#I'm way better at putting ideas in art

[a-star-is-here]

next drawing idea: sad merlin™️ after arthur’s death, cleaning up his room out of habit, then finding his cloak/shirt and catching arthur’s scent.

*cue turmoil of memories*

then sad boi just sits in Arthur’s room breaking down with his cloak wrapped around him.

Inspiration: In This Shirt by the Irrepressibles

[omaano]

"I bet it was the martini that blew your cover." "You can judge my drinking habits after you got me out of here, Djarin!"

I've seen one (1) James Bond movie my entire life back when 00Q was a whole thing on this hellsite, but I'm ready to die on the hill that Din would make a great Q who knows how to work in the field and can poke at gadgets just fine, but also gets very passive agressive when he has to work overtime - he asked for the office job because his kid is going to school and they are working on building a normal-adjacent nighttime routine, which is very difficult when the agent he's working with cannot stick to a plan.

For the Spies/Assassins square on my Bobadin AU bingo for @bobadinweek

(I've seen all the John Wick movies though, so if Boba's pose is familiar, that is why)

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent lounging babey images

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

I know this is random but reading your blog and seeing your art made me so motivated I made my 1st animation ever (not counting pixel art ones), after not drawing digitally in months and it looks kinda basic and it isn't colored but I made it and I'm really happy with it so I guess what I'm trying to say is thank you for motivating me to make digital art again! I hope you have a wonderful day/night :)

MKJSJWJW HI!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TELLING ME THATS GREAT!!! Animatics need time and patience so the fact you went straight for it is so cool!!!! I bet it looks lovely!

Hope you have the greatest day/night too!

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

[aroace-number-eight]

.

[spikes-got-anger-issues]

Becoming obsessed with a new show is so insane like I'm not even finished with S1 of LR but here I am sitting with a 17,200+ word outline of a fic that isn't even half conceptualized along with five other +2,500 word outlines that also aren't half conceptualized and about 25+ fic ideas jotted down in my notes. I'm feeling completely normal about Lab Rats 🫶

[musical-chick-13]

Oh not me avoiding a wildly popular piece of media that I’d probably actually like out of sheer spite.

[fingertipsmp3]

Wow when did pinterest become overrun with AI

[prickly-paprikash]

Kendrick doesn't just hate Drake as a person. He hates the very idea of Drake.

Hip-Hop is rooted in revolution. In defiance. These are the songs of an oppressed group of people, and decades upon decades people have hated it. Accused of being meaningless and invalid. Media outlets took steps to belittle hip-hop and make sure it isn't recognized as an art form and as a means to fight back.

2Pac spoke of wealth disparity and inequality. Tupac was literally a member of a communist organization when he was younger and never stopped speaking against capitalism.

Lauryn Hill spoke of the struggles a woman faces. Not just women, but black women. Salt-N-Peppa. Queen Latifah. MISSY FUCKING ELLIOT.

N.W.A made sure people knew about police brutality and violence against the Black community.

And now, in this day and age, we're also experiencing an explosion of Queer Hip-Hop. Lil Nas X is at the forefront of this. Lil Uzi Vert came out as non-binary and uses they/them pronouns, even when they knew that a lot of their fans would never use it or even respect them for it. Auntie Diaries, a song about a young man who grew up in a transphobic environment and bought into those beliefs, but could never fully do it because his Uncle loved him so much and taught him a lot of life lessons, and that wisdom translated to him accepting his cousin as a woman as well.

Drake is none of that.

He's the perfect representation of what people think hip-hop is. Flexing. Posturing. Objectifying women. A fucker so insecure he bought 2Pac's ring just to feel like he's part of the black community. Rejected by Rihanna publicly. Tried to groom Millie Bobby Brown. Kissed and inappropriately touched an underage girl during his concert. His songs have inspired so many young boys to treat girls like shit. His belief that the amount of rings and chains and cars he has is the true meaning of success.

Additional Edit: This is my fault. If this post gains more views, then it would be remiss of me not to add to this. It was my fault to begin with, not stating this beforehand because while I did know, I got lost in celebrating Hip-Hop in a place that doesn't usually do so, and rightfully so.

2Pac did fight for wealth equality and better social living for the black community. He also has a long, long history of battery, domestic abuse, and sexual harassment against women. Specifically against women of color. He made a song to celebrate his own mother, but outright refused to give the same show of respect to other women in his life. His hypocritical nature was brushed off in later decades, just the way I did now.

N.W.A is the same. Sexual assault charges, violence—they spoke of Police reform, but refuses to give the same treatment back towards the women in their lives.

50 cent refuses to backtrack on any of his misogynistic lyrics.

Modern rappers of today, such as the dead XXXtentacion. 6ix9ine. Kodak Black.

I do love Hip-Hop. I love rap. And the music itself has always been anti-authoritarian at its core, because those are its roots. And I was happy that circles that did not normally know of it or enjoy it were getting into it, even for one thing like this rap feud.

Lil Nas X, Little Simz, Childish Gambino, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah, Lauryn Hill—rappers who have at the very least consistently tried to put their money where their mouth is. Who have tried to act in accordance to what they rap and write and sing for.

@shehungthemoon @ohsugarsims finnthehumanmp3 were the ones who rightfully clarified in the comments. I know an apology won't correct my hypocrisy or my stupidity. I should have added all of this before making this post, but I wanted so badly to celebrate a genre of music but failed to do my due diligence in showing a better, holistic view of it. If anyone felt triggered, offended, troubled, frustrated or any other intense negative emotions surrounding this, please do block me. I'm sorry.

[fucktoyfelix]

Choking Safety

I've been seeing some kind of scare-mongering type posts going around about choking during sex, so I wanted to address how to approach choking in a safe way. Choking is not a 0 risk activity, but it is also not so dangerous that you will just randomly die either. Anyone who does martial arts will confirm that thousands of teenagers are being successfully trained to choke each other safely (for self defense) every day! There's no reason you can't learn to do it too.

First you should be familiar with some basic anatomy of the neck and throat:

The carotid veins on both sides of the neck and the trachea/windpipe in the center are the most important things to be aware of. If you want to enjoy the psychological element of having someone's hands around your neck with relatively little risk, you can do "choking" play that avoids putting any pressure on those arteries or the trachea. As with all choking play, safety is highest when both parties are fully sober. I'm not actually sure if there are people out there who are into having the windpipe or trachea blocked. This tends to hurt like fuck and cause an autonomic choking response. You'll know if you went too far center because generally the bottom will be like "WTH". I don't know if there is a way to do this play safely or not as I don't have experience with it. It probably carries some risk of the trachea collapsing which would be a hospital trip for sure. Most choking play is done with the intention of cutting off the blood supply to the brain by applying pressure to both the left and right carotid arteries. This type of choking is not really "breath play" because of the way it works (though many people refer to it that way.) This creates a pleasant light headed feeling, but is also where the higher risk comes in. It often doesn't take long for a person to lose consciousness once these arteries are blocked, often less than 10 seconds. Sometimes getting completely choked out is the goal, sometimes not. Either way, the top has to pay very very careful attention to every aspect of their bottom's body language. Once you realize that a person has lost consciousness, the choking must stop immediately. Because of this: the most dangerous way to do this kind of play is alone. (hence all the auto-erotic asphyxiation deaths you hear about) It goes without saying that intoxication also dramatically increases the risks. It's not recommended to lose consciousness this way on a regular basis. It's just not good for your brain to repeatedly go through, especially in rapid succession. Generally, the more time spaced out between this type of play: the better. Though some people may have medical conditions that make the risk higher, as long as you stop choking when you reach the desired headspace, this play is approachable. Anyone who's REALLY into the idea but feels unsure or scared, I highly recommend taking a few martial arts classes. MMA guys do this to each other all the time! For sports! The key is just stopping at the right time. There are two main ways to go about blocking the carotid arteries. The main one used in martial arts and self defense is the rear naked choke.

