#can i live without seeing any content about them?

[glitterfingers]

Started as a silly crush from twelve? Thirteen? years ago. These feelings have existed for more than a decade. I live a quick jeep away from where i last saw you. I still recall your face between my legs in the blue room that December morning. I'm not sorry I didn't stay when you asked, but I regret being scared out of my mind when you requested tulog muna tayo, huwag ka munang umalis. My regrets are few and far between but I'll admit i regret not staying. For you I admit I remain a staunch defender of being absolutely selfish with my heart. I would not have survived you if you lied and pretended to want me when you didn't. But i can live through this pining. Thanks for rejecting the hypothetical but sincere request, for not being an asshole and using me for your ego (the bar is in the lowest circle of hell). After all those years of denying it to myself, you remain a constant ache in my chest. I still dream about you once a year and am hit with obscene longing every time. It would be comical if I weren't so disgusted at how much i want. And I'm so frustrated because it's been four years since I've last talked to you and it's you that i want specifically and only you. The blue room is long gone. That morning exists only in my memories. I've known no peace since. Thought time away would make the desire fade but it only gave the yearning depth. I've tried I've been trying i continue to try to let it go, let the wanting of you go. I endure raw desperation and this version is somehow the most amusing to my other friends, but the worst to you and you're not the cause, i just wish it were easier for me to have been your friend without simultaneously craving you.

But my long term longing is in your shape and the color of your skin and the tattoos you let me bite and how the morning sun hit your eyes and how we made each other laugh and i miss you all the time. How are your parents. What did you think about Senshi's story from Dungeon Meshi. What obscure movie are you going to recommend me now. Let's debate on why you said Junji Ito was for normies. I'll give you some of my tea and you'll thank me. Your friends probably still love you, even though your lives have all evolved, just talk to them. Will you let me kiss you properly just one last time? Don't let me kiss you, i'll probably never want to let go. I still haven't, but I swear I've tried everything I know though. Or do let me. I dont know. I've loved a couple people since the last time i thought i was in love with you. Apparently i cannot framework myself out of desire (who knew), but I've pried away the excess. I can love people without wanting them in my life anymore. Tell your parents you love them before it's too late.

I send a quick prayer for you every year on your birthday, i stopped greeting you because you never sounded like you enjoyed any of it, but it doesn't matter, the prayer is for my benefit, i never forget. I wish i could.

I wanted you before I knew how to be your friend. Maybe now I am paying that price. I like to believe I'm a better friend and lover now too, but we owe each other nothing. I love you anyway. I know you're not happy, but I hope you're content. I hope one day I'll see you out and about and my heart will stop feeling like it'll explode at the sight of your face. I'm a good liar but i know i can't help but look at you with reverence. Is that why you always looked like you knew something i didn't? I wonder what you saw on my face those last few times. I never did know how to covet without sacrificing and carving out a part of myself, but whatever spell you have me on means I've gotten better at loving myself too. I am no longer unhinged by longing and regret and aching. Time and space away from you (and everyone else really) has taught me that i dont need to bleed to prove my capacity to love. That sometimes the best way to love someone is to leave them the fuck alone because it'll be the best for everyone involved.

I'll see you. Probably next year in my dreams again.

Dedicated to the girl who continues to haunt my dreams even though it's been years since we spoke.

erin morgenstern/richard siken/stick season - noah kahan/not a muse: the inner lives of women: a world poetru anthology; "mountain nights" - rati saxena, edited by kate rogers and viki holmes/unknown/ @2j/unknown/do I wanna know - arctic monkeys/dear friend, - dayglow/ @etherealarte/we should be well prepared - mary oliver

[kurooh]

★ EPISODE 02. SLOTH

SUMMARY. a certain producer has been bothering shinsou since before the set up with hanta—you’re urgently wanted in a video with UA bombshell todoroki shoto! how exciting and nervewracking; he’s only one of your biggest fantasies, right? oh, and it looks like it’s shower scene too . . will he live up to your expectations?

WARNINGS. 18+ content, mdni. fem! reader, shower sex, oral, unprotected sex, awkwardness. wc / 6.1k

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shinsou calls you when the sun is sinking below the horizon and its colors are bleeding through the sky in picturesque streaks. you’re standing in front of the window when you pick up your phone, body thoroughly relaxed since returning from a trip to a nearby spa. tokyo is still very new to you, but it was hanta who’d kindly given you the recommendation.

“hey. sero told me the shoot went well. is that accurate or is he pulling my leg?”

his voice crackles through the phone and you just laugh at the idea of hanta playfully messing with people. it suits him, and makes him all the more attractive.

the shoot did go well—actually, that’s an extremely mild way to put it. your debut shoot had gone much better than you could’ve expected it to; your co-star is just being modest. still, even hours later, you can feel him on your skin.

not the grip of his hands on your waist as he positioned you on his lap, nor the pleasant sting of his teeth grazing along your lip in the middle of a graceless kiss.

once the cameras had stopped rolling, hanta helped to sit you up so that you could be comfortable against the cushions. instead of collecting his clothing off the floor and getting dressed, he’d just walked butt-ass naked around the whole room to find a pack of baby wipes. he tore them open and sank to his knees in front of you, as if to worship. gently, without haste, he began to clean the mess away from your inner thighs and pelvis.

when you flinched from the coolness of the wipe, he only ran his fingers along the curve of your hip and apologized, reminding you to stay still nonetheless. in comparison to the shoot, it was soft. entirely genuine and completely caring.

and it surprised you more than you expected it to. such a simple act of respect and compassion, and yet it’s all you can feel hours later. oh, and he was close—so close that you could see the light freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose.

“he’s just being modest,” you’re trying to think of a way to explain that you really liked hanta without divulging too much about the shoot. if he wants details, he can watch the video when it’s uploaded to UA’s website. “we actually connected right off the bat. he really helped me to get past my nerves, and it was a perfect introduction to UA.”

shinsou hums thoughtfully, “i’m happy to hear that. since i’m still in my office, do you want me to add him to your yes list? if you’re still thinking about it, i suppose i can do it another—”

you don’t mean to cut him off, but you do. filming with hanta in the future? where can you sign up? “yeah, put his name down. thanks, shinsou.”

the clacking of a keyboard makes itself heard on his end as he adds hanta to the list. 

“oh, i’ve gotta ask. are you up for a shoot the day after tomorrow? i know it’s kind of fast to be scheduling you, but there’s a producer that wants you in a video. he’s been asking since before i scheduled you with sero.”

“do you have any details on it? or should i just show up and find out?”

“never do that,” shinsou chuckles, checking his inbox on his work computer. it doesn’t take long for him to find the email he’s looking for. “producer wants to pair you with todoroki shoto. the set isn’t at the studio, like it was today. you’d be filming at a condo in koto-ku.”

it isn’t very far from your apartment or UA studios, but the detail about the off-studio set isn’t what catches your attention. it’s the name of your potential co-star, todoroki shoto. you know him as well as any thirsty fan does. he’s a fucking knockout, and you’ve always wanted to meet him in person. even just meeting him at an adult trade show and shaking his hand would give you enough masturbation material for an entire year!

you try to keep the earnest excitement out of your voice by reminding yourself that this is a professional phone call with your manager about your job, not an invitation to join love island.

“sounds good. send me the details once you have them and i’ll do it.”

.  .  . 

you’re so keyed up you nearly scrape the side of someone’s car when you’re parking at the condominium. in all fairness, you’re filming with the todoroki shoto! UA’s pretty boy and easily the catch of the century—how could anyone even act normal about this?

luckily, you have some time to gather yourself when you’re ascending the stairs. shinsou forwarded you the information he’d received from the producer, and the cringe of what you’d be filming didn’t bother you one bit. the provided information about the loosely scripted, caught in the shower scene absolutely did not register in your mind. all that stood out to you in the email was shower sex and todoroki shoto—the only things of importance in the block of text.

this must be some sort of divine intervention.

someone upstairs must’ve witnessed your struggles and experiences at shiketsu, and decided to pay you back with interest. all of that workplace bullshit, those lousy fucks—maybe all of that was worth it, if this is what you get in return. an invitation to be at the top, a decent manager, and some hot co-stars. could this even be classified as working anymore? this feels more like living a dream shared by thousands of people, all of which would kill to have this chance.

according to shinsou’s directions, you’re right where you need to be. you knock on the door and quickly step back, practically vibrating with anticipation. what if your co-star has been practicing positions in the shower and answers the door shirtless? you’re drooling at the thought!

the door swings open, and less than a second later, you’re standing face to face with a middle-aged man. he offers you a friendly smile and extends a hand, skin visibly wet.

“you got here just in time! we’ve been working to prep the set, but it’ll take a little while before we get to filming. one of our mics got wet, so two of the guys are out getting another from the studio.”

part of you deflates a little inside, but your hopes were just too high. in fact, the director answering the door only adds to the amount of butterflies in your belly—the wait means that everything will be made absolutely worth it. he lets you in, and you follow him to the set while he goes on about where you can set your purse down during filming and how the kitchen fridge is actually full of food and drink. apparently, the producer personally owns this condo for filming and uses it regularly, only ever swapping out the talent. you’re way more focused on when you’ll be meeting your co-star and how well you’ll mesh together, but you still nod or say something periodically so he knows you’re somewhat listening.

at long last, your prayers are answered.

todoroki shoto stands in the middle of the bathroom, wearing more clothing than he needs to. he’s holding onto an old shower curtain, expression blank, but then his eyes land on you and his lips press into a small, almost imperceptible smile. 

and, bless his heart, he waves. “hi. nice to meet you.”

you manage to control the impulse to scream and say that you’ve been dying to meet him, schooling your pounding heart into submission. so, to match him, you wave back. “hey. are you replacing the shower curtain?”

“yes. it seemed pretty dirty.”

without elaborating, shoto folds it up and slips past you, out of the bathroom. the director is fiddling with a camera to make sure it’s still on when he glances over at you, feeling the need to assure you.

“he doesn’t talk much. it’s nothing personal, he’s just really quiet.”

“i thought that was the case,” you set your purse down on the counter, pushing it far away from the sink. “i don’t really mind. i’ve filmed some stuff with quiet co-stars, it’s no big deal.”

who the hell cares if he’s quiet right now? you’ll be able to draw him out of his shell once you’re both stripped naked and the camera’s rolling. 

you can hear commotion and the opening of a door. the director steps back, clapping his hands. “okay, the boys are back. you can help yourself to the fridge while we get this set up, and then we’ll be ready to start rolling.”

.  .  . 

“go ahead and turn around so that your back is facing us. yes, there you go. once we’re recording, you’ll strip, get in, all that business. todoroki, you went through the notes? you know when you’re supposed to step in, yes?”

your co-star nods, the packet of notes on the shoot in his hand. his face remains neutral despite all of the conversation filling the room, and he’s looking at the freshly replaced shower curtain—or maybe he’s looking at you. the director says something, gesturing to the camera mounted on the shower wall, but you’re too caught up in following the direction of shoto’s gaze to register what’s said until your name is said.

“everybody good to go?” the director looks around the room, making sure that everyone nods, including yourself. “in that case, action!”

with as much sexiness and grace as you can muster, you slide your top up and off of your head without any struggle. your shorts are next to go, leaving you in your matching bra and panties. they’re not the same as the ones you’d worn with hanta; you hadn’t been able to find those even after the shoot wrapped up, so you just assumed they’d been thrown away. after all, he’d absolutely shredded your panties.

you unclasp your bra and shrug it off. the packet of notes on the shoot didn’t give you much information about each scene, looking like it had been torn away from the writer while they were still brainstorming. messy bullet points with complicated annotations were scrawled below every titled scene—one of the things that had you furrowing your brows was a nondescript bullet point reading sexify soap bottle highlighted in both yellow and blue. who the hell is the producer behind this? yes, you’re thankful that they set you up with shoto, but they need to get their shit together when it comes to giving actors material to go off of. it’s either a neat, legible packet or nothing at all!

emphasizing the slight recoil of your asscheeks as you pull the panties down is a little bit awkward. actually, it’s very awkward, but you have no choice but to push through it. you rush to kick the underwear off and hop into the shower; the camera has seen enough of your ass when you’re undressing. whoever isn’t skipping the slow, teasing removal of clothing scene in the beginning of most porn videos has some serious patience!

anyway, you step under the warm spray. the water pressure is just wonderful, as nice as a hotel shower, and all you can smell is the fresh, new shower curtain. colorful bottles of shampoo and body wash line the shelves, just begging to be grabbed, so you give in, selecting a sweetly scented wash. it pours smoothly into your palm with a soft squirt, and fragrance curls through the air as you start to soap up your legs.

you don’t realize the minutes have gone by until you’re in the middle of spreading the suds all over your tits, and the shower curtain is unceremoniously pulled to the side. the culprit is grasping the plastic, which is printed with rubber duckies all over it, and he manages to look smoking hot rather than unserious. oh, if this was for real, you wouldn’t mind having a roommate like him walking in on you in the shower. hell, you’d make sure your apartment is outfitted with a glass shower if it meant he could watch you get all sudsy!

shoto’s cheeks are the lightest shade of pink as his eyes shamelessly dart from your soapy tits to your face. it’s clear that he doesn’t know where to look—you barely manage to keep the smirk off your lips, remembering that you’re supposed to feign surprise.

“i thought i heard a noise, like you slipped . . or something.”

fuck improv. shoto’s done with having to come up with ridiculous porno lines. he doesn’t watch nearly enough stuff by his lonesome to get creative. like, if you’re a producer hiring him for a shoot, why does he have to come up with dialogue for your video? and for the love of god, any scripts or note packets given must be neat and legible, with useful details or annotations!

the gray and turquoise of his multi-colored eyes look like precious gemstones. how is it possible for someone to hit the genetic lottery like he did? shoto’s skin is clear and smooth, in the kind of way that doesn’t come from just expensive and high quality skincare. behind you, the water falls onto the tile, hitting it like rain, and you realize it’s time to deliver your line.

“i’m pretty sure i locked the door,” then you raise an eyebrow at him, glancing meaningfully at his grip on the curtain and how far he’s pulled it back, “don’t tell me you broke in, roomie.”

shoto’s face darkens with embarrassment, and all you can think to yourself is wow, he’s really such a good actor! with the curtain drawn back, the spray makes its way out of the shower and onto his dry clothing, dampening the fabric. naturally, your eyes begin to wander, raking down his body until you spot the lump of his half-hard cock in his sweats. 

“i didn’t break – alright, i did,” he submits easily, chewing on his lower lip while his gaze flicks from your face to your chest. “but shouldn’t you have made it so i didn’t have to?”

suds slip down your chest, mingling with water and pouring down your slippery body. they mostly dissipate on their way down, but a few traces of soap catch in the hair at your pelvis. you swish your body from side to side, setting a hand on your hip for your next line. he looks up, catching the slightest twitch of your lip—are you holding back a laugh or a smile?

“you’re blaming me for not making a move? don’t think i haven’t seen you skulking around every single day. you’re my roommate, and you’re acting like you wanna be my boyfriend or something.”

again, fuck improv! this entire genre of unscripted hot roommate porn needs to die immediately, but he pushes it out of his mind in favor of thinking useful thoughts. it feels like it’s too early to call a cut, but what if—no, he’s got it. what does any not-so-good actor do when they’re struggling in the middle of a scene? they think of their co-workers and dive into the scenario to better understand it. you are his hot roommate that he’s been lusting after, and he needs to act like it!

you don’t expect him to pull back, and clearly, neither does the director—the man is squinting in confusion from behind shoto, whispering profoundly to the guy opening a laptop.

he clears his throat, suddenly stepping back. “you never once stopped me or called me out. i’m, uh, sorry for misreading the situation.”

before shoto can fully turn around, you do the first thing that comes to mind. 

you reach out and grab him by the dick. that definitely gets his attention; his eyes widen a fraction, and genuine surprise just looks so good on him that it makes your thighs squeeze together. he stares at you, a vehement mixture of both arousal and incredulity buried in his eyes, and you’re still holding him in place. it’s too early to let go, so you squeeze, reeling him in like the catch he is.

“i never said you read things wrong . . and maybe—maybe i liked the attention too much to stop you.”

shoto kisses you right then and there, pressing himself against you so that he’s halfway in the shower. the shower water hits him like rain, soaking his hair, and you realize that if you weren’t completely naked and working to tug his pants down, this could almost be a scene straight out of the notebook. his hands wander to your bare ass and he kneads the flesh there, more for himself than you.

