#Commissioned Earnings Explained

[raulmolinaposts]

How Affiliate Marketing Works?

Introduction In today's expansive e-commerce landscape, affiliate marketing has become a potent mechanism for brands to amplify their reach. As digital footprints burgeon, this marketing stratagem plays an instrumental role in weaving a web of online consumer connections, leveraging partnerships to enhance sales.

Historical Context: The Evolution of Affiliate Marketing 

The inception of affiliate marketing can be traced back to the early days of the digital renaissance. As businesses began recognizing the Internet's vast potential, pioneering endeavors were made to monetize web traffic. Over the decades, this nascent concept has evolved, undergoing various metamorphoses to become the refined and strategic marketing tool it is today.

The Affiliate Marketing Ecosystem

 Central to understanding affiliate marketing is grasping the triad of its main constituents: merchants, affiliates, and consumers.

Merchants are businesses or individuals offering products or services. Affiliates, often colloquially termed as publishers, are entities that promote these offerings on their platforms. Lastly, consumers are the end-users whose purchasing decisions are influenced by these promotions. This triad operates in a symbiotic relationship, with each entity benefiting from the actions of the others.

Mechanics of Affiliate Marketing 

Fundamental to affiliate marketing is the affiliate link. This unique URL, embedded within content, serves a dual purpose: directing potential consumers to the merchant's product or service and tracking the origins of this traffic.

Cookies digital markers play a paramount role in this tracking mechanism. A cookie is placed on their device when a consumer clicks on an affiliate link. This facilitates recognizing sales instigated by a particular affiliate, ensuring due compensation.

Types of Affiliate Marketing Channels 

Affiliate marketing is no monolith. Its channels are as diverse as the digital realm itself.

Bloggers and content creators, with their niche audiences, offer targeted promotion opportunities. Influencers, wielding vast follower bases, can drive substantial traffic to merchants, capitalizing on their credibility. Another facet includes paid search-focused microsites, which utilize targeted keywords to drive traffic to affiliate products.

Compensation Structures in Affiliate Marketing Monetary

compensations in affiliate marketing are as varied as its channels.

Pay-per-sale is straightforward—affiliates earn a commission when their referral culminates in a sale. In the pay-per-click model, affiliates garner revenue based on the traffic they drive to the merchant's site, regardless of sales. Conversely, pay-per-lead compensates based on specific actions, like sign-ups or form submissions, instigated by referrals.

Challenges and Ethical Considerations 

While affiliate marketing brims with potential, it's full of challenges.

Striking a balance between authentic promotion and overt salesmanship is crucial. Overzealous promotions risk alienating consumers. Furthermore, the increasing prevalence of ad-blockers and cookie blockers can impede tracking, complicating revenue attribution. Central to all these challenges is the need to uphold transparency and trustworthiness, ensuring consumer trust isn't eroded in the quest for revenue.

Affiliate marketing, with its intricate web of relationships and mechanisms, stands as a testament to the innovative spirit of the digital age. When wielded judiciously, it offers businesses a formidable tool to extend their reach, driving growth in an ever-evolving digital marketplace.

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[reasonsforhope]

"In a 4-3 decision released on Friday afternoon December 22, the Wisconsin Supreme Court held that Wisconsin’s voting maps as currently drawn violate the state constitution and must be redrawn in time for the 2024 election.

Under the Wisconsin Constitution, state legislative districts must consist of “contiguous territory.” [Meaning: continuous] Yet, the majority opinion states, “the number of state legislative districts containing territory completely disconnected from the rest of the district is striking.”

“At least fifty of ninety-nine assembly districts and at least twenty of thirty-three senate districts include separate, detached territory,” states the majority opinion, written by Justice Jill Karofsky.

Contiguous districts are a safeguard against gerrymandering and help keep together groups of voters who live in the same areas and have the same interests, explains the decision, which includes maps highlighting the islands of noncontiguous voting areas in the state’s current districts.

The voters who brought the lawsuit, Clarke v. Wisconsin Elections Commission, argued that the current districts violate the constitution and asked the court to  order the adoption of remedial maps. They also asked the court to declare the November 2022 state senate elections unlawful, and to order special elections for state senate seats that would otherwise not be on the ballot until November 2026.

The court’s ruling agrees with the petitioners that “Wisconsin’s state legislative districts must be composed of physically adjoining territory,” and enjoins the Wisconsin Elections Commission from using the current legislative maps in future elections. But it declined to invalidate the results of the 2022 state senate elections.

Acknowledging that it is the legislature’s role to draw voting maps, the majority opinion urges the legislature to draw new maps that comport with the constitution. However, it also states, since the legislature might not draw such maps or the governor might veto them, the court will plan to adopt remedial maps that can be used in time for the 2024 elections and unless and until new, constitutional maps are enacted through the legislative process...

Wisconsin’s voting maps are widely considered among the most politically gerrymandered in the country. This was reflected in 2018 when Democrats swept every statewide election and earned 53 percent of assembly votes cast statewide but only 36 percent of Assembly seats went to Democrats. Voters in Wisconsin are evenly split along partisan lines, and statewide races are often decided by slim margins. Currently, however, Republicans hold a 22-11 supermajority in the state senate and a 64-35 near-supermajority in the state assembly."

-via The Progressive Magazine

Note: Article is a bit wordy but this is a Big Deal. We're going to get fair election maps in an important swing state. The maps thrown out by this decision were deliberately designed to give Republicans a massive advantage in the election.

This WILL make a huge difference in who's elected in 2024.

[sleepingoreo]

Hey, it’s me again. I want request Sunday with Foxian reader this time, please.

Sunday met reader when he was still a child, and he promised that when he grow up, he will marry Foxian reader.

Reader being old lady, just chuckle and accept it. Thinking that he’s joking, which he doesn’t.

P/s: Foxian reader is 200 years old when she met child Sunday.

Sunday name is --- cause we don't his name. I'll update it if we find out

I wanna make Masterlist but I'm lazy

Sunday x Foxian Reader

𓆪♡𓆩 - Sunday 𓆪(´◡`)𓆩

After two centuries in life you have secured an office desk position in the Sky-Faring Commission. It was assumed to be an impressive standard as being 200 years old and earning a position in the commission wasn’t exactly easy. By most Xianzhou standards, you were still quite young for a position in a commission such as the Sky-Farring.

Yukong had announced that day that a class of elementary students from Penacony would be visiting the Luofu on a field trip to observe and explore the different types of planetary governments. With the recent surge of traffic and reckless driving, the workload has become too much of a pain, causing you to ditch the responsibility to tour guide these kids around.

“Miss?” a soft voice interrupted your train of thought, followed by a soft gentle touch on your tail. Turning around you spot a kid who's clearly not a Xianzhou local, hugging your soft tail and stroking it as if it were a pet. “I can’t find my sister.”

His eyes reflected with worry while explaining that he was separated from the group when he promised to retrieve his sister’s stuffed bunny. You knelt down to his level and looked at him in the eyes expressing a deep sense of worry.

“They’re with Madam Yukong… Do you know her by any chance?” You carefully brush your tail away from his hands seemingly disappointed as you do so.

“I heard of her only. Miss Foxian can you please help me find her?” The child pleading eyes tugged at your heartstrings. Those wings by his ears fluttered. How adorable! You only heard of Halovians but never in your two centuries of life have you seen one!

“Of course. What’s your name?” You questioned the child with a tenderful smile who could be no older than eight.

His eyes sparkled with the sweetest yet sheepish smile. He was not entirely comfortable around adults. “My name is —-,” he answered, his gaze lingering on top of your head with those soft fox ears and then towards your tail. Sunday could just imagine snuggling his small body against that cozy tail of yours! “Miss Foxian I’ve never seen your kind before if you don’t mind…” his voice trails off, his cheeks flustered, too embarrassed to finish his words.

You understood exactly what he meant! He wanted to pet you. You reassured him, “I’ve never seen a Halovian before. You are truly angelic and adorable!” You pinched his cheeks softly with a gleaming smile. You can if I get to touch those wings.”

His hands immediately lung forward towards your ears. His small soft hand wandered around your head and tail petting you down like a dog. “Foxian are truly gorgeous,” he remarked.

You couldn’t help but heave out a soft chuckle ruffling his head. Slowly, reaching your hands to his wings. You pitched them between your fingers. His gaze remains on you admiring your beauty. He knew right there you were his dream girl. Even if it might be a silly little childish crush you were too kind and gorgeous.

In the end you found out his elementary was on the whole other side of the Luofu. You couldn’t leave your station you had to remain here and work! You attempted to slove this by handing Sunday to the cloudknights so they can bring him back to the group. Yet whenever you bring Sunday towards them his small arms clung around your shoulders refusing to let you hand him over to them.

He would cry on your shoulders when you did. Maybe he was just shy as he claimed but truth to be told Sunday wanted to spend more time with you!

When he had to leave he was sobbing. It broke your warm big heart! His sister held Sunday’s hands trying to comfort him. It was a rare sight to see him cry according to his sister and classmate.

“Miss next time we meet! I promise we’ll get married!” Sunday delacred with a mix of sincerity and childish innocence. He wiped his tears before reluctantly getting escorted away by his teacher.

You chuckled at his pouting and whining being carried away by his teacher.

To you those words were nothing more than a childish promise. A broken promise that you will never remember. Would you even remember him? You know you could not defy the ethics of this universe. Long life species should never love a short life.

Many years later you've looked at your office desk. You managed to climb the rankings just slightly. A letter sitting innocently on your desk waiting to be opened.

An invitation from The Family? Surprised The Family will personally invite you. You thought they would invite someone like Fu Xuan or Jing Yuan but you? Was there a catch?

Nevertheless you gladly accept it because many with spend their savings to visit. You're visiting for free and you get a VIP room. Extra special VIP! And it was personally written by Representative Sunday. The man managing the festival! How nice. Do you even remember him? He felt like a distant memory.

You immediately step foot into Penacony from your private transportation provided from The Family. How generous The Family always treats their guests so well!

“Oh the important guest Mr. Sunday mentioned! It's an honor to meet an important guest of Mr. Sunday,” the receptionist charmed in with a gleeful smile.

You stood there confused. Did the Luofu Sky-Faring Commission have an important affairs you never knew of or an important meeting? You thought to yourself. You've only heard of Sunday and seen him in the news, yet you felt like you knew him before. Even if you did it be when he was a child.

“Someone will escort you right up ahead,” the receptionist spoke to you in such great manner.

Members from the Bloodhound escorted you with great caution. So much it intimidated you slightly. Suddenly they paused in their steps at a door. This was the hotel room? So different from the others.

You stepped inside once they told you to.

“Greetings Miss Foxian it's been a while,” a calm voice came in front of you. A man sitting on a chair leg crossed staring at the many TV screens flashing in front of him and you.

He stood up and turned facing towards you waiting for you to inch closer.

“Mr. Sunday? Is there something important we need to discuss?”

“No happy smile? Oh no this just can't do. You don't remember me don't you?” He stood towering over you. “Don't tell me you erased our special memories together. That promise.”

A frown replaced the calm smile. It was a custom for the Xianzhou to erase painful or parts of their memories to prevent Mara.

“Why those memories?” He whispered in your ears tenderly stroking your fluffy ears on your head. That touch felt familiar. He smiled again. Something about the smile was unsettling. “No worries The Family is experts when it comes to regaining lost memories.”

Memories came flashing in you. This was all confusing yet familiar. Too much you passed out. Sunday swiftly got hold of your body putting you in the dreamscape.

You opened your eyes. Your body felt weird almost like you were in a dream.

“How are you my little Fox?” He kissed your cheeks. He held you on his lap. His lips formed a smirk.

“See I kept my promise til the end,” his hands traced up your thighs keeping a firm grip on your waist.

He lifted you off his lap, setting you to sit on his fancy chair. He got on one knee eyeing you as he presented a ring in a white and golden box with a beautiful shiny diamond ring in the middle! The diamond ring has angel wings on it like his to show ownership towards you.

“Will you marry me my dear Fox?”

It was more of a demand than a question. Sunday wasn't the young boy you knew before. He always kept his words even if they were a childish dream. But he lived in a dream, the dreamscape so anything is possible.

He puts the cold ring on your ring finger, leaned in and kissed you lips. Sweet and short.

[charliemwrites]

Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

 It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(In)Delicate Touch

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @zehei Dabi has been working as a professional sub at La Vénus for a year and a half and he really does enjoy working there. The rooms are great, the way they book clients is clear and comprehensive, and he likes his boss a fair bit too. But one night a client goes too far and Dabi finds himself in a bad drop and nursing wounds he didn't want. He expects to get fired over causing so much trouble, but Tomura is there to lend a hand in any way that Dabi needs.

Content: BDSM club, sex work, bondage, impact play, safe word use, subdrop, aftercare, hurt/comfort, hand job, anal fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, praise kink.

Word Count: 10878

La Vénus is the only place Dabi bothers to take contracts through anymore. The BDSM club is the best in Kamino and it is the only one that really keeps up with the professionals who want to use it as a place to do business. They even have a portal on their website so that professional doms and subs can put their profiles, their limits, their availability, and a secure line for contacting. La Vénus has rules, of course. They're considered independent contractors and they can be removed from the club whenever the owner dismisses them, but they take a very small cut of the money they earn, and the security they provide is well-worth the price. Dabi doesn't have to be scared of giving his apartment address to anyone or going to a secondary location with a client, and V ensures that they are always abiding by the rules by having a row of rooms for their working doms and subs that have open windows, so that anyone can see inside and be certain that their business is being conducted appropriately. 

If he also happens to think that the owner is hot as fuck with his hair pushed back, his deadly fucking quirk barely contained by his gloves, and his perfectly tailored black suit with a blood red coat, and getting to check in with him before every shift is fucking perfect, then that's his business. 

"Just one session tonight, Dabi?" Shigaraki asks, checking his phone for the contract he and his dom for the night submitted for use of one of those rooms. 

"It's supposed to be a long bondage one." He explains. 

"Hmm, are you sure that all of the information you entered is correct? I thought you only used silk and no nylon for your staples." Dabi is genuinely surprised Shigaraki has paid that much attention to him, or at least to his preferences. He's got upwards of three hundred people in this club every night of the week and he's never seen the other man take a day off in the year and a half he's been subbing here. Not only that but he's got twenty doms and subs on rotation, he didn't think that anyone would bother to remember more than the names of the people he's been working with. 

"It was his first time booking, he might have mis-clicked. Can I still make adjustments to the room setup?" There's only another twenty minutes till the club opens its door and Dabi is supposed to be alone for at least an hour before his client arrives. He was planning on putting on a nice little peepshow for people, but he'd rather make certain that the room and everything is all set up for his session with a client. 

"Of course. I can have silk brought to your room." He agrees. "Do you want red to... match?" Dabi's already put up his coat and bag in the private changing area that the performers have access to, so he's just in his dark red lacy panties and the silver body chains with small red crystal dangles hanging off of them. He used to go for a blue look, but to distinguish workers from anyone else just looking to partake at the club, all of the performers from doms and subs to strippers and workshop teachers have to wear a deep red leather collar with La Venus embellished on it in silver foil. He didn't want the accessory to look out of place, and pivoted to wearing red instead of blue at the club. 

"If it's not too much trouble." Dabi always likes to think about his optics. Other people he's talked shop with around the club say they're usually focusing on a scene when they're in it, and that's great that works for them, but Dabi wants to be certain that he's staying constantly vigilant, and that he's setting himself up for future clients too. If their sessions are all going to be observable, then he is going to be a hell of a sight to see, and he's gonna make sure that he's got his aesthetic dialed in. 

"It's no trouble at all, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him easily.. "Does everything else seem alright?" Dabi reviews the contract again, and that looks like the only thing that was entered wrong, and he nods. "Alright, you're going to be in L2 today," he reaches back on the wall, unlocking the glass door and retrieving the key for the right room. His favorite room actually. He likes being on the left side because the bounce light is a little more diffused from that side, giving people a clearer view through the window, and he likes being in rooms two or three in that hall because those are the ones that people tend to linger in front of more, not wanting to clog up the entryway as they try to get to the seating areas that also line the hall. 

"Thanks, Shigaraki." He takes the key, but the owner doesn't let go of the tag for a second. 

"You know you can call me 'Tomura'." 

"Maybe when I'm off the clock, boss." He retorts easily. No matter how hot the other man is, Dabi doesn't want to get distracted. This is his job, he can't go around fucking that up by getting familiar or, god forbid, flirting with the guy who's establishment pays his bills. 

Shigaraki, for his part, looks wryly amused and lets him head out after that, the next person slipping in to confirm their night's plans as well. Dabi heads to his room to finish getting ready and wait for his silk. Maybe he will have a chance to put on that peep show after all. 

///

Dabi spends the first hour that V is open teasing his nipples and palming himself through his panties on the bed getting himself achingly hard and so close to the edge, but easing off of his peak to keep himself 'unspoiled' for his client who asked for him to be pent up and a little frustrated. Definitely a streak of sadist in him, but Dabi isn't a stranger to that, and he's looking forward to getting thoroughly worked over. 

Jin, one of the security team he recognizes at a glance, brings the new client to the door and Dabi is fully not expecting the blonde man to be so much taller than he is even after knowing he would be from his ID when he booked the session. Dabi steels his nerves. "Goto, it's good to meet you, I'm looking forward to our session." He starts with a pleasant smile. "If we can just re-touch on rules and boundaries, then I'd be happy to submit to you. Would you like to sit?" 

"Yeah, sure." The blond only has one eye, his prosthetic in the missing one looking like it's been forced into place with the metallic spikes around it that is kind of intimidating. He sits and Dabi starts to go through his usual spiel, he restates his hard limits, that they'll be using the traffic light system, the hand gestures that he will use if at any point during the session he goes non-verbal for any reason, and then he turns back to ask if there's anything he needs to go over as well. Goto is flat and unmoved when he says, "No." Sounding more bored than anything and Dabi's skin prickles with the first stirrings of discomfort. "Why are there silks instead of ropes?" 

He frowns slightly, "During the consultation, I said that I couldn't use rope over my staples. Since you said you wanted a heavy rigging session, I had it switched for silk since that's something my skin can tolerate." 

The other man considers the silk for a second before scoffing softly. "Fine. But you can take impact, can't you? If we're using silk, I want to use a paddle instead of my hands." 

Dabi doesn't normally love to use a paddle, it's wider and less accurate, meaning partners can overlap his staples on accident and leave him with fresh wounds. "I think that a riding crop would leave prettier marks, don't you, Sir?" He offers instead carefully. 

Goto looks him up and down and Dabi tries to look smaller and softer for him. Clearly he's more of a sadist than he'd originally thought, but the pay for this session is half of his rent this month. He can put up with this if it gets him what he needs. "Fine." Dabi expects him to ask about his levels, to get the toy off of the offered wall of them and test his tolerance. It's good practice for a session like this, but Dabi figures, 

"Remember, club rules state no impact with any implements across the face, and only light impact across the stomach and places prone to injury. My staples are fragile, so please avoid those where you can, but anywhere else is alright." 

"Yeah, got it, can we get started now?" The blond nearly snaps. Dabi bristles, but says nothing. It's his first time at V as far as he said during the booking. Maybe he's uncomfortable knowing the far wall is a window, even if it looks like a mirror from their side. 

He makes concessions on his politeness and breathes out a slow breath, trying to shake his tension and allow himself to slip into the headspace that he needs to. "Of course we can, if that would please my master." He simpers sweetly, trying for doe-eyed and helpless. 

The man starts to loosen some of his tension and tosses the jacket he was wearing over his black mesh tank top onto the chair in the corner of the room for more intimate cucking or voyeuristic sessions. "That's better, whore. I better not hear another mouthy word out of you, or I'm going to have to get rough." 

Not his favorite type of scene, but Dabi is a professional sub, he submits.

///

Goto is rough with him, and he likes his knots tight. They're loose enough, he thinks, for maybe one of Dabi's fingers, but his feel bigger as they move over his skin and knot them into place. He works methodically, not paying much attention to Dabi himself as he works. He occasionally pulls at the silk with an unhappy set around his mouth, but he clearly knows what he's doing, and Dabi finds himself over the course of an hour, knotted into a few different positions, as the other man gets a good look at his body and how flexible he is like this, before he ends up in a ball tie, tipped on his side. When the ropes are secure, thankfully, the other man doesn't actually also reach for a ball gag. He just puts his bigger hand over his ass, and palms him through his panties. He's not really doing much but groping him, and it doesn't really feel good, but Dabi moans anyway. 

The yelp he lets out the next second is real though as the riding crop comes down across the back of his tied thighs so hard that Dabi would put the pain at a seven already. The sound splits the air and he nearly chokes on his breath. 

"Not another nasty sound out of you, whore. You're not here to feel good, you're here for me to use." 

