#and distributed quickly so

[elegantcherryblossomsheep]

oh you had a bad day at work? i spent 30 minutes being ignored by 5 year olds while their parents tut tutted at how i couldn't get any of them to listen and then right before the class was over a kid threw up in the pool. where i work. and had to work. for the next. 3 hours.

[nyxi-pixie]

finished s3 and stand firm in shauna defense EASY WORK!!!!!!!!!!!

[teh-nos]

Two Sentence Tuesday

From the sylki con artists AU because 1) it proves I am actually working on that still and 2) lol doggerland.

Loki’s own ‘moral high ground’ being at approximately the elevation of the Netherlands doesn’t change the fact that Sylvie’s is similarly situated, or perhaps even lower; if he is the Netherlands of morality then she is that bit of land under the North Sea where fishing boats sometimes dredge up Neanderthal bones.

[fakirchan]

I finished the first season of cute high earth defense club. it was too cute i love it so much

[nashvillehotchicken]

"windows 11 upgrade ready!" "your computer is eligible for windows 11!" "download windows 11 now!"

[artisticdivasworld]

Why Factoring can be a Lifeline for Truckers During Economic Downturns

A lot of truckers are familiar with factoring, but maybe you haven’t thought about how it could be a life saver during economy uncertainty. Everyone’s feeling the pinch with fewer loads, longer wait times, and the unpredictability of when payments are coming in. Right now, cash flow is more important than ever, and factoring could be the thing that keeps your business steady while you ride out…

[communistkenobi]

(taken from a post about AI)

speaking as someone who has had to grade virtually every kind of undergraduate assignment you can think of for the past six years (essays, labs, multiple choice tests, oral presentations, class participation, quizzes, field work assignments, etc), it is wild how out-of-touch-with-reality people’s perceptions of university grading schemes are. they are a mass standardised measurement used to prove the legitimacy of your degree, not how much you’ve learned. Those things aren’t completely unrelated to one another of course, but they are very different targets to meet. It is standard practice for professors to have a very clear idea of what the grade distribution for their classes are before each semester begins, and tenure-track assessments (at least some of the ones I’ve seen) are partially judged on a professors classes’ grade distributions - handing out too many A’s is considered a bad thing because it inflates student GPAs relative to other departments, faculties, and universities, and makes classes “too easy,” ie, reduces the legitimate of the degree they earn. I have been instructed many times by professors to grade easier or harder throughout the term to meet those target averages, because those targets are the expected distribution of grades in a standardised educational setting. It is standard practice for teaching assistants to report their grade averages to one another to make sure grade distributions are consistent. there’s a reason profs sometimes curve grades if the class tanks an assignment or test, and it’s generally not because they’re being nice!

this is why AI and chatgpt so quickly expanded into academia - it’s not because this new generation is the laziest, stupidest, most illiterate batch of teenagers the world has ever seen (what an original observation you’ve made there!), it’s because education has a mass standard data format that is very easily replicable by programs trained on, yanno, large volumes of data. And sure the essays generated by chatgpt are vacuous, uncompelling, and full of factual errors, but again, speaking as someone who has graded thousands of essays written by undergrads, that’s not exactly a new phenomenon lol

I think if you want to be productively angry at ChatGPT/AI usage in academia (I saw a recent post complaining that people were using it to write emails of all things, as if emails are some sacred form of communication), your anger needs to be directed at how easily automated many undergraduate assignments are. Or maybe your professors calculating in advance that the class average will be 72% is the single best way to run a university! Who knows. But part of the emotional stakes in this that I think are hard for people to admit to, much less let go of, is that AI reveals how rote, meaningless, and silly a lot of university education is - you are not a special little genius who is better than everyone else for having a Bachelor��s degree, you have succeeded in moving through standardised post-secondary education. This is part of the reason why disabled people are systematically barred from education, because disability accommodations require a break from this standardised format, and that means disabled people are framed as lazy cheaters who “get more time and help than everyone else.” If an AI can spit out a C+ undergraduate essay, that of course threatens your sense of superiority, and we can’t have that, can we?

[smileysuh]

fresco

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader 

🔮 preview. When you first met Hyuck in the elevator, you’d thought he was nothing more than some fuckboy line chef. But now, you see a deeper side of him. He’s thoughtful and caring, a little chaotic in the best way, but willing to calm down and match your pace. And to top it all off, he’s hot as fuck.

tw/cw. protected sex (for probably the first time ever), gentle/slow build-up sex, oral/pussy eating, slight praise, slight dirty talk, reader hasn’t been fucked in a while, low-key wholesome sex with a reformed fuckboy because you’re now cat co-parents, etc… I pet names: (hers) gorgeous.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.8k 

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, neighbors to lovers, accidental fur baby co-parents, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Fresco, meaning a painting done rapidly in watercolor on wet plaster on a wall or ceiling, so that the colors penetrate the plaster and become fixed as it dries. - Alternative; Alfresco, meaning a meal eaten outside “in the fresh air” - fresco is Italian for “fresh,” and the culinary usage is relatively common in English. this fic is in conjunction with Real Talk and Comfort Cuisine.

Prologue:

You’re a little shocked to hear a knock at your door around one in the afternoon on a Tuesday. As something of a recluse professional artist, you don’t get many visitors. One look out the peephole reveals that your surprise guest is a neighbor, one Lee Donghyuck from two units down. 

“Hyuck?” you ask as you open the door. “Is something wrong?”

“I found a cat!” Hyuck whisper screams as he holds open his jacket, revealing a tiny, orange puffball, who immediately meows at you. “Can I come in?”

You’re so taken aback by this whole interaction that you don’t have it within you to argue, you simply step aside and let the frazzled line cook into your apartment.

“Okay, I don’t have much time,” Donghyuck explains. “My chef is going to kill me for taking the longest vape break ever-”

“Slow down,” you laugh.

“Look, I went for a vape break, I found this kitten by the dumpster, I jumped in my car and came here.”

“It’s a no-pet apartment building,” you point out. 

“Can you just take care of him for the day? While I figure this out?” Hyuck pleads. 

“Don’t you have other friends in the building?”

“No one who’s home all day like you are- come on, it’s a kitten, it needs someone around or it’s going to be screaming super loud and then the landlord will hear it and evict me-”

“What about a shelter?”

“I don’t have time to look up no-kill shelters, and besides, you know how the cat distribution system works!” 

“Fine,” you sigh, gazing at the purring ball of fur. “What time are you off work.”

“Around nine,” Hyuck responds, holding the kitten out for you. “You’re doing me a huge favor.”

“Just this once, while you figure the whole situation out.”

One: 

You’re doing your best to continue working, but the kitten has been a bit of a menace the entire day. You suppose this orange fur ball is a bit like Hyuck that way, not that you know your neighbor very well, but you have a sense for him. Hyuck has to be a little chaotic to turn up on your doorstep with a kitten he found by the dumpster, but the flip side of this whole thing is that Hyuck is showing a lot of tenderness to have cared about this cat at all.

You work as much as you can, but when the kitten starts crying, you decide to call it a day.

There’s a can of tuna in your pantry, the type that’s in water from when you were on a health kick a month ago, and you spoon it onto a little plate for the orange kitten.

He’s eager to eat it all up, making an obnoxious yet endearing gnawing sound as he decimates all the tuna.

When he’s finished, you lift the little cat up into your arms, taking him to your couch to rest while you put on a show.

The little trooper is exhausted, and a food coma comes quickly.

He lays on your lap, napping and purring and relaxing, and you can’t help but enjoy the little fur ball’s presence. He calms you, and before you even know it, it’s nine, and a knock at your door signals Hyuck’s return.

You lift up the orange kitten, carrying him to your door. Hyuck enters your apartment with a sigh.

“How was my child?” he asks, immediately reaching out to take the cat from your hands.

“He wasn’t too bad, I fed him a can of tuna. He’ll probably be good till the morning, but you’ve got to figure out what you’re doing with him.”

“Yeah, I’m still thinking about that,” Hyuck groans. “Thanks for the help today.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously.”

“I’ve gotta get home, I’m exhausted from work, and I’m guessing you’ve got things to do.”

You don’t have anything in particular on your schedule, but it’s not like you and Hyuck are very close, so you let him leave. It feels a little odd to look at your empty apartment once he’s gone- sure, you’d only had the kitten for nine or so hours, but… he’d livened up the space a little, in a way you can’t quite explain.

You go back to your couch, letting out a sigh as you turn your show back on.

Not fifteen minutes later there’s a knock at your door, and for the third time today, Lee Donghyuck enters your apartment.

“He wouldn’t stop crying for you!” Hyuck explains, handing the squirming kitten over to you. “Maybe he thinks you’re his mom now!”

“Hyuck,” you sigh. “You’ve got to sort this out.”

“I was thinking… can you… can you take him to the vet tomorrow?”

“The vet?”

“You know, make sure he’s not tagged or anything?”

“Make sure he’s not tagged?” you ask. “You’re hoping he’s a stray?” 

“If he’s a stray then I get to keep him,” Hyuck states. 

“Again, this is a no-pet building.”

“Everyone says that, but I know for a fact that Mrs. Sue on the fifth floor has some mega old and dying Persian, and I’m pretty sure the nonbinary couple next to me have some calico that’s missing a tail-”

“What?”

“It got out one day, I saw it scratching at their door. Have you really not seen any cats in the building?”

“I don’t go out much,” you admit.

“The point is, people have cats, they just hide them.”

You release a sigh. “I think there should be an emphasis on the word cats, not kittens, who are substantially louder and need more attention.”

“Well…” Hyuck gazes down at his feet. “You work from home.”

“So what, this is our cat now?” 

“It could be,” the line chef muses. “I mean, look at him, he’s obsessed with you!”

The orange kitten is purring like an engine in your arms, making softies against your chest, and you have to admit, it’s clear he’s taken with you, perhaps as taken as you are with him.

“Fine,” you relent. “I’ll take him to the vet tomorrow. We’ll see if he’s tagged, and we’ll work it out from there.”

“You’re literally a lifesaver.”

Two: 

The lunch rush is over, and Hyuck has time to think about you while he’s prepping for dinner. His coworker, Mark, is beside him, and Hyuck can feel his gaze.

“You good?” the tattooed softie of a chef asks.

Hyuck sighs. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

About you. How you’re the girl next door, the artist, the visionary, the lifesaver-

“I found a cat by the dumpster yesterday,” Hyuck admits.

“What?”

“My neighbor is taking care of it right now, and I guess we’ll find out if it’s chipped or not.”

“Isn’t your building like, a no-pets sort of thing?” Mark asks.

