#the workers there are striking all the fucking time which means that place sucks

[dogtoling]

that mention about jobs taking up a lot of time is making me think, cause our modern conception of a job is the result of a lot of historical factors that might not have happened at all in inkfish history…

a lot of grind culture can be eventually traced back to christian ideals around suffering and labour improving moral character, which I can’t imagine inkling societies would have ever latched onto large-scale considering their natural inclination towards hedonism. though this of course brings up questions about the typical work ideals amongst other species that may have lived alongside inklings, if interspecies societies have even been a thing for long. and if inklings were indeed largely happy with doing only the work necessary to cover their needs and using the rest of their time for fun, how did they reach and surpass industrial revolution technology? what are the effects of octarian intergration from splat2 on work culture, considering both their greatly advanced technology that would now start being incorporated on the surface and their background in a strict, work-intense military society?

this started with “maybe the splatoon world has a non-stupid typical amount of work hours” and now I’m down a rabbit hole of every possible socioeconomic factor that could affect it

these are interesting things to think about and definitely lead down a rabbit hole. just based on how much inkling society mirrors ours, I've assumed they have similar work cultures, but... all the repetitive or boring jobs around Inkopolis sure do seem to be taken up by jellyfish, don't they? OBVIOUSLY in the game it's because the jellyfish is the default type of background NPC and it would be a pointless amount of effort animating custom inklings and especially other species just to do random stuff in the backgrounds of stages, but it does make you think.

What kind of work weeks do Inklings even have? Do they live in the utopia of 4 or even 3 day work weeks with 6-hour shifts? Let me tell you there is NO worker shortage in the Mollusc Era with the sheer amount of people that just... EXIST, with the knowledge that literally millions of people (the actual number was ridiculous) attended a singular deepsea concert - all of those people must've come from somewhere in Inkadia. We know that canonically some fish can have hundreds of offspring: is that like, per clutch? Is that their version of "oh wow, I'm having twins"? But in their case a singular (1) sardine decides to go clubbing one day and things get a little wild and 1 month later theres 84 more baby sardines just running around. like.

all that with the further knowledge that it's implied that most societies on Mollusc Era Earth are concentrated around the shorelines of continents, which means that billions, potentially tens of billions of people are all in EXTREMELY close proximity because apparently going inland isn't very popular. So like, there's DEFINITELY NO LACK OF WORKFORCE. We see there doesn't seem to be any kind of societal obligation to work because some species just do fuck all (mostly symbiotes, like Moe), Spyke just hangs out, most of the jellyfish just hang out. How they live without an income (?) is beyond me. And I don't think the majority of jobs would have strict species requirements, as in which species are qualified or not qualified to do a certain job - so theoretically there's no way there's even enough jobs to DO if they were to have a grind culture like we do!

It's technically very likely that Inklings BARELY work and that might go for a lot of Mollusc Era species! Maybe shifts aren't more than like, 4 hours per day! Maybe most people have multiple jobs because they're really more like occasional hobbies and they have 30 coworkers, who knows!

[sukirichi]

earned it [01]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it.  But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

request. (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + (dumbification, praising kink)

cw. smut, overstimulation, slight dumbification, praising kink, slight degradation, spanking, belt whipping, explicit murder, rough sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), multiple sex scenes, riding, slight angst, veryyy unedited, sex when standing up, sex in pretzel position, dom! gojo, manhandling

notes. 🦋 anon, thanks so much for the request! i hope you love this one, i absolutely poured my heart and soul into this! minus the effort to edit, i’ll just edit this when i’m no longer sick lol

series masterlist

There he was again.

Working in a high-class restaurant located in the heart of the city meant you were no stranger to seeing people of power and titles, but he never failed to make everyone stop in their tasks every time he came around.

You don’t know his name, much less his usual orders since his usual table – middle 98 – wasn’t in your rotation. But you’re held captive in his presence, attention drawn to his broad shoulders clad in what seemed like a hand-stitched three piece suit, his striking white hair falling down in smooth tendrils. There’s something about the way he walks – confident doesn’t begin to describe it – that makes everyone surrounding him feel like they’re merely spectators to the enigma that was him, and he carries this observation proudly in his shoulders, that mischievous smile never absent from his face.

Your co-worker tugs at your sleeve, nearly knocking the empty wine glasses away from your tray. Barely catching them as you falter, you bow down to them in apology. No matter how intriguing the mysterious midnight comer was, you were still working. You needed to keep your head focused and in the game.

Hours pass by of shifting from one table to another, your hands beyond cramped from scribbling down such intricate orders. It’s a miracle you were hired in a place as luxurious as this in the first place when you couldn’t pronounce, much less spell the main dishes, but you proved through determination and hard work that the miracle was also accompanied by your grit. It didn’t matter that you were the youngest part-timer with little to no experience – unexpected things always happened when you’re backed in a corner, leaving you with no choice but to follow through.

This corner was nothing less than the struggle to make ends meet. While you’re lucky to have gotten accepted in one of the top state universities, there still came the issue of tuition fees, plus dorm occupations.

You don’t have the privilege to complain or whine that your experiences are probably not on par with what they expect of you, so you have to do your best; you have to keep pushing no matter how hard it gets and you’re barely awake for class the next day.

Clocking out, you bid goodbye to your co-workers and thank them for their hard work, about to leave through the back door when you hear his voice.

Your gaze lands on him from outside the kitchen, body twisted in the direction of where he sat, long legs crossed one another. He’s thanking the waiter for the wine, and you wince, because it isn’t just any wine. That’s one of the drinks locked in the special cellar because of its hefty price, yet there he was, swirling the red liquid around in his glass as if the amount of zeroes never bothered him. He’s reading something from his tablet, head tilted to the side as he drinks, and that’s when you see it.

It’s so miniscule you would’ve believed it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you’ve seen in this class during one of your laboratory practices, the burn marks on your wrist a painful reminder of your carelessness.

Your boss’ shouts of warning fall onto deaf ears as you push past the double doors, feet moving on its own. The edge of the glass makes contact with his lips, gray lashes flattering across his cheeks, while time and sound becomes nothing but background noise to you. Your cry is inaudible when your hand pushes the glass away from his grip, the sounds of it shattering into pieces like a wake-up call to both of you.

For the first time since you’ve met him, the faintest look of surprise crosses over his face. His hands remain into a reflexive hold of the now missing glass, azure eyes cutting through yours.

You bow down to apologize – you can’t believe you’ve just done that and how his suit was stained and his pants soaked – but the words that left his lips stun you beyond disbelief, effectively freezing you in your state. His voice holds the same iciness as the blue of his pupils, but to you – just for you – there’s a tinge of awe behind them.

“Odd,” he says, “To think my life would be saved by you.”

You wake up with a gasp, hands clutched on the blanket covering your bare frame. There’s sweat forming on your hairline as you look around, wincing at the sliver of light passing through the curtains. Silver, ceiling length draperies obscure the view of the city skies outside, a huge reminder of where you are now – somewhere between the past and the future that’s about to come – and the king-sized bed you lay on almost feels like a dream.

Right. It’s been two years since you’ve met Satoru, the once mysterious customer turned into lover, an arrangement between financial aid and companionship solidifying your relationship with him now.

Your face burns at the sight of your clothes scattered all over your shared room. Your lace panties somehow end up on the chandeliers, the expensive material of your silk dress about to slide off the humongous TV and your bra hanging off the doorknob.

The light ache between your legs does nothing to appease your embarrassment. Even after two years of being with Satoru, it’s still difficult to believe he’s chosen you of all people.

He could’ve had anyone he wants. Not only is he beautiful, young, successful, and smart, he’s also an absolutely god in the sheets, your throbbing core attesting to his never ending array of his skills. Truly, Gojo Satoru was perfect, so much so that you pale in comparison to him no matter how much he’s assured you you’re the only he has eyes on.

It doesn’t make sense to you, but does it have to?

Love never required a logical reason for it to blossom, and you left it at that, fearful that it may just ruin whatever happened between the two of you. Besides, if Satoru wants you, then who were you to question that?

You swing your legs off the side of the bed to make him breakfast, but your legs shake upon contact to the floor, still very much sore after last night’s events.

Satoru’s been away for work for three days, and even though it wasn’t that much of a distance, he still acted like it’s been forever. He sure took his time with you, making you cum three times just with his tongue and fingers alone. He’s a cheeky and mischievous man; there’s no telling whether his words are just sweet lies or plain facts, but if there’s one thing you’re sure of, it’s that Satoru keeps his promises to heart. If he says he’s going to fuck you until you can’t walk the next day, he means it, and now you’re left groaning back onto the bed.

You’re thankful that it’s a weekend. Had it been a school day, it’s going to be an absolute pain in the ass. No matter how much he’s covered your school fees, you still won’t risk missing a day.

The door swings open, revealing your boyfriend clothed in nothing but his boxers, the smile on his face huge at seeing you glare at him. “Aw, baby,” he coos, sliding himself next to you, carrying a tray of pancakes topped with blueberries with him. Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulder and laughs into your air when you grumble at the soreness, which he tries to kiss away. “Sorry not sorry for last night. It’s not my fault I’m so addicted to you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, fighting back that stupid fluttering feeling in your chest. Your attention is diverted to the luscious, fluffy pancakes, and your brows furrow at the sight. “Did you make this for me?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You roll your eyes at him; his energy was always off the charts even after fucking you into oblivion. Thanking him under your breath, you reach for the breakfast, eternally grateful that it’s breakfast in bed because you can’t walk anywhere right now. However, Satoru pries your hands away from the fork, making you lean back instead as he spoon feeds you.

It’s a little humiliating – and he’s basking in this judging from the smirk he wears – but you give in anyway. Unlike him, your stamina isn’t monstrous. You’re still a human and you’re utterly tired, the glare endless through mouthfuls of the pancake. “I’m not a child, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re my baby,” he retorts, smacking a kiss right at your lips.

You complain harder, ever so annoyed that you could never seem to throw him off guard and have the upper hand for once. Satoru eases the frown on your face by kissing you harder, his hand cradling your neck. He’s a fucking tease; his tongue languid and sensual as he tastes the honey coating your lips, sucking your bottom lip inside his mouth before nipping at it.

At the back of your mind, you’re wondering how each moment with him results into touching. Not that you really mind, of course, your stomach only flares up with heat at the thought he wants you just as much as you crave him.

Breakfast is soon forgotten right after seven bites as Satoru leans back against the headboard, thumb soothing circles at your hipbone to guide you on top of him.

He pulls away to breathe, a thin thread of saliva and honey between your lips present, and it’s so erotic that his eyes darken with lust, hands gripping a little tighter. You’re still bare on top of him, hardened breasts on display, but he holds himself back with heavy breaths, not wanting to ruin you further than he already has.

Satoru’s lips lands on your shoulder instead, thumb grazing under the weight of your breasts. He’s kissing you everywhere, almost as if he expects the flutter of his lips to heal you. You gladly let him taste you as he pleases, neck tilted to the side while you catch your breath.

The transition of him from an absolute freak in bed to the caring, compassionate boyfriend he is never fails to give you whiplash.

“How’s your studies?” he murmurs into your skin, his touch feather-like in caressing your back. You feel the hairs stand up at where he grazes them, shivering at the sensuality and tenderness he holds you with. “Doing good? My sweetheart still top of her class?”

“Hmm,” you hum back, planting yourself firm in his lap. He’s already hard under you, his cock twitching when your bare cunt presses on top of his tip, but he controls himself, focusing on your state instead. “My grades are tip-top, all thanks to your support,” Satoru smiles when you’re the one placing kisses all over his face this time, his giggles almost child-like.

Time flies by as you lay there in his arms. You’re lulled back into sleep at the sound of his heart beat, and just as you’re dozing off, Satoru pats your ass. “Baby,” he calls out, “Let me wash you first, then we’ll cuddle afterwards. What do you think about that?”

“That’d be great, I feel sticky.”

Satoru laughs, pulling panicked squeals from you when he suddenly hoisted you in his arms, carrying you bridal style. He kicks the door open before turning the heater on in the Jacuzzi, placing you under the shower first.

You close your eyes under the sprinkle of water, hands splayed all over his chest. Your legs are still wobbling, no thanks to him railing you as if there was no tomorrow, but he holds you upright, kneading his hands into your hair then washing every crevice of your body. When you open your eyes, you see him kneeling down to rub the loofah all over your legs, a slight pinch in his brows from sheer focus.

Your heart beats loudly on your chest, unable to process that the Gojo Satoru is on his knees, his touch nothing less of worshipping as if you were a divine being in his eyes.

It makes you breathe sharply as his face comes up before your core, his tongue darting out for a moment before he looks away, focusing on cleaning you up afterwards. His control and care for your well-being leaves you speechless, leaves you breathless, leaves you wanting him more and more and more that you’re kissing him again the moment he brings you both to his Jacuzzi.

He’s taken his boxers off to enjoy the feeling of skin brushing against skin, the fuzz of bubbles foaming up at your breasts only enticing him to kiss you with equal fervent passion.

You’re grinding down on his dick, his length encased between your lips that are extremely warm in comparison to the cool water. Finally, Satoru is stuttering beneath you, little whines leaving his breath as he kneads your ass, resisting the urge to slap the smooth flesh.

“Satoru,” you moan, “N-need you now, please.”

Fuck, his name on your lips mixed with your moans are enough to make him want to lose his restraint and just fuck you hard and deep there. He growls at how unaware you are of your effect on him, and he’s nothing short of starving in his kisses, never getting tired of tasting you over and over again. He wants to keep kissing you until your scent and taste is imprinted on his skin, to carry you around with him even when you’re not there, because he loves you, and he’s never loved anyone this much before. Especially for people like him, love was nothing but a myth.

Everything is a fantasy with you, a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. If you were to ask him to give up everything for you this instant, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

His heart is enslaved by your existence, and he nods, helping you lift your hips up to align his cock to your entrance. He takes note of your soreness as you slowly sink down on his cock, swallowing your whimpers through open-mouthed kiss. You’re shaking inside his arms, tiny scratches mixed with mewls making its way on his chest, further adding to the litter of scars already painted on his body.

Your head lands on his shoulder the second he bottoms out. Satoru groans at the feeling of your walls fluttering down on him, so warm and so tight that he has to lean his head back on the headrest just to catch his breath.

“You ride me, baby,” he manages through pants. “I’ll let you set the pace – do what’s comfortable with you.”

Your jaw clenches at the same time you clamp down on him one more time, eliciting another sinful moan from your lover. A lazy smirk graces your face as you ride him slowly, the image of the almighty Gojo Satoru falling apart at your ministrations burned at the back of your mind. You’ll replay this memory every time he leaves for work again, and the dreadful thought of having to watch him leave one more time fuels you to bounce on him harder, nails dug into his shoulder.

Satoru winces at the slight sting but doesn’t stop you anyway; he’s no stranger to pain. In fact, he’s a master of that and many more in more ways than one, though you didn’t know that – and he’ll never let you know that.

His eyes snap open at the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the water sloshing out the Jacuzzi. He’s met with the sight of you clutching the edges of the tub, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you fuck yourself harder on his cock. Your breasts bounce right in front of his eyes, tempting him to latch a mouth around it, which he does, the sudden flicking of his warm tongue on your nipples driving you to the edge.

Your soreness becomes a hazy memory of the past with each slide down his dick, thighs burning from the exertion. Satoru is lapping up your breasts and palming the other expertly, his breath hot on your skin.

Something familiar coils into your lower abdomen with each hard thrust, and you throw your head back, moaning his name as if it’s the only thing you’ve ever known. You’re growing tired; he can tell from the way you’re barely lifting your hips, but you’re so close, so near, that Satoru takes it upon himself to push you both right where you wanted to be.

Your moan comes out breathless the moment Satoru grips at your hips, snapping his hips upwards at the same time he guides your body to crush down on him. He’s the one controlling your body, but you’re falling on top of him with no reserve, your weight slamming down to his groin in full force that he’s faltering. Satoru is entranced by the motion of your hips gyrating around the head of his cock, the wavering grin on your face a telltale you’re enjoying the act of destroying him, but he lets you – it’s only fair after the countless times he’s done the same with you. But oh, he’ll have you again and again, and he proves his endless desire for you by forcing himself deep to your most sensitive spots, the glimpse of your mouth hanging open as you come making his cock twitch.

Satoru squeezes your hips as he situates you flat on his cock, groaning as he came in thick spurts. You mewl, scratching at his chest as he rides his high out with a few more sloppy thrusts.

“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers at the top of your hair, well-aware that your oversensitivity is clouding your mind. But he can’t help it, not when you feel so good around him like this. “Just a little more, I’ll be – fuck – right there, oh yeahhh,” he drawls out breathlessly, his cock twitching with the last strings of cum until he grows boneless inside you.

Satoru pulls his cock out, chest heaving up and down from that earth-shattering orgasm. In all honesty, he’s confident he could give you an even better one, but your lids are already fluttering close that he chuckles, pressing a kiss on your temple as a silent you did well.

Somewhere through your half-awake state, you manage to card your fingers through his hair, voice small and weak as you ask, “Don’t you have to go to work?”

Satoru’s eyes lour with something unreadable, and he’s thankful you don’t get to see the sudden glooming of his face. He gently pushes your head to rest on his shoulder, his eyes narrowed at his rippling reflection in the water. In his eyes, he sees the truth – he sees a monster holding an innocent angel he lives to protect – the truth he wants to conceal. He can’t even fathom the possibility of you finding out about who he really is, much less what he does that enables him to provide you with everything you need.

He’s the demon himself, caressing someone as pure as you in his arms, his eyes and true self sinister except for the gentle kisses he leaves at the shell of your ear.

If it keeps you safe, he doesn’t mind becoming even more of a monster if it means keeping you safe.

So he keeps you right where you can’t witness the slight moments of vulnerability in which his horns reveal itself, hugging you tight and possessively in the fear he’ll lose the only thing that matters most to him.

“I have a meeting tonight,” is all he says, is what he always says.

He’s mysterious and aloof, too vague every time you inquire him about what he does for a living. Usually, you’d feel worried or even wary that maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you originally thought, but you’re too tired to question him further, and he takes advantage of your weakness wholeheartedly. All to keep you safe.

Satoru closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, no longer bothered by the fact each step he took is getting him closer and closer to a point of no redemption.

He’s not worried about that anymore, not when his salvation is right in his arms, wrapping him with your love and false sense of safety that it becomes the lie he feeds himself every night just to keep going on.

“I just want to be with you a little longer.”

This time around, Satoru tells the truth.

The rust of blood dripping off the concrete walls is as normal to Satoru as breathing is for everyone else. He doesn’t falter in his movements, doesn’t scrunch his nose at the stench, and he doesn’t waver from swinging his arm back, the heavy weight of the wrench already wielded in his hand.

Someone dared come up to their base to face him head-on.

He has to admit, he was impressed with their guts, but now he feels empty save for a slight sliver of irritation at the man’s bloodied face. He’s panting after coughing up blood so much, his face unrecognizable after the beating Satoru gave him, teeth splattered on the floor. Satoru’s right hand man, Geto, stands at the side, silently inspecting his nails.

They’d been going at this for hours now, yet they seemed to be right where they were at the beginning. Torture was usually an effective method of gathering information, but this hostage seemed to be on the same par of monstrous as Satoru from his unyielding nature, even had the audacity to laugh.

Satoru stops in his tracks, a brow raised at what seemed to be so funny.

“Everyone spoke highly of you,” he spat his blood out, his busted eye twitching under Satoru’s stone cold gaze. “They told me you were barbaric, ruthless, the most feared mafia boss out here, but you’re pathetic now, aren’t you? You’re not the same Six Eyes who sees all they claimed you to be,” Satoru watched warily when his hostage smirked, the same one he always wore just moments from bashing the skull out of someone. It’s because he’s so familiar with it that Satoru immediately puts up his walls, Geto stepping beside him with his gun gleaming under his coat. As expected, the man does not falter, his laughter merely increasing in volume. “You’ve grown soft, Gojo. Your little lover is your weakness, it’s written all over your face. Tell me, what’s stopping you from ending my life already? Afraid that if she finds out, she might push you away?” When Gojo doesn’t answer, the man clicks his tongue. “I fucking knew it.”

Geto moves quicker than his boss. He draws his gun and aims it right between his eyes, only to be stopped by Satoru’s indifferent tone. “Stop.”

“But boss-”

“Why did you come here?” he stabs the man in the thigh with a knife, his screams of pain alleviating enough to distract the painful clenching of his chest. “I don’t believe you came here just to prove the rumors true. Now you tell me, why have you come here?” Satoru slams his fist down on the knife, the blade pushing past through muscles and hitting deep to the bone. “Answer me.”

“Th-there’s a drive in my pocket. Open it and you’ll see.”

The man doesn’t stop squirming as Geto rummages through his jacket, nodding to his boss once they got hold of the slick black device. Geto immediately plugs it to the monitor, several photographs popping up in a few seconds, and those few seconds were all it took to bring the infamous mafia boss down.

Because they weren’t just photos, they were photos of you.

Of you laughing with your friends, of you hugging Satoru’s arm in one of your dates, of you kissing him under the streetlight and even an intimate photo of you going down on him while he’s driving. It must be taken from a street cam judging from the blurry quality, but it’s crystal clear to him anyway, and Satoru’s mind muddles with thoughts darker than he once believed he’s capable of. He feels his anger bloom like fire licking up at his skin, his nerves bursting through, and he’s so obvious, so predictable that his hostage guffaws.

“I was right, I was right-!”

“You mean her?” his voice drips down with so much indifference, it shocks even he himself. His hostage shuts up at the sudden change of Satoru’s aura, that dark, fearsome aura that had people begging him to kill them as an act of mercy coming back to life. The man clamps his mouth shut, chills running down his spine because it’s no longer the same Satoru he mocked pulling the knife out from his thigh.

No, this is the Gojo Satoru, the devil incarnate himself, and he’s made the huge mistake of believing he would be affected by a mere woman. Satoru reads the fear on his face too easily, not bothering to hide his sigh as he twirls the bloodied blade between his fingers.

“She’s nothing to me. She’s just another bitch, another paid pussy. Favorite of the month, you could say, but nothing of worth to me,” he announces, ignoring Geto who’s stiffened up at the corner. “Did you really come all the way here just to see if you could find my weakness? If so, then your organization is a lot dumber than I thought, and I hate people who waste my time.”

“No, no, please, I was just jok-” his eyes widen when Satoru snaps his fingers, and Geto rushes to his boss with his gun. “Please, no, I didn’t think she was just a bitch-”

The man never got to finish his words.

A loud ‘bang’ echoes around the room, followed by a slight snap when his head falls backwards. Blood drips from the hole sitting in between his head, the aim perfect and flawless even with Satoru not looking back. He’s still Gojo Satoru, leader of the Gojo Mafia Clan, and he’s not the most feared leader in history for no reason. He’s always been blessed with a physical prowess and fighting abilities that allowed him to take on other clans by himself, but he’s changing. There’s now a chink in his armour, and people are starting to notice.

If he doesn’t do anything about it soon…

“Sir,” Geto begins, following the rushed footsteps of Satoru outside the hall, where his security is lined up with guns poised and ready to risk their lives for him. This was his power, this was his legacy – and this is who he was.

A killer. A monster. A demon – he’s everything you wouldn’t love.

“I know, Geto, I know,” Satoru says through gritted teeth, his bloody hands clenched into fists. He already knows what he’s supposed to do; he doesn’t need another reminder of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything I know of already. Now send that body back as a warning. I’m going home for tonight.”

Geto is stunned, and he’s got every right to be. After all, in his boss’ 28 years of existence, not once has he called anywhere or anyone home.

He’s always claimed himself to be irredeemable, to be unworthy of love and forgiveness, but slowly yet surely, he was beginning to look at life differently after meeting you, after loving you. The word ‘home’ was never in his vocabulary, and yet, every time your face comes up in his mind, it’s the only word he can think of.

He came home a lot earlier than you expected him to. You’re hunched over the table, legs swinging back and forth as you finish your school packets when the door chimes with the familiar beep. It’s only midnight and he’s already here, the excitement manifesting in you as you jump off the stools, running to greet your beloved.

Satoru ends up as a blur of frantic hands tugging his tie off, his scowl seething with anger and regret pouring off of him in waves.

Before you could say anything, he has you pinned on the wall, one knee inside your legs to keep you upright. Satoru is kissing you, hard, one hand raised to keep both your wrists planted above your head. You’re moaning at his aggressiveness, the sounds encouraged by his erection poking at you from your silk robe.

It’s not rare for him to come home in need of a fuck to clear his head, but…something feels different this time around. He feels different, almost like an entirely new person.

Satoru pulls away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes hooded with lust and lips bruised from the kiss. You’re confuzzled; your lover is the exact same person standing before you, the same person grazing at your breasts until your nipples harden at his touch, so then why does it feel like the person who left and came back are entirely two different people.

“Can I fuck you, angel? Please?”

Your words die down your throat.

Satoru’s never said please before, much less look this devastated as he asks to have you. He always says it with exuberant confidence, his present frown usually a smile. There’s no trace of happiness or even playfulness in his eyes this time around. Instead, they’re filled with fear – desperation, even.

You say yes before you realize it, but it’s enough for Satoru. It feels like he’s only been waiting for that word before he goes on a rampage, for his lips are on yours again, patting your thighs as a silent command to jump. You follow his orders and kiss him feverishly until it becomes a battle for dominance, tongue and teeth clashing against the other. Your hands are tugging at his hair from how rough he’s grabbing at your hips, spanking the sensitive flesh that draws a whimper at you.

You don’t know how Satoru manages to find his way to the leather couch even with his eyes closed, but he takes you there, no longer gentle as he throws your weight down. You’re falling, falling, falling as your knees hit the material, cheeks pressed against the headrest. You turn back to kiss him one more time, but Satoru keeps you down there, the sound of his belt unbuckling reaching your ears.

Satoru wraps the leather around his palm, kissing you flat on the lips just as he slaps the material to your ass. He’s pushed your robe to bunch up at your waist, groaning into your mouth upon the realization you’ve been walking around the house butt-naked.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he nips at your lips, feeding off of the pained moans coating his senses at each whip of his belt. “No underwear while I’m gone – you’re begging to be fucked, angel. You’re so filthy,” he swings his arm back to extend the length of the belt, squeezing your ass before he whips it harder against your flesh. You scream at the contact, nails ripping the leather couch and a slight puddle of drool on your lips.

“S-Satoru!”

“What?” he snaps, gripping your jaw, his eyes replaced with something animalistic as he stares at you. The love is gone in his eyes, your lover almost unrecognizable from the way he whips you again. You jut forwards, arousal pooling and dripping down his sofa. His eyes trail down your gushing pussy, nostrils flared before throwing his belt to the other side of the room. The buckle hits one of his expensive vases until it comes crashing down, the sound of it nostalgic to the first time you met him. “Can’t talk, huh, baby? What do you want? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” you blurt out, wiggling your hips sensationally at his already throbbing dick. “Please fuck me.”

You suppose you should’ve been more careful with your words, because Satoru lives to please, and if you tell him to do something, you can expect he’ll give his everything.

He knocks the wind out of your lungs by squeezing your waist, sliding himself into you one, full thrust. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily, but it’s too fast, too early, that the sudden stretch is painfully pleasurable. Satoru delivers one more smack to your flesh that makes it bounce, his growls loud and ragged as he pounds into you.

You’re clutching at the backrest, eyes shut tight as all your attention diverts to the heat in your core. You wish you could see his face, hold his hand or see the way he admires you while he fucks you, but you can’t see anything. Tonight, you could only feel.

Each thrust sends the couch a little ways forward, his balls slapping against your ass. He’s cursing left and right, more focused on getting his anger out his system than pleasuring you. It’s a drastic change to your lover’s behavior in bed, yet you can’t find any muscle in your body that denies this. Satoru can be rough, but he never really goes all out. One way or another, he manages to hold back for your sake, but his mind’s a mess, the voices in his head screaming louder that it drowns out the need to make you cum first.

He’s relentless, grip bruising the harder he fucks into you. You know you’re gone in the instance Satoru plants one foot beside you, the angle causing him to hit deeper.

Satoru ends up fucking into your cervix with each hard thrust, fisting his hand under your robe while he slams forward. It’s so intense that your vision blurs, a faltered grip on the couch. You’re falling limp under his ministrations, his dick successfully hitting that spot that has you seeing white. You’re screaming, babbling nonsense while Satoru uses you as his own fuck toy, pushing past your tight walls and relishing in the way you hug his cock snugly.

He came first, his thrusts growing sloppy and stuttering for a moment. Satoru pulls out so quickly from you that you’re left gasping for air at the sudden emptiness, and that’s when you feel his cum landing on your lower back.

You’re too slow, too weak – or perhaps he’s too strong, too fast – to react properly to his movements.

Satoru doesn’t let you catch your breath as he throws you over his shoulder, your face nearly smacking his ass. You feel dizzy at this position, and the voice in your head tells you that you should be scared he’s manhandling you like this, but seeing him this way – so reveled, so angry, so out of control – has you rubbing your legs, core dripping at the thought of how he’s going to use you tonight.

Your eyes widen when he doesn’t head for the bedroom. You were so sure he’d take you there, but Satoru lays you flat on the marble countertops of the kitchen, the cold biting into your skin.

Satoru doesn’t waste another second before he spreads your legs open and dives into your cunt. You squeal, legs instinctively closing around his head when you feel his tongue lick a flat stripe at your pussy, but he only pushes them apart, encircling your ankles hard to keep you open.

You know he’s strong, but you’re still surprised that he’s capable of rendering you motionless, powerless like this. Your mind wanders off to a dangerous path in wonders of how else he’s hurt someone like this – whether intentionally or unintentionally – but he immediately pulls you back to reality when he sucks your clit, his eyes direct with yours.

His hands trail upwards to squeeze at your breasts, the immediacy of it all firing up that tight knot in your stomach that he failed to snap a while ago.

Satoru’s nose rubs at your skin the harder he sucks at your clit, tugging it upwards until you’re whining around him. It’s always so erotic to see his pretty face buried in your cunt like this; you’ll never get used to him eating you like you’re his last meal. He laps up your juices like a starved man, his tongue prodding between your lips and slurping everything you offer him, one of his arms retracting to slide two fingers inside your sopping hole.

You moan at the sudden intrusion. The sounds of your moans mixing in with the lewd squelching of your dripping pussy is extremely embarrassing, even more so because you’re actually gushing down his palm.

Your juices spread all over his face, and Satoru is greedy, thirsty for more. He pumps harder into you, curling them against the ridges of your walls, and finally, finally you’re there. Your orgasm washes down on you violently that Satoru has to keep a palm flat down on your stomach, his tongue not ceasing from lapping up your juices. You’re convulsing from his hold, stuttered moans rewarding to his ears.

He doesn’t stop coaxing your wetness out of your cunt, his fingers working you out and easing the previous pain of when he entered you without warning. Satoru leans up to help you sit up, his lips colliding with yours for a much gentler kiss this time around.

You cup his cheeks, feeling him slide your body across the counters. Your arousal that he’s failed to clean up remains there until it spreads all over the back of your thighs, the feeling sticky and uncomfortable, but you’re more focused in his tongue dancing with yours. He tastes sweet – like mint and sugar – but his moans are sweeter, the sound dulcet and making you weak on your knees as you taste yourself on him.

