#turns out it's literally written in their contracts

[authortelevision]

“No hesitation. It’s literally George Clarke.”₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,312 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆george clarke smut, friends to lovers, cunnilingus, penetration

while very drunk you confess to george how attractive you think he is. leading to a written and signed contract that allows him to do whatever he wants to you, whenever he pleases.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The pub was warm and loud, the kind of place where voices bounced off the wooden beams and glasses clinked endlessly. You were way too many drinks past tipsy, and the world was beyond just tilting in that soft, familiar way that made everything seem funnier than it should. George sat across from you at the round, slightly sticky table, surrounded by your friends, all of whom had that casual kind of good-looking presence that felt unfair when gathered in one group.

Someone had started a game, but it had long drifted from that and was now about ranking everyone’s attractiveness in the group. It was lighthearted at first, but soon, due to far too many pints and the safety of friendship, had began bordering on pure confessions.

“Alright, alright,” one of Arthur said, pointing his half-empty beer bottle around like a microphone. “Let’s be honest—if we had to pick the fittest here, It’s definitely George, right?”

The table erupted in overlapping shouts and exaggerated groans of protest. People threw out names, deflecting or tossing compliments back and forth, but the consensus was obvious from the beginning, it was definitely George.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” George said, laughing and leaning back in his chair. His cheeks were tinged pink, probably from the alcohol but also maybe from the compliments. “I’m flattered, really.”

You, meanwhile, had been quiet for a bit too long. Not because you disagreed, but because the alcohol had dissolved whatever barrier normally kept your thoughts in check. You were watching him laugh, the way his head tipped back, his hair slightly messy but in a way that somehow worked better than if he’d tried to style it. And, well, drunk-you thought it was probably time to say something.

“You’re not just fit, though,” you blurted, cutting through the noise. The table went quiet for a moment before bursting into laughter again, assuming you were joking. But you weren’t done.

“No, I mean it,” you said, gesturing sloppily at George. “Like, George could literally hook up with me anytime. No questions asked.”

The laughter shifted, turning into a mix of shocked giggles and playful hoots.

“Wait, what?” George said, leaning forward now, his grin somewhere between amused and incredulous.

“I’m just saying,” you continued, undeterred. “If he showed up at my place like, ‘Hey, let’s go,’ I wouldn’t even ask why. I’d just—” You made a vague, sweeping gesture, nearly knocking over your drink. “No hesitation. It’s literally George Clarke. He’s fit.”

George was laughing so hard he was practically doubled over, one hand gripping the edge of the table for support. “I’m sorry, I need this in writing,” he managed to get out between gasps.

Without thinking, you grabbed a napkin from the table and fumbled for a pen. Someone handed you one, either out of encouragement or sheer disbelief at what you were doing.

“Fine,” you said, squinting hard at the napkin as if it were a legal document. Your handwriting was atrocious, big, looping letters that slanted off the edges of the napkin, but you managed to scrawl something that resembled:

‘George Clarke can hook up with me anytime. Whatever and whenever he wants.’

You signed it with a weak signature, your name barely legible, and slid it across the table to him.

“There,” you said, leaning back in your chair like you’d just closed a business deal. “It’s official.”

George picked up the napkin, holding it delicately between his fingers like it was a priceless artifact. He stared at it for a moment before bursting into laughter again. “This is going on my fridge,” he said, tucking it into his jacket pocket.

The night carried on, the napkin forgotten by you as the drinks kept coming and the conversations grew even more chaotic. By the time you stumbled home, you’d all but erased the memory of your drunken declaration.

You woke up with a pounding headache and vague, mortifying flashes of the night before. Something about George. Something about a napkin. You groaned and buried your face in your pillow, praying it had all been a dream.

Meanwhile, across the city, George stood in his kitchen, sipping a cup of tea and staring at the napkin stuck to his fridge with a magnet. He smirked to himself, thinking back to all the ways he’d imagined you in his bed.

You weren’t expecting anyone. It was late, a quiet Wednesday evening, and you’d just settled onto the sofa with a blanket and some tea. The sound of the doorbell startled you, pulling you out of your own head.

When you opened it, you were met with the last person you expected to see at this hour.

George stood there, the napkin, the napkin, held loosely between his fingers. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times on the way over, and his signature wide smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But his eyes held something else tonight.

“Hey,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t standing on your doorstep with a piece of evidence that could end your sanity.

“George?” you blurted, clutching the edge of the door. “What are you doing here?”

He leaned lazily against the doorframe, holding up the napkin like a winning lottery ticket. “I thought it was time I cashed this in.”

Your stomach flipped, and heat rose to your cheeks. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, already mortified. “I didn’t think you were actually keeping that thing.”

“Oh, I’ve kept it,” he said, his voice coated with amusement as he waved the crumpled napkin. “Are you kidding? This is priceless.” He tilted his head, stepping just close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off him. “Besides, you always tell me that drunk words are sober thoughts and I think it still counts when you wrote this.”

“George—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, his voice teasing. “I’m not here to embarrass you.” He paused, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes. “Although, if I’m being honest, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You swallowed hard, your breath like a rock in your throat. “Thinking about what?”

He grinned, stepping into your flat. “What you said.” He lowered his voice. “The way you looked at me when you said it. The way you wrote it down without a second thought.”

You wanted to crawl under a rock, or maybe pull him closer. You hadn’t decided yet.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said, trying to laugh it off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to breathe, let alone think straight.

“Am I?” he murmured, taking another step toward you, closing the distance completely. He leaned down slightly, his face scanning your expression. “Because I think sober you meant every word.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. George’s grin widened at your silence, and he reached up, lightly brushing his fingers along your jawline.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, his tone shifting, his playful confidence turning more intimate. “Tell me you didn’t mean it, and I’ll leave right now.”

The challenge hung in the air, and you hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words. But he wasn’t wrong, not even close.

“I…” you started.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at his lips again. “I’m waiting.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted finally, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

George’s smile turned triumphant, and he closed the last inch of space between you, his hand settling on your waist. “That’s what I thought.”

The kiss came fast, catching you off guard but leaving no room for hesitation. His lips were soft, warm, and just demanding enough to make your head spin. His hand slid up to cradle your face, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, while his thumb brushed against your cheek.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your heart racing as his forehead rested lightly against yours.

“So,” he murmured, “does this mean I get full rights to the ‘whatever I want’ part of the deal? Or do we need to renegotiate?”

You laughed, your hands gripping the front of his shirt to steady yourself. “Oh, shut up.”

He grinned, pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

His tongue demanded entry, and you opened, moaning softly as he explored your mouth with a possessive hunger.

He broke the kiss, leaving you gasping for air, and a wicked smile played on his lips. "I want you, right here, right now," he lifted you, making you wrap your legs around his waist, and carried you to the bedroom.

The room spun as he tossed you onto the bed, the soft mattress cushioning your fall. George loomed over you, his eyes burning with an intense desire that made your skin prickle with anticipation. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

"You’re beautiful," he said, his voice rough. "And I promise you, you’ll never forget this."

You struggled playfully, testing his hold, but George only tightened his grip, his fingers digging into your sensitive skin. The pain was pleasurable, a sensation that only furthered your arousal. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, and whispered, "Be a good girl and take what I give you."

As he spoke, his free hand trailed down your body, tracing the curve of your breast, then lower, until he reached the waistband of your jeans. He undid the button and zipper, sliding them down your legs, leaving you exposed in your underwear.

George's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your naked body. He ran his fingers along the edge of your underwear, making you squirm under his touch. "Beautiful," he whispered,"but I want to see all of you."

With that, he tore the flimsy fabric, baring your body to his hungry gaze. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the look in his eyes promised pleasure beyond measure. He stroked your thighs, spreading them apart.

"Look at me," he commanded. You opened your eyes, meeting his intense gaze as he lowered his head, his tongue tracing a path from your navel to the throbbing feeling between your legs. You gasped, arching into his touch, as his tongue flicked and teased, driving you wild.

He sucked on your clit, drawing it into his mouth, and you cried out, your hips bucking off the bed. His fingers joined in, delving into you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued.

The pleasure was overwhelming, building to a crescendo. You were close, so close, and George seemed to sense it. He released your wrists, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him to you as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body shook, and you cried out his name, a plea for more.

But George wasn't done with you yet. He rose, his hard body casting a shadow over you, and ripped open the button of his jeans. His thick, erect cock sprang free, and he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you with the tip.

"Please," you begged, your voice hoarse from the moans and gasps.

"Okay baby," he replied.

With one swift thrust, he filled you, so completely that you cried out in surprise. He held himself there, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, he began to move, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming back into you, over and over, each thrust harder and messier than the last.

His hands gripped your throat, his fingers curled around your neck forcing your breath to settle just above his grip. You gasped, your eyes widening as you struggled for breath, but he held you in his gaze, his light blue eyes burning into your soul.

"You’re such a good girl for me" he grunted, his voice in harsh gasps. "Tell me how much you want me, baby."

"Fuck… George," you managed to whisper, your body branded by George’s hot strong hands. "I want you, please George I need you so much."

George burrowed into your neck, biting your skin roughly, not bothering to soothe the pain, only kissing you aggressively. His pace quickened, George’s hips pounding into yours. The pleasure was something you had never experienced before, your body was craving George’s release so hard, it was bordering on pain, but you welcomed it, craving George deep within you, the smell of sweat and his cologne consumed all that was left of your senses. His fingers tightened around your throat, and he pounded deep into you one final time, his body stiffening.

As he released himself inside you, his grip on your neck loosened, and he collapsed onto the bed beside you, both of you panting. You turned to face him, your breathe slowly becoming less laboured, and saw the satisfied smile on his face.

"George stop smiling you dick” you weakly whisper.

George panted out a light laugh, “Sorry, just think about this a lot”

“You’ve been thinking about me?” you state as you roll onto your side cuddling into his chest.

“I’ve done a lot more than just thinking about you,” George confesses as he adjusts his arm to place his hand in your hair, playing with the strands as they fall through his fingers.

“Yeah?” is all you can say as the exhaustion floods your mind.

“Yeah. But I can’t believe there’s written proof of how bad you wanted me.” he laughs as his words become muffled in your hair.

You cringe at his words, hiding your face in your hands. “That’s so fucking embarrassing oh my god!”

“Yeah maybe it is, but there’s no limit I hope.”

“There will be if you’re gonna be annoying tomorrow,” you mention.

“Tomorrow? Was I that good?”

“Fuck off.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

authortv note: I WILL POST SOON, i’ve been so unmotivated to post so if you like this PLS PLS PLS let me know cause i need some motivation !! LOVE YOU SO MUCH !!

MERRY CHRISTMAS <333

[linolinoing]

I mean we all knew how fucked up kpop contracts are but still reading this feels so dystopian (this is kg's contract with jype btw)

[spiral-man]

Hey quick question,

Do you guys think Elias had all the Eye stuff in the employee contract? Because I feel like probably not, like I know a lot of the archive employees probably wouldn’t read the entire thing but at least one would have had to of read the whole thing at some point in time and been like “what the fuck??” I feel like there are two options here

A) it was in really super fine print at the bottom of the contract/it was written in white or something like that lol

B) he just didn’t mention any of that, in which case I think it would be really funny if instead of getting Elias arrested for murder at the end of season three everyone on the archives staff just Sues the shit out of Elias for Fraudulent Misrepresentation because they were led to believe this is a job they’d have the ability to quit or at least not turn into a monster for at some point. But then of course everyone just starts dogpiling to get him for a bunch of other random shit, they sue him not just for Fraudulent Misrepresentation but also human rights violations, emotional damages (literally) just anything under the sun they can think of and I think that would be hilarious especially cause you know Elias ain’t paying for any of it, poor ol’ Peter Lucas is gonna get the bill some random Wednesday and have no idea what’s going on.

[q1ngqve]

ᝰ STALKER WRIO !

✶ 𓏲ּ ꩜ 𓂅 this turned into a half-fic format because i procrastinated way too long on this :(

CW; sick fem! reader, pervert! wrio, stalking, dacryphilia

wriothesley is so head over heels for you, so don’t blame him when he sneaks into your room every night just to watch you! maybe sometimes touch you and feel your soft body in his arms :(

but tonight? you’re sniffling under the covers, nose blocked from the flu you contracted, your body heating up from the high fever, nightmares plaguing your mind as you slept.

he feels himself hardening in his pants as he removes the blanket covering your body, leaning down to kiss your jaw and neck tenderly. something about you being softer and warmer than usual turns him on so much he’s literally bursting through his pants!

you stir awake when you feel something hard grinding against your clothed cunt, fear written on your face when you notice a stranger in your bed, rubbing himself against your heat.

wriothesley shushes you when you let out a panicked cry, his hand reaching down to cover your mouth, “shh shh, don’t cry. ‘m not here to hurt you, just relax, pretty girl.” you squirm underneath him, legs tensing when he grinds against your clit deliciously.

you’re whining a lot more than usual due to your fever, it’s like an aphrodisiac on its own, making you more pliant and easy to manipulate <3 wriothesley is in love!!!! you’re just too fucking cute when you’re sick! just by using 30% of his usual strength, he can have your whole body trapped beneath him, shaking and ready for him to ravish.

frowns when you don't stop whining, to which he pulls out a pair of your panties from his back pocket and stuffs it into your mouth! and it dawns upon you that these are the long-lost pair you'd searched for in vain, and tears well up in your eyes at the realization that you might have a stalker. kisses your tears away before grinding his groin against your core, making you gasp and arch your back into his chest. a chuckle escapes him as the soft clinking of a belt being undone fills the air, and you squirm once more.

wriothesley's hand grips your hip bone as he frees himself from his pants, giving a few pumps before sliding against your clothed core once again. you melt under his weight and the sensation of his cock brushing your clit, beginning to relax despite the lingering fear.

he'd remove the panties from your mouth before leaning down, his gaze piercing and threatening, "if you keep it down, I'll go easy on you, how's that sound, princess?" all you can manage is a sniffle and nod. your pussy flutters at the pet name, a mixture of fever and fuzzy-headedness clouds your judgment, driving a strange desire to please this intruder.

he smiles at your compliance, "good girl." your panties are torn apart in an instant, the sound of fabric revebrating off the walls as he played with your clit using his tip, and that was all it took for you to moan and claw at the bedsheets.

your legs close as he replaces the tip with his fingers, aligning himself with your entrance, a smirk evident on his face as he watches your reaction. his free hand slides under your knee, lifting it up before pushing it back down near your chest.

he thrusts himself in unexpectedly, groaning as he revels in your warmth and wetness. you clench around him whenever you catch sight of him with the sexiest smirk on his face as he thrusts in and out of you. he traps your leg between your bodies, leaning down and putting his weight on you while his hand reached up to your lips and stuffed two fingers in, watching in amusement as you drool on them.

laughs when you paw at his shoulders, clearly overwhelmed by his rough fucking. and he would not stop whispering filthy things into your ear!!!! "leaving your window open in the middle of the night? were you hoping I'd come in and fuck you?"

teases you even more when you reply with a moan, "you dirty girl. look at you, drooling all over me. you like being fucked by your stalker that much?"

cleans and leaves you when you actually pass out from his relentless pounding, leaving a note by your bedside for you to read in the morning, telling you he'll be back again tomorrow night, and that you are now his forever with no escape!!!!!!!!