This type of choke is incredible effective at choking someone out quickly and easily. The forearm and the bicep are squeezing each artery until the desired effect is achieved. The risk here is how quickly it works in combination with not being able to have a visual on your bottom's facial response. When someone loses consciousness they will go limp and begin twitching somewhat. This is normal, and you should stop immediately if you notice those signs. The more common method of choking play during sex is what looks more like typical choking. Facing your partner, using both hands.

You want to find the arteries with both hands, and use the meat at the base of your thumbs to apply gradually increasing pressure upwards towards your partner's head. You can keep the thumbs tucked to avoid accidental pressure on the windpipe. (Though this is not required so long as you remember not to apply pressure to the windpipe.) This type of play has a few safety benefits. First, you can see your partner's face so it's more obvious when you can see they've hit a headspace that is desirable. Additionally, it's just a little more difficult to find the arteries and push up on them correctly. If your goal is to get a little light headed without losing consciousness, this is more easily accomplished with this type of choke. However, losing consciousness is still a risk and both partners being fully alert will ensure the lowest risk environment. I know choking play is incredibly popular, even 'vanilla' people participate in this type of play on a regular basis without really knowing the technical details. Most of them don't get seriously hurt...but knowing what you're actually doing with risky play is a base component of risk aware consensual kink. Anyway I hope people find this helpful! Happy choking!!

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[thebibliosphere]

I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

[dark-konohagakure2]

Uhhh something something with Akatsuki guys breeding their (adult) lil sister :) Bonus for Konan to also breed her lil sister :,)

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, babytrapping, possessiveness

All characters depicted are 18+

Deidara has never given much thought to having children, he's still pretty young, not to mention that kids are just annoying little brats that will distract him from his art, so he doesn't want any at first, but when he catches his younger sister spending time with other guys, Deidara gives the idea of children much more consideration.

His sister isn't much younger than him. Deidara is nineteen and his baby sis is only a year younger then he is, but the blonde artist doesn't care, she's his sister and she shouldn't be devoting himself to any man but him.

Not only does Deidara want to mark her as his property for possessive reasons, but he would be lying if the thought of breaking his sister's virginity and filling her up until she's thoroughly bred with his baby turns him on like nothing else.

Even if his sister refuses, Deidara will push the issue, practically nagging her into letting him impregnate her, despite the fact that he's being too pushy and they're closely related to each other by blood. Deidara really wants to make sure other guys know to stay away, and this is the most effective way to do it.

"C'mon dummy don't be like that! You love kids, yeah?! So you should be thanking me for being a good big brother and giving you one!"

Deidara is a virgin and an inexperienced one at that, all of his sexual knowledge comes from trashy porno magazines, so he has little to no clue what he's doing when he thrusts into his sister's cunt, too lost in how good it feels to coordinate his thrusts properly.

He also doesn't know much about impregnation and the subsequent pregnancy, but what he does know is that he has to cum inside of her a whole bunch so he can properly knock her to up and keep her all to himself.

Deidara might be inexperienced, but he isn't a complete idiot. He knows that his sister has been on the pill, but he planned ahead, taking her pills and throwing them out when she isn't looking, since he doesn't want any stupid pills getting in his way.

Once he's finally done he'll keep his cock in her for a while, telling her how she better not let a single drop spill out of her, or else he'll just have to breed her all over again.

"Oh yeah, that felt great~ Now you better be a good mommy and behave yourself, or else. I'll just fill you up again, un!"

If she somehow doesn't get pregnant from that encounter, Deidara doesn't sweat it. He's already become addicted to his sister's perfect little pussy, so he's gonna be breeding it everyday anyway.

tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, age difference, puppet fucking, drugging, plugs

Sasori hates children. They're needy, loud, annoying, and just all around obnoxious. Sasori never thought he'd want to impregnate someone, especially his own sister, but curiosity gets the better of him, he wants to know if he can get her pregnant even as a puppet.

He rarely ever gives his sister much thought, she just exists to him, and he's only using her because she's the closest woman to him. But when Sasori actually bothers to be around her, he can't help but notice how cute she is, even if she is a brat by his standards.

Sasori won't go into things completely unprepared, he knows how to prepare for things ahead of time. He'll use some of his special poisons to increase her fertility and libido, slipping it into her food and drink when she isn't paying attention, although it is suspicious that her usually cold brother is cooking for her out of nowhere.

Once he's certain that his drugs worked on her, Sasori will take advantage of her, laying her down and getting on top of her. She's obviously confused, but Sasori will explain what he's doing to her in his usual deadpan and blunt way.

"What am I doing..? I'm putting a baby in you. Isn't it obvious? Or are you so stupid that you don't know where babies come from..?"

Sex with Sasori is rather uncomfortable for her. His body is a puppet, so it's wooden, and his cock feels more like a dildo than an actual organic penis, but for Sasori it feels completely normal and pleasurable, although it's hard to tell he's feeling good, since he rarely makes noise and never blinks.

Sasori is still emotionless even during such an intimate moment, he'll simply thrust into his sister's sloppy cunt, only really talking to tell her to stop being so loud with all her annoying crying and pleas to stop.

The absolute loudest he'll be is when he groans as he finishes inside of her. Sasori won't show it on his face or with his words, but he really enjoyed it, even if his sister clearly didn't enjoy it at all as evidenced by her tears.

After he pulls out, Sasori will be stern and make sure that she knows her place, letting her know that she better have his children, despite the fact that he has a very open dislike of kids that he doesn't even bother to hide from her.

"This better work... and if it does, I want nothing to do with whatever annoying children you push out... that's your problem now, little sister."

When he's done, he'll shove a plug into her filled up hole, not wanting her to waste a single drop of his essence, and Sasori will make it very clear that he won't tolerate her removing the plug until he says so.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, praise, infantilization, choking, cheating

Itachi is an Uchiha, so he has a natural inclination to reproduce, and he's also an older brother, so if he ever has the urge to breed, he can always go to his sweet little sister.