Satoru tugs you forward, panic flooding you when you feel nothing under you. You feel like you’re falling again and you immediately encircle your arms around his neck, but he chuckles through the kiss, quick reflexes put into work as he carries you.

The kiss is sloppy yet heated, both of you unable to focus properly when he’s growing hard again. You expect him to take you to the bedroom to finish things for once and for all, but he’s impatient – this much you know the moment he walked in, but somehow keep forgetting – wrapping your legs to his waist instead before slipping inside you.

You mewl into his mouth, eyes snapping open to look at him nervously. His legs are slightly bent as he bounces you on his cock like you weighed nothing.

In this position, he’s hitting deep each time you slide down his cock. Unable to help it, you graze your foreheads with his to stare him deep in the eyes, the usual passion in them slowly returning with each thrust. The work is placed on his shoulders as he holds you close to him, the mind numbing sensation of your erect nipples grazing his sensitive skin enticing him to rut harder into you, all to enjoy the way you fall apart above him.

You’ve been rendered speechless, mouth fallen open to release breathy gasps. Hell, you’re unable to moan, not when his cock is sliding in and out of you so lusciously that you feel every vein protruding from the base of his length. How he manages to walk while fucking you is beyond your comprehension by now, but he seems to be having the time of his life based on his grunting, continuously fucking deep into your pussy so much that he refuses to let you go. Satoru kicks the door to your room open and places you gently on the bed this time, trapping you in his arms but with enough space to let you crawl back up on the bed. You stop as your head hits the pillows, and the mood immediately changes.

Satoru stays still inside you, his large hand cupping your face while you both catch your breath. There’s something unreadable about him. He feels young yet old at the same time, giving you the impression that perhaps he’s still just a child trapped in an old man’s body.

There’s so much fear swirling through the blueness of his eyes that you frown, marveling about what happened to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, you swipe the stray tear that had fallen down his cheek, smiling up at him in hopes he’d realize you’re always there for him. “Satoru,” you whisper, breath hitching as he starts to move. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Satoru props you sideways, your leg flat on the bed while he hooks the other one over his thigh that is spread beside your body. You have to tilt all the way to the side just to see his face, your hand now bent in an awkward position. Although he doesn’t answer vocally, his gentle thrusts are enough to tell you he doesn’t want to talk about it – he never does, and he never will – so you shut your mouth, focusing on the pleasure of him hitting deep.

Your heart aches for him. You wish he could tell you everything, to share you his worries, and you can’t enjoy him fucking you too much because you’re crying, chest clenching that he’s growing distant no matter how close he is.

You don’t want to lose him.

“Hey,” he easily reads you, leaning down to flutter his eyes at you. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, okay, angel? But you’re making me feel good, you always do, so let me do the same for you,” Satoru kisses your tears away, the saltiness of it making him fuck harder into you, all to ignore the screaming inside his head.

He wants to hold you, he wants to kiss you, he wants to keep loving you like this, he wants to be with you, he wants to touch you – but it’s not that easy.

It’ll only keep getting harder in the future, but the future isn’t now. Today is the present, and it’s even more precious because you’re there with him. Right now, you’re untouchable by anyone but him, and it’s only him that gets to fuck you like this, only him who gets to see you whimper under him, only him who gets to kiss you hard while he fucks you deep.

He wants to fuck you hard enough that you never forget the feeling of him inside you.

Maybe he’s selfish, maybe he really is demonic, because he wishes that after this you won’t be satisfied with anyone else. He wants to fuck you hard enough you’ll keep wishing it was him, that it’s him who’s hitting your sweet spots and making you see stars, that it’s only him who can make you feel this good.

Satoru interlaces his hand with yours as he feels you tighten around him, the clamping down of your walls a telltale you’re near. You’re moaning, eyes dropping to where your bodies are connected. His cock is slicked with your arousal and he’s still thrusting to passionately, his hands touching you everywhere with the same ardor and impatience one would have when they know time is limited. And Satoru knows better than everyone that no amount of money can buy enough time in this world, because if such was a case, then he’d have done so long ago.

He silences his demons with the only way he knows how to; by kissing you and burying himself deep inside you, snapping his hips angrily as if they would counterattack his fears. Your hold on him is slipping from the sweat dripping down your bodies, but he doesn’t stop, his cock further stretching you out because he’s growing impossibly bigger.

Satoru’s cock twitches inside you, the motion pulling a gasp from you. He bites down on your shoulder, one hand gripping your other leg open as he grunts into your skin, his thrusts focused more on power than speed. He hits deep each time, the sensation of him sliding out slowly only to push back in vigorously to make your pussy throb too intense for you to even form proper sentences. He’s getting nearer, his thrusts growing more fervent and impatient. Satoru thumbs at your clit to coax you into following him, and with his thumb rubbing your clit and flicking it side to side, you end up finishing before him, your moan high-pitched and broken. He eagerly swallows the sound by releasing after you, refusing to pull out even as he feels both your cum trickle afterwards.

The sensitivity is too much for you that you have to push him away, and he complies, falling at your side but not before wrapping an arm around you first. His heartbeat is pumping under you, your hands tracing circles at his chest while he holds you impossibly close, littering kisses at the crown of your head.

It’s clear that something is wrong, but he won’t tell you no matter how much you ask. You know firsthand how annoying it is when someone can’t respect your space, so you close your eyes and let sleep overtake you instead, basking in the after sex glow and relieved only by his touch.

Hopefully, you think to yourself, he can tell you another time.

“Satoru,” you murmur seconds before falling asleep.

“Yeah?”

“If there’s something wrong…you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he lies through gritted chest, pushing your head deeper into his sweaty chest. He has a habit of doing this; of pushing you close so you don’t see his face, so you don’t see the tears streaming down his face that are soon lost in your hair. You think that maybe he’s just breathing hard after work and fucking you, but he’s torn inside, feeling too broken that not even you could help fix his heart.

But you’re still there, and that’s enough for him. So he keeps his lips planted on your forehead all the way until the first sliver of light extends its fingertips over the horizon, the orange glow bathing you in an ethereal light while his body remained in the darkness.

It serves as a painful reminder that he’ll never be worthy of your love, that he’ll never earn the blessing that is your heart, that you’ll never truly love him the way he’s always wanted to be loved. Maybe now you think you do, but it will change once the darkness reveals his true nature, and the thought of you pushing him away hurts a lot more than having never been loved in the first place. To him, it’s a thousand times worse when you get a taste of something, only to have it pulled away from you.

And the longer he stays there next to you, he can’t help but picture your smile soon turned into a look of fear, your body bruised with marks and blood instead of his love bites.

They call him the notorious mafia leader who bows and yields to no one, but it’s not true. Gojo Satoru most definitely has his weakness, one that came into a form of his lover, and he can’t handle that you’d get hurt because of him someday that he believes it’s just better to let things be this way.

He’s silent from when he leaves the bed, refusing to look at you one last time as a final resolve of whatever is left in his strength. He quickly dresses himself and picks up your discarded robe on the ground, folding it and leaving it on the counter before shutting the door, the sound of his footsteps mute compared to the frantic beating of his heart.

Geto is already there at the lobby, his face empty yet eyes filled with sympathy. He opens the door for Satoru who slides in wordlessly, his lips pulled into a thin line while he punches in zeroes upon zeroes.

The words transaction complete flashes before him, and for a split second, he gets the urge to run back inside to hold you. But Geto clears his throat from the passenger’s seat, nodding at his phone that Satoru visibly deflates. His hands are numb the whole time he deletes your photos, your videos, and erases your contact, but it only hits hard that its over once he chucked the phone out the window, watching through his sunglasses as the device is crushed under another speeding car.

Its over, its over, its over – it keeps chanting at his head, and he wants to punch himself, wants to never see another daylight again every time he imagines you waking up alone and unable to find him. He wants to be sad, and he is, but there’s that relief blossoming inside him anyway that whispers its over, you’re safe that he can’t help but think…its okay, its over.

With that, Satoru rolls up the windows and nods at the driver who’s been waiting for him the whole time. He makes eye contact with a proud Geto from the rearview mirror, concealing his heartbreak with a laugh as he crosses his leg over the other.

“It’s over,” he says more to himself, “Let’s go.”

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. That’s the reason he got this far in life in the first place, he’s got his tenacity and dedication to thank for. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins as well, and he also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

And the punishment of loving you – only to have you slip from his arms – is a punishment he’ll wholeheartedly accept.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Consumerism won't defeat Georgia's Jim Crow

In the 1970s, progressives discovered a shortcut to political change: the boycott. Boycotts had been around for a long time, to be sure, but with industries in relatively weak states, with lots of competitors, the threat of lost business could spur fast action.

Politics were slow and unreliable. Lawsuits were expensive, slow and unreliable. Boycotts were fast, and involved direct, tangible steps that every person could take: redirect your spending from one company to another, make the change.

But as progressive movements ceded the political realm, reactionaries conquered it. Reagan and his successors (including pro-business Dems) enacted laws and policies that encouraged monopolies and weakened labor unions.

40 years later, boycotts are dead.

Hate excessive packaging?

Good news: the grocery aisle has minimal packaging alternatives you can vote your dollars on.

Bad news: these "alternatives" come from the same companies as the high-packaging products you're "voting against."

Boycotts only work when there's competition. As this Simpsons screenshot demonstrates - Duff Lite, Duff Dry and Duff all come from the same pipe.

Likewise: Fox Studios, who made the Simpsons, are now part of Disney.

Don't like Fox? Vote with your dollars on Disney!

Right-wing politics have a problem. If your fundamental belief is that a small number of people should have more (money, power, influence) than everyone else, then by definition, your politics only benefit a minority, and you win elections with majorities.

The right has three tactics to overcome this.

I. It relies on antimajoritarian institutions, like the Electoral College and the Senate. That's why the Dems should *absolutely* kill the filibuster, which protects Senate power, which is minority power, which is plute power.

II. It suppresses the votes and power of working people, through gerrymandering, poll taxes, voter-roll purges and anti-union rules that shatter the collective power of otherwise atomized and powerless workers.

III. It convinces turkeys to vote for Christmas. Performative culture-war bullshit, white nationalism, transphobic panics, etc - none of these are intrinsic to the right-wing project, but they bring a lot of scared bigots out to vote for dead-eyed corporate rule.

The new Jim Crow law just adopted in Georgia is a perfect example of how these three tactics deliver power to corporate power. It's a voter suppression law, passed by a gerrymandered statehouse that represents a minority of Georgians, which exploits white nationalism.

Remember, the reason corporate America is worried about Georgia is the Black, working-class-led political machine that threatens to enact majority rule in a place whose state and national leaders are essential to inequality-boosting, plute-enriching, worker-destroying rule.

The reason all these red states introduced nearly identical voter-suppression bills is that they all get their laws from the same place: ALEC, a business-backed thinktank that writes and pushes "model legislation" in state- and local governments.

https://www.salon.com/2021/03/27/conservative-groups-are-writing-gop-voter-suppression-bills---and-spending-millions-to-pass-them/

ALEC finds its wins in GOP legislatures, but it gets its funding from a broad cross-section of corporate America, including companies that publicly brief for racial and gender justice.

https://www.commoncause.org/democracy-wire/who-still-funds-alec/

Now, ALEC has faced something of an exodus, losing members like AT&T and Google, but that doesn't mean that they've divested from ALEC policies.

The politicians who carry water for ALEC are 100% dependent on campaign contributions from orgs like the Chamber of Commerce.

These politicians brief for policies that hurt the majority of Americans, and can only get elected through voter suppression, gerrymandering and appeals to bigotry. There's no other way to win electoral majorities while espousing antimajoritarian policies.

This doesn't mean that corporate execs and employees aren't horrified by Georgia's New Jim Crow law - it just means that they can't do anything about it. Companies that halt donations to the GA GOP will *still* financially support them, through their industry associations.

It's a perfect macrocosm of the consumer's dilemma: if you rely on money, rather than politics, to accomplish political change, you will never make a change that reduces the power of money in politics. It's impossible to spend your way out of monopoly capitalism.

At best, it's merely useless. At worst, it's a net negative, sucking up the hours you could spend on political change with comparison shopping. As Zephyr Teachout points out in BREAK 'EM UP, what you do matters more than what you spend.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

If you're organizing to support union drives, don't waste time shopping to "buy local" for posterboard and markers - they're all manufactured by anti-union monopolists, no matter who sells them. Get whatever's easiest and then go fight the companies in the *political* realm.

Stop conceiving of yourself as an ambulatory wallet, whose only power comes from where and how you spend - if you only vote your dollars, you'll always lose, because the rich have more dollars than you and so they get more votes.

Keep your eyes on the prize: smashing corporate power. Far more exciting than the MLB boycott of Georgia is the Republican response: GOP hardliners want to take away baseball's antitrust exemption.

https://twitter.com/matthewstoller/status/1378103553437360131

If this happens, it will be the absolute best possible outcome - because it represents the shattering of the coalition that makes antimajoritarian politics possible. If the right starts siding with bigots and AGAINST companies, they'll cut their own supply lines.

The voter suppression, gerrymandering and bigotry that the GOP relies on is expensive. It can't exist without corporate power. The reason it exists in the first place is corporate power.

Reinvigorating antitrust as an act of performative culture-war bullshit is the political equivalent of pointing a gun at your own dick to own the libs and then blowing your actual dick off.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/27/literal-gunhumping/#youll-shoot-your-eye-out

These are the fracture lines we need to exploit. They've been proliferating for years. The modern antitrust revival comes out of these fracture lines.

It's an open secret that much of the money and energy for anti-Big Tech trustbusting comes from the cable industry.

Comcast and AT&T hate Google and Facebook, but not for the same reason you or I do. In their view, the billions Googbook make from surveillance, rent-extraction and manipulation have been misapproriated from the telecoms industry.

They have made the catastrophic blunder of betting that if they awaken the slumbering antitrust giant to smash Big Tech, that it will then go back to sleep - and that it *certainly won't turn on *them*.

This is such galaxy-brain idiocy. Like the public will watch a new army of trustbusters arise to rip apart Googbook and then say, "You know what? I just *fucking love Comcast*, so whatever you do, don't give them the same treatment."

A bet that after the dust settles, the hard-fighting lawyers, activists, politicans and workers who smashed corporate power in Big Tech will realize that they were only worried about "surveillance capitalism" but were totally cool with all the other kinds of capitalism.

Consumer power is a dead letter. Political power is a live wire. Boycotts are a distraction, even - especially - when giant corporations engage in them.

But the other stuff - strikes, trustbusting, ending financial secrecy - that's where change comes from.

The problem with the world isn't where you shop.

You're not an ambulatory wallet and don't let anyone convince you that you are.

[mirrerover]

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.” 

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

 Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks. 

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could. 

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all. 

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre. 

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare. 

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now. 

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

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

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

[mummybear]

The Babysitter

This Is Day Four Of Roleplay May 

Words: 4763

Warnings: Smut (Obviously), Oral Male And Female Receiving (Sharing Is Caring And All), 

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader, Mentions On “The Wife”, Mentions Of The Kids And Some Random Ex Boyfriend. Think that’s it really.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: Right so I just wanna say this is my first ever Jensen Fic, so please be gentle. Also nothing is meant against anyone in the Fic, it is simply Fanfiction in which this is the idea :) Cheating, Hair Pulling,  Squirting, Angry Sex Biting, Begging, Orgasm Denial.... I mean honestly the list goes on.....

Summery: Being the babysitter for the Ackles family had been nothing but a pleasure, but when Jensen comes home from work in a bad mood the reader finds out just how much her boss loves her short skirts and despises her ex boyfriend showing up at his house.

The front door slams open and you can’t help but flinch where you sit on the couch, the sound echoing through the large halls of the house. There was only one person it could be, with the kids’ mother being away on business. However, Mr. Ackles hadn’t been in the best of moods when he’d left for work this morning. Now you thought about it, he’d been in a terrible mood for days. 

Luckily the kids were in bed, fast asleep. So you only hoped that he hadn’t woken them up. 

Slipping out of the living room, you head towards the front door, where you find him kicking off his boots and hanging up his coat. He doesn’t speak, so neither do you, deciding it might be best that way.

The thing about Jensen Ackles was the type of man he was. There was no getting away from it, not even for the babysitter of his kids. He was tall, strong and just god damn gorgeous. With the most incredible heart and personality. A laugh that never failed to make you smile, not to mention the fact he had the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. 

However, there was also the other side of him. A side that not many people had the chance to see, you had seen it once, a long time ago. But tonight, tonight was different.

You quickly make your way into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on your back as you walk away from him. But you know it’s best to stay out of his way, especially when he’s like this. Mr. Ackles was definitely still pissed off, maybe even more so than he had been this morning. That much you could tell from his body language alone. 

You busied yourself with making him a coffee, hoping that he wouldn’t snap at you. You were seriously beginning to get worried that he knew about your visitor a few nights ago.

“Where are the kids?” he asks suddenly, his voice much louder than you’d expected, which makes you jump, even more so when he leans over you, taking the coffee you’d made him. Your entire body stiffens until he steps back, you’re not sure he’d ever been that close before and you could definitely smell the alcohol lingering on his breath as it ghosted across your cheek. Then again you didn’t hate it at all.

“T-They’re in bed Mr. Ackles. Sir” you tell him half stuttering your reply, ignoring how close he’s still standing, you try and find something to keep you busy on the counter.

“Turn around and look at me Y/N” he demands in a firm tone that leaves no room for argument. 

You turn to face him, but you can’t look him in the eyes, so instead you focus on his chest as you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt. Swallowing hard, you grip your t-shirt tighter, when his arms fold over his broad chest. 

Sensing he’s getting impatient you finally look up, meeting his eyes and god he looks so good. He’d been on several interviews and photo shoots today. He had dark jeans on, a dark blue suit jacket and a blue shirt and tie, he practically oozes authority and commands attention.

“Is everything okay?” you ask him quietly, your voice just barely above a whisper.

Jensen rubs his hand across his face, gently scratching at the stubble along his jaw as the muscle beneath clenches. He takes another step towards you, nerves get the better of you and you step back. Which causes your back to bump into the cupboard behind you. Placing his hand beside your head on the cupboard, focusing his intense gaze back on you. 

“Do you really think that I don’t have cameras all over my house Y/N? Inside and out. That I don’t see everything you do? Everyone you invite over” his voice is that much quieter as he leans in closer, but you can still tell that he’s beyond angry.

And fuck he knows, it’s the only reason he would be bringing this up right now. 

“Mr. Ackles, please just let me explain. I don’t know how much you were able to see, but please I-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head, you stop talking immediately, clamping your mouth closed as you wait for him to say something.

“How about you just keep your pretty little mouth shut darlin’. You know, try being a good girl for a change, if you can manage that” his tone of voice is really beginning to do something to you, even if he’s snapping at you. But with the things he’s saying, it’s starting to make you feel things that you shouldn’t, want things that you’re not allowed.

You watch as his finger hooks into the top of his tie, roughly pulling it loose and pops the top button. Chewing your lip you give a small nod as your wordless reply. Finally, you can’t take anymore and look away from him, focusing back on your feet. His eyes are far too intense and you feel like a moth being drawn to flame.

“Good. Now since you do know how to listen. Tell me, who was the guy you were kissing in the back yard the other day?”

He still hasn’t raised his voice, yet somehow, that only un-nerves you that much more. Fiddling with your hands you swallow the lump in your throat, your nerves over losing your job are beginning to get to you. Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you wonder if your reason will be enough to calm him down and stop him firing you. 

Suddenly his large hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him again. Your mouth is so dry, he holds you there with his hand and his darkened green eyes.

“You better answer me, Y/N” he demands, his voice substantially louder and firmer than before.

Licking your lips you try to get your breathing under control, gripping your skirt tightly.

“I uh, I’m s-sorry Mr. Ackles. He followed me t-to work, I broke up with him m-months ago. He just won’t take no for an answer. I swear to you, I-I was just trying to get him to leave,” you reply quickly, your voice wavering and shaking the entire time.

“Why’d you break up with him, Y/N?” Jensen asks, a slight smile curving at the edge of his lips as he releases your jaw, letting his fingers just barely brush down the column of your throat. 

The question takes you by complete surprise. What strikes you even more is the look in his eyes and you can’t look away. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to k-” your voice cuts out with a surprised gasp, right as Jensen straightens up so he’s looking down at you even more than before, pressing his body that much closer to yours.

“Don’t tell me. I’ll guess” his tone is completely cocky. “He didn’t hit the right spots huh? Wasn’t he man enough for you baby girl?” he smirks when the quietest breathy moan slips past your lips, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your skin is tingling all over, the heat is quickly pooling between your thighs and you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. You’re currently losing the fight with your common sense, you know this is all kinds of wrong. You just don’t have it in you to care. He’s like the drug you just can’t get enough of.

“Something like that” you reply just barely above a whisper.

“You need a real man to show you just how to control this perfect body. Someone who can make you scream, make you beg for more,” his husky whisper just loud enough for you to hear, as his fingers trace the smooth skin peeking out just above your skirt.

Without even realising it you lean into his touch, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip, feeling the throbbing between your legs increasing with his every word. Begging yourself not to let that word slip past your lips. You’re so turned on right now, it’s taking everything you have to hold yourself back, but the submissive in you needs him to make the first move. Swallowing hard you nod,“I do. Need it so bad, but you’re married” the second the last words slip past your lips you swallow hard, clearly your conscience has got the best of you.

He licks his lips seemingly biting his tongue as he bends down eye level with you, that intense green eyed gaze focused back on you.

“Oh don’t worry about her. I’ve been told by a good source, she’s got her hands very full this weekend, with her friend or co-worker. We haven’t fucked in months” he tells you honestly, trying to keep his voice calm, but you can hear the anger behind his words.

You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze without even thinking, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that” you tell him as calmly, dropping your hand back at your side when he shrugs.

“Forget about it, I am” he assures you, giving you that panty dropping wink. “Now that’s out of the way, where were we?” he asks seductively, his eyes flicking down to your lips then back up to focus on your eyes.

“I think that’s probably up to you, Mr. Ackles” you reply playfully, biting back your smirk when he chuckles in reply.

“You really think you can handle me baby girl?” he asks with a grin, ducking down a little lower, resting a hand beside your head, while the other one pushes your hair off your shoulders.

You shake your head, licking your lips, finally letting your eyes drop to his pink plump lips.

“No. But I know you can handle me. Keep me under control, make me beg for more” you tell him practically moaning the last word. You suck in a breath when he leans in close, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek.

“Oh I know just what you need darlin’. Thank fuck, because I am sick and tired of pretending that I don’t want you on your knees, begging for my cock” he practically growls. You cry out as his hand fists in your hair, roughly tugging your head back. “Ah ah ah, be a good girl. Keep it down, don’t make daddy gag the babysitter” he groans hearing your desperate whimper, knowing he’d hit a button with that one. 

His lips roughly press against yours, wrapping his free arm around your waist when your legs threaten to give way beneath you. Grabbing at his suit jacket you pull his body closer as his tongue runs across your lips. 

Your tongue quickly meets his, stoking the fire building between your legs when he takes complete control. Pulling away suddenly, he drags those perfect white teeth over your bottom lip. You breathlessly look up at him with hooded eyes, he looks right back at you, with a look in his eyes like he’s about to devour you.

Jensen’s fingers tighten in your hair as soft lips and sharp teeth make their way down your neck, pausing every now and then to suck marks into your skin. You cling to his jacket as his hand drags slowly up the back of your thigh, slipping beneath your skirt he grabs your ass roughly, unable to stop the roll of your hips as he pulls you closer.

His raspy voice is in your ear again, those soft lips caressing you.

“I bet you wear these little skirts just to tease me don’t you? Dirty girl. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much shorter they are when it’s just me around” 

He releases your hair and drops his hand from your body, taking your small hand in his much larger one, you follow him as he leads you into the living room. 

Closing the door he locks it, the baby monitor on the side remains quiet as he leads you into the middle of the room. You swallow hard as this gorgeous giant of a man looms over you, fingers pushing beneath your thin t-shirt. Pushing the material up your body, his big warm hands that never leave your skin. You lift your arms as he tugs the t-shirt over your head.

“Jensen please, I want your cock” you moan as those long fingers drag over your rib cage teasingly.

His chuckle is low and deep, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. You suddenly realise that’s the first time you’ve ever used his first name, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact it seems to have the opposite effect..

“Oh, do you baby. Then be a good girl, get on your knees. Beg for it” the second those husky words leave his plump lips you drop down onto your knees at his feet. Staring up at him like he was the only thing in the universe, resting your hands on his strong thighs. The massive bulge in his jeans practically makes your mouth water. Jensen takes off his suit jacket and tosses it over the arm of the chair, before his darkened green eyes settle back on you once more.

“I’ll be a good girl, please Mr Ackles. Fuck my mouth, just wanna make you feel good.” You beg the older man above you, rolling your hips down into nothing.

You wait on baited breath as Jensen tugs open his belt without a word, you sit up higher on your knees, licking your lips when he pops the button open and pulls down the zip. His thumbs tuck in the sides of his jeans and boxers, he pushes them down to his knees with a few rough shoves. 

Allowing his cock to spring free. You can’t help but suck in a breath and lean in closer when he wraps his long fingers around his thick length, you’re moaning please all over again. He pumps his cock up and down with a firm grasp and you can feel your slick starting to leak through your panties, he’s even bigger than you’d first imagined.

“Look at you, my cock hungry little slut. So fuckin’ perfect. Open up baby girl” he practically growls, tapping the swollen tip against your parted lips. 

You do as you’re told, his words shooting straight to your throbbing pussy. Your mouth open and tongue waiting, you moan as soon as the tip touches your tongue, pre-come leaking freely the heady taste as you close your lips around him. Jensen groans above you, his hands fisting at both sides of your hair, wrapping the thick tresses around his hands.

Swirling your tongue around the swollen tip, you feel his grip tightening, taking him further into your mouth, your tongue dragging along the underside, following that thick throbbing vein.

You whimper when he tugs harshly and thrusts his hips.

“Look at me” he grunts thrusting again, you gag a little but manage to control it, looking up and locking your eyes on those dark green almost black eyes. “So fucking good for me” he moans when you hollow your cheeks and try to relax your throat.

Your fingers dig into your thighs when he thrusts again, forcing himself further down your throat , the noise he makes is so fucking sexy, you loose his eye contact when he throws his head back and moans your name. You can feel the heat rising across your skin, clenching your thighs you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening. 

Your moaning around him as he starts a steady rhythm, hips snapping against your face, saliva mixed with his pre-come leaking from the sides of your lips. You’re so close to coming, with the noises he’s making, the feel of him deep down your throat, hands fisting in your hair. You gasp when he finally pulls out of your mouth and throat, gulping down air as he fists his cock at the base.

“Was that okay?” you ask as innocently as possible, your voice hoarse and breathy.

He grabs your arm, hauling you up off the floor, his hands are tight on your arms as he pulls you into a bruising kiss. His lips leave yours all too quickly. You stumble back with a smirk, seeing that devilish look on his face as he stalks towards you. Jensen shoves you gently, until the back of your legs connect with the sofa and you fall back onto it, looking up at him expectantly from beneath your eyelashes.

He remains quiet as he unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor, revealing that perfect tanned freckled skin that’s hidden beneath. You lick your lips as he gets closer, he’s fucking gorgeous. The last thing to go is the tie which is dropped by your foot.

“You know damn well that was more than okay, nearly came down your throat” he half chuckles when you have to bite back a grin. However, that quickly turns into a moan when the front of your plaid skirt flicks up.

“Gotta taste that pretty pussy baby girl” he rasps, kicking off his jeans.

You cry out when he tugs your ankles so that your ass is hanging almost off of the sofa. He presses a finger to those plump lips of his before he drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling your panties off, throwing them over his shoulder. You go push down your skirt but he stops you. Unyielding grip on your wrist. 

“No. That stays on darlin’. You wore it to wind me up, so now you can leave it on” he tells you as he licks up one of your inner thighs, groaning when your slick hits his tongue. “Walking around like a dirty school girl, now you can fucking act like one”

You whimper as he roughly suckles at your inner thigh, dragging his teeth across the skin, before moving higher and doing the same.

“I’m s-sorry, please I-” you’re cut off when his tongue moves through your slick folds, you slam a hand over your mouth as he groans into your pussy, that thick perfect tongue pushing inside you. You roll your hips into his face and he slaps your thigh, but that just shoots straight to your throbbing pussy as two thick fingers circle your clit.

You do it again, begging for more behind your hand. This time however he isn’t so forgiving. When he  pulls his face away you whine a pathetic apology, which quickly turns into a scream of pleasure and pain as he slaps your pussy lightly, three times in a row.

“You don’t get to fuck my face baby, you’re not in charge here. Take what you’re fucking given, am I clear” he growls, pushing your legs up and making you hold them back. 

You nod quickly, nails digging into your legs, feeling two of his thick fingers circling your opening. 

“Yes Jensen. I’ll be good. Fuck please” you beg, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head when pushes those fingers inside you slowly. 

“Fuck baby girl, such a tight little pussy” he moans lowering his lips again, so his breath ghosts over your clit. You can’t arch against him like you want to, you just have to lay back and take it. His tongue flicks out and you can’t help but whine freely, with no hand to hold in your noises now.

 “Only ever been with one guy and your cock twice as big” you pant trying to catch your breath. Your voice comes out a little more worried than you’d have liked it to.

“Don’t worry baby, gonna make you come so hard. This little pussy is gonna fit my cock like a god damned glove by the time I'm done with you” the last part of his promise is muffled as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking back and forth over the bundle of nerves in time with the rough fast movements of his fingers.

You quickly feel your orgasm approaching, like a freight train hurtling down the track. Your pussy flutters around his fingers as he curls them, repeatedly stroking at that spot that makes your legs shake and your head fuzzy. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off as your orgasm hits hard, your body goes tense beneath him, but he doesn’t stop or slow down.

“Fucking give it to me baby girl, you can do it. I can feel it” he commands before returning his lips and tongue to your clit, applying a little extra pressure with his fingers on every thrust.

You look down at him, eyes lidded barely able to keep them open, he’s watching you when your eyes meet, dark green eyes locked on your face. Your thighs shake and all you can do is gasp for air and cling to your own legs, your stomach burns and you feel like every nerve ending is sparking at once. Jensen groans into you when a wet squelching sound fills the room. 

“Oh! Oh god!” you scream, dropping your legs back onto his shoulders as your body arches uncontrollably, your hand flying to cover your mouth, the other grabs the top of his head trying to push him away, as your entire body shudders. He doesn’t budge, but he does slowly remove his fingers, licking his way down your thighs following the lines of your slick.

“Fuck that was so hot baby, don’t tell me I’ve broken you already” Jensen grins, winking when he finally pulls your legs from his shoulders and stands. All you can do is smile back, whimpering when you move at the sensitivity between your legs.

He holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully. He pulls harder than you’d expected, so that you’re crushed against his chest, gripping your hair he pulls your lips to his. You run your hands over his chest as your tongues slide perfectly against one another, making sure you touch everything you’ve never touched but always wanted to. 

Your ass bumps into the side of the sofa and Jensen stops, suddenly pulling away from your lips, you barely have time to catch the smirk on those plump lips. He spins you quickly so your back is pressed against his solid chest, hand wrapping around your throat gently as his lips press to your ear. 

