#But I'm in an office and must be adult

[hailqiqi]

I finally finished the books and

how dare

[clonerightsagenda]

She remains remarkably composed for the most part but Holly Munro is really going through it tbh. Imagine: you are 18 and your boss is a 15 year old. You have a minor crush on one of your coworkers who hates you because she sees you as a threat to her crush. (He is a boy. You are a lesbian.) The two of you have such a bad fight it destroys a building and then she quits and everyone, including your boss, thinks it's because of you. Then she comes back and you try to bury the hatchet while sharing a hotel room and she reveals she's been enacting a horsegirl movie with an undead graverobbing cultist and fondly reminisces over how he'd encourage her to kill you with various kitchen implements. Over the span of a year you blow up a research facility, rob a grave, fight a crime ring, and take a day trip to hell. You were hired to be an admin assistant.

(Joking tone aside, she's vague about why she left her last job beyond that her boss was "disgusting" and "didn't treat his employees well", but given that she was a young woman who'd just turned 18 working as a secretary for a powerful older man, I wouldn't be surprised if he was acting inappropriately, which would make it even more galling for Lucy to immediately get her hackles up. The last thing Holly wants is special attention from her male boss. I hope she enjoyed blowing up Rotwell's laboratory.)

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG

NSFW, for adults ONLY, MDNI or I'll block you. No idea how many parts this will be. Let me know which BSD men you want to see ;)

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fyodor

Walking in on him touching himself is REALLY surprising because he doesn't seem the type to masturbate, in your mind. You straight up couldn't imagine him touching himself until the very second you walked into his office and saw his bottoms around his ankles, his top hiked up around his chest, and his hand furiously pumping over his pale dick.

His head is thrown back, eyes closed, mouth lazily hanging open. You've never seen so much skin on him before. He's PALE pale which makes the brightness of his mouth and tongue and the tip of his cock seem so much brighter.

"oh love, yes, yesss" he moans, and your whole body flushes red with embarrassment and arousal at the same time. You shouldn't be seeing this but you're having a hell of a time turning away from him. You need to leave the room. You need to go. You need to turn around.

"y/n," he purrs, tilting his head and opening his eyes half-way, looking so fucked out and erotic. "do you like what you see?"

You can't formulate an answer, you're standing in the doorway short circuiting, trying to make words but only noises come out

"since you're standing there I thought you might be interested," he says as slow and calm as ever. Even jerking himself off his voice doesn't hitch or raise or speed up and it's honestly really hot right now. "Care to join me?"

"i-i, um... I'm really s-sorry, f...fyodor."

He moans softly biting his lip while still staring straight at you.

"say it again," he purrs. "say my name."

"fyodor..."

"again," he moans, hand working faster.

"Fyodor."

you walk in and close the door behind you.

Poe

You two scheduled a hang-out at his place but despite how many times you knocked on the door, he wouldn't answer...so you try the doorknob, and hey, it's unlocked! You've been to his place many times, you don't mind letting yourself in and don't suspect he'll mind either.

After you put your stuff down and take off your shoes, you register a quiet noise coming from a different room. you sneak closer and realize two things: it's crying, and it's coming from poe's bedroom

you open the door and rush in without thinking. "poe! what's wrong, why are you-- OH FUCK"

you rushed right into him kneeling at the edge of his bed, bouncing on a dildo and not crying, whimpering, moaning.

he calls your name and you can't tell if he meant to moan it but he absolutely moans it and he sounds like a wreck and he looks pathetic and fucked out, and you feel it when he says your name.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been this, I'm gonna go home--" you say, turning and rushing out of his room. he calls your name after you, multiple times, moaning and moaning and moaning--

you sink down against his front door, still slightly able to hear the sounds of him moaning and whining from his room. you're so horny now, absolutely drenched through your panties/rock hard in your pants. You know you should leave, you know you shouldn't still be here, but he never told you to go, he just kept saying your name...

a few minutes later, after the noises have subsided and the apartment has gotten deadly quiet, his bedroom door creaks open and he slowly peeks his head out. he must be crawling still because he's near the floor.

"[y/n]," he sighs, "I didn't want you to find out like this."

it takes you a second to collect yourself, but you manage to ask "find what out?"

"that i... i think about you... a lot..."

Chuuya

you're on a PM mission with chuuya and several other PM members. you've got to share a room with chuuya, but at least you have separate beds. it's fine. it's whatever. until.

until you wake up one morning--the clock on the bedside table saying it's only 6:23 a.m.--to the sound of a rhythmic slapping, some occasional huffs, a-- a moan?

you sit upright in bed quickly, your head turning toward chuuya's bed.

"are you fucking serious?"

"what" he huffs, and through the tiny bit of daylight creeping through the curtains you can see movement beneath his sheets.

"are you jerking off right now? dude we're sharing a fucking room."

"you were asleep," he says defensively. "not like you noticed yesterday."

"dude!!!"

"get over it, it's fuckin' natural," he says and his voice is getting tight and higher almost like he's biting back a moan or getting close to cumming.

"it's disrespectful when you have someone in the same room, chuuya," you say softer, subconsciously still trying to hear the sounds he's making. you're embarrassed at how intrigued you are

"i'm not stopping you," he says. "you can jerk it too for all i care."

"to what... to you jerking it?"

you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he says "I never said anything about that, so you thought that up all on your own. is that what you're into, pet?"

[homunculus-argument]

I've been confused for my own mother before (buying something with a credit card with my deadname on it, having a doctor's office receptionist double-check that I am the patient and not calling on his behalf because I "sounded more mature" on the phone and parents can't make appointments for adults), but I think the funniest wrong conclusion I've had strangers make about trans things I've had around was this time I was putting my old shit up at a flea market. I was selling stuff at a "this shit's gotta go before I'm about to move and I'm not hauling these back to another city"-price, and this old man who apparently frequented there to find stuff that's actually valuable being sold at such prices came to have a look at the goods while I was setting them up.

He was interested in some of my dishware, and asked politely if he could have a look at them while I was unpacking, and chatting with me while he waited for me to be done since he couldn't buy them before I was done (I let him have dibs, but the cash register wouldn't ring them up before I was all set). He apparently noticed that some of my silverware that I'd gotten as graduation gifts and literally never used had my old name engraved on them, but he didn't say anything about that.

But when I put up my old graduation dress - which wasn't worth much, cheap fake silk but it was a nice cut - he remarked "she must've left in a hurry to leave that behind." Since the finnish language doesn't have gendered pronouns, I didn't immediately make the connection that he was referring to someone female before he gestured at the dress. Once it clicked, I figured the best course of action was to just nod that yeah, she's not coming back for those and I'm not keeping them.

Dude had concluded that my deadname must be an ex that dumped my ass so fucking fast she didn't even pack her silverware or nice clothes.

[rainbowgaez]

what are some contenders for best video of all time in your opinion

Asking me to choose nominees for the best ever is really hard, so have a list of some of my all time favorites:

They Found Out Ed Edd n Eddy stopped playin' on the TV

BYron. Come here to memy son.

103 Fever

mmmm.avi

MY PAROLE OFFICER CAME OVER AND SAID I'M-I NEEDA GO INTO CUSTODYYYY

MAN GOES HAM MUST SEE

SJW gets fucking owned

VENGABOYS DEATH

Top 100 Bloodborne Bosses

Here Comes the Sun

Leon mentions Undertale in Resident Evil 4.

Ey. I'm the bona guy, and I love to have a boner.

Dr. Pepper... the famous 23 flavor soda... has lots of spinoff products...

D̵̻͑Ḭ̴̍D̵̘̄ ̵̠͐Y̴͙̎O̴̲͂U̵͇̅ ̸͉͌D̶̲́Ó̷̻ ̶̨͠Ṫ̷̲H̶͎̒I̵͈̚S̴͈̿

Whole time rock n roll lyrics

DONT YOU GIVE UP NAH NAH NAH

Adult Baby Diaper Boy Explosion And House Fire September 28 2015

what i tell u bout that campbells chunky

Larry the cable guy kills himself

ITS PIKACHU

Yo Mama Jokes But The Punchline is Always Xbox Live Vocoded to Sirens

check your iphone at the door

PARKOUR ACCIDENT

GTA Guitar Bro

My Movie

Augh... why did he eat the bee?

My Bear Video

FRED FUCKSTONE TELLS IT LIKE IT IS

Prove Yourself in the Big Leagues

Just to name a few.

[rosemarydisaster]

This post inspired me to think about secret identity logistics and I think Cass being so cavalier with her secret identity would actually help. Like, it makes the rest of the family's secret identities better because Cassandra Cain is obviously Blackbat/Batgirl. By contrast they would look even more civilian and if someone is not going to realize their kid is a vigilante is Brucie Wayne.

"But wouldn't they connect the dots to the rest of the family?" Listen, If those were bats they'd simply get out of the kidnappings and hostage situations they get themselves into like Cassandra. The fact that they always need to be saved proves they're, indeed, civilians.

Also, I doubt the math would math unless you knew very specific internal things to connect each vigilante to their civilian identity. Brucie is, for starters, as civilian as can get and thanks to the Mandela effect everyone is convinced that he was caught on camera making out with Batman anyways. So that's a non-starter.

Dick Grayson is trying to be a regular person, so the public would know he exists and comes back to important things but he's mostly out of the public eye. Plus, he's a police officer, why would anyone assume he's in kahoots with his little sister that was adopted after he'd already left Gotham?? And when he came back to Gotham for a while to take care of things for his father, is not like there was a new vigilante. It was still batman and Robin (the Robin was new, but Dick Grayson is an adult so, not likely).

Then we get to the big one: Jason is legally dead. You can't assign him any vigilante because he's mmm super dead. I'm sure there's a true crime podcaster trying to argue that he was the second robin and died doing robin shit, that's why Batman and Bruce broke up. But even if it's compelling, it's also considered in really bad taste. Also, can't be tied to Cassandra because she arrived after his death.

Tim gets a similar reaction to Brucie in the sense that there's no way he is a vigilante. He's the immunocompromised Twink from Forbes "30 under 30". He's literally physically incapable of being a super hero due to both a lack of Muscles and a lack of time. That boy has to run an entire massive money making machine and, for all gothamites know, he may very well be asthmatic as well. Plus, he gets kidnapped like crazy. If he was a hero he would at least now how to avoid being put in those situations. They suspect he's covering for Cass though, since he's smart enough to realize his sister is freaking Batgirl.

This means that even if Cass is Batgirl they can't really trace Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin or Red hood back to the family (not to speak of Batwoman, Catwoman, Huntress, Batgirl a 1 and 2, Oracle or spoiler). So at this point why would you even try to connect the others? Clearly Cass is the exception, not the rule.

Like, sure, Duke did survive the Riddler ruling Gotham and if you put some effort, it wouldn't be impossible to tie him to the We Are Robin movement. But also ...is it because he's black? Is it because he's the only black person from Gotham you know of?? His sister is a vigilante, and he is black, so he must be the black vigilante of course (He would be the one making this comments in social media through his sock puppet accounts and the True Crime/conspiracy communities would be too scared to touch that one with a ten foot pole)

Damian is another one where I think Bruce would do what he can to protect him from the press (partially for his own good and partially because he's the opposite of media trained). Most of the info the tabloids would get is from people tangentially related to him. Like, sure, he does look a bit like the new robin, and his sister is Batgirl. But, unless you're one of the people claiming he's the lovechild of Bruce Wayne and Batman (test tube baby??? Batman trans???) it wouldn't make a lot of sense now, would it?

Like Cass is so fucking weird compared to the rest of her family's civilian identities it makes them look rock solid by comparison.

[petew21-blog]

I'm the dad now

"Come on Dad, this is gonna hurt both of us. Just stop fighting and let go. You're not gonna win."

The hairy man was alone in the bathroom fighting with himself, screaming in pain, grabbing his neck and trying to comfort himself. He spoke to himself, which may sound schizophrenic, but this wasn't the case. He was being possessed for the first time by his teenage son, Joe, who had big troubles at school for skiping classes. Joe wasn't usually the type to skip school, but there was this bully he wanted to get back at. He found way to possess someone, but it took a lot of practice to do. You couldn't just possess someone asleep, but them being awake was the thing that made it so hard. They fought and the more they fought the harder it became to stay in the body. But after many many hours of possessing multiple students of his for just a few seconds, he finally felt like he could be ready to possess his bully now. If it weren't for the letter from school that came in mail this morning. Joe opened it and saw that they asked his father to come by for a meeting with the principal. "Oh, no. My dad can't see this. I have to do something." An evil and slightly reckless idea followed.