“That’s more a guideline than a rule,” Hyuck explains. “Besides, it’s a tiny cat that weighs two pounds, not some dog.”

Mark only shakes his head, continuing to cut carrots.

“I’m thinking I want to give the cat a name that’s related to food and art.”

“Why art?”

“Because my neighbor is an artist.” 

“That’s cool, have I heard of his work?”

“My neighbor is a she, Mark, god, you’re so sexist.” 

Mark stops what he’s doing, turning to face Donghyuck. “Now I get it. I bet you think she’s cute.”

“She’s super cute.”

Releasing a sigh, Mark rests his hands on the cutting board in front of him. “Names that are related to art and food. I guess you could do colors that are foods. Like, clementine or olive or something.”

“That feels too food driven, I want like, an artsy name.” 

“Let me think about it,” Mark sighs.

The two continue to work, and at the end of their shift, Mark pulls Hyuck to the side. “There’s only really one super artsy name I can think of, and it’s Fresco.”

Hyuck has no idea what Fresco means, but something about it speaks to him. Without a second thought, Hyuck blurts out, “It’s perfect!” and he promises himself to look it up before he drives home. 

Three: 

Hyuck is practically buzzing as he arrives at your apartment, but he forces himself to rein in the excitement. “How was the vet visit?” he asks.

“You got your wish, he wasn’t chipped. The vet guessed he’s a stray, born on the streets, that sort of thing,” you explain, cuddling the kitten close to your chest as you speak. “I figured you might not have time to grab provisions for him, so I got some cans of food, a litter box, some toys-”

“Really?!” Hyuck immediately reaches into his pants to pull out his wallet, removing some cash, which he thrusts out toward you. “Thank you so much for the help!”

With a shake of your head, you accept the money. “I don’t know if you’ve thought this whole thing through.”

“He’s our cat now, the distribution system is never wrong.”

You laugh, but the chuckle turns into a sigh. “Our cat, huh?” 

“I was thinking, if you don’t mind, he can stay with you during the days when I’m at work, then I’ll have him when I’m here, you know, like a child of divorce or something.”

The way you blink at him tells Hyuck you don’t find his words to be that amusing, but he can see you’re up for the task. It’s clear to him that you have fallen in love with the kitten, and Hyuck would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited about the prospect of a dual ownership- after all, it would mean the two of you would see each other more often. 

“I guess we can make this work, but if the building manager finds out, I’m blaming all of this on you,” you warn.

“I’ll take full responsibility.”

“So… I guess now you just have to name him.”

“I was thinking about that!” Hyuck blurts out, unable to hide his excitement anymore. “What about Fresco?”

“Fresco?”

“I came up with it myself,” Hyuck lies, wanting to impress you. “Fresco is an art term right? Something about painting plaster?”

“Rapidly and somewhat erratically, yes,” you laugh.

“And Alfresco is Italian for eating food outside, like, fresh air, or something,” Hyuck explains, doing his best to remember the brief research he’d done on the word before knocking on your door.

“So it’s an artsy food name,” you muse with a smile.

“An artsy food name,” Hyuck agrees.

“I kind of love it.”

Four: 

You suppose you should be used to Hyuck knocking on your door by now, but for some reason, it always comes as a surprise.

He steps into your apartment with a grin, holding Fresco in one hand, and a six-pack of beer in the other. “It’s my day off,” he announces. “Do you wanna hang out?”

You look him up and down, shaking your head and laughing. “I’m working.”

“Painting something?”

“I guess you can come see.”

“We won’t bother you too much, I promise,” Hyuck tells you as he follows you through your apartment to your little art office space. When his eyes land on your canvas, he lets out a whistle. “So you’re an artist artist?” 

“I get paid for it, so yes,” you giggle.

“You’ve got the whole setup,” Hyuck muses, immediately heading for the small couch in the corner. When he’d first dropped Fresco off, the kitten had fallen asleep on this couch, and it seems his owner is just as able to make any place into his own home.

Hyuck collapses onto the sofa, immediately cracking open a beer. “Can I watch you paint?”

You’re not one for having others watch you do your craft, but Hyuck - as it turns out - is extremely hard for you to say no to.

“Just don’t make any comments about what I could be doing better,” you warn him.

“I don’t know anything about art, so you don’t have to worry about that,” he assures you. 

“Some people don’t know anything and they still make comments,” you muse.

“Then they’re stupid.” Hyuck takes a swig of his beer, stroking Fresco as the kitten gets settled on his lap.

You pick up where you left off with the art piece, and Hyuck is quiet. He drinks his beer, pets Fresco, and scrolls on his phone, but after a while, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Have you owned cats before?” you ask.

“Not really.”

“Well, you’re good with them. I never would have pictured you as a cat guy, it’s giving maternal.”

Hyuck lets out a laugh. “If you didn’t peg me as a cat guy, what did you peg me as?”

“Honestly? A fuckboy?”

“Everyone says that.” Hyuck shakes his head.

“So you’re saying it’s not true?” 

“I mean… maybe in the past, I’ve been a bit of a fuck boy. But, everyone around me is in these long-term relationships, and I guess these days I want commitment, even if that commitment is with a cat and not a girl.”

You consider his words, and as you do so, Fresco gets up. He approaches a few of your finished canvases, smelling them carefully. You and Hyuck both watch him as he begins to pur, clearly enjoying the colors.

“He likes your art,” Hyuck grins. 

“He has good taste.”

The two of you continue to chat while you work, and after a while, both Hyuck and Fresco pass out on the couch.

You note the way they’re bathed in the sun, and with a sigh, you put your current project to the side in favor of a blank canvas.

It’s rare to have a person, or an animal for that matter, sit still long enough for you to paint them, and something tells you both Fresco and Hyuck are tuckered out for the long haul. 

You enjoy painting them, taking in every detail, and the creativity comes as easy as ever with the two of them as your muse. 

Five: 

You and Hyuck have something of an understanding now. It’s been two weeks. Hyuck works, you take care of Fresco, and when he’s off, the line chef comes straight to your house to see your shared fur baby. 

The kitten has truly become your muse, and you’re enjoying the art of drawing this rambunctious cat.

It’s around nine o’clock, you’ve got a glass of wine, and you’re just putting the finishing touches on your recent Fresco piece, which is when Hyuck knocks at your door.

You’d unlocked your apartment an hour ago, and one call ‘Come in!’ has Hyuck entering. He lets out a whistle as he sees the canvas. “Holy shit, that’s good!”

“I know, right?” You can’t help the grin on your face. You’ve been testing out different methods, watercolors, acrylics, more abstracts- this one is more of a splatter piece, where you’d painted Fresco in funky colors, and then splattered it, you’d even dusted the canvas with glitter, spraying it with hairspray to get it to stick as an adhesive. 

“I feel like you’ve captured his chaotic essence,” Hyuck laughs.

“He’s not so chaotic right now,” you muse, looking at the kitten who’s tuckered out on the couch.

“Do you want me to take him home? Or… do you want to watch a movie or something?”

You look Hyuck up and down. “That sort of sounds like a date.”

“I mean… these past few weeks we’ve kind of been having little dates, right? I mean- I want to ask you on a real one, but we can’t leave Fresco alone��”

“No, dates here sound nice,” you nod. “I’ve got wine, if you go and wash up, grab some beer, it can be a date when you get back.” 

“Really?” His eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“Yeah, why not.”

“I’ll be right back,” Hyuck promises, nearly tripping over himself to run to the door.

He’s an odd one, but you kind of love it. 

Six: 

Hyuck’s not one for dates, but there’s something very comfortable about a stay-at-home sort of situation. The two of you are used to each other’s company, and the ease that Hyuck feels isn’t something he’s experienced with any other girl in a very long time.

In some ways, this reformed fuck boy is a touch obsessed with you.

Part of him wonders if it’s the joy of the chase- after all, he’s never interacted with a girl this long and not weasled his way into her pants. However, another part of Donghyuck knows his sexual attraction to you isn’t the main drive behind this connection.

There’s just something about you that he clicks with on a deep level.

He loves your whole art thing and he loves how kind and peaceful you are too.

“You know, you’re different from most of the girls I’ve gone out with,” Hyuck muses.

“Yeah, how so?”

“Well, usually I date within the industry, you know, servers, expo girls, that sort of thing. They’re all very… I don’t know, at work they’re extroverted. They always know what to say, but sometimes in the past, I’ve wondered if it’s all an act, and it’s made it hard for me to trust them, hard for me to see them as any more than flings.”

“That sounds like a you problem, Hyuck,” you giggle. “If you have trust issues, you have to own that, you can’t blame it on the women you’ve dated who didn’t contribute to the original wound that developed into a mistrust of girls.”

Hyuck sits with your words for a moment. 

“Also… I used to be a server, so are you saying you don’t trust me?”

His eyes snap toward you in shock. “Really?”

“Just for a bit,” you shrug. “You’d be surprised how many people take a stint at serving, especially when they’re going through uni.”

“I guess that’s where your charm comes from,” Hyuck says, swallowing thickly. “Bet you made big tips.”

You laugh, and the way your face lights up makes Hyuck’s chest feel tight.

The sound wakes up Fresco, who has been sleeping for most of your date. The kitten yawns obnoxiously, stretching out and making biscuits against your leg. 

“I’ve done alright for myself,” you muse, petting the kitten lovingly. “Which, speaking of, I think it’s about time to call it for the night. I’ve got to wake up early and finish a commission that I’ve been pushing off.”

“Right, yeah.” Hyuck shakes his head to snap himself out of the daze he’s in. “I’ll take Fresco and give you some room for your beauty sleep.”

He reaches for the kitten, who cuddles up against his chest, purring loudly as Hyuck makes his way to the door, where Hyuck stops. He turns to you, licking his lips.

“That was fun.”

“It’s usually fun with you,” you agree.

“Can I… do you mind, I mean-”

“You can kiss me, Hyuck,” you laugh, reading his mind and making him even more flustered- which is odd, because Hyuck never gets flustered. 

He swallows the lump in his throat, leaning forward. You close the distance, cupping his face so he can press his lips to yours.

Hyuck melts into the kiss, but he’s also aware of the kitten purring diligently between your chests. You’re both careful not to squish the small creature, and as much as Hyuck wants to kiss you stupid, he holds back. He gets the sense you’re also restricting yourself, and it’s all Hyuck can think about as he heads home.

He could taste the passion on you, and it’s a temptation unlike any other, a need left unsatiated due to circumstance.  

Seven: 

“You seem eager to get out of here,” Mark notes as Hyuck hurries with his closing duties. 

“Gotta get home to see my cat and my neighbor.”

“Your neighbor, you mean the cute girl next door who you somehow talked into taking care of the stray kitten you found.” 

