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#suggestions were given on twitter

osaemu · 5 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be.

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant.

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace.

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you.

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?”

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read.

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once.

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now.

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time.

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door.

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie.

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches.

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door.

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes.

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

6K notes · View notes

ozzgin · 2 months

Note

Hello!

🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.

Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?

I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?

The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.

Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually

Sincerely

-🌟

Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;

Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)

Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.

“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.

“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”

“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.

The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.

The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.

“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.

You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.

You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.

And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.

This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.

“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”

You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.

“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.

“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.

“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.

Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.

Unfortunately, there is no time for that.

The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.

The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.

“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.

“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”

He stares in confusion.

“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.

“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”

Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.

“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”

He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.

“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.

This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.

“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”

What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.

“Sure. I know a better place, though.”

Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.

“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”

“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”

“Excuse me?”

Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.

“H-hey, what did you mean-”

The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.

You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.

“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.

The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.

“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.

Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.

“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”

Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.

Your bodyguard truly knows you best.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere bodyguard #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere male #obsessive love #female reader

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togglesbloggle · 10 months

Note

Why do you think tumblr will die in only a few years?

Answer with jargon: a strong correlation between recent economic shifts and chaotic choices by major tech companies is most easily explained if the 'traditional' social media platforms of 2005-2020 are mostly a zero-interest rate phenomenon.

Longer answer, with less jargon: Even though Musk's takeover is making all the headlines recently, the last year has in fact seen major shakeups at many social media platforms, so Twitter is actually part of a trend. Almost inevitably, these are cases of social media companies trying to find a way to squeeze more money out of their userbase (Reddit), cut costs dramatically (Twitter), or both. This marks a sudden departure from a much more relaxed attitude towards revenue in the Pictures Of Cats industry, where the focus was historically more on expanding the userbase to a global scale and then counting on world domination to sort of <????> and then the company would become profitable eventually.

We joke, correctly, that Tumblr has never been profitable. But the entire structure of ad-supported content curation between human users is deeply suspect as a business model; IIRC Twitter was never profitable either, and Facebook has been juicing its numbers in very shenanigany ways. Discord was actually making money on net last I checked, at least a bit, so they're not all completely in the hole. But even if you take the accounting figures at face value, none of these companies has anything like the amount of money that their cultural prominence would suggest. Instead, they're heavily fueled by investment dollars, money given by super-rich people and institutions in the expectation that fueling the growth of the company now will pay off with interest later.

So what changed?

I'm not an expert here, but I'll do my best to muddle through. The American Federal Reserve has one mandate that dominates all others (sometimes called the 'dual mandate'), and one primary tool that it uses to enforce that mandate. The goal is to maintain low (but nonzero) rates of inflation and unemployment, which in their models are deeply interlinked phenomena. The tool is 'rate hikes', or more specifically, tweaking the mandatory rate of interest that banks charge one another when making loans.

As a particular consequence of this, hiking the rate also means that bonds start paying out much better. When the rate hike goes through, that affects people who let the government borrow their personal cash- that is, people who buy bonds- as well as institutions like banks that lend to one another. A rate hike means that you, personally, can make a little extra money by letting the government borrow it for a while. The federal government of the US is a rock-solid low-risk choice for this kind of moneymaking scheme, so the federal interest rate sort of defines the 'number to beat'; to attract investors, a company has to give those investors money at a better percentage than whatever the feds are offering. Particularly since a company is a lot more likely to go out of business than the state!

To wrap this back around to the Pictures Of Cats industry: the higher the rate hike, the better your company needs to be doing (or the less risky it needs to be as an option) to attract big investment dollars. Very high rates make it very hard to convince people to invest in business activity rather than the government itself, and very low rates put moonshots and big dreams on the table, investment-wise, in a way that wouldn't otherwise be possible. Social media companies were one of these big dreams.

In the great financial crisis of 2008, the Fed took the dramatic step of reducing their rate to zero, trying to juice the economy back to life. And ever since then, they've kept it there. This has produced an unprecedented amount of funding for very crazy stuff; it's part of what has allowed so many weird new tech companies (Uber, streaming services, etc.) to get so much money, so quickly, and use that to grow to massive size without a clear model of how they're ever going to make money. This state of affairs kept going for quite a while, with no clear stopping point; that zero-interest environment has been one of the shadowy forces in the background that shaped fundamental contours and limits in how our Very Online World has grown and developed. Until COVID.

Or rather, the bounce back from COVID: we suddenly saw a massive spike in inflation and an incredibly strong labor market, as employees quit in record numbers, negotiated higher salaries, and found better work, and at the same time supply chain issues and other economy stuff caused prices to climb dramatically. Recall the Fed's 'dual mandate', to control the employment rate and inflation. This was, basically, kicking them right in the jooblies. They responded in kind, finally finally raising their rates for the first time in 15 years. For some of the people reading this, it'll be the first significant shift in their entire adult lives.

The goal, as I understand it, is to fight inflation by reducing the amount of outside investment into private companies, forcing them to hire fewer people and pay smaller salaries, ultimately drawing money out of the working economy and driving prices back down by lowering demand for everything. You get paid less, so you eat out less, and buy at cheaper restaurants when you do, so restaurants have to compete harder by lowering their prices; seems pretty dodgy to me as a theory, but it's the theory. And the first part will almost certainly work- companies are going to see less investment.

For social media companies that are still paying most of their salaries with investor dollars instead of revenues, this is especially catastrophic. Without outside investment, they're just a massive pile of expenses waiting to happen, huge yearly costs in developer salaries and server fees. This is why, all of a sudden, every social media company is suddenly making bonkers decisions. They're noticing that nobody wants to give them any more money! So they're trying to figure out how to live a lot more cheaply, to actually somehow for reals turn their giant userbases in to some kind of actual revenue stream, or both.

Tumblr is kind of the ur-example of this kind of thing, supporting a very large userbase with no coherent plan whatsoever to start paying its staff with our dollars instead of investors' dollars. When interest rates were low and Scrooge McDuck had nowhere else to hide his pile of gold coins, a crazy kid with a dream was the best alternative available to him. But now, unless something changes, he's going to notice he can just buy bonds instead, and that crazy kid can go take a hike.

That's why I think Tumblr is living on borrowed time, though I don't know how much. Like all cartoons, the economy doesn't really fall off a cliff until somebody looks down and notices they've been standing on thin air this whole time. But they always fall eventually; that's the gag.

#I am not an economics #so if somebody wants to grade my accuracy here #that would be welcome #this is the situation as I understand it but my models are hazy

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capslocked · 6 months

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 6

[prompt: blowjob]

male reader x hyeju

12k words

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone who actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

The first time you hook up with your roommate, it’s because of genetics - though not in the weird, uncontrollable way your body gets rigid and sensitive to any pretty girl who wears nothing but a towel moving between her bedroom and the bathroom, or how her eyes might flick fast from your chest up to yours - or given that the absolute shape of her is a blessing from one god or another (benevolent, clearly). That's not why Hyeju and you find yourselves only a few months later grinding on each other after the clock ticked past midnight, making out on New Year's Eve.

No, it has to do with the fact that Hyeju's nearly failing the nine AM section of molecular genetics because she's spent every lecture doodling stars and planets and planets shaped like asscheeks and planet-ass constellations while everyone else writes notes or doom scrolls twitter or whatever and she is somehow simultaneously the only student who never slept with her face on the lab desk or missed an assigned reading and the only one who absolutely needs a tutor.

It's just cosmic odds that you'd be that one: her roommate, who shouldn't be talking so loudly in the library about sex (in a sort of non-sexy, Mendelian kind of way) or be thinking the kind of things you've started thinking when Hyeju wears one of her more sleepshirt-esque long sleeves, her voice getting lower as you rattle off, "fruit flies and thale cress, definitely, it's just an error of fate or chromosome splitting..." before trailing off into a question.

"This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me," she finally tells you. You listen to her sigh into the binding of her textbook, facedown. "I'm really going to bomb this exam."

You tap her hand twice with your highlighter across the desk. "Then you're pretty damn lucky, if you think about it."

She turns to you, smiles a bit. "Okay, point. The worst thing will be having to retake this stupid fucking class."

"Why didn't you ask for help or go to office hours if you knew you were... failing?"

"Maybe because doing anything more than the bare minimum to get through a class I don't care about is my definition of, failing," she mumbles. "Why didn't anyone tell me a single lab is worth half my grade? Or that the TA is this fucking unreliable? How is this the one thing, really, beyond the basics, that can't be taught by wikipedia, a wikihow article and a youtube video?"

You scoot your seat closer to her. "You really need to relax."

"Fucking tell me about it."

You turn it over in your mind a few times, capping the top of your highlighter.

"Want me to get you off?"

And it’s not like you really mean it, when you say it, which is the strangest thing: you wouldn't actually suggest it, normally, wouldn't mention it in passing and then leave yourself open to the follow up and cross examination; yet there it is, after three, four hours of cramming notes on heterochronicity and the sloshing of gametes - you actually did propose it.

Hyeju jerks up, surprised.

"Are you serious?" She looks around, nearly snorting. "In the library?"

The face you’re giving her makes her scoff.

“You’re absolutely nuts.”

You have character flaws; the inability to admit wrongdoing chief among them. Hell, maybe it's from your mother - or maybe all your brains are just scrambled by the fact that Hyeju's sitting there with her pen against her pretty lips, hair glossier than usual as she scans your face and makes your entire body feel like a reactor core in meltdown.

Maybe you can blame what comes next on that.

"I'm always serious. I'm asking a serious question," you whisper, closing the textbook and resting your elbows on top. You look around quickly, like you're sneaking something in instead of this perfectly reasonable exchange, the perfectly platonic - except maybe not so much - way for friends to help each other.

"And I'm wondering what you're asking." Her cheeks are definitely pinker, you think, or the way it fills out her face, from the bottom up, is just that easy to imagine.

“I’m saying you haven’t gotten laid in months.” Here, you realize, these blocks of mental logic that definitely weren’t there when you blurted it out start to coalesce into something solid as you go on.

And you hadn't been wrong when you thought no one had given Hyeju a helping hand in a long, long time: you've heard through the walls or the floorboards at odd hours of the morning that she spends far too long fingering herself to a mind-numbing, tear-worthy frustration that leaves her knuckle-deep but never, ever sated or satisfied.

"No one's around, you'll feel better. You said it yourself."

Not a work of your imagination here - her ears are fucking burning.

"Wait a minute." She pushes her chair back, away from you and your gleaming offer. It clatters on its back legs, and a librarian waves her finger in warning. You wave back, sheepishly, until she stops and Hyeju stands and moves away from the table to talk, hands crossed over her front.

She turns and asks in a hushed-down-voice, "how did you know - did you hear something last night?"

"You couldn't keep it down even if you wanted to, honestly."

Hyeju turns further and throws a glare at the library doors, because obviously her noisiness and their collective noisemanship, or whatever the hell the word is, is clearly the root of the whole goddamn problem.

"Look - if not, no big deal - but I'm just saying you'll probably get over it and at least think less about sex. Or at least the wrong kind of sex."

You expect her to turn, sigh, and ask if you've lost your mind. Expect her to gather her jacket from the back of her chair, take her books and stomp out the room. Or even burst out laughing at the insanity, before slapping your arm lightly, in playful retaliation - anything other than the serious look she gives you in return, tilting her head, pressing her lips.

She turns up at the ceiling for a moment, contemplating something. And it's cute. It's so very, very cute, how her mouth pouts as she considers the possibility, right up until she says, "okay, fine."

The moderate twist of surprise taking hold in your brow must be visible.

"Oh, don't tell me that was all talk. Get me thinking about the right kind of sex or whatever."

You laugh, which has the librarian staring at both of you - until the librarian stops staring and probably sees Hyeju sliding back into her chair, the full, pent-up weight of her concentration pointed your way, knees inching apart - you, and Hyeju waiting, your knee bumping into her inner thigh, leaning closer as the textbook hits the floor.

"Don't laugh."

"Not laughing, seriously. Not laughing," you stammer. “I just think you’re just full of surprises.”

She spreads her knees further and sits taller, looking right at you.

"So then, surprise me," and then presses her cheek to the crook of your elbow.

You slide your chair right into the space next to hers, nuzzling up into the space under her ear. “Keep studying, Hyeju, you’ve got shit to do.” And then you slide your hand beneath the waist of her sweats, knead the swell of her thigh until you find the seam where her leg meets her body, press your palm down on the place just next to her center, your thumb in the middle. All this perfect pressure.

"Fuck," Hyeju says under a shudder. She's breathing heavier when your hot, open-mouthed kisses start landing at her neck, and she probably tries to read her textbook for about forty-five seconds longer. But there's the clench of her jaw right as your middle finger begins tracing circles beneath the fabric of her panties, and her gaze is blurring until she can't tell the difference between an allele or your fucking name.

"Shh-shh," you quiet her, finger tapping harder, playing with the slick wetness beneath all those layers of thick cotton and pressing two fingers there until her knees part like they’re not interested in resisting at all. Your lips press a kiss to the shell of her ear and she tenses all at once, hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

She simply leans back, closes her eyes, and lets you take care of her.

“Okay, you’re right,” she says, shaky and uneven, “that really did take some of the edge off. Did we ever review - poly- uh, pol-polymers here?"

The sweatshirt sleeve falling off your shoulder is a hindrance to any actual reading; her shifting against the chair isn't helping either, but you manage to push down the thoughts of stripping her down completely and giving her your tongue as yet another distraction.

"What did the syllabus say? I don't know if we need to read too far on 'polymers'," you say, having going through an entire afternoon without considering this once, but as you curl your fingers and take an honest crack at cramming the remaining chapters into her head, the knowledge that no one else is getting her this wet - except for whoever she's got in her mind's eye at three AM - is enough to get you feeling a little dizzy.

It’s probably supposed to be weird, given that you’ve never gotten any of your other friends off spontaneously in the library, or there's the fact that you can't really avoid each other afterwards, how she shows up in a silk negligee when you're pouring coffee before sunrise to prep for another day and you have the opportunity to notice - yes, she has amazing taste in underwear, yes, you might not have really appreciated her chest and figure enough before - yes, fuck it. She catches you noticing that first time, after coming downstairs with nothing but one of her cropped t-shirts and her board shorts, and she smirks when she realizes you're still thinking about it that afternoon, when her foot grazes yours while you're both washing dishes, and she dries the plate in her hand with a slow swipe.

And it is weird, actually, to describe what’s going on between you in words.

A few words, anyway, like a one-word label to describe what it was: friends or roommates-with-benefits, or - fuck buddies - god, it's even worse. Fuck buddies? Fuck friends? Something equally terrible and stupid that still makes sense, like something out of a shitty rom-com: it doesn't capture any of the rest of the myriad ways in which things can feel less or less friendly between two people.

So, friends was never, ever going to cut it. Roommates - although technically correct - is just this side of too clinical. And let's be clear: strangers don't wake up every morning together, walk to the same class, sit close together in the middle seats, secretly flick a strangers' skirt up in an empty lecture hall and get on their knees and work your mouth onto her pussy and watch the legs of the desks shake when her feet arch into the floor.

"The notes you've got are better than mine," is how Hyeju tries to put things, the next day and every time after that, standing in the doorframe, or at the foot of your bed and looking every bit the disheveled and hopeless mess you imagine she might spread out over the sheets of her own.

It gets complicated, which isn't really a surprise.

"You think your roommate is going to be home tonight?" is the question that comes up multiple times - from a revolving door of pretty names and faces. Hyeju has at least one opinion, if not more, on each of them.

"Tell Jinsoul I say hi," she says once, watching you get ready for a date, and you nearly bang your knee on the edge of the bathroom vanity.

It's one of the more harmless comments she's offered.

Another, backhanded: "if you’re just looking for a blowjob everyday between lunch and our physics lab, let Hyunjin or Heejin or whatever-her-name-is know she's easily my favorite," Hyeju says on your way out one morning, still under her covers.