Dabi holds up three fingers to show that he understands, and then bites his lower lip hard as another crack comes down, this time just beneath his ass. And the next overlaps the first. Then across his exposed hip, along the outside of his thigh. It hurts, going up to a nine and holding there as the man hits him again and again with the crop. he goes over his scars, over his healthy skin, and the blood rushing up to the freshly forming welts as they swell, puts an uncomfortable pressure along his seams, especially around his thighs. He swears that between the ropes holding his legs together and pressed to his chest, and the ache of the impact, he's going to pop out his staples along those seams. 

"Y-yellow," he manages as he's panting between blows. 

"Thought I fucking said to keep your mouth shut?" The riding crop gets tossed to the bed, and in that second, Dabi thinks that he is setting it aside to check in. 

But the next robs him of that delusion entirely. Goto's hand fists in Dabi's hair, and he grabs hard to force his face into the sheets. Dabi barely manages to tuck his chin tighter to his chest so that he isn't smothered into the pillows and unable to speak as the man cuts off the other way he would be able to signal that he needs to stop. "Red!" He cries out, wanting to be let up immediately. 

"God, you whores here have had it too good. Thinking you can tell me what to do? When to stop? You need to learn your fucking place." He snarls, using one hand to hold him down while his other goes to-- Dabi hears the metal and leather sliding through each other as his belt is pulled. Fuck, fuck, fuck, 

"Red! Stop--" He hears the other man spit into his hand and his whole body goes hot with his terror. No, no, no, even if he hasn't moved his panties out of the way yet, if he gets that, or anything else in his seams when they hurt so badly, when they're so close to open, then he could get sick. He can't get sick again, he can't. Dabi tries to fumble for his quirk desperately, wanting to burn the silk from around his body, wanting to scare this fucker before he does anything worse to him--

"Don't you know that I own you?" 

It's like every string in him has been cut. Dabi's whole body goes so instantaneously numb that he can't make his quirk work. I own you. It's not Goto's voice that echoes in his mind. Not pain hits his body as he is shunted so sharply to hiding in his room with Natsuo as their father snarls at their mother. It's a stupid fear, it's an old helplessness that he shouldn't let distract himself now, not when he can't stop that memory, but he has to stop this disgusting man from ruining him even more as he hears his hand moving roughly over his cock. 

"Don't!" His voice doesn't even sound like his own, he can barely recognize it. It hasn't been filled with such sharp, anguished terror since he was burning--

"Get away from him!" There's movement, shouting, a scream behind him, but Dabi is only shakily trying to push his quirk away now, so scared he may light the bed on fire accidentally. He can't hurt his seams again, can't use his quirk right now, he'll burn it all to the ground and he's already destroyed whatever place he had here. Dabi sobs against the bed, his fear too big and sharp to make sense of whatever is happening beyond his body. 

There are voices, he thinks, furious and short, and the kind of whispers that come in the wake of something awful. He's the awful thing. He lost control of a session. He's the one who's broken, bleeding now, if not from his seams, than from his eyes as he sobs on the bed. 

"Dabi," the voice comes, addressing him and the bed dips just the slightest bit. He doesn't know who's speaking to him, just that it's not that man. This voice is low and trying to soothe him, he thinks, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the fear choking his chest and his quirk that is rioting beneath his skin. "Dabi, you're starting to smoke." The voice is so gentle. "No one is going to hurt you anymore." He waits but Dabi doesn't believe him. People are always hurting him. He's always hurting himself. Why would this be any different? He sobs harder and there is a longer pause, probably as the new voice decides where he deserves to be hurt when he's already been broken so thoroughly. "Can I touch you, Dabi?" 

He barely croaks, "R-red--" Through his sobs. He needs it to stop. He has to make it stop. 

"The scene is over, Dabi," the voice promises him. "I just want to untie you. Don't you think it would help if you could sit up, Dabi?" 

Would it? Could he make himself small on his own terms then? He sniffles, but it doesn't stop the tears. He barely manages to nod. 

"Okay, I'm not going to touch you. You just need to hold still, alright?" Dabi does his best to do as he's told, but tensing his muscles lightly makes them start to shake hard. He feels a little tug at one of the silks and then he's got the whisper of... something barely heavier than air against his skin, and the restrictive silk is gone. It happens twice more and then Dabi is able to slump against the bed, his limbs under his own control again, and Dabi does his best to push himself up, mind still swimming through a rolling sickness. Sick. He could get sick again. He could get hit again. He needs to focus. 

It feels impossible to do as he forces his mostly numb arms beneath his chest as he tries to turn around. His vision swims through his tears and he doesn't find the hulking man with blond hair anywhere in the room. The far curtain has been drawn over the viewing window, and Shigaraki is sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands resting in his lap. No, no, no. Further panic makes his ribs constrict sharply around his lungs. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" he sobs immediately. He's ruined everything, he's made so much trouble for the club. Oh-- oh god, he's really never going to be able to work here again. He's going to have to go back to what he did before--going to have to take on more clients like Goto, going to have to risk his health, his safety-- 

"Dabi, you don't need to apologize. I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" 

He should be able to, shouldn't he? That's supposed to be the simplest thing a person can do, but he can't quite manage it past the tiny hiccupping sips of air that he's making himself in past the hitching sobs that are shaking his body. 

"...Okay, can you look at me, sweetheart?" Shigaraki's voice goes even softer, and Dabi forces himself to peek up at him from the tight hunch he's made of himself up against the headboard. "That's perfect, now I just need you to follow my breaths. You don't have to be perfect," he soothes, "I just want you to try. Can you try for me, Dabi?" 

Shigaraki takes a slow breath in, holds it for a few seconds, and then he lets it out in a long steady stream. Dabi doesn't think he'll ever breathe like that again, not when his chest is so tight, but he isn't being yelled at yet, isn't being hit, and he doesn't want that to change. He tries so hard for the first few breaths, but he can't stop crying for long enough to manage it on those. 

But Shigaraki smiles at him anyway, "That's it, you're already doing such a good job for me, sweetheart. Can you keep going?" He resumes the patterned breathing, and the soft encouragement makes Dabi try harder. He's already made such a mess, he has to be at least capable of doing this right. 

He forces himself to breathe. Each one stutters and stalls until his tears aren't so constant, until they're just a scattered few droplets on his cheeks and his lungs are able to fill a little more. In some vague, dizzy shadow of his mind, he thinks he was hoping that breathing again would make the awful, cold pit in his gut disperse a little. That maybe the breaths would loosen that knot of dread, but he doesn't feel that happen. His dread stays settled against his nerves as those wake up after shorting out to try to protect him from what was happening to his body. Suddenly, he's not just scared, exhausted, and sick to his stomach, he's in pain too, and he starts to shake, a thin whimper leaving him as he looks down at himself. He has to uncurl his knees from his chest to see the side of his thigh that was exposed to the crop. 

The welt he finds across his scar is so puffy that he can see it clearly, and it's shiny. The color is too dark for him to tell if it's blood, sweat, or if it's because it's just so swollen around the fresh wound, but it hurts and he needs... something. He can't get sick again, but he is having such a hard time reordering his thoughts, figuring out what he needs to do next when everything hurts and his mind is so foggy. 

"Are you in pain, Dabi?" Shigaraki keeps talking to him softly, and Dabi barely manages to nod. "I want to get you something to drink and some medicine, but there isn't anything here." He explains carefully. "Do you think that we can move to somewhere else where I can get you those things?" 

He doesn't want to hurt anymore. He doesn't want to get sick. Dabi barely manages to nod his head, the action feeling like it takes every ounce of his strength.

"Good, do you think you can stand by yourself, sweetheart?" 

Dabi doesn't know. He feels weak and his legs hurt more than anything else. He is shaking already when he just manages to uncurl his arms from around them. It's the first flicker of sense that goes through his head when he kicks off his pumps before even attempting to put his feet against the floor. Shigaraki stands as well. 

"Can I come closer, Dabi? You can hold onto my arm if you need help." He smiles at him as he makes the offer and Dabi doesn't have the energy to speak. He manages to hold three fingers against the rumpled sheets and moves to the edge. The shock of the cold floor against his bare feet is such a small thing to make him uncomfortable, but everything inside of him is already so messy that he can't tolerate it, pulling his legs back up. "...Is it too much?" 

He manages another tiny nod. 

"Okay, can I pick you up? I promise I'll be very gentle, and when I put you down, you'll be able to have some water and something for the pain." 

He doesn't want to think. He doesn't even want to exist right now. He leaves his fingers open against the sheets. Shigaraki can do whatever he wants to him now. He's already broken. What's another fracture in his skin? 

"I'm going to pick you up. I need you to keep your hands where I can see them so I know if it's hurting." Why bother? He won't stop if it does. 

It doesn't hurt when Shigaraki picks him up. He's careful as he lifts him off of the bed, supporting his back with one arm and the other hooking under his knees instead of his thighs to keep as much pressure away from the welts as possible. Dabi is lifted and he gives up. He tucks his face against Shigaraki's white shirt and closes his eyes as exhaustion sweeps so completely through him. 

///

He's not certain how long passes between being carried from that room to finding himself blinking as he notices that there's something sugary on his tongue. It's soda, he realizes after a second, lemon-lime soda. The sweetness of that helps him to take stock of other parts of his body. He is aching and sore. His broken body hates him again and it's his fault. It's always his fault. He should have known better, should have been more careful. But he wasn't and now he's hurting and he deserves it. 

Dabi pulls away from the straw that's being offered to him and tries to take in his surroundings. They're in one of the private rooms, the actual private rooms of the club, and instead of having the lights low and a thrum of music going through the sparse bedroom, the lights are on all the way and it's as quiet as it can be with the activities of the club still filtering in from past the door. Shigaraki is sitting on the chair that has been dragged to the edge of the bed that Dabi's sitting on. The backs of his legs hurt, and he shifts a little on the edge as the other watches him, taking the cup away and putting it on the side table when he finishes with that. 

"...I'm sorry." His voice sounds like it's been completely scraped raw as he tries to make his head clear. He needs to go. He made so much trouble. He has to leave. If he leaves by himself, at least, then he won't have to be kicked out. He would rather save some small thread of his dignity than have to give that up too. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Shigaraki's voice is that same low, careful tone that he doesn't deserve. "Are you still hurting? I had Yumina bring some of the bruise salve. Do you want to put some of that on?"

The welts definitely hurt and he would really like for them not to anymore, but he just shakes his head and starts to stand. "Can I get my stuff before I go?" His voice shakes as he asks. It wouldn't be the first time he's just been kicked out without any of his things. But he doesn't know how he's going to even make his rent without V. He can't have to start over with his whole life without his phone too. 

"... If you think you're ready for that, then I need to know if you want me to call the police." Shigaraki asks. 

Dabi blanches, fear swelling through his chest and making it go tight. "What?" Did he break his contract with the club? He thought he would be fired, not arrested. 

"Do you want to press charges against him? I know it's difficult in situations like this, but if you want to have him arrested, we can do that. If you want..." Shigaraki's expression blackens, "Other repercussions made, then we can decide on that as well." 

Him? His head feels like it's still full of fluff. "...Aren't you mad at me?" His voice is tiny when he manages the question. 

That replaces the darkness on his features with something softer and more surprised in an instant. "Of course not, Dabi. You did everything you needed to, there's no reason for me to be upset with you." He watches Dabi as he says those words and Dabi has no idea what his face does, but he is even more deliberate and careful as he keeps speaking. "I'm sorry that happened, I'm sorry that I didn't get there faster. But you're not in trouble, and we're going to make sure that Imasuji never does something like this again." 

His seams beneath his eyes hurt and he feels something hot and wet drip against his thighs. 

Shigaraki sees him start to cry and shifts slightly before catching himself. "Can I touch you?" 

Dabi hesitates, half expecting to be hit again, but he finally gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki gathers him up, and pulls him close, tucking Dabi's head beneath his chin and getting him to sit at an angle in his lap so that the worst of the welts don't have any pressure against them. And then his hands start to pet so gently over his skin. He holds him and he speaks, 

"I'm so glad you called out for help. I'm so sorry that happened and I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that nothing like this happens again. I promise that you're going to be safe if you want to keep working here." 

"...I can stay?" 

Shigaraki looks at him like he wishes he could pull all of the pain out of Dabi's skin. He curls a hand gently around the back of his neck and he rests their foreheads together. "Of course you can, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you anywhere else." 

The tears fall a little faster and Dabi tangles his fingers into Shigaraki's shirt, clinging to him as he begins to sob fresh. 

///

It's not until he notices the pain getting more intense in his legs that he tries to take stock of himself again. Shigaraki reaches over to the side table and takes one of the tissues to help dab away the blood from under his sore seams and crusted under his staples. He hisses slightly from how broken and achy they feel and is hit with another jolt of fear over how bad they must be. 

"Are you in more pain?" Shigaraki glances at his watch, "You can have another dose of pain medicine if you want it." 

Dabi doesn't remember even taking the first, but that must mean it's been hours since the last one and he feels sharply guilty for forcing the other to stay for so long dealing with him. "I'm okay," he can be. He will be, he thinks. Maybe. If he's not actually broken from everything that happened before. "I need to go home--" He tries to shift and can't help the sharp sound of pain he makes as he puts a little more weight on the welts and his aching seams. 

"Dabi, I won't make you have anything you don't want, but I need to know you're going to be alright if you decide to leave." 

He swallows, not wanting to look at him, but not trusting his muscles much after how much just that little shifting hurt. "...I need my medicine." He admits quietly. 

And Shigaraki doesn't blink. "Okay, is it in your bag? Do you want me to have someone bring it for you?" 

"...Okay." 

Shigaraki shifts his hold on Dabi's body slightly and he sees him pull out his phone and shoot off a text to Jin to have someone bring Dabi his things. He gets an affirmative, and after just a couple of minutes, Shigaraki is picking him up again so that he can put him on the edge of the bed while he goes over to the door to retrieve the bag. He brings it over and Dabi pulls out the alcohol wipes and his salve before being faced with the location of the hurts and how he's going to manage to check them. 

"Why don't you lay on your stomach? I can help you." He offers gently. "You can watch in the mirror and let me know if there's anything you need." 

He considers protesting, but he doesn't have a better option if he wants to see how these look and how fucked he's going to be trying to get back into his tight leather pants before he walks home. If he can even manage that. "Okay," he agrees quietly, making himself lay on his stomach, the chains and crystal beads pressing against his skin. He takes a shaky breath and turns his head so that he can look at himself in the mirror that's suspended above the bed. 

The welts are dark and crusted with tacky deep red scabs at some of the highest points and the places where they overlap with each other. That's not good, but Dabi is more scared of his seams as his attention goes lower. His staples are doing their best to keep his skin together, the sections there so swollen with irritation from either side of his skin being abused that they've nearly expanded past their limits, but they are, technically, shut. He gives a soft sigh of relief. Shigaraki makes sure he's watching and then starts to clean him up with gentle, deliberate movements, always giving Dabi enough time to ask him to stop before he touches the next place on his body. And each touch is light and careful. His skin is cool through his gloves as he opens the alcohol wipes and dabs away the bits of blood before going to the salve Dabi spends most of his money making sure he never runs out of. 

He immediately lets out a shaky sigh of relief at the first cold touch of the creme against his skin. The medicine is a thin antibiotic lotion that has a slight numbing effect that takes away a lot of the lingering discomfort. Knowing that he is getting what he needs, that his seams aren't actually open, that helps to take away the threads of fear in him, and he lets himself watch Shigaraki in the mirror as he rubs the medicine into his skin. 

He moves in soft circles, making sure to get along the welts and along each line of his seams and puncture of his staples. His hands are delicate, not looking to hurt him any more than he already has been tonight, and Dabi... starts to drift as the fear, pain, and worry ebb. He's being taken care of. He gets that so rarely. Normally he barely lets himself have a minute or two of aftercare once as session is over, and even then, he's usually using that time to try and get his client to book another session while they're still coming down from the high of their domination or while they're still aching for a release they'll need to find on their own elsewhere in the club. But this feels good. He can't remember the last time someone else helped him put the medicine on his skin. 

More of the pain fades as he finally allows himself to relax a little more against the sheets and he sighs. Shigaraki's hand stills for a second, but when Dabi timidly leaves three fingers open against the sheets, he feels three open in return against his thigh before he keeps tending to the wounds and swollen areas of skin. It puts a soft kind of warmth in his body that makes him want more of that. He's being careful, he's listening to him and taking care of him. Dabi wonders distantly if it says something sad and pathetic just that is enough to make his body temperature creep up a little higher the touches continue. 

He doesn't mean to let out the little moan that slips his lips when Tomura's fingers move along his seam towards his inner thighs, but it feels so nice to have a soft touch there. Dabi opens his legs a little more and shifting against the sheets lets him feel that his cock has started to harden too. Tomura stops when he hears that soft sound of pleasure and Dabi is reluctant to look over his shoulder to see his face, instead watching him stiffen over him in the mirror. A sharper fear goes through him. He wasn't supposed to make any noises, was he? Is he going to be hit again?

"Does that feel better, baby boy?" Tomura's voice is a little thicker, lower, and his fingers trail from the inside of his thighs along to the outer edge so that he's not touching any hurts anymore. And he puts two fingers against Dabi's skin, waiting. 

Is this a scene? Could it be? Dabi wants to take away the unpleasantness still echoing around in him from what came before. But... he doesn't know if he'll be allowed that, even when it's Shigaraki's collar looped around his neck. "...Yes, Sir. More?" He chances, keeping his hand as is. 

"Of course baby, just have to tell me if there's anything you don't like." He strokes along his thighs again, and Dabi watches in the mirror as he goes from just trailing two fingers over his skin, to both of his palms open, the soft leather touching his seams and healthy skin. This touch goes between his legs, up a little higher, light and good. A nice touch after the angry ones, and Dabi lets out a tiny sigh. "Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" 

He tucks his face into the sheets, giving up on the mirror, and manages a nod against them. Dabi doesn't normally get to be soft after something so rough, but the contrast feels so good. Like it's putting fluff around all the hurts that were written into his soul and skin. He shifts and Tomura's hands immediately retreat, but Dabi only wanted to push up a little, getting his knees a little more under him so that he would be able to lift his hips slightly as he starts to get harder, and to spread his legs a little more. 

"Good boy," Tomura murmurs, his hands going back to his skin and tracing circles up his thighs, deeper between them. He goes higher, but not where Dabi wants them. He wants something that feels good now. Tomura's already made things so much better. He can take away the last sharp bits of unhappiness in him, he knows he can. "You just have to show me what you need, baby boy, I'll give you anything." And he sounds a little breathless as he speaks. 

It makes the neediness in him go a little hotter and he makes himself let go of the sheets so that he can reach back and find Tomura's arm. He hooks his fingers in the edge of his gloves and feels his face go hot as he pulls at him. He lets his arm be moved and Dabi brings it further between his legs, until his fingers are grazing the edge of his panties. Tomura takes over from there and Dabi is holding onto the sheets again as he moves his fingers lightly over his covered balls and up to his hardening cock. 

"You want to feel good, sweetheart?" His voice going hotter. 

Dabi manages a little nod, still certain he won't be allowed that after before. 

Tomura's fingers stroke up his cock, cupping him through the lace as he hums softly. "I can do that, baby boy, but I need you to move for me." His hand retreats and Dabi wants it back, so he lets Tomura get him onto his back, and Dabi is confronted with the sight of himself in the ceiling mirror. His face is flushed and still a little blotchy from crying. He looks dazed as the chains glitter in the light of the room, his legs spread wide, knees bent to keep the worst of the welts from touching the bed. And his cock is hard and stretching his panties. Tomura moves between his spread legs, leaning over him carefully and blocking his view in the mirror. And there's not a trace of cruelty in his look. His eyes are warm and he's smiling at Dabi softly. "Can I take off your panties, sweetheart? I want to make your pretty cock feel good." 

Dabi bites his lip and nods. 

"Can I hear your color? It will make me feel better if I know you're using them." He asks, reaching to cup his cheek and stroke his thumb just under one of his aching seams. 

"Green, Sir." 

"Good. But you don't have to call me that, baby boy. I can be whatever you need from me right now. What do you want, sweetheart?" 

He wants to be safe. He wants to feel good. He wants the softness and sweetness that he never gets, let alone after something bad has happened. And he wants to be small in the wake of that. "Daddy," he whispers, his face going so hot with his shame, terrified that he can't have this either. 

Tomura's smile makes his eyes warm too as he leans over him, his hand shifting so that he can push his hair from his forehead. The kiss he presses there feels like a balm as much as his medicine did against his hurts. "You're doing such a good job for me, baby boy. Lift your hips a little more." 

He does and Tomura makes sure the thin fabric doesn't rub against any of the welts as he pulls his panties down his legs. Dabi kicks out of them when they're low enough and then he chances reaching for Tomura, getting one hand in his hair that is as thick and soft as he's always wondered. He lets himself be pulled up, but when Dabi wants a hard, messy kiss to reassure him that this is something he can have, he's instead given one that is so soft and achingly tender that it makes him breathless. His whole body gets a little warmer as Tomura kisses him, his hands moving lightly over his skin, stroking up his thighs before he shifts over him.