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a dual partnership sort of thing, we both love Fresco.”

“Dual partnership,” Mark mutters. “Dude, are you like… dating this chick?”

Now Hyuck turns to look at Mark, and it takes him a second, but then he simply blurts it out, “You know what, yeah! I am dating this chick! We have a whole ass child together.”

“Your kitten is not a child,” Mark groans.

“He cock blocks like one.”

Mark immediately grimaces. “Jesus, I did not need to hear that.”  

Eight: 

It feels like now that you’ve kissed Hyuck, some invisible door has been opened in regard to your relationship. If he’d been tiptoeing around you before, now, he’s uninhibited. He shows up at your place with a bouquet of flowers, and without a second thought, you invite him into your apartment to watch a show while Fresco naps.

While this is only officially date number two, it feels like you’ve had a lot of dates- the two of you have been spending many evenings together when Hyuck picks up Fresco after work, it’s just now, these ‘hangouts’ have a more specific purpose or designation. 

You’re interested in Donghyuck, and your opinion of him has changed drastically in two weeks.

When you first met him in the elevator, you’d thought he was nothing more than some fuckboy line chef. But now, you see a deeper side of him.

He’s thoughtful and caring, a little chaotic in the best way, but willing to calm down and match your pace.

And to top it all off, he’s hot as fuck.

God, you pour so much of yourself into your art that you haven’t really left room for a relationship in a long time. There’s a convenience to Hyuck, given that he’s your neighbor, but this whole blossoming relationship isn’t just founded on proximity. 

The cornerstone of all of this is Fresco, if you’re being honest with yourself.

Fresco, the little cat that Hyuck brought into your life because he knew you would open your heart for it. He knew that together, the two of you would be able to take care of this sweet kitten and give him a good life. Existing as something like strangers, Hyuck had been able to see your caring soul, even if you’d been blinded to his kindred heart.

You’ve already ripped the bandaid off with a kiss, and when Hyuck notices you staring at his mouth, he shifts closer. 

“Hi,” he grins.

“Hi, yourself,” you giggle.

You watch him swallow a lump in his throat, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then up again. “I’m hoping that kiss wasn’t a one-time thing.”

“It wasn’t,” you assure him. “I’m just not used to dating, and making a move has never been my fortè.” 

“Then I can make all the moves,” Hyuck chuckles. “We can go as slow or as fast as you want.”

“I think you know what I want right now.”

Hyuck’s grin widens. “For a girl who doesn’t make moves, that was a pretty sexy move you just made.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Hyuck can only laugh as he leans forward, cupping your cheek and bringing his lips to your own.

You grab at his shoulders, trying to shift closer- but Fresco is asleep between the two of you, so there’s only so much room to move.

The kiss turns heated, with Hyuck’s tongue swiping your bottom lip, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

He feels so good, and the way his hand cups your cheek- there’s something dominant about it. Hyuck’s clearly confident, and from the way he kisses, he has every right to be.

You’re drunk from just a bit of kissing, and you can only imagine what full-on sex with this man would be like-

A loud meow makes you jump, and Hyuck lets go of you with a sigh. Both of you look down at Fresco, who’s now awake, and as rambunctious as ever as he begins to make softies on Hyuck’s thigh.

“Cock block,” Hyuck groans, but he begins to pet the small kitten all the same.

You laugh a little, releasing a sigh as you try to calm your racing heart. Maybe you’d needed an interruption because you were about ten seconds from ripping Hyuck’s clothes off, and maybe, just maybe, you should give things with him just a little more time.

You’re horny after a long period without a relationship, and you want to be sure Hyuck’s right for you before you jump into something with your neighbor, after all, not every romp with the boy next door ends happily, and you very much like this living tension free in this building. 

Nine: 

It’s been a week of making out and getting interrupted by Fresco.

Tonight, you’re in the little studio room. You’re on the couch sipping wine while Hyuck uses a feather-string toy to tire out the naughty kitten.

It’s been an hour of playing, and you’re shocked such a tiny animal has so much energy, but you can see it dwindling.

“Come on, Fresco, don’t you want a nap?” Hyuck groans, lying on the ground while he flicks the feathered toy here and there for the tiny kitten.

You can’t help but laugh at his antics. At this point, Hyuck looks more tired than Fresco does, but that’s what happens when he works a nine-hour shift. He’d told you when he arrived that the restaurant was busy today, something about a walk-in twenty top just as happy hour started, and the longest order of appetizers he’s ever seen. 

You’re thankful when Fresco finally yawns, and Hyuck practically jumps for joy, picking up his kitten and carrying him to the little bed you’d bought. Hyuck sets Fresco down on the green pillowy fabric, and the kitten immediately stretches, letting out a sigh.

You begin to pet Fresco as Hyuck lets out a sigh, collapsing on the couch and reaching for his beer.

“Who knew having a kitten would be like having a baby.”

“To be honest, babies might be easier,” you joke, making Hyuck laugh.

“Do you want kids?” he asks, shifting the tone rather suddenly.

“Uh… I don’t know, do you?”

Hyuck shrugs. “I guess it depends on the girl I end up with. I would be happy with kids, but I’d be just as happy with two cats and a dog, you know?”

“Two cats and a dog?” You cock a brow. “When did you come up with that specific of a dynamic?”

“Well, I figure, cats like company. Fresco would be easier to take care of if he had a playmate, you know? And I like dogs, but if we have more than one dog, then it might overpower Fresco and the other cat. So I feel like, Fresco, another cat, and maybe a cat-sized dog would be perfect.”

“I never pictured you as a small dog kind of guy.”

“Well, weiner dogs are cute as fuck, I don’t know what to tell you.”

You laugh as you imagine this perfect little life dynamic that Hyuck has clearly spent time thinking about.

“You’d have to find a different apartment to live in,” you muse.

“That’s doable,” Hyuck shrugs. “You’ve got this whole one-bedroom, den, and office space set up, but I’m in a bachelor suite right now. If you and I end up dating for a while, we’d have to find a bigger place.”

“You’ve been thinking a lot about the future, huh?” 

“I’m a father now,” Hyuck jokes, petting Fresco, “I need to be thinking ahead.”

You stare at this pretty man, this man who had walked into your life only a month ago like a sudden storm. You’d initially seen him as a type of chaos, but he’s calmed down considerably. He’s a reliable, nurturing person, and now, the type of man who thinks about the future instead of just taking things as they come.

You like that he has plans, plans that seem to include you. This isn’t just a short-term thing to him, and that knowledge has your throat feeling tight.

Looking down at Fresco, you realize he’s asleep. “Come on,” you whisper, “let's move to the kitchen.”

Hyuck doesn’t question you as you both stand, and you exit your small office studio area, carefully closing the door behind you.

In the kitchen, you set your wine glass down before turning to Hyuck.

“How long do you think Fresco will be sleeping for?” you ask.

Hyuck shrugs. “Could be an hour, could be ten minutes.”

You consider his words for a moment. “I get the feeling you can work with ten minutes.”

He stares at you blankly, and you see the second the lightbulb goes off in his brain. “I mean-” He clears his throat. “If you’re up for that, I could definitely- you know, I could take care of you in ten minutes-”

“Then let's not waste any more time,” you tell him, closing the distance to throw your arms around Hyuck’s shoulders. His lips press against yours immediately, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you incredibly close- this is the first time Fresco hasn’t been between the two of you, and it feels like heaven to have full-body contact like this. 

God, his tongue is perfect as it strokes against your own, his fingers digging into your hips when you release a moan from the sensation.

“Your bedroom,” Hyuck whispers gruffly, and you can tell it’s taking all his control to not throw you over your kitchen counter right now.

“Come on,” you tell him grabbing his hand and leading him to your room. For good measure, you close the door, hoping two sound barriers will allow Fresco to sleep through all of this- you’re not sure what you’d do if he began to cry while Hyuck was balls deep inside of you, and you don’t want to find out, not now.

Hyuck’s lips are on yours again almost immediately, and you grab the front of his shirt, pulling him with you as you back up toward your bed. Your calves touch the mattress and you lower yourself down, keeping your mouths connected as you do so.

“Take your shirt off,” you command next, a little shocked that you feel confident enough to tell Hyuck what to do in a situation like this.

“Whatever you say, gorgeous,” Hyuck laughs, breaking the kiss so he can tear his shirt off.

Then he’s on top of you, and your legs are wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer as your lips clash passionately. 

“Can I start undressing you?” he asks, mouth moving to your throat, where he licks at your skin and makes you gasp.

“Yeah, whatever you want,” you tell him, swallowing thickly and trying to center yourself.

His fingers find your shirt, and he slowly pulls it up. You help the process by lifting your arms, and the fabric is discarded. You’re in a cute lacey bra and silky shorts now, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been dressing extra cute this past week in the hopes that this would happen.

No, you’re fully prepared. You’d taken one of those horrific ‘full-body showers’ in the morning, and you’re thanking God that it wasn’t in vain.

“This is cute,” Hyuck tells you, mouth moving down to your chest as his hand cups your breast through the bra, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” you gasp, loving the way it feels to be touched by him like this.

You’re a little surprised when his mouth moves down past your breasts to your abdomen, and he slinks down onto the floor as he begins to drag your shorts off.

It’s clear what his intention is, and it has your heart racing- you haven’t been eaten out in ages, and most men make the whole thing feel like a chore. Having Hyuck, who is clearly eager to get his mouth on your pussy without being told to… it’s super sexy, and you can feel yourself getting wet already. 

“Ten minutes, right?” he jokes, looking up at you as he hooks his fingers in your panties. “I think I can work with that.”

You can’t even find the words within yourself to respond as he strips you bare from the waist down. His hands grab your thighs and he begins kissing up your legs, looking up at you to be sure you’re okay with this.

You nod at him, swallowing thickly in preparation.

“So wet already,” Hyuck muses. “Guess you’ve been wanting this for a while too.”

“Uh huh.” God, you feel so dumb, but he just makes you crazy- he takes your words away, and as he takes his first lick of your pussy, all you know is pleasure.

Your head falls back as a groan escapes you, your body immediately relaxing as he starts to eat you out.

He’s slow with it, taking his time to explore you. You get the sense that he’s listening to your responses, gauging what feels best.

His lips suction around your clit and you whimper, threading your fingers through his hair.

Hyuck switches between licking and sucking, testing different pressures until he finds the right one, and then you’re gasping, eyes clenched shut as pleasure begins to build even faster in the pit of your stomach. 

“That feels so good,” you whimper, wanting to give him praise despite your current tongue-tied disposition. 

