#while pinchy. yeah

[celestite-caroline]

someone old, someone new

EDIT: yeah the Luxtorpeda design changed since then 💀 I realized she didn't fit RWS lore so she's a single character named Luxtorpeda, and the driver names are non-canon now (they're still the Polish driver and the other driver)

#the luxtorpeda one was a very spontaneous idea #while pinchy. yeah #both are kinda cool I think #art #doodles #sketch #digital art #character bio #concept art #illustration #fanart #oc #original character #fancharacter #thomas the tank engine #ttte #ttte diesel 10 #the railway series #luxtorpeda #ttte driver #polish oc #artwork #does this count as nostalgic art #I feel like the way to me making this was based on nostalgia so ig #me when unlucky tug video pops up in my reccomended

[foldingfittedsheets]

One thing I’ve inherited from my mother is my feet. Not only are they the same size but we get the same utility out of them, which is to say both of our big toes are unusually long and flexible.

When she was pregnant my mom used this fact to just pick up things with her feet instead of bending down. She never lost the habit, so when I was young I hopped immediately on board the fun game of picking up stuff with my toes.

Laundry, pencils, I’ll casually grab stuff laying on the floor with my toes without bending down. It’s proven itself as a useful skill with my chronic illness or when my back is thrown out.

But there is a dark side to these toe powers. My mom uses her toes for evil more often than not. Because they’re ideal for pinching. A common cry in the house was my dad from their bedroom going, “Ah! Don’t pinch me!” Followed by my moms evil giggle.

Tragically it is so fun to use pinchy toes for evil. The most fun thing to grab is someone’s Achilles tendon or calves but y’know. They tend not to like it. Cause it pinches.

I’ve never done more than gently grip my betrothed with my pinchy toes, an act of love and a testament to my iron willpower because again, it’s so goddamn fun. But one night after they told me to knock it off I started telling them that my mom is always pinching my dad when they cuddle.

“It hurts?” they asked me in perplexity.

“Well yeah, like, I could be hurting you, but I’m not, because I love you. It so easy to pinch hard.”

They radiated disbelief at me.

“Do you need me to show you I can pinch hard enough to hurt?” I asked.

“Sure, show me.”

I greedily reached for their legs with my evil toes unleashed and in seconds they exclaimed, “Ow! How are you doing that!”

I snickered and subsided. They processed the breadth of my toe skills while I savored the tiny mischief I had indulged.

Finally they said, “I want to try.”

“Sure.” I laid passively while they clumsily attempted to grip any part of my leg between their toes. They grew increasingly frustrated while I stifled giggles. Their toes gripped helplessly at me like toothless gums, failing to gain purchase.

Finally they managed to grip my Achilles tendon and gave a triumphant laugh. By no definition was it remotely uncomfortable, let alone painful but I indulgently said, “Ow,” for them.

“Don’t patronize me,” they whispered venomously. Then they snuggled close and my toes returned to their humble life picking up socks that have fallen from the laundry basket.

#ramblies #story #my betrothed #writing #funny story #ffs foibles

[capslocked]

WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY

male reader x jeon heejin

part 1 of journalistic integrity

16k words

It’s not even twelve hours apart - the first time you exchange pleasantries, all careless and untroubled, to the moment you’ve got Heejin in the back of a taxi and your hand so far up her skirt that it has you emptying your wallet at the end of the ride and slapping the biggest tip you’ve ever left into the cabbie’s open palm, silence full of disapproval. 

It isn’t planned or anything.

Heejin doesn’t simply wake up one morning with a craving for your cock. It just sorta happens. 

And then It happens again a week later. The third time just a few days after that. 

The fourth time, the two of you barely spend a night apart before Heejin’s back in your apartment, thighs shaking violently as you fuck her into the springs of your mattress.

“I’m trying to figure it out,” you puzzle, holding a coffee mug to your cheek while taking note of how Heejin slips her arms back beneath the black straps of her bra at the foot of your bed. “Why a rabbit?”

She laughs first. Looking back over her shoulder when she responds, “why not? It’s cute.”

“Yeah. Sure. And incredibly provocative.”

“You’re really hung up on it, aren’t you?”

“Um. I just think it’s interesting.”

“Does that mean it’s going to end up in one of your articles?” She asks, tossing her hair back over her shoulders. “Something about it on the front page?”

“Why would you think I’m going to write about rabbits?”

Heejin smiles, bright and cheery and increasingly full of mischief. “About this breeding kink of ours.”

“Ah.”

Her hands reach to her hips like she’s ruminating through all these possibilities, the things she could do to you, the things she has done to you. And as she crawls back onto the bed, your eyes follow hers - all brilliant and huge, self-aware of just how pretty they are.

She lets out this pinchy little laugh, and leans in to kiss your jawline. Bites it for good measure. “Ah, he says, pensively.”

“We went over this,” you start, leaning back into the headboard. “It’s just not a kink. Wanting to cum inside a pretty girl is, literally, basic biology. Like, it’s so foundational, it’s in my DNA.”

“And I get sooo turned on thinking about your DNA,” Heejin snaps back, and she’s got that edge in her voice again: playful, mildly threatening. “Besides, there’s more to it than that.”

“Isn’t there always.”

“It’s the ownership,” she breathes into your neck, “the intimacy, the risk–”

“Risk?” you say, laughing as you jump into the middle of Heejin’s explanation. “What risk? There’s literally no risk when you’re on the pill.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst, you know that? Who’d thought I’d have to explain what fantasy means to a writer.”

Before you can do anything about it, she kisses you three times. Twice on the cheek, once on the lips. And it’s as close as you’ll get to anything like retaliation - you flip her underneath you, drag her panties down her thighs, and fuck her again.

That’s how it goes. Like it's some sort of cosmic law. It’s been this whole thing.

-

So again, you write - when it all starts, you’re writing.

There’s this story.

Your editor’s the one demanding it from you. Find it, embellish it, fucking outright fabricate it - whatever it takes so long as the article arrives on her desk before she finishes her coffee on Monday morning. 

Between you, there’s always this dynamic: work comes in, you’ll point your finger to the ceiling, saying, "trust in the creative process," and then she threatens to kill you. Hence it’s her drumbeat; you’re marching to it.

"You know, I think I might know a guy," you shout over the top of your glass and down the bar, when the topic of LOONA comes up over drinks. You end up phoning a friend of a friend, pulling a string, making a promise you never intend to make good on, and it has you sitting in an unremarkable conference room on the fourth floor of your office a little after lunch the following day.

So, as it starts, there’s this girl sitting across the table from you - Heejin, she says, and it rolls so nicely off her tongue as she does, like the name was simply hers. You notice it immediately, and if you were any younger, the kind of age where you could fall in love with a girl just off the end of a smile, your heart would be rocketing out of your chest.

Now, honest to god– 

(Not that you’re god-fearing or honest or virtuous, it’s just a turn of phrase, and that’s how you earn your keep.)

 –it kicks off innocently enough between you, as most things do. 

Just to put it in perspective, there’s never before been a celebrity profile you’ve written that hasn’t fallen neatly into one of three categories: (1) astonishingly talented, (2) breathtakingly gorgeous, or (3) certifiably insane. So, as you puzzle about that track record now, there should be absolutely no reason at all for you, a professional, to let this girl, another twenty-something-year-old idol who’s too pretty for her own good - with a voice that runs just a little deeper, raspier, perhaps more sultry than you’re used to hearing - ever get the better of you.

"I don’t know, I guess I was expecting someone… different," Heejin says, somewhere in the middle of things, folding her fingers neatly beneath her chin.

Your eyes flick up from the notepad in your hands and find this look in the deep browns of her eyes, like she’s studying you from across the conference room table, gazing into the contents of a test tube. You lift an eyebrow, and she does the same; there’s a bit more suggestion to it than there probably should be, but you’ve been stoking it, fanning it, from the moment you’d both sat down.

"Expecting?" you ask, if only to point out what had thrown you off-kilter, and you can feel your weight shift in your seat. 

After all, it had been just that morning when you met Heejin for the first time. She was standing perhaps a little out of place beside the door to her dressing room, kicking snow off the bottoms of her boots. You told her you liked the color of her dress, a welcome departure from the grays and browns that usually filled your office. Her hair was curtaining her face and after pulling it back, tucking it neatly behind her ears, she smiled brightly back at you - thanks, it’s vermillion.

You weren't aware of it then, and it won’t become clear to you until much later, but you do fall for her there, if at least just a little.

"Well, see, it’s my publicist," Heejin starts to explain. From that alone you’re certain you’ve got the rest puzzled out. She steeples her fingertips together, continuing, "the way she talked you up, she made you out to be, like, totally despicable. Said you were no better than those creeps that sit in the bushes outside my apartment."

Okay, so unfortunately, part of that’s not entirely unwarranted. To a girl like her - to the scrupulous companies that stand to gain, to lose - all that concerning secrets to hide and hell to pay, you could be absolutely despicable. Afterall, if there’s a labor that goes into making someone like Heejin come across as the kind of perfect that everyone believes her to be, you’d be the first person looking to undo it. 

It’s nothing personal, you reason, and you’re smiling back across the table. "Hey. Low blow. I haven’t sat in a bush in years."

A quiet smile shadows in the corner of her lip and she fires back at you, "so you’re saying you’re just a little despicable."

"Oh, ya know," you reassure her, gesturing your hands to the side, one palm up and the pages on your notepad splaying out in the other. "More or less comes with the mileage."

"All joking aside, I’ve seen guys…" 

Heejin dips her eyes a moment to laugh out loud. And you’re becoming familiar with the sound, sweet and throaty and genuine. Harmonic. 

"You know, I’ve seen guys climb trees. Really, I’m serious. This was just last summer, around the time Haseul broke up with her boyfriend and moved into our apartment. Don’t write that down. I’m standing at the sink, washing dishes, and I see this guy. He’s just balancing there with his feet hooked around some of the branches, a camera against his face with this massive lens. I bet you he could probably see the bacteria on the window."

“You wash dishes?” A handbag that costs more than a month’s salary, these dainty fingers that look like they’ve never seen so much as a scratch, and you’re picturing her, or struggling anyway - washing dishes.

“Ugh, it’s been this whole thing,” Heejin says, floating her fingertips to her collarbone. “There was a rumor that the housekeeper had been talking to the press. So our management fired them - and then the dishwasher broke. Company was supposed to buy us a new one, but they haven’t yet - because they’re cheap as shit. Don’t write that down either.”

“Never rains but then it pours, huh?”

“Right. You get it,” she says before letting this simple tight-lipped smile fill out on her face. "To be honest though, I’m curious about something." 

Heejin’s raking her fingers through her hair, and you watch the silver band of her watch fall just a few inches from the sharp edge of her wrist as she holds a messy handful of blonde locks just above her face - the way they bounce against her cheek and spill back onto her shoulder when she lets go.

"How did you - and I’m not saying you’re the same as one of those people - but how does someone even get into entertainment journalism in the first place?"

"Slowly at first," you answer, eyes returning to your lap to pen out the rest of some scribbled note, "and then all at once."

When you look back up, Heejin is frowning, brows furrowed, as though she were trying to remember something.

"Slowly at first," she repeats, "and then all at once." She blinks a few times as your attempt to avoid the question registers. Thoroughly unimpressed when it does. "No, I’m serious, there had to be something that drew you to all this."

You finish out the end of a note, lined into the pad, while you land on a chuckle, dry and humorless. "What is all this now?"

"It’s a question."

Nevermind that it’s in the wrong direction, is your first thought. Careful now, your second. Because maybe you knew that beneath the surface were those stray thoughts that kept you up at night, lurking: 

What kind of journalism career is this? 

You graduated from a good program. With classmates who were now reporting on national legislature, getting shot at to cover a war in Ukraine for The Associated Press - and then here you are, sifting through the transient thoughts of yet another pop star, grasping at straws, struggling to spin them into gold.

"Is this one of those things?" you ask, heeding first to the click of your pen, once in, once out. "What was the word for it… postmodern? Where you turn the tables and you’re the one interviewing me?"

"I don’t think I’d go that far," she says, lips slanted slightly, "you’re still the one holding the notepad after all."

“What, the appeal of meeting fascinating people isn’t enough of a sell for you?” Oh, you’ve had your fair share of boring, mundane, or even offensive too, but you’ve not gotten to where you are without learning a little flattery goes a long way.

Heejin scoffs. “Oh, don’t lie. I’ve read your magazine. The profiles? I’ve met those guys and gals—fascinating is being rather generous, wouldn't you think?”

“Careful,” you say, punctuated by the end of your pen again. Click.

See, it’s the way her eyebrows twist over that coquettish smile. That's how she gets you - one out of twelve, you’re realizing why the cameras are stuck on her. And everything that comes out of her mouth just brushes effortlessly on the innocent side of frustration, of challenge. It’s hard not to indulge, even if just a little–

“I mean if I’m wrong, go ahead, feel free to correct me.”

“I was real sick of freelance work,” you answer, feeling the conversation start to de-rail. “Was tired of worrying about making rent. And it was just less of a total pain in the ass.”

There was a method. It was delicate, and usually you were quite good at it: you were supposed to be just funny enough to make her laugh, captivating enough to coax out something more than a monosyllable answer where you needed it, get her to like you, and then have her forget about you the moment she walked out the door. Hell might freeze before you could get her publicist to schedule a follow up, all because Heejin had chewed up the clock - had gotten herself interested. 

It’s probably wishful thinking to hope the sigh rolling through your chest doesn’t give too much of all that up. “And just why might you ask?”

Heejin reaches across the table and turns off your tape recorder. It’s here probably: where you should’ve been clued into the pieces, the board, the game in front of you. “Because you don’t seem like most of the others.”

“The others?” you answer, making careful sure not to sneer. “Are you suggesting that I’m–”

“Charming?” Heejin rises from her seat, and her hair swings behind her shoulders as she meanders about the room. “Oh, I’m declaring it. It’s not a subject for debate.”

When she finds a spot to lean against the table beside you, her skirt hikes itself just a few noticeable inches. You’re not trying to stare, but she is right there.