While Itachi could knock up Izumi instead of his own little sister, and his girlfriend would be more than willing to have his babies, Itachi just thinks his baby sister is so much more adorable and sweet, not to mention more tight and fertile.

He isn't a brute, he isn't going to throw his sister down and force himself onto her like a common thug, that would be mean, so instead he'll manipulate her into coming to his bedroom, and of course she does. She has no reason to doubt her sweet older brother's good intentions.

Itachi still sees his little sister as his baby, despite her being much too old to be considered that, so he'll be overly soothing and gentle when he eases his fat cock into her, not stopping until he's balls deep inside of her fertile cunt, cooing praises into her ear as he pounds her.

"Shhh... There there, baby. You're doing such a good job. Now keep taking it like a good girl, you're making Nii Nii so proud of you..."

He's almost too gentle when he's breeding her, treating her like a porcelain doll that can shatter with even the most slight of pressure, he also doesn't want to risk being too rough when he's trying to impregnate her, not wanting to damage the cute little womb that he's going to fill up with new Uchihas. However, he will choke her slightly, his slender hand squeezing her neck as he gets close.

Itachi is almost a completely different person when he's inside his sister. He's usually a doting yet distant older brother, but he becomes almost clingy when he's fucking her, his heavier body pressed flush against hers and his hands constantly gripping her body as he pounds into her, whispering praises into her ear.

He's nothing if not thorough, he wants to be completely certain that he's bred her well and proper, so he won't stop even after cumming inside of her countless times. She obviously grows tired and overwhelmed from the prolonged breeding session, but he's too focused on claiming her sweet pussy to stop.

When he is finally done filling her to the brim, he'll kindly manipulate incentivize her into keeping this as their little secret, offering to spend more time with her and train her despite his busy mission schedule.

"Good girl, you made me feel so good... Now, if you promise to be good and not tell anyone about this, I'll help you with your shuriken jutsu later, doesn't that sound nice?"

He'll never call himself a pervert, but he doesn't exactly hide how much it turns him on to see his sister cutely limp around the house afterwards, her big brother's seed stuffed inside her womb, unbeknownst to the rest of the family.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, monster cocks, double penetration, age difference, size difference, biting, victim blaming

Kisame has always been a more hands off elder brother. His sister didn't inherit the shark like features that he has, so it's almost impossible to believe that such a sweet and cute looking girl is so closely related to the Monster of The Mist, and Kissme himself isn't immune to her cuteness.

Kisame is a bit strange when it comes to his sex drive, on some days sex is the last thing on his mind, but on other days he's practically a feral animal in heat that needs a wet hole to breed, and his poor sister just so happens to catch him on one of those days.

He's a big guy, so he can easily just hold her down and use her like a little fleshlight, and that's exactly what she does, as soon as he gets his hands on her he's pinning her down on the nearest surface and stuffing her full of his dual cocks.

While Kisame technically doesn't need to use both of his cocks in order to breed, he wants to, and his poor sister's pussy will have to suffer for it as she's filled up with both of her brother's huge cocks.

"Fuck!! Keep squeezing my cocks like that, bitch. Your big bro wants to fill ya up real good, so no more bitchin' and whinin'~"

Even if he wasn't trying to be rough, his thrusts are still brutal, his large thighs pressed against her smaller ones as he shoves himself into her over and over again, his deadly teeth biting down on any bit of her skin that they can reach.

Due to his menacing appearance and even more monstrous reputation, Kisame doesn't get laid very often, so he is very pent up, his huge and heavy balls slapping against her clit as he fills her up with his thick cocks, shooting his pent up load into her countless times.

He has very high stamina, so the shark-like man is able to go at it for hours on end, never having to take breaks even when she's hardly conscious underneath him and begging him to stop.

Once he is finally done with her, most likely having fucked her from dusk until dawn, he'll be somewhat apologetic, although will ultimately blame her for his actions. She knows how Kisame gets sometimes, so she should have been a good girl and known better.

"Ahh~ Sorry about that, babygirl, guess I got a bit carried away... Maybe don't go actin' all cute around me next time..."

Kisame isn't trying to knock her up because he wants kids, he's too busy slicing his enemies to ribbons for something like that, he just can't control his feral urges when he's around he sweet little cunt.

tw: incest, sibling incest, noncon, breeding, sadism, abuse, degradation, blood kink, ritual sex, threats, bondage

Unlike some others, Hidan doesn't want to knock his sister up because of a deep possessiveness or need for control, Hidan just wants to breed her because the sadist thinks it would be absolutely hilarious to see his sister all knocked up.

He isn't a nice big brother at all, Hidan is always picking on his sister and making her feel dirty about herself, so his little sister will try to avoid being alone with him at all costs, but Hidan gets her alone eventually...

He'll drag his sister into his room under the guise of a ritual for his beloved Lord Jashin, he'll even threaten her into accepting the "ritual" telling her that she either gets to participate in a breeding ritual or a blood ritual with him, so she has little choice in the matter.

He's quick to tie her down on his bed, making sure she can't move when he has his way with her. Hidan doesn't gag her however, since no one else lives with them and their parents are out of the picture, she can scream and cry in pain as loud as she wants, it's music to his ears.

"Cmon, just take it you dumb little hoe! You're always dressed like a slut anyway, so just take my cum and get knocked up already!"

Hidan is brutally rough with her, almost to the point of drawing blood, and if she does end up bleeding from his treatment, then that's even better, since blood turns Hidan on like nothing else.

While not inexperienced, Hidan doesn't know how to be gentle during sex, nor does he care to learn, so his cock will roughly bully it's way into her tight pussy while Hidan pounds into her and breeds her with all the carefulness and grace of a rabid dog in heat, even drooling like one during the act.

Hidan never shuts up when he's fucking her, he always has to be making some sort of noise, whether it be degrading her, openly fantasizing about her pregnant body, or just loudly grunting and moaning like a pornstar while he's fucking her.

He has quite a bit of stamina, so he can stuff her full of cum all night long. When he's finished cramming her womb full of his seed, he'll make sure she knows her place and what she's supposed to do now.

"Phew! That felt great, slut! Now you better raise this stupid little brat to follow the ways of Lord Jashin, got it, little sis?"

Hidan doesn't care to be a parent or an uncle to the kid, in fact if his sister doesn't behave herself from now on, the brat might just be his next sacrifice.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, age difference, abuse, tentacles, bondage

Despite his very old age, Kakuzu does have a younger sibling who is, while an adult, is also significantly younger than him. Kakuzu doesn't really get along with his sister very much due to their age difference, not to mention how expensive it is to keep her housed and fed.

He can't stand having a girl around his home "mooching" off of him and being a little freeloader. Kakuzu values his money more than anything, including her, so he figures that it's finally time to make her earn her keep and get some responsibility.

Kakuzu is a very big and muscular man, so he can easily manhandle and drag her away to whatever room is closest so he can breed her fertile womb. Her struggles are hardly felt by him, his skin and pain tolerance hardened by decades of battle.