 Dabi almost whines, but he feels him reaching and hears the rustle of plastic as he finds the bowl on the side table that holds the variety of lubes that are in every room for the club-goers' use. Tomura picks one at random and brings his other hand up to tear it open, and when he wraps his hand around Dabi's length, his glove glides across his skin and makes Dabi's toes curl with pleasure. The touch there, after the pain from before, after denying himself even earlier, makes him gasp, wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck to keep him close as he touches him. 

He moans, his hips moving, trying to get more of that good sensation after a night of bad. "Daddy," he pleads. 

"I've got you, baby boy." He murmurs, pressing a kiss softly to the seam aching under one of his eyes. His fingers move over him, making sure to rub along his ladder and around his head, bringing Dabi's pleasure higher. He whimpers when he tightens his thighs around Daddy's hips and it makes his hurts ache a little. But he doesn't have to hurt for long. Tomura immediately shifts so that he has one hand under his hip, lifting Dabi's weight a bit and moving it higher on his back, making sure that none of the welts are rubbing against the sheets and that he doesn't have to try to get him closer, not when he's holding onto him, his legs supporting his lower half. And letting him feel Daddy's cock is getting hard too where it's pressed against him. 

Tomura doesn't pay his own arousal any attention, his hand moving deliberately over Dabi's cock, searching and finding every place that makes his pleasure sharper. His body is already so exhausted from the night, that it's not hard for him to get lost in the feelings, for his head to start to float into that soft good space that makes him love being a sub. And when he moans and tries to move into the pleasure, he doesn't get yelled at, he doesn't get hurt, instead Daddy gives him more kisses. 

"There, you're doing such a good job, baby boy. I'm so happy that you're letting me help you feel good, sweetheart. You're so pretty when you're blushing like this." And the words put more of that needy, squirmy heat in him through the heavy fog rolling in. He twists his wrist as he strokes him and Dabi moans loudly, hips jumping up into the touch. Daddy sees how much he likes that and he keeps doing it on each stroke, making him shiver and tremble, moans spilling off his lips and his fingers tugging at Daddy's suit jacket as his cock leaks. 

It only takes a few more of those tight, perfect strokes before Dabi's back is arching again, smoke curling out of his throat, as he cums, spilling all over Daddy's hand and his own stomach. He gasps, trembling against the sheets as that bliss soaks through his veins and leaves him absolutely boneless. 

"Perfect, baby boy. You did such a good job for me. I'm so proud of you, precious." He starts to shift, reaching for another wipe to clean him up and even floating, Dabi knows he doesn't want to get cleaned up yet. He doesn't want to stop. He wants Daddy to make him feel so good that he doesn't even remember the welts against his thighs. 

"Daddy," Tomura pauses and Dabi struggles to find more words, "More? Please?" He tries to be careful, making sure to only put pressure on the inside of his thighs as he tightens them around Tomura's hips. And then he rolls his hips down, breathless when he feels how big and hard Daddy's cock is. 

"Are you sure, sweetheart? All I want is to take care of you. We don't need to do anything else." He reassures him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Dabi knots his fingers in his jacket a little tighter and pulls at it, nodding. "Green. Please, Daddy?" 

"Of course, precious. But if you change your mind, if you don't like something, all you have to do is tell me, and then we'll be all done, okay?" 

"Mmhm," he mumbles, pulling at his shirt again. 

Tomura gives him another kiss, and then only partially disappoints Dabi because he does have to move away if he wants to strip himself of his clothes, the fabric getting tossed item by item onto the chair until he's only wearing his gloves. Only what he needs to make certain that Dabi is safe before he moves back between his legs and kisses his lips again. Dabi loses himself in that, his hands now getting to move over all of the pretty pale muscles that have been hiding under his clothes. 

Daddy's hands move over his skin too, touching his chest, pushing his chains out of the way so that he can play with the rings through his nipples, and over his sides, down his stomach, up his thighs. He goes slowly, his mouth going across Dabi's jaw and along his neck and collar bones, looking for places that make Dabi's skin go warm again. When his hands go lower he opens his legs wider, when his fingers, slick again from more lube touch him tentatively, he gasps, "Green," again before they start to move against him. 

He has to keep one arm around the back of his neck, still scared of being tossed aside while he's getting so close to the perfect floaty place he rarely ever gets to find, but the other knots back against the sheets, needing something else to hold onto. Whimpers and moans spill past his lips as Daddy circles his hole until those nerves are prickling with need. When his first finger presses in he feels gone, as the pleasure aches through him as his cock starts to harden again. 

Tomura opens him up with the same deliberate, gentle movements as he did to soothe his hurts and by the time he has three inside of him, moving against his prostate, he is near tears again from how good he feels this time. "Tomura!" He can't help the sounds spilling from him, his cock pressing against his stomach and drooling fresh pre from how needy every touch is making him. "Tomura, Daddy, please, please!" His nails bite into the sheets and the back of his neck. "Please, I want it, please, want your cock." 

"I'm going to give it to you, precious, just have to wait a little longer." Tomura gives him another kiss before he shifts again, pulling a condom from the bowl of them and Dabi waits with breathless impatience for  him to get it on before he's pulling him back in, and shifting to help him line up. His head rubs against his hole as Tomura untangles his fingers from the sheets, catching that hand and threading their fingers together. Before he can feel overwhelmed from the tenderness of that action, he starts to press inside and Dabi is lost in the stretch of him inside. 

It feels like it takes an eternity for him to be so deliciously, perfectly full. Tomura presses more soft kisses across his face as Dabi pants and whimpers, every breath makes his nerves sing like his whole body is trying to make up for the agony from earlier by amplifying every flicker of pleasure. He's hazy with it as he demands, "Green, Daddy," when he can't possibly stand to wait a second longer for it to get even better. 

Tomura breathes a laugh against his skin, leaning back just enough so that Dabi can see him smile. See his pretty eyes looking at him like he's the whole world. "Okay, baby boy, but you know what to say if it's too much?" He nods weakly and Tomura gives him another kiss as he starts to move. 

Dabi has never had sex like this before. He has never been so deep in the cloud of his subspace, never been touched like he was something precious. He has never had someone moving inside of his body, doing everything they could to make him feel good the way Tomura is. He makes sure that he's rubbing against his prostate, going at a slow, deliberate pace that keeps from putting any hard pressure against his seams or bruises, and he doesn't lose his patience with that. He keeps fucking Dabi so carefully instead of chasing his own pleasure, and he looks at him, holds his hand, like this is all he needs. Like seeing Dabi falling apart under him is all he could ever need in the world. Like he's not a burden, not an inconvenience, not an employee, but something... precious. It all makes his head so messy in such a different way than before that Dabi is smoking again as his quirk heightens alongside his pleasure. 

He is so hazy that he doesn't know how long Tomura is moving with him, kissing him, his hand tightening against Dabi's as they both build their ecstasy higher and higher. But Daddy's fucking him slow, so it must be a while. He doesn't know if it matters though, because when his cock starts to ache again, his balls going so tight, and just before his orgasm pulses through him again, he finds himself squeezing their interlocked hands together a little tighter. 

"Tomura," his name is a gasp and he's not expecting the other to whisper back, 

"Dabi," like he's the most important thing in the world. He really doesn't mean for that to push him over the edge, his body thrumming with pleasure that goes even higher as Tomura bottoms out inside of him as they cum together. Dabi doesn't think he's ever managed that with a partner either, but his fog is far too thick for him to care as Tomura captures his lips in another all-consuming kiss. 

///

They lay in bed together for a while, Tomura pressing more kisses and praise into his skin until Dabi stops trembling with his pleasure. Until his fog rolls back from his mind and after the night he's had, all he can do is feel exhausted. Tomura didn't bother taking off his watch when he was getting ready to fuck him, so Dabi catches the edge of his glove and pulls on it so he can see the time. 

"Fucking hell--" he starts to sit up out of the circle of the other's embrace as he realizes it's dawn. He started his session at eleven. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" His stomach sinks. Fuck, fuck, he cause so much trouble for the club tonight and then he'd fucking slept with his boss. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Tomura tells him immediately in the same even tone as he did before, with the same warmth in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" 

He hesitates, taking stock of himself now that his head doesn't feel nearly as out of sorts as he had since he dropped. "Yeah... thanks for taking care of me." 

"Of course--" 

"No," he pushes a little harder, straightening his spine. "You didn't have to do that. You could have left me to deal with it myself, you could have called the cops and let me come down barely-clothed in a police station. But you made sure to take care of me here, and treated the bruises. Thank you." 

Tomura doesn't dismiss the words this time. "...You're welcome, Dabi. Is there anything else that you need?" 

"A shower, breakfast I guess, and the patience to deal with cops and heroes for a couple of hours if I decide to report that douchebag for assault." 

Shigaraki's expression darkens. "This room has a bathroom attached. If you want to go clean up, I can go get your day clothes from your locker and bring them in for you. I can't offer much as far as food goes, but I might be able to help ease the stress of the last part." 

Has Goto been held here the whole time? He'd asked if he wanted to go to the police earlier, but Dabi hadn't been thinking clearly enough to put that statement into any more context. "Okay." Tomura hesitates a second, and then leans in and presses another kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll be right back, firefly." 

///

Dabi goes and takes a shower, and by the time he's finished and dried with the towels that smell sharply of the detergent used to make sure they're clean, Tomura is all buttoned up again and Dabi's day clothes are waiting for him along with another soda, bottle of water, and a bottle of Tylenol. He takes the pain meds, downs the water, and dresses. If he goes to report this then it's going to be a long fucking day to start without a lick of sleep. He should have asked for an espresso martini, though he doubts that any of the bartenders are even still here. 

When he's dressed, white t-shirt, leather pants, leather duster, boots, and his backpack with his medicine, heels, and club clothes inside, he figures there's no putting this off anymore. 

"Okay, let's deal with this fuckwit." He says with more bravo than he feels. 

"If anything is too much, you just have to say the word, and I'll deal with it, Dabi." 

"I appreciate that, Shig, but you can only fix so much." 

Tomura doesn't stall anymore and they leave the private rooms, going through the main area of the club. It's not that unusual for Dabi to be leaving after closing, but it's definitely later than he usually leaves. He's never seen the club completely empty, even the janitorial staff having finished for the day and abandoned it. They go out of the main area and into the hallway of red rooms, and Dabi startles to find the second room on the left has been roped off with velvet barriers because the glass is gone. Dabi pauses, staring at that gaping nothing that's letting him see that the room has been thoroughly cleaned and reset even though he doubts anyone will be using it until the glass is back in place. 

"What happened?" He doesn't remember hearing any glass break. 

"I was in the main room when I noticed the commotion. I didn't want to lose time by running around to the back hallway." 

"You broke the window?"

"No," he says, continuing to move down the hall. "That could have sprayed you with glass. I decayed it." 

"You're insane." Dabi barely manages to say through his thick throat. 

"When I took over this club I said I would make it a safe place for everyone who comes to indulge. I'm not about to let one of my staff, one of my best members of staff, get hurt here." They leave the hall and Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to remain silent. 

Tomura takes him down the service elevator, unlocking the buttons that lead to the basement level with a key and Dabi is a little concerned. He didn't know anyone ever went to the basement levels for anything. But once the elevator is moving again, he reaches back for Dabi's hand and laces their fingers together again, bringing them up so that he can press a kiss to Dabi's knuckles. It puts a warmth, a comfort in his stomach that he's never had the luxury of before. They take the long ride down and when the doors open, Dabi finds the winding pipes and cords that he expected of a place that holds the guts of the skyscraper. Tomura coaxes him out into that tangle of piping, and Dabi follows carefully behind, his quirk sitting hotter under his skin. 

He's led around two corners before they reach a doorway that Tomura knocks on once. He hears a couple of locks being thrown and then the door opens-- revealing Jin, who sees him and immediately breaks into a smile. 

"Hey, Dabs, you doing better?" 

"...Yeah." He wants to ask what exactly is going on, but the other man moves out of the way so that they can see into the room and Dabi bristles, smoke getting trapped behind his teeth as he sees Goto, a gag in his mouth, and his arms cuffed behind him with dampeners where he is strapped to a metal chair that's been bolted to the ground. "What--" Tomura pulls him into the room gently with their entwined hands. 

"Like I said before, we can call the police if you want us to. You have a written contract and a lot of eye-witnesses that will prove that he was in violation of that." He lets go of Dabi's hand to go over to Goto. The other is glaring, his teeth bared as much as they can be around his gag, and Dabi notices that part of his arm is gone. The cuffs are hooked above his elbows because on the right side, everything from the forearm down is gone. And Dabi sees a dangerous thing in Tomura's neutral expression as he takes off his glove, resting four fingers against the back of the chair. "Or we can take care of this now." 

"'Take care of' how?" But the coldness already starting in his gut is answer enough. 

"My quirk doesn't leave anything behind for anyone to find. There isn't even DNA in the dust." He doesn't say it outright, but there's no mistaking this proposal for anything but what it is. And immediately Dabi thinks he should be scared. For as gentle and caring as Tomura just was with him, he can and has, apparently, killed people before. He is dangerous. But he is watching Dabi with that tentativeness from before. Trying to make certain, he thinks, that Dabi is alright just like he has all night. "Jin already sent a double on his way with both arms intact. He can go around living his life until he gets hurt and when that happens, there will be nothing to trace it back to you. You'll be safe, Dabi. No matter what." He promises. 

He'll be safe, he thinks, even if they do go to the cops. He'll be safe, have a club full of witnesses, and his contract-- and he knows that they still won't care. Muscular will get a slap on the wrist, if anything, and then the next time he wants to get his rocks off, he'll go find someone else who isn't in a club full of people who care about what happens to each other. He'll find someone desperate, helpless, and alone, and he'll go further than he could with Dabi-- if he hasn't done that already. "...Your quirk works on anything?" 

"As far as I'm aware." He replies evenly. 

Dabi takes a step forward and Tomura waits. Goto glares at him with his one working eye. Looks at Dabi like he can't understand how someone as low as him could possibly warrant anyone bothering to care about what happens to him at all. It makes that shattered thing inside of him sharpen into something with teeth. He reaches for his face, a flame already in hand and grabs on. 

He can't go hot enough to turn his skull to ashes, not without his seam hurting badly, but it is immensely satisfying to hear him screaming around the gag as it melts over his teeth and tongue as his eyeball boils in his skull. He takes a step back when his hand starts to hurt, and Muscular is still thrashing in the chair, letting out muffled screams. 

Tomura lets it go on for a few more seconds before he catches a part of his arm where the fire hasn't spread yet, and holds on. He screams until he crumbles away. When there's nothing on the chair but dust and the air is filled with the lingering, unpleasant scent of burning hair, Tomura steps around the chair, pulling his glove back on deliberately. Jin slips out of the door, though Dabi sees him lingering outside of it. 

"There. He can't ever hurt you, or anyone else again." He starts to move closer and Dabi takes a step back. 

"Red." The word stops the other man in his tracks, hurt flickering across his features. He takes a deliberate step away from Dabi and doesn't come any closer as he finds the rest of his voice. "...You could though," he says, feeling the prickles of anxiety under his skin. Fuck. Fuck, what did he just do? He might have gotten rid of that bastard, but Tomura owns him now. Even more than he already did. 

"I wouldn't. Not ever, Dabi. If you don't want to work here anymore, then you're free to go. If you'd like a letter of recommendation or a referral to any of the other clubs in this area, I'd be happy to provide it. If you want to stop doing private sessions for a while, then that's alright too. If you want, you can put on some classes-- or you can dance if you want. Kenji mentioned that you two have been practicing together. I can be your boss again," and Dabi doesn't expect the way that makes something go sharp behind his ribs. "Or I can be... nothing to you." 

Dabi hesitates, but Tomura keeps his distance and he can't find even the slightest hint of a lie in his eyes. He just sees them sad and worried, the same way they were when he saw how badly he'd been broken. And Dabi wants them warm on him again the way they had been when he'd held his hand as they came. It's probably wrong, probably insane, but Dabi thinks he could be very happy with Tomura, even knowing that he would destroy the world if it hurt him. He hasn't ever had someone who would take care of him. He's certain Tomura will unless he tells him to stop. And.. he knows now that Tomura will stop if he ever tells him to. 

He's the one who crosses the space between them. "I want a week away," he demands breathlessly. "You don't call, you don't check on me, you don't mess with my profile. You let me leave, knowing I could go to the cops." He catches the lapels of his suit, hands hot with barely contained flame. 

"I can do that, firefly. But," Dabi's stomach sinks, "you need to go up and see Atsuhiro to get your pay for the week. I don't want you to leave without it if you decide not to come back." 

Dabi pulls him into a hard kiss.

///

When he comes back to V a week later, his locker is exactly as he left it, and he doesn't see Tomura until he's getting ready for the consultation. He walks in and finds the other holding himself with his spine straight, looking at his tablet with a furrow in his brow. 

"Dabi, welcome back. I'm sorry, I'm having some kind of technical difficulty. Your bookings for tonight aren't showing up on the schedu--" He catches the edge of the tablet and sets it aside before stepping right back into his space like their last kiss was a minute ago and not a week, and gives him another. 

Tomura goes still against him before his hand wraps around the back of Dabi's neck, his other arm going around his waist, and he kisses him back like he's the only thing that matters in the whole world. Like he's trying to tell him that he'll never be broken again. 

"Canceled them. Just want you to take care of me." He breathes when they part. 

Red eyes go surprised before warming. "I will for as long as you'll let me, firefly." Tomura promises. Dabi seals those words between them with another kiss. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment!

[anemhoez]

Yashiro Rascal…

Ayato/AFAB Reader

WARNINGS: language, unprotected sex, light choking and degradation

A/N: THE THINGS THAT YASHIRO RASCAL MAKES ME FEEL!! 😤 hes not pookie but DADDY 🥴

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Peace amongst the various commissions in Inazuma became of the utmost importance after the vision hunt decree was lifted. The heads of every commission in the city met monthly to deliberate and come to mutual understanding on how best to run everything and make sure that everyone received what was owed to them.

As you were the newest leader of the commission you were raised in, you went out of your way to keep the peace amongst you and the other groups. Your reputation was important and you wanted to let others know you could earn your keep. You met with the leaders and established the boundaries of each commission’s territories, keeping the wishes of the common folk in mind.

But when it came to the Yashiro commission, the largest in the city, there always seemed to be trouble that followed them. Just recently, there was an altercation in one of your businesses. Members of the rival commissions were banned from this particular establishment and usually that rule was respected. But, out of all the other bars that welcomed the Yashiro commission with open arms, they made it a point to visit yours. You pondered what the reason could have been as your subordinate explained the situation. “What should we do next boss?” your right hand asked as you observed all the damage and sighed. “Go straight to the Kamisato estate and take care of this personally,” you said with determination in your voice.

After much protest from your crew to accompany you, you practically ran to the estate alone, being fueled by a rage you’ve never experienced before. You bypassed the guards that went for you, easily knocking them down with the use of your vision, not once having to unsheathe your sword. Once you entered the grounds, you headed straight for the entrance of the home.

You slid open the doors and demanded the nearest servant to direct you to Ayato’s office. The servant, fearing for their life, quickly guided you to the office and slid the door open for you in haste. You immediately met the intimidating stare of Ayato Kamisato himself. “I thought I told you to keep your goons out of my bar!” your voice was loud as you spoke directly to Ayato, ignoring his retainer that headed over to you. “Stand down Thoma,” Ayato said with a wave of his hand. Thoma bowed to his employer and headed out, but not without a glance in your direction, one that you deliberately ignored.

Ayato sighed as he sat down, the smirk on his face was way too cocky for your liking. “Was there an incident?” his voice was as sarcastic as ever. He reached for his smoking pipe, the elaborately carved wood clacking against the table in front of him as he packed it with tobacco. “Would I even be here if there wasn’t?!” your vision began to glow at your side, your anger building and threatening to explode in the fury of an electro burst.

Ayato put the pipe between his lips, lighting it with a match. He inhaled slowly, keeping an eye on you as he exhaled. “My men said your people started it, that they were only passing by and were suddenly attacked.” The gall of him to lie through his teeth right in front of you. The smugness that emanated from him as he sat there vindictively while you waited for answers was infuriating. The room was quiet as he smoked, his eyes going to the papers in front of him. He was deliberately ignoring you. “Mr. Kamisato, I’m not leaving here until we settle this.” You spoke calmly, the man still just puffed away on his pipe, the smirk that spread on his face was the last straw.