“cut! cut before anything goes further!”

the director is quick to stop recording, holding a hand up as he gets to his feet. he looks toward a member of the camera crew, who is opening tabs and programs on the laptop. “hold on for a second, we just have to make sure the camera in the shower is recording correctly.”

shoto looks like he’s in pain when you let him go, but he doesn’t say anything.

“so,” you smile warmly, reaching out to brush your fingertips along his arm as you talk. “i liked your improv. you really brought the idea of the video to life with all of that.”

yes, it’s a totally regurgitated compliment from your shoot with hanta. you made sure to say it with as much charisma and friendliness as he did, and yet, shoto remains placid. he nods, his lips pressing into a straight line. for a moment, you think he’ll strike up a conversation, but he only says, “thank you. you too.”

oh, so he’s shy. it’s not completely shocking, considering your line of work—it’s easy to be bold and sexy on camera, but actually talking? it can be more difficult for some actors and actresses. although, if you were being completely honest and not just understanding, you had somewhat expected this shoot to go as well as your last one did with hanta. you’d hoped to hit it off initially, then explore the chemistry on set, but he’s just too damn polite. could you break him down in the shower?

at shiketsu, he was a fan favorite among many of the girls. (actually, if you’re thinking back far enough, you’ve definitely heard one or two men talking quietly about him too.) many of them would watch his videos and swoon over the way he’d handle his co-star in it or talk out loud about what they’d do if they got the chance to film with him. now you have the chance to do something with him—and you’re going to make it count.

“you got everything synced up? okay, check this so you can make sure it’s—yeah, that’s good,” the director looks toward you, your co-star, and the mounted camera in the shower. “we’re rolling in five! if you could resume kissing like the last scene, that’d be easier for the editors.”

“hey. should i rinse off all the soap so we don’t risk slipping? it’d be better visually if i left it, but it’s up to you.” shoto hears your whispering and nods, leaning in so that the microphones don’t pick up his response.

“yes, we could turn around so that you can rinse. i don’t want either of us to slip or fall, especially with the shower being as small as it is. it’s an emergency room visit waiting to happen.”

as of right now, the camera is rolling. shoto moves fast, nearly headbutting you when he crushes his lips against yours; the kiss is warm, silently eager, and not at all what would be shared between two yearning roommates. if this video was about thanking your partner after some good sex, maybe it’d work. but it isn’t; you take the reins and crank the heat all the way up.

shoto gasps into your mouth when you hike your leg up and around his waist, dragging him into the shower like you plan to devour him. you’re also not holding onto anything aside from him, so he has no choice but to go along or risk dropping you. by the time he gets under the steady steam of water, his shirt and boxers are entirely soaked; his sweatpants are a gray heap on the floor, the only article of clothing that remains dry.

the mounted camera undoubtedly zooms in on shoto pressing you against the wall, and you grabbing at his cock through his boxers. against the column of your throat and in between quick kisses, he emits the softest of sounds, letting you know to keep doing exactly what you’re doing. the water washes away much of the soap and significantly lowers the possibility of slipping, allowing for easier movement—he leans back to undress, making quick work of his shirt and boxers.

now, it’s just you and one of your favorite pornstars.

you’re minutes away from making a longtime fantasy become reality.

before you know it, he’s on you again, but this time he’s fitting a hand between your thighs. you open up for him like a flower in the moonlight, expecting to hear a moan or even some filthy praise, but there’s nothing. not a word, not even a sigh. you fill the silence for both of you with a breathy moan, spreading your legs wider in hopes that he’ll touch you more.

the tips of his fingers glide against your pussy and come away slick with your arousal. while staring directly into your eyes, shoto raises his hand to his lips and proceeds to lick his fingers clean, like he’s just spilled something sweet while cooking. it’s hot as fuck to watch—you feel the throb of need right in your clit. catching a glimpse of his tongue as it curls around his finger does not help either.

while he’s focused on giving you a show of sin, your eyes leave his to inevitably wander down his body. his chest is all lean muscle and sharp edges, the strength and hard work obvious in a single glance. someone’s voice mixes with the sound of the water and turns to static; you only hear your co-star when he tilts your chin up, bringing your eyes to his.

“i said, bend over.”

it’s only a simple command, but it does so many complex things to your body.

in only a fraction of a second, you’re already bent over and ready. water rushes over your back, much of it sliding off, but some pours down your ass and against your pussy. without looking behind you to check, you know his eyes are on you, and so is the camera—in fact, it’s probably zooming in right now.

there’s a hushed thud as shoto drops to his knees, promptly grasping your hips to draw you back. he doesn’t give a damn if it causes you to lose your footing, but he might just do it again if it means he’ll be able to hear your gasp of surprise again.

fervent and excruciating, a tingling heat surges through your body once he gets his tongue on you. slowly, like he’s savoring a meal, he licks a stripe from your clit upwards, dipping the tip of his tongue past your folds like a fucking tease. it’s good, so good that you gasp out a moan and press back into his face, palms sliding down the wet tile. it’s only just begun, but you’re already wondering what he’ll do to you. what if he overstimulates you, licking your clit like it’s a lollipop, until your knees are buckling? maybe he’ll make out with your pussy, french kissing it in a way that’s a lot less shy than how he’d kissed your lips . .

your back arches when his fingers slide into you without any resistance; he buries them to the knuckle and exhales at how god damn tight you feel around him. after a beat, he begins to flick his wrist, setting up an unwavering rhythm with an ease garnered only through experience.

his tongue slides against your clit and it’s like a match to gasoline—your reaction is immediate and irresistible. it’s no secret that shoto’s currently rock hard, his cock hanging neglected and untouched between his thighs, but it doesn’t distract him in the slightest. right now, it’s only your pleasure that matters, and honestly, he’s not inclined to pause if it means you’ll stop making those pretty sounds.

“fuck, you’re good with your tongue,” you gasp, almost choking on the words, “j-just keep licking me like that, baby.”

baby? baby?

the casual petname slips out of you easily, even if the rest of what you were saying didn’t, and shit, it really does something to him. shoto remains silent, even though his heart is pounding so hard he thinks it’s possible he could faint; even so, he decides not to say anything at all. doesn’t make any noise. doesn’t let himself breathe too loudly. doesn’t look affected.

you’re too caught up in the sensations of his devastating fingers and the way he uses his tongue in just the right way to notice his silence. right now, it’s just the splashing of water, your breathless moans, and the squelches of your soaked cunt as his fingers plunge in and out, repeatedly hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“oh my godddd,” an almost-sob tears out of your throat, and shoto’s eyes roll back. he’s licking your clit like the whipped cream on a sundae, his mouth watering at the taste of you. to be honest, he actually regrets fingering you right now—it’d be so much better if he could use both hands to hold you against his face while he drinks in everything you have to give him.

when his agent had let him know the details about the shoot and who the producer wanted to pair him with, shoto dug through his safari tabs to find the shiketsu studios website, the library of alexandria’s filthy counterpart. the website was open on his very favorite video of you, the one where you were giving some bum a handjob and talking him through it. thank god the actor had the sense to stay silent, even though you were giving it to him good. 

that is exactly the kind of porn that shoto likes. if he’s sitting down to watch something either for dialogue inspiration or to jerk off—something that happens once in a blue moon—he prefers the man in the video to be quiet. many of them tend to let out these nasty, animalistic grunts that they mistakenly believe are sexy, and it just ruins the mood. everything about your video was top tier—he could only see you working the guy’s cock, only hear you talking to him, and god, it was perfect. shiketsu was a lot of things, but never sloppy when it came to your videos; during your early days, whoever had been in charge was setting you up in some hot videos left and right, making sure that those angles were nothing short of flawless.

it was posted over two years ago. he still watches it to get himself hot before shoots and in between takes to keep himself hard, locking himself in the bathroom to stroke himself to the sound of your voice. the audio plays in his head, mixing with your pitched moans and occasional whines; shoto’s unconsciously reaching toward his cock, pressing his face flush against your pussy.

“hnngh, shit,” he licks you harder, thinking about how much you deserve this. for accepting this shoot with him, for helping him not get fired, for helping him get off for the past two years.

his hand wraps around his leaking cock, and fuck, it feels like sweet relief. 

“‘m close, baby, you’re gonna make me cum,” frantic desperation makes its way through your words, and shoto’s fist strokes upward, his grip tightening at the tip. part of him wishes that you were filming a video where you were the one leading or controlling the situation . . maybe the opportunity will come along sometime in the future. 

you fall off the edge and into overwhelming euphoria with a sob. all you can do is pant, trying your hardest to breathe against the water rushing over your face. shoto does his best to help you through it by kissing at your clit, his fingers curling deeply against that soft spot inside of you.

he does it until you squirm away, bothered by the overstimulation. he sneaks a peek at the director, who motions to keep going. when he pulls his fingers out of your cunt to hold your hips, you turn, throwing him a heated look over your shoulder.

without saying anything, you’ve communicated what you really want.

shoto straightens, cock still in hand. just to draw it out, he rubs the tip against your swollen clit, trying to be sensitive to the fact that you literally just came a minute before, but the contact is still as electric as a shock. it’s torture at its finest—you’re pressing back, eager to feel all of him.

he exhales shortly when he slides his cock into you, his eyebrows drawing together. there’s no simultaneous moan or words of filthy praise; shoto bottoms out and pulls you a few inches closer. as the post-orgasm bliss begins to ebb away into something more kinetic, you moan a few times, trying to sell the scene. this is supposed to be the heated climax (pun intended) between two yearning roommates, and he doesn’t seem to be engaged. 

as much as you want to see his pretty face, you’re actually grateful that you’re bent over instead. it’d be more awkward making noise if you were looking into his eyes, unable to hide the embarrassment that comes along with doing so. it’s one thing when you and your partner are both making noise, but this is clearly not the case.

it feels good when he starts to move, leisurely rocking his hips into you like he’s taking it slow just to map out your body, maybe commit the details to memory. skin against skin, tip to cervix—the tempo is comfortable as it builds upon itself. there is a certain sense of detachment in the movement, like maybe you’re not on the same page, or perhaps your sexual preferences are very different. the hot fuck me look over the shoulder has worked on your co-stars in the past—there’s something about the wild eye contact right after an orgasm that gets people moving faster than saying the words could.

you’re buried in your head, wondering what you’ll eat for dinner tonight and why he’s so god damn quiet. shoto’s got complete access to your body and he’s fucking you like he’s half asleep; his lower lip is tugged between his teeth, and he appears to be concentrating intensely. how are you supposed to feel comfortable moaning and making noise when it’s just you making an effort to do so?

shoto’s eyes narrow, his heart kicking against his ribcage. he’s raw inside your pussy and able to feel every agonizing squeeze of your walls as you get tighter; he wants more than anything to let himself succumb to your body, the pleasure you’re giving him, but he holds back for the camera. his jaw clenches with effort as he holds his tongue, thinking of what’ll be the best for your budding reputation and the viewers of the UA website. but if he really focuses, listening closely, he can hear you getting quieter now.

so, he murmurs your name and starts to move faster, with more passion, and that seems to get you going. you’re letting out these hushed moans and occasional whines of that’s good or harder, and he actually has to bite at his cheek so he doesn’t get too loud. a faint, iron-like taste gathers on his tongue, but he doesn’t let up. instead, he bites down harder.

the dirty smacking of skin against skin fills the room, giving the microphones half of the noise that they need to make this video a good one. shoto deciding to go a little harder makes it a little bit easier to moan, even though you’re still feeling a little less hot than you’d expected to.

“fuck, right there,” you gasp, hoping that it’ll encourage him to say something back. you really don’t want to call cut and explain why silent sex is a turn-off, then continue filming for however long to get it right. the possibility of offending him—perhaps he’s naturally quiet—and then having to continue afterward is one of the things that bothers you the most. “g-give it to me, babe.”

no response. a slight chance in pace, an adjustment of the angle of his cock, but not a single noise.

you let it go on for about three more minutes, until you can’t deal with it anymore. since orgasming, you haven’t been in the frame of mind to have sex—there’s no haze making your thoughts fuzzy, and not enough arousal to keep you going. even thinking of hanta doesn’t help! you throw your ass back onto him a few times before you bite the bullet, mouth falling open.

“oh my god, oh my god,” and your back arches to make it more believable, “i’m so close, i’m gonna cum.”

you squeeze around him as hard as you can, still flexing the muscles even when you let go, and it actually works. shoto pulls out of you, choking out something under his breath, and spills white and messy across your lower back. the water washes all of it away, and you let your head hang, feeling the disappointment like a freight train. this entire shoot was the complete opposite of what you’d so badly wanted, and you just faked an orgasm to get it over with.

“cut!”

shoto helps you up and turns off the water. much of it has gotten outside of the shower, forming cold puddles on the floor that you’re careful not to slip on. the director comes forward with towels, offering one to you and one to your co-star.

“you can get dressed in the bedroom right across the hallway,” he explains to you, handing you your folded clothes, “and we’ve got a few extra shirts and boxers—uh, what size are you?”

you walk to the bedroom, wiping yourself dry without looking back. as you get dressed, you can’t help but wonder what you’ll tell shinsou. he’d probably picked up on how excited you were to do this shoot, and now you’re coming away from it feeling unsatisfied. but you’re a pornstar! pornstars don’t always have good sex, and that’s fine—sometimes the hottest people in the industry aren’t always the best lays. this was only a trial run with him, right? if you get paired with him in the distant future, it’ll probably be a lot better. maybe his problem is that he doesn’t let loose enough, but who knows?

someone knocks on the door without announcing themselves.

assuming it’s the director, you unlock the door and pull it open, only to come face to face with a shirtless todoroki shoto. it feels like what you wanted to see upon arriving at the condo—damp hair, barely dry muscles on display, gray sweatpants. he’s a god damn wet dream and quite the sight to behold.

he gives you a sideways hug, and okay, you’re ready for a do-over. one bed, no cameras, and a locked door. the camera crew needs to step aside—you’re more than capable of handling this.

“i, um, just wanted to say thank you. for a good shoot. it was very nice to meet you today.”

“of course,” you smile at him, folding up your wet towel and heading to the bathroom. the camera crew is busy breaking everything down while the director works with the laptop to save the footage for editors. “thank you for the towel. is there anything else you’ve got for me before i head out?”

he sets down the laptop and stands to shake your hand. “if you could just drop that into the basket near the washer and dryer before you leave, that’d be most appreciated. we’ll be finished editing and touching things up by this time tomorrow, and then we’ll contact your manager with any additional information.”

shoto doesn’t follow you to say anything more when you step out of the bathroom. just like when you’d first met, he waves again, but this time, a happy smile spreads across his face.

[hvacfucker]

Miscellaneous Hector Headcanons! SFW!

A short list of me contextualizing Hector in the real world versus the object world. Please feel free to comment your thoughts! Also, I haven't explored anything beyond Hector's romance route, (yes, I'm talking about [ ] which I don't yet know the details of!!) so please keep things spoiler free if you'd like to comment!

🎭 Hector lived, breathed, slept Shakespeare as a child/teenager. Like ugh, he'd never seen such beauty in poetry before! Every lesser-known sonnet, every underrated play, Hector studied them all, agonizing over Shakespeare's wit and mastery of iambic pentameter, hoping to one day emulate even just the faintest shadow of his literary prowess. In fact, so enamored with the mystique of theater, Hector secretly longed for the stage.

🎭 It probably comes as no surprise those dreams were never realized.

🎭 God, it took him ages to recover from his Hamlet audition. (Or, did he ever?) The hours he spent practicing his lines, the paragraphs upon paragraphs of dense analysis searing his retinas at 3AM. To think it amounted to nothing? Hector still cringes at that particular chapter of his youth.

🎭 He can still see his taped mark from behind the cover of red velvet. Feel how his legs turned to lead, willing them to step up, but they wouldn't— couldn't move. Oh and the sounds of the drama directors shuffling through their clipboards, somehow taking the driest sips of water as they conferred their watches over the winding minutes? Don't remind him. (Sorry Hector)

🎭 Yeah, turns out stage fright and acting exist as such irreconcilable antipodes it's simply possible for them to find any common ground. Let alone cease their vying for control over Hector's autonomy so that he might dare to try again. Life lesson swiftly learned.