He'll use the threads in his body to stretch out her pussy and prepare her for his cock. The process is incredibly invasive and uncomfortable, especially with her struggling underneath him, but Kakuzu will just scold her for attempting to fight back against him.

"Shut up you little brat. I'm just stretching out your little cunt for me, it wouldn't hurt so much if you weren't so damn tight..."

Once she's properly stretched out to his liking, Kakuzu will use his black threads to restrain her, wrapping around her limbs and keeping her legs spread apart and open to Kakuzu's greedy eyes. The immortal man wastes no time, shoving his cock inside of her without any warning or permission.

Kakuzu is almost as experience in sex as he is in battle, he's nearly a century old so he's had quite a few partners, some more willing than others. Kakuzu isn't experienced in lovemaking however, just in fucking and getting his rocks off.

He isn't very talkative, occasionally groaning and telling her to shut up at the very most. While Kakuzu doesn't want kids, there is a primal part of him that wants to stuff her full of cum and make her his, his thrusts will speed up ever so slightly when these thoughts cross his mind.

While his stamina isn't bad, he won't fuck her for too long, having more important things to do, but he'll still empty a lot of cum inside of her, not even bothering to use any protection. He is rather old anyway, so he probably doesn't have to worry about her getting impregnated from his seed.

"You better not go having any children now, you little idiot. I already have one brat to deal with, the last thing I need is another..."

If she does end up having his child, Kakuzu won't be very happy about it, only tolerating the kid if it somehow benefits him financially, or just keeps his little sister out of his hair and wallet.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, God complex, praise, mating press

Pain is an incredibly busy man, being the leader of an organization full of eccentric and dangerous individuals, so he's more focused on that family of his instead of his actual one, which comprises of only his younger sister, whom Pain deeply cherishes despite his cold demeanor.

While not a very remorseful individual most of the time, Pain can't help but feel somewhat bad for neglecting his dear sister, so he decides to give her some very special attention when he finally makes time for her.

Pain starts off rather slow, putting an arm around her shoulder in an affectionate gesture before escalating, holding her against his body, which is as cold as a corpse and rigid due to the rods in his body, the proximity quickly makes her very uncomfortable.

Pain can tell she is uncomfortable but doesn't let that deter him very much at all. He wants to make up for lost time, and he won't let her shyness get in the way of that goal.

"Hush now, little one. You should be feeling very grateful right now, not everybody is lucky enough to bear the child of a God."

He'll fuck her on his bed so that his cold body doesn't cause her too much discomfort during the breeding. While he doesn't go out of his way to be rough, he doesn't make much effort to be gentle either, the end goal is to cum inside of her, not to provide pleasure.

Pain is an incredibly imposing figure, even when he doesn't mean to be. His Rinnegan is staring into her very soul as he thrusts into her, the purple circular pattern showing his overwhelming power over her and almost every other human in the world.

Pain is strong physically as well, not just with his eyes but with his body as well, holding his sister down in the mating press while he pounds into her cunt, making sure none of his precious seed spills out of her.

He cums quite a bit, being rather pent up due to his lack of partners and sexual release, so she'll almost certainly be thoroughly knocked up by the time Pain is done with her, he'll even spare her a few kind wonders afterwards.

"Good girl, you did well. Now you'll have someone too keep your company while your elder brother is too busy. Aren't I so benevolent?"

Pain won't be a very attentive parent, he's already too concerned with running his organization and planning their world domination, but he won't be cruel either, occasionally making time for his little wife sister and their offspring.

tw: incest, sibling incest, dub/noncon, breeding, futanari/dickgirl, age difference, manipulation, slight misandry

Konan is a very gentle older sister, helping her dear younger sister with whatever she needs. But Konan is only human, and even she has some urges that are very far from gentle or angelic.

Konan is a very unique woman, she has both a cock and a pair of beautiful breasts, so she can satisfy her sisters emotional needs for a womanly presence, and her physical needs for a male one. But of course her innocent little sister isn't very aware of her elder sister's secret part just yet.

When Konan can't resist the urge to have her dearest sister any longer, she is easily able to manipulate the situation to get her sister alone. The younger sibling adores her older sister, so she'll think nothing of Konan getting rather touchy feely at first.

Even if she does notice Konan getting too close to comfort, Konan can easily talk her way into things, telling her sister how good and normal these sorts of interactions between family members apparently are.

"Shhh, there's nothing strange about this, my little angel. We're both girls after all, so we're allowed to be close like this..."

Konan is almost too gentle, being slow when she pushes her cock inside of her sister, making the younger woman feel every single inch as it slides into her virgin pussy, the feeling is both pleasurable and torturous at once.

Konan's cock is rather big despite her lithe frame, so she's easily able to hit her sister's womb with each thrust, her thick meat stretching her out and filling her fertile depths to the brim with her cum.

She would never wittingly harm her dearest sister, but even a woman as angelic and composed as Konan can't help but get lost in the heat of the moment when she's so deep inside her most cherished treasure, her thrusts speeding up when she's getting especially close to cumming again.

Konan won't stop until she is certain that her sister has been impregnated, then she'll finally be able to keep her sister to herself completely, and without having to worry about any undesirable men getting their perverted hands on her innocent baby sister.

"That's my good little girl... Now we can make a new family together, just the two of us. There's no need for any mean, scary men when you have me..."

Once she's impregnated her little sister, Konan won't let the girl out of her sight for even a minute, keeping a close eye on her little angel and the growing bundle of joy growing in her womb.

[aidaronan]

The years go by. The retail jobs that Steve thinks are temporary keep piling up, but he has no idea what else to do with his life so he just keeps on keeping on.

Until a large tree falls on the lawn of the little house he managed to buy and he gets the quote on removal and the number literally hurts his soul.

He buys a small chainsaw instead. Over the course of a few weeks, he gets most of the branches cut up. He collects some large rocks from down by the quarry and digs out a fire pit in his backyard. On his days off, his friends come over and they sit out back and have a few beers. The pile of wood dwindles. The giant trunk is another story though. His chainsaw isn't big enough for it. Burning it would take forever, and Steve's terrified he'd disappoint Smoky the Bear. He's at a loss.

Until he sees another giant trunk in someone's yard carved into a bear.

He knows what to do then. Not a bear, but something else. Through trial and error, the trunk becomes the rough shape of a woman, the remnants of the branches like a crown on her head. It's not as amazing as the bear he saw, but it's his. He finds he loves the smell of sawdust and the feeling of creating something.

Just like that, Steve realizes what he wants to do. It takes several months and a lot of yard sales, but he scrounges up the tools he needs to start woodworking. He learns to measure twice and cut once. He makes tables and chairs and carves them with art and designs that get better and better the more he learns. Shockingly, people actually buy his pieces.

Even more shocking comes the realization that he's making enough money to do it full time. He puts in his two weeks notice at Melvald's and hands in his assistant manager badge.

