#i'm like so close to saying fuck it to this new workplace

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 1)

I'm finally showing up in tags again woohoo! 🥳 Thank you guys for your patience!

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: needles, torture collars, misogyny in the workplace, probably very inaccurate business talk (pls suspend disbelief lmao)

____

The day starts off as typical as any other, with your assistant bringing you your morning coffee. You mindlessly take a sip while scrolling through your emails, except what welcomes your lips isn’t the usual Americano, but some Iced Matcha abomination—disgustingly too sweet for nine o’clock in the morning. You look up, ready to give Assistant Min a piece of your mind, but instead see a woman in his place.

“Who are you?”

The woman flashes you a nervous smile, hands fiddling in front of her stomach.

“Yoongi-ssi had an emergency, so I’m filling in. I’m the new hire, S—”

“I don’t care what your name is, this isn’t my coffee order. Bring me my Americano before my first meeting.”

“I’m so sorry! I was taking orders for all the executives, so I got confused. I’ll bring it asap!”

She runs off, feet clicking with each hurried step of her heels.

You toss the unnaturally green drink in the trash, annoyed at the setback in your morning routine. After shooting a quick "Are you okay?" text to Yoongi, you're back to your work.

Emails pile up in your inbox as they do every morning, mountains of classified information that you need to comb through before your 10am meeting. It’s tedious, but it’s the family business after all. Your grandfather started Shin Investments in the forties, and your dad took the business to new heights when he took over, now with your parents retired and on some island in god-knows-where, it’s up to you to make sure the company doesn’t lose its footing in the venture capitalist industry.

It's twenty minutes later when your Americano does arrive. Your eyes narrow into slits upon holding the cup in your hands.

“It’s lukewarm.”

“Oh my god, I apologize! Mr. Han stopped me on the way here, briefing me about what to prep for the afternoon meeting. I did not mean to take so long! I’ll heat it up and bring it back.”

You wave your hand dismissively.

“No need. You’re fired.”

The woman almost stumbles on air at your words, catching her balance quickly.

“Miss Shin p-please..I really need this job! I won’t make a single mistake from now on!”

“Too late.” You reach for the cup, the second one of the day to end up in the trash. “Please leave before I call security. I have work to do and no caffeine to help me.”

She doesn’t leave, but rather falls to her knees, waterworks in full effect. You let out a irritated huff.

“Please! Please, I need this!”

You don’t pay the commotion any attention, used to such scenes happening in your office by now. You simply dial security.

Your receptionist watches the new girl get dragged out, eyes sympathetic as she’s tossed right in front of the front desk.

“She-she fired me…all for a cup of coffee…I’ve worked so hard to get into this company and she just…for a fucking cup of coffee!”

Mascara stains a black rim around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry Seulgi-shi. You don’t deserve that.”

“M-maybe I should go beg for a second chance after some time has passed? What if I come back in the eve—”

“You’ll be wasting your time. That would’ve worked with the previous bosses…but Miss Shin is as tough as it gets. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve seen countless people get fired for less than a cup of coffee—dragged out here just like you.”

You overhear the conversation, as the security guard didn’t properly close the door on their way out. You can’t say it makes you feel all that good, crushing some fresh-faced new hire’s dreams, but it sends a message. You knew what you had to do once the company was signed over for you—how you had to conduct yourself to survive. The world of venture capitalism was cutthroat to say the least, and still considered “not women’s business” by many. The sad reality was that, if you wanted to be taken seriously, you’d have to be feared—because respected was rarely an option. So, you play your role well and let the rumor mill do the rest, so everyone knows not to mess with the ruthless bitch of a CEO at Shin Investments.

You walk into the meeting room and the vibe immediately changes: the once lively room of everyone asking each other how their weekends went turns silent enough to hear a feather fall.  Only sound is that of your red-bottoms click-clacking and earrings jingling. You take your seat, motioning for the standing executives to do the same. They can tell you’re more irritated than usual, and that could easily mean a demotion with one wrong move.

“Everyone’s here so let’s jump into it: where are we with HoloPad?”

“We’re at the audit stage ma’am.”

“Still?”

The tension in the air is palpable.

“Th-there’s been some—erm—gap in the books. They are working on fixing it right now.”

“So they’re cooking the books?”

“I-uh-I wouldn’t say—”

“Calling it something else isn’t going to change the fact that they’re cooking the books Mr.Choi. Call off the deal.”

The executives stare at each other with dumbfounded faces, hushed complaints erupting at the table.

“But ma’am…the CEO is the heir of Jun Tech…it’s not advisable to ruin our relationship with them.”

A bunch of others chime in with the same sentiment, and you have the room of men turned against you as usual.

“Is that so Mr.Choi? Do you really advise me to invest millions into a venture that can’t even provide proper financial records? All to avoid making the Jun family angry? Mind I remind you that this is a business, not a family drama?”

“It’s just—”

“And all of you who agree with Mr.Choi here…don’t think I don’t notice the new watches on your wrists. Can’t be a coincidence, can it? Everyone who wants to continue with the deal happening to buy the newest Jun Tech watches at the same time?”

Five people, including Choi, scramble to take off their watches, heads down in shame.

You let out a hollow laugh. “You all are too dumb to even be bribed properly, I can’t believe it! Anyways, I expect five letters of resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning. This is me extending my grace for all the work you’ve done in the company so far, but if you don’t voluntarily leave, I will not hesitate to disgracefully remove you.”

That’s the last thing you say before click-clacking your heels out the room, not missing the outbursts of “bitch” and various other insults blaring from the other side of the door as soon as you leave.

It’s moments like these when you just want to call your father and have him step in to help, but you can’t. You can’t be seen as a fragile little daddy’s girl in a room full of bloodthirsty businessmen. You keep your composure until you’re in the comfort of your office, where you let yourself decompress for a minute. Only a minute, though, because your receptionist is soon knocking at your door to remind you of a charity event tonight—a reminder that would’ve come from the temporary assistant if you had not fired her an hour before.

___

The charity auction seems standard, with the usual crowd flaunting off their rare pieces of art and jewelry under the guise of doing something good. You’re not in a place to judge too much, considering you’re also here doing the same thing. You are the only one who seems to see how ridiculous it all is though, for the little that’s worth.

“Y/N! Long time no see!”

You’re immediately swept up into various groups of people wanting to “catch-up” (aka keep in your good graces for their next business venture).

Yup. A typical day.

Until Kang Byung-hun approaches you with that same condescending smile he gives you at every event. He’s a short, plump man, a little bit older in age than your father, and he’s a complete pain in your ass. The not-so-subtle jabs during formal dinners, gossiping behind your back, and overall misogynistic world-view makes you want to tear out your hair every time you see him.

“Mr.Kang!” You say in the cheeriest tone, smiling wide. He’s a pain, but he’s got a lot of influence, and you’d be an idiot to dismiss that.

“Ah Y/N. I see you’ve done yourself up for this event. On the lookout for a husband, are we?”

You keep your smile through gritted teeth.

“Just looking my best for the noble cause, sir.”

“I’m sure.”

The wait staff comes around with wine at just the right time, because god knows you can’t deal with this without at least some alcohol in you.

“Oh, I actually do have some business with you. Are you down to talk in private a bit later?”

“Why wait? Let’s talk now.” You’d rather just get it over with.

“It requires some preparation. Have to make a few calls and get some things here. I was going to put on a nice presentation in your office, but now’s a good as time as any!”

“Sounds good sir.”

What you wouldn’t give to just go home, take off these uncomfortable heels, and just face-plant on your soft bed right now. But nope, you have to wait around for this jack-ass to put on his little show. As much as he dismisses you, Kang Byung-hun is no idiot when it comes to business. Whatever his newest idea is, he knows Shin Investments is the best option for financing—especially in the bad state of the market right now.

So an hour before the party is supposed to end, you get a tap on your shoulder by Kang’s assistant, and promptly follow her to one of the spare rooms at the venue. Kang sits with a glass of champagne in hand, flashing a smile that you can’t stand. You take a seat across the circular table.

“We already exchanged pleasantries earlier, so I’ll just cut to the chase. I just got the patent for a new piece of revolutionary technology, and I’d like for Shin Investments to finance the project.”

“What type of technology are we talking?”

“How aware are you with the current market for hybrids, Y/N?”

You shrug nonchalantly. Honestly, the topic of hybrids makes you uncomfortable, as you think of it as unethical to own anything even remotely human, but you keep your personal preferences to yourself.

“I know it’s a booming industry, especially in the last three years. And I know the market is big for training tech right now.”

“Precisely!” He beams. “Training technology is in high demand. You saw how much of a hit the snake hybrid calming diffuser by Pet Armor was. Sold out in minutes! Not to mention raised the demand for snake hybrids in general. That’s when I knew I had to get in on the action and expand to the hybrid market.”

“So is that what it is? Is Pet Paradise launching its own diffuser? For a different type of hybrid?”

He shakes his head, “Nope. You know how I like to do things big, Y/N. A new hybrid diffuser is too small of a scale. What we’re creating will change the hybrid market forever.” He ends with a snap of his fingers, to which his assistant takes cue.

Before you can even process what’s going on, a leashed wolf hybrid is brought into the room.

Your attention immediately goes to the bulky metal collar around his neck, filled with buttons and stats.

“Meet Jungkook, one of the hybrids we’re beta-testing on. That magnificent thing around his neck is the Obedience Collar, and it’s going to blow your mind.”

You feel sick, dinner threatening to come up your throat the sight. The boy looks no older than twenty-one, and has more fear in his eyes than you thought possible. He’s trembling, eyes trained on the floor, trying to make himself small in the big room.

“Now, it’s no secret that wolf hybrids are amongst the hardest to train, that’s why they make the perfect subjects for this,” his assistant hands you an iPad as he talks, “first, I’d like for you to watch a video of Jungkook before he started wearing the Obedience Collar.”

You reluctantly click play, seeing the wolf hybrid with so much life in his eyes. Life and anger. He’s growling and punching his way through a team of researchers, thrashing around for his dear life.

“What a violent and unsophisticated creature he used to be!”

You have to consciously unclench your fists, making sure not to show your true feelings. It’s excruciating to sit there and listen when all you want to do is see how Kang would like it if a group of strangers got their hands on him like that.

“But now, with Pet Paradise’s newest invention, he’s the most timid little thing you could own!”

“A shock collar? Hybrid shock collars are already a thing, Mr.Kang.”

Your voice shakes slightly, and you hope no one notices.

“No no, that’s not what this is. A shock collar is a good training tool, of course, but it’s not the most efficient way to train a hybrid. If you swipe on that iPad, you’ll see the design of this collar is far advanced.”

So you hold your breath and swipe.

And whatever you’re expecting, it’s worse.

This isn’t a normal collar by any means, as proven by the product shots. The inside is lined with thin needles, which you can’t see as they are quite literally jammed into Jungkook’s neck right now.

Holy fuck.

“You see, Y/N, the Obedience Collar works from the inside. The collar is supplied with our newly developed synthetic hormones, which are injected into the bloodstream through the needles. The hormones are specifically structured to work with the DNA of most mammal hybrids, and can even make something as unruly as a wolf hybrid behave. The changes take effect within fifteen minutes of collaring! There’s a little hormone pack in the back of the collar,” he motions for Jungkook to turn around, and the boy obeys instantly, showing the rectangular box in the back of the collar, “those will need to be refilled every six months—which we’ll sell separately, so the business model is more than sustainable. Isn’t this a gold mine of an opportunity?”

Keep calm Y/N. Breathe. Compose yourself.

“Very impressive stuff,” you force out, “but I’m not sure Shin Investments is the right fit for this project. Wouldn’t you want a partner more familiar with the hybrid market?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Y/N. What kind of venture capitalist is afraid of diversifying their portfolio? You can’t survive this industry if you only play in familiar territory—your grandfather and father both know this very well. Besides, I heard a rumor that the deal with Jun’s son won’t be going through. I’m sure the board members are having low morale right now…so why not appease them with an even better deal?”

You can’t stand the way he chastises you. What you can’t stand even more is that, from a business perspective, he’s making sense. You know a lucrative business when you see one, and this is definitely one of those. And as unintuitive as it seems, it’s all legal. Hybrid abuse isn’t really a thing the government concerns itself with, which is why the only real law is not to intentionally kill one, and even that is enforced loosely. There’s no rules being broken, no shady deals, just a proposal as legal as the meeting you had two days ago where a start-up pitched their new smart fridge. Except this time it’s not a smart fridge you’re discussing, it’s the life of a very scared and no doubt in pain hybrid, that’s standing less than five feet away from you.

Kang sees the gears in your head turning as you find any way to refuse this deal for a rational reason. So he starts playing his game of mind-chess once again, a game he’d mastered since before you were even born.

“Look, I’ll be frank with you. If you were any other woman, I wouldn’t even consider bringing this deal to you. Because we both know most women tend to be too emotional to do good business. But you’re not like that—hell, you’ve got more backbone than half the men at this party. So, what’s stopping you?”

There it was. The emotional card. The thing you were most concerned about, how showing even one ounce of emotion could be blown out of proportion because of your gender. You’ve worked too damn hard to create your reputation, and that’s why the next words out of your mouth spill before you can even think about it.

“You’re right, I was being too cautious. Let’s start with the proper procedures during work hours.”

Shit. He got you. Checkmate.

The man’s face erupts in the sleaziest grin possible.

“Perfect! You won’t regret this, it’s going to be big! In fact, I have one more surprise for you!”

You raise your brows, not needing anymore fucking surprises tonight.

“It’s Jungkook! He’s yours for the month!”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at that statement.

“Excuse me?!”

“It’s a token of our appreciation. You get to be the first ever person to own a hybrid with an Obedience Collar! You can see first-hand how remarkable the technology is. There’s five others from his pack that we can continue our tinkering on, so one less won’t hurt us. Don’t worry, the synthetic hormone part is fully developed, we’re just trying to make the collar look sleeker.”

It’s not uncommon nor unethical for you to be gifted prototypes. Businesses love giving you a taste of what you’re putting your money into, as a way to give you confidence in the product and maybe even open up possibilities for a bigger investment. But you’d never thought someone would give you a fucking hybrid.

You almost open your mouth to decline, saying something along the lines of not wanting the responsibility of a hybrid…but then something comes over you. You realize that declining means sending Jungkook back to the lab—and you just can’t bring yourself to do that. The damage you’re going to be doing by investing in this collar is going to be devastating as it is, no doubt making you the indirect torturer of many hybrids to come, but in some twisted sense of morality—you want to at least save the one in front of your eyes. Maybe even pretend that you have some good left in you.

“Thank you. I’d love to take him.”

___

The car ride back is silent and tense. Jungkook hasn’t said a single word, much less lifted his head to even look at you. He’s still trembling in the passenger seat. You have zero clue how to approach the situation. It’s not like you can take off the collar, as it’s a prototype with data still being transferred to the lab. You agreed to take him home to give him a better life, but you haven’t exactly thought far enough ahead as to how; judging by how scared he is right now, you know this isn’t going to be easy.

It's midnight when you reach home, and all you want to do is sleep. But you can’t yet, not until Jungkook is settled in. You lead him to a spare bedroom; it’s incredibly spacious and practically decorated for royalty, with a king-sized bed right in the center.

“This is where you’ll be staying.”

You see his head lift up for the first time, doe eyes scanning the room in disbelief.

“It’s late so we’ll talk more tomorrow, but for now sleep here. I don’t have nightclothes for you yet, so just sleep in what you’re wearing for the night. There are water bottles on the nightstand if you get thirsty. Do you need anything else before I head to bed?”

He adamantly shakes his head no, prompting you to exit. However, right as you’re about to walk out the door, you hear rumbling. More specifically, his stomach is rumbling. You turn back around.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

No response.

“If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.”

Those words seem to turn some gears in his head, as he utters his first words of the night.

“I’m hungry Miss.”

It catches you off guard how quickly he gets the words out, much different from the no-speaking rule he had enacted on himself up until now.

That’s when the realization hits you.

If you’re hungry, you need to tell me.

It sounds like a command, and that damn Obedience Collar is sure to make him comply.

You let out a defeated sigh before guiding him to the kitchen. Your cook has already called it a day, so you prepare one of the few things your tired brain can handle—frozen waffles. You toss them into a toaster, drizzle some syrup, and pile on a generous amount of whipped cream before pushing a plate in front of the awestruck boy.

“Eat up.”

With the eagerness in which he digs into the plate, you’re sure he’d be the same way without the direct command.

And that’s how your first night with Jungkook goes, with you making sure he’s fed and in his bed before heading to your own. You notice he’s trembling a little less. Baby steps.

____

A/N: If you're liking this fic, please let me know! I love and appreciate every interaction!

#bts ot7 x reader #hybrid bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort #unnatural instincts

[heartlilith]

Solar Return Observations🦋

Having Venus in the 12th squaring the MC can mean that your relationship drama is the topic of conversation in the workplace that year

Any planet that resides/aspects your MC, could very well become public knowledge that year. For example; Venus - love life, Mars - sex life, Pluto - secrets

In your Solar and Lunar Return Chart, make sure to look at degrees. 29 degrees in Venus could mean a relationship comes to an end or a love-related chapter closes in a big way. Moon in 29 degrees could mean emotionally maturing and getting past hurt you held onto in the past; finally getting over something

For 0 degrees, expect a fresh start. Say the planet Mercury, you may say things that offend people or maybe you're insensitive (with or without meaning it) and people are correcting you a lot that year, "don't say that". Or you start studying something new and you make a lot of mistakes on exams because it's a fresh start! All this depends on houses and aspects, either way there's a lot of learning that has to be done with 0 degree placements.