[ayyy-pee]

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟣 - 𝒲𝒶𝓈 𝒾𝓉 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓉?

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Series Masterlist - Next Chapter

Pairing: Hotel Heir Satoru Gojo x Club Heiress Female Reader

Genre: Fake Dating/Arranged Marriage AU/Rivals to Lovers

WC: 4.4k

Summary: One unforgettable night out leads to a lifetime tethered to the one man you absolutely can't fucking stand. The feeling's mutual, but now you both have to find a way to make it work in your favor.

or

You and Satoru's parents give you an ultimate that you both quite literally cannot afford to refuse.

Story Warning: Fake Dating, Arranged Marriage, Profantity DUH, Gojo and Reader being fucking bratty and annoying, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior. Smut Maybe? (probably), No Y/N usage here

Art by: nameissiyo on X

A/N: I don't even know how this happened because yall know I don't write Gojo LMAO. But here it is! Not sure how long this will be so bear with me because it's just gonna be a fun lil ride!

“It’s easy,” the man across from you hums from his end of the table, lips curled in a mischievous grin that has your skin crawling. “Then, after a year, we’ll announce that it just…didn’t work out between us.” He motions between the two of you with his finger. “You and I both get off without a scratch on us.” He shrugs, leaning back in his seat, confident as ever as he picks at his fingernails.

Disgusting. 

He adds, “Everything works out for us both in the end. My parents are off my back. Your dad is off yours, and they both get what they want. It’s a win-win to me! What do you think?”

You can’t trust this guy as far as you can throw him, and you know that’s not far. The man’s like ten feet taller than you even with your highest heels on! But what choice do you have in the matter? You have to do this. 

��No funny business,” you demand, eyes narrowed at the man. You mean it to come out more as a question, but the rise of your partner’s brows lets you know he’s aware that you’re not fucking around with this. 

And then his head falls back, a loud laugh bursting from his chest and you are tempted to sink into your seat when other patrons in the restaurant turn to glare at you both. He’s enjoying this far too much for someone who has everything on the line here, just like you.

“None at all, princess.” You ignore the pet name, rolling your eyes. It’s a promise that you’re not sure he’ll be able to keep. But again, you just have to trust him.

“You have a deal,” you finally agree.

The man leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and you can’t help but to sneer in disgust at his clear lack of manners. How could someone raised in high society, the same as you, act in such a way? You wish you could wipe that cheshire cat-like smirk off of his face, but you keep it cordial. You can’t enter into this with bad blood already on your hands. This arrangement will benefit you both at the end of the day. You just have to remember that.

‘One year,’ you tell yourself. ‘One year, and you never have to see this man again. This will be easy.’

He reaches into his shirt pocket, pulling out an obnoxiously expensive pen, the signature Gojo Hospitality name written in a fancy gold font along the body. He sets it down in front of you, on top of the stack of papers you’ve spent the last two hours tearing apart meticulously, marking out anything you don’t agree with. He’d nagged endlessly about how long this was taking, like he had anywhere more important to get to. 

You’re sure he took you for some bimbo ready to jump at the chance to marry the only son and heir to the Gojo fortune. But you’re not an idiot. You’re an heiress yourself, so he doesn’t impress you. And your father raised you to know that when entering a contract, it’s important to read the fine print. It’s important to find any loopholes, anything that can screw you in the end, anything that can make your life hell on the off chance things don’t work out. Make sure you’ve crossed all your t’s and dotted all your i’s.

But you don’t see any here, you don’t think. So you reach forward, taking his pen in hand.

“On the dotted line, then,” he instructs. “Sign away…future Mrs. Gojo.”

𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓴𝓼 𝓔𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓻…

Daylight peeks through the curtains of your room, the midmorning sun beckoning you awake. The birds chirp loudly outside your window. And you are hiding the best you can beneath your blankets to try and drown it all out. It’s far too bright. So damn bright that the sun is somehow managing to penetrate the fabric of your linens, and your head pounds each time a sliver of light touches your skin. To top it all off, your mouth feels dry, yet sticky somehow at the same time, like it’s packed with cotton balls. 

Water. You need water, badly. 

You attempt to shift beneath your blankets, only to find that your body feels like it weighs a ton. Even wiggling your toes feels like it takes more effort than you’d like to exert. Your brain frantically sends panicked signals to the rest of your body that if you don’t hydrate soon, you may die, so you manage to find the strength to crawl out of your bed.

Your eyes are barely open enough to navigate around your enormous room, enough to see that you’re in a hotel suite. You don’t actually remember coming here, but you’re not all that surprised. You had quite a night of partying and drinking with your friends. The occasion? Well, you don’t really need one do you? For you and your friends, it’s a regular Wednesday night. Either way, you must have gathered your wits enough to book a suite instead of trying to get back home to your apartment in Tokyo.

And honestly? You’re proud of yourself! Better than stumbling your way home, or trying to figure out how to call your driver to pick you up.

Clumsily – and through squinted eyes – your hands feel along the walls until they reach the refrigerator, where you hurriedly yank the doors open and practically rip the lid off of a bottle of water. The cool beverage breathes life back into your dehydrated body. You feel like what you’d imagine a raisin would feel if it could be turned back into a grape. The drink is so refreshing, your eyes are practically rolling into the back of your head as you guzzle down the icy cold liquid.

When the bottle is empty, you carelessly toss it aside, crossing the threshold to the sofa in the common area. But just as you’re about to flop down, the muffled sound of your phone ringing pierces through the air. It’s usually set to silent or vibrate, because you don’t particularly care to be surprised by the loud noise. However, there’s only one person in this world who is allowed to bypass those settings, their tone always set to blare loudly should they ever call. You follow the sound back to the bedroom as quickly as you can manage. Tossing your clothes from last night around and shaking out your garments, digging through your clutch until you finally hear the tone get louder as you approach your bed. You lift your blankets, shaking them around until the device falls to the floor, still screaming that damn ringtone. You press the answer button, putting the phone to your ear.

”Hi, Daddy,” you sing into the receiver, hoping technology hasn’t advanced enough that he can smell the vodka on your breath, hear the way you’re struggling to catch your breath.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Your dad’s deep voice hums from the other side, and you breathe a sigh of relief when his voice sounds at ease. “Where are you?”

You frown, pursing your lips together. “What do you mean?”

You can hear that your dad is out from the commotion on the other side. If you had to bet, you’d say he was at a restaurant given the way he’s quietly muttering something to someone. 

“You were supposed to—“

It clicks for you then.

”Meet you for breakfast,” You finish his sentence. “Oh my god, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I’m late! I can be there in like…” you check your phone for the time. “about an hour if you give me time to get home and change!”

Your dad sighs, long and hard, exhausted. That safety you felt only a moment ago has now dissipated. And you know you are in deep shit, for whatever reason. You close your eyes, trying to calm the pounding against your skull.

“Perhaps transportation has advanced overnight,” he hums. “Can you make it from Seoul to Tokyo in an hour?” He questions bitterly.

”Seoul?!”

You scurry over to your hotel window, wincing when you pull the curtains wide open and the sun smacks you painfully in the face. When your vision clears and the urge to vomit isn’t as strong, you’re finally able to make out the foreign symbols along the skyscrapers and businesses of Seoul, South Korea.

The events of last night flood back to your memory.

You and your friends at your usual booth at one of your family’s many Tokyo nightclubs, Club Echo - Roppongi. Bottles on bottles of alcohol being brought to your table. Flashing lights. Sweaty bodies on the dance floor. Free food and drinks for everyone, the perk of being the daughter of the man who owns this very club.

“We should go somewhere!” Your best friend Shoko slurs into your ear as she leans across your booth. You hook a finger into the loose strap of her dress and pull the neckline up. Her breasts are one wrong move away from being on the front page of the Jujutsu Social tomorrow morning.

Beside her, your other friend Utahime nods excitedly, downing her drink. “Yeah! We should go somewhere else!”

You nod too, your brain sloshing around in your head, right along with the liquor. “Okay! But where, though?” 

Shoko and Utahime huddle together, whispering and giggling drunkenly and you wait, eyes roaming the club. It’s packed to capacity and for some reason the sight fills you with a sense of pride. Not that you had literally anything to do with it. No, that was all dad. You show up with your friends, get some pictures snapped of you, eat and drink to your heart’s content and then check to make sure any photos of you that ended up on whatever gossip blog look good.

And any that don’t, well, they’d be speaking to your attorney very soon.

The life of an heiress is so hard sometimes.

Shoko and Utahime spin around in tandem, large smiles beaming on their faces. “Seoul!” They cry in unison.

“Like…Korea, Seoul?”

“Yes! We can finally check out the new Club Echo there! We haven’t been yet,” Utahime whines. Her pink cheeks practically glow in the dark as she sticks her bottom lip out in a pleading face. It makes you want to laugh because it’s just so cute. But still! You’re not going to give in that easily.

“It’s like one in the morning!” You argue, your mind trying to fight the liquor that’s trying its damndest to make you give in. “By the time we get there, it’ll be closed.”

Shoko sighs your name, the disappointment clear in her voice. “You own the place, ___. All it takes is one call from you and you’re good! You know management is new and will be practically begging to score points with your dad! The staff will wait for you!”

“Also!” Utahime practically screams. Then she lowers her voice, leaning closer to you and Shoko as she whispers. “What if you run into Jungkook there?”

Shoko gasps, like it’s a scandal waiting to happen. “I heard he has the biggest crush on youuuuu,” she sings.

Your lips purse together, doing your best to let what Shoko says sink in. The sober part of you in the very deepest and darkest depths of your mind is fighting for its fucking life to get to the surface, screaming “Don’t do it! Dad is going to kill you!”

But the drunk part of you is fighting back just as hard, and it came ready to beat your ass. “But Jungkook! Also…chartering a private plane would be so fun!” Your brain argues. “That’s the point of having all this money, right? To do what you want! And to see Jungkook!”

The bumping of the music is making you feel dizzy, and the giggles and chants to “do it, do it, do it” coming from your two friends aren’t helping. If anything, it’s just making the alcohol set in even worse.

It’s just one night. Your pilot wouldn’t mind getting up and flying you and your friends out. You already know he’d be happy to get a call from you this late at night. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’d be thrilled because despite him being married with two kids and one on the way, you’re positive he’s got the hots for you.

“Call me any time, Ms. ___. I’d happily pick up the phone for you,” he’d told you with a wink after you’d made him fly you last minute to Coachella. You’d apologized profusely because you had no idea his daughter’s dance recital was happening at that time. To be fair, he didn’t tell you until you’d landed in California either!

So you pull out your phone, grinning wide as you tell your girls, “Looks like we’re going to Seoul!” They cheer happily, chanting “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook!” before ordering another round of shots as you make a call to your pilot and driver.

It’s just one night. You’ll be back tomorrow. How much trouble could you possibly get into anyway?

- - - - - -

Turns out you could get into a whole lot of fucking trouble. 

You stand in your father’s office, squirming in your designer heels that cost a fortune, squeezing onto the handle of your designer bag that cost even more of a fortune as your father stares you down. You don’t dare meet his hard gaze, eyes glued to the chevron patterned hardwood floors in shame.

This tension couldn’t even be cut with a chainsaw, you think. The silence is absolutely deafening, and you think that if someone focused hard enough, they would hear your heart hammering in your chest, and the vein in your father’s neck throbbing.

The flight from Seoul back to Tokyo was long and terrifying. The closer you came to approaching the city, the more sick you felt. And by no fault of the liquor. Shoko and Utahime’s drivers picked them up from the hangar space, both of them about ready to keel over and having to be practically carried to their cars.

You on the other hand, your chauffeur was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Nanami?” You ask the flight attendant waiting at the end of the plane’s steps. Your brows pull together in confusion as you scan the area. Your driver is never late. It’s one of your pet peeves about each other, really. He’s meticulous, always on time, while you’re always running behind because why not? Sometimes you get caught up in things! It’s literally his job to wait for you, anyway.

But still, this is strange. The young blonde man is usually standing beside your car, with the door held open for you while he mumbles about how you need to work on being more punctual and considerate of others, that he doesn’t get paid enough to be waiting on you.

It’s a lie. You and Nanami are around the same age, and you know damn well he keeps this job because it’s easy and you pay him more than well enough. You even grab drinks together some nights. He’s more than your driver, he’s your friend (sometimes).

And your friend is nowhere to be seen. It’s just you, the flight attendant and the pilot who is on his way to park the plane. You could really use the support of Nanami at the moment, because you have a terrible feeling settling into the pit of your stomach. Which is justified when a car pulls into the hangar space, a car that you know is not yours, and the flight attendant gives you a smile that offers a silent “I’m so sorry,”  before she speaks and tells you, “Mr. Yaga has come to retrieve you Ms. ___. Your father would like to see you.”

Your father’s chauffeur and a longtime family friend. He’s loyal to your father and your father only. 

That’s when you knew you were screwed.

The sharp intake of breath from behind your father’s desk makes you flinch, and your teeth dig into your bottom lip to keep yourself from trembling when he finally breaks the silence.

“Do you enjoy your trip?” He questions, voice flat.