Or,

Hyeju's texted a simple "uh, Chuu? really??" when you mention, once, how much fun you've been having - and what kind, as you make a round of self-conscious and rambling phone calls the next day that land you with only one prospect for the night - but your roommate's also no longer being your roommate by the end of it, bouncing against your thighs in the bathtub and moaning something about please more and fuck or fucking make me cum; the details escape you a bit.

That's what friends are for, probably.

Still, in the same, bare-bones explanation, friends also aren't for falling asleep on you - or letting you hold her - or fucking you awake in the middle of the night. Friends aren't for pushing down your jeans when the early-morning dew settles on the back patio, or jerking you off in the seat beside yours with a sweatshirt over your lap when a group project is due later and you all should probably work on that and instead get yourselves off and leave the mess of what you're doing half-finished. Friends aren't, probably, for offering to watch you rub your palm up and down your cock the night before next semester's exams when you can barely sit in a single chair and you can't think about molecular biology or neurochemical transcriptions when your whole body aches to do the transcribing. (If you can catch that drift.)

The lists of who are and are not good enough for you goes on and on - the latter longer than the former.

So, there's Choerry, who according to Hyeju is 'straight up, a total slut'. Yeojin, who gets mistaken for your little sister enough times that Hyeju refuses to - in good faith - let you keep sleeping with her. Both Heejin and Gowon are apparently too pretty for you. "Kim-lip?" she asks, in the middle of peeling garlic, "is that one name or two?" And laughs into a bottle of beer, loud, while you're telling her to quit being nosey and watch her fingers with the damn knife.

"You have a problem."

"Why, because I asked a few simple questions? I think anyone would be a little curious with the -" she pauses to wave her fingers - "I'd be remiss to not be interested in the very drama that unfolds literally across the hall."

She waggles her eyebrows.

You look up at the ceiling. God save you, you think. "Hyeju."

("Seriously," Hyeju chimes in one evening, arms around you, and a mouthful of the dinner you'd cooked.

"You need better taste in girls. Don't waste time on anyone too dumb, or who drinks the milk straight from the carton, or doesn't wash her socks with the same load of laundry. Oh, and - no one who chews loudly. No one who can't tell you're going to cum. The worst is someone who doesn't know what you like, trust me on that. And remember the last rule: don't do anything with someone who eats at a really slow pace, it's incredibly depressing."

You rest your chin on her shoulder from the spot behind her. "Duly noted, oh Master of all Knowledge."

She sighs into your arm, but in the next moment, her voice gets a lot softer, her hips fidgeting slightly against you. "I just mean you're the kind of person people would want to sleep with again," she says, before turning to say your name and kiss you again and again as your bodies curl inward.

"I wonder what that means, Hyeju," you say.

"Fuck," Hyeju groans as you slide further into her, pushing her back into the sofa - hands on her shoulders, legs bent on her either side, "don't tease me like this.")

The first snowfall of the year is mild, a tiny dusting, nothing that sticks on the pavement in the alley or on the sidewalks - or the lintels - or in Hyeju's hair, but by evening, when the snow picks up and everything goes quiet, Hyeju has changed into flannels and wool socks in anticipation, curled up like a cat at one edge of the window ledge as the world begins to go white. It's enough that you even pull on a thicker sweatshirt, open up a book, and join her.

She turns toward you, quiet.

You've reached a point in the semester where this, the silence, doesn't unsettle you anymore. It's the space you fill up with time in-between, where you can see the contours of her body against the orange lamplight of the space heater, or watch her kick off the top half of the duvet at night as you fight over space in her bed and wonder about the bare skin peeking out from her shorts.

"Feeling bored?" She slides her foot a little closer to yours, almost imperceptibly. "Am I keeping you entertained enough?"

Her lips pull up at the corner. You chuckle.

"Oh, no."

She scoffs and puts her hands on her knees, pushes herself closer to the window sill and bumps her elbow into your shoulder. The bare skin of her neck and shoulders and face is getting a little redder as she cranes it forward. "Okay, if not, do you need someone to entertain you, maybe."

Your mouth twists, fighting a smile.

Hyeju is so close to you, you could kiss her really, really easily and not care how she'd feel about that. It's not a habit, not as often as it used to be, but every once and a while - she starts this game. Every once in a while, Hyeju just starts smiling like that, and leans into you like she's daring you to play along, hard round of chicken until it's clear what the two of you are doing with each other; the minutes pass by, one, then two, and then - maybe she pushes first, her leg on yours, or a kiss to your jaw or a palm on your back as she walks behind you - and then you'd turn and kiss her full on the mouth and pull at her clothes like nothing's holding you back.

She cocks a smile, and says, "why don't you go and call what's her name."

"Because."

You glance out at the cold, gray light outside. If you had a better understanding of any of the workings inside you, you could reach forward and tell her everything that's stopped you.

You're supposed to meet the girl-of-the-month at a New Year's party. Hyeju looks disgusted within the first ten seconds of the whole story.

"Heejin dumped you once, like, two months ago? For no reason."

"It wasn't a break-up. We talked about what we did wrong and we're doing better," you say, lifting one finger.

She glares, then, tilts her lips into this unamused purse that you can't take seriously at all when she starts walking back and forth across your living room, hands moving emphatically to the sides as she speaks, like she's in the process of unveiling a brilliant argument and is using both palms to guide your eyes toward the unquestionable logic. "God, you're the worst. You're just her easy fuck and you'll still answer her late night calls, really."

She leaves the rest unsaid - that she's just not that into you.

"I don't tell you which boys or girls you can call up," you try, putting on a boot. "If you'd like, I can. Name off the list, and make sure that the right name leaves my mouth this time."

Hyeju doesn't blush when you glance up, which is the surprising thing. No - her cheeks have grown a little more sullen, and she stares down at her socks in contemplation. You're in the middle of fastening up the lace and getting to your feet, waiting, wondering if Hyeju's going to continue this conversation, when Hyeju takes one small step forward.

And her hand goes out to touch your chin, thumb at your lip, fingers holding it in place - like you'll turn if she lets it go - the sharp shock of the sensation like a short circuit, before her knee comes between yours, and your body tingles, at the root and stem. "Hey," she says, eyes meeting yours. The edge of her nail flicking gently as she drags the curve of her thumb downward.

"Hyeju, please - I need to get going."

When you start walking toward your car, she calls out from the window. Something about how you better have the time of your life, fun for the two of you - it’s only fair.

(You feel, somewhere, a certain strange loss.)

"What, are you going to stay up and wait until I come back? Or am I interrupting your session for the night."

You can barely make it out, the smallest look passing over her face. "Maybe," she says, and then: "god, it's fucking cold."

New year's parties have this sort of quality of being simultaneously the most thrilling, exciting prospect on earth and the absolute worst fucking event in the history of the planet - depending on the venue, how egregious the racket is for a gin and tonic, the guests - oh, and the company.

Jinsoul and Choerry are both in attendance; in separate corners and in equal states of undress and intoxication, which seems fine by every present party, who are for the most part busy ogling one or the other in the full spirit of the New Year - as you would too, if the stars are aligned and Heejin hasn't already gone upstairs with half the guestlist, her arm wound with someone else's, as per her recent habit; if you haven't been tossed aside for any of the usual, less forgettable prospects and for something bigger, better and certainly much more enjoyable.

Which, if there were any way to track these things down with math, you'd already be reaching for your pen and notebook, as Hyeju would describe this sensation in a phrase she picked up from some podcast. Inevitable means necessary, or something.

"Good party," says Heejin, throwing back another drink.

"Yep. You said that," and you finish yours in one long draw, hissing through your teeth.

Heejin is a goddamn delight, of course, in all the simplest of ways. When she looks up at you - mouth pink, hair framing her face - she is so clearly and completely aware of what she is, and exactly what the world has in store for her, what it has set aside.

"Do you want to know what happened at the other New Year’s party we went to last year?"

"I - yeah. Hit me. Tell me all about (another date you were on) Heejin, that’s exactly what I’d love, let’s hear it."

She throws her head back and laughs, before starting into an overlong recount of her latest, greatest conquest, you on the outside. This is the thing - this is how a pretty face, with just a hint of a flirt, will make you feel for a beautiful, attractive, vivacious - absolutely shameless, raving sex-crazed lunatic of sorts who, apparently, loves to run around town and make a bunch of your closest friends fall in love and heartbroke-er, with every passing notion of her beauty, her charm - just the tilt of her chin, and some poor fucker is lost, absolutely lost.

Even she knows it's a bad habit of hers.

But who doesn't have a weakness? You've got plenty of your own - plenty, Heejin can admit - everyone does, in a way, and so Heejin, the other sloppy drunks milling about the party, and Choerry and Jinsoul all agree - someone like her just happens to have the best kind of weakness - so, so many of them, in fact:

"Can you believe how easily a few words get Jinsoul riled up? Or how it only takes a couple drinks for Choerry to pull up the hem of her skirt, not knowing the effect that'll have?"

And as for the last, and arguably worst kind -

"Hyeju, huh? What a great start to the New Year," is her final word. Heejin reaches across and downs your drink. Her expression turns just shy of grave, a pensive look. "Not your smartest idea, the living-together situation. Who in their right mind would put themselves in such a mess?"

"Thanks for the great advice." You wave her off, irritated.

There's another laugh before Heejin leans her face onto the table.

"Though maybe she's onto something, now that I think of it. Who needs anyone for the New Year?" and it's almost convincing the way her mouth, lined up with the rim of the glass, smirks when she drinks. "Mm. All a matter of taste."

The snow is halfway up your calves when you realize you need to find a cab at 11:30 PM on New Year's Eve. (Which, categorically, is the worst time to need to find a cab on New Year’s Eve.)

Or just:

11:36 PM and the nearest bus stop is too far away.

11:41 and the temperature feels like its dropped by fifteen degrees, like you should start wondering what hypothermia symptoms look like and what signs to look out for in yourself, your future wife and your children. You try not to think about why, but you get your phone out and immediately call Hyeju, so you're not sure what you think you're denying.

"No party?" she asks. Her voice is distant and sleep-ridden, but Hyeju's quick to pick up, like always.

"It sucked, I'm trying to find a way home early. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year." There's a long pause, filled in by the squeak of snow beneath your boots. "Get a kiss?"

"Uh, not yet. In the market, I guess."

Hyeju's low hum isn't reassuring, either. "Well, you're kind of missing your window. Bad time to start looking."

"Says you, and here you are - still up for someone to spend the night with. Look at you," you respond, all this snark in your voice that she clearly hears. There's a long sigh.

"Actually," and Hyeju, much to the confusion of you and possibly the whole world, doesn't respond, and for a few seconds, the line goes completely silent, leaving you hanging.

She breathes once and comes out of her sleep with a yawn.

"I actually," she begins. There's a lot less preamble this time - this tone - and when she speaks again it comes through not nearly as sleepy, "was sorta wondering. Are you on your way home?"

"If I don't freeze to death, yeah."

"Yeah - no, yeah," and that's it. That's the sum total of what makes any difference between where you were a moment ago, and where you are right now, head spinning, fingers buzzing. Hyeju waits and there's the wind on the line, snow settling on your hat and in the corners of your face.

"I - sorry. I probably woke you up. Are you expecting someone else," you say, very small. Your foot drags behind the other. The cars whizz by you faster, passing.

"Hm. You're the only one, I guess," and after that - just static and the muffled sounds of her footsteps on creaky floorboards - or the tick of her ceiling fan? You can't make heads or tails of the rest of the background noise. All those words she said.

You bite your tongue to stop whatever curse words start pouring out from the jumble and cross streets, or the pedestrian underpass; snow gets stuck in your lashes and burns, but your chest is like a molten furnace. You consider telling her right there on the line, everything you're feeling - so hot, it feels like fire, Hyeju, I'm not used to getting heated and desperate and impatient - that even if you're not here now - just imagining your face - the sound of your breathing, it feels like I'm on the cusp.

"Yeah. Sure - good - okay, Hyeju."

"I guess, see you soon?"

"In a bit."

(It takes 33 minutes, trudging through cold and wet. It's all very dramatic, you think, and there's no one there to even watch you suffer for it, or - though you try not to think about that particular line - really, no one at all.)

You hear the way your key grinds in the lock - it's been like this, jammed since summer, when you pushed the front door in late at night a little too hard and something came undone and made a sound like a small stone tumbling down the world's deepest well. The hinge squeaks, and there's ice on the stoop, on the doormat, on every nook and corner you can see, all the way up your neck.

And your face, too. You shake off your hat, undo the buttons on your jacket, and pull off your boots before hanging them and all the layers to dry.

You can make out the outline of her profile at the edge of the door frame, right in the kitchen - barefoot, hip pressed against the island, pajamas - the dim lights illuminating the shadow of her head, hair over her face -

- but you don't pause. The next layer. There's nothing left to say. You're too cold for excuses, too smart to use the same ones you'd been taught, like: this is a normal, acceptable circumstance; everything, anything, will be perfectly normal if the two of us act as though that's the case; pretend we're both acting within the norms of reason, within our senses and logical thinking and I won't make myself go out in the cold a second more - won't stand for more than five minutes with your eyes looking like they're waiting.

So you move instead toward the kitchen, where the heating is better and she's already pouring coffee. There's a heat radiating out of the oven, and it smells sweet in there, like cinnamon and warm butter, and you wish you weren't still shaking, blood barely thawed, but there it is - her face, watching you - eyes gleaming as you wrap your hands around a mug, steam rising up - a shiver running up your arms; her knees skirting yours when she takes one step back and there's the cabinet door shut, then open again, and then a palm on your back.

Hyeju presses a cup of the fresh coffee, now warm enough to drink, to your chest, and says, softly. "What the fuck happened out there?"

She starts reaching out to wipe the frost and slush from your face. You let her hand hold you still, eyes wide.

"Oh you know," and her palm stays, even though it's obviously - suddenly - gotten warmer, and wetter too, and the longer she stands there and lets her fingers warm the pale bones of your cheeks, her wrist, the base of your forehead and ears, the more expectant the look on her face grows. "The usual."

Her eyes go as narrow as they ever can. For just a moment. "You're gonna die a slow, pathetic death someday, just for the record."

"Don't forget how this starts," you try, and feel your neck go warm, throat and breath tight. And not even when her shoulders shift, her mouth going smug - just looking at you.

“I mean, don’t you think,” Hyeju says, wagging a finger at you, “that when you suffer through a bad date, the world ought to owe you something?”

"Like what?" you ask.

"Better taste in women - maybe more orgasms; I dunno, a blowjob?" She shrugs. "The general idea is just that someone gets to cum."

You nearly choke on the air in front of you. "Jesus, Hyeju, warn a guy."

“What? I’m trying to commiserate with you,” Hyeju laughs. “Wouldn’t that be funny? Being able to kiss someone you actually, you know, might love you back, and at the same time. Imagine not hooking-up just to forget a shitty day. Sounds wild, right?"

"Utterly deranged."

"So wild."

When Hyeju sighs and gives a long, nonchalant hum, leaning her body closer, pressing up until her waist hits the cabinet top and you're pressed together chest-to-chest, she looks at you and her hips settle, the heel of her foot reaching around your calf.

There's that tingle. Again and again. You're not even trying to not think about what it might mean.

But then, you start, silently and unconsciously, trying to answer the question: why don't you, maybe. Why don't you, actually - Hyeju kisses you, pulls on the loop of your jeans and lets your lips brush the corners of hers and pulls away, suddenly, mumbling and head-turning. And just as abruptly, your nose buries in the space between her neck and her shoulder, where it's all warm. And when she puts her palms on your hips and squeezes and twists her knuckles into the fabric there, it seems she wants your hands up her shirt and under the small of her back.

And her hands - they're fidgety tonight, fingers curled up to keep their nails and the chill away, moving lower - one on your ass, while the other comes forward and begins rubbing circles, a handful of times - enough so you're letting a deep, low breath escape into the space just above her collar, your knee working its way between hers.

"That," Hyeju breathes, lips at your ear, hand reaching down to trace the hard curve of your cock pressing in the spot right between you, and there's that small rush again, familiar now, like you've caught a rhythm and she wants to feel it in its fullness: "is how you can make it up to me. For making me stay up. Worrying about you, god knows why. Waiting."