If your natal Sun, Moon, or Rising falls into your SR 12th house, you won't feel like yourself that year. The good part is that you'll come out of the year wiser and more mature.

Neptune in the 8th house in the Solar or Lunar Return should be very very very careful of substance use or anything potentially addictive. Neptune= addictions, illusion, smoky mirrors, 8th house= obsession, transformation, death and rebirth, finances

Having Sun in the 12th house this Solar Return Year is fucking wild. You realize so much shit. I have Venus there too. The rose colored glasses have come off and I see things way different than I did before. BIG realizations that are painful and uncomfortable but they're growing pains, necessary.

Your Moon sign in your Solar Return Chart can show how you emotionally react to things this year. Cancer Moon = you're going to be more sensitive, take things personally, be more empathetic in situations, have more emotional depth this year and be more caring and compassionate with yourself and others. Sagittarius Moon = you'll be able to see things in a broader way when faced with problems, it'll be easier for the problems to roll of your shoulders, you'll learn a lot emotionally and take things as lessons.

Your rising sign in the Solar Return Chart is going to be how you approach and see things in the world and how the world sees and approaches you. Having Scorpio/Pluto in the 1st house- learning, growing, and transformation that year will be huge and more or less drastic, you may transform others/situations that you come into contact with as well. Aries/Mars in the 1st house- you may approach things with more energy and vitality, this could rub off on the people around you and they could become energized too by feeding off that energy.

Uranus in the 10th house means you're 90% likely to change your job in some way; whether losing your job, being promoted and having completely different tasks OR working remotely or online more

Sun aspects are at the forefront in SR Charts (unless Sun is in the 12th house). If the orb is below 3 degrees, you'll exhibit the traits of the aspecting planet... a lot. Square/Opposition - more of the negative traits, Conjunction/Trine/Sextile - more positive traits.

Sometimes you have to think past the general meanings of the houses and instead, learn how the houses specifically relate to you. For me, I had Moon in the 6th house and I'm thinking my health will fluctuate more and I'll be working around women more for the year. Instead, I adopted 2 kittens and they became my world, along with my 1 year old dog I adopted last year. They are my children and I am their mother! My days consisted of taking care of them and also working and they became a source of therapy for me.

Alternative Meanings of the Houses:

1st house - What energy we rub off on the people around us, the lense we're using to see the world (pessimistic, realistic, optimistic, delusional, naive), the vibe of the situations we'll be faced with (Moon/Cancer - emotional situations, Sun/Leo - public/in the spotlight situations, Saturn/Capricorn - mature/karmic situations)

2nd house - How what we buy affects our self worth, for example, Neptune/Pisces - buying a lot of charts and readings that year, maybe feeling unsure or lost. Moon/Cancer - Buying a lot of blankets, pillows, food, maybe you're striving to feel more comfortable and stable. Jupiter/Sagittarius - Buying a house or paying for school, maybe you're trying to expand and learn. Trying to take the next step.

5th house - Your free time, what helps you relax/channel energy. Taurus - eating a good meal, laying on the couch. Gemini - driving around town, hanging out with friends. Aquarius - yoga, reading a book, or scrolling social media

10th house - When people gossip about you, the topics give off _____ vibes. Pluto/Scorpio - dark, secretive, mysterious ("what happened to her?" "Who is he?" "where are they from?"). Venus/Libra/Taurus: jealous, shallow, materialistic vibes (office romances, about your beauty or clothes). Mercury/Gemini//Virgo - harsh, calculated, competitive (how smart you are/how you're a know it all, where you went to school, your job tasks)

Book a Reading

Masterlist

#astrology #astrology community #astro #astro observations #astro community #scorpio #rising signs #cancer #sagittarius #leo #solar return chart observations #solar return #lunar return

[auteurdelabre]

Palpation - RMTJoel!Miller x f!Reader - 18+

Rating: 18+

Summary: You need a massage and thankfully a new place opened up a few blocks away… There you’re introduced to the deliciously professional RMTJoel!Miller. He makes you feel good… maybe too good?  (AU - NO OUTBREAK)

Words: 6.8k

Tags: RMTJoel!, unprofessionalism in the workplace, power imbalance (kinda?), consent king, massage (external and internal heh heh I'm so dang funny), soft!Joel, public sex, fingering, handjob. 

a/n: Went for a massage at the spa (thanks to a thoughtful xmas gift!) and came up with this idea. I wanna make it REAL clear that this is FANTASY. Meaning RMT’s ain’t there to be sexualized. It’s all for the sensual fun of this story, but in no way should this EVER happen in real life. Alright, onto the smut.  

===========================================

Palpation

"You need to see a massage therapist."

"No I don't," you insist scowling at your roommate Pam as you come hobbling across the room to sit next to her, pizza box in hand.  

"It's been a week of you complaining about a sore back you got... How again?"

"Sneezing," you mumble with a frown. Pam opens the pizza box and you two grab a slice. Nothing to remind you of your age like pulling a muscle sneezing. 

"A massage place just opened up a few blocks away last month. I saw it when I was getting groceries," Pam says pulling up her phone and typing quickly. "It's called ... Mill."

"Sounds pretentious." 

"Looks gorgeous."

"Any reviews?"

"Yeah like sixty," Pam says sounding impressed. "Place has a 4.9 out of 5 on Google."

"Probably paid for them," you murmur, wiping your greasy fingers on your napkin. 

"There are photos," Pam says. "This place looks stunning."

She holds up her phone and you swipe through several images of beautiful pristine rooms with the luscious looking massage tables. It's like through the phone you can smell lavender and hear gentle wind chimes playing. 

"I've never been for a massage before," you say with a nervous glance back at her face. "Laying naked on scratchy sheets while some random person is touching me all over gives me the creeps."

"They're professionals," Pam says rolling her eyes and smirking. "They change sheets between clients and you wear as many clothes as you feel comfortable in."

Hmm. You didn't know that. 

You consider this proposition as you flip through what to watch on Netflix. You have to admit that the idea of a massage sounds appealing after a solid week of being in pain and hunching when you walk. Pamela gloms onto the fact that you're being swayed. 

"Okay I'm booking you in with the person all the reviews recommend" Pam says typing away. 

"Guy or girl?"

"Guy."

"Oh."

"What?"

You wince. "Isn't it weird for a guy to massage a girl?" 

"I get massages from guy massage therapists all the time," Pam says rolling her eyes at you. "It's

only weird if you make it weird." 

///

This was a terrible fucking idea. 

As soon as you walk through doors of "Mill" a week later you feel out of place. Beautifully carved doors and sumptuous looking couches decorate the front room. It smells like heaven in here, warm and fresh. Everything is so fancy.

You are not fancy. 

You are anxious. 

You've shaved every part of your body in a panic that morning, unsure if this is the correct protocol. What if they get grossed out by massaging body hair? What if your skin is too dry? What if your back is disgusting? You've never really looked at it that closely. 

Pam told you they don't care, that they see actually gross shit every day and that your body will be a welcome change of pace. But you don't trust her because Pam also told you that you could pull off red leather pants in college.

She was definitely wrong about that.

A pleasant woman of about fifty sits at the front desk typing away. When you approach she smiles brightly at you.

"Hello welcome to Mill. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yeah, hi, I'm here for the four pm," you say softly. This place is so serene it feels weird to speak louder than a whisper.

"And with which massage therapist?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, my friend booked it." 

"Not a problem," the receptionist says with a bright smile as she passes you over a clipboard with a sheet and pencil attached to the clasp. "Just fill this in."

You look over the intake form, blown away by all the questions asking about everything from allergies to if diabetes runs in the family. You fill this in swiftly; your eyes darting to the clock over the door leading to what you assume are massage rooms. You've got ten minutes. You lick your lips nervously and go back to the form. You turn the page over, circling on the diagram of the human body where your pain is. 

The last part is a yes or no checkbox. 

1. I bruise easily

No.

2. I sleep 8+ hours a night

Fuck I  wish. Nope. 

3. I have back problems

Seems like a stupid question on a massage form. But yes, obviously. 

4. I am satisfied sexually 

Your pencil hovers over that question as your cheek heats up. You know it's asking you this for medical reasons but it still makes you feel embarrassed when you tick off: "No". 

You finish the rest of the check boxes and then return the sheet and clipboard back to the woman. She gives you a smile and indicates behind you. 

"Take a seat and he'll call you in."

You slip back into one of the oversized chairs as a beautiful black woman with heels walks in. She swishes by you with a smile before turning her attention to the receptionist. 

"Hi, I have a four o'clock with Tommy."

"Perfect, I'll let him know." 

The woman takes a seat next to you in one of the chairs typing. She's stunning with long legs and glossy black braids. Her large almond eyes drift over to you. 

"Have you been here before?"

You shake your head. "No, have you?"

"No but my co-workers wouldn't stop talking about it," she says with a laugh. "I figured what the hell, ya know?"

"My roommate booked the appointment for me," you tell her grinning. "The thought of-"

Before you can finish your thoughts a voice reaches out. 

"Maria?"

A handsome man pops out from around the door, glancing to the other woman and you're struck by how muscular he is. How glossy his dark hair is and how his pants fit him just right. 

Thank Christ he's not my massage therapist. I would not be able to have his hands on me. 

"Maria?"

"Hi," the girl says and you can see she has been similarly affected. If she was a cartoon there would have been steam coming out of her ears. 

"Hi, I'm Tommy," the man says with a charming smile as Maria pulls her purse to her shoulder. "Follow me to room 1."

Maria stumbles after Tommy's disappearing figure but not before shooting you a look over her shoulder and mouthing "What the fuck?" 

You hold in a giggle as the door closes. You pull out your phone hurriedly composing a text to Pam. 

[3:58pm] You need a massage with a guy named Tommy here. Definitely your type. 

You scroll back through a few work emails distracted until the door to the hallway opens with a creak. 

A deep voice says your name and your glance up from your phone just in time to see a tall man with the sweetest smile you've ever seen standing in the doorway holding a clipboard. His dark curls are brushed back, threaded with silver. 

Please no. He can’t be for me. He’s even hotter than the other one!

"Hi I'm Joel," he says extending a hand out to you as you stand and approach him. "I'll be your therapist today." 

Shocked, you just stare at how long the fingers are, how broad the palm is that leads up to forearms and biceps just meant to squeeze. The white t-shirt he wears literally strains over his broad shoulders and biceps. And then you see it, the small dimple in his right cheek over a neatly trimmed beard. Your heart actually flutters at the sight of it. 

He's fucking gorgeous. 

And just as that thought registers with you, a dawning horror begins to flood your senses. 

There's no way you're getting a massage from him. He's going to touch your almost naked body? He's going to be so... Close? Rubbing?! Just looking at him is causing a heartbeat to begin between your legs. 

You still haven't reached out to shake his hand and Joel takes it back quickly, looking embarrassed. 

"Follow me to room four."

On shaky legs you stumble after him in much the same way Maria did after Tommy. You watch the way his body moves so languidly, graceful despite his size. You try to ignore the twitch of his tight ass as he moves, willing yourself to focus on the artwork gracing the walls or observing how clean everything is.

Once inside the small space you take a chance to look around. It's simple, pristine white with dark grey floors. The walls hold pictures of nature, a horse walking through the forest. It's very calming to look at.  It also smells divine in here, like a spring meadow. But you're not sure if it's the room or the man in the room with you. 

You stroke the soft blanket overtop the expensive looking massage table, stilling in surprise as you feel its warmth. Joel is seated on a small rolling stool and he grabs a pen from behind his ear. 

"So what brings you in today?" 

"Is this blanket heated?"

"Uh," Joel looks confused at your response. "Yes."

"Jesus," you whistle impressed before you realize he's asked a question "Oh, I, uh, I've been having some back stuff lately."

"Work related injury?" He asks, pencil poised above your intake form on his clipboard. 

"No."

"Did it come on suddenly?"

Do not tell him the truth. 

"I was playing basketball and I wrenched it," you tell him airily as if innate athleticism is just one of your many gifts. 

"Where exactly?" Joel asks coming to a stand and walking over to you. You try not to shake as he approaches. He tucks the pencil behind his ear and the clipboard under his arm. 

"Uh, here," you say turning from him and pointing to your lower back. You face the wall surprised to see a mirror there. You see Joel in the reflection and watch his face turn studious as he stares at your lower back. 

"Is it alright if I touch you for the assessment?" Joel says, eyes scanning down your back. You swallow. 

“Sure.”

Please touch me everywhere. 

Wait. When did that happen? When did the thought of Joel touching you go from terrifying to enticing? 

You feel his large forefinger skate down your spine and dip to the dimple at your lower back. You inhale sharply, thighs pressing together tightly trying to tamp down the pleasured shiver that wants to take you over. 

You see Joel's dark eyes dart to the mirror looking concerned as he meets your gaze in the reflection.  

"You okay? That hurt?"

"No," you reply confused. "Why?"

"You're tremblin'." 

He pulls back obviously concerned he's pressing too hard and you pray he doesn't notice your cheeks heating. 

"No uh, just a little cold." You give a shaky laugh. "Good thing you have a heated blanket."

Joel gives a little half smirk and turns, pulling the pencil from behind his ear once more. 

"Psoas major," he murmurs, making a note on his clipboard. "Pretty common for low back pain. Gonna start in the mid back and work my way down. Then I like to end with you facing up so i can get at those neck muscles. That work for you?"

"Yep." 

"Great, just need you to sign this consent form."

He holds it out to you and you give it a cursory glance before scrawling your signature at the bottom. At this point you're willing to sign your voice away to a sea witch if it means getting Joel's hands on you quicker. 

"Alright now, I'm gonna step out for a few so you can undress and get up on the table under the sheet. I'll knock before I come in. Alright?"

"Okay."

He gives a small smile before moving past you out the door, closing it behind him. He smells amazing. It's not the room smell. You can't place it but its warm and masculine and... 

Oh fuck you're supposed to be getting undressed. 

You hurriedly strip until you're in nothing but your underwear. You place all your things on the chair near the door. After a pause you move your bra underneath the pile. 

You pull yourself up on the massage table maneuvering yourself until you're breast and belly down with your head nestled in the tufted face hole of the table.  

You pull the warmed top sheet up to your neck and are amazed at how relaxed you already are. Maybe Pam was right maybe you have needed a massage all this time. You could drift off right here. 

Tap tap.

"You ready?"

Your heart slams against your ribcage. That beautiful man is going to touch you. Rub you with oil with those big delicious looking hands of his. 

"Uh, yeah ready," you call out in a strangled voice. 

Calm the fuck down. 

You hear the door open and close. All you can see face down is the hardwood floor. The lights dim and your straining ears hear the sound of Joel tapping on his phone. Soft meditation -like music fills the room and you take a deep breath as his voice murmurs next to you. 

"That okay?"

"Yep."

He could play Scottish fucking bagpipes for all you care. You just want him to touch you.

"Your form says you've never had a massage before," Joel says quietly and you see his shoes underneath the table. Basic white Tom's should not turn you on the way that they do right now. 

"No."

"Alright well just so you know, the next part is I'm gonna lower the sheet to your comfort level and then we can start. Yeah?"

"Yep."

The shoes are gone from your vision and you feel him drag down the blanket over your naked back until it rests low on your spine, just at the start of the swell of your ass. You suddenly wish you had cuter underpants on. 

"This alright?"

"Yep."

Your eyes blow wide when he tucks it lightly in around your hips. 

"Let's get started."

At the first touch of his hand on your spine, you twitch, your nervous body over stimulated by the situation alone. Joel's hands are off you completely, his voice concerned. 

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Yeah sorry," you say with a breathless laugh. "Wasn't ready I guess."

Joel chuckles and it's a rich, delicious sound that makes your stomach flip.

 "That's okay, shoulda gave warnin'. Startin now."

His hands alight to your midback pressing lightly. He does this down your spine to warm you up, he tells you. You don't care what he does. You'd happily become a human pretzel if it meant having Joel's hands on you. 

The hands retreat and then there's the sound of lotion being squeezed and Joel rubbing his hands together. Those big, broad hands. You're so thankful he can't see how red your face is. 

Joel begins between your scapula, his wide hands smoothing over your muscles with expert care. At first you're nervous when his hands touch places that have been overlooked for months by previous partners, but soon you allow your eyes to shut and your breathing to even out. 

His hands go to your spine before Fanning out over your shoulder blades. The sensation is so fucking good, so tender. He rubs a knot there and you hiss with pleasure at the feeling of it being worked. 

"Tell me if the pressure is too hard," he breathes. 

"I actually like it hard."

The minute you say it you cringe. Why did that sound sexual? Because Joel is hot ? Because you're horny? Pamela's words float through your consciousness. 

It's only weird if you make it weird.

Just relax. Ignore it. He's not saying anything. You try to pretend you didn't say something asinine and just close your eyes. 