You’re too afraid to answer, because you know he doesn’t actually give a single shit if you had fun or not. He’s irate. There’s no other reason he’d call you here. You do not come to the office to see your father unless you’ve severely angered him. Which is almost never, because your father just sort of lets you…do you.

“Well?” He asks again after a few seconds go by with no response from you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you answer quietly, fingers tightening around your bag strap.

“Did you enjoy the food at the club?”

“Yes, Daddy. It was very good.”

Your father hums, leaning back in his chair, and the creaking sound makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Good, good. And the staff? Did they treat you and your friends well?”

Every answer you give feels like you’re inching closer to your demise. You wish he’d get to the point. What is the meaning of dragging you here?

You nod anyway. “They were wonderful, Daddy. Your management did an excellent job selecting employees.”

You try to tug at his heartstrings, the ones that aren’t attached to you, but to the other love of his life – his business. Your father is a hard man who loves very few things. You, your mother, and his company. But not in that order. You’re fairly certain that at this particular moment in time, he definitely loves his company more than both you and your mother.

“I know they did,” he affirms. “The Seoul team is so great, they remained open for you and your friends to stay until the early hours of the morning –” Your father’s voice rises, echoing off the walls of his office, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Until you finally stumbled your drunk asses to bed! Imagine my surprise when I woke up alerted to the fact that your plane was taking off in the middle of the night, jet setting to wherever the hell you deem appropriate or fun at the time. But no…no, ___,” your father spits your name like it’s bitter. “That’s not the best part here.”

You hear his menacing tone, can practically see the anger raging behind his eyes in your head.

“Imagine my surprise when I get a call from management of the Seoul location letting me know how much they enjoyed having you and your friends. You all were splendid guests, and they were grateful for the opportunity to serve you, the heiress to the Club Echo business…”

You finally gather the courage to look up at your father, a bit of hope in your eyes that quickly gets crushed when you see the tick in his jaw.

“Until seven in the fucking morning!” Your father is full on yelling now, and you see the vein in his neck protruding, hard and pulsing. He’s about to blow a gasket, do something irrational. Now’s your chance to speak up for yourself!

“Daddy, I can explain–”

“Quiet!” He barks, and you zip your fucking lip.

Your father stands, taking his time coming around to stand in front of his desk where he leans against the edge. He folds his arms across his chest, not a hint of forgiveness in his eyes.

You’re so fucked and you know it.

What’s your punishment going to be? Is he taking away your black card? It would be a struggle, but you could survive. Banning you from the club for a month? Sure, that would suck, but you’d survive! Firing your pilot? Honestly, that would be a plus. Make you return that really expensive painting you just had delivered last weekend? Okay, no big deal! All of these punishments are reasonable, you think. As long as you got them back – minus the pilot, you’d be fine!

Your father stares you down with more anger and frustration than you’ve ever seen him aim towards you. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath the weight of his glare and you wish you had worn more sensible shoes. Not that it would make much difference. WIth the way your father doesn’t seem to be giving into your pout and watery eyes, you think you’d be shaking even if you were barefoot.

Your father pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing harshly as he closes his eyes. “You know you’re on the Jujutsu Social?”

Jujutsu Social?

That shitty blog that posts about nothing but gossip, drama and socialite’s lives? You’ve never paid it much mind. You’ve been on there plenty of times.

‘Club Echo Heiress’ Walk of Shame! Cast Your Votes on Who the Lucky Man Was!’

‘Spotted! Club Echo Heiress seen getting very cozy with up and coming rock star, Suguru Geto. Could they be the new it couple?’

‘Does She Ever Get Tired? Heiress of Club Echo Seen Partying in Bangkok!’

Blog posts about you are nothing new. You read them like the morning newspaper, then go on about your day. But it must have been something particularly awful for your father to be so upset about it.

“That blog is a piece of shit,” you tell him, trying to calm his temper even a little. “I’ll send those posts over to the lawyer and I’ll own the blog by this afternoon, if you want.”

Your father scoffs, his anger rising again. “Why? So you can drag its name through the mud like you’re doing mine?”

Okay, so maybe that was the wrong move. “That’s not what I meant, Daddy. I just meant–”

“You know what they’re saying about you now?” Your father chuckles dryly. “I don’t typically pay any mind to these blogs, you know? But I think they hit the mark on this one. Want to hear what they said?” 

Tears form along your waterline, the fake amusement in your father’s tone, making you want to crawl into a hole. 

“You are a spoiled brat,” he tells you anyway when you don’t reply, emphasizing the insult. “Keeping your pilot on standby so you can fly from one country to another overnight just because you feel like it,” he lists. “Going to the new restaurant your daddy opened, because of course you can. And this one’s my favorite,” he whispers angrily. “Taking advantage of the employees that have their own lives and families to go home to, overworking them so that you and your friends can drink and dance to your heart's content. Just the three of you.”

“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” you whimper, biting down on your trembling lip as you step closer.

Your father tilts his head, seemingly confused at where these tears are coming from and it stops you in your tracks. “Oh no…No, sweetheart. Don’t cry...” His soothing tone…you almost want to fall for it, but you know your father. He’s not done. “Don’t cry now, just because you’re in trouble.”

He stands from his desk, closing the distance between you two. He takes your hand in his, hard and calloused, his hard work over decades evident as he holds your soft and smooth one that has never seen a hard day's work in its life. “I’ve been waiting, hoping that my only daughter finally gets her shit together. Hoping that maybe you’ll want to learn the ropes of the business. But that doesn’t seem so. Doesn’t seem like you want to do anything but spend the money that I’ve worked so hard for.” He sighs, just so tired of you and your antics. 

He gazes into your eyes, almost in pity and you see your dad there. Not your father, who is the strict businessman that was just standing before you. But your dad, who held you and kissed your cuts and scrapes, who helped you learn to read and tie your shoes, who gave you all that you could ever ask for. Then he’s gone, replaced by your father who drops your hand and leaves you standing in the middle of his office as he wanders over to the floor to ceiling windows of his office. He holds his hands behind his back as he takes in the Tokyo skyline. “The blogs are right. I’ve been far too easy on you. Given you everything so that you’d want for nothing, and you consistently take advantage of me and your privilege. It’s time for you to grow up.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak up this time, afraid that just like all the other times, you’ll be putting your designer heels in your mouth. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this, sweetheart,” and it’s your dad once more, peering over his shoulder like it’s paining him to get these next words out. “I’ve been in talks with Gojo Hospitality…”

You narrow your eyes, moving closer to your father, because you’re praying this isn’t what you think it is.

“I’ve proposed a merger of Club Echo to CEO Gojo.”

“...Okay? What does that have to do with me growing up?”

Your dad looks you over once more, and you can see the love he holds for you in his eyes once more before the switch happens again, and he’s back in business mode. “He’s interested,” he states simply, but you know that’s not all.

“Again…What does that have to do with me growing up?”

Your father stares out the window again, not daring to glance in your direction. “You and his son are to be married in order for this merger to go through. Club Echo will be built into Gojo Hotels across the world.”

You think you may jump straight through that window and let your father watch you freefall all the way into the Tokyo streets if you truly heard him correctly.

“Married?”

He nods.

“To…Gojo?”

If it’s who you think it is – and you’re pretty sure it is – it’s that asshole that you despise from the very bottom of your heart. Insufferable, flaky, annoying, the list could go on and on for how you feel about Gojo, but there’s just not enough time for that.

“Satoru,” your father corrects you, confirming your fears. “Get used to calling him by his name. It would be strange to refer to your husband by your shared last name, don’t you think?”

Yeah, you’re gonna jump.

[linkspooky]

It's not just the fact that Hori decided to kill a lifelong victim of grooming.

My two favorite comic book storylines are New Teen Titans Judas Contract, and Uncanny X Men's Inferno. They both feature villains / victims (Madelyne Pryor and Terra) that die at the end of the story. Terra is specifically fifteen years old and a victim of sexual grooming.

However, both of these stories are clearly written as tragedies. It's clear from the start that these are tragic stories not only meant to get us to sympathize with the victim turned villain but also the failure to save a clear victim is meant to make the heroes look bad.

Let me just list off all the shit Scott Summers put Madelyne Pryor through.

Fell in love with her only because she looked like his ex girlfriend Jean. Even though Madelyne specifically stated before getting into the relationship she didn't want to be jeans replacement.

Married her, and refuses to take time off to the point where he misses the birth of his own son leaving Madelyne at home to deliver her baby on the floor.

When he finally retires and they move to Alaska together he gets a phone call that Jean is still alive and abandons his wife and daughter for weeks to go back to his high school girlfriend.

Madelyne is attacked by a group of supervillains while Scott is away and just barely manages to escape but loses her baby.

She joins up with the x men to look for scott only to find out in the time she's been gone Scott had already gotten back together with Jean.

She is tricked into making a deal with a demon who wants to overthrow ilyanas control of limbo (she thought it was just a dream and the contract to sell her soul didn't matter).

She used her newfound power in order to find her child Nathan only to find Mr sinister there who reveals that Madelyne was a clone of Jean Grey, her entire life was a lie, she was made to breed with cyclops and produce a baby for sinister.

At which point madelyne snaps and decides to burn everything to the ground and kill her own child.

It's clearly telegraphed as a tragedy. The reference to Medea is pretty obvious. Madelyne had no chance from the beginning, however even in this tragedy Scott specifically forbid any of the heroes from using lethal force on her. Jean and Maddie mindmeld at one point and Jean literally begs for Maddie not to die and that she should live on to raise her son. They even throw a funeral for Maddie afterwards because be no one else would ever mourn her.

Not only do the heroes look bad, especially Scott for not being able to save her, they do at least try to talk with her, use non lethal force, and beg her at one point to let them help her.

On the other hand not only did Deku never engage Shigaraki Tomura once, just the vision of a crying child in front of him. Deku doesn't look like a failure for failing in his goal to save him he's still the greatest hero, they don't hold a funeral for Shigaraki, Dekus last words are about how he doesn't forgive Shigaraki (and therefore he deserves to die i guess because deku is the punisher now). Deku doesn't even give Shigaraki the respect of calling him by his preferred name he just calls him Tenko who was the only person Deku cared about saving.

It's not just about a victim dying it's about how the story promised us over and over again the kids were going to save the villains in the final act, that this was going to be an optimistic story about the new generation being better than the old.

Only for Horikoshi to deliver something entirely different. If I'm watching punisher I know what I'm getting into. I'm here to watch Frank Castle shoot mobsters. If Batman picks up a Tommy Gun and starts shooting mobsters that's bad because Batman wouldn't do that shit.

There's writing a story that's tonally inconsistent, or changing your plans for how a character is going to end late in the game and then there's this.

Which is basically narrative gaslighting. Where one thing is clearly happening onscreen but the narrative needs you to believe those gaslights clearly are not dimming.

I know Deku made no effort to save Shigaraki when he explicitly said they OFA is a power for saving but not killing, but don't worry Deku became the greatest hero anyway, and this is still a happy optimistic ending!

Horikoshi isn't looking for treasure in the house. Those gaslights aren't dimming. You're clearly being hysterical, woman.

[heavywithourbabies]

First off, I'm a guy. So there's that.....

Ok, making one of those little intro pieces so you can get to know a little about me. This tumblr page is nothing more than the ravings of an obsessed lunatic hiding away from the world. My only real kinks are Breeding, Lactation, and the biggest pregnancy fetish you can imagine. (Please take note, I am not sexually into Birth. I am all for fucking so hard your water breaks, sucking on your nipples, rubbing the belly and giving gentle head during contractions, etc. As soon as the baby is in the birth canal, I'm going full on daddy mode. Horny time is over. Anyone else feel the same?)

I am a 40 year old man and I am very attracted to women. In particular, I am aroused by thick, extra curvy, big ass having women. I am feral for HEAVILY pregnant women. I have tons of reasons why but at it's core, I believe it is the ultimate form of femininity. There's nothing more womanly than having a gravid belly heavy with child. Even the phrase "heavy with child" weirdly turns me on.

I'm also very very much turned on by all the side effects of pregnancy including big dark engorged nipples, stretch marks everywhere, not just the belly, the little treasure trail some women get, the bigger hips, your face getting chubby, and a very swollen vagina. That all said, I'm not into Morning Sickness. wakka wakka.

I fully support the LGTBTQ community. I just can't keep track of all the new names and terms. I blame my shitty memoir on wasting my twenties drinking. But I totally support it. be who you want to be and love who you want to love. This life is rough enough without people being shitty to you for your basic human needs.

I am utter devotee to horror movies, and I live for the month of October. Halloween is the greatest day of the year. If you don't like Halloween...... honestly, who are you? Who the fuck hates Halloween? I love the art form of sequential art (comic books) and my favorite Character is Venom from Marvel Comics. I would literally kill to get a chance to write for Venom. Marvel will NOT return my phone calls.

I still write stuff (a lot of half started scripts and abandoned graphic novel ideas mostly) and I will and often shamelessly promote myself and the written erotic stuff I create on here. Enjoy my sexually frustrated ramblings and badly edited prose. Remember kids, it's free.

I am a lonely werewolf hopelessly howling at the moon.

I say love who you gotta love. Do what you need to do. Try to have fun and just don't hurt other people.

I was born in Canada and raised in the States. Toronto is the old country and Denver was home base. Currently in the windy city.

NO MINORS. Seriously, get the hell out of my joint! THIS BLOG IN NO WAY ENDORSES, PROMOTES, OR ENCOURAGES ANY HEINOUS USE OF MINORS. I honestly struggle talking to people under the age of twenty five. I hope I don't have to repeat any of that.

Any Trump supporters who follow my page, I would also ask you to leave. There's nothing here for you at this establishment.

Need to know anything else? Feel free to ask.

-The ghost host with the most, the ghoul that'll make your lady parts drool, and every other terrible joke I can think of.

[leaentries]

Sauna | nico hischier

summary: a little dose of a cabin vacation with nico and his girl

warnings: smut (18+), breast-worship, boobjob, nico being obsessed with reader's tits, swearing

wc: 2.4k+ (holy balls)

a/n: ngl i felt naughty writing this. this might, arguably, be my fav smut ive written thus far.

