and Guy talking to each other, but they set their rings to translate everything they say to be completely unintelligible. The linguists on TikTok are going crazy because it's very clearly a language based on how structured the gibberish sounds but it has absolutely correlation with any Earth language so they can't even begin to tell what is being said

On a related note, eagle-eyed botanists catch a glimpse of a plant in the garden that doesn't look like anything found on planet Earth. Is it an alien species? Is it even a plant? Did the Green Lanterns bring a potentially invasive species from outer space???

At some point, Jo begins showing up with a different hairstyle in every video. None of the Lanternfam acknowledge this, but the viewers are going insane because some of her hairdos seem to defy the laws of physics (they do, Jo is using her ring to make them work)

Simon has a whole miniseries of him working on the Lanternfam's car. They double as thirst traps because he's very buff and obviously knows what he's doing with those power tools. Keli's usually just off-screen handing him equipment and providing commentary

Jessica does a lot of gardening videos and mentions that she was in school for forestry before she had to drop out. Everyone assumes that she's a cutesy nature-loving vegetarian until she pulls deer meat out of the freezer and mentions that she hunted it herself

John built a bunch of hidden doors and secret rooms into the house. Some of them, like his office that's hidden behind a bookshelf, are just for fun so Jessica does show them on TikTok. But others like the armory or panic room bunker are because they're actual superheroes who need to be prepared if one of their nastier enemies like Major Force or Black Hand decides to show up. Those have some borderline lethal traps and Batman is very lucky he didn't set any of those off when he broke in

i spend like six hours on that fuckass app every day so other people don't have to. ignore the temptations, my brethren. you must.

every linguist i know and have seen are simultaneously the most passionate, clever and insane people i've ever had the pleasure of knowing. an alien language? i think that would send every linguist who watches and stitches that video into a genuine coma. or a rabid frenzy. depends. they're trying really hard to discern some of it while jess fights off collab offers valiantly. with a bat.

when people ask jess about her suspicious fucking plants, she literally films another video where all of the plants have been since removed and or spray painted/decorated to look like normal earth plants. people can very much see through it but she acts as if everything is totally fine. so does everyone else (simon does look like he's being held hostage with a rifle the entire time however which is suspicious)

oh yeah absolutely, though i'm pretty sure some hair types are just able to hold sickass shapes through the correct styling procedures and whatnot. jo will walk past the camera with her newest styling creation and a lot of them, while they look semi-plausible, are just impossible enough to plant a seed of doubt. jess, who knows exactly what jo is doing, tells her the new products are doing wonders. jo agrees and keeps walking. the viewers demand to know What Fucking Products but since jess is legally not allowed to do product placements (*cough* bruce *cough*), she says fuck all.

that miniseries with simon is great for a couple of reasons. keli almost always makes it a point to pass him the wrong tool whenever simon's wronged her in any way (sometimes she 'accidentally' drops it on his foot) and on occasion, like a wraith in the night, kyle will walk past and drench simon head to toe in water which makes viewers go feral because now they can see his abs through the shirt. simon seriously wonders how it got to this point.

i don't think enough people capitalise on the fact that jess is probably terrifying. this cements it. girlie has a fridgeful of deer meat that she hunted herself and as far as they'd known, she's a mild young woman with a mischievous streak and anxiety. i can assure you there is an immediate smear campaign against jess's name over the fact that she hunts and shoots and whatnot. it doesn't go far because jess should've died a million times by now and this cannot bother her.

i will say that bruce survived breaking in because the lanterns kinda saw this coming and accounted for that. the deadlier traps are activated mostly by actual commands, whether vocal or physical buttons/levers they need to press. there are some that are triggered automatically but john really cannot afford killing people who are (unfortunately) allies. generally the go to is get to safety rather than hope the traps work but they're definitely there. the hidden office is so john can disappear if things get too much. jess found out about it immediately because he always disappeared in one specific direction the moment hal and guy started bickering too loudly. are the others aware of this? unsure. but there are other things (which i'm too drunk to think of right now). bottom line: john is a genius and needs to be paid more.