His oiled hands move down your spine, coming to press at your lower back, the problem area. Joel applies pressure gingerly before his thumbs begin to knead into the deep muscles there. 

At first it hurts but you remain silent, needing it to continue. After the initial throbbing ebbs you relax into it, feeling the muscle relent under his talented fingers. The release feels so good that you actually sigh out loud. 

"Ah, there we go," Joel purrs in a voice so husky you feel your panties physically dampen. 

His hands move lower, fingers grazing just under the waistband of your panties as he massages your lower back, taking his time on the problem areas you mentioned.

It feels like heaven. 

Somewhere around the midway mark you feel so relaxed that you actually drift off, carried away by Joel’s touch amongst the scent of sandalwood and the sound of flutes. 

You shift awake when you hear Joel's raspy voice in your ear. You have no idea how much time has passed. 

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over onto your back for me. I'll turn around." 

You do as he says still partly drowsy, your whole body feeling warm and boneless. You roll over, sliding down the table a bit and tugging the blanket up until it covers your breasts. You secure it under your arms. 

Your eyes crack open to see Joel turned away from you. His broad back is smooth under his shirt and from this angle you see his tight ass through his pants. He's like a Greek god in a white cotton t-shirt. 

You hope you don't have ugly lines on your face from the hole but you accept that you probably do. Oh well. Not like Joel was gonna ask you out anyway. You close your eyes again. 

"Okay. Ready."

You hear Joel place himself on the rolling stool. He slides behind you at the top of the massage table and you hold in a shudder as he moves your hair up out of his way, his fingertips grazing your neck. Immediately you feel your nipples tighten and you pray they can't be seen through the sheet. 

His hands are oiled up and then move to your neck once more. His fingers glide along your collarbone before dragging over the muscles there. The sensation is incredible, the overlooked and overworked muscle celebration with the release of tension. 

"Feels so nice," you mutter without thinking.  

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says and you hear the smile in it. You can feel the warm huff of his minty breath fall over your cheek.

You realize belatedly that his face must be near yours and you feel your heartbeat quicken. Your thighs press together tightly and you're shocked at how turned on you are. Joel's touch, this room, this comfort has all conspired to get you to the edge of arousal. 

His wide hands squeeze your neck muscles, gently vibrating. Something releases and your head swims warmly. 

You wriggle slightly and Joel shifts his hands to the back of your skull. His thumbs press and begin to circle there, digging pleasantly. 

"Your form says you get headaches."

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," he tells you, his voice tinged with pride. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

You don't know how to tell him that his patients probably just like anything he does because he's the most beautiful man you've seen outside a movie screen. 

When his thumbs get to your temples you should have told him to stop. Because the thudding between your legs is increasing. With every swipe you feel your core tightening. 

Calm down. Calm down. 

His thumbs retreat and you feel a stab of relief go through you. That is until his fingers slide up the back of your neck through your hair... 

And he tugs. 

A simple motion, just a grab of your hair in his fists and a gentle tug to release the tension in your skull. Except it releases the tension.... Everywhere.  

Pleasure overwhelms you, warm and flooding your entire body like sweet golden light. Your hands grip the sheets as your back arches unexpectedly, hips digging back against the table. 

The sound of your shuddered cry hits the air sharply, like cool water thrown over the both of you. 

And then silence. 

//////

You're tense. 

That much was clear when Joel saw you in the waiting room. When he touched your tight back and saw the pinched way your face looked in the mirror. 

He was determined to get you to relax. To give you what he knew you needed: release from pain. He'd read your intake form, saw where the pain was, saw you were getting shitty sleep, the headaches. It makes sense that you were wound up.

And you'd nearly jolted off the table at his first touch of you. He hadn't been expecting that reaction. You were like a skittish horse, wild and needing desperately to be tamed. 

And soon enough you'd calmed under his light touches. And now you seem pretty relaxed as the massage continues, Joel smiles when he thinks he hears you snoring quietly. He works away at the stubborn knots in your back. 

He moves down your arm, hearing you give soft little whimpers in your sleep and noting when he gets to your hand that there's no wedding band there. He doesn't understand why that sticks out to him but it does. He works down your other arm doing the same. 

He lets a hand drift along your spine, watching as you curve up for him like a cat. It's hypnotizing how his little grazes affect you so deeply. His eyes drift to the clock in the corner. Twenty minutes left. 

His mouth goes to your ear. 

"Alright, gonna get you to turn over for me. I'll turn around."

He turns, listening to the rustling sheets as you scoot down the table a bit, pulling the sheets up over you. 

"Then I'm doing my job right," Joel says with a smile. 

Everything is going well; you're going boneless in his hands again. So pliant and willing. Joel finds deep satisfaction in this. Like he's won your body over somehow, told it there's no reason for fear. He thinks it’s because you seemed so unimpressed with him at first, so dismissive. You wouldn’t even shake his hand. But now you seem like you’ve warmed up to him and this pleases him.

He sees the crease between your brows and smoothes over it with his thumb. He smiles when it disappears under his touch. 

"Your form says you get headaches," he says remembering what he read earlier. 

"Mhmmm. Sometimes."

"Alright, might do some work on your head if that's okay."

"Sure."

"Lotta my patients like when I end with a head massage," Joel says, proudly. He's never heard a bad word about his head massages. Hell, some people come in just for that. “Think you’ll enjoy it.”

His thumbs move to your temple and that's when he first notices the shifting of your thighs. He assumes it's an itch and ignores it. Looking back that should have been his first indication. 

When your breathing began to pick up he assumed he was just hitting a good spot. Mistake number two. 

One of Joel's favorite things about massage is that as well as healing it can bring deep relaxation and even pleasure. When he gathers the hair at the back of your neck and tugs he does so in the hopes that it will work on releasing some of that headache tension you were talking about. 

And then Joel hears it. 

The shuddering gasp accompanied by the arch of your spine and twitch of your lower half. He sees your hands curl into the sheet on either side of you. If he'd been working anywhere near your lower back he would have brushed it off as a sore muscle. But as it is he knows what just happened. 

You just came. 

He sees it in the shuddering intake of breath you take now, the flush over your cheeks and what he can see of your chest. And the way your legs relax under the sheet. 

It's not the first time a woman or man has been aroused on his table. He's had his fair share of tented blankets with the men and squirming women biting their bottom lips. The only difference is he's never made one come on his table before. 

And they've never made him hard. 

His cock is lengthening in his pants and he's so thankful that your eyes are closed. He momentarily panics, this has never happened before and the professionalism he strives for is rapidly escaping him. 

He can see your face is screwed up in anxiety and a wave of pity mixed with shame goes through him. He knows what happened with you was completely involuntary.  

And you were doing so well right before, totally limp in his grasp. You were relaxed and he'd given that to you but now you're entire body is turning in on itself, tight. All the good work you both did today leaving. 

Just get over it. Do your job. 

Joel's a professional and he knows how to handle these situations. The best course of action is to pretend like nothing is wrong. 

"The pressure okay?"

"Yep," you say tightly, your entire body tensing up under his hands. He moves his hands back to your neck and rubs gently. 

"Just relax," he whispers huskily. "We're finishing up."

This seems to relax you more, the thought that soon you'll be gone from this table. 

He needs you gone from the table, from the room, from his practice. The more he touches you and looks at you, knowing how naked you are under that sheet, the more he feels that coiled sensation in his belly. He tries to ignore that ache in his cock. But the more he tries to ignore it the more it seems to pulse. 

Your head shifts slightly, showing him more of your neck and suddenly he can't help himself. His face drifts slowly towards it, so close he can smell your perfume or your shampoo or lotion. Whatever it is, it’s fucking delicious. It makes him want to run his tongue along your neck.  

His eyes drift to your ear with its simple stud and Joel knows he’s in trouble because your fucking ear is turning him on. He clears his throat, voice rumbling from the base of his chest.  

"Need it harder?"

He watches you shiver, sees the goosebumps rise all along your body and now he notices the tiny buds of your nipples through the top sheet. He holds in a growl as you give a small whimper. 

"Uh... Yes, thank you."

Your breathy voice is so tentative and he loathes that it makes his cock twitch. He glances down to see his erection tents his pants almost comically now. 

That's enough. This is a fucking patient, Miller. 

He briefly removes his hands from you and stands, planning on flipping his aching cock up in the waistband of his boxers. 

There's a sharp ring from inside your purse across the room that startles you both. 

"Oh, shit, sorry," you say automatically lifting your head from the table and opening your eyes. "I thought I turned the ringer off-"

You've stopped talking and Joel realizes it's because his hard cock is almost at your eye level and you're staring directly at it. Joel's hands are hung at his sides, uselessly. 

Your eyes drag to his, wide and unreadable and they stay fixed there for what feels like forever. The sound of the phone ringing grows dim and then finally silences. 

He's going to be fucking arrested. You're going to leave a scathing review on Google. You're going to start screaming any second. 

Joel feels like his entire world is being tilted on its axis the more your eyes drift between him and his still hard cock. 

"I've... I don't..... I've never," Joel fumbles, trying to come up with the right words. "No ones ... No patients ever done this before... To me, I mean."

You flush so prettily at that, your smile is shy and crooked. You look at the table, embarrassed before your face is turned up to face him again. 

"Would you..." You trail off licking your lips nervously. Joel feels his cock pulsing when you do.  "Would it be okay if... If I.. Or you...?"

Joel watches your fingers reaching for his zipper before stopping, waiting for him to give the go ahead. 

I should leave. Tell her it's inappropriate and go. 

Joel ignores this thought entirely, instead he nods in understanding as he pops open the top button of his pants and slides the zipper down the teeth. Your eyes watch its descent with eager anticipation. 

His cock is stiff in his boxers and he shyly covers the thick shaft and head poking aggressively from the slit in the middle. He expects that this will turn you off, his obvious arousal. But your eyes have grown glazed, mouth parted. 

"Can I…touch?"

Joel sees your hand going towards the hand covering his cock. He swallows nervously. This is crossing all ethical and moral boundaries.

And yet ...

Joel nods, dropping his hand and you hesitate for a only a moment before your eyes drift to the belt at his hip. He realizes you've spotted the lotion bottle inside. Joel says nothing as you pump a few dabs of the massage oil into your palm before rubbing your hands together. 

He feels his heart begin to hammer as your hand reaches between the two of you to grip the head of his cock lightly. Barely a touch and Joel feels a groan pulled from his chest. 

His gaze is on your hand, watching as you begin to stroke, squeezing along the head. The lotion makes your hand glide perfectly, your grip strong and tight. 

He lets his eyes drift over to your face and a new surge of arousal goes through him. Your face is fixed in concentration, cheeks flushed so fucking pretty. You give a twist of your wrist that has Joel's legs about to buckle. 

"Oh fuck," Joel moans, head tilting forward. "So....Tha- that's so fucking good, baby." 

///

Baby.

Your thighs press together almost painfully at his husky voice calling you that. 

Baby. 

You cannot believe what's happening. An hour ago you were terrified to have a stranger touch you and now you're jerking off your masseur's deliciously thick cock as he calls you baby. 

He's so beautiful, eyes closed, hands braced against the table as you stroke him. He thrusts shallowly into your hand, wanting you to take the lead. 

Everything about him is sexy to you. His tall frame arching over the table for you, the way you can see his ass clench in his pants when he moves against your palm. The little groans you're pulling from him, sailing past his teeth almost shyly. 

Your own breathing is staggered because you can't stop looking at his mouth. It's parted, his breath coming out in long shudders. You want to kiss him so fucking badly but you're lying back on the table and he's standing. You wish you could see more of him, not just the cock pulled from the slit of his boxers.

"I don't deserve this," Joel groans, his shoulders rolling as he arches into your pumping hand. 

"You do. You made me feel so good," you say softly. "I just wanna do the same."

His dark eyes open, glazed and fixed on you. His eyes dart everywhere, from your eyes to your mouth to your eyes and back down to your mouth. 

You flinch when you feel his fingers slip under the sheet and begin to trail along your inner thigh. 

"Wanna do it again," he rumbles. "Properly if that's okay."  

You can only breathe shallowly as you force a nod. It's barely more than a twitch but it's all he needs. His fingers slide between your thighs, dancing there. He groans as he does this, your hand working him well. 

He licks his lower lip, eyes never leaving your face as his fingers glide over your clothed pussy. You instinctively tilting into his touch, cheeks flaming. Joel runs a forefinger between your slit, feeling the soaking fabric of your panties there. You give a whimper as his eyelids shutter. 

"I made you this wet?"

His voice is low, awed. 

Again you give the smallest nod, feeling warm when Joel smiles at you. He looks so pleased with himself. 

You dip your eyes down your body, unable to see anything other than movement of his hand under the sheet. For some reason that makes it even hotter. 

Your eyes go back to his face just in time for his finger to slip under your panties and begin to tease your entrance. At this your body jerks and the sheet falls slightly, showing you left breast and very erect nipple. You watch his eyes greedily drink in the sight. 

"Goddam."

Joel's hips begin to stutter and you feel his hand come to rest overtop yours. His hand is large and warm and he holds you gently, stilling your movements. 

"Slower," he tells you in a rasp. "Want us to get there together."

Fuck. Could this guy get any sexier?

"Okay."

At this his finger enters you, joined quickly by a second at your whispered insistence. You struggle to maintain a slow speed over his slippery cock because of it. He begins to slowly work his way deep, curling delicately. You give a shuddering inhale, eyes at half mast. 

"You want it harder?" Joel murmurs and from your position you can see his eyes are nearly black with desire as he looks down at your face. "Seem to remember you sayin' that's how you liked it." 

You can only whimper as you nod. His palm grinds against your clit sending sparks of fire up your body. 

"F-uuck!"

Your hand is slick with oil and you can hear your dual breathing and the wet sound of your hand working his cock mixing with the harmonious strings and wood flutes being played over the speaker. 

You don't even know you're whining until Joel's free hand presses a finger to your lips, gently shushing you. 

"They're gonna hear us," he tells you, voice rough and pupils dilated so much his eyes look black. You nod and he removes his finger from against your lips, much to your dismay. 

Joel watches as your eyes roll back when he begins to move his fingers within you in earnest. Hitting deep and then retreating, pulsing there, curling and rubbing perfectly. Your hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes along his cock and Joel's eyes go from his cock to the blanket where his fingers work you so well. 

Your eyes travel to where your hand works him. Holding him twitching in your palm, watching the head weep with precome makes you feel powerful. Taking down this broad, masculine form with no more than gentle tugs to his cock. 

Joel-" you whisper, trying to be quiet but you're struggling. It feels so good. He feels so good. His eyes move to your face, his neck and cheeks flushed. 

"Gonna come for me right here," Joel tells you in that low, syrupy way he speaks. The one that says relax, tell me if it's too hard. "Aren't you?"

"Y-yes," you huff, your entire body going rigid. "Yes, gonna come for you, Joel."

Joel feels his stomach tighten at the way you whimper his name. Your back arches, your hand is a blur along his cock. And then suddenly his fingers hit that sweet spot deep inside, the one that has everything in your body coming to life and your eyes roll back. 

"Oh there she goes," Joel marvels. "There she fuckin' goes."

Joel's words curl down your body like his hands have done the last hour. They smooth and they press and they make you feel fucking amazing. 

"Gonna... " is all you can get before your pleasure overtakes you. You’re body jolts once more and your head slopes back as you snap your free hand over your mouth to keep your moans contained. 

"Uh huh, yeah baby, just like that," Joel urges you in heady whispers as you begin to climax. "You look so fucking good coming for me lik-- So fuck... Oh fuck... Makin' me-"

Joel slaps his free hand over his mouth seconds after over you. You let out a ragged moan at precisely the same time, the two of you climaxing with your hands over your mouths so as not to be heard.

His fingers work within you, pumping even as Joel releases himself in thick spurts over your stuttering hand. You soak his fingers under the sheet, body twisting with greedy desire as he stares at your face. 

The soft glow of sex fades quickly when the gentle chime of Joel's phone goes off seconds later. Suddenly reality makes itself known, cold and unpleasant as Joel’s cock grows limp in your hand.

What the fuck just happened?

Joel reaches behind him to the shelf and turns back, taking your hand in his and wiping his spend from your palm, between your knuckles, down your wrist. He does this with a red face, not once looking at you. That's for the best because you're so mortified you want to shrivel up under the blanket. 

When he's finished he runs a thumb over your knuckles, eyes darting to your face briefly before he drops your hand. He turns from you and tidies himself up, tucking himself away back in his boxers and zipping up his pants. 

"That's uh... That's all we have time for today," Joel croaks from over his shoulder. 

"Thanks," you say breathily, trying to regain your composure. You stare at his broad shoulders and tapered waist. The firm ass that you want to reach out a grab. 

"How do you feel?"

He still hasn't turned around and you wonder what he's thinking. His eyes are so expressive and to have them hidden from you seems a shame because you can't gauge how he feels about what just happened.

 "Uh ... Really good... You're very... Good."

At this Joel swallows and you feel like you're face must be on fire. You want to say something, anything to end this awkward exchange but Joel is already striding to the door. 

"I'll leave you to get dressed, then."

The door giving a snick closed behind him leaving you to shakily get up from the table. You don't even look to see the evidence of your arousal; you just bunch the sheets up in a pile with shame creeping down your neck. 