Sunlight beamed through the flowing curtains in your and Nico’s room. You stirred slightly, the light waking you from your deep slumber. Taking a moment to fully comprehend your surroundings, you roll over, expecting Nico to be lying in his usual spot beside you. Upon feeling the cold, empty sheets, you peek one eyelid open. His phone was missing from the nightstand, along with his running shoes that typically find home by the closet door. You dig your head deeper into the soft pillow, more at ease now that you know Nico must have gone for an afternoon run.

His scent still lingered on his pillow, bringing comfort to your senses. Your breath slowly evens back out, slipping back into your sleepy state. It wasn’t long before you were awoken once more, this time to the sound of the front door closing. Still too tired to react, you remained cuddled into Nico’s pillow. Nico, on the other hand, was less stoic. His chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath from the run. Sweat glistened on his toned skin, as he pulled the bottom of his shirt up slightly to wipe his face. 

The water bottle on the counter served as a solace to his worn body. After chugging down the cold liquid, he placed the bottle in the sink, remembering to rinse it out. He began to walk back to your bedroom, tugging off the sticky shirt that clung uncomfortably to his body. He threw the shirt into the laundry hamper, thankful that your rented cabin came with a washer and dryer. A soft smile made its way onto Nico’s face as he saw you clutching onto his pillow. He quietly walked over to you, unaware that you were awake. You felt the bed dip beside your head, as he bent down to place a sweet kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you, schatzi.”

You waited until he moved from the bed to peel your eyes open. With the sun almost completely set, the light didn’t give your eyes a hard time adjusting to the room this time around. Nico’s firm back muscles contracted as you watched him get ready to take a shower. You admired the way his body moved, the ripples in his semi-sweaty skin. It made your thighs clench together as a familiar heat crept its way over your body.

“I can feel you watching me.” Nico echoed over his shoulder. You sat up in surprise, furrowing your brows in confusion. 

“Wha- How? I was pretending to be asleep.” 

Nico chuckled before turning to walk back over to where you had your legs draped over the side of the bed. 

“You’re not as sly as you think you are, schatzi. You were literally smiling when I came over to kiss you.” He placed his warm, calloused hands on your soft thighs, gently caressing the skin underneath. Nico tilted his head as he looked down at you, “Did you have a good nap? You slept for a while.” 

You leaned your head into his bare chest, nodding at his question.

“Mhm. Although it would have been better if my boyfriend was beside me when I woke up.”

Nico moved his hands to cradle your face, “I told you before we even layed down that I was going for a run.” He kissed your nose, causing you to scrunch it slightly, “It’s not my fault you decided not to listen.” 

You rolled your eyes in return, shoving his body away playfully. “Well, sorry for loving you and wanting to be around you.” 

His head leaned back with laughter. He grabbed your arms, circling them around his waist as he walked in between your thighs. “I know, it’s a hard life you live, baby.” He mocked with fake sympathy. 

A deep sigh left your lips at his teasing, “Whatever, Hischier.” 

He pouted at your scowl, “Aww, don’t do that face. You know I hate it when you do that face.” His hands began to lightly jab into your sides, tickling you in the process. You tried your best to act mad, but the bubbling laughter escaped anyway. 

"S-stop!” You tried your best to refute his attempts but to no avail.  “Oh no. Not until you say sorry for calling me Hischier. That is not my name to you, liebling.”

You shook your head violently, refusing to give in to him. “Over my dead body, Hischier.” Nico abruptly halted his attack on your body, opting to grab your wrists and pin them above your head. With you now under him, he leaned over your soft figure. His face was so close to yours that you feel each small breath leave his lips. 

“Are you sure you want to go down this road, baby? I wouldn’t advise it.” His loose threat fell on deaf ears as all you could focus on was the way his body pressed deliciously into your own. Nico wasn’t oblivious to the way you reacted to him, he easily picked up on the way your breath hitched and your thighs clenched around his waist. 

Still choosing to challenge him, you shoved your chest further into his, “Try me.”

The Swiss boy’s resolve snapped as he crashed his lips feverishly into your own. Your arms remained pinned above your head as your nails dug into Nico’s hands. The kiss was hot and desperate, filled with equal need between the two of you. 

Nico began to trail his lips down your jaw, no doubt leaving red marks to find later. He traced his tongue down the column of your throat, stopping just as he got to the base, focusing on the spot just above where your “13” necklace lay.

Fuck, did he love that dainty chain. It was a way to show everyone that you were his. Only his.

Lifting his head, he brought his bruised lips back to your swollen ones, placing a much softer kiss on them. He chuckled as you attempted to chase his lips when he pulled away.

Your chest heaved as Nico brought your wrists back down, rubbing soothing circles into them, finishing with placing a kiss to each. “Neeks,” You croaked, “Why’d you stop?” 

Nico flashed his dimples sweetly at you, “Because I think it’s time to get in the hot tub.” With that, his warm body left yours, quickly making work to change and walk out to the balcony of your room. You remained on the bed, regaining your composure before also changing and joining Nico in the hot tub. 

Nico watched as you walked out of the door, drinking in your bathing suit and thrown up hair. As you turned back from sliding the door closed, you noticed Nico’s dark eyes bore over your body. You couldn’t help but get shy. You quickened your pace to the tub, carefully climbing in with the hockey player’s assistance. You sat across from him, draping your legs into his lap as you sunk lower into the hot water. 

Nico’s hands came to rub tight patterns into your feet, “Feel good, schatzi?” 

You nodded eagerly, closing your eyes to relish in the bliss.

You and Nico partook in light conversation, before ultimately deciding to move to the sauna next to the hot tub. Now, the sauna wasn’t very big, with just enough space to fit 2-3 people max. Once Nico had helped you out and down the tub’s stairs, he led you into the already-preheated wooden structure.

“Planning to get me in here, Hisch? Wanna get me all sweaty, huh?” You sent him a coy smile. He rolled his eyes with a slight grin. 

“Again with that name. You know, baby,” He backed you slowly until your legs hit the warm wood bench behind you, “I can think of other ways to help us work up a sweat other than this sauna.” His eyes swept down your figure once more, licking his lips. His gaze was almost primal. 

He gripped your hips, switching positions with you, enticing a gasp from you. You grabbed onto his biceps for support, looking into his deep brown eyes. “You gonna show me, or what?” 

A wicked smile formed on Nico’s face. He sat down, pulling your weight to straddle his lap. Your skin already easily sticking to his as the heat began to affect you both. You brought your hands to tug into his shaggy hair. 

Nico’s lips began to attack your neck, making sure to pay extra attention to the spots he left earlier. His hands traveled up the expanse of your back, moving to untie your top. Thankful to be rid of the uncomfortable material, you threw it to the side as your breasts were displayed in full view. 

“Oh, fuck.” Nico mumbled. The feeling of his hardening cock pressed into your clothed core. He brought one hand to your left breast, tweaking your nipple into a peak. Lowering his head, he took the bud in his mouth, swirling his tongue in skilled circles. His other hand came to cup your other tit firmly. 

“Neeks,” You whined loudly. Your eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through your body. Unable to hold back, you began rocking your hips into Nico’s, causing a low groan to escape his occupied mouth. The vibrations on your nipple created jolts of fire straight to your aching cunt.

He switched his attention to your other painfully peaked nipple, taking it gratefully in his mouth. “Such pretty tits, schatzi,” He muttered into your boob, “All f’me.” 

A pathetic moan echoed from your lips as you threw your head back. The feeling of Nico’s throbbing cock made you drool. Nico lifted from your breasts, moving back to your lips. It was messy, filled with need and clashing teeth. He swallowed the whimper that left your lips as your sensitive nipples brushed against his chest.

You began to squirm, wanting something more, wanting to help the tightness in Nico’s shorts. “Neeks,” You mumbled into his lips, “Wanna make you feel good.” 

He pulled away, breathless from your make-out. His spit-covered lips were red and swollen as his chest rapidly rose and fell. 

“Yeah?” Nico cocked his head to the side, “Ya wanna make me cum, beautiful?”

You let out a desperate noise, nodding embarrassingly fast, but you didn’t care. Not in that moment, not when Nico looks so fucking good covered in sweat and your spit coating his lips.

“Alright, schatzi, get on your knees f’me.” You obliged immediately, placing your hands on his knees. You peered up at him through your lashes, ready to please him in any way he wanted. 

Nico struggled to create a coherent thought at the sight of you on your knees with your tits rubbing against his legs. He swallowed harshly, trying not to bust in his shorts before you’ve even touched him.

“I want you to squeeze those gorgeous tits together, kay?”

You didn’t reply, only removing your hands from his knees to push your plushy breasts tightly together. Nico almost whined at the amount of cleavage you had, wanting nothing more than to bury his twitching cock between them. 

“Holy, fuck me.” He cursed, “So pretty, baby. I need you to scoot a bit closer to me, right in my legs.” Nico patted his lap as he spread his legs to accommodate your body. He pulled his shorts down until his cock popped up tall and proud against his bare abdomen. It was visibly red and leaking precum as Nico spit in his hand a slowly pumped himself. 

He shuddered in his grasp, aching to be in your breasts. At this point, you had caught on to what Nico wanted as his hungry gaze never left your cleavage. You thanked the gods silently that you were in a steaming sauna, your sweat mixed with Nico’s precum and spit serving as a lubricant.

As soon as you lowered your tits onto his cock, Nico was gone. His head hit the back of the wooden wall, eyes clenched shut. You began to move up and down, letting a trail of spit leave your mouth and drop onto his swollen tip. With the extra slick, you squeezed harder, quicking your pace. 

A loud moan left Nico’s lips as his hips began to buck up into you. “Shit, baby. So good, f’me.” He let out another guttural moan, “That’s it, just like that. Always know how to make me feel good.” 

Encouraged by the praise, you tilted your head down, letting his tip dip into your mouth with every upward thrust. With the added suction, Nico knew he wasn’t gonna last long. His hips lifted off of the bench as he desperately fucked your tits. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, schatzi,” He panted, “I’m so close. Gonna let me cum all over those pretty tits like the good girl you are, right?” 

You bit your lip at the sight of his fucked out face on the edge of his climax. “Mhm, cum for me, Neeks. I want you to cum for me.” You rasped. The burning sensation in your arms increased, but the look on Nico’s face was worth it. His muscles contracted as his body began to converse. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, coating your breasts and lower face. His head was thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing violently as he came. 

His hands gripped the bench, veins popping deliciously, making you want to trace them with your tongue. You continued to slowly pump his shaft until every drop of cum was milked from the tip. Nico hissed as overstimulation began to set in. You gently released your breasts, his softening cock falling out. 

Nico sat for a moment with his eyes closed, catching his breath. 

“You’re so amazing to me. You have no idea” He finally broke the silence. You chuckled slightly, not moving much due to the cum still dripping from your face and breasts. Nico readjusted his shorts, pulling them back on. “I’m gonna go grab a towel to clean you up, baby. Stay here.” 

You shook your head, “Right, like I’m gonna go anywhere with your cum covering my body.” You remarked. 

Once Nico came back with a warm, damp towel, he gently wiped down your body. The brunette placed a sweet kiss on your lips, showing his love for you. He picked up your bathing suit top, handing it to you. As you began to put the ties back around your back, his hand came up to stop you. 

“I wouldn’t bother, schatzi. We aren’t done yet.” He nipped at your neck once more, “It’s your turn now.”

[dear-ao3]

New follower here:

What's silly season, and why did it take so long to put together?

formula 1 (race cars)

silly season refers to the drivers signing contracts (cause it gets silly)

i’m insane and decided that i was going to do a play by play of an entire season (february-december) of f1 this year. it happened to be not only the longest season literally ever in their history, but also something like 15 of 20 drivers had expiring contacts and also it turned out to be super entertaining because no one team was dominating.

so i did all 24 (well almost, have one more to write) race weekends (which is media day, 3 practice sessions, qualifying and the race), watching almost everything and taking copious hand written notes then spent a few hours digging online for the social media drama of the weekend. on top of that i also covered winter break, winter testing, summer break and all the off weeks where there was no racing, relevant historical events, rivalries, friendships, tangentially related events, reserve drivers, rookies etc etc.

it was a lot. and man was it exhausting. but i had fun.

[queers-gambit]

Bullet Train masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

requests are OPEN where to watch: Netflix, Hulu, Disney+

Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

slutty stranger bathroom sex on a train.

word count: 3.7k+

🍒 author's favorite 🧸 mild fluff 🥰 romance 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language warning

read here

part two: Shower Shenanigans

midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

word count: 4.7k+

🙊 general language and content warning 💦 smut ❤️‍🩹 literal hurt and comfort (i guess?) 🥰 romance 😵‍💫 wonky brain goes wonky 🩸 depiction of injury and blood

read here

Love What You've Done with the Place

he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

title citation: song by Rascal Flatts

word count: 1.8k+

🙊 general language warning 🔏 NOT edited 🧸 fluff 🥰 romance

read here

Blue Bunny

you and the Twins show up to collect the same debt.

word count: 4.4k+

🍒 author's favorite 💸 technically Mafia AU 💍 kinda established relationship 🥰 romance  🎭 drama 🎀 Daddy's Girl trope 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🍑 character with given nickname [ Bunny ] 🩸 depiction of injury and blood ☠️ depiction of MINOR character deaths 🔫 handguns 💛 requires maturity and caution

read here

part two: My Date With the President's Daughter

your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

word count: 6.3k+

💸 Mafia AU 🎭 drama 💔 light angst 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 💦 limited, interrupted smut 🔥 NSFW 💍 established relationship 🎀 Daddy's Girl trope 🙊 general language and content warning ☠️ depiction of MINOR character death and other dead bodies 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🥂 alcohol consumption 🔏 barely edited ✝️ Lord's name in vain 🩸 depiction of injury and blood 🔫 guns 💛 requires maturity and caution

🚩 supposed to be 🍑 character with given nickname [ Bunny ] but Cherry NEEDS to make this edit officially

read here

Let the Bodies Hit the Floor

what happens when Tangerine's little lady is targeted in their home?