You grabbed the hilt of your blade, the sound causing his eyes to finally look over at you. You unsheathed your sword, slashing at the air in front of him quickly, putting your blade away before he had a chance to counter. The bowl of the pipe clattered onto the table, the still lit tobacco scattered all over his papers. Ayato looked up at you, the stem of the pipe still in his mouth. The man took the stem and tossed it on the table, “That was a family heirloom.” Ayato stood up and walked over to you, his stride as elegant and clam as ever. “You have my attention Y/n.”

You kept your distance, “Why is it always your men that seem to be the only ones running around as if they own the place? No other commission causes this much trouble.” Ayato held his hands behind his back and cocked his head to the side, “A little friendly rivalry, some shenanigans here and there never hurt anyone.” His arrogance was sickening, the look on his face begging to be slapped right off. “Mr, Kamisato, you’re not realizing the severity of the situation, this isn’t merely some childish game, this is a declaration of war,” you explained, the look on your face caused his to change to one of concern. You came closer and poked his chest, “Did you fucking hear me?! I said that-!” he cut you off with a kiss before you chastised him further.

You pushed him away from you, immediately grabbing the hilt of your blade. He put his hands up, shaking his head, “My apologies,” he sighed deeply, “for archons sake Ayato, you fool,” the man said under his breath. The sensation of his lips on yours was something you’d never expect to feel, and you hated how good it felt. “What the fuck was that?!” you yelled, your stance not wavering. He rubbed the back of his head, doing his best to avoid eye contact with you. “Theres just something about you that I find, quite mesmerizing.” He bowed to you, “Im incredibly sorry about that, truly.”

You scoffed and sheathed your sword back in its scabbard, standing back in a relaxed position, “I certainly hope that you don’t make it a hobby to kiss your enemies,” you bit your lip, stopping yourself from forgiving him. “Don’t think you can distract me with that kiss,” you spat as you moved closer to him, “we’re not done here Mr, Kamisato.” He gestured for you to sit across from him at the low coffee table. “Please, call me Ayato.”

You declined his offer to sit, choosing instead to stay standing, far away from him, “Ayato, you owe me for the repairs and products lost, and a kiss isn’t going to fix it,” you explained to him and he just scoffed. “That kiss was a reaction to you storming in here and putting me in my place. It was, quite enthralling,” his voice want low, his eyes meeting yours as you looked down at him. You put a hand on your hip, “Is that so? Whats wrong Ayato? Got no one to share a kiss with?” you teased him, somewhat hoping you had hurt his feelings even if by a little.

The azure haired man scoffed, taking the nearby teapot and pouring the both of you a cup. “The people that I share kisses with, treat me like royalty,” he took a long sip from the teacup, placing it back down on the table when he was done, “its gotten so boring.” You raised an eyebrow and finally came to sit across from him. You sighed and pulled a small flask from your sleeve and took a swig. He pushed his cup towards you and you reluctantly poured some liquor in the cup for him. “Thank you,” he said before downing the warm tea laced with courage. “Lets stick to business Ayato,” you said in response to what seemed like his attempt to flirt. He nodded and met your gaze with soft eyes, “Right, I’ll speak to my men, and make sure everything is paid for.” He seemed so much more vulnerable now, so much more inviting with his guard down like this. But, knowing him and the ruthless leader that he was known to be, you kept your own guard up.

“This can’t happen again Ayato! Do you understand?” you stood up, hoping the two of you could put this incident behind you. The man before you nodded, his piercing gaze meeting yours as he stood. He bowed with a hand on his chest, “You have my word Y/n.” And now that that business was settled, you could move onto seeing if he was all talk, or if he was actually interested. As he walked before you, your hand reached out, as if it had a mind of its own, and caught his long sleeve. He turned to look at you, surprised but not worried about your proximity. You then took his hand and intertwined your fingers together, pulling him closer to you. “This stays between the two of us, alright ?” your voice was but a whisper as you leaned in and kissed him.

He brought his hands to your waist and pulled you closer, his strong hands gripping you tight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, your tongue meeting his for the first time. Your rival lifted you up and walked with you to one of the nearby walls. As your back hit the wall, Ayato sucked on your neck desperately trying to mark you. He palmed at your clothed heat with one hand and held you up with the other, his kiss intense and needy. “Ayato wait,” you huffed and he pulled away, his lips swollen and eyes pensive. You saw the lust in his eyes, he wanted you, badly.

You touched the hem of his pants, undoing one of the ties, relieved that there wasn’t too many layers to get through before meeting his hardness. You moved him so that he was now the one up against the wall and you got down on your knees. “Slow down, lets make this worth our time.” you said as you looked up at him with a devilish grin. You pumped his shaft and took his tip into you mouth, swirling your tongue against it. Ayato moaned softly and chuckled, “Looks like that mouth of yours is good for more than just yelling.” he teased and you took him in further. He threw his head back as his length hit the back of your throat.

You moved up and down on his shaft, letting your mouth salivate heavily over him. You made a mess of yourself, your sloppy mouth slurping and sucking loudly. One of his hands grabbed your hair tugging it harshly causing you to look up at him and move all the way down to his base, never breaking eye contact. You breathed through your nose, inhaling the sweet sakura scent on his soft blue hairs. You watched as his eyes rolled back, a deep moan mixed with a yelp came from his mouth. There was a sudden knock at the door, “My lord? Is everything alright in there?” Thoma’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. You pulled off of him with a pop, letting your tongue fall out of your mouth as you stared up at him. He looked down at you as you began to pump him with both hands, your tongue dripping sticky white saliva on him. “Yes, everything’s alright, please carry on with your duties.” he huffed out reassuring his employee.

He pulled you to your feet by your hair and you moaned out at his roughness. “Had I known you were that good, I would’ve made a move much earlier.” he growled and licked the drool that dripped from your mouth. You giggled as he pulled at your clothes and helped you out of your dress. “As if you would’ve stood a chance.” you teased and tugged at his cock. “you’re just lucky i feel sorry for you right now.” He chuckled and held the back of your neck, guiding you to the floor. The usual regal and composed man in front of you desperately went to kiss, lick and suck on your breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. He was intoxicated by your body, roaming his hands down your belly and to your thighs. “Gods, you’re divine.” He said in between sucks, “I’ve craved you for so long.” Your interest was suddenly piqued, “Oh? I wonder if that craving had anything to do with my bar being destroyed ?” you asked with a giggle.

You opened your legs for the leader of the Yashiro commission and he slid his gloved hand between your legs. He moved to kiss you and his fingers pushed deeper into you, “Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about that.” he said with a smirk and leaned back to remove the layers that covered his body. He bit the tips of his gloves and pulled them off before moving back to kiss you as he prodded at your entrance. He held the base of his cock and coated himself in your juices, grunting as he felt your wetness on him. “Is that so?” you huffed out as he slowly entered you, the stretch catching you off guard. “I’ll make you regret that Ayato,” you moaned as your walls clenched down on him as soon as he entered.

He groaned and stopped suddenly, his hands coming to either side of you as your warmth and tightness practically stunned him. “Too tight for you?” you said in jest and wrapped your legs around him, “No wonder you’re always so stubborn and cocky, you’ve never had a pussy like this to put you in your place.” you spat and watched him try to keep himself together as you pulsated on him. His hands came to your thighs and he pushed your legs back, practically by your ears. “More ahhh,” he said as you squeezed him inside tightly, “tell me more.” He pulled out and thrust back in harshly. your words caught in your throat as his cock hit your spot perfectly.

“Fucking Yashiro commission scum, can’t even fuck right.” You spoke harshly, moving your hands to rest on his abs, “you think you can please me with that pencil dick of yours-ahh!” You felt him hit your cervix, his long dick almost too much for you. Ayato groaned and came back to your neck, “Pencil dick? Your body says otherwise slut.” Your breath hitched, your nails scratching at his abs, the wonders his dick was doing to you causing your mind to go fuzzy. “Mmmh, fuck y-you ahh!” you yelped and wished you hadn’t given him that satisfaction. Now he knew exactly how to wreck you. “You want it harder? Faster perhaps?” his nails dug into your thighs, his hips rolled into you, making sure he hit your spot every time after seeing your reaction. “Faster, fuck me faster, please,” you begged and he picked up the pace.

Your breasts bounced faster, your hands coming to them to squeeze and suck on them. Ayato watched you, grunting and pistoning his dick inside you ruthlessly. “Ahhh Ayato fuck!” you cried out as your back arched. “You fucking prick!” you sighed still gripping your breasts tightly, making eye contact with him while you degraded him. The sound of his name spilling from your lips and the names you called him, gave him such a boost. He decided to slow down, to look at you tenderly and see the reactions you made. “Huh? wheres the aggression? I’m not going to break you know,” your voice was shaky, your hands moved to tangle in his hair.

Ayato chuckled and moved to kiss you, “You feel incredible, I’m afraid I may finish far too early, and that just wouldn’t be fair to you,” he said reluctantly and laughed at himself. He rolled his hips against you slowly, “Should I get on top then?” you offered and moved to straddle him. The two of you adjusted quickly and you began to ride him. “So you mean to destroy me I see?” he smiled at you as you bounced on his cock. You couldn’t help but smile back and put your hands around his neck, “Hush now, be a good boy and fuck me.” you said against his lips, and he happily obliged.

Your head lolled back, exposing your neck and he moved to suck and nibble, marking you as his, at least for the time being. Ayato buried his face in your breasts, licking your skin and sucking wherever his tongue could reach. His eagerness to please you mixed with the way he pumped up into you caused your gut to stir as you felt your peak nearing. Your hands squeezed his neck tighter, “I’m so, fucking close!” You praised and panted, his hands came to grip your ass and hold you as close as possible. He continued to suck on your nipples as you climaxed, you body convulsing and walls clenching hard onto him.

You silenced your moans by burying your face in his shoulder, your body going limp as you milked every ounce of pleasure that wracked your body. He huffed and moaned as he lifted you up and fucked you fast and hard, soon reaching his own peak with a deep guttural grunt. His seed shot into you, hot and sticky, a mistake in every sense of the word but the feeling more delicious than either of you could imagine. “Do you always fuck like that?” your lips came to place gentle kisses on his cheek and neck. The leader of the Yashiro commission laughed hard, looking up at you as you moved to stand up. “In all honesty no, but I’ve been a bit pent up as of late, you just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time.”

The two of you dressed, doing your best to look presentable before heading outside. You stood awkwardly in front of one another, as if you hadn’t just shared a very intimate and passionate moment. “Well, I’ll take my leave,” you bowed to him,“also, please forgive me for barging in earlier.” He shook his head as he walked you to the door, “Don’t fret, I’ve already forgotten about it.” he said as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Hopefully, we can handle any future endeavors, just as amicably.” You couldn’t help but give him one last kiss on the lips as his hand came to your face to cup your cheek gently. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you’d never want to fuck him again, but of course you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Perhaps, if you’re lucky.”

He led you outside and walked with you to the front gate, the guards you had attacked earlier quickly stood up to stand in front of Ayato. They practically stumbled over one another as he cleared his throat to address them. “Down on your knees, all of you.” the tone in his voice stern and commanding, a side of him that you normally saw in public. Every one of them bowed down immediately, yelling out and asking you for forgiveness. You simply turned on your heel and gave Ayato a wink as you left.

The whole walk home you thought about Ayato’s touch and desperation while fucking you, a memory you will look back on quite fondly. You were still in a trance as you entered your business, your right hand inquiring about what happened as soon as you stepped through the front door. “Well boss? Did you take care of it?” they asked as you practically skipped to the back room to find an undamaged bottle of wine. “Did I ever!” your voice boomed through the hall with a giddy laugh.

A/N: I WILL NOT ANSWER FOR MY CRIMES!!! I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR HIM!! 😭 hope you enjoyed!!

[zhongliologist]

All or Nothing | Aventurine Modern! AU

Pairing: Aventurine x fem!reader Genre: SMUTTTT!!  Words: 4k A/N: Hi it's been a while. I've been busy. So busy that it seems I forgot how to write smut. So it's not the best I could write after such a long time. I definitely did not proofread this before posting lmao Anyways, thanks for the continued support! THIS IS AN 18+ FIC. BY CLICKING THE READ MORE BUTTON, YOU HAVE UNDERSTOOD AND ACCEPTED THAT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED AND LIABLE FOR THE DECISION YOU MADE.

In some deserted hotel stairwell, a sense of urgency has permeated within its walls--far away from the lavish party thrown downstairs. The soft jazz, polite chuckles and clanking of champagne flutes were replaced with the sound of shuffling clothes, muffled voices and shallow breaths. Here in this forgotten place, your heart was electrified, your hands clammy, yet you knew you were in the right place at the right time.

“Hurry up…”

His arms were snaked along the arch of your back, fingers dancing at the hem of your dress as if threatening to divest it then and there. His lips were slow and deliberate on yours, like savoring a treat after such a long time.

Meanwhile, your hand created creases on the lapels of his expensive coat, and the other played with the blond hair on his nape, both with the intention of pulling him closer to you until perhaps he’ll decide to never leave you again.

“No need to rush, love,” he replied in between kisses. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You could.” You moaned to a playful bite on your jaw. “I still haven’t forgiven you for last time.”

“Shh. Focus.” The blond scolded you, his leg already digging against the apex of your thighs. It might be too early for you, but he already has full intention to pull you into a climax.

It was a dangerous game you were playing, yet you couldn’t care less. Tonight, where it was only you and him--no roles to play, no time to pretend. Such moments were rare in your current lives, and you fully intend to relish it, despite all of its consequences.

They had no idea about me and you.

“Oh how scandalous…” he teased, lips tickling the edge of your ear. “The star of the party in a rendezvous with a Wall Street gambler? At an empty fire escape no less?”

You groaned, pushing him off. “You and your big mouth. You don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Despite your irritation, his bright hypnotic eyes gazed at you, filled with adoration. “You still like me nonetheless.”

This time you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, let’s continue this in my room. I don’t want to risk anyone finding us.”

Grabbing him by the collar, you dragged him through several flights of stairs until you were at the right floor. With quiet footsteps, the both of you sneaked down the hallway, careful not to be seen by anyone--at least you were careful. Your partner on the other hand, had other plans, earning himself several points of irritation from you.

“Hey, imagine if we really got caught by someone, huh?” he grinned, allowing himself to be dragged along. “Oh I could already see the tabloid headlines! New regulatory commission chief already getting in bed with an IPC executive…an infamous one at that! Of course the IPC gets preferential treatment again! Imagine that!”

Wordlessly opening the door to your hotel room, you stepped inside and waited for him to finish his spiel. You simply stood there in front of him, ready to close the door.

“Or, I could imagine shutting this door right now and you not getting any action tonight.” 

“W-wait!” He panicked. “I’m sorry. Fine, fine! I’ll shut up now.”

You sighed, hauling him by the collar again as he stumbled inside. Why do you put up with this man?

“You’re still one hell of a mess,” you remarked with a resigned breath as you closed the door. “After years of not hearing about you, you suddenly appear as an IPC executive? Care to explain…hmm, what do they call you now? Aventurine?”

Picking himself up, the man before you brushed some imaginary dust from his coat and pinned you between his arms to the nearest wall. He still had that same smugness, the same confidence that allowed him to win any high-risk, high-gain bet he gets himself into.

“C’mon, love. Don’t you find the conflict-of-interest sexy?” he asked, leaning closer towards you until his forehead was resting on yours. “It’s like some kind of forbidden love.”

“Stop kidding around. I’m not amused.” You glared.

Still, he chuckled. Brushing a stray lock from your cheek, he caressed your face gently with his finger--tracing some imaginary lines only he could see. He used to do this a long time ago, when you sometimes fell asleep during long hours of studying; when you were still unfortunate enough to have him as your thesis partner. Those were moments he often goes back to--a touch base whenever he loses sight of himself. But right now, you are in front of him--just a moment’s reach; just a stone’s throw away. He was often called a crazed thrill-seeking gambler, but he wouldn’t gamble this moment with you for anything. He can’t afford to lose everything here.

 “Why…don’t we talk about the past later…?” he whispered, eyes lidded. “Right now, I just miss you, and you miss me too, don’t you?”

At this point, you had closed your eyes. He was right. Your need for an explanation wasn’t as important nor as urgent as your need to have him in your arms right now. That could wait. This…whatever it is, you knew your soul craved it the moment you locked eyes again back in the ballroom.

“Kakavasha…” you spoke as softly as you could, careful not to break this delicate thing between you, as if it could disappear any moment. “Please kiss me?”

With that, he smiled fondly. “With pleasure.”

Unlike your previous tryst in the fire escape, he lips were tender on yours, almost scared and hesitant, yet the burn remained just as strong. It moved slowly through your veins like molten gold, turning you pliable to his touch. Without realizing, his hands were once again on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the fabric of your dress, while his lips continued their gentle approach.

Everything you kept and held back after all these years came crashing on you like a tidal wave. His scent, his voice, the weight and warmth of his touch--they used to be memories you kept coming back to again and again, resigning to the fact that maybe you’ll never be able to experience it again. But now, they were real, he is real, and that realization welled tears on your eyes.

“W-wait…let me just…” you gasped, hands shaking.

As you ran out of air, the both of you suddenly locked gazes. His unique eyes always mesmerized you, reminding you of teal suns on a pink ocean, pulling you in until you might sink and drown and die. It was as addictive as a psychedelic trip, and all you need was him.

Unbeknownst to you, Aventurine was not as calm as he appeared to be. Just the sight of you--hair mussed, lipstick smudged and just slightly breathless from the kiss you shared--was enough to make his heart jump out of his chest, and his pants tighten rather uncomfortably. Gods…

“Sorry. I just can’t take this anymore.”

He groaned, pushing you to the nearest wall in a muffled thud as he crashed his lips to yours, rough and impatient. It didn’t take long for him to bite and suck on your lips, imagining how you would look like right now--flushed and lips swollen. He initially planned to seduce you, slowly working his way into your heart until you give in to his advances, yet now, you had him wrapped around your finger. Maybe it had already been that way since a long time ago. He simply hadn’t noticed.

“What--mmmh…mm…”

You immediately melted in his embrace, amused at how Aventurine tried to contain himself but failed anyway. He was both endearing and annoying, sweet but also kind of mean, a gentleman yet at the same time, an animal ready to devour you anytime. You were often swept up in his antics--just like how his hands were deftly peeling away your dress until it pooled on the floor by your feet, or how he slipped his tongue in between your lips, greeting yours in a sloppy kiss that had your cheeks burning as if they were on fire.

Making out with you is often enough to send Aventurine into a drunk lust-filled daze with his cheeks flushed and bright eyes blown wide. He couldn’t help himself, not when you were this sexy in his arms, not when you oh-so-discreetly managed to get rid of his coat and tossing it somewhere on the floor. His thoughts were all filled with you and only you. For you, he would gladly gamble away everything, he could even bet the world if he has to. For Aventurine, there was no one else that mattered but you. Even if the world thinks of him as some kind of maniac, he couldn’t care less as long as you were by his side.

Distracted by your lips and his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed that you were slowly inching him closer to the bed, until it was near enough that you could push him down in one move. Still in his button up and pants, you straddled him between your legs--his eyes wide and blown upon finally seeing you in black lace lingerie.

“Oh fuck…I’m not dreaming, am I?”

You smirked, grinding yourself against the very obvious tent on his pants. “Focus, dear. Can’t have you waking up so suddenly.”

“Ughh…”

The sudden friction had him gritting his teeth, amazed and at the same time unbelievably aroused at how bold you’ve become. With a toothy grin baring sharp canines, Aventurine suddenly grabbed your waist and rubbed himself against your covered slit, eliciting a moan out of you.

“We could do this all night, princess,” he gasped between words as he continued to grind himself against you, while you found yourself unable to do anything but roll your eyes as he brushed against your sensitive nub at the right angle.

“W-Wait…ah! P-Please…I…!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, fingers toying with the hem of your panties. “C’mon. Don’t be shy. You can cum all over me.”

He could already feel your slick drenching him, lubricating the fabric of his pants and intensifying the friction that had you breathless on top of him. Aventurine could also feel himself leaking with pre-cum but honestly, he didn’t care if he’d ruin a good pair of pants. He was too busy admiring you above him--your beautiful breasts bouncing despite the constraints of your bra, the skin of your neck and your collarbones littered with splotches of color, your lips slightly ajar and whispering his name over and over again as if in a lust-filled trance.

Ah, fuck. He’d probably cum too if he wasn’t careful.

“Ahnn…! I can’t! Mnmm…I’m close…so c-close…!”

“That’s it…ahh…don’t hold back, princess.”

With one thrust, you came undone quickly--trembling and shivering as you moaned his name, your hands immediately grabbing on to his shirt so you wouldn’t fall over. Even though you were still reeling from the high, Aventurine had other ideas. Flipping you around, with him now hovering above you while you lay flat on the bed, he swiftly discarded his white dress shirt, revealing a toned body that was not there a few years before.

Unsure how it had never hit you earlier, you were now faced with the sudden realization that the scrawny college boy you knew was already a full-grown man; a man who could easily bring heaven to you.