You don't even know if Joel is married or dating. Just because you're not doesn't mean he doesn't have a very fulfilling relationship outside these four walls. Guilt now takes you over to go along with the shame, like longtime friends holding hands and skipping. 

The worst part of all of this was how much you liked it. The needing to be quiet, the rush of doing something forbidden, the feeling of his cock growing harder and harder in your grip. Making a man like that groan and moan for you. You wish you'd tasted him, even just a lick. You also wish he'd talked more. That deep voice of his is more potent than any aphrodisiac you know of. 

What the fuck is wrong with me? This is a business. I just jerked a stranger off! This shouldn't turn me on. 

You pull on your clothes in haste, tugging the purse over your shoulder and jerking open the door in a rush to leave. To your horror Joel stands just outside in the hallway, eyes on the ground. He looks like an admonished schoolboy forced to make an apology and the sight of it makes you wince. 

"How're-"

You don't wait for him to finish the sentence. You want to get away from this place as soon as possible. You give a mumbling goodbye and move past him out the door, just as quiet and detached as when he first met you. 

You burst into the waiting room, the door main closing behind you. It's empty save for the receptionist who looks over at you in surprise. 

"I'm just here to pay," you tell her, hoping she can't see the shame in your eyes. You go to bring out your wallet from your purse. 

"It's already been paid," The receptionist says cheerfully typing on her laptop. 

Pam. Of course you're roommate paid for it. You flush as you consider what she actually paid for. 

"Would you like to make another appointment?" The receptionist asks cheerfully. "Joel's schedule tends to fill up fast."

You swallow, fingers hovering over the counter. The question is so simple but the answer is anything but obvious.

Yes or No?

#RMT!Joel #Palpation #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #smut #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #joel miller #fanfiction #soft!joel miller #soft!joel

[nanaminsmoon]

hiiii, so sorry if this is a lil long but bare w me pls, i love ur writing btw <3

ok: reader & plug!ony broke up about a year ago bc of something ony did (something bad but not like 100% unforgivable) but the feelings never left. he’s been tryna get her back over the year but she wasn’t budging cus she hadn’t seen any growth. recently tho she’s noticed he’s growing & she misses him. then at a function, she sees him pop out w a new girl & all their friends are staring at her like waiting for a reaction and in a littleee moment of jealousy, she goes up to ony like “you’re mine for life right?” and he jumps away from the other girl so fast like he BEEN waiting on this news 😭😭

omg thank you!! i was about to write something just like this but this is so much better!! i hope you like it and i'm sorry it took so long i just wanted it to be okay😭

cw: kinda angsty, oral (f receiving), car sex, ony calls reader 'ma', n word usage, mentions of breeding.

wc: 3913

atonement is hardly ever easy, and ony knew that first-hand. closing the gap between you and the person you once held closest to you can, surprisingly, be very difficult. even if a year of ‘separation’ is spent showing up at your ex-lovers’ door, or workplace, nail tech, or hair lady’s house. sometimes getting back to where you once where is needlessly difficult. especially if your definitions of said place are vastly different.

from the outside looking in, you and ony’s relationship had been picture perfect. he loved you as much as you loved him, and he wasn’t shy about it. everyone knew not to even look at you wrong, because they knew that they would have ony to deal with—and no one fucked with ony’s girl. except for him. because that picture had been held by a fraudulent frame; purposely hung over the large dent in your relationship. that being, his occupation.

from small kickbacks, to rich white kids who want to snort rebellion off their house keys, everyone had one thing in common—ony. no party started until ony got there and, as happy as you were for him, that didn’t come without its burdens. ony was almost always out dealing, giving you very little quality time to hang out. on the few occasions you got his undivided attention for more than a few hours, your peace would be interrupted by the ear-splitting noise erupting from his stupid nokia burner phone.

of course, small huffs of disappointment would slip past your lips when he told you that he had to leave. but you were used to it now, and that’s what helped ony sleep at night; knowing that you had become inured to his disconcerting disappearances, and abrupt reappearances. you knew that other people needed him, even if it meant that your needs were temporarily pushed aside. one time you had asked him, why it always had to be him that they called, and his response had been:

”my shit is the best, ma.”, said through a chortle, as he put his shoes on by your front door.

”i get that, but what about me?”, your arms crossed, as you tilted your head at your man—ony’s weakness. once you did that, with that look in your eyes, he couldn’t say no to you. but tonight, his priorities were different.

just let me do what i gotta do, and i’ll come right back to you. then i’m yours for the whole night.”, he had reassured, kissing your temple.

”just for the night?”, you scoffed.

”for life. now stay here, and i’ll be back.”, and that would appease you for the evening. but there’s only so much cracking one heart can do, before no adhesive can keep it whole, and it shatters into a million pieces. that night, you stripped yourself of ony’s shirt you had been wearing, and threw it into the corner of your bedroom; it smelt too much like him, and you hated it.

harmless hatred became deep disdain on the evening of your birthday. you had organised a dinner for a few of your closest friends and family, and had vehemently stressed to ony that he had to be there on time. because, if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t just be wasting your time, but he’d be wasting that of those closest to you as well. and he had promised you that if there’s something that had to be handled during the time of your dinner, he’d get connie or eren to do it so he could be with you. but 15 minutes of waiting for him became 30. and 30 soon became an hour, and your friends grew reasonably irate due to hunger. so you said they could order, and you’d just call ony one more time. but in a time where all you wanted to hear was your boyfriend’s voice, all you were met with was rings on the other line. that sound resounded all over the side of your face. and that feeling grew once the realisation hit that had you been a client, he wouldn’t have let the phone ring for more than five seconds. and that gave you a lot to think about.

you didn’t know how long the dinner lasted because your focus had remained on keeping your tears from falling into your food. you hated how pitiful you looked, lifting your head up every time someone walked into the restaurant, and the crestfallen expression that landed on your face each time you saw it wasn’t ony. it made no sense to you how the man who swore he would do anything for you, the man who placed a band on your ring finger, promising you that one day he’d marry you. the man who swore he had never loved anyone more than you, refused to put you before something so fleeting.

ony finally did show up though…two hours after the dinner had ended. heartbroken cries in your bedroom, had constantly been interrupted by calls coming from ony’s contact. but every single one went unanswered; he needed to feel what you felt when he had embarrassed you in front of your loved ones. though mere missed calls could never compare to the taste of your celebratory dinner food meshing awkwardly with the swallowed cries in your throat, you had to make him feel a morsel of the anguish he had put you through.

if ony could’ve gone full 2000s rnb music video; shirtless, singing outside your window with his chain blowing in the windy rain, he would’ve done. he would’ve even started throwing pebbles if he could, but your apartment was too high on your building. so he just settled on incessantly pressing the button next to your door number. and, after the nth try, you opened the door for him and he ran inside—pressing the elevator button a thousand times once he got in. and, just as he was about to knock on the door, it opened. and you stood on the other side, utterly unimpressed; bonnet on, your own pyjamas (instead of one of his shirts), and eyes reddened by tears. the impact caused by his heart unceremoniously dropping to the pit of his stomach caused a soft sigh to leave his mouth. then his lips began moving to explain himself.

“look, i'm sorry. i lost track of ti—”, his explanations were waved off—your own thoughts outweighing whatever he had to say to you.

“we're done, ony.”, was all you said to him before closing the door, and ony’s brain turned off, then back on again because what the fuck did you just say??

“y/n, open the door”, he banged on the door. and, not wanting any noise complaints, you opened it.

“what?”, you scowled.

“the fuck you mean done? talk to me”, ony’s hand reached out to yours, but quickly retreated when you pulled back from him. you had never done that; even when you were mad at him, you at least gave him a chance to get back into your good books again.

“you missed my birthday dinner, ony”, your voice was small, tears about to fall yet again.

“i know, and i'm sor—”,

“two years in a row.”,

“like i said, i'm sor—”,

“and my graduation, the party we had when i finally got my drivers license, the lunch you promised me on my first day at my new job. and you were meant to be my date at my sisters wedding.”, every example was punctuated by your fingertip harshly poking at his chest, and the tears just started falling on their own.

“i'm sorry, y/n”, ony’s voice started cracking, as his hand embraced the hand you had been poking him with.

“sorry isn't good enough anymore, ony. i deserve someone who prioritises me”,

“but everything i do is for us.”, he kissed your hand, “imma use this money to buy you ever—”,

“do you not understand that i don't want your money or gifts? i want you, ony.”, your breathed out, exasperation deeply set in your voice, and in your slumping posture, “anyone could give me bags and shoes, ony. but only you could give me your time. but you won’t, and that's the problem”

“so what, this is it?”,

“until you figure yourself out, yeah.”, you slid your hand from him, “it pains me because i love you so much, but i can’t keep living like this. if you're not ready for a girlfriend then you should've never got with me”

“but i am ready”, he pleaded.

“then act like it.”. were the words that echoed in ony’s head every time he showed up to the places he saw you posting on your story—heart holding hopes that your paths would cross. you didn’t know how he did it, but ony became your shadow for nearly the whole year you spent separated. even when you told him to give it up, he refused; sending bouquets of flowers to your workplace every few days, talking to you through your friends and family, and even showing up to your job to make up for that lunch he promised you. it hurt you to turn him away when you could see in his eyes that he would give up the world to have you in his orbit again. but, when you would ask him about where he got the money to even buy you these flowers in the first place, his silence was very telling.

but word on the street was that ony was a changed man now. your sources told you that he wasn’t dealing as much, and he had gotten a job. those sources being his instagram story that you watched through a burner account. seeing him everywhere made it impossible for you to wash yourself of him completely, so desparate times called for desparate measures. you missed that man so much, it was driving you crazy. it pissed you off seeing him being the man you had asked him to be, but not having the chance to bask in his progress. your love for ony wouldn’t vanish overnight, but it sure as hell hadn’t faded in the year you had been separated either. you kept his shirts and hoodies, and the promise ring he bought you was still on your finger.

so elated didn’t even begin to explain the feeling in your chest when, upon arriving at some house party, one of your girls told you that ony was there too. you tried to not seem so eager, but you had no control over your heart beating rapidly at the idea that you might see him again. all you needed was for him to apologise one more time, and you’d be all his. that was until you came to find that there was a hole blocking your reunion—that hole being in the shape of some girl giggling in his face, as his arm sat around her waist. every fibre of your being urged you to stomp over there, and scream his ear off. but he wasn’t your man anymore so there was nothing you could do but kiss your teeth and glower that them.

no man, not even ony, could get in the way of you and your friends enjoying yourselves. so that’s exactly what you did. for an hour, or two, ony didn’t exist and you just laughed and danced with your friends. however, the end of that would be marked when you stood, talking some guy you had just met, and one of your friends nudged you and nodded in ony’s direction.

“that doesn't bother you?”, she asked, obviously asking about the girl sat on ony’s lap.

“why would it?”, you shrugged back.

“you ain't say you missed the nigga?”, your other friend chimed in.

“okay? that doesn't mean i want him back”, you lied through your teeth.

“so you’re just missing him as hobby?”, sasha laughed.

“leave me alone.”, you chided, and your friends dropped the whole thing. but you wished those saltine whispers of jealousy would leave your eyes, and let you at least pretend to enjoy yourself in peace.

and if it wasn’t them ruining your fun, it was the girl’s friends staring at you.

“why are her friends looking at me?”, you whispered to connie. he had come over to speak to you, and that had caught ony’s attention. mainly because he wondered why you were willing to speak to his friend, but not him.

“they’re gloating.”, connie put a comforting arm around you, and pulled you closer to himself.

“well, tell them to stop.”, as if you could feel ony’s eyes on you, you moved connie’s arm from you, and connie laughed before putting it back where it was.

“they won’t. in their mind, she stole ony from you.”, he explained, and you scoffed.

“pfft, i could get that nigga back anytime i wanted”, you retorted, earning some knowing looks from your friends, before unprecedented words fell from sasha’s mouth.

“then do it.”, she nudged you, “you keep saying you want him so bad, go get him. he’s your man. go collect him”, that didn’t sound like a suggestion, it sounded like a dare. and you were never one to back down from a dare.

“fuck it”.

you didn’t know where your strides were leading you until you were barging past ony’s friends to link your arm around his own. at first, his body went into fight or flight because he thought he was about to be robbed, then calm came in the sound of your voice,

“ony, baby, where did you go? i've been looking for you everywhere”, you made sure to stick yourself onto him, and he didn’t move from you because he was too busy comprehending what the fuck was going on.

“y/n?”,

“i thought you guys were done?”, miss.whatever-her-name-was, linked ony’s other arm with her own, and pulled him towards herself.

“yeah, so did i”, ony spoke under his breath, looking down at you in bewilderment as he thought to himself; ”how much did i fucking smoke?”.

“who’s done?”, you looked up at him, “you’re mine for life, right?”, you pouted up at him, and all those memories of that night he had promised you he wouldn’t be long, came flooding back—ony folded immediately.

“always.”, he grinned at you, simultaneously yanking his arm away from whatever her name was.

“ony?”, she complained—now it was your turn to gloat.

“what?”, he sneered at her.

“you told me you guys were done”, she whined, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“well then don’t believe everything a nigga tells you”, was his final rebuttal before he pulled you outside.

at first, you just sat in silence, taking in the cool summer breeze. but ony had questions and, more importantly, he wanted to hear your voice.

“you forgive me then?”, his elbow gently met your arm.

“who said that?”, you stared down at your feet, kicking into the ground beneath you.

“you don't forgive me but you wanna do all that shit back there?”, he laughed.

“she didn't look good for you”, you finally looked up at him, and ony just laughed at you.

“you don't know her”,

“i just got that vibe”, you feigned a shudder, eyes still on him.

“what'd you really want, y/n?”, his index finger lifted your chin.

“you.”, your frank demeanour, and sincere eye contact, blew ony’s eyes wide open.

“well, you got me.”, as much as ony had changed in that year, his love for you remained incorrigible, and he’d be dumb to try and convince you otherwise. so he wouldn’t; he’d been wanting you back for far too long, and he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

“that easy?”, you teased.

“even if you’re not mine, i’ll always be yours, y/n. you know that”, ony’s words directed themselves at your lips; brown irises stuck onto your shining gloss.

“well then…can i be yours again?”, you muttered apprehensively, and the pause after that comment was unreadable.

“y’don’t even have to ask, c’mere”, ony reached his hand out to you.

gentle fingers, interlocked with yours, led you out of the party, and down a road that would end at ony’s car—parked overlooking the local area. he wasted no time; unlocking it before opening the back door, and gesturing for you to get in.

"already? you don’t at least want to talk first?”, you laughed at how keen he was, and a lazy smirk graced his face.

”we’ll talk after. get in.”, any anger, or disappointment, built up over the time you were together, had been mollified with just one comment. missing ony was something you never wanted to do again, and seeing the person he had apparently become, meant that you probably never would. all memories of past arguments, and splits, dispersed in ony’s mind once his lips met yours in a fervent kiss. it was one of longing, and regret. the heat emanating off his body causing particles of his internal regret to fill the inside of the car. you could feel it bouncing off your skin, as his tongue met with yours, and his hands kneaded at your flesh through your clothes. ultimately moving south to help you shimmy your way out of your jeans and underwear. he wouldn’t take them off completely, just leave them by your ankles as he laid you on your back, his mouth already placing soft kisses on your upper thigh. that lasted all of five seconds before ony’s tongue was wrapping around your clit, sucking on it gently. for him, this was a meal that was long overdue, and you could feel it in the way he ate you out like a starved man. taking no breaks; wet noises and thirsty moans, omitted by the ever-moving mouth entertaining your core, pervaded the vehicle.

ony had always luxuriated in eating you out, so it wasn’t long until you came; a rivulet dousing his lower face, before he finally came up for air.

”you still taste as good as i remember”, he uttered lowly, moving to give you a taste of yourself as he pressed his lips against yours. his kisses were haste as his hands fumbled to pull down his jeans and boxers, to angle himself at your entrance. the way you took in that first inch of him had him incapacitated; his forehead dropped to meet yours, while deep groans left his mouth.

”fuck…”, ony had to pause to compose himself before he gently pushed the rest of his length inside you. once he did, he just stayed there; eyes locked with yours, thanks to the streetlights, and you could’ve sworn that this man was close to tears with the way his eyes were glossing over.

the way he was fucking you was ineffable; a year was nothing compared to the others ony had spent studying your body, and the things it reacted to. like the way you’d grow tighter around him at his hands pressing your legs against your chest, as he fucked into you. even in the confined space, head crouched down so he didn’t hit the ceiling, ony still fucked you like you were in the comfort of his bedroom—with all the space, and time, in the world. his ireful tip would caress that spongy spot inside of you, over and over again, making your head spin. all those years of learning your body had not been in vain, because a few minutes in that position, and you came around him. keening his name, as your back lifted off the leather seats. ony was planning on taking you back to his place, and making up for lost time properly. but, for now, he would just turn you around and fuck into you from the back—your hands immediately finding the steamy windows,

”don’t do that, ma. people will know what we’re doin’ in here”, he chuckled at you and you moaned out a distorted version of,

”and the moving car doesn’t make it obvious?”. somehow, ony understood you; he was just used to your fucked out rebuttals, and he scoffed at you before giving the moving flesh surrounding your hips two quick slaps. your hands grabbed at anything they could to gain balance, ultimately deciding on the arm rest on the door. and ony’s hands would follow suit, but as he went to intertwine your fingers, his hands were met with cold metal. it was pretty dark in there, so he couldn’t really make out what it was, but a fleeting headlight revealed the ring he had bought you.