word count: 9.1k+

💸 technically Mafia AU 🎭 drama 💔 angst 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🍒 author's favorite 🙊 general language and content warning 🐍 small small small toxic family 🥊 depiction of physical violence / aggression 🔏 not edited 🩸 depiction of blood 🔫 guns 💛 requires maturity and caution

read here

Menace

in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

word count: 4.4k+

🧸 fluff 🥰 romance 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 💍 established relationship 🙊 general language and content warning 🥂 alcohol consumption 🧠 discussion of mental health (anxiety) 🔫 handguns (it's Tangerine) 🥊 mild depiction of violence (again, it's Tan...) 🔏 barely edited

read here

Fine Line

going after the same silver briefcase, you and Tangerine exchange more than a few blows. pun intended.

word count: 5.2k+

🎭 drama 🥰 small romance 💦 smut 🔥 NSFW 🥀 enemies-to-lovers ⚠️ small spoilers 🙊 general language and content warning 🥊 depiction of physical violence and / or aggression 🍑 reader with given nickname [ Peach ] 🩸 depiction of injury and blood

read here

The Blood of the Covenant

being raised alongside the Twins, you naturally fell on path to become a contract killer - much to Tangerine's chagrin. when you're recruited onto the Bullet Train, too, emotions cum into play - get it?

word count: 9.1k+

⏳ AU timeline ⚠️ small spoilers, too 🧸 little fluff 🎭 little drama 🥰 romance 💦 poorly written smut 🔥 NSFW 🙊 general language and content warning ☠️ minor character death 🥊 depiction of physical violence / aggression 🔏 not edited ✝️ Lord's name in vain 🍑 character with given nickname / codename [ Olive ] 🩸 depiction of blood and injury

read here

All Mine

you and Tangerine break up, and the man you date after is a serious downgrade. on a night out, Tangerine decides your story isn't yet finished.

word count: 7k+

⏳ assumed AU timeline - Tangerine lives 💔 angst 🎭 drama 🥰 romance ❤️‍🩹 hurt and comfort 🔥 small NSFW (it's really mild, but better safe than sorry) 💣 relationship angst 😭 break-ups 💍 established relationship 🩶 morally grey!reader / mean!reader / cheater!reader 🚬 smoking indoors 🥊 brief domestic aggression and depiction of violence 🔏 not edited

read here

requesting rules and masterlist

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ csm hcs - little things about dating them

characters: aki hayakawa, denji, yoshida hirofumi

includes: devil hunter reader, lots of fluff, forgive me if denji and yoshida are a little ooc, written with male reader in mind

a/n: i think i'm gonna officially start writing for csm :)) i'm open to taking some csm reqs but they might take me a little while to finish so pls be patient with me !!

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, mention of smoking

gn reader (they/them pronouns)

⋆｡°✩ aki hayakawa

— i see aki as pretty inexperienced

— he’s had crushes before but finding the gun devil and working in public safety makes it pretty hard to go out on dates

— you met when makima assigned you to be his new partner (to help him wrangle power and denji)

— aki’s very slow to trust, and even slower to have feelings for someone

— he’s overly professional when you first meet

— doesn’t talk much unless it’s necessary

— it takes a lot of effort to get to know him beyond his somewhat cold persona

— after enough time (and probably saving his life once or twice) he’ll relent and start to open up to you

— either you have to confess or you just silently start going out together and being more affectionate

— denji is nosy probably sparks the realization for aki

— “what’s going on with you and y/n anyway?”

— “what do you mean?”

— “you’re all soft around them. it’s gross”

— a few days of very deep introspection from aki later and he’ll randomly bring it up

— during one of your balcony talks aki will take a drag from his cigarette and then look over and go 

— “are we dating?”

— you shrug 

— “i’d like to be”

— and congrats you are officially aki hayakawa’s lover

— aki isn’t super affectionate but he’ll make an effort if you are

— he’s gonna be super awkward about it tho lmao

— incredibly stiff the first few times you cuddle or hug but he’ll warm up to it

— he’s never really done this before give him a break

— he’s very protective but in a more subtle way

— puts his body in front of yours, keeps you away from danger, lets denji and power take care of devils to tend to you

— ^they 1000% tease him about being whipped

— aki is very cautious about letting you take devil contracts

— he doesn’t want you to get hurt

— his love language is acts of service

— make him dinner before he gets home or wake him up with a freshly made cup of coffee and heart will go boom boom boom boom

— probably gets all flustered and then gets embarrassed about being flustered

— (if you smoke) he shares his cigarettes with you

— you take turns passing a cigarette back and forth

— late night talks together on your balcony are some of his favourite moments with you

⋆｡°✩ denji

— denji is INCREDIBLY inexperienced

— he spent most of his childhood alone with pochita, slaying devils for money whenever he could, and generally avoiding danger

— he’s seen attractive people before and probably had superficial crushes but he had never seriously considered dating someone

— until he met you

— you met when you were assigned to work with aki as a new recruit into public safety

— your relationship is pretty lighthearted and playful at first

— denji is very dense

— doesn’t really recognize his feelings as romantic until you ask him out

— you have to outright tell him “i want to date you” 

— he’s like “oh cool me too”

— congratulations !! you are now officially together

— denji’s affection is probably a little awkward at first

— he likes cuddling and being affectionate but he’s a little clumsy at how he goes about it

— his only frame of how relationships work is from manga and anime so expect him to try and replicate the tropes he likes with you

— it gets better with time though don't worry

— just don't tease him too much he's genuinely trying his best

— kiss him first and he’ll lose his mind

— his eyes get huge for a second before he smiles and kisses you this time

— during missions denji isn’t overly focused on safety 

— yours or his

— i mean he literally turns into a human chainsaw

— he won’t let you be seriously injured though

— afterwards he scolds you for being clumsy as he poorly tends to your injuries

— he doesn’t know how to do stitches and his way of helping is to press a bandage over everything and playfully kiss the wound afterwards but it’s the thought that counts

— denji isn’t used to being vulnerable

— he’s incredibly nonchalant when he talks about his childhood but he’s still human

— sometimes the weight of being a devil hunter really gets to him

— give him some space and let him come to you naturally

— he probably won’t talk about his feelings in detail 

— let him lay on your chest and play with his hair until he falls asleep 

— he’ll feel better when he wakes up

— emotional intelligence is not denji’s strong suit

— you have to bluntly tell him when he’s doing something wrong

— he’s quick to change though

— he's a little emotionally constipated and he can be a little clumsy with his words and affection but he does really love you

— he just wants the best for you

⋆｡°✩ yoshida hirofumi

— i think yoshida has some experience with dating, but nothing overly serious

— you met in class

— ^either through denji or just because yoshida happened to notice you

— he’s incredibly charming

— puts all of his effort into cracking dumb jokes so you’ll smile when you first meet

— the type to lean in super close so he can “hear you better” and let friendly touches linger just a little too long

— i honestly think he could go either way with confessing

— he wants to date you but he also relishes in seeing you so flustered around him

— if yoshida confesses, it’s pretty nonchalant

— might be romantic and give you a flower or something

— if you confess, yoshida will smirk the whole time

— probably leans back against a wall or something and just watches as you stumble your way through an explanation of how you have feelings for him

— when you finish, he tilts your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes

— does that thing again where he leans in super close just to embarrass you

— “i like you too”

— boyfriend acquired

— congrats :D

— yoshida is definitely a hand holder

— he’s always touching you in some way

— his hand on your thigh underneath your desks, your fingers intertwined when you walk through the hallways, his arm wrapped around your waist as he walks you home

— he refuses to work on missions without you

— he says it’s to “make sure you don’t do anything stupid” but you both know it’s because he worries about you

— also the type to scold you while tending to any of your injuries

— yoshida is affectionate, but only on his terms

— he likes to be the one to initiate physical contact

— in public, he loves bragging about your relationship

— pulls you closer if he catches someone staring at you, introduces you as his lover, follows you around and refuses to leave your side

— he’s a tease

— he cups your face with his hand, slowly leans in, waits for you to start getting annoyed, and then pulls you into a kiss

— always smiles against your lips

— he can’t help it, you just make him so happy

[cartoonsforlife]

Black Hat X Reader

The evil boss's new employee

Includes: Black Hat X Reader,

Warnings: Slightly spicy content

It seemed like over a fucking hour since you arrived at Hat Manor, sitting on a red velvet baroque armchair across from the desk, in the company of the great and infamous Villain: Lord Black Hat.

Indeed, after several unsuccessful attempts to find a job, you had found a card on your door with the phone number and emblem of the Black Hat Organization. At first, you were hesitant. You had already heard about this organization and what it consisted of. You had even watched several of their videos on YouTube to learn more. You are an ordinary human being, you have never committed a criminal act and the idea of ​​working for the most feared and dangerous being in the Universe makes you shiver with fear. However, you had no other options. It was an unexpected chance. You had grabbed your cell phone with a trembling hand and dialed the number that was written on the card. It had only taken 5 seconds to pick up. To your relief, it was not Black Hat on the other end of the line but his faithful right-hand man and scientist Dr. Flug. You had explained your situation to the doctor and he had granted you a job interview with the boss of the Organization in a few days. You were both relieved and anxious. If you make a good impression on Black Hat, maybe he will accept that you work for him. But one wrong step and it will be over for you. Forever.

In the end, the job interview went pretty well, to your surprise. You were nervous when you entered the office and stood in front of Lord Black Hat. Even though he was intimidating at first, he was strangely patient and professional with you. He asked you questions about yourself, your motivations, your knowledge of his company, and you had to explain to him why he should hire you. This last question destabilized you a little but you had managed to find the right words to convince him.

A mischievous smile appears on the evil being's face and makes a contract and a fountain pen appear in front of you in a cloud of black smoke.

You slowly reach out to the pen and carefully read the contract on the desk. Your heartbeat accelerates and you don't know if it's because of excitement or anxiety. You knew that once you signed that contract you would literally lose your soul and there would be no turning back but on the other hand you would finally be free from that fucking unemployed status.

Black Hat taps his gloved fingers impatiently on the wood of his desk, his eyes fixed on you, disturbing you in the process. You grab the pen without wasting another second and sign your name at the bottom of the contract.

The entity displays a satisfied smile and begins to chuckle. He makes the pen and the signed contract disappear in a green flame.

"Perfect! Welcome to the Black Hat Organization, Miss (Y/n)! You will start your work tomorrow! On your first day, Dr. Flug will guide you and explain your tasks to be performed!"

"T-Thank you, sir! I will not disappoint you, I promise!"

As you were about to get up from your chair and leave the room, your boss calls out to you.

"One more thing!"

"Yes, sir?"

Silence…

Black Hat stares at you again. His gaze is neutral this time. An uneasy feeling invades you. You have always hated when someone looks at you like that. It makes you feel like a frightened prey that risks being eaten by a hungry predator every time when someone looks at you like that.

To break the awkward silence that reigns, a little too long for your liking, in this room, you ask him why he wants to keep you after the interview. Could it be that he has changed his mind?

Black Hat smiles at the worry on your face and stands up from his throne to walk over to you.

You lean back in your chair when he is only a few inches away from you.

"Tell me, my dear? Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"

That left you speechless. You didn't expect that kind of question at all, especially coming from him! Since he kind of complimented you.

"I… I beg your pardon?"

He leans over and reaches his gloved hand towards your head to slowly caress your cheek. His touch sends a small shiver down your spine and you feel the red burning in your face.

"They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, right? In yours, I see that you had gone through many difficult trials to achieve your goal. You were determined despite the many failures that upset you. No one encouraged you and supported you, not even your family… You could always do it on your own. Oh, poor little thing…”

The being mocks. The image of you curled up on yourself, desperate to be stuck in a vicious circle forever, alone, without having someone to support you and help you get through this overwhelming ordeal makes him tear a smirk. What an asshole.

You were speechless. Everything he said was true. How could he have guessed all this just by looking at your eyes? You were about to ask him when Black Hat brought his face closer to yours. His cold breath made you shiver again. Your heart was pounding in your chest that you were convinced would burst any second. You gasped involuntarily when you felt the evil entity's hand slide from your face to your neck. He ran a clawed finger over the curve of your neck to trace a thin, scarlet line. A hiss of pain came out of your mouth. You felt a drop of warm, wet pearl slide from your neck to your collarbone. Alarmed, you mechanically grabbed Black Hat's wrist to push his clawed hand away from your now bloodied neck, but his superhuman strength didn't allow it.

"What are… what are you doing?! Stop…!"

“Calm down, my dear.” He orders in a confident but firm voice. “I promise you that if you stay still, it will hurt less. Unless you would prefer to start your work day with your neck shredded?” The bastard laughs like crazy as if it were the best joke he has ever told. He grabs your hand that is still clinging to his wrist and squeezes it tightly in warning. If you rebel, you can be sure that he will break your bones with a single grip.

“No…! NOOO!” You answer in a voice mixed with panic and frustration, reluctantly accepting your defeat.

“Good!” He smiles as he releases your hand and you abruptly place it back on the armrest to hold yourself as if your life truly depended on it.

“Now…” He continues in a soft, husky voice. Relax and look closely at my eye, miss (Y/N). Focus on my voice and my eye."

You do exactly as he ordered. You notice that his visible yellowish eye changes color: rings of varying colors moved around his thin pupil. Your gaze remains fixed, captivated by his eye and you begin to enter a trance. You could only see colors dancing around you and only Black Hat's voice can be heard in your ears.

"Surrender to me, mi quérida. Surrender to your Lord and master!"

"Yes, my Lord." You answer in a whisper, now completely under Black Hat's spell.

"Very well. Now tilt your head back."

You obey.

He then brings his large mouth towards your abused neck and slides his reptilian and rough tongue on the bloody line he drew on you earlier.

A moan escapes your mouth at the contact of his tongue.

The villain smiles at your reaction. Without delay he sinks his sharp mint green fangs into your skin, making you tear out a cry of surprise. Tears flow from your cheeks as Black Hat sucks your blood. He lets out a muffled and animalistic moan when he feels the sweet taste of your life essence slip into his throat. Fuck! It had been an eternity since he drank human blood. Of course he doesn't need it to survive but he must admit its taste and smell are so intoxicating.

He unclenches his teeth from your neck and licks the drops of blood from your bite before straightening up. With a snap of his fingers, he releases you from your trance.

You whistle painfully and immediately bring your hand to your neck which is causing you martyrdom.

"What is it…? What did you do to me?" You ask disconcerted.

"Don't worry, my dear. My mark will disappear from you in a few hours…" He says reluctantly.