“Like what you see?” The blond asked with a chuckle, dramatically waggling his brows just to tease you. “Like I said, don’t be shy now. You just came all over me.”

The thought immediately left your cheeks burning with embarrassment, and had you spurting a coherent reply. “S-Shut up! I’m just not used to this!”

At your words, Aventurine hummed, a thought crossing his head. “Well then, seems like it’s up to me to get you used to it.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he swiftly removed your panties--revealing trails of your glistening fluid.

“Wha--!” You desperately tried to cover yourself, yet Aventurine was faster, seizing both your hands away.

“If you don’t want me to tie you up, keep those hands on the sheets,” he threatened, but eventually grinned anyway. “or better yet, you could hold on to me. Whatever my princess wants.”

Not waiting for a reply, the blond leaned over as he spread your legs wide, allowing him access to your drenched pussy. Stroking a finger across your slit, Aventurine relished at your squirming figure--earning a shit-eating grin from him.

“Look how wet you are,” he chuckled darkly, teasingly blowing air right at your clit and making you yelp in surprise. “By the way, I’m called Aventurine now…in case you need a name to scream.”

The sudden reminder created a lot of questions in your head, most of them beginning with the word ‘why’. However, he didn’t give you time to agree or disagree, as he pressed a thumb on your sensitive clit, making your back arch at the sudden stimulation.

“Alright, hold on tight, love. I bet I can make you cum with just my tongue.”

The moment when he dived in you were struck by an unfamiliar sort of pleasure which electrified every vein in your body, rendering you helpless against his unrelenting tongue. He savored your juices as if they were sweet honey, lapping your slit clean, to the point of pushing his tongue inside of you.

Amidst all of this, you realized he was right again. You found your hands clinging on to him for dear life, pulling on his locks of blond hair as you struggled to find your breath after waves upon waves of pleasure assaulting you.

“O-oh…my god…fuck! Aventurine…!”

You were practically screaming when he reached your clit, sucking on the swollen nub until you were seeing stars. It was unfair how he was able to drive you crazy with just his tongue, and you can’t deny that it felt so good that you wanted more.

Aventurine could feel you getting close once again. Your body was trembling as you pushed his head down in a desperate attempt for more friction. He wouldn’t deny you that, of course. He continued his ministrations until you were screaming silently, your voice hoarse and dry after crying out in pleasure. And in one moment, something inside you snapped. With back arched and eyes rolled, you squirted on his tongue just like how he wanted; lapping on your juices like a man starved.

“See? I won again,” he gloated as he peppered your thighs with kisses, moving his way up to your stomach, and towards your chest. At this point, his erection was already too painful to keep within his pants, yet he had to do something first before thinking about himself.

Turning your head so you could face him, Aventurine once again descended his lips upon yours in a tender and gentle kiss. It was slow but passionate, filled with everything he wished to say after all those years but cannot. Despite the haziness from your high, everything was clear at that moment. His lips were soft and captivating, nibbling at your lower lip when he felt a little playful. Meanwhile, you met his tongue with yours, dancing in a wet and sloppy kiss which forced you to acknowledge how badly you missed him. Ever since you parted ways, there was no day where you wished he wasn’t there with you--through days where you were being celebrated, or through days where you had to crawl back home. Why did you have to go, Kakavasha?

Yet you knew that there will come a time that those unanswered questions will be finally answered. However right now, something else occupied both your minds.

“Hey…” you whispered between his lips, a trail of saliva still connecting you. “I want you now, Kakavasha…”

One more peck before answering you, the man asked. “Are you sure? I mean, you’re more than ready but--“

Cupping his cheeks, you interrupted him with another kiss. “I’m sure. I want you in me…please?”

For a moment, Aventurine was hesitant, yet as you continued to gaze directly into his eyes, he relented. With a resigned sigh, he smiled and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “No take backs, princess.”

Once again, he traced his lips down to your jaw, leaving a trail of pecks along his way. Remembering how much you shivered at a love bite, he made sure to suck on a pulse point on your neck, earning a low and sensual mewl from your lips. He drew a masterpiece on your skin, from your neck to your collarbones, biting, nibbling and sucking his way down to your chest.

 Expertly removing your bra with deft fingers, Aventurine reveled at the sight of your breasts, nipples pert and touch starved. He couldn’t resist the temptation, not when they were right there in front of him. His mouth descended upon one, twirling around his tongue as if teasing you, while his hand fondled your other breast, still in awe of its softness.

“You sure have grown in this department.” He remarked with a wide grin, earning a disparaging look from you.

Chuckling at your reaction, he continued to play with your breasts, squeezing a nipple and eliciting a moan out of you. He made a mental note to make you cum just with your breasts some other time--that would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it?

The vibrations from his laugh made your skin tingle, making you even more sensitive than before. It felt like there was a furnace under your skin, burning you from the inside out and turning you into a bumbling lewd mess.

“Aventurine…please…just…hurry up!” You whine through lidded eyes and a flushed face, as an uncontrollable emotion welled up inside you. “Please…I-I want you…”

Seeing you sobbing so desperately for him, something in Aventurine snapped. Brushing his bangs away from his face, his lips had widened into a dangerous smirk and a dark glint had appeared in his gaze.

“I was planning to be gentle with you tonight seeing that we just had a heartwarming reunion…” he started, kneeling before you and spreading your legs wide for him to delight in. “But never would I’ve imagined you’d beg for me so desperately.”

Finally releasing his dick from the confines of his pants, you could see how hard he was and how it was leaking so much of pre-cum. He was long, kind of girthy and it instantly made you nervous if it was right to goad him into fucking you senseless. You might have chewed more than you can swallow.

Placing himself on your slit, he began rubbing himself on you, coating his cock with your slippery juices. Of course, he had to tease you whenever he had the chance--hitting your already abused clit with his member as he brushed pass.

“You’re so wet, princess…” he groaned between labored breaths. “My dick could easily enter this pretty little hole of yours…”

“Please…! Aven…turine…I want you…I-I…!”

“Fine,” he replied as he gritted his teeth. “Here you go, princess!”

With one sharp thrust, Aventurine entered you, bottoming up immediately. The sudden stretch had you keening, arching your back from the sudden stimulation. You felt so full and warm inside…so full of him.

“Ah fuck…this is too much…” he growled, face as bright as his eyes. Upon meeting gazes however, Aventurine immediately crashed his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. In between pecks and bites, he kept groaning and murmuring your name, overwhelmed by the varying emotions welling up inside him.

“Mhhmm…Y/N…a-ahh…I missed…you…hngh--! I just…I’m sorry…mmhm…feels t-too good…”

“Aven…turine…!”

“Sorry…I can’t hold back anymore…”

As soon as those words left his lips, Aventurine began thrusting into you, looking for that one spot that had you melting in his arms. He was rough and relentless, pounding into you like an animal--leaving you screaming his name over and over again. It felt so incredibly good. After such a long time, you had forgotten how intense sex with Aventurine was. You could even say that he had become better, stronger and more refined in his ministrations, yet still intense nonetheless.

“Oh god…there! It f-feels…so good…!” you whined, holding on to his arm as he placed your leg over his shoulder, finding a better angle to fuck you silly.

“You like that, huh?” He purred, an amused grin plastered on his face. “Let me make you feel good even more.”

Without you noticing, he suddenly pinched your clit, earning a loud scream from your lips, your eyes rolling from the pleasure. Yet he didn’t stop there, he continued to rub on your sensitive nub as he pounded his cock into you, forcing your tight walls to remember his shape.

“F-fuck…fuck…I’m…ah! I’m gonna cum…p-please harder…fuck me harder…!”

With a sardonic smile, Aventurine snaked his arm around your leg and thrusted harder and deeper, making you drool on the sheets.

“I’m…close too…nghh…! Where do you want me, princess?”

“I-Inside…please finish inside…I want you…”

As soon as you said those words, Aventurine’s lust-addled brain refused to function anymore. All thoughts left the room and was instead replaced by lewd sounds of skin on skin and loud screams and low groans. You had been waiting for this moment, to be unraveled and ravished by him, to be pounded by his hard cock and filled with his warm essence. For a long time, you had waited to be with him, and finally your close to the climax.

In one particularly hard thrust of his cock, you came undone--squeezing him tight as you squirted once again. Your head turned blank and all you could see were stars as waves of euphoria washed over you, making you tremble and shiver.

“Ah, shit…! I’m cumming…!”

It didn’t take long for him to follow, filling you up with his warm cum as you trembled beneath him; the shock of his orgasm sent you falling from another peak. As soon as he was able to catch his breath, Aventurine leaned down towards you, capturing your lips with a tender kiss--this one saturated by his adoration for you. You easily reciprocated, smiling as you kissed him and allowed yourself to be swept up by his gentleness.

“I love you…” he whispered, burying his face at the crook of your neck. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry I left you that day. I couldn’t face you at that time…you were so perfect, while I was a fucking mess. I didn’t deserve you then. I don’t think I deserve you even now.”

Brushing your fingers through his fine blond hair, you listened quietly and allowed him to finish.

“Aventurine…no, Kakavasha…” you whispered gently to his ear, coaxing him to gaze into your eyes. “Yes, you’re a mess. Yes, you’re a goddamn headache. But I’m not perfect either. I might not be able to give you what you deserve. So it’s fine if you struggle and make mistakes, I’ll still love you all the same. As long as you would have me too, that is…”

Without warning, Aventurine enveloped you in a tight hug, kissing you wherever his lips landed. He felt relief wash over him, the heaviness in his heart he had harbored for so many years suddenly lifted just like that.

“I won’t let you go ever again,” he exclaimed. “This kind of luck doesn’t come around very often.”

Giggling, you began pushing him off of you. “Alright, get off me now. You’re heavy.”

“By the way, earlier…I, uh…” he scratched his nape, suddenly embarrassed. “You’re in some sort of birth control, right?”

You scoffed amusingly at him and shrugged. “Who knows? Wanna bet you’d knocked me up?”

Those words seemed to have unlocked something inside Aventurine’s head. He began imagining little versions of you with his unique eyes, and little versions of him with your features. He imagined you swollen with his child growing inside you, singing softly as you gently caress your belly. He could imagine all sorts of things; he could imagine a future with you. Covering his burning face with the palm of his hand, he glanced at you with an inexplicable expression.

“Hold on. We’re not done here yet,” he began, seizing both your wrists and pining you down to the bed. “If it’s a bet, I’d like to increase my chances of winning.”

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

After Hours (Boss!Geto x Assistant!Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: In which Geto Suguru, your boss, and owner of his own public relations firm, celebrates a job well done on a five-month-long project with you, his trusty secretary, but what was once a friendly, professional relationship between you turns into something else when the staff goes home for the night and champagne gets involved.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Reader is Black, Fem & Plus-Sized!; Crush Confession; Boss/Secretary; Some Power Play; Sexual Tension; Coworkers to Lovers; Office Sex; Mild BDSM; MDom/fsub; Geto Pours Champagne on the Titties & Kitty; Temperature/Sensory Play; Ice Play; Cunnilingus; Sex Against the Window; Geto Got a Big Ol' Dick; Unprotected PIV; Mutual O; Cum on Ass; Aftercare; Surprise Ending 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: Once again, a big thank you to @curiouscutie143 for allowing me to bring her fantasies to life. I had so much fun writing boss!Geto & now I wanna lowkey write a longer fic about an office romance with him. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

“Cheers,” your boss says with a smile. “To the successful end of this stupid fucking waste of time.” 

You laugh, lightly clinking your champagne flute with the extremely handsome, wealthy, intoxicating man sitting next to you on his office couch…who also, again, happens to be your boss. “It wasn’t a waste,” you giggle. “But I will say it was very time-consuming. At least we got it done in time.” 

Geto Suguru hums in agreement as he takes a sip of the champagne in unison with you, making even that look hot.

He is truly a man to behold with his long, black hair he kept tied into a respectable ponytail, a lean build under his button-down and slacks, gage earrings that he purposely kept in for tonight’s festivities, brown eyes you could swim in forever, and tattoos that he usually keeps hidden beneath his blazers and designer suit jackets, but tonight are exposed under his rolled-up sleeves. 

He puts all models and men to shame with his beauty. And wealth! He is his own boss and CEO of his own PR firm which he has owned for over six years now. It skyrocketed in popularity in only a year, earning the title of the 6th most popular business in Japan which has jumped to 2nd place on that list. You joined his team two years later as his personal secretary after working as an assistant for his HR team. 

Geto, who interviewed and hired you, was so impressed with your work and presentation that he offered you the job. “I need a personal secretary,” he explained to you, “and I think you’d be the perfect fit.” Two years later, you’re still here and you don’t see yourself going anywhere else. Geto is a wonderful boss who offers great pay, supreme benefits, and understands the importance of mental health days. 

Though he doesn’t allow anyone to play with him or his money. If he suspects that an employee is not giving him the most on the clock or is taking advantage of his kindness, he will either straighten them out himself with a private meeting or send them on their way. However, he is a kind, respectable, understanding man that you are honored to have worked for for four years. 

And a man that you have embarrassingly been crushing on for four years. “All thanks to you,” he praises. “I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am to you, V. Seriously; I so appreciate all of those times you’ve stayed late with me and the team and set up all of those lunch meetings and conference calls.” 

Those eyes, so generous and kind, smile at you in his spacious, luxurious office. Seriously; Geto’s office is like a damn penthouse stretching over 900 square feet with polished marbled floors and open-brick walls. A kitchenette, coffee section, wine mini bar, and bathroom sit on the left side of the office while his mahogany desk and bookcase sit on the right.

His lounging section, or “decompression area” as he calls it, sits smack dab in the middle, included with two chairs and a couch you both currently occupy with a glass coffee table sitting in the middle. 

Though the office is wide enough for space, you feel as if the walls are closing in on you the more you sit and stare at Geto. “Well, that’s my job anyway,” you joke, clearing your throat. “It was no trouble, Mr. Geto, really! I’m honored you chose me to work with you on this.” 

Geto scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you as he begins to loosen his tie with one hand. “You thought I wouldn’t?” he chuckles. “You’re my trusted assistant and a great employee. Plus, dealing with people is your specialty, unlike me. If anyone was needed on this project, it was you.” 

You feel like you flush as red as the cocktail dress you are wearing despite the fact you’re as Black as your mama.

Tonight was the celebration of your five-month project ending. Geto has been interested in partnerships and merging his firm with other companies, especially tech companies. When a popular tech firm in Germany reached out, it took about five months to get everything finalized and a lot of reaching out to multiple people. 

You sweated over this project, doing work at home, setting up meetings, and sometimes staying late with Geto and his business team where he ordered Chinese and pizza for the crew around dinnertime.

There were also days and nights when everyone wasn’t here then you’d be with Geto in his office, typing up memos and emails he would think of at the top of his head. But you didn’t mind. Not only did your boss pay you overtime for all the hours you spent working on this, but it also meant you could spend more time with him. 

Finally, just a week ago, the project was completed and Geto’s partnership was greenlit. All staff was invited to the party, including those who didn’t even work on it, to celebrate such a milestone for Geto’s firm. Food, alcohol, and music were all included, lasting from 5 PM to 9 at night.

You danced and sang karaoke with your coworkers and friends, trying to get Geto to join in though it was like trying to pull teeth out of his mouth. He looks more relaxed now as he loosens his tie and pops a collar to his shirt, revealing the column of his throat and toned chest. You look away, feeling warm. 

“Now I can finally rest without hurrying here at 6 AM to prepare for meetings or deal with that stupid fucking Excel chart,” he huffs, revealed. “And we’re blessed with a new partnership. Praise God or whoever.” He points his glass to the ceiling before taking a sip of the Brüte champagne. You giggle, feeling his relief. 

Suddenly, the door to his office opens and you startle as if you were just caught in a very compromising position with your boss. Gojo Satoru, your supervisor, Geto’s right hand, and the heart throb of the office (understandably since the man is just as fine as Geto), pokes his snow-white head into the room. 

“You two still in here?” he scoffs, glaring at you beneath his glasses. “Oooh, are those more of those cupcake cheesecakes?” He strides into the room and bends down to pluck one of the tiny cakes off of Geto’s desk, but Geto chucks a pillow at him. “Uh-uh, greedy,” he criticizes. “You barely left any of the food at the party earlier. Besides, aren’t you goin’ for dinner now?” 

Gojo catches the pillow with one hand, grinning. “Dinner and drinks,” he cackles. “Shoko, Yuki, and I were wonderin’ if you two wanted to come along and not be boring for once.” He slips his glasses down his nose and winks at you, indicating that he’s joking.  

Knowing his game and having this relationship with Gojo, you play along. “I am not boring,” you scoff, putting a hand to your chest. “My cat thinks I’m a lot of fun at 3 AM, thank you very much. I put on all kinds of concerts for her!” 

Geto gives a big laugh that lights your insides up while Gojo physically cringes. “Fun to us isn’t just downing shots and passin’ out on our couch, Satoru,” your boss scoffs. His friend takes a moment to think about it, sitting down on the edge of Geto’s desk. “Okay, point taken, but the offer is still open. C’mon, we need to celebrate and it’s a Friday night!” 

Even with his friend’s whining, Geto shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Thanks, but not tonight,” he sighs. “I wanted to clean up my office a bit before I head home and get some much-needed sleep.”

Gojo takes his glasses off and rolls his ocean-blue eyes. “Such an old man,” he huffs. “What about you, Ms. V? You up for some fun with me?” The gorgeous, Colgate smile he gives you is full of temptation, but you’ve already had enough drinking and dancing for tonight. 

“Thank you, Satoru,” you sweetly say, “but I have to get ready for a family event tomorrow. My mom is forcing me to help cook.” You get up from the couch and saunter over to him, barely seeing his eyes glazing over your hips. “Buuut if y’all ever decide to have another night out, let me know and I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

You take the pillow from him and offer him a sweet smile which he returns. It damn near makes him prettier. “Will do,” he replies. His phone suddenly dings and he sighs. “That’s Shoko chewin’ me out,” he announces, slipping off the desk and heading to the door on his long legs. “I’ll see you two kids later. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…or do. I don’t give a fuck.” 

He gives you another wink and a smile before slipping out of the office and shutting the door behind him. “Have fun!” you call after him. Once he leaves, you realize how quiet the building seems. “Any of the janitors still here?” you curiously ask Geto. 

He is still sitting on the couch, one arm draped over the back of the couch and still sipping his champagne. “Nah, I sent everybody home after the party ended.” He gives you a curious look, almost looking like a puppy...or maybe that’s just the champagne getting to you. You only had a half of glass at the party and now you find your current glass empty. 

“How come you didn’t want to go with Satoru, if you don’t mind me asking?” he suddenly asks, his head cocked to the side. You don’t mind since Geto and you have a very “close” relationship. 

It’s one of the closest you have at work, ironically enough. You know what his condo looks like having visited there before to deliver papers and packages that accidentally came to the office.

You know his birthday and he knows yours, even sending you flowers to your apartment every year, each one bigger and more beautiful than the last.

You talk about anything that annoys or bothers you when you find yourselves together, even sometimes having lunch together (for work purposes). 

You would say that he is almost like your work husband, but that would be pushing it. You find yourself needing to remind yourself that he’s your boss! No matter how good he looks in his suits or the way you feel when he praises your work, you must remember that. This is your job. Your responsibility.

“Eh,” you sigh with a shrug. “Sometimes, I just like being home to unwind and relax. Nothing beats a glass of wine, a hot bath, and a movie.” Geto nods, understanding. 

“What about you?” you curiously ask as you sit back down beside him. “Why didn’t you go with Gojo? He’s your best friend, right?” 

Geto drains the rest of his glass before pouring another. “Unfortunately,” he jokes, making you laugh. He seems to enjoy that. “Nah, but I’m the same: sometimes, I like to unwind with some drinks and social outings, and other times, I just chill at home in my very spacious, very lonely condo with my dog. When you’re the owner of a PR firm, it’s usually the second one.” 

You can’t help but feel sad about that. “So was that story about your mom a lie?” he asks with a smirk. Sheepishly, you nod. “So I’m guessin’ that show for your cat is the move for tonight?” 

You would say yes, but something pulls you back. You don’t know if it’s the champagne or the way Geto’s cologne smells, but something is keeping you glued to the couch with him. “W-Well, I was gonna say I can help you clean up your office if you want…a-and drink the rest of this champagne!” You pick up the bottle and pour yourself another glass, raising it to him. 

Geto looks taken aback as he clinks his glass with yours. “I mean…if you want,” he hesitantly says. “You absolutely don’t have to stay for my sake, V. You’re not on the clock.” 

You flush, not wanting him to think you’re weird for staying here or that you have ulterior motives (which you do). “It’s okay!” you laugh, waving your manicured hand. “Really! Call me weird, but I kind of like organizing.” 