Hyuck groans against your core, and the sound has your legs shaking. Your grip tightens in his hair, and from the way he reacts, you can tell he kind of likes the pain.

Fuck, he’s so sexy- you’ve never been this turned on before, and it helps you get to the edge faster than you can even fathom.

“Shit, fuck, Hyuck-” you groan, eyes clenching shut again as your stomach muscles tense incredibly tight.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t pull away from your pussy for even a moment, but a new vigor erupts through him, and that’s all you need as confirmation that he wants you to cum.

A few more licks, a few more sucks, and a gasp escapes you, your muscles clenching right before the release that rockets through your entire body.

Your core is throbbing, pulsing with pleasure that overwhelms you in the best possible way.

Sounds of pleasure are escaping you with no regard to being too loud- your mind is blank except for the orgasm Hyuck has just provided, and he eats you out through the entire thing until your thighs are shaking and you can’t take it anymore.

He pulls away, and you can practically hear him licking his lips.

“I’ll grab a condom,” he tells you.

Although you’re on birth control to manage your period, this is a man you’ve never slept with before, a man who hasn’t discussed exclusivity, and more importantly, a man who’s admitted to being a fuckboy in the past.

You stay quiet as Hyuck pulls his wallet out of his pants, retrieving a condom. 

Then, Hyuck pushes the fabric of his jeans down, exposing himself fully to you.

You can’t help the way you begin to salivate.

His cock is thick, and it’s a decent length too. Your best friend has referred to this type of cock as ‘boyfriend dick’ before, meaning the type that’s big enough to satisfy, but not so big that it leaves you feeling wrecked.

You undo your bra, joining Hyuck in full nudity before you reposition on your bed, moving up so you can rest on the pillows.

He rolls the condom onto his cock, not whining one word of protest about wearing it- in fact, you hadn’t even asked him to, he’d just taken matters into his own hand to practice safe sex for your first time.

You kind of love this.

He’s definitely turned your opinion on him right around- this is not the man you thought he was, and the man he is… well, he’s so much better than you could have imagined. 

“Okay,” Hyuck whispers as he finishes with the condom, looking up at you. “You good for this?”

“Yes, please.” You open your arms for him, beckoning him onto the bed.

He joins you, and your legs wrap around his hips, your lips meeting his own.

He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his tongue, but it’s not unpleasant. He groans against your mouth and you thread your fingers through his hair tugging gently.

Hyuck is grinding down against your core, and it feels amazing to have slight stimulus on your clit after an orgasm, but your inner walls are screaming for attention, and soon, you’re reaching between your bodies to grab his cock. 

“Ten minutes, remember?” you laugh.

“Fuck, I got distracted.” He presses his forehead against yours, looking down at where you’re guiding his tip to your entrance. 

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “Just focus now, I got to cum, so I want you to cum too.”

Hyuck moans at your words, and you slip the tip of his cock inside of you, making you groan too.

He smashes his lips to yours again, kissing you eagerly as he sinks into your core. He goes slowly, allowing your body to adjust, and once he’s fully inside of you, he pauses so you can both moan from the sensation.

“You feel so good,” he tells you, his breath hot along your throat as he moves to press kisses there.

“You too,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “You can move.”

“Okay, gorgeous.” He swallows thickly. “I’ve got you.”

Then he begins to fuck you. As was his pace when he entered you, Hyuck is careful not to start at a hundred percent. He builds tempo comfortably, and your moaning urges him on until he’s fucking you so hard that the bed is shaking.

You grasp his shoulders roughly, whimpering as he kisses your throat, paying attention to your sweet spot. Each lick of your neck has your body tingling, your pussy getting wetter and wetter as he rails into you.

Your nipples feel incredibly sensitive too, pushed up against his chest. Each rock of his body is a sensation against all your most important erogenous zones, and it has you going crazy.

As it was with him eating you out, your mind is blank as Hyuck fucks you, and you kind of love it.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking perfect,” Hyuck groans.

He grabs your hand, lacing your fingers as he presses it to the bed as an anchor, and then his lips meet yours again.

It feels so intimate to be fucking like this, and it makes things even more pleasurable.

You can feel the pressure building in the pit of your stomach again, can feel your core beginning to tighten around him-

“Are you gonna cum again for me?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m close,” you whimper.

“When you cum, I cum,” Hyuck tells you, pressing his lips to yours so you can’t disagree.

He fucks you even harder, and each drag of his hips has your clit being stimulated too, which is tightening the coil in your abdomen even more-

You begin to gasp against his lips, getting closer and closer until you explode for a second time, your pussy clamping down on Hyuck like a vice.

“Fuck!” He pulls away from your lips, moving to bury his face against your throat. You can tell your orgasm has triggered his own from the way he’s panting, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly- you’re pretty sure he’s doing his best to fuck you through your high, despite the fact that this might be overstimulating for him.

Maybe he likes a bit of overstimulation, as he likes the pain that comes from pulling on his hair. Regardless, he fucks you through it until you’re both gasping messes.

Then, as you lay there for a moment, you hear a meow.

You and Hyuck both break out into laughter, and you kiss his cheek. “You can go clean up in the bathroom, I’ll deal with Fresco.”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Hyuck asks. “You know, cuddle?”

“You and Fresco can both stay,” you assure him. 

“The first of many sleepovers,” Hyuck tells you, standing up with a groan. “I like you a lot.”

You can sense there’s a deeper emotion behind his words, but it’s still too early to be deep diving into any feelings more serious than ‘liking’ each other, so with a nod and smile, you agree. “I like you too.” 

And for now, that’s all you need to say.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! We love men and kittens!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. You feel closer to this man than you’ve ever felt to anyone in your life, and warmth spreads from your chest at the notion of having a forever love like this.

cw/ tw.Unprotected sex, oral, blow job, hand job, pussy eating, sixty-nine, foreplay, grinding, nipple worship, overstimulation, Hyuck is a little on the rough side, multiple reader orgasms, size kink, fucking quietly/with a hand over your mouth, slight breath control/sensory deprivation, etc…  I petnames. (hers) gorgeous.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 130

🌙 starring. Donghyuck x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been six months of hiding Fresco, and three near misses with your building manager, so when Hyuck shows you a pet-friendly apartment he’s found online, you jump at the chance to view it.

“This is so much bigger than your space,” Hyuck muses as you do the walk-through. “And look, this room has better light for your paintings!”

You can see him imagining himself here, and it warms your heart.

“Are you ready for this next step?” you ask, pulling Hyuck to the side to have a heart-to-heart.

“I’ve been ready to move in with you for months,” he tells you, hands falling onto your hips.

“This is a big change,” you remind him.

“But it’s good, for us, for Fresco- and the lease doesn’t say anything about the amount of animals either.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

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@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@meowniee - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa​ - @just-here-to-read-01​ - @shiningnono

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And thank you to those who interacted with the teaser :) 30

@ohmysion - @audreybub - @freesmbdy134 - @axo-l0tl

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@bobathi - @theworld-accordingtocasey - @szakias - @sunflowerhc

[bright-hope-spot-19]

This is how you know a side character is good. Kankuro was, truly, the only reason Gaara was found and rescued. Without his contribution, team 7 would've never found the Akatsuki hideout where Sasori and Deidara had taken Gaara, imo. Kank deserves more credit for this.

The Kazekage retrieval arc in a nutshell

Baki: Kankuro do not engage the enemy, do not attempt to fight them, if they were able to overpower Gaara you stand no chance, if you go after them stay out of sight and DO NOT ENGAGE. YOU WILL LOSE. Do Not…..Under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES attempt to fight, provoke, combat, or OTHERWISE INVITE CONFLICT with the individuals who captured the kazekage as you will almost certainly be killed. I cannot stress this enough. DO NOT TRY AND FIGHT THEM.  Kankuro: 

[fandomtrumpshate]

FTH 2025 Donation Totals

Friends, this has been an extraordinary year for the auction. We know how and why this happened: like in early 2017, everyone is scared and upset and looking for a way to do something meaningful.

And—just like in 2017, and every year since—hundreds of us have stepped up to support our most vulnerable neighbors and the organizations working to protect them.

Except this year, we did it on a scale we've never done before.

Last year, our donation total was an incredible $67,776.28

This year's donation total...

are you ready for it....

(you're not ready for it. we weren't.)

This year's donation total is:

Yes, you're reading that right. $127,204.11

We're flummoxed too—and deeply grateful to everyone who has poured their time and effort and money and love into participating in the auction this year, and into the fanworks that will come from it.

If you're curious about how those donations were distributed across the different organizations, here is the breakdown (this breakdown doesn't include employer match donations, which is why the total is a little lower):

Bellingcat: $2,636.19

Congo Leadership Initiative: $2,842

Crips for esims for Gaza: $4,762.60

Disability Law United: $3,835.39

Environmental Integrity Project: $3,712

Fight for the Future Education Fund: $3,108

Freedom to Read Foundation: $7,139.50

Global Project Against Hate and Extremism: $6,473

Hope for Ukraine: $12,613.93

In Our Own Voice: National Black Women's Reproductive Justice Agenda: $3,626

Middle East Children's Alliance: $13,572.43

National Network to End Domestic Violence: $4,999.95

Never Again Action: $4,555

News Literacy Project: $3,745.16

Young Center for Immigrant Children’s Rights: $10,072.56

Umbrella: organizations serving vulnerable LGBTQ people

Brave Space Alliance: $2,558

Kentucky Health Justice Network Inc: $2,636

Sherlock's Homes: $7,780.77

TransFamily Support: $5,387.01

TransQueerPueblo: $2,949

Other local LGBT organizations: $10,696.71 Yes, you're reading that right again. Three orgs AND the cumulative Other local LGBT orgs broke five figures.

We're especially delighted because, for the first time, the umbrella category worked the way we've always hoped it would! As you can see above, significant numbers of people used the umbrella category as a way to connect to an organization local to them.

As we learned through people's comments on the donation form, some people donated to organizations they were already familiar with (and in some cases had already donated to, or even volunteered at); others used this as a reason to learn more about their local organization and support them.

We'll share more about the "other umbrella" donations over the next few weeks—some more detailed stats, as well as the names of some of the local orgs that people donated to—and we'll invite those of you who connected up with local orgs to share your stories. We love that so many people took this chance to support groups working in their own community, and we hope that we can keep that going next year and beyond!

And speaking of the future!

Now is a great time to follow @fth2025fanworks. We'll use that blog to share any auction fanwork that gets posted to tumblr.

We urge you to keep up with the organizations you supported this year (and the others on our list!) Follow them on social media, subscribe to their newsletters, whatever works best for you. It will enable you to keep an eye on the good work you've helped support, and to find out quickly when these orgs need some extra support, financial or otherwise.