“You still want my cock baby? Still want me to fuck you until you can’t walk” he asks deep and husky voice, washing over you like a hot shower, as his fingers flex around your throat.

“Fuck yes. Want you to fucking ruin me, Mr. Ackles” 

That seems to be the last straw, with a growl he pushes you forward roughly, until you fall over the arm of the sofa. He kicks your legs apart and takes hold of his cock, running it through your wet pussy, hearing you mewl beneath him, pushing back against him. He pauses when the head of his cock presses against your opening.

“Is this what you want baby?” he asks in a gravelly voice making you shiver.

“God yes! Please!” you whimper into the cushion under your face.

“Spread those cheeks for me baby, let me see you” he asks, breathing out slowly when he slips inside you a little further. “Wanna see every time my cock slips inside that tight little pussy” he growls pushing in another inch, you comply immediately, reaching back you grip your ass, spreading your cheeks for him, the curve of your back pushing you closer to him.

Suddenly his hips snap forward, filling you completely luckily your drawn out moan is completely muffled by the sofa cushion. Your nails dig into your ass cheeks as he pulls out almost all the way and roughly thrusts himself back inside, pushing the sofa forward with the force.

“Oh fuck! Look at you. All mine” he grunts possessively, repeating the action a little quicker again and again, your hands slip from your ass and push underneath you, holding yourself up.

“Put your fucking hands back Y/N” Jensen demands slapping your ass roughly, as the other fists in your skirt, pulling you back against him,

“I-I can’t” you cry out again as he slams forward, hips slapping hard and bruising against your ass.

“Fine” there’s a pause as he stills behind you. Bending down awkwardly, he grabs his discarded tie, roughly yanking your arms back from under you, he pulls your wrists together resting them on your ass. Tightly securing the tie around them, he tugs making sure it’s tight enough. “There. Get out of that” he grunts through that dark chuckle, picking his pace up, until your mouth drops open in a silent scream.

His thrusts are brutal and unforgiving and you’ve never felt more in heaven in your life.

“J-Jensen, I’m gonna c-” he cuts you off with another harsh slap to your ass.

“No. You’re gonna hold it baby girl, you’ll wait until I tell you. Call it punishment for movin’ your hands” he snaps with another powerful slap to your ass. 

You gasp through a moan, feeling your walls clenching every time he pulls you back onto his cock, while he continues fucking into your tight wet heat. Your head is spinning, pussy throbbing around his thick length, feeling every ridge against your inner walls. 

Your nails are digging harshly into your palms, as he continues to rail into you at an inhuman pace that has your legs shaking. Jensen grips onto his tie forcing your body off of the sofa, you’re trying so hard to hold back your orgasm, but you can feel that familiar feeling from earlier, heating back up in your stomach and you know you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to.

“Jensen. I’m gonna do it again! Please, I can’t stop it” you scream, clamping your mouth shut, biting into your lip harshly to try keep your noise down.

Jensen whimpers as your walls clamp down around his cock violently, his balls draw up and he has to grit his teeth.

“Do it, my dirty little slut. Fuckin’ squirt for me baby” 

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, feeling Jensen’s come fill you full, even leaking down your thighs. With sweat soaking your skin, your orgasm hits so powerful that it forces Jensen's cock from inside you. You’re practically sobbing when it stops, shaking violently you faintly feel him undoing your wrists before he pulls you back against his chest, those strong arms wrapped around your body holding you up. Your head drops back onto his shoulder as he gently sucks and licks at your neck, teeth softly scraping over your skin. 

“I gotcha baby, you’re okay” he murmurs against your skin, his voice like honey.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re something else Mr. Ackles” you giggle as he turns you in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Finally pushing your fingers into his thick hair when he kisses you, both of you capturing each other's moans. The easy eager slide of his tongue against yours is just what you need, he pulls away with a gentle sigh brushing his fingers through your hair.

“You have no idea how much I needed that baby girl, you were fucking perfect” he winks with that panty dropping smile.

“You have no idea, Jensen. You were even better than I thought you’d be” You giggle at the look on his face. “Yes I’ve thought about it” you confirm, gently slapping his chest when he wiggles those eyebrows at you.

“Me too, a lot” he chuckles when you blush.

“So, I guess I should get going” you smile, swallowing the nerves and the worry of this being awkward as well as the fact you may have lost your job. On the account of you fucking your boss.

“Oh no you don’t. We have a lot to talk about young lady, specifically earlier” he pauses watching the confusion crossing your face. “So, you like the sound of daddy gagging the babysitter, yeah?” he grins when your blush turns from pink to red and you shift awkwardly. Jensen presses just under your chin getting you to meet his eyes again.

Biting your lip you nod. “Say it.” he tells you rough hand gripping your ass beneath your skirt.

“Yes daddy” you breathe out just above a whisper. 

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[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: save file 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: chigasaki itaru/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.0k words

𝐚𝐧: itaru event? itaru fic! me loving fake dating + direct af titles? nothing changed~ sequencing of events might be weird, oops~

■■■■■■■■■■■□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 2 LOADED

Itaru’s not the least bit surprised at the sight of your wrinkled nose; neither is he shocked at the crease that formed between your brows nor the narrowing of your eyes. It must be a lot to take in, truly, but it had to be done.

“Chigasaki-kun,” you said, immediately trailing off as though you couldn’t convey the rest of your thoughts. That was fine, he thought, he can wait for his SP to fill up for 100 minutes so surely he can wait a couple more minutes for your response.

It’s a bit embarrassing, but maybe he needs to explain a bit more? He doesn’t mind too much, he was putting you on the spot, after all.

“I know it’s sudden,” Itaru said apologetically, “but I need you. You’re the only one who can—“

“Chigasaki-kun,” you repeated, sounding firmer this time around. At this point, Itaru noticed that your eyes never left the cafe table that separated the two of you, or rather what laid right smack in the centre of it. As soon as he slid it towards you, your eyes had gone from wide and surprised to squinting, almost as though it had offended you.

He was so focused on your line of sight that he failed to notice the sudden rush of red that raced across your cheeks. After a moment of silence, you let out a deep breath.

“Why the fuck did you just give me a replica of Byleth’s ring from Fire Emblem?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he dug through his pocket to bring out another ring, the exact same design, “I have another one.”

■■■■■■■■□□□□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 4 LOADED

“Hey, you made it! Thanks for coming, Chigasaki-sa—“ as he took in the sight of your locked hands, his co-worker let out a comically loud gasp, before trying and failing to cover it up with an awkward cough.

Itaru’s not stupid, at the very least he’s definitely not blind or deaf. Besides the gracious host, he can tell everyone is shocked and staring. They’re not even trying to be discrete about it anymore.

The people from his department had been gossiping for all of last week, creating speculations on his love life. The theories had a lot of exaggeration, a lot of denial.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, him reciprocating to reassure you.

Envy. Judgement.

Still, as he glanced at your face to check for any sign of discomfort only to find a poised smile, he was once again reminded by your strength and fortitude. He always admired that from you, and it was always so enthralling to see that side of you in action.

■■■■■■■■■■■■□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 1 LOADED

“You’ll come, won’t you?” Itaru let out a quiet hum, yet refusing to answer immediately. Though he’d prefer to sit out of most gatherings, he particularly disliked going to non-essential get-togethers where the only real purpose was for his co-workers to eat and drink less restrained as they would with the higher-ups around.

Normally he would have some excuse conjured up, maybe even pretend to check his phone calendar and reject the invite apologetically. However, he had already skipped out three times, consecutively.

He already breached the three strikes and you’re out rule, and he’s not so sure risking going for four would be the smartest play for his reputation… but it probably wouldn’t hurt to save game and set aside his decision making for later.

“I’ll have to check my schedule. I just need to check with someone first,” he said, thinking back to the director and the rest of spring troupe. Would any of them give him an excuse he has yet to use?

“Ahh, feel free to bring your sister then!” the man paused, a small smirk appearing as his eyebrows waggled. “Unless you wanna bring, you know, a friend.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 2 LOADED

“You just don’t want to suffer alone,” you said, using your fork to prod at the meal he treated you to. Surely a one time gathering wasn’t all there is to it? Chigasaki Itaru, who always kept his life outside work private, suddenly wanting people to know he had a significant other?

Even though he didn’t?

“I’ve been to those— I know they suck,” you continued, your eyes darting away from the silver band to look at him properly, “will this even benefit you?”

“It’ll probably be annoying at first,” he replied, keeping eye contact to let you know how serious he was, “dealing with everyone’s questions, but they’ll eventually just accept it and stop bothering me.”

“What about me?”

“You work somewhere else— they won’t get the chance to bother you,” he pointed out, propping his elbow on the table as he rest his cheek on his knuckles. He continued seeing as you stayed silent, “plus, don’t you have anyone bothering you about your lack of a love life?”

In any other instance, you probably would have made a remark about him being too dedicated to his waifus to date as well, but you could only grimace as you recalled the upcoming family reunion. If your aunts teased you again for not being in a relationship… if your mom kept insisting that you were just hiding a secret boyfriend to delude herself…

“Fine, but in exchange—“

Itaru let out a chuckle, “so the matching rings aren’t enough? I’ll have you know, they’re Class A replicas.”

You snorted, “stop, stop! I’m being serious here!” you said, lightly kicking his feet from beneath the table. When he moved to retaliate, you hastily pushed your feet beneath your chair.

“Oi—“

“Just kidding, just kidding!“ he said, raising his hands up in surrender, “so, how can I help you?”

“… you up for a family reunion lunch on Sunday?”

■■■■□□□□□□□□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 3 LOADED

“So, like, do we need to prepare any— dude, dude, dude what the…? This part of your island is—” Even without heading over to where you were, he immediately knew which area you were cackling about.

“That’s the nature dump! Obviously not gonna terraform it yet?” Itaru replied, “I need a place to place all the normie flowers?”

He heard you scoff, your animal crossing character running up to his and hitting him with a net.

“Not that dump, dummy! Why are there toilets? The fences— toilets—“ you trailed off, unable to help yourself from bursting back into laughter. He instinctively laughed alongside you, knowing the monstrosity you were talking about.

“What kind of idiot makes a pathway out of toilets?”

“Hey! They create a cool effect when you walk past it!” he said, defending himself as your character hit his on the head again, “kind of like a clam opening up—“

“It’s a toilet! Not a clam!”

“Ya? Well I, Taruchi, am a resident of Urinetown, subtitle: actually an island and not a town,” Itaru said, almost as if he was proud of himself. “Before you come from me, Urinetown is a musical about capitalism. What’s your excuse, Pen Island?”

You gasped, obviously fake but dramatic enough to continue your banter “I’ll have you know, the actual name is Pen Isles? Also, you named our Stardew Valley farm—“ you paused, as though realising something, “wait, wasn’t I going to ask you something?”

“… pfft, GJ.”

■■■■■■■■■□□□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 4 LOADED

Itaru watched you introduce yourself to the rest of the room, your words polite but brimming with a confidence that was rare to see from his friend turned pretend s/o… or at least, that was what he initially thought.

Maybe this side of you just so happened to be particularly evident tonight, ringing throughout your voice and exhibited by your body language; that didn’t mean it was hidden before this instance.

There was a certain charm to you. Always been, but he never really acknowledged it. It was the little things, like how you were never hesitant about adding to his commentary when you two played Co-Op, or the playfulness you showed from time to time, or your genuineness around him— kind, but not taking bullshit from him or anyone.

If he was reading the room right, he can’t blame them for being even a little bit enthralled with you.

Even if it didn’t exactly sit right with him.

“I didn’t know Chigasaki-kun was dating someone!” a brave soul piped up from the sidelines, probably vocalising what everyone else was holding back from saying. Huh, wasn’t she one of the people who fiercely denied the rumour that he was in a relationship?

He doesn’t miss the way the corners of your lips quirked downwards for a split second, before lifting back upwards as though it never happened.

“Well, Itaru can be a bit private,” you replied, a muffled but silvery giggle escaping escaping your lips, “though I suppose I’m a bit of the same? Might be why we’re compatible.”

The woman who asked flushed slightly, and he was sure it wasn’t from any alcohol consumed. Even still, he found himself mirroring the pink hue.

Itaru?

■■■■■■■■■■■□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 3 LOADED

“Itaru,” he repeated to you for the third time tonight.

“Shoot, sorry,” you apologised, making your animal crossing character portray your shock at your slip-up again. Lmao, that was cute. “Damn… it’s weird going from Chigasaki-kun to just Itaru.”

It was his turn to hit your character with a net.

“Taruchi isn’t that far from Itaru, and you call me that all the time,” he stated, snorting at the little huff that was somehow still audible on call.

“Calling you your IGN is way different though?” you protested, “I can’t just call you that in public?”

“Shame it might expose me irl,” he sighed in disappointment, “it would have been cute to have my gamer s/o go ‘uwu Taruchi, fighto!’”

“Hahhh? Was it ever cute any time I called you Taruchi?” you asked, incredulousness present in your tone as you proceeded to mock him, “uwu, Taruchi, fighto!… there, was that cute at all?”

Itaru’s hand slid up to cover his face, his growing smile lifting his cheeks upward. You were clearly just joking around, but, well, “who knows? Maybe if you said ‘Taruchi-sama, ganbatte! I’d be able to—“

“Itaru!” you interrupted, immediately making the human equivalent noise of a keyboard smash, your little avatar running around in circles as he imagined what expression your face had right now.

Amidst his unrestrained laughter, he managed to squeeze in his next sentence in parts. “You— you finally said it! Otsu~”

■■■■■■■□□□□□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 4 LOADED

You had only called him ‘Itaru’ that one time, every other time being ‘Taruchi’ in private or ‘Itaru-kun’ in public. Still, hearing you say his name in person instead of on the phone made it feel like the first time again.

Luckily for him, he didn’t get that much time to dwell on it. Someone had lead you two to sit somewhere, surrounded by more of his polite and friendlier coworkers. Exchanging pleasantries with them was easy enough, as was answering questions about your relationship.

They’ve had multiple test runs after all. There was no way they were messing up any details, there was no room or possibility of either of them even fumbling.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“We’ve been friends since university,” you replied, something that was actually true, “it took years for me to even confess! I’m just glad Itaru accepted,” you gave him a purposeful glance, your bashful expression nearly enough to lead him to believe that you really did have a crush on him all this time.

“So you two have been together since—?”

“After my graduation,” Itaru supplied helpfully, “so it’s been a few years.”

“That’s so sweet! You know,” the woman in front of you lowered her voice, and you leaned in a little closer to listen in, “a lot of us were wondering if Chigasaki was dating anyone after we saw his ring. I thought it was just a fashion statement, but now I know it’s the real deal!”

She eyed the silver band on your ring finger, one that completely matched his.

“The rings are beautiful! The design is completely unique,” another person commented. Itaru felt your ring finger loop around his own, and the two of you turned to look at each other, sharing an amused grin.

If only they knew it was actually really well-done game merch.

■■■■■■■■■□□□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 2 LOADED

“What’s the point of the rings, though?” you asked, curious of just how far Itaru was taking this plan anyway.

“Do you not like it?” Itaru asked. Undeniably, he would be a bit upset if you ended up not liking the ring. After all, he bought it because—

“It’s lovely,” you said sincerely, carefully picking up the ring, “just surprised you already had rings on hand?”

He chuckled apprehensively, “I was going to save it as a friendship anniversary gift,” he explained, “I still feel a little guilty I didn’t get you anything last year.”

“You don’t have to get me anything anyway,” you said reassuringly, “but I appreciate it.”

He watched you slip the ring on your left ring finger, mouth opening up to apologise as he saw how loose the ring was on you, about to offer to have it resized immediately before you interrupted with quiet laughter.

“It’s a bit awkward right now, but I love it.”

■■■■■■■■■■■□□□  NOW LOADING SAVE FILE 4 LOADED

The get-together was going really well, surprisingly. He still would have preferred to be in the comfort of his room, but your presence just made everything so much easier. Even the questions people threw at the two of you weren’t so bothersome, dodging the more nosy people and sticking with anything general.

It had somehow become a game between the two of you. It was like an act off, almost, of who could give the more impressive or heart fluttering statement. Whether it was for the sake of your audience or to just affect each other remains unsaid.

“What do you like about Itaru?”

You looked away from him, closing your eyes as though you were thinking. To be fair, anything real personality or gaming related was out of bounds. Would you cater your response to his work persona, or—

“Everything!”

He nearly choked on air, trying to ignore the urge to clutch at his heart.

“That’s no fair, give something more specific!”

“I do like everything about Itaru, though?” you said with a cute pout, “but I guess I like his kindness the most. He’s always so thoughtful and considerate. He’s a busy man, but he always finds the time to help me out when I need it.”

Everyone cooed at the two of them, but he found it difficult to concentrate on that when he could only cling onto the words that started to sound more and more real as the night went by.

Out of context, everything you said could be interpreted as you just being friendly, but there was something in the way you pronounced his name and the expression on your face as you talked about him that was… different.

“What about you, Chigasaki?”

Escaping from his thoughts, his mind was filled to the brim with thoughts, but the words refused to spill from his lips.

Was there a way to describe how captivated he was at your little quirks, from the random filler noises you’d make on call or text when words failed you, to the literal quirk of the corner of your lips as you shifted expressions.

Was there a way express his appreciation for sticking by him for years, regardless of his hidden side? Was there a way to express his gratefulness for the laughter rendered and the tears wiped off by you; the smile blooming on his face as he imitated your own subconsciously?

This was the one thing he couldn’t have a manual or guide to study, so he could only hope that he went with the right dialogue choice.

“Everything too, actually.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■□  AUTOSAVING AUTOSAVE SUCCESSFUL!

The drive back home was quiet. He was exhausted, and he could tell you were too, but as he neared your street his driving got slower and slower, almost unmoving. From the corner of his eye, he saw you fiddle with your ring, twisting it around your fourth finger before pulling it off completely.

“Oh, we’re here,” you said out loud, yet you didn’t make a move to reattach your seatbelt.

“Itaru.”

Oh, wow. If hearing it a while ago trumped hearing it over call, then hearing you murmur his name in private, with just the two of you present, was…

“You look like you have something on your mind,” you continued, “all throughout the whole get-together, actually. Are you okay?”

When everything about this, about you simultaneously felt so new yet so familiar to him, how could he possibly convey his feelings? His admiration, no, his love for you?

He took the ring from your grasp, and before you could question what was up, he had grabbed your hand as well. With a serendipitous conscientiousness, he slid the ring back onto your ring finger, admiring your rosy glow that managed to be visible even with how dark out it was outside.

“The things you said a while ago,” he began, some hesitance still remaining as his thumb glided over your ring, “sounded really convincing.”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes. For a few seconds the both of you kept silent, until you finally broke it off, “maybe I wasn’t lying in the first place.”

He stiffened, pausing his previous ministrations as you continued, “… were you?”

Looking back at the past week, he almost laughed. Other than already being in a relationship, was anything between the two of you ever a lie to begin with?

“I wasn’t, either,” he replied. Taking in a deep breath, your gaze finally locked with his, he took the next step.

“If… if I promise to always be there for you, to hold your hand, help you fight your battles, and shield you from attacks… would you have me?”

want to order again?

[nny11writes]

Hello there. I was reading How to Quit You again and I have a question. What is in the reports on Catra that the Moons keep referencing? Maybe I just missed it in the fic cause my english is not very good. I was just curious.

So, uh, this got a LOT longer than I thought it would and then I started including pictures and basically this got wildly out of hand. Kind of like the fic itself, so I’m not sure what I was thinking lol.

You totally didn’t miss anything! I purposefully left it vague so that people could insert whatever they thought was appropriate (well, inappropriate in this case) there. Essentially to let people ramp things up or down more to their comfort. It was also done in part because back then I wasn’t sure how intense I wanted to make things either. This fic has honestly gotten darker and more mature than I ever thought it would, so leaving it vague has certainly been a benefit to my changing whims lol.

But these days I do have a solid idea for the things that went down. So what I know see happening there is mostly a lot of her mouth getting her in trouble (and not just mouthing off, god Catra wields words like surgical scalpels), but there are a few notable cases where she did physically attack others. 

Catra is still in a bit of Horde mindset here so anything she perceives as someone trying to hold power over her or kick her down demands she respond. Because if you aren’t on top, then you’re getting crushed under someone’s boot and Catra has both 1. Long grown tired of being abused and 2. Gotten used to being the one on top. So she responds with more force than needed and uses preemptive strikes to protect herself.

We need a little backstory here so:

When the whole Erlandia thing went down, Catra was 2nd in command of the Horde. Technically Weaver was, but everyone knew that it was actually Catra calling the shots. She’d had Hordak’s favor for years by that point and practically was the boss of their little posse. But Hordak is VERY vicious in this fic since we didn’t have a Horde Prime when I started writing this (If I were to do a full re-write I’d make Prime be the big guy and the characterization would fit so damn well tbh), and he operates under a fuck you model of catch 22. If you mess up you are fucked, and if you are honest about messing up you are only barely mildly less fucked. So if you can successfully lie or deflect the blame then his wrath won’t fall on you, but get caught lying? Woof. 

So either way is a great way to end up dead (RIP Mantenna I will release your death fic someday), and the higher up the chain of command you are the farther you have to fall. 

(Picture below of the bridge near my hometown I was picturing Mantenna being hurled from in Catra’s place for reference, because I realized no one would understand my falling joke at this point :D)

(Catra had a long way to fall whenever Hordak decided to kick her down)

Once she saw her wanted posters Catra knew she had to flee Horde territory or else she would be captured and probably brutally tortured for weeks before finally dying. And the Horde, who had suffered under Catra’s relentless pace and high expectations (look, they certainly were 400% more efficient at first and then people start dropping for exhaustion and mutiny and worse), they would’ve loved the opportunity to do literally anything they wanted to her. That’s why she ran.

So Catra’s still somewhat in this mindset of “I’m running this operation and if you try to contradict me or undermine me I have full permission to kill you for it” those first few years in Etheria.

Some of the worst of her behavior was actually contained at the Archer’s house where she was living until she got the Brakeman job. (Bow is currently being a little fickle but I am writing from his PoV for another one shot in this AU where he’ll touch on these things a bit too.) By the time she gets that job, Catra is already starting to try and be a better person. Begrudgingly and with a lot of frustration for sure. But she is trying and it’s a painful growing process.

(Hello sir, like that train and view, this is Catra chapter 3 y’all)

So those reports contain her mostly being a smart ass. 

But she also verbally eviscerates people, picking them apart piece by piece in public settings. She caused at least one mental breakdown on the tracks where people need to keep their heads for safety. 

Think of her like someone on twitter who keeps the receipts (and wisely spends her limited time alive compiling them into a list) and jumps on someone for making a mistake, which she then blows out of proportion while never giving them the chance to learn and grow. All while making every bad faith interpretation she can and poisoning the well. She delights in this, she loves tearing someone down to nothing because it means she WON and she was right, and in the moment people seemed to cheer her on. But afterwards, when everyone else gets tied up in the shame and guilt of their actions she doesn’t and it puts her more on the outs. 

The thing about this sort of behavior is that it’s hard to prove when it’s verbal and everyone else involved is too ashamed to admit they participated. So it’s more “hearsay” than anything else. Honestly, kind of like real life there’s a lot of people being told to suck it up, ignore her, or be the bigger person while she is being an outright bully. It’s not right, but it’s what happened.

On top of that, she lies and deflects and blames as well. Nothing can be her fault (because Hordak would’ve killed her, Weaver would’ve tortured her, and worse), so she is conniving and scheming and manages to twist everything so she’s never the root problem even when she is. The higher ups are usually doing their best to interpret what they are hearing (although not always) second or third hand, and Catra can dance verbal circles around her co-workers. 

This doesn’t endear her to anyone either.

I hesitate to say as a consequence of her behavior, because that is some strong ass wording, but essentially her coworkers are fed up with being attacked by her. And they decide to get back at her, and they certainly can’t do that through talking or arguing (some have tried, almost all have failed). So a small group of them do physically attack her.

She uses that as justification to be a right bastard and decides to start doling it out again because it’s proof to her that she was right. She absolutely falls back into destructive, awful behavior. Everywhere is just like the Horde, they just hide it better. Catra doesn’t ramp up, but her attacks become more vicious and more directed after that. And this is also when she finally decides that the Archer’s were an anomaly and she absolutely needs to prove that no one can try to get the jump on her.

So the later reports are fewer in number, but more about her being caught or admitting to doing something physically violent instead of her being sarcastic or verbally cruel. These reports range from throwing a single punch to implying she’d attack with a weapon. Mostly it’s small scale (this is when we see Angella talk to Catra in a flashback), but there is one very notable exception.

Catra was working top with a motherfucker who had determined that no one liked her, so he thought he could try to push her around. They were literally assigned together because no one liked either of them, and they were both known for being violent. So the bosses went, “Let them duke it out on the trains, maybe calm them both down!” (Fucking idiots. Why yes, all this gunpowder should be stored next to the lit oil lamp!) She’s trying to keep it together, but she absolutely loses it and goes feral on him. This confrontation happens when she almost kills him by dangling him over the side of the train as they approached a tunnel. It could’ve been the perfect crime, brakeman is a dangerous fucking job for many reason but falling off the train or getting drunk and getting yourself killed isn’t uncommon. 

(Think like the miners at Cerro Gordo who would ride the ore carts back up from town, and be so fucking drunk they’d stand up and get their heads knocked clean off their bodies.) 

Catra really almost does it too, but the last time she thought she’d had the perfect crime with Weaver she’d been caught and everything fucking fell apart. So she yanks him back to safety, and tells him to fuck off.

Somehow she really thought that would be the end of it (she made her points, made him piss himself, and is now top dog again; good job girlboss), but bastard boy ran to the bosses to report her.

(Look, picture this train going through a slightly smaller tunnel rocking side to side, depending on the rail up to a foot either side, so you would get crushed if you weren’t laying down on top or clinging to the back of the train. You’d be terrified and report someone too.)

This is what Angella is warning Glimmer away over. She’s thinking about this instance, where Catra claims that they did get into a fight and admits to starting it but denies threatening to kill him. He claims that he did nothing wrong while everyone knows he does shit wrong on a regular schedule. And everyone else says, “Well we weren’t there but it sounds like something she’d do.”

Catra is careful to never go too far where it can be proven, and in town she is as polite as can be. Everyone knows she’s a hard worker and slowly but surely she makes a place for herself in the community without even noticing. Most of the folks she works with don’t have the time, money, or energy to build their own reputation as individuals. Company housing was built specifically because the workers were known as being too rowdy. But Catra will burn the candle from both ends to see Bow, Adora, and Glimmer. So Angella is hearing stories from folks in town about that “lovely young woman” and horror stories from the rails about that “hellish bitch”, and she doesn’t know which to believe. 

She’s biased in Catra’s favor because she’s seen Catra be good and lovely, she’s biased because her daughter is crushing on Catra, she’s biased for a lot of reasons.

Angella is also a coward and conflict avoidant. 

It’s easier to give excuses, or look for reasoning, or even twist the narrative so that she doesn’t have to confront anyone. She won’t have to confront Catra and hurt her, which would hurt Glimmer and Bow. She won’t have to confront her workers either, no need to face them down when they are furious with her for inaction. She doesn’t have to fear a fight or even put her reputation on the line as long as she can “prove” that Catra didn’t go as far as the reports say she does. 

I love Angella to death, but the woman has a lot of problems and flaws and isn’t working on any of them. She does care about her workers health and happiness, but not enough to sacrifice her daughters (or herself). Frankly she barely sacrifices her pocket book but she does. Yes she’s semi-capitalist propaganda but this version of the “wild west” is more idealized for sure for sure. :\

Essentially, Catra got fucking lucky that Angella was looking for ways to prove that she was a good person. Because if Angella had actually put her glasses on and faced the truth? Catra would’ve been fired and practically run out of town.

Aaaaaaand that’s what I think was in the reports. :)

[baldwin-montclair]

The Unlikely Advocate - Part 4

Just a little backstory to how this little family of a vampire and two witches formed.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Tagged: @sylverdeclermont @christi14 @fanficqueen306 @holamor

———

“You fucking asshole!” Eileen hissed viciously at Baldwin, standing by the projection board and over the heads of his underlings at their desks as time and space seemed to evaporate, judging by the frozen nature of their stares.

The silence was broken when four security personnel caught up with her. Two grabbed her roughly by each arm to escort her from the building.

“Do not fucking touch her!” Baldwin roared at them and without a beat, they dropped their hold.

Despite her own anger and feeling of betrayal, Eileen suddenly realised that her actions were indistinguishable from someone knowingly entering a bull-fighting arena whilst wearing top to toe in red.

“In here!” He called back as he retreated to his office.

Everyone stayed frozen, not entirely sure who he’d been speaking to and much too afraid to be mistaken.

A moment later he reappeared at the office door, his gaze focused on Eileen.

“Miss Percy,” he clarified and regarded his still slightly traumatised team, “everyone else back to work.”

Eileen was more than a little aware of the stares she had prompted from the workers, some fascinated by the person who’d given voice to a sentiment they were too afraid to even think, others like she was walking the last few yards to her place of execution. In reality, if they had any notion of how actually dangerous their ball-buster boss really was they would have run a long time ago.

As soon as she’d crossed the threshold, the door closed behind her and Baldwin retreated to lean against his large mahogany desk, folding his arms and watching her intently.

“You lied to me-“ she started.

“I haven’t Miss Percy, which is why this intrusion is unacceptable-“

“How dare you,” she interrupted again, “come over all high and mighty after what you did.”

“What manner of offence do you imagine I committed ?” He asked with a sigh, his patience visibly dissipating.

“Izzy, you told me everything was fine, that the Congregation had ruled to let me keep custody.”

He stood straighter, his fixed gaze more intense.

“Your mother disputed our ruling, if there is a problem you should take it up with her.”

“My mother allied herself with her precious big brother, leader of the witches in Congregation, she still thinks he was used as a scapegoat for your family to grab more power. I haven’t spoken to her since she disowned my sister for accusing him. Why is she even being taken seriously?”

“I promise that she isn’t,” he stepped forward, “she’s not getting near your niece. The way to ensure that is to conduct a proper hearing.”

“You’re choosing an arbiter, some stranger is taking my niece away from me until that’s done!”

“Standard procedure,” he assured, “I have chosen Diana as her guardian during the proceedings, the Congregation have agreed, I simply have not yet been able to reach her today. Once the arrangements were made I was going to inform you.”

“Can...” she stopped, feeling the righteous fury fade to embarrassment at her failure to imagine this option, “can you do that, make Diana her temporary guardian?”

“I assume she is an acceptable choice given your close friendship?”

Eileen nodded mutely, there was no-one in the world she trusted with Izzy more than Diana and Matthew.

“Then if we are done?” His sniping tone had softened slightly. The regard in his expression belied curiosity rather than anger.

“Yes...of course,” she stammered as he stepped close, leaning past her to open the door, “I’m s-“

“We’ll discuss this another time,” he cut off her apology as he stood over her, his frame intimidating as his dark amber eyes fixed her in place.

The encounter stayed with her long after she’d left his offices. Despite her embarrassment at her rash behaviour, she couldn’t help but feel comforted by his easy authority over the situation. Every decision she’d made of late, with regards to taking over the coven, becoming a mother to her fourteen month old niece, she’d second guessed and panicked over, dealing with her mother had been a source of anxiety but the vampire her family had been so wary of was the one fighting them with her.