Okay, so you’re fucking staring. When it’s clear that you are, you drop your eyes immediately, starting over at the floor - you’re unsure what to make of it. Her boots jump out immediately, these black knee-high things with just enough of a heel to let her stand a little taller than your shoulders. Beyond them is the dress that’s tinier than she is: vermillion - not red - and hung tight around her frame, gaping perfectly to present her thighs and chest like they ever needed introduction. Follow her collarbones, the delicate skin on her neck, the bold red lipstick she decided would compliment the bow in hair like she’s some present waiting to be unwrapped, and yeah, okay, she’s cute.

You’d have perhaps made a mental note of how unconventional it was for her now to be looking down at you, arms crossed and smile slanting, but, she also just manages to plainly ask if you’re seeing anyone, so there’s little time to dwell on that transgression - and all with the casualness someone might ask how much snow that approaching storm was supposed to bring tonight. In nearly the same breath, she asks if you were holding onto any of those numbers girls handed you when you went out drinking. It’s confounding and it’s your head space and it’s rapidly becoming preoccupied and littered and busy.

"That surprises me," Heejin tells you upon hearing that it’s complicated. "I figured it’d be rather straightforward. What all with a smile like yours. And an ass like that—"

"You’re flirting with me."

Doesn’t matter that it’s so obvious you could’ve seen it from space - everything comes to a screeching halt after the words fall out of your mouth. 

You tilt your head, quizzical. 

Heejin’s chin cocks, ready to fire. "And what? Is that some sort of crime?"

It’s honestly hard to believe. She tosses you the question, recklessly unaware that doing that thing she does where she simply exists is almost criminal. Thoroughly disinterested in the fact you were having plenty enough trouble keeping your focus from sinking into the neckline of her dress. You watch her blink slowly while you struggle to get out ahead of this, and it has her discovering that smile again. “Oh. And I wouldn’t write any of this down either. You know, if I were you.”

Your hand must know how deceitful it sounds because it’s covering your mouth, trying to mask the words curling off your tongue:

“Look, I - Here’s the thing… you know it’s completely unprofessional.”

Heejin smirks, pointedly, like she’s recognizing something on your face that confirms each and every one of her suspicions. 

Okay, you were trying to act nonchalant, but all the mistakes keep adding up - have added up - gazing at her gentle, focused features long enough that you might inscribe them in your mind as something to hold onto when you walk out of this meeting.

“Hand me your notepad.” Heejin pushes her hand in front of you, expectantly. “The pen.”

You watch her lashes nearly fall onto her cheeks as her eyes dip into the lined paper, and then it’s just the sound of the pen. Scribbling.

-

If you're going to consider that the bare minimum requirements of your job probably forbids undressing in a random meeting room in the middle of a workday, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that the rest of the interview unfolds without incident. 

(Albeit woefully precarious.) 

Here’s what you learn:

Heejin’s life isn’t terribly interesting, at least the parts you can write about without fear of starting fires in the streets. The backstory has all these parallels you’ve come to expect. She’s the youngest of three girls, and you figure that’s where all the confidence comes from, if it isn’t the fact that she’s the kind of beautiful that inspires all this admiration and reverence and adoration to the point where it has people tripping over her. 

Her flatmates are apparently storied in their own sort of fucked up ways, and as she described them, you quickly realized that none of it would be able to fit into a publication like yours. Not that you’d stop the train of thought: Yeojin - a hopeless romantic - and Haseul - a total fucking golddigger - who were well on their way to fuck half the city at their current pace (you’re paraphrasing here).

So with that, you’re writing. The doc is completely blank, and you’ve deleted the first sentence god knows how many times, but you’re writing.

Heejin had mentioned she was taking piano lessons and music theory classes, but had piqued more of your interest when she opened up about a novel she was working on: “It’s fiction, and it’s about two lovers slowly growing apart.” She shrugged her shoulders when you asked if it had a happy ending and refused to go any further into it when you brought it up again (twice), but that’s more or less how these things usually go.

You double back to your notes where Heejin’s phone number is written neatly at the top with little hearts trailing off the last digit. Only it does little if any to help inspire the kind of creativity you need to do your job - inspire any thoughts beyond the way her dress tapered in at her tiny waist, how you’re pretty sure you could reach both hands around it and how light she’d be in your arms.

You should call her, springs immediately to the front of your thoughts.

And that’s how you know it’s bad. Something worth some sort of concern.

Oh sure, you’ve had a crush before - when you were the age where hormones were reeling through your body and had you, like a good portion of the world, needing someone to hump like a dog in heat. Fast forward to when you lost your V-card to the girl you’d been pining over for years and it failed to give you superpowers, you figured it was best to put your time and effort into anything else. You can relax, take it slow, get your work done, stop thinking about it.

Monday, you decide. 

She probably has plans this weekend anyway, and that is the rule isn’t it? Three days ought to give you enough suspense and pretense to illustrate that you’re not hopelessly fixed on the idea of pulling Heejin’s dress up around that fucking waist and hoisting her onto your kitchen counter where you could really just give it to her.

You tap your pen against your desk. 

Monday.

-

5:00 p.m. rolls around. 

You call.

The phone rings one too many times, and you’re within inches from just simply hanging up before you hear her speak. You actually jump a little in your seat and your knees smack into the bottom of your desk when you do.

“I thought it was completely unprofessional. You said that.”

“Yeah, well the clock hits 5:00 and maybe I’m having second thoughts.”

There's some idle chit-chat, nothing special while you both circle around the obvious.

“Know any good Thai places? I’ve been pretty in the mood lately,” Heejin’s voice comes through as the pieces begin falling way too easily into place. 

“I mean there’s plenty to choose from downtown,” you say as you pinch the neck of the lamp on your desk, still bobbing in place after you’d knocked it out of balance, “or one of those pretentious places that keep popping up in the old public market.”

“No, I mean, the editorial shoot ran a little late so I’m still here.”

“At the office?”

“Yeah. Hey - you know the photographer that goes around calling everyone boss? He’s, like, a total flirt by the way.”

“Trust me.” You laugh out loud. “That’s not the first I've heard of that. Pretty sure he’s even tried to hit on me a couple times.”

“Ugh,” she says, feigning all this disappointment, and it has you picturing how you’d seen her earlier pull in her shoulders so tightly as if to shrug with maximum effort, “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

Your phone is cradled between your neck and shoulder as you scour the internet for something in walking distance - someplace that you don’t expect to see half your coworkers drinking away their Friday evenings - when you ask, “You give him your number too?”

There’s a brief silence on Heejin’s end of the line, only slightly unceasing. “I thought about it.”

“Sounds like you’re done thinking about it.”

“Guess I figured you might benefit from the head start.”

“Generous.” It earns something like a chuckle out of both of you, and you're shaking your head, answering, “I’ll be sure to pay it forward.”

-

Oh, it’s a terrible date.

Neither of you are anywhere so brash to explicitly say that, but look, it just so happens to be your job - splitting out truth from reality. You’ll call it how you see it.

Honestly, it’s a comedy of errors, but the real kicker is that the kitchen forgot to put in your order.

So, you’re trying, failing, to flag down your waiter, and you begin to notice the wine doubling its punches on an empty stomach when Heejin leans in across the table - one finger beside her temple and her other hand drawing circles around the rim of her empty glass.

“You know we could just… get out of here.”

It’s suggestive, but it’s hardly anything like a suggestion, because you’re right there with her.

-

Outside on the sidewalk you find the kind of snow that lands wet and heavy and threatens to soak through your clothes. And aside from a recent tire track or two, there’s a fresh blanket of it now on the asphalt. Every now and then, Heejin will flash her eyes over her shoulder as if to check and see if you’re still there, a footstep behind her. Like the sound of snow squeaking under your boots isn’t proof enough. 

“Okay,” says Heejin, in her unfailingly charming way, and trounces around in the snow in front of you, “so that was, like, the worst thing ever, right?”

“Nonsense. I’ve seen plenty worse. Trust me.”

She spins on her heel and you come close to knocking her over. “Sounds like you’ve got war stories.” “A few,” you start, laughing to yourself, “Here's one. This girl goes on and on telling me about the guy she just got out of a relationship with - and i’m sitting there thinking wow, this guy sounds a lot like a good buddy of mine.”

“And it was?”

You gesture slowly with your arms, something defeated and existential.

“Oof. That’s gold.” Heejin’s eyes flick to your lips, lingering however long it takes you to notice. She smiles, beaming. “But you know, with a little luck, I think someday you might just get it right.”

-

Heejin finds you somewhere in the harsh light of a streetlamp, fisting a hand into your collar. 

You’re watching snowflakes melt, like they were tears streaming down her cheeks, colliding against the warmth in her pale face - the vibrantly rosy hue now glowing across it.

Her lips aren’t dry or cracked or wind-bitten like you might expect in the middle of December. Your eyes trace them closely, these soft, featherlight things, and you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until she passes her tongue through them with an experimental lick.

“Oh,” she says, shockingly casual, “you’re into me.”

You’re laughing as your eyes return to hers. “You sound pretty confident about that.”

“Yeah. Guess I am.”

Heejin’s breath lands warm against your face. You’re simply suspended there for however many moments, the wool of your coats pressed together, watching lights glimmer and fade in her eyes. From this close you can count the odd freckle on her nose, her cheek. It’s probably the most intimate thing you’ve done in months, just standing there, breathing the same air.

Maybe ever.

Heejin doesn’t even say anything else, just looks, her eyes searching for something they might only find in yours.

“Hey,” finally says Heejin, in this choked, rasping voice, “you should kiss me.”

And you do.

-

Where are you two headed? The driver’s voice strains as if he’s been smoking religiously for twenty years. And from the way the cab smells - the stains in the upholstery on the ceiling - it’s as good a guess as any.

Once the door closes behind you and it shuts out all that wintery air, you lean in to where Heejiin is delicately removing the scarf around her shoulders. It’s yours and she’d wrapped it around herself twice, three times, and it made her look tiny. “Where do you want to go? Back to Hapjeong?” Her flat is in Hapjeong.

Heejin shakes her head. “How about we go find somewhere to grab a drink?” you ask.

She looks down, tracing her finger along her lower lip, and then lets her cheek collapse into her shoulder, eyes drifting back to you where you can see that myriad palette of golds and browns in her irises. “We can just keep drinking at your place, no?”

While you square away the details with the driver, Heejin folds her arms and closes her eyes, sinking into the back corner of the seat. Her silver earrings catch the light as the cabbie hits the meter and the taxi pulls away from the curb. Then it’s her dress, all that barely-there vermillion fabric, as if it had been tailor made to match the warmth in the back of the cab. Watching her, you come to a realization: there’s the story you’re writing, then there’s this story you’re living - all in want of a little inspiration. 

And you think maybe you’ve found it.

The taxi sways. Heejin talks. She talks about her life growing up. She talks about one of her sisters who is now in medical school and vomits at the sight of blood, how she was jealous that her siblings had turned out to be such brainy academic types - the kind of thing she imagined her parents were really secretly far prouder of - how she’d grown up fighting her dad tooth and nail to get where she is now - all these intimate details you doubt she’d shared often with anyone. Let alone someone she just met.

You listen - an occasional question every now and again woven into the soothe of Heejin’s lowered voice. And for the first time, you’re not scribbling out notes, building sentences as you do. Simply listen.

“You know,” Heejin starts, lidding her eyes and smirking in your direction. She could send a tremor through your heart, but she’s far less forceful than that. “I think it would be really rude.”

“What would?” you ask, confused. “If you spent the whole ride,” she pauses, and the elegant lines of her face scrunch ever so slightly while she fiddles with one of the featureless rings that rests on her middle finger. “–sitting over there.”

There’s a list of excuses, something to make it logical, but it’s never been quite this simple either.

You drift across the backseat, until you feel yourself press up against Heejin’s lithe frame, and the rest of the world might as well melt away to nothing beyond than the blur of passing street lights, the hum of ‘Winter Wonderland’ coming out of the radio in crackling bits and pieces, the pink blush still staining Heejin’s cheeks.

Holding her, you kiss her again. 

Near effortless as before. Your lips stuck on hers when you pull yourself away.

"So, remind me to set the record straight with my publicist," Heejin murmurs in the same hushed voice she'd been speaking for the entire ride, thumb rubbing the back of your knuckles in a manner that could lead you to believe she wasn’t aware she was doing it. Her lips curl at the corners of your mouth where these short, hot breaths fill your proximity. "Just a little despicable."

With a hand finding purchase in her hair - bundling between your fingers as smooth and satiny as it looked - you pull Heejin into you, seize her lips. Hard. If there had been any restraint, to this point, about the shy touches on your arm when you made her laugh, to the light hand you’d place on the small of her back guiding her through a door - since the moment she sat down across you in that interview - this kiss now threatens to become near tidal in intensity.

Together, those soft lips sliding against yours, it’s irreverent, it’s reckless, it’s cashing in on that chasteness a thousand times over.

Still, you notice this departure from everything about Heejin. Because there’s nothing elegant about the way you have her, your bodies rucking desperately in the backseat - unable to give two fucks about smashed knees or hunched backs. It builds up. It falls apart. A mass of wool struggles to fall to the side, hung and stuck around your shoulders, and effortlessly sliding down hers. As your tongues slip and rub, this tantalizing push-pull that makes even the heat-dry air of the cab feel heavy like you’re wading through the humidity of summer, you doubt the efficacy of it all. But it’s the hand that arrives at the nape of your neck, kneading as though to say good enough so that you might start pressing more of your weight into her; simply sink into her embrace.

Heejin’s voice sneaks out between long, shivery, bone-deep kisses - the sound of your name lilting off her tongue, she whispers, “Hey. I want you to–”

“Yeah,” you pant, knowing exactly what she means. Your fingers twitch at your sides, all this anticipation currenting through your body that makes you feel like an exposed live wire, the electricity forcing your heart beat into something erratic. “Yes. Fuck. Of course.”

It has Heejin guiding you by the wrist. Down her side. The absolute concave flatness of her stomach. To the hem of her dress. And when she finally relinquishes your hand - your fingers - she kisses you harder, claiming the swell of your lip firmly in her possession.

It takes hardly any effort to find her - up that skirt and between her legs, growing hot and wet and needy. When your fingers collide with fabric, fingerprints teasing across her entrance, she lets everything start to slip - a hiccup into your mouth, and shifting her weight gently in your hands.

This intense shudder travels through her entire body when your fingers dip down beneath the elastic hugging her waist. The kiss breaks. From those needy, watery eyes, there is little to lament - the way Heejin strains for air, holding her lip between her teeth as she lets a wet breath billow from her chest. Her lashes flutter, close tight, open again, and she looks at you, concealing the mirth in her smile. “Do you have any idea what I want to do with you?”