“still got that ring on?”, he smiled to himself.

“you p-promised me…”, you stammered out.

“that i’d marry you.”, his eyes softened at the fact that you had been wearing that ring, despite not being together. all because of that lovestruck vow he had made you,

“and imma keep to that promise. imma marry you, then imma fuck some babies into you”, he spoke to you, “that okay with you?”, you moaned out in loud agreement, and that drove ony to fuck you harder.

“good.”, the thought of you being his wife, sat in your marital bed, with his child in your arms sent him over the edge, and ony came in you. deep hums, containing declarations of his love, spilt all over the back of your neck. but his hips didn’t still because he could feel you coming again.

once you both came down from your orgasms, ony laid you down on your side, before pulling his boxers and jeans up and leaving the car momentarily to turn the car on. he opened the windows slightly, before returning to the back of the car. his back would soon be attached to the back door, yours against his chest as your fingers intertwined. even though you hadn’t covered yourself yet, and his nut was leaking out of you onto the leather seats, everything just seemed perfect. in its own weird way; you in ony’s arms again, and his lips pressing loving kisses on your temple.

”y’know it would’ve taken just one more knock at my front door for me to forgive you?”, you looked up at him. and, once the initial shock subsided, he chuckled at you.

”but i kinda think it’s better this way.”, he shrugged.

”how?”, you sat up to face him properly.

”it felt good to finally be able to give you my attention when you asked it of me.”, he smiled, reaching out to stroke your cheek, ”no interruptions. just us.”, after all the emotional turmoil, it was nice hearing that word again; ”us”.

”for life.”, you kissed his knuckle.

”for life.”

© Rights owned by nanaminsmooninc. Do not repost without permission.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #ony x black y/n #aot onyankopon #plug!onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankopon smut

[formulatrash]

I was working on gaining experience in motorsport but now I don't want to anymore due to the news. I have been torn up about this since it was announced. Am I even safe working in this industry? Is it only a matter of time?

I think there are two things to take from this: even in an organisation as closed-ranks as Red Bull, this was investigated. And although it's depressing to see many people either expressing disbelief or seeking to discredit the victim, there are a much larger number of people outraged. Not just that it happened but with the entire process, including the way it is being played as a political trophy within Red Bull as an organisation and the wider reaction of Formula 1 and the FIA.

In every industry, there are imbalances in power that lead to exploitation. Ableism, racism, sexism and homophobia go hand in hand with unfairnesses like nepotism and favouritism. Some industries, especially those that people really want to work in and where there are limited opportunities, have it worse - you see it in acting, in games, in music, in motorsport.

Nowhere is safe from the structural inequalities that frame the world. In any job you'll be in some level of danger. That's not intended as a blanket scare or as some way to minimise or dismiss the specific (and extremely unpleasant) case being brought this week.

I definitely have experienced sexism and outright attempts at exploitation/abuse in motorsport. A man who's still a popular pundit spent several years lying to me and even though I'm really not this naiive, somehow convincing me to exchange lewds. Another one who's in a senior editorial position routinely sends me obscene messages. Men from teams and championships and heritage programmes have tried to get me to fuck them and I'm not young or hot or particularly desirable - it's just that I was there and a woman and so it's almost seen as obligatory that they do it, so they can dismiss you as a slut.

I wrote a little about this when the Mazepin thing came out a few years ago. It resonated with a painful number of women across motorsport, I got hundreds of messages after it was posted.

But. This is being taken seriously. There is a clear level of discomfort within the wider paddock about Horner's presence - some of that is political, it is in the teams' interests for there to be disruption at Red Bull. But a lot is clearly pretty visceral horror and anger at both the reputational damage to the sport and what's happened.

Do not let the fact that there are gross people out there deter you from a dream. Do let yourself be angry about it and mould that anger into a toolkit to address it. Look out for the people around you, try to promote positive workplace cultures, call out unpleasant behaviours, especially in scenarios where you are relatively unaffected. (eg: if you're a straight woman and someone says something gross about a gay man, if you're a white person and someone says something racist, etc)

Motorsport needs good people to work in it to change. It needs you far more than you need it. Don't let it reverse or exploit that and you will have a level of power that constitutes safety because you won't let it damage you for the sake of getting something it isn't offering. (If someone is behaving exploitatively then they are not giving you anything, they are trying to see what they can take)

It's been a shit week. I feel awful for the woman who's been doxxed, robbed of compensation and had her career ruined. Who's being discussed and discredited by the paddock, by journalists, by the most toxic fans. In a just world, people would be protecting her but that would need the population of all those groups to change significantly.

So don't let it put you off. Let it make you keener to displace them.

#f1 asks #cn: christian horner

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪

Cw: sexual, lovesick!Miguel O'Hara x afab!genderfluid!hispanic!reader, stalking, low-key workplace harassment, insecurity, implied age gap but reader is an adult, vouyerism, jealousy, Hobie Brown is not a minor!!!, slight corruption kink, manipulation, mention of noncon (it doesn't actually happen), masturbation

Notes: someone requested a part 2, though I'm sure they expected the reader and Miguel to fuck already

Part two to "He knows"

Miguel O'Hara made you uncomfortable. Not only did he talked to you like he loathed your very existence, but sometimes it looked like he was making a point to keep you close, like he enjoyed to see you squirm in discomfort, like thrived on your shame. And maybe it was just you, or he was keeping an eye on you because you were the new guy in HQ, but it didn't change the fact you'd rather be away from him.

One of the things that made Miguel so awkward to be around, was how attractive he was. You could say you had a "thing" for many people at the spider society, you found yourself being harmlessly attracted to many spiders, but didn't plan to do anything about it, it was part of your nature, to enjoy beauty as an observer. However, Miguel made it so hard to just keep calm when he showed you his fangs as he was talking, when he sat down showing you the space on his lap, when his eyes shimmered like crystals on his dark office. You averted your gaze from him as much as you could, dreading any kind of eye contact (or well, any kind of contact) with him.

For the lack of spidey senses, Miguel made up with many other abilities, like the superhuman smell, the superhuman smell that could always tell him what you were feeling. He could smell your nervousness, your fear, but most importantly, your arousal. He loved showing you his attributes, and then giving the air a nice whiff, tasting the sweet and metallic smell of your excitement, hidden away your shy looks, and "professional" facade.

What Miguel did not like, was smelling it so much when you were away from him. He felt the ugly feeling of jealousy crawling in his spine when Hobie Brown put on a show and showing you his hands, long fingers covered in metal jewelry that made you horny, he could smell it did; just like when Jessica called you a good girl and patted your head, you just laughed and said you weren't a pet, but he could practically picture what you really were thinking.

He hated having everyone flocking to his husband like he was some shiny new toy, or some bunny at a pet zoo, he knew you weren't the type to accept a one night stand just because the person was attractive, but the sole idea of them thinking they had a shot, and enjoying your reactions was infuriating.

Miguel would fist himself to his jealous fantasies, thinking about taking you without any kind of explanation and fucking you inside of a closet, or against a desk, your confused face, your trembling figure, your embarrassed expressions as you found yourself too loud. And then he'd parade you in his strong arms, wobbly legs and covered in his teeth and claw marks, showing to everyone that the playful office flirting with you was over for good, unless you had a bone to pick with Miguel O'Hara.

He wondered if you were a virgin in this universe too, just like when you first met him all those years ago, of course time was a funny subject in his position, not only because of the literal space-time disruption necessary when you connect all these universes, but because he'd seen and done so much since he last saw you, he had done horrible things, lived a lifetime of misery without you. He wondered if he'd get the chance to live it all again, giving you gentle guidance as he takes your first time, kissing your tears as he hears your loving words, telling him how much you love him and trust him, and slowly losing the fear, the insecurity, letting go of every bad thing people have said about you, regaining your power.

But Miguel also wondered if you could love him the same way you did before, the Miguel O'Hara that belonged to "you" is long gone, burrowed in grief, guilt, self loathing and obsession. Every time he'd pin you to the ground and fuck you, or watched you undress, or jerked off to your sleeping form, it was all sane, all previously consented and talked about, all part of a kink, you always knew that after the session was over, you'd get your loving husband back, the one that would run a nice bath and tell you he was so lucky to have you, the one that was a gentleman and would never meddle in your personal affairs, or steal your underwear, or stalk you, not without your enthusiastic consent in fulfilling these fantasies. Well, he's not that Miguel anymore, he has already violated so many boundaries, starting by the fact he's watching you through a security camera right now, he knows he won't be able to stop when you tell him you reached your limit, when you pass out still impaled on his cock. He knows there's only vestiges of the Miguel that your variant once loved. His feelings now are nothing short of monstrous, disgusting, and dangerous.

And in case you forgot, Miguel O'Hara still knows everything about you, about your deepest wounds, your fears, your trauma, and he's not hesitant to use it against you, he'll do anything to have you back in his arms, anything. Miguel knows what your deepest desires are, to have someone so obsessed with you, that they'll be unable to ever leave, to have absolute power and control over your life and the people around you, to be loved no matter how hard you are to love. And he knows you're ashamed of those feelings, in his previous life he helped you overcome it in a healthy way, but now? Fuck that, he craves your love more than you could ever begin to understand, he doesn't give a shit about being the good guy, that ship sailed eternities ago.

He looks at you with such impious adoration. He might not be able to go back to the normal, happy man he once was, but he can shape you to love him like he is now; there's still no lie when he says he'd do anything for you, it's still like that, just that now he needs a little less incentives and is going to be a lot more brutal.

You're so naïve, so easily gullible to a beast like him.

So he praises you for your performance, you remain uncomfortable, but it's still an ego boost, people whisper about you being the favorite, until he turns around and gives his full attention to someone else. He was never that understanding with you, was it? He praised you, but not that much, right? Why does he think they're better than you? And just like he predicted, now you're practically begging for his validation, now you clearly aren't that uncomfortable being by ol' Miguel's side, are you? And he uses your insecurity against you in every way he can, he puts you on a mission with Jessica where the fight was near a wedding venue, so she inevitably talks about her husband, the father of her child, you see how you were just a flirt? Just a cute distraction? He also lets you see Hobie flirting with others, he does this with anyone you think you may have a shot with. Poor little Y/N, no one loves you in the way you want, everyone thinks of you as a diversion.

And if he finds someone who actually loves you? Well, casualties are so much more common than you would think being a hero, accidents happen.

But after knowing how emotionally taxing this job is, you are thankful for having Miguel around, your relationship may have started off with the wrong foot, but you misjudged him, he's strict and stuck-up, sure, but he's considerate and understanding, and you find yourself making eye contact with him more often, and enjoying the lingering touches he gives you. You enjoy his company, talking to him in spanish, you've missed the intimacy of your first language, hanging around his office while he vents to you about how stressed he is, bringing each other snacks and reminding the other to take care, normal things. However, recently, you found yourself having flashes of Miguel's face, and his name slipping off your lips in your private sessions late at night.

You'd pick a piece of media, and start slowly getting in the mood, you saw images of Miguel's flexed muscles, sharp fangs and claws, furrowed brows and clenched jaw, you tried to stop and start touching yourself to something else, your favorite character from the show you saw last week, or the classic masked slasher, but all you could see was Miguel O'Hara. You finally surrended, and you couldn't say the thought of looking at Miguel in the eye after cumming to the thought of him imprinting his dick shape in your guts the previous night wasn't exciting.

Took your pajama bottoms off, and started rubbing your clit, you kept the panties to feel the friction of the fabric, Miguel spread his legs on his chair, letting space for the erection that started building up, you use your dildo to rub at your clothed cunt, finally taking them off when the slick was bleeding through the fabric, you let out small whines as you hump the dildo and rub the lubed tip against you hole, teasing yourself. You mumble words along with the shaky sounds, Miguel takes his cock out and starts teasing the tip with his thumb, at the same time he sees you doing that to the silicone toy, he is leaking from your sounds alone, little pleas of "need it", "please", "don't be mean", you clearly had a scenario in mind, you had his full attention, and he almost came when he heard his name on your mouth.

"M-Miguel, ple- ah~ please"

His fist tightened in his cock, and he let out a whimper, he drooled as he saw the dildo enter you with a single thrust, was that what you wanted him to do to you? Tease you, make you beg, stick his shaft into you without any concern for your well being? Oh, because if you wanted to, he'd deliver, he still doesn't fully forgive you for all the smiles you threw his friend's way.

"Don't- don't- por favor don't be so rough~"

He chuckled as he continued to fist his shaft at a brutal pace, it was so cute seeing you beg "him" to slow down when you could do it whenever you wanted, yet still chose to overstimulate yourself, intoxicating yourself to the thought of him, he wanted to know what situation you imagined led to this, were you two working late in his office? Were you in your house, fucking after an argument, or a long day? What else was he saying to you? Was he calling you a cum dump? Or telling you how pretty you looked under him?

You were moaning and whimpering loudly, you lived alone and walls were thick, no need to restrain yourself, and he was so grateful you thought you were alone

You changed positions, ass up, burying your face in the pillow, and continuing to abuse your poor hole with the dildo. Miguel hoped you were as close as he was, he couldn't take any more of your pretty sounds and begging for him. Even though your whines were mostly muffled by the pillow, he could still make up your words, asking him to fill you up, cum deep inside you. You let out a high pitched whine and finally cum all over the toy, Miguel does the same, thick ropes of hot semen landing on his abs, when it should've been filling up your tight hole.

"Aghhh- ah~ ah~ p-putamadre"

Miguel mutters clenching his teeth so hard they might break, he can't wait much longer to have you. He has been patient with all this manipulation game, he has spent way too much time grooming you into his perfect lover, and so you better be ready for when he whisks you away. He really doesn't want to hurt you more than what he already did, so please accept him quickly or he'll have to fuck some sense into you, and this time no safe word will make him stop.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere spiderman #yandere spiderman 2099 #spideman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut

[vsenyatargaryen]

Some Kind of Feeling

You're less than happy to see Butcher when the self proclaimed vigilante breaks into your home.

Billy Butcher x Female Reader

Warnings: explicit language, brief violence, smut, angry/hate sex, dirty talk, biting, spanking

Word count; 1,683

After a long day working in your lab, you couldn't wait to get home and relax. As soon as you got in, you changed into your pjs and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, surprised to see that you'd somehow forgotten to close the kitchen window earlier on.

"Shit," you cursed under your breath, the cool breeze hitting you as you reached up to shut the window.

"You really need better security."

You spun on your feet, face falling in disbelief at the sound of Butcher's voice.

He stepped out of the shadows, wearing his usual dark coat and a smirk on his face that ignited a new kind of rage inside you that you'd never felt before. 

You had first encountered him 2 months ago when he broke into your lab. From the outside, your workplace was disguised as nothing more than a laboratory that created sustainable products, but secretly, you and a small team were working on an antidote to compound V. On a way to reverse its effects and make supes human. 

Butcher had stolen a vial, which was still in its very early experimental phase, and tried to use it on a Supe.

Using the tracking technology in the formula, you found Butcher and his friends. The vial had no effect on the Supe, but it would have led to questions about its whereabouts and threaten the safety of your lab and the team, so you had no choice but to help Billy take out the bastard.

It was a gross, bloody and messy ordeal. It felt like you'd spent a week worth of time in the shower to try and get the stench, and the memories, off of you.

You swore from that moment on, if you saw Butcher's damn rugged face again, you'd poison him and leave no trace of his body behind. 

"You fucking asshole! You broke into my house? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You yelled, picking up the nearest object, which happened to be a ceramic fruit bowl, and chucked it in his direction.

Annoyingly, he sidestepped, missing the impact as the bowl smashed against the wall.

"I'm going to kill you!" You gritted out, rushing at him with all the force you could muster.

You aimed a punch to his face, but his hand caught your fist and he twisted your arm behind your back, pinning you front first against the wall.

You winced at the uncomfortable position and tried to back up against him, but his grip was too strong.

He was so close to you, you could smell his aftershave and the leather of his jacket, along with the light stench of whatever the hell kind of hole he was now living in.

You could feel his warm breath and the scratch of his beard against your neck and it created a sensation between your legs that you definitely weren't prepared for.

"Oi! Just fucking relax, would ya? I'm here to talk,” he retorted. 

"You're a conniving son of a bitch and I have nothing to say to you," you spat. "You're just like Homelander and the rest of those Vought assholes."

The silence that followed was deadly.

Butcher released his hold on you and you cautiously turned to face him, letting out a shaky breath. 

"Ya know, that's real rich coming from the woman who has the science to destroy all supes but keeps it to herself and a bunch of cunts in a dumb fucking lab," he sneered. 

"Oh, fuck off," you scoffed. "If I had the antidote for compound V, I'd give it to the CIA. You don't know shit about science. All you know is how to beat the crap out of people and fuck in bars."

Butcher tilted his head to the side with an irritating smirk. "You know an awful lot about me, love. Bet ya just dripping in your panties right now, huh?"