Also, she knew she’d be lying if she argued she didn’t find him attractive. Objectively, her friend’s husband, Matthew, was a very attractive man but definitely too much of a friend to really lend him the mysterious gravitas as his step-brother.

Also, in such close proximity, Baldwin did smell incredible, leather and firewood, very masculine aromas and despite herself, she felt drawn to his authoritative energy.

Eileen was not looking forward to the journey to France, not nearly as much as all previous social visits. It was not just because she was going to be without her niece for some time but because she would be met there by the vampire whose office she’d stormed just one week prior.

She loaded the gurgling baby into her chair as the doorbell rang. Hoping it was not a neighbour - as she was already behind in regards to time - she opened the door a crack.

That was all her brother’s needed to push the door open harder, knocking her backwards to the ground, splitting her lip.

Isobel started crying in her car seat, loudly.

“You’re weak, just like that Bishop bitch, if you both had your way, we’d all be under the thumb of the vampires.”

“Joshua, not you too-“ Eileen winced as she stood, looking into the eyes of her younger brother, the baby of the family was now angry and hateful, just like her elder sibling Mark.

“Don’t talk to him,” Mark sneered, “you only talk lies, we won’t let you take another family member away.”

He made to move towards Isobel but Eileen rushed to stand in his way.

“Lies? Like how our uncle, capturing witches and supplying them to a sadistic madman for rape and torture?” She yelled and felt the strike of a hand on her cheek.

“Yes, lies, you misled our dear departed sister with your false accusations, her blood is on your hands.”

“He killed our sister, Knox did, she was the one who figured out he was behind the disappearances. The de Clermont’s suffered just as much at Fuch’s hands, they were not in league with him.”

“You whore,” he grabbed her hair, “has he had you, is that why he’s taken such an interest?”

“Who?”

“Who do you fucking think? Montclair!”

“No.”

“We’ll see,” Mark nodded at Joshua, “she always sucked at keeping her mind protected, hold her.”

Joshua hesitated.

“We were meant to just take the baby, not hurt her.”

“It only hurts if you fight it, you should know that, little brother.”

“Don’t listen to him Josh.”

“Shut up!” Mark shoved her against the wall.

She waited for the sickening thud of her skull striking the hard surface but it didn’t.

Opening her eyes, she realised she was no longer looking into her malice driven brother’s gaze but a concerned Baldwin who had shielded her head with his hand, preventing the injury.

The same could not be said for Mark, lying and groaning amidst a mess of splintered bookcase and it’s contents.

Joshua, frozen in fear up until now moved to go towards him but was stopped by a growl from her saviour before he turned his attention to her.

“I’m going to attend to your sister now,” he spoke to her attackers as he looked her over, “I suggest you not be here when I turn.”

Mark made to rush Baldwin but he was suddenly frozen in place before being threw out the door, Joshua running after him as the door slammed and locked behind them.

Baldwin turned back to Eileen stunned, he had no idea she possessed such power.

He was unable to query it as he found her unconscious but with her breathing steady and her heart rate at the pace it usually was, higher than most but normal for her, he decided it best to just let her rest.

Isobel had quietened down since the commotion and was now staring at Baldwin as he gently placed Eileen on the sofa, her gaze held a silent calculation. Then, her arms outstretched, demanding to be picked up.

“You don’t have the genetic markers for Witch Wind Eileen,” Matthew looked over the blood work he’d conducted shortly after she joined their conventicle, “fire and earth yes but not witch wind.”

“So what does that mean?” She asked.

“We think you leant your power to Isobel, she has the markers and you have a genetic connection through your sister, the earth marker.” Diana explained.

“Not intentionally, I’d never just put it all on her so I can peace out and nap while she’s alone and scared.”

Diana smiled a little and nodded to Rebecca ‘serving’ empty plastic cups of tea to Isobel and Baldwin, the latter with Isobel still at ease on his arm.

“She wasn’t alone, she knew she was safe, as were you.”

“He’s so much better with kids than adults,” Matthew shook his head in bewilderment at the family head, “it’s very strange.”

“She’s very taken with him,” Eileen agreed.

“Obviously runs in the family.” Diana commented to an exasperated eye-roll from her friend.

Eileen flicked through the photo’s on the iPad, those and her daily FaceTime ‘chats’ with her niece being the only thing to keep her sane after a week without her.

She didn’t even have the comfort of familiar surroundings as Baldwin insisted she stay in one of his guest bedrooms, given the hostility of her family.

As grateful as she was for his help, she found the situation increasingly difficult in some ways.

For over a year, her sole focus had been her niece, protecting and taking care of her, her own needs secondary. She didn’t begrudge this, she didn’t even think about it. Now, with nothing to do or focus on, Eileen found herself at a loose end and attracted to her friend’s brother.

That has to be breaking some code.

Still, the memory of Baldwin’s cold and firm touch cradling her head from impacting the wall stayed with her, making her consider just how that same strong hand would feel around her throat as he took her on the long table of the dining room.

A guilty flush made her shake her head involuntarily. Sex was not something she’d been shy about agreeing to in the past but she was out of practice, now she might as well be a nun staring at a well-endowed statue a bit too long.

A shower, she needed a shower.

The hot water helped give some semblance of peace to her mind but did not assuage her desire and she dipped her hand down between her thighs to aid in easing her frustration.

She was close, in a very short span of time, making up for months of neglecting that aspect of herself when the tell-tale sound of her phone sounded in the bedroom.

She hastily ended the shower, dried off and rough towelled her hair before throwing on a silk dressing gown.

The phone had stopped before she reached it.

“Dammit!” She swore.

It came alive again in her hand.

Mother.

She couldn’t tamp down the boiling anger, not enough to stop herself doing the one thing Baldwin ordered her not to do.

Answer the call.

By the time she’d taken the breath needed to cuss the woman out, the phone was in Baldwin’s hand at the far side of the room.

He emphatically hit the hang up button and placed the device on the table.

“So that lock really is just for show,” she accused, gesturing to the door of Baldwin’s guest room.

“Every call from your mother is monitored, you know that, and I did tell you to not to speak to her.”

He was focused on her face, not the sheer dressing gown stuck against her still slightly damp skin. His gaze was deliberate, as though his will was employed in avoiding so much as a glance at her body.

“I did not give you permission to enter.” She went to the door and opened it, “please leave.”

“As you wish,” he shrugged, picking up the phone, “but this comes with me.”

“You can’t,” she stood in front of the door, blocking his exit, “I need that”.

Eileen made a grab for the phone but he managed to hold it just out of reach.

“You cannot be trusted.” He explained.

“I can-“

“Whatever you say to your mother could be used as an argument to give her custody, I’m trying to protect you, and the child.”

“I don’t need your protection!”

“And I really don’t care what you think you need, in this situation I know better.”

“You are an arrogant prick!”

“Indeed I am, and will continue to be so until you accept my guidance in this matter.”

“You’re asking me to trust you?”

“Not at all,” he stepped closer to her, “I’m telling you to do as I say.” His gaze was now fixated on her throbbing jugular vein.

“And if I want your help with my family I have to obey, right?”

“Yes, but more important than that,” he reached up and gently moved a lock of hair obstructing his view of her neck, “you want to.”

“You have no idea what I want.”

“I do, only you’re afraid to ask for it,” he grasped her throat, firmly but not tight enough to hurt, “tell me to stop.”

Her hands clasped his wrist and forearm through instinct but still well aware this would do nothing to save her if his goal was to harm her.

“I’m not afraid of you.” She hissed in defiance.

“That much is clear,” he taunted, lips centimetres from her own, “tell me to stop.”

“No.”

“Then tell me what you need?”

Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his mouth, willing him to close the distance, kiss her, fuck her, bite her even, she wasn’t certain.

“I-“ she hesitated.

Baldwin pressed his lips gently onto hers, not allowing her to pull him in for more as he set the pace, maddeningly slow, before pulling away, causing her to release a whine of frustration.

“I can leave if you want me to, you need only stay silent.”

”No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then you’ll trust me, put yourself in my hands from now until sunrise?”

“S-sunrise?”

It was only six-thirty, sunrise was in at least twelve hours, she had to wonder what he had in mind.

“Can you do that? Relinquish all responsibility and concern and simply obey?”

The seductive abilities of vampires were well known to witches, humans mistakenly attributed hypnotic properties to what they deemed the fictional creatures.

“Yes.”

“Excellent,” he leant forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, “get ready, we have a table booked for dinner in an hour.”

[ddaenggtan]

lay me gently | ksj

there is no time for loneliness among the fires of your forge, no room in your buzzing mind for thoughts of anything but your next invention and the pain in your leg. your life is tilted off its axis, though, when your parents arrange a marriage without your knowledge or consent, and your new husband begins to situate himself into your life despite protests from either of you. you don’t know what zeus and hera have planned, but a volcano is no place for a love god like seokjin. | monsters and gods pt 2 (masterlist)

pairing | seokjin x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, aphrodite!jin, hephaestus!reader, disabled!reader (kind of. more technically accurate would be chronic pain!reader. but thats a whole discussion that ur welcome to have with me), fluff, slight angst but not a ton, v brief allusions to violence but its purposefully vague, not so brief descriptions of physical injury, descriptions of chronic pain, cyclopes! everywhere! i use that word so many times!, smut, literally the most vanilla smut i’ve ever written there are only two warnings, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, there are mentions of a war god that is a dick but it is Not Ares i promise, everyone still hates zeus bc he sucks, this also features dionysus!jimin but only a little, 

word count | 12.9k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | this is the second installment of gods and monsters!! i was actually in the middle of writing from eden when i stumbled across a really fantastic blurb about retelling aphrodite’s story the way we’ve all collectively decided to retell persephone and hades, so that there are two decent fucking couples in greek mythology, and there were a lot of good comments on said blurb that made those last two braincells in my head run into each other and make an idea. and then i promptly opened a new doc and typed half of this and a vague summary before sleeping for longer than i should have! and i’m always weak for aphrodite jin bc i mean....look at him....man looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo like who am i to deny the gods, y’know? and i figured that since i had olympian!reader in the last one, i’d continue that and have olympian!reader in this one, also i wanted an excuse to write from a hephaestus pov since i’ve loved that dumbass blacksmith since i was ten and wrote a greek history article in school. so here, have this aphrodite retelling!! | title from work song by hozier

It's hot. It's always hot here, the consequences of living inside a volcano, you suppose, but the callouses on your skin have long since made you immune to the burns. You glide down through the halls, an old habit since the day you crafted the wheels you attached to your sandals. No longer did you need to carry the awkward and hefty cane everywhere you went, or struggle to make your leg move the way you wanted it to. The invention of the wheel was one you were forever proud of. 

The forge is already blazing when you arrive, each of the hundred levels full of cyclopes all hammering away. Steam hisses and rises through the air, and you chance a glance at the lava bubbling miles below you. 

"Careful today," You call to the cyclops closest to you. "It looks like she's feeling the burn again. Raise the guards soon, and keep them up until she blows. No sense letting good work go to waste." The cyclops nods and barks an order out at others across the levels. You wheel yourself further along, the sound of the celestial bronze shields being brought up serving as background noise. You probably could have waited another day or so to raise them, if you were honest; cyclopes are fireproof, which is useful in a forge, and you yourself aren't likely to be taken out by a mere volcanic eruption. The work, though...heat like that could affect even the strongest of your creations, and everyone works much too hard here to have to reform every bolt, repour every blade. 

You valued your time too much for that. 

"You have a guest, my lady," one of your workers called. You look up from the notebook in your hands - soot-covered, bound in leather, edges singed, with bits of paper sticking every which way from the many times you've jotted something down for later and stuffed it inside quickly before tying the leather cords that bind it - and frown. The cyclops grimaces slightly. "It...seems to be Lord Zeus."

You scoff and spin yourself around to follow him to the elevator reluctantly. "Probably wants to commission another throne, the bastard. Should've stuck him to the last one, maybe he'd get it through his head that not everyone wants to fuck him." You wave a hand and your guide gives you a curt nod before returning to work. You settle yourself in the lift and flip the lever. It's not a long journey, thanks to the many improvements you've made over the years, but it still seems that too soon the grate is sliding back into the wall to allow you exit. 

You tap your heels together twice as you glide off the lift, already reaching for the cane that you keep there for situations like this. The soft clicks and whirs are nearly imperceptible as the wheels break themselves apart and regress into the hidden compartments in your soles. Your leg becomes dead weight once more, and you wince at the way it drags behind you. You've half a mind to curse whoever came to call on you this time; you hate walking, even if the charade is a necessary one. You're still contemplating the idea when you hobble into your entry to see Zeus himself, stoic and cold as he ever is. 

"My lord," You call, barely keeping the venom out of your voice as you do. Many would say it's the heat of the mountain making your blood boil, but you know the truth. Very little in the world sets you off like the man in front of you. 

He turns and fixes a blinding grin on you. "My dear Hephaestus!" You scoff at the title; no one has called you by your name in centuries, lest they inherit your lameness. "Wonderful to see you, truly. It's been too long since my last visit."

"Yes, four hundred years does seem to crawl by without you to grace the halls of my forge," You drawl. His eyes steel for a moment, your sarcasm not as lost on him as you'd hope, but it quickly passes. "Why are you here, my lord?"

"Well, you remember how I said I would owe you a favor?" Your eyes narrow and you nod. In the handful of times Zeus has repaid the hundreds of favors he owes, it's hardly ever been something positive. "I'm here to pay it! I brought you a gift."

"A gift, what-?" You don't get the chance to finish. Zeus has already waved forward a steward he brought along. Your heart aches for the boy as sweat drips down his body and his tunic is already singed. Your own leathers are slightly oppressive in the heat, but at least they don't catch fire. Zeus takes a scroll from the boy, harsh and rough, and shoves it into your hands. You unravel it quickly, your eyes darting across the words on the paper.

"A marriage?!" Your screech echoes throughout the mountain and the clanging of metal on metal pauses for a moment. "What am I supposed to do with a marriage, much less one to a-" You scan the paper again. "A love goddess?"

"Not a love goddess," He tuts. "The love goddess. Well. Love deity. Aphrodite is a beauty, you're lucky I could arrange such a thing." Your eyes strain against your skull, threatening to pop out with every word Zeus says. 

"What in all of Tartarus is a ‘love deity’ supposed to do in my forge?" You ask him. He scoffs and waves the question off as if it doesn't matter. Your hand twitches with the urge to throw him into the lava, and the only thing keeping you from doing exactly that is the pain striking through your leg - a bitter reminder of just what Zeus is capable of - and the knowledge that it wouldn't even kill him. 

"Your mother was adamant about this, Hephaestus." You echo his scoff at this; you're sure she was. "Aphrodite will arrive within the week. See to it that everything is fit for a god." He chuckles at his own joke, and a vision of your cane shoved through his skull implants itself in your brain. You force yourself to take in deep breaths. The scent of hot metals, sparks, and sulfur calms you, as it always has. 

"Fine," You say, though Zeus is already on his way out. "I'm not keeping anyone here against their will, though!" Your shout goes ignored, as you knew it would. You grumble under your breath and hobble back to the elevator. Within moments you're shooting down to your bedroom, large and situated close to the heart of the volcano. You don't bother to activate the wheels of your shoes, instead leaning on your cane until you get to your bed. 

The plush mattress and blankets are a relief on your aching hip and leg and you let yourself lean back and just relax for a moment. The notice is still clutched in your hand and you find yourself staring at the looping curves of Hera's signature, wondering what she's up to this time. 

Memories flood you before you can stop them; being a young godling in Olympus, attached and in awe of your mother as she led you around the city, light gleaming off the golden columns. Seeing the fire in Zeus' eyes the first time he struck her in front of you, and the blaze that came when you stepped in front of her. Starlight glinting off her silver robes as she cried in her garden. The bruising vice he kept on your calf, the feel of the winds against your skin as you fell, the way Helios painted the sky as you kept falling. The feel of a hammer in your hand for the first time, juxtaposed to the throbbing pain in your crippled leg every time you so much as twitched. 

The notice is across the room before you realize you've thrown it. You want to believe she isn't playing games; Hera has always been somewhat conniving, but your mother has never been outright cruel to you, not since the night you tried to save her from her husband, and she always had her reasons. You may not always agree with her reasons, but that didn't change the fact that she had them. Still, condemning an innocent person to a life here...condemning you to live your days with a constant reminder of your plainness, your deformity, wasn't something you expected from her. Zeus, yes, but not her. 

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, only to adjust a few moments later when the pressure on your hip becomes too much. You're angled now, weight resting on your good side to alleviate even a bit of the pain from the other. It was the only way you could get a moment's peace since your fall, the only time the pain lessened. 

You allow yourself five breaths. Five breaths to let the tear slip down your cheek, drawing its path through the soot and the smoke. Four to let your breath shake in your chest and shudder in the air. Three for the ache in your hip to disappear completely, so you are blessedly free from your pain for once. Two for the thorns to tighten impossibly around your heart and let it bleed for you. One for the hole in your chest, shaped like a loving father and a true family that doesn't constantly commission weapons from you to throw at each other.

Pain arcs through your leg once more and you wince. Your hand massages the muscles there absentmindedly; it provides no relief to anything but your mind. You stand and click your heels together once more, glad when the wheels are stable once more. In seconds, you're off, flying through hallways to get to your workshop. 

You've got work to do. 

It's nearly the entire week later when one of the workers knocks on the door of your workshop. 

"Aphrodite has arrived, my lady." You wave at him and he disappears back into the mass of his brothers. It doesn't take you long to get to the entryway, rolling through the halls until you're just outside the large bronze doors. You retract your wheels and grasp your cane, reminding yourself that the more people thought Zeus had crippled you debilitatingly, the better. Your hip aches again and you tune it out in favor of tapping the end of your cane against a small hammer at the base of the doors. There's a quiet whir as they slide open, and you limp forward as best you can. 

The foyer is packed with people, cyclopes everywhere with bags slung over their shoulder, forest nymphs tapping at their smoking roots, naiads hissing with steam. In the midst of everything stands two still figures, one infinitely more familiar than the other. 

"I thought I told you that the next time you step foot in my forge, I'd stoke my fires with your bones." Your voice is loud as it reverberates across the walls. Both figures turn to look at you, but your glare doesn't falter. 

"Aw, are you still mad about that?" His smile is deceptively innocent. "You never would've gotten her off that throne otherwise." 

"It wasn't supposed to be her throne in the first place, was it?" You spit back as you make your way to him. It doesn't escape your notice that everyone but the cyclopes is staring at you, and you're glad the heat from the mountain keeps you flushed. You can't show weakness in front of this crowd, you can't let them know that you know they think you're below them. 

You can't let them know that in your worst moments, you agree. 

"Get the fuck out of my mountain, Dionysus, before I throw you out."

"Ooh, take after your old man a little too much there, don't you?" Jimin's smile never leaves his face and you resist the urge to smack it with your cane. Instead, you tighten your grip on it and take a breath. 

"What are you doing here?" You eventually ask through gritted teeth. 

"Just escorting a dear, dear friend." His grin has turned predatory as he rests a hand on his companion's shoulder. "My dear Hephaestus, I'd like to introduce you to Aphrodite." You glance over, looking the man up and down briefly. 

He's taller than you - though, with your pained hunch, many are. His shoulders are almost as wide as his eyes as he looks around the room, taking in the granite walls and bronze moldings. His clothes aren't practical in the least; soft and sweet and flowing linens in a pale lilac that complements the purple of his hair. It's a stark contrast to the harsh reds and greys of your soot-stained leathers. When he finally looks at you, his eyes are the same color as the grease you use to oil your inventions and give you no clue to his thoughts.

He's fucking beautiful and it brings a sob to your throat.

"It's...a pleasure." He looks you up and down, not unlike you did him, but whatever conclusions he makes, he says nothing. 

"Your quarters are on the fifth floor," You reply in lieu of an actual greeting. "Delius will show you the way. Be careful, or you're likely to lose your head. Keep a cyclops with you while you learn your way around, they can get anywhere." The god looks surprised, though you aren't sure why, and you turn. "They'll see to your meals and needs, as well, so if you find yourself wanting, just let one know. I'll have a key made soon, so you can come and go as you wish." 

Aphrodite starts to say something as you walk away, leg dragging slightly behind you as you go. Jimin seems to cut him off, though, already asking for wine. 

"And get that bastard out of my forge!" You yell over your shoulder. "If he's still here when I get to the lift, I'm throwing him to the pit." 

There's scrambling behind you as the doors close. You feel a twinge of regret; the love god has done nothing to you, you could have given him even the slightest chance. The memory of his eyes as he looked at you flashes in front of you and you lean against the wall for support. No love god would want to associate with someone like you. He is beauty and elegance, a practiced dance in a moonlit gazebo, and you…

You are a mistake, cast from your home and crippled for all to see exactly what happens when you get in Zeus' way. 

You take a breath and let the heat from the stone wall soothe the pain in your hip as much as it will before you set off for your workshop.

Seokjin isn't quite sure what to do with himself that night. His friends - suitors - have all gone, unable to bear the heat of the mountain for more than a brief goodbye, and Jimin was quick to go when the cyclopes started for him. What the story there is, he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything, as a matter of fact. 

He doesn't know why Hera pushed so hard to have him wed to Hephaestus. He doesn't know why the girl was so cold at their first meeting. He doesn't know why she seemed so normal. Most people he met fell to their knees within moments, desperate to please him and showering him with vain compliments that used to sound like music in his ears. Most were insistent in their offers to him, throwing out their bodies and souls and anything else they thought he might want, just for a single glance from him. He used to laugh as he blew them kisses, delighted by their mindless adoration. 

Used to. 

He doesn't delight in such things anymore. Centuries have passed, and still, not a single one of the people and creatures that fought to stand in his presence cared about him. All of them saw Aphrodite, god of love and fertility, beauty and passion. They vied for just one night with him, fighting wars to win his hand, throwing whole festivals across Greece for his blessing. It was and would always be an honor. He is beautiful and is thankful for it, but…

Just once, he would like to be beautiful as Seokjin instead of Aphrodite. Would like the people attempting to woo him to hear the words he speaks instead of merely listening to the musicality of his voice. Would like to be believed, trusted, valued for something other than his face. Seokjin has a mind, a creative, capable mind that has - more than once - developed solutions to issues plaguing the mortals, only for him to be brushed to the side while the smart ones figured things out. 

He hates it, just like he hates that Hera sprung this on him without so much as a warning. One day he'd been lounging in her garden, the one place he could find some reprieve from the hordes of suitors, and talking to Artemis about her life as a maiden, and the next, Zeus thrust a marriage certificate into his hands and told him to be packed by the end of the week. 

And now his wife doesn't even care to look at him. You're not entranced like everyone else. The stories have grossly exaggerated your looks; he was prepared to look upon a monster, not a woman, pained and covered in soot with a limp. Still, there had been no emotion in your gaze, not even an ounce of the hatred or disgust he may have dreaded in his journey to this volcano. 

Nor do you care to dine with him, clearly. He's been sat at a scorched rocky table longer than three of him, by himself, for nearly two hours. Olympus has spoiled him, clearly, or perhaps it's that your own manners are lacking. In the skies, everyone dines together, lounging on cushions and waiting until Zeus and Hera arrive before digging into the food presented to them. It's respectful, a way to honor the hosts of the home. Even there, however, he would not be kept waiting for more than ten minutes.

"You, there," He eventually calls to a cyclops in the corner, polishing goblets that likely haven't been touched in centuries. It turns to fix its eye on him, and Seokjin represses the instinctive shudder. "When does Hephaestus intend on dining tonight?"

"Apologies, my lord, but the lady has her dinner served in her workshop." Seokjin frowns at that and the cyclops continues. "She stays there most hours of the day, takes her meals there to ensure she makes the most of each day to create her inventions and improve upon her current ones."

Seokjin huffs and debates with himself for a moment. It would be rude to eat without his hostess present, but if you had your meals delivered elsewhere there was little chance you'd bother to come to the dining hall. He couldn't possibly go to your workshop to dine with you either; the cyclops could show him the way, yes, but he would no doubt be intruding on things he had no business being near, even as your husband. 

He spews out a slew of curses that make the cyclops in the corner blush and digs into a roll. He would simply have to eat alone tonight, and perhaps if he catches you tomorrow, he can request your presence at meals. 

You don't see Aphrodite again until the next evening. 

You've almost forgotten anyone else lives in the mountain you call home, still used to being on your own besides the cyclopes. Roniah had informed you that morning that the god inquired as to your whereabouts the previous night during his supper, and the slightest bit of guilt shoots through you. You should have joined him if only for a moment to be polite, but you'd gotten entranced in your latest designs. Your own food had been taken away in the wee hours of the morning, stale and unwanted. It was commonplace, but you need to at least be polite to your husband. 

You sink deeper into the steaming water around you, rubbing away the last bits of soot and grease as you ponder. The hot water is heaven on your aches, the warmth seeping through and relaxing them into painlessness. You don't allow yourself the luxury of bathing often, usually just wiping yourself clean every so often when the remnants of your work become too thick on your skin or the ache in your bones is too much to ignore. It's a nice reprieve, though, one you bask in each time. The water is close to boiling, comfortable and warm for a goddess such as yourself, and the steam makes it difficult to see much of anything. 

You've long since come to terms with your life; you aren't beautiful, you won't ever walk without pain again, you won't be the daughter your parents wanted. But it's moments like these that you let yourself pretend, if only for a moment. Pretend you weren't thrown from your home. Pretend your leg isn't covered in scars from where the rocks of Olympus sliced it open. Pretend you're the same woman you were all those years ago, clutching at your mother's skirts as Zeus thundered towards her. 

Your head starts to spin and you stand, clumsily making your way out of the pool and to the stone bench where your linen towel waits. You slip your robes over your shoulders and sigh at the softness of them. The black linen you keep here was woven by Ariadne herself, enchanted by Athena and dipped in the fires of your forge to withstand the heat. It allows for a slight breeze as you move into your bedroom, not bothering to tie the material closed completely so it hangs limp on your shoulders, torso exposed. Your skin is overheated from the water and you enjoy the way the air cools you just slightly as you sit on your bed.

You don't think anything of it until a throat clears behind you and you whip your head around to see Aphrodite standing just inside your door. 

"Apologies, my lady. Horedon did not mention you were indisposed when I asked him to show me to your quarters." His voice is pleasant, soft and gentle. It matches his image and makes you acutely aware of how loud you always are, always must be in order to be heard over the forges.

"It's an honest mistake," You say eventually, tugging your robes tighter around you. "What do you need? As I said, the cyclopes are more than capable-"

"I wanted to extend my gratitude, actually." You can't even be mad he cut you off, too surprised by his words. "You and your workers have been very kind in the day that I've been here, and I appreciate that. I know that this isn't exactly something we had planned."

You nod in understanding. Pain flares in your leg once more and you massage the muscle out of habit. "Are your quarters to your liking? I did my best to position you high enough that the heat from the magma wouldn't be too overbearing, but not high enough that the forge smoke would choke you. Ah, and your bed also has a screen function built in to help to filter the air, so it may be more like what you're used to."

"Thank you, it's lovely. Delius showed me yesterday, it felt very much like Hera's garden." If he notices your flinch at the words, he doesn't say anything. "Listen, Hephaestus, I know neither of us may have wanted this, but I think we should make the most of this. We can at least be civil. If you would, your company at dinner would be most welcome." You stare at him, a laugh bubbling up in your throat that you can't stop. He looks baffled upon hearing it and it takes you a full minute to calm down enough to speak. 

"Thank you for inviting me to dine at my own table, Aphrodite," you say with an amused smile. "I shall do my best to attend, should I find myself near the hall." His ears turn a lovely shade of pink as he inclines his head in a small bow and leaves. You laugh again once he's gone. The entire situation is too hysterical for you. 

You, a plain and hobbled smith, are married to a love god who is beauty personified, who has already taken it upon himself to invite you to dine at your dinner table with him. You really should have expected him to pull something like this; already comfortable enough to show up unannounced in your private chambers and issue invitations and probably demands of your workers. You're not sure why Hera has banished him here; he's so much like her, he should be a favorite, and yet she must hate him if she's sentenced him to live here for the rest of existence. 

With a sigh you settle back into your bed, pillows supporting the weight of your bad leg and sheets thrown haphazardly around you. 

You don't expect to sleep, so when you wake, you're disoriented. You're not sure how long you were out, but it seems to have been a while based on the hunger that gnaws at your stomach. You click your heels and wheel your way to the kitchens, rubbing at your eyes to clear the sleep from them. 

You're focused when you enter the kitchen and give a curt wave to the mass of cyclopes situated around the island. It isn't until you're done making your gyro that you turn, deliciousness only a bite away and lock eyes with Aphrodite.

He looks radiant, as always; the pale yellow cloth drapes along his form in a most appealing way, and there's an amused smirk playing over his lips. His hair is still that soft purple, but it's faded some. 

"It's nice to see you again, wife," He says with an incline of his head. "It's been a while since anyone's seen you roaming through the halls." You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you lean back against the counter, wheels dig into the stone underneath your feet. 

"Yes, well, I was resting. Nothing strange about that, is there?" His lips quirk in a knowing smile and he shares a glance with the cyclops to his right. You notice for the first time how soft his mouth looks, pillowy and full, and you absently wonder how many have felt those lips against their skin. 

"Eat up, my lady," Aphrodite says eventually. "After a week-long nap, I expect you need it. Zeus dropped by a few days ago to deliver his wedding gift, it's waiting in your workshop. I've already commissioned a new necklace for Hera as thanks."

You frown, stuffing the gyro in your mouth. It was one thing to learn that you've been asleep for a week - not uncommon, for a god, but useful knowledge - but to know that Zeus stopped by without waking you, and that Aphrodite has been running things in your stead… You glance quickly around, noting the way each cyclops in the room is turned toward the love god as if they had all been deep in conversation before you arrived, and the sprawling mass of gems and stones atop the island in front of them. 

"You're commissioning the cyclopes for jewelry now?" You eventually ask. He nods. 

"They truly have an eye for detail," He says, a cheeky grin growing on his face. The cyclopes look amused, a couple even laughing outright, and you stifle a sigh at the terrible joke. "And I had no idea that these gems are so common here. The quality is astounding, honestly, I only ever see it in the gems on Olympus."

"That's because the stones on Olympus are from here," you tell him. Your eyes rake over him and he seems...happier than last you saw him. The soft light from the magma tunnels highlights his features beautifully, only enhancing the natural beauty, and there are gems decorating his hands and wound tight around his throat in a choker. More than that, though, he looks peaceful, relaxed. His muscles are relaxed as he sits among the one-eyed giants, a smile never far from his face, and they make conversation with him easily, despite their usual hesitance to be around any of the other gods. It warms you to see them so at ease around someone other than yourself.

"Well, if it's for Hera, it must be the best. Get me the designs, Aphrodite, and if there's anything else-"

"Seokjin."

"Hm?" You turn, already halfway to the door. 

"Seokjin is my chosen name. Please, you don't need to keep using my title." 

"Oh." Your eyes must be as wide as saucers as you stare at him, but the soft grin on his face doesn't falter in the least. "Alright then, Seokjin."

"We'll get you the designs when we're done, then, Hephaestus." You nod a little at his words and roll yourself away from the kitchens. It isn't until you get to your workshop that you realize you never gave him your own name.