And as you guessed correctly, Joe's idea was to just possess his father and go to the meeting himself. Did he think about the consequences? No. But that didn't matter now, because his father still faught for his body pretty hard. The only lucky thing for Joe was that his father won't remember the process of possession.

"I win dad. I am stronger. You have to sleep now and let it go!"

Few minutes of fight followed and then quiet.

Joe laughed with tears in his eyes. Sweat all ower his body from the fight. "You could have atleast made my possession a bit easier than this, dad."

Now was the perfect time to hurry up, dress dad's body and meet the principal. But Joe's teenage mind went to a different place. His dad can be late. It's about Joe's life. Not him. He only has to show up

Joe P.O.V.

"Damnnnnn dad! You have really been hitting the gym recently, haven't you? Maaan look at me" I didn't expect this to be so hot. I was a bit grossed out possessing my own dad, but now I might actually enjoy this.

"I never noticed, how really handsome you are, daddy." Hairy pecs, beautiful biceps. You're a real man, I'd like to be some day. Well... not someday. Now."

"It's actually not your biceps now, dad. It's all mine. Just look at it. So amazing. The boys at school would be so jealous. No they WILL be jealous. Just wait till I show them who I am now."

"Oh dad. Why the hell have you been hiding all this from me. I would have never thought about possessing that fucker Bill. Why should I even bother now about some dumb school shit. I can be an adult man for fuck's sake. I am the man now. I am my DAD."

"These muscles are so firm and tight. I wonder how many times a week you have been going. Might get used to it now." Wait, am I really thinking what I am thinking? Do I want to stay like this. No, this must be the after efect of possession, not just a desire to be the hairy dad of mine.

"Haha, I'm so heavy now that I'd most certainly beat all the boys in the football club. Well maybe not the quarterback, but everyone else I might. Maybe I should get Trevor to possess him. We could enjoy being two studs together. I would be a bit older, but I'm sure he won't mind. Especially not while we are exploring our new bodies."

"Which brings me to this awful towel." I dropped it on the floor where it belongs

"Wohohooo, much better. Damn dad, the razor stays clean all the time for a reason right? I won't change that don't worry. I'm pretty sure Trevor likes his men hairy. Not like he would know what a man's touch is like or even sex. But tonight he will. I will let him scratch my beard, kiss my biceps, massage my back."

"Oh boy, I have to go take care of this beast now. Don't want to cum in the principals office. Haha, I love being my dad."

[ryescapades]

can i request Narumi x reader but the reader is similar to Dazai(not really but i forgot who else that i could make an example of) ? Very silly and people underastimate them because of that but when the situation calls for it they're scary as hell.

Maybe Narumi underastimate them at first, and then he saw how scary they actually are but instead of going 100% scared he's like "thats kinda hot"

Maybe the reader is a captain/vice-captain of another division or a platoon leader. Also, make the personality EXTRA silly(the reader is doing it on purpose) like airhead, silly, and very naive (the reader is faking it and people actually fell for that act)

caprice | narumi gen

— three times narumi noticed you during the joint training session between the first and third divisions, slowly getting to know you from afar and the one time he inadvertently decided to fall for you (literally).

genre/warning: gn platoon leader dazai!reader, fluff, inaccurate use of scientific conditions and processes, idk if reader is silly enough here... i tried my best ok TT

a/n: uh another long fic haha thank you for the request!! dazai is actually one of my top kinnies but i'm not sure if this is even good, anon i'm rly sorry if it's not up to your standards 🥲 also here's the menace :3

3.4k wc hoshina | extra

the first time narumi gen met you, a member he'd assumed was from the third division, the only thing that was on his mind was what the fuck?

no, literally.

because what the fuck were you doing being hung upside down in the first division's gym room, discussing about god knows what with his platoon leaders?

"wait, wait, i think i'm finally feeling it!" you squealed, arms expanding to the side to distance the others from your hanging body. "whoa! is it working, is it working?" tachibana inquires excitedly beside an entertained-looking shinonome. "are you really sure this method is even legit?" the latter added, amusement clear in her eyes.

"what the hell are you guys doing?" narumi couldn't help himself from intervening the scene, for the sheer incredulity had taken over him before he even had the time to think it over. the three of you turned to face him in surprise.

his own subordinates straightened up to give him a salute, while it took you a few minutes before you did too. "ara, if it isn't captain narumi himself," you mused. narumi only raised an eyebrow, not shocked in the slightest that you knew him as he waited for a reply to his earlier question. at that, your expression enlightened.

"oh, right! your platoon leaders here were meditating earlier and tachibana-san almost dozed off... so i suggested a method to feel less sleepy. being hung like this makes you feel the blood rushes to your head, you know? it's such an exhilarating feeling for real," you claimed, resulting in the captain to gaze at you questioningly as your thumb and pointer fingers perched below your chin almost proudly.

narumi blinked, thinking about how... odd this person— you— was. is the third division only consisted of weirdos? must be some random low-class officer meeting those two on accident, he thought, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

it was not long after that when the first division's captain saw you again, this time in the mess hall where you were sitting with some familiar faces from the third division, which only reinforced his theory that you were indeed from the third.

"reno, have you watched the new movie i talked about before?" furuhashi asked, swallowing his food before looking at his fellow officer. "oh, the one with that famous actor from russia? no, i haven't. isn't that movie adult-rated though?" the silver-haired prodigy asked.

"whaaat? why are you children watching movies about people who play hide the salami, huh!?" kafka scolded, causing furuhashi to counter back, "who the heck even says 'hide the salami' these days, old man?!" by then you just arrived with your tray of food, hearing only one-fourth of the sentence when you took a seat beside the older man.

"oohh, are we pranking someone?" you butt in eagerly, joining in the conversation. the other three snapped their heads towards you in confusion. "prank? who said anything about a prank?" reno asked, head tilting to the side.

you smiled, blinking owlishly at his question. "hide the salami? why are we hiding food if not for a prank...?" your eyes bounced between the three men who were sharing awkward glances with each other.

narumi, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, nearly grimaced. so you're odd and... kind of an airhead, in a way. his brain concluded, simply observing when you abruptly pointed your finger at something far to the right, "captain ashiro, look! there's a cute cat over there!!" when ashiro snapped her head so fast, she realized a bit too late to catch your sneaky hand stealing a piece of food from her tray.

"hey, eat your own food!" kafka reprimanded as you happily nibbled on the stolen treasure but ashiro only waved it off, muttering about how she's gotten used to your antics by now, secretly fond of how your delighted expression itself comically resembled a feline creature.

"what are you staring at, baka shisho?" kikoru's jeer interrupted narumi's daze, causing his back to tense. "nothing. can't you go a day without being an annoying pest?" he sneers, which the girl only laughed mockingly at, though surprisingly she didn't notice that the captain was still snooping in to hear the conversation at your table, listening to the many obnoxious and bizarre (yet interestingly smart, he'd begrudgingly admit) ways you'd recommended to prank someone.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the third time narumi saw you, it was during a joint sparring session between his and the third division. he was initially supposed to be overseeing kikoru and her new numbers weapon suit but the commotion at the central area of the training venue had snatched his, and the other officers' interest instead.

it was you, preparing to spar with hoshina, his nemesis. in hand-to-hand combat, no less. not to add the two of you were going to use real swords, not the dummy ones.

"are they serious? why would they match up against hoshina?" "i know right... they're gonna lose for sure," "yikes, i'm sending early condolences to them right now,"

narumi had to agree with what he heard his division members were whispering about. sure, he sometimes thinks hoshina's skill level is below his own, but to spar with a regular officer? the swordsman is gonna pummel you straight to the ground, no doubt!

however, his chain of thought was eventually cut off when he later noticed that you were holding on your own, superbly at that. with every hit of hoshina's blade, you'd parried with your own and every small opening hoshina had unknowingly exposed, you had taken the advantage by striking just as hard.

the rapid sounds of metal clanging against each other were loud, echoing even. it was plainly and clearly visible to him that you're not just an officer.

narumi called for his disciple, "oi. who's that training with your vice-captain?" he asked, head nodding towards where you and hoshina were still exchanging blows. kikoru glanced at the direction he mentioned before she grinned wide and cheshire-like.

"oh, them. that's one of our newly appointed platoon leaders, y/n-san! such a spectacle to behold, i know! they're from the third, after all!" she boasted. a platoon leader? y/n, huh... narumi could finally put a name to that pretty face.

wait, what? who the hell said that?

the bicolor-haired man shook his head a bit before focusing back at the fight. "what are you gloating for, dumbass. it's not like—" his sentence died midway when suddenly a particular hard swing from hoshina had struck you straight in the face, causing you to stagger backward as your block was seen a little too late to cover the blow.

the atmosphere suddenly became silent and still, narumi's eyes widening in surprise at the same time as hoshina's in guilt when everyone noticed the few drops of blood through your fingers. "shit, sorry! i didn't mean to hit ya that hard! you okay there?"

narumi instinctively took a step towards your direction when your figure started swaying, his eyes unconsciously glaring at the violet-haired man as the latter reached out his palm so that you could show him the bruise but when you gave no reply, eyes downcast and body rigid, hoshina cursed under his breath. "fuck, y/n. i'm so sorry—"

"boo!"

the unexpected sight of your mischievous, uninjured face and only a faintly sliced skin on your palm greeted the crowd. an annoyed mark appeared at the side of hoshina's head. "you cheeky lil' brat! ya had me so worried there!" he scolded, his hands pulling on your cheeks so hard your eyes watered as you whined, "but it was hilarious watching you— ow, ow, vice-captain! that hurts!"

the others seemed to relax, and a few hushed murmurs entered narumi's ears.

"the heck? what a fluke." "right? there's no way they held off for that long. the vice-captain must have gone easy on them."

on the sidelines, narumi's mouth gaped open and then closed like a fish. was that actually a fluke, or are you actually...? he was slightly bewildered, not knowing whether to acknowledge the fact that you are, in fact, such a whimsical and unserious person he almost found it quite endearing (he didn’t bother acknowledging that thought), or that it was unnoticeable by almost everyone else, but he could see the scratches on hoshina's hands and face, the nicks his RT-0001 eyes had detected were done by your sword.

they were indistinct, hardly noticeable, and barely bleeding that it just proved how careful you were in handling your blade. what's more jarring, however, was that his kaiju eyes couldn't miss the deadly and almost murderous look in your eyes when you were exchanging blows with hoshina earlier.

narumi couldn't help but to smirk menacingly as he ran a hand through his locks, feeling enraptured by the sudden realization.

so it's not just hoshina he has to beat. there's you now.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

it was another random tuesday night when the emergency kaiju alarm blared, signalling the entire headquarter of the incoming kaiju attack. in the meeting room together with the captains and other platoon leaders from the third and first divisions, you were briefly discussing strategies and plans for the neutralization process.

"so it's settled, then. two platoon leaders from each division in one sector. make sure to remember where your group is assigned and keep track of any yoju going in and out of your sector before alerting the other platoons of it. this one might get messy," ashiro summarised before everyone briskly moved out, preparing to head to the kaiju location.

narumi, who had been halfheartedly listening to the whole briefing in boredom, pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and headed towards the door, before noticing a lone figure standing by the desk in the middle of the room.

you were staring hard at the splayed out map in front you, hands shoved in your pockets and head tilted to the side in what narumi assumed to be deliberation. what else is there to think about when ashiro already summed up everything? the man thought before he shrugged, leaving you alone in the meeting room.

the mission was supposed to be simple. tedious, sure, but easy enough for the two divisions to handle. take down the honju, then finish off the remaining clusters of its accompanying yoju— it was said they'd go berserk when triggered by the death of the mother— that were scattered throughout the district.

well, until it's not so easy anymore.

once ashiro had shot down the honju using the explosive power of her cannon, all the yoju had indeed, gone ballistic. the battlefield was messy with all the kaiju corpses and rubbles from destroyed buildings.

appointed as one of the main firepower on land, narumi's earpiece dinged, and the voice of one of the operations officer filled his ears. "captain narumi! sector d requested for backup just a few minutes ago but we've recently lost contact with them!"

confusion took over the captain's expression. backup? these lots of yoju barely have a 4.0 fortitude, did a new high-leveled kaiju appear? oh well, another material to be used in increasing my kill count and popularity if that's the case. his mind pondered as he stepped off the dead body of the kaiju he'd just taken down, his bayonet slung over a shoulder.