You're still half-frozen in a way, slowly thawing. "Hyeju, I've been trudging through the consequences of my actions this entire night. What am I about to suffer through now?"

"It's no consequence, honestly."

You squint.

"Just an idea, but," she breathes again; your bodies getting closer, and looking up at you, she grins and reaches down to touch the very root of you, her fingers drumming. You make a sound, and at that she says, her voice coming out thick, low:

"Want me to get you off?"

She squeezes again for good measure, just to be clear. Just a slight curl of fingers that's enough to send a flash of heat and the transient thought: why, why, why is she always wearing those fucking shorts, even in the winter?

Your blood thrums through the pulse at the end of your cock. You shake.

"Alright," is the response you let out.

And at that, Hyeju takes your wrist and leads you upstairs.

"There's that look. Don't worry. We'll find a way," is all she says as your feet walk forward, up step-by-step and higher and further up to her room. "After all, isn't that what we've always done?"

"It's usually whatever will make me stop talking."

Hyeju puts her chin on your shoulder. Her eyes follow the lines and shapes in the patterns of wallpaper as you turn onto her side of the apartment, and even through the wall and behind the doorway, her arm still around you, she pulls at your chin until your faces turn and you both can share each other's heat.

"Who, you and your awful habit of talking out-loud in your head while you work through equations?" and she brings her lips to yours, close and warm.

"Hey. Fuck you," and your voice breaks into an odd, low laughter when she kisses you harder.

"Yeah, I know," she whispers as her hand dives past the band of your boxers, palm sliding easily until she's gripping you fully and letting her fingers rub. She holds you there, in her room, her arm looped through yours, another arm resting at your belly.

And she stops there. She stays like that: holding your gaze.

"Look, Hyeju," you say, unable to not, though this can hardly count for anything; this, what you're about to admit, is nothing new. You swallow. "The thing is - you shouldn't."

"Don't want me to touch you?" she says, finger to your lips.

"Well, that's different. Maybe. Is there - maybe it's not the best thing to ask you right now."

Hyeju considers for a brief moment and tuts under her breath. "Can you at least do me the decency of waiting until I'm done wringing you dry before you say shit like that."

And she moves then, toward the bed.

So:

No. Yes. Maybe. Who knows, you tell yourself. Maybe, but only because you'll do anything if it makes you feel less sick, like a creature standing over its own skeleton - an abandoned shell; a relic, something to be feared and disgusted, as you let her go between your thighs, kneel beside the bed.

"I mean - since when - have you felt," is just as far as you're allowed to go before Hyeju presses her nose into you and pulls you out of the thin, cold fabric - palm, thumb, all those slender fingers swiping over your head - and now there's just the smell of her room and the shock, the buzz that runs down your spine and settles somewhere, somewhere inside the small and desperate movement of your hips and the tension building just below.

And god, fuck, Hyeju’s lips.

These soft, wet, pouty fucking things that could suck you straight off if you were feeling any less stupid or inexperienced or sentimental - if she wasn't solely intent on teasing it out of you first; a slow drag of the tongue up the underside; the tip of it poking, tracing the rim, like she's figured you out, just where to lead you. She's ready to smoke you out - always - until you're not taking in a breath every ten seconds but starting to close your eyes to the overwhelming, needling pleasure, too sharp, the way she knows you like best.

"Now you're finally - mm - starting to sound hot," and that smirk comes back to the corner of her mouth, teasing the sensitive belly of your cock and tracing her tongue everywhere. "With the voice and -"

You're losing track, her thumb and fingers circling the whole length of you - just, one after the other - mouth a hair-breadth away, her breath hovering like a promise.

"- that face."

"Don't, fucking tease me-"

The sound of your cock going in is like nothing else.

Wet and filthy in all the right ways.

Just the suction in her throat has your eyes nearly roll back into your head - Hyeju's gaze calmly watching the terrible sort of helplessness that washes over you like this: her lips wrapped around, bobbing - her hair falling into the wet mess of her mouth and sticking there. Hyeju likes being a little sloppy, likes feeling that spark run up the length of her tongue when she slides. It's the wet and the heat that gives everything away.

"I don't have much of a choice -" her jaw and chin is smudged when she pulls back off of your cock, mouth glossy and glistening, "and honestly, wouldn't it be a better use of our time, or my talents if I actually do that thing?"

“Which is?”

She looks up for a bit and sighs, the flush blooming pink to the tip of her ears and into the rounds of her cheeks and all across her neck. "Since, as far as I can see, what you really like - is, oh I'm just spit-balling here," and she stops just to bite her tongue and look into your eyes, "it's letting the girls take care of you? Isn't that right?"

You want to tell her, no, not always, that it's not as though you enjoy giving control completely - that that would be completely and unarguably, the opposite of true -

That most of the time you love it when the person you're with is a little bossy, a little crazy for you. You know some guys really get off on a strong woman and maybe, maybe if a girl's pretty and dressed up, and - sure - a little wet, but that's hardly -

“You know I’m right,” she says, a flicker of mischief skittering across her features. “These walls are paper thin.”

You want to tell her, perhaps remind her, that she likes someone in charge just as much as you do - to be taken care of, told what to do - to have a hand curled up around her throat and the other at her tits while a guy fucks her the right way and takes the reigns when she needs. So who are you, when it comes to knowing her better? And who, really, are you fooling?

But before you can get any words in: Hyeju dips, lips parting where the head of your cock throbs, and then disappears; and the hot wet warmth, enveloping all around your shaft and back; the curve of her throat contracting.

You moan - a lot, and louder this time - into the whole feeling. The way her fingers work the distance from the base, twisting and twisting and twisting into the pout of her lips; or how the sound is like nothing - a whimpering, messy sound - almost a whine and definitely not a slurp as your cock sinks further and further, until it's all one big, heavy throb.

And it's like Hyeju can read your thoughts, the visual you have of her lips screwed tight around your shaft - cum leaking from the corners, and her eyes scrunched up tight, as she looks up to watch your face unravel - this perfect image of her taking you, all of you, swallowing each drop as your hips start rutting up into her and - and - and.

Or else she gets impatient, because then Hyeju gives one long pull off the tip of your cock - saliva mixed in the precum there, and that shiny string of fluid hanging, caught in the middle between your bodies - a disgusting and irresistible sight. Her jaw slack, lips swollen and full, and her mouth gone wide open, wanting.

"Fuck - that's good. Don't stop," you start to whimper, desperate, at the sight, the smell. Her hot breath coming quick over the red wanting wetness left behind - then touched by the cold air - fuck -

She slaps your cock to the corner of her lips as she speaks.

"Can you believe what's going on down here?"

"God, can you -"

"And to think most guys wanna jump straight in. That or fuck a load out between my tits."

"Hyeju, shit, come on -"

She kisses the soft tip, right where it’s most sensitive, rolls it along her lip. Then, back down the length of your shaft where she's generous with her mouth inch after inch - lapping, licking, laving - and Hyeju begins working her way down and downward, nestling in at the edge of the bed and between your thighs.

Your eyes blow up the first time she dips low enough to put your balls in her mouth.

“Mmhm,” she hums.

It’s killing you and she knows it; it’s killing you and she can feel the pre-cum leaking from your slit - the thumb she has moored there, keeping everything right where she wants it, running circles up the length with such little intention - she could bring you to the end just like this.

"Am I supposed to believe it?” she asks out from beneath the shadow of your cock, looking up at you with her eyes all wide and brilliant - pupils dark as sin. “That not a single one of those girls ever did you proper?"

You curse under your breath. Hyeju seems amused, at least, like she can't help but love doing that to you, which is almost worse and honestly the sexiest thing a girl can be. You groan - wanton, raw and desperate and feeling exactly what she wants you to feel when her nails drag along the dip of your hip bones.

"Did they not leave you fucked-up the right way?"

Her wrist flicks out these twists and turns, making your spine bend to her control. Like even when you're sure to be bundling her hair in your fingers and fucking the whole length of your cock down her throat, all of this is the worst kind of power-trip for her - not the other way around.

Her tongue runs through the tangle of your balls, slowly, lasciviously, as though the plan is to memorize and map every detail.

And the worst part is, how much it's making you desperate for the warmth of her mouth - where she'll run her tongue up and down and over and around and inside - before sucking you off nice and slow.

"Or maybe," she laughs; another flick to the top and then suddenly her hand goes faster and the fist pumping the rest of you tightens. "They left you so needy you're resorting to having the bestie suck you off so that you won't be desperate the next time you date. Oh my god-"

Hyeju breaks into this fit of laughter, and you're nearly cross-eyed at the feeling of your entire existence - not just your cock - so wholly held within her mercy, and her pity, and you're breathing so shallow now you'd think this is the real reason people have died and will die - this exact moment where you're choking and stuttering at the edges, so very close to cumming and going absolutely bonkers with how good Hyeju is with her hands, her tongue, her mouth - everything - how much she's wrecking you, and your jaw drops, wide open, her name dripping like molasses off your lower lip.

"Are you going to cum?" she asks, curiously. All as if she can't see you nodding, collapsing under pressure, and then and there: "should we make it official?"

Her nose tickles the seam of your balls. And your toes begin to curl and uncurl - all this anticipatory, coiling pleasure burning from her throat, shooting from the pit of your stomach; the tightening spiral, twinging and stretching every nerve - as her lips enclose around the end of your cock, softly.

And oh, just excruciatingly slowly.

You watch the irresistible shape of her mouth travel down until her throat feels so incredibly, beautifully, and unbelievably tight, and then, just like that - Hyeju starts fucking herself onto you; pushing forward and down the full, rigid length of you, hard and fast - each time hitting deeper inside her - all that sticky, messy, wet squelching.

"Unh-unh, yeah. Unh. Mm-!" you say, or moan, or some animal version of that, maybe, it’s incoherent.

But regardless:

It's messy and your hands scramble for purchase in the sheets of her bed when you feel that snap, the tightening of a trigger; when your balls roll up and it builds, and builds, and it comes faster - harder and -

"Hyeju," you pant, and it sounds so, so filthy. "I'm gonna cum, if you - gonna cum-"

Hyeju pulls you free from her lips, quite possibly at the most final of final moments, to rub the base up and down, just right, between her fingers. Your cock is resting right on her cheek when it all happens. When she squeezes her fingers around your balls just enough to hear you wheeze and make a sound no sane man should have the right to. And fuck, you're cumming all over her face - or just one side of it - which is already just -

Okay, fuck.

She makes a startled sound and her fist closes tightly around your shaft when you pump another fresh load of white up onto her eyebrow.

"I'm, ah-shit," your mouth moves faster than the blood in your veins - and now the shame - oh god, the humiliation, it's pulsing right behind you. "Hyeju," you apologize.

Only, Hyeju has no interest in any of it. She doesn't seem offended or disappointed in proportion to how you're ruining her pretty face: "no, just do it, cum wherever you fucking like."

Which isn't what you're expecting at all, because Hyeju makes no effort to close her lips, let alone avoid any of it; nor is she making a fuss about the sticky mess in her hair, her mouth, nor as another stream of cum throbs from your cock, all tangled up in the long dark eyelashes that sweep down across her cheek.

It’s fucking filthy: you're cumming all over her and she's just kneeling there, telling you, "good boy."

See, she pushes through it, languidly - all those filthy sounds, and those watery little tears gathering at the edge of her eye and all of that, mixing up together until you're rolling your head back with your orgasm, shuddering, feeling weak - drained dry -

Except,

Hyeju's pushing a finger to your chest, kneeling up tall from the side of the bed. She turns her body toward the center of the bed and wipes a bit of the cum on her knuckles into the sheets. Here you feel like you've done something terrible or at least regrettable, like that last round at the bar when you have a test the next morning; a dick move, all of the sort that requires apology.

"You gotta give me a minute, if you're thinking about hopping on."

"Hmm. Sounds like a lot to ask."

"Wait," you grab her arm. Hyeju grins and there's nothing stopping the shake of your knees now, that weakness between your thighs: "let me get you a drink."

"Or."

"Or?"

Her tongue peeks out, running along her upper lip. Her eyes drop again, hands dipping below, beneath the hem of her shorts and oh. She slips a hand past her bra. The whole outline of it. And you -

"Mm, I could show you what that actually means." She lowers her chest, her breasts, and a lot of skin to the mattress while keeping your cock firmly in her hands. "That look tells me you wanna stick around a bit. Stay up past New Year’s, you know?"

You're almost unable to parse her words, there is so much to look at: the jutting curve of her chest, cleavage pressing into the mattress as her body settles between your knees. A soft chuckle; a sigh: "you are seriously the best lay, no-one else can get hard the minute after they just fucking exploded all over me-"

"Fuck, watch it," you hiss, because there's oversensitivity - and then there's Hyeju's mouth on the line of your cock, polishing you clean.

And it’s not that she isn’t trying to prove a point. Or that she's not trying to tease - that's an inherent quality of her character: a naturally dominant position with a high appetite for your lust. That much, Hyeju gets from you, whether you've got your head down between her thighs or the other way, too, so that her neck is arched around and her ass pushed up high in the air, legs open, and if she had any idea you would spend the next twenty minutes or more just going down on her, licking into her creaming cunt while two fingers work over her aching clit, then really, Hyeju would only encourage it - maybe get on top, force you to gag - and so you don't know where it comes from - how and why you want nothing more than to drive your fingers inside her and work her until she's a wet, squelching mess, not when this was always Hyeju's role of being the aggressor; and yes, sure, even the aggressed.

Surely not because you came so hard, still somewhat shivering with the remnants of a rather abrupt, painful, sudden and all-consuming orgasm.

"We're not doing anything else," she says, lips pulled up into a smirk right at the crown of your cockhead. But before you can respond she pushes a hot open kiss, and goes lower. She presses the flat of her tongue to the seam, just below the head. Licks a line right up to the tip and finishes with a tender flick that sends you fisting the bedspread in your fingers and leaning back as your mind begins to disintegrate -

"I'm not going to ride you yet, or going to get my hips in your hands so you can fuck my pussy real hard until I cry and pass out. Nothing of that sort is gonna happen." She licks one long drag of her tongue. Then, the other way. "I want to make this very clear: this isn't some huge favor - and if you want it - want it so bad, you can stay there and I'm going to do everything for you. We will get there - together," and with her voice shaking as she brings the wet, glistening skin of your cock just inside her mouth, she looks up. "We'll get each other off, just like this," and it's the deep, dark, throated moan that makes your thighs and all the nerves in between stiffen and buck when she swallows you again.

Hyeju's hands tug, pull her whole body closer still as it slowly bends, curves - her ass raised, her stomach lying on the bed. Her mouth takes you another few inches, until the tip of her nose is barely visible, but when she pauses to lick the cum still left over - the cum that's starting to leak out again - to breathe through it, then squeeze her palm and bob her mouth down, take another inch, until the sides are stuffed and emptying out again, that's when she finally has something to say: "got anything left? I'm a little starved."

"I. Christ, yes-" you whine, which doesn't help your case at all: the image, the image of you lying flat - back with Hyeju's head tucked between your knees, her hand pulling out your cock.

Sloppy, slimy-wet.

She presses an innocent, not-at-all-innocent kiss right to your tip, puckering -

"You know what I did learn in that genetics class?" she muses, tongue flicking over her lips. Hyeju's about ready for a second helping - you're losing it. "When I first saw that DNA diagram - the double helix and all those little base pairs, and everything - it made me think of your cock. Your cock and me. Specifically our DNA. Did you know-"

She presses her palm over the head and rolls it - teases and strokes her palm - her knuckles - her fist - the whole nine. "When I hold your big fucking cock, mm, and just get it right - up in here, rubbing all along my walls - so deep, it gets me in my fucking ribs, makes me choke like I never been choked before, ah-mm," and it's this thought sliding toward the front of your mind, this perfect picture: Hyeju, getting fucked hard and open and stuffed full and stuffed good and stupid; you’ve got more than a few inches on her, can make her feel small and delicate; you know how to do her right.