And if you're looking out at the world and feeling the itch to do more, here are some possibilities:

Follow @fthaction, the meatspace activism wing of FTH. We relaunched this project in the weeks between the end of signups and the beginning of browsing period, sharing some reading lists, an individualized activism bingo card, and an AMA with activist and organizer Kat Calvin. (We also did a test-flight AMA with ourselves, talking about the auction.) We'll probably need some time to recover from this year's auction, but we'll be back soon with more resources to share, more AMAs, and more tools for exploring all the different forms that meaningful activism can take and for figuring out which ones are right for you.

Organize your own auction! We've put together a detailed playbook that contains that contains as much information and as many resources as we can provide for getting an auction off the ground, including detailed guides. Almost everything in the playbook is fully public; there are a few forms that are access-locked because google has stupid ideas about sharing forms, but we're happy to give you access to those, too: just drop us an email.

Over here at FTH headquarters we are all in need of a long nap. But we'll be back in a couple of weeks, as promised, to share more about the umbrella orgs and to dig back into @fthaction to see what's possible.

Looking forward to a whole bunch of new fanworks! <3 your FTH mods

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[vicorices]

cw # — 18+ mdni, ass stuff, oral, strap-on use, reader has shit ton of dirty thoughts while vi models for her figure drawing class, pure self-indulgence. short since i'm working in fake!dating vi and got distracted.

rotting and thinking about figure drawing classes where vi's the model because you've been saying your favorite subject keeps getting canceled over and over again cause your teacher cannot find a model — how bad can it be to have a bunch of art nerds drawing on her?

she stands there in the middle of a wave of easels distributed around the room in nothing but black briefs and bandages around her chest, and your teacher says something about focusing on the muscles, on the force of the skin and the details, but you wonder at the very deep how are you going to get through almost four hours of class with her looking like that.

and the girl you've been seeing for like a month now spots you right away well installed in the back while everyone's getting ready: why were you even mad at her that very morning? fuck. it's impossible to remember it when the four-minute poses starts and she's seated on a chair, flexing on her biceps as you have a nice view of her profile, the muscles on her legs as you define the first details in a blue pencil, quickly drawing on the anatomy you've already drawn so many times before.

your gaze travels slowly through the exposed skin, drinking in the details and the lines of her body. in red you trace the ink that etches on her back going through her arms in a design you've seen plenty, sure in a much compromising situation since vi got this tendency of acting up all sharp and tough with the rest even when she's whining in the privacy on your dorm as you're buried to the hilt inside her cunt, ass up, cheek pressed against your wrinkled sheets — you have such a good view of her pussy stretching up for your cock, pink dildo opening her deliciously as a loud smack lands in her ass, making her take a sharp intake of breath, the sting unexpected and stupidly good.

it’s a different kind of nostalgia that makes you struggle to keep up on your drawing, vi’s moving to face you as her chin rest against the palm of her hand, and it's enough to make you lose focus again when you can feel her gaze as you try to work and not wander, once again, to a dirty memory.

she knows what she's doing there. your palms are sweaty as you trace the details of her face, the tattoo on her cheek, the nose ring and the freckles you cannot see from that far but you know they're there, and before you could finish — fuck, she's changing up again to a new pose, another one that leaves you breathless when she's stretching and you have a sinfully good view of the happy trail that disappears down the fabric of her underwear.

and it's a very accurate drawing of it anyway, the seconds going on slower now when you end up thinking about that trail of pink hair you've tongue-traced on top of her, seated on her face when you bite on her lower belly, fingers rubbing against her parted legs, fat clit already swollen from previous ministrations. vi can barely fucking think in moments like that, dizzy between your soaked folds she becomes a drooling mess who's loves to tongue-fuck you as it helps to muffle her own moans against your sensitive skin.

how the fuck can you draw like that? you're squeezing your legs together, biting on the inside of your cheek to make the pain distract you from another thought as you're already so close to masturbate in the bathrooms at the end of the hall it's damn insane. a thrill for sure cause you're half jealous of the other students checking vi out for a second, a feeling that's dismissed when she's staring at you again and fuck's sake.

there's not a single fly in the room, hot as you toss your sweater from over your head even when it's winter still, and vi has to hide her evident smile from your flustered attitude as she holds still, sure you're dampening your underwear there seated beneath the easel, cheeks blushed — barely concentrating in drawing her like you're supposed to.

and not really far from reality, your mouth is dry as you draw on her messy hair, the cherry strands being chaotic as ever, like when you make out with her for too long and you're pulling on her hair, lips puffy as you climb up to her lap.

your top is raised against your chest, the fabric’s held between vi's fingers as her mouth seeks your breast and she praises your new rule of not using bra on lazy days like those, stiffed nipple against the flat of her tongue before she's biting on it, harshly until you yelp against the pain and she's muttering a barely audible sorry before doing it again, fingerprints marked in your waist because of her tight grip as she's moving you against her gym pants: so fucking good.

it doesn't help when you're given a fifteen-minute-break and she's pulling you to the bathroom, cause you need far fucking more than just her tongue in your ass, kneeled behind you as she teases your rim muscle, coating it with slick saliva before she roughly speaks.

"fuck, you're leaking through your jeans" it makes her happy ‘cause it's all her fucking fault, making you soaked and needy, unable to seek for relief more than with her — "are you that turned on, love? all because i'm posing in your class? you're creaming in your panties."

and you have no option but shake your head, sensitive as ever as her fingers rub on your clit and you're holding into the bathroom sink, gripping on the sides as you stare at your own reflection in the big mirror in front of you.

"think too much about you, vi" the words slur together as her thumb push against your ass, making you moan at the intrusion "god- thinkin’ about the things we do."

"your horny brain keeps reminding you how good we are for each other, peach" a triumphant smile appears on vi's lips as she looks up to you — "is that what you've been thinking the whole fucking class? how good we've fucked this month? atta girl, such a dumb slut for pussy."

no. fifteen minutes does not cover near the half, in fact, in makes you even worse, cause your underwear clings to your dirty cunt wet and uncomfortable as ever, and you can do nothing but keep drawing until vi takes care of you again after two more hours of pure torture.

she keeps your drawings from that class and you still can't remember why you were mad at her that morning.

[stormyeyedsoul]

I've also seen the d12 mistaken for d20 plenty of times before, and if you aren't in the habit of making sure new players are picking up the right die at any given time it can be very easy for that to become a habit nobody else really notices. But beyond that, it's also worth checking to see if they're using a specific die, either exclusively or preferentially. If a phsyical die is balanced poorly enough, it could very well skew the numbers it throws out in a particular direction, and it could be worth having them try out a few others to rule out the possiblity.

Reading some of my notes apparently a lot of people feel that they would benefit from someone sitting their asses down and learning them some probability, and to be fair tabletop RPG math isn't so complex that even an English major like me couldn't explain it in such a way that most people would understand it.

Anyway on a completely different note, the funny thing in my experience is that even if you explain the numbies and how to arrive at them, at the end of the day most people are really bad at actually interpreting those numbies. Even in percentile-based systems where your exact chances out of a hundred are made immediately obvious (a 47% chance is a forty-seven per centum [New Latin for "by the hundred"] chance) most people fall on a number of probability-based fallacies whose names I can't remember but I think Gambler's fallacy is at least one of them. Anyway what I mean is that when a number is higher than 50% it should succeed more often than fail, so like guy who has a 55% chance of succeeding voice why do I keep failing 45% of the time

[tender-rosiey]

“KEEP THE PRIEST! WEDDING NO.2 STARTS!”

— gojo, sukuna, nanami, geto & toji when you catch the bouquet at a wedding (f!reader)

a/n: if you don't have a cousin then now you do and thanks for being patient with me everyone! <3

GOJO SATORU:

 a family member of yours was finally getting married—something you never thought would happen since she was always complaining about all her boyfriends, but hey at least someone finally did it.

anyway, naturally, you took your dear boyfriend as your date.

the wedding was going smoothly, drinks were exchanged, food was distributed, and cakes were eaten—much to your lover’s delight.

another thing that kept happening is people trying to introduce their daughters to satoru.

his instant response was to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you close to him, kissing your cheek and chirping a “sorry, but I am happily taken!”

now it was time for the part that a lot of people wait for: the bouquet throw.

your cousin was already crazy, so she has been waiting for it so she can throw the bouquet with all her might. on the other hand ,you and the other ladies were lined up and patiently waited.

one swing, two swings, one faint throw, and finally the bouquet was thrown into the air, heading towards its next owner.

a chorus of ‘its mine! mine!’ filled the room, but relentless, you maneuvered your way into finally catching the bouquet in your hands.

you’ve won the battle.

but wait. it seems like there is a contestant that won’t back down.

“let go of that bouquet, young lady!”

you look behind you and gasps, it is—“satoru?!”

“yes, satoru!” your boyfriend huffs, making his way towards you.

he firmly takes a stance in front of you, contrasting his intimidating position with his infamous pout, “it’s not fair for you to take the bouquet!”

you sway your hip to the side sassily, “does it make a difference? we’re getting married either way!”

your boyfriend shakes his head, “no, babe!” he places his hands on his chest, pushing his theatrics till the top, “I need to be the star!”

he crumbles to the floor and you merely stare at him in silence.

you see your cousin approach you and your boyfriend, “first of all, I am the star, and second, if you don’t stop fighting, I am taking the bouquet back.”

your boyfriend gasps clinging to your legs, “babe, your cousin is super mean!”

you pat his head with a sigh and he happily presses a kiss to your thigh. what a taxing man to be with.

“sweets, I wanna pee.”

taxing child.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your boyfriend was—surprisingly—invited to a friend’s wedding, which he hated as he was planning on taking you to a stargazing sight because you’ve been talking about it ever since you saw it multiple times on tiktok.

so, here you are with your boyfriend put into a suit by force.

you’re pretty sure that he is going to rip it any moment, but you would rather he does that when you’re both alone: you don’t necessarily mind a show.

anyway, you are sat with your dear lover who hasn’t stopped frowning since you’ve entered the darn hall.

the only good social thing he has done so far is greeting the groom and the bride. other than that, his hand never left yours and he stuck by you.

it’s cute, though, even if he argues that he is anything but.

you hear them announce that they’re finally throwing the bouquet so you give sukuna a quick peck then run to reserve your space.

now, you get very competitive in certain things, and this is certainly one of them. you will be going home with that bouquet.

and true to your goal, the moment the bouquet is at a height you can reach, you jump at it, holding on for dear life.

your feet reach the ground once again, and you raise your hand in victory, “I did it!”

you don’t see sukuna rolling his eyes fondly and with a proud grin that screams ‘that’s my girl’.

after a bit of applause, you quickly turn to your boyfriend and walk towards his table, radiating with confidence.

you place the bouquet on the table then you lean on your elbows, “I caught the bouquet,” you wink, “what do you think?”