He's not sure he's happy, but he is content. It feels good to work hard and actually have things to show for it. It also feels good to work muscles he hasn't used since high school. He carries on for a few years like that, creating and learning and creating some more. Then Eddie Munson blows back into town. Invited back so Hawkins can have their most famous alumnus sing the national anthem at homecoming. Steve's honestly surprised he shows at all. "Can't believe you didn't tell them kiss your hairy ass," Steve says. Because of course Eddie ends up around his fire pit, sipping on Steve's cheap beer like he doesn't have three Grammy awards on his mantel. The years fall away with each drink, reminding Steve of just how much it had hurt when Eddie left. He'd wanted Eddie so bad back then, more than he'd ever wanted anyone. He can feel the echoes of that deep ache across time.

"Pfft. Don't you know all famous people wax our asses now? All the rage in LA." Eddie cuts a look at him and smirks when Steve rolls his eyes, grateful for the lighthearted moment to snap him out of his maudlin nostalgia. "Really though I thought about it, but then I thought it would be way funnier to donate a metric fuckton of money to Hawkins High with the stipulation that it go to the theater and band programs. Kind of bummed they couldn't honor my other request though."

"Which was?"

"My old Hellfire throne. I miss her, but apparently she's not around anymore. Something about water damage."

"Oh yeah. Water main busted a few years back and flooded the theater. I remember that." "Yeah. Had to settle for the promise they'd make a game lounge and stock it with all the supplies a budding young nerd needs."

"That's really nice, Eds."

Eddie shrugs. "I've been known to be nice on occasion. You'll come to homecoming, right? Moral support?"

Steve hasn't been to homecoming in years because he sees the other people who stayed in town all the time, and he has no interest in seeing the people who didn't. He can only answer the same questions so many times. Oh, I'm doing woodwork now. Yep, I still live right here. Nope, still not married, no kids.

He goes though, and he answers the uncomfortable questions. Because Eddie asked him to. Because no matter how long it's been, Steve can't deny that some part of him still...

He says goodbye after, and Eddie leaves again, and Steve tries not to think about that too much in the following days.

He's halfway into the project before he realizes what he's building. He'd seen Eddie's throne quite a few times back when. What he doesn't have memories of, he makes up. He adds his own touches too, making it a throne fit for a rock star, a nerd, a friend.

He carves ornate patterns, he creates scenes of dragons being beaten back by a man with a guitar, crowds of people that could be knights or concertgoers.

It's his favorite piece he's ever done, and his hands are shaking when he dials Eddie's number. He gets an answering machine and stumbles through a message.

"I made you something. I guess it's kind of silly, but it's here in Hawkins if you want it. Or I'm sure you can afford the shipping if you don't want to come. Just, I made you a chair. It's more of a... Well, you'll see. Unless you don't want to... It's Steve by the way." He hangs up before he can embarrass himself even more.

Eddie doesn't call him back. One day passes and then another. Steve tries not to let it get to him. He works on orders and new projects. He enjoys his little backyard oasis. He rents a few movies and thinks they're okay.

He's debarking some wood in his driveway when the rental car pulls up, Eddie stepping out in ripped jeans and an old Metallica tee. "Hi again, Stevie."

"Oh." Steve clears his throat. "The thing's in the garage. I'll..."

Eddie doesn't say anything for a long time, circling the throne, running his tattooed fingers over each little detail.

"You made this whole thing?"

"I did."

"For me?" Eddie looks at him then, one hand still touching the wood like he doesn't want to let go. Even under the harsh lights of the garage, his eyes are such a warm shade of brown that Steve forgets to breathe.

He nods. "For you."

"Why?"

There are a hundred answers Steve could give, but he spent so long not knowing who he was or who he wanted to be. Too long. "Because you'll always be the one that got away. Because some part of me will always want to make you smile no matter how long it's been."

Eddie falls into the throne like he just got the wind knocked out of him.

"You don't have to respond to that," Steve says. "You can just say thank you and take the chair."

"I can." Eddie blows out a breath. "But that would be incredibly stupid considering half my early ballads are about you."

"What?" Unfair. Steve doesn't have a chair to fall into.

"Oh sure, I changed the hes to shes for a while there because..." Eddie waves his hand. "But they're about you, Steve. God, I should've asked you out. I just thought..."

Hearing those words is a lot like seeing that carved bear all over again, something clicking into place that wasn't quite right before.

"Go out with me now then," Steve says. "Or stay in. I've got a frozen lasagna and I rented Contact."

"Steve Harrington? Asking Eddie 'the Freak' Munson on a date? Did hell freeze over?"

"Pfft." Steve takes a step closer toward what he wants most. "Hell froze over in 1986, Eddie. You were there."

Five months and a lot of long distance phone bills later, Steve opens Harrington Woodworking in Los Angeles. That same day, Eddie takes photos for Rolling Stone posing in an ornate throne in his living room. He tells the reporter exactly who made it and what he means. At concerts, he starts singing those ballads the way he always wanted to. More often than not, Steve stands in the wings singing along.

[rosemaeridream]

hate is no better than love. | (M)

Mature content (18+)

fashion-designer!aeri x photographer!fem reader

warnings: inevitable hate fuck?, strap, bottom!aeri, top!reader, a little bit of roughhousing from both sides, intense back scratching, nude/pornographic photography, do they actaully hate each other or is the sexual tension too much???

A/N: whoever asked for this BEFORE armageddon i'm so sorry lmfao + this hasn't been beta'd mistakes will be present

word count: 4.6k

Uchinaga Aeri is not a woman you love.

She’s rich. She’s popular. She’s arrogant. She’s manipulative. She has a fucking smirk soldered onto her lips at all points of time. It’s infuriating. 

Wholly.

Completely. 

Utterly.

It makes perfect sense why Aeri isn’t your kind of person. She’s everything you’re not–both the bad and the good. 

And yet, God be damned, she’s always nearby. 

It’s not like you’re trying to seek her out. She’s studying fashion (or something you couldn’t be bothered to figure out) while you’re doing some arts degree. It didn’t matter, just as long as you weren’t in the same course.

And yet, God be fucking damned, she’s always nearby.

You’re on your way to the station, and she’s giggling with her friends behind you, somehow loud enough to pierce through the noise-cancellation of your headphones. 

You’re studying outside one of your lecture halls, waiting for your next class, and she’s checking her appearance in the window’s reflection thirty steps away.

You’re on a fucking walk at the beach, kilometres away from the university, and damned Uchinaga Aeri is there, laying back in a chair, sunglasses shielding her eyes and only clad in a bikini.

You could easily not love Aeri. Not loving just meant not caring. But when you see the woman four out of seven days a week when you have no reason or wish to; resentment stews in your gut.

Especially now, as she’s sitting down in front of you – with that stupid fucking perpetual smirk and an undescribably huge iced coffee – and closing the lid of your laptop mid-keystroke.

“What?” You break the silence between you, not at all happy that she’s here and seizing your precious study time. And you know she can tell; she’s even enjoying your irritation – it’s evident in how she rests her jawbone on her fist while lazily swirling the straw in her coffee.