But here you have Hyeju stroking the shaft - holding her hand tightly up near the head, rolling and twisting and sliding down and pushing her whole body right into the side of your legs: the soft, solid length, warm flesh and curves everywhere pressing into you.

You sit back, and just watch Hyeju with her eyes cool and composed, like half of her fucking face isn't streaked with your cum, mouth wrapped and looking fucking satisfied to be a total, gorgeous mess. She makes a dramatic display of kissing the tip again, just before telling you words you probably dreamt up at some point - either sleep deprived, or, during three AM jackoff, fantasizing. "Sometimes, just from riding your cock, I can't sit up straight."

"Fuck," and you feel your whole body run rigid, because apparently that's something you’ve been aching to hear.

You're covering her mouth again. White streaking onto her lips - where she's catching it in the well beneath her tongue and letting it spill out of the corner of her mouth. Into the crook of your thumb, which catches a drip here and there and rubs it down the length - down the curve - and pushes it back between Hyeju's pert little pout.

"Doesn't count, mister, just more pre-cum," she says, all with the audacity of a wink and smile; her words are a little garbled around the head of your cock between her teeth. And when you nod and realize just how painfully your jaw hurts, your throat becomes tight and raw, a knot pulling the underside from the center. Hyeju slides her lips lower, lower down, to the hilt and stays there, just like that - one hand holding down the flat of your belly to keep your hips still, her chin hanging - bobbing-as she feels every pulse, every twitching shift. You curl one hand around the side of her face, over the sharp edge of her jaw; rub a thumb into the delicate skin of her throat.

She shifts. You start to tell her what you like: how hot the rush comes when a girl puts her tongue against the slit at the very tip, and licks at the precum in nice, quick circles, soft and fluttering. And how her fingers shouldn't hesitate either, Hyeju's not even struggling to give it to you - god - just giving and -

She jerks her head up, swallowing down her next breath like it's one of her last. "I'm serious, if you're going to fuck a hole, start with my mouth - we can move onto everything else after."

"You're ridiculous -"

She meets her lips to your head, kissing once. Again. Kissing every inch, letting her mouth wrap around and then just - staying, just - staying like that and humming, with you, enjoying the fullness, the smell of you, the taste, the shape, just the weight and size and you.

There is spit fucking everywhere.

And if it's not clear what you're supposed to be doing - her fingers weave through yours, squeezing hard at the wrist and you can imagine: pulling her forward by her hair and holding her down while she chokes on your cock. "Fuck, Hyeju," you say, and your voice comes out way shakier than you'd like, "when, how did it get like this, huh? You always - always did, shit, always want your mouth filled."

"Never figured you to be someone who'd get turned on watching their friend sucking their cock like this."

"Doesn't everybody love the sight of their cock in a pretty girl's mouth?

"You were really convinced they weren't lining up behind you? Or anyone in the queue who can't keep their eyes off of this thing. Tell me, and try not to lie, try not to bullshit this one out: how many girls have you come home and fucked and creamed their brains out - then asked for the sloppiest, most -"

"Honestly."

"- Filthiest, nasty, ball-busting, gut-wrenching blowjob ever to make them think - to make them really start wondering what the hell it was you did - like it's gotta be something that leaves them so ruined, they can't ever not compare - can't ever not compare this moment, right here. Ever. When you give them the hardest fucking of their life, compared to any other guy - can't not, because no-one, literally no-one's cock can fuck like you do-"

"Fuck-"

"Any harder. Come on, seriously, tell me it isn't true. Come on."

Her voice - her fucking words, the tone she uses and how her words roll: honey-warm and soaking with sweet, thick degradation - she talks like sex, and that's exactly what gets you harder, like it’s something else; like it’s nothing, like it’s less, so much worse - you feel this guilty-dirty heat pool at your tailbone and push down the hard press of you throbbing all the way to her nose. And Hyeju smiles as much as she's capable around the fat, round stretch, humming around the warm taste of you, before opening wide and sinking her throat on it.

There's nothing like it.

You've got two fists in her hair; she's so tight and wet around every god-damn inch. Her cheeks flush - hot to the touch; her tongue laving in slow, long drags, slicking your shaft nice and warm until you're balls-deep and pushing her further: a small shift to the hips, a push here, a harder, faster pull, and Hyeju's feet behind her go curling like an angry cat, wanting the tug.

A long, satisfied breath slips from the hollows of her throat.

There are tears threatening, thickening her lashes, and though she doesn't choke - you're just afraid. Every sound that she pulls out, her eyes blinking up to you as if it's only natural to love getting used by her friend's cock, like the very premise of it - swallowing down the very shape of you, dragged over her tongue and brushing cum into the back of her throat - is something she can’t go without.

But this is nothing compared to the noises from where her lips are pressed tight around you, where you're hearing and even feeling:

That gluck, gluck - where her chest spasms just the slightest when her nose gets nuzzled right into your belly and you remember how much she likes to hear you talk dirty, how fucking wet it gets her. The heavy, deep breaths, gasps; the strangled moans when your hips just buck - the heat and the thrill, and this is better than every other time because there's just something in this moment -

"I'm not gonna come again, not like this. Not in your mouth. You can’t-"

But Hyeju refuses to hear a word; just pumps your shaft faster, feeling it's familiar hardness grow and throb and ache and retch, all her effort paying off: you're slick with precum and spit, hard and straining, the whole shaft begging for release - all because of her. And Hyeju won't stop, she pushes her cheek onto your thigh and then taps a hand there to pull your hips. The motion drives your cock further still inside her. Until it’s bathed in her spit, your cum, all this mess.

Until it's reaching, choking her, and the muffled sounds she's making are filthy and wet and so incredulously hot.

But god. Hyeju has something of a temper and a habit, too: with those big beautiful eyes and the perfect plump of her pouting lips, her tits swelling up around, when your grip slips on her shoulder, and her mouth goes tighter - how the pleasure begins to make you unbearably cruel and you push her away from you, only for a second -

She doesn't wait or seem to care; Hyeju follows the cock with her whole head and whimpers so hotly in her throat when it plops right back on her tongue. "That's more - more like - fuck, oh, there we go," her nose and fingers prodding.

You groan through a high, strangled whimper, a helpless shiver that turns into an uncontrollable roll of the hips - you can't believe it: she's already so thoroughly debauched and defaced; just fucking painted with it. Your cum dripping off her chin and rolling down her neck.

"Fuck - gonna make me - ah, Jesus -"

When Hyeju seems to have reached her fill, the feeling, you're cumming - pumping the length of your shaft. And the moment she feels you twitch and throb and that first hot spill lands in the bend of her mouth, it's as if she understands and holds herself tight - her legs going stock-still while your eyes blow up behind her, your cock spewing another and then another thick, milky load into her mouth, over her tongue: all along the topography of her throat - sticky cum landing in every ridge and valley -

Hyeju catches as much as she can. What little she can. You cum and pump and gush so much that when you're finally finished - done - every last drop spent and given - your cock throbs soft between her fingers; her chin is a complete and utter mess and her chest heaves with the sound of her catching her own breath. Hyeju groans softly and just swishes the load around in her mouth for a bit as if wanting to remember its feel and weight before lifting her eyes to look into yours. You can just barely see the color.

"Jesus, Hyeju-"

The entire bit of it, slick and shining-wet. With a small moan, a sound from the back of her throat: one swallow and the cum is gone, disappeared, vanished. She smiles like she didn't just ruin your entire goddamn life and, with her body limp and exhausted beside you - her gentle hand rubbing a flat stroke over your thigh before yours slips up to meet her chin.

"You," you curse and roll your eyes, catching the mess at the edge of her jaw, the very little left in the corners of her lips. You feed the cum over her bottom lip - her chin, her throat - watching your friend: Hyeju's throat, bobbing. "Really didn't have to," you start, but you realize just how useless a point it is to make.

She's smiling and biting and showing you what's left between the tips of her canines. "Do you always do this to the people who suck you off?"

"That's an awful habit. A pretty girl's lips aren't meant to get that messy," you reply.

"Oh." She frowns. "Well, I do a lot of things I shouldn't."

"God, seriously," and you think there's no greater hell, no sweeter pain than whatever's lingering in these little aftershocks - this fizzling and dying sort of pain, where the body is buzzed with all you're aching for. It's impossible to stop this train of thoughts, is the fucking feeling of her-

But just then, Hyeju rises to her knees, a new spark in her eyes, as she grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you off the sheets, a few inches closer.

"And you," she purrs as she drags the palm of your hand across her neck and collarbone, collecting what remains and making the perfect image, "well - you are going to help clean me up, like you said before." She sits tall; the arch of her spine is pronounced - her back, so, very, slightly tapering, to where your hand slips right off the last of it: the wide flare of her hips. "Now isn't that the gentleman's thing to do?" she asks.

"Of course." You sigh, resigned and in desperate need of water. "Of course," you add and smirk a little and slip your hand lower, toward where her skin is getting hot, and her body, "let's get you clean."

"Mm." She's already grinning. "You know what wasn't in those textbooks?"

"Oh, I can only guess." You bite your cheek and start to lower yourself back. "Give it a try."

Hyeju drags you by the wrist toward the hall, the bathroom, ostensibly the shower -

"There's no way in hell you don't want to put a baby in me, like, right fucking now."

"Is that what we're doing?"

Hyeju makes a face like you're stupid - she might've grabbed a towel on the way out. She wipes her chin a little while walking - the corner of her mouth where, well - where it looks like a little dribble has somehow remained. "No. But you’re going to fuck me like it is."

(There's got so much on her mind.

The door of the shower rattling in its frame as she struggles standing up against it. Getting fucked so fast and full, the feeling of both your hands cupped beneath the weight of her breasts. It's not the fact of where you are and your situation, per say - more about the immediate, the imperative nature. About fucking you. She was already feeling herself like, leaking the moment the door shut, so all that waiting, all that patience, really - and it's what drove her insane when you were, well: like that, after she put her mouth around your cock, made a right and proper mess of herself, and sucked you off.

Though there's less on her mind, clearly, when she cums all over your cock.

She's crying with her tits up onto the glass, your palm holding her ribs. Your cum-slick cock working itself hard again as it slips, back and forth, as you're fucking her open, spread apart. It's your finger in her asshole. That's what's on her mind then. How the press of your knuckle lights her entire fucking spine on fire - how the other hand finds her clit in all this, too, when you're no longer supporting the both of you but rather Hyeju is folding on her bent knee and trusting, on shaking and shivering, raw nerves, that you're not going to collapse.

"Fucking. God, please-"

There's the harsh slap of flesh - skin on wet skin, your palms against the sides of her ass and the curve of the breast. But otherwise - it's you, sighing - soft and gentle, like you can't get over the feel of her. "Hyeju, oh-fucking, god, fucking," is what you're saying, and it doesn't end up really mattering which one of you came last because she can feel you twitching, squelching in and out with how badly you're wanting to explode inside, but also you can feel her cunt absolutely begging, this fucking fluttering and clamping down on every thrust and the moment you manage to grind this angle she loses her ability to speak properly because you're not just, like - fucking her-

Just, absolutely, completely pounding her pussy, stretching her insides, dragging and sliding along the walls; each rough rub and thrust makes her knees quiver until her body is trembling and falling. But mostly her voice, the sharp gasp that shakes into her, how her nails are scraping the walls of the shower stall and she's saying - telling, crying and asking and wondering and pleading - just utterly astounded:

"Amazing," she huffs, breathes coming out cloudy and true onto the pane of glass, "you - it’s, fucking amazing.")

“And I am… Ironman.”

Your eyes flicker awake, hazy, as Tony Stark snaps his fingers, killing himself alongside Thanos’ army in the process.

The TV's long been running on background noise, though not as ambient. Its characters now bickering between the rubble and ruins and being picked up for the end credits. In the dark of the screen, you see Hyeju had nodded off and slumped over the side of your body. A new year means new beginning means resolutions and diets and gym routines -

Maybe no sooner than the sun can come up, apparently.

You lean over to grab your phone from the table: 4:14 A.M.

There's a lot of things you want to say, even more you want to hear, but your mind has begun to settle a bit - a lazy and dreamy thing that fills you with this sort of, tired kind of - not sad, or empty - no, of course not. That's hardly fitting; not after tonight. You want to wrap this in an idealistic sort of sentiment - maybe hold Hyeju close and let the hour carry you and the comfort be enough to forgive whatever there is to miss: like the fact, it's still really dark, so dark even outside. The moon reflecting off the sheet of snow on the street. And not even a distant dog barking, or car driving by or someone playing loud music in the early hours of the new year.

As the film drifts off into another set of commercials, you slip into an easy sleep that feels effortless. Your head drops, landing on the cushion by the arm of the couch, where Hyeju's hand begins to slip mindlessly across your belly, tickling your waist and causing you to slightly squirm - things are cooling down, but still a little agitated.

"Don't tell me you're waking me up, cause I just -"

She kisses the pulse at your throat and answers, mumbling half-words into the spot below your ear. "A kiss for a new year."

And maybe the world doesn't owe you anything at all.

Maybe it just gave you more than enough.

#hyeju smut #loona smut #loona hyeju smut #loossemble smut #loossemble hyeju smut #olivia hye smut #loona olivia hye smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember

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xo2dee · 4 months

Text

𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

❦ Pairing: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader

❦ Warnings: MDNI/18+ only. oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal fingering, edging (fem receiving), dirty talk, vaginal sex, rough sex, orgasm delay/denial, light bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, creampie

❦ Word Count: 6051

❦ Summary: Jingle all the way.

❦ A/N: i wrote this two years ago around christmas time and have revised it like twice, so it's only fair i share this one here first given how it's still in season

❦ twitter - ao3

In retrospect, you hadn’t thought you would gander the attention you had gotten from him. At least, not so soon.

(But it wasn't like you didn't always have his attention anyway.)

Nanami Kento was an exceedingly busy man, and returning to his job as a Jujutsu Sorcerer was almost just as busy as his time spent as a salaryman; albeit he did admit to you that perhaps it was less stressful, but he still had his headaches whenever Gojo Satoru decided to pester him with annoying antics to tell him about an investigation rather than just telling him straight up (he had been subjected to more than enough crude drawings of the male and female reproductive anatomy to speak for that accusation). And because of that, it was increasingly hard for you and him to ever spend time together since he always seemed to work well into overtime no matter how times he grouched about how much he hated it.

Dates were often hard to come by with him, but alas, it was like they said it being a ‘Christmas Miracle’ whenever a seemingly extremely happy and yearned for event happened in the month of December that Kento found some time off for the holidays even if it wasn’t necessarily celebrated as much. Because of that, you were able to enjoy more time with him and take time decorating for the corresponding holiday later in the month as well as plan a nice dinner night with him since you two really hadn’t sat down and enjoyed each other’s company like that in a long while.

You two also hadn’t had sex in a while. And perhaps that was why when Kento had asked you if you were going out to buy stockings to hang above the fireplace, you bought another more suggestive type of stockings as well.

Maybe it was the pent-up sexual frustration from that feeling of not touching each other like that in so long that got him so riled up, but fuck, from the way he eyed you as you stepped out in it for what was supposed to be a somewhat formal dinner between you two in your shared apartment…

You patted yourself on the back for buying the number because as much as you liked it, so did he.

Dinner with Kento at a restaurant or not was always a gracious occasion, he was composed and polite in matters of enjoying a fine cuisine with you and treasured that time he got with you. You liked the domesticity of it as you two chatted over glasses of burgundy wine, watching the glinting of your silverware in the light as you bit into your meal, and overall, just enjoyed his presence because it was hard to come by to get him like that.

You often told him you preferred his cooking over going out to eat, knowing from experience that he personally made the food just right whenever you were eating it. He had been taking his time in baking as well, the cake of your favorite flavor with strawberries on top he had made sitting on the counter in your kitchen for the romantic occasion something you had been looking forward to trying as well when you told him you were ready for dessert.

Honestly you had meant the cake as a dessert, but Kento was dead set on indulging himself in another type of dessert beforehand. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint where and when he finally snapped, you knew he was already teetering on a fine line to keep a strong hold onto his will whenever you first walked out in the little Christmas Elf ensemble.