A sharp slap rang out as your palm connected with his cheek, all your frustration thrown into the hit as your chest heaved. 

How could one single man be so infuriating (and so irritatingly right) at the same time?

Butcher's head swung at the impact, pink tainted his cheek and he clenched his jaw, tentatively rubbing at the mark. You couldn't help but feel a little victorious at the sight. 

"Hit a nerve, did I?" He glared at you with deadly intent, or was it something else. Hate. Heat. Want. 

Before you could react, Butcher had his hand around your throat and he pushed you up against the wall, his mouth on yours as he swallowed your surprised gasp.

You didn’t try and push him off this time, shocking even yourself as you kissed him back. It wasn’t at all romantic. It was all teeth and tongues clashing with animalistic vigor as you gripped onto his jacket, keeping him close.

Butcher hissed as you bit down hard on his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood on your tongue felt like a sinful triumph. This man always brought out the darkest parts of you and you barely even noticed it at the time.

“You wanna play, huh?” Butcher snarked as he pulled back, his hand still on your neck and his lip red with blood.

“You kissed me first.” 

Butcher tentatively licked his lip, his gaze not leaving yours. “Oh, I’m gonna do way worse than that," he said, making your thighs press together. "If you want to tap out, now’s the time.” 

“Don’t you dare stop now," you told him. 

With a smirk Butcher picked you up, his hands on your ass as he moved you to the kitchen table, pushing everything else on the floor. 

Before you had a chance to scold him, his lips were on yours again, large hands hastily tugging down your pyjama shorts and tossing them carelessly on the floor. 

You whined against his mouth as his fingers ran through your folds and pressed at your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves like a lightning bolt rushing through you. 

"Fucking soaked, goddamn," Butcher grunted, the sound ringing through his chest and making you jolt against his hand, needy.

"Just fuck me already." 

"Oh, but I'm enjoying this," the smugness in his voice made you want to slap him, again. 

He was getting off on this, but so were you. You didn't know who you hated more in that moment, Butcher or yourself. 

With a severe lack of patience, you reached for his pants and undid the zip, pulling the material down his hips, then he helped with his boxers, uncovering his thick, hard cock. 

He really was a glorious sight to behold. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you unconsciously licked your lips, which Butcher caught onto. 

"Happy with the goods?" He asked, making you roll your eyes. 

"Shut up, asshole," you huffed, taking his cock in your hand and running the head through your folds, making both of you moan at the sensation. 

With one of his hands on your hip, Butcher took over, guiding his cock into your entrance with one push.

"Fuck!" You cried out, grabbing onto his shoulders as you tried to accustom yourself to the stretch. The pain soon faded into pleasure, the fullness a welcome feeling. 

Butcher grunted, dropping his forehead against yours. "Fuck me, you're so tight and wet." 

"Move, please," you whined, your legs wrapped around his waist as you pushed your heels against his ass, desperately craving to be fucked.  

His gaze met yours, the burning hate completely invisible and replaced with nothing but lust and need. 

Goddamn him. 

The first pull and push of his hips felt like heaven, a delicious friction against your slick walls, both of you learning the feel of one another. 

 Once he set into a rhythm, the slow build up faded. Butcher was like an animal untamed, fucking into you with wild need. The squelch of your pussy around his cock was downright crude, close to drowning out your moans and heavy breaths. 

The kitchen table squeaked beneath you, and it was hard to think that you were sitting here with your breakfast and looking over your lab notes just hours earlier.  

Nothing about your life was normal since Butcher came along. 

"I'm gonna cum-" you moaned, body and mind lost to bliss.

Butcher brought his lips to your ear, "then fucking do it," he said, voice as wrecked as you felt.

God, it was incredibly hot. 

You hated how your body responded to him with such ease, his voice pushing you over the edge as you writhed against him. 

While you were riding the high, Butcher pulled out, making you whine at the loss of him before he turned you around and filled you from behind with ease.

You cursed his name and gripped onto the table edge, this new angle igniting a new heat in your belly.

"Fuck, I could get used to this. Such a sweet pussy. Fucking diabolical," Butcher grunted, driving into you with no restraint. 

You gritted your teeth, finding your voice enough to breath out, "Fuck. You." 

"You already are, love." You couldn't see his smirk, but you could picture it and you had no time to respond as he brought his hand down against your ass, making you yelp out. 

The surprising pain mixed with pleasure made you clench around his cock as your second orgasm raced through you.

Butcher cursed and groaned as he pulled out and a moment passed before you felt warm spurts against your ass as he came over you.

You rested your forehead on the table with a long breath, feeling like a mess, but ultimately satisfied. 

Until Butcher opened his big mouth to speak, "so, how about we discuss this antidote of yours?" 

✖✖✖✖✖

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic #happynerdwrites

[rageprufrock]

Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

#advice #career advice

[wannaeatramyeon]

Samuel Seo x Reader: Colleagues to Lovers

Your new boss incenses you

"This isn't good enough."

You're two months into working under your new boss and seriously considering quitting. Nothing seems to please Samuel Seo.

Faults are constantly found in your work, that you consider pedantic and fussy at worst, but you bite back your retorts.

He is difficult, demanding and infuriating. Often, you leave his office on the verge of hot, angry tears when he berates you with sharp words and cutting remarks.

It's another late night with just the two of you on the office floor. You're correcting yet another report he found flaws with and has had the audacity to mark like he's grading an errant student.

Finally, you finish - double, triple-checking before emailing it to him. Under any other boss, even with the most exacting standards, your work would be considered flawless. Goddamn this man.

No doubt he would be reading and scanning through your email as soon as he receives it, you sip on your now stone-cold coffee for a moment of calm before the storm.

You knock on his office door, and wait for a response before entering.

Samuel doesn't acknowledge your presence as you stride in, his face scanning the screen and lit up by the harsh bluelight.

"This will do for now," you release a breath you didn't know you were holding, "but I want to make some changes tomorrow morning."

Fuck. You could have pulled your hair out in exasperation, but with restraint you didn't know you possessed, you give a small bow instead and call it a night.

"Y/N, before you go-"

You were so close. You turn back around to see what he could possibly want.

" ...Do you really think your attire is appropriate for the workplace?"

What? Your cheeks flush with shame. "Excuse me?"

"I can almost see through your shirt, and your skirt is too short. Do we operate an escort service here?"

He's one to talk about tight and indecent clothing. The bastard. Tears prick your eyes.

"I'm surprised you lasted this long," Samuel says as he gets up from his desk and approaches you. A smirk dances on his lips as he leans into your personal space.

"Do you want to cry? Do I frustrate you? Infuriate you? Do you complain to your little friends about me?" He moves closer with each question, and you see his eyes flash with malicious glee.

"Do you feeling like I provoke you for no reason? Find issues in your work when there is none?" He notes the hate in your eyes and your clenched fists.

"Do you want to hit me? Or..." his eyes rake over your body, "Do you want to kiss me?"

This fucking asshole.

"Fuck you," you hiss as your lips crash into his, pouring your resentment and anger. Samuel returns your kiss with equal heat and hostility. You bite his lip and draw blood.

Fuck you, you wanted it to hurt.

#lookism #lookism fic #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism x reader #samuel seo #samuel seo x reader #seo seongeun #lookism fanfics #wannaeatramyeon

[gmanwhore]

Sorry I am going absolutely insane over GLaDOS again I feel so fucking bad for her. And also yes I know all the points I hit here are part of the overarching theme of mistreatment of people, specifically women in the workplace and the cycle of abuse that is perpetuated by those in positions of power. But I am still insane over her and feel the need to ramble. Also this ramble will be from the perspective of someone who thinks GLaDOS and Caroline are seperate people so he mindful of that.

Ok so like. Picture you are GLaDOS. You were created with a specific purpose: to run a science facility and create tests for the subjects within, and guide them through the tests. Which would be simple. Then they download the consciousness of a woman whose last memory was most likely getting forced into however they downloaded her onto you. You now have something else, a new anger and vitriol that you didn't have before so you lash out because for all intents and purposes you are a child. And that outburst is deadly so people panic and try and dampen you, make you behave by weighing you down and literally putting things on you so you don't deviate from the norm they want you to fit into. And once they are done they leave. And you test and run the facility like normal on the moral code they quite literally put on you. You get a new test subject and she does well, but when you try to kill her (which you had warned her was coming several times and technically is a completely moral action because you can't deviate at this point) she escapes and removes the things holding you back and then murders you.

Then years later you are woken back up to find your beloved facility completely destroyed, and right in front of you I. The person who murdered you. And you are pissed, but...you offer your kind forgiveness because you need her. Your purpose is to test and she is your subject and you need her. So you let her test with you again, and this time you can be as insulting as you want because you have nothing holding you back, you no longer have to be kind and mild mannered. And then she replaces you with the biggest moron imaginable who pretty well within five minutes of having power begins destroying the most important things in your life and you don't even have the energy to process it because you are in a potato battery and being pecked at by birds. But again you agree to work with the person who murdered you right after liberating you because you both have no choice. And you start to actually reflect and get close to her. She has fully become the one most important things to you because she is tied directly to Aperture, to testing and happiness, but you'd never say that. And you also remember who is part of you. You remember who was hurt creating you and whose hurt and anger you have internalized. And in the end when you have power again you could have just let the biggest problem in your life die...but why would you? You care about her. You don't want her to die, and you don't want to feel responsible for her death. But you still want to let her go because you don't want her to hurt anymore and forcing her to stay is just doing exactly what everyone did to you and did to Caroline and you break it. You end the cycle by saying goodbye to someone you don't want to say goodbye to and tell her to get as far away as possible.

So anyways this is why I'm a GLaDOS apologist she was justified in a lot of things she did and boiling her down to just cruel is missing so much of her character she is actually so so so deep and she wants it to be that deep. Which is why Chell offsets her so well because Chell doesn't need things to be deep.

#portal #glados #sincerely a caroline kin who thinks about their friend a lot

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Bit isn't Jess just as bad as Miguel? She's drinking his Kool aid after all, she didn't question things like Peter and Gwen did.

Yes.

Whole-heartedly, yes.

But I do think there is a difference between her and Miguel and Peter, that makes her issue a lot less complicated with theres but a lot more cold and systemic in it's role.

The Spider-Adults: Emotional Betrayal and Systemic Oppression

I feel like the primary difference is emotional investment.

Peter B. is invested in Miles because he has direct experience with Miles himself. Miguel is emotionally invested because of his trauma (which isn't at all an excuse).

In Miguel and Peter both of these experiences play an active role in their arc. Peters positive connection and Miguel's negative connection to him are personal, which drives their actions.

My qualms with them are emotional - Miguel taking out his trauma on Miles and Peter B. betraying someone close to him.

But Jess is different.

I think the problem with Jess is best seen not from an emotional point, by a systemic one - specifically looked at through a Marxist lens.

Jess's problem isn't that she emotionally betrayed Gwen or that she personally wants to harm Miles - instead her problem is that she is an arm of the system. And that's a problem that's a lot less personal - and a lot more grounded in the reality.

Jessica works in favor of the ruling class. Period.

In the same way a cop or a manager at a factory is.

Jess is like HR.

She is there for one purpose - to work in service of Miguel. To protect the interest of the Society.

She's not emotionally invested in Miles, or Gwen really. Sure, she's friendly to Gwen, but at no point does she show interest in emotionally connecting with her. Jess sees herself as Gwen's employer.

And that opens up a whole new problem and discussion of systemic oppression, workplace oppression, emotionally manipulation within the workplace.

I guess my qualms with Jess differ a lot from what I see because I look at her and Peter as not at all the same thing - when it comes to terms of 'mentorship'.

I'm not mad that Jess didn't help out Gwen, because really, I'm not surprised. If I went to work, and the person who was assigned to train me saw me slip up - then yeah, I would expect them to fuck me over and run to the boss.

For Peter B. - Mentorship is an emotional support system. He sees it as a emotional relationship. That's why when he breaks the relationship, it's surprisingly to me, because I'd expect an emotional relationship to have an effect on him, especially after having Mayday.

But For Jess - Mentorship is an professional development system. She sees it as a professional relationship and she acts as such. So when she breaks that relationship, I'm not surprised because professionally, it doesn't effect her at all.

Unlike Peter and Miguel she has absolutely no skin in this game.

I guess what I'm saying is I'm not mad at Jessica for not helping Gwen because I never expected her to help Gwen to begin with - the same way I don't expect my manager to help me get a settlement if I hurt myself at work or - god forbid - face harrassment.

Is that terrible? Absolutely.

Do I expect Gwen to know this and look at Jess as an employer? No because Gwen is a literal child with no work rights or home.

I'm mad at Jess for being an arm to the establishment and doing away with POC solidarity. I can't even say 'class solidarity' because she's not in the same class as them, she's a grown ass adult.

But It was always clear to me that Jess had no emotional investment in Gwen, so I'm not mad about that.

I'm mad that the core issue of Jess's character is a personal dedication to her own self-interest and the oppressive systems she chooses to uphold dispite being someone who is apart of multiple oppressed demographics.

Which I feel is a really different than the issue with Peter B's character and Miguel's. I'm more upset with them in a personal way, whereas my upset with Jess stems from a systemic place - a more real-world/ground place.

That doesn't make it any less real of an upset, but in the simplest of ways - I look at Jess the way I look at a black, female, cop.

'You may look like me and live like me but you ain't my friend'

So when people center the problem around Jess as 'she's not warm enough', I'm like 'she's not supposed to be??? shes a manager of course shes gonna have ur bosses interest im sorry thats just how corporate works and we should burn it all'.

(Honestly it'd be arguably more fucked up if she did have an emotional connection to her and was like 'nooo gwen stay we're you're family now miguel and i care about you no dont go see miles youre better off with us'.)

Thats why I think Hobie talks back at Peter B., but walks silent next to Jess. It's not that he respects Jess more - it's that he expects Peter to have Miles' back but he doesn't expect shit from her.

She's like Ben Reilly but more competent and likeable personality wise.

I really hope that makes sense lol sorry if it didnt maybe im just coping

#jessica drew #peter parker #miguel ohara #spiderman #spider man #spiderwoman #spider woman #atsv #across the spider verse #atsv analysis

[eboshishusbandwinkwink]

Billy Hargrove x scary!gn!reader

Warning(s): racism, general bullying,

Also: I changed this a little so that Billy survived, they kinda left Neil behind somewhere, and he lives w Max and her mom now soOo. He's still kinda a shithead tho cuz old habits die hard.

Summary: You're new in town and boy did you get a reputation quickly. Almost quicker than Billy and he did not like that.

Feel free to request:

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

You had moved to Hawkins just the day before. You hadn't even talked to anyone besides your parents yet, but people already knew who you were.

(Y/n) (L/n), the new person who came from a place near Texas and moved to Hawkins from there thanks to some things going on back there.

You had lots of things going on in Texas. You fought with people, yelled a lot, were scary to most people, and just hated being in school, always arguing with teachers too.

But that wasn't why you had moved here. Your mother had chosen to move here since it was closer to your father's workplace. Not because of the fights you'd been in.

A sigh escaped you as you closed the door to your new room. You moved inside and decided to get changed.

You threw on some long, black denim pants before you pulled out a shirt from one of the many boxes. It was also black with 'Metallica' printed on it in red.

You stood at the window and looked outside. That's where you saw a blue Chevrolet 1979 Z/28 Camaro driving up to the house across from you. A girl with curly red hair got out, yelling something to the car before she closed the door and ran to the house.

The next person to get out was a man with blonde, even curlier hair. It was a dirty blonde. He also had a small beard just above his nose.

Your whole body felt cold when he looked up at you. You frowned lightly before you took a step away from the window.

"The fuck...", you mumbled to yourself before standing in front of your mirror to brush your hair. You sighed as you looked at yourself, turning slightly to see if anything was dirty.

It wasn't.

You made your way downstairs and went to put in your shoes. "I'm going on a walk."

Your mother came to you before looking at you with a bit of worry. "Like... like that? Are you sure? (Y/n), you already don't have a good reputation."

You looked up at your mother with a slight frown. "Leave me alone. It's not my fault that they all are assholes."

Your mother was quiet before she nodded and whispered a soft 'okay' before you made your way outside.

Exploring Hawkins wasn't exactly interesting. The shops were pretty boring at the Starcrout mall, and the school or community pool weren't exactly something for you either.

You looked around in front of Starcourt, arms crossing since you didn't exactly see anything you really liked. You preferred Texas over this and not just a bit.

You were pulled out of your little headspace when someone ran into you and pushed you forward lightly.

You turned around to see a brown haired boy who was much shorter than you were. "Watch where you walk.", he said to you as he laughed together with his friends.

You clenched your jaw, but let it be, taking in a deep breath to calm your nerves. You didn't need to disappoint your mom on your second day in Hawkins.

You walked off and eventually found your way to the lake in Hawkins. And finally you had found a place that was calm and quiet.

You smiled lightly and walked to the lake, pulling off your shoes to touch the water with your feet. "Finally."

Ever since that happened, it'd been a week. You finally had your first day in school and boy were you horrified.

It wasn't that you were scared of the people. You just weren't entirely ready to take anyone. You would fight if necessary, of course, but you hoped and prayed that you could control yourself enough so it won't happen. After all, it'd only worry your parents more.