“I heard from a certain somebody that you take photos.” She preens under your gaze and leans in a fraction like she’s telling you a secret. It comes off haughty; she thinks she’s better than you, and you have no idea why she’s doing it.

That’s debatable. But what isn’t debatable is that you do take photos.

“Yeah, what of it?” The jiggling of the ice in her coffee is getting too much, and you’re this close to throwing it against her head and walking out of the cafe. At least you’d get a moment of silence while she sits in shock.

“I have some outfits to model. I want a photographer.”

“Me?” You raise an eyebrow, already put out by the idea of having to take photos of her. Not that it’d be hard. She’s gorgeous, from head to toe, quite literally the definition of photogenic. Maybe that’s the problem — it’s too easy, there isn’t a challenge for you.

“Duh. You have like… good skills or whatever, Park.” Her tone turns bored and she lets go of her straw to check on her metallic-chartreuse acrylics. They’re so long those things would fucking suck to type with. Or fuck with. Or do anything but gouge out the eyes of your enemies with.

“You’ve seen my work? I’m surprised, Uchinaga; I thought you’d only ever care about leather straps and sequins.”

“Mmh. Funny… But no, I appreciate a piece of artwork when I see one.” She examines you from your hair to where your torso ends at the height of the table. Then she lifts her coffee an inch, just enough to wrap her tongue around the straw and sip. It makes an annoyingly loud slurping noise, which is a feat considering the cup is 80% full. 

To say it pisses you off is an understatement.

“I only work for a commission. $100 an hour.”

Aeri’s eyes almost bug out, the slurp stutters and you relish in the noise, pleased that you could break her intrusive behaviour. 

“A hundred. An hour? You’re literally a student.”

“I’m literally a photographer.” The itch to grab your phone and pull up your IG account to name and gloat about how much each photo is worth is immensely strong. But you’re better than Uchinaga. That’s something that she’d do.

You can’t let her win…

And you’re better than her.

“Fuck you, I could take the pictures for free.” Her nails dig into the table and you wouldn’t be surprised if there were chips in the paint when she removes them. Fuck, those things are talons. “And that’d be like wearing a Shein shirt on a runway.” You copy her signature smirk. “Get your head out of your ass, Uchinaga. You want professional quality photos; you pay the professional price.”

“$50 an hour.” And she’s fucking turned to haggling. It’s not surprising – she’s wealthy scum. If this were France in the 1800s, you’d be breaking out the guillotine right about now.

“No thanks.” You grab your phone, shoving your laptop into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Eat shit and die, Coco Chanel.”

You make it 20 steps down the street before you can hear her heels clicking on the footpath behind you. You huff, knowing she isn’t going to call out for you. No, that’s too gaudy for her. Instead, she’ll just menacingly click behind you until she inevitably catches up at a stop light – her irritatingly long legs make her stride feel like she’s an olympian and her persistence can be equated to a bloodhound.

You whirl around, knowing that her perpetual smirk will be present, even when she’s about to grovel for you to take her back. Or something. 

“I’ll pay your stupid commission.” Her tone drawls like she’s bored, but the twitch of her brow is a sure sign of her own irritation. “Tuesday, I’ll DM you the address.” 

Then she turns and strides off without a confirmation.

At the last possible moment, she swishes her hair over her shoulder, sending you a smirk so smug that only one thing is clear.

She wins.

The address she messages you ends up being an old warehouse in a former train shed. The rails are still embedded in the concrete; its steel a dirty grey from wear. There’s a lot of light in here despite the tall corrugated iron walls and high ceiling due to the skylights and high windows. Aeri sits at a makeshift desk on one side of the shed, scribbling away in some kind of notebook as she waits for you. She’s clad in a pink robe and heels – add a sleeping mask and she’d be some kind of Blair Waldorf reincarnate. 

“Uchinaga.” You grumble, finding yourself in the position she was in last week, sitting down across from her and interrupting her work. Instead of a tall iced coffee and a smirk, there’s your short coffee cup and an expectant expression. 

She looks up to you, slight bags under her eyes and a bleary redness to them. Most notably, Aeri’s missing her usual arrogant demeanour. 

“Mmhf.” She immediately goes back to her sketch. “What the shit are you here for, Park?”

It takes you everything you have not to stab her in the eye with her pencil.

“Photos. You commissioned me.”

“It’s not Tuesday. Get the fuck out of my face.” She waves a hand fleetingly like you could float away and leave her in peace if she cared more.

“It’s Tuesday.” You even check your phone, sliding it close enough to her on the table so she can see that you’re not an idiot.

15:05.  Tuesday, 25th June.

And she reads it. 

And she stills.

And it’s quiet.

Then she narrows her eyes.

“Get your shit out then, I’m not paying you more than an hour.” She slides from her stool, stalking over to a rack of clothing. Before you can even move, she lets it drop, pooling around her feet while she flicks through the pieces.

Your mouth dries up and you can’t even move, just staring at the soft sway of her hair and ass as she searches through her clothes. Her irritatingly long legs look so much longer when the only thing stopping them are lacy black panties that are most definitely out of your budget.

The only reason you pick up your jaw and start to unpack your ‘shit’ is that Aeri swivels ever so slightly so that you can see the slight turn of her lip. She’s smirking. She’s fucking smirking.

You look around the place, grateful that the natural lighting is dramatic enough in places to get some interesting images. If Aeri wants that, of course… she hasn’t exactly made it clear what she wants. You’re extra grateful that you wouldn’t have to hike back up the street to get your lighting equipment. 

As you continue to unpack, Aeri changes. The first she shimmies into is a wide legged pair of jeans with frayed and ripped holes up the thigh. It doesn’t help. Then a tube top with a baggy tank over the top. It really doesn’t help. Especially when she passes fingers through her hair and pulls it up into a messy half-up half-down style. 

You blink and she’s apparated in front of you with a hand on her hip, her acrylics curling into the denim.

“Hurry up.”

You pop an SD card into the slot then wave her away to where she wants to begin. Aeri struts over to the side of the train shed and leans against the corrugated iron.

And it starts.

Photographing Aeri is effortless. She’s far too practised in her motions and poses. Even when she gets bored and leaves without a word to change her outfit, it’s efficient. Genuinely, you might be able to get this done in under an hour which is both a relief to your sanity and her bulging wallet (even if it wouldn’t miss the $100 note).

However, as easy as this photoshoot is going, the silence is starting to get to you. 

“Too poor to get your own models?” Apparently pissing her off is the appropriate way to fill in the quiet space. Aeri scowls and you make sure to capture a photo of it. 

So? She looks good when she’s mad.

“I prefer to do it myself. I know what angles the clothes look best at.” She points, guiding you into her next pose. “And no one knows my creative vision.”

“Yet, you trust me to photograph your creative vision.” The viewfinder fogs after your last breath. You hadn’t even realised you were using it instead of the screen. It was just a natural feeling, framing her using a more analogue method felt… right. Lowering the camera from your eye to wipe the fog, you take a second to breathe.

“...Your style. It isn’t so bad.” Aeri finally answers. Then she scowls again. “You’re slacking.”