🎭 Although, he makes for an excellent stagehand! Working behind the scenes, that's much more Hector's speed anyway. He's content to spectate from the shadows, wistfully mouthing Juliet's lines as she laments her dear Romeo, Hector's arm maneuvering the industrial-grade fan so that her curls gently dance in the synthetic moonlight at just the right rhythm.

🎭 Outside drama club, crew work is thankless, but it's something Hector takes pride in. Without stagehands, there'd be no production to enjoy, after all! (To me, Hector makes so much sense as a theater kid lmfao)

🎭 Side note: I used to live in the heart of a city that had Shakespeare fests/ren faire parades/events. I feel like Hector would attend those?? Fair-goers would even wear those feathered, masquerade-style masks and get allll dressed up. So maybe he'd utilize such costumes to help with his shyness? I could see him taking advantage of the roleplay pretenses to get out of his shell and embrace a crowd of like-minded people!

🏰 Hector also gives me the vibe of someone who adores The Princess Bride. It's familiar, humorously fantastical, oozing romance with juust the right amount of cheesy, and unapologetically sincere. It's so... safe, and brings him unrivaled comfort when he finds himself yearning for a romance a fraction of the fairytale of which Buttercup and Westley have. (And yes, I feel like he'd love Phantom of the Opera and V for Vendetta for obvious, masked romance related reasons)

💝 Speaking of romance, ohmigod, he's so corny when it comes to Valentine's day. The chocolates, the roses, the oversized, overpriced pink-furred teddy bear. Hector bought them all; tolerated the knowing looks as he waited in line at the grocery store, afterwards writing the most heartfelt card his lover has ever read. (Hector's the type to make someone cry with how personal his letters are.)

💝 If his partner were to reciprocate in kind? Well, he could cry too — wait, he is crying! This is the extravagant display he's longed for: the one where someone isn't afraid to show-off how deeply they're in love with him; how proudly they're committed; to the point they're even willing to endure a bit of social heckling, just as he did. Of course Hector's moved to tears. He just loves them so much! To think his lover could match his affections, he's elated and made humble all at once.

[t4lon]

this is an incredibly rambly post about "splitting" vs headmate creation, and the view of splitting as inherently maladaptive vs other forms as inherently neutral. this is not endorsement or encouragement to split on purpose, or a general statement on CDD system functionality in general, it's solely like. idk. just a breakdown of our experience

content warnings for. well. Intentional splitting (in the vaguely inaccurate CDD sense), mentions of sex, abuse, and self harm, and discussion of sadism in a sexual context

i want to preface this by saying we already struggle to differentiate intentional creation methods from intentional "splitting"; we have DID and frankly were under the impression that for people like us, these are kind of fundamentally the same thing

i no longer think this is true, because among people with CDDs, there seems to be this incredibly common notion that splitting is 100% bad, that it represents a regression in recovery, or that at the very least it is always a maladaptive coping mechanism that you would be better off discarding to use something else. i see this sentiment pretty consistently even from people who are extremely pro-endo- and willogenic and it has confused me and kind of settled me further into the alienation i feel from both endogenic and traumagenic communities

we split on purpose to cope with cognitive dissonance; additionally, we use heavy dissociation to relocate our memories, skillsets, and symptoms between ourselves as our circumstances change. it is of course important to keep in mind that our life is not perfect- there is always a possibility that our situation is so negatively impactful that the "maladaptive" methods we employ are simply all we have, but i think at this point i dont believe that, and i really can only make my point through a very personal example

i (this specific alter) have always struggled with healthy expressions of sexuality; my sexual behavior has always been heavily influenced by trauma, and i find it difficult to kindle any sort of pride or positive emotions about any of my sexual interests. a lot of sex was, for a very long time, a way to paradoxically punish myself for wanting to have it. relevant to this example, i leaned heavily into my masochism because my sadism scared me

i was like this my entire life. there was very little anyone could do to change my mind, because as much as i respected and was attracted to sadists/sadism, i simply could not internalize the idea that it may be scary but is not inherently evil for me to want to hurt other people consensually in a sexual context. i could rationally push myself to accept this notion for others, and i could live alongside and befriend them with this understanding, but i could not under any circumstances identify myself as a sadist- to do so would undermine my (deeply warped and unhealthy) self-image of someone who is Acted Upon during sex. so any attraction or desire i experienced surrounding the topic became incredibly distressing

this eventually resulted in an involuntary split, and an alter who ultimately ended up abusing me for several months as we struggled to come to terms with our collective feelings about sex

and then she split, again. whether or not it was truly intentional is frankly debatable, but it was something we had been thinking about for some time when it happened, and something we have done in the past. the result was two new alters, one holding not only her sadism, but also autistic and OCD traits that had previously been repressed or punished, in the form of A Special Boy Who I Love So So Much, and the other holding her religious inclinations, her gentleness/parental instinct, and ironically her temper, in the form of. well, the other guy's wife

now i share a mind and body with someone who i love deeply, and who is unashamedly sadistic, and not abusive. this level of proximity is unmatched; with him, i can functionally practice BEING sadistic in a healthy way without having to push through the cognitive wall of "that's not me. i dont want to be like that", and through this practice and trust in him i can slowly realize my own identity without being sent into a spiral of self hatred

so i do want to ask- what about that is more maladaptive than self harm with sex i don't want to have? what about that is more maladaptive than continuing to fake it until i make it, hating myself the entire time?

it is very hard to extend grace to yourself. it is very very hard for some people to make their internal voice any kinder, or to quell critical or anxious thoughts.

it is much easier to love and respect someone else.

For our system in particular, it is fundamentally easier, and frankly healthier, for us to acknowledge the things about ourselves that we don't like by learning to love each other in spite of (and later, because of) them. i was never going to get through the miles of social trauma and aversion to cringe and religious shame on my own, but because i love and trust and know and at times AM my headmates, i know that it's possible to exist peacefully in ways that frightened me

community and external support could probably also contribute to this, but in order for that to work i would have to overcome another hurdle- social phobia and general Autism Problems make it difficult for me to maintain consistent relationships with other people, and on top of that, i am an incredibly arrogant person who struggles to trust the judgment of others, especially when being provided validation or encouragement. i simply either dont trust that you mean it, or i dont trust that you actually know what you're talking about. i truly believe that this is never going to be fully solved; i think that this specific form of skepticism and distrust (note that i am NOT always right!) is genuinely partially wired into our mind. we need reason to believe you, and because you simply cannot be an expert in our mind nor do you have any true frame of reference for what we feel internally, we cannot trust you when you tell us it's okay to be/think/feel anything

and as far as ethical concerns wrt headmate creation for this purpose go, this is why i brought up our ability to intentionally dissociate to relocate memories and concepts. in a way that feels very similar to the process of splitting a new headmate, we can simply voluntarily trade traits that distress one member but are neutral or appealing to another. it's when no one can handle the trait that it gets "lost" and repressed, which we frankly DO consider maladaptive for our circumstances. but through this process we can functionally pause and continue the process of "headmate creation" indefinitely, forever.

tldr DID is confusing. plurality is confusing. i kind of have to just ignore what everyone calls healthy bc i think i tend to hurt myself to fit a mold on principle

[jimpagne]

Or you could flip it on its head and say that you are acting like a cultist, stupid solo, or ignorant Army because you are refusing to accept that they are, indeed, together. They literally told us this yesterday in big loud letters to shut up those doubting them after the sightings. I really do not know what more these two have to do to make people like you see it, and it is incredibly disheartening, imagine how they feel. They are more devoted, committed and loving than any straight couple I know of personally, and they show us this time over. If you still chose to ignore it because YOU need to hear it in full from their own mouths, than that is on YOU, and again, makes you no different from the cult. How about you leave those who know, who see, respect and support them alone. Thanks

Someone severely lacks reading comprehension, I see.

Where in my post did I ever discredit their bond? All I said was to NOT ENGAGE WITH NOR SPREAD STALKER CONTENT and to be careful before spreading information because it could be potentially false.

I never said to truly write off eye witness accounts, but to do the rational thing and take them all with a grain of salt. Because do you know what taekookers do? They hear a rumor, run with the rumor, and won't let anyone else tell them otherwise. They ignore any other voice of reason, ignore when people in other spaces try to disprove something or provide better insight. They also consistently ignore what HAS been stated and vetted by saying "what this person said is lying", or "Jungkook and Taehyung can't be open about their relationship because they're being controlled by the company", or blah blah blah, whatever suits their narrative.

Do you want Jikookers to end up like that? Is that what you want? For us to have someone come online and say "I saw Jimin and Jungkook at [location] doing [blank]", having everyone spread and believe it without any HEALTHY doubts or any disclaimers, and then later having it proven to be untrue?

Am I saying majority Jikookers move like that? No. Absolutely not. I am saying that if we continue to endorse this behavior, the slope becomes a lot more slippery.

All I was doing was proposing safer techniques to deal with candid information like this, but you only saw me say "don't be like a cultist" and got triggered.

The fact is: Everything is speculative until directly proven otherwise. Theories are theories until fundamentally proven true. If you cannot recognize that, that's a dangerous way of thinking.

Like I said, at the end of the day Jikook being a couple in and of itself is still speculative. That is the cold, hard truth. That's not saying "they're not real" or "they could never happen", that's simply saying that we must respect the possibility of it not being true, and that we should create a somewhat respectful boundary between us and them before making theories and promoting them as 100% facts.

You can believe that they're real, but it's completely normal to hold doubts about something that hasn't been completely confirmed. One thing that is 100% real and 100% vetted is their mutual love and respect for one another as two people who have been friends for well over a decade. They endured some of the greatest hardships of their lives together, so anyone who says that they hate one another of course is completely delusional.

Though it is true that a lot of the claims that Jikookers make are often proven to be true later on, that doesn't mean that every theory made by a Jikooker by default is true. This is why it's important to be mindful.

If you don't understand that, that's entirely on you. If you want to endorse stalking or dangerous behavior by leaking their locations or their hotels, you go on right ahead. Just letting you know that it's scary and dangerous, and I wonder how you would feel if someone followed you around and constantly compromised your privacy to millions of people to get back at the people who 'doubted them'.

Being right at the expense of someone's personal life or security is not always the best. Spreading unvetted information without a disclaimer on the internet is still dangerous regardless of if you have no ill intent behind it.

Also, surprise suprise, I am a Jikooker. I am just one who tries to be mindful about information and sources before completely believing in it. A lot of Jikookers on my timeline were wary about the sources, not because they were antis or moving like taekookers who were desperate to disprove it, but because it's just the natural thing to be inquisitive about secondhand information.

I hope you reread my post and think a little more critically about it before jumping on me <3

[sixeyesonathiel]

“does gojo and geto kiss at the end of the movie?”

[thatfriendlyanon]

i think part of my problem is i lived with my best friend for two years of my life and have been searching for the same feeling of joy & acceptance & support ever since

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[vilevampire]

I've never received so much psychic damage from reading something in a fic as I have today reading a paragraph referring to f1t as p4c's "best friend and most trusted companion" with no mention to m1ke at all

[britneyshakespeare]

my great auntie barbara has been a widow for almost 10 years now. uncle jack died in summer 2014. and with my grandfather gone she's without her only brother too. today was the wake for my grandfather and she looked absolutely beautiful, i told her as much, she was the best-dressed lady there. and it's been almost three years since my grandmother died and you could tell there was a different understanding between her and my grandfather whenever they got together. it became more necessary to invite barbara to extended-family events when her husband died, but after grammy died it was just about mandatory. there was just something about the two of them sitting together, brother and sister, in their 90s having lost their life partners, but sitting with the only other person left that they had known for as long, no, even longer. as far back as they could each remember. they both looked like they were in the company of their favorite living person. so it was hard to see her at the wake although she looked beautiful and she always does; she has a wonderful smile. it must be hard to be the last survivor of your generation. i just hope she goes home and she has something that makes her feel not so lonely.

[luvyeni]

WHAT’S IS YOUR DESIRE ๑. ( 이희승 )

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── you’re so lonely , your parents pretend you don’t exist , no friends , you’re so desperate for love … heeseung can give you that if that’s what you truly desire…

( 対 ) lee heeseung + fem. reader wc. 4k genre smut · contains! vampire!heeseung , mentions of loneliness , oral ( f ) , biting , blood drinking , unprotected sex , mentions of murder mature content. / back to library

you were used to being alone; living in a small town , your parents often left for long periods of time to look for work in other churches; your dad was a pastor and your mother a housewife — not that it mattered , when they were here they hardly paid attention to you , and when they did it was often to comment on something you did wrong or to drill quotes from the bible into your head.

when your mother came into your room that afternoon you already knew what was coming. “your father has work in the town over.” you nodded. “i assume you’ll be going with him?” barely looking up from the computer that sat on your desk — your parents hated it , claimed ‘it was the work of the devil’ but they allowed it because it was needed for your studies in university. “of course you know your father has such a wandering eye, i have to keep and eye on the jezabels trying to seduce him.” you wanted to scoff , knowing that it was surely the other way around and your mom was too delusional to notice , but you didn’t do anything, you just nodded. “there’s food to last three days when we will be back , the robert’s are right down the road if you need anything.”

her hands were on your shoulders. “make sure to read your bible before bed , to keep the demons out while you sleep.” she said , you sighed. “i know mama.” she just nodded before exiting quietly. you closed the laptop , not like you could do much on it — your parents only allowed the wifi because of your studies , they turned it off when you were done with school , claiming you didn’t need it , they didn’t want the internet to “corrupt” you.

you stared out the window as you watched them get in their car , driving down the road — leaving you even more alone.

there was nothing to do except read; that’s all you were allowed to do , not like you had any friends , or a phone to keep up with those friends — you didn’t have a tv to watch the latest shows , all you had was those books , the books the library in the town allows you to take by the dozen because she knows you well — you don’t tell your parents about these book , they’d be deemed “books of the damned” by your dad. tales of dragons and witches — werewolves and vampires. especially vampires.

your father had an irrational fear of vampires; the people of the night is what he called them. you thought he was ridiculous they way he would constantly talk about them , how you should never let them in because once you welcome them in they steal your soul. he spoke like they were real , he had such a fearful look in your eyes — kinda made you smile seeing such a normally put together and fearless man shudder at the sight of a mythical creature.

so here you were laying across your stuffie filled bed , reading a book about a vampire ; it was a love story , a vampire falls in love with a girl human girl , but he can’t be with her because of her parents , so he turns her and they live happily together — without a few challenges , it’s cute and cliche. the rain outside started hours ago , the branches from the trees slapping against your window as the rain poured from the sky , you could hear the wind from outside , strong but calming — soothing … until you felt it , the overwhelming feeling of being watched.

you got up from your book; walking over to window , there was nothing — literally nothing , the robert’s house just down the road , but not close enough you could see anything , so all you saw was the sad and lonely darkness. sighing as you made your way back to your bed to get ready to sleep … but before you could sit down there was a knock on the door.

who could that be? it was almost 11 pm , it couldn’t have been the robert’s , they were a elderly couple and their only son was away in college — so who could be at your door at this time? you slowly made your way down the steps , jumping when thunder shook the house adding on to your fear as you made it to the front door. “he-hello.” you spoke through the door. “um hello - this is so embarrassing , but i need your help.” the voice spoke softly through the door — a males voice. “well im really not allowed to open the door for anyone.” you said. “well are your parents home? may i speak to them?”

“they aren’t here either.” good going now he’s gonna rob you now that he knows you’re alone. you shrieked as thunder rumbled once again. “i guess it’s fine.” it’s a small town , everyone knows everyone; so whoever it is must know your parents. you slowly unlocked all the locks , slowly opening the door , peaking your head out at the stranger. “can i help you?”

his hair was bright red , it was the first thing you noticed about the man — second thing you noticed about him was he was extremely attractive , his eyes were alluring as he stood before you , dripping wet from the rain. “my car broke down and i don’t have service , i was wondering if you had a phone i could use to call a service?” his voice deep , but soft. “oh well i don’t have a smart phone.” he didn’t seem shock much like anyone else would be when you gave them this news. “no? — but we do have a house phone.” you said , opening the door a little wider. “it’s pretty old but it’s the best i can do.”

the man before you smiled , it was a warm and welcoming smile ; this man didn’t look like he would harm you. “thank you so much , you’re very kind.” and maybe you were just lonely , the silence that filled your house along with the loneliness that clouded your heart , you just wanted to be in the presence of someone. “um excuse me miss.” he asked , you realized you both were standing at the door , instead he was standing out in the pouring rain. “oh my gosh, i’m so sorry.” you said. “come in , you must be so cold from the rain.” you moved to the side letting him in. “thank you.” his body towered over yours as he walked into your quiet little lonely home.