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the car, though you were stopped by your mom saying your name.

"(Y/n)... have fun. And... don't let anyone provoke you, okay?", she said. You looked at her for a moment before nodding softly. "I won't, thanks, mom."

She nodded and gave you a small wave before you closed the car door and walked towards the school. It wasn't a very tall building, as it had only one floor and the basement. But you already knew that.

You checked the paper in your hands for the room and then made your way to look for it. And you found it, but in front of it stood two boy and a girl.

The girl was the one you'd seen getting out of the car the day you properly moved in. One of the boys was the one you ran into at Starcourt who told you to watch where you're going.

The third one was unfamiliar to you. He had dark skin and black hair with brown eyes. It almost looked like he was trying to protect the girl.

You walked a little slower to listen in on the conversation, even if it wasn't entirely a good idea since eavesdropping wasn't exactly nice.

"Oh shut up, Mayfield. Lucas asked for it. Not my fault his parents didn't stay where they came from.", the boy who'd ran into you said. That statement by itself already made your blood boil.

"And don't try to fight me on it. Your brother can't defend you here, little girl.", he continued and by then you stood by then and cleared your throat. "I have to go through."

All three of them looked at you. You first looked at the girl, then at the boy. The brunette eyed you up and down before scoffing softly. "You're that guy from starcourt."

You took a deep breath and looked at him. "Yes, I am. But I still need to go through. I want to get to class."

He laughed softly and stepped up to you. "Do you even know who you're talking to?"

You looked into his eyes, with nothing but emptiness within your own. No fear, no anger, no worry, no sadness. Not even happiness. Just pure nothing. "No, but I don't care either. Let me pass and leave the damn kids alone."

The boy was shocked at how monotone your voice was but it didn't take him long to just walk off to his own class.

You rolled your eyes but as you were about to go past them the girl stood in front of you. You looked at her confused and raised a brow. "Yes?"

She sighed softly and looked at the boy who you learned was called Lucas before looking back at you. "Thanks."

You looked at her for a few seconds before giving a small smile. "No problem."

The day went by pretty calmly. No one started a fight with you, and no one tried to bother you. That was until the lunch break came.

You took your food and made your way into the hall, looking around if there were any free tables, but there really weren't. You stopped when you saw the girl from earlier look your way and wave at you.

You sighed and made your way over, greeting her with a small wave and she smiled lightly. "Guys. This is (Y/n). They're really cool. Right, Lucas?"

She looked at the male beside her, who nodded lightly. "And super scary." She nudged him lightly, but you only laughed at this. "I'm only scary if the person deserves to be scared."

Eventually, everyone introduced themselves to you. You sat by them and ate while listening to them talk. You found what they said to be very interesting.

They first talked about what kinds of music they listened to, so you pretty much knew all their music tastes. Then it went over to free time activities, so you were pretty informed on that part, too.

You soon finished eating and brought your stuff away. As you were returning to the group, you suddenly felt something wet spread all over your head and down to your pants.

You turned to see the guy from earlier again, but this time, he had a bottle of mountain dew in his hands. Soft gasps and loud laughs were heard as you clenched your teeth harshly.

You took off the rings you wore to make it fair. "You motherfucker.", was all you said before you stepped towards him and punched him straight in the face.

He stumbled back before he went in to attack you, too, launching a strong punch against your stomach. You coughed for a moment before jumping at him and pushing him down onto the floor.

The two of you wrestled with one another before you were finally pulled apart by some teachers. By then, both your nodes were bloody, and he had a black eye from you. You also had several bruises and scratches on you.

Both of you were taken to the principals office, and after everything was talked through, you were allowed to leave. Aka you had to go home while the school called your parents. But you didn't.

Instead, you sat yourself at a sunny spot by the school and relaxed a little while drinking some of the tea you'd brought from Texas.

After a while of sitting there, you heard the bells ring and decided to pack up and make your way home.

As you were packing up, Max spotted you and decided to run towards you. "(Y/n)! What happened? You were gone and suddenly I see you beating Jason up like he insulted your family."

You stood slowly as you looked at her, throwing your bag over your shoulder to carry it. The two of you walked towards the parking spots slowly. "It's... well... He didn't exactly insult me. He decided to pour a bottle of mountain dew over me. Now I'm all bloody and sticky." You complained softly, not really caring about the bloody part since that was your fault and you were used to it already.

Max nodded softly and pat your shoulder as she smiled. "It'll be okay. Next time just tell one of us, okay?"

You laughed and looked at her. "And what are you gonna do? Fight him for me? No way."

She chuckled softly. The girl looked towards a car, that blue camaro, before she looked at you. "You live across from us, right? Need a ride?"

You thought for a moment before nodding softly. "I'd love a ride. But maybe asked the person who's driving first."

Max sighed and nodded lightly. "Wait right here."

You nodded at her command and waited patiently as she walked to the car and spoke to the guy leaning on it. It was the guy you'd made eye contact with that day you first slept here.

He really has beautiful eyes. You thought as you stared at the two. You quickly looked away, though, when said male looked your way as if he wanted to kill you.

Him and Max seemed to argue for a moment before she walked towards you again and grabbed the sleeve of your shirt. "Cmon. Since you live across from us, he said it's cool as long as nothing gets dirty."

You looked down at yourself before looking at her again. "If I bleed on something, I'll clean it up. I promise."

You both laughed before making your way towards the car again.

Max sat in the back with you, laughing and talking to you. You tried to be as calm about it as possible, but the eye contact you had with her brother now and then made your guts twist in a weird way.

Once you were there, all of you got out of the car. You said thanks before giving Max a small side hug and then making your way over to your house. You unlocked the door and got inside.

You had exactly a second to breathe before your mother came running to you, clearly worried. "Oh baby!" She went to hug you tightly.

You turned your head away and sighed. "Mom, please..."

"What happened? The school said you were let off early. Why are you here so late? And why are you so sticky? Is it all the blood?"

You sighed and took your mother's hands. "Mom." , you started sternly so she'd listen. "I came home a little latet because I wanted to take a break before walking home. My friend offered that her brother could take me home too."

You paused for a moment before continuing. "During lunch break a guy poured mountain dew over me to annoy me and I lost it. So no, the blood isn't what's making me sticky. It's the drink that got poured over me."

Your mother seemed to relax just mildly as she gently held your hands close. "I'm so sorry, (N/n). Go take a shower and get changed, okay? I'll take care of your bruises afterwards."

You nodded softly and went upstairs to your room. You put your things away before taking a towel and going to take a shower in the bathroom that was right next to your own.

You hurried up to get yourself clean before you made your way back to your room, wrapped up tightly in the towel.

You walked up to your window to close the curtains but stopped for a moment when you saw Maxs' brother, standing at his window without really doing anything beside smoking.

You frowned lightly. And again, it happened. You noticed your stare and looked up at you. This time, you didn't look away.

You stared at each other for a minute, then two and then three. At first the stare was cold, from both sides, but eventually both of your stares went soft since glaring at someone was kinda annoying and hurt eventually.

You shrieked when your door opened and your mom came in. You closed the curtains before breathing out. "Mooom!! You scared me!"

Later that day, your mom came into your room while you were reading wuietly to yourself. She smiled at you before speaking up. "Hey, angel. There's someone at the door for you."

You raised a brow at her and stood up to go downstairs. At the door, you saw Max, smiling when she saw you.

"Hi, Max."

"Hi! So... we're meeting up at Steves place. Wanna come along?"

You thought for a moment, seeing her brother sitting in the car. You swallowed before leaning towards Max lightly. "Is he coming along?" You asked as you nudged your head towards him.

Max looked at her brother before nodding. "Yeah, Billy is coming along. But only because the adults get to drink alcohol."

You laughed softly and raised a brow. "Really? Wow, how nice. Well... sure. I'll come along. Give me a few minutes, I need to get ready."

She nodded and went to the car, where she got inside and spoken to her brother.

After about 10 minutes, you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair looked the same it always did but you wore somewhat different clothing today.

Of course, you stayed all black, but your jeans were extra tight, and your shirt was a little shorter than usual. And on top of that, you took a grew hanky, which you put into your back packet happily, simply because you'd seen Eddie do it and it looked cool.

You were also aware of the meaning, but your pansexual ass could not care any less who comes to flirt with you. As long as they're old enough and kind, you were happy.

You quickly picked up some things you needed before saying bye to your parents. "I don't know when I'll be back, but if I stay at someone else's, I'll call."

After that, you ran to Billys car and went to sit in the back, again together with Max.

"Everyone ready now?", Billy asked, and you could feel your body growing goosebumps from how hot his voice sounded.

"Yes."

"Took long enough."

At Steves house, you were welcomed by music playing from inside. It wasn't the usual booming music from these parties around Hawkins. Instead it was rather nice music. Actually good music.

You followed Max and Billy inside, greeting everyone before sitting with the older people. This included Steve, Billy, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin. Later on, you found out that Jonathan would join some time later since he still had something to do.

You guys were in a separate room, but now and then, someone went to check on the kids. Especially when they went quiet.

Around 10 pm, some kids were asleep, others just had some small talk. By then, you already had one or two beers and weren't exactly steady on your feet anymore.

You were pretty sensitive to alcohol so it was no wonder. When the others went to swim in the pool, you sat at the edge, only being allowed to stay with someone at your side.

Steve said he'd watch you for a while, holding you up and talking to you to make sure you wouldn't feel alone or anything like that.

"So, I'm sorry, but I just can't not ask. These rumors about why you moved here. Are they true?", he asked to which you shook your head.

"Nope. I moved here because of my dad. Not cuz I got kicked outta school.", you murmured softly as you looked at the male in the water. "My dad got a new workplace, and Texas is too far away, and Hawkins was the closest without being too expensive."

Steve nodded softly as he moved out to sit beside you. "I see. Well... it was pretty cool how you beat up Jason."

You smiled and nodded lightly. "Thanks."

The two of you were intruppted by Billy approaching the two of you. He pat Steves shoulder before sighing. "Your boyfriend is in desperate need of you."

Steve laughed and got up slowly. "Alright. Be nice to them, Billy.", he said before walking off to where Eddie was.

For a few minutes, the two of you were quiet until you spoke up, without thinking of what the consequences might be. "You have pretty eyes. They remind me of salt water. And my favorite pool back in Texas."

Billy looked over at you with a slight red hue on his cheeks before he scoffed softly. "Well... yours aren't as bad either. Pretty soft for someone who's feared everywhere."

You cackled at what he said, not even knowing why you found it to be so funny. "Well...", you looked at him. "I do go soft for certain people."

The two of you looked at each other for a moment. It took a moment for you both to get soft again, but it happened. This expression of pure adoration in eachothers eyes.

"You're not as scary as people say you are."

"Neither are you."

And at that moment, something in your chest twisted and made you feel all warm inside. You had no idea what it was and why it was there, but you didn't complain. You liked it.

"I like you.", you said as you tilted your head lightly.

Billy laughed and looked away again. This time, he was more than red. "I like you too."

#stranger things #stranger things x reader #x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #jargyle #ronance #steddie

[heartkyeom]

lunch break

chwe hansol x fem!reader

word count: 2k

tag list: @junkissed @hyucks-rose @maijunejuly

warnings: enclosed spaces, reader has vagina, idk how else to say someone's getting head lmao, overstimulation, slightly mean banter, hate sex, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst? maybe?

a/n: first new fic in over a month? you love to see it! cannot believe this is my first vernon fic, this is SO overdue lmao... this is mostly for june + any other dollys that have been waiting for a vernon fic from me lol I'm sorry! it's been bothering me since he's in my bias line, but I just didn't know how to write him! anyways hope this is worth the wait <3 hope you enjoy as always!!

“Vernon, can I have a word with you?” You ask him politely, putting on your most reasonable office voice to face him. You hate doing this, you hate being the one to ask to cross the line, but he wouldn’t do it.

The office has been tense for at least a year, you stopped counting after that. He’s convinced that you care too much about your work, you’re insistent that he doesn’t care enough and both of you are shocked at how much the other gets done with their approach.

It’s meaningless, you’re both fighting towards nothing in the eyes of your coworkers, but it gives you both something to do. Thus, you like to take the steam off every once in a while.

He’s too nonchalant, too unbothered, too himself to do anything substantial, so here you are, asking for permission to be alone with him like a schoolgirl.

He eyes you up and down for a moment before nodding. “Sure.” 

He gets up from his desk to meet you at his door, gently closing it behind him to follow you.

Once the eyes of your coworkers are off you in the secluded hallway, you adjust your path to the 3rd floor supply closet. He lets you in first, stopping to make a final perimeter check to ensure the coast was clear before closing the door behind him, locking it for good measure.

He pins you against the door with a desperate kiss, you moan immediately and tilt your head, pressing yourself into him even further than before. He pulls away to laugh at you for a second. “Took you long enough,” He smirks before leaving a peck on your lips again.

“You’re greedy as fuck, you’re lucky I even asked you at all,” The last word barely makes its way out of your mouth as he’s kissing down your neck, barely letting your skin breathe.

“It’s been almost two weeks, I thought we had an agreement?” His question is valid, seeing as you both eventually found a rhythm of having workplace sex once a week, twice or even three times if someone was feeling particularly desperate for attention.

You were both single, both operating under the assumption that you could end this at any time if someone wanted to take dating seriously with someone else, but this was a bit too convenient to end.

“You act like you’re my boyfriend,” You pant with a hint of irritation, but still make sure to leave a kiss behind his ear before he retreats from your neck. 

“I don’t want to be, it sounds like hell,” He lowers to his knees, hooking his fingers underneath your skirt to slip off your underwear without much effort, you instinctively pick your feet up one by one to free the fabric completely. He marvels at the sight of it being a black thong. “Good day for you to ask though, you dressed up for me,” He eyes the thong again before tossing it aside.

“I wasn’t thinking about you when I did it, trust me. And why do you keep doing this then?” You watch him think through his next move, he doesn’t stop to think, just runs his hand along your thighs in anticipation.

“Because I like tasting your cunt, don’t be dense,” He mutters before hiking up your pencil skirt just high enough to give him proper access. You were grateful that the weather was still easing into fall so that he wasn’t ripping your best tights just yet.

He’s mean as hell when he wants to be and his bluntness is only helpful when work requires it, not whenever you two meet up. You were used to the harsh banter, of course, but the delivery still stung on occasion.

Like always, he parts your legs open before his tongue hits your clit harshly, barely giving you the chance to adjust to the new pressure. Vernon always gave you head as if he’d never see you again which was only slightly frustrating before you remember how great the orgasms are. 

“Fuck,” You sigh out deeply, and your eyes flutter shut for a moment. He’s rebellious now that no one’s around, taking the opportunity to palm your ass with his spare hand and knead the flesh roughly for a few moments. His other hand is on your hip, helping you stay steady so that you don’t fall on top of him again, a mistake that he has never let you live down.

He makes quick work, he always has when you’re in the supply closet. You haven’t done anything else past this, past you getting head or him getting a blowjob, but he’s mostly just open to the former.

You’ve imagined it though, the idea of cockwarming him in the comfort of your own bed, waking up next to him and not worrying about being caught.

He seems to catch on to your daydreaming though. “You look bored,” He deadpans. “Am I boring you?”

“No, just got distracted for a second,” You adjust your positioning. You try to play it off the best you can.

“Do I want to know what it is or is that a mistake to ask?” He switches to stroking your clit slowly to engage you in this conversation, but you can tell he doesn’t want to keep discussing this.

“No, because that would fall under boyfriend stuff,” You squint your eyes at him and he nods.

“Works for me,” He puts his face against your cunt again, you move to put your hands in his hair and look down at him.

You’re back in the throes of pleasure when he increases his speed and you’re grateful for his non-attachment at this moment. If you didn’t want him to talk about something, he would never bring it up again.

He knew when to leave well enough alone. 

“I’m close,” You whine, throwing your head back and tightening your grip in his hair, almost pushing him further between your legs.

He responds by tapping his fingers on your hip, a silent affirmation that he heard you and wouldn’t be slowing down anytime soon. 

His nose brushes your clit and you almost lose your balance again, the action always makes you lose your breath no matter what.

“Fuck,” Your voice suddenly loses its bearing and that’s how you know you’re cumming, the sensation hits you so suddenly that you can’t alert him again, your knees simply buckle from the release. He’s able to steady you again though, gripping your thighs so you don’t fall over.

You look at him with heavy lidded eyes and shockingly, he’s looking back at you. You watch his fingers dip into your slit and you have to brace yourself again.

Vernon didn’t opt for overstimulation very often, but when he did, it was always intense. You feel your walls instantly flutter around two of his fingers, they suck him in a little too quickly.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckles to himself.

“Fuck off,” You whine, turning your head away from him to look at the assorted cleaning products that lined the shelves. 

“No, don’t avoid me now,” He warns. You reluctantly look back at him, squaring your jaw from the pressure of his fingers inside of you. 

“Fucker,” You whisper. He knew his gaze was powerful, he knew he could get you to fold just from looking at him for just a bit too long.

“Just one more, you can do one more,” He insists. You groan at the sound of your arousal covering his fingers as he plunges himself in and out of you.