Seokjin is...confused, to say the least. 

The stories on Olympus about your mountain forge are varied and extravagant, but they all seem to agree on the basics. The mountain is a terrible place to live, always filled with soot and impossible to navigate and as hideous as its master. The cyclopes are unfriendly and outright rude to everyone, if not openly hostile, likely because they are forced into servitude. The forge goddess that rules over the volcano is as violent and temperamental as the mountain itself, liable to explode at any moment after being cast out of Olympus for her own hubris. You're said to be cold and unfeeling and cruel, whipping any cyclops that doesn't do what you say when you say and beating the others into submission as you forge more and more powerful weapons for Zeus, your punishment for daring to stand against him.

Seokjin was finding more and more that none of those things were true. 

Yes, there is soot everywhere, but a simple wash and blessing upon his clothes keep them clean and beautiful. The mountain itself is a bit harsher than what he usually would consider beautiful, but the crystal mines glow with the magma behind them, lighting the walls with a myriad of colors, and the soft light in the palace does wonders for his looks, not to mention the way the ash and charcoal have helped his complexion. The halls are winding and strange, but following the system of bells and strings that he's seen messages shooting along means that even when lost, he can easily find a cyclops to help him to where he's going. Said cyclopes were unfriendly that first day, but now? They were nice beings, each one enthusiastic about the things they create and excited to be there, especially now that there's another person to talk to. They warmed to Seokjin fairly quickly after he asked what they were making; some kind of automaton, apparently, and when he asked what it was supposed to do, how it works, each eye lit up with glee as they began to explain it to him.

And you.

You are not violent at all. Every time you look at one of your workers, it is with friendship and happiness, and while you are easily distracted and yes, a bit temperamental, you are ultimately kind. He wants for nothing, everything he could ask for is given almost as soon as the words leave his mouth, he is free to come and go as he wishes, which is more than can be said for some of the other gods he's met. You have been unfailingly kind in the wake of your marriage to him. Everything he's witnessed, from the way you rushed to stamp out a flare at the bottom of his robes one day to the way you held a cyclops in your arms as he sobbed for a brother who had been lost to the sea, nothing has shown him that you are anything like what the Olympians say. You are frequently absent, locked away in your workshop for days at a time and leaving him to his own devices, but even that is a breath of fresh air. For so long, he's been surrounded by people - gods, nymphs, mortals, anyone and everyone all vying for his attention because he's beautiful and elegant, stealing precious moments of solitude where he can, and now he has as much as he desires. It makes him want to cry, he's so thankful for it. 

He's only left a few times, determined to visit Hera and see the few friends he keeps - Dionysus is always glad to see him, odd enough, and loves to hear his tales of life under the mountain. Each time he leaves, however, he's swarmed. Not always immediately, but it's as if the world can sense his return, and they come in droves, all to catch a glimpse of his beauty. It's exhausting and overwhelming now that he's had so much time on his own, which is the exact reason he doesn't leave very often. The worst of them is an especially willful war god, who Seokjin swears has been camping outside the volcano to know the second he leaves to visit a friend because the man is on him in a heartbeat and refuses to leave him alone. 

It's irritating and the way the man looks at him leaves him uncomfortable for days after he returns. He has half a mind to ask a cyclops to start accompanying him out, but even Seokjin knows better than to bring one of them to Olympus; Zeus would strike the gentle being down in a heartbeat just for daring to step where the gods live. 

He ponders what else he can do as he wanders the halls of the mountain, a habit at this point. He's been here weeks, each day better than the last, and still hasn't explored the entire place. He's on the lowest level now, heat scorching the hair on his arms and sandals blackened with ash. There's been quite a clamor down here somewhere for the past few days, and he's curious to see what project is being hammered out. 

He doesn't expect to turn a corner, walk past an open door, and see you, wheeling frantically around a large room, papers tucked in all sorts of pockets on your overalls, hair wild, face covered in soot. He watches, fascinated as you screech to a halt beside a large worktable, rifling through paper after paper before finally finding whatever it is you're looking for, only to push yourself to the other side of the room to pull a steaming piece of celestial bronze out of a pail. You look harried and distracted, not even having noticed him yet, and it…

It's honestly beautiful. 

He's always loved seeing beauty like this; the sheer, unfiltered rawness of creativity and passion. The way you and others lost themselves in their work, blind to everything but the vision in their heads, forgoing sleep and food and everything else in favor of making something out of nothing. It's beauty in its most naked form; the naked truth of being real, in the fleeting moments of existence, and Seokjin lives for it. It's his personal favorite of all the beauty in the world, and you encapsulate it better than anyone he's ever met. 

It's also beyond fascinating to watch you roll around on the wheels attached to your sandals. He can't help but wonder what it's like, to not have to take step after step and instead just roll through the slightly slanted halls of the mountain. 

"Did you make those?" He regrets the words almost immediately, reaching in futility to catch you as you turn and trip over a pail set just too far in your path for you to dodge. "I'm so sorry, I should have announced myself. I don't mean to keep startling you." 

"It's fine," you groan, though the hand on your hip is white-knuckled and your teeth are gritted. "I should have been paying more attention." He strides over and helps you to your feet, not missing the way you lean on him for support until you can sit on the now-overturned pail. "What did you need?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just exploring. Those, on your feet, though. You made them?" He smiles at your nod, however hesitant it is, and settles on the ground beside you to get a better look. "They're amazing. This compartment here, are they retractable?" You click your heels together in response, and Seokjin watches with wide eyes as the discs fold themselves up and slide into the soles of your sandals. "Amazing. Can you make me a pair?"

"You...you aren't going to tell Zeus, are you?" Your voice is the most unsure he's heard it, and he frowns.

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I just...he wouldn't really be happy if he knew I made these. Since I'm supposed to be suffering and everything, and they make it...not as terrible."

Seokjin scoffs. "No, I won't tell Zeus. You really do have to make me a pair, though, these are amazing. What else have you made?" Your eyes are wide when he looks back up at you, but you quickly pull papers out of your pockets to hand them over. 

"Well, this is my current schematic. I've just got to figure out how to get it to work."

"Is this...is this a person?"

"Kind of. The muses asked for some kind of...enhancement that would let them be heard in more places at once. So I've created this," You point to the left-most figure, which could only be Calliope. "Which is going to essentially absorb whatever the muse is doing, and then these," You run your finger along the other eight figures, each distinct but still matching overall, "Will distribute that to wherever they are. I've got a good basis for the visual representation, I think, and the audio system should be fine, but the issue I've been having is that I can't seem to get it to all...click."

"So you've got the transmitting figured out?"

"Yeah, that part was easy. And I built the miniatures, and they've been working fine, but I can't get the full sized ones to work correctly. I've smelted them down at least five times just to rebuild them." Seokjin stares at the papers in his hands, trying to make sense of the little scratches of handwriting that dart on and off the papers. He shakes his head, and pulls back, squinting.

"This may be a stupid question," He starts, looking at the front and side views you've drawn out, "But did you account for the weight?" You're silent for a long while, and when he looks up, you're gaping at him. "Sorry, of course you did, that was dumb."

"The fucking weight," You mutter. You're off in a flash, pulling the papers out of his hands to throw them down on a workbench and start scrawling again. "Because it wouldn't affect the smaller models since they use less material, but the full-size automatons would have the pressure which would affect the-" You start whispering to yourself, too rushed and quiet for him to make sense of, but he softens as he watches you go. He pulls the pail out of the way and sets it back against the wall before settling in on top of it.

He stays there for what feels like hours, watching as you pour adamantine into the molds and weld parts together and breathe that spark of life into the core of Calliope's automaton counterpart. He doesn't dare to breathe as you watch, hope clear in your eyes. Then the whirring starts and the automaton assumes a very Calliope-like pose, and you actually start to laugh and jump up and down. He can't keep the smile from his face, but he's satisfied now that he knows you're happy, so he moves to leave.

He's stopped by your voice, softer than he expected it over the hissing of the dying forge. He turns and you repeat your name. It sounds awkward on your lips, like you haven't said it in so long that your voice has forgotten what it sounds like, but you're smiling at him and you have soot on your face and he has to resist the urge to wipe it off. He echoes you quietly, and he thinks he's never heard a name more beautiful and fitting for someone like you.

Later, as he sinks into the steaming water of his rooms to wash the soot from his skin, he surprises himself. For the first time in his life, he wishes he wasn't a love god not for the unwanted attention, but because now he knows. He knows this feeling blossoming in his chest, and he knows how it mirrors that spark in your own heart. He can sense it, can feel it in the air as if it had actual weight to it, and he just...knows. He knows that you don't know what this is, that you probably will never realize what he feels, that you'll brush off your own feelings as some reluctant fondness while he can feel every step you take further into the magic of love.

And he won't be able to do anything to keep himself from falling in love with you and you won't ever be able to see that.

You've been locked in your workshop for days, putting the finishing touches on the Muses' automatons and adding the decorative bits you know they'll love. You haven't slept in twice as long, food even further from your mind, as it usually is when you get into one of your projects. It's a shock when Seokjin returns to your workshop balancing several trays of food and drink. You hold a strange fondness for him, unable to resist after he'd pointed out something so obvious in your designs. Anyone that could help you with your designs was worth at least knowing a little, you figure, but you never expected him to keep coming back.

And yet here is, directing three cyclopes to set cushions and blankets and all manner of soft, plush bedding on the ground just inside the door of your workshop. You gawk, wondering just how much nerve he has to be doing this and also what possible reason he thinks is good enough to disrupt you. 

"You need to eat," He says when he notices you staring at him. "Besides, you're basically finished with them, and you need sustenance and rest if I'm going to get my awesome wheel shoes." You refrain from mentioning that you've already got them made; you don't want to encourage him too much. Pelion gives you a look as he exits the room and you huff. Just because they spend centuries here, they think they can tell you when to take breaks and eat. Typical cyclops. 

You grumble as you wheel yourself to the mass of cushions Seokjin has created, but you quiet at the way it does ease the soreness in your leg. As good as you've become at drowning out the pain, the steady onslaught to your nerves has been fraying your attention more than you'll admit. 

Seokjin sits after you have and presents the food with a flourish. It all looks delicious, much better than the hasty gyros and wraps you put together, and your mouth waters. He very kindly does not mention how disgusting you must look as you begin to dig in, instead talking about a recent trip he'd taken to see Dionysus.

His tone eventually catches your attention more than his words. "Wait," You stop him, slurping down some ambrosia. "Back up. Someone's stalking you?"

"I...don't think I'd call it stalking, exactly. I don't think he's going to do anything, either, it's all just talk, but...well. It's still frustrating when I'm just trying to visit friends." 

"No, if it's bothering you, then it's an issue, then it needs to end. Tell me everything." And Seokjin does. From how the war god waits for him, either outside the mountain or outside Olympus, spends every moment Seokjin is gone following him around and saying some truly crude things. All of it makes your blood boil - Seokjin is kind, to the point that even the cyclopes love him, which is rare, and he gets harassed enough apparently without some god running around hitting on him constantly. 

The rumors, though. The rumors are what get you seeing red. It's no secret on Olympus that this was an arranged marriage; they aren't uncommon among gods, and they aren't usually a scandal, but yours apparently is. Seokjin hesitates when he tells you about them, and you nearly break your fork in your effort to keep your rage from him. All sorts of stories, from you abusing him, forcing things he isn't comfortable with, keeping him chained up, feeding him pieces of your cyclopes, that you had bought him from Zeus with promises of gifts from the forge. Each is as terrible as the last, and all of them have your stomach rolling, and Seokjin reluctantly explains that he believes the war god to be the source of most of them. 

"Well," You say, violently spearing a grape. "That must be stopped, immediately. I refuse to allow people to think of you like that, it's utterly disrespectful." You wobble to your feet and roll over to the wall of ideas you hadn't managed to get around to yet. "What do you think? Maiming? Or is that too quick? I've got a truly brilliant idea for a bull, it could eat him if I use the right materials. It'd take at least a hundred years for him to get out of that."

"Well," Seokjin eventually says. You turn to look at him, excitement bright in your eyes. The wheels in his brain are turning and he's got a fondness on his face as he lounges on pillows and cushions; it melts your heart. He looks every bit the love god he is, and something in you wants to sob at the thought. "I would say, personally, if he's going to embarrass us in such a public way, then it should only really be fair to embarrass him in such a way." He tosses the knife in his hand and it embeds itself in one of the papers on your wall. You ignore the throb of arousal that runs through you, looking instead at the design he's chosen. 

"Oh," You whisper. Ideas are already running rampant in your mind. "Yes, I think this could be a very good plan." 

Seokjin is in stitches when he next sees you, clutching at his sides as his laughter echoes through your workshop. The sight of his harasser in your net as he spouted off a variety of kinks that made even Zeus blush, in the middle of the golden city with all of the gods around him isn't one Seokjin is likely to forget. 

"I still don't understand how you did it," He says, calming slightly as he wipes tears from his eyes. "How did you weave such a net, and how did you enchant it to make him say such things?"

"It wasn't much," You say. Your smile is beautiful, a treasure rarer than all the gems that he wears and more valuable than anything he's come across. He wants to wear it, wants you to keep smiling like that, with such pride in your work and happiness radiating from you. "...and then Arachne wove it all together." He nods as if he'd heard the rest of what you said. Part of him feels guilty for not listening; it really is fascinating, how you craft such wonderful things out of such pedestrian supplies.

"You're amazing," He says. He doesn't mean to, but it's true. Even now, as you lean against your workbench, fingers digging into the skin of your hip without even realizing you're doing it, smile slowly fading into something else - something more - you are radiant. Soot across your face and wheels on your shoes and the kindest heart he's ever seen in a goddess, and he wants you like no one else. There has always been beauty in creation, always been love in inspiration, and you are the ultimate mix of the two, painted over with enough cunning and determination to keep at your work no matter what. 

He steps closer to you, slowly, and brings a hand up to wipe at the soot on your cheek. It smears under his thumb and your breath hitches in the most attractive way.

It's unbearably attractive, honestly, and it makes an ache swell within him that goes deeper than the physical. He wants to keep you smiling like that, wants to watch you work and bring you gyros and cart you to a hot bath on a bad day. He can see it, all of it, splayed in front of him as clear as if he were an Oracle. He'd waltz into your workshop and pepper you with kisses before pulling you out after him. Your wheels would squeak along the stone floor but you wouldn't complain even as he settles you in hot water and makes you forget your pain as he asks about your newest designs and creations. He can see it, and it's beautiful, and he wants it so bad that it hurts. 

Almost as much as it hurts when your face falls, expression closing off into the same passive coolness that greeted him when he first arrived. You slide your way around him and turn to face another worktable. It hurts, the way you won't look at him, and moves something deep and primal inside him. It urges him to go on, to trap you against that table and make you open up to him, make sure you know that you can trust him to satisfy you.

He stamps it down with a long breath. 

"Well," He says, pointedly ignoring your shaky breathing. "Thank you, again, for helping me. I suppose I'll see you around."

"You don't need to thank me, Seokjin," You say. Your voice is tight and your hands twitch and he wants to kiss you until the pain is gone forever. He doesn't. "You're my husband, I was only doing what was right."

"Still," He says, "It means more to me than you know."

You don't respond, and he leaves before you can. He doesn't want you to, doesn't want to hear the reluctant rejection spill from your lips when he knows. He's a love god, he knows when someone is in love, can feel in the air and taste it on his tongue. He knows that scent better than his own face and your workroom was suffocating with it. 

He has no doubt that some was his own; he knows this fluttering in his chest, the rolling of his stomach, the spark of lightning dancing along his skin. He knows. 

But he can smell the hesitation, too. Can see the way you fight the feeling, in every aborted reach for his hand and each averted gaze when he looks at you. You love him, he's so sure of it, but you don't want to be.

And he cannot force you to change your mind about that. He won't. He just isn't sure how long he can last without telling you that he loves you, too.

Curses spill from your lips as you glide cautiously through the hallways. You've grown too complacent, comfortable around your husband. You very nearly slipped the other day, were a hair's breadth from throwing caution to the wind and kissing him; it was a miracle you caught yourself. He'd just looked so happy. The smile, that laugh, everything about him was just glowing in the light of your workshop, and then he'd complimented you. 

It's been decades since someone complimented your work like that, and none of them had done so with that look in their eyes. The gentle warmth, the fondness, the glow.

The love.

That was what startled you out of your thoughts, the sheer love that radiated from him. That was what made you push him away. It's what has kept you from seeing him for nearly a week, turning on your heel and going the other direction when you spot him. You can't handle love.

Not just because you've never known such an emotion, not just because you've never had anyone look at you that way, but because...he's a love god. A man like Seokjin surely falls in love every day with each passing stranger that catches his eye, and you...don't. You've never felt this before, you've never had someone love you, you don't know how it works, and worse, you can't figure it out. 

You can't take love apart and look at each gear and cog and spring until you can piece it back together into a whole again. You can't observe and tinker and improve on something like love. Clouds and lightning? Simple mediums. Celestial bronze? Malleable as clay under your hands. But love? No, that was something utterly foreign to you. 

You drop to your bed and pull your leg up beside you to inspect the wheel. It's cracked, badly, and it's a shock that it survived long enough to get you to your room. You lean closer and flinch at the stabbing pain that rolls through you. It's a stark reminder of yet another reason you don't belong with Seokjin. A god like him has almost definitely lain with the most beautiful in all creation; he surrounds himself with only the finest gems, the softest cloth, the richest wine. He only accepts the best. 

You are far from being the best. Mutilated and scarred, left to limp around your mountain in solitude. You're past acceptance of your pain and the scars that mark your skin, you don't really care much that they exist anymore most days. Life could be easier without them, but would you have become the person you are today without them? You wouldn't have been so determined to find an easier way around, you wouldn't have worked for days on the wheeled sandals, you wouldn't have discovered your passion for creating. 

You wouldn't be in pain, though. And maybe, just...maybe, Seokjin would find you beautiful. As beautiful as the twinkling stones around his throat and the flowing silks across his chest. Beautiful enough to stay beneath this mountain in the smoke and heat, to press his pillow-soft lips against yours, to love without abandon. Now, though, with your scars and pain and awkward gait, you find yourself doubting what you saw. It could have been love, yes, but how likely is that? A love god forced to live in a suffocating cave, wed to the laughingstock of the pantheon. It's more likely that he's attached himself to the nearest person that shows him any affection, despite how desperately you want him to really feel something for you.

Three succinct knocks on the door of your room jar you away from the thought.

"Come in," You call. You wish you were more surprised to see Seokjin, purple hair prettily faded and matching the soft lavender cloth that drapes from his shoulders. 

"Can I have a few minutes of your time, Hephaestus?" He hasn't used your title since you told him your name, and it hurts to hear it now. Cements the fact that you are too different.

You nod, and the pain in your hip keeps you from moving away when he comes to kneel before you. 

"I love you," He says matter-of-factly. "I've let you avoid me this past week because it's not my place to force these feelings on you, but the stench of heartbreak is too much now. It just lingers in the halls and it's starting to seep into my clothes and if it keeps up, I might have to double my skincare routine because it soaks into my pores. So I love you. A lot more than I ever expected to, and probably more than I've ever loved anything in my life."

You gape at him. "What...why…what?"

"You are creative and cunning and petty and inventive and intelligent and determined and it's so beautiful," He says. There's not an ounce of hesitation in his face, and it steals the words from your throat. "I love you, and I need you to know that so you stop stinking up the forge with your angst and heartbreak. I understand if you don't want to be with me-"

"What heartbreak, what-"

"Well, I don't actually," Jin continues, ignoring your protests. "I'm really quite the catch and to deny yourself of me when you love me this much would be an entirely new and advanced form of masochism, but nevertheless, I will accept your rejection, however inane and ill-advised it may be, because it is, ultimately, your choice. You can tell me to go, and I will, and you won't ever know I'm here again. But, if you accept this, then…"

He trails off and his eyes soften impossibly as he wraps his hands around yours. You've never believed people could communicate so much with just a single look, but you're proven wrong by the sheer emotion in his gaze. Your name falls from his lips, and it's never sounded so nice to your ears.

"If you accept, then I swear to you, I will spend every hour of every day ensuring you feel loved. I will bring you food when you forget to eat, I will tidy your workshop when you can't find anything, I will carry you wherever you need to go when the pain is too much to bear." One hand moves to rest along your hip, warmth distracting you from the stab of pain that ghosts through it. "I will be everything and anything that you need, always and forever, and I won't let another moment pass with you thinking otherwise."

He looks at you with expectation in his eyes, and you...can't speak. There are no words for what you're feeling; the sureness of his love warring with the anxiety of not being worth it. You open your mouth several times to respond and find that you can't; of all the words flying around in your mind, none of them make it out. He waits, for longer than you would have, before he sighs and nods. 

"That's fine. Love is complicated even at the best of times." He stands, and the loss of his hands on you feels like part of you is being ripped away. "If you ever change your mind, let me know." 

His smile is sad as he leaves, and the clink of the door behind him is the last nail in the coffin. Something wet and warm hits your hand, and you realize you're crying. When did you start crying? You struggle to your feet, rolling wildly across the room before you gain your balance. 

The door swings open as you shove past it, the last bit of his purple robes turning the corner, and you shove off the wall to gain speed. You can't let him go. The knowledge surges through you with surety you've never felt, and it feels like there's a timer above your head, counting down to the moment you lose him forever. His name echoes through the halls, even though you don't remember calling it, and you speed around a corner to him. 

He's half turned to face you already, about to head down another hall since this one dead ends, and it's as you go to brake that you remember the cracked wheel. There is no braking, you're lucky you've made it so far, but you're at top speed right now and there's no time.

"Don't-" is all you can get out before you're crashing into him, wincing as he falls down to the hard ground and the wheel splits in half beneath you. The pain comes an instant later, too much weight too suddenly, and it would bring tears to your eyes if you didn't fight them down. 

"Wow," Jin says after a second. "You really did fall for me, didn't you?" His laughter drowns out your groan, but it's worth it for the way he's smiling at you. 

"I…" You hesitate, unsure of the words. He waits, patient and relaxed even as he adjusts you to sit on his lap instead of the rock. "I do. I want this."

"I know," He says with a grin. "It's nice to hear you say it, though." He doesn't flinch at the smack you give his shoulder, just presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"I swear to all the gods, Seokjin, if you don't stop, I'm going to put this discus through your skull."

"Ooh, please do. I hear that's how Athena was born."

"Seriously?"

"You're right, we don't need anyone else like that running around." 

You let your tools fall to the table in front of you and spin around to face your husband. He's exactly where he has been for hours, lounging among pillows and silks on the bed he's had installed in your workshop. A bowl of grapes sits nearby and he's been working his way through them for what feels like forever. If you weren't so irritated, you'd be struck dumb by the image he paints, half-naked and glowing as he pops a fruit between his lips. 

As it stands, you're just frustrated and horny now, which is never really a good thing, but especially not on bad days. The ache has made it hard to think, and you've been shuffling around all day trying to find a position that made it hurt just a little less but had no such luck. You've made no progress on the designs in front of you, either; between Seokjin's commentary and the fog of pain in your mind, you had no concentration. 

"I'm trying to work, Seokjin. We had an agreement, remember? You could have the bed installed, you can hang out here, I don't mind, but you have to let me work." 

"You've been trying for hours," Seokjin whines. "Take a break with me, please? You need to rest your hip anyway, or you won't be able to focus." You hate that he's right, and you hate that he knows he's right, and you really hate that he knows you know he's right. You grumble as you wheel over to him and as you slide your shoes off. It's his one rule about the bed, no shoes, and while you can't blame him since they were covered in ash and soot and rock, you still like to complain about it. 

His hands are on you in an instant, gliding under your shirt and massaging your hip. You sink into the touch, sighing as the pain lessens slightly.

"Let me help? We've still got some of the lotion that Apollo sent as a wedding favor. I brought it down, just in case." Lips press soft kisses to your shoulder, and you know it's only a matter of time before you give in. You should probably be a little ashamed of how little it takes for your husband to distract you, but you can't bother to care now. 

You nod, and you feel him smile against your skin. He's gone and back in a heartbeat and he lays you back against the pillows carefully. You wince when your hip rests flat, instantly adjusting to bear your weight elsewhere. 

"Is it bad today?" He mutters as he slides your usual leathers off. Any shyness and embarrassment you once had are long gone, softened by the passage of time and the sheer amount of times he's seen you naked. 

"No," You respond quietly. He shoots you a disbelieving look. "It's more annoying than usual, I suppose, but it's not any worse than usual."

"You shouldn't have irritated it by working," Seokjin says as he runs some of Apollo's lotion between his hands to warm it. "You could have stayed right here and gotten more done."

"I can't forge a throne from the bed, Seokjin."

"No, but you can draw designs for it. And for the jewelry I promised Dionysus."

"I still don't know how you talked me into making something for him that isn't a chastity belt or a guillotine." The heat in your words is dulled with every slide of your husband's hands over your hip. The lotion starts working almost immediately, sinking into your skin and dissipating any discomfort it reaches. Seokjin is smiling as he works and pats your thigh lightly. You twist more, laying on your side so he can reach the back of your thigh. 

"You can't be mad at him forever, can you?" He asks. You open your mouth to disagree - as a goddess, you quite literally can - but only a squawk comes out when he slaps your ass and watches it jiggle. He laughs as you slap at his shoulder, no real strength behind it. 

"That's it, give me my clothes, I have work to do." 

"Mm, I don't think so. Apollo said you have to rest for a while after applying, remember?" He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. 

"What do you expect me to do, just lay here and do nothing? I can't turn my brain off, Seokjin, I'll go mad if I have to lay here without being able to work."

"I actually had other ideas." The smile never leaves his face, and as he leans over you, you can feel the length of him pressing into your thigh. "Still just laying there, but much more enjoyable."

"Scandalous," You whisper, fighting a smile. "What would my husband think?"

"That you look sexier than anything he's ever seen like this and that he wants nothing more than to make you forget about anything but him." 

“That doesn’t sound very restful,” You tease as he kisses along your neck and down to your collarbone. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you can feel his familiar smile against your skin; he always does love it when you get flustered.  “I’m pretty sure Apollo specified ‘no sex’ in his definition of resting. He was pretty clear about it, actually, which makes me wonder what you’ve told him.”

Seokjin nips at your collarbone lightly. “Didn’t I say I want you to forget about anything but me?”

“Didn’t you say you were going to make me?” You retort. It’s a familiar argument, as comfortable and warm as Seokjin’s hands massaging your hip and thigh. His silk-soft hands dip downwards even as he rises, lifting your leg up and hooking your ankle around his neck. The discomfort that hits is overshadowed by the relieving stretch, and heat pools in your belly when you feel his length press against you once more, significantly closer to where you’d like it. He straddles your free leg, pressing against your naked core. 

“Seokjin, please,” You mutter. His touch is feather-light now, fingertips ghosting over your skin and marveling at the goosebumps they raise. You wiggle underneath him as he begins to trace your scars. The first time you’d done this, you didn’t let him linger; you were too embarrassed, too ashamed, too aware of the marks that start just above your hip and travel nearly to your knee. He’d insisted on it the next time, but you’d kept the room dark so you wouldn’t have to see his face. Months had passed before you could bear to watch him look at you, and when you did, it shocked you. It still does. It never seems to matter how many times he sees you like this, bare and vulnerable, scars on full display underneath his large hands. He always wears the same expression, the same awe reflecting in his eyes each time, his touch always gentle and careful, like he doesn’t want to make it worse than it already is. There’s no disgust, there’s no carefully crafted neutrality, nothing that you convinced yourself to expect. Just pure, unfiltered love.

It’s there still, radiant as he slides his hands along your skin. The sensation is dulled along the scar tissue, and yet you feel it in your very core. Wetness seeps into the fabric Seokjin is still wearing, and you whimper a little. He shushes you softly, grinding lightly to give you just a taste of the friction you so desire.

“Oh, my beautiful little blacksmith,” He coos. “You are absolutely soaked, did you know that? I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already so ready for me.” You whine as he slides a finger along your folds. You try to buck into his touch, but his other hand holds your hips firmly in place, though he never stops his massage. “Ah-ah, none of that. You’ll make the pain worse.”

You huff slightly under your breath, but you know he’s right. It’s a lesson you’ve learned several times over. 

“Seokjin, don’t tease,” You plead. You let your lip pout, knowing he can’t resist the very rare sight. “You said you would distract me. Or should I go back to my designs?”

“If you think you can,” He responds amicably. You turn slightly, your back resting flush against the bed while he moves your leg to wrap around his waist. It’s still twisted to the side, but the position helps with the pain leftover from the ointment. You open your mouth to snark at your husband, but all that comes out is a loud moan as he sinks two fingers deep inside you. His length, pressed into the meat of your ass, twitches at the sound. 

“Fuck, Seokjin,” You breathe. The way his fingers fit inside you is like no other feeling, and you could spend centuries trying to recreate it with no luck. 

"That's it, love," Seokjin purrs. His eyes are blown wide with desire and focused entirely on where his fingers disappear into you. "You take my fingers so good, sweetheart, like you were made just for me." A whimper escapes and you roll your hips slightly so he hits deeper inside. He grins and quickens his pace, knowing all too well what your body wants at this point. His thumb comes up to rub circles into your clit, gentle but firm; your back arches and your vision goes white with the force of the orgasm that's torn from you, and when you open your eyes, Seokjin is glowing. Literally, because you found out after the first time he made you come that that's a thing that happens to him.

"Please, love. I want you inside." Seokjin chuckles a little at your words, and if you had the energy, you'd kick him, but your legs don't work very well on a good day, so it's unlikely.

"Always so impatient," He tuts, though he does slide his fingers out of you and into his mouth. He moans at the taste of you, and your pussy clenches around nothing, because it's absolute sin to hear, and you wonder idly if maybe those Christians were on to something when they started talking about things being so good it's unholy.

Seokjin grabs your attention with a soft nip to your calf, accustomed to the way your mind wanders. He smiles at you, soft and private and beautiful, and lifts your hips with one hand. He slides a pillow underneath you and stifles a laugh at the way you wiggle into comfort as he settles your legs on either side of his hips. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” You huff. Seokjin doesn't respond, but you can see him trying not to smile as he pumps his cock lazily with one hand. "It's not very polite to laugh at your wife. In fact, it's considered fairly rude."

"Oh, is it?" He teases as he leans down to brush his lips against yours. The contact is brief but has your heart jumping in your throat nevertheless. 

"Yes," You reply, "It is. You should be nicer to m- fuck, Seokjin." He grins against your lips at your reaction, stilling as he bottoms out inside you. The stretch is perfect, would hurt if it didn't feel so good, and he knows it.

"What was that?" He asks. He nips at your lips when you whine. He drags his cock out, slow and delicious as you tighten around him, before sliding himself just as slowly back in. You'd be embarrassed about the moan that escapes you if you could focus on anything that isn't the way he feels inside you. 

From the first time he slid inside, there's always been something so right about the feeling. He fills every part of you, thick and long and harder than the bronze you work with every day. You've never been to the underworld, but you imagine this is what the Isles of the Blessed are like for the mortals, because it's rapturous. 