The outfit itself was probably enough to nearly make him combust; the Christmas green, velvet, negligee combined with a jagged, jingle-bell trim that barely covered your ass and the plunging neckline that had your breasts pushed up and ready to pop out of the top of it had his dark eyes homing in on the parts of your flesh exposed. Your hat was something you hadn’t thought to really keep on since it was already in the floor next to dinner table, but you were beginning to think that perhaps his favorite part of the outfit was the thigh-high stockings lining up your legs and your red thong that matched the color of his tie for the night.

(Of course, he had matching ties for the holidays, it was just so him.)

The stocking themselves were green and white-striped topped off with their own little jingle-bell positioned neatly into the middle of your thighs, that which with every moment you made, they jingled. You had noticed his eyes mainly gravitate down towards there, mouth thinning and a vein throbbing in his temple with each step you made in them walking towards him in those damn fuzzy little kitten heels he had bought you that one time. Kento wasn’t so discreet in pulling his collar away from his neck and tugging at his tie as you both sat down to eat in an action of frustration and probable horniness, and he wasn’t so discreet with the rough tone his voice held every time he tried to engage in any conversation with you.

You knew that you would get fucked after dinner anyway considering the dilated, alluring gaze he was throwing at you from underneath his eyelashes that you normally got whenever he was in the mood, but you being you wanted to indulge in your own fun to see how far you could push him.

After all, it had been so long since you two touched each other so intimately.

Like you had been thinking beforehand, you weren’t too sure where and when Kento decided to say fuck it and bend you over the table, but you had some possible guesses. Perhaps when you licked a slow stripe on your fork with a sighing moan talking about how good it tasted. Or maybe when you purposefully kept pushing your arms together to let your tits strain against the bra that your nipples were about to spill out of for his view, talking about how tight the outfit was. Though if you really had to pick one of the guesses, it was when both of you had finished the actual dinner and then you sighed about how you wanted to be stuffed full right as you ate that dessert.

That really was the last thing you had really said to each other, the only thing coming out his mouth after had been a curse and some concealed grunts while you on the other hand were alternating with filthy praises and moans mixed with whines while Kento had his own dessert.

At that moment in time, you were bent over the dining table, hands clutching onto the tablecloth in tight fists and your chest squished into the hard surface with one leg Kento had hoisted up onto the table in a harsh grip on your thigh. Your other leg was balancing up on your tiptoes while your lover had fallen onto his knees after all but tearing your thong off and throwing it onto the table just above your head and used his other hand to spread the ass cheek of your leg that wasn’t on the table to bury his face nose-deep into your pussy.

You had already been getting wet with your own teasing, but Kento’s tongue was fast to let you start nearly dripping onto the floor and the tablecloth while delivering slow, fat licks with the base of his tongue up the entirety of your wet folds. His fingers dug into your ass of what he could with a squeeze, his hot breath and grunts vibrating through the opening of your cunt whenever you wiggled from a particular stimulated swipe of his tongue and moaned into the tablecloth.

Trying to sit up on your elbows to look back at him he was quick to force you back down with a hand placed onto your lower back, a slap to your ass afterwards for trying to move your pussy away for his ‘meal’. You whined and scratched at tablecloth that was nearly falling off the dinner table in a fashion Kento would’ve normally sighed at and pinched the bridge of his nose for, wriggling your hips harder against his nose for him to stop with the torturous licking and to just really devour your cunt like a man starved.

“Kento, please, go faster,” you huffed against the cloth, cheeks as hot as the temperature of the room. The fireplace in the living room had been lit to help set the romantic mood and to help fight the cold weather freezing the windows, and above the fireplace was the two cute stockings you had bought for the both of you. You watched the fire flicker in a drunk-like state, almost reminiscent of the hot sensation behind your naval growing every time your lover let the tip of his tongue jab at your clit. Everything was so hot, and you felt so warm.

Kento delivered another smack to your ass cheek, no doubt the skin beginning to redden from the repeated hits he had been giving you since he bent you over the damn table and started eating your pussy like it was his last meal. You moaned again as the sting morphed and grew alongside of your heightened pleasure, but you knew the slap was his own way of saying he wanted to hear something better than that.

You arched your back to deliberately rock your hips back into his face, his tongue sliding faster up your slit as he turned to slurping and sucking around the area with a groan from your eagerness, “Just… I wanna feel it, I wanna cum on your tongue and your face, please.”

That rewarded you a louder groan that vibrated your pussy again, his hand on your thigh holding you up moving to grasp your hip as the other grabbed the thigh of your leg desperately trying to remain on the ground to spread it wider for his liking. Once you were situated like he wanted, he changed his course of action: that hand holding your thigh disappeared to let two fingers begin a slow, rotating rub onto your clit, and his face delved deeper into your cunt with the tip of his tongue wiggling around until he had your lips spread open far enough to push the organ inside of you some. All the while the hand on your hip coasted you back and forth, encouraging you to rock back and grind against his face as he continued eating you out.

Your reaction was instantaneous; a keening, louder moan past through your lips as your eyes slightly rolled whenever his tongue made quick work to map out the inside of your dripping cunt. You eagerly followed his instruction of rolling your hips every time he swiped up the inside of you, coating your insides with his own saliva and at the same time greedily letting your fluids soak up into his taste buds.

God, Kento was one of the best pussy eaters you had ever had the pleasure coming of across, and it really doubled down onto that fact since he always wanted to indulge in it every time you two had sex.

“God, Kento, your mouth…” you broke off into whimper whenever he picked up the speed of rubbing your clit, switching from the circles to a steady back and forth, pressing down every time he repeated the process. You pressed your forehead into the table below you, almost wanting to just shred the white cloth from how fucking good it felt each time you rolled back onto his tongue and whenever he curled the tip of his tongue to lick up a side of you while pressing harder onto your clit, and ohfuckinghell –

Kento groaned again and his fingers flexed harder on your hip whenever you started to clench and unclench around his slick, hot tongue, his lips pressing over the lower parts of your pussy in a kiss to lap up any escaping fluids that his tongue wasn’t able to catch. The appendage felt insane, and you didn’t know how he managed to do it, but every time you two got to fucking he made it better each time around.

“S-Shit, just like that, please. Fuck, I’m so close,” you whimpered again as you dug your face harder into the tablecloth to fight back a horribly loud, pornographic moan. He answered back by smacking off your cunt and sliding his tongue out of you to give you another slow, almost lazy lick on the outer parts of you, deliberately teasing at your clit in a quick jab before he was diving back in with a hot exhale to put his tongue back in your warm pussy.

You bit into the cloth at that, eyes shutting in a squeeze as the coil behind lathering up in your lower abdomen pushed harder against you. Your brain had blocked out everything that wasn’t him, just giving all focus of letting your hips swing back and forth from his face and letting your cunt constrict and press around his tongue to get a feel of the greedy organ swirling around inside of you to feel every curl and swipe it made against your insides. Your back arched further inwards and your toes curled as well; the all-telling sign you were so fucking close to cumming.

God, you wanted it so bad.

The leg on the ground started to shake as Kento picked up his darts and jabs against your soft cunt and his fingers started move more rapidly on your clit. You were getting desperate then after that, his tongue-fucking making you rock back eagerly like you were fucking back on his dick those so many times he had you face down into your mattress. His fingers digging into your hip only added to the intensity behind abdomen and growing in your pussy that was rapidly approaching each time he groaned sending a vibration up all the towards your clit and cervix alike, your pleas getting jumbled together in praises and just broken whines of his name.

“Please, fuck –” you squealed when he hummed and pinched your clit – “Kento, it feels so good, I’m gonna cum, keep going…” your back arched hard whenever he slapped your ass again, nails really starting to rip into the tablecloth when his tongue slithered up out of you and he decided to let the slick organ join the movement on your clit.

However when he closed his lips around your swollen clit and sucked, you jerked hard with your cunt beginning to spasm as you were on the cusp of finally cumming all over his fucking face and he just needed to keep sucking and groaning while he did it as you continued to fuck back into his face and you were so close, just right there, right there, right there, fuck –

When the all-telling loud whine of his name finally left your lips that he fucking knew meant you were about to cum, he abruptly backed off of you, taking his tongue, his mouth and his fingers altogether and leaving you edged up and your cunt leaking from all the fluids of his saliva and yours combined. A groan left you and you banged your forehead onto the table whenever you felt his presence leave your entire body for a few moments, leaving your pussy gaping open and your hips still desperately rocking for any type of friction to let you cum.

He was in that mood.

Well… it was too be expected when you had really set him over the edge that time.

“Kento –” you started off, but quickly his name trailed off into a squeal whenever he gripped both your hips and flipped you back over upwards to face him, letting you get the full, hazy sight of him already jerking his tie out of its knot rather aggressively and throwing it onto the table next to you. He didn’t waste any time after doing that, the clanking of his belt coming undone as he only undid his pants far enough to pull his hard cock out and let it sit snugly on your clit as he slowly began to rock onto it.

Your toes curled again as he pulled you down lower onto the table, hooking your legs over his hips as you watched his flushed face follow the movements of his dick rubbing up on your clit until you started squirming and bucking up towards him in a wordless beg to just fuck you. Your orgasm was well gone by then, the throbbing of your clit and his grinding slowly picking it back up until he decided he had enough of your little wriggling around and just wanted to be inside of you once and for all.

Kento surprisingly didn’t take it slow then, his cockhead lining up with your opening for a few seconds until he was pushing his hips forward into one good thrust and bottoming out inside of you. You always gasped every time he got inside of you, the girth of him enough to knock the breath out of you and make you grip onto his forearms. He did the same too, a long shuddering exhale leaving his glistening lips covered in your fluids as his hands moved to grip onto the tablecloth beside of your head and he started to shallowly thrust into you.

“I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you,” he grunted out, sounding just as out of breathe as you felt, “You’re always so wet, so easy for me to just slip in… It’s been so long, I almost want to just take this slow and savor every way you moan and the way you feel right now gripping me,” his hips started to move faster, your body beginning bounce each time he slid out far enough and pushed back in.

His talking and voice alone had you clenching around him, ready to just fucking gush on his cock if he so much as asked. However, your interest was piqued by his explanation of ‘almost wanting to go slow’, eagerly looking up at him through your lidded eyes with your sighing lips as your hands left his arms to tug at the buttons of his shirt.

Once you got his shirt done and the view of his muscled body in sight, he spoke again with a rougher, sharp edge in his tone, “You remember what you said earlier?”

“Mmm." He was picking up his pace, the bells on your negligee and your stockings beginning to jingle each time your body slid up and back down on the dinner table, “What’d I say?” you breathily asked, hands hungrily running down the planes of his sculpted abdomen.

“You said you wanted to be ‘stuffed full’ of the dessert I made,” he groaned out whenever you pinched a nipple, one of his hands curling long fingers around your wrists as the other made way for his tie next you. He made quick work wrapping the fabric of it around your wrists, not tight enough to cut your circulation off, but tight enough to keep your hands secured, and topped it off with its own little bow as he pushed your tied-up hands in-between your cleavage.

Almost like you were his present.

“Behave,” he warned when you snickered, and afterwards letting his fingers tugging the straps of your negligee down onto your upper arms before returning his hands to fist at the tablecloth next to your ribs. “As I was saying, you said you wanted to be stuffed full,” his hips were picking speed up again, the sound of your clothing jingling louder and the cold steel of his belt clanking and pressing against your skin adding to the noise in the room. “Tell me, did you mean you wanted to be stuffed full of my cock or stuffed full of my cum?”

The words sent a frenzy into your brain that shot down your spine and tingled into your clit, your thighs squeezing around his hips in tune to how your pussy squeezed over his dick each time it rolled back inside of you. Your fingers curled and your joints popped as you craved to grab onto something, pants slipping out of your mouth as you tried to answer him, “I – mmm, I want, fuck –”

A slap landed onto the side of your thigh, “Tell me… I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

God, every time he talked to you like that your pussy was already drenching and ready to just beg him for whatever. The words alone had you moaning again as you heard the table below you two start to creak and the wine glasses beginning to shake in tune with his thrusting. Your head rolled back as you shut your eyes, the building pressure in your abdomen already weighing you back down as the babbling was already falling off your lips for affirmation to get him to actually finally fuck you.

“Both! Please just fuck me until I’m full of cum. IwantitsobadpleaseKentoplease!”

You got what you wanted at least.

At first, he groaned at your whines with his fingers ripping the tablecloth at how you sounded, your moans for him the sweetest and the most tempting sounds in the world to him as they sent chills through his body just from how he and he alone was blessed to hear them. After that, he very nearly lethargically pulled his cock out until his swollen and reddened cockhead skimmed your folds in a kiss, and then it was whole other side of him you were so goddamn happy to see when he snapped back into your cunt and set himself off with a devastating pace.

Your back instantly arched once you were thrown into the haven of ecstasy that was him ferociously fucking you, a choked out moan from his tenaciousness as your body really began to bounce and slide onto the dinner table.

Fuck, you loved pushing his buttons.

The table then was really creaking, the glasses above you two tipping back and forth with each jab of his cock he sent pressed into the deepest part of your pussy and the wine bottle almost rolling off into the floor if his fast reflexes hadn’t caught it and placed it into the chair behind him. The other noises you were able to hear were your own moans and pants all jumbled sorts of his name, and his own grunting and groaning low in his chest combined with the obscene sound of your pussy getting smacked into every time he pulled out far enough and dove back in with hard snaps.

But there was another noise that you would’ve laughed at if you weren’t currently getting the shit fucked out of you by your lover, who had not once felt the touch of your pussy in what seemed to be months.

The little bells on your stockings and at the bottom of your negligee that had been pushed up past your hips were tinkling so loud and so in a tune, it nearly sounded like it was being played by an orchestra entirely made up of sleigh bells. You had half a mind to think it nearly could be paired with the knocking of the table to add in the effect of hooves signaling the sign of reindeer arriving, but you were so caught up with focusing on how fucking good Kento felt you only thought about it for brief moments.

His cock deep diving into your cunt was gut-curling and left you gasping out each time he found home inside of you so bad that it started to line up with how your words came out of you. You were mesmerized by his face as always; red and his forehead sweaty enough to let tendrils of his blonde locks curl onto the surface of while his dark brows were scrunched into a furrow and at times, he bit his lip to keep himself from moaning louder than you. At other times you knew he liked to watch your face; his brown eyes heavily dilated and boring into your own to watch every expression you made to commit it to his memory, however then…

His eyes were acutely focused on watching his cock leave you as your cunt twitched and gaped open awaiting his return, and watching it so easily enter you again and how your pussy would stretch to accommodate his size and it was a perfect fit –

Kento’s nostrils flared as another harsh exhale left him, his strokes picking up a fraction letting you know that he was getting close rather quickly. You couldn’t blame him, it had been so long and you were ready to cum all over him as well.

Your back knocking into the table had your tits bouncing out of your built-in bra, the gasping sounds of your words bringing his eyes back to your own as you spoke with each harsh thrust, “You haven’t – been – like this – in a while – God – last time – you were like – this – it was the – first – time I let you – cum inside of me – oh fuck.”

Kento eyes narrowed into your own before they briefly dropped to watch your breasts bounce with each thrust, your hardened nipples catching his attention as he reached up and tweaked one. You squealed and wiggled your hips, but he didn’t let up as he leant down closer and the upwards angle of his cock inside of you had your eyes crossing while his mouth found your ear. His gravelly voice sent a new wave shivers down your spine, “Need I remind you that you begged for it? You whined and cried about how much you wanted me to finally ‘fuck you’ and let you feel me cum in you. How shameful you are begging to be filled like that, but I can’t say I’m surprised since you beg me for it every time.”

At the angle he was at practically lying on top of you it allowed you to scratch at his chest, another round of fiery words coming out in response to his hypocriticalness that he was the one telling you that he’d cum inside of you so much that it was incredible you hadn’t gotten pregnant, “You love it – you love – fucking me full – don’t you? You love – the idea of me – being at risk – and you do it – mmm – every single time.”