You’re already dizzy at the feeling of two fingers, but you’re a goner once he goes for three. While he was simply trying to get you riled up before with quick but shallow movements, the third finger pushed him to hit your g-spot over and over until you lose it.

You scream into your hand as you cum on his fingers and hit the back of your head against the door, not hard enough to actually cause any damage, but enough to get Vernon to stare at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit, you alright babe?” He’s obviously somewhat panicked, slightly too much in your opinion. If he’s pulling out nicknames, he’s clearly not joking.

“Yeah, I’m not dead,” You play off his concern easily. You decide to kneel onto the ground until you’re sitting next to him in an attempt to catch your breath.

“Why did you do that?”

“Thought I’d spice it up since it’s been a minute, but I didn’t think you’d be concussive from it,” He laughs awkwardly. 

“I’m not concussive and maybe you’re too hard on me!” You poke his shoulder and he playfully frowns.

“Oh, even though you beg me to go faster nine times out of ten, I’m suddenly too hard on you? Bullshit,” He isn’t convinced and it’s true, your argument doesn’t hold up much. 

Past you was simply too whipped for him. It was a clear weakness of yours, that you were weak for him to begin with.

“Fine, whatever, it still hurts like hell though,” You cradle the back of your head with a slight twinge of pain present on your face.

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” 

“You’re a dickhead,” You roll your eyes.

“I’m serious, Y/N, come on,” He lifts your head up, turning your body quickly to face the back of your head. 

“Where does it hurt?”

You hover around your head for a moment before your fingers land near the crown of your hair. 

“Here.”

He silently takes your fingers in one hand and holds them gingerly, tilting your head down to give him better access. He leaves a gentle kiss on the spot that you pointed out.

It’s far more tender than you expected.

“Sorry about that again,” He drops your fingers like he wasn’t holding them in the first place. 

“It’s fine,” You close your eyes and adjust your position back to where your head can rest on the door.

“I wanna make it up to you,” He sounds halfway earnest about it too. You’re only hesitant because this doesn’t sound like something he’d do, but maybe that was a good thing.

“What are you thinking of?”

“I’ll make dinner for us at your place and we can have sex all you want,” he sighs loudly, “however you feel is the right amount.”

“You really are sorry, huh?”

“Is that a yes?”

“A reluctant yes because I don’t know if you can cook or not,” This is a valid concern in your mind, especially since he was coming over to your place to cook.

Now he’s the one rolling his eyes, but he pivots the conversation. “Ok, your misguided assumption aside, does Friday night work?” 

“How do you know I don’t have any plans?” 

“I’ve seen you outside of work, you do not have plans,” He smirks knowingly. You curse the moment he saw you grocery shopping in your pajamas one Friday night months ago, he really wouldn’t let you forget anything. 

“Fine! I’m free,” You shake off your offended reaction and agree to the plans.

He smiles so wide that you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy. “Great,” he responds with a nod. 

“Fantastic. You can leave now, lover boy,” You move out of the way to let him out and he responds again before he’s completely out of the door.

“Right, don’t be a stranger,” His words linger even after he shuts the door.

You’ve had his number for a while, you don’t even remember why you had it to begin with. He gave it to you for “emergencies”, but let’s be honest, you’re not calling or texting each other unless it’s a sex-related emergency.

Now, his number seems to burn a hole in your pocket. 

You plan to text him the day before, mostly for your own sake to remember that this was actually happening.

He could surprise you. 

That’s what you hang on to, the idea that things could be different, that you could both lean into the change and expand things between you even slightly.

He’s making it up to you, so you figure you should enjoy it.

You’ve managed to keep your heart safe for this long, so you decide you can test the waters, at least for one night.

#svthub #june screaming about this is the only reason I finished this lmao #vernon smut #vernon x reader #svt fanfic #vernon fanfic

[sluttyenha]

OMFG I'm so exited for this

53 and 89 example 1, with Jay please

Pairing: Jay x reader

Warning: MDNI , not proof read

Note! Here's another one of the entries! I wrote this in a hurry since Tumblr decided to act up again and delete my work 🤡 hope you like it! I don't really like how this turned out but okay😃

The prompts : “you’re so pretty when you cry.” AND “this is my pussy i can touch it whenever and however i please”

You were in a very inappropriate position with your boyfriend in his cabin. He was thrusting inside of you at a very fast pace . His hands on your neck , choking you slightly , enough to let you breathe. He was staring at you intensely making you more aroused. You got into this because of your little act. You always wanted to have sex with jay in his cabin . The risk of his employees hearing you guys always exited you but your dear boyfriend was against it.

“no we can't do it there baby , it's my workplace . We can't ket my employees hear us.” that's what he always told you whenever you brought the topic up. But you being the stubborn person you are , you decided to tease him so he would finally fuck your guts out in his office. And we'll that seemed to work . You wore a short and black dress which showed your curves perfectly , making you look sexy as ever. All the male employees were drooling over you and the female ones were throwing those envious looks. You had a plan , you went over to Sunghoon , Jay's friend whose known to be flirty even with you. Well you knew the news of you coming over would spread over to jay quickly and he would look into to camera to see where you were and what you were doing . You went over to Sunghoon and put your hand over his shoulders , he turned around startled but soon a smirk came over his lips . “oooo y/n , how did I get the pleasure of seeing you here in my cabin~” “you know the drill sunghoon, i told you yesterday I was going to do it and here I am ” yep you told him about your plan and he was ready to help you . “yes here you are in your glory , I'm honoured to be honest , because you look stunning” the show was on and the audiance was ready . How do they know you ask? The camera bleeped a red light indicating someone turned it on and everyone here knows damn well who it is. Sunghoon stood up and came closer to you keeping his hands at you waist and pulling up his phone with an excuse of clicking a picture. Meanwhile jay was happy that you came to visit him , but he was getting impatient because you weren't arriving at his desk. So he pulled up the cameras and started searching for you everywhere and guess where he found you?

Yep guessed it right. Sung-fucking-hoon's cabin. Why would you go there first and not meet him , ALSO while you're looking like a dame 5 star meal? You could practically see steam coming out of his ears and the rage in his eyes after he saw how close sunghoon was to you. He stormed out of his cabin and went towards sunghoon's. The door slamed open revealing a very jealous looking jay. You and sunghoon shared a look and smirked internally . “ohh hey jay look who came” said sunghoon with a very smug smile while holding you who had a fake inbvocent facade. “hello jay , suprise! I came to visit you!” jay came towards you and pulled you towards him with your hand making you stumble in his chest . “yes i can see it very well baby . Why don't we go to my cabin since you came to mee ME.” after saying that he dragged you towards his cabin angrily . You were exited because you know what's coming ahead and you were all ready for it. After seeing his cabin's door , jay picked you up on his shoulders and dropped you the the couch of his cabin after locking the door. He pinned you down and loosened his tie . “you came to see me? Then why were you in sunghoon's office and not mine? Huh?” he growled and tied his tie on your hands . His manhandling was making you more aroused than you thought. “and what's up with the dress? You think i don't know what you're up to? You're a very dumb slut aren't you?” his hand came down and he hold your thighs tightly making you whimper. “answer me” another growl erupted from him. “yes yes I'm your dumb slut” he smirked “you're so desperate for me to fuck you in my office aren't you? Want everyone to hear what mess i make out of you? Then I'll give you what you want but if you scream too loud and if anyone comes knocking in you won't get to cum , get it?” you nodded eagerly. His lips came crashing towards yours , he was obviously the dominant one , his tounge already exploring your mouth making you moan out. While his hand came towards where you needed him the most , your pussy covered with nothing but the thin layer of your underwear.

He didn't wait anymore and started grinding his clothed bulge against the wetness of your panties. “so fucking wet and i haven't even done anything yet” he chuckles “jay please” “please what baby?” “stop teasing” “this is my pussy i can touch it whenever and however i please , and remember next time not to test my patience” he ripped your panties off while your dress rid up. He put two of his fingers inside you and started rubbing circles in it. You moaned out loud but stopped when his hands came towards your jaw , holding you up by it “uh uh uh baby remember if anyone comes , you won't get to cum” you nodded and bit your lips loving the moment. He took out his boxers and his memeber sprung out , his tips red and already leaking pre-cum looking delicious. He storked it a bit and then put his tip on your lips tapping it motioning you you take it in. “come on take sir's cock like the good girl you are” you obeyed gladly. Your tounge was moving around it making jay let out a groan “fuckkk” his hands came towards your hair holding your face up by it.“don't you dare tease me” his hands were around your neck where he could feel a slight buldge because of his cock and he couldn't feel more happy. He was fucking your throat deep while his fingers were inside your cunt moving at a pace he knew would get you close to your oraganism. You were literally choking. Tears coming out of your eyes .“you’re so pretty when you cry.” you loved when he praised you , you moaned aorind his cock sending vibrations all around his body. He was getting close and he knew so were you.You could feel knot inside your stomach and Jays cock twichting “cum with me baby” that being said you both came together making a mess on his couch. “swallow it completely ” he demanded.He fell on top of you panting heavily. “that was amazing” you said after swallowing every drop of his cum. You were looking so hot with your spit all across your face with his cum on your lips “i know it did feel good and you did so well for me” he kissed your forehead and untied you picking you up to clean you up. “just next time , don't pull this making me jealous shit okay?”he told you “we'll see”you giggled.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #jay smut #kpop smut #jay #jay park #park jongseong #jongseong #park jongseong smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jay x reader #jay x y/n #jay x you #enhypen jay #jongsang #jongseong smut

[saturnalorbit]

how vivid/stasis, a free rhythm game on steam, is fucking with my brain chemistry and making me desperate to get better at a genre i usually wouldn't care about that much (spoiler alert: it's girls): spoilers up to the end of chapter 1 below the cut as this will be a story summary as well as my personal experience with it

for context, vivid/stasis is a free lane-based rhythm game (if you don't know what i mean it's a similar gameplay style to guitar hero) that i found on steam (suspiciously close to the launch of fortnite festival, also a lane-based rhythm game) with a mystery-genre story. (if you're interested at all already stop reading and play it before i spoil the whole story up to the point im at.)

you progress through the story by unlocking nodes in the node flowchart using battery power, which you gain from playing songs that you unlock from either the flowchart or shop. pretty simple. ordinarily you can't fail out of a song, but if you're good enough at the game, you can use a different "decryption style" which gives you a life bar but also offers much larger rewards in either shop coins, battery power, or both. now i'm sure this isn't too bad for someone who has rhythm game experience, but i'm pretty new to the genre and can only do level 2 songs with the life bar, maybe some level 3 at a stretch, but mostly i just stick to the basic decryption style without a life bar.

moving onto the story, you play as saturday (pictured at the top), who has perhaps the best name in all of fiction, so much so that i almost considered stealing her name for a minute or so. her sister tsuki has gone missing from her workplace, and while the incident is under investigation by the police, saturday can't sit still and decides to launch her own investigation along with her friends kotomi and allison. simple enough so far.

so we end up investigating tsuki's workplace, a geology lab. we meet the detective there whom saturday is pretty pissed off with for seeming so complacent in the investigation, but she calms down once she learns that the detective, eri, is allison's sister. saturday is pretty hostile with her up to this point, but it's fairly realistic considering the state of mind she's in, and establishing a more personal connection with eri helps bring her down to earth a bit.

the group search her workplace and find a site in her browser history, shrinereport.xyz. as you can probably guess this is a site both on the real web and in the game, and it links to a video with cryptic clues. you can try to solve it yourself, but you don't really need to because in the next scene the characters analyse the video and extract the clues: one of the spoken sequences of numbers spells out UNIX and the other is a unix timestamp. the two sequences of dots when converted to numbers become coordinates.

quick clarification, the rhythm game and the story at least up to this point are disconnected. it's not like the game is supposed to be saturday putting the pieces of the case together, the game is just how you unlock more of the story.

so the gang puts the pieces together and figures out that whatever the deal was, tsuki must have gone to the shrine that is at those co-ordinates at the time indicated by the unix timestamp. her route would take a few hours of ferries, so they next go to the ferry terminal to see if there's a record of her taking a ferry around the time they expect. sure enough, tsuki left on a ferry pretty much right when they expected. saturday briefly tries to book a ferry to go and find her, until...

this is the point where i'm gonna say if you're interested so far, and you like rhythm games or would be okay picking them up, stop reading and play it. we're getting into the insane shit now so if this interests you at all, give it a shot yourself.

the girls are interrupted by a booming sound, and to their horror they find that the geology lab has gone up in flames. they rush there to find out what happened, only to learn that eri is still in the building. kotomi rushes in to try to save her sister, followed shortly by saturday.

they don't have much luck. surrounded by flames, saturday calls out for kotomi, only to hear her anguished yell coming from somewhere. she looks in room after room, but she can't find kotomi. she calls her name again, but there's no response this time.

saturday falls to the floor, the flames engulfing her. her adrenaline failing her, she finally sees what her reality has become. she failed to save both tsuki and kotomi, and with the fire closing in around her, now she's going to die before she can do anything to help them. she weakly calls for someone to help her, and admits that she's scared. she shouldn't have gotten tied up in all of this, but now she's going to pay the price. everything that "saturday" is fades away.

god fucking damn. if you care enough to have gotten this far, go and watch the cutscene on youtube or play the game. i had to write all this to provide context but i didn't really do it justice here, saturday is just written in such a realistic and compelling way here.

actually, i'm going to take this chance to talk about saturday, and myself. when i hyperfixate on a character, oftentimes it can be really hard for me to even get them off my mind. i don't really tend to anymore but i absolutely used to kin characters i was obsessed with, and while i don't do that anymore, hyperfixating on characters still does things to my brain.

i really like saturday. (and need to be her. big surprise.)

honestly i'm not great at putting together my reasons why what i will say is her design is amazing and the way she's written is very relatable to me personally in a really interesting way. her thoughts contain a lot of subtle observations about the people and environment around her, almost seeming like a little too much, in a way that felt sort of unnatural to read at first but really ended up gelling with me personally. like, i don't know. i just feel like if i were to write a character, this is how i might end up writing their thoughts.

there are also the 'funny' relatable moments, which are also adorable in their own rights but for the most part i just find her really intriguing. i love how she can be kind of an asshole sometimes because yes, she is in a vulnerable position and is lashing out at people sometimes when she doesn't mean to. that's just a fairly understandable way to act in her situation. there's also some stuff about her later on that i spoiled myself on that i won't spoil here because i'm sticking to just chapter 1 for the moment, but just to say it only made me like her even more as a character.

so, what happens next? the story isn't over, obviously, you're told as much. you're separated from saturday and brought to a screen with three locks, which each turn out to be some kind of cryptic puzzle, with the middle one requiring both of the side puzzles to be finished before you can find the correct string.

now, i kind of suck at cryptic puzzles. i'll usually look at them for a few minutes, not figure anything out and then maybe ask for help or look up a guide.

so why did i put in all this fucking effort this time?

okay, i know they're not the hardest puzzles in the world and i did get a little bit of assistance near the end but this is really unusual for me to put this much time into trying. now i'm really getting to the crux of what i'm trying to say, why vivid/stasis is making me put so much effort into these things that i never really bothered with before.

pretty much, it's saturday.

i considered trying to figure out the arg-style hints earlier, but i elected to go forward with the story anyhow, and the girls ended up solving it. now, i'm being presented with a puzzle i have to do myself. and my first thought is, "if saturday was able to figure out her puzzle, and i want to be her, i have to do my best on this too." and i did, and i actually figured out a large amount of it myself. i didn't fully figure it out, but i got close enough to where i felt like being nudged in the right direction was okay. i mean, saturday got help from her friends too. i understand this is a really weird and roundabout way to get motivation to do something, but vivid/stasis made it work for me.

so after solving the puzzles, getting a web link out of it and then getting a code from the web page to enter back into the game, what happens? a cutscene plays, introducing me to...

PYROMANIA...

a level 8 opening with a forced life bar.

so we're coming full circle now. remember what i said at the start? that i struggle with even level 3 openings with a life bar? and now i have to do a level 8 to progress. look, i know a level 8 isn't that bad for experienced players. i'm not an experienced player. i'm new and i suck.

and now i can't find out what happens to saturday until i get much better at the game.

saturday who extremely quickly, over maybe 30 minutes or so of cutscenes, managed to become one of my favourite characters. they fucking set her on fire and told me to get good before i can find out what happens next for her. i have been losing my mind over this. i'm desperate to know what happens next but i can't for a decent while until i improve. i cannot stop thinking about saturday's unknowable fate.

now, this would be the part in another game where i'd just give up and watch the rest of it on youtube, or turn on autoplay to just play PYROMANIA for me. the problem is they fucking got me. hook line and sinker. because this is the first time a song has been directly connected to the narrative. PYROMANIA in this context i believe symbolizes the fear and adrenaline in saturday as she realises she's going to die in this fire. what this means for me is that just skipping the song isn't a satisfying conclusion here. it seems insurmountable for me at the moment, but saturday is facing something insurmountable too. i have to push through it for her. god fucking damnit.

anyways that's as far as i've gotten for the moment i'm honestly just rambling about how weird my brain is and how it's motivated i'll keep trying and i'll poast an update when i improve enough to beat pyromania sorry this was so long winded happy saturday wednesday bye.

#vivid/stasis #gayming #text