"aite, on it," straight away on the move, he considered the possibilities of a bigger threat popping up, like another one of no 9's creation, for instance. narumi's expression darkened at the thought.

however, when he arrived at the site, there was no commotion at all. it was rather quiet. he would've thought that no battle had happened here, if not for the concrete debris and kaiju remains laying around. he decided to look around and survey the area, just in case the information he received was just a small miscalculation.

it was not until he realized he had walked for too long that he froze. sector d wasn't supposed to cover this much space, so why were there so many corpses outside of the neutralization area? narumi tried connecting his earpiece, only for it to let out a series of crackles. this is where they lost connection, huh? he thought.

a sudden movement to his left had him going stiff before he swiftly and sharply spun, bayonet ready in his hand. irritation took over his expression when he saw that it's just an officer. "hey, i almost took your head! be more mindful next time, will you?" he chastised, causing the officer to bow profusely, cowering away from his large weapon. "i apologise, captain narumi! i was just wondering what are you doing here... the neutralization is already finished in this part of the sector."

"haah?? operations said you guys needed backup. what's up with that?" he complained, glaring at the officer who he assumed was from the third division since he wasn't a familar face to narumi at all. "oh, that's already been dealt with! platoon leader y/n had it all planned out!" narumi halted at that, now intrigued so he told the officer to fill him in on what happened prior to the mission.

---

"psst, you two! come here for a sec," the men in question, toma and ryu turned when they had heard you calling for them a few feet away from the mixed group of first and third divisions soldiers in sector d. "yes! what is it, platoon leader?"

"mind helping me out for a bit?" as they immediately nodded their heads, you straight promptly explained what you wanted them to do. "so we just need to be on the lookout with you at the communication towers outside the sector?"

"ding, ding! that's correct! if you see a kaiju coming your way, just lure it back to your original post where everybody else is. i'll be staying back to tweak out some electricals at the radio masts." you stated.

with the yoju having a bat-like behavior, you'd theorized that they would use ultrasonic echolocation to create a radio wave disturbance that could badly affect the earpieces you're using. despite how low the kaiju's fortitude is, it's immense intellect make up for most of that small number.

that's why the yoju would've probably target the region with the densest wave energy, which is the telecommunication towers. with its echolocation and your communication devices pulsing simultaneously, they would interfere with each other and cause an overlap of frequencies. hence, communication lost between officers would highly likely happen.

"that's fine and all, but y/n-san... if the kaiju really is how you speculate it, what if there's a lot of them coming at once?" toma asked worriedly. "you'll die, of course." you simply answered, making the officers screech in horror, "WHAT??!!"

letting out a chuckle, you waved a hand in dismissal. "don't worry. if there are many of them appearing, just leave them be and return to your post,"

toma and ryu exchanged a look. "but then we'd be leaving you alone, y/n-san!" the latter wailed. at that, you hummed thoughtfully, "hm... i'll be the one dying then," you said matter of factly.

"Y/N-SAN!!!"

"how about we do rock-paper-scissors to decide who's fixing the comms?"

"this is not the time to joke around, platoon leader!"

you belted out a laugh at their unified shriek of despair. "it's fine, it's fine! put a little trust on me, yeah? if there's nothing else, i'll head on first. i'll be counting on you guys!"

---

"turned out the kaiju that emerged really did behave exactly like how platoon leader y/n had expected. i kind of felt bad for the first division officers that were assigned together with us because they weren't informed about the plan," toma, narumi had learned of his name, said.

narumi stood there, a tinge of amazement sitting in the far back of his mind at the thought of how meticulous you had been in planning your own strategies. although he was a bit annoyed that you didn't bother telling your fellow platoon leader or superiors— ashiro, hoshina, or him, even— about it. your officers were right; you could've died.

toma was about to add more when your sheepish voice in his earpiece caught his attention. "nee, nee, toma. are you free right now? or anybody, really. i've fixed the signals since it got altered again but uh, i kind of need some help with all these yoju around me," you said, not in the slightest worried about how dangerous the situation you were in right now.

in fact, you sounded like you were casually talking about fixing a broken lamp instead of trying to adjust the freaking junction boxes while being surrounded by a bunch of kaiju.

narumi zeroed in when toma cried out your name. "what? you said you already neutralized all of them, y/n-san! what do you mean there's more?!"

the first division captain immediately snatched the earpiece, completely unapologetic in his action. "your location, platoon leader?" he ordered. "i'm still at the comms towers— oya? is this captain narumi i hear?" he didn't bother answering before he was already running (not before tossing the earpiece back to its owner), leaving behind a flabbergasted toma.

when narumi eventually stepped past the metal fences enclosing the area where you were at, the rosiness of his irises detected not just the piles of dead monsters but also a horde of still-alive kaiju swarming around a radio mast. his eyes twitched, visibly annoyed now that he knew why his earpiece had been giving out static noises one too many times ever since he entered sector d.

he made a quick work of taking them down, slicing away and shooting at every kaiju that came his way. at one point, he heard a faint sound behind him. narumi was about to turn and finish off the kaiju that was ambushing him, but then there was a slight change in the air. it was heavy, and it was approaching fast.

suddenly, a figure dropped from above, plunging the kaiju straight in the core so swiftly narumi almost thought he saw a lightning strike right in front of his very eyes. with a power so dense it almost rivaled his own, the man could only stare as blood sprayed out from the dead monster, raining down on both him and you.

sweet lord, it was you.

with your personal weapon in hand, standing so gracefully on top of the corpse it had his breath stuttering in his chest.

fuck, that was so hot, narumi unconsciously thought.

you, with blood smeared everywhere on your face and suit, finally connected your eyes with his. "oh, captain narumi! i didn't think you'd actually come here," you exclaim. when he gave no reply, your eyebrows raised in curiosity. "did you get injured, captain? why are you on the ground?"

it was only then that he noticed that he was down on his knees (narumi? the narumi gen?? kneeling???), his own weapon laid at his side, neglected. what the hell? he refused to admit how powerful and magnificent you were that it had him forgetting about your little naivety, that it had him weak in the knees.

he shook himself out of his embarrassing stupor before quickly standing back up. "good... i'm good," narumi internally cursed at himself when he realized his voice quivered midway.

"anyway, what in the world was that?! your officer said you didn't inform my platoon of your little plan here!" he fussed.

"ah, that! it was a gamble actually. i didn't want to risk the lives of those who haven't worked with me enough to understand how i operate in this line of work. my subordinates knew what they were in here for," you explained, nonchalantly wiping away the red liquid from your face.

a gamble on your life, basically. narumi frowned at that. he was about to comment more when you turned away, though your face was still directed at him. "well, in any case, i think i should be thanking you, captain." you sent him a cheeky grin.

"huh, what for?"

"you said i was hot earlier. thanks!" with that, you dashed away to handle the remaining kaiju, leaving behind a flustered and rigid narumi gen as he watched you go on a killing spree.

in spite of your beauty and grace, in his eyes, you ain't no angel, no. you're a goddamn valkyrie, an ethereal being dancing with death in the middle of a bloody battlefield. and he— his heart, is a mere soldier ready and willing to be lead by you to the gates of heaven, he realised.

jp phrases used >> おや (oya), ねぇ ねぇ (nee nee)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

You look like a fun place to sit.

Gif credits

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Words count: 2667

Rating: + 18, MDNI

Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)

Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL

As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!

“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat” 

Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies. 

Ugh, your neighbor.

Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.

A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.

You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”. 

A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat” 

He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box. 

You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago” 

He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”

You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.

“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs. 

“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.

The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.

“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss. 

“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there. 

“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there. 

The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in. 

“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.

Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.

“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“ 

You’re fuming. 

His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.

“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare. 

You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.

You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.

“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?” 

“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though” 

“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away. 

“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.

“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”

“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.

“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”

You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.

People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.

“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"

“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.

You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.

Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.

You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.

You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.

His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.

Really, truly, gorgeous.

You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.

He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously. 

He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.

He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?

When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.

“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”

Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling. 

You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.

He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties. 

“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating. 

He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.

Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.

“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”

You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” 

“Okay, okay, I was just asking”

You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably. 

Hotter? Probably not.

This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time. 

Terrible combination. 

Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.

You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude. 

His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.

You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.

Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.

At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.

You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.

He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering. 

Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate. 

“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words. 

“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place. 

Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”

“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”

You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”

“I like it better here” 

You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.

He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.

“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly. 

You immediately look up. “Nothing” 

“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?” 

Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.

“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit” 

You can't believe you actually said that.

Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.

The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”

He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.

You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.

He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”

You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”

He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.

A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right. 

The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin. 

You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.

“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.

“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.

“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.

At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.

His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.

They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking” 

He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.

You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.

“Fuck, Frankie” you cry 

“Eyes to the movie”

You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.

He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.

Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.

Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.

You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”

The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.

He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.

He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.

“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”

“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.

“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his. 

“I noticed it”

You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.

“Take me home”

“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”

“Fine to me, princess” 

[meownotgood]

the neon pink rabbit dildo was aki's idea.

technically, you were the first one to mention using toys in the bedroom. you've been dating for quite a while now, and although everything with aki is always fantastic, you've been wondering if maybe the two of you should try to make things more... interesting. aki is polite. tightly-laced. pretty vanilla, to put it bluntly. you honestly weren't sure what sort of things he'd be into, if anything at all.

your coworkers had plenty of office gossip about the new fancy adult store they're opening down the block — it has two floors, they're having specials on all their products for couples. you figured it was worth mentioning to aki, just for the hell of it. you tell him as you're both relaxing in the living room after work, like you normally do.

everyone at your job has been complaining about the new surge of traffic to the nearest parking garage. it must be because of the new giant sex shop. ha ha, very funny. aki gives you an all-too serious once-over, before he gently asks, "did you want to check it out?"

you fumbled through your next words, and swiftly explained to your boyfriend that yes, sure, you wouldn't mind checking it out with him. it'd be exciting, really. honestly, you're all for experimenting, but you're unsure, you aren't very knowledgeable. the problem with the whole thing is that you don't know exactly what you'd like to try. it's a bit stressful to imagine getting lost in a huge adult store, with no idea what to purchase.

"I could try to pick something out. maybe that'd be less stressful." aki suggests, his slightly flushed face betraying his level tone. he crosses his legs and leans back into the couch. "only if you're interested, though."

you confirmed you were very, very interested.

part of you assumed aki might back out. he's been busy with work lately, so you had plenty of time to mull it over before your next date — but you honestly had no idea what sort of toy he might pick out. you know he'd put thought into it. he would choose something for a specific reason, or purposefully pick a toy he assumed you would like. perhaps he'd imagine how he might use it on you. would it be something small? large? super adventurous or overly simple?

still, despite all your thinking, when the day actually comes, aki manages to surprise you.

he comes over to your place shortly after you text him an invite. sure. I just got done with work. I'll be over soon, aki replies. he sends another string of texts shortly afterwards, while you're busy tripping over your pant leg, trying to quickly change into your lingerie. I missed you. I'm bringing a surprise.

maybe it was that text, or maybe it was because you haven't seen him in close to a week and you're practically dying to feel his touch, but once he arrives, the two of you barely last a few innocent minutes together before you're stumbling into your bedroom.

aki allows you to pull him forward and on top of you by his tie when you flop back onto your bed. your hands run through his soft hair to tug it free of its hairtie. you kiss his lips and brush your tongue against his with fervor, and you don't protest when he shifts to trail tingling, affectionate kisses down your neck.

you curl into his touches — his mouth on your collar, his palm gliding over your lower back — and you make quick work of a good third of his work uniform: his tie, his jacket, the first few buttons on his dress shirt. aki is much more efficient. he discards your clothes with careful movements, between soft kisses. he sighs when he pulls back, nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy at the sight of your pretty body held tight by the thin, perfectly fitting lingerie.