That got you a hoarse groan, Kento leaning back far away from you with a grunt and aggressively tearing off his blazer to throw into the floor where you little hat laid as well. Something about his eyes changed, his shoulders hunching forward as his hands slid down past your hips and over your thighs until he was twirling three fingers around the top of your stockings. His strokes had stopped and you had a moment of clarity not having the breath fucked out of you until he started back up again. Though that time –

Shitshitshitshitshit.

Kento had taken upon himself to use the leverage he had on your stockings to pull your body to fuck into him. The pace wasn’t as fast and desperate beforehand, but it was deep and with the hard meaning behind it thick with ferocity of what he wanted to do to you.

But really it was what you both wanted.

“Ohhhholyshit, fuck I’m gonna cum,” you wailed out throwing your head back again with a gaping mouth, legs tightening of what they could as they began to shake around his hips. There had been few times you genuinely felt like Kento was guts-deep into you, aside from always being balls deep in your pussy, and that moment as you bounced and nearly hiccupped with every tug at your thighs to let your sopping insides completely engulf his cock, you truly felt like he was in your stomach. Your cunt then was pulsing, clenching and unclenching as best as it could to all but engrave each vein and groove on his cock to the walls of you, the new pace and angle crossing and rolling your eyes back as you started to slip back down into your orgasm once more.

However, he wasn’t about to let you off for your little backtalk.

“Don’t be so coy, you like it as much as I do whenever you feel me cum inside of you,” his hold tightened as you heard parts of your stockings rip from his behavior and he began to slowly fuck back into you, meeting you thrust for thrust, “You – want – to tell me – what it is? What is it you want done to you so badly?”

Your head rolled, your pussy growing wetter and impossibly tighter at each word he groaned at you. The coil behind your naval was too hard to ignore, your mind desperately clawing to reach for it, to finally feel that sweet sense of relief, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to have it unless you told him what you wanted. He knew you were about cum, he could feel it with each stroke that you constricted around and each pant that grew louder and louder when you bucked your hips up to meet him.

You indulged him. “I want you to cum inside of me –”

Your stockings ripped more, a bell on one flying off to jingle as it rolled onto the floor. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

Everything was hot; him, his cock, you. “Fuck, just… stuff me full of your cum like I said wanted you to!”

“Tempting,” he grunted out and you watched him flick the one little bell on your stocking still, the others still jingling as the table slid in tune with his pulling, “but you can do better than that.”

You were getting frustrated; you had been denied cumming once, and with the throbbing of your clit and the ‘itch you couldn’t scratch’ feeling, you were very nearly ready to fuck into him and cum before you told him anything. However, it was the pulsing of his hot cock inside of you with each dive back into you and the edge his octave took when he spoke to you that stopped from doing so; he was close. He was close and wanted to hear what you were going to say to let himself get off and you knew he knew that him alone cumming was enough make you cum too. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out along your walls and keeping it inside of you feeling so good it made you insatiable, and you wanted so much more.

Kento’s tip was brushing against that one sensitive spot again, the area not unknown to him since he loved to fuck up into you there to have you crying and babbling for him. Your eyes rolled back a fraction and your toes curled while your nerves lit up as you grew so fucking close, the muscles in your body tensing and the awareness in your brain turning foggy while the pressure in your cunt grew tenfold and you started squeezing desperately around him. With his heavy breaths and harsh groans, you knew was getting at his limit; he was getting closer.

But you wanted it, you wanted it so damn bad that you regained a bit of clarity for a brief moment to really push at his resolve. You blinked and rolled your eyes back to him, finding his own dark eyes already watching you, then narrowing inwards as you let a lewd grin light up your face.

“It’s called breeding.”

His grip tightened.

“You have a breeding kink.”

His pace quickened; harder and faster, and you locked your ankles at his back.

“I want you to breed me, Kento.”

His nostrils flared and a hissing exhale left him, hands slamming down onto the table in favor of just fucking hard into you instead.

“C’mon, breed me.”

A long, winding groan left him as his fingers found your clit again with a deliberate rub, the rest of your plea coming off in a high-pitched whine as you starting cumming the moment you said it.

“Fuck a baby into me, Kento!”

You got the satisfaction for a brief second to watch his eyes roll back at the last words before your head lulled back from the harsh release of your orgasm. You shut your eyes as your vision had busted into shades of all colors and strong release of endorphins flooded both sides of your brain, your hips sporadically trying to grind and buck to keep up with his still thrusting body as he fucked you through and you tried to ride through it. It was useless though, the lock you had around his back breaking with your shaking legs and your trembling cunt squeezing around him to desperately keep him inside of you. Your chest heaved with the harsh breaths as you began to jerk and try to find your way back to lucidity, but you weren’t so lucky whenever you moaned aloud again when you felt him cum.

His last thrust was a harsh jab he combined with a thigh-clenching groan that slid the table and you up inches before you sighed longingly as you felt the familiar warmth of his cum spurting out inside of you. You got your wish of getting stuffed full as well, his cum almost seemingly never-ending as each sudden stab of his hips in you had another stream of it filling up your pussy. The new heat in you had you sighing once more in contentment as you felt it slowly slide down through you and pass into your womb, not doubt him fulfilling that possible useless wish of wanting him to fuck a baby into you. Kento’s thrusts finally came to still as he sat inside of you to keep any of his cum from leaking out your still convulsing cunt, only leaving you as both of your breaths finally settled into a steadier rate.

You could feel it slowly begin to slide out of your gaping hole after he carefully pulled out, almost literally feeling your body deflate and trying to push itself back into place as his cock left you in the process. But ever the man not to want to make a ‘mess’, Kento brushed the tip of himself alongside your folds to catch the cum that oozed out of you. You whimpered and gasped whenever you felt him push what had escaped you back into your sensitive pussy, a slow roll of his hips fucking his cum back into you to make sure it stayed there.

“I’m only keeping my word,” he huffed out, keeping himself busy for the moment with slow, mouthwatering rocks of his own sensitive body part to make sure you were stuffed full of his cum like you and he both wanted.

It was only a few moments of that before he stopped his rocking and he was freeing your hands of the bondage he placed on you, lifting your wrists to deliver two kisses to them until you lazily slid an arm around his neck and locked your ankles around his back again keep him snugly inside of you and to pull him on top of you again for a slow kiss.

It was a lot more sensual and chaste compared to your previous activities, all sighs and mingling breath tasting of sweet wine before you broke off and kissed at his cheek, “Thanks for the dessert.”

Kento snorted at your choice of words, wrapping his arms around your back and burying his face into your shoulder, “…We made a mess.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And I have to buy a new tablecloth.”

“And new stockings, you ripped both of them.”

“I’ll buy you the same pair –”

His hand slid down to flick at the one bell still attached to you and you giggled at his corniness whenever he whispered his next words into your ear.

"– because I like the way they jingled when I fucked you.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu kasien #nanami kento x you #source: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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shubblelive · 9 months

Text

— INVITATION

summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl

featuring : cc!wilbur soot

requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy

word count : 2.1k

note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333

you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.

you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.

or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.

his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.

he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.

he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.

he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”

he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”

he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.

“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”

he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.

there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”

“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“why didn’t you come get me?”

he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.

“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”

you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”

“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”

your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”

“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”

“you invited me-”

“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”

you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.

you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.

“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”

you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.

he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.

he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.

he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.

“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”

“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.

“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”

“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.

he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”

you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”

“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”

“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”

#wilbuh #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader fluff #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot angst

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mtkay13 · 10 months

Text

WenZhou x Memes! and, of course, some thoughts. More memes below + explanations! (Very Long Post)

You know other men?

The first one above was based on a famous "you know other men?" meme, that Bichen suggested we take part in (in the TYK community). I wanted to make ZZS smile at WKX's antics because it makes him laugh, ofc, and because he's quite fond of that wife act WKX enjoys playing so much.

The Barbie meme

Interestingly enough, this one has sparked quite a bunch of discussions online. When we had talked about making the meme for TYK!WenZhou, both Moose (@butleronice) and I thought that having ZZS as the serious one felt a bit strange. I feel like TYK!ZZS as I know him is rather goofy and would be more likely to make fun of the situation and the authorities that he doesn't take seriously.

WKX, besides in ZZS' presence, in the book, tends to act very cold and not necessarily civil--especially if you think those would be Jianghu authorities. Not saying the reverse wouldn't work, of course! But for my conception of the characters, it felt off. However--on twitter, we both received more comments than necessary saying: "This should be the opposite." "WKX should be the fun one--", etc. I have to confess that this left me worried regarding ZZS' reputation, considering that more often than not, when I make him to be the goofier, more stupid looking one, I get surprised reactions. I wonder what exactly has given him these... serious, un-fun vibes for many people.

The way I see it, in the book, ZZS is quite fun, overly civil and polite in a fake-smiley way, gets himself in absurd situations and WKX comments on him as being ridiculous and goofy. Of course, in ZZS' presence, WKX himself acts in a very extra way, but overall, in the book, WKX is quite closed-off and cold towards others, and doesn't give those vibes of being fun, extra or goofy to me. (I won't lie, I do blame the first and most popular translations for that, as they make ZZS quite stiff in the dialogs and I feel like this doesn't help...) I don't think it's a problem if people see them differently, though! But it was upsetting to see how some people did (quite rudely in some case) allow themselves to tell us how wrong we were, especially considering the time and care we both put in our decision to characterise them this way (and work on their expressions).

I recommend going to check Moose's version on her twitter as well (@butleronduty)!!

Equal strength

This one was based on a meme posted by Choco (@kwehxing) on twitter; about how this dialog would be fun for WenZhou.

I, once again, considered that yeah, maybe the default would have WKX turn any situation into a reason to fuck--but at the same time, I wondered: is it really his style? Isn't he having plenty of situations in which he can bring that up, already? I like to read ZZS as having a certain competence kink, and I think he gets off of sparring and feeling WKX's strength. I thought it fun to imagine him getting really worked up from sparring and using that as an excuse to demand fucking because OBVIOUSLY what else. I guess that to me, this is a reflection of how his mind is working.

The Tintin parody

My friend Angel brought a tintin parody comic from the @tintinades account on twitter and instagram. Here is the original. I thought it could be really fun to adapt it for WenZhou with a little twist at the end. Of course, mastering qinggong, WenZhou probably don't really need the ropes--although I think that ZCL isn't able to safely cross the road yet which is why they wanted to make a way. However, WKX clearly got distracted and went on ahead, hehe.

The distracted BF

This one was suggested by Bichen again--a classic, which worked really well and was actually quite funny when using Hoboxu.

He wants to order

This was the first meme I ever drew for WenZhou, following the "he/she wants to order" pattern. Pretty self-explanatory!

#wenzhou #tian ya ke #zhou zishu #wen kexing #meme #tyk #zzs #wkx

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sky-casino · 4 months

Text

spiderman!rin: weaving through leads to you

hello~ i'm back with my third bllk x spiderman au piece!

to anon, thank you for the request and for waiting patiently! i tried a different storytelling style here, i hope that's okay with you 😊

fanart credit: @shirkori on twitter

rin who has been childhood friends with you. childhood "sweethearts", to be more precise. what's with all your friends, classmates, his teammates, and even some teachers relentlessly teasing the two of you about how good you two look together and how compatible you are with each other.

rin who finally confessed his feelings nonchalantly, and you saying nothing but simply smiling and holding his hand as your response.

rin who loves you, his brother, and soccer.

rin who got bit by a red-and-blue spider during one of his solo practice sessions on the school's soccer field.

rin who didn't mind it until he had to, given all the side effects he rapidly went through that night.

spiderman!rin who kept pacing back and forth in his mind on whether he should tell you about his newfound superpowers or not.

spiderman!rin who chose the former, texting you to meet him on the rooftop one afternoon, once class and club activities are done.

spiderman!rin who came clean to you, asking you what he should do with his new abilities because that's what he always does, seek you for advice and direction. he knew he's basically a lost puppy without you. you who were astounded and yet excited, suggesting to him to use his abilities responsibly for the greater good.

spiderman!rin who always made sure you were there whenever he practiced going up on walls, shooting webs, and using them to maneuver from one place to another.

spiderman!rin who felt warm and giddy all over his chest whenever you praised him and told him how proud you are of him.

spiderman!rin who sends you selfies and landscape views of the city while he's on his daily patrol.

spiderman!rin who taps on your window in the middle of the night so he can snuggle with you for a while as a way to rest and recharge.

spiderman!rin who sweeps you off your feet and swings with you to the building with the best view of the city and the sunset.

spiderman!rin who had to stop being spiderman and had to let go of his superhero suit after vanquishing the enemy who discovered his identity, hence discovering who you are as well, and ultimately threatened your life by abducting you.

rin who is just now simply itoshi rin.

the itoshi rin who chose to go back to his ordinary life.

the itoshi rin who chose you, your safety, and soccer.

the itoshi rin who stubbornly told you that he would always choose you over other people, vehemently stating that he'll never go back to being spiderman because it was the reason your life was put in danger at the first place.

the itoshi rin who has had his fun as your vigilante boyfriend, and just now wants to be your soccer-player boyfriend.

you, who have known rin for many years and is therefore aware of how stubborn he is. you know that once he makes up his mind, there's no changing it. and so you accepted his decision.

the transition back to his ordinary life was mostly smooth, and his alter-ego and superhero days will be the best-kept secret between the two of you.

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ingravinoveritas · 25 days

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youtube

So, some folks have probably seen by now that the trailer for Michael's appearance on The Assembly this Friday has dropped, and the first question shown is, "How does it feel to be dating with someone who's only 5 years older than your daughter?"

Already, I am seeing people clutching their pearls in response to this, particularly on Twitter. Saying that it's an inappropriate question, that this person has an opportunity to ask Michael anything and chooses this, that he looks so uncomfortable, and so on. One piece of context that seems to be missing is that (to my knowledge), none of the interviewers are fans of Michael's. They were given the opportunity to do research prior to the interview and developed their questions based on that, but none (again, AFAIK) are coming from the vantage of being a fan. So immediately, that gives a different sense of where the interviewers are coming from and how this shapes and informs the interview itself.

What also came to mind is that if Michael is uncomfortable, it's worth thinking about why that might be. It seems like a lot of fans have created this perfect portrait of Michael and Anna's relationship in their minds, so if we are to follow the logic of that--if his and AL's relationship is as sunshine and roses as many people believe it to be--then Michael might be surprised by the question, but probably wouldn't be uncomfortable. Yet in the trailer, we can see the change in his body language and the way he tenses up immediately after the question is asked. Because for as talented an actor as he is, Michael absolutely cannot seem to hide his true feelings as himself.

I also definitely think that whatever answer he gives to that question will be a PR answer. Which is not to suggest that Michael will be dishonest, but rather that he will be polite, but likely without saying what he really feels about their relationship. Again, do I think he owes anyone his full, unvarnished emotions? No, of course not. But Michael is a fully grown adult man who is more than aware of the consequences of his actions, and he does not need to be "protected" or shielded from such questions. So if fans are uncomfortable with Michael's discomfort in talking about a relationship he's been in for the last five years, it might be a good idea to think about why that is.

The other thing I wanted to mention is that the editing of the trailer is already confirming some of my previously-held fears where the autistic/neurodivergent interviewers are portrayed as rude/weird, and Michael is "so brave" for taking on the "challenge" of being interviewed by "those people." It's somehow a combination of objectifying and dehumanizing, putting us (I include myself, as an autistic person) in the category of "other" for actually saying out loud what other people are only thinking. This both entirely disregards the producers/editors tacit encouragement as part of the format of this, and Michael being willing to answer, and demonizes/places the blame on the ND interviewers instead.

That is my take on the trailer, at any rate. I still intend to watch the full show once it's released, and am hopeful that the joyful atmosphere found in other parts of the trailer will prevail throughout the show. Happy as always to hear from my followers with your thoughts, so feel free to chime in...