“you have a nice home.” he said. “th-thank you, my mom decorated herself , she loves doing things like that.” you said , he nodded. “well she’s a good designer.” he turned to you. “you must be so cold , let me light a fire so you can get warm before you call someone to come help , follow me.” you guide him to the living room. “just a second.” he watched you intently as you bent down to the fire place , putting a bunch of firewood your father chopped himself into the fire place , lighting it. “there , now you can get warm.” you said. “the phone is right there.” you pointed to the small table. “can i offer you something to drink while you call? some tea? coffee , i may have some hot chocolate left.”

he chuckled as your spoke fast. “tea is fine , thank you — i haven’t gotten your name.” he said. “oh me?” “i’m yn.” he tilted his head to the side. “what a beautiful name.” your cheeks heated up. “im heeseung.” he introduced. “you-you have a nice name too.” you spat out quickly , he was almost too beautiful to look at for long. “i’ll leave you to make your call.” you quickly shuffled away , to the kitchen.

“don’t be so embarrassing , you’ve seen men before.” you spoke to yourself while you waited for the water the heat. “of course not men as beautiful as him but you know what father would say , control your lust or spend eternity in hell.” you repeat to yourself as you continue to make the tea , unaware of heeseungs presence behind you , just watching you. “do you like sug- oh!” you jumped realizing he was standing right behind you. “did i scare you?” you hissed feeling some of the hot water spill on your hand. “did you hurt yourself?” he grabbed your hand , it was a bit red. “i-i’m okay.” your body began to heat up , but his hands were crazily cold. “but are you? you’re so cold.” he stepped back a bit. “let’s get you back to the fireplace.”

you sat the drink down , along with some of your mothers cookies that she spent all day baking. “enjoy.” you sat down on the couch beside him. “did you get in touch with someone?” he sat the cup down. “i couldn’t a signal , i guess the storm , guess i’ll have to wait in my car until morning when the storm is supposed to pass.” he said , you felt bad for him. “we-well where are you going?” you asked, taking a bite of the cookie. “well i was heading home , but as i was driving my car broke down and then my phone died , your house was the closest.” he frowned. “my brothers must be so worried , we only have each other so we’re really over protective .”

he had people that cared about him; you couldn’t help but be jealous — soon that was replaced with sympathy , he couldn’t sleep out in his car , he’d freeze to death. “my parents won’t be home for another three days.” you said , he was looking you right in the eyes. “an-and i would feel terrible knowing i let you sleep in a cold car alone in the storm , god would never turn someone away.” his eye brow furrowed but you didn’t notice it. “i guess you can stay the night , in the living room though.” you said. “just until the morning , maybe the phone will be working and then we can call someone and you can call your brothers to check in so they won’t be too worried.”

“really?” he said. “i don’t really want to bother you, you’ve already been so sweet to me.” you lowered your head with a shy smile at the praise. “it’s the least i can do.” you said. “maybe i’ll get some good karma.” you finished up the cookie you were nursing. “thank you.” he said. “maybe i can find you something to wear and you can wash up , i’m an only child and my father is not as buff and tall as you , so it might be hard.” you said , he smirked. “anything you give me is fine , your kindness has already stretched farther than anyone would ever go.”

while he showered , you sifted through everything trying to find him something to wear; also gathering a bunch of pillows and blankets for him to sleep on. you were able to find a pair of pajama pants that were too big for father , your mother was supposed to hem them but now it’s one less project off her hand — maybe she’ll spend time with you now. you laughed bitterly to yourself as laid the pillows and blankets out. you took the clothes in your hand , making your way to the bathroom.

you were about to knock on the door ; when it opened up, the boy stood there , a towel around his waist. “oh.” your eyes widened , but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. “i-i w-was coming to bring you some clothes , i put your other ones in the dryer.” you held your hand out. “it’s th-the best i could do i’m sorry.” you didn’t know why you were apologizing and you couldn’t help it. “it’s fine.” you finally looked up , he was staring down at you with a soft smile. “he-here.” he took it from your hands , his fingertips touching yours … still cold. “something wrong?” he asked , you shook your head. “well it’s just your ha-” your eyes landed on something behind him , the mirror. “that’s so weird your reflec— oh you have something right here.” his fingers found your chin , moving your head to look at him; you felt a shiver run down your spine. “you’re really beautiful you know that.” he said , your breath hitched. “o-oh th-thank you so much.”

you turn to quickly walk to your room , your body was hot. “pull yourself together yn.” you said to yourself. “just because you’re a virgin doesn’t mean you have to act like one.” you scold yourself , hearing a chuckle behind you , making you jump. “that’s cute.” heeseung said. “wh-what?” you said. “you’re trying to calm yourself down , even though i can hear your heart beating , it’s pounding out of your chest right now.” he picked up a picture of your family. “what a nice family.” he starts , and you slowly start to feel the fear creeping in your stomach , like you’ve might’ve made a mistake letting this man in. “th-thank you.”

his eye brow lifted in amusement. “you must really love your family.” he said. “so many pictures of them in your room.” he said. “i-i do.” hopefully you’d get to see them again. “that’s funny because if you look out in the front you wouldn’t believe they have a daughter , there’s no pictures of you out there.” that was true , your parents often said you were a accident , they were supposed to have children until later in life , wanting to spend time together without children — but you came and they had to give that up , your dad committed to the church ( and other women ) and your mother her “wifely duties”.

though they never specifically said that you were a mistake , they didn’t show any signs of that not being true. “my parents don’t really like me.” you frowned. “i ruined their life.” you chuckled , but heeseung could see the sadness in your eyes. “what about your other family?” he said. “i don’t have any, my parents cut them off because they weren’t “in tune with god like we are” , whatever that means.” here you were spilling your guts to this stranger who was standing in your room in only a towel — you still weren’t sure he didn’t want to kill you. “i wish i had a family , maybe like you and your brothers , at least they care enough to be worried.”

your bottom lip quivered a bit , you didn’t hear him walking over to you , until you felt his cold hand touch your skin , lifting your head. “is that what you wish?” he asked. “is that what you desire?” you finally look the man in the eyes — and what you saw frightened you; his eyes red , like his hair. “i can give you that.” fear flooded your body , your brain was screaming for you to run , but you couldn't, you were too scared ; until your brain finally got in contact with your feet and you basically pushed past him , trying to run out the room. “yn!” he grabbed your wrist. “i’m not gonna — let me go!” you screamed. “i’m not gonna harm you.” he said. “i swear.”

“wh-what are you? wh-what do you want?” you stuttered still fighting , trying to free yourself from his grip. “you know what i am.” he smiled. “you let me in.” then it hit you , the reflection , the cold hands — the red eyes … he was a vampire. “bu-but you aren’t supposed to be real. he chuckled. “i’m pretty sure i am real , i am holding you right now.”

“pl-please don’t hurt me.” you stuttered , he frowned. “i told you i didn’t want to hurt you.” he said. “we-well what do you want?” you stuttered. “whatever it is that you desire.” he said. “you desire family , you’re lonely.” he said. “i’ve been watching you for a while , you spend most of the time in the library , you stroll this boring small town all alone , no friends , no access to the world.” he said. “i can give you that , family… a love that last eternity.” he finally let your hands go. “please don’t run.”

you stood in silence for a second , his eyes were trained on you in case you tried to run. “my-my family — your family that ignores you , leaves you here to waste your youth.” his eyes looked towards your bed , where the book you were reading sat still open , he smirked. “what happens when they die? you spend your days in this house , no one else to spend it with until you pass on as well?” he was now backing you against the wall. “that’s no way for a girl like you to live , you deserve a life of happiness.” he said. “i can give you that.”

“wh-why me?” you asked. “why were you watching me?” he breathed in your scent , closing his eyes ; opening them , they were bright red again. “because you made it so easy for me.” he said. “you let me in.” there was nowhere for you to go , he trapped you against him and the wall. “you let me in because you crave me.” he whispered in your ear. “you crave to be loved , for someone to show you attention.” his nose brushed against your neck; you whimpered , biting your lip. “to be touched.” his hands found your waist. “tell me i’m wrong.”

you couldn’t , because he was right. “listen to your body.” he said. “is it gonna hurt?” you asked , his eyes darkened. “in the best way possible.” you felt his lips on your neck , you gasped , this was a new feeling. “you smell so good.” he licked your neck. “fu-fuck you taste good too.” he groaned , your legs were about to give up. “don’t fall on me now love.” he smiled. “let’s go lay down.”

he guided you to your bed , laying you down , climbing on to the bed; picking up the book with a smirk. “this book is full of false facts,” he said , tossing it ; it fell to the floor with a thud. “don’t read things like that.” his hands were on the side of your head. “i’ll teach you everything.” he went back to kissing your neck. “hee-heeseung.” your body twitched involuntarily. “teach you to hunt , to feed.” kissing down your chest and stomach , pushing your legs open. “to fuck.” kissing in between your thighs. “you’re so soaked.” he inhaled your scent as he pulled your shorts down along with your panties. “fuck you smell so good, so tiny.” you felt a little sting ; he'd just cut you. “ow.” he kissed the cut , blood getting on his lips , which he licked off, looking you in the eyes. “does that taste good?”

“so fucking good.” his voice was much deeper , full of hunger. “but i bet this pussy tastes even better.” his words were so crude , but you didn’t even get a chance to register it before he was licking your folds. “ah!” you moaned out as he ate you out. “heeseung , oh my god.” gasping out trying to sit up , but he pushed you down by your stomach. “be still princess , let me eat your pretty pussy.” sucking on your clit , your hips move upwards. “it-it feels like—” you felt his finger at your entrance. “so tiny , you can barely take my finger.”

“you’re about to cum.” his fingers ghosted your neck. “you wanna feel true ecstasy?” you nodded , he smirked. “good girl.” his fingers pierced your skin , you let out a scream , just as he curled his fingers inside you , triggering your orgasm , it was so overwhelming. “fuck.” he groaned , licking at your neck , feeding on your neck. “heeseung!” the metallic smell flooded your nostrils , his fingers still stringing against your clit — then you felt it , the venom entering your bloodstream , your body felt like it was moving in slow motion. “heeseung.” he pulled away , his fangs were fully on display , teeth and mouth dripping with blood.

heeseung could feel your blood coursing through his veins , you gave him a fill no other human gave him – he’d never find anything as close to this. “look at me.” he grabbed your face. “drink this.” bringing his forearm to his mouth , biting down on it. “open pretty.” opening your mouth , allowing his blood to drink into your mouth. “that’s it good girl , drink it.” he bit down on his lip , this was turning him on. “yeah- fuck.” his cock twitching against the towel , he was so quick to rip it off , letting his cock free; he was big , and thick. “gonna mold you into my perfect slut.”

you stared at the cross hanging in front of your bed as you felt him enter you. “he can’t help you anymore.” he whispered in your ear. “you’ve given yourself to me already.” he started moving. “heeseung.” you moaned. “and i don’t plan on ever letting you go.” if felt like you were on cloud nine , you faint taste of blood in your mouth , heeseung still lapping at the blood on your neck as he pounded into you. “fu-fucking mine.” he growled. “you gave me everything.” the bed was moving , your headboard slamming against the walls. “your mind.” *thrust* “your body” *thrust* “your soul.”

he began to thrust harder , bringing his forearm back to your mouth allowing you to take more of his blood , you clenched around him. “that’s fuck- fucking it -ngh- so tiny.” he grunted. “you’ll never need man to fill you up like this , gonna keep this pussy stuffed with my cock.” you stole his blood from him , but this just egged him on. “fuck i’m gonna cum.” bringing his thumb to your clit. “want you to cum with me , was cum inside your pussy.” he growled. “cum for me.”

your body starts to convulse, legs shaking; screaming. “that’s it cum all over my -ngh- my cock , fuck i’m gonna cum.” he held your hips stilled as he pushed his cock as deep as he could , shooting his load into your cunt. “ah shit!” he threw his head back. “heeseung.” you sighed , the room felt like it was spinning. “it’s okay , you’re gonna sleep for a while.” he said. “don’t be scared okay , i’ll be here when you wake up , you’ll be okay.” he kissed the side of your temples before you drifted off the sleep.

there was a bang on the door as he was dressing himself , he sighed picking up your now dressed body, sleeping body , making his way down in the front door opening it. “could you have knocked any fucking louder.” sunghoon looked down at your sleeping body back at him. “sorry i didn’t want to sit in the fucking car anymore while you turn the girl you’ve stalked for the past 2 months.” he said. “you ready , jay is blowing my phone up like crazy.”

“yeah , let’s go , the sun will be up soon.” heeseung said. “and she’ll be out for at least a few days.” he walked out closing the door behind him. “and what about her parents , are we just gonna leave them here wondering about their daughter?” heeseung put you in the back seat , before climbing in the drivers seat. “in two days we’re set to leave for a new town , they’ll just be getting home.” he said driving off. “we’ll stop by here , pick up a few things she’d might want to keep.”

“and then what?” sunghoon said. “we kill them , send ni-ki and jungwon in there.” he said. “you never said anything about killing them , let alone letting ni-ki and jungwon in there , they go over board and we don’t need that following us. heeseung turned to his friend while a smirk. “burn the house down then , these people are so stupid they’ll believe the bodies burned solely because of the fire , they won’t even look for anything else , and if they do , they’ll think it was a animal.” sunghoon shook his head. “you’re crazy.” he laughed. “they’ll probably think it was the damn devil or something.” they both laughed , heeseung looking in the mirror at your sleeping figure. “maybe we should let her in and do it , she’ll be too hungry to even realize who they are anyway.”

“jesus dude these townspeople aren’t too far off about the devil thing.”

yea , maybe ….

©️LUVYENI

[whimsicalsesquipedalian]

Some thoughts on Andor, and that final shot everyone hates so much.

I don’t. I’ve been sitting with this show for a while now. This whole season I’ve been waiting to hate Bix’s arc with the same fervour that some of the more vocal fans do. I’ve been waiting to feel the injustice done to a “strong female character” (a phrase I fucking hate by the way, but that’s an argument for another time). I’ve seen the arguments that she should have stayed with the rebellion, that she was a fighter sidelined for the sake of a man, that she was reduced to a baby-factory straight out of right wing propaganda (Jesus Christ). And I disagree with every fucking one of them. 

For me, in season two, Bix is the heart of the show. She is the ethos, the drive, the reason that rebellion matters. Bix becomes, in a way, the most important character Andor has to offer us.

Andor has always been very clear in its ideology. Blatantly so. And one of the ideals it strives to impart to its audience is that we are not meant to live in fear. We are not meant to live under oppression. We are not meant to live looking down. For Andor the heart, the drive, the reason behind rebellion is to create a future where we are free. And where love, and peace, and community, and kindness, and hope are our foundations and are the only matter of our lives. 

Andor doesn’t want its characters to be fighters. They are forced to be. Andor doesn’t want its characters to live hiding and scared and clawing for any glimpse of peace and love and hope they can get. They have no other choice. Rebellion is important. It is so so fucking important. But it is only important because of what it fights for. 

Bix is not a fighter. In Andor’s first season she is a mechanic selling to Luthen on the side for extra money. She is not struggling against the empire. She is not joining a rebellion. She is getting the fuck by and living her fucking life. And one day her connection to Cassian puts her under the empire’s gaze and she is invasively tortured and horrifically traumatised because of it. And she endures. 

Bix is, also, an incredibly important character to me personally. There can often be a narrative surrounding trauma that it should make you the fighter everyone seems to think Bix should be. That you should take your pain and terror and suffering and turn it around and let it make you stronger. Use it to beat back against the person, or group, or institution that traumatised you. That you should pick yourself up, dust yourself off, take that horror, and fight back (girlboss-ify yourself and take those motherfuckers down). And to that I say, no. I don’t want that. I’ve done my fighting. I’ve lost my battles and I’ve come out the other side scarred in ways that still hurt to touch. What I want is to stop. Is to rest. Is to put this pain down and move out the other side of it and live, finally. 