“I haven't the slightest clue,” you answer, flat and unamused, and you’re swirling your fingers against the wet heat between her legs as you continue to play a fool. “Tell me.”

“First I–” Heejin takes a deep breath and steadies herself when you fit the first knuckle of a finger inside her. “I want - fuck - I want you to sweep me off my feet. Literally, pick me up and carry me.”

“Okay, sure,” you say, like you haven’t been entertaining the thought all afternoon - like grabbing her and bending her over the first piece of furniture closest to your front door isn’t now the foremost thought racing through your head, “I’m sure we can make that happen.”

“Then you can take me and put me so tenderly into this big, cozy bed, all comfy and a little tipsy and there’s none of this - fuck. That, that feels really good–”

“Mhmm.” You’re half listening to the curses out of her mouth, how her voice hitches and sputters the moment you tent her underwear with your knuckles - the air she sucks in when you tease the sensitive nub between her lips. Between kisses that drag your lips all along her delicate jaw, the bruisable skin on her neck, you whisper, “I’m listening.”

The look of need and want in Heejin’s irises is a mirror of your own. And, just once, it’s a gentle touch that makes her keen. It’s debauched, it’s something glorious, the sound sneaking past her lips. You hear it. The driver definitely hears it; he’s turning up the radio.

“Fucking–” She laughs into the dark, voice strained and breaking at the pressure against her clit. Her mouth slants at the rhythm now in your fingers - motions that make her optimistic, and her lips part again, continuing:

“I’m not knee deep in snow and it’s warm and you’re there, just cuddled next me–” 

Heejin squirms again, interrupted; you’ve got her pussy creaming and tensing all over your finger.

Windows fogged, bodies digging deeper into the dark corner of the taxi, you study Heejin closely. Think about getting her off right there, about getting your fingers deep inside her and thumbing her clit until she’s shaking against you, about her cumming like that, back arching off the seat and ankles hooking around you.

It’s nearly tangible, the thought; her eyes flare and her chest heaves the more you fuck her slicked cunt with your fingers.

Heejin swallows. “And then - you start to undress me.”

It's been something akin to a virtue, and oft to your benefit, you’ve always been a good listener, so your fingers make course to slow, consider remorse, and continue on with only those gentle motions that keep Heejin’s eyes half-lidded and breath short. Nothing more.

“I do?”

“Yeah.” Heejin nods - even your vanishing touches driving her crazy, putting all this stress into the simple and composed features on her face. “Little by little. So delicate, like you - fuck.” You drag your finger back, grown wet and sticky. Let her finish the thought. “Like you’re unwrapping a present.”

Chin shooting up, you quip, “What if I’m the kind of person that tears wrapping paper to shreds?” 

“Yeah,” Heejin chokes out, “that’ll work too. But either way, then I’m laying there, kinda spacing out, practically naked and feeling really hot and soft and then I realize what you’re doing, dragging my panties down my thighs. I yell out ‘Wait don’t! I just met you and I’m very sincere about these things, so please stop!’”

“Oh.” 

“But here’s the thing: you don’t stop.”

“I would stop though.”

“I mean sure. Never mind that. It’s just how I’m imagining it.” 

“I see.”

“So then you don’t even hesitate. Just slide your pants down, pull out your cock” - the cabbie clears his throat from the front seat like he’s trying to start a lawnmower, but Heejin powers right through the thought - “and it’s just hanging there, bouncing. And it’s huge. So then I start telling you ‘No, you can’t, I’ve never done anything like this before.’”

“But you have.”

“Look, I just… this is just my fantasy. So then you end up–”

Okay, so it’s not virtue that got you here; your fingers are toying in her cunt. You can’t help it.

“Mnph, yeah - Jesus, okay, that feels good,” she whines, sneaking her hips toward you when you start to slide your slicked thumb all over her clit.

There’s a moment where her lips part, where she doesn’t speak anything at all, before she can steel herself and labor on with her point.

“Y-you end up wearing this really put out face, and I start to feel sorry for you and I’m - stroking your hair - while your head… while your head is in my lap, saying, ‘it’s okay, it’s okay.’”

“And that’s what you want to do with me.”

Heejin shudders as your fingers seek refuge deeper in her cunt. “Right.”

“This is what you want to do right now?”

“Yeah. Well, sorta.” She twists her lip before letting this wide, giggling grin fill out her pretty face. “Right now, what I really want” - you watch her gulp down another heavy swallow - “I really just want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s simple. You’re not far from your apartment, though the car gets stopped at every light, and even when it isn’t, it’s slow going on the fresh layer of sleet now troubling the roads - but it’s not like it at all has you taking your time. Heejin mewls slightly, and then she simply comes undone, gasping. Your whole hand is buried in her underwear, your fingers fucking fast and slick into her cunt, thumb mercilessly brushing around her clit.

“Oh my god,” Heejin whines into the palm of your hand, shutting her eyes tight as she sinks against you, sinks into the corner of the seat.

You’re hitting her basest desires with fingers that are all but destined to make her fall apart; straightforward, effortless, a perfect balance of touches light and heavy and destructive, you bottle lightning. 

“Mmmph,” Heejin whimpers.

Her back arches when she cums. With all these ragged whimpers leaking out from the spaces between your fingers. They’re inaudible, sort of. The radio is blasting. The same damn song even. Stars align, and while Heejin gazes into them - into the blackness that can only be found behind clenched eyelids - it’s simple: you kiss her hard again.

-

The two of you don’t fall into bed immediately. Not in the literal sense.

Heejin first gets her hands on you when you’re both standing in the elevator, quietly and mostly still, boots leaving gray puddling footprints on the floor. She looks like she’d been through a windstorm, and to some extent she had, but it’s mostly a direct result of your hands in her hair, your tongue in her mouth, the fact that you had her panting and sweating in the back of that taxi.

You’d had the quiet pleasure of watching Heejin’s legs wobble from the moment you spilled out onto the curb. Where she rested her face on your shoulder, pulled tight at the lapels of her coat like it might ever keep these gusts of snow-laden wind from freezing the skin around her eyes, and without saying anything at all, managed to demand your arm around her waist.

So, once the elevator doors close, and you’re feeling that temporary frost in your bones begin to thaw the further Heejin melts her weight into your side, it’s only natural: pull her into you, bury her nose into your collar.

You kiss her forehead.

In something close to reciprocity, she reaches a hand over your pants and grabs your cock.

“You’re, like, super hard,” her voice hushes into your chest, really leaning on that low, smoky tone. “You know that?”

“And what? I suppose that’s such a crime?”

“Maybe.” Heejin turns up to meet you, eyes glinting atop this expression - innocence feigned doesn’t even begin to do it justice - and balling up the collar of your shirt in her fingers. Bright eyed, knowing, she nudges into your side. “Just tell me what it is you’re thinking about.”

“Take a guess,” you say, running your hand through your hair. Like the nonchalance might make it less obvious you have this mental image, photographically vivid, of fucking Heejin’s tight body right into the wall of your foyer.

“Oooh.” Her eyebrows arched high, she looks you up and down, nodding while mischief skitters across her angelic features. “How many guesses do I get?”

“Three,” you answer. Then start grinning. “No. Two.”

“Two?” Heejin slides closer, her eyes hot. “That’s hardly anything charitable.”

“I have faith in you,” you say, and you’re reaching into her coat, finding the divot that runs down her back, where you can trace a finger up this zipper that you’re not entirely sure you can refrain from unfastening the moment you feel it’s metal shape between your fingertips.

Against your face, Heejin gives this small puff of amused laughter. “Okay, you’re thinking about…”

While her voice lilts and trails, she taps a finger to her chin like she’s trying to solve some intricate physics problem or ponder the secrets of the universe. Though by this time, the elevator’s doors have stuttered open in the haphazard way they always manage and you’re both surging towards the deserted hallway, laughing quietly and brushing elbows.

“I don’t mean to pressure you or anything, but you’re going to run out of time to guess,” you say, a hand dug into the inside of your coat pocket and searching for your keys. Heejin’s leaning her shoulder into the doorframe when you catch her looking, staring - you only manage to slip out from under that gaze when you come up with your key at last. “Found it.”

Heejin tilts her head, hair falling halfway over her face, and then pulls it back again. “You’re thinking about kissing me.”

“Surprisingly tame,” you say, scoffing as you turn the key in the lock and shoulder into your front door. “But no. Not quite. Oh, and leave your boots in the hall.”

It’s that second guess, neither incorrect nor entirely the truth. When it does arrive off her tongue, you have Heejin pressed against the inside of your door, now shut and finally private, and her tiny body in your hands where it feels soft and slender and unfathomably hot - oh, do you have ideas. Her breath mixes with yours, concocting something that tastes entirely sinful before she leans forward and traces kisses up your throat.

“Still. You are thinking about my lips,” she whispers into your ear, and it’s dripping with confidence, with suggestion, with another humid breath that hits you square on your cheek, “how good they’re going to feel wrapped around your cock.”

She studies the knot that forms in your throat as you swallow, eyes flicking back up to yours, and burning hot when you tell her she’s right. Lying, all on account of you not having the heart to let her know that you’d been harboring this errant thought, that for a greater part of the day, you’d been thinking of how she might fold over the kitchen sink, the living room couch - wherever - and fucking her six ways to sunday. She runs her tongue across her lips, like it might keep back these small bits of breathless laughter. And it has her unzipping your pants, coaxing them clear off your waist.

Right, proper intentions, and she’s smiling like she knows it: you’re both paving a road straight to hell.

“Jesus. You’re so hard,” she says finally, and it’s so blatantly sexual that a foundational shiver in your bones takes hold of you. What are you to do? Her fingers are deep in your underwear, fighting elastic, pulling at the skin of your cock when she gives you a final kiss that sticks to your lips, smacking. And then without any words to accompany her, she pulls the fabric around your thighs and sinks to her knees.

If this were a different kind of story, maybe you would sweep her into your arms, and ride off into the sunset and find a cottage in the hills that overlooks the ocean and live happily ever after and raise a half dozen kids. Because surely, a girl like her - perfect and flawless and near regal in the way she carries herself, like something out of the pages of a fairytale - belongs anywhere but planted into the floor of your foyer, dragging your underwear down to your ankles. 

If Heejin was anywhere but her knees, perhaps you two would fall into bed, where you’d leave her with all these sweet kisses that make her skin swelter and her voice choke at the way you’d press your lips to the hollow of her neck, her shoulders, her collarbones, and you wouldn’t even think of leaving marks or bruises. No, instead she’d whimper softly for you and the two of you could roll over to meet that simple conclusion.

Sure, you can always pretend like you don’t know what’s happening.

But that would make it a different kind of story, one painfully absent of Heejin’s tongue, placing a slow, measured lick right up the slit of your cock. Or fingers claiming your shaft, your balls, and pumping delicately toward your waist. Rising action unlike this pair of soft lips that purse and leave kisses down your length. A climax beyond releasing a load right into the back of that throat - which is only speculative in your thoughts for a second, because Heejin’s tightening her fingers around the base of your cock and dragging a smirk across her pretty face, “you should, like, totally cum in my mouth.”

“Right,” you answer, mouth drying; it’s a labor to even swallow. 

Heejin runs a semicircle over her lower lip with her tongue, flattens it, presses it up against the belly of your cock, and looks up at you - eyes round like the angel she is, pupils dark as three am and every bit as impious. Oh, you’ll struggle enough with this story as it is.

“Fuck,” she says, one time, nearly breathless, and it almost sounds reverent, “I want it.”

Before you can get even a half decent reply forming on your lips, you watch Heejin’s jaw go slack, and sucking in a chestful of air, she seizes you deep in the warmth of her mouth.

There’s then a moment - excruciatingly drawn out - where Heejin sits near motionless, sinking further into the floorboards. Her lips are pressed tight into this seal around you as she takes it slow, a silent effort to become familiar with your taste, your shape.

A flutter of muscle between her cheeks, and the moment passes. Her lips relax, tighten, relax again before you feel her tongue. Sliding. Curling.

“I–” You sink forward against the door, abandoning whatever thought and allowing it to curdle into laughter, into this seedy moan that Heejin rips right out of your chest. Somewhere along the way, you’d figured that since you were more senior, more seasoned, more veteran in an industry full of girls whose looks might leave you for dead - girls who, with a little praise, and just the right amount of attention, would look up at you like you’d hung the stars, the moon and the sky - you figured Heejin would be in your hands, melting.

And then there it is, eager to point out your mistake: Heejin’s tongue, again. It slides delicately over your head, and when she sinks her lips further down your shaft, you can feel it narrow and tease at the base of your cock. Her eyes are closed, but you can see how they crescent, smiling undoubtedly in something like victory as she hums against you, delighted.

“Heejin,” you start, wanton, and you’ve got a fist in her hair, gentle in how you bundle it all between your fingers, experimental the way you push her mouth further into your hips. There are two delicate hands coiled around your slobber-covered cock in response - and then she starts to twist. You nearly fold and collapse and crumple under your own weight, gasping, “you’re killing me.”

Heejin raises her head from where she’s been hollowing her cheeks and covering you in her spit, vicious stick of precum staining her lips. Grins, because she knows.

“I am?”

You’re tipping your head back, sucking in your next breath. Bucking your hips into her fingers - all ten of them lathering spit and gingerly pumping your cock. Impossible to ignore, they brush and tease all the spots that send you reeling as though they were returning to something familiar, had done it a thousand times. You swallow, and Heejin’s eyes trace that quiver through your throat. 

When it becomes clear that you’re not really in a state conducive to banter or ribbing any longer - the clever words out of your mouth now amounting to nothing more than a few four letter ones - Heejin just smiles, sloppy sounds of her fingers twisting around your cock, and she falls back into that deep tone, “you look so hot like that, by the way.”

You sigh, defeated, bunch more of her hair into your fist. And after Heejin pushes a fingertip to your slit, pulling the skin of your cock tight around it, your breath hitches, shuddering at the sight of Heejin playing with your precum between her fingers.

“Can you imagine?” she asks, pressing you to her cheek, “how good this is going to feel inside me?”

“Heejin,” you groan, worrying a lip between your teeth at how her light hands pump up and down your length, the precum weeping from your tip providing her fingers with that much more hazard in their touch. Your voice is stuck to your throat for a moment, grasping, “I want your mouth - on me.”