“And you have fifteen minutes left.”

She scoffs and stalks away to swap her attire.

Wiping the viewfinder again, you put it back to your eye, checking for fog. It’s gone, but all that’s left is a half naked Aeri, perfectly framed and positioned. The line of her back draws your eye to her ass which is slightly pushed out as she bends to step into a new dress. Instinctively, you take the shot.

And then another for good measure. 

“You know I can hear the shutter, perv.” Aeri turns in the viewfinder as you snap another picture. She’s in a swampy green to black gradient which compliments her nails. You figure this is what she had them done for.

“So? Maybe you’ll enjoy these more.” She prowls closer and closer until she’s out of focus and pushing your camera down.

“What, after you rub one out to them?” She sneers, her talons piercing into the skin of your hand where it circles the camera lens.

“Like I’d ever jack off to you.”

Aeri twists the camera out of your hand, opening up the previews to look back at your photos. She keys through the half naked ones, expressionless, and starts to look through the others. 

It’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking. Usually, Aeri wears her disgust on her face, never hiding when she thinks something is complete garbage. And everything is garbage to Aeri.

She grimaces once or twice but it’s never the heavy pull of the lip or the slight scrunch of her nose that you’ve learnt to associate with her disgust.

“Even I would get off on these.” She flips the camera back to you, showing off a preview of her, mouth half open, eyes lidded and hair messy from just swapping outfits.

She does, you have to admit, look like sex on a stick. Or whatever that term is.

Aeri turns, still with your camera and clicks over to a set of chic looking beanbags – however chic a beanbag could look. She lounges down, crossing a leg over the other and lazily stares up at you. 

“Hurry up. You’re wasting my time.” She dangles the camera from its strap. You move forward immediately, reaching to snatch up your camera, your precious baby, back into your hands. 

And Aeri, being the person she is, moves it out of your grasp and above her head. Sick amusement dances across her features when she locks eyes with you. 

“I told you to fetch.”

Neither of you are budging and Aeri’s a fucking immature child. A fucking spoilt immature child. You know that by the time you skirt the beanbag’s circumference, she would move the camera back to where it was before. Her limbs are too long for you to compete with, and her smirk, her damn perpetual fucking dumb fucking smirk, is back on her lips.

Both of you know that there’s only one way for you to get your camera back.

With a clenched jaw, you settle a knee on Aeri’s left side, then her right as you hover over her body to rip the camera out of her hand.

Aeri lets go too early. The camera slides through your grasp and as you focus all your attention on grabbing the strap, Aeri flips you over to pin you against the beanbag. It’s this weird twist and grab, but your baby is safe in your hand. 

“What the fuck, Uchinaga?? Do you know how goddamn expensive this camera is? It isn’t something you can just pick up at-“ The complaint is halfway out of your mouth before it’s smothered by her lips, thick and cushioned.

The kiss is unexpected, a slight moan slipping out when she moves to reposition herself. One hand at your hip, the other sliding into your hair. Her thumb brushes against the hem of your top, lifting and taking fabric along with it until there’s a dense heat branding your skin.

It’s almost nice for a moment. You almost lose yourself in the sensation. Almost.

Aeri yanks your hair downwards, taking advantage of your gasp and forcing her tongue inside. The wet muscle glides across your own, taking its time to thoroughly explore. After an extended moment, she extracts with an audible pop!, daring to stare at you like she’s just blown your mind.

“What…” You struggle to breathe as your brows pull into a frown. “The fuck?”

“You didn’t like that?.” Her tone is blasé like she’s studying her cuticles or waiting for her damn iced coffee.

It’s not a matter of whether you enjoyed it. That, you’d never give the answer to. 

“You can’t just kiss someone when they’re saying things you don’t like! How fucking immature can you be?” 

There’s half a beat of silence, then Aeri measuredly leans forward until she’s a centimetre away. It’s with a controlled precision that you hadn’t really expected. Yes, she’s a fashion major or whatever and that causes a level of elegance, but Aeri’s always been raw and nasty in your eyes.

I mean, she just kissed you, for fucks sake!

Aeri doesn’t say anything but her mouth morphs back into that stupid fucking smirk that looks too good on her lips — you understand why she does it so much but fuck is it annoying — and your stomach twists until you find yourself closing that centimetre and rolling around to push her back against the bean bag. 

You can’t think while you’re kissing her. You can’t even ask why you’re doing this because Aeri’s hiking up your shirt and throwing it on the floor somewhere. You shiver slightly at the change in temperature and her acrylics resting on your back.

She giggles at how crazed your kisses are. In the back of your mind there’s a drifting thought about how you’re proving some point of hers right. You just can’t pin it down. It was the one about… about…? Oh, nevermind. It doesn’t matter.

It especially doesn’t matter when she shoves you off her lap. Hard. It sends you tumbling back, your butt hitting the hard concrete. The impact clears your mind immediately and you send Aeri a ‘what-was-that-for?’ glare.

Aeri leans the side of her head against her palm as she lazily smirks at you. She sits like a maniacal god controlling her creation and it pisses you off. Everything she does fucking. Pisses. You. Off.

“And that one was for…?”

“You were slobbering.” Then she waves to her desk in a careless flourish. “Bottom drawer. Hurry up.”

For a second, you debate walking out of the shed. Denying Aeri’s requests would put you down on her level of bratty pettiness; it’s only natural for you to dish it back to her. Not to mention, this is pretty fucked: You hate the woman. You think she’s rich and nasty and spoiled and far too hot to behave like she isn’t one of the nine muses.

God fucking damn it.

After a moment of rubbing your butt, you push to your feet and wander to the desk. Your camera is left on top of the desk while you squat to open the drawer and yank it open.

“…”

“You are not fucking me with a strap.”

When you turn around, you’re surprisingly not facing her smirk. It’s like a lion without a mane. Instead, Aeri is sitting there looking at you like prey.

“Whoever said I was gonna be fucking you?” She curls a finger for you to come back. It’s clear that she means now. Not in a minute, not in a second. Now.

Mindlessly you grab the harness and your camera, already with the silicon attached and you meander back to her. It’s your way of fighting back, making Aeri feel some of the irritation that follows her. When you arrive, you drop the harness in her lap with a sour expression and place the camera safely on the ground next to the beanbag.

There’s a lot you could ask. Why are we about to fuck? Did you organise all this for me to fuck you? Is this weird or kinky? Why do you have a strap in the bottom drawer of your desk? Is it sanitary? 

“Why am I doing this?” You ask instead.

Aeri hangs the harness over a finger and gives you an eye to step into it.

“Because you think I’m hot and this is your chance to get laid.”

Despite the fact that you hate admitting you’ve had a lack of partners to sleep with recently, you still step into the buckles. She sinches it over your clothed thighs, amazingly efficient despite her nails. The straps are tight but you don’t really mind.

“Come on, baby.” She coaxes you back to your position on top of her and the beanbag. When you look at her rather blankly, she rolls her eyes. 