He would have preferred to keep his mark on you forever to make you understand that you belong to him. "It would be a shame to get into trouble on your first day." He adds mischievously.

You immediately understand who he is referring to: A certain green-haired lizard woman who will not hesitate to kill you if you approach her dear beloved boss.

"Now go! You have to get ready and go to sleep because tomorrow your first day will be intensive!"

"Yes, sir!"

This writing idea came to me this morning at work during a discussion with one of my clients and inspired me for this story without knowing it! I thank her for that! 😊

[wannaeatramyeon]

Can we get lookism boys seeing their s/o for the first time?

Literally love at first sight and maybe their reactions?

Thanks,

Thanks for the ask! I've written a few slightly more fleshed out 'Meeting for the First Time' listed here (Gun, Goo, Jake, Johan). But let's do some other scenario for my usual suspects.

Umm...I actually really dislike the love at first sight trope. But I do like the double-take at first meeting trope, yknow what I'm saying? Here's a mix of everything!

Love at First Sight Double-Take at First-ish Meeting: Gun, Goo, Jake, Sammy, Vin + Taehoon!

Gun Park - Ultra Instinct

Gun is not ashamed to admit that it was the sashay of your hips that turned his head at first. He is a hot blooded male after all.

And then when you whirled around, asking "See something you like?"with a confident smirk and your own jet-black eyes staring back, moments before landing a throat punch.

Well. Gun is a goner. Head over heels, lying-awake-thinking-of-you obsessed.

Maybe he should have gotten a name. But two UI users meeting each other can't just be a coincidence, he must be destined to see you again.

Who would have thought Gun Park would believe in something as ridiculous as fate.

.

.

Goo Kim - Reflection

Goo detested you on first meeting. How can such a pretty face have so much venom.

All double-edged and saccharine, nothing to be taken at face value. You even had the audacity to ask if the weapon wielding was compensating for something.

And to add insult to injury, Gun had laughed. Goo didn't even realise Gun was capable of such emotion.

Ugh. Goo does not like having a taste of his own medicine.

As the day dragged on, Goo's obsession grew. It really was like looking into a mirror. Sure this reflection isn't as sexy as his usual. But. It's still pretty sexy nonetheless.

Huh, he wanders the corridors with a sly grin, wondering about you, Let's see how well you can keep up with me.

.

.

Jake Kim - Business Unit for Rent

Jake, for some bizarre reason relegated to realtor duties, shows you around the vacant Big Deal Street business unit. A long empty store that, fingers crossed, after today would no longer be a drain on the finances.

"All this can be yours for 2 million won a month," he flashes his most dazzling smile. Charming and toothy that he knows few could resist.

Unfortunately, it is completely missed by you as you continue casting an astute eye over the premises.

"Ah look at the state of this. The ventilation system is awful."

Jake blinks, looking at whatever the hell you're pointing at. "It is?"

"And the walls! It'll need plastering and floors completely redone."

"Um. Maybe it has been a while since-"

"I heard the footfall is terrible here. Constantly declining. 23% down on last year?"

Your sharp eyes peer into his and he freezes. Where the hell did you even get those stats? Not even Lua or Jason would know this.

"Well..." he scratches the back of his head, thinking of what to say.

Half an hour later, after a whirlwind of complaints and pointing out flaws, you've signed a 12 month contract for less than half the initial asking price.

Shit, Jake thinks, Jason is going to kill me. Actually... Fuck. This unit had been recently renovated to attract potential renters. And footfall figures? Must be plucked out of thin air.

You completely twisted his arm with your bullshit.

Jake can't even bring himself to be mad, he's impressed. Who the hell are you? He's looking forward to seeing more of you and your smart mouth.

.

.

Samuel Seo - Tattoos (let's ignore the timelines here)

Not many people pass Samuel's exacting standard on first meeting, but you do. He's frankly impressed with your work.

Someone similar to his age yet already amassing an impressive portfolio with impeccable linework and pristine colouring. No wonder you're booked out for months.

"So," your hands graze over his pecs, all strictly business yet his skin prickles at your touch. "You're thinking of your first tattoo here?"

"Yes."

"Cool, and you want it to eventually be a Sak Yant full body?" He nods. "Ok, it's going to take a while and quite a few sessions."

You give him a smile that leaves his throat dry. "Guess we're going to see a lot of each other."

.

.

Vin Jin - My name

Vin holds out his phone and with his most charming smirk, asks for your number.

"Sure," you fold your arms, showing no intention of reaching for the device, "You can have my number if you tell me my name."

"What?"

"I'm waiting," And now it's your turn to plaster on your smirk.

Fuck, who the hell do you think you are. Vin storms into the corridor, ego bruised and mood soured. Ugh, whatever. He has plenty of chicks interested anyway. He doesn't need to-

The lightbulb goes off over his head. Mary must know. She knows goddamn everything going on in this school.

Vin dashes off in search for her, thoughts from seconds ago already completely erased and giddy at the thought of finally getting your name and your number.

.

.

Seong Taehoon - Taekwondo

The first oddity is having someone your age show up for their first lesson. Then it turns out it's not your first.

The second oddity is when Taehoon tells you to show him what you got, you execute a perfect 1080 kick.

The last oddity, which really shouldn't be an oddity at all for Taehoon's ego, is that you are a fan of his from his UFC days and you think Taekwondo is the best.

Damn. And all that punctuated with a perfect 90 degree bow and 'Master Seong' too.

If that isn't the perfect way to worm yourself under his skin. Taehoon's going to be keeping an eye on you.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

vii. all of my enemies started out friends

— the one where you get the sense you've been betrayed.

warnings: death threats, foul language, a panic attack. 2.7k words. (+written articles) not proofread whoops.

masterlist ✢ next

By Alana Blake

WELL, all of our doubts have been cleared, here is the reason as to why our ex favorite couple called it quits months ago. Thank you to our anonymous source for spilling the tea!

First things first, let's not lie to ourselves, we all thought it had been Aidan Kim who had finally dumped y/n's ass for good. But as it turns out, he wanted to keep her forever? Aidan, boy...

Anyway, one night in February (ehem Valentine's Day, so cliché) he dropped down on one knee, popped the question with a beautiful Tiffany's ring and... Y/N SAID NO! Insert gasps here.

Without a good enough reason to justify her denial, y/n immediately ran to the opposite coast, where she currently resides with best friend, beauty guru and influencer Victoria Presley.

RELATED: Victoria Presley inaugurates first 'Presley Beauty' store in Beverly Hills.

Our source also confirmed y/n's blooming romance with Formula 1 pilot, Charles Leclerc.

"They are seeing each other, yes," the source said, "y/n doesn't want to call it a 'thing' since she's probably going to get bored of the poor guy.''

Well, there you have it. It looks like y/n's only talent is being a maneater. Somebody warn Charles Leclerc he's just piece of meat in the eyes of y/n!

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley attends the Monaco Grand Prix.

→ y/n y/ln reportedly auditioned for 'The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes'

→ Aidan Kim is currently recording his first solo album.

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

If I ever see y/n on the street i will literally kill her

sk12z8io – 3 hr ago

I KNEW SHE NEVER DESERVED AIDAN

mickeyyy – 40 min ago

she fucking cheated you cannot convince me otherwise

chiqin– 10 min ago

oh she's vile, rejecting a marriage proposal and getting together with another dude two months later? TRASH.

Anonymous – 10 min ago

I want to know who the source is and why are they speaking until now

WHO would have thought? y/n y/ln the "Queen of RomComs" where cheating is basically a Deadly Sin, is in fact, a cheater!

The news about y/n rejecting Aidan Kim's marriage proposal came out only a few hours ago via Inside Out, and while they claim y/n didn't have a good enough reason not to get engaged to Kim, we believe quite the opposite.

Having a side-piece is a perfectly good reason, actually. Sources, who wished to remain anonymous, confirmed that at the time of the proposal, y/n was already seeing Monegasque pilot Charles Leclerc, but they had been able to keep it a secret until Elix contract made y/n start showing up at Grand Prix.

Although the information spreading around is still unclear, we can be sure of two things: Aidan Kim dodged a bullet and y/n is probably the worst person on Earth.

#Y/NIsOverParty

June 3rd Barcelona, Spain.

You're sitting with Charles and Carlos when you get the first ping on your phone. You don't give it much thought, Mildred told you she'd send you two script excerpts she wanted you to practice for an audition video, plus your phone doesn't even really stop ringing.

Spain has been fun so far, you have been around both Carlos and Charles around a lot lately. Carlos is always keen on dropping facts about his country and you got, just like with Charles, his special edition Ferrari merch. This time you wear it, because fuck fashion podcasts.

Charles doesn't let this slip, feigning annoyance that you prefer to wear a Spain cap than a Monaco one, and telling you he will in fact take it personally. But he doesn't, of course, he's thrilled you're more comfortable around both of them. Enough to join them for dinner yesterday and today.

The Ferrari boys are talking about FP3 and how Qualifying might go later. They've done pretty well this weekend, and you're hoping Carlos will end the Grand Prix on the podium like Charles did last week.

"Is that your phone?" Carlos asks, he's tried his best for the last few minutes to ignore the never-ending flow of notifications, even after you've silenced it, the vibration still makes him lose focus on the conversation.

"Sorry," you wince, knowing how annoying it is. "It's probably Vic."

"Everything okay?" Charles frowns, following your hands as you take your phone out of your pocket again to activate the Do Not Disturb.

"Yeah, I don't—"

Your sentence hangs in the air unfinished as you read the screen, the last notification comes from Matilde an 'are you okay? call me' text. And then your eyes slide to the BREAKING NEWS from People Magazine, whose notifs you forgot to deactivate. You don't even know why you have the app anymore.

The preview shows your picture, a red x on your face and the words 'Cheater Alert' capitalized and bold.

"y/n?" you see the motion of Carlos' hand from the corner of your eye, but by now, you're obsessively scrolling down the 150+ notifications on your phone. Texts, calls, e-mails, tweets, comments.

You stop in the INSIDE OUT EXCLUSIVE the moment your eyes catch the word 'ring'.

They know.

And if they know, everyone knows.

Charles pushes his chair back, making the half empty styrofoam cup of coffee you were drinking spill all over the table. "What's wrong?"

Aidan has told them. Aidan fucking Kim, petty and vengeful Aidan Kim has told them about the ring. Because he wants to bury you so far down, you'll never be able to claw your way out of the hole.

Who else could have been? You told no one. Not a soul. How can a person not even tell their parents that she got a marriage offer and said no immediately, right before hopping on a plane to the other side of the country?

But cheating? Where the fuck did that come from? He's even lying now. Because he hates you, of course he hates you. Aidan Kim is not used to humilliation and that's what you did when you rejected him. And although it was an unspoken accord that you wouldn't tell anyone about it, he has done so, because what is better for his upcoming album than being the heartbroken artist with the bitch for an ex.

People are going to write 'It's your loss y/n!' with their proof of streaming for a retweet from Aidan's account, managed by a 34-year-old guy who can't stand Aidan's fans on a normal basis.

"I– I have to–" your mouth is dry, tongue thick and heavy, and you feel the cold shower of anxiety from your nape to your tailbone. This can't be happening.

And you don't know what you have to do. Call Mildred and Walter? Ask them what the fuck is going on over there and start an actual damage control PR thing? It's too late for that.

"What can we do?" Carlos questions this time, worry flows in his voice at the change in your semblance. "What can we do for you?"

You're scared, because people have talked shit endlessly for weeks thinking it had been Aidan who dumped you, changing the narrative, twisting it time and time again.

They have suspected you broke up with Aidan, they have dragged you through the mud, called you heartless for getting over him so quickly. Paired you up with Charles and called you both problematic for breathing around each other and being friends.

And they might have forgiven you eventually, but not if you actually broke Aidan Kim's heart and burned down his dream of a house, a marriage and a happy family. And by cheating.

He's lying, but who would believe you?

Your already agonizing career is never coming out of this. And at this point, maybe acting seems irrelevant compared to the way people are going to treat you from now on. No one forgets a woman who humiliates a man so publicly. She doesn't deserve to be forgiven, not when she's such a bitch.

"I can't breathe," you wheeze, clutching your hand against the fabric of your shirt. Your hands are prickling, and your brain is fogged, foreign. "I can't breathe."

Neither man touches you as you lean down, hands on your knees, shutting your eyes so hard you think your eyeballs might explode.

You feel one of the boys move, but you don't open your eyes to see who left. Your priority is getting air into your lungs, and you can't seem to do even just that.

"y/n," Charles is the one who stayed, and despite speaking slowly, you recognize the underlying panic there. "I'm going to touch you, okay?"

Your only response is a strangled noise as you breathe through your mouth.

Charles runs his hand down your back, you can feel his rings and the heat of his palm. “Try to breathe through your nose, y/n.”

He feels stupid for saying it, but it’s the only advice he sees fit. Carlos left to look for the medical staff that Ferrari takes with them everywhere.

You squeeze your thighs with your hands and again take a gasp of air. “I can’t. Help me, I can’t.”

Charles makes you straighten up by grabbing your shoulders gently. “Please try. You’re speaking you can breathe.”

You breathe through your nose, but it isn’t enough to relieve the pressure on your chest.

Carlos comes back just when you feel like you will pass out. And you let the medical staff lead you away, leaving both your friends behind, worried sick and wondering what could have possibly triggered you like that.

You're still lying in the gurney after Qualifying is done. The medical team doesn't let you watch it, you should not be subjected to strong emotions right now. The thing is, the strong emotions haven't even started. You need to talk to your team, and you want to talk to Aidan. You've only heard from him twice since your breakup in February, the last time three days ago when he texted you 'out of SoHo'.

In all honesty, you're not certain you'll be able to hold a conversation with him without telling him to go fuck himself or having another panic attack. But you must know the reasoning behind his actions, no matter how stupid it is. How angrier it will make you. You want to understand why the person that once loved you is stabbing you in the back like this.

You're free to go an hour later, and it's some kind of miracle that you're relieved of your Elix duties. Maybe it has to do with the disaster that Ferrari's Quali was, in contrast to the Free Practices. No one wants to make things worse, or have pictures to remember it.

By the time you're back in your hotel room, Aidan's campaign has been transported to Youtube. And it's only 10 am in Los Angeles.