“Mmm.” She again has her tongue on the underside of your cock, velvety and slippery around your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You can feel it. Just the hot breath tumbled from her lips onto you alone reduces you to a bundle of nerves and coiled muscle. “I want more.”

“More what?” she asks, mulish, and a smile sneaks into the shadowy corner of her mouth.

“More - you.” It’s hardly even half a whisper.

Heejin has this quirk in her lips that stretches slowly against the tip of your cock, and her hands trace up your thighs, grabbing tight to the back of your ass. She nuzzles against you, and looks up, “then go ahead. Take me.”

Oh, you’ve had a crush before. The kind of thing that had your heart and mind racing; the kind of thing that would swallow up your time for weeks if you let it. So when you’re looking, gazing, watching this masterclass in showmanship: Heejin’s lips parting around you, her eyes smoldering into yours - that’s when the realization hits. 

This is so much worse. You’re truly fucked.

Fingers thread tight into her hair, and you’re guiding Heejin’s mouth - hot and wet and perfect - onto your cock. Slow, measured, her lips slurp and seal. Near five-foot-nothing of pure sinful delight, and tossed locks of hair resting across her face where they shimmer in the darkness of your foyer, you slip your cock inside her. Press between those soft lips. It’s a voyage, enroute to heaven; then with your hips selfish and stealing more of that tight heat, it’ll be straight to hell. Inches, sliding and sinking, Heejin shuts her eyes and relaxes her muscles, jaw gone slack - grabs onto your thighs like you had any intention of being anywhere but the bottom of her throat.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and the next sound that comes out of you is practically a living thing, wild and animal and nothing close to voluntary. 

Heejin’s mouth hangs wide and laxed for you to use, lips paradoxically tight, as you fuck your length over her tongue and deep into her mouth.The very prospect of asking for more is gluttonous, wicked and immoral, but here you are: thrusting your hips into her pretty face, pulling firm on her hair to keep the heat of her throat wrapped up around you.

“Mngh,” Heejin’s throat chokes the further you feed your cock into her - drag it back and bury into her again - strangled and straining, you can see the flush that floods her cheeks, the teardrops on the end of her long dark lashes, the unbelievable smile still in her lips.

All bets are off.

The pretense, the coy teasing, all that skirting about this clear predisposition toward fucking eachother senseless is further pummeled and ground to dust every time the tip of your cockhead punches the back of Heejin’s throat. And even beyond all that, Heejin holds firm to this composure, almost this plussed look of gratitude as you bruise soft muscle and steal the air from her lungs.

“Oh my god, Heejin,” you say, back arching into the space over the top of Heejin’s face, holding her head tight and fucking yourself on her lips. “Your fucking mouth.”

Triumphant, gloating, smugly humming into the spit-drenched skin of your cock, Heejin must realize she has you exactly where she wants you, trapped, fated: that under no circumstance are you going to unsheathe yourself from her throat until you’ve exploded and glazed it proper. She traces her fingertips down your thighs and hovers them about the hem of her dress, this bunched and furled mess of fabric at her thighs, pulls her panties to the side, and you can hear it - her fingers finding purchase in the mess between her legs. 

You slide deep into her throat; she pushes two digits deep into her cunt; you’re both reduced to the basics, chests heaving out these small noises of frustration. It’s a behemoth struggle to even think, let alone coordinate said thoughts into anything resembling coherence - but the first thing that falls out of your mouth is born of sincerity.

“Fuck, Heejin, I… I’m going to cum.”

She nods, as best as she can, the length of your cock slotted deep into her throat. Any kind of concerns you may have harbored - all from fucking her face, and drawing small tears at the corners of her eyes - they evaporate the instant Heejin’s tongue reaches forward past her lips.

Just one lick, between your balls while she has your cock entirely inhaled, and it sends you careening off course, destination hardly unknown.

“I–” your voice fades. Because the tip of her nose is against your waist, her tongue is doing fucking everything - she’s killing you. It’s all coming down, you’re falling apart, breathing in fits and starts, fucking Heejin’s mouth hard enough that if you weren’t holding tight to her hair, you’d have thrown her off you.

“Heejin,” you growl, voice sliced to ribbons.

When you finish between her lips, every burst of cum that spills from your cock sends a tremor, twitching and quivering through Heejin’s lithe body, and then you can feel it in her throat, tightening around you. 

“Mmph.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, uncontrollable.

“Mmmmph.”

Heejin makes this impressive, maybe futile effort to swallow it all down. Laudable, admirable, you’ve got it correct about her: anything less than perfection is tantamount to abject failure. With that, she struggles, her eyelashes flutter, and a strangled sound escapes her throat - choking and sputtering as you keep cumming, more than she can ever hope to take. It floods her mouth and spills from her lips to unveil this shiny streak that rolls down onto her chin.

Even though you’re still gasping and shaking and reeling from your orgasm, you recognize those taps against your hips immediately, how they beg for breath.

“Heejin, oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you say, horrified as it all starts to return to you, and when it does, you jump backward, unsheathing your cock from Heejin’s mouth. Gaze drawn to that profane mixture of spit and cum that follows lazily in its wake.

She waves her hand at you wildly, realizes the gesture is probably not the most reassuring thing she could’ve done, and instead holds up a finger as if to say give me a second as she catches her breath.

Coughing a handful times and wiping her mouth with the edge of her wrist, she slumps backward. Hits the door, face flush and eyes sharpened like daggers, pointed, ready to kill. And the moment she’s certain you’re lucid, present in the image in front of you - that you belong to her again - it becomes performative: the way she presents you her tongue, the space beneath it filled and drowned with your cum - how she swallows it, that dry knot traveling dramatically down her throat.

“Jesus, fuck,” she stammers out, the loss of composure only transient and fleeting, “not bad for two guesses.”

-

The first time you fuck your cum into Heejin’s cunt, you don’t anticipate it. If you’d been perhaps a kernel less distracted, a trifle less overwhelmed by the scorching slick between Heeijin’s legs, you might have had the pleasure of calling the shots.

But this is where you’re at, melting beneath it: all her porcelain skin spilling onto you and her hands firmly on your chest, nails like claws, claiming you as her own. 

She’d dragged you toward the sofa in your living room, made a one-off comment about how bad she needed you inside her and then kissed you hard. Of course, when you tumbled down into the cushions - still muddled in a half daze and caught off guard by the sheer pluckiness of it - Heejin had controlled the fall, making sure she was the one who landed on top.

“Look at you,” her voice is low, rasping, pitching when she crashes herself down onto you. Feels her pussy all full and creamed as she fucks herself with your cock. “Just relax, let me fuck you. You don’t have to do a thing.”

She has her ankles locked over your thighs, knees sinking into the cushions, and ardently rolls her hips, fucking your shaft - exceptionally sheened from her slick and every bit as hard - deep into her pussy. Hot, wet, unbelievably tight, it’s near immaculate. And it only grows unrighteous at the end of every frantic bounce from Heejin’s thighs. Because she’s tiny, legs muscled, abs chiseled to perfection - vivacious to the point of peril - and she’s riding you hard and fast and bringing you so near the proverbial edge that your fingerprints threaten to sear into her waist if not for the fabric of her dress twisted and stressing, surrogate in its place.

“Oh my fucking–slow down,” you breathe, fully enveloped by her heat. It has your nerves on fire, something wicked ablaze, begging for release, and with your teeth gnawing your lip, you throw your head back.

“Are you sure?” she says, and runs her hands through her hair. Hoists it off her shoulders, bundling it over head - the visual not particularly favorable to your condition. Her eyes dip across her cheeks and into yours when she decides to salt the wound. “This is slow.” 

“Heejin, I’m serious. You're going to make me..." you start, a final warning, and at the sight of you disappearing between her legs, you’re struggling, pleading, “I swear… fucking cum inside you.” 

Ruinous, pushing a callous boundary, she lifts herself up and seals your fate. 

“Fuck.”

This is how she gets you. Seats herself on you again, pussy slicked all over your cock and the tip of her tongue flirting in the shell of your ear, “I know.”

-

To what extent god will believe your account of these events - how much you believe, in relating the story, hot with lust and adrenaline and the hapless self-doubting confusion of a psychotic who knows what they saw and is still able to dismiss it - is not clear.

Because look, it’s not as though you were unaware that the power had gone out.

There was a noticeably loud crack of electrical disaster, and in an instant, the lights of your apartment, the delicate details of Heejin’s naked body in front of you, and even the incessant buzzing of the refrigerator motor - the very thing on which you could always rely to ruin the sanctity of silence - it all vanished.

It’d be pretty difficult to miss. 

Only, as it happened - mid stroke, thrusting deep into Heejin’s cunt and her tight body fucked flat into the cushions of the couch - finding the effort to care was simply a bridge too far.

It’s selfish, metastasizing into something wayward, playing the cards you’re dealt. Hands pushing Heejin’s tiny waist deeper into your furniture, and railing her reckless and abandoning all that teasing, the dirty talk - having finally managed to steal back control. It would take more than a force of nature to wrestle it away from you.

“Harder, please, harder,” Heejin rasps, seconds before you fuck her through her first orgasm. Her face sinks, voice flooded by the reality of your cock owning her tight cunt and vibrating through the cushion. “Yours, tell me - I’m yours.”

Without even thinking you do. Twice, punctuated each time by a sharp thrust of your hips into the perfect round of her ass. 

Mine, you say. And it has her absolutely keening.

Pressing yourself into her, your voice in her ear makes her quiver and whimper, like it was the one thing she needed most to help her cum. Heejin just nods, mouth stuck agape, when you call her a total cumslut - near imperceptible when she does, bathed only in the pale moonlight reflecting off all the snow and into your apartment. It’s not necessarily the limits of what you’ve done, what you’ve seen, what you’ve said, but you can see it from here.

“Is this what you want?” you ask, and you can taste all this pleasure coating each word off your tongue as you rail Heejin harder into the sofa, your cock sweltering in the fucked wet mess between her legs. Each time you bore into her, push her higher and higher, it fills her with ecstasy fit to burst. She moans, this foreign sound of depravity, and raises her hips slightly, shifts the angle - has you stabbing deeper, teasing, “do you want me to fuck you like the little cumslut you are?”

She nods again.

“Do you want me to fucking fill you up over and over again? Do you want to feel my cum in your tummy? You’re crying, practically sobbing, darling. All because you’re finally getting fucked and it’s all for me. Can you cum like this? Is my cock pounding your cunt enough for you? Or do you need me to use my fingers too?”

Heejin whines. Knocked down a peg, the realization hits, and it’s clear as day, leaking out of her mouth all filthy and depraved:

“Daddy, please.”

It’s almost unbelievable that this is how it will come together; you deep in her cunt and the soft, milky skin of her ass stained red from the sheer delight Heejin finds only at the end of an open palm. 

Biting ruthlessly into your cheek, you grip tighter to her waist, your other hand thread through her hair keeping her partially upright and ripping your name, curses, incoherence all from her mouth.  

“Then just be good for me, princess.” Your words are pointed, serrated, seeking to maim, to kill -  near as dangerous as the fingers you reach around her hips on onto her soaked cunt. “I’m going to fuck this cunt, you can cum whenever you like - I don’t care - I’m going to keep using it until I’m finished. Until you beg me to fill it again.”

(Okay, so maybe you’re not abandoning the dirty talk. But here’s how you see it: tables always have a way of turning. You’re not seeking revenge or anything like that, it’s just that when it comes to karma, she always arrives right on time and ever more the unexpected.)

-

It takes a substantial amount of shuffling around in the dark to clean yourselves up. Heejin’s dress is irreparably stained, totally fucked; sweat, saliva, your cum, hers - the kind of shit you’d be afraid to ever see under a blacklight - and you’re standing there, exerting just as considerable restraint to refrain from simply pinning Heejin against your closet door and having another go at her as she’s changing out of it.

So together, you’re settling into the darkness, finding a reprieve from fucking each other within an inch of your lives.

From a pitcher in the refrigerator, you filled two glasses with water, handed one to Heejin.

She gulps it down almost immediately, and when you trade yours for hers, she sips it slowly, watching the boisterous storm outside the window. The silence that follows is warm, comfortable, welcome, sits over you like a heavy blanket. 

Every ten minutes or so, an emergency vehicle making slow progress through accumulated layers of ice and snow will illuminate the inside of your apartment with its bright hazard lights. And it’s only in that brief spill of yellow and orange through the window pane where you can see Heejin clearly. 

Around her shoulders is a flannel shirt pulled off one of your hangers, buttons uneven and misaligned. When she had gotten her fingers to the final button and realized she was two short, she just shrugged and let the clothing drape skewed and diagonal over her tiny frame, sleeves hanging far off the end of her wrists. She managed to tie back this loose ponytail with a binder clip she found in your kitchen and it lets you study all the details of her face - without having to run your hand through her hair and hold it back: features elegant and simple, regal and composed, eyes brilliant and gorgeous. The kind of beauty that righteously demands a team of photographers poised for a perfect shot; she tilts her chin, puts a hint of suggestion in her lips, and they scramble to find the next one, all with the desperate intensity of a starving man gnawing at a bone. 

“God. You’re really pretty,” you say, and only when it hits your ears do you realize it came out of your mouth.  

Heejin just smiles, all genuine and natural. Points at the flashlight in your hand. “I think you’d get more light from a cigarette lighter.”

“Fuck, I know, I don’t have any more batteries.” You slap your flashlight against your palm, optimistic. 

Not much more than a dull, pathetic glow escapes its lens.

“Maybe you can steal them from something else?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you answer, “but everything just plugs into the wall these days, what all even still uses batteries?”

“If we were at my apartment, I’d just go take them out of Yeojin’s–”

She pauses, raises an eyebrow and twists her mouth cautiously, sinking into the sofa next to you. Finds your arm around her and folds her legs beneath her into something considerably more compact. 

“Flashlight?” you ask, trying not to grin and sneer, “one of those flashlights with three speed settings?”

A single strand of hair falls in front of Heejin’s face. She blows it away and it stubbornly falls back into the exact same spot on her cheek.

“Promise me you won't write about this. It’s just… I have to tell someone.” 

“My lips are sealed,” you tell her, with the unwavering confidence of someone she could trust - which pragmatically you aren’t, but you’re both looking past all that.