He thrusts gently in the beginning, always, careful to be sure he isn't too rough with your hip. He doesn't stop kissing you, plump lips moving sinuously against your own and breathing in every little moan and whine you make as he moves. He's so slow, so considerate, lets you set the pace each time, and right now? Right now, this is good. The slow, sensual strokes that you can feel against your walls, the steady press of him against your g-spot with every thrust, the warmth of his hand traveling from your thigh up your torso to tweak your nipple as he moves to glide a thumb over your jaw and then retrace his path back down. This is exactly what you want: the two of you moving together, slow and soft and perfect. 

You have plenty of time to try some wild new position later, after all. 

Your stomach lurches at the thought, heat pooling between your thighs as the band in your tummy steadily stretches. He doesn't change his pace at all, just adds a bit more force as he thrusts inside, and the added force against that spot inside has you seeing stars. Your moans are echoing and loud and with each one, Seokjin's glow just gets brighter and brighter. His hand wanders between your legs, rubbing small circles into your clit in time with his thrusts. 

"Show me, love," He mutters in your ear. "Love you so much, show me how it makes you feel. Let go for me." You whimper, blunt nails digging into the skin of his back. He doesn't stop, whispers exactly what he wants to see you do, but it's the way he says your name - quiet and reverent, like you may disappear if he's too loud - that finally has the cord snapping.

It must be too much, because you come to after a few minutes - maybe, time is so strange as a goddess - to find Seokjin rubbing soothing circles into your hips and pressing gentle kisses along the column of your throat. Your pussy contracts around him, and you whimper when you realize he's still hard inside you. 

"You didn't…?" You mutter, finding more words are too much work right now. 

"No, I don't need to," He assures you. He starts to pull out, but you manage to get a hand on his shoulder. 

"Want to," You mumble. Talking is hard, but you manage. "Want to feel you. Inside. Fuck. Please." He asks you if you're sure and you nod, and that's when he kisses you, soft and sweet and completely at odds with his next words.

"Gonna fuck you so good, my little blacksmith," He groans as he begins thrusting once more. He's faster now, hips snapping roughly against yours as he chases his high. "Can't wait to fill you up, wanna see you so full of my cum, want you to swell with it." He grins as you moan, tightening around him as another orgasm approaches. "You like that, love? You want me to fuck you full of my cum? Fill you up so good that it spills out of you for days?" He hisses a curse under his breath as you buck. Your free hand moves downward, rubbing at your clit gently. It's just the right edge of overstimulation, and it sends you off the edge once more, clenching around him. His hips stutter, and the feeling of you milking his cock sends him past the brink as well, and then he's painting your walls with cum. 

Later, after he's fucked his cum into you three more times and then eaten it out, he watches you draw a lazy sketch on the little bit of paper that you can reach. 

"It looks good," He says softly. You hum, wrinkling your nose. 

"I'm worried it's too...understated, I guess."

"No, I think it's perfect for her," Seokjin assures you. "Very Hera. Though, you should put in a secret compartment here, so she can stash her sex toys somewhere he won't look."

"What? No! I'm not building a secret sex toy stash in my mother's throne!"

"Fine." He's quiet for a few more minutes as you sketch. "I'll just get the cyclopes to do it."

[hollyxqx]

just business  // shownu  //  03

↪ PAIRING: Reader / Shownu ↪ SUMMARY: Y/N’s mysterious new neighbour has definitely caught your eye. He’s quiet but the two of strike up an unlikely friendship. He doesn’t speak about his work to you and you don’t ask, but when his job puts your life in danger questions have to be answered once and for all.

↪ WARNINGS: hurt/angst/violence/guns/more shameless sex

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE

Work turned out worse than you expected it to be. Not only was Kihyun actively ignoring you, the bar was also very busy. It was a Saturday night which was peak trading hours for you, meaning even if you wanted to talk to him you weren't able to. It did however make your shift fly by and before long you were sending staff home, ready to shut the bar down for the night.

You didn't expect Kihyun to give you a lift, seeing as he was pissed at you so you took your phone out ready to phone a taxi. "Bye, Y/N!" One of your bar staff, Holly waved at you as she walked by on her way out.

"Wait, Holly - " You shouted and she stopped. "Is Kihyun here?"

"In the back." She replied. You didn't say anything, hoping this would be your chance to corner him. "Is that everything?" Holly added.

You gave her an appreciative smile. "Yeah, thanks. And thanks for tonight. Have a good night!" She waved bye and left out the back door that staff used. Standing up, you made your way to the back room where the staff kept their belongings intending to find Kihyun. As Holly had said he was in there shrugging into his jacket. "Kihyun." You said softly and he turned at the sound of your voice. His blank, almost cold, expression made your heart sink.

"Do you need a lift home?" He asked, his voice sullen. You hadn't expected him to say that.

"Uh, no. I'm going to phone a taxi. I just wanted to talk to you." You said sheepishly.

"It's a Saturday night you'll wait ages for one." He muttered, zipping up his jacket. "I'll take you."

"You don't have to do that, Ki." You said quietly.

"I'm mad at you but I'm not heartless. I still want you to get home safely."

"Can we talk first?" You asked hopefully.

"I really don't feel like it, Y/N." He sighed. You didn't want to push him so you stayed silent. The two of you gathered the rest of things and walked outside to his car. He unlocked the vehicle and you climbed into the passenger seat, feeling a little awkward. You didn't want the drive back to be in stony silence. You hated that you'd hurt his feelings.

You drove for a few minutes in silence, the engine humming in the background. It was deafening to you. Unable to stand it any longer you spoke. "When do you think you'll stop hating me?" You asked. He let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't hate you, noona." He looked in the mirror as he merged lanes. "That's the problem." He muttered under his breath but you caught it.

"I still want to make it up to you." You said, deliberately not addressing his comment. "I meant that, you know."

He just gave you a somewhat forced, but slightly sad smile. The drive was silent until you reached your home. He parked on the street and you watched curiously as he cut the engine and the car fell silent. His remained in his seat looking straight ahead, one hand gripping the steering wheel. "Y/N, are you dating that man?" He asked suddenly.

"No," You answered. Where you dating Shownu? You were too lost in the thrill of it all to even think about that. Technically you had had one date but that hardly qualifies. He hadn't even asked for a second one. "I think it was just that one time." You admitted, suddenly feeling foolish.

"You deserve better than that." He mumbled.

"You're so sweet Ki." You said softly, touching his cheek affectionately.

"I mean it." He said. You found his sincerity endearing. This was the sweet kid you knew. "I was jealous this morning." He confessed. "Do you know why?" He asked and you shook your head. "I wanted to be the one you spent the night with." He let out a deep breath as if he was releasing the weight of his secret

"What are you trying to say?" You asked, feeling your heartbeat start to speed up.

"I think you know what I'm trying to say." He turned to look at you for the first time since you began this conversation, his face illuminate by the orange of the streetlight. His expression was serious. "I like you, Y/N. More than just friends, more than just co-workers."

"Kihyun." You sighed. Your voice felt far away.

"I'm sorry I got angry and spoke to you like that this morning," He admitted, his face softening. "But seeing you like that, no underwear, clearly fucked out...it did something to me." You blushed at his words, heat creeping up your face. He had noticed. He kept talking, somehow the more he confessed the easier it was to reveal his true feelings to you. "Noona, it should have been me. I want to spend all day with you, talking, laughing...I want to be the one to fuck you, make you cum. Make you feel good. Me."

"Kihyun!" Yours went wide at the dirty words that spilled from his mouth.

"I told you I'm not a kid." He smirked a little at your reaction. It was exactly what he wanted.

"I honestly don't know what to say," You breathed, anxiously fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. Kihyun stayed silent watching you. "I'm your boss, I'm older than you...I think crossing that line would be a bad idea."

"What if I quit?" He asked. He'd joked about this so many times but you knew there was no humour in it this time.

"Don't be ridiculous." You scoffed. "Don't you dare be that stupid!"

"I just want to show you how serious I am." He shrugged. "Will you let me take you out then? Just once. Give me a chance before you reject me."

"I really don't think that's a good idea." You said quietly. It didn't feel good to turn him down. He was still your friend after all.

"That's it? No - just like that?" He asked. You noticed his knuckles turning white from his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry." You couldn't look at him anymore, it was breaking your heart. He just nodded, jaw clenched. The air felt heavy now. "Thank you for taking me home." He didn't say anything, didn't even look at you, just waited patiently for you to get out his car. With a heavy heart you watched him drive off and hoped that this wasn't the end of your friendship.

***

Days turned into weeks and things with Kihyun were just not the same. You still saw him at work, that is on the days he hadn't swapped shifts to avoid you, but he kept any and all talking he needed to do to you at the bare minimum. He barely even looked at you anymore. As sad as it made you at least things with Shownu seemed to be progressing. He'd actually taken you out on real dates. It was a nice surprise to you at how well you got on with him.

"Are you working tomorrow?" Shownu asked as he held the door open for you. You were leaving a restaurant after another one of your proper dates.

"Nope, I'm off." You replied. You'd gone to a place close to the apartment building you shared, opting to walk there. He grabbed your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. Holding hands was something he started doing recently and it made your heart swell every time he did it.

"Stay at mine tonight?" He asked. Your stomach flipped with excitement. It was the first time he'd invited you over to his.

"Okay." You said in a small voice. It didn't take long for the two of you to reach the apartment. Shownu led the way inside and pressed the call button for the lift. It arrive and he pushed you inside. "Can we stop by my place first, I need to get clothes for tomorrow."

"Okay." The doors shut and instantly his mouth was on yours. You kissed him back hungrily as he pushed you up against the cool metal wall of the elevator. His tongue dipping into your mouth, greedily devouring yours.

"I couldn't wait any longer." He whispered inbetween kisses. He fisted a hand into your hair and pulled, yanking your head back, exposing your neck to him. His head dipped down to the exposed flesh and he began to place wet kisses, stopping to suck and bite making you moan out loud. He guided your hand down to his clothed erection and you gasped feeling he was rock hard already. He wasn't joking about wanting you already. You rubbed him teasingly and he groaned into your skin.

The elevator stopped at your floor and he reluctantly let go of you. Taking your hand again he led you down the hallway. You almost crashed into him when he stopped suddenly. "Shownu, what's wrong?" You asked, but your question was answered when your eyes fell on your door. Your front door was ajar and you suddenly felt ice cold with fear. You were always so careful when it came to locking it.

"Wait here." He commanded, letting go of your hand. Your eyes widened when you saw him reach inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a gun. You didn't know he carried one. "Don't go anywhere." He said, giving you one last look before heading into your apartment. He flicked on the light and disappeared inside.

Your heart was in your throat, pulse rapid with adrenalin. It was quiet and your mind was racing. You stared at the open door almost expecting to hear gunshots any second. After what felt like years, Shownu appeared in the door way, his eyes were cold, expression one of steel. "It's empty." He informed you. "Are you sure you locked it?"

"100%." You said quietly. He sighed at the frightened look on your face.

"Grab some clothes, enough for a few days." He said, pulling you into a hug. "You're staying with me until we get the lock changed ok?"

You just nodded and followed him into your apartment. You did as he said and grabbed enough clothing to keep you going for a few days, shoving the items into a duffle bag. Shownu waited in the hallway for you, almost as if he was keeping watch. Once you were done the two of you headed to his place.

He let you in to his apartment, setting his keys down on a small table by the door. "I feel like this is my fault." He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Now that you're involved with me, you're a target too." He muttered.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, tilting your head to one side. As long as you'd know him he'd made similar sort of references but never elaborated.

"You know that there are people who want to hurt me right? Well these people might want to hurt you as a way of hurting me."

"Why do they want to hurt you?" You asked in a small voice.

"Because I have something that they want." He uttered darkly.

"What's that?"

He just shook his head. "The less you know the safer you are."

"You're still such a mystery to me, Shownu." You said, reaching up to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes at your touch and place a hand on yours.

"Y/N," He said quietly, opening his eyes once more. "I want you to know that even though I don't tell you everything, I've never and will never lie to you." You believed him. "I promise I'll keep you safe."

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you softly. "Let me keep you safe." He murmured against your lips, his kisses becoming rough and desperate now. "I promise." He repeated. You fell into him, fingers gripping at his chest. His hands dropped to your waist and pulled you close to him, making you whimper against his lips. Him revealing a more vulnerable side to you only made you want him more.

The kiss was quick to grow heated when suddenly Shownu picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carried you to his bedroom, mouth never leaving yours. He began undressing you, peeling off your clothing, throwing it to the floor. He looked at you with such desire in his eyes it made you shiver. Soon you were completely naked beneath him. He licked his lips at the sight. "You're so pretty, Y/N." He whispered and began kneading your breasts with his palms, occasionally catching a nipple between his fingers. You melted at his touch.

"Please take this off," You whined, tugging at his shirt. "I wanna feel you." He did as you asked, yanking the white cotton over his head. "And these." You said, wiggling his belt buckle.

He stood up, doing as you asked, getting completely naked as well. You reached for his dick and gave it a few strokes, causing him to groan, eyes fluttering closed. When you replaced your hands with your mouth, deep throating him straight away he swore out loud. You bobbed up and down his length, eyes starting to water. He gathered your hair in his hands, encouraging you. "Fuck, how did I get so lucky, huh?" He breathed looking down at you.

Without warning he pulled you off him. You looked up at him in surprise. "I wanna be inside you. If you kept that up I was gonna cum." He smiled. "Get on all fours for me, pretty girl." He instructed. Your stomach twisted with desire as you complied. Shownu kneeled on the bed behind you, running a finger down your slit. "Sucking my dick made you this wet?" He mused and you cried out when he pushed two fingers into you.

"Fuck Shownu - !" You gasped as he started to move them in and out of you. Your head fell and you gripped the sheets tightly.

"Fuck yourself against my fingers," He said. "Show me how much you want it." You moaned when he stopped moving and started to grind against his hand. You were losing yourself now, free hand flying down to your clit, lost in pleasure. "Fucking god." Shownu groaned watching you go. He couldn't handle it anymore and ripped his hand from you, quickly manoeuvring so his dick was pressing into your core. One swift move and he was buried inside you, hands gripping your ass cheeks tightly, spreading them so he can get deeper. You couldn't control the moans spilling from your lips. "Keep touching yourself." He growled as he began to thrust in and out of you.

"You feel amazing," You whined, rubbing faster. You weren't lying, he felt perfect, the way his body fit yours. You were tightening around him, orgasm rapidly approaching. "I'm gonna cum!" You squeezed your eyes shut, letting the waves over pleasure wash over you. He fucked you through it, slapping your ass, the sting intensifying your high.

He laid you down flat on the bed so that his chest was touching your back, hands underneath you holding him close. "Spread your legs for me." He whispered, hot breath in your ear and you did, giving him easier access. He began to fuck you hard, this new position giving him even more control. "Ugh, Y/N." He grunted. The sound of his skin slapping on yours filled the room as he drove into you relentlessly. You had fucked enough to know he was close.

All of a sudden he pulled out of you and flipped you over. "I wanna see you when I cum." He said huskily, voice thick with lust. He pushed himself into you again, staring deep into your eyes.

"Cum for me, Shownu." You whispered. "Show me how much you like fucking me."

He groaned at your words, immediately picking up the pace. His eyes never left yours as he peaked, spilling into you with a moan of your name. He collapsed on the bed next to you, breathing heavily. "You're too good to me, pretty girl." He said, giving you one of his rare smiles. He rolled onto his side and pulled you close. "I meant what I said, I'll keep you safe if you let me." he spoke softly.

You melted into his chest feeling safe and secure in his arms, like this was where you belonged, danger or not.

***

Weeks passed without another incident or break in and you were starting to feel a sense of normalcy with Shownu. Nothing was official, he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend or anything but things were good. You enjoyed each others company. You were back in your apartment, the break in a distant memory. Shownu had ensured your door was fitted with a more secure lock and between that and the amount of time he spent there, you felt safe.

Kihyun had been particularly frosty with you after a tense incident when Shownu arrived to pick you up from work one night. It was clear to him that you and Shownu were together, whatever that meant, and he didn't like it.

You were alone tonight. As you'd come to expect, Kihyun swapped his shift leaving you to lock up alone. You were doing a once over on the bar, making sure everything was off. You were just about to lock the main door when it opened, a stranger boldly striding into the room. "Sorry sir, we're closed." You apologised.

The stranger didn't move. Cold, hard eyes bored into you. He wasn't very tall but he was very muscular. You noticed his broad shoulders and bulging arms almost instantly. "I'm only going to say this once," He spoke slowly but there was an underlying threatening tone to his voice. "Do what I say and I won't hurt you."

You froze, a wave of panic immobilising you. "What do you want?" Your voice escaped, barely above a whisper.

The stranger smirked. "You, princess." Your eyes flitted over to the open door the man had entered from. If you were quick could you make it in time? You'd have to run past him, and he could easily grab you. As if reading your mind he said "Don't even think about it, princess." chuckling darkly. He carefully reached into his jacket and you knew what was about to happen. The silver of a gun flashed before your eyes and he cocked it, pointing it at you, still smirking. "Now are you going to do this the hard way or my way?" He asked.

"I don't know what you want from me." You said, trying to stop your voice from shaking.

"I told you, I want you." He gestured with his gun at you and you flinched. "So be a good girl and come with me, I really don't want to hurt that pretty face of yours."

"Go with you?" You repeated. "Go where?"

"My boss wants to have a, uh, chat with you." He said, smirk returning to his face. You felt cold with fear, his words implying that this person wanted more than just a conversation.

"Me?! Why me?" You asked, voice trembling a little.

"He wants to know all about that boyfriend of yours." He chuckled darkly, setting off an instant panic in you.

"I don't have a boyfriend." That was sort of true.

"Didn't take you for a liar, princess."

"I'm not!" You half yelled.

"Baby, I've seen you with him. Many times." The stranger cooed. "Now come with me, before I get impatient and really take it out on you."

Acting on pure instinct you ducked and ran as fast as you could, reaching the back hallway before he even had a chance to fire. You heard the bang of the gun exploding followed by glass shattering. "What did I say princess!" He called out, footsteps approaching you. You dived into your office and locked the door, crouching in the corner. "It's going to be you that suffers not me!" He yelled.

You saw the door handle rattle, bile rising in your throat. Suddenly there were other voices joining the strangers. Of course he had back up, they must have expected you not to go willingly. You clasped your hand over your mouth and screamed when they fired three shots through the door. They didn't care whether you were dead or alive.

The door was rattling on it's hinges now and you suspected they were kicking it down. You were trapped. There was no window in this room. There was nowhere to go. You hadn't been thinking when you ran into here, blind panic clouding your judgement. It flew open with a crash, one of the hinges flying off. The muscular stranger strode into the room, eyes landing on you instantly. Behind him was two new faces you didn't recognize. He sighed and stepped over to your cowering frame. "Just remember, you made me do this princess."

In a flash he raised his arm and swung, using the but of his gun with blunt force. It whacked into the side of your skull with a loud crack, knocking you out like a light.

***

Kihyun's POV

The next morning Kihyun arrived for work at around 11am. Y/N was scheduled to work that day but not until later, so he felt confident walking into the bar that day knowing she wouldn't be there. Entering through the staff door he headed straight for his locker. As he walked down the hallway he froze. The door to the manager's office was hanging off it's hinges, half destroyed. He got closer, noticing the bullet holes for the first time. "What the fuck." He muttered to himself, running a hand over the broken door.

Instantly the hairs on the back of his neck stoop up. Something wasn't right. He peered in the office half expecting to find someone in there, but it was empty. He moved further into the silent bar, noting the smashed glasses and another bullet hole. Something definitely wasn't right. He did the only thing he could think of, slipping his phone out of his back pocket and dialling Y/N's number.

The phone didn't ring, going directly to voicemail. He tried two more times but yielded the same result. His stomach dropped with dread. This wasn't like the last time when he couldn't get ahold of Y/N. This time he knew something bad had happened. So he did the only logical thing he could think of and phone the police, silently wishing Y/N was okay, and not lying somewhere with a round of bullets in her.

masterlist

[bethestarchildicanbe]

Some of the shit my roommate says makes me sincerely doubt he is a real leftist or just a liberal cosplaying as left.

Apparently I'm anti democracy because I think that since COVID-19 is spreading with no clear end in sight, the Democratic Primaries should be postponed until the party can figure out a way to have voting be almost exclusively mail-in or digital and not require exposure to a deadly disease as a prerequisite for participating in voting.

He also thinks revolutionary politics are "privileged" because most people can't afford to go on strike or organize.

He's anti-unionization and organization because it means he or I might get fired. Like he was astounded I was talking to my new co workers about shit and trying to feel the place out.

He also is pressuring me to come out as trans to my family and work and professors NOW, and he's been incredibly judgey of me wanting to take my time and be ready. He got mad at me because I wasn't comfortable yet insisting on a new name on my first day at work, since I'm still in my hometown and in a local chain that people I know often go to. Like I am still trying to wrap my head around being a woman as an idea, and he's getting angry with me because I'm not coming out to everyone as Veronica all at once Right Now Immediately© like bro I'm still figuring shit out and I'm very confused please stop judging me for not being out like you are (he's a trans man and been out for several years and just started HRT)

Also he's already outed me to my mom by insisting he doesn't lie because it's a waste of time. My mom asked him if I was trans and pursuing HRT since I got a letter from an endocrinologist (big mistake having it sent to my house on my part, I know), and he was like "I can't answer that but rest assured they're healthy". My mom then came up to me and was like "your roommate told me all I needed to know about you the other day" as in HE DIDN'T SAY EXPLICITLY YOU WERE TRANS BUT I KNOW HE DIDN'T WANT TO SAY YOU WEREN'T like fuck me what the fuck just lie to her and tell her I'm cis until I'm ready like you already know to use my masc name and pronouns in front of my family as not to out me that way JUST TELL HER I'M NOT TRANS SO THAT I CAN COME OUT ON MY OWN TERMS YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE

God I am so angry with my roommate

Last night he was giving me shit for thinking competition in games is fun and not wanting to play competitive games non competitively. Like, he thinks the baseball league for developmentally disabled children that his client is a part of where everyone bats in every inning, no one gets out, and everyone gets a home run is more fun than regular baseball because nobody feels bad, and that I like regular baseball because it makes people miserable. He thinks losing makes people miserable, and that only people who win have fun. What kind of fucked up logic is that? I suck at virtually every sport but I still have fun when I play, even when I lose. I enjoy competitive games, even though I often lose, and I enjoy the thrill of not knowing the outcome in the game. If the game is 100-5, then it's boring, but if it's a tight match and it can go either way? That shit is exciting. But apparently I can't enjoy life without making other people feel bad.

He was also accusing me of being hyper competitive in general and making every conversation a competition, which I can't even begin to unpack.

This fucking quarantine is going to make me lose my shit.

[babbushka]

Blue Moon (3/?)

New York, 1987. The air was filled with smog and the streets were ridden with crime. Just another day in paradise. Your quiet life turns upside down when a striking man moves in across from you. You’re falling, fast, into a love that could never, ever, happen…or could it?

Pale x Reader (Can also be interpreted as modern!kylo for those who don’t know Burn This!)

Hello friends this chapter is so so long, I hope it hold you all over for the week until I can post again. 

This chapter (and all the other chapters that have come before and will come after) is dedicated to the one and only @adamsnackdriver who even though she says otherwise is absolutely instrumental to this monument of filth! Please go follow her if you haven’t already, her blog is an absolute gold mine!!

Minor character spoilers for Pale!

Word Count: 8200 (I’m sorry lol)

Warnings: Mild angst, minor violence, sm*t, language, drug use

Chapter 3: Chains

It went like that for days. He got off work, he found you, he fucked you, he left. It was easier that way, wasn’t it? It had to be. He was busy, you were busy, he couldn’t stay. This wasn’t romantic, this wasn’t tender, you were a good place to relieve some tension, that’s all.

He had been relieving his tension a lot, but that was nobody’s fucking business. He went to work, he got high, he blasted through the fucking day, and then he came to your door. You either opened the door or you weren’t home yet, but you always opened. Always let him in, never kicked him out when he broke in if you weren’t there. He was spending more and more time at your place, your shitty apartment just one street away, how’d the universe fucking figure that? He never stayed. You always let him in, and he always left.

He was on his way to you now, just got off work too fucking late, so late it was early. So late that the sun was already coming up over the fucking skyline and the 9-to-5 schmucks were already polluting the fucking streets. You were probably asleep he figured, you had the day off so why shouldn’t you be asleep? What was better than getting fucked first thing in the morning, nothing, right?

He parked his fucking car behind his apartment building and walked over to yours, jaywalked and yelled at the fucking cars who had the nerve to keep driving. What the fuck ever happened to pedestrians had the right of way?

He managed to catch the door to the stairwell just as the mail-man was heading in. That was lucky, he’d been getting lucky lately, getting into the stairwell. Sometimes he had to climb the fucking fire escape just to get in.

“Hey!” He called, and the man stopped. “You got any mail for 5C?” He asked. His pulse spiked when the mailman nodded.

“Yeah, a couple things.” He said, rifling through his bag.

“I’m headin’ up that way now, been waitin’ on a real important fucking letter.” He lied. He wanted to know your name, desperately, wanted to have something to shout out when he fucked his hand when you weren’t home. “You ever look through people’s mail? I would, all the fuckin’ time if I were a mail-man. Bet you’d see some pretty juicy fuckin’ stuff. You know my uncle used to be a postal worker, he dealt with shipping and handling, I know the hours fucking suck – hey do you happen to know – ” Pale said around his cigarette, only shutting up when the mail-man shoved a pile of letters into his chest.

“Here you go pal, I got a long route.” The man said, making Pale frown.

“Well fuck me, sorry for trying to make some fucking conversation.” He scoffed, but deciding it wasn’t worth it, not with you right upstairs.

(Y/N). There it was, printed right on the fucking envelope. A little bent and had some water damage, thanks to the fucking post office, but there it was. He had been trying to figure out your fucking name for weeks, you being the smart-ass you were not telling him. It was driving him fucking off the walls not knowing your name, but he finally fucking had it in his hands.

(Y/N). Right in black ink.

Past Due. Stamped in red ink next to it.

“What the fuck?” He frowned, not giving a shit and tearing open the envelope right in the middle of the fucking stairwell.

They had shut off your heat, those fucking bastards. He was going to make them fucking regret that – he got all wound up until he saw that you had missed the deadline by almost three fucking weeks. No wonder it was freezing all the fucking time in your apartment, he thought.

It wasn’t even that much, he had more than your bill was in his fucking pocket.

He went back down the stairs to the little deli. Marty was there, and he wasn’t too fucking happy to see Pale, but he never was. Who gave a shit? He had to fix your fucking bill before they shut the water off too, which they were fucking fixing to do if they didn’t get their money by Sunday. Jesus, he thought, it was like the fucking mob, these damn utilities.

“You got a pen?” Pale asked.

“Fresh out.” Marty sniffed.

Big fucking mistake, Pale thought.

He grabbed Marty by the front of his shitty apron, pulled him flush to the fucking glass counter, and plucked the clearly visible pen from right out of his apron pocket, and let him go. Marty was rearing up to swing a fucking fist at him, when the bell to the door opened, and a hungry customer walked up to the counter asking for a half dozen bagels with lox.

Pale used the distraction to fill out the fucking form and return envelope the utilities people sent you, slapped the pen on the top of the counter and went back outside. He unrolled crisp hundred dollar bills, enough to pay off the next couple months.

It was about to get real fucking cold here, with the holidays coming up soon. The weather man on the radio said snow should show up in the next day or two, he didn’t need you fucking dying from exposure in your own fucking apartment.

He licked the envelope and shut it, shoved it in the blue public mailbox on the side of the road, and made his way back up your fucking stairs. He was angry, hands clenched into fucking fists as he climbed up the stairs two at a time. His mind started spiraling, thinking of all the bad fucking things that could happen – no heat, no water, no electric, what the fuck were you thinking?

He jostled your fucking lock and barged into your apartment, pissed off. Even more so because you were standing in your fucking kitchen, in nothing but your fucking panties, looking like a god damned angel, making some breakfast. 

Like you didn’t know you were in trouble.  

“Morning.” You smiled at him, all bright and lit from the sun, but he wasn’t fucking having it, he put your mail on the table with a little more force than was probably fucking necessary.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were behind on your fucking bills?” He didn’t bother saying hello, he was too mad.

Your smile fell, you turned away to look at the pan on the stove. You knew you were in trouble now.

“It was just the one. I was going to handle it.” You said.

“You were going to handle it? When the fuck were you gonna handle it, huh? That ain’t fucking good enough doll, you can’t go doing shit like that. You know how people get sick? You see them fucking folks dying out there? It’s because they do shit like this, you can’t go fucking doing this shit.” Pale started pacing the kitchen, running a hand through his hair and punctuating the air with the other.

“Don’t yell at me.” You immediately got defensive, and that made Pale more pissed off.

“I’m not yelling! I’m not fucking yelling, okay?” He yelled, taking a deep breath and trying but failing to calm the fuck down, “If you got a problem, you tell me about it. That’s what the fuck I do, okay? I solve fucking problems. Cook doesn’t show up, I’m the fucking cook. Shipment don’t get delivered? I gotta fucking go pick shit up. I got twenty fucking years of solving problems, next time you fucking tell me. Don’t go not telling me bullshit like this!”

His voice got louder and louder, until he realized he was shaking. He realized you were shaking too. Regret burned in his throat like acid.

“Pale – please I don’t – I – ” You hiccupped, and in a fucking instant he was trying to make himself not the least fucking bit threatening as he went to you, felt like he was having a heart attack with the way your eyebrows pinched and your fucking chin wobbled and the way he saw wetness in your pretty fucking eyes.

“Oh shit, wait – no,” He said, real quiet, burning burning burning, “Fuck, no, come here. Don’t cry, okay? Come here.” He wrapped you up in his arms, and you tucked your face into his chest.

“I was gonna – ” Your voice cracked, but he just tilted your head up and kissed you real long, real gentle, trying to apologize.

He kissed you slow, calming you down and him down at the same time. He licked against your mouth, but then pulled back and pressed a couple chaste kisses to your lips too, holding you tight.

“Shh, don’t.” He said soft, “I didn’t mean to yell, I just gotta make sure you’re fucking taken care of, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, your eyes searching his.

“Lemme kiss you, huh? Gotta warm you up, you’re freezing.” He said, and you nodded, tilted your head up to kiss him some more. He dusted a few stray droplets off of your cheek, kissed the corners of your eyes. “No tears, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniffled. You shifted closer to him, rubbing yourself all over his clothes, sighing at how the fabric felt against you. Pale could feel your hard fucking nipples through the cotton of his shirt – his mouth watered.

“I was hoping you’d come by, I was making breakfast for us.” You gestured to the pan that had apparently just finished heating up some butter.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m saying this but go put a fuckin’ robe on. It’s cold.” He kissed you one more time before letting you go, “I’ll finish breakfast.”

“I was making pancakes.” You said with a smile, walking into your bedroom.

Pale surveyed the situation, what kinda fucking pancake recipe was this, he thought, raiding your cabinets and fridge – that was another fucking thing he was gonna have to deal with at some point, getting you to have more than just one shelf on the fridge filled. He wasn’t gonna bring it up.

“What the fuck is that?” He asked when you came back, flipping flapjacks like no fucking problem.

“It’s my robe.” You said, posing with a goofy grin, tears all gone. You were trying to be sultry like some girl in a fucking magazine.