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #the assembly #still apprehensive about this #i can also feel the 'othering' vibes creeping in and it's making me uncomfortable #but i will watch and decide for myself #as well as the scapegoating that I am seeing on Twitter #people really seem to project all over Michael and AL's relationship but never really look at it for what it is #so if nothing else maybe this will be the start of that #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #relationships #discourse #Youtube

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melinoelliones · 1 year

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You were on your first official “dream first date”, cuddled up watching cheesy romance movies. However Micah Yujin, the cocky little hacker you met 5 days ago, wasn’t being so cocky anymore.....

MINORS DNI/ AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ ANTI DC DNI/ 18+

Warnings: neck kisses, oral, dry humping, hickies, teasing, early ejaculation, grinding, cursing, slight face fucking, slight choking, whimpering

1.9K words

SECOND PIECE OF WRITING LESS GOOOOOOOO!! Again I am still new at this so please don't jump me LOL. I know there are many mistakes, weird wordings/story so on and so forth but oh well. I played Error143 a while ago with my friend group, and since then this man has been on my mind 24/7. Seeing him get flustered in game reminded me of this idea I had stored away for a fic which I felt would actually suit him nicely so here we are. Hope all the Micah lovers enjoy. On a serious note I have never written for a gender neutral reader so please let me know if I should change anything! Also I’ve used the nickname Angel as one of the names since that is what he uses in game!

The image of Micah was drawn by @kamuyagi on tumblr and twitter so check em out! I was given the green light to use their art so thank you again, it was lovely speaking to you :)

"You... actually like this stuff?", you could almost hear the smirk creeping up on Micahs face while pointing at the screen. "Some of us like to bake, others like to lie in bed and watch romance movies, problem?", you questioned while glancing over at him with a stern look, "no no, I have no issues here, was just curious is all Angel". He chuckled away while watching you turn back to face the TV, his chest now pressed against bare back as he was pulling you closer into him.

THE Micah Yujin was in your bed, cuddling up behind you, watching one of your favourite movies, it was almost unreal to you. Who would've known this would be the outcome of deciding to hack someone 5 days prior due to jealousy.

You could feel every ridge from his toned stomach as you both followed along with the movie, you both were down to just your underwear as he had suggested you guys "stay comfortable" since you were spending the day binge watching cheesy romance movies.

You couldn't help but think there was an ulterior motive but he was adamant that there was "no funny business in his agenda today", even though you had to pretend to ignore the figure which began to press against your lower back every so lightly.

"Uh uh uh, what is THIS my love"? Before you could even respond Micah had covered your eyes with his hands so you could no longer see the screen, "this is FAR too PG for you don't ya think Angel?", his sniggering getting louder as you attempted to swat him away. "THIS is too PG? Micah they're only kissing, I don't even think they go all the way in this one", you couldn't help but laugh a little, he was so immature.

You rolled over to face him, inching closer to his newly flustered face, "How about I show you PG hmm?", your seductive tone causing his eyes to widen, your own flittered between his and his lips. The sexual tension in the air rising as you let your lips linger by his teasing him while moving to lay on his chest.

"You're such a tea~", you cut him off by crashing your lips into his, gliding them over one another. His hand slid up to your neck, gently applying pressure while lightly tugging you even closer, the kiss getting heated ever so quickly. Micah caught your bottom lip between his, gently easing his tongue into your mouth as you followed, you let him take charge just this once.

The sexual tension quickly turned into frustration, as he deepened the kiss you knew he wanted more, the soft moans leaving his lips told you more than enough but you wouldn't give it up that easily. You could also feel how needy he was yet he didn't dare to try anything further.

You slowly pulled away, a string of saliva linking you together as you sat up, he watched as your eyes moved from his lower stomach to his eyes. "It's pretty convenient that at your request we are both only in our underwear. It's almost like.... This is what you wanted to happen hmm? Don't get all shy on me now". The grin forming on your face causing the usually cocky man under you to squirm trying to cover his heated cheeks.

"Nothing to say for yourself hmm?" you frowned smugly while watching Micah struggle to get any words out, "a~actually I~". You felt him choke back on his words as you leant forward letting you fingers coiled around his already hard nipples. "Sensitive here are we Micah?", your words ringing through while snaking your fingers around them.

You could feel Micah swallowing down his moans on your lips as you placed small kisses down the side of his neck, sucking lightly on each left kiss while nibbling down. Whilst trailing them down to his chest you blew gently against the newly placed hickies, you felt his body quiver due to how tender the marks were.

Micah's eyes widened as he heard your breath hitch while jolting up. "Ah, and you told me to shield my eyes from a kiss in a movie?", the confused look on his face dropping as he followed your eyes to his newly grown piece that was now pressing up on your lower half, you took your bottom lip in your teeth as you cheekily began to grind down against it.

Was Micah really that turnt on by a few neck kisses? This was the same egotistical man that would boast about how you would definitely fold first when it comes to being in the same room.

You couldn't help but giggle to yourself quietly while watching him squirm under you trying to take any extra friction he could from your lower half to his, desperation looked good on him.

You crawled off him, you could almost hear him internally sighing thinking you were done teasing him but he couldn't be further from correct. You placed yourself between his legs, hands running down his torso to the band of his boxers, your eyes half lidded with desire as you rolled your tongue against your top teeth, a coy grin plastered on your face.

Sliding the fabric down under his hips you took his length in your hand, the sheer size of it took you by surprise, no wonder the rare times when he was modest were only when you would joke about it being small without having seen it, "So this is what you've been hiding, I think I can handle it" you bit your lip while perking up.

"What do you mean by tha~ oh fuck", Micah hissed through his teeth as you timidly rubbed his ever growing member. With each stroke you could hear his needy moans get louder, his eyes showing a pure yearning for more."Look at you, is this the smug and overconfident hacker I met 5 days ago? 2 minutes in and you're already this turnt on", you teased as he averted his eyes from you.

"Look at me pretty boy", your stern tone followed by you meticulously moulding your fingers around his member massaging it in your hand, you could hear Micah curse through his moans. He turnt to look at you, eyebrows tilted upwards in bliss.

You weren't sure how much more he could take as you didn't know his cues yet, however you did know you weren't going to let it end here, having a cheeky man in submission was too perfect to give up this fast.

You slowly stopped your hand movements, "w~why'd you stop?" Micah whined trying to conduct himself, he wasn't used to being this vulnerable but with you he didn't mind but he wasn't expecting all this.

"Okay Micah, would you rather I finish you off with my hand, or mouth? Hackers choice.", your cheeky tone confusing him as to if that was a real question. Before he had a chance to formulate a response you placed your fingertips on the cusp on his cock, as you pressed them onto it you stuck out your tongue to let a drop of saliva hit his tip, your grip tightening as his body squirmed.

While kneading the tip in your fingertips you asked again, "You gotta pick one Micah, if not I guess we can leave it here and go back to the mov~", "mouth". "What was that? I couldn't hear you?", you pouted jokingly as if to mock him. You had full control and you were going to get the most out of it.

"P~Please, please finish me off with your mouth Angel", Micahs head rolling back in pure sexual frustration, "good boy Micah, i'm all yours". Without another word you skimmed your tongue across his shaft before taking it in your mouth, your warm breath adding to the burning in his stomach.

You bobbed your head up and down taking him all in, your saliva mixing with his precum engulfing his cock in a wet heat. "Fuuuck baby, don't stop", his hand slid to your cheek, caressing it before bringing it to the back of your head, you felt a slight pressure.

Was he really trying to fuck your face? You weren't expecting him to get a burst of confidence, or was his body just moving on its own? Either way it was turning you on little by little. You placed your free hand on his balls, palming them as he began to grind his hips forwards, the crown of his cock hitting the back of your throat each stroke.

Micah's moans became sloppy and incoherent as your tongue slid across the slit in his piece before taking it all back in, humming to allow it to slip back down your throat, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming closeness he was feeling.

You could feel him twitching slightly in your mouth, "oh my g~god i'm so close baby", his whining getting louder as you gave his balls in your palm some more attention. "Just keep going baby" he mewled out in desperation.

Before you could have another thought you felt him shudder, as if on cue he let go, you could feel it cascade down your throat coating it completely, his breath hitching as you continued to deepthroat him, swallowing whatever remained in your mouth. "W~What are you d~oing I can't take much mo~", you could hear him whimpering as the overstim started to consume him, the delirium swirling inside him as the suction intensified.

"F~Fuuuck Angel", he was drowning in pain and pleasure, you started to slow down using your tongue to take in the elixir of cum and saliva encasing his cock cleaning him up. You could almost feel his member throbbing as you pulled back. You gazed at him alluringly as he covered his deep red cheeks with his forearm, "welllll, did I do good Mr Micah?".

Another cheeky smirk emerging on your lips as you slid your hand on last time up his length to take off anything remaining, licking it clean while remaining eye contact with him, he breathlessly mumbled "you~you did more than good I can tell ya that much" whilst you placed him back in his boxers carefully.

Micah grabbed your jaw with his hand pulling you into a quick heated kiss as you went to lay by his side, the taste of him and your saliva slightly re-turning him on. "You outdone anything I expected you to do, that's for sure, i'm still kinda in a haze", he chuckled letting you go, you winked at him before sliding back to face the television, back against his chest once again.

You could feel his heartbeat calming down behind you, you had definitely shocked him with your actions. Who knew you could make a cocky man whimper n writhe with just your mouth? God knows what he would be like if you guys actually fucked, you were definitely intrigued though.

You felt his arm wrap around your waist before moving up to your chin, turning your head so your ear was beside his lips, his breath sending shivers down your spine, "Once i've managed to collect myself, how about I repay you for your little display hmm? How does that sound?". His husky tone taking you aback.

He placed a kiss on the nape of your neck before sliding his arm back to your waist, your mind running through all possible scenarios that could pan out due to his cryptic words. All you knew was that the date was just beginning.

#meli noel's work #micah yujin #micah yujin smut #micah yujin x reader #micah yujin x reader smut #error143 #error 134 #error143 smut #error 143 smut #meli noel

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cassiusfen · 7 months

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This isn't my art, (it's made by @ TheHearthFox over on Twitter) but I wanted to make a long post about why this work in particular speaks to me so goddamn much. I think such a massive part of the queer experience -- and also the furry experience -- is about the abstract. This can be seen in so many different aspects of furry "culture," from the concept of fursonas to kink and and other fetish content. You and I will never know what it's like to be a werewolf and transform under the full moon into the form of a big hulking furry beast. However, us furries create art and other works about the idea of it anyway. We never will be able to be our fursonas -- our often idealized and "perfect" versions of ourselves -- and part of that really hurts. It hurts so bad honestly, to the point where I can't quite put it into words. In terms of queer culture, I will never know what it is like to be a cis woman, and that also messes with me a lot. Yet, I'm still trans, my identity can change, I can perceive myself as whatever I damn well please. Identity allows you to shape yourself and the world around you in your own image, even if not everyone can see its beauty.

We have ways to get at least somewhat close to how we feel in our abstraction. VRChat allows you to make an avatar of what ever you want, whether it's your fursona or just an ideal version of you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be you, it could be anyone or anything really. We have a whole industry based around creating big ass costumes that allow people to at least look something like their desired character. But it's not enough. It's never enough. I ain't religious, but sometimes I feel like I've bitten the apple, been kicked out of the garden, and now I'm left to fend for myself with an identity that my physicality will never match. When I made my fursona using an avatar base in vrchat and configured it to match my real world body scales and looked down, I honestly started crying. I take the headset off, and I'm still me. Everyone takes the headset or fursuit off and they're still the body they were given, not what they would choose. Our reality is objective, and there's no way to really change that. We can act like animal people online all day, but the moment that screen shuts off, the moment we walk away, that warm, fuzzy feeling (hehe) fades.

To think abstract is to think beyond what you can normally sense. You will never get to brush the knots out of your fur in the morning, or play with your antennae while anxious (I see you bug people). We can still have those ideas, however. I know I'm on the third goddamn paragraph and I'm just now talking about the artwork I linked but this is an important concept to me. Usually, when I think of the abstract, it feels unreal, "fuzzy" so to speak. However, in HearthFox's piece, the objective reality appears out of focus and pixelated. It feels like even if we are unable to fully embrace the abstract, we can still embrace what we can of it, and bring some sort of color to a world that doesn't feel like it is made for us. The colors being outside of the lines could suggest that our abstract perception is maybe just "painted on" to the world around us, but is that a bad thing? Is it bad to take things in from the world around you, but still look at it all in your own unique way? I think not. This also isn't only about therian identity, or furry identity, or even queer identity -- it's also about neurodivergence. You are never in the wrong for thinking about the world in a way that is viewed as "non-standard" by the rest of the world. If you see yourself as a wolf, bee, fox, bear, raccoon, a fucking plane, it's not a bad thing. We can still identify however we want, and this modern way of looking at identity is the best way for us to embrace the abstract.

Go wild, go fucking stupid. Love yourself, if you're a fox, be a fox, there are ways you can feel that way, even if it's not all of the time. We can fight, we can love, we can still find ways to elation, even if sometimes existence itself feels wrong to you. This work is but one side of abstract thinking. Look at the color the fox has compared to the objective. Look how the fur drapes, how it runs down the body, or how the snout expresses emotion. Sometimes it feels melancholic, but you cannot tell me that trying your absolute damnedest to live your identity doesn't at least bring some color to your otherwise dreary and unfocused world.

Stay safe, love yourself no matter what.

#furry #aptophilia #therian

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jangse0hye0n · 4 months

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Undress

Word count: 1053

Pairing: Park Wonbin x f!idol reader

Warnings: Suggestive content (not smut but still MDNI), swearing, pet names, (let me know if there are others)

Scenario: During the MMAs, sitting at the artist area, she couldn't keep her eyes off from her boyfriend, especially when he's wearing that outfit.

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

Watching your boyfriend from the side of the stage as he performs his new song at the MMAs, you couldn’t help but stare at him with heart eyes. Your boyfriend, Park Wonbin, member of Riize, is currently performing Talk Saxy and lets just say you were about to pay whoever styled them for tonight a big amount of money. He looked ever so gorgeous, he was wearing a dress shirt with a tie under a vest, and had his sleeves rolled up, which gave room for his gloves. Not to mention before this he just performed a guitar solo, if you weren’t in front of many other celebrities you would’ve been foaming at the mouth and on your knees for him.

But of course the public couldn’t know about your relationship so you had to keep your reactions to a minimum, which was hard given how good he looked while he was dancing. You were fully restraining yourself from going all crazy over your boyfriend, truly it was a challenge. “Only a couple more hours” you thought to yourself, only a couple more hours until you can finally talk to him freely back stage. Boy was that couple of hours long as fuck.

Riize as a group was sitting in front of you in the artist area, and you were trying to focus on the performances and not your boyfriend that was sitting a mere couple meters from you. Finally the award show was over, and god were you so happy. You faked a stomach ache during the end so you could get backstage quicker, your members not questioning you as they witnessed you trying to hold yourself back earlier during Wonbin’s performance.

You practically ran backstage and went into your dressing room looking for your phone, once you got it, you texted Wonbin to go in there. While you waited for him, you scrolled on twitter, boy were you drooling now. Fan site pictures of Wonbin were being released one by one, you had to sit on the couch that was in the dressing room before you fainted at the sight of your boyfriend. You continued to scroll and even saved some of the pictures to your phone.

Not long after you heard someone open the door and close it very quickly, as if they didn’t want anyone to see that they went into your dressing room. Without looking up from your phone you said “lock the door” to the person. “What’s the emergency?” a deep voice asked you, and you proceed to show them your phone screen very dramatically. “You, you’re the emergency. Do you know how hard I was trying to contain myself out there?” You said dramatically at your boyfriend Wonbin who was now staring at himself on your phone, he laughed a very amused laugh as he sat next to you.

“Well I guess my outfit today is very, uh much huh princess?” he asked you while raising an eyebrow. You playfully hit him as you felt yourself getting weaker at the sight of him. “I hate you” you crossed your arms and looked away from him, mainly so you don't rip off his clothes. “Oh do you know? Hard to believe that darling” he whispered into your ear and in one swift move he lifted you up onto his lap. “Tell me princess, what do you want hm?” either his voice was getting deeper or you were about to faint.