“So this box arrives in the mail one day, right,” Heejin starts, pulling a blanket over herself, “And Yeojin sprints from her room, to the door, back to her room again, so fast that Haseul’s barely finished flipping the page of her book when it all happens. She’s already so small that you blink and you miss her, and in a lot of ways that’s what happened.”

“So she’s back in her room, with the vibrator.”

“Hold on,” Heejin says, tucking her feet into the blanket. “So we’re sitting there in the living room; I’m texting someone, Haseul’s reading something - I can’t remember what, but probably some cheap parlor romance - and that’s when we start to hear it.”

“The vibrator.”

“No,” Heejin says, flicking her eyes back to yours again, “the moaning.”

“Of course.”

“Now, I’m not saying… Look, there’s nothing wrong with masturbation. What’s greater than having sex with the person you love most, right? That’s what I always say.”

“You always say that?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you smartass. Anyway, we’re both sitting there, trying our best to ignore it, but it’s hard because this city’s built on a fault line, and they build these places so cheap so that they can tear them down and start over again without thinking about it, so the walls are, like, paper thin, and then after a while, Yeojin just starts wailing. I’m not kidding, it sounded like someone was trying to kill her.”

“I mean, in a way.”

“Right.” Heejin nods, brows furrowed and letting the memory come back to her, “I look up at Haseul, and she just goes about her business reading on about the adventures of some lovable-probably-clumsy-pretty-but-not-too-pretty-girl meeting the billionaire of her dreams and having all this weird, freaky, earth-shattering sex or something - she doesn’t even say a word.”

“And what exactly is she supposed to say?” you ask, “hey, what’s that noise?”

“That would’ve been better than just sitting in there in silence! Ugh, honestly, the woman’s always got a chip on her shoulder about this kind of stuff. Like, she’ll show up on a Sunday morning, and her knees are bowed and still fucking wobbling (so you know she’s been getting it good. All that irreverent, mind-blowing sex), and she’ll still have the audacity to look at us all judgmental for not going to church or maybe because we’re coming home still wearing last night’s dresses and heels.”

By this point, you notice Heejin has committed fully - with neither shame nor remorse - to stealing your blanket.

“So, I swear to god, I’m going crazy. Haseul’s just sitting there, and I can’t stop listening to Yeojin sobbing and gasping like she’s getting the best fuck of her life, and it’s this thought that grows and grows and grows in my head. I’m getting dizzy just thinking about it. And then, every bit as sudden as it started, it just stops.”

“Good for Yeojin, I suppose.”

“Right,” Heejin says, gesturing with her hand, defeated. “When she finally comes out of her room, her face is so so so red. Like, it looks like the end of a girl’s night out - after we’ve cut her off for the night, and after she’s cried and cried about some cute boy at the bar missing all her patented mixed signals.” Heejin takes a brief look at you, then back out the window, and puffs a small breath out of her chest. “The only thing I can even think at that point is, Jesus, I need to get my hands on that thing.”

“Do you?”

Heejin holds her finger up like she’s scolding your impatience. “So fast forward a few days, I’m digging through Yeojin’s closet when nobody’s home - and let me tell you, it’s like deep space in there, things go in and disappear forever; the other day I heard Sandra Bullock hollering from inside - but eventually, by the grace of god, I find it.”

“The vibrator.”

“The vibrator,” Heejin finally repeats, “This toy is silver, and looks about what you’d expect: like Steve Jobs was tasked with designing a banana. Beyond that, it was so complicated I almost didn’t even use it. Oh, and it wasn’t anything discreet either; there was this light that flashed when you turned it on and it practically lit up the whole room, these O-shaped strobing signals you could use to direct incoming flights at an airport.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t need to steal the batteries,” you suggest, and it makes a smile grow into the corners of Heejin’s mouth. “How’d it go?”

“With the vibrator?” Heejin puts her finger to lip, tracing it in thought. “I mean incredible, game-changing.”

“Better than just now?”

“Different.”

“It’s okay, it’s the twenty-first century, I’m not going to try and compete with a machine here–”

“Different,” Heejin repeats sternly, and you’re willing to drop it. “Come on by sometime when no one’s home and I’ll show you.”

-

“It’s really coming down,” you say once as you gaze into the storm, somewhere in the hours of the night that belong to no one.

Heejin slips further into your shoulder, eyes off the darkness out the window, the snow whipping across its face, looking up at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. “Wonder how long it’ll take for them to remove all this mess from the rails.”

“I’m no expert,” you answer, “could be days though.”

“Bummer,” Heejin says, lips forming a kiss onto your collarbone.

-

“Are you sure you’ve used this thing before?” Heejin asks, resting on her elbows at the kitchen counter and blinking pensively at the French press in your hands. She looked on skeptically while you’d dug it out from a cupboard beneath the sink.

“Yeah, of course I have,” you tell her, exuding your finest false confidence as you run it back; the thing has been sitting in that cabinet collecting dust since you took it home as a white elephant gift almost a year ago. Shameful too, when you start to consider how much money you’ve spent at the coffee shops near your office and your apartment.

Heejin stares into her mug, her face lit by broken sunlight and still wearing that same perfected look. Only now it’s slightly different: hair tousled - rogue locks falling across her face and into the corner of her mouth where she could chew on it if she wanted - skin pale, the beauty mark on her cheekbone dotting her expressions like punctuation, a lack of sleep just beginning to shyly reveal itself beneath her eyes.

“I can see the coffee grounds in this.”

“You asked if I’ve used it, not that I knew what I was doing.”

Her lips curl back, smile huge, holding down either a laugh or a smirk - there’s no way to know - and finally rest atop the rim of the mug. “It’ll have to do.”

Only it doesn’t. Neither of you manage to make it through an entire cup, burnt, acrid, running on undrinkable.

That taste of bitterness lingers long after you’ve swallowed, and fills your mouth again when you press your lips to Heejin’s. She should be taking a cab to the station, should be boarding a train, should be trying to hide how fucked the bottom of her dress had become, should be looking at her roommates smug and gloating when she walks through the door. 

And you should be writing an article - about the girl you’ve seen wail and moan and sob on the end of your cock - who could just as easily turn it around, fuck you senseless like she has a knife at your throat. But this is borrowed time, an oddity, something like a glitch you figure, and you’re reaching under her thighs, pulling her into you like you’d simply hit an off switch on the responsibilities shadowed in your mind.

(You’re abandoning logic here because it’s the most natural thing in the world.)

There’s this reflexive quality to it, the way Heejin wraps her arms over your shoulders and legs around your waist as you lift her onto the counter. Sneaking into the space between long, soft kisses, she asks, grinning because she knows the answer, “If I'm stuck here, what are we going to do to pass the time?”

“I’m going to kiss you, probably.” Your answer comes before you find the shape of her impossibly narrow waist beneath an ocean of baggy fabric.

“Perfect,” Heejin says, voice carefree and charming and perfectly lilting, “and then what?”

“Then I’m going to get you all hot and wet and needy and you’re going to be begging for my cock.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

“Yeah. Guess I am,” you breathe into her neck, and it lands squarely on all this soft skin desperately in need of your lips.

She’s got a hand in your hair firm and grasping at you like she owns you - far less shy than the other at your waist, teasing the elastic of your shorts. “And then what?”

The wrong answer is anything that fails to mention ramming your cock in Heejin’s cunt or your face buried between her thighs and making her cum over and over. You laugh first, and then fail knowingly at the cross examination, “then I gotta get to work on that article, you know.”

Heejin lets out a sigh that could only ever be construed as disapproval. Palms the shape of your cock over your underwear. “Or.”

“Or,” you repeat. It’s her challenge. She can fill the space, continue the thought; you can’t get enough of hearing filth fall from her pretty lips while she looks at you all wide-eyed and perfect and like the princess you want to believe she is.

“You can take this cock of yours; the one I'm begging for right?” she says, fingers running down your underwear, rousing your length and finally cupping your balls. “You’re going to fuck me with it and fill me up with cum.”

“Cumslut.” It’s perplexingly endearing, and you brush your nose against hers, trace your thumb along her jaw, catch the swell of her lower lip on the tip of your finger.

Heejin smiles.

“Daddy,” she says almost cautiously, but immediately starts slipping these quiet little bits of laughter in the silence it creates. She’s yours, your hers, it’s all doomed and fated at this point, especially at this point - scribbled into cosmic law and her eyes holding you like they were made for the very purpose - you’re sure of it. “I’m not letting go of you until you fuck me.”

The heater has been off for hours, so the air in your apartment is frigid; simply getting out of bed was the kind of thing tibetan monks might do - walking across coals, self immolation, venturing out from beneath the warm covers in the morning, that kind of thing. And It has you perfectly content to take that bait in front of you, burying yourself deep in the scorching heat between her legs; turning her around, and doing it again. Making her cum like that and then letting your own orgasm drip out between her thighs.

“I’m not playing around,” Heejin says, having watched you laugh quietly to yourself about the absolute vice she has you in - and beyond the legs pulling you closer.

“One time,” you concede.

“Yeah.” Her hands pump your cock gingerly against your underwear, and Heejin agrees, “One time.”

It doesn't take long. You turn Heejin into this whimpering mess - her legs and hips suspended above the counter and ankles thrown over your shoulder. She falls apart, moaning still like it isn't slicing her voice to bits, all rasped and ruined, and you fuck her through her first orgasm. Her thighs shake and quiver while you fuck her through the second, railing into her cunt like it had insulted you.

“Fuck, that’s amazing,” Heejin pants, head rolling onto her shoulder, and her cheeks are so red you have to believe her. “Oh my god.”

She’d gotten only through half the buttons on her shirt before she became too cock-addled to figure out the rest, and it hangs ever so slightly off each of her dainty shoulders - agape enough for you to watch her small breasts jump every time you thrust into her.

Each long thrust into her heat has both your voices flooding, desperate. The way your thighs slap together all wet and raw only adds to the scene - this fucking filthy score of moans, curses, sex. It’s probably always been your instinct to pound like this: reckless, careless, selfish - and here Heejin is, begging for it.

“Go ahead,” she says, eyes lidded, still catching her breath, and it’s the most seductive thing you’ve ever heard, “I need you - fucking use me, fucking take me - need you to breed me.”

(It’s hot, you think. Maybe you’ll ask about it later. Maybe you won’t.)

So yeah, you cum. 

It’s one of those eye-clenching, blood-boiling, ear-ringing, teeth-gnashing orgasms that has you making a groan so inhuman, so broken and unbecoming, that it has Heejin laughing in response. She’s patting your sides, lips planted on your neck, cooing while your cock continues to ache and pump cum into her wet, fucked hole.

“What was that?” you ask, breath hitching and your body sinking into those light arms wrapped around you.

“What was what?” She’s got it so casual, so carefree, still so utterly charming - it makes you feel as though you were the one who’d said something out of place.

“Um. Don’t worry about it.”

-

Oh, it’s probably written in the stars, this mess between you, orbiting, circling, bound and tied: not even a half hour later, she leans over the sofa where you’ve set up with your laptop, kisses you once, and you’re reduced to nearly nothing but the kind of desire that will curdle into lust and threaten to eat you from the inside out should you refuse to yield to it.

“Really. I can’t. Not now.” It’s bravery or something. You’re lionhearted and incredible and you deserve a pat on the back.

Eyebrows knitted, she pouts at you when you explain once again that you have work to do, those pretty pink lips downturned into obvious disappointment, and you almost, very nearly give in.

-

Heejin pulls a book from your bookshelf four times, flips through it and rejects it, before finally settling on an architectural survey of Frank Lloyd Wright’s greatest hits (you’d also received that in a white elephant exchange).

There’s a photograph of Fallingwater on the front, and Heejin licks her fingers each time she turns the page.

She lands on the sofa next to you, lying long ways with her head resting on the padding of its arm, the same one you’d buried her face into less than twelve hours ago, and the two of you do technically manage to fit, only her feet cram into you and stab sharply into your thigh.

“You, uh, a big architecture person?” you ask, sparing a glance from your laptop to the girl nesting into the cushions beside you.

“Not in the slightest,” she answers, “I’m just bored to tears because someone would rather play with their computer than play with me.”

You give her a more pointed look, probably more akin to the attention those beautiful eyes of hers deserve. “I’m telling you: my editor will hang me from the rooftop if I don’t get this thing in her hands by Monday.” “That seems extreme.”

“Hey, that’s why she gets her salary and I get mine. I’m not paid willing to commit a murder money.”

She holds back a laugh, and leans forward, pulling her knees to her chest. “So what you’re saying is you’re a procrastinator, and I’m the one who gets to suffer for it.”

“Yeah, and you’re blameless after all.” You rake your fingers through your hair, running the past twenty-four hours through your head. “It doesn’t help that we’ve been at it like rabbits.”

“Like what?”

“Like rabbits.”

“Like what?” she asks again, this huge toothy grin stretching across her soft lips.

“Keep it up, go ahead,” you answer, shaking your head, “and who knows, you might just get what you’re asking for.”

-

When the power flicks back to life in your apartment, Heejin stands in the doorway to your living room and flips the wall switch off and on a few times. She has her hand on her chin, as though she’s musing and considering what all the value of electricity might bring - near a hundred of years of civilization now at her fingertips - and you have no idea that she’s about to rip you away from your work with four simple words:

“Wanna take a shower?”

You tilt your chin over the screen of your laptop, and logically, you reek of sex and sweat. Every now and again, you’ll scratch your nose or hold your hand over your mouth and you can still smell Heejin’s slick on you, stuck to you, its indomitable linger.

Heejin simply stares at you like she knows you're hers.

And if you’re thinking logically, you’re making progress faster than you expected on this article, words hitting the page and flowing freely. Logically, it would be near criminal for Heejin to be in your shower, her petite body all soapy, slippery and glistening, and you not there to see it, touch it, fuck it until she’s cumming and moaning your name and the sound of it echoing off all that tile–

“Yeah,” you say, clam-shelling your laptop and tossing it aside, “sure.”

-

There’s a certain quality about the renewed coyness, this sense of competitive playfulness, perhaps something diffident brewing between you, Heejin, and the four walls of your shower.

Leisurely, you both wash as though you’re not dying to jump one another's bones, like you’re both not reliving each and every orgasm on some sort of highlight reel played back through your thoughts.