"you look beautiful," he hums, completely earnest. you shudder, your arms held around his neck and shoulders. your thighs spread wider for him as his warm palm brushes in between them.

you'd almost forgotten about the surprise, until aki reminds you of it.

he pulls himself off of you for a moment to reach into his bag. the dildo is moderately sized, a handful of inches in length at most, but it doesn't seem cheap. it's made from bright pink silicone, long and thick with two different sections. the smaller portion is adorned with two small knobs, shaped like rabbit ears.

it's meant for double stimulation, aki explains awkwardly, between a handful of uhms and stutters. you could certainly gather as much from the shape.

he places a hand on your waist ever-so gently, and when he asks, are you okay with this? you're swift to answer with a nod of your head. you're more than okay with it. what you couldn't figure out is how it might feel — until aki finally opts to show you.

he has you sprawled out beneath him, completely pliant. your arms are above your head, hands clenching tight as he glides his palm from your waist to your thigh with reassurance. he squeezes, and he fiddles with the toy for a moment, gauging the various controls. as he leans in closer, he presses a kiss to your cheek, he breathes a low instruction to relax. then, he flips the toy to press just the small, vibrating, rabbit-eared attachment to your still-clothed clit.

you can feel the faint vibrations, even through your lingerie. the toy must be on the lowest setting; it's more of a tease than anything else. still, your eyes flutter. you let go of a satisfied sound, and eagerly grind your hips up to meet the toy.

aki sighs. "you want more?" he murmurs, already sitting up and hooking his thumb around the string of your underwear. "can I take this off?"

you nod hastily, and lift your hips to allow him to pull the garment down your legs and all the way off.

aki's jaw clenches. sweat is forming at his brow and his palms, as you coo his name and spread your legs wider for him. you're so wet — he can tell without touching, but he's entirely sure once he guides the thick head of the toy over your cunt, and sees your arousal glistening on the silicone. he gives you another soft squeeze, another gentle touch on your side, a final, are you sure?

when you whimper and plead, please, aki, I want to feel it, he hardly hesitates to give you exactly what you've been hoping for.

the dildo is just the perfect size. it slides into you effortlessly, filling you perfectly and snugly. the length of it is curved slightly, and you can feel that curve as he slowly eases it in — nudging your walls, the thick tip deliciously meeting your sweet spot.

"there, that's it," aki praises. once the toy is all the way inside you, he lets go of a sigh that sounds thoroughly satisfied. "god. you take it so well."

your spine tingles at the sound of his smooth voice. he adjusts the toy slightly, and as the flexible rabbit-eared piece presses against your clit, vibrations a little stronger than before, your whole body tremors.

aki fucks you on the toy with slow, shallow thrusts, enough to keep the vibrations on your clit. and it's intense, it's so much; the toy fucks you so well and hits your sweet spot with its perfect curve on every thrust in. the vibrations are low and constant, thrumming against your sensitive, puffy clit.

wet noises fill the room as you dirty the toy's pretty pink shaft. aki keeps his pace slow, deliberate, never pressing it in too hard or too fast. all you can do is quiver and whine, your voice already becoming strained and loud.

he clicks a button on the dildo, and it begins to vibrate with strong pulses.

you're so beautiful; pleading his name, keeping your heavy, warm gaze locked on his despite the way your eyelids flutter. aki swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen as he watches the way you take all he has to give you. you have no idea what this is doing to him, how his heart is pounding and his mind is racing and oh, you were made to take this toy. you're all his, he has complete control over every facet of your pleasure. and god, does he want to make you cum for him.

aki increases the strength of the vibrations. "you're irresistible," he murmurs, and you don't fail to catch the small break at the end of his voice. he's falling apart too, just from this. "say my name again, please. want to make you cum for me, beautiful."

he trails soft kisses down your jaw while the dildo pleasures your cunt and your clit — and when you cum, you cum quickly and hard.

you tremor, you hold onto him tight, you soak the toy as your legs shake and your voice gives out. aki slows while you struggle to regain your breath, a hand slowly caressing your side, guiding you to breathe again. his heart feels like it might hammer out of his own chest.

"f-fuck..." aki swears, his breath shaky, his brows pinched. "you've never- that was-" he sighs. you're so lovely, so pretty. he's definitely going to lose his mind if he hasn't lost it already. why didn't he think of something like this sooner? "god... can you take one more for me?"

for @violet-turning-violet

[bnnuy-wabbit]

Man, I'm gonna be honest. I played the two partnered endings back to back to see the differences and I like the detective kuuno ending more than the one where we recruit kim! Its just much more fulfilling emotionally!!!!

Kim is overall very serious and composed about stuff and hes well respected by the other cops. When you get to keep your job and recruit him it DOES feel good!! Because it was smooth and really cool of him to defend you like that and you've gotten yourself a friend! a friend who truly trusts you and believes in you. Kim is the nicest and most patient man on planet earth.

But Cuno??? It's a different message. Cuno knows fuckall. Nobody there respects him and he doesnt have the measured responses and fancy words kim has, just pure utter PASSION. He almost cries of RAGE when people dont listen to him when you're trying to convince everybody about the Phasmid. Jean specifically is a cunt to Cuno and spaces out all the time and doesnt listen to anything he says ("you're hearing, but you're not listening"). Nobody believes him. Nobody takes him seriously. He's used to that, i bet.

During the islet section, Cuno is A LOT like Harry. having him around as your partner isnt like having kim at all. he doesnt help with cop stuff or adult stuff. rather, he says your lines for you. i just played the one with kim and CUNO SAYS WHAT YOU WOULD SAY IF YOU WERE WITH KIM. he has the same thought processes as You do. he asks questions just like you do. he acts a bit like you do. he makes comments you would sometimes. He literally says YOUR lines in his runs. and hes impulsive and a child, so he asks it willy nilly. you have to be the responsible one now, you need to hold him back if anything.

And then the way cuno literally BEGS the officers to let him join? to take him away from martinaise, to give him a better chance at life. Hell do anything, he promises to stop saying shit, he promises to behave. Just get him OUT of there. It feels like there are WAY more stakes, so the emotional payoff is MUCH higher

(If you like cuno of course. Which i do. theres a LOT to unpack regarding that boy.)

Like, seeing him EXCITEDLY skipping to the coupris kineema and opening the door to the other cops?? It feels good!!!! It feels really good! Like on top of everything you did, you also got to take this kid out of that shithole, to give him a chance.

You Must Understand.

Cuno mirrors Harry in MANY ways.

Nobody respects Harry, nobody respects cuno either. Harrys just some insane alcoholic, cunos just a delinquent kid. Neither are considered particularly trustworthy by the people who interact with them in daily life. HOWEVER. cuno has the spark and excitement harry lacks when harry lets him come along. he has hope. he wants to help, he wants to participate even if he doesn't quite know what he's doing. Why? Because if you got him in your party in the first place, it means he feels comfortable around you! For real, when you get that kid to respect YOU he REALLY starts trusting and looking up to you. He's ride or die. For hells sake he chooses HARRY over cunoesse! You don't belittle him and his interests like Cunoesse does! He gets to be unashamedly himself! Plus you're HIS pig. He already very much has a cop/detective fixation and during the entire time he's around harry he's absolutely PUMPED to be solving the crime with him and he's more than willing to help you out and give his two cents on the matter even if he doesn't really know anything about anything.

And so WHAT if he's just some kid? So what if he's POOR and doesn't have a camera to photograph the phasmid? He talks about harry a LOT more than kim does and with awe in his voice. He defends harry until the fucking end and he does NOT stop. He literally doesn't shut up. he just keeps fucking GOING. He blurts stuff out to defend you even if it's not helpful because he respects harry!!! truly respects him! he WANTS to help. he'll say stuff even if his words fail to convey properly what he means.

And then what?? You do the same for him. Well, youre giving me a chance right? Then take the kid along, he helped. He has nothing, his dad is a wasted dying drunkard (like me) and hes poor (like me). But he did good (i did too). He has potential (do do i). Hell behave (i'm trying to behave). Hell be a good detective (like me. he's just like me). PLEASE take him in (you're giving me a second chance, give him one too).

I Need you to understand. In my playthrough i got harry talking about how he feels like he had children at home when he's asked if he has a family. He feels like he has children, daughters. But alas. You're hit at the end of the game with Dora's 'i terminated our pregnancy because youre poor.' I get a feel that he WANTED to be a father. He wanted a family, but he was just So Fucking Mentally Ill about Everything it never came to be.

But honestly? He'd be an alright mentor figure. He clearly enjoys older kids, despite what he says about not being good with kids. He was a high school teacher! He's Clearly used to dealing with older kids and delinquents and he can talk to them like an equal, if he wants to, he can crack them too! He can be understanding.

And so what? Hell never have Dora's kids, but then he, harry (the drunken cunt) (the cunt everybody hates) (the fucking asshole), can be nice to this delinquent addict child a bunch of times (a foul mouthed jackass) (everybody Loathes that kid) (he doesnt know love) and then said kid starts following him like a lost puppy the moment harry needs company THE MOST. He accepts The Cuno. They have each other's back. They don't give up on each other. They want life to change for the better. Yknow???????

Cuno's ending hits muuuuch harder because of all that. Anyways. Yeah. rant over

[wilwheaton]

favorite goncharov character

Goncharov! Holy shit I haven't thought about Goncharov in YEARS!

I remember seeing it at the Vista theatre downtown in ... I want to say 1983? It was either 82 and I was 10, or 83 and I was 11. Now that I think about it, it must have been Spring of 83. I remember that Kimmy Mendini was my babysitter, and she drove my friend Ahmed and me all the way downtown to see Goncharov. She would have been at least 16, but I feel like she was a little older. I remember that she LOVED movies and just never stopped talking about European cinema.

Ha! I can still her her sort of roll "Cinema" out of her mouth. Movies were for the masses to watch, while sophisticated adults experienced Cinema. I'm just realizing now that she absolutely pronounced it with a capital C. She was like "you are so lucky to see a clean print of Goncharov!"

I had no idea what a clean print was, but I understood it was important and impressive.

She had read about this screening in the LA Weekly, which I didn't know at the time was TREMENDOUSLY subversive in our suburban part of Los Angeles County, and we were going to an old theatre in maybe not the greatest part of town, but Kimmy had been watching me since I was in second grade and was like my big sister. I knew we'd be safe with her.

That old theatre (which is now a fucking swap meet) was just so beautiful inside. 100 foot ceilings, box seats, gold paint and murals. It felt like a place you went to experience Cinema, but, like ... it had absolutely seen better days. I remember that I felt kind of bad for the place, a little embarrassed, like when I got a good grade and accidentally made eye contact with a friend who got a D.

Okay. This clearly hit a memory artery, and I appreciate you staying with me this far, when we finally get to the fireworks factory. We're walking up to the box office, and she tells Ahmed and me that we have to wait on the sidewalk, because *technically* it's rated R, and she's not our legal guardian, but what does this guy making two bucks an hour know about art anyway?

So we wait. She buys the tickets, and then we all walk in as casually as we can.

I remember how scared I was that we were going to get caught and they'd call the cops (that's how it worked in my anxiety-ridden brain), but literally nobody cared. The theatre wasn't even half full, and everyone there was a dude at least as old as my parents.

You know the story, so I don't have to recount all of it, but I can at this very moment remember how shocked I was when Bruno was shot. This was the first time, ever, I had felt an emotional connection to a character. I didn't cry when Bambi's mother was shot, I didn't cry when ET died, I didn't cry E V E R.

But when Bruno died? I didn't make a sound. I just silently wept. Tears just poured down my face and I wanted to roll back time, rewrite the movie, and get him out of that room.

I obviously understand now, all these years later why I connected to him and why his story meant and means so much to me, but at the time I had no idea. I just thought the actors were that good.

I can't believe that guy who played him died so young. I think he was like 40? I remember thinking that was old. Now I know different.

When the movie was over, Kimmy asked us how we liked it. Ahmed was obsessed with the photography (he grew up to be an illustrator), and I obviously had my Bruno Moment.

We got Thrifty ice cream on the way home and listened to Donna Summer in her Datsun.

I haven't thought about Goncharov or Cinema or Kimmy in FOREVER. Leave it to Tumblr to boost my nostalgia check to a natural 20.

tl;dr: Bruno. I know he's supposed to be that character we all hate, and there are so many valid reasons for that. But when I was 12 ... well, I was a different person.