“of course, you would get it,” he hums, “you’re mine, and I don’t settle for less than the best.”

you roll your eyes and lean towards him, swirling the drink that you stole from him, “it’s quite the commitment that we’re getting into,” you then look and lock eyes with him, “think you can handle that?”

“there’s nothing I can’t handle, loser.”

you giggle before cooing, “aww, you love me so much,” he gently shoves you, before his arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you back towards him.

“I tolerate you.”

“so love!”

“no.”

NANAMI KENTO:

jingling bells, clicking heels, steaming food, and loving couples including you and your dear boyfriend fill today’s wedding hall.

a mutual friend of yours and nanami finally tied the knot with their lover, and you were happily invited.

it was a never ending party of laughter and happy tears—that you efficiently hid by burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest.

things calmed down a bit, leaving you to fangirl about how cute your friend is to nanami.

“but kento, she looked so cute! she is so pretty! he better not hurt her!”

nanami keeps munching on his bread, “I think she is capable of handling that herself.”

you cross your arms with a huff, “what do you mean?”

“she is carrying a shotgun.”

“oh, you right,” you acknowledge, before running towards the dance floor when you see your friend about to throw the bouquet, “f/n, you better not throw that until I tell you!”

“if you don’t get then you just have a major skill issue!”

you gasp, taking a battle stance in the middle of the of the dance floor. you hear your friend giggle, before she finally throws the bouquet into the air.

from then, it’s a cat fight between you and the rest of the people.

however, you come out as victorious then excitedly running towards nanami, “kento! kento! did you see me?”

“mhm, you looked lovely as always,” he chuckles, giving you his full attention.

you giggle, taking a seat beside him. you start talking about your fight(?) to get the bouquet while nanami stealthily takes a plate of your favourite snacks from the buffet and slides it to you.

you gasp, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “thank you, love!”

he hums, eyeing the bouquet, “you know,” then he says, fidgeting with his watch a little, “I can get you a better bouquet if you want—with a side of a ring, of course.”

you were about to finally dig in, but your brain quickly short circuits at his comment, “oh.”

slowly, you turn to him, feeling your face get warmer by the second.

he laughs lightly, hand coming to rest on yours, “I am not joking,” he pulls your hand up for a small peck, “I am just waiting for the right time so please be patient with me.”

GETO SUGURU:

the moment the vows were exchanged, music was blasted to the roof, and everyone was partying to the max.

your cousin, the bride, is dancing to the beat with vigor and excitement you’ve never seen before.

you would like to join her, but geto just won’t let you since he knows that you will somehow end up drunk off your mind and dancing on one of the tables.

so you’re sat with him right now, sulking and glaring at him.

“babe, don’t be so sad now, please? I am only doing this so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself.”

you huff and turn your back on him, “I am a full-functioning adult; thank you very much!”

his hand slowly inches towards yours, “the prettiest full-functioning adult,” he smiles, pulling his chair closer to you. “and the smartest too, did you know that?”

you almost give into his advances—his charming smile is far too lethal—but you’ve developed a bit of immunity to his actions.

so instead, you face him with a teasing smile, “I would love if you tell me more—after I successfully steal the bouquet.”

“steal?”

you roll your eyes, “acquire.”

he laughs lightly, and you take it as your cue to run towards the group of women huddled behind your cousin.

you stand proudly, “c/n, throw your bouquet!”

“no!”

“what?!”

“just kidding!”

and so the bouquet flies and ‘accidentally’ lands in your hands—it’s no accident; you’ve been training your entire life for this moment.

people whoop and applaud, and you bow to audience, before scurrying to your darling boyfriend.

you wave the bouquet in your hand, and he nods knowingly, “guess you’re never get rid of me,” you muse, hugging the bouquet to your chest, “what a pity, right?”

he looks at you confused then sighs with a smile, “I never planned to, but okay.”

you beam at him and throw your arms around him, and he laughs, hugging you closer.

you trace shapes on his back and murmur, “you’re way too cute for your own good.”

“I need to charm you one way or another, you know,” he replies, motioning for the waiter to get you two more drinks.

he stays silent for a moment, “you can go get hammered—“

“not!”

“okay, not hammered with your cousin.”

“yay!” you scream joyously and run away.

guess who ended up drunk and dancing on a table.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

toji and a wedding?

it’s a combination most would not expect, but it isn’t his wedding anyway, so he can’t complain about it being too much commitment right now.

the only thing he can complain about is being put into this ‘suffocating’ suit—a sight you love.

“do we really have to stay till the end?”

you turn towards him, mortified, “this is literally your best friend’s wedding.”

he shrugs, “so?”

with a shake of your head, you drag him further down the hall to your assigned seats. at least, holding your hand is enough to pacify him.

the wedding goes as you would expect, aside from toji almost falling asleep.

you are now just standing beside the clearly expensive and delicious buffet—your true love.

toji is happily indulging in the food laid out in front of him, and you are about to do the same, but you notice that the bouquet throw is about to happen.

so you dash out of your seat just in time to catch that rogue bouquet. you raise your hand, announcing yourself as the now rightful owner of this bouquet.

that’s why you excitedly search for toji to show him your new prize.

you rush towards the table that you left your boyfriend at, “toji, I got it!—toji?”

a look left, a look right, your eyes widen. did the darn guy leave the moment you caught the bouquet? no way his fear of commitment is this intense.

you take note of the groom—toji’s bestie—shaking his head.

feeling embarrassed, you frown and yell for him, “toji fushiguro!”

suddenly, you feel a presence behind your back. you feel the person lean towards your ear a bit, and they whisper a small, “hey.”

you gasp, spinning to smack him square on the shoulder, “I hate you!”

he teases, almost like your hit was never there in the first place, “now now, that isn’t something you say to your future husband,” he grins and you scrunch your face in disgust.

you turn on your heel to walk away from him, “kill yourself.”

“what a foul mouth,” he whistles, following you until you finally give up and are given the chance to punch him in the stomach to make for the scare he gave you.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[littlelamy]

rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader ; the one where rafe meets your parents

a/n: inspired by this !reader

“i love you, rafey,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to kiss him. "you look very handsome. my parents are going to love you." that's a total lie, but you're not going to get in an argument before he meets your parents. 

"stop lying, your parents hate me," rafe says, rolling his eyes. he's not lying, after your dad found out that you were in a relationship with the kook prince, who is also known for his drinking, drugs, and his many parties, he was furious to say the least. "your dad better not piss me off because i'm not in the mood," rafe says looking in the mirror checking himself out. “but you do look sexy, baby. we might need to stay here and have a little fun," rafe pulls you in, lowering his hand down your back before grabbing your butt and licking his lips (in a very attractive way).

"baby stop we have to get going," you moan as rafe kisses all over your neck. "my parents are expecting us at 4 and it's already 4:30."

"don't blame me," rafe says with a final kiss and a playful smack on your butt. "you're the one who wanted to shower together." as he finishes adjusting his suit, rafe grabs his keys and takes your hand, gently guiding you toward the door. "come on princess, before i rip your clothes off and spend the night up in that movie room."

giggling, you follow rafe to his car. he gives you a playful pinch on the hip as he opens the door for you, then quickly shuts it before hurrying around to the other side. the drive is brief, considering he’s practically your neighbor.

as you arrive, your housekeeper, maid, and butler are all outside, awaiting your arrival. "hello, miss y/n and mr. cameron. mr and mrs. are waiting for you inside," your butler says, opening your car door and offering his hand, which you graciously take with a quick 'thank you.' despite coming from a wealthy background, rafe had never fully experienced life with so many staff members working within a household.

"come on, rafe," you say, pulling his clammy hands. though he'd never admit it, rafe was definitely nervous. your dad was far more powerful than ward ever was. "my dad will try to intimidate you, but remember, his princess always gets what she wants. and what I want is you."

grateful for your words, rafe kisses the side of your head, murmuring a soft 'thank you, bunny.' as you step into the grand foyer, your pomeranian rushes to greet you, pawing at you excitedly until she spots rafe and starts pressing her paws against him. rafe, not one for animals, picks her up and hands her off to the butler.

not a second later, your parents come around the corner. your mom is smiling, but your dad wears a scowl as he fixes his gaze on rafe.

"yay, my princess is home!" your mom exclaims, rushing toward you as her Givenchy dress glides across the floor. rafe watches in awe as your mom embraces you, realizing where you get your beauty from. she’s every bit the goddess you are, with a shared love for luxury. both of you indulge in the finest clothes, regular pedicures and manicures, spontaneous blowouts, sensual pefumes, and rigorous workout routines. yet, despite your lavish lifestyle, you both have countless acts of charity under your belts—whether it's volunteering at soup kitchens or distributing food around the Cut, you do it together, and enjoy it.

"daddy, i missed you," you say, releasing your mom and running to your dad, who already has his arms open wide. rafe does a double take, thinking you were talking to him, until he realizes you’re addressing your actual dad. "here’s the love of my life, rafe cameron," you say, letting go of your dad after a few seconds and pulling rafe toward your parents.

"it’s so nice to meet you both," rafe says, deepening his voice and firming his grip as he reaches out to shake hands. "y/n speaks so highly of you two, I feel like I already know you." your mom, ever the sweet soul, smiles warmly, slapping his hands aside and pulling him into a hug. "it’s nice to meet you too," she says. rafe had never experienced a mother’s embrace like this. he sighs in relief, savoring the moment before turning to shake hands with your father.

for a moment, your dad looks sternly at rafe, but then he glances at your sweet smile before turning back to rafe. a smile breaks across his face. "welcome to the family, son," your dad chuckles. "i’m not a fan of you or your reputation, but you make my daughter happy, that’s what matters most to me." rafe exhales in relief, shaking your dad’s extended hand.

you glance at rafe's smile and then at your parents, feeling your heart warm at the affection they’re showing each other. in that moment, you know deep down—he is the one.

later in the night, you all sit down for dinner. before the meal, your mom teases you with childhood photos, while your dad gives rafe a lecture about some lacrosse match. after dinner, despite your protests, your parents insisted that rafe stay, which made rafe and you have a very fun sleepover. ;)

[secretlyazombi3]

𐔌 . ⋮ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ ɴᴏᴡ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

leon kennedy x fem afab! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  4.4k words ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ NSFW!!!! enemies to lovers (kind of), unprotected again (please don't do that), semi-public, oral (f receiving), p in v, reader is NOT ada wong lol

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: Your mission is to sell off a virus sample outside a club - Leon's mission is to stop you; it isn't the first time he's tried.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n:  this was inspired by the song of the same name by she wants revenge ^_^

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You took one last glance in the passenger seat mirror as you wrapped your hand around the car door handle. You quickly adjusted your hair and reapplied your lip gloss, smacking your lips around a little so the pigment would be evenly distributed.