Water falls to the ground in heavy spurts, loudly splashing after it pools and rolls off your bodies. And inside that cloud of steam, wrapped around you both like a blanket, Heejin catches you staring at her perfect figure just one too many times.

“I’m just cleaning,” Heejin says, voice grasping at its highest register, and she wraps her fingers around your cock. “So, you know, don’t get too excited.”

You’ll spin it around, turn on it’s head, get your fingers gliding along her slippery pussy all the same, and you’re right there with her, saying, “Right, just cleaning.”

“Imagine that.” Heejin’s pumping your shaft, perfecting it with this twist at the end that has you roused and ready and aching for more. “You spend all day, playing hard to get, and I just had to touch you?”

“Who says I’m going to fuck you?” you ask, a little too breathless, a little too obvious of a lie. Heejin presses forward and presses her lips to your chest, little kisses trailing across it.

“Fuck it, me, I’ll say it.” She wraps tight around the head of your cock, squeezing tight and making the water between her fingers squelch. “You’re going to fuck me. You’re going to press me up against this glass, and you’re going to fuck me.”

Heejin’s eyes light up when you smile, laugh because it’s true, and pull her up into your lips.

It’s not particularly a great kiss. It’s maybe a little too wet, far too much tongue, a little mean, but it sets the stage: when you’re cock is finally lined up between Heejin’s lips, teasing - relentless you might add - and her tiny body is pressed so hard into the glass that your only lament is that you can’t see how it looks from the other side.

You slowly enter her cunt, so slow it makes Heejin whine and groan, and you flirt your lips against her ear, “ask for it.”

“Fuck. Give it to me,” she spits, and you can feel her open wider for you when she does. “I need you to fuck me, please, please, fuck me. Or I swear–”

You never hear what’s on the end of that threat, because she doesn’t get the chance to tell you that you fucking better, that she’ll kill you if you don’t fill her up and make her cum, that it’s the literal end of the world if your hard cock isn’t buried so deep in her cunt that she sees stars.

She doesn't get the chance because you’re pushing into her, fast and hard and all at once.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” her voice shakes, curses starting to flow like you’d ruptured a vein. She turns her head, cheek flush with the shower door so that you can see how her eyelashes flutter every time a stroke hits hard against her ass.

It’s intense. It’s calculated. Passionate and uncontrollable. You’ve become so full of contradictions that it has you ready to burst, explosion imminent. You don’t even need to hold onto her hips, because she’s fucking you, jerking her hips back and forth and fucking herself full of your cock - liberating your hands to reach up her sides, gather soap and water and sweat beneath your fingerprints, hold tight to her firm breasts while you bury your face in the soft skin of her neck.

When she collapses to her knees, legs wobbling and pussy quivering off your cock, she doesn’t even say anything. Simply turns and takes you into her mouth, stroking and sucking you until you can’t take it, that fucking tongue reaching all over and spelling out your end–

“Yeah,” you croak, the word some sort of lifeline, a warning, “Heejin, I–”

She pulls you out, lips smacking, and with three words does more damage than you thought she was ever capable: 

“On my face.”

It only takes a few pumps from her hand, her tongue still harassing the belly of your cock, and when she flattens it, opens her mouth wide and ready for a mouthful of cum, she has you simply acting on instinct.

It’s certainly novel, what you’ve just done. It’s in her eyes, it’s on her cheeks, you fucking cum so hard there’s strands of it stuck in her hair and stained to the glass behind her.

“Jesus,” you say, rolling back into the stream of hot water, cleansing your soul of sweat, of cum, of sin, “I just came on your face.”

Heejin smiles, eyes shut like her life depends on it, and puts a hand out expectantly, “yeah, so give me a fucking washcloth.”

-

“I don’t know, I guess I don’t really have any,” you tell Heejin in the breath after she’d asked you what your kinks are.

She leans forward, wipes at the steam covered mirror until you can see her reflection raising an eyebrow at you. “Really,” skeptical.

“I mean, seriously, is that really so hard to believe? I get off to pretty girls. You got me. What a villain I am.”

“Anal,” she says, turning to you and leaning against the vanity counter. Her face is still flushed and you can see the faint outlines of your palms and fingers on her chest, but she seems sincere about it - whatever it is.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think about it?”

“About anal?” You set down your razor, towel off your face. “Sure, why not, but I’m not going to sit here and say it’s my kink.”

Heejin threads her fingers under your chin, along your jaw - admires the fleetingly smooth skin that she might only ever find at the end of a shave, and cocks her head. “Threesomes?”

You laugh at the question, the sheer absurdity of it. “Are you asking or inviting?”

She toys with her fingernail between her teeth before she answers, “asking.”

“Well it depends. Who’s in it?”

“Me,” Heejins says, and she’s got her brows quirked; settles this huge predatory grin into her expression. 

She holds her lips next to yours - never quite kisses them - wraps her arms around your neck, shuffles a little and moves so that she’s straddled between the counter and your waist. She shimmies her hips and you almost groan, because now you recognize it: that’s Heejin’s shimmy. The silly little thing she does whenever she’s asking for sex without having to ever actually say the words.

“It’s a promising start. Who else?”

“You,” she says, flatly a matter of fact.

“Mhmm, okay, maybe I'm in.”

“Honestly, more than anything...” Heejin’s voice trails, and her lips pucker. “I just want to see you buried in Haseul’s ass.”

“Okay then, maybe I’m back out.”

“Sleep on it maybe. Do you wanna know mine?

You recognize the caution filling your throat, and then promptly being neglected when you ask, “Is it breeding?” 

Heejin just smiles, laughs like it isn’t incriminating. Her lips come close to your earlobe, you think she’s going to lick it or bite it or god knows what, but somehow it’s worse:

“I just fucking love your cum.”

-

“Don’t you have somewhere to be–”

You’re not annoyed with her; it’s just that yesterday night was when the trains started moving again, and now it’s almost five o’clock on a Sunday and you’re wondering when this particular journey comes to an end, if it comes to an end. There should be a credit scroll, a fade to black, some sort of keystone to socket in place, you figure, and you’re asking what should be an obvious question.

“–or at least some place you can get yourself a proper pair of pants.”

Leaning over the back of the sofa, eyes scanning your laptop, Heejin ignores the question entirely.

Year of the Rabbit: Heejin, the girl next door, only farther away than next door.

Sometimes she’s blonde but dark at the roots, sometimes she’s tall but only with the help of certain shoes. She’s everything, anything she ever wants to be.

When she first sat down, she wandered into the interview like a second semester-senior, not only at ease with the system, but a little beyond it.

“Hold up, what the hell is this title?” she asks, pointing to the top of your document. “You’re so far up your own ass there’s even a colon right in the middle of it.”

“It’s a work in progress,” you say as you slouch into the sofa, “and besides, the beauty comes out in the edits.”

“I certainly hope so,” she says, worrying the corner of her lip between her teeth, and fixing her eyes back on you. “I was planning on staying for dinner.”

“Of course you were.”

-

You decide, possibly against your better judgment, to walk Heejin back to the train station.

Although the city had resurrected itself, like Lazarus after a party where the guests had run out of wine (you’re not totally sure about this one), and started to put all its miserable pieces back together, the sidewalks are still a total fucking mess. You’re both there trodding along, navigating through the absolute, dreadful shitslop of snow and dirt when Heejin asks, “You’ll call, yeah?”

“Sure,” you answer, like it was in your power to resist the very idea of it.

“Hey. After all, if you don’t, I know where you live.”

You point in the direction of the turnstiles. “Mildly threatening.”

“I could always wait in the bushes.”

You agree, tugging gently on a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. “You absolutely could.”

#heejin smut #loona smut #male reader #loona heejin smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

[harveywritings92]

[Pokemon au.]

Gaz: *mopping the floor.* Who left all these muddy claw prints on the floor?

Soap: Sorry, Luv. Pinchy (His Krabby) got all dirty in the backyard chasing Pidoves, but don’t worry. I put him in a nice hot bath.

R/n:*sniffing the air* Hey, what smells so good?

Soap: Yeah it’s ki- Pinchy?  Pinchy?! *hyperventilates* PINCHY!!!!!!! 

(Runs out of the kitchen anxiously, Cut to the dinner table. Soap is crying while eating the cooked Pinchy)

Soap:*chomps* Man that’s good. (sobs) Pass the butter. (wails)

R/n: (hands him the butter) Are you going to eat that all by yourself?

Soap: Yea. Pinchy would have wanted it this way. Aw…M'dear sweet Pinchy! (pats Pinchy) No more pain where ya are now, boy. 

(he tears Pinchy in half and drinks the meat out of him) 

Soap: Oh Arc, that’s tasty. I wish Pinchy were here to enjoy this!

{Gaz pats his sobbing boyfriend on the back, while he and R/n give each other the side eye, both thinking the same thing, “I don’t think Pinchy would enjoy it as much.” they go back to comforting Soap.]

Soap: (sobs) Oh, Pinchy.

#call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #john soap mactavish #soap x gaz #kyle gaz garrick #platonic reader #gn reader #cod pokemon au #pokemon crossover #krabby

[lwde-encrusted-sideblog]

Since you mentioned Ruby in your massaging series why not a story about her and Jaune massaging her thighs

Ruby plonked herself down on a chair of the room they were renting, rubbing the Rubooty because of how sore it was. Walking across a continent had it's downsides, but at least she hadn't skipped leg day.

Jaune: Ren and Nora are all set up in thei- Are you good Ruby?

Ruby: I- yeah, I'm just sore from all the walking. My legs are killing me.

Jaune: I could give you a massage?

Ruby: You know how to give massages? Like, actual massages, not just what you see on T.V. ?

Jaune: Yeah! I got my license- not on me, but in general.

Ruby: Okay, Sure! I'd kill for a massage right now!

Jaune: Well, great! Just lay on your stomach please!

Ruby: *lays down on the Bed* Now what?

Jaune: It would be easier to work on your muscles without working through your leggings, and I don't want to rip them. Could you take them off?

Ruby: *Slight Blush* Uh- okay? Is this good?

Jaune: Great! Just let me know where to go and when to stop! I'll get going with your ham strings!

Ruby: Oh- Oh! Ah!

Jaune: You okay?

Ruby: Y-Yeah! Wow that feels- Pinchy? I don't- Ah~

Jaune: *Pressing further up her leg* Wow, you are Really tense! Thanks for letting me do this Rubes! You'll feel great afterwards!

Ruby: *More Blushing* I- Ah~ I feel good r-right now! Oh~

Jaune: *Moves to other leg* Huh. Maybe it has to do with my semblance? Or something?

Ruby: Uh- Y-Yeah! m-Mayb- AHn~ (Don't tease me like that you Butt!)

Jaune: Alright! great! Thanks for letting me do this. It feels nice making others feel good!

Ruby: It Fe-EELS GOOD!

Jaune: *Close to her butt again* That's music to my ears Ruby- Just, remember let me know If I do something you don't like.

Ruby: *Super Blush* I will!

Jaune: *Diggin his fingers into Ruby's ass* Wow! You're really soft down here!

Ruby: AHN~ Th-Thanks Jau-AUNE~

Jaune: You okay? You're getting kinda loud!

Ruby: Keep- Keep going until I tell you to stop!

Jaune: Why does everyone act like this?

Ruby: ev- evryone?

Jaune: Everyone except my Family. I guess Arc's are just built different! *Squeeze*

Ruby: Wha- AAAHHH~

Ruby's whole body tensed before unbinding itself, all the physical stress leaving her body as she came on the bed.

Jaune: Oh! Geeze Ruby, you relaxed a lot- you just peed! I can get the front desk-

Ruby: NO! I- I mean I'll handle it. Don't worry about it!

Ruby Petals bursts, grabbing the wet sheets and blankets while pulling Leggings up to hide her shame.