Oh! And now that I know what a "clean print" is, having seen so many "dirty prints" in revival houses before they all turned into swap meets or churches (hey, two places where people sell you stuff and take your money!), I retroactively appreciate it in a way that would make Kimmy happy.

Thanks for the trip into the crumbling mall that is my childhood memories. I haven't been here in awhile and it was nice to visit.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 9 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: After Anna joins him for dinner, Bob knows he needs to accept that they really are just friends. Even though her kisses are perfection. Even though he's falling in love. But what's going to stop Anna when she realizes Bob's poems are very familiar to her?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, Bob in gray sweatpants, eventually 18+

Length: 5700 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Bob couldn't imagine a world in which he'd go to this much trouble to make the perfect dinner for a woman who he was falling in love with, only to hear her say the words just friends. But apparently it was the world he was living in, because he spent days comparing recipes from both Bradley and Jake, hoping to make something that Anna would find irresistible.

"You should make my lasagna," Jake said for the tenth time at work on Friday morning.

Bradley snorted. "Great idea, as long as you never want to see her again. Make my homemade pasta," he told Bob. "I already gave you the recipe."

Bob just kept nodding and agreeing with whatever they said, hoping they'd eventually be quiet. Anna was coming over tonight, and he still didn't have a solid plan in mind beyond trying to convince her he'd be worth her time. That it was okay to be more than friends.

While the guys argued, Bob got himself ready to get in the air with Phoenix. He must have looked flustered, because she rubbed her thumb gently across the back of his hand when he stood next to her in the hangar. "You seem nervous. Are you still trying to figure out what to make for dinner?"

"Yeah," he replied quietly.

"Oh, Bob. She's not going to care what you make. It could be a grilled cheese sandwich."

"I always burn those," he said with a small smile. "I just feel like this is pointless. I invited her over anyway even though I know she just wants to be friends, but I'm still standing here hoping for more. I shouldn't be doing this, even if we did makeout in her office."

Nat sighed and asked, "Do you want my grandma's recipe for bruschetta chicken? You liked it when you tried it at her house last summer, and it's not that hard to make."

His eyes lit up. "Please." 

He'd only have a little bit of time to himself to prepare the meal and cook it before Anna came over, and he listened as Nat called her grandma and asked her to send it over. Before they were even called out of the hangar to start the day, he had a photo of the handwritten recipe in his phone.

"Nat, you're a lifesaver."

"Just save me some of the leftovers."

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

Friday was going so well for Anna, she almost forgot to be nervous about dinner. She met with the dean to discuss how her classes were going, and he even brought up the word tenure which sent her into a giddy spiral where she treated herself to a candy bar from the vending machine which she couldn't really afford. She carried it out to eat lunch in the quad with her friends along with her regular, uninspired sandwich and ginger ale.

She hadn't mentioned a word about going to Bob's house for dinner, but she was absolutely certain both ladies knew about it. She almost found it comical the way they were trying to get her to say something about it, but Jessica was clearly ready to boil over.

"Hi," Anna greeted, biting into her Snickers bar as she settled on the bench between them. Advanced Calculus casually offered her some carrots and hummus while Jessica's cheeks started to grow a furious shade of pink. 

"When were you going to tell us Bob invited you over for dinner tonight?" she exclaimed. 

Anna shrugged and said, "I was probably just going to tell you about it on Monday since it's nothing because we are just friends. It's only as exciting as it would be if I went over to your place for dinner."

"That's exciting, too!" Jessica said. "You should absolutely come over for dinner! But you're wrong, because it's not as exciting as Bob cooking dinner for you!"

"Jess. Chill out," came the voice from Anna's other side. "She'll learn soon enough that dinner cooked by one of the Top Gun boys is essentially a marriage proposal on a plate. A very sexy and delicious marriage proposal. You and he will be sleeping together in no time."

Anna chewed up the last bite of her Snickers and shook her head. "You're both wrong. Bob and I are just friends. The dinner means nothing, and we're not going to sleep together."

"Oh, please!" Jessica was back to practically shouting now. "If you think he's actually okay with all the making out, then you've lost your mind. He doesn't want it to be meaningless. He likes you."

Anna looked at her feet. "I know he does. I like him too."

"Then stop stringing him along! I don't understand what the problem is here, Anna."

She sat quietly now, no longer feeling so great as she picked at her sandwich.

"Hey, I know Jess sounds like an excitable terrier, but maybe you need a little tough love," Advanced Calculus said as she dipped a carrot into the hummus. "You can talk to us, you know. You can tell us what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Anna whispered as her mind flooded with thoughts of Kevin and what he might be up to at the moment. 

Jess took a deep calming breath before she said, "There's just no good reason to put your dream man in the friend zone. And don't even try to lie and say Bob Floyd isn't perfection."

"He is," Anna whispered. Other than her infatuation with Sky Writing, Bob was the closest thing to a dream come true that she'd ever encountered before. But she did have her reasons, and she was too embarrassed to talk about it out loud. She was certain that Jess already knew her current financial state was in ruins, and it might be nice to have her friends understand where she was coming from, but she didn't want them to pity her. That was the last thing she needed right now. "You know what, I think I'm going to get ready for my next lecture."

She was on her feet and rushing away as her friends called after her, but she didn't stop walking until she reached her office. She was not going to cry over this, and she definitely didn't want to cancel on Bob. The only thing she could do to calm down was look at all of the books on her shelves, letting her gaze glide over the colorful spines. Then she read the note from Bob that was tucked in her copy of Papillon.

Freedom would feel like being so in love, you'd willingly let another person lock you to their side.

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

Bob had a fully stocked kitchen filled with a nice set of pots and pans and sharp knives and anything else he could possibly want, but right now, it was like he'd never cooked anything before in his life. Nat's grandmother actually had atrocious handwriting, and he could barely make out the measurements in the photo he had to work with.

"Basil," he muttered to himself, grabbing the leafy greens from the cutting board and wondering why it looked like he was supposed to use three cups of them. "I didn't even buy that much!"

He took a deep breath and walked around his kitchen, trying to clear his head. Anna was going to grab an Uber. She would be arriving in about an hour with wine and dessert. He wanted to feed her the most delicious meal he could muster, but right now he was just looking at the chicken breast on the plate in front of him like he'd never seen food before.

And he just knew Jake and Bradley never had to work this hard for a woman in their lives. Jake could rely mostly on his looks if he wanted to, and Bradley was the luckiest person he knew, reuniting with the love of his life after ten years and getting married approximately a day later. "No," he whispered, "that's not fair to them." He knew he was wrong. He knew both of them worked to get where they ended up, and he shouldn't be putting himself down so much. 

He glared at the chicken and picked up a knife. "This is fine. No problem." He had to fudge some of the measurements which made no sense, and he'd suggest to Nat that maybe her grandmother should take an eye exam, but the recipe really wasn't too terribly hard. Soon he had the browned chicken in the oven, and he set to work on the bruschetta topping and started boiling some water for the pasta. He was just adding another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar to the tomatoes and basil when he heard Anna's beautiful laughter.

Bob nearly knocked the bowl to the floor in his haste to get to her. After grabbing a dish towel for his hands, he rushed toward his front door and saw her on his porch. She was wearing a little sundress that he'd seen her in before with her worn out denim jacket over it, and he froze a few feet inside his screen door just so he could look at her. She was juggling a shopping bag and a bottle of wine, and that's when he realized she was talking to Suzanne.

"Oh, no, I'm not in the Navy," she was saying as she tossed her beautiful, red hair over her shoulder. "I'm a professor at San Diego State University. My name's Anna."

She stretched her hand out, and then Bob heard Suzanne's voice. "I'm Suzanne, and that's my cat, Sylvester. I must say, I had no idea Robert got himself a girlfriend. And such a pretty one!"

He desperately wanted to interrupt their conversation before he could hear what Anna's response was going to be, but he just couldn't. She was standing there in the last rays of the setting sun, blushing as she said, "Bob and I are actually just friends. Just good friends."

There was a beat of silence before Suzanne laughed. "Have you seen him? And he's even sweeter than he is handsome!"

Anna was laughing nervously, and Bob's heart was pounding, but he opened the screen door to bail her out anyway. "Hey," he greeted as naturally as he could, and then Anna's apprehensive gaze met his. God, all he wanted to do was drag her inside, push her up against his living room wall and kiss until she realized he wasn't going to hurt her.

"Bob," she whispered, taking a small step in his direction. Her eyes were wide and perceptive, like she could read his every thought on his face. She cleared her throat and said, "I brought wine and some cookies."

Helpless to do much of anything else, he smiled at her. "Dinner's almost ready." Then he leaned further out the door and said, "Hi, Suzanne."

His next door neighbor looked delighted as she glanced between him and Anna. "I was just talking to your charming friend here, Robert. Cooking dinner for someone certainly sounds romantic to me."

Bob was gripping the door frame as he watched Anna's face fill with panic. Then she blurted out, "Why doesn't Suzanne join us?"

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

The only thing Anna could think to do was sabotage the dinner she'd been looking forward to all week. She watched Bob's face fall slightly as he realized she invited his next door neighbor to join them for a very platonic dinner. And since Bob was the sweetest man Anna had ever met, he recovered immediately, turned to Suzanne and said, "You're more than welcome."

Ten minutes later, Bob was opening the bottle of cheap wine she'd brought while Anna watched the veins in his hands. He was graceful and lovely, and Suzanne was talking nonstop as he poured three glasses. She had nobody to blame but herself for inviting a third wheel along. The older woman was really more of a safety net. Someone to prevent Anna from kissing Bob. Someone to stop her from falling completely in love with him.

The whole house smelled amazing, and she knew this dinner was supposed to be just for her. She hadn't eaten a real meal like this, other than at the cookout, in months and months. The first bite of chicken, bruschetta and pasta was delicious enough that she moaned softly. Bob watched her take a second bite, and it was incredible. The third bite left her staring at him in wonder.

"You're the best cook in the world," Anna informed him, cutting across Suzanne talking about her cat. She didn't even care if she was being rude, the food was perfect. And it would have somehow been even better if the two of them were alone.

Bob blushed and took a sip of the wine that Anna wished was better than it was. "Thanks. Uh, it was a new recipe. I've never made it before tonight."

Suzanne took a bite and said, "Robert is an excellent cook and a real gentleman. He always makes sure I have groceries, and he picks up a little something for me if he gets dinner on his way home from work."

As Bob's cheeks grew redder, Anna's heart beat faster. "A real gentleman," she echoed, knowing he'd take care of anyone who needed something.

"Yes," Suzanne said. "You don't see many of them around. Never seen many myself."

Neither had Anna, and after she blew her life to bits, she'd probably never see one again. She listened to Bob and Suzanne talk about their favorite game shows, and she cleaned her plate before either of them had finished. All of the toast and sad sandwiches she'd been eating weren't really cutting it, and she knew that. She also didn't want to get another piece of chicken and seem like a mooch.

"Can I get you more?" Bob asked as he stood on the opposite side of the table in his worn jeans and snug white shirt. "There's plenty left."

Anna shook her head, but he reached for her plate anyway. While he was in the kitchen, Suzanne quickly finished eating and downed the rest of her wine. Softly, just for Anna to hear, she said, "He is a very nice man. I hope I see you around here in a less friendly capacity." Then she called out, "Robert? I need to go. I hear Sylvester outside bugging for food. Thanks for dinner, and enjoy your evening."

"Night, Suzanne," he replied, and the older woman bustled off without another word, leaving Anna alone with Bob when he returned with two plates refilled with food. "She's a character."

Anna laughed, but she could tell Bob was hesitant to say too much now. Probably because she'd dashed the mood in the first place. "I'm sorry I suggested she join us," she told him sincerely, shaking her head. "All week long, I'd been looking forward to talking about books with you." 

As she poked at her chicken, afraid of what he was going to say, he said, "Once you finish eating, I could show you my books. I don't have as many as you do, but maybe there's something you'd like to borrow in the mix. And then I'll drive you home."

"I can get an Uber," she insisted, taking another bite of the perfectly cooked dinner. 

"And I can just as easily drive you."

He was a gentleman. She wasn't going to leave here in an Uber no matter what she said. "Alright."