For me, watching Bix as an horrifically traumatised woman live stuck in that fight for the first half of the second season was harrowing. To see her spend her time in the Coruscant safehouse grappling with the true cost of what it means to fight the way she needs to in this war, never at peace as the life she lives and the things she must do force her to stay held in her trauma, had me aching in ways I didn’t realise I would. To see her stuck in the dark and the gloom and the cold, and yearning the whole time she is in Coruscant to be able to go out and live without having to look over her shoulder, hurt in ways I struggle to put words to.

And then, to see her get out. 

I know there is a lot of contention about seeing Bix have little to do on Yavin. And to that I will say, it’s a big show, there are a lot of characters, and she is on Yavin during a storyline that arguably should not narratively or structurally be focusing on her anyway. I know there is also a lot of contention about writing her leaving Cassian for the sake of the rebellion. That it diminishes her character to a plot beat. And while perhaps the tropes at play feel trite in comparison to the more grounded beats the show is known for hitting, this is still storytelling. All the characters are, functionally, still devices serving a narrative. Bix leaves, and narratively becomes our ethos. Becomes the heart of this story. Becomes the reason we have been watching this all play out for our two-season run. Bix becomes the most important character in the show. Because this is why we must fight. For Bix. For everything she represents in that moment. She becomes the way Cassian’s life should be if it weren’t for this war, and in doing so becomes the way all of their lives should be. Should have always been. And will be one day soon. 

She is the reason. For all of it. For every loss, for every death, for every fight. It is her. She is the hope at the heart of the rebellion.

That last scene on Mina-Rau; the gentle light, Bee playing, the table set for a community to eat and laugh and be. People smiling and content and together and peaceful. And Bix, free. Of the trauma, of the loss, of the death, of the fight. Looking up at the open sky with her child. Literally holding in her arms the life that the rebellion has always been fighting for. 

That is the hope at the end of our story -- that Bix is the one that gets to live. 

And you can pry that fucking ending from my cold dead hands.

[pennjammin]

run, rabbit, run

JJK HALLOWEEN! nanamixreader

summary ❥ you babysit for the wealthy single dad who lives across the street. it’s the end of october and his halloween party is the talk of the neighborhood. you’re not invited because the kids are out of town, but you decide to pop up on him anyway, and he shows you just how badly he’s been dying to get you alone without the children.

CONTENT: age gap, 86’d sorcery, dilf!nanami, toys, smut, alcohol, dom!nanami, cunnilingus, afab!reader, fluff, friends to lovers kinda, bossxworker, aftercare, slowwwww burn, reader wears animal ears during sex, breeding kink, spit kink, masochism.

word count. 10k

soundtrack 💿: eating - madeintyo

p.s. there’s a joke in here involving the color of 🐱; i know everyone’s is not the same color so , fill in the blank for the color that fits yours if u have one LOL

✩

You give your ass a good shake.

You’re making sure the long, fluffy tail poking out of your blue shorts isn’t going to fall out. It doesn’t.

You’re dressed as a fox, but not just any fox. A fox cop. You have on a short blue collared top, matching shorts, and of course you’d be no real cop without your utility belt housing fake handcuffs and a plastic baton. To top it all off, you’re wearing fuzzy fox ears on your head, and sheer tights to cover your legs.

You nod in the mirror, satisfied. But the real test, to you, is if Mr. Nanami will like it just as much.

Mr. Nanami is your employer, but more importantly, your neighbor. You watch his two young children five days a week; sometimes even overnight when he has a particularly busy work day. You consider yourself close with them, but your feelings about Nanami are a little deeper than that.

You’d seen him the first time a little under a year ago, when he’d been out on an early morning jog. From then, on you’d become disgustingly obsessed ever since.

Your schoolgirl pining only gets worse every time you see him, and recently you've even gone as far as trying to shamelessly flirt - but he seems to have absolutely no idea. That is the less painful explanation, the other being that he’s just not interested.

But you’re planning to see if you can get that to change tonight. You always dress sensible in front of his children; this will be the first time he's seeing so much skin. It has to work, right?

Tonight, Nanami is throwing the party of the century. He has house workers of all kinds who serve towers of food and delicious mixed drinks. The cherry is that his entire gated lawn has been decorated to the perimeter of fun inflatables and spooky decorations. You know it's mostly for his kids, whom he goes nothing short of above and beyond for.

However, he had informed you days ago that they would be out of town this weekend - and, even if they were not, he's off work, so he doesn’t need you. This means he also had not invited you to his party.

You clearly still intend to show up unannounced, a bold move on your part.

You lock up your house - a small, co-owned property that truly looks out of place across from Nanami's home - which he technically pays the rent for. You carefully make your away across the overcrowded street full of cars, decorations, and humans who are already half past drunk.

As you walk up the stone steps that lead to his front door, your stomach is keyed up. You shouldn't feel any different than you normally do when coming over for work, but you’ve really let this highly unprofessional crush of yours get out of control.

You make it to the porch. You're unsure if he will even hear the doorbell, but you press it anyway. The door slides open after about ten seconds, as if he has been standing there watching it. You feel your body freeze immediately upon seeing him.

Nanami is towering over you in the threshold. His face lights up almost instantly, but that's not all that has your heart threatening to crack open your rib cage; it's also his delicious white button down, popped open by a few to reveal tiny bits of blond chest hair, and then of course there are the long, white ears on top of his head.

“Why hello, officer, did we get a noise complaint?” He chuckles at his own dad joke before bowing his head in greeting. “Sorry, I’m just surprised to see you. I figured you would be thrilled to not have to look at these four walls for a few days while my children are with... their mother.”

You watch his face drop in disgust at the mention of his ex-wife, but he’s never said anything bad about her. Whenever you’d asked why things hadn’t worked out, he’d said "they just didn't." And that was that, but part of you aches to know what had happened.

It shouldn’t matter. He is not interested in you. He gives you a paycheck, and that is all.

"Well," you begin carefully, "Who would want to miss out on the most exclusive Halloween party of the year?"

This coerces a deep laugh out of Nanami, then he steps aside and allows you to walk in. He is holding a short rocks glass of unidentified brown liquor, and you can smell whatever it is in a cloud around him.

Once inside, Nanami’s voice is quite muffled from the clank of dishes and bustle of workers. The two of you stop to stand in the foyer, a grand crystal chandelier winking at you from above.

"Exclusive isn't the word I'd use," he says, following your eyes as he takes a sip. "Everyone and their mother is here. Literally." He tilts his glass towards an elderly woman who stands next to a redhead about Nanami's age.

You should be laughing at his joke but instead, your stomach knots grow tighter at the reminder of how many people his age are here preying on him, the neighborhood catch, with careers and homes of their own.

Nanami is seven years your senior, you think. No wonder he wants nothing to do with a young, non career-oriented thing like you when he has all of these sophisticated people crawling at his feet.

You can't think about that now, or the courage you’ve spent a week building will cease to exist.

"Heh - well, either way," you continue, "it's a big party. I know the kids aren't here, but-"

"But I'm glad you are," Nanami smiles, his eyelids hanging a little low from the liquor in his system. "You look very nice, darling. I like your ears."

He grins and points to his own headband. A grown and very, very large man dressed as something as vulnerable as a little rabbit has your nerves aflame.

"Hmm, I bet you do," you tease. “Like it so much you had to copy me?”

Nanami makes a disapproving sound with his tongue, leaning forward a bit to be eye level with you. "Copy you? I was unaware that rabbits and foxes were the same animal. In fact," he adds, "if I'm not mistaken, foxes are a rabbit's natural predator."

You had been trying to look away from him now that he has moved so close, but as the last sentence rolls out of his mouth, you make the mistake of looking directly into his eyes - and what you see makes your limbs jelly. Maybe it's your delusions, but he seems to be drinking you up equally as much as he is his liquor.

You laugh to pop the bubble of tension, but Nanami's face remains as still as ice.

"Well, I certainly don't think I pose a threat to you, sir," you say, voice unnervingly dry. "You are twice my size."

At this, his intense stare transitions into a soft smile. "You just have to get my guard down. Then, I'm sure a little thing like yourself would be able to have your way with me."

You blink quickly, assuming you've misheard him. Then again, though, he tends to say things that could be flirty - but he is just a naturally charismatic man. Means nothing.

"Ah," you mumble out, shifting your weight from side to side. You have to find a way to change the subject, but most importantly, you need get his attention off of you. You’d wanted it so bad, now you don’t know how to handle it. As you scheme, he sips his drink again, eyes still watching you over the rim of the glass.

"So... the kids always go with their mom on Halloween?" you ask abruptly.

Nanami quickly swallows his sip before shaking his head. "Well I had them for the Fourth of July, you recall."

You do recall. A little too well. Nanami in nothing but tight, black swim shorts and his signature sunglasses as he flipped meat over the grill - and you playing in his pool with the kids. He’d invited you to celebrate the holiday with him after his kids had begged, but your mind was definitely elsewhere. The memory popping into your head almost makes you not hear what he says next.

"We alternate holidays. So I will have them for Thanksgiving, she for Christmas," he shrugs a shoulder. "I would have traded Thanksgiving for Christmas, but alas. Christmas is always the busiest day of the year for me, so they would just miss out on time with their father anyway. I couldn't ask you to ditch your holiday plans for us, again, either."

He sighs. You feel your heart ache; he cares deeply about his kids, but he is definitely a workaholic. That is why you spend every chance you get at his house… well, that’s mostly why. But even then, you sometimes wish you stayed more to help, because Nanami works tireless double shifts, then spends his off days trying to make up for lost time with the kids.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," you say, attempting to comfort him. "You're an amazing father who is doing all he can. They love you so much."

He smiles and bows his head politely, so as to say thank you. "They love you as well. Sometimes, I think more than they do their mother."

You swallow a choke, before rutting out, “Surely not."

Before Nanami has the chance to reply, an older woman who you’d come to known as Agnes walks by with a large tray arraignment of bright green cocktails.

“Nanamin!” she shrieks out. “Where would you like me to put these? Very afraid of them falling. There’s drunkards crawling up the walls! I’ve already swept up sixteen broken glasses! Sixteen!”

You and Nanami turn to look at her with an equally astonished expression.

Nanami leans forward a bit to whisper in your ear, “My apologies in advance for her erratic behavior.”

Agnes is still staring wildly between the two of you as you giggle, awaiting further instructions from Nanami.

“Sit them wherever you think is safest,” he says calmly.

She huffs but ultimately takes his word, speeding off with her kitten heels clacking against the marble floor.

Nanami turns back to you and opens his mouth, but another voice cuts him off.

“Nanami, sir!”

You feel a twinge of irritation in your chest, but you really shouldn’t. He is the host and people need his attention. You should have seen this coming.

“Is everything okay?” he questions politely, turning to face the short brunette in front of him, who bats her eyelashes.

“I… I think that someone is fighting outside,” she says quickly, unable to keep eye contact.

Nanami is a smart man, though. “Oh? Well, what shall we do about that?”

“I thought you could run and stop them,” she says, twisting a piece of her hair around her finger, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m in no mood to be in the middle of a brawl,” he says sternly. “Have the butlers stop it, and remove them. You try not to get involved either.”

She huffs and spins on her heel, walking back through the living room with an angry stomp in her step.

Nanami clicks his tongue, “I really need to have her counseled in compulsive lying. She cries wolf so many times a day.”

You’ve never seen her before, she must be new. This makes you jealous all over again. She’s not quite as old as the rest of the workers, but still older than you. The issue is you see yourself in her, the uncontrollable pining over your shared boss. She just makes hers much more obvious.

Nanami clears his throat, and you notice too late how his hand has slithered to the small of your back.

“Perhaps we should escape somewhere more secluded, hm?” he says. “I really am enjoying our conversation. A shame we keep getting interrupted.”

You swallow thickly. The hair on your spine has raised at his sudden contact, making you shiver.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, sir,” you say, trying to hide how dry your voice has gotten.

Not another word is uttered before Nanami is swiftly whisking you off to another room; his hands now free of his drink and instead gently guiding you by his hand placement.

His gaze is not as focused on you as it is leading you both through the overwhelming crowd of people, and to the hall under the stairs that you know for a fact leads to his workspace. He moves his hands into yours as he gently pushes you ahead of him.

You take the lead and find yourself pushing open the big door to his study. Inside is a complete reflection of Nanami, his wealth and his cleanliness. Even his desk is free of papers, or any indication at all that he works in here.

You recall the days he works from home, in this very study, and he'd still be in his work suit, just minus the blazer. You'd let the kids sneak in on him, only once or twice thoughout the day, just to see his smile; and while you’re already there, you'd drop off a cup of hot coffee to help him plow through the rest of his shift.

He shuts the doors behind you both as you run to make yourself comfortable in his desk chair, spinning around like a child.

As you do so, you fail to see or hear his fingers slyly clicking the lock on the door.

“Much better,” Nanami breathes, moving to flick on a floor lamp in the corner, giving the study a soft, warm glow accompanied by the full Halloween moon. “Now, what were we discussing?”

“You, uh,” you clear your throat as you stop spinning in the chair to face him. “You really didn’t have to come in here just to talk to me. You are the man of the evening, you know.”

Nanami rolls his eyes, an out-of-character action you never thought you'd see, but one that looked so tasty, so sultry. God, you’re a pervert in heat - and your sweet, sweet boss is completely oblivious to the kind of horrible thoughts you have daily about him.

Nanami's now staring at you. His mouth is moving, but you have no idea what he had been saying.

"… to spend time with all of those shallow, insolent creatures,” you register, “when I have someone like you here?" He walks over to the desk and leans against it, right next to you now, as he crosses his arms over his massive chest. "We have never just sat down and talked. We always have little people depending on us or wanting our attention. Tonight, I’d like that to change.”

You let his words simmer for a moment. “What is it you’d like to talk about, Mr. Nanami?” you then question.

“What did I tell you about that ‘Mr.’ nonsense?” He frowns. “That makes me feel so old.”

"Sorry, sir," you gulp, not intending to upset him. You just can't help the way 'Mr.' and 'Sir' roll off your tongue, or how bad you enjoy seeing him shift uncomfortably at the use of the names.

"Meanie," he tuts, knocking you playfully with his leg. Another uncharacteristic action.

"What'd I do?" you blink, tilting your head as you look up at him.

"You mean besides drive me insane with your teasing?" he questions, before his eyes widen and he looks as though he's just spilled a secret. "I- wow, I am sorry. That is not what I meant to say."

"I drive you insane?" you echo. "I didn't even think you noticed my… teasing.”

Nanami's face is neutral, but his jaw is working under his skin. "I’m not naive, little fox." He lets out a breath. “This was truly an excellent costume choice.”

He leans forward and flicks the furry ear on your head.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I can’t say the same for yours. You hardly scream innocent bunny.”

“What about me isn’t innocent?” he raises a brow, standing off of the desk.

“I…” you blink as he walks around to the back of the desk chair. “You’re just, um…”

“Fox got your tongue?” he coos, spinning the chair so that you’re forced to face him.

You inhale a deep breath and hold it as heat travels through your stomach and right to the center of your thighs.

“You’re a man who is about his business,” you say. “I imagine you’ve… had a lot of life experiences,” you pause to remind yourself to breathe, but it’s hard because of how ferociously Nanami is staring into your eyes. “So you c-can’t be all that innocent…”

“You seem nervous,” he coos. “Here. Let’s stand up, I’ll sit down. Maybe that will help you to not be so tense, hm?”

Your body obeys before your mind catches on. You’re standing in a beat, and Nanami has replaced you on the chair. Your bottom hits the crease of his large desk, and you slam your hands down on the surface to balance yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, putting a hand up to cover your face. “I don’t mean to imply that you make me uncomfortable, sir.”

Nanami's pupils flash white, but it's gone so quickly, you might have imagined it. "If I do, please let me know immediately.”

“No,” you say, dropping your hand, “I just think we need to get to know each other better, right? Our entire relationship is through the kids. I know that your son’s favorite shade of green is kiwi, but I don’t even know your first name.”

Nanami chuckles at this. “You know, I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He taps your knee. “Kento, silly girl. My first name is Kento.”

"A-And your favorite color?” you continue, trying to ignore how close he’s moved the chair towards you, now that you have fully planted your bottom on his desk.

“Pink,” he says, serious as death.

You giggle. “Why pink?”

“It’s the color of my favorite thing to eat,” he says, slowly placing his arms on either side of your thick thighs, hands planted flat on the surface of the desk.

You think for a moment. “Strawberry ice cream?”

“No,” he cocks his blond head to the side and his eyes fall on your tights. “Try again.”