Ruby: Wow ... His hands are Magic ... I need to have them for myself!

~~~~~

Weiss: What do you think has got Harriet so ...

Yang: Wound tight and relaxed?

Weiss: But only around Jaune?

Yang: Yeah, It's weird.

Weiss: Maybe he walked in on her taking care of herself.

Yang: Or he took care of her~

Weiss: Look, Yang, I've grown to care about Jaune as much as the rest of you, but do you know how crazy that Idea is? You've met Jaune, right?

Yang: Yeah, yeah. C'mon, let's go ask Vomit Boy. He'll talk to us, or if he doesn't whatever he doesn't say will tell us everything!

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby shitpost #ruby rose #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #lancaster #asks and answers #lwde #rwby smut #rwby lemon #paybackcity1 #masseuse arc au

[the-seas-song]

Tumblr is being extremely weird right now and won't let me answer @transexualpirate's ask about why I hate Tony/Pepper. This post is my answer to him:

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, my life got crazy.

The short answer: Pepper emotionally abuses (and slut-shames) Tony from IM2 onward.

The long answer: Pepper's behavior is extremely subtle, and a lot of people miss it. Unfortunately, it's been so normalized (at least here in the US) that a lot of other people will deny – and even defend! it. However, I grew up with family members like her and I have a background in psych.

I have to start this off with a disclaimer: I CAN'T be objective/un-triggered when talking about Pepper Potts or Peggy Carter (we don't shoot at someone just because we have a crush on them and they kissed (got assaulted by) someone else!)

Anyway, back to Pepper. …. I thought I could write out a full analysis without getting too triggered, but I can't. So I've included links to some great articles that cover the nuances of emotional abuse:

https://nycchildtherapy.info/emotional-abuse/ (Pepper checks almost every box on this list)

(scroll down to the 4 horseman) https://www.marriage-family-counseling.com/good-marriage.html

Personally I feel like the term 'gaslighting' gets overused, but it's definitely applicable here:

How do you know that you're being gaslighted? A victim experiences increased self-doubt as the gaslighter insists that what he or she remembers, thinks, and feels is wrong. The manipulative individual will introduce lies in more sensitive arenas, aiming to disrupt and distort foundational aspects of the victim’s being, wearing them down, establishing confusion, and forcing them to rely on the gaslighter’s version of reality.

Passive-aggressiveness is just as insidious as gaslighting:

Passive aggressive people take genuine pleasure in frustrating others. They are masters at getting others to act out their angry feelings--to explode and appear crazy--while the passive aggressive person sits back and watches the emotional outburst with satisfaction, total control, and always with their own poise intact.

Here's the transcript (and my commentary in [brackets]) from IM3 (a transcript can only do so much, because a lot of this is tone of voice as well as word choice):

[later Pepper returns to Tony's home, as she gets out of the car she sees a large stuffed rabbit outside the house that Tony has bought for her as a gift, she walks inside]

Pepper Potts: I'm sorry I'm late. I was... What the...? What is that?!

[she notices Tony sat in his Iron Man suit on the couch]

Pepper Potts: You're wearing this in the house now? What is that, like Mark 15? [criticism and sarcasm]

[Tony looks at the small number marked 42 on the suit]

Tony Stark: Uh...yeah. Something like that. You know everybody needs a hobby.

Pepper Potts: Oh, and you have to wear your hobby in the living room? [passive-aggressiveness]

[Tony rises and walks toward her]

Tony Stark: Just breakin' it in. You know, it's always a little pinchy in the gooey bag at first, so.

[Tony shakes his ass and Pepper laughs]

Tony Stark: Oh hey, did you see your Christmas present?

Pepper Potts: Yes, I did. I...I don't know how I could have missed that Christmas present. Is it gonna fit through the door? [more sarcasm and passive-aggressiveness]

Tony Stark: Well actually, uh...it's a good question. I got a team of guys comin' tomorrow, they're gonna blow out that wall.

Pepper Potts: Okay.

Tony Stark: So, uh...tense? Good day?

[Tony walks up behind her and starts massaging her shoulders]

Tony Stark: Ooh shoulders, a little knotty. Naughty girl. I don't wanna harp on this, but did you like the custom rabbit?

Pepper Potts: Did I like it? Tony Stark: Nailed it, right? Pepper Potts: Wow. I appreciate the thought very much. [even more sarcasm and passive-aggressiveness; withholding the validation Tony's seeking]

[Pepper turns to face Tony, she rises from her seat and stands close to him]

Pepper Potts: So why don't you lift up that face mask and give me a kiss? [not only takes control of/manipulates the situation but makes it physical/sexual]

[Tony knocks the metal helmet on his head]

Tony Stark: Huh. Yup, dammit. No can do. You wanna just kiss it on the...

Pepper Potts: Uh-huh.

Tony Stark: The facial slit?

Pepper Potts: Well, why don't I run down to the garage and see if I can't find a crowbar to shimmy that thing open?

Tony Stark: Crowbar. Yeah.

[Pepper starts walking towards Tony's lab]

Tony Stark: Oh, except there's been a...uh...a radiation leak.

Pepper Potts: I'll take my chances.

Tony Stark: That's risky.

[Pepper walks down the stairs to Tony's lab]

Tony Stark: At least let me get you like a Hazmat suit or a Geiger counter or something like that.

[Pepper sees Tony is in fact not in his Iron Man suit, but in the lab exercising as he remotely controls the suit, which follows Pepper into the lab]

Tony Stark: Busted.

Pepper Potts: This is a new level of lame. [explicit criticism and contempt]

Tony Stark: Sorry.

[Pepper notices the food tray in the corner]

Pepper Potts: You ate without me? Already? On date night? [passive-aggressive criticism, even though she was the one late and didn't call ahead]

Tony Stark: [referring to Mark 42 suit] He was just...

Pepper Potts: You mean you?

Tony Stark: Well, yeah. I just mean we were just...just hosting you -

[Pepper scoffs] [passive-aggressive contempt]

Tony Stark: -while I finished up a little work.

Pepper Potts: Uh-huh.

Tony Stark: And yes, I had a quick bite. I didn't know if you were comin' home or if you were having drinks with Aldrich Killian.

[Mark 42 suit turns its face toward her]

Pepper Potts: What?

Tony Stark: What?

Pepper Potts: Aldrich Killian? What are you checking up on me? [defensive accusation]

Tony Stark: Happy was concerned. [THE TRUTH]

Pepper Potts: No, you're spying on me. [gaslighting]

Tony Stark: I wasn't...

Pepper Potts: I'm going to bed. [Pepper turns and starts walking off] [passive-aggressive power play]

Tony Stark: Hold on. Come on. Pep.

[as Pepper starts walking upstairs]

Tony Stark: Hey, I admit it! My fault. Sorry. [NO ITS NOT]

[Pepper stops and looks at him]

Tony Stark: I'm a piping hot mess. It's been going on for a while, I haven't said anything.

[Pepper walks back down]

Tony Stark: Nothing's been the same since New York.

Pepper Potts: Oh really? Well, I didn't notice that, at all. [sarcasm]

Tony Stark: You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. Gods, aliens, other dimensions. I...I'm just a man in a can. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you moved in. Which is great. I love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep. You go to bed, I come down here. I do what I know, I tinker. [he pauses for a moment and sits down]  [lots of healthy I statements!]

Tony Stark: But threat is imminent, and I have to protect the one thing that I can't live without. That's you. My suits, they're uh...

Pepper Potts: Machines. [gaslighting]

Tony Stark: They're part of me.

Pepper Potts: A distraction. [GASLIGHTING]

Tony Stark: Maybe.

[Pepper walks towards Tony and they hold each other. He rests his head against her chest and she removes his headband that controls the Iron Man suits]

Pepper Potts: I'm gonna take a shower. 

Tony Stark: Okay.

[Pepper turns to walk off, then stops and looks at him]

Pepper Potts: And you're gonna join me. [sexual control/manipulation instead of validation and comfort]

Tony Stark: Better.

[later that night, as Tony and Pepper are sleeping, Tony starts having nightmares about when he was in New York with The Avengers and had to get rid of the nuke in space, Pepper wakes and starts to shake Tony awake]

Pepper Potts: Tony! Tony! Tony! Tony...

[suddenly Pepper gets grabbed and shoved off Tony by Mark 42 suit, this wakes Tony who commands the suit]

Tony Stark: Power down!

[the suit shuts down and Tony hits it making its pieces fall apart, he looks over at Pepper who is in shock]

Tony Stark: I must have called it in my sleep. That's not supposed to happen. I'll recalibrate the sensors. Can we just...just let me...just let me catch my breath, okay?

[Pepper rises and starts to leave]

Tony Stark: Don't go, alright? Pepper?

Pepper Potts: I'm going to sleep downstairs. Tinker with that. [verbal attack and gaslighting]

[Pepper leaves the room]

Pepper has every right to be scared and upset here. She does not have the right to take it out on Tony – especially since he is obviously still in the middle of his ptsd episode. Even then, his immediate response is to take responsibility and explain the actions he's going to take to keep it from happening again. This is incredible! Most people aren't able to do this in a normal setting, much less during a ptsd episode.

And we know Tony's still going through it, because he then desperately begs her not to leave. And not only does she leave, she does it while blaming him and Iron Man. But Iron Man didn't create Tony's trauma. The wormhole did. The Iron Man suits are the only security blanket Tony currently has.

Lets contrast this with Steve. MCU!Steve (and Stony) are not nearly as abrasive or antagonistic as people make them out to be. In fact, the reason why Steve's “Oh God, Tony! Every time. Every time I think you're seeing things the right way...” and Tony's “And you’ve been a complete idiot!” hit so hard is because they don't normally talk this way. They don't insult or verbally attack each other (at least, not since the helicarrier)

AOU is a perfect example:

Bruce Banner: This is insane.

Steve Rogers: JARVIS was the first line of defense. He would've shut Ultron down, it makes sense.

Bruce Banner: No, Ultron could've assimilated Jarvis. This isn't strategy, this is...rage.

[Thor barges in and grabs hold of Stark by his throat, holding him up]

Clint Barton: Woah, woah, woah! It's going around.

Tony Stark: [to Thor] Come on. Use your words, buddy.

Thor: I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark.

Steve Rogers: Thor! The Legionnaire.

[Thor lets go of Stark]

Thor: Trail went cold about a hundred miles out but it's headed north, and it has the scepter. Now we have to retrieve it, again.

Natasha Romanoff: The genie's out of that bottle. Clear and present is Ultron.

Dr. Helen Cho: I don't understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?

[Stark starts laughing, Banner subtly shakes his head at him to get him to stop]

Thor: You think this is funny?

Tony Stark: No. It's probably not, right? Is this very terrible? Is it so... is it so... it is. It's so terrible.

Thor: This could've been avoided if you hadn't played with something you don't understand.

Tony Stark: No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It is funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this.

Bruce Banner: Tony, maybe this might not be the time to--

Tony Stark: Really?! That's it? You just roll over, show your belly, every time somebody snarls.

Bruce Banner: Only when I've created a murder bot.

Tony Stark: We didn't. We weren't even close. Were we close to an interface?

Steve Rogers: Well, you did something right. And you did it right here. The Avengers were supposed to be different than SHIELD.

Tony Stark: Anybody remember when I carried a nuke through a wormhole?

James Rhodes: No, it's never come up.

Tony Stark: Saved New York?

James Rhodes: Never heard that.

Tony Stark: Recall that? A hostile alien army came charging through a hole in space. We're standing three hundred feet below it. We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the live long day, but, that up there? That's... that's the end game. How were you guys planning on beating that?

Steve Rogers: Together.

Tony Stark: We'll lose.

Steve Rogers: Then we'll do that together, too.

[Stark looks at him for a moment before turning away] 

Steve Rogers: Thor's right. Ultron's calling us out. And I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place. Let's start making it smaller.

I bolded the verbal attacks, you statements, and sarcasm – all of which come from Thor and Rhodey. Steve's angry and feeling triggered (he is obviously flashing back to SHIELDRA and Howard and Peggy's betrayal), but he's not using abusive speech patterns to express his anger.

[Steve and Tony are chopping wood outside Barton's house]

Tony Stark: Thor didn't say where he was going for answers?

Steve Rogers: Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things. [looks at Barton with his kids] I was kind of hoping Thor would be the exception.

Tony Stark: Yeah, give him time. We don't know what the Maximoff kid showed him.

Steve Rogers: “Earth's Mightiest Heroes.” Pulled us apart like cotton candy.

Tony Stark: Seems like you walked away all right.

Steve Rogers: Is that a problem?

Tony Stark: I don't trust a guy without a dark side. Call me old fashioned.

Steve Rogers: Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet.

Tony Stark: You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?

Steve Rogers: Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question.

Tony Stark: Banner and I were doing research.

Steve Rogers: That would affect the team.

Tony Stark: That would end the team. Isn't that the mission? Isn't that the “why” we fight, so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?

Steve Rogers: [rips log apart] Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die. Every time.

Tony is the one who escalates the conversation here (“Seems like you walked away all right.”) – Steve's angry, but his tone is conversational and he's opening up to Tony. His response to Tony is sarcastic (“Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question.”); but it's still direct, and he still isn't using any insults. He's expressing his anger in a mostly healthy way.

[Steve and the twins turn up at the lab]

Steve Rogers: I'm gonna say this once.

Tony Stark: How about “nonce”?

Steve Rogers: Shut it down!

Tony Stark: Nope, not gonna happen.

Steve Rogers: You don't know what you're doing.

Bruce Banner: And you do? She's not in your head?

Wanda Maximoff: I know you're angry.

Bruce Banner: Oh, we're way past that. I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade.

Steve Rogers: Banner, after everything that's happened--

Tony Stark: That's nothing compared to what's coming!

Wanda Maximoff: You don't know what's in there!

Steve Rogers: This isn't a game--

Wanda Maximoff: The creature--

[Pietro uses his speed to destroy the lab equipment]

Pietro Maximoff: No, no. Go on. You were saying?

[Barton shoots the glass Pietro is standing to stand to destroy it, and Pietro falls through]

Wanda Maximoff: Pietro!

Clint Barton: What? You didn't see that coming?

Tony Stark: I'm rerouting the upload.

Bruce Banner: [to Wanda, as he grabs her] Go ahead, piss me off. [After some fighting, Thor enters and hits the cradle with his hammer, sending a powerful bolt of lightning through it that brings the body to life] Wait! [they all look in shock at the new entity]

[Vision launches himself at Thor, who throws him at a window, but he catches himself right before hitting it.]

Vision: [In JARVIS' voice, as everyone gathers around him] I'm sorry, that was...odd. [to Thor] Thank you.

Steve Rogers: Thor, you helped create this?

Thor: I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life and at its center is that. [he points to the gem inside Vision's head]

Bruce Banner: What, the gem?

Thor: It's the Mind Stone. It's one of the six Infinity Stones, the greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities.

Steve Rogers: Then why would you bring it to...

Thor: Because Stark is right.

Bruce Banner: Oh, it's definitely the end times.

Thor: The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron.

Vision: Not alone.

Steve Rogers: Why does your “vision” sound like JARVIS?

Tony Stark: We... reconfigured JARVIS' matrix to create something new.

Steve Rogers: I think I've had my fill of new.

Vision: You think I'm a child of Ultron?

Steve Rogers: You're not?

Vision: I'm not Ultron. I'm not JARVIS. I am... I am.

Wanda Maximoff: I looked in your head and saw annihilation.

Vision: Look again.

Clint Barton: Yeah. Her seal of approval means jack to me.

Thor: Their powers, the horrors in our heads, Ultron himself, they all came from the Mind Stone, and they're nothing compared to what it can unleash. But with it on our side...