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

"You have books in every room!" Anna exclaimed as she walked around his house nibbling on a cookie. The wine she brought was kind of terrible, and so were the grocery store cookies, but Bob didn't mind. She ate two full plates of the dinner he cooked, and now that Suzanne was gone, she seemed more herself.

"I have a system," he insisted as she sat down on his living room floor to inspect a stack of paperbacks.

"I'm not buying it," she said, glancing at him over her shoulder.

"Try me. The living room is poetry. The extra bedroom is mysteries. The dining room is true crime."

"What's in your bedroom?" she asked, flipping through a collection by Robert Frost.

Bob wanted to tell her that his bedroom was where he wrote his own poetry. And that they had begun to turn into a collection all about her. "Romance," he said.

She laughed softly, such a pretty sound. "I'm assuming you don't have any Vonnegut? No soul massacring, unhappy endings?"

"None," he promised. "You won't find any of those around here."

She was skimming a page as she muttered, "Good. I've had enough of that anyway." Then she stood and carried the Frost poems to another small pile on his coffee table. She rooted around and pulled out a volume by Walt Whitman before asking, "Could I borrow these two?"

Bob was admiring how perfect she looked in his house when she met his eyes with her pretty brown ones. "Of course," he said, dropping down onto the couch as he finished his own cookie. "Anything you want."

She stood and carried the books over to her purse before sitting down a few feet away from him. "What I want is to help you organize your books for real. Have you ever heard of a bookshelf before?"

"Never," he replied innocently. "What's that?"

She laughed and scooted a little closer. "You know those big, wooden things that were holding all the books when we met at that store in North Park? Remember that day?"

He knew she was just joking around, but as he memorized the pattern of her freckles, he said, "I will never forget that day."

Once again, Anna initiated the kiss, and once again, Bob was helpless to pump the brakes. She leaned in close with her hand on his knee and brushed her lips against his. It was so sweet, he was almost able to ask her to stop. Even though it felt too good, he was nearly able to tell her he couldn't do this. But being tortured was worth it. That was the worst part.

He let her do what she wanted, and her soft hands found their way to his face, knocking his glasses askew on their way into his hair. He wanted to touch her, but he was afraid he'd lose himself in these kisses that meant so much more to him than they did to her. He counted to ten slowly in his mind, savoring every touch and taste, letting Anna settle against his thigh. Then he broke the kiss, leaving her hovering there, surprise on her face.

She pressed her lips together, and turned her face toward his front door. "I'll never forget that day either."

He nodded as her hands fell away from his hair and his face, and he whispered, "Grab the books you want to borrow, and I'll drive you home."

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

"He's a gentleman," Anna groaned in her bed on the floor of her tiny apartment the following morning. It was Saturday, and she didn't have much she needed to accomplish today which would leave her plenty of time to think about the drive home in Bob's truck and the way he walked her to her door. She didn't kiss him again, but he always seemed to be close enough that she could feel his body heat in the chilly night air. Even now, when she grabbed at some strands of her hair, she swore she could still smell his fresh scent there.

She needed to get out. She grabbed her phone and took the longest walk imaginable. Her legs were burning by the time she stopped in a corner store for something to eat for lunch, but the sandwich was almost as bad as the ones she had been making for herself. Nothing would be as good as what Bob cooked, and he served it up last night like it was no big deal at all.

As Anna started the long walk back to her apartment, she groaned while she blasted her music. She had invited his elderly neighbor to join them for dinner, and then she had kissed him again. She was so embarrassing. She'd never been like this when she was in New Jersey, never doing the most mortifying things over and over. 

She didn't go home for a long time. She walked through an enormous park and looked at a fountain while she daydreamed about all of her unfinished manuscripts. When that started to hurt too much, she watched the storm clouds that were rolling in from the coast and thought it might be nice to get soaking wet. Then a few fat raindrops started to hit her face as she realized that she wouldn't be able to replace her phone if it got destroyed. 

"Damn it," she muttered, starting to run through the park under the cover of the trees. The sky was quickly getting darker as she tried to stay under awnings and overhangs as much as possible until she reached her apartment building. Her clothing was soaked, but her phone was still in working order when she ran inside, dripping all over the welcome mat in the small entryway.

She desperately wanted to cry, but that wouldn't solve anything, so she took a long shower instead. She washed and braided her hair, and then she painted her nails. When she finally picked up her phone again, she had a new message from Bob.

Bob Floyd: Taking your advice and buying one of those bookshelves? Was that what they were called? Which one do you think is better?

He had attached two screenshots of nice looking shelves from Ikea that she'd never be able to afford at the moment. She smiled as she typed back to him while she heated up a can of soup for dinner.

Yes, they are called bookshelves. Are you sure you know how to use them? I like the navy blue one better.

The flavorless chicken noodle soup went well with Anna's mood as she sat on the floor and watched a show on her phone. Part of her wanted to know what her friends were up to, but she didn't want to have to tell them about last night. She knew Bob and Jess would be going out to play Dungeons & Dragons soon anyway, but she dropped her spoon in the bowl when Bob wrote back again.

Bob Floyd: I think I'll pick it up tomorrow and make it my rainy Sunday project. Feel like helping me build it?

"Oh, Anna. Don't."

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

Bob pulled up to Anna's building on Sunday afternoon after stopping to pick up the shelf. It had been pouring rain since last night, and he had to wrap his new furniture box in a tarp to protect it in the bed of his truck. But this would be a great way to spend the afternoon. He could make two cups of tea, and she could help him organize his books. They didn't need to kiss anymore. He would see to it that they didn't. He could handle this whole thing without issue.

He left his truck idling at the curb, and Anna came running outside like she'd been waiting for him. He grabbed his umbrella and met her halfway, shouting, "I was going to walk up and get you!" over the sound of the rain. She joined him under the umbrella, her denim jacket pretty wet as she shrugged.

"The rain's okay. It reminds me of New Jersey."

Once he opened the door and helped her scramble in, he ran around to the other side of the truck. He was barely able to find a dry spot on his shirt so he could wipe off his glasses, and when he yanked the hem up, he could feel Anna's eyes on his body. There was no sense in feeling self conscious about the way he looked now, because nothing else was going to happen. Last night had to be the end of that.

"You ready?" he asked, cranking the key in the ignition when she nodded. His wipers were going full speed as he drove her back to his house for the second visit in one weekend. "Thanks for helping with this. I kind of realized that having everything on one big shelf makes more sense. Especially if I keep borrowing books from you."

Her laugh was soft as she said, "If you don't borrow my books, then nobody will."

"Same goes for mine," he replied easily as he headed toward the beach. "But don't you dare dog ear my pages."

Now she laughed louder. "I read most of Whitman last night before I fell asleep, and there's nary a bent page in sight."

"That's what I like to hear." When he pulled up in front of his house, he handed her the umbrella and his keys. "Go ahead and let yourself in, and I'll unload the box."

She just gaped at him in response and asked, "Don't you need help carrying it?"

"Nah," he replied, popping his door open, "I can get it."

Bob struggled a little bit with the tarp before sliding the massive box closer to the edge of the truck tailgate. Every movement was made slower by the pounding rain in his face, but he managed to tip it into his arms. It was heavy, but not too bad, and his grip on the wet cardboard was good enough for him to get it inside the house. Anna was standing on the porch, holding open his screen door with the umbrella folded up at her feet, and he accidentally brushed against her with his arm as he maneuvered himself through the door.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, her voice a little breathy as she let the screen door close and helped him prop the box against the wall. "This is massive."

"I guess now I can buy more books," he said with his hands on his hips while he dripped all over the place. "I'm going to get changed quickly, and then we can build the shelf and organize it, and then I'll make dinner."

Her eyes lit up. "You'll make dinner again?"

"Yeah. I was going to see if I can attempt a grilled cheese without burning it. I'll be right back." And then he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he had clean undershirts, some sweatpants and all of his favorite books.

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

Anna was halfway through unboxing and organizing the shelf pieces on the floor when Bob walked back downstairs. She'd removed her denim jacket, and her leggings and tank top were mostly dry, and she'd settled on the floor with the instruction book. "It looks like we'll need a screwdriver or a drill...." 

Her sentence tapered off when she looked up at Bob just casually standing there in one of his white shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants and neatly combed, damp hair. The ability to speak escaped her.

"I can grab my toolbox," he told her, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants before disappearing toward the kitchen. She needed to lie down. She stretched out on the floor and stared at the ceiling as rain pelted the window next to her. 

"Oh my god," she whispered before biting down on her lip. She wanted him. She liked every damn thing about him, and then he had to look and smell and sound so good on top of it all. The Walt Whitman poems weren't the only thing she had read last night. Sky Writing's words from her favorite poems were also in her mind, and she couldn't shake them. Anna had just rolled into her side, staring at the instructions without actually seeing them, when he walked back in. 

"Are you okay?"

"Great," she said, voice raspy. She was in fact not great. She was the opposite of great. When Bob handed her the toolbox and said he was going to make two mugs of tea, she took the time to pull herself together. Sweaty palms glided along her leggings, and she read the instructions through. It seemed simple enough, and she had the hardware in order by the time Bob returned with two steaming mugs.

"Thanks," she whispered as he settled onto the floor next to her. She knew this was how good things would be if she could date Bob. Hot tea and homemade meals and someone around who loved books. "You're really sweet."

He didn't say anything as he sipped his tea, so Anna did the same. It was raining so hard, she couldn't tell if what she heard was thunder or not, but inside Bob's house, everything was warm and cozy. "Let's get started," he finally said, leaning in front of her to set his mug on the windowsill.

They spoke quietly, mostly about the shelf, while she handed him hardware and tools. Anna found herself distracted as she watched his hair dry and lighten in color as they worked together. Every bump of his muscular arm against hers felt intentional, but she couldn't tell for sure, and she was too afraid to ruin this friendship beyond repair. Especially after what her friends had told her at lunch on Friday.

"I need the screwdriver," he said, bumping her gently with his elbow as he held two perpendicular pieces of wood in place. 

"I can get it," she replied, finally refocused on the task before her. "I'll screw it in." She tried to reach in front of him, but he was too tall. When he moved his arms a little further apart, she popped up between them so she was standing between his body and the shelf. "I'll only take a second."

She could feel Bob's warm breath against her ear, and all he could think was that she would fit perfectly in his arms if he decided to just drop what he was holding and wrap them around her instead. "Take your time," he murmured, because of course his arms wouldn't get tired in this position. She fumbled the screw. His body was immaculate, and it was all she could think about as he exhaled and tickled her hair.

"I'm trying," she whispered, fumbling the screw again. Finally she had it in place, and Bob released the shelf, but he didn't move away from her.

"Think you can screw the last two in as well? Then we'll be done."

She nodded and decided to go slower, savor this tiny bit of intimacy and pretend he was hers. Then it was done.

"It looks good."

She barely had to turn to look at him over her shoulder. "It's a nice shelf. How do you want to arrange your books?"

He was still standing close as he said, "Poetry on the top? Since it's my favorite?"

"Yeah," she told him with a laugh. "Banish it to the top where nobody but you can reach it."

He cocked his head and leaned in closer. "Are you insulting the poetry or commenting on my height?"

"A bit of both," she replied right away. The living was darker now from the storm and from the time of day, but she could see his smile perfectly. 

"Come on, Anna. We both know you love the poetry. You borrowed two volumes the other day."

She only hummed in response before ducking away from him and reaching for a stack of his books. She handed them to him one at a time, commenting on them like she was giving each a bad review. "Oh, this one is too flowery. Too many words and no substance." She handed him another after he shelved the first one. "This author put all their best works at the beginning of the collection. The second half is terrible."

Bob chuckled as she picked up a book that she knew was a favorite of his. "Hey, you better watch what you say about that one."

She waved it in the air, unable to reach the top shelf, and he snatched it out of her hand. "I'm going to be brutally honest," she said softly, and Bob's hand rested on her back almost like a warning. "I loved it."

He smiled and let his fingers trail along her back as he nodded toward the stairs. "Want to help me tackle the mystery books in the extra bedroom?"

"Sure," she told him, leading the way to the steps. "But first, you have to tell me why you like poetry so much."

"What's not to like?" he replied as she started up. "All of the emotions are there. You're allowed to write about any combination of emotions that you're feeling at any given time. And I think that's pretty cool."