You pretend to think, though you fear you may be catching on now. “Hmm, dragonfruit?”

“Nah,” Nanami says, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His pupils have been dilated from the alcohol, but there is an unrelated darkness in his eye now. “Something I don’t even have to swallow.”

You gulp. “Oh,” your suspicions have been confirmed.

“Get it now, little fox?” he coos.

“Mhmm,” you taunt back. “Well, I suppose I came prepared with your favorite dish, then.”

“Did you?” His hands boldly make their way to the top of your thighs, barely hovering over the skin but enough to make the flesh there light on fire. “Prepared it all nice and pretty for me?”

“Yes sir,” you nod eagerly, feeling your own boldness appear as your knees slide further away from one another. “How do you like it?”

“Extra moist,” he grits hungrily, fingernails curving into your tights and shredding a thick rip! through the material.

You gasp, entire torso lurching forward as he drags the hole bigger and bigger.

“Sorry, little fox. They were in the way,” he shrugs an innocent shoulder. “And what should we do about these shorts? They’re in the way, too.”

“Then let’s get them off,” you whisper, hardly registering that such filth had been uttered.

This truly can’t be happening. Is Nanami… Kento Nanami actually going to eat you out? Are his hands really slithering up your waist and fumbling with the button on your shorts, or are you in some kind of sick daydream?

"Mr. Nanami-"

"Please," he holds up a hand, one still remaining on the button of your shorts. "Kento. Call me Kento."

"Kento," you echo softly, and his eyelashes flutter. “You really want to do this?”

Nanami sucks in a breath. Several moments of silence pass, then his fingers are gently pressing against your chin, and he has risen to tower above you. "Maybe it's the liquid courage in me that's pushing me," he says, "but I’m okay with that. I dream about you on my tongue, night after night. I need you, Y/N.”

Instead of allowing you to reply, Nanami's lips are assaulting yours in a flash. A harsh, irrational kiss from a man who's lost his battle of self control.

Your hands fly up to his face to balance yourself at the sheer force the shock of the kiss has on you. He groans softly into you as your lips mold together, getting used to the shapes of each other’s mouths.

You want to begin deepening the kiss, but Nanami is suddenly pulling away.

"I'm sorry," he says quickly. You look at his face; for a man who is always so calm and composed, he is flushed and even shaking a little. “I should have asked if that was okay.”

"Did you hear me complaining?" you ask sternly.

“No-”

“Then shut up and kiss me, Kento.”

He wastes no time obeying your command; this time as he kisses you, his hands find the soft skin where your hips crease into your thighs. You’re aware of your thighs rubbing against his stomach as he crawls further on top of you.

You slide your arms up around the back of his neck to hold onto him as his lips work pure ecstasy into your mouth.

You sigh against him and he digs his fingers into your sides to get you to do it again. Now his tongue is in your mouth, softly swirling your own, smacking fiercely on your lips as he does so.

You're panting now, but Nanami is swallowing your breath with every second. He's leaning his weight on his palm, so his body isn't quite attached to yours, but you want to make him lose his balance so he can crash down on top of you. Every moment that you stay like this, your cunt drips wetter and wetter, seeping through your shorts onto his desk.

"So perfect," Nanami utters into your mouth, "s'much sweeter than I deserve."

You frown at his self deprecation but don't comment, instead your hands start sliding down his chiseled back, exploring the deep ridges and shapes of pure, hard muscle.

Then, plop! You blink in shock as his bunny ears have fallen plum onto your face, nearly gauging out your eye.

"Oh," he gasps, breaking away from you. "Forgot about these."

He pulls away from you, standing upright but staying between your legs. You swallow a needy whine at his absence, before sitting up with him, staring expectantly.

"Think they'll look better on you though, huh, darling?" he coos, reaching over your head and plucking your fuzzy ears off. Then, he’s replacing them with his bunny ears. "There, that's more fitting. I feel much more like the hunter than the hunted.”

You tilt your chin defiantly. "Mm, so I'm just an innocent rabbit in the sights of a dangerous hunter?"

“Clever bunny,” Nanami murmurs, leaning forward and catching you by surprise with a wet kiss at the nape of your neck. You shudder. “Time for me to eat my latest catch, hm?”

“I-I guess so-”

“Oh, don't get shy now, bunny,” he mewls against your ear. “Do you want to do this?”

You pretend to consider it, but your dripping hole has already answered for you. "Yes, sir."

Nanami purrs in response and taps your earlobe with his perfect teeth - before you're being shoved back on the flat surface. Three quick beats occur. Beat, shorts off. Beat, tights off. Beat, panties sliding slowly down your legs.

"God," he says, hooking his fingers over the trim of the panties, which are light blue in color, accented by an adorable pink bow in the front. "All this time, I could've had you like this, if only-” he cuts himself off to lean down and place a kiss to your inner knee.

Your nerves send repeated quivers over you. You dig your nails into the desk, but your palms are so sweaty that your hand slips. Nanami catches you, a heavy hand on your lower back, the other hand entangling in your panties and proceeding to rip them all the way off. Your clothes are now in a discarded pile to the right of you, fuzzy tail and ears a reminder of what got you into this position in the first place.

“Well we can make up for lost time now,” you whisper, sliding your feet farther apart until your knees are angled into the air - gaping pussy winking up at Nanami.

His eyes nearly jump from his body as he watches you open up for him, glistening cunt all in his face. He's sinking back down into the chair before either of you really processes it, and his heavy palms fall flat on your inner thighs.

"She's s'pretty, sweetheart," he coos, the breath from his words tickling your clit and making you writhe pathetically. "Haven't even touched you yet. Why are you shaking?”

You whine out in embarrassment. Something about your most perverted fantasies coming alive before you, Nanami talking to you like this, and him staring directly at the forbidden parts you'd never thought he'd see, is depleting your confidence.

"What's wrong, bunny?" he asks, reading your expression. "You look like you are second guessing this."

"N-No!" you cry out, making him jump, before you sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell. No, I want to. I'm just embarrassed."

"Why?" he perks a brow, astonished.

"Because you're so..." you huff uncomfortably, "fine, and here I am, of course anyone would be embarrassed of their own genitals, y'know I just kind of never expected this and-”

"Y/N," Nanami interrupts. "I've seen plenty of these before; all different types, sizes and colors. I am going to devour you regardless of what you think.”

You swallow thickly. Your head nods like a puppet, though you're unsure if that's you saying you understand, or telling him to go ahead.

While you're deciding, Nanami plants a kiss to your bikini line, then slides his hands to wrap his arms around your thighs so that it's now impossible for you to close them. Your stomach is on fire, and you're on the verge of gyrating your pelvis right into his stupidly perfect face.

"Tell me you want this, bunny," Nanami rasps, placing another loud kiss to your inner thigh.

"I want this," you confirm again, "want you."

You don't have to say anything else because his mouth has already found your clit. Warm breath travels between your folds as he keeps his tongue narrowed out to swirl agonizingly slow circles over the bulb.

Your hips convulse against his strength. It does nothing except prompt Nanami to flatten his whole mouth over your heat and pick up speed with his tongue.

"Oh, ohh," you drawl, your hands leaving the desk surface and going right through his fine hair. His hold on you ensures you can’t fall backwards, but you’re gripping his roots for dear life.

He grumbles against your cunt and you feel it all the way up to your ovulating uterus. The desire to have your womb house more of his children starts to enter your brain and you have to remind yourself that this is just sex.

Oh, but it's so much more than that. Nanami's taking his time to work your body, to know exactly which pace makes you cry out like a pathetic fucktoy, noting when you wriggle under his grip, as he pushes his fingertips into the flesh on your legs.

His warm tongue keeps your puffy lips parted effortlessly; lathering you up with his saliva, drinking in the fluid your body creates more of each second.

You sit up farther to look down at him; his eyebrows are furrowed and focused, his cheeks hollowed as he treats your twitching clit like his tongue’s dance partner.

He swirls, flicks, slurps - each variation unlocking a new noise from you as you fight back your orgasm.

As you watch him, your fucked-out, needy brain begins to tell you would give him whatever he wanted in this moment; six children and a house from scratch if that's what he requested. Because he deserves it; the way his tongue’s now dipping slightly into your desperate hole, making your hips jerk from the desk until he counter-forces them with his hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" he snaps, grazing his teeth over your clit.

You can’t even speak; he’s eaten your voice right out of you. His head shakes side to side as he plants his mouth back on you and peers up through his blond lashes, daring you to pull that stunt a second time.

Your hands are still deeply entangled in his roots, but at this point you can't keep your eyes in the front of your head. Your head lolls back on your neck as your hips twitch with an unholy amount of momentum. Your moans are growing dangerously loud; knowing full well there's an entire party nearby, as well as the possibility of nosy maids. Not that either of you care.

"Kento, s-so good," you lament, bucking your hips into his chin as if you could chase more pleasure than he's already giving you. The heat in your stomach is the first indication that your pleasure is morphing into an orgasm, but you don’t want to cum yet.

You want to try and run again, just to give yourself a little time to catch up…

The minute Nanami feels your hip bones sliding away from him, he pulls his mouth off of you; your orgasm slipping away. You take a deep breath in regret.

“Someone must not want to cum,” he taunts, keeping his mouth close to your trickling cunt. “Need you to stay still.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, trembling.

“Try for me?” Nanami requests softly, lifting your thighs into the air before plopping your feet flat on his shoulders.

He plants a heavy kiss to your clit after the adjustment in your position and you dig your toes into his back.

“F-For you,” you repeat mindlessly, brain officially scrambled like a breakfast platter.

“Mmh-” Nanami grunts, planting his fat tongue back between your slick folds, working his jaw intensely to finish pulling the orgasm out of you. He sticks the narrow tip back at your hole, flicking the rim of the inside as if it’s his purpose for living.

Your toes lift into the air as Nanami tests your flexibility, pushing your knees next to your ears. With the pressure built up in your stomach, you barely have time to mutter out the announcement of your orgasm before you're cumming all over his tongue and clenching your walls around the wet muscle.

"Give it to me, bunny," he moans, words muffled because of the way you're gripping his tongue with your pussy.

You keep shaking for a solid thirty seconds, because he is refusing to take his tongue out of you. When finally you’ve calmed to a slight twitch, he removes his face from between your thighs and the entire lower half of his face glistens in the light.

"That's one," he murmurs to himself, crawling back over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. "You did so well. You taste so sweet, bun.”

"Can I return the favor?" you ask needily, dragging your palm down his chest.

He grinds his pelvis across your lower half, so that you can feel the sheer length of his bulge beneath his pants. "What for?"

Your eyes widen at just how large it feels; surely it's smaller than it appears.

"Wanna please you, sir," you babble out, watching his eyebrows furrow at the self-proclaimed pet name.

"Hm, think that ship sailed long ago,” he chuckles, rubbing his clothed dick against your inner thigh this time, and now, you take notice of the warm trail of precum that’s leaked through his pants onto your skin.

You dig your nails into his chest instead of replying. He bites back a groan and kisses your neck.

“I’m going to have to restrain you if you want’a keep being so touchy," he whispers sternly.

"I do have handcuffs," you say, following it with a giggle. Though you’re only half joking.

"That's cute," he mewls. "You think I need handcuffs to restrain you?" He pauses. "What's that you said? That I'm twice your size?"

You swallow thickly, remembering that you had, in fact, said that.

"So I can, and will easily pin you down, bun," he continues. "Don't act up, and I won't have to, yeah?"

You wish you can say you won’t, but if he thinks you dislike the idea of being pinned down, he must not be faking his innocence, like you’d thought.

A moment later, he's standing away from you, and his hands expertly unbutton his shirt. You watch him with desire, and he smiles a little shyly at you as he shrugs off the garment and tosses it to the floor.

“Funny, you’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says suddenly. “Why do I feel a bit nervous about it this time?”

You giggle and cock your head to the side, legs still spread wide. “Should’ve always felt nervous. I’m a huge pervert, y’know.”

Nanami dips his head before coming back to be close to your body again, his fingers mindlessly tugging on the hem of your shirt now.

“I know,” he whispers. “A little minx, you are.”

“Took you long enough to realize it, hm?” you tease as you lift your arms to assist him in removing the shirt. But you are caught off guard when he doesn’t continue.

"You're still sure you want to do this?" he questions, changing the subject. “I'm sorry. I'm going to ask a hundred times, it’s just a habit.”

"Yes, Kento," you rasp frustratingly. "Do I have to get on my knees and beg to be fucked for you to get it?"

He blinks, stunned, as if that is not something he ever considered; but does sound appealing to him.

"No," he says quickly, slowly lifting your shirt further over your body. "How did we end up here, hm? Was this your plan from the moment you crashed my Halloween party?"

"Uh-uh," you say innocently, as he pulls the shirt over your head. Now you sit completely naked in front of him - save for the bunny ears on your head.

"I get the feeling you're a big, fat liar," he teases, leaning back over you, now your stomachs are touching and everywhere your skin meets is tingling. "Didn't I tell you to be a good girl? Good girls don't lie."

“‘M not lying," you argue. "Admit you were over here waiting for me to show up all night."

"Maybe I was," he murmurs, dragging his top teeth over the connection between your neck and your shoulder before planting a wet kiss on your collar bone. "And you came for me, like always."

A gasp erupts from your throat and Nanami cuts it off by sliding his hand there. He uses his fingers to apply the gentlest amount of pressure to the sides of your neck and your body arches against him.

"Tell me if anything I do is too much for you, little fox," he coos in your ear before dropping his hand from your neck and standing back straight to quickly unbuckle his belt.

He slides the garment out of his belt loops, and discards it to the side, on top of your clothes. So in other words: close by.

"Kento," you pant, "please."

"Please what?" he questions, raising a brow innocently as he pops open the button to his tight pants - visibly taking a deep breath as his bulge pokes free.

"You're dragging this out," you whine. "I've needed you for so long. This is torture."

"So what?" he shrugs, allowing his pants to fall to the floor, where he steps out of them.

"I..." you cut yourself off with a frustrated grunt.

"You said please, but you aren't using your words, little fox.” He slides his body back over yours - his boxers now being the only barrier between you. "What do you want?"

"You, your cock, your mouth," you pant all of it out in one quick sentence. "I... I just need you inside of me, Mr. Nanami."

Your breasts rub against his hard chest, teasing your achingly hard nipples. Just so pathetic. Can’t control yourself. Your brain's swirling with desire and ecstasy for him. If he can't read your mind, you're sure he can see it in your face.

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice returning to its usual softness, "you got me. All yours."

He tugs his boxers down quickly, desperately. Now your hips are aligned to each other's. He's still hovering, his cock not even touching you yet. He slides a hand between your legs as his other keeps you steady, gripping harshly on your hip which is sure to leave a delicious bruise.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he drags his mouth across your jaw before attaching his lips to your neck. His fingers gather the drip from your hole, and then he slides them up through your folds and to your clit. He swirls the fingers softly, keeping his ear right next to your mouth so that he can hear exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your legs shake against his ribs while you moan for him, and he grunts as he takes in all of your body's reactions to his touch.

He goes to try and put a finger in your cunt but you grab his wrist. He does not argue with you, which should be a red flag, but you think you’ve won until he takes the hand he had been using to play with you and grips your wrist, yanking it back, and your entire body goes falling against the desk.

Somehow, both of your wrists are being pinned to the wood in one large hand now. You whine and squirm under him, but he doesn't care. His free hand grabs his cock.

He takes the heavy tip and taps it against your clit several times, each time causing you to gasp and arch against him.

"That's right," he whispers above you. "No escaping now, bun."

You blink up at him, lifting your hips to grind your pussy on him, which causes his lips to part and his eyebrows to furrow.

You open your mouth, tongue flying out, wanting to appeal to another twisted fantasy. “Need your spit,” you mumble shyly.

He seems to ponder for a moment before he realizes what exactly it is you are asking, and a moment later he is leaning forward, dripping a warm glop of saliva from his mouth down your throat.

“Mmh-” you moan as you swallow happily, before looking down between your legs where he is finally done lubricating himself on your juice. He's staring at you hopelessly, as if he’s thinking that putting his cock in you isn't going to be enough.

“So nasty,” he coos, “ready for me, sweetheart?”

"Hngh- please," you beg.

Not a second later, hot pressure is at your hole. Nanami slides his hips upward to push himself deeper, deeper, deeper - the girth feeling like it's going to simply rip you in half.