You shoved your lip-gloss back in your bag before heading out the car door, handing over a hefty tip for your driver. Your legs were a bit wobbly as you stepped out, wearing heels was rough, but you needed to blend in with everyone else in the crowd. You also couldn't deny how well it complimented your outfit. You corrected your posture and continued forward toward the entrance of the club, gripping your bag tightly. 

There was a small line outside the front of the club. You glanced back down at your bag for a moment, not wanting to look suspicious as you checked to make sure the sample was secured. 

You felt around the bag and closed it again after being assured the virus sample was safe and secure in your bag. The line moved forward and you grabbed your wallet to present your ID to the bouncer.

He looked over your ID and nodded before speaking. "Something in your bag?" he asked as he nodded his head toward the bag you had, straps thrown over your shoulder. He'd seen you glance back in your bag before the line moved. 

"No sir," you assured him, speaking confidently as you shuffled to show him the inside of your bag. The sample was buried beneath makeup products and other usual amenities you carried around. Nothing suspicious.

You studied him as he glanced in your bag, anxious for a response from him as he took an unusually long time to move. Say something, anything. You thought to yourself.

"Alright. You can head on in." he eventually said after analyzing you and the inside of your bag. It was easy to get away with this stuff, who would expect anyone like you to be carrying contraband around in your bag? You looked like a regular person just trying to enjoy a Friday night out.

You squeezed into the crowded nightclub. The air was thick and hot from the sheer amount of people packed into one area, the movement from the people dancing only contributing to the heat in the air. 

Did people actually enjoy being this cramped? You wondered to yourself as you gently pushed a few people aside so you could get a better look of the area.

The man you were supposed to meet, your client, told you to wait for him out in a staff only hallway that led to an exit. He gave you the key to get into the hallway; he'd snatched it easily. This club needed better security.

You looked around the club, hardly able to make much out in the dim lighting. You squinted a little, attempting to stand up as straight as you could to look over the sea of heads. Luckily, your heels helped you gain some height, so it was a bit easier to see over other people.

You finally spotted a staff-only door on the very opposite end of the club, hidden away in a shaded corner. 

You clutched your bag a bit tighter and began moving forward. The area was a sensory nightmare. It was excruciatingly claustrophobic, everyone was pressed tightly together like sardines, and music was blasting so loudly through the speakers it shook the ground.

Everyone was skin to skin, bodies pressed against each other, producing more and more heat into the air. The wave of boiling breeze that engulfed you was nearly nauseating, and the slight smell of sweat really wasn’t helping. 

You continued guiding yourself through the crowd of people, occasionally getting shoved by couples aggressively grinding on each other, too focused on their lust for one another to pay attention to where they were going. 

You did a quick scan of the mass of people again as you continued trudging through the crowd. You stopped for a moment noticing something, or rather someone, in particular. Your arm fell to your side as you paused from pushing people out your way upon spotting a familiar tuft of blonde hair in the horde of dancing young adults. 

You had to be imagining things, right? Your plans to exchange this sample for a hefty paycheck had been extremely discreet. There was no way anyone would have found out about it. You knew that the man who was buying from you was trustworthy as well. It had to be a trick of the light, a hallucination caused by the sickeningly hot smell of sweat trapped all around you. 

Couldn’t be him, no, there’s no way. You assured yourself as you continued making your way toward the hallway. It wasn’t him. Even if it was, there was no way he could’ve gotten word of your plans. He must’ve been after someone else.

 Every message exchanged between you and your client had been encrypted. You knew better than to be sloppy and leave a paper trail. You were already wanted for other things from your past. You’d grown from those experiences. You were a real professional now. 

You pushed yourself out of the crowd after forcing yourself to look away from the blonde man you’d spotted. You felt yourself leave the bubble of searing air once finally escaping the mob. 

You took a moment to breathe in the cold air - it was a bit refreshing after previously being suffocated by heat. 

You dug your hand into your purse and felt around for the key you were given. It was too dark to see anything inside your bag, so you were left with no other choice but to fish it out. 

Impulsively, you glanced back at the swarm of dancers, thinking about that blonde man from earlier. As much as you wanted to keep reassuring yourself that there was no way it could be him, part of you had a sneaking suspicion that it was. 

It’d make sense. You knew he lived to serve the government as their little dog, rolling over whenever he was told to. You know he lived to fight bioterrorism. 

You didn’t support bioterrorism, no, never - you weren’t that type of person. But this lifestyle was the only thing that could keep the bills paid, keep food on the table, and keep the lights on. 

You two seemed to be two sides of the same coin; over the years, you kept crossing paths. It truly wouldn’t be much of a surprise to you if it was him; more of a hindrance on your job. It was like you two were tied together, never truly able to leave one another alone. 

Was it wrong that you liked it? It felt like the universe was keeping you two together. It was stupid to think, you knew it was probably just a coincidence, but you lived a rather lonely life. All you did was work, assisting people trying to spread harm with bioterrorism; you were no better than Leon. If anything, you were worse.

At least Leon’s job gave him some honor. People praised him for being the one to fight bioterrorism and save lives. People respected him. You, on the other hand? You spent life alone, living to work, which became extremely repetitive. It was tiring knowing you were partially responsible for these disasters. You were supplying the bioweapons. 

Leon was the one good constant in your life. 

Did he feel the same, though? You highly doubted that. He was an extremely attractive man, you both knew that. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was already committed to someone else. If you weren’t basically his enemy, you would’ve asked him out a long time ago. 

You finally felt the jagged edges of a key and pulled it out of the bag, careful to not let anything else spill, right when your eyes spotted someone. 

The blonde man from before again. This time he was closer. Still, he was a bit far and it was hard to makeout his face in the blur of the crowd surrounding him. 

But those piercing blue eyes? Yeah… you recognized him. You recognized those pretty blues - you remembered staring longingly into his eyes during previous encounters. Even when the tension was thick and he was looking at you were hate, you couldn’t help but get lost in the ocean in his eyes. 

It really is Leon... You thought to yourself, a little smirk crawling onto your lips. You snapped out of it and came back to your senses. It really is Leon. You thought again as you felt anxiety burning through your veins. If he was here, he was probably after the person attempting to sell off a virus sample. 

You fumbled with the key a little and mentally cursed yourself for acting like a stupid cliche character in a horror film. You slowed your breathing to relax yourself, straightening out your posture again as you shoved the key forcefully into the lock. You swiftly jiggled it around, twisting your arm back and forth in a desperate attempt to get it unlocked. 

“Fuck,” you cursed. You were being sloppy. And for what reason? Because you knew a man was actively trying to stop you? This wasn’t the first time. 

It took an extra second for you to unlock the door. You quickly tossed the key back in, not bothering to check and make sure it was really secured in there. 

You entered the hallway and shut the door behind you rather swiftly. You walked down the hall, bright white drywall surrounding you. It was a drastic contrast to the dark walls of the club in the previous room. 

You walked toward the end of the hallway where an exit was. It led out to a dim alleyway behind the club nobody ever visited, not even staff, especially not this late at night. Your client had told you he’d come into the club from the alleyway so the exchange could be incredibly discreet. There were no cameras around because who would bother monitoring this area? 

Even if there were cameras, it’d be damn near impossible to make things out. This alleyway was always shrouded in shadow, hiding away from the sun and the moon. Nobody would be able to identify two figures engulfed in darkness. It was just the right place for an exchange. 

You felt a buzz in your bag, and you quickly grabbed your phone and flipped it open, accepting the call. 

You heard your client angrily grunting before speaking. “Got a bit busy with things. Looks like the government is on our trail.” he muttered into the phone. 

You pressed the phone up to your ear with one hand, your other hand grabbing your bag tighter. 

“Thanks for the heads up, then.” you replied in a flat tone. 

“I'm trying to get these assholes away from me, so I don’t just lead them to you,” he muttered. You could hear some background noise, clearly, he was driving. “In other words, I’m going to be a bit late,” he added. 

“Well, that’s great.” you replied sarcastically as you walked toward the exit, leaning on the wall beside the door. 

“Be on the lookout, okay?” he finally added. 

Your lips parted as you attempted to reply until you heard the door behind you creak open. “Shit.” you mumbled. You heard your client ask you what was wrong before you quickly slammed your phone shut and stuffed it into your bag. 

You were wanting confirmation if that man you saw was really Leon, and here it was. And he really was after you after all. This shouldn’t be surprising. You thought. 

Swiftly, you pushed the exit door open and attempted to rush away from Leon. As soon as you took your first steps onto the gravel ground beneath you and you wobbled slightly, you immediately regretted your choice in shoes. 

You lived by the phrase “fashion over function”, but right now, it was coming back to bite you in the ass. 

You moved as quickly forward as you could in heels, but you knew you were no match for Leon. Or anyone not wearing heels for that matter. You mentally cursed yourself for being stupid, you really should’ve anticipated needing to run. 

It was a pathetic attempt. You felt like helpless prey attempting to get away. Like an injured bunny desperately hopping away from a fox.

It wasn’t long before you were pressed against the wall, Leon’s big hands grasping your arms and keeping you pinned down. 

“Got you.” he said quietly, his words breathy from chasing you. 

You didn’t respond, only squirmed beneath his grip. You looked up at him as you knitted your eyebrows together. He was giving you that look. The look he always gave you. Serious and cold. Like he hated you. 

Leon glanced down at the bag resting by your hip before glancing back at you. “You gonna hand that over?” he asked. 

“Hand what over?” you replied, cocking your head to the side, feigning innocence. The sly smirk on your lips gave up your act, anyway. Not that Leon was falling for it.

“Don’t play dumb. I know you’re clever.” Leon replied, his voice gruff but lacking any real hostility. He liked you like this. 

“No way. I’m not rolling over for you that easily.” you answered. You had a job to do, after all. 

“You’ve always been that way, huh?” he asked you. “So reluctant to just give in to me.”

You squirmed a bit, Leon’s muscles tensed as he gripped your arm tighter, still careful to not hurt you. He was stronger than you, you were no match for him. 

“I’ve got a job to do.” you replied. 

“So do I.” he breathed. 

You just gazed into his eyes longingly. It’d been a while since you’d last gotten to see his alluring eyes this close up. It was hard to see him that well as you two hid just out of reach from the moonlight. But you knew he was as handsome as ever. 