FROM AIDAN KIM’S YOUTUBE CHANNEL “STATEMENT ON RECENT NEWS”

You are looking at the top comments.

star5dan he had to find out he got cheated on thanks to People? fuck

flowerbedkim I'm not even joking, i will end y/n

dropbeats1 it takes a lot of courage to propose, y/n is def a bitch

stardomyn you knew y/n for years and you can't defend her? she is obviously not a cheater.

aidanyn this keeps getting worse i can't pick a side😭

You read the articles sitting in your bed. Legs crossed and back curved, with your shoulders slumping forward. It's like you have the whole weight of the world back in them, and you're not even sure you're strong enough to carry it anymore.

Did you really not have a good enough reason to say no? Not having a good reason to say yes should be enough, at least that's the way you think about it.

But you had many, many reasons. Some you'd denied yourself to even think about before he pulled the ring out of his pocket.

Every relationship has its ups and downs, you knew that. You know that. But how long can you stay in an all time low?

Maybe you lied to yourself saying Aidan had never hinted marriage was in his plans. He mentioned it in interviews, and in casual conversations with other people. He would tell you that “in the future” you’d have to reconsider being an actress. That you should really think about the roles you wanted to take on so they didn’t haunt you (and you hypothetical children) in the future.

Aidan would drop comments about how you should stick to the easy parts of acting, making the same movies, for example. How you should behave a certain way and shut your mouth in specific occasions.

How you had to change yourself to fit into what he wanted.

And you did. Because at first, it wasn’t that he wanted you to change for him. He made you think he wanted you to change for your own good.

And that night in February, you realized you were scared. The thought of spending the rest of your life like that terrified you. So you ran, and that was really the bravest thing you could have done.

And the bravest thing you can do now is stand up to him. Because he cannot keep on stepping on you and destroying what you built for yourself.

"Hello?"

You're shocked he actually picks up your call but you can't back down now.

"What the fuck, Aidan?" you try not to raise your voice, you do your best to help the strain that comes from not crying. You're furious, not sad, but you know Aidan won't recognize the difference. "What the fuck is this whole circus you're putting up now?"

The way he chuckles makes you want to throw your phone across the room.

"Do you really think that was me?" he asks, changing his voice to a lower tone. "Do you think I willingly say the girl I invested three years of my life on said she didn't want to marry me?"

"Well who else could have been? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"It was not me, y/n! Jesus Christ I don't know how many people—"

"So it was your sister, that bitch?"

"Don't you call me sister a bitch ever again."

Well Mia Kim is a bitch. And she was for the whole three years you dated Aidan.

Starting with telling anyone who would listen that you were after Aidan for clout, even after you hooked her up with your acting instructor and helped her get a minor role in Outer Banks. Comments on your appearance, on your acting, and the way you Aidan and you got along. And the worst part was that every time you two saw each other she acted like she adored you.

"She is a bitch, Aidan, and this is something she would do out of spite! Also, cheating? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I don't put anything past you, y/n." Aidan chuckles again, it's sarcastic and bothersome.

"Fuck you, Aidan. We knew each other for years, and suddenly I'm the worst person on Earth?"

"Yeah, maybe you always were and whoever is letting people know is doing the world a huge favor."

Your skin isn't thick enough yet, and his words hit the way he intended.

"I'm glad people are eating you alive, y/n," he continues as your silence prolongs, you can't swallow the tears now. "It's what you deserve."

He hangs up before you can respond, and it doesn't matter anymore. There's nothing you can say to make him admit to his crimes, and he's happy. He's happy you're being torn down in such a vile way.

The phone inside your hotel room rings and you pick it up before being able to pull yourself together. The 'what?' that lashes out catches the woman downstairs off guard, and this is another thing you add to the list of things that make you the worst person on planet Earth.

"Someone is here for you, Miss y/ln," she says in an apologetic tone, "Mr. Leclerc?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to speak to you like that," you take a deep breath, and then process her words. "Leclerc?"

"Hmhmm," she hums, "Should I send him upstairs?"

The alarm clock next to the phone shows 19:57 in red and you remember you agreed to meet him and Carlos for dinner at seven thirty. You didn't even shower or changed.

"Uh– yeah, please do."

You splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth in the two minutes it takes him to get to your room.

Charles knows there's something wrong the moment you open the door, and it doesn't take a genius, really. But you wish he was oblivious to the way you look and the off-putting energy you give off.

"I'm sorry I'm late," you say making space for him to enter the mess of a room you have. "Is Carlos waiting downstairs?"

"He's at the restaurant already," Charles shrugs, it doesn't matter that you've made them both wait over twenty minutes. "Are you okay?"

You sit on your bed, letting him stand in the middle of the room, like a mannequin out of place. You have two options, lying to him, pushing everything under the rug and lookin for your purse to meet Carlos downstairs. Or tell the truth and burst out crying in front of him.

You don't like either.

So you stay silent, looking at patterns in the rug and trying to get your racing brain to come to a stop, if only to have a decent meal with the two guys that saw you panic hours ago.

Charles sits down next to you, the mattress gives to his side, sinking. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You eye his hand as he places it on top of the washed out knee of his jeans. The prominent veins and the three rings on his fingers. You remember the way it felt when he ran his hand down your back.

"I don't." you reply, taking your eyes back to his face. You wonder if he knows, just doesn't want to mortify you about it. That he's 'just a piece of meat' and a 'homewrecker'. You wonder if Carlos knows too.

"Do you still want to come downstairs?" Charles tilts his head, giving you a smile that lifts one corner of his mouth.

"Sure, let's do that," you get up from the bed smoothing your jeans down although there's nothing wrong with them, and regaining that self-consciousness that you didn't even change your clothes for dinner while Charles is looking like that in a clean white shirt. "Sorry for being late."

Charles lets you roam around the room looking for your purse for two minutes, still sitting on the edge of your bed, before speaking again. "We really like you, y/n. I really like you."

You snap out of your self-induced trance, pretending like you were checking you had everything you needed in your purse. "What?"

"Carlos and I really like you, and so does Matilde, and that friend of yours Victoria. You're not alone, I hope you know that."

He's seeing right through you again.

And the effort that took you to pull yourself together and the self-deprecating words that ran through your head to force yourself not to cry in front of him are all left behind, as you burst out crying.

You let Charles hold you, his right hand on the nape of your neck while the other soothes you the way it did earlier. He doesn't complain about the way your tears stain his shirt, and doesn't even make a sound as you sob.

And you stay like that for as long as you need to, although you haven't cried nearly enough. It has to suffice for now. Because you have to go back to L.A. and fix the mess Aidan created.

─── team principal radio: ❝i feel like i'm doing rowoon super dirty by having him as aidan kim, tbh. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this chapter! reblogs and comments/asks are highly appreacited, i'd love to know your thoughts!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar-2 @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa

want to join the paddock club? click here!

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

as someone who is anti-authoritarian and also immunocompromised, i think group masking is as important and effective as good air filtration. for instance: in an indoors event where there is good air filtration + ventilation but no one is masking, you can still get covid if even one person attending the event is infectious, because covid spreads through aerosols that can travel distances of over 30 ft. factors like good fit and filtration efficacy (i.e. cloth masks do not filter air effectively, or kn95s that have huge gaps where infectious aerosols from exhalations can be breathed in/out) are also dependent, but if good masking is provided (i.e. events provide well-fitting, high quality masks) and good air filtration is provided, that can help a lot. i agree that structural issues are the problem, but group masking is also important too! <3

sorry, but this is factually untrue. group masking is significantly less important than good air filtration because it is an individual mitigation (meaning many people cannot or will not do it) and because it is not effective enough at stopping transmission of aerosols for it to be an acceptable mitigation for anyone at high risk. the floor is air filtration (and air filtration does not have to be systemic to be an appropriate mitigation; as i said before, an appropriate air purifier can be purchased by an organization or small group of organizers and used for all events at all venues, a one-time expense of (what generally turns out to be) $500 is well within the budgets of most organizations regularly holding community events).

this is what i mean when i say i'm trying to put together a database of accessible information regarding transmission of respiratory infections; the idea that masking alone makes it possible for at-risk people to have access to begin with is a common misconception that i just do not have the capacity to debunk with sources right now because the sources are inaccessibly written and require you to synthesize unrelated information from five or six different sources to understand.

i use the microCOVID project's risk tracker, which is a spreadsheet you can download and program with COVID transmission rates and other data (i.e. vaccination rates) for your locale. the spreadsheet calculates the probability of COVID infection based on specific factors (amount of time of exposure, masking situation, distance from others, number of others, filtration, ventilation, etc). the tool then breaks these down into approximate "points," and gives you a "point budget" based on the probability of contracting COVID within a 365-day period--you choose the probability you are comfortable with. i have mine set to 1%, which is the recommended probability for anyone not at high risk; if i were to go with the recommended high-risk probably, i'd be at 0.1%, which is restrictive enough that it's literally impossible for my life despite the fact that i am objectively high-risk. this gives me about 170 points per week to do all of my daily life activities that expose me to COVID--so including, like, groceries, doctors' appointments, bus rides, everything.

let's do a basic small community event as an example: a three-hour event, indoors, 10 people, all at least 6 feet away from me, everyone including me wearing KN95s.

without air filtration, that is 120 points. that is literally the only thing i could possibly do that week, barring small excursions where i stay away from people as much as possible.

with air filtration, that is 30 points.

and here's the thing: if i am the only person masking, if i am wearing an N95 and everyone else is barefaced with air filtration, it is 67 points. literally EVERYONE NOT MASKING BUT ME is still accessible if there is air filtration. i and the vast majority of other high-risk people can go to community events where NO-ONE IS MASKING if there is air filtration. i am going to write this again in bold text because i really fucking need everyone to understand this: air filtration and NO-ONE ELSE MASKING is literally MORE ACCESSIBLE than no air filtration and required masks.

air filtration is the floor. masks are not good enough and it is not actually harm reduction to require masking, even if you provide good-quality masks. i need to put together this database because i really fucking need people to understand this. i know you mean well, anon, and i appreciate the sentiment, but this exact sentiment is what is making the entire world inaccessible to anyone high-risk and it is actively causing damage to millions of people.

[smolcinnamonchipmunk]

Vampiric Thirst

(Old note: Throws this at you guys. Haven’t written in a while. I don’t know if that will change, but I couldn’t help but make this after the whole vampire event. Once more I end up disappointed by Obey Me events. I really need to lower my standards like I do for Ark, because as fun as the concepts can be, every event ends up feeling rushed and half-baked. They’re not gonna stop though because suckers like me will pay money for a dopamine hit because I have no meaning in life.

New note: Obviously taking some liberties to make it so that Solomon does actually have vampiric urges rather than just being a horndog because this game is literally mostly horny, but I crave plot and substance and have no interest in horny. Maybe I don’t want to fuck anyone, maybe I want actual stakes and near-death because if there’s no threat of dying, then what’s the point of living? Anyways, have something started last July, haha. It’s short, but I want it out of my WIP pile where it’s been judging me from the goddamn corner. I have a bunch of lore ideas with this given the events status being introduced after Nightbringers release, but I won’t get into it cause I’d need to refresh myself on OM.)

Word count: 3668

TW/CW: Soft, safe, nonsexual G/t vore, fearplay, blood, bloodsucking (I hate any word with suck in it, but it’s in here), prey in a stomach full of blood

__________________________________________________________

“Because I’m always craving you, Kat. So much so that I honestly could devour you.”

That… hadn’t really been what I had expected when I asked him why he seemed to be acting odd today when he walked into my room at Cocytus Hall to give me something, kind of freezing when some sort of realization went over him.

I couldn’t help the way my heart picked up the pace anxiously, despite having come across multiple situations similar to this one. Seeing Solomon with a similar hunger to Beel that was uncharacteristic of him made my anxiety spike a bit. “Buuut, you’re not. Right,” I asked nervously, unable to NOT notice the way his eyes glowed slightly as I lowered the book I’d been reading. I couldn’t help but keep my desk chair facing him, something instinctive decidedly not wanting to turn my back to him despite having been in far worse situations.

It didn’t seem to matter much as he touched his throat lightly, stepping slightly closer and replying, “I don’t think I could actually stop myself if I wanted if this keeps up… Kat, I know this is a sudden request but… would you mind if I drank some of your blood?”

“Wha- blood?” I blinked a bit in surprise, feeling a slight epiphany as I realized. “Ooh! I thought Vampiritis couldn’t affect you. Or did your hubris come to bite you?”

I intended no pun, but Solomon still let out a snort of amusement, though he also looked a tad sheepish like I had hit the nail on the head. I had told him that he should still be careful with the brothers himself, but he’d mostly brushed me off and said that he needed to keep his ‘precious apprentice’ from either catching Vampiritis or becoming a human-sized CapriSun to the afflicted demon brothers while that whole situation was figured out. But, it seemed like his rather attentive nature to me hadn’t extended to himself and he ended up contracting Vampiritis despite all boisterous assurances that he wouldn’t.

“Unfortunately, it appears that being around the brothers so much has infected me,” the sorcerer sighed, looking a bit dejected at having contracted the disease. His eyes seemed slightly glazed over and unfocused like he wasn’t fully in the conversation.

“Well, Barbatos might still have some of the antidote,” I replied, seeing him perk up slightly at the reminder, eyes refocusing with his normal clarity from the pretty obvious distractions on his mind. I set my book down on my desk and started to get up, adding, “I'm sure Diavolo will be able to-."

I yelped when there was a sudden weight against my shoulder and I was shoved back into my chair, looking up at Solomon with startled eyes. His own glowed slightly as he unintentionally loomed over me, looking caught off guard at his own actions.

“Uuuuh, Solomon?”

“I'm a bit a-... worried that I may not be able to hold back against my current thirst on the way to Diavolo or Barbatos,” Solomon admitted. “I'm afraid that if something isn't done NOW that I'll quite literally see red.”

“Really? Did you really try to make a shitty joke in the current situation,” I asked, but I couldn't make myself add any bite to it. His grip on my shoulder was firm and I could feel it tightening slightly each second, able to feel the shake in his grasp. Feeling overly aware of him with the proximity, I could barely hear the slight pant beneath his breath. I took a steadying breath of my own. “Look, I'll give you a LITTLE bit of blood. Just enough to hopefully ebb the hunger pangs, alright? Then we can go to Diavolo with your mind clearer.”