You shriek and shut your eyes tightly, waiting for the pain to pass. It doesn't.

You feel so embarrassed as he takes his free hand to lift up your left thigh, because pain shoots up through your stomach - and not the good kind.

"Ah- wait," you cry out, eyes falling open.

Nanami stops immediately. "What's the matter?"

"It... it hurts," you admit shyly, biting your lip. "Wh-Why d'you have to be so big?"

"Why d'you have to be so tight?" he chuckles back, but carefully slides out of you. "Hang on. I know what will help, little fox."

He pulls away from you, letting go of your wrists to lean over and dig into a random drawer in his desk. You have no idea what he could possibly be doing until he stands back straight, a hand still holding up your leg, while the other holds a small, light pink, bullet-shaped rubber object.

"Brand new," he says, eyeing it as he rotates it between his fingers. "Just put batteries in it."

You swallow as you realize what this implies. He knew he was going to fuck you - or at least, that he was going to use this toy on you at some point. Or, a third worse thing: it hadn't been for you at all.

You don’t want to think about that possibility, though.

He hands the little toy to you, a small buzz coming from it already.

"Hold it for me," he instructs. "I need my hands to keep my prey from running."

You gulp and do as he says, and again he is taking his cock head and pushing it against you, before it slides through the gummy entrance and you cry out again.

You hold the toy to your clit and the feeling travels straight through your veins. You focus on the vibrations and before you can even inhale again, your insides are completely full.

"Deep breaths, bun," he grunts, "feel her o-opening up… now.”

Did he just stutter? Kento Nanami, who's always so composed. You'd made him lose his wording. You.

Nanami takes his hands and pulls your knees up, holding them to his sides, while you keep your hand occupied on the little bullet between your legs.

The combination of the toy plus his cock filling you up and molding your walls against it has you aching to spill over, already.

Now that the searing has begun to dissolve, his cock is gliding effortlessly inside of you - feeling as though the organ was crafted to fit you perfectly. Your juices cover every inch of him, delicious squelches creating a symphony with your moans as Nanami's pace quickens.

He has his hands still pressed on your thighs but he leans forward and gently pulls a nipple into his warm mouth. You don't know what to do with your free hand, so it ends up on his back, nails mercilessly breaking open his skin. He hisses and nips your nipple between his teeth.

"Fuck. Me," he groans, pulling away from your chest to look down at you. You want to make a comment about how you already are, but he just looks so fucked out - so vulnerable. Lips puffy and wet, eyes shut tight, hair dangling over his forehead.

He’s ruined.

He claws his fingers into your outer thighs. His fingers dig so hopelessly into you as his cock swirls your insides, his hips now moving in a rhythmic wave motion.

Your hand falls away from your clit with the toy and you hardly notice that it's gone because now, his pelvis is brushing over it, sweat practically gluing the two of you together.

"Aw," he purrs, and you look up to see that his eyes are staring directly between your legs. "You’re creaming all over me. Shit - your cunt looks so good, swallowing me up.”

Your face heats and you take your hands to grip his arms, as he's now drilling into you so torturously that you're gliding up the desk - the sweat on your back making your skin slick. He notices you're moving away and shifts his hands to grab your hips, holding you down onto him, and now his fat tip is violating your cervix.

"H-Hah Kento, ngh - God," is all you can manage to say, but there’s nothing holy about what his cock is doing to you, as he angles himself upward, attacking your uterus from a new direction.

You shriek, so horribly loud. It sounds like a horror movie - which is fitting. You’ve nearly forgotten that it’s Halloween night; the moon full, your passions like the tides, being pulled to their peak.

You desperately feel a needy confession on your lips but you know that now isn't the time. You can't love a man you don't date... right? But you definitely love the way he's tearing up your insides, sure to leave you swollen and limping.

"I don't remember telling you that you could remove your hand," he snaps, realizing you’ve removed the bullet, "put it back. Now."

You shake your head, begging for mercy. "Was too much, c-can't take it."

"Yes you can," he whispers, leaning forward and hovering his mouth over yours, cognac-scented breath teasing your parted lips. "Put it back, or I stop."

You whine and obey, the vibration revisiting your clit making your body convulse against him.

"Mhmm, like that sweetheart," Nanami coos, staring at you as your face twists every couple of seconds from the introduction of new kinds of pleasure. "Stick that tongue back out for me."

Your mouth is open, drool practically spilling out of the sides in a millisecond. He's spitting another alcoholic saliva drop into your mouth the next.

His breath is ragged as he drags out, "Thought I knew everything. But y’teaching - hah - me new things. Like how I can never live without your pretty pussy, ever again."

You quiver your lip and dig your nails into his back again, ready to cum on his cock.

"S-Stop talking like that," you grit out. "G-Gonna cum if you don't stop."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" he questions harshly. "You can cum over and over. I’m not finished with you."

You shake your head, but before you can fire back, Nanami is suddenly sliding himself out of you. You panic and sit up, staring at him with wide eyes as he drops to sit on the chair.

His hands come up to grab your hips roughly, and he's effortlessly pulling you down off of the desk. Your stomach makes contact with his thighs as he lays you over his lap like a disobedient child.

"Nanami?" you breathe, but he doesn't seem to hear you at all.

"We just needed to pause for a second," he says softly, running a hand down your spine and over the hill of your ass. His voice is very misleading, as are his gentle gestures; you have no idea what's coming.

"N-No," you whine, "I was so close."

"But, naughty bunny, didn’t you tell me to stop?" he questions, distracting you from the fact that his fingers are sliding between your asscheeks and down to your swollen hole.

You jerk in his lap as two of his fingers glide down your slick, parting your thick lips, repeating the process several times just to watch you squirm.

“Y-Yes, but-”

“What’d I tell you about lying?” he grits, and a blink later his fingers have parted from your skin.

You turn to scold him and his hand cracks down on the back of your thighs.

You yelp, but the action exhilarates you in some kind of disgusting way.

“Oh, and here’s another for calling me Nanami,” he spits, another crack landing on your backside but this time - higher, and harder.

“K-Kento, I’m sorry,” you whine, but you truly don’t want it to stop. Your fingers dig into his leg and he hisses, his cock jerking against your stomach as his body responds.

“How sorry, bun?” he coos, voice faking softness before another pop! of his palm stings your skin.

“I’ll be good, promise,” you whisper, arching your hips up to encourage another smack.

“You like this, don’t you, naughty bunny?” he realizes suddenly, and you try to shake your head in denial - but he’s caught on. “Hm. I’ll only accept your apology if you give me two more orgasms. Deal?”

“Two?” you cry. “I-I’ve already had one!”

“Good things always cum in threes, baby,” he murmurs, running his hand over the pretty hand-shaped welps he’s left on your skin. “You can give it to me. You want to be good, don’t you?”

You don’t know when the shift happened, but you loved it. You loved how he was letting his soft facade crumble to the ground so that he could truly slap you around like you were just a hole. Truthfully, that’s all you wanted to be. Wanted to let him take out the stress of being a single father on your guts, fill you up with more babies to care for, and then kiss you on the forehead when it was all done.

Pathetic. This is still your employer, your boss. And not to mention how much older he is. You don���t care, but you’re unsure if he does.

“I wanna cum again, please,” you beg, wriggling your ass up to show him you still needed punishment.

He groans before his two thick fingers are pressing between your lips and then, shoving through the soft ring at your center.

Your body shamelessly arches, but he allows your arms to stay free, clawing into his skin wherever you can get a grip.

Nanami is making his own noises above you but you’re on the verge of tears, wailing and carrying on as he fucks you with his fingers, curling the tips into your squishy ridges to try and drive the cum out of you faster.

“Maybe we should get one of those tails with a plug,” he comments, tone implying he’s thinking out loud. “It’s a shame I didn’t get to see you in your cute little tail while I fuck you.”

“Hngh - no, mmh…” you don’t even know what noises to make anymore. Words escape your brain.

Nothing but mush and the burning of your approaching orgasm are on your mind.

“Hold it in for me,” Nanami requests suddenly, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready for it, sweetheart.”

“God,” you shake your head and clench your thighs, but Nanami’s strong hand forces them back apart.

Your toes curl on the other side of the chair, your head falling forward. The pulse in Nanami’s cock is still drumming against your abdomen, as if knocking on your tummy to threaten you to hold your orgasm.

“I-I can’t,” you say, “Please, can I-”

“Cum.”

Nasty, wet squelches don’t stop as your body sends you over the edge. Your vision blacks and you shake so hard that you nearly roll right to the floor.

He hums approvingly, slowing his fingers down as you clench around them. “Good job, bun. Only one more to go.”

“I can’t take another,” you shake your head, as he gently guides you up into a sitting position on his lap.

“You’re so strong,” he says, “the perfect person for me. The way you always take care of me and the kids, how you fit so effortlessly into our little family. I know you can do this for me, sweetheart. Let me repay you for all that you do for us. Make you feel good.”

You hadn’t expected this little speech. It almost brings you to tears as Nanami gently rubs your back, sliding his free arm underneath your legs to lift you princess-style back onto the desk.

“Say something,” he begs, his voice hoarse.

“I wanted to be good for you,” you grin softly, and he smiles back as he runs his hands gently over the top of your legs. “But you want to be good for me. Which is it?”

“Both,” Nanami whispers. “I told you that you already do everything that keeps me content. Now, I want to please you.”

You realize that he is passing his power off to you. Letting his dominance slip through his fingers and right into the palm of your hand. You think you can handle being in control for your final orgasm, so you grip him harshly by his cock and scoot your ass to the edge of the desk.

He moans so softly that it could have been a whimper. You take his curvy length and drag it up to be aligned with your hole.

“Is your cock alone gonna please me, hm?” you purr, swirling your hips to tease his cock head, salty precum spreading across your hole.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he mutters, body lurching forward as if he’s the overstimulated one.

“Prove it,” you quip, shoving him back inside of you before pushing your hips down onto him.

You furrow your eyebrows to try and pretend the pain of him entering isn’t still intense. You lift yourself off of your palms and feet, using them to fuck down onto his twitching cock.

“Hah - Y/N,” he speaks your name in two sultry syllables, putting his hands on the desk to fully release his control as you use him.

“Baby, I need to fill you up,” he continues, “b-but if you don’t want me to…”

“Yes,” you say, “want me to have your babies, Mr. Nanami?”

“Oh,” he whimpers, “shit. Shit, don’t say stuff like that.”

You whirl your hips on him in the shape of an ‘O.’

“Want to breed me?” you continue. “Make me all big and pregnant?”

“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly, hand clamoring down on the belt that is to your side, before he grips the garment in his hand. He sits up from where he’d been leaning on you, before taking the leather and slithering it around your neck, pulling it through the buckle, and yanking it towards him like you’re just a pathetic bitch on a leash.

“You had your fun,” he grits, “now you need to remember your place, bunny. I’m going to fill you to the brim until your cunt can’t take anymore and it drips back out of you, got it?”

“Mmh,” you pull against his belt as your hips are no longer the once controlling the pace. “Nanami, n-nooo…”

Your voice tapers off as he fucks you, fucks you so good and hard and mean until you’re drooling and crying and shaking and hissing and-

“Cumming!” you scream, but Nanami shows no signs of slowing down.

“That’s it,” he says. “Number three. What about four?”

“Y-You said…”

“Oh, you’re the only one who gets to lie around here?” he chuckles, a deep hypnotic sound that vibrates against your chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna - ngh” and one viscid moment later, Nanami begins to shudder, and it is the beginning of the end.

You cannot tell if you are mourning or rejoicing the conclusion of this insane chain of events, but you forget all about it when Nanami is spurting hot semen all over your taut, spongey walls - that are now sore and quivering from the excessive abuse.

Your name leaves his lips in between the sultry noises he makes, and his body jerks on top of you until he’s finished spewing his load. Now, he stands in front of you with his head dipped down as he pants for several seconds.

“Do you understand how addicting you are?” are the first words that leave his lips after he is able to drag his head up to look at you.

You’re focused on your own huffing as you try to come up with a witty response, but with your brain so fucked out, the only thing you can mutter is “Oh, Kento.”

He nestles his sweaty face into your neck and plants a feathery kiss there, reminding you that he is still the same gentle Nanami that tucks his children in bed at night and drinks green tea in the garden.

He is everything you have dreamed of, but the sex had truly sealed it. Now, as he slips out of you and his cum follows soon after, you feel your post-high clarity morphing into embarrassment at the fact that all you’d been feeling is lust; Nanami deserves so much more than that, including his recognition as a father.

“Why are you staring at me? Have I still got your nectar on my face?” he jokes, and you admire his ability to loosen the tension.

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I just think you are amazing. I don’t want you to think I really did just come for some cock.”

At this, he laughs so hard that his torso shakes. You smile, as it is rare to hear, and you are the cause of it.

He grabs his shirt and begins to use it to wipe himself off, then does the same for you, his movements intentional and gentle as he cleans you up, rubbing all of the puffy, red reminders on your body softly.

“I don’t think that,” he says with a crooked smile. “But whatever the case, I do hope that things have… changed between us.”

You scoff. “I should hope so,” you tease, tilting your head as he stops his hands on your body. “I hope you’re not going around making every person who comes near you cum three times in one sitting and expect to just be friends.”

He grins. “Nah, that treatment is reserved for you, bun.” His hands slide up your hair and pat the fuzzy ears on your head. “We should keep these around, though. But I’d like to take you out before we use them again.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring his face to yours, planting a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course. You did say good things come in threes,” you grin. “The sex was one. The date will be two. What’s three?”

And your question gets answered nine months later, when Nanami proposes to you on a white beach in another country.

…Right before you go into labor.

But of course, once the baby is out, it’s time to start on number 4 the following Halloween.

A/N 2.0

ty all sm for the love on this series so far i’m rlly havin the time of my life writing all these twisted monster-fucker stories ^.^

~ pennjammin

[asxgard]

Any Excuse | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!Hospitalist!reader

Requested

Summary: A snapshot of your interactions with the ruggedly handsome ER doctor, and several of the excuses he uses to see you.

[ Masterlist ]

Anon Request: I have a request! Jack Abbot x reader where the reader is a new night-shift hospitalist (the doctor that is responsible for taking care of patients admitted to the hospital from the ER) at PTMC. She and Jack hit it off after meeting and he keeps trying to come up with any excuse at all to admit patients just to have to contact her. And maybe he goes and visits his admitted patients “just to check up on them” even though he never has before and probably barely remembers their names just to see her. And the night shift ER crew just smirk at each other whenever she goes to their department to see a patient and interacts with Abbot.

Note: so I read a bunch of articles about hospitalists and I still feel like I might have misunderstood, so this took a bit longer than intended lol but here it is! I hope you enjoy💜

Word Count: 1.4k

All of my works are 18+ due to general adult content.

Warnings: hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, foul language, pining, slowburn? (can I say that in a one shot? lol), so much sass & flirting

not beta read

Jack thought that the first time he saw you, he had to be dreaming. A cliched savior in a white lab coat, moving through the Pitt with a purpose and a smile. He had heard about the new hospitalist floating around, having started several weeks prior, but he had never seen you down in the Pitt before.

You had come down for an admitted patient, and when you stopped in front of him to go over the case, it took him a second to speak.

“Finally come to see how the other half lives?”

“More like finally hitting rock bottom.” You supplied effortlessly with a smirk.

One side of Jack’s lips tilted upwards, “Patient’s been waiting nearly two hours on a bed upstairs.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You said, eyes flickering across the busy ED, “You’re lucky he wasn’t waiting for surgery. You’d wait all night.”

Jack handed over the tablet showing the patient’s chart. You skimmed through it quickly, humming as you did.

“Great, I’ll go get him to radiology. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.” You said, smiling at him.

He watched you go with an uncapped fascination. With the tiniest hint of a smile, Jack got back to work.

—

The next time he saw you, you were in one of the ED rooms, talking to a mother and daughter. You were going over some results, before explaining that you would be bringing the mother upstairs shortly for inpatient care. Your demeanor was kind, but refined, shoulders set with an easy smile.

“Good evening, Dr. Abbot.” You said as you approached him.

He greeted you after a beat, subtly taking in your figure. “Would be better without all these boarders.”

You glanced at the board, “Truly, if this is how the other half lives, I’m good where I’m at.”