Geto laughs at this, getting up from the couch. “Well, now I know why your office is so pristine,” he chuckles. “Lemme turn on some music then.”

You watch him as he walks over this his desk, shamelessly ogling his firm, toned, juicy ass in his slacks. You would give so much to feel it in your hands, your nails digging into the flesh while his hips grind against yours, his cock buried deep inside your– 

The sound of a piano mixed with horns and a smooth bass makes you jump, deep in your naughty thoughts. Geto sighs and his shoulders loosen as he presses the volume up on his Bluetooth, happy and relaxed.

“Jazz music?” you snort. He gives you a sheepish smirk. “I know, I know: I’m an old man.” To make him feel better, you begin to snap your fingers, albeit offbeat, and that makes him laugh even harder. 

For the next hour, you sit with your boss and help him organize his office while downing champagne. While he rearranges items on his desk, you lounge on his couch with your heels off and organize documents, either throwing some away or keeping some to file. You talk every so often about everything––new movies, restaurants, plans for the summer, etc. But the silence that follows these conversations isn’t awkward, but peaceful and comfortable. You feel relaxed with Geto. 

“So what’s the plan for this weekend?” he suddenly asks as he organizes his bookcase. “Maybe a date or something?” You pause, not sure why this question is making you feel so frazzled. “If that’s too personal, I understand,” he quickly adds, noticing your reluctance to answer. 

You push your glass away, having already finished your second glass. You feel bubbly and loose, the alcohol sinking its claws into you. “No,” you reply, sheepishly so. “No dating for me right now with work and everything. Maybe one day if I find the right person.” 

Geto hums and goes back to organizing his books. You continue to work, mostly to give your hands something to do. “What about you?” you ask. “With your kinda money, you could take a weekend trip to Mexico for the hell of it, if you wanted!” 

Your boss suddenly turns, his expression stoic and a brow raised. “Exactly how much money do you think I have, Ms. L/N?” he asks in a deep voice that makes your pussy jump.

At first, you think you went too far but then you see the corner of his mouth flick upwards. “Like you don’t have a condo,” you scoff. “Which I know because I’ve sent you packages from work and secret admirers before.” 

Geto’s brows wrinkle cutely. “Secret admirers?” he parrots. You nod, already giggling at one particular memory. “You remember the flowers sent here when you were sick with COVID that time?” 

He blinks, clueless, and then his eyes widen. “Ohhh, yeah!” he laughs, tossing his head back. “God, Gojo wouldn’t leave me alone about that for weeks. She was an old partner of mine who heard through the grapevine that I was sick.” He turns and leans against his bookcase, his, big, tatted arms crossed over his chest. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, still shuffling papers. You want to give yourself something to do as the next question gnaws at you. “A…business partner?” you carefully ask. You never knew who this woman was that sent Geto the flowers; only that you didn’t know her but she knew your boss. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, giving you a smile that looks almost saddened. “I haven’t dated anyone long-term in over two years. Like you said, maybe one day if I find the right person, but that hasn’t happened yet.” He chuckles to himself. “You’d think it’d be easy with my status, right?” 

You don’t say anything for a while and the silence becomes thick even with the music playing. When he turns around to finish his work, you finally get up the nerve to speak to his backside. 

When you start, you can’t stop yourself, the champagne overflowing out of your mouth. “You know, if it’s any consolation to you, I-I think you’d deserve to meet someone nice,” you stutteringly say. “You’re a very good man, Mr. Geto.” 

And then he turns slowly to you and the way the city lights from the window reflect on his shocked face and in his eyes makes you realize what you just said. “V,” he says, his voice breathless and soft. You cover your mouth but it’s too late. You can’t take them back. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said that,” you quietly gasp. 

Immediately, you get up, but the papers you were organizing fall from your lap onto the floor. 

“I’m so, so sorry!” you squeak. “I-I should leave!” You’re near tears, a hot rush of humiliation falling on you. You fall onto your knees and begin picking up the papers, swearing as you do. 

“No, no, V,” Geto says, walking toward you. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“No, I do!” you protest. “That was totally inappropriate! I don’t know why I–” You pause when your finger catches against the edge of a sheet of paper too quickly and it slices into your skin. 

“Ow!” you hiss, immediately snatching your hand away and dropping the paper. 

Quickly, Geto stops the music and rushes over to you. He kneels down in front of you, crushing the papers under his knees as if they mean nothing. “What happened?” he demands.

You silently show him your bleeding finger, whimpering at the sting. “Lemme see,” he says, already taking your hand. He examines the cut and frowns at it. “Oh, honey, it cut you deep,” he coos, the pet name making your stomach flip. He’s never called you that before. “Here, don’t move,” he orders and quickly hurries to his bathroom. 

He returns with a first aid kit and coaxes you to sit up on the couch. He takes your wounded finger in one hand, holding an alcohol swab in the other. “It may sting a bit,” he warns. “Just squeeze my leg if it’s too much.” And it does sting. You hiss and grip his thigh as he cleans the cut, watching your expression. “That’s it,” he softly coos. “Good girl.” 

Your stomach flutters and your body grows hot at the very inappropriate pet name, but what is more inappropriate are the past thoughts you’ve had about him calling you a good girl. His good girl. He smiles at you when he finishes cleaning the cut. “Hard part’s over,” he chuckles. “Now I’ll just add some antibacterial cream and a band-aid to make it all better.” 

You stay quiet as he applies the cream to your cut, his touch soft and gentle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Geto,” you whisper. He narrows his eyes at you. “What are you talkin’ about?” he scoffs. “V, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was just an accident. You could never do anything to upset me…except think that you don’t deserve to date right now.” 

The silence around you swells the instant he says it. “W-What?” you whisper, gaping at him. He continues his work, now wrapping the band-aid around your finger. “Y’know, if it’s any consolation to you, you deserve to meet the right man too. You’re so sweet and smart and beautiful…who wouldn’t want you?” 

Finally, he finishes and just looks at you. You look at him too, both of you just staring at each other in the dimly lit office. Geto finally breaks and pinches the bridge of the nose. “God, I really shouldn’t have said that,” he groans. “We shouldn’t be doing any of this.” 

Seeing his internal battle and realizing that he feels the same way you do, you keep your hand on his thigh and squeeze. “Suguru,” you softly say. “It’s okay.” 

He looks at you in shock. This is the first time you’ve ever used his first name, especially when talking to him. He moves closer to you, making the room feel like it’s shrinking. The city lights reflect in his eyes through the window, twinkling at you. “Say my name again,” he demands but it’s more like a plea. “Tell me what you want me to do, V. You can tell me to stop and I will.” 

You know this is very bad. You know this is wrong. You know that if you do this, you can never go back to the way things were. But you can’t turn back at this point. “Suguru,” you say again, “please. I want this.” You trail your hand up to his chest, feeling his heart pound against your fingertips. “I’ve wanted you for 5 years,” you confess. 

The restraint in Geto’s eyes finally dissipates and he places his hand on top of yours. “Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve wanted this too, V. You have no fuckin’ idea.” He takes both of your hands in his, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. You damn near choke, feeling like you’re about to faint. 

He scoots closer, close enough to do so himself…but he doesn’t. “I need your words, mama,” he murmurs.

Finally, you find the will to speak: “Yes,” you whimper and it’s enough to make Geto melt. “Kiss me, Suguru.” Immediately, he swoops in and takes you into his arms, holding you against him as he places the hottest, most passionate kiss you’ve ever had on your lips. 

His lips are soft and wet against yours, pulling you in farther and farther. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him flush against you. If this were a romantic comedy, there would be fireworks popping off outside the same way they are in your head. Geto pulls away, softly panting. “Keep talkin’ to me,” he whispers. “Tell me what you want from me.” 

He swoops in to kiss you again, drowning out your soft moans. “Touch me,” you plea into his mouth. “Put your hands on me, Suguru.”

He does just that, his big hands moving down your hips to pull you into his lap. You wrap your arms tight around his neck like a koala bear, latching onto his body. Geto wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves how your soft, pudgy body feels against him and sitting on top of him, your heat radiating from between your thighs against his crotch. Your kisses grow deeper and wetter, your tongues swirling against each other, arousing the both of you.  

“You’re wearing too much,” you whisper, tugging at his collar. He sniggers against your lips, his hands gripping your ass. “So are you,” he chuckles. “But we can help each other with that, can’t we?” Even without the seduction in his gaze, you wouldn’t resist. 

You begin to pop his buttons, yank off his tie, and peel his shirt off while he unzips your dress. You beat him, successfully getting him semi-naked. At the feeling and sight of his toned abs, pecs, and tatted, tanned skin, you damn near get a nosebleed. “Like whatcha see, babydoll?” he purrs. “Because I’m lovin’ what I’m seein’ right now.” 

He coaxes you to stand up in front of him and finally peels off your dress, exposing your lace bra and panties to him. At the sight of you standing between his thighs in only your underwear, stockings, and heels, Geto almost busts a nut. You’re so fucking beautiful, babydoll, shit,” he hisses. 

His hands glide down your sides before pulling you closer. You allow him to do what he wants, loving whatever he does, especially when he latches his lips onto your brown nipples. While he sucks and laps at your nipples, alternating between each, his big hands mold and fondle each juicy breast that his mouth can’t occupy. 

Your sultry, slutty moans are like music to him, way better than the jazz. “Fuck!” you moan. “Suguru…that feels so good!” Your head falls back and your eyes close, the pleasure immense. He’s so, so good with his mouth! You wonder just how good he is eating pussy. 

Geto suddenly looks up at you, his mouth still latched onto your hardened, brown nipple. 

“Lay back on the couch and put your arms over your head,” he orders you. You do so, shivering in delight at him telling you what to do. He then takes his empty champagne glass off of the table and pours himself a glass. 

“Lemme try something,” he pants before slowly pouring some of the champagne over your breasts. You gasp as each cold, little droplet hits your skin, making your nipples even harder. He then swoops down and begins to lap at the champagne, drinking it from between your cleavage and lapping it off your nipples. 

“Mmm,” you softly moan, melting into the couch cushion. You’re so relaxed that you barely notice the ice cube in Geto’s mouth until he’s dragging it over your neck and tits. You gasp, your back arching into his cold lips. 

He smiles, leaning back up with the ice cube in his mouth and giving you an open-mouth kiss. The ice cube falls into your mouth, immediately melting. “That feel good, babydoll?” he chuckles, loving the way your skin jumped at the cold ice cube. 

He continues to suck on your nipples while you grind your hips against his thigh wedged between your thighs. “My, you’re so vocal,” he hums. “Thank God the staff ain’t here or we’d be in big trouble.” He then sits up, straddling you, and slowly takes down his ponytail. Watching his locks of black hair cascade over his shoulders and back is more than you can handle. 

“I need more of you,” he says, sounding hoarse and in need. “Is it okay if I taste you, babydoll? I’ve been dreaming of what you’d feel like against my tongue for so long.” He doesn’t touch you. Not until you say so. Consent being so important to him makes you wetter, your cunt throbbing against his knee. “Yes, sir,” you moan. “Please taste me. I’m yours.” 

He yanks you closer by your legs, making you squeal. “Keep saying that,” he demands. He then hunkers down in between your legs, peppering your jiggly, luscious thighs in kisses. “I’m yours,” you say, a laugh slipping out of you. 

He takes your panties off of you, leaving your heels on. “I’m yours,” you gasp as his lips make contact with your fatter, softer ones down under. His tongue laps and licks at your folds, caressing your clit. He then begins to gently suck on the tiny bud, making your toes curl. “I’m yours, Suguru, fuck!” you moan, your hands lacing in his hair. “Please do that again!” 

Geto smirks against your pussy. “What?” he chuckles. “You mean this?” He does the same move again, this time swirling his tongue around your clit.

The pleasure is overwhelming, making your mind blank and emitting the sluttiest sounds out of you. “Shit, Sugu, yes, fuck!” you pant. “You’re s-so…oooo, fuck, baby, right there!” 

Geto continues to feast on your pussy, eating it up like it’s his last meal for a while. “Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he groans against your slit, his tongue sliding down to your asscrack before sliding back up. “I like seein’ you like this. Keep makin’ more of those sounds for me, babydoll. That’s an order.” 

You can’t help it, so you do it, making as many moans, whines, and grunts as he wants. With the way he works his mouth against your pussy, it’s impossible to not. But when his hands move up to tweak and pinch your nipples, you almost explode.

“Yes, like that!” you whine. “I love that so much! Keep goin’, sir, please, sh-sh-shit!” You begin to grind your clit against his nose while his tongue explores your insides, his hot, wet mouth and cushiony lips too much to bear. You can’t take much more of this! “Shit, Suguru!” you moan. “Fuck, sir, I’m gonna cum!” 

“Mmm-hmm,” Geto hums, slipping his tongue out of you. He begins to suck on your throbbing clit again, making you see heaven. “Say the magic word,” he coos against your clit. Your hands grip his hair as your back arches into his ministrations, needing more. “Please, sir!” you whine. “Please, please let me cum! I need it, please!” 

His chocolate eyes peer up at you through the V of your thighs, demanding you to give him what he wants. “Give it to me, babydoll,” he orders. “Cum all over me. Fuckin’ do it.” As his voice drops several octaves, you feel shivers travel up and down your spine. Your core begins to tighten more and more as you grind against his magical mouth over and over again. 

When you cum, you cum hard. You’ve never had such an intense orgasm before. It tears through you, making you nearly arch off of the bed as you explode in Geto’s mouth. Moans and cries of pleasure leave your lips, tingles of ecstasy coursing through you. The man between your legs hungrily laps at your pussy, slurping up all of the cream that you give him. 

Finally, after several seconds, you come down from your high, aching in the best way possible. Geto pulls away with a sigh, his lips dripping with you. “You’re way better than the champagne,” he chuckles, licking your juices off of his lips. “Now I need more.” 

He seems to shift into a whole other person the more you look at him. His eyes darken and his hands massage your thighs a lot more as if he can’t get enough of them. “I’m sorry, babydoll, but you seem to have made me into a fiend,” he growls. “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I bust a hole through these pants.” 

He grips his hard-on pushing into his slacks and your eyes have never stretched so wide before. 

“B-But what about–” 

“You don’t need to take care of me,” he interrupts. “What you can do is lay back and let me fuck you like I need to.” He gazes down at you, molten lust evident in his eyes. “Will you let me, V?” he asks. “Is that okay with you?” 

Is that okay with you? Your pussy is dripping at the mention of finally getting what she and you both want. Finally!

Instinctively, you open your legs for him, exposing your soaked pussy to his naked eyes only. “Fuck me, sir,” you purr. “I want you so bad. Please, just fuck me now.”

Geto doesn’t need to be told twice. After planting another rough, wet kiss on your lips, he unzips his pants and shrugs his boxers down to his waist. 

Like a Jack-in-the-Box, his cock springs up, fat, long, and throbbing. You practically salivate at the sight of it. Smirkingly, Geto wraps a hand around himself and slowly slides himself home inside the wet, spongy walls of your pretty cunt, emitting a gasp from the both of you.

He looks down at you expectantly, waiting for you to give him the go to move. Once you have adjusted to his size and girth, you put your hands on his shoulders and nod, giving him a reassuring smile. 

He settles on top of you, keeping his arms on either side of you to hold himself up, and slowly begins to rock his hips. As soon as he begins to sheathe his cock in and out of you, you feel the pleasure you felt before return but it’s increased by 100. You are overwhelmed with ecstasy every time Geto pumps his cock inside of you and his pelvis rubs against your clit, unable to hold back the slutty sounds dripping from your open mouth. 

Geto smiles down at you, loving how adorable you look underneath him as you take his cock. He holds himself up with one hand to hold one of your juicy tits in his hand, loving how it jiggles as he fucks himself down into you. “So needy for me,” he sighs. “So fuckin’ cute.” His hips piston into yours just right, nailing that spot again and again as he fucks you into the couch. 

“Fuck, Sugu!” you cry, gripping his broad shoulders. “Please go faster! Fuck me faster, sir!” His handsome face flushed and black strands of hair falling in his face, Geto gives you what he wants. He sits up and grips your fleshy thighs before pumping his cock deeper and faster into you, causing the sounds of your moans to grow louder. 

If anyone were to be outside of the office right now, they would immediately know what’s going down in Mr. Geto Suguru’s office. The sound of sex–grunts, moans, whimpers, couch springs bouncing, skin slapping against skin–is way too obvious to pass it off as something else. The idea of that makes you wetter and tighter around Geto’s cock. It makes him damn near insane. 

Unable to control himself any longer, his big hands move under your ass to pull you to him. 

He then sits up with you and slowly stands, lifting you up with him. You gasp, gripping onto him tight like a cobra, and he chuckles. “I’ve got you, honey. Don’t worry, just hold onto me.” You do so as he walks over to his office window, the glittering lights of the city gleaming back at you. He slowly puts you down and wordlessly stares at you, his gaze dark and oh-so seductive. 

You don’t have to ask what he wants. Immediately, you turn around and place your hands on the cold glass of the window, sticking your ass out for him. “Damn, I didn’t even have to tell you to assume the position,” he chuckles. “I guess you’re feenin’ too.” His hand caresses your asscheeks, his thick fingers massaging them. 

You look down at the streets below, seeing people walking their dogs and having a night out on the town. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the idea of having sex in front of a window where anyone could look up and see you makes you wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. And nobody would ever know that it’s your boss giving you such good dick.

Your coherent thoughts are pushed to the back when Geto slaps his cock up against your asscheeks and then sinks himself back into your pussy. “Shit, baby!” he hisses, immediately going back to railing you. “You’re tighter than before.” 

You whine in response as he grips your hips, pumping himself into you like you’re no more than a toy. A fleshlight. His personal sex object. It’s so dirty. So wrong.

And yet it feels so, so good. You can’t deny how much you enjoy his thick cock stretching you out and sending sparks of pleasure throughout your brain. How much you love the sweet ache in your knees and your body. How much you love the way he makes your tits and ass jiggle as he fucks you.

Speaking of ass, Geto is a fiend for it, staring at the way it shakes and jiggles as he fucks your pussy. “I need to see this ass bounce for me,” he shudderingly groans, giving your ass a harsh smack. You gasp at the sting, the nasty act of it making your pussy throb around him. 

“Do that again!” you whine and he does, the pain mixing with the pleasure as he sinks his cock back into you again and again, going deeper and deeper each time. You have to brace yourself against the window the more he pounds into you, going so fast that he could damn well put a pornstar to shame with his stamina. “Fuck, Sugu, yes!” you sob. “Y-Yeah, just like that, fuck me just like that!” 

“Fuck me back, babydoll,” he demands. “Work for that cum, c’mon. Be a good secretary for me.” You do so, pressing into your heels and tossing your ass back into him. “God, that’s it!” he moans, giving you another spank as a reward. “I’ve always dreamed of fucking you like this. Always wanted to see you like this.” 

You want to tell him the same, but your tongue is tied, the pleasure making you crazy as you begin to frantically rub your clit. You can quickly feel that knot in your stomach about to snap the more he fucks you. You feel him press himself against you, pushing you into the window. You gasp as the cold glass touches your bare, brown tits pushed against the window while Geto’s big, rock-hard body pushes against your back. 

“You wanna cum with me, babydoll?” he pants into your ear. “Tell me. Tell me you wanna cum with me.”

You can feel the wetness begin to drip down your thighs and stain his balls, no doubt getting on the floor. “Tell me you want me to give you my cum,” he growls. “Say it. Tell me where the fuck you want it.” 

Somehow, you find the words to speak and scream out, “Yes! Yes, sir, I want your cum! Do it on me, please! I don’t care where! Just please, please cum with me!”

That just about makes Geto snap. He turns your face and tongue kisses you, his lips and mouth tasting like a night of champagne. You don’t speak as he continues to rail you, chasing his orgasm at full speed and taking you along for the ride.

When you both finally cum, you do so together. He manages to pull out of you quickly and pumps his cum all over your plump, soft, perfect ass while you do so onto his hand, his fingers replacing yours. 

Swears, sobs, and moans leave your lips as you’re finally released like a genie in a bottle, your orgasm hitting you dead on. It drains all of the energy out of you, making your knees buckle and your body feel weak.

“I’ve got you,” Geto softly says, hugging you to him from the back. “Just melt into me, mama. It’s okay.” 

Deliriously and happily, you smile, doing as he says. You loop an arm around his head, bringing him closer to you. You don’t ever want to leave his arms. You want to stay like this forever, pressed against him in his office, while the rest of the world turns and moves outside. At some point, you both sink onto the floor and just stay there for a while, silence descending onto you. 

Once the pleasurable fog of your orgasm fades, the concrete realization hits you like a truck: you just had sex with your boss. Geto seems to know what you’re thinking though and turns your face towards his. “Tell me how you feel,” he tells you, his eyes firm but soft. “Listen, I don’t want you to regret what we did, Y/N, ‘cause I don’t. This was real for me.” 