He jolted slightly at my suggestion, or maybe it was just my voice, and a conflicted expression passed across his face. He opened his mouth to say something but it didn’t come out for a few seconds, straining before saying, “I… Yes. Yes, perhaps that will help abate the hunger.”

I didn’t like how he hesitated as he said it or how his expression looked both extremely guilty and eager. But, despite the anxious feeling settling in my gut, I trusted him. To a point.

“Alright, well, first of all, you gotta back up a bit there, bud,” I planted a hand against his chest and shoved at him. His lips twitched in the barest frown before allowing himself to be pushed back away from me, giving me some much needed breathing room and some relief from being pinned by my shoulder to the chair. Absentmindedly rubbing the back of my neck, I thought aloud, “I kind of don't really trust you with my neck, so we're gonna go with… a wrist, I think, yeah.”

“R-Right.” Solomon looked like he was barely paying attention, hands shaking slightly as he bit his lip, seemingly trying to keep his mind clear enough. I saw a bead of his own blood from it.

I reached down and began to roll my sleeves up nervously, only slightly comforted by the sight of the protective charm on my right wrist. Once my sleeves were rolled I felt a bit awkward as I kind of held both out towards him. “Uhhhh, take your pick, I guess. Just don't bite too deep? I'm not sure if you could break my wrists by biting them, but I'd like to not test that too much.”

“I'll do my best,” Solomon presumably tried to give me a reassuring smile but it came out as more of a grimace. He gave up pretty quickly and carefully grabbed my left wrist like it'd snap at his touch. If Vampiritis gave him the cliche super-strength that movie vampires had, maybe it was for the best.

I was a bit surprised when the sorcerer kneeled to get better access to my wrist, feeling more than a little awkward - I probably should have stood up or figured something else out before offering my blood to him since he wasn't really in the headspace to think clearly - but the awkwardness was tempered by a familiar squeamishness that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was similar to, but wasn't quite as bad as, the nauseous anxiety I felt anytime I had to get my blood drawn or a shot. 

I managed to watch as Solomon raised my wrist slightly to his face, saw him open his mouth to reveal a glimpse of the elongated canines that were a symptom of Vampiritis and felt a bit of his breath against my skin. But I felt myself pale right as he opened his jaws wider and averted my gaze before he bit down, warned by the slight tensing of his hold on my wrist. 

There were two points of pain that suddenly bloomed along my wrist vein as the skin was pierced, making me yelp and stiffen. I managed to mostly resist the urge to pull away as I bit down on my tongue, but my heart skipped a beat as a twitch from my arm told me that he probably wouldn't have budged if I had tried to pull away properly.  

I swallowed thickly, wondering if he could taste adrenaline in my quickened pulse for a moment before the pain in my wrist faded startlingly quickly. It was cold and numb, like novocaine to my system, and I couldn't help but blink in surprise and look back. 

Only to immediately avert my gaze again with a fresh wave of dizziness and queasiness. 

"Okay, nope," I muttered to myself, trying to push aside the image of Solomon latched onto my wrist with a thin stream of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and an almost blissful close-eyed expression out of my head. At least one of us was having fun. 

Thankfully, it wasn't too long before I heard the small gasp and slight panting as he detached from me. It had maybe been several seconds, probably enough for a full mouthful or two with the smaller veins in my wrist compared to my throat, but it had felt awfully long, and I felt the lingering squeamishness that I knew would remain for the rest of the day. 

"I hope that helped clear your head a bit," I pulled my wrist back to myself and gingerly touched a finger to the two beading puncture wounds as I started to turn my head to look at Solomon. My hand had a pins and needles feeling.  "I was a bit worried you'd-." 

My voice immediately became muffled as my mouth was covered by a hand, eyes widening and crying out in surprise when the force of Solomon lunging upward caused the desk chair to fall back. It hit the desk edge first before sliding to the ground, rattling my skull as the chair back hit the ground, making me grunt from the fall and ending up pinned beneath the feral sorcerer. 

"Mmph!" I blinked away my brief daze, looking up at Solomon's face in the shadow of the desk as panic flared across my pacts. His slightly glowing blue eyes were replaced by an intense red and I could see streaks of my own blood from the corners of his mouth. The feral looking expression was something I'd never seen in him before, but I couldn't summon anyone or use a spell with my mouth currently covered. 

There was a sharp tug against my neck as my choker was broken off, jolting me from my frozen shock. I squirmed and bucked beneath the sorcerer, twisting up and elbowing him in the face. The man HISSED at me and I took advantage of his surprise to shove his hand off of my mouth. Kicking at his chest to push him off me and retreat further beneath the desk, I began to recite a summoning spell. 

"Hear me and heed my call," I exclaimed as quick and clear as I could, feeling a pressure behind my eye. Solomon was sat from where I'd pushed him back, hand against his cheekbone where I'd struck him. His expression went from indignant surprise to one of uncharacteristic, raw fury. I saw him tense like a coil before trying to push forward off the ground to lunge towards me again. I quickly raised my leg, shoe planting firmly against his chest as it barely stopped him, knee almost buckling painfully against the force. “In the name of the sorcerer Katherine, I draw upon my pact with the ring of li-GHT!” 

My voice hitched as Solomon grabbed the ankle of the foot against his chest, pulling it to the side and yanking me closer. My heart raced, gritting my teeth as we scuffled in the cramped space beneath the desk. I tried to not fuck up saying the summon, while trying to stop him from stopping ME from saying it, while also trying to get my foot loose and scramble further back again. 

“Come forth, Mam-mphf!” I narrowed my eyes and grunted as Solomon let go of my ankle and managed to wrestle both of my wrists in one hand, covering my mouth again with his other. The pressure that had been building behind my eye fizzled out and disappeared dead in its tracks.  

The sorcerer wasted no time in descending on me, making me gasp in pain as my throat was bitten. I squirmed but could do nothing as restrained as I was, my pained panting lessening as the numbing began to settle in my neck, my hand still tingling from loss of feeling in the wrist. I heard the first swallow as he began to drink greedily and felt a rush of lightheadedness. Lightheadedness that lingered as more blood was stolen and less was able to reach my head properly, making my thrashing lessen alarmingly fast.

I tried to call out Solomon’s name, to try and appeal to him past the feral fervor that had overtaken him. But, of course, it came out as an easily ignored muffled shout that I barely heard over the blood rushing in my own ears and the sound of gulping.

Time slowed painfully as I remained pinned beneath the sorcerer, the lightheadedness and weak feeling in my body increasing every second. My limbs felt more and more like lead until my arms simply hung by my wrists in Solomon’s hold, now struggling to just keep my eyes open and focus on the wooden grain of the desk underside above, trying to not pass out with the fear that if I closed my eyes that I wouldn’t open them again. However, even that became too much effort and my eyelids slid closed.

I felt cold and tired.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed with my eyes closed but I realized that I was being nudged, barely able to focus on the voice, “Sh-Shit, Kat? Kat?!”

“Nnngh,” I groaned at being nudged again, eyelids twitching a few times before I managed to groggily force them open. My sight was blurry and I had to clear it with a couple blinks to look up at Solomon, who gazed down in worried panic with slightly glowing blue eyes rather than the red from before. I just felt an overwhelming wave of relief at seeing that he seemed to have come to. “Oh, thank god..”

I let out a relieved sigh, eyes closing again tiredly, adrenaline either long gone or drained and feeling exhausted relief at seeing Solomon alright. My brow twitched and furrowed as I was shaken, struggling to get out of the dazed stupor I’d almost immediately fallen into without realizing it.

I just wanted to sleep now, man, leave me alone.

“Come on, stay with me,” Solomon said, something brushing against my neck as he murmured some words under his breath. “I can’t have my adorable apprentice dying on me.”

“Mmmn-n-not adorable,” I grumbled weakly, managing to open an eye in an attempt to glare at him. He pulled his hand away from my neck and the glow of a healing spell dissipated in his palm. The healing spell didn’t clear away the blood on his hand and chin, making me wonder how bad I looked if HE looked this disheveled and blood-covered.

“I can’t believe that worked. You’re ridiculous,” the sorcerer laughed, but it was strained. He reached for something nearby and muttered another spell, adding louder, “Just try and stay awake while I try to fix this before the bloodlust becomes unbearable again. If this is how Beel feels all the time, no wonder he goes mad with hunger as often as he does…”

I groaned in acknowledgement, fighting to keep my eye open. I gave up and lifted a lead-heavy arm to drape lethargically over my eyes. “How much blood can I lose before dying?”

“Well, the average person can lose up to a fifth of their blood on average before going into complete shock. However, more than forty percent is almost certainly lethal.”

My lips pursed at the information, quiet for a few seconds before lifting my arm slightly from my eyes to peer at him and  mumbling, “I don’t like that you just know that.”

“You did ask,” Solomon replied lightly in an attempt to lighten the mood. He seemed satisfied with whatever he cast and started reaching for my neck again. His expression fell when I involuntarily flinched slightly away from his hands. 

“I-... s-sorry…”

“No. No, it’s… understandable,” he sighed slightly, grabbing my other wrist instead. My hand curled defensively as he lifted it up and tied my choker around the wrist. 

I let out a surprised noise as I felt a sudden surge of energy and slight warmth, having not realized how chilled I was with my lack of blood. Not enough to be jumping up and down or anything, but I didn’t feel like I was about to die anymore. I blinked at not feeling like death and gave Solomon a bleary quizzical look.

“It’s to magically help your blood levels. I can’t make something from nothing, especially in my mental state right now, but it'll keep you from dying to blood loss,” Solomon explained, giving me a guilty, apologetic, and shameful expression. He sighed and I felt like his eyes flickered for a second. “It's also to help you breathe and hopefully keep you clean.”

“Solomon. I don't like that you said that…,” I narrowed my eyes at him and shifted to try and push myself into a sitting position, yelping when my elbows buckled beneath me. Yup, still too weak to move much. 

“Don't strain yourself,” a hand planted against my shoulder to keep me down as the sorcerer looked at me with concern. He tried to give me a reassuring smile despite the obvious mental strain it was taking him to maintain control. 

Probably would have been more effective if there wasn't a slight discoloration on his face where I'd elbowed him as bruising started setting in, he hadn't literally just overpowered me, was on the verge of relapsing, and we were both covered in my own blood. In my slightly delirious state, I had to internally admit that it was quite a look.

“Sol-.”

“It's nothing you haven't handled before,” the sorcerer continued, interrupting whatever further protests or questions I had before he started reciting the now very familiar shrinking spell I’d grown accustomed to hearing from the brothers. 

Almost immediately the lightheadedness and vertigo took over, dazing me and making my vision swim. I barely registered the sensation of being lifted from the ground, my eyesight refocusing in time to see Solomon’s mouth open above me. The elongated canines that had punctured my skin minutes prior now framed the dark confines of his bloodstained jaws and the warm, shaky exhale that washed over me was saturated with the scent of iron. My heart skipped a beat.

I knew any protest or words would fall on deaf ears but as I was lifted closer to Solomon’s open mouth with his tongue extending slightly to lay over his lower teeth I couldn’t help but weakly say, “If this ends up killing me, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

There was another, sharper exhale from the sorcerer and a slight upturn at the corner of his lips before I was transferred from his palm to the slick, textured surface of his tongue, the muscle curling behind me and drawing me into his jaws. Saliva instantly soaked into my clothes as teeth lightly clicked shut behind me to leave me in darkness, able to hear and feel everything around me flex as Solomon instinctively swallowed some excess saliva.

His breathing was more noticeably ragged from within his jaws, huffing as his tongue quivered beneath me. I was confused, laying in a tired daze and wondering why nothing was moving, used to being tasted, sometimes with aggressive fervor. From the way I could feel drool pooling beneath my back I could tell that I was appealing to him, but the question of whether or not it was brought on by the Vampiritis would have to wait until later. I realized when his tongue only gingerly lapped at me a couple times before gravity began to shift that he seemed to be desperately holding himself back.

“Right,” I mumbled, letting myself slide toward the back of his throat. “Kind of attacked me.”

Solomon probably didn’t want to hurt me more.

I grunted slightly as a swallow quickly dragged me into his gullet and more hastened my descent down his esophagus, breathing restricted by the tight confines and each inhale laced with the tang of blood. Slipping past the collarbone was more constrictive and I was able to hear the sorcerer let out an exhale of relief, felt the odd sensation of being tightly hugged on all sides by peristalsis pulling me yet able to discern the sensation of him leaning forward slightly.

“I can’t tell how much of it is the Vampiritis but… this is unnervingly satisfying,” he admitted, voice resonating down to my bones in my descent. “I really hope you’ll be able to breathe. I guess I’ll find out if you don’t flail.”

There he went, mentioning breathing again. I was almost confused but as I felt the slight pressure beneath me that precluded spilling into a stomach, I realized that he quite literally had his fill of me. There wasn’t even a splash as I was forced into the organ, just slipping into a chamber of blood that I was thankful I couldn’t see. Whatever he did to my choker was allowing me to breathe, which I was thankful for considering I hadn’t exactly braced myself to hold my breath, and oddly enough each inhale was clean air instead of iron-saturated liquid. Potentially some sort of personal breathing bubble, I wasn’t exactly going to summon a light source in here.

“You’re good, Solomon,” I mustered the energy to shout up, feeling for the nearest stomach wall in the space expanded with my own blood. I tried not to think about it too much.

“Thank goodness,” Solomon let out a sigh of relief. Everything sort of sloshed around as he moved, the force of him shifting and standing up making me sink a little. “It seems eating you has tempered the bloodlust slightly. I was worried that I was going to drain you, felt like I was starving and greedy even though I feel full. Now, to get Barbatos and-.”

Solomon was interrupted by the sound of the door breaking open and slamming against the wall, Mammon’s voice shouting in a panic, “KAT!”

“Uh oh.” Solomon and I muttered at the same time.

“I assure you, this looks far worse than it is,” Solomon told Mammon, and considering how bloody and disheveled the sorcerer and my room was, I didn’t think the demon would believe that. 

All I could do was wish Solomon luck and prepare to potentially be sloshed around.