“You look good tonight.” Leon mumbled. “Too bad that cute little outfit of yours is what got you here. Caught by me.” 

Your body had stopped resisting at this point. You knew it was no use. Even if you could escape, you had nowhere to run. Leon smirked a little seeing you give in to him. 

“I wasn’t anticipating being hunted.” you responded. “I can see that.” Leon was eyeing you up and down like you really were prey. 

“Wasn’t anticipating seeing you here, either…” you added. 

Leon tilted his head a little. “Really, now?” he returned. “Is me being here a good thing or a bad thing?” 

You paused for a moment, licking your lips. Was Leon really asking you that? 

“I can’t say anything about that.” you answered, although your real answer was obvious. Your body was practically a magnet to his body. 

“That so?” he asked, tilting his head a little, his gaze drawn to your lips. “Mhm.” 

“What a shame.” “Was there an answer you were expecting?” you asked. Leon’s hand moved to your chin, gently gripping it to force you to look right up at him. 

“Can’t say anything about that.” Leon teased. 

“You wanna play that game, huh?” 

“Maybe.” Leon spoke. 

You two were stuck there, eye-fucking each other, drinking in one another’s appearance in the dark alleyway. Most other people might not have found flirting with a man you hardly knew in a creepy, secluded alleyway romantic but you certainly did. 

“Been a while since I’ve seen you.” Leon mumbled. 

“Right. Last I checked, you were supposed to be working against me, not flirting with me. Not much of a hero, are you?” Leon merely scoffed in response. “Am I not allowed to just talk to you, hm? All I do all day is take down criminals and bioweapons… this is a nice change of pace for me.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” 

Leon’s gaze was stuck on your eyes, and he couldn’t help himself. He moved his hand from your chin to your cheek as he pulled you into a kiss. A real one. One with passion. Not any half-assed kiss you’d get from a one-night stand. 

Leon pulled back after a moment to get some air, a trail of saliva connected between both of your lips from an intense kiss. 

“Missed you.” Leon mumbled. 

“Really?” you replied. “More than you’d know.” Leon answered before pulling you into another kiss. “You don’t know how much I like seeing you. Even if we’re working against one another.” He mumbled against your lips. 

You felt yourself giving up all of the instincts you’d normally have on the job. Your focus was on Leon and Leon only. You wanted this man as much as he wanted you. 

Leon held onto your hips as he kissed you, again and again and again. Desperately. He wasn’t lying when he said he missed you. 

Your arms draped around Leon’s shoulders as you kissed him back eagerly, moving your lips with his as you two desperately smashed faces. 

It wasn’t long before you felt yourself get horny and begin gently grinding against Leon. You were really no better than anyone inside that club. “Taste so good…” Leon mumbled between kisses, his eyes still shut. 

You felt his tongue slip past your lips as you two kept kissing. Leon’s hand moved down and grabbed one of your thighs, gently lifting it as he pulled away from the kiss.

You glanced down at his large hand gripping your leg, lifting it to get easy access. Your eyes drifted and you noticed a bulge prodding out Leon’s pants. You didn’t know what you did to him - you didn’t know how many nights he spent desperately stroking himself to the thought of you. Whining and whimpering your name like a prayer before cumming all over his abs. 

“You’re doing this on the job? How dirty.” you teased. Leon was eyeing your body through your dress as he replied. “You’re on the job too, aren’t you?” he asked. 

He slid your dress up your leg with one hand and desperately unzipped his pants with his other. 

“What if someone sees?” You asked Leon in a hushed voice. 

“No one will come out here. That’s why you chose to deal with that sample here, right? Since you knew no one would be here?” Leon whispered into your neck before planting a few kisses down to your collarbone. You still smelt like your signature perfume. Leon would be lying if he said he didn't love that scent.

It was a miracle your perfume didn't rub off after swimming through that sea of sweaty people in the club.

Leon eventually pulled back a little and slid down his boxers, letting his hard cock out of his boxers. “Fuck.” he grunted to himself. His muscles relaxed as he finally freed his dick, a tiny little wet spot left behind from some pre-cum. He was easy; pinning you down made him leak like crazy. 

Leon rubbed himself raw a little before returning to kissing your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him to continue as you let out a few quiet moans. 

Leon continued holding your leg up, eventually moving his hand off his dick and up your dress. He was too desperate too undress you, he wanted to fuck you, here, now. You were feeling wobbly at this point. You were dripping at this point. Desperate for Leon to get inside you. 

When was the last time you had sex again? You couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the last time you had sex with someone you had feelings for, either. 

Leon kneeled down in front of you, keeping your leg lifted and on his shoulder. He slid down your panties. “A pretty outfit has some pretty lingerie underneath?” Leon teased seeing your lacy pink underwear. “I thought you said you weren’t expecting me.”

You scoffed. “Shut up.” 

Leon slid your panties down to your knees, he didn’t care to pull them all the way off, he was too horny. His hand returned to his dick as his head moved beneath your dress. He let the fabric rest at the top of his head as he began eating you out. 

“Ah-!” you gasped as you felt Leon’s tongue slide up and down, lapping your pussy, occasionally teasing your entrance. 

“So good..” Leon mumbled against your skin, continuing to ravage you like he’d been starved of sex for years. His tongue stayed relentless, his tongue circling your clit cruelly. You felt heat deep in your core as he slid his tongue in you, desperate to taste every last inch of your skin.

You desperately whined his name repeatedly. Leon felt like he was dreaming. You’d both had fantasized about this, admittedly. As much as Leon stroked himself thinking of you, you’d also bounced yourself on a large dildo thinking about Leon. 

“Fuck..!” you gasped as you felt Leon getting you dangerously close to climaxing until you felt Leon pull away quickly, not wanting you to get off that soon. 

Leon got back onto his feet and smirked upon seeing the disappointment on your face. 

“You’re so cruel.” you whined as Leon pulled you into another kiss. 

“Am I now?” Leon smirked against your lips, his hand on your thigh, still forcing you to keep that leg up, not wanting you to relax. Leon lifted your dress again in order to see your entrance. 

He held his dick in one hand to gently guide himself toward your entrance. He rubbed his leaking tip against you as he looked you in the eyes, enjoying seeing you quietly suffer. “You want it?” He asked. “Yeah..” you breathed. Here you were. Acting like a desperate slut, how shameful.

Leon pushed his hips forward and entered you. You leaned further against the wall, grunting as you felt Leon stuff his dick all the way inside you. Leon had no clue how many times you had pretended your dildo was his dick. And you’d never admit to it. But his dick was a thousand times better than any toy. You didn’t know how you’d go back to silicone after feeling his flesh. “Fuck…” you gasped as you felt Leon all the way inside you. You placed your hand on his cheek as you watched his face get red, his lips parted as he breathed, his eyebrows furrowed as he felt your pussy clench around him. “So fucking good… so damn tight…” he grunted. After savoring the sensation for a moment, he began thrusting his hips against you at an even pace, gripping your waist tightly. 

Leon let out little groans and grunts as he fucked you relentlessly, getting sloppy and desperate with each thrust. You were clenching around him in just the right way as he kept slamming deep into you, desperate to make sure he knew every inch of you. “Fuck, let me see those pretty tits.” Leon grunted as he dug his nails a bit into your thigh, not wanting to hurt you but he just couldn’t control himself. 

You pulled the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pulled the fabric down to show off your bra that matched your pink lacy panties. 

Leon took a moment to drink in what was in front of him. Fuck, you were hot. He’d be using this memory as new material to jerk off to for months, or even years. 

Leon removed his hand off your waist and slid it between your back and the wall behind you for a moment to unclip his bra. Leon pulled your bra off your chest and stared at your tits as he fucked you. 

His eyes never left your chest as he continued mercilessly pounding you into the wall. You wouldn't believe it. You were sleeping with the enemy. But who cared? This felt like heaven. 

Leon whispered your name between grunts and moans as he desperately fucked you harder and harder. You flicked your thumb against his cheek and used your other hand to begin rubbing your clit. 

"Harder, please..." you begged Leon through desperate moans and gasps. "Yeah?" he breathed. "You want it harder?" he asked breathlessly, pumping his hips ruthlessly.

Leon rested his head on your shoulder, occasionally kissing it as he melted, becoming a moaning mess as he kept thrusting. Damn, he had good stamina. Your moans became progressively more choked up the closer you got to climaxing. 

“So warm��” Leon moaned, getting a bit pussy drunk at this point. He shut his eyes as his hips snapped against yours. You squirmed and whined a little as you felt him find your spongy spot. He abused that spot, your reactions making it obvious you were pleasured.

“Gonna cum, baby…” Leon whispered breathlessly into your neck. 

“Mph… me too…” you moaned. “Don’t pull out, baby…” 

You squinted your eyes as you continued to rub your clit desperately. You gasped and arched your back as you felt yourself finally orgasm onto Leon’s dick. “Le-” you moaned loudly, nearly squealing his name before being silenced as Leon covered your mouth with his hand. 

Leon’s grunts got progressively louder as he kept using your hole to get off before he inevitably came inside you. Leon held you there for a few minutes as he attempted to catch his breath. “Ah… fuck…” he whimpered as he pulled away. He pulled out his dick and lifted your dress to watch you leak his cum. 

You quickly slid your panties back up so you wouldn’t drip Leon’s cum onto the floor and leave evidence of your guys’ shenanigans in the wild. 

“Leon.” you breathed, your legs shaky. You quickly threw your bra back on and pulled your dress back up. 

“That was so good. Better than porn. Better than anything I could’ve imagined.” Leon mumbled. 

He leaned in to kiss you again until you both heard the distance shuffles of a few speeding cars and quickly remembered what you two were doing before deciding to fuck each other. 

“Shit… they got your client. The government's probably on your ass now.” Leon said, voice still gruff from climaxing. 

You looked out the alleyway, then back at Leon, giving him puppy eyes. “I’ll help you out.” Leon added, breaking the silence. He wouldn’t let you get caught and arrested. 

“You-” you started, brain still scrambled. “You’d get punished if anyone found out.” you spoke. 

“I won’t let them find out then.” he quipped back swiftly. You knew you had no time to argue. Leon kneeled down in front of the wall and let you step onto his shoulders before he stood up and you climbed onto the nearby roof. You took a moment to correct your balance, hating yourself even more for wearing heels. But you couldn’t have anticipated the night you’d had. 

You glanced back down at Leon. “Go.” he instructed you, gesturing for you to leave. “See you another time, Leon.” you replied quietly as you headed off to make your escape, Leon rushing back inside the club to go settle the agents that had arrived to search for you.