“No it ain’t.” Pale shook his head, couldn’t help but fuckin smile at you, you looked so wrong in something that ratty. It was once a bathrobe in a previous fucking life, but it was discolored and worn out, too many washes.

“Well unless you stashed a different one in my closet then yeah it is.” You pointed out, making him lick his teeth.

He had hidden a bunch of shit in your apartment, guess you were going looking for it then huh? He would have to take you up on that and go out and get you something you should be wearing, something soft and warm.

“Eat your fucking pancakes.” He said, and you did.

He ate you out after you finished, while the pan was soaking in the sink. He fucked you after that, made you cry for a whole different fucking reason, and then he went across the fucking street to pass out. You told him he could stay, but he knew he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. So he didn’t.

He missed you.

He was gonna find you when he got off work, take you out to a nice fucking dinner. He wanted to give you something, the little something that had been burnin a hole in his fucking pocket for a week now. Wanted to push you up against the wall and make you come for dessert. God knows he fucking deserved it. Everything and everyone was pissing him the fuck off.

Fucking phone kept blowing up, he wanted to yank the power cord outta the fucking wall. How many fucking times did he gotta yell at these people before they figured out how to do their fuckin’ jobs? He was stressed, he was aggravated, he was –

“Pale, someone here to see you.” Joey, one of the busboys stuck his head in the door.

“I don’t fuckin’ want to see anyone.” Pale frowned, didn’t these fucking losers know he was busy?

“What, so you can show up at my job but I can’t bother you at yours?” You asked, making his eyebrows shoot up as you walked into the office.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” He whistled.

You looked good, wearing that shitty coat and those scuffed heels and your hair all done up.

Apparently that wasn’t the fuckin’ reaction you were hoping for, and you scowled at him. What, was he supposed to be some kind of mind reader?

“I can go if you really don’t want me.” You said, already ready to get defensive.

“Get the fuck over here.” He shook his head, beckoning you with a hand. You immediately went to his lap, like it was your favorite fuckin’ place to be. “What? You wanna get fucked in my office? That it? Slut.”

“Uh huh.” You said with a smile, already kissing at him, rubbing your cold nose against his cheek.

“Go and lock the door.” Pale said, smacking your ass when you shimmied off his lap and clicked the lock.

You hesitated by the door for a minute, like you were waitin’ for something, and Pale was just about to ask what when you untied the thick leather belt and popped open the big metal buttons that held it together.

It had only slid down a couple of inches before Pale figured out you were almost naked under there, and was outta his seat in a heartbeat.

“Jesus, you really are a slut, ain’t ya?” He said, crowding you against the door.

He was blindingly hard, his cock begging him to get in you, once he saw the scraps of black lace you figured counted as lingerie.

“Let me warm you up, huh?” Pale said, licking his lips as the coat fell in a pool of fabric on the floor.

You were standing there, tits out, only wearing some lacy black panties and stockings held up by garters. God what a set of legs you had, he thought.

You whined into his mouth when he manhandled you, picked you up and sat your ass over on his desk that had piles and piles of fucking papers all over it, pushed your knees apart. He felt like he couldn’t get his cock out fast enough.

“Pale, please, fuck me.” You ran your hands over his shoulders, was pulling him to lean over you, was kissing his cheek, his neck.

He couldn’t say no to that.

He pulled your underwear down off your legs, stuffed it in your mouth.

“You gotta be quiet you whore, alright?” He said lowly, dangerously. “Can’t have folks out there enjoying their lunch hear a slut get fucked, alright?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed, muffled by the lacy. Filthy girl, he thought, adrenaline spiking.

He rubbed his cock at your slit for a minute, savoring the feeling of it like some of those cocksuckers out there might be savoring their hundred dollar bottle of fucking wine, before shoving his way into you. He always liked the surprised face you made whenever he first thrust into you, like you had never felt like that before. He could almost get drunk on that fucking face.

“We gotta make this fast, okay?” He couldn’t take his time with you the way he wanted, not with people knocking on his fucking door every twenty minutes at this fucking place. But twenty minutes was enough to get you off if he did his job right, and fuck if he wasn’t gonna deliver.

You bit down on your own underwear and nodded, nipples hard, so fucking hard. Pale sucked one into his mouth, bent you back far enough on the desk that he could reach without having to stop the rhythm of his hips. The desk creaked under the two of yous, iron legs scraping against the floor bit by bit as his hips smacked yours.

You were makin’ all sorts of pretty fucking sounds, sounds that made him sweat. He was wearing all his clothes, they were gonna smell like sex after he was done with you. He never wanted to wash them.

He licked his teeth, pushed you flat against the desk, pulled one of your legs over his shoulder, drove into you hard and rough. He shoulda bound your wrists, but you were doing a good job keeping them above your head, gripping the edge of the desk.

He thrust over your g-spot, that made you arch up a little. He licked his lips, did it again. He was gonna say something stupid, something like how good you looked, how pretty your lips were, how he wanted to spit into your mouth and make you swallow it. He bit on your other nipple instead, thrust against you and rubbed at your clit.

You said something that sounded like his name, and you were clenching down on him, making him come.

“Fuck, shit – ” He fucked you through his orgasm, making sure you got off too, fucked you hard and rubbed your clit and sucked on your nipple until you threw your head back and came.

He tugged the panties out of your mouth, stuffed them in his pocket. He was breathing hard, you wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed it all over your chest. Pale was still pushing his come into you, he could feel it, feel the way it was throbbing into your cunt. You were breathing real hard too.

You didn’t seem to mind, looked all too comfortable on his shitty desk in his crappy office, lookin like the cat that got the cream, even though he was the one who did all the hard fucking work. You just had to lay back and take it, seedy princess. You took it well, he had to fuckin’ admit.

He pulled out of you, watched his come ooze out of you. He pushed it back in, fucked his fingers into you until you were squirming from it being too much, and then he did it some more. You smiled.

He stepped away from you just enough so that you could get off the desk.

“Hey I was thinkin,” Pale said, something in his chest beatin like nervousness. You had slipped between his legs, licking up the last bits of come, cleaning him off. He detangled his fingers from your hair, tucked it back behind your ears. “If you ain’t busy, the two of us go out to dinner tonight.”

You sat back, wiped your mouth with your hand, looked up at him through your lashes. He tucked his cock back into his trousers before he could think about fucking you again.

“Where’re we goin?” You asked with an easy breezy smile, as if you weren’t just biting down on your own underwear to muffle your cries.

“You like steak?” He asked, mind already running through the best fucking places in New York to take you.

“I like steakhouses.” You said, and he didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but he nodded.

“Then we’ll go to a steakhouse.” He decided, and you smiled, looked around for your coat. He watched you cover up those perfect fucking tits, it made his mood sour. He wanted to get one last good look at you. “Take the subway into Manhattan, then to Brooklyn. You take the subway a lot?” He asked.

“Not really.” You shrugged.

“Don’t go expectin’ nothing fuckin’ fancy.” He said, right when the phone rang. “Get outta here, I’ll come get you after I get off work.” Pale sat back in his chair, picked up the phone and started talking. “Yeah – what the fuck do you need now?...”

You nodded with a smile, leaned over to kiss him. He pinched at your nipple, covered the receiver of the phone with his other hand.

“Don’t go getting into any trouble.” He said, and you nodded.

It was gonna be a long fucking rest of his day, he thought, watching you walk away like that.

Pale didn’t bother waiting for you to answer the door, he had a schedule to keep and he’d be damned if he didn’t make it. He shook the door handle enough that the lock popped open – that made him frown, how the fuck was anyone supposed to stay safe in this building? – and let himself in.

“Train’s in twenty minutes.” He announced himself.

“You could say hello.” You said with a smile, walking into the living room from the bedroom. You were dressed up real pretty, Pale thought, you looked like a million bucks. Well, maybe closer to a hundred bucks, but it was still nice. Better than that fucking apron and hat you always wore at the fuckin diner.

Pale had you naked so often he almost forgot how good you looked all covered up. Not that anything beat the fucking way you looked all blissed out in bed.

“Hello.” He said dryly, took his finger and tapped his lips.

You smiled, stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. He wound an arm around you, groped at your ass and gave it a light pat before handing you the fuckin bouquet of lilies.

“You brought me flowers.” You said, surprised.

“Yeah go put them in a fuckin’ vase somewhere. It’ll liven up the place a little.” Pale sniffed, god your apartment sucked.

“What, you don’t like exposed walls and absolute lack of flooring?” You joked, going to the kitchen and pulling out a big glass cup.

You stuck the flowers in there, filled up the cup with water. Didn’t you have a fucking vase? You had to be kidding him.

“It was getting too fuckin’ depressing fucking you here.” He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his jacket pocket. He tried real hard not to say anything about the glass, about the flowers, about anything. He just wanted to take you out to dinner and fuck your brains out.

“You could fuck me at your apartment if it bothers you too much.” You pointed out, and he almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

He did roll his eyes, and you smiled, knowing that was probably as close as you were gonna fuckin get.

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” He said, pulling you to him, kissing you deep. He liked the way his hand was so fucking big on your face, he liked the way you kissed at his palm, licked at it. “You look real nice.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sounding nervous.

“Yeah.” He said, tugging at your sleeve. “I ain’t seen you wear this little number yet.”

“I’ve been saving it.” You tucked some hair behind your ear, smiled at him.

“For what?” He asked.

“An occasion.” You shrugged. That was fucking stupid he thought, and said as much.

“You don’t need an occasion to look good.” He said, “Look at me, I run around all fucking day, spend most of my fuckin time in the office or in my car going somewhere, looking for fucking parking in this sewer of a city. I don’t got no fancy fuckin people I’m meeting, but I still like to look good. These are snake-skin boots, almost three hundred fucking dollars they cost me. You don’t need a fuckin’ occasion, sometimes it’s good to just look good. You look good.”

He was getting worked up, fuck why did you always fucking do this to him?

“I was hoping you’d like it.” You grinned, and he shook his head – you knew what you did to him, you fucking menace. That’s what you were, a menace.

“You did good.” He kissed you one more time, real hard, hand still on your face, “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late and they fucking hate it when people are late to their reservations.”

 Pale walked with his arm around you to the train station, held you close. He didn’t like the way some of the fucking guys on the street looked at you when he watched you from his apartment – didn’t like the way he could practically fucking hear what they were thinking. So he held you close, a warning to anyone who saw that you weren’t up for grabs, unless it was his fuckin hands.

You didn’t say anything about how gross the subway was, Pale liked that. He liked a girl who didn’t give a shit about shit like that. There was graffiti all over the fuckin place, so much that Pale couldn’t even read any of it, what a fucking waste of paint, he thought.

There was trash in the whole car, broken glass and old newspapers that had gotten wet with something and dried all crusty. He didn’t want you sitting in any of that shit, not looking so good.

“Sit on my lap.” Pale said, finding a clean seat and tugging you down onto him. “You’ll get your skirt all dirty.”

“We’re all alone.” You said, coy.

“Yup. Will be for half a fuckin hour, looks like.” He tipped your chin up, slid his tongue along yours.

He liked the way it felt when you slipped your arms around his shoulders, he tightened his grip on your thighs, dug his fingers right into the bruises that he knew where there, the bruises he fucking put there himself.

“Yeah?” You sighed into his mouth.

“Yeah there’s no fuckin’ stop until ours.” He didn’t bother looking outside the subway windows, you were in the tunnels now, and it was dark anyway. The shitty broken lights flickered in the subway car. You kept kissing him.

“I’m starting to think you just like keeping me close.” You said, teasing. The biggest fucking understatement of the century. He didn’t know what the fuck was happening to him, how he let you get under his skin like this, the way you had.

“Gold fuckin’ sticker sweetheart.” He grumbled, sneering at you when you started smiling all triumphant. “Don’t go fucking looking at me like that, keepin’ you close is the easiest way to get my hands on you, get you ready for me. I don’t like to wait, you know.”

“I know.” You smiled.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and ride me, huh?” He asked, sneaking a hand in between your thighs. God he was so fucking thrilled to find you already wet, always so fucking eager for him. He owned this pussy, whether you knew it or not this was his to fuck whenever he wanted, and shit if he didn’t want to fuck it now.

“Okay.” You nodded, shifted around a little.

You held onto the silver handrail pole while you balanced on your knees as Pale got his dick out of his jeans. He reached under your skirt again, tugged aside your panties – lingerie again, he was pleased as all fuck to find – and slid in.

It was rough and bumpy, being on the fucking train. Any time the god damned subway made a turn, you were falling into him, losing your fucking balance. You were lucky you had him to hold you still, Pale thought, as he thrust up into you.

“Pale!” You moaned loud for him, the sound almost getting swallowed by the rushing noise of the subway in the tunnels.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He licked his lips, leaned back in the hard metal seat and watched you go to work.

He wanted to tear your fucking clothes off, wanted your tits in his face. He settled for letting one hand wander up to grab at your chest, grunting and groaning as you worked your hips over him.

“My good little whore.” He couldn’t help but give you praise, especially when your cunt was so good and hot and wet for him. He shoved a couple fingers in your mouth, you sucked on them right away, laved your tongue over them, over his wedding ring. His stomach tensed at that. “Dirty.”

“Good?” You asked, and he gripped your jaw, clicked his teeth against yours.

“You know it fucking is, slut.” He growled, making you smile against his hand.

Attention all passengers, the next stop is... The PA voice over the intercom sounded. You moaned loud, Pale almost didn’t hear what the fuck she said, Estimated time of arrival, fifteen minutes.

“You fuckin’ hear that princess? You got fifteen minutes to make me come before we get off this fucking subway car.” Pale grabbed a fistful of your beautiful fucking hair and pushed your head down closer to his, so he could kiss at your neck and suck marks into your throat.

You nodded, whining against him. Your hands were braced against his chest, fisting at his shirt. It was gonna wrinkle the fucking fabric and he was gonna have to iron the fucking thing but it was worth it to feel you lick at the pulsing vein in his neck.

He couldn’t help but fuck up into you, couldn’t help but hold your hip and your hair and grind his cock hard into you, not with the fucking way you looked, sounded, felt. It was enough to make a guy go crazy, he thought, the smell of your fucking perfume filling his nose as he breathed hard and fast.

The subway jostled and bottles clanked as they rolled around on the floor, but you were moaning and panting and your thighs were squeezing his tight and your cunt was hot and he couldn’t help but fucking think it was magic that made you look like that, in the flickering fucking lights.

He shoulda had you blow him instead, wouldn’t have gotten him this worked up. He didn’t know how he was gonna sit through a fucking dinner with you, not looking like that.

You moved your hips in these tiny fucking circles that had Pale clenching his jaw it felt so fucking good, he wanted to kill whoever you had to practice on, didn’t want anyone to ever get to feel this good from you again. No one else ever let him fuck them like this, he didn’t want to fuck anyone else like this.

You were kissing him, god he felt like he couldn’t get enough to breathe with how much you were kissing him, how much he was kissing you back, all hard bites and sloppy.

“Come in me,” You told him, and his brain tripped up.

“Jesus.” He bit down on your shoulder and came.

Slowly he released the tension in his fist in your hair, had a hard time opening his fucking fist he had held it so tight. You were approaching the station, the lights flickering faster and faster. People were standing waiting on the platform as the subway zipped past – but it was slowly starting to come to a stop.

“You did good.” He pinched at your cheek. You didn’t look too thrilled. “What?” He asked, lifting your hips enough to slide out of you, tuck himself into his pants. He’d clean up once he got your ass to the restaurant.

“I didn’t get to come.” You pouted, and oh no, no fucking way was he indulging you in that one, not right now. He was entirely too susceptible to your charms and you were dangerously close to missing the fucking reservation as it was. He’d fuck you after.

“We’ll have a nice fucking dinner and then I’ll blow your fucking back out, how’s that sound?” Pale kissed you, kissed you and kissed you a-fucking-gain until you were smiling against his lips, squirming in his lap. “Hm?”

“Promise?” You asked, standing up when the subway brakes screeched to a harsh stop.

“No fuckin’ promises.” Pale said, a possessive hand on the small of your back that made you smile again.

The two of you walked off onto the platform at the station. Pale smirked, smug as all hell, all the fucking strangers walking onto the subway were none the wiser.

The restaurant was nice, the nicest in Brooklyn, and one of the oldest too. He knew the guys who worked there, being in the business. He knew the guys in the business too, that worked in the restaurant. It was all the fucking same, he thought. He walked with you right up to the host and didn’t even have to give his fucking name, that’s how friendly he was with this place.

“Pale this is too much.” You whispered, hanging off his arm like the best piece of fucking candy there ever was.

“What do you mean?” He asked as the two of you followed the host. He seated you in a real secluded section of the restaurant. Pale slipped him a hundred bucks, no one would be sitting anywhere near you for the night.

“I mean I can feel your come sliding down my thigh and I’m pretty sure that glass of champagne cost more than this whole outfit.” You said, self-conscious.

“Just relax would ya? We’re gonna have a real nice time.” He kissed your cheek, let you pick which side of the booth you wanted to sit on.

“Sit next to me?” You asked when he made a move to step around the table.

He looked at you for a second, at your earnest fucking eyes and slid into the booth next to you, pulling you real close to him. You smiled real wide. It made him want to burn down half the fucking city – in a good way. Was there a good way for that?

He stretched an arm around your shoulders, was pointing out all the interesting fucking things he could think about the steakhouse. You laughed at his jokes and made some back, he thought you were fucking funny when you weren’t being such a brat.

“Good evening, what’ll it be?” The waiter asked, appearing out of nowhere.

Pale didn’t even bother asking you what you wanted, just ordered for you anyway. Ordered the wine, ordered the appetizer, the dinner, and dessert. He had other plans for dessert, but he wanted you to have the full fucking experience.

He didn’t take his hands off you the whole fucking time, didn’t even bother to open up the menu, just wanted to keep his hands on your shoulder, on your thigh.

He didn’t take it off when the food showed up either, delicious and sizzling hot. Didn’t bother to give the finger to the fucking waiter who shot him dirty looks as Pale groped at you while he poured the wine.  

“What do you like to do for fun?” Pale asked, suddenly desperately curious.

“Fun?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know, I don’t really get much time for fun, outside of being with you.” You shrugged.

“You have fun when you’re with me?” Pale asked, shocked. That was probably the first fucking time anyone had ever said something like that to him.

“Yeah, you make me laugh, I like spending time with you.” You said, again with that fucking honesty.

Pale didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know what to say to that.

“You like it?” Pale asked instead, as you were happily chewing your dinner. You washed it down with a sip of wine, and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s really good.” You nodded, dabbing your lips with a napkin. He wanted to kiss you.

“I thought you would. That’s my fucking recipe by the way, gave it to the chef something like five fucking years ago, it’s the most popular fucking dish here. I should be collecting royalty checks or something. I wanted you to enjoy tonight, you know? You deserve to enjoy things, you work hard too. It’s a fuckin’ shame you don’t get paid good. You know what I think? I think it’s fuckin funny we work in the same ‘biz. Go fucking figure.” Pale said, taking a sip of wine himself.

“I have something for you. Before you go getting all fucking lovey-dovey eyes on me, it’s a practical fucking gift. It ain’t a grand fucking gesture or nothing like that, I just want you to have it. If you want it. You don’t have to fucking want it if you don’t want it, but – Just go ahead and open it.” He fished the long rectangular box out of his inside jacket pocket, handed it to you without any ceremony.

You hesitantly opened it up, covered your mouth when you saw the way it glittered.

“It’s beautiful.” You held up the gold chain, almost pure fucking gold, the same kind of chain that Pale wore.

“I was in the fucking city at three o’clock in the fucking morning if you can believe that, and all the fucking shops are getting ready for the holidays. Christmas is such a bullshit holiday, you ask me. People buying shit to just buy shit. Anyway so I go into the fucking city at three o’clock in the morning and I see all these fucking windows of all these stores and I think to myself, why the hell not, buy something nice for someone. And I think, who the fuck am I gonna buy anything for? I send my kids shit, whatever they want, whenever they fucking want it, they call me up and I ask and I send it and that’s it. You don’t ever fucking ask for anything, you know that? And you don’t got a lot of nice shit. People get real judgy over people who don’t have nice shit, I didn’t want you getting judged. You’re not a two-bit whore or nothing – you like it?” He asked, taking another sip of wine.

“I love it, put it on me?” You asked him, looking up with those lovey-dovey fucking eyes anyway. Didn’t he just fucking tell you it wasn’t no grand fuckin gesture?

“If you put that on, you can’t go takin it off.” He said, something fierce and possessive deep in his belly, he stared at you, watching you when he asked, “Got that?”

You got it, he could tell you got it from the way you smiled at him, handed him the chain, turned around and held your hair off your neck.

He willed his hands not to shake as he clasped the chain around your neck, felt something in his chest seize up when you turned back around to face him.

“How does it look?” You said, all shy.

He did kiss you then.

He kissed you when you ate your dinner, kissed you on the subway ride home, kissed you as you were walking backwards into your apartment.

You walked away for a minute to turn on the light, a single floor lamp that made the whole room soft and orange. You pulled off your clothes, he was mesmerized by the way the shadows hit the curves of your body.

“Get over here.” He said, hands searching his pockets. Where the fuck did he put it? Oh, there it was, little plastic baggie tied off at the top.

“How do ya want me?” You asked, already straddling his thighs, already wantin’ to be near to him. Pale clenched his jaw, his heart racing, going a million miles a fucking minute. The light glinted off the chain, he’d been aching for you. He couldn’t believe you were wearing it, that you wanted to wear it.

“Just like this for a fucking second.” He kissed at your neck, undid the tie on the baggie before pulling you closer to him, pushing your knees into his side. It didn’t even fucking matter, he was gonna be over the moon in a minute anyway.

He popped the clasps of your bra, yanked it off. He grabbed at your tits, pushed them together. He had to stop himself from just fucking pressing his whole face in your cleavage, breathing in the smell of your soap and your sweat there, licking up the taste of you. God he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

He closed his eyes against the feeling of your hands in his hair, right at the base of his neck, curling your fingers there, you kissing his cheek, you breathin deep, expanding your ribcage, pushing your tits into his hands.

He tipped the smallest little bump out onto your tits, the way they were pushed together like that held it long enough for him to snort it right up, let go of you for a second to pinch his nose and blink a few times, breathing out, he could already feel it working.

“Pale.” You moaned into his ear, makin him break out in goosebumps, what a fuckin’ mess, he thought.

“What, d’ya want some?” He asked, but you shook your head.

“No thanks.” You said sweetly, god you were too fuckin sweet to him, he thought. He wanted to jump you, he was all over the place, he wanted to hold you down and fuck you and kiss you and make you shout his name and make the neighbors bang their fucking fist on the fucking wall. He wanted to make you feel good, make you make him feel good.

You were impatient, it made him smile -- your hands were shakin. Why were they shakin? He was the one shakin for you. You pushed his jacket off his arms, he smiled, bit at your lips as you worked to get him even a fraction of naked like you were. He pulled the jacket off, yanked the shirt off his neck, you pulled open the buttons on his pants, you were desperate for him.

He pulled his cock out, you immediately wrapped a hand around it, gave it a good squeeze. He thought about a symphony in his head, had the urge to scratch it out with a shitty piece of charcoal and a scrap of paper, maybe the receipt from breakfast at the diner. You looked too fucking good in that shitty uniform. The music kept going and goin in his head, he wanted to fuck you.

He wrapped a big arm around you, steadying you and standing up, taking you with him. You instinctively tucked your legs around his waist, he carried you to your bed, kicking off his pants and underwear on the way. He threw you down on your bed, makin you laugh. The light from the streets outside glinted off the chain he gave you.

“Fuck.” He growled, he was seeing stars, sparkles coming off of you, off the chain.

He pried your legs open and slid in, easier now, now that you were getting used to him, to his cock. He liked the thought of that, thrust into you hard.

“Oh!” You gasped, grabbing at his back, wanting him closer.

“You look so fucking good, you know that? Remind me of a fucking amusement park – the lights. You know that? You ever been to Coney Island? You look like all the lights, all at once. Fuck you for that, for lookin’ so good. I want to fuck you up on the fuckin’ wonder wheel, kiss you real hard, make you squirm up there lookin’ over all the fuckin’ lights.” He talked and talked, he had so much to say, couldn’t stop, wanted to tell you everything all at once.

You moaned for him, moaned and gasped and pinched your face real tight when he fucked the air out your lungs. “Look so good taking my fucking cock like that. You like that?”

You were havin a hard time talkin, the way he was fucking you. That made him feel good, the burn in his muscles as he rammed into you made him feel good. God your cunt was so hot and tight around him, he could live there, dive in headfirst and fucking live in your pussy. He grabbed your jaw, held your face steady as he licked at your teeth, bit down on your tongue.

“You like it?” He asked, needing to hear, wanting you to like it.

“Yeah, I like it.” You said with a big smile, and he pinched at your cheek, at your nose, wanted you to stop being so fucking sweet.

His hips worked you into the mattress, headboard smacking against the wall. You filled the air with your noise, the way you gasped for him made him want to yell.

“You don’t even fuckin’ know what you do to me huh? You get me all riled up, just by fuckin standing there looking good. God what a slut, you’re a perfect fuckin’ whore, ain’t you. Making me all riled up.” He smothered you, buried his face in your neck, rammed his dick into you.

“You got me, don’t you?” You said, licking your lips, hand fisting in his hair. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He could tell you were close, you were making that little fucking face you make, he fucked you right on your g-spot, made you cry out, made you clench down around him, made you come.

“Yeah you are, you better fuckin’ better be.” He was losing it, he was gonna come, he didn’t want to, not yet, wanted to keep going with you forever, “You better be, you’re mine, you know that? Jesus.”

“I know, I am – I’m yours.” You panted into his mouth.

He came, shut his eyes real tight, actually fucking saw stars. You did that to him, you made him like that. His heart was racing, he felt like he could run a marathon.

He took a minute to catch his fucking breath, rolled off of you. You settled close to him, didn’t care that he was sweaty. He was coming down, starting to lose the high.

Maybe he would go run, he could run away right now – leave.

“Hey,” He said, pinching your arm to get your attention. You were starting to fall asleep, your head resting on his chest – he should go. He knew he should leave, he always left, he had to leave. He got your attention to tell you he was gonna fucking go.

“You ain’t fucking anyone else, are you?” He asked instead.

“Why does it matter?” You asked back, not even bothering to lift your fucking head up and look at him. He didn’t like that, didn’t know why you had to be so god damned difficult all the time. The chain glittered in the moonlight.

“It just does.” He said, real serious. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how to fucking explain it to you, he just needed to know. You were wearing it, he needed to know.

“I know you are.” You said, finally looking up at him. He frowned, didn’t like the assumption.

“You don’t know shit about me.” He said, and you rolled off of him, settling down next to him on the bed.

He wanted to kiss you. Your shampoo smelled nice. He had to fucking go.

“I’m clean, if that’s what you were really asking.” You said, and he scoffed. Were you always gonna be like this?

“It wasn’t, but so am I.” He said seriously, and you nodded. He wasn’t gonna let you off the fucking hook that easy. “Now tell me.”

“I am not fucking anyone else.” You said, looking at him like you meant it.

Good, he thought. That was good. He wanted to scream.

He checked the time, it wasn’t even two in the fucking morning yet, he could still go if he wanted.

“Are you gonna keep breaking in like that?” You asked, stretching out on your fucking mattress, looking delicious. He let a hand slide across your stomach, curled just his index finger into your cunt. You smiled.

“Maybe. Probably.” He swallowed hard, “Yes.”

You nodded, arched your back a little. Your tits looked good like that, real fucking good. Maybe he’d stay, get to fuck you in the morning. You were good for him tonight, he could repay you in the morning. Maybe you’d make him breakfast again, like that first night all that time ago, the night that started this whole fucking thing.

He’d fuck you over breakfast.

You went quiet again, did you fall asleep? He wished he knew what was going on in your head, what you were thinking. He wished you would put your fucking head back on his chest. He was losing it.

“How do you spell your name?” You asked, catching him off guard.

His name? What did that have anything to do with anything?  

“P-a-l-e.” He said, rubbing at your clit with his finger, making you sigh all happy. “Like the bucket.”

“That’s p-a-i-l.” You laughed brightly, smiling at him too honest.

“Who gives a shit?” He asked, ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

You put your head back on his chest, he figured you figured he was staying. That meant he had to stay. He let himself wrap an arm around your waist, and the other around your shoulders. Your skin was chilly, all the sweat from when he fucked your brains out cooling. You sighed happily, he was warm, always ran warm. A hundred and ten fucking degrees the doctors said.

You were warm, he couldn’t go now. He was fucked.

He fell asleep.

  That’s it for this chapter!! Please come yell at me your thoughts and thots, i’d love to hear them :)) <3 

Tagging some pals! As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the list please just shoot me a message!  @fullofbees @spinebarrel @oh-adam@dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man @thecurlycaptain@bourbonboredom @driverficarchive@aweirdlookingtree@rosalynbair@redhairedfeistynerd@adamsnackdriver @glitzescape@arwarz @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem@fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne @attorneyl

[medea10]

My Review of Aggretsuko

Her one bright spot in this day-in, day-out hellhole is her mic, a karaoke business, a solo room, and blazing death metal. Once she’s singing some hardcore death metal and unleashes her fury of her hectic workday, she’s ready to take on the world again. And just like with the Hello Kitty world, this series has many animals with quite the interesting line-up of quirks. For example we’ve got a sly fox who monitors Instagram, a suck-up dog, a hygena who is into rock, a fashionable gorilla who’s friends with a bird, a hippo that’s a spy, and yeah, the chauvinistic pig who’s also the boss. BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: So this anime is sort of exclusive to Netflix in every aspect (that includes in Japan). I’m noticing a lot of popular anime titles are being exclusive to Netflix. I mean, if they’re able to air them weekly as they air in Japan, I have no problem. It’s just the waiting for something to air and then they decide to bundle everything so you can binge watch is where I have a problem. Believe it or not, I’m not a binge-watcher. Every now and then I can breeze through at the most 6 episodes in a whole day, but a whole series or season, no! Yeah, Medea has a life outside of anime reviews (shocking)! I only did that once and that was a good eight years ago. But I digress! I will say that Netflix got their shit together better than Amazon. Anime Strike was such a major fuck-up from day one. Thank God it’s dead. Anyways, this does include an English dub. By the looks of all the Netflix exclusive animes, they all seem to be dubbed by VSI in L.A. (I guess a smaller version of Bang Zoom productions) with Patrick Seitz doing a lot of the casting. This was a very well casted dub (which is more than what I can say about a certain redub they did recently). But I really do love this dub with Erica Mendez, G.K. Bowes, Ben Diskin, Ray Chase, and many others. And oh my God, Jamison Boaz is like the best with the metal Retsuko moments! With the sub, you will not find much info on the voice of Retsuko. Rumor has it that she’s married to the guy who does the screaming death metal for Retsuko (who is also the director of Aggretsuko). Here’s what you might recognize these folks from. JAPANESE CAST: *Retsuko is played by Kaolip *Retsuko (metal version) is played by Rareko (director of Aggretsuko) *Haida is played by Shingo Katou *Fenneko is played by Marina Inoue (known for Aria on Pokemon XY, Armin on Attack on Titan, Yoko on Gurren Lagann, Jessica on Umineko, Kyouko on Skip Beat, Wataru on Hayate, and Rei on H.O.T.D.) ENGLISH CAST: *Retsuko is played by Erica Mendez (known for Ryuko on Kill la Kill, Haruka/Uranus on Sailor Moon redub, Emma on The Promised Neverland, Nico on Love Live, Yuuki on SAO II, Tsuruko on Anohana, and Tsubaki on Your Lie in April) *Retsuko (metal version) is played by Jamison Boaz *Haida is played by Ben Diskin (known for Sai on Naruto Shippuden, Satoru on ERASED, Joseph/Jojo on Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Umino on Sailor Moon redub, and Numba 1 on Kids Next Door) *Fenneko is played by Katelyn Gault (known for Prof Badcock on Little Witch Academia) FAVORITE CHARACTER: I’m a Fenneko fan. What’s not to like? Her mischievous behavior, her social media activity, and that freakin’ laugh! DISLIKED CHARACTER: It’s hard to find characters to hate here! Believe it or not once you get past the debut episode of an asshole character, you see them for more than just an asshole and think, maybe they’re not that much of an asshole. Yeah, in all good conscience I can’t really add Ton even if he’s a sexist pig. And Anai just needed to be pushed in the right direction so he can succeed. I don’t fully hate Anai…I fear him. Wait a second and I’ll talk a bit below! Then there are those characters who still rub on me the wrong way and those characters are Tsubone, Tsunoda, and Komiya. But I’m laying off Komiya. I don��t know why! Maybe it’s because Todd Haberkorn plays this little brown-noser that it makes me laugh to a point where I can’t hate on him. Yeah, Haberkorn is that good! Tsunoda knows the game and does what she has to do in order to survive in the office and on social media. I’m not thrilled to witness females put on the charm at the workplace the way she does, but you know it happens. Tsubone just seems like such a bitch so for the moment I’ll leave her on my dislike corner. Okay, anybody else? Shit. Retsuko’s mother!