A wry grin formed, “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

You chuckled, “I think the dose I got on my med school rotation is good enough for a lifetime. I’m content just drifting through, on occasion.”

Me too, Jack thought before shaking it off, steeling his expression.

“You get used to it.” Jack said, tone light, “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

Jack ignored the way Ellis looked over at him.

“Duly noted.” You said with a smile. “Can we go over my patient quickly? I’d like to get her upstairs.”

Jack nodded, moving closer to you to rattle off several things about your patient.

It was around that time Jack started taking sugar in his coffee. Just one packet, but it did not go unnoticed.

—

“Ah, Dr. Abbot, just the man I was looking for.” You said, walking over to the charge desk where he stood.

He looked from the board to you, eyebrow raised, “Don’t hear that often.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow in return, “Why’s that, do you think? Certainly would have nothing to do with your bedside manner, or that rugged charm? Perhaps the dry humor? No, certainly not.”

Shen barked a laugh beside him, before quickly covering it with an awkward cough.

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless. “I think it has something to do with…what did Dana’s daughter call it? My resting bitch face?”

You laughed, and the sound carried, making Jack’s heart squeeze.

“Maybe that’s it. I’d just call it ‘stoic and mysterious’. It works, for you.” You said, clearing your throat and glancing away from him as your cheeks heated. “Anyways, I was just coming to ask why you were admitting the patient in Central-5? EKG was clean, troponin test confirmed no heart attack, and you can monitor overnight down here.”

“Need the bed.” He supplied. “8/10 chest pain that comes and goes, shortness of breath, several risk factors like high cholesterol and triglycerides. CCU should take him.”

You hummed, looking over the chart again. “Alright, yeah, I’ll take him. I’ll follow up with his PCP in the morning to get more of a history. Thank you, Dr. Abbot.”

Jack nodded.

“Can you let Ms. Kelly know I’ll be back down shortly to bring her to gastro?”

He nodded again, “Course.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Thank you!”

—

Hours later, Jack had moved up to CCU to check on a patient. Something he never did. It was less so to check up on the patient, and more so to see you. He didn’t even remember the patient’s name, only their list of symptoms, their test results.

You had begun to occupy most of his thoughts, and he found himself looking for any excuse to talk with you. The bad breakroom coffee felt hot in his hands, two cups holding more weight than just liquid. He had no idea how you took your coffee — if you drank coffee — but he guessed you preferred it slightly sweet. He really hoped he was right.

Sat in a reserved corner of the seventh floor, you were charting — hands moving quickly over the keys, eyes focused.

“Hey,” Jack said softly, as to not startle you.

You turned your head, taking him in before you smiled.

“Wanted to check up on Mr…uh, and figured you might need this.” He offered you one of the cups.

You blinked, “Mr. Olsen? You wanted to check up on a patient?” You accepted the coffee, “Thank you, this was really nice of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Was hoping I was being overly cautious and he didn’t actually have a heart attack.”

“It’s good you wanted to admit him, actually. I think he has GERD.” You said, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid, and a smile lit up your features when you swallowed, eyes flickering from the liquid and back to Jack.

Jack took a sip of his black coffee, nodding. “That makes sense, actually. Heartburn could’ve been what he was feeling.”

“I asked him about his diet, high-fat mostly. He had a spicy burrito for dinner, so yeah. GERD. Waiting for a consult, but he’s doing fine. I’ll have him follow up with a nutritionist and his PCP.”

“Good, that’s good.” He shifted his weight. “Looks like you’ll have all the glory, then.”

You laughed, “Hardly. You wanted to admit him…but we can share. 70/30?”

Jack smirked, “Closer to 60/40. I did order all those tests.”

You scoffed playfully, “I will go no lower than 65/45.”

“Deal.”

—

You came down into the Pitt with coffees in hand, eyes searching for a particular doctor — the one with hard, caring hazel eyes, salt and pepper curls, and a smile that made your heart race.

“He’s in Trauma-1,” said Ellis, hiding her smirk well. “I can let him know you stopped by?”

Your cheeks heated, “I can wait, I have two patients to check up on down here. They should have beds within the hour.”

Ellis nodded, “Look at you getting stuff done.”

“Heavy is the head…”

She chuckled.

Jack said your name in surprise, closing in on you. He took in the coffees and your smile.

You handed him one without ceremony, “Returning the favor.”

He accepted it graciously, ignoring how Shen and Ellis were smirking at him, taking a sip.

“Damn, they hide the good shit upstairs, huh?”

You cracked a grin, “It’s as if they play favorites.”

Jack put a hand over his heart and mocked offense, “You wound me. Are you saying I’m not your favorite?”

“I brought you the good shit, didn’t I?” You smirked, not missing a beat.

—

Jack called your work cell, glancing up at the board with one hand in his pocket. His shift was nearly over, but he had decided to call you after he had failed to see you for most of his shift.

“Thinking about admitting a patient to the cardiology,” he supplied lamely. “I know you can work magic with admissions.”

“You’re calling to ask for advice or for a favor?” You asked, “Or just so the Pitt can be graced with my wondrous presence right before shift change?”

“Can’t one doctor just call another?” A pause, “But can’t it be a bit of all of that?”

Your laugh was light and airy, “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

True to your word, you arrived in under ten minutes.

“You could just page me next time.”

He shrugged, “Ruins the mystique.”

A sharp laugh escaped your throat that you covered with your hand. “I feel like it would add mystique, even though I hardly think you leave any for the rest of us.”

“You think I’ve got mystique?”

“Totally. I dig the whole ‘gritty ER doc bathed in mystery’ thing you’ve got going on.”

“Yeah?” He raised a challenging eyebrow. “So I shouldn’t ask you to dinner then?”

“No, no,” Your cheeks flamed. “I think you totally should. But only if you don’t think it’ll ruin your rough-edge reputation.”

“We should test it. You know, for science.”

You agreed easily, “For scientific purposes only.”

He matched your smirk.

[ more stuff with Jack Abbot ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @woodxtock @rachel2494

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69 @moonlightmvrvel @andabuttonnose @boldlyherdream

All: @nixandtonic

I really enjoyed this one, so I hope you did too!

[girl-lostconnection]

So..forgive me you're the first person I'm ever asking anything on Tumblr (Kinda new and I usually like to describe it like hiding in the corner and just watching everything quietly and leaving likes and I love your work) but I was thinking about your concept with 141 and reader dying and the notebook. Would there ever be a case where the others stumble upon it? Whether Price forgets (somehow) to put it away or someone's in the midst of searching for something and stumbles upon it?

Again, love your work, feel free to ignore this tho

Yeah, I think this type of readers people call “lurkers” which is cool🙂‍↕️you guys are usually the backbone of the audience, I enjoy you tremendously.

And that’s a really good question, anon!

You know what? Why not turn the heat up a little more for this pot with the frogs.

I can imagine Price not exactly forgetting it somewhere but harbouring it so close to himself that people start to notice. This specific notebook is always with him — under his armoured vest and in the front pocket of his shirts, on top of the stack of documents, edge of it peeking out of his pants pocket.

It’s always there when before he didn’t carry it with him. It’s small and simple, technically it shouldn’t rise any questions but Kyle is the first who notices it. Maybe because after your death he’s so sharply attuned to everyone else on the team, it’s practically unhealthy.

Kyle who watches John fumble with the leather bound corners of the little thing and wonders…what’s inside of it? They have been all grieving but your things have been taken by them all and shared fairly.

Simon doesn’t withhold your pictures or books with your annotations. Soap doesn’t say no when Gaz asks for one of the keychains. Kyle himself lets Simon and Johnny take one of your things each. Simon takes the big oversized T-shirt and Soap whisks away one of your hoodies, clutching it hard to himself, knuckles white with tension.

(Kyle will never admit but when he walked in on Johnny in hoodie with your name and rank on the back of it his knees buckled. For a moment a traitorous part of him thought you were there. For a moment he could breathe again)

So Price keeping something of you to himself almost felt unfair. It wasn’t, of course, no, Captain had every right to grieve and mourn in a way that made it easier for him.

But-

But Kyle missed you. Everyday and every morning he’d wake up, realisations hitting him again that you aren’t coming back. You are never coming back.

You disappeared so suddenly you were now everywhere.

The unwashed cup they couldn’t bring themselves to wash, the clothes and trinkets, the books and pictures. The notebooks.

Kyle remembers how you two played games in it, drawing X’s and O’s when debrief would get too long and your brains too sluggish to keep awake without external stimulation.

Kyle remembers you writing in them, so focused you oftentimes wouldn’t notice him getting closer until he’d plop himself down in front of you, pretending to pose. Your favourite model, wasn’t he?

Kyle remembers you smiling at him, eyes flickering to his face for a moment, your gaze so impossibly soft he feels like choking and burying himself next to you.

There is a whole life ahead. Kyle isn’t sure how to live it with a hole in this chest the size of your love.

It’s a selfish thought, maybe. Maybe he is selfish.

Maybe he should have been content with what he has been given. But he wasn’t.

So now he slips the notebook off Price’s desk when the man himself is so wrecked he can’t see straight. John’s drinking got worse after your death. Not yet enough to cause disciplinary action but enough to make them all worried.

Gaz has never seen him like that.

Why were they all lucky enough to meet you but not lucky enough to save you? Would the outcome be different if one of them went with you on that deployment? Could they save you if they knew how it ends?

Could they try?

Kyle’s fingers skim over the pages, your hoodie on him and if he pretends hard enough it almost feels like a hug. It almost feels like his body heat seeping through fabric is yours. Like you were just wearing it.

Like you didn’t leave at all.

Like you are coming back.

Kyle flips through the pages, gurgling wet laughter in his throat when he notices that you have been writing Simon’s jokes down and coming up with your own. (The “just got hospitalised due to peekaboo incident. They put me in ICU” joke almost makes Kyle choke).

Some part of him gets why Price has been guarding this specific journal so hard. Why he wasn’t letting anyone else close to it, because this right here is you.

Everything that’s left of your thoughts and feelings, of your humour and love, of your plans and scribbles.

It’s tangible proof that you were here. You lived, you loved, you thought. You were there and you were a person. Their favourite person. Their beloved one.

Maybe that’s why your small note hits him harder than he could have ever expected. A small resigned “I’m not sure I fit in. I’m not sure I’m not second…or fifth best in this case. Don’t even know if I wanna talk about it. Just plain stupid” splits Kyle’s scull open and leaves him bleeding and aching and shaking.

What…what did you mean “fifth best”? Why would you say that? What- no. Nonononono. No, it’s not fair. It’s not true, it has never been true.

Kyle feels like driving back to the cemetery and wrapping his car around the poll.

Kyle feels like clawing at the ground and sobbing-sobbing-sobbing.

Kyle feels like begging.

Please, no. Please, come back. Please, let him fix it, let him tell you the truth, let him tell you.

Kyle understands why Price was guarding the journal this fiercely. Kyle is so mad he feels like demolishing John’s office and yelling until his voice is raspy useless thing, vocal cords damaged, headache pounding inside his head and he’s burning from inside out.

Kyle looks at the page, his whole core so hollowed out you could feel an echo if you’d knocked.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do because you are gone.

Because he wants to say “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry, I’d be better if I knew”, he wants to say “come back and scream at me, come back demand attention, come back and hurt me in return just please please come back”.

He wants to say “I love you” in a hundred different ways, he wants to kiss it better, he wants to hold you again, he wants you back, why can’t you come back, why can’t he get you back? He will change, he will do better, he will pay attention, he’s sorry, love, he’s so sorry.

Soap finds him just blankly staring at the page and he doesn’t understand at first, concern sharpening his features like one of the razors he uses for his drawing pencils.

Johnny sinks down next to him, lips pressing to Kyle’s temple, breath panting when Gaz doesn’t respond because he can’t.

He doesn’t know what to say.

How do you live knowing you may never change what already happened? How do you keep going knowing your tenderness is decaying six feet underground, that your love is springing with flowers when they should have stayed above the ground and picked them? How do you get over it? How?

Johnny’s eyes skim over the page and Gaz can feel when the realisation sinks in, when the body next to him is getting poured full with raw ache and ice sharp panic.

Johnny asks “Gaz whose journal is that”, Johnny pleads “Mate, talk to me, where did you get it?”, Johnny whimpers “Kyle tell me it’s not theirs, Kyle please, Kyle say something”.

Kyle doesn’t know what to do other than wrap himself around Soap and hold him despite the thrashing, despite the disbelieving laughter that descends into gasping for air and clawing at his back and shoulders.

Kyle doesn’t let him get out and do something stupid, like drive to the cemetery and wrap a car around the poll and curl near your gravestone.

There is an awfully loud gulp and the journal is getting carefully taken off Kyle’s lap, Simon’s fingers long and scarred — things broken too many times to grown back straight and narrow, calloused pads of his fingers catching on the paper of the notebook.

Kyle has to drag him down to them, he has to practically kick the ground from under Ghost’s feet because the man looks like he will get the shovel and get you out of the coffin.

(Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon refused to let them bury you, how he sat with you for days, until the decomposition became evident. Kyle doesn’t want to think how Simon placed a phone in your coffin despite knowing that you are not coming back. Kyle doesn’t want to think that Simon was terrified the 4 of them might bury you alive).

Ghost looks like the sky just fell on his head, crashing his spine and grinding down his nerves. Ghost looks like he wants to cry but doesn’t know how.

Ghost looks like how they all feel.

Kyle forces the man into their cuddle pile and forces his hand to wrap around Johnny, because Soap digs his fingers into them like he’s falling-falling-falling. System crashing, bomb ticking, Rome burning down.

Funny how Ghost never understood the phrase “going mad with grief”, always felt like it was a bit of dramatisation. People die every day after all, don’t they? It’s statistically impossible to never lose a single person.

Funny how Soap gets it now perfectly. The shift of tectonic plates in his brain, the rewiring of the whole system, pain so intense he might have ash for heart now.

Funny how it’s not funny at all but Gaz still laughs, face wet when Simon tightens his grip and pulls Kyle in, letting him hide his face.

Taglist: @synthe4u

[downthesea]

An Objective Summary of Iskall85’s Video

I am making this summary of Iskall’s claims so that you do not have to watch his video and inadvertently support him. This is an OBJECTIVE summary containing only his points, and leaving my opinions out of it. I must state however that I do not support Iskall. I don’t feel like inserting any more of my opinions into this so as to not get attacked by either side.

TW: MENTIONS OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT, DEPRESSION, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, THREATS

All of the things henceforth stated are ALLEGED, and I, InsoucianceArt, do not necessarily believe or support them.

A Hermit was presented with the allegations and brought it to the other Hermits without Iskall’s knowledge.

The Hermits summoned Iskall for a hearing with a deadline of 1.5 hours (time zones considered).

Iskall had contacted the police and was advised to not comply with the Hermits’ demands. Iskall told the Hermits of this, but they told him that if he didn’t attend the hearing he would be publicly removed from Hermitcraft. 

Iskall resigned.

Iskall has no income, has received hate and threats, has seen no reason to continue living.

The investigation on the rumours and allegations is still ongoing. Iskall was advised not to speak in public, hence why he has only done so now.

Iskall goes through the typical explanation of cancel culture and why things can be blown out of proportion

One of the victims has done this (aka bringing claims of sexual harassment from a content creator) before.

Iskall states that Hermitcraft should have waited.

Iskall has increased the security of his private life.

Iskall compares cancel culture to witch hunts.

Nobody has the right to infringe upon Iskall’s private life.

Hermitcraft was biased when they posted the tweet and subsequently did not moderate the Reddit forum.

One of the Vault Hunters devs has been calling shots and claiming they have taken over the project, all without Iskall’s approval. However, Iskall claims ownership of Vault Hunters, as he owns the rights to it.

The developers have received due compensation for their work on VH. 

5 VH devs wrote a document that, according to Iskall’s solicitor, can be seen as extortion. It demands full ownership of VH, its assets, and its funds. Iskall did not sign this document and sees this as a huge betrayal. These devs are now no longer representing VH or part of Iskall’s team.

Iskall is going to continue work on VH. 

Another spat about cancel culture.

Iskall states the goal of all of this was to “delete him from the internet” and to wreck every opportunity he had/has. He states he will never go that low himself.

Iskall is waiting for the police to finish their investigation. 

Iskall thanks his remaining supporters and says to keep an eye out on his Twitch and YouTube, meaning he will probably return to content creation.

Then he explodes a pile of diorite for some reason idfk man