He bites on his bottom lip, looking flushed and nervous. You’ve never seen him look like that before. “I know this was a lot, but if you want, I’d like to turn this into something more. But it’s all up to you.” You blink at him, wondering if he’s serious. He continues to hold that firm yet nervous look, his eyes hopeful. 

After sex like that, you’d be crazy to say no! You place a hand on his cheek and move in to kiss him softly. He accepts the kiss, his lips dancing with yours before you pull away. “I’m ready to try if you are, sir,” you softly answer. “But dinner would be nice.”

Geto begins to laugh and kisses your hand. “Of course,” he chuckles, sounding relieved. “You like Italian? Or maybe ramen? I know this place that just opened that–” 

Knock, knock, knock! Quickly, Geto places himself in front of you, blocking you from whoever is at his office door. Fear jumps inside of you, making your stomach churn. “I thought you said nobody was here!” you hiss. 

“There isn’t,” he whispers. “Or there wasn’t supposed to be.” He clears his throat, giving a clear, short, “Yes?” 

“Brooo, it’s me!” Gojo shouts through the door. “I think I dropped my wallet in here! Can ya let me in?” Geto turns to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you think, babydoll?” he asks. “Should we let my friend in?” 

You don’t know why you say yes or why your pussy throbs despite having just orgasmed twice, but Geto gives Gojo the okay and he comes waltzing into the office. At the sight of his best friend and his personal secretary sitting naked on the floor in their afterglow, Gojo’s blue eyes widen in shock… 

And then they grow hooded with lust. “Well, well,” he chuckles. “It’s about fuckin’ time.”

He begins to loosen his tie, giving you a flirty smile. “I hope it ain’t too much to ask if I can join, babe.” 

THE END. 

Fan Art by @almaadst

[megs-98]

It's Always Been You

Finally posting the solstice/secret santa fic that i wrote for the lovely @smaranshakthi

big thank you to @justporo for helping me edit as this is the first fic that i've wrote

summary: tav left baldur's gate after the final battle but years later something... or someone, drew her back and she had to find out why

tags: dammon x f!reader (Tav), fluff, light makeout scene at the end, mostly just dammon being the sweetest boy

word count: 3.4k

It had been five years since the final battle in Baldur’s Gate when you and your companions had conquered the Absolute and the Dead Three’s Chosen. Five years since you had left the Gate in search of rediscovering yourself once you had been freed of the tadpole. It wasn’t all lonely though, Withers had summoned everyone back to your original campsite six months after the cult was defeated, which had given you a chance to reconnect with your friends. You found more companions and had seen spectacular new places with your most recent adventures. However, you felt that something was absent from your life the farther you got from the city. There was something absent in your heart, something that you weren’t able to find during your travels. That’s how you found yourself back in the city, staying in the Elfsong Tavern, just in time for the snowy season. 

You had felt a natural, almost instinctive, pull back to Baldur’s Gate, though you were unsure why. With resolve, you start visiting your old acquaintances. Rolan at Ramzaithan’s Tower as well as Cal and Lia, Alfria. Oskar Fevras, who attempted very earnestly, to get you to commission a painting from him, and so many others. While you were happy to see everyone, there was still something itching at your brain, an itch that you couldn’t quite scratch. That’s how you found yourself having a glass of ale at the bar top of Elfsong. You were pondering what, or who, could have subconsciously pulled you back to your home city, when you accidentally overheard a conversation from two men sitting farther down the counter from you. 

“Oi! Let me see that new blade of yours!”

“Ah, yeah, that tiefling did a damn fine job. Dammon, one of the best blacksmith’s I’ve ever worked with.” The man said as he pulled out a beautifully crafted silver dagger with a black leather hilt.

Your ears perked at the mention of Dammon. You silently cursed to yourself as you had forgotten to visit him earlier in the day due to the bustle you’d been swept up in. He had been someone you got on with so well during your quest to remove the tadpole, hells he had even helped Karlach with her infernal engine, granting her a little more time top side. A smile came to your lips as you reminisced meeting the tiefling for the first time. 

It was only a few days into your adventure of finding a cure for the Mind Flayer tadpole. You had found other survivors from the Nautolid crash on the beach, quickly realizing that you had all been infected. You and your new companions spent a couple days searching the beach and wreckage for supplies when you decided to venture farther out, starting to head towards Baldur’s Gate. You had heard from a couple of tieflings that there was a nearby druid grove not too far north, where there was a healer. As your group headed north, you heard shouting and the beat of war drums from a pack of goblins. You and your group realized that the druid grove was under attack and had quickly sprang to action, helping dispatch the goblins, earning you thanks from the tiefling leader, Zevlor. He explained that they had been attacked by creature after creature after fleeing from Elturel after its descent to Avernus. 

The tiefling had said that they were seeking refuge in the grove but with Archdruid Halsin missing after not returning with the scouts you fought the goblins with previously, Kagha was now commanding the grove, and she was ready to eject the tieflings. You agreed to find information about Kagha if you and your companions were able to see a healer and traders, with which Zevlor agreed. He pointed you towards the druid’s chambers to find a healer and towards The Hollow to find another tiefling named Dammon to trade with. You gave him your thanks as you and your new friends followed the dirt path further into the grove. You could hear the sounds of a hammer hitting metal get louder as you saw a man working at a makeshift forge. He was a man of medium build, blond hair, half shaved, tied back into a bun. Black horns, ridged skin you could barely see on his forearms from where he had his sleeves rolled up. Broad, muscular shoulders and the distinctive tiefling tail, which was twitching with frustration as the man cursed his less than stellar smithing conditions. 

You waved to catch his attention as you approached. “Hi, I’m Tav. Zevlor said you had items to trade?”

“Ah, hello! I’m Dammon, we can’t thank you enough for helping take care of those nasty little creatures out there. Whatever repairs you need I can do and you can take a look at my wares. Discount included.” He smiled as he shook your hand. He beamed with pride when he talked about the pieces he had crafted. You couldn’t help but be a bit smitten by the man. The passion for his work showed in his brilliant blue eyes as he explained the different materials he had worked with, from Infernal iron in Avernus all the way to basic tin from when he had first started smithing. His tail started to wag slightly the more excited he got, you couldn’t help but think how cute it was. You had wanted to spend more of your time in the Grove talking with him, but you and your companions had found yourselves quested with finding Halsin and deposing Kagha by more people with limited time. 

The night of the tiefling party quickly came to your mind as you were reminiscing. How Dammon hadn’t made an appearance, much to your dismay as you hadn’t thought you would see him again. Oh, how wrong you had been… Once your friends and you had made it into the Shadow Cursed Lands, the Harpers scouting the area quickly ushered your group to the Last Light Inn, a sanctuary within the afflicted area. You quickly realized that the tieflings, as many of them that had made it, were recuperating at the inn as well. After speaking with Jaheira, your group grabbed a drink from the boys working the bar and started making the rounds checking in with the tieflings. Rolan and Alfria filling you in on what had happened during their trek over, with you promising to do your best to bring everyone back, at the behest of Astarion, who reminded you that your little troupe already had enough on their plates. 

As you made your way through the inn’s courtyard you heard the familiar beat of metal on metal as you walked closer to the barn. You quickened your step, the pace of your heartbeat also picking up, matching the beat coming from across the way. You had left the others behind, to find who was hammering away, elated to see that Dammon was there. He was safe.

 He had his back to the entryway, working on some armor. You could see the muscles in his back and arms tensing as he worked the metal. The veins in his hands and forearms visible from where you stood. Callused hands firmly, but delicately, reshaping the metal back to robust condition. Dammon turned around once he noticed you standing there, the first thing you noticed was the sweat running down his brow, loose hair falling around his face, having come undone from his bun. The way he looked up at you half lidded eyes as he pushed the hair back out of his face as he walked over almost causing you to come undone. A smile graced his mouth as he saw you, tail lifted and wagging, showing his excitement at seeing you again. 

“Dammon! I can’t believe you’re here, I was worried I wouldn’t get the chance to see you again..” You caught yourself from giving him a hug, not wanting to overstep his boundaries, instead placing your hands on his arms.

He let out a low chuckle, “Oh, Tav, please, the Hells couldn’t keep me. You didn’t think I’d let some cult get me, did you?” He winked as he patted your hands. You felt his tail trying to curl around your ankle, a redness coming to both of your faces as the rest of your group caught up to you, greeting the tiefling. The two of you were able to continue your conversation a little longer at the inn with Dammon joining you at the bar. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you saw your group of friends finally relaxing, even if just for a short moment. Having a drink, laughing with each other as they ate their dinner. You felt Dammon’s shoulder against yours as he sat down, causing you to look over at him. You were met with him already looking at you, a smile on his face. Neither of you moved, both your eyes jumping from irises to lips, unsure of what to do. Your impassioned thoughts of the man were quickly pulled from you as you heard Karlach booming with laughter, causing you to turn to see what had the barbarian so happy. You didn’t know what was going on but you were happy with where you were, putting your hand on Dammon’s, leaning into his shoulder more, earning you a content sigh from the tiefling. It didn’t matter to you that it was a short lived reunion, you were just glad he was there and safe.

As if you had deja vu, your second reunion with Dammon, in Baldur’s Gate, had been similar. You were unsure if he had made it to the city, worried you might not see him again, until you heard the familiar sounds of a forge as you walked around the city with your friends. Cautiously, you and your group approached the workshop and heard a man cursing to himself as he grabbed a new tool. You saw a familiar set of broad shoulders working over a sword and realized that Dammon had made it, had even found himself a forge to get back to work. 

You yelled his name, causing him to turn around, smiling as soon as he saw you. 

“Ah, there she is! The hero of the Grove, now the hero of the Shadowlands. It’s good to see you again.” Dammon happily said to you as you found him at his new forge, Forge of the Nine. 

“Hey, wow! Look at this setup. It looks great, Dammon. It’s incredible to see you here, and  safe.” You gave him a tight hug, not wanting to let go. “Could I trouble you for some repairs?” You asked as you held up your beat up sword after he had given everyone in the group a small hug.

Dammon smiled as he grabbed all the different weapons you and your companions needed fixed. “Let’s take a look at that armor too.” 

He motioned to you to lift your arms as he inspected the breastplate you had on, his hand cupped over the small of your back as he looked over the rest of your armor. There was a hitch in your breath when you felt Dammon’s warm hand on your back. You cleared your throat in an attempt to hide it but the tiefling looked at you with knowing eyes. Making eye contact with you, an obvious shudder going through him at the closeness between the two of you. 

“Uh.. yeah, I can make some quick repairs. I’ll have this done within a couple days for you guys.” 

You remembered that day well, between the frustration of Dammon not letting you pay full price for his services and the way he delicately touched your back, the hug that felt like neither of you wanted it to end. Something about that made you yearn for more. More than the flirtatious looks and easy conversation. You wanted something special with Dammon, but you never got the chance to tell him after defeating the Netherbrain. With all of the festivities and overwhelming excitement, you had to leave the city. You quietly told all of your companions, and Withers, goodbye and that you planned on traveling from city to city to rediscover yourself, but eventually you found yourself led back to Baldur’s Gate. In the city you weren’t ever sure you were going to be in again, five years later hoping to see the man who had always been for you. 

 Dammon’s forge wasn’t far from the tavern, you knew you could stop by first thing in the morning to see him but you knew that wasn’t an option. You quickly finished your ale, grabbed your coat off the barstool next to you and ventured into the cold, dark night.

The tiefling sighed as he hung his smithing apron on the hook on his back door, a tired hand rubbing over his neck. Dammon knew that he stayed out working too long, the sun was long gone and the first snow of the year was coming down, affecting the temperature consistency of his forge. He had orders that needed to be be done though, and he would be damned if he didn’t finish them on time. It seemed to Dammon that that’s how he spent all of his time the last few years. Hyperfocused on work so his thoughts didn’t wander back to the one that got away. He hadn’t known her all that long, just enough to know that she was quick to help anyone in need, strong, fearsome on the battlefield, and devastatingly beautiful. He missed seeing how the flames of his different forges danced in her irises, how her smile seemed to light up the room even more when he cooled Karlach down enough for her to touch others. Everything about her had bewitched him heart, mind, and soul. 

Dammon had even smithed a sword for her, matching her beauty and fierceness. A sword with a silver hilt and an intricate gold design going up the fuller, set with opals, meeting at a deadly sharp point at the tip of the blade. He kept it on display on the mantle of his fireplace, hoping that someday he might have the chance to give it to her. 

Dammon changed out of his work clothes and began to make himself some tea, lighting the fireplace as he waited for the kettle. His eyes were met with the blade he was never able to give, a small smile gracing over his features as he thought of the woman who unknowingly stole his heart. As he was lost in thought, his eyes drifted to the window, when he noticed that someone was standing outside his forge.. “Bloody hells.” he whispered to himself as he walked over to his front door.

“Hey! What are you doing?  It's too damned cold to be out right now. Come insi-” The rest of his words were caught in his chest as he realized the person outside, now right in front of him at his door, was the woman he had been longing for. You. You were here, staring at him with those doe eyes of yours. His brain couldn’t register what was happening until the whistle of the kettle grounded him. 

Realizing that you were actually here, right now, standing in front of him again. “Where are my manners, I’m sorry, Tav. Please come in, let’s get you out of this cold and out of that coat.” He said as he stepped aside and opened the door wider for you to come. You kicked the snow off your boots as you stepped through the threshold, hanging your coat on the rack next to the door. You smiled as you watched Dammon pouring the two of you a cup of tea, his hair hanging down around his face rather than in its signature bun, the red highlights glinting in the firelight. You noticed as his tail swiped back and forth, low to the ground, giving away his nervousness. 

You decided to break the silence. “Were you able to buy this place from the owner?” 

“Oh, yes. She said I was one of the better tenants she had had and gave me the opportunity to buy it from her a couple years ago.” Dammon responded as he watched you fidget with your tea cup. He couldn’t believe that you were here, after disappearing for five years. Five years of nothing but hoping to the Gods that you were okay. He continued to eye you, lips pursed. “Tav.. What are you doing here? I mean, I’m happy to see you and all but just reappearing after all these years, like nothing has changed? As if it was just another instance that we found each other before your tadpole was removed?” 

You could hear the pang of hurt in his voice as you met his eyes, feeling guilty. You ran a hand through your hair as you thought of an answer. “I… I don’t know. I know that leaving after everything the way that I did was shitty, and I will never forgive myself for not finding you first, Dammon. I just.. couldn’t handle the pressure of being one of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. I didn’t even know who I was as an individual anymore, so I left. Hoping to rediscover myself.” Dammon gave you a hum of acknowledgement as he watched you find your words. 

  “And did you?” The tiefling asked. You gave him a confused look as his question registered. 

“Ah, well. That’s a tricky question, I suppose. I learned that I love Waterdeep during the summer, some of the best fish that I’ve ever had. I also learned that I still don’t care for goblins, I met too many of those bastards on the road.” You looked back to the tiefling, giving him a small smile. “I don’t know how many swords and blades I went through whilst traveling. I never met another blacksmith as good as you.” You said as you put your hand over his, hot and calloused, but still gentle as he placed his other hand over yours, smiling at you as his eyes drifted towards the blade he had made for you. Without another word, Dammon got up and grabbed the sword from its resting place, inspecting it. 

“You know, I made this for you, all those years ago.. Been holding on to it, hoping to give it to you someday.”

“Dammon, have you been carrying a torch for me this whole time?” You half jokingly ask as you set your tea down. You gasped as you turned and saw the beautiful blade up close, inspecting its features, gently touching the opals that lined the middle. You looked up and realized that Dammon was already looking at you, his eyes so full of love you wondered how you missed it before. 

“I always have, Tav. It’s always been you, I’ve never met a woman like you.” Dammon tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked at him, slowly standing from your chair. 

You took the sword from him, placing it on the counter. You surprised the man as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a hug.

“Dammon, there is no other man in this life that I have wanted more than you.” Dammon hugged you tighter as he listened to your words, his tail wrapping around your leg as he tried to bring you closer to him. He finally pulled away from the hug to grab your chin, lifting your face up to his, kissing you passionately, like a man starved. You carded a hand through his hair as he cupped your cheeks, working his hands down to the sides of your neck, one hand then cupping the back on your head as he deepened the kiss. Causing you to moan into him, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, eliciting a moan from the man. The kiss turned to your tongues dancing with each other and hungry moans as the two of you sought to find purchase on the kitchen counter. It was again Dammon that pulled away first, an audible whine leaving you as he pressed his forehead to yours. The both of you panting, having forgotten that air was required. His thumb swept across your cheek as he hummed in delight as you leaned into his touch even more. 

“I suppose we have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” 

[banrionceallach]

I used to write a moderately popular HP/Good Omens crossover. I started it before JKR made transphobia her entire personality.

I decided to stop writing it in 2021 when I could no longer justify engaging with HP in any way, because making any kind of content for it, even transformative content, contributed to JKR's money pile, even just indirectly.

I left the fic up, because people had got enjoyment out of it and I was proud of the effort that went into creating it, but I left a note on the fic explaining exactly why I personally could no longer engage with HP, even though I had fun writing the fic and really missed doing so.

Most people who read the fic either weren't that invested in it and so moved on with a shrug, or were invested but understood that HP was, to quote a tumblr post 'just covered in the fucking ooze'.

But every now and then I get well-meant comments along the lines of: I want more of this fic, please continue it, it's not harming trans people to continue engaging with HP, you can solve the problem just by adding trans representation to your fic! You can engage with HP all you like as long as you don't directly buy things!

And yes, I can see that argument has a couple of valid poins. Transformative art is one of the points of fan fic. And if the author has been dead for donkey's years and is no longer using the income from their creation to get people oppressed and killed, then I'd agree.

I can, just for example, engage with works by HP Lovecraft and quite like transformative works based on his original material. (Salute to the monsterfuckers!) Because he is six-feet-under and me commissioning art of sexy cthulu in no way benefits him.

But JKR is alive, wealthier than god, and actively engaging in stochastic terrorism against trans people. It is not the same.

And so the undertone to these comments, whether intended or not, is 'can't you compromise on people's safety and human rights? Just a little? Pweez? My personal entertainment is important!'

Do the commenters intend this? No, I don't think so. I think their argument is made in good faith.

But the comments, like HP, are just covered in the fucking ooze.

To those commenters, I am sorry, believe me. It is the most minor, not even microscopic-violin-worthy of problems, but I do resent the fact that JKRs shite spoiled an act of creation for me. I understand that it does suck when you lose something that brought you joy.

But she is helping to get people killed.

There are so many other authors out there who have brilliant stories and are not using their earnings to hurt trans people.

Please try them instead.

[nerdygaymormon]

Happy Pride

I want to wish a Happy Pride to:

Green Carnations

In 1892, Oscar Wilde had some of his friends wear a green carnation on their left lapels to the opening night of his show. An elegant and witty character in the play—who paralleled real-life Oscar Wilde—wore a carnation as part of his costume. Why green? It was an unnatural color for a carnation, Wilde chose this since it was said that homosexuality was unnatural. The green carnation became associated with Wilde and his flamboyant friends, and spread as a secret code to show others that you're gay.

"Be Gay, Do Crime"

The slogan "Be gay, do crime" has existed since at least 2011. The slogan suggests that crime and incivility may be necessary to earn equal rights given the criminalization of homosexuality around the world and a reminder that the Stonewall uprising was a riot. The slogan stands in contrast to the polished, corporate version of contemporary Pride, and shows that queerness has always been transgressive, regardless of its legal status. Part of being queer is being willing to push boundaries and protect one's self from the law since we have traditionally been attacked by it.

Peppermint Patty and Marcie

Peppermint Patty defied traditional gender norms. She played all sorts of sports at a time when it wasn't common for girls to do so. All the other female characters wore dresses, but Patty wears a t-shirt, shorts and sandals and the only other female character not to wear dresses is Marcie.

Peppermint Patty regularly flirts with Charlie Brown and has a strong bond with Marcie. While we don't know for sure, it certainly seems that Peppermint Patty is bi and her best friend Marcie is a lesbian.

I can imagine Peppermint Patty organizing the school's GSA or an all-inclusive dance, and loudly calling out any queerphobia. I like thinking of Patty getting a man's suit from a thrift store and going to Prom where she dances with both Marcie and Charlie Brown

Absolut Vodka

In 1979, Absolut entered the American market, but sales were slow. In 1981, Absolut starting targeting the LGBTQ consumer with the idea this group are trendsetters. Since 1981, Absolut has had print ads in queer magazines, sponsored events in gay bars, donated more than $40 million to queer charities and causes, sponsors the GLAAD Media Awards, and numerous major LGBTQ events in the US annually. Absolut has commissioned many openly gay artists to create ads, such as Andy Warhol, Nereyda Garcia Ferraz, David Spada, Keith Haring and Kenny Scharf. Supporting the queer community in 1981 was risky, but they have invested in the community and earned loyalty in return.