“I… I want to take all this” pointing to his outfit “off of you” you said, not really conscious at this point, now that he’s so close to you. “My baby wants to undress me huh?” he teased you and as you nod, his smile grew wider. “Well then…” he bit the edge of his glove and slid it off his hand while staring into your eyes “care to help me princess? Will you be a good girl and help me take this off?” you couldn’t handle his teasing at this point you could go crazy.

You nodded quickly and bit your lip to contain any noises that might come out of your mouth, reminding yourself that there are still people outside. Wonbin, who already took off his gloves, gave you the green light to do whatever you wanted to, he usually would be the one doing the undressing, but in this case he had to give in to you. How could he not? He was so amused that his girlfriend was so head over heels for him that she wanted to undress him that bad.

You started at his vest, unbuttoning it one by one. Once you were done, he took it off so the next parts would be easier for you. Then you went to loosen his tie, and pull it over his head, throwing it to the side. He didn’t take his eyes off of you the entire time, focused on your pretty face as your hands did unholy things to him. Lastly you began to unbutton his shirt, while you were doing this, he caressed your cheek softly. He couldn’t help it, he himself right now can’t really contain himself from ripping your dress off of you.

You were finally done, and you opened his shirt to see his toned body, running your fingers down his chest to his abs. “My eyes are up here princess” he chuckled as you looked like you were about to drool all over him. He looked at your unfocused face, clearly very distracted by his body. “C’mere pretty” he pulled you closer and connected your lips. His hands that were once on your waist, go down to your hips and eventually onto your ass.

You moaned a bit as he squeezed your ass and you could feel his lips turn into a smirk as you did that. “We can’t do this here” he said a bit out of breath, he knows that both of your reputations are on the line right now. The high risk of getting caught wasn’t worth it. You whined as you started to grind on him, he groaned and held you in place. “Princess… be patient” he warned you with a stern tone. You being the needy girlfriend was still whining in his arms. “Be quiet or I won't let you cum tonight”

- For reference if any needs visuals on what he looks like

#riize #riize wonbin #wonbin #park wonbin #riize imagines #briize #riize smut #riize x reader #riize scenarios

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shedontlovehuhself · 21 days

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Yeah, it sucks that Bobo and Misha were not given the space to talk about the confession scene in the same way Oliver and the 911 peeps are doing with Buckley right now. Cas' coming out and his "I love you" to Dean should have gotten a bigger celebration than just Misha speaking about it on his own. Hell, Ruthie and other cast members tried to show support online and got shut down by haters and antis. Misha should not have been the only one out there in 2020 and 2021 talking about it. But he was. And yes, prior to 15x18 he went from safely playfully supporting Destiel to full on doing so right after the confession scene. Even without backup from his costar. Just like he was the only one to actively advocate for HIS character's canon queerness. Where was EW for Misha back in 2020? They definitely spoke to Jensen about it. And no, chaos machine had nothing to do with Misha talking about queer Castiel. The way certain Jensen fans try to give credit where it isn't earned and using Misha to do so should be studied.

And I'll add that yes, Jensen has grown over the years. He's more accepting of fans canon of bi Dean and has always happily signed and praised destiel fan art. He's proud of what Misha did with Cas and has said that Dean and Cas should have a conversation about what happened. But he still hasn't said the words Cas is queer. He still can't say destiel. He also has said in so many ways he doesn't see Dean as queer and even has stated Cas' confession can be open for interpretation. So while I'm proud of his obvious growth, y'all not bout to give him credit for what Misha was out here doing on his own.

I remember when everyone was saying Jensen has no power at CE cons. So now that the narrative calls for it, y'all are now saying he has power at CE. Suggesting that he made changes with said power that coincides with Misha talking more openly about queer at CE is truly a reach.

- Momento con in 2021(non CE con) where Misha happily talked about queer castiel and cas and Dean wanting to bang each other.

- German con in 2021 when Misha again talked about queer Castiel, Destiel, and had a positive reaction to a fan's "Dean is bi" t-shirt that had the audience cheering, meanwhile Jensen stans were crying on twitter that Jensen should be doing more euro cons (this was during Jensen's silent era, mind you).

- Misha's cameos where he had destiel trending and also talked about queer Castiel. He also talked about when Cas fell in love with Dean. Also the Cameo where he jokingly said "Cas, you can do better" about being in love with Dean.

- his virtual interviews in late 2020. And his pride posts each June. his interview when at a French con where he talked about Cas being a queer icon(y'all got mad at him for that one, too).

#(not) sorry for my rant but chiiiiile when i saw what I saw i couldn't hold my tongue #I'll lose some of my ten followers and get blocked #and gonna be labelled a Jensen hater but y'all not bout to play in castiel and misha's face like that #misha collins #castiel #spn #supernatural #destiel #jensen ackles #dean winchester #this fandom truly....#911 abc #happy for Oliver and bi Buck

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 3 months

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02/05/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Cast & Crew; Rhys Cameos; Samba BTS; Samba & Rhys Goofyness; Wee John Wednesday + surprise Leslie; UK Launch; Watch Party Reminders; What We Do In The Shadows; New Watch parties: Love Birds; Articles; Fundraisers; Schadenfreude; Trends; Morale/LoveNotes/MORE RHYS CAMEOS; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;

Jeez Louise fam today was a seriously jam packed day! Once again Im worried I'm gonna miss something because there was just so much so please feel free to let me know!

== Cast & Crew ==

The Crew section is a hefty one today, so buckle up buttercup it's gonna be a chaotic and heartwarming ride.

Okay so, yesterday we had that lovely message that was edited from our beloved captain. But then our dear friend @meowzawowaza_ over on twitter released yet another part of the video that specifically went over Rhys' frustrations with the cancellation. Now it's less positive, but as she says, it adds another layer that is helping rally the troops to keep fighting. Here's the thread with the videos. Apologies if you don't have twitter... I don't have a link outside of there at the moment. If I find one, I'll update it here.

THEN because she's awesome, our lovely @lucyrosebutler decided to share the cameo she had gotten previously. Which he ended with, "Yeah, you be you, keep rock'n, and yeah, you be you, and do it loudly."

Before continuing with the cast & crew...

== Kudosboard! ==

Wanna send our lovely captain, Rhys, some kudos and love after all he's given us, especially the last two days? You can do so over on kudoboard.com! Thank you @madzilla84 for making this happen! Get on over there and send our sunshine man some love!

Alright! On to more Cast & Crew.

= Samba =

Samba, our favorite BTS buddy posted a new BTS picture + was making sure to shout out the new S2 out on BBCIplayer today!

= Samba & Rhys =

Then because our entire cast and crew is a pile of goofballs, Rhys and Samba shared this little exchange on twitter:

= Wee John Wednesday Monday! =

And well, then there was Wee John Wednesdays Monday! Where we not only got to see the expected three cast members: Kristian Nairn, Vico Ortiz, and Madeleine Sami, but a SURPRISE guest, Leslie Jones who crashed the Instagram live party.

You can watch the whole thing on Kristian Nairn's IG Here. WHICH I highly recommend because it was an absolute blast and got so many of us pumped and ready for more. Some highlights that absolutely cannot describe the pure and wonderful chaos were:

Rocket Jousting

Leslie fucking every alien in space

Leslie wants to come to a convention

Horny pickle ball

Jenkins is on board for s3 if it happens

They see how hard we're working on SaveOFMD and they said "they deserve it" (s3) and "so do we!"

Mads just randomly runs into Taika on the beach

Gypsy made a chest binder for all Vico's outfits @edscuntyeyeshadow ty for the screenshots here on tumblr

Oh and David Fane popped in because he's a gem of a human being. Thanks @madzilla84 for catching that!

= Leslie Jones + Convention =

PSSSST: Wanna help get Leslie to a con? Go request her on the Galaxy Con Websites! Thanks @insane_foliage on twitter for the suggestions!

= Vico Ortiz =

Upcoming cast events! Sunday Feb 11, 4PM PST, Vico will be interviewing with the lovely Samantha Rei on Instagram Live

= Erroll Shand =

I just, can't get over how amazing Erroll's IG Stories are, and how much he interacts with the goofy fan memes. I love this guy.

== Uk Launch ==

So many people logged in for the UK Launch of S2!!! Thank you everyone! The data teams over at @saveofmdcrewmates are still crunching numbers to show how things went the first day, but we can definitely see #OurFlagBBC trending for a bit!

Also Pink News was tweeting about the launch, and Wee John Wednesday!

Great job everyone-- please keep it up if you have the spoons! Wanna watch OFMD again? You can help support the UK Launch by watching it on BBCIplayer! Once again, if you are outside the US you can get instructions on how to here on @reallygoodplants page, or from this article.

== Watch Party Reminders! ==

= What We Do In The Shadows Watch Party! =

Tuesday February 6th, 9PM GMT, 1 PM PST, 4PM EST

Watch Party Hashtags:

#VamPirates

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

== New Watch Parties! ==

FINALLYYYYY we have a Love Birds Watch Party! Feb 9th - 9 pm GMT, 4 pm EST, 1pm PST.

Watch Party Hashtags:

#AdoptOurLoveBirds

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

==Articles==

So many articles today with the UK launch, including the Guardian again!

What’s On TV This Week: 5th February – 11th February

TV Tonight: It's the Final Series of Curb Your Enthusiasm

Our Flags Means Death fans get TV licence just to watch pirate show

The Best Romantic TV Series to Get into the Valentine’s Day Spirit

8 TV Shows Were Canceled in January 2024, Including 4 From HBO

Why won’t there be a Our Flag Means Death season 3?

= Fundraiser Status =

eSIMs and Sanitary Products for Gaza by Our Flag Makes A Difference is currently at 27% of their goal. If you're looking for a good cause to donate to, these folks have been incredibly transparent about all funds.

@One of the crew, @mcstuffiesphd is selling Jeff stickers as well as other SaveOFMD merch and donating 50% to the Our Flag Makes A Difference group for the above fundraiser.

== SchadenFreude / Trends Time ==

Thank you @btweenhisteeth on twitter for capturing this metric! Looks like WB Discovery is still having a bit of trouble with their stocks. Wonder why that could be?

Other fun trends that popped up today: Thank you @merryfinches catching a shot of the pile of royalty below.

== Morale / Love Notes ==

So normally I just want to say all the things about how lovely you all are, but Rhys posted YET ANOTHER video on cameo tonight, and I feel like his voice is the sunshine we all need. The longer one up, is dedicated to LGBTQIA+ folks with some anecdotes from Rhys' childhood, and another specific to the crew for this show (it's about 3 mins 10 seconds long). Please take a few minutes to go watch them, you don't need a log in or anything for them. It's just worth it to hear our lovely captain say nice things.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

And to end the night, just some silly gifs that maybe sort of but don't quite go together for tonight. Goodnight lovelies, it was a LOOONG day today, please go get some rest. Love you.

#daily ofmd recap #ofmd daily recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recaps #save ofmd #saveofmd #save our flag means death #ofmd #our flag means death #rhys darby #vico ortiz #kristian nairn #madeleine sami #leslie jones #erroll shand #samba schutte #ofmd bts #our flag makes a difference #ofmd watch parties

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cupids-chamber · 1 year

Text

— HOW WOULD YOUR PARTNER REACT TO SEEING YOUR OLD TWEETS SIMPING FOR SOMEONE BACK IN YOUR WORLD ?

Gender neutral reader / Fluff / Slight crack but taken slightly seriously / some suggestive jokes (Octavinelle part) / Partially edited and re-read so mistakes may occur / Lazy writing / 0.9k words

A/N: Anon was lowkey simping in my inbox, but yk what.. this is a safeplace.. so y/n's tweets are gonna be me simping on main. Also very lazy forgive me I'm tired.

★ HOW DID YOUR LOVER/CRUSH FIND YOUR OLD TWITTER ACCOUNT? You will never quite know.. It took awhile.. But for some reason he was able to get ahold of your old phone and somehow, by some magic of sorts.. Surely the great 7 favored him, because not only was he able to get on your phone, but guess your password as well.. And even find his way onto your twitter account.

— DEUCE SPADE ♠️ ; Your partner may have been quite dimwitted and dense in typical topics, but Deuce had a knack for mechanics and it was quite sweet of him to offer so kindly to help fix your old phone up, since you didn’t like the quality or durability of the one Crowley had given you; so of course you agreed; that and Deuce’s face was adorable. You were also quite curious if you could download apps from Twisted wonderland on a phone from your previous dimension, and you were even more curious as to if you could contact and use things you had already downloaded on the phone using wifi from here? Maybe you could contact people from over there..

Deuce worked hard to fix your phone, and of course he had to check it before giving it back to you! He couldn’t hand you an unfinished project, then you’d find the poor blue-bird incompetent! Turning on your screen it loaded and displayed your twitter account in full view for him, ‘Is this app similar to magicam?’ Deuce thought to himself, he couldn’t help but mindlessly scroll through the app and your various posts.. He was left quite conflicted.

Deuce actually didn’t think much of it, partially because he trusted you quite a large sum and because he was also rather dense and couldn’t quite understand what exactly you meant with those posts. The only reason he even started to see doubts was when both Ace and Cater pointed out your behavior on the posts.

Sure Trey and Riddle tried providing somewhat comfort, well the best they could; towards their poor first year. Deuce didn’t favor jealousy, his mother always taught him how dangerous a feeling as dark as jealousy can be. His mother also taught him to communicate his feelings, so that’s what he did.

Deuce chose to communicate with you, it took him some time. But Deuce is beyond aware of how dense he can truly be.. And he loved that you were ok with that.. Deuce expressed his discomfort, and though it was hard to process, he understands your posts were mainly a humorous joke, and that you’d never truly feel attracted to.. that..(He also gets so much more clingy, he doesn’t realize this thought)

— AZUL ASHENGROTTO, JADE LEECH, & FLOYD LEECH ♡ ; Azul was truly a favored witch, blessed by the great 7. No.. you’d say the Octavinelle trio was blessed by some unimaginable fortune. As Floyd played around teasing you, and chasing you around.. Jade handed Azul your phone.. You didn’t quite realize when the tall eel had taken your phone out of your pocket and handed it to his brother.

And now it was in the hand of the great sea witch himself. “Oh— what’s this?'', Azul opened up the little bird icon on your phone, thinking it wouldn’t be anything as surprising.. Nothing he hasn’t already found out and collected as blackmail when he inevitably asks you out and just.. In case you were to.. Let’s just say by some unpredictable future, reject him. Of course he’d deal with the tweels nagging about that later.

Floyd stops in his tracks, as he closes in on viewing your phone screen with the pair.. The trio then move onto your profile.. “Wait.. isn’t that— MY PHONE!”, before you could fight to grab it back, Azul reads your first three tweets out loud.. For everyone in the office room to hear.

Let’s just say no one predicted that.. And you remained frozen in your spot.. What could be more embarrassing than your crush’s literally going through your private tweets about some.. Questionable things.

The three of you stood there in utter silence, well Azul had lots more to add onto that blackmail folder. It took a while before Floyd finally chose to break the ice between you three.

“Hey shrimpy— do you have a voice kink by any chance?”

“FLOYD!”

— MALLEUS DRACONIA ♛ ; Malleus has been a well composed person, he does get confused.. But that's because he’s unreasonably dense. It’s quite surprising, his obliviousness in some cases makes him so unintentionally funny and you quite literally hate how people would rather be afraid of him then get to know how ridiculously hilarious he could be.

That’s not to say he lacks in any field, he’s quite smart and though it takes him a while to process certain modern lexicon it’s still a fun experience. And it’s funny seeing him try and implement certain phrases into his day to day life; one time he said slay while Silver was training, and Silver lost his balance while Sebek had a breakthrough about how you ruined his wakasama and turned him into Lilia.

Now despite these improvements, you really should have told your little crush about the aspect of typical privacy.. And phones. Because you found him scrolling through your twitter account, looking star-struck and frozen as your phone reflected a certain tweet you had made previously.. Oh how you’d explain this one to the green haired gremlin.

Gets more clingy, and possessive. Also he unintentionally says some of the most threatening yet attractive things. (Border-lining: “Are you trying to kill me or is this your way of flirting”)

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