Yeah, as I mentioned recently in my Top 10 Worst Anime Mothers list, I had to put Retsuko’s mother on there. She was such a pushy mama that she did so much damage to her daughter’s life. Okay lady, lay the fuck off! Your daughter is not living with you at home, she has a stable job, and she’s making the most of her life. She doesn’t need you giving her embarrassing clothes to wear, hooking her up with random bachelors, flat-out lie to her with photoshopped photos, force her on speed-dating, break into her apartment, and just be a complete hypocrite! SHIPPING: Retsuko has had quite the romantic cycle throughout the 20 episodes. Let’s go down this list, shall we? Retsuko x Haida: Ah, the little ship that can’t even leave port. Haida has had this humungous crush on Retsuko throughout the entire series. However this love is unrequited. Retsuko just sees Haida as a workmate and a friend, nothing more. Haida has been friend-zoned so many times. Even when he tries to release his feelings towards Retsuko, most of the time it would fall on deaf ears or in the case of season one’s finale/Christmas special, a rejection. Then again, it came right after a break-up and no one wants a rebound! But I do find myself rooting for this little ship to one day set sail. I know one day they’ll be together and I will await for that to happen. Retsuko x Resasuke: I really don’t know what drew Retsuko to this pot-plant. Yeah, I call Resasuke a pot-plant because of his nothing phases him attitude, his abundance of plants at home, and monotone voice. IT DOESN’T HELP THAT HE’S VOICED BY SAITAMA! It was pretty clear that there were a lot of loose connections between this couple that despite both Retsuko and Resasuke having some things in common, not going to work. It was not the best of ships. Retsuko x Tadano: Tadano was the man in Retsuko’s life that could have given her anything her heart desires. Everything except a family since Tadano doesn’t want to get married or start a family. Retsuko always dreamed of having a sugar daddy of a husband so that she could quit her soul-crushing job (at least that’s what she wanted in season one). But in season two she realized that she likes her job and wants to be with someone that resonates with her. As for wanting a family, Retsuko kind of grew to the idea of one day becoming a wife and mother. But Tadano wants nothing to do with that. Retsuko x Shirota: Aw, this was kinda cute even though these two were totally hooked up because of their nosy mothers. Retsuko at the time was scared at the prospect of getting married and Shirota completely understood. But when Retsuko asked about Shirota after some time had passed, Retsuko’s mother said that he was hooked up with another girl and it’s going well. I felt that sting all the way over here. I know he was the right guy at the wrong time, but I felt for Retsuko. Second place for me in the shipping department. Retsuko x Anai: GOOD FUCKDOM NO! Who would ask for this to happen?! TWO THINGS THAT FRIGHTEN ME: Yep, two things frighten me quite a bit. First thing would be whenever Ton smiles. I know most of the time when he’s smiling, it’s one of those fake as hell smiles, but they are frightening to see regardless. And the whole floor agrees as seeing that scared the ever-loving crap out of everyone there. And second…Anai! When you first meet him, you think he’s a positive go-getter. But when he’s behind his cellphone, he is downright scary. He ends up cyber-stalking half the office including Retsuko, Haida, and even Ton. ENDING TO SEASON ONE: We all know how much Haida has a this huge crush on Retsuko right? Let’s add a new love interest to spice things up! An absolute space cadet by the name of Resasuke! Retsuko has seen him around the office and on the train when she’s on the way to work. The only problem is, no one is able to get through to him…he’s so spacey! So one night, Retsuko gets roped into going on a speed date with some of the girls in the office. And the men they met are also some men from the office. And Retsuko surprisingly wound up having a meaningful conversation with Resasuke. Through text messages. Even though they’re right in front of each other. Sighs in disgust because I really hate that in real life as to showing my real age. Actually, I probably shouldn't scold the boy as he could be on the Autism Spectrum and has problems communicating normally with people in social interactions. Unfortunately, Retsuko winds up drinking too much alcohol that night and forgets key parts of what happened. All she knows is that when she woke up, her heart was all pitter-patter. It must be indegest…no, it’s love! Retsuko definitely sees something in Resasuke that no one else can see. Not even Washimi or Gouri can see it! But the important thing is that Retsuko is on cloud nine that nothing gets her down and when nothing gets her down, she’s not going to go “metal”. However, the “metal” side was ready to peak out. It’s clear that Resasuke doesn’t know much about relationships or other social interaction for that matter. He can’t tell when Retsuko is in pain and isn’t that considerate to her. Plus he wasn’t really the one who wanted to go on the dates. He was always put up by one of his co-workers. Meanwhile, Haida (who has had a major crush on Retsuko from the beginning) has been super moody. He gets so drunk one night and ends up the hospital because dumbass injured himself accidentally. So the following day at work was hectic for Retsuko, Fenneko, and Ton. During that long day of work, Retsuko’s boss (while always grumpy and insulting to Retsuko) made a little sense to her today. His words kinda hit Retsuko in the terms of the relationship dilemma. I know he meant it in terms of the accounting job, but I think it struck a nerve with how Retsuko is in her relationship with Resasuke. “If you keep giving out more than what you’re getting back in return, eventually there ain’t gonna be anything left” So…Retsuko took Resasuke to karaoke and expressed it all out. In the end, Retsuko and Resasuke split up. But could there be hope for Haida now? Well, we close things out in Haida’s hospital room and Retsuko visits him. And surprise, surprise, it looks like a love confession! What will Retsuko say? Tune in next ti…end of the season now! CHRISTMAS SPECIAL: Unlike all the other episodes (which are 13 minutes long at most), this one is a full 22 minute special. We start the Christmas special with what Retsuko said to Haida. It was a rejection. So you know Haida was going to be a depressed basket case for a while. But let’s not worry about that now, it’s Christmas time! And the episode focuses on what everyone around the office is doing for the special holiday. Tsunoda’s going out with a guy (no surprise there). Kabae is spending it with her husband and three kids (and also hide the presents so the kids won’t find them). Before Retsuko could figure out what she wants to do, in comes Ton with paperwork that needs to be done by the end of the night. Retsuko still put up a brave front finishing her work and also fooling social media that she’s having a fabulous dinner. But Fenneko knew that was a lie when she saw the picture and told Haida that she’s at work suffering through paperwork. And being the hopeless romantic, Haida tries to get to the office to help her, but found she was no longer there when he arrived. After Retsuko finished, her friends Gouri and Washimi swooped in and treated her to dinner. But after dinner, Retsuko bumped into Haida…so Haida got a little lucky there. And he got to spend a few moments alone with Retsuko. SEASON TWO: After the success Aggretsuko made in 2018, strike twice while the iron is still hot! Season two dropped this June with brand new characters, new love interests, and so much METAL! Actually, not as many metal moments as season one, but still there. Retsuko had her hands full all through this season with her mother setting her up with “eligible” bachelors, work still giving her the business, a new guy at work who’s possessed by Beelzebub’s cellphone, getting her driver’s license, and possibly meeting the man of her dreams. And with all those, Retsuko’s going to need some time in the karaoke booth to let out this pile of rage. And this season we meet Retsuko’s mother (a different shade of panda than her daughter), a woman who is way too invasive of her daughter’s privacy and home life. Then we have Anai (a badger), a straight out of college newbie at work. If even one thing is said to him that even seems 1% offensive, he will break out his phone and cyber stalk that person and threaten them with a harassment charge. And then there’s Tadano (a donkey) who Retsuko meets in a driver’s education course. Oh, wait until you meet Tadano! END OF SEASON TWO: As it turns out, Tadano (the guy Retsuko meets at Driver’s Ed) isn’t really a slacker like she thought at first, but a multi-millionaire with his work in A.I. He’s a major celebrity in the tech world and Retsuko’s company wants to partner with him. Meanwhile Tadano has eyes for Retsuko…as a love interest! This could be it! This could be Retsuko’s chance at absolute happiness, where she can have anything in the world with this sugar daddy. There’s a drawback to this. Recently, Retsuko has been thinking if she’s really wife/mother material after seeing some of her coworkers (like Kabae and Ton with their families). Plus the whole marriage conversation with her mom probably got to her too. So she’s thinking more and more about starting a family. However… Tadano has NO interest in either marriage or having kids! For some time, Retsuko and Tadano were seeing each other privately. But somehow, someone got pictures of them together and it spread throughout the internet. And everyone, including Retsuko’s mother, friends, and co-workers were blown off their asses when they saw pictures of Retsuko with Tadano. Meanwhile, Haida got drunk and wound up on his back again! Retsuko tried her best to see the bright side of all this. But she kept running into hate-filled posts bashing her for dating Tadano. And the whole dilemma that she and Tadano aren’t on the same wavelengths when it comes to marriage and family is digging at her like a shiv. Add to that, Tadano wants Retsuko to quit her job since he believes her job will be obsolete once his A.I. business takes over. After some soul searching, Retsuko came back to work after a few days of being AWOL and was ready to hand Ton her resignation letter. Ton sat back and watched all this happen and wouldn’t accept this. He gives her shit literally every day of her job, even giving her the nickname “Calander” because her “days are numbered”. But he knows that all of this isn’t even her deciding. Tadano is doing all the talking and actions for her. Once again, Ton was able to reach Retsuko with his words. So Retsuko knows what she must do. Retsuko’s friends Washimi and Gouri put aside a heated fight they previously had in order to help. So they ambushed Tadano, had Haida take care of his entourage, and have Retsuko hijack his limo. Their destination, the karoke bar! And that’s when Retsuko released out everything through METAL! In short, Retsuko and Tadano split up. So she’s (once again) back at square one. But it was fun, right?! Wow, this is pretty…real to me. In fact, it’s almost on Bojack Horseman levels. Yeah, you can tell I’ve dived into Netflix. Cartoons with cute animals in it…but they deal with adult issues. Yeah, animation’s not always for kids (otherwise I would have watched a lot more Ralph Bakshi when I was 7). Anyways, this anime does speak to me and just about anyone with a job that causes you immense stress. Retsuko gets the shit-deal at her work which causes her to vent it out in a karaoke booth. A job that chips away at you every single day you’re there. Disappointment of every variety when some shred of hope pops through. Workers who take advantage of the hard work you put in. Drunk boss that stumbles into work late and passes out hungover. Working 10 hour days with no overtime pay! Having that drunk idiot boss always calling in sick because he’s hungover from the night before. Whoops, those last three were my bad experiences with a bad job. The working world can be cruel. I’m glad I left that nightmare job for the good old store that rhymes with Mole Goods. It has its ups and downs but it’s been kind enough to me for me to stay in the company for almost 12 years at this point and time. But everyone has their own reasons for staying at a job that abuses you. Mostly survival! Retsuko wishes that she could find a rich husband so that she could quit this horrible job. Don’t we all? Sadly things can’t be like the way they were in post-war era United States (or so I imagine). In my case, the middle class is a gangrene arm ready to be chopped off, cost of college is expeninential and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to pay off my student loans 30 years after I die. Depending on what economic world you’re in, it’s almost impossible to quit your stable job to be a housewife. Unless you’re Marge Simpson or part of the elite 1% there’s no fucking way. And then Tadano shows up! But funny thing, money can’t buy you happiness! Sure it’s great if you could find a sugar daddy husband, but if there’s no real love or compatibility, it’s not gonna last. The love issues Retsuko had these last two seasons…I can’t really relate. Thankfully, my mother is not as neurotic about me finding a husband. As I have been butt-fucked in the relationship department, I don’t give a shit about finding a mate (at the moment) and my mother has accepted that. And I’ve never really felt anything for workmates nor have I ever met a young entrapeneur. I’m sure other people can relate to some of these issues, but not me. Thankfully we see different views on marriage from different characters. Fenneko believes people her age don’t even think about it and hopefully they’ll be the generation to kill the idea of marriage, Haida is still a hopeless romantic when it comes to Retsuko, Gouri will get back up after being heartbroken time and time again, Washimi thinks marriage isn’t worth it and even sheds light on an old marriage during the second season, Ton is married and has two kids (though he seems pretty put-off by them), and then you have Kabae who has a husband and three little kids and she’s happy with her family every single day! Back to the working world topic, Aggretsuko showed how much the working world impacts us. Without having a character say it, this anime brought out many thoughts when we see many of these characters. For example, Anai! Many fans hated this guy the second he started cyber-bullying Retsuko. But others see Anai as a guy with the adult world finally crushing down on him. An ugly glimpse at how life can be (particularly in Japan). He’s fresh out of college and sometimes college does NOT prepare you for the real working world. And as we all know this cruel statistic, Japan has the highest rate of suicides in several age brakets in the world. Including young teenagers! An atmosphere of failure can cause one to do that or act erraticly. Aggretsuko doesn’t necessarily say this, but it’s very much felt that it’s implied if you think about it. Yes, I still find Anai to be a bit of that millennial shit that feels offended by anything even when a co-worker is trying to help them. But if you think about it, all of this feels new and scary. I’m sure everybody in the office at the beginning of their job experience had felt this scary feeling before. Man, these shows really get me to think a bit! I do recommend this anime to just about anyone. Just note that this anime is NOT as depressing as Bojack Horseman. But it can get real at times that makes you step back and say, “Wow, I can totally relate.” And to anyone who is a total metal-head (like me) might enjoy those parts when Retsuko screams into a microphone. This anime is only available through Netflix. It shouldn’t take you too long to finish though as each episode is approximately 15 minutes each and there’s only 20 episodes overall (+ one special). Okay, now that Aggretsuko is done...what's next?

Little Witch Academia it is!

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[tessatechaitea]

Wonder Twins #7

I didn't realize the Wonder Twins were Gen X.

Oh yeah! Zan had just saved the world by stopping a plot that was going to save the world.

I just realized I hadn't scanned the cover yet and as I did, I noticed the Wonder Twins fist/star emblem marks a striking resemblance to a goat.se riff. Zan and Jayna get taken off of monitor duty at the Hall of Justice now that they've stopped the League of Annoyance. You'd think that doing a good job would get you a promotion but those of use who have always done spectacularly good jobs know better. While everybody else works down to the lowest common denominator (because who wants to do more work than the next guy?! A fool, that's who!), good workers just put on blinders and do the job they were hired for until the time they're being paid for is up. Sure, that sounds like I'm describing a sucker who's been completely manipulated by the man! But I'm also describing a person who fulfills their end of whatever bargain they've agreed to! So when I say Zan and Jayna wind up giving tours at the Hall of Justice because they were too good at catching criminals, you'll understand why I went into the previous digression. Maybe? I don't know. Have you seen what state the U.S. is in?! Why are you picking apart my writing style?! Mark Russell takes a few pages to shit all over hockey fans and now I hate Mark Russell with a burning passion. Even though I'd hardly call myself a hockey fan. I mean, I loved NHL '93 (unless it was '92 (or maybe '94?)) and I loved going to San Jose Sharks games when I was still living in the Bay Area (plus my friend worked equipment for the Sharks and would get us free tickets). But it's not like I follow it much anymore. I just like the feeling of being angry at somebody for writing a satirical critique of sports fans rioting because they're so happy that their team won. Although why would I be angry when I've never done that nor think Russell's wrong in his pointed and humorous critique?! Oh, who cares why! Being angry is just more fun! Oh shit! I finally understand people's attraction to Fox News! I just watched a YouTube clip of somebody's Jeremy Roenick highlights from NHL '94 set to the song "More Than a Feeling" and it was pretty awesome. Also, that was definitely the one we played nonstop back in 1993 and 94 and maybe even into 95. Roenick unstoppable down with the puck while Sharks players lay splayed out on their back all across the ice. To stop the riot, Superman calls in Repulso! He's a guy whose super power is super stink and he's kept in a locked room with a bare table and a microwave and nobody wants to be his friend because he smells like a garbage dumb that vomited on top of the diarrhea it shit out while standing on its head so the stanky muck ran down his body absorbing all of his body odor and then somebody cut up a durian and tossed it in the mix.

Superman is a dick. Get this guy some friends with no sense of smell. Or at the very least, an Xbox Gold account.

After the hockey riots, some "the end of the world" riots take place because Zan and Jayna screw up something or other. Basically what that means is that Repulso gets to be let out of his airtight containment unit again! He's a pretty optimistic guy for being sealed away by Superman (which is just Superman's way! Is somebody a problem? No problem! Put them in the Phantom Zone!). He's so happy and not bitter about his living arrangements that I feel like Zan and Jayna had better figure out a way to give him a better life before this issue ends. Because if Mark Russell fails this character he created before this issue is over and I have to face reality after snot crying about a fictional person, I'm going to be pretty upset when I continue to buy Mark Russell comic books because what other choice do I have? Am I going to stop reading DC's best written comic books because Mark Russell betrayed poor Repulso? Of course not! What am I? A person with integrity?! Repulso winds up getting his ass beat by rioters as Repulso's handlers flee the chaotic "end of the world" downtown riot scene. Luckily the Wonder Twins are headed downtown to save his life and maybe become his friend or something? Please? After Zan and Jayna save Repulso, Jayna goes to Superman to tell him everything sucks. He gives her a big speech about how being a hero is lonely work because you don't always get to fuck the hot chick at your secret identity's workplace and also fuck an Amazon warrior while also getting to fuck anybody at all whose initials are "L.L." and also have a best friend who is the coolest guy in the world with a butler who makes the best pancakes. Sometimes you're a fat jerk who smells who even Superman won't fucking give the time of day because Superman has this speech about how being a hero is lonely and that's a good thing so you should embrace your loneliness because who wants to put up with your super stink, fatty?

Jayna is a way better hero than Superman. At least in this comic book that's all about her and not Superman so of course she's going to outshine him!

Oh yeah, the ant in the above picture is Jayna. It can't smell. Wonder Twins #7 Rating: A+. I should probably be less cynical when reading Mark Russell comic books because he's as earnest and serious as he can be while also providing lots of jokes. He takes writing seriously because what else is there? If your message isn't going to matter, why bother? (is his philosophy. I think. It's not my philosophy! I don't think? Maybe it is! I just write things that matter in a much different way than Mark Russell writes things that matter.) I should probably read Superman's speech and be inspired by the idea that you don't do good because you want adulation; you do good because it's the right thing to do, even if the entire world thinks you're an asshole for doing it. Even if all of the other superheroes think you're a stinky fuck and only keep you around to use as a tool to oppress and manipulate the masses without having to use logic and reason on them (because, let's face it, the people doing terrible things don't understand logic and reason. Or they're do but they're just selfish and greedy so nothing is going to reach them anyway (which maybe is part of Superman's message?)), you're still a hero at the end of the day. You can still be proud of your stinky self. And even if the life is lonely, you should remain positive and upbeat because Superman really doesn't want to be reminded that you exist every time you complain about the lack of reasonable living conditions. Being a hero is a state of mind, says the guy who also looks great and is invulnerable and has the best wife and a cool son and doesn't have to fear death! So inspiring!

[ryewi]

When I’m with you I’m in Utopia [Chapter 2]

Summary:  9 years ago, the world split in two halves, Utopia and Dystopia. One of the laws allows citizens of both worlds to visit the other once in their lifetime, for a whole week, after which, they’re forced to return home. If by any chance, they don’t return, a death punishment is sentenced. Jeon Jungkook, a citizen of Dystopia seemed to be desperate enough to challenge that exact law.

Genre: Utopia!au, Dystopia!au, fluff, angst, drama, to be added~

Words: 2,2k (this is longer than I expected it to be damn)

Warnings: None yet!

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“So how did you know that I was from, you know, that sort” Faith laughed at his choice of words, remembering the times when her mother used to call Dystopian citizens that. Jungkook on the other hand, had an unreadable face expression, which sent chills down her spine, quick.

“You’re too stiff, don’t you notice how relaxed people here are? You avert your gaze and try to hide whenever someone pays attention to you, just, way too obvious”  

Jungkook only nodded along to that; but when the other finished talking, he suddenly tried to play off a more comfortable role and started staring at people who passed by. Jungkook’s eyes widening at every passerby made Faith cackle, the contagious sound making the boy laugh too.

Once the laughs died out, they looked at each other, happy tears forming at the edges of their eyes. Jungkook couldn’t recall the last time he cried from laughing too hard, whenever he cried, he felt huge masses of worry and desperation splashing him likes waves in the ocean. In Dystopia, it often happened.

“Do you want to go grab some ice cream? Hang out?” Faith initiated, finding this young man interesting enough to want to spend more time with. First talk with a person from “the other world”, ended well and the reason why her mother said to be careful around such people still remained a mystery.  

Jungkook smiled at that, nodding his head and getting ready to stand up. From behind the bench, he grabbed a big black backpack, with a lot of side pockets and seemingly debated whether to place the camera inside or continue holding it in his hands. Deciding that maybe, well most definitely, there are more beautiful sights to take pictures of, Jungkook zipped back his bag and offered a hand to Faith who was still sitting on the wooden seat.

“They’re giving out free ice cream today, and I have had two already, but it doesn’t matter!” Faith lifted up her point finger, trying to sound as if she’s making a point, to which Jungkook once again laughed. Faith analyzed the way he laughs for a second, watching as Jungkook’s eyes turned into crescent moons, pupils nearly disappearing under the coverage of his eyelids. His nose was scrunched and mouth created a perfect D shape.

“What is your favorite ice cream flavor?” She chirped as they both walked alongside each other. Jungkook seemed to think for a few moments, trying to remember the last time he ate an ice cream and what flavors he told his mother were the best.

“I don’t really remember which ones I like, it was a long time ago I ate an ice cream” Jungkook confessed, biting the inner side of his cheek, while the most basic flavors flew through his mind. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, mint...

“Well that sucks, looks like you’ll have to rely on me to pick the best for you,” Faith replied. Slowly leaning towards Jungkook on her right, she put a hand to the left side of her mouth, whispering, “Trust me, I know how to pick good flavors”.

The male was amazed by how careless and free she was around him. She grabbed his bicep a couple of times, dragging him to a nearby pond or garden, which Jungkook, being a lover of beautiful sights, of course snapped a picture of. He didn’t expect that something like this would strike him. Jungkook imagined it being a rather quiet week, where he’d find a cheap apartment and spend most of his time outside, taking shots of nature he’ll never want to forget. Then again, will Faith stick for the next couple of days or will she forever parish the moment they part ways?

It still felt like a dream, although he could feel the ground underneath his feet, the wind that kept messing his hair up and hear the laugh of a friendly female that still seemed to clung on to his arm. He was there, Jungkook was really experiencing a life with no worries, no pollution and darkness. A world that was completely different than home and he wished that this was actually the place behind that exact word.

But wasn’t that what every Dystopian wished for? Why would anyone want to live in a world where the first thing in the morning you’d hear was a gunshot followed by shrieking screams; where your work wasn’t valued and you were constantly degraded.

They walked past a grill, many families with their kids waiting for kebabs or hamburgers that were neatly placed on grill before them. Looking at the person working, he caught a glimpse of a young man, happily turning a set of kebabs to the other side.  

The sight and smell, while Faith dragged him past the shop, awakened unpleasant memories in his mind and he slowly zoned out, playing an old film in his mind.

“Come the fuck on you scum of a teenager! Work faster!” A bald and fat man yelled at Jungkook, slamming his fist furiously on a wooden table in front of him. Leopard they liked to call him, “great and strong”, but if Jungkook had to give a nickname to this customer, it would’ve probably be something more like a hippo. 

“Sir, I can’t prepare the hamburgers faster than I already am, I told you!” The young man yelled back at the mass of fat situated on two chairs, as he tried turning the heat up for a hundredth time today. They were running out of onions, Jungkook thought, while he looked back at the ingredients laid out on a tray.

“You know what, you’re taking too long, I’m leaving, keep that crusty hamburger for yourself!” Leopard kicked one of the chairs and threw his money on the grill, laughing at the way his money burned on the grill. He was one of the rich locals, many women often kissed his ass for money to end up between their chest and frankly to say, it disgusted the teenager.  

Other customers looked at Jungkook with pitiful eyes to which he gave an apologetic look back. It wasn’t the first time this happened anyway.

Jungkook’s parents were never rich, to be honest, his whole family struggles quite a lot recently, hence why he was currently behind a grill. This work was a rather low-paying one, the wage was under average, but it helped family Jeon as much as it could. His parents were understanding, they knew that Jungkook was trying to balance out his school and they were proud and thankful.  

“Oh my god it’s you again, it’s always you!” A high-pitched voice rang through the small open room and Jungkook visibly flinched at that. It was his boss and candidly speaking, whenever she entered the room, especially with this attitude, it wasn’t good.

She walked over to the worker in her twelves, heels clicking in sync on the tile floor. The boy looked down at his feet, refusing to turn around, chanting “it’s going to be okay” in his head, although, this time, he couldn’t be so sure about it.  

“Young man, I’ve had enough of you and your inability to work properly. I’d please you to hand over your apron and walk out.” The blonde was smiling, but her words were laced with venom and cruelty, want to hurt and crush someone. People who were still waiting for their orders and watching the scene unfold before them, gasped in unison.

Jungkook turned quickly, disbelief in his eyes. He couldn’t be fired, he had no reason to! Was the impatience of one damn customer enough for that woman to have enough of him? What were the other mistakes he made for her to be sick of him?  

“No Miss, please, I beg you, I haven’t done anything-”

“Jungkook, what do you not understand? You’re fired, here’s your last pay, now get out!” She handed him a couple of banknotes and watched as the boy untied his apron, then proceeded to hand it over. His eyes were glassy, and everyone was left in shock, wanting to protest against the decision that evil woman made, yet remaining silent. It was like that in Dystopia, people felt the need to help, intervene, but why would they? It’s not their life, and living in a place like this, the last thing you want to do is take care of someone else’s business.

Faith suddenly pulled him to the left, the little flashback once again disappearing into the mist. Jungkook’s eyes still stood trained on the grill until it disappeared behind a corner and another smell filled his nostrils.

Approaching the source of the breathtaking smell, the duo came to a stop in a line under a canopy. A big piece of carboard had “FREE SHAVED ICE CREAM” written on it with a black pen. Jungkook raised on to his toes and watched as kids and adults received their portions of chocolate and mint rolls. The ice cream looked delicious and it was free.

“Mom can we please get that?” Jungkook asked, voice cracking as he pulled on to the sleeve of his mother’s shirt. She didn’t hear him at first, too focused on the important phone call. Trying once again, Jungkook pulled on to the sleeve for the second time. A faint sound of cloth ripping filled the small circle around them, making both look at the place where it came from.

“Why did you do that?” The tone of his mother sounded stern but somewhat soft too.  

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean to rip your shirt off...” Jungkook looked at his feet, already regretting his decisions. His voice broke numerous of times, which his mother was used to, her son was going through puberty and it was normal. Yet she didn’t question, or maybe she just hasn’t noticed, the small sniffles after the breaks between words.

“Jungkook honey, it’s okay, but why did you pull on my shirt?”  

“I just wanted to ask you can we get some ice cream, that’s all?” He replied, sounding hopeful while looking up at the woman. She averted her gaze to the side, scanning for any ice cream shops, but the moment the prices caught her eye, she immediately looked back, sighing. “Honey, we have something better at home, we will catch ice cream the other day okay?”

Nothing better was served on the table that day or the ones yet to come.

“Faith, isn’t this like your third time coming today? Oh, hello Sir” A young man bowed at them as a sign of respect to him, which Jungkook was taken back by. No one bowed at him in Utopia, so he thought it wasn’t necessary. Bowing back, Jungkook looked at Faith, waiting for her to make their orders.

“Jared, I’ll come ten more times to piss you off if I want to!” Faith laughed, forcing Jared to laugh too on the signal of her unique contagious laugh. “I’d like to borrow two cups of snickers and cookie dough”.

“Borrow? Are you going to give back the paper cups?” Jared snorted, setting the flavors on the metal before him.

“I just might, don’t dare me Jared!”  The female glared at him for a quick second before she got on to her toes and watched the process of shaving. This new technique of serving ice cream has arrived at the city just a few years ago, and ever since then, Faith abandoned normal ice cream. The whole concept of four, five or six ice cream rolls neatly placed in a circle was interesting to her.

Jungkook watched the special way of preparing, ice cream? Who would’ve thought that you could shave ice cream, bend ice cream, have it presented in thin rolls. He then proceeded to laugh at the silly thoughts currently flying around his mind. Of course, Jungkook, you just seemed to live under a rock.

Jared was quick with his work, it only took two minutes for the sweet to be delivered into the hands of the two. They greeted Jared, who earned himself a glare from Faith right after he said something along the lines of “we wish you come back soon”.

Continuing their walk around the park, Faith described a few other places Jungkook should visit while in Utopia, which made the other tense slightly. A huge pond with swans on the other side of the town, one special hill with clear view of the stars… But will he be alone? Was she really going to disappear after today? You’re being silly once again, she’s not obliged to be by your side at all times, Jungkook.

Without even thinking, more unconsciously than anything else, Jungkook blurted out, “So you are going to leave me after today?”. It sounded selfish, but the tone he used to say those nine words made it seem more desperate than anything else. Then again, Jungkook was already prepared to experience this alone, why was it a problem now? Could it be that the idea of exploring everything with a companion intrigued him that much?

“Oh, you’d like me to stick around?” Faith questioned, eyebrow rising at the remark.

“That would be nice” Jungkook said, looking down at the ground and scratching the back of his neck in anxiety.

“It’s not a problem for me,” She chirped, throwing another one of her sweet smiles in his direction. “Does that mean we can call each other exploring buddies from now on?”

AN: Chapter two! I hope you like it! To be honest the next chapter is just pure gold I can’t wait to publish it, it has so much meaning and is! really! important! So do look forward to that one! Thank you for reading, and I’ll see you real soon!