“God, you’re more idiotic than I thought. Fucking a plushie would be better than this.”

The words are a slap to your face. Although you’re still confused as to why you’re sitting on her lap, with a strap, you find yourself getting angry again. She had that strap in her drawer – just waiting. Is this a normal thing she does? That she paid you to come and fuck her?

Aeri looks fucking pretentious like this – hair mussed, stupid smirk, stupid lips – all dolled up in a horribly vapid and careless way. Her stare sends waves of anger down to your core. It roves over your body, no doubt sizing you up, prepared to dig her nails into your arteries at the first sign of weakness. 

Or maybe the first sign of arousal.

Aeri’s right. This is your chance to get laid, and this is your chance to fuck her. In the fuck you sense, not in the… well, okay in the fuck her sense too.

You hike up her dress, struggling not to make it crinkle and crease at her waist with the thought of keeping it integral for the photoshoot, you expose her upper thighs and… and…

“Those photos really made you this wet?”

It’s obscene. Purely obscene how wet her panties are. When you look up to inspect her expression, Aeri has enough shame to have a dusting of red over her cheeks.

“You narcissist.” You sneer, pushing the strap against her clothed pussy and gliding the head over her clit. It smears your arousal on the underside of the cock, creating a sheen of wet. Apparently, it feels nice enough, good enough, that Aeri clutches onto your shoulders, sinking her nails into your skin. It draws a grunt from your chest and only helps to build your irritation.

“Stop being such a whiny bitch and fuck me.” Aeri tugs your shoulders, ensuring that her lips brush the cup of your ear while she whispers. 

Funny, how she could pretend to be in control when she was holding back her moans and twitching whenever your head bumps against the swollen nub of pleasure. For good measure, you smack it against the soaked cloth twice before deciding that you could torture her better without the layer of protection.

Aeri, on the other hand, leans back. There’s a sort of dazed smile on her lips like she’s a child being rewarded for good grades or some other menial shit. Wanting to wipe the smile off her face, you buck the strap in. 

All the way in, her wet cunt filled to the brim.

She shrieks, her nails scratching harshly down your back, almost getting a line of curses from you.

“And I’m the whiny bitch? You’re the one who wanted this.” You drag your hips back, her pussy squeezing so tight that it actually takes effort.

Moans blossom out of Aeri as you start a sturdy pace, her breasts bouncing with every snap of your hips. The squelch is loud in the warehouse, almost echoing off the walls. Deciding that she deserves a treat, you lean down to suckle under the curve of her boob.

“I bet that was all an act when I arrived.” You purr against her skin. It turns pink under your touch, hot with want. “You were in that robe on purpose, just waiting for a chance to take it off.”

Aeri shakes her head, nails biting into your back. It’s hot white pain, you realise. She’s breaking through layers of skin.

Fuck, that’s filthy. Your eyes find her cunt. The ring clenching rhythmically against the strap. It’s so clear that you could almost feel it yourself. Aeri’s cunt on your cock.

“Are you gonna say something?” She’s too quiet. You’d do anything to hear her say some prissy shit into your ear. To be bratty and deny you. “Or has this dick got you acting on your best behaviour?” 

Your hands are a mess, switching between pinching and kneading her breasts, holding yourself up (or holding Aeri down), and keeping her legs spread wide open. 

Still no answer. Maybe you’ve actually won.

A laugh bubbles up and you double your efforts, making Aeri screech and claw further down your back. She’s already started to roll her hips to meet yours. It’s messy, filthy fucking. Your clothes are crumpled, bottoms stained with her juices, making them look like you’ve wet yourself.

“You just wanted me to fuck you. God, what a slut, paying $100 for a quick fix.”

Aeri shakes her head, she’s trying to fight for her composure. “You were taking pictures of me first.”

Her words bring an idea to your mind. “Because you paid, whore. You expect me to believe you didn’t want this when your pussy is this tight around me?”

The camera you had discarded next to the beanbag. You flick it on, and yank the strap out of her cunt. It flutters indiscriminately. Aeri’s hands flash down to the strap, trying to coax it back inside, her hips scooping like if she tried hard enough she could be filled again. Focusing on the wet mess of her crotch, you manage to capture a photo.

Shiny and slick, pink, swollen with want. Her hand in the corner, wrapped around your stick cock. You can’t hold back a groan. The photo is purely pornographic. 

“Look at you.” The camera is flipped, pushed into her face. “Your slutty cunt needs this.”

Aeri’s unfocused eyes take a moment to zero in on the picture. Almost immediately, they blow out along with a filthy fucking moan.

“More.” She yanks on the strap, ungracefully grinding it on her clit. “I’m fucking paying you for photos.”

Her eyes lock onto yours. “Take. More.”

She doesn’t have to ask again.

It’s clumsy from then on out. You only have one hand to keep her legs split, one hand to hold yourself up. The other is for photos.

Anytime her cunt gushes and your head gets dizzy with arousal, you line up a picture. Anytime she sucks in a moan and you smear your thumb against her clit, you line up a picture. 

She’s so pretty and pink. You’re obsessed. Even the prickling pain of her nails sinking into skin and leaving pulsing red lines aren’t enough to make you stop.

You don’t even notice when she starts to squirm, completely and utterly overstimulated.

“Park. Fucking…” A pained moan. “Stop- Hurts.”

You snap a final picture, creamy arousal dripping down onto the beanbag, a wet spot underneath, big enough that she’d have to wash the entire thing to cover it up.

Aeri pushes a foot into your stomach, forcing your centre of gravity off place and pushing you onto your butt. The strap pops out of her hole and she slaps a hand to her mouth, muffling a cry.

Her cunt is swollen, creamy and so so so pinky raw. It’s impossible for you not to scramble back to your knees, one hand already pulling her folds apart to get the best shot.

The shutter clicks and it’s stored away in the memory card forever.

Then there’s a breath of air and you loosen the harness, letting it drop to the floor. 

Hypothetically, not that you had thought about this before, you would have pushed Aeri over and found some part of her body to grind out your own orgasm on. It was only fair — 1-1.

But you don’t feel the need to. It was relieving just to get her to shut up for a moment and let you take all semblance of control. Even if it meant she was 1-0. Plus, you hadn’t even noticed when she had finally cummed on the strap.

Fucked that you were letting Aeri not pay you back. Then again, $100 was payment enough.

Oh.

Your phone is empty of notifications when you pull it from your pocket, but the time blinks back at you. 

16:07.

You can’t help the bark of laughter that falls out. It’s past the hour. Another paycheck for you.

“What are you laughing at?” Aeri’s mumbles are clear enough for you to decipher. She lifts her head just enough to let you glimpse her half-lidded eyes.

Crawling back, you shove the phone in her face.

“Seven past.” You grin. It takes a moment before she groans, sinking her head back into the beanbag.

1-1.

You win.

NOTE: is this finished? mmhhhhhhhh not really (i was gon write them fucking another round but i wasn't horny enough rah rah blah blah) goddamn it