Pink Triangle

In the 1930s and 40s, just as Nazi Germany required Jews in the concentration camps to wear a yellow star of David, gay men, bi men, and trans women had to wear a downward-pointing triangle on their chest. The symbol was reclaimed in the 1970's by the queer liberation movement as a symbol against homophobia, and then was adopted widely by the LGBTQ community. The community took this symbol from the holocaust to show we are stronger than the worst done to us.

The pink triangle has largely been replaced by the rainbow Pride flag, and a reason for this is explaining why a pink triangle is the symbol of the community required an explanation of its dark past and therefore was about what others did to us rather than a symbol representing who we are and our hopes & aspirations. Although it isn't used much anymore, it's important to remember the pink triangle as the first widely-adopted visual symbol of the queer community

Ace & Aro Rings

Beginning in 2005, wearing a black ring on the middle finger of your right hand became a way for people to signify their asexuality. The material and design of the ring are not important as long as it is primarily black. It’s about carrying a reminder on our hands that there are others like us, and it's a way to identify each other. A white ring on the left hand of the middle finger is the aro equivalent.

Eyebrow Slits

Eyebrow slits was a trend in the hip hop community in the 1990's and called "eyebrow cuts." The trend fell out of style, but was brought back in the 2010's by some male artists and models as an edgy fashion statement. Lesbians quickly adopted this trend, perhaps as a way of showing they aren't beholden to gendered fashion rules, and it quickly grew in popularity on social media as a way for members of the queer community to express themselves and signal to each other. It seems natural that a fashion style containing an underlying rebelliousness appeals to a group who are marginalized by society. The eyebrow slit trend largely has faded except among the LGBTQ+ community, and so has become associated with us.

Nautical Star Tattoos

For centuries, sailors would get tattoos, often of images with symbolic meanings, such as the nautical star (which represents the North Star) which was believed to ensure a sailor’s safe return home. In the 1940s and 50s, lesbians were navigating the choppy waters of societal norms and expectations, and this five-pointed star tattoo became their compass, helping them find others like themselves. They'd get this tattoo on the inner wrist because it could be covered by a watch strap during the day, allowing women to hide their identity when necessary for their safety or professional lives, but could reveal it in safe spaces. This symbol was revived in the 1970's and is still used by some to this day.

Online "Am I Gay?" Quizzes

A common experience of people who are gay, bi, and pan, is they find an online quiz that will ask a few questions and then determine whether you are gay, or will reveal how gay you are (as though this can be graded like a school test). Sometimes the questions are lighthearted, while others try to be more serious. Here's the thing, more than any quiz results, searching for this type of quiz is probably the biggest indicator that a person experiences attraction to people of their same gender. It can be helpful for someone to have a "confirmation" of how they're feeling, and thus these "am I gay" quizzes will remain a rite of passage many.

Subaru

In the early 1990's, Subaru was struggling. Sales of their dependable but plain cars were in decline. Subaru knew teachers, healthcare professionals, IT professionals, and the outdoorsy types bought 1/2 their cars in America, and they targeted advertisements at those groups. Soon they realized there was yet another core group, lesbians were 4 times more likely than the average American to purchase a Subaru.

Subaru began printing advertisements that made subtle nods to lesbians in a way that slipped past the notice of other Americans, such as having the license plate "XENA LVR" on a car. Many ads had taglines with double meanings. "Get Out. And Stay Out" could refer to exploring the outdoors in a Subaru—or coming out as gay. "It’s Not a Choice. It’s the Way We’re Built" could refer to all Subarus coming with all-wheel-drive—or an LGBTQ identity.

Subaru noticed a group of customers and created ads for them, a group which often felt unwelcome and invisible. The campaign was so successful that it became a stereotype that lesbians drive Subarus, even leading to the word "Lesbaru." Polls show that the queer community views Subaru as the most queer-friendly brand.

[sotwk]

Thranduilion: Sons of the Woodland King

SotWK commission by super-talented artist hffhifjou

(Please click image to enlarge and appreciate the beautiful details! XD)

I am pleased to present the first artwork I've commissioned for my OCs, the Princes of Mirkwood, Legolas's older brothers and elder sons of Thranduil Oropherion and his wife, Elvenqueen Maereth (also my OC).

I know many fans aren't on board with Legolas having brothers, but I invite you to enjoy the concept with me for a bit: an entire lineup of brother ellons, all as gorgeous and amazing as Thranduil and Legolas are?? Surely it's a fun imagine to indulge in, even as an AU.

I will gradually start posting more HCs about each Prince of Mirkwood, but here are some headcanons to accompany and explain this artwork:

Legolas is not only the youngest son, but he is actually the smallest of the group--if you could even call 6 feet, 8 inches "small"! But in comparison, Thranduil is 7 feet, 3 inches, while the tallest son, Turhir is a whopping 7 feet, 6 inches.

Turhir is the tank of the family--the tallest one and the best fighter (not counting Thranduil). He is virtually tireless and very difficult to take down or injure.

The eldest brother, Crown Prince Mirion, is physically the strongest, with raw muscle power even greater than Thranduil's. You can see that he is simply built broader and more muscular than the usual elven "slender" physique.

The five princes have varying degrees of fighting ability and different skill sets, but all of them are adept warriors. In this sketch, they are each carrying the weapons they specialize in.

The princes have trained alongside the Greenwood soldiers since they were very young, and they eventually earned places in leadership positions--except for Arvellas, who is more scholar than soldier.

The princes don't wear circlets most of the time; only during formal functions. Wildman Gelir in particular hates having to do this, and dislikes formal "stuffy" clothing in general. The Crown Prince is the only one who wears his crown as regularly as the Elvenking does, to signify his status as heir to the throne.

During warm summers in the Woodland Realm, soldiers do occasionally train shirtless, especially when they do drills around or in bodies of water. In some winters, they also undergo exercises with very little clothing on, to hone their bodies' tolerance for the harshest cold-weather conditions.

One of my HCs about Mirkwood/Silvan elves is that they are much more comfortable with showing skin than their Noldor and Sindar brethren in the west (or even the other races), which can occasionally scandalize and draw criticisms from outside visitors.

I specifically asked for the artist to draw these elves shirtless because a) you know we all enjoy that; b) we rarely get to see it; and c) I did want to highlight the differences in physique between the brothers, and promote my belief that Elves do not have all the same body type.

For anyone interested, I made a separate post about my fancast/face claim choices for these OCs HERE.

I am 100% willing to answer any Asks about any of my OC Thranduilions, including headcanons of Legolas. My OC-loving heart will thank you for your interest!

Tagging some friends who have been so kind in encouraging me to create more content for my OCs. Thank you so much, and I hope you don't mind this superfluous tag. (It won't be a regular thing, I promise!) @laneynoir @legoriel-fan @quickslvxr @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @delicatebreadtyphoon @laurfilijames @i-am-pinkie @lathalea @fizzyxcustard @sleepyamygdala @jezzibee @firelightinferno @coopsgirl @heilith

[freyaloi]

Many are the rumours surrounding Raven's past and allegiances, even during her short stint as a Madame of the Order at a young age, it became obvious that she held no fear of the rampant skeletons but nobody could explain why. Not that asking her about it would earn any more than the butt of one of her trusty pistols to the face.

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

If you are interested in having your own character drawn in my style, to show off to your friends and fellow players, consider checking out my commission page and ordering one on there. Alternatively, you can DM me if you're looking for something specific.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i warned interviewees/incoming potential employees at my job that it sucks here and also they wont earn any commission pay?

I work in an auto shop and the estimators' pay is a base flat rate plus commission based on how much the shop earns each week. If we dont earn enough in a week for them to earn commission, they still get the flat base pay but they're basically in debt to the company and will not earn commission until that bad week is made up for (so if profit was 50% of budget one week, if we hit 150% the next week that balances out and he hasn't earned any commission. To earn commission that second week we'd need to go over 150%. Multiple bad weeks in a row quickly add up. In theory if someone quits while in the hole they would owe money from their paychecks back to the company). We currently have one estimator and he earns a bit of commission most weeks, nothing crazy. In the past we'd had two for several months and they were both in the red nearly the entire time because (potential) commission earnings had to be split between them (based on the jobs assigned to them), and after going back down to one estimator it took a month and a half for him to dig out and earn commission again.

My manager thinks we need more help on the admin side of the shop again and is trying to hire a second estimator. I work the front desk and overhear them explain the commission in interviews, acting as if they'd earn any. Me, our current estimator, and a few of the techs all think we'd benefit more from hiring a dedicated production manager instead, because we (me, estimator and general manager) currently all juggle the typical production manager job duties, which results in those things often getting done poorly, slowly, or not at all. It seems the current bone being picked is we need to write more estimates to pull in more work, but i handle the schedule (very difficult & fickle without having someone wholely dedicated to managing production that i can discuss it with...) and i dont think a second estimator is fully necessary for the amount of business we're getting. If our estimator had a little more time on his hands (& got a little more practice/got a little faster, he's still relatively new) him and i could bring in a lot more customers.

In the past, corporate has told us its not possible to have a production manager, however plenty of other locations do have one (this is a very large company) and in fact all of our job training constantly refers to the production manager role, even recently updated job aids. It felt like half my training was "the production manager will do x so that you can use this to complete y". Its simply cheaper for corporate to have two estimators earning 0 commission rather than have one estimator earning commission and someone else on a production manager salary.

Im tempted to find a way to warn incoming estimators about how much it'd suck for them to work here so they dont actually hire anyone while we try again to convince corporate that we need a production manager instead, but we're not sure if our manager is fully against the idea of a production manager or if she just doesn't want to stir the pot with corporate (they're already not in love with her), and without our manager on our side, there's a 0% chance we'd ever get a production manager. I do like our manager besides this, and she's generally usually attentive to employee needs, etc. So i would hate to throw her under the bus or sabotage her in any way, but we simply don't see the logic here.

What are these acronyms?

[plzfeedmebread]

Red Rivers Run Deep

word count: 1787

Pairing: Human! Colonel Miles Quaritch x Human! Female! Reader Tags/Warning: hurt, comfort, established relationship, slight angst, crying, period cramps Summary: Period pains aren't the only pain you're dealing with right now. You're grateful that your husband is there to comfort you.

Author's Note: So I wrote this, then didn't like what I wrote so I rewrote it TwT For the request from @idrinktheadarling Hope it's to your liking! Apologies as always for any grammatical mistakes.

You didn’t think something so insignificant could affect you to such a degree.

But it wasn’t insignificant, now was it?

The seemingly inoffensive pink line stares back at you.

Singular.

Negative.

You throw the pregnancy test in the trash, washing your hands with gusto as if to wash away the pain.

And it was not just the physical pain of your impending period that assaults you. Your heart is aching something fierce. You feel guilty. It was as if, what right did you have, to dream of such things? What deeds have you done, to earn such happiness?

If Eywa was real, then she did not bless you this day. If God was real, then you feel as though you are far beyond his reach.

You had been so sure, yet cautiously hoping. Your period was late, as was indicated on the app you used to track it. The pains you got were always severe, sometimes taking you out of commission completely.

You remember that you need to tell Grace you won’t be available for any field work for a few days, perhaps even a whole week. You call her through the commlink. True to her name, she was gracious in understanding of your situation. She can tell something is off; there is a troubled cadence to your voice underneath your hisses of pain. She doesn’t press you for answers. You ask her to send your husband your way should she see him.

Once you’re done with your call, you meander to the bed, carefully laying yourself on Miles’ side. His pillow smells so faintly of his cologne. And even though you clearly have matching bedding, his pillow somehow felt just that much softer.

Another slice of pain cuts through you, and you clench your teeth to bear through it. Fucking hell, you wish you could be in your Avatar right now. Never have you felt so envious of, what was essentially just another you; the Na’vi didn’t have periods like humans did.

You smile at the memory of when Grace had regaled you with the tale of mortified looks from the older Omatikayan children’s faces when she had explained the concept to them all years ago. You had laughed until your stomach ached when she tried imitating them.

“‘Sa’nok! Are you bleeding now?? Are you okay, does it hurt???’ Oh, poor Tsu’tey was beside himself!” Grace laughs with a hand to her heart. She’s still giggling when she tries making a disgruntled face, pretending to swat someone behind the head.

“‘Tsk! Skxáwng! It’s probably impolite to ask such things! Sorry Sa’nok, please pay him no mind.’ Sylwanin gave him an earful for that one. She was always so bright that one, wise beyond her years…” Her voice trails off then. You see the shift in her gaze, the sadness behind her faltering smile. Even years later, the pain of what those soldiers did still lingers...

Another stab of pain interrupts your trip down memory lane. You curse out loud, clutching your abdomen. You don’t feel like stumbling through the base to medical for some pain killers.

You close your eyes, trying your best to will yourself to sleep. If Eywa could not bless you with a child, then maybe she would at least let slumber take you.

---

When next you open your eyes, you look out the window to see night has already fallen. The pain has subsided to a dull ache. You notice then, that a hot water bottle has been nestled against you, with your hands carefully maneuvered to hold it in place.

What? Who? When?

The answer is immediately obvious. The sounds from the bathroom catch your ears; the shower is running, and you can hear the faint yet distinct sound of familiar humming. Miles must have come in some time whilst you slept on, placing the warm bottle where it now lay.

You let out a deep content sigh, readjusting yourself and the bottle to be more comfortable on your side, facing away from the bathroom door. You eye then catches the items placed on the bedside table. There is a thermos, and when you reach out to touch it, the bottle still feels hot. Beside it sits some pain killers in a small plastic cup.

You sit up, propping yourself against the pillows. And as you do, you see the bag sitting at your bedside. It’s filled with little boxes and packets of your favourite snacks; at least the ones available here on Pandora.

You lip quivers, and you feel as though you could cry. You love the small gestures just as much as the grand. You clear your throat, vigorously rubbing your cheeks to stop yourself from crying. You grab the thermos. You unscrew the lid and sniff the hot contents. The smell is delectable and enticing. Your pour yourself some in the lid and drink it down greedily.

You sit there, drinking from the thermos in quiet contemplation.

The dull ache in your lower abdomen pulls your mind back to that accursed test in bin. You wonder if Miles saw it, what would say? Would he share in your sadness? Would he be relieved? Would he berate you for wanting to even start a family?

But what was really waiting for you there? A dying world? Was there even anything worth going back for? You had no immediate family. The only family you truly had now, was here, on this planet light years away. And who knew how long you’d even be stationed here anyway; this was for all intents and purposes your new home. And despite its rough edges, you loved this place to bits.

Did you even want to start a family on Pandora? You know all too well the hostility of this place. It was probably a stupid idea, wanting to have kids here. It would be a far better idea to wait until you’re both shipped back home.

And you love your husband dearly. And you are certain, without a shadow of a doubt, he loves you back just as much. You feel apprehensive though; the two of you had spoken of kids before, but it was always around ‘when we get back home’. Pandora never did feel like home for him; probably never would.

Your lips press into a thin line as your mind spirals lower. Why this time, out of all the other times…Why was it this particular time, that you’re so disappointed?

You don’t even realize the noise from the bathroom has stopped. Nor do you even register when Miles emerges from the bathroom dressed for bed.

---

Miles stops himself in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning on the door frame. He takes the time to stare at you, study you. You’re sitting up in bed, drinking from the thermos he brought. Your eyes are unfocused, staring blanking ahead. He wonders what’s on your mind, but he has a pretty good idea of what it could be. He had seen the test in the bin. Luckily, he didn’t need to pick it up; it had been facing upward, the pink line in plain sight.

He watches the micro expressions that dance across your face as your mind wonders. There is a tightness in his chest, and he quietly grimaces. He knows he needs to talk to you; you are clearly upset and the air needs to be cleared. When he sees the threat of tears in your eyes, the quiver of your lip, he swiftly pushes himself off the wall.

---

The sound of his approach has you snap your head up to him. It takes you a moment to register, but you offer him a gentle smile. It does not reach your eyes.

“Hi honey,” you greet him, holding up the thermos. “Thanks for this, I really need it. All of it, actually…” You return the thermos to the bedside.

“It’s no trouble sweetheart, anything for my best girl.” He lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms does. You nestle yourself into his side, head resting on his shoulder, hand resting on his chest, the hot water bottle sandwiched between you two.

“[Y/N]…Are you okay?”

It’s such a simple question. Requires a simple answer.

Instead you cry. He turns himself to face you, arms wrapping around you. He pulls you to him, your hands fist into his shirt tightly.

His hand leaves warm patterns in your back, his mouth whispers comforts into the softness of your hair.

When you manage to calm yourself, reduced to only sniffing, you finally speak.

“I’m…sorry…” you manage to choke out. He tuts you, and you feel him shake his head.

“You don’t ever have to apologise darling; least of all to me. You wanna cry, you go ahead and cry.” He wipes your face with tissues you didn’t even see him grab.

You open your mouth to speak, but instead you groan in pain as you’re hit with another wave of pain.

“Did you take the painkillers?”

“No…forgot…”

Miles reaches behind you, grabbing the little cup. He hands it to you, and you wordlessly take it. You wash down the pills with a swig from the thermos.

Miles instructs you to lie on your back. He moves his hand under the pillow, laying on his side, pressed into you. He moves the water bottle away, replacing it with his hand instead.

Slowly he rubs your lower abdomen in gentle circles. The light pressure almost feels like a massage. You let out a content sigh as the pain subsides back into the dull ache. You feel his breath tickle the hair on your head.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks vaguely.

“Not…right now. Maybe tomorrow? When I’m not in so much pain please…” You answer, and he’s not entirely convinced you’re only talking about cramps.

“Of course sweetheart,” he plants a kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too, thank you…” You close your eyes, leaning your head into him.

“If it means anything…I just want you to know, I think you’d be a great mom…And I’d love nothing more to start a family with you…Even if it has to be on Pandora.”

You turn your head to look at him then. His gaze speaks a thousand words. All of them feel like declarations of love. You lean up and he instinctively leans down to meet you half way.

Your lips press upon one another in a soft languid kiss; soft and tender with metered passion.

And just as his hand lessens the pain in your lower abdomen, so too do his words lessen the pain in your heart.

You feel assured, that everything will be okay.

[rockybloo]

A LONG while ago I had made a post considering making a Patreon or something of that sort for my stuff and how I was pondering things about it.

And I had gotten an inbox response (that I didn't post for very obvious reasons y'all will read later on under the cut) requesting I only post NSFW artwork on it as said person said they didn't care about 18+ artwork and went on to explain how everyone's money is tight right now and that they really didn't want to miss out on story and OC stuff.

And I feel like enough time has passed that I can form a proper response. Because I do understand money being tight but...there's just levels to this that made me feel some very offput by this response to me simply thinking about making a Patreon.

The first thing I want to state is that, if I did make some subscriber content, I definitely wouldn't hide lore heavy stuff behing paywalls. It would have been bonus extra content people could def live without or at the very least something they could see weeks or months earlier than people not subscribed to it (which is something many artists I follow do).

The second thing, is that I understand many do not like NSFW work. I totally get it. HOWEVER, I love drawing intimate things, so much so that I already have alt accounts where I post my more adult content for other adults to see for free because I treat it the same as my sfw art. It's just stuff I wanna draw for fun. And it wouldn't be fair suddenly cutting off those people over on my alt and telling them to pay to see my OC's tiddies from now on.

I also very much am not a fan of having people tell me to my face that they don't care about NSFW content in relation to my OCs and stories. Please keep that to yourself or at least in your friend group Discord servers. Telling me to my face is just a major vibe killer.👎🏾

Third, and by far the most important thing I want to say, is that "YES" money is very tight for everyone right now. Believe me, I know.

However, it's super important that people understand creators are also part of the group when y'all say "money is tight". Like I said, society is hella unstable and everyone is struggling. Artists, especially the ones brave enough to be doing freelancing for a living, are also tight on money.

It's why so many have subscription services for their work. Nearly every creator with a story or characters I follow have a subscription of some sort that people can pick as an option to support them.

When I was considering making a Patreon, I definitely was not expecting everyone following me to hop on board. In the past, I have had people ask if I had one. So me potentially making one would have been meant for those people who were interested in it. It would have been a more "out of the way" option of showing support.

That being said, many artists are share their work for free. Many do so because they love sharing their creations with others. While I don't believe the person who sent in the inbox ask had meant to come off as entitled, I do think people have to check themselves when it comes to their responses to artists in general wanting to make a little money off their own creations.

I have seen so many times where an artist starts to do something to earn money, whether it be merch, adopts, or commissions, and people will complain because there's a price tag for something they got used to getting for free.

Just like someone who enjoys looking at art has the freedom to decide if they want to give said artist money or not, an artist definitely has the right to decide "I want to make some money from my art".

"Art is a luxury" is very much a two way street. You don't have to pay, but an artist doesn't have to make all their work free.