Anna's steps slowed a little as she considered his words. "Write?" she asked, turning to look back at him as he made his way up behind her. "Did you say write?"

"Uh. I did. Yeah."

Truly, she loved reading poetry, but she didn't have much of a knack for writing it. She didn't even think she was good enough for PoetsAmongUs. "What's something you've written?"

Bob laughed, and Anna stumbled on the top step as he said, "Just some amateur gibberish like, 'Devotion woven into every breath I take. Love that knows no boundaries, no end.' Nothing amazing."

She gripped the banister to keep herself upright, and then she spun and sat down hard on the top step. Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She knew those words intimately. She knew the whole fucking poem by heart. She knew everything else he had written as well, because she'd been reading his poetry for years.

"Bob," she croaked, and he rushed toward her, hands gentle on her ankle and leg.

"Are you okay? Did you twist it?"

"Bob," she gasped, reaching for the front of his undershirt and pulling him closer so he was focused on her face. "You're Sky Writing."

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

BOB IS SKY WRITING, ANNA. What the hell are you going to do now, babe? Please, make good choices. Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[oikasugayama]

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 2

MDNI, this is NSFW content for adults!!

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fukuzawa

ok this one you did NOT expect. you've seen dazai get a hard-on at work, you've heard junichiro and naomi (NOT siblings though they grossly pretend to be) talking about their sex plans after work, but YOUR BOSS? THE PRESIDENT??

he's in his office palming his boner through his clothes when you open the door. you come in like always, using your shoulder to hold the door open as you turn and come in backwards so that the tray of tea you're holding doesn't get knocked over by thumping against the door.

you're almost across the room to his desk by the time you realize that there's a VERY DISTINCT tent in his yukata that he can't decide if he should push down with his hand or not--either way it's obvious that he's hard.

his face is flushed, he's shocked, embarrassed, and extremely apologetic.

you're frozen for a moment, but when he says your name and "i'm so sorry" you decide to pretend like you don't see anything. you put the tray down on his desk, pour him a cup of tea, and tell him to page for you if he needs anything.

you close the door behind you and have to take a moment to gather yourself. he's your boss so there's absolutely no way you were about to come onto him, but god he's so kind and handsome and his deep voice is just so fucking hot. you feel like a creep being there while he was trying to have a private moment, but he was at work, he should have known better than to touch himself when you were scheduled to bring his afternoon tea-- wait, did he do it on purpose? should you go back in? no. no he wouldn't have done that. it must have been an accident.

you tell yourself it must have been an accident and go back to work like nothing happened, though it's all you can think about all day.

Kunikida

he desperately needs to relieve stress after an incredibly tiresome and busy week. he just got back to his dorm, looking forward to two days off work. he wastes no time settling onto his couch, cracking open his laptop, and playing a random porn video (it helps him get the job done more efficiently because watching makes him cum faster)

he uses earbuds so he doesn't disturb his neighbors, unfortunately this means that while he's in the midst of it he doesn't hear you unlocking his door (he gave you the key for emergencies because you're responsible--you occasionally drop groceries off to him if you're making a trip out and he needs something, much like is happening right now)

you open the door and there he is, vest and shirt unbuttoned, pants and boxers pulled down just enough to get his cock out. one hand works over his length steadily while the other cups his balls. you gasp and drop the bag of groceries, turning and slamming the door closed behind you.

his eyes were closed, though, so he didn't notice until the slam of the door echoed past the sound of the video he watches. when he sees the bag on the ground he immediately knows what must have happened and he's so fucking embarrassed that he feels sick. he hopes you don't think he did it on purpose; he couldn't have known you would come over right now.

he tries to go to your dorm a few hours later, but you don't answer when he knocks, and you don't respond to his texts all weekend.

on monday in the ADA office he waits until you're the only two in the room, then he quietly approaches you and says he owes you an apology.

"for what?" you ask, playing dumb.

"i suspect that when you came by my dorm to drop something off you may have seen me doing something inappropriate. i sincerely apologize that you had to see that. i had no idea you would be coming over."

you take a few seconds to think of what to say, but eventually settle on "it's not inappropriate to touch yourself, kunikida. you're an adult, you can do what you want in your own home"

he blushes deeply, feeling warm all the way to his toes.

"that may be so, but regardless, i apologize that you had to see it. i hope we can forget about this soon."

"oh, I'll never forget," you say wistfully, turning away in your spinny chair. "it's burned into my eyes. every time i close them, there you are......."

Dazai

he's on the roof of the ADA building, lying in the middle instead of near the edge. he's staring up at the sky, pondering how small he is in such a vast universe.

and then he gets a random surprise boner and thinks, well i might as welllll.......

you were downstairs working when kunikida asked you to find dazai and make him go back to work. dazai tended to listen to you, after all.

you checked all of his usual spots--the couch, under his desk, under atsushi's desk, in the supply closet, in the cafe downstairs, and finally you went to the roof, hoping he wasn't sitting a hair's width from the edge again like he was the last time you found him up there.

when you open the door, you first notice that he's spread out on the ground with his head turned away from you and think maybe he's passed out--then you notice his hips buck up into his hand and his back arch up a little.

the wind carries the sound of his voice over to you, and you swear he just said your name.

"dazai?" you say meekly, and his head whips to the side, eyes wide in surprise as he sees you. he sits up quickly, turning away from you, using his coat to cover his crotch.

"um... kunikida... he wanted me to find you."

"...okay... please don't tell him what I was doing."

"I really, genuinely won't."

"...okay... do you, um... are you, um... did you hear what i, uh.. what i said when you... got here..."

"yeahhh..."

"shit..."

"hm... i didn't know you were into me, honestly," you say, shrugging.

"oh, yeah," dazai says, feeling very vulnerable since you caught him with his literal pants down. "ranpo told, like, everyone. i'm surprised you didn't, um... you didn't know?"

"no, i didn't know... i think you're cute, for what it's worth."

"oh?"

"yeah. you know, maybe we could talk about this another time? i don't feel like this is the most appropriate setting for this conversation."

"agreed... wait, so you're not, like, gonna run to HR or something, or-- i have a chance?"

"yeah, you have a chance. you're a fucking disaster, though..." you turn back to the door, but throw one more sentence over your shoulder. "oh, and dazai, you know we don't have an HR department."

[paperclip-skz]

The Good Idea.

fem*Reader x Han Jisung

*WARNING*

contains oral (f receiving), over-clothes stimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, Jisung finishes quickly, cream pie, and lingerie; I'm sure I missed something. This one was slightly rushed, but let me know what I missed in the comments!

WC: 3.9k

********

“So we had an idea.”

Felix strides into your office along with Changbin, Chan, and Minho, all with a grin stretching across their faces. This is going to be good. 

“Every time you guys come into my office and open with that,… its usually a bad idea.”

“Oh, it certainly is.” Minho keeps his hands slumped in his pockets, keeping his calm composure. 

They all take a seat facing you and your desk. You're seated comfortably, your computer shining with your most recent emails. Chan keeps his head down, but his smile remains. They’ve been planning something. 

“Hey, buuug,” Felix chimes, his cute nickname for you rolling off his tongue like fresh wine. 

He knows you can’t resist when he uses that nickname. It has resulted in many broken rules and policies and maybe a few nights where you’ve let some of the members sneak out of their dorms. 

“Just get to the point, Lix,” Chan tips. 

“Yeah, I want to see her reaction to this.” Minho sits cross-armed and stares holes into you. 

“Okay, so here is the idea. You know how Jisung's birthday is coming up.” You nod your head, following along. “We were thinking about hiring someone…as a treat to him.” 

“What like an entertainer? Like a singer.” 

“Not exactly, more so entertainer.” Chan finishes your thought. 

“Yea, like adult…entertainer.” 

Your eyes pop out of your skull. “Lee Felix Yongbok, are you suggesting you want to hire a stripper for Jisungs birthday?” you say in the calmest tone you can muster, which isn’t really calm at the moment.

“Kind of.” Felix’s face scrunches up in a defense to hide himself from your deadly stare.

You pinch the bride of your nose, anticipating the major headache this could cause. “Guys, I know you want to do something special, but you are still celebrities, and I am still your publicity manager, and you cannot imagine the headache it will cause if something like that got released to the public.”

You’ve been handling Stray Kids’s publicity projects for over a year. Something like this wasn’t a surprise, and you couldn’t blame them; even though they were singers and all-round gentlemen…they were still men. 

You’ve handled drunken nights, exes, hook-ups, and some crazy girls who believed they were “the one,” all before a single word got out to the public. Needless to say, you were pretty good at your job. That still didn’t mean you wanted to deal with something that could potentially get out, and if this got out….it could be bad. 

“Well, we have a way around that.” Changbin raised his eyes at you, quickly snaking his eyes from your chest down to your black pumps. 

This time, it was Chan’s turn to continue with this shameless idea. “They want to hire you.” 

If your eyes weren’t out of your skull before, they certainly are now, and your jaw is slacked as far as your desk. A shaky and breathless laugh leaves you. “You must be joking.” 

****************************

What the hell is happening? How did they convince you to do this? 

You were at your desk one day, and the boys were telling you about their stupid idea. Yet somehow, they convinced you with a single promise: They promised you a night with Jisung.

They knew you had a sweet spot for Jisung; you couldn’t describe it even if you tried. He had a way of making you smile or laugh at anything he did, and you loved the way he worked. How he could get so focused on his work, it was like the whole world fell away. 

So somehow, someway, they convinced you to do this. Now you were in the dorms…in Jisungs room…wearing nothing but your favorite lingerie set and a small laced mask. 

“I want a mask.” The boys questioned you; you could tell by the looks on their faces. “To at least hide a part of me. If I do this, I need to at least try to hide my identity somehow.” They agreed, nonetheless, as long as they got to choose the mask. You thought it was the most brilliant idea you could ever think of…however, you didn’t think about the mask they would choose. 

The mask did hide your face, but it was laced, which matched the sensual theme, but it did hardly little to hide your identity. If Jisung had really paid attention, he could have probably mapped out your features, but you wouldn’t give him the chance. If you were going to do this, you were going to do what you always did, do a damn good job. 

“So let me get this straight.” You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and whatever is boiling inside you. “You don’t want me to strip…just dance?”

“Yeah, kind of. We want you to tease him.”

“We want you to do anything you are comfortable with.” Chan and Felix bounce off each other, shooting ideas and ensuring they aren't scaring you away. Why aren’t you scared away? They just asked you to strip tease one of your clients. Why does this ‘idea’ make you excited? 

“So I can choose how far I let this thing go?” you nod your head, and they nod along with you. If he never sees my face…he’ll never know it's me. 

“But I don’t even know what to do.”

“Just let your body carry you doll. Your mind will tell you what to do.” Binnie smiles at you. 

You could hear the distant chatter behind the door. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and you keep swiping your palms across your thighs. You keep pacing the floor, back and forth, back and forth. You keep fiddling with the chair you so carefully placed in the center of the room, and your eyes keep darting from the chair to the nicely made bed. At least he keeps his bed nice. 

A slight knock makes you jump. “Can I come in?” You can’t tell who the voice belongs to, but it's soft and gentle. 

“Yes,” you respond, trying to sound sexy. 

Chan slowly peeks his head through and steps inside. “Jesus, Chan, you scared the crap out of me. Do you have any idea how nervous I am right now?” 

Chan’s face falls, and his demeanor changes from gentle to dominant in seconds as his eyes wander across your frame. His eyes are darker than the night sky outside the window, and his build suddenly stiffens. You’ve never been intimidated by Chan; you’ve only ever shown respect and admiration, but the way he stands tall and his chest heaves with every breath, you can’t deny that it makes your thighs clench. 

You are fairly covered. The hipster-style underwear you choose to wear hugs your hips but hides the most sensitive parts of your body. The matching stockings clip to the edge of the garments, and the whole outfit is complimented by the push-up bra-style top that does little to hide your breasts. You’ve left your hair down, and the mask brightens your eyes. 

“You look….breathtaking.” 

You can feel the warmth of the blush on your cheeks. You feel so exposed and bare that it makes you want to hide and be brave simultaneously. Chan notices your conflicted thoughts, and without warning, he walks up close to you. Now, his lips are only a few inches from yours. “You know, after this whole thing with Jisung, maybe you could pay me a visit on my birthday?” 

You both chuckle. “God, you are so beautiful,” he said, leaning his forehead against yours. You can feel his warmth, his scent, everything. You're consumed by it. It almost makes you forget why you're here. “And you smell so goddamn good…but today is Jisung’s day” Gently, he kisses your forehead, “Are you ready?” 

You step back, bashing your lashes up at him, and softly nod. Chan leaves the room to yourself, and you begin to get situated. You try to find a comfortable position in the room that makes you look cool and sexy, but it results in you panicking and pacing back and forth over the room, finding a new position every 10 seconds. 

The voices behind the door become louder, and then you hear a slight tap at the door. Quickly, you rush to sit on the bed, crossing your legs and leaning your arms on the bed. Your body is stretched out perfectly for display.

Jisung stumbles through the door, being pushed by his bandmates. You can hear them snicker and laugh until the door closes, leaving only you and Jisung in the room. You can see Jisung’s dazzling smile once he enters the room, but the second he makes eye contact with you, his smile falters, and his eyes grow darker. 

You try not to let your confidence waver as his eyes memorize your every feature. With the mask covering your face, your hair down, and the dim light in the room, there is no way Jisung can tell it's you. For all he knows, his friends have hired a random stranger to do a lap dance for his birthday. All you have to do is keep your confidence up, and he won’t notice a thing. Just keep this mask on, and you can do this. 

The second you lift your body to stand, you hear him curse under his breath. His body is completely frozen in place; he doesn’t make any move to step toward you or the chair in the room. “Hi Jisung,” you say. You’ve practiced how you would talk to him. You wanted your voice to sound husky, dark, and breathy…and you were doing just that.

His brows scrunch; he’s trying to place your voice somewhere. Your heart starts racing with adrenaline, shit he knows, “Hello, beautiful.” 

His face didn’t tell you much, so with that, you continue as if he doesn’t know a thing. You carry yourself to walk around the chair in the middle of the room, letting your hand seductively drag along the rim of the chair. Jisung picks up on your silent request and finally wills his feet to move. 

He sits quietly in the chair, his eyes never leaving your body as it walks around the room. 

“So what? I’m just supposed to dance?” 

“Yeah, just be sexy, you know.” 

Felix’s voice echoes through your mind. Just swing your body, should be easy enough…

Han

His knuckles turn white. His mind goes fuzzy. And his eyes can’t leave your hips. You’ve turned around, giving him a show of your ass swaying right in front of him. He wants to touch you, to squeeze that beautiful ass that you're teasing him with. He wants to pull you down onto his lap and grind himself on you. But most of all, he wants to hear your voice again. He swears he knows it, but he can’t place it anywhere. 

Maybe if you weren’t wearing that damn mask, I could pin you somewhere…or perhaps I could just pin you. 

You start to lower your body. Your hands prop yourself just above his lap. Inches, just inches away from his growing hard-on. 

You’ve done nothing but sway your body in a teasing matter; you haven’t made one move to touch him. “Did the boys tell you to tease me, or are you scared to touch me pretty?” 

You stand up slowly, only to turn around and prop yourself in front of him. Your ass is hanging in the air, and your face is right in front of him. He studies your eyes. Wait…He knows those eyes. He can’t ever forget those crystal eyes. How could he? Those eyes haunt his dreams and his nightmares. 

“They told me to tease you until you begged.” Your lashes fan at him, and Jisung swallows…hard. The way you're positioned right now gives Jisung a perfect view of how your tits practically spill out of your bra; he wills himself not to gawk at your exposed chest. 

“You want me to beg?” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Well, all you had to do was say so pretty.” Jisung shifts in the chair, suddenly acting like he’s getting comfortable. “Pretty please, miss… will you touch me?”

He sees your demeanor change, your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes widen with every word that leaves his lips. You didn’t think I’d actually beg.

Your hand glides up his chest carefully. It's like ice on burning skin, and you're not even touching his skin yet. The material of his shirt scrunches up into your hand, revealing a bit of his abs. Your eyes dart down, and your lower lip disappears between your teeth. “Want to see more pretty?” Your eyes snap back to him, his signature snarky smile taunting you. 

You lean back to stand up, and Jisung’s heart races again. Did he offend you in some way? Did he take his teasing too far? Did he talk too much?

Your body moves out of Jisung’s sight, walking behind him and the chair. Your hands are back on him, feeling out his shoulders and daring to venture to his biceps. His head rolls back as your touch sends him into a frenzy. 

A low hum leaves his throat. “Just focus on me baby.” His whole body shivers from the nickname, sending shockwaves down his spine. 

His eyes flutter closed, focusing on your hands moving around his body. All his other senses are on overdrive while your fingertips graze the outskirts of his shirt, daring to touch the little skin thats exposed. His body is filled with pent-up anticipation; he could burst and beg at any moment. Until your left hand expertly sneaks down the neckline of his shirt, touching his chest. 

Your touch is soft and gentle, but he can only imagine how sweet you smell. “Does that feel good, Ji”

The second that name falls from your lips, he knows who you are immediately. It might seem like a simple nickname, something one of his bandmates might use, but only one person on this earth says his name like that. Only one person who makes that nickname sound like a song, only one person who could send a warmth through his body with that nickname. “Y/N?” 

His eyes open when he no longer feels your hands on him. He’s afraid that you ran, disappeared, and all of this was just a dream. 

He stands up in a panic in front of the chair, staring at you. He sees your blown-out eyes and your shaky hands. He should’ve known. Now that he’s paying attention, he can see you clearly, even with the mask. How could he not have seen your perfect curves, shiny eyes, and even your lips—he’s studied those lips countless times. 

Your lips part, and your chest heaves, but Jisung interrupts you before any words escape. "Please, don't stop," he implores, locking eyes with you. His desperation is evident, and he's oblivious to how he sounds.

His look makes your stomach turn, and you match his eyes. “But- I-”

“Please,” Jisung whispers. 

Nothing but prayers cloud his mind, desperate for this moment to last. He knows he won’t do anything if you aren’t comfortable, but he is not above begging for what he wants. 

“Okay,” it doesn’t hold the confidence that you had, but it is confirmation—confirmation that Jisung needs. 

Seconds later, he’s back to sitting in the chair, his heart racing out of his chest. When he doesn’t feel your hand back to its original position, he comes up with an idea, “Would it help if my eyes were closed, like before?”

“Strangely, yes.” 

You

You should have known he would catch on quickly, but you didn't think he'd be that quick. When he said your name, you imagined the worst. You thought he would be disgusted, or worse, he would take advantage of the moment. But when he pleaded with you, pouting his lips, all you could think about was how those lips would feel on yours.

Once you could see Jisung’s eyes were closed, you placed your shaky hands back on his shoulders. The contact made him flinch, but as your hands ventured further down his torso, he melted into your touch. 

You could hear his chest hum as your fingertips felt every ridge and detail of his chest. You try to slip the confidence you once had back on, but it's different now. You're not some stranger to him anymore; he knows it's you, yet he didn’t tell you to stop. He begged for you to keep going. 

Something about that realization sets a fire in you. Your hands confidently slide down his torso. You can feel his abs flex under your palm when you press flatly on his stomach.

“You want me to touch you,” you whisper, ghosting his ear. The only response you get is a small whimper from him. Your flat palm snakes down to the already evident bulge thats tented his pants.

“Fuuuuuk,” Jisung breathes out. You can feel his length twitch in your hand, practically begging for attention. 

With more confidence inside you, your other hand sneaks its way to hold Jisung by the neck. You don't squeeze enough to block his breath but enough to have him whimpering in your grasp.

Before you knew it, your hands were sliding up and down Jisung’s clothed member, and Jisung was whimpering and wining with pleas. “Y/N, please” 

“Please, what Ji?” you breathe down his neck. 

“Please kiss me.” You didn’t notice that Jisung’s eyes were wide open now, his neck craned to look at you, staring down at your lips. 

Your shocked expression makes you suck in a breath, parting your lips only for Jisung to smash his lips in return. Jisung’s hand comes to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. 

He tastes like fresh water. A freshness you didn’t know you needed. You resisted falling for his large boba eyes, charming smile, and silly personality, but now you let those buried feelings pour into the kiss.

You can feel his free hand sneak its way to your waist, gently pulling on your skin. You break the kiss, blinking your lashes down at him. You can see his mind catching up to him, the gears ticking, and the worry that he took things too far. “Is- is this okay?” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

You don’t think to answer. Silently, you walk around the chair, coming face to face with him. You sit down on his lap, leaning into him, quickly, Jisung places his hands on your waist, tightening his fists on the delicate fabric that separates your bare core from him. 

“Is this a good enough answer for you?” 

******

If it weren't for your bleeding attraction for the man in front of you, your lips would be chapped and bruised from how much Jisung kept kissing and teasing them. 

Finally, you convinced Jisung to take your little make-out session to the bed, but not before he took his sweet time undoing the lingerie set you had on. Now you're naked on the bed, presented perfectly for a shirtless Jisung that stands before you, looking at you like your his last meal. 

He leans down to trail kisses from your lower stomach to the valley of your breasts, all the way where both of your lips meet. “Please, Ji.” You break the kiss enough to plead his name. 

“Please, what, Y/N?” You both let out a small chuckle. 

You bite your lip at your next words; you’ve gone this far, so why not farther? “Please fuck me”. 

His dazzling smile shines brighter than you’ve ever seen, “thought you’d never ask.” 

Before you know it, Jisung is pulling down his black sweats and boxers. His member springs free in the palm of his hand. You see the prominent veins and his red tip already dripping with a shine of precum. Impressive, you think to yourself, more than impressive, you're actually kind of nervous. With how nerdy and cocky he is, you didn’t think he be that big.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes shoot up to meet his expression. He must have read your thoughts like a projection board. You gulp, nod your head, and bring his shoulder closer to you. 

“Words sweets” 

“Yes, Ji. I’m sure. Please,” you beg. 

With one last kiss, Jisung is aligning his length with your core and slowly pushing in. Your walls stretch to take in the sheer girth of him. The both of you groan with pleasure, your folds slick with your wetness. 

Jisung doesn’t give you more than a second to relish in the feeling until he’s setting a steady pace. You can feel every fat inch expanding your gummy walls around every vein. You let every moan slip, your grip on his shoulders is unbearing, and you let your face fall in pure pleasure.

Jisung cannot get enough of you. The way you let yourself relish in this feeling, the way you let him see you like this, he knows it's too much. You're too much.  

“Y/N, I’m not gonna last long,” he doesn't have to tell you; you can already feel his hips quicken and his cock twitch inside you. 

You knew you could feel yourself getting closer, but you also knew you needed more. Nonetheless, even though you desired this as much as him, it's still his birthday. "It's okay, Ji, let go."

That was all he needed. Jisung whimpers your name as his climax rushes through him. Every nerve stands still on his body and his mind melts.

You try to chase your own high, but it runs faster than you can chase it. He continues with his uneven pace, pushing his white cum into you. 

A combination of apologies and praises leaves him like a breathy chant. “Ji, I told you it's okay. There's always next time,” you smirk. 

“No, no this isn't right.” like a flash Jisung is pushing you further onto the bed and pushing your thighs apart. He lines himself right in front of your dripping sex, he watches the remanence of his release slip out of you. 

You watch him with a shaky breath, until he meets your eyes, “Close your eyes, sweets, just let yourself go” and then you feel his warm muscles lick your folds. You close your eyes like you were told.

His tongue moves faster as he sucks on the small bundle of nerves, eager to pull more sounds from you. The pink muscle flicks and swirls around your clit, inching it further and further out from between your folds. His perfectly pouty lips wrap around the swollen bundle of nerves and sucks and pulls with a rhythm that sends your breath to hitch and freeze in your throat. 

Your walls are swollen, your clit is throbbing, and Jisung knows each and every button to push to get you so close. What sends you over the edge completely is the slender finger that Jisung pushes into you, angling it up to abuse your g-spot. You come crashing onto Jisungs hand with a loud moan. His lips shine as a victim of your release. 

“Now it's right.” 

Words dissolve on your tongue, but Jisung doesn’t expect you to speak. He climbs up the bed, swinging his arm around your middle and burring his head into the crook of your shoulder. Moments later, you're both asleep in each other's arms. 

I guess this was a good idea.