Steve Rogers: Is it? Are you? On our side?

Bruce is the one who insults Tony here (and poor Steve just wants to understand what the hell is happening).

Back to Pepper. A lot of people forget that Rhodey was the only one who wanted Tony to grow and change:

James Rhodes: You don't respect yourself, so I know you don't respect me.

Tony Stark: I respect you.

[cut]

James Rhodes: You are constitutionally incapable of being responsible.

[cut]

James Rhodes: That's what I'm talking about. When I get up in the morning and I'm putting on my uniform, you know what I recognize? I see in that mirror that every person that's got this uniform on got my back!

Tony Stark: Hey, you know what? I'm not like you. I'm not cut out...

James Rhodes: No, no. You don't have to be like me! But you're more than what you are. And you don't see it.

Tony Stark: Can you excuse me if I'm a bit distracted here?

James Rhodes: No! You can't be distracted right now! Listen to me!

Contrast this with Pepper and Happy:

Tony Stark: Same drill. They've been dealing under the table, and I'm going to stop them. I'm going to find my weapons and destroy them.

Pepper Potts: Tony, you know that I would help you with anything, but I cannot help you if you're going to start all of this again.

Tony Stark: There is nothing except this. There's no art opening. There is no benefit. There is nothing to sign. There is the next mission and nothing else.

Pepper Potts: Is that so? Well, then, I quit. [Pepper throws the lock chip on the table.]

Tony Stark: You stood by my side all these years while I reaped the benefits of destruction. And now that I'm trying to protect the people that I put in harm's way, you're going to walk out?

Pepper Potts: You're going to kill yourself, Tony. I'm not going to be a part of it.

Tony Stark: I shouldn't be alive, unless it was for a reason. I'm not crazy, Pepper. I just finally know what I have to do. And I know in my heart that it's right.

Pepper Potts: [Pepper picks the lock drive back up.] You're all I have, too, you know. 

And:

Happy Hogan: Yeah, I miss you too. But the way it used to be. Now you're off with the 'superfriends', I don't know what's going on with you anymore. The world's getting weird...

When we are in a relationship with someone (it doesn't matter what kind) and they grow and change, we are left with the choice of either growing ourselves, or walking away/growing distant with that person. 

Pepper does neither. She uses emotional abuse to try to control Tony and manipulate him into acting the way she wants him to act – giving up Iron Man and living a selfish civilian life as her kept genius.

This is in direct contrast to Rhodey, Yinsen, and Steve, who see that Tony has had the potential to be “Earth's Best Defender” all along.

#Tony Stark #anti Pepper Pots #anti Pepperony #Steve meta #Stony #Mine #Tony

[missamyrisa2]

Literally drooling to your latest milking post I wanna do that to a sweet boy… and yes all us girlies are very VERY interested in what you’ll do to our lovely mounds.. and our sweet flower… please enlighten us with your torture

How utterly perfect it will be to wreck an adorably sweet boy together ~ letting him struggle so adorably in his girly bonds while we divvy up that blushing sensitive body and orchestrate the milking ~ I can work those hip dips with my thumbs making him buck and pelvic thrust right to your milking hand ~ get him all worked up while we coo and fawn over every sound so that we can introduce our sweet dear to a venus milking machine, sliding his royal rod into that soft teasing trembling sleeve ~ and take turns holding the device in place and operating it while we surround the royal area with pinchy graspy spidery tickles ~ when using a milking device the key is to augment and support, making sure every tickle serves the milking so that he'll never be able to control one bit of what we're doing to his body ~ every sensation urging him along the edge comes from us ~ and we ensure it takes as long as possible of course, because we want the most tickled soft milkygasm ever~<3

And while he gasps and tingles into fuzzy madness in the aftermath, we can giggle over postorgasm tickles ~ skittering nails on his underarms, taunting those muscles which were of no use to resist the bullying we just gave him ~ until you see that little sneer forming on my lips. Ooh yes darling, my lust for tickle milking is not satiated yet ~ and you're next on my list.

Oh yes, this list of tickle milkees which I just happen to have in my shorts pocket and ooh look, it has your name next ~! Mmmhmm ~ sooo if you're just cooperate with me, I'm going to tackle you with tickles as you try to slip away, laughing and squeezing you affectionately as I tickle your belly and sides with my rubbing thumbs ~ then down to those hips and thighs ~ ooh yes, we have to work all that resistance out of you my girly girl ~ and looook I've just hooked your top and now it went flying. What a funny thing ~ is your cute chest undie going next? Yeahhh? Ooh I think it is ~ time for your inspection girly ~ let's see those royal buttons ~ don't fight me ~ I'll tickle your armpits until you squeal and give up ~ and guess what? I'm gonna do it anyway~ let's get you good and giggle weak, ohh yes~

Mmhmmm just as I thought two, gorgeous girly buttons on this chest ~ let's seeeee mmmh ~ that doesn't tickle does it, that feels gooood ~ little kissess on this button ~ and ooh yes, that one ~ little brushessss from my lip and tongue ~ mmhmm get them niiice and stiff for me dear ~ we have work to do here. Let me just grasp this one gently and we'll rub it with my fingers ever soooo lightly ~ oooh, are your buttons a bit ticklish? Little ticklish nipples? Let's see how bothered we can get them. I have this fluffffy fluffy brush just perfect for naughty girly buttons. Oh yes, that one tooo but let's see hereee~ brushy brushy booooo~ right on that girly button on the left, and yes, on the right. Don't struggleee ~ I'll kiss your buttons until you moan ~

There we gooo, look at thatttt soooo hot and bothered here. Does it feel so good? Is that waking up your girly pearl too? I think you neeed some ~ cupping~ oh yes. Naughty cute girls get their buttons milked, that's the rule. I have two delightful little flowery buds here ~ see? They're like little buds that open up and I can place one right here on this regal nubbin and then we pump it like soooo ~ ooh yes, just feel that delightful tightness it's like a lover's mouth mmmh~ and I have one for your other nubbin toooo~ pumpy pumpy ~ don't fight it ~ that's just gonna make it worse ~ we'll get you alllll gently squeezed up and worked up so I can milk every sensation from you ~

And while the flowers love on your chest buttons I think we need to get these bottoms off. Ooh still feisty? Maybe? Yeah? Let's tickle your waist ~ mmhm I can trace that lovely waist while your buttons get their milking and~~ uh oh! all your motions can just make it ever sooo much worse up there. You can't not laugh, you can't not squirm ~ I knowwww yeahh it's sooo bad ~ oooh sooo bad, tickles soo badd. And looook now your bottoms are being tugged down. Such a naughty girl. Almost as naughty as our boy over there ~ look he's still writhing soo sweetly ~ wasn't that fun? Almost as fun as it's going to be taking my lovely nail here to your sweet girly pearl ~

Yessss little nail tickles right through your soft panties. I see you're already worked up huh? Is it just sooo bad, having your girly buttons loved on like that while I taunt your most royal button through this soft material? You want it sooo bad but nnnope unnh uhhh~ you don't get to gigglecum yet ~ just fuzzy milkings for my girl ~ Liiight little scratches up and down until you're nothing but squeaks and weak squirms ~ and then we'll tug these cute undies down and away they go into my pile of prizes from my milkeees ~

Ahh what a sweet pearl, all worked up and volunteering for her milking. I have the perfect tool for such a lovely clitty ~ ooh yes, look at this slender vibe ~ and why yes, that tube tip is a suction device ~ it's going to snugly hug your button and give so many delightful tickly sensations. It's like an excited friend who just wants to hug on your girly part sooo tightly ~ and she can't be deterred oooh noooo ~ just light touches on each side of your pearl, we're gonna coax it out oh yes. Draw out all your tickly arousal you naughty dolll ~

And with your buttons all being worked overrr I think it's time for the mound milking~! You didn't think I'd forget about all that cute wetness did you? Oh yes, I think we're going innnnn ~ and you know, I love these devices and such but there really is no substitute for the hand milking, is there? Or should I say ~ the finger milking ~ did you ever notice how long my fingers are? You will now~ loook how long and wriggly this issss~

There we goooo tickly wiggly finger through your curtain and we go exploring now ~ I know your most ticklish silly hidden girly button is in here ~ and I will find it oooh yes, I have my Gee seeker on ~ mmhmm beeep beeeeeep beeeep ooh up here maybe? Quiet, quiet now ~ you'll interrupt the mission. No gigglemoans on this channel ~ this is a secure channel, a very ~ serious ~ mission ~ ahhh bzzzzttt yesss we've found it, the buttony tickly treasure ~ and you know what we do with ticklish hidden buttons right? We milk them for all they're worth ~

How many gigglemoans are you worth mmm? How does that feel, the little buds squeezing and milking your royal chest buttons, my adorable buzzy friend keeping your pearl all hot and bothered, and now my wiggly finger strumming that delightful gee to pieces ~ Does it tickle?

Oh you can gigglecum whenever you want darling ~ just know I'm not going anywhere, and the moment you do I'm going to tickle your button all the way through before popping those chest milkers off and then we'll get to explore how very incredibly sensitive you've become up there ~ with kisses and licks and suckling on each one while my fingers rub your hips to your sides and ribs and armpits all the way through ~ you have sooo many giggles and moans we need to milk out ~ and our boy can just enjoy the show now as you are paid back in full for all the teasing you gave him ~<3

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Normies

Winter Prompts Masterlist | Winter Prompts List

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompts: Fruitcake/ Old-Fashioned/ Learning-to-Love

When Eddie turned up to the park bench with his metal lunch pail, you realized that your request for ‘help’ hadn’t been clear enough. You bought a half-ounce out of guilt—the guy came all the way out there, and brought his lunch pail, after all. As you tucked the half-ounce away into your bag, and before Eddie could disappear, you cleared your throat. 

“Uh—I actually wanted to ask if you could help me with one more thing?” 

Eddie’s gaze swept you curiously, brows creeping up toward his bangs. 

“Uhhhh…I’ll do my best…Especially now that you’ve sparked my interest.” 

--  

You paid him for his time—you insisted on it. Your parents had no idea that you were taking guitar lessons from Eddie Munson. Even after his name was cleared, the town still had some misconceptions about him. You’d never believed them—you’d had a fair few classes with Eddie while you’d been in high school. He’d always offered insightful comments—ones that your teachers and fellow students often dismissed. 

Every Monday and Wednesday, you took the guitar that you bought at the pawn shop and went over to Eddie’s trailer. You'd been practicing for a few months, and had come along from scales to learn a few songs. Now, you sat on his bed, and did your best not to scowl or grumble or curse when you didn’t hold the strings down hard enough, or when your fingers wasn’t just right. 

“You’re doing that pinchy-face thing again.” 

“...What pinchy-face thing,” You muttered, gaze set on your fingers, and the guitar’s frets. It was only a second before one of Eddie’s ringed fingers waggled in your face before poking the tip of your nose. 

“That one.” 

It caught you so off-guard that you burst into giggles, your head jerking back. 

“I was focusing!” You insisted, meeting Eddie’s gaze. He was smiling sweetly at you, eyes sweeping your face. Your stomach fluttered with it, and your hurriedly lowered your gaze to your hands again. 

“I was focusing,” You repeated in a grumble. 

“...Can I ask you something?” Eddie asked. 

“Sure.” 

“Why’d you wanna learn to play?” 

You bit your lip. “I, um…I needed something to do with my hands when I couldn’t sleep.” 

“The weed not doin’ it?” 

"Not every time.” 

Your fingers slipped, sliding further down the fretboard. “Oh—Son of a bitch.” 

Eddie chuckled, clambering onto the bed behind you. 

“Eddie! You still have your shoes on!” You screeched. 

“S’okay, don’t worry about that—here.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as Eddie pressed up against your back. He slid his hands down your forearms, smoothing his fingers down to curl around yours. You felt his chin hook around your shoulder as he peered down at your hands. 

“You’re getting all annoyed and making that pinchy face, so your fingers are sliiiiidin’ around. You’ve just gotta relax.” 

With Eddie’s easy guidance, you played O, Christmas Tree. You bit your lip as Eddie guided you through it again.

“See?” He murmured, “You’ll get the hang of this in no time.” 

You glanced back toward him, your nose brushing the apple of his cheek. The two of you went still and quiet for a moment. 

“Thank you,” You mumbled. 

“...Sure.” 

It was another moment before Eddie leaned away from you, gently removing his hands from yours. He scooched around in bed to flop down beside you. 

“So,” You cleared your throat and began to work at the song again. “What are you doing for Christmas?” 

“Uh…” 

Your gaze flitted to Eddie, and you found him looking a little uncomfortable. “Probably just gonna be me and my baby here,” He said, nodding toward his guitar. 

“What about your uncle?” 

“He’s got a shift at the plant.” 

“On Christmas?”

“Yeah. A double. He’s covering for someone.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. I’m used to it.” Eddie gave you a small, tight smile. You bit your lip, looking down at the fretboard. 

Your mom might not approve. Your dad might hate it. But—

“You should come to my house for Christmas.” 

--  

Your mom hadn't loved the idea, but when you'd explained a little bit—when you'd told her that Eddie had no one to spend Christmas with, and would probably be eating canned soup—she relented.

"Just, no devil-worshipping talk at the table, please," Was her only request.

You weren't sure who was more nervous on the day—Eddie or you. You were surprised when Eddie turned up in a warm-looking sweater and a pair of khaki pants, his hair pulled back into a ponytail. He’d brought flowers for your mom, and a bottle of wine for your dad. You could never have imagined seeing Eddie like this. 

“Where did you get the sweater?” You asked when the two of you had a moment alone. 

“I borrowed it from Steve. The pants, too. Are they—You know, is it good?” Eddie asked, looking down at himself.

“You look great, Eddie, but,” You glanced over your shoulder to see if your parents were coming in, “I’m a little surprised.”

“Well, you wanna dine with the normies, you gotta dress like a normie, right?” 

“You could’ve just worn your own clothes.” 

“Good to know if they ever invite me back.” 

“Nice touch with the wine and the flowers, by the way.” 

“That was Nancy’s idea.” 

“Who did your hair?” 

“...Robin.”

You smiled, reaching up and gently brushing a wisp of his bangs that had escaped. 

“I’m kinda digging the group project vibes, Munson.” 

His smile widened, his forehead gently butting against your fingers. You reached out, taking his hand and leading him into the living room. 

“C’mon, I’ve got something for you.” 

“What? No, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to. Besides, we always make a stocking for someone that comes over for Christmas.” 

“A stocking?” 

“Uh-huh. And I actually um—Well. You’ll see.” You let go of Eddie’s hand, half-jogging over to the mantel and sliding the stocking off of the hook. You looked down at it nervously. It was too late to back out now. You’d dyed the red fabric of a stocking black, and ironed on a Metallica patch. You turned toward Eddie, holding it out to him. He took it, eyeing the stocking, his eyes sweeping the patch. A smile pulled at his lips, his fingers clutching it tightly. 

“...Thank you,” He managed, “Where’d you even get this?” 

“Oh, you know, I just—I dyed it and added the—thing,” You admitted, tucking your hands into your pockets. Eddie’s eyes flitted to you, eyes bright. 

“You made this?” 

“Kinda? I mean, I altered it, you know.” 

“This is the coolest—Oh, man, I love it.” Eddie grinned. “Thank you.” 

You relaxed a little, giddy butterflies still swirling in your stomach. “You’re welcome.”

“Kids! Dinner!” Your mom called in from the kitchen. “Don’t eat all of the candy from those stockings, you’ll spoil your dinner!” 

“Wait, there’s candy in here?” Eddie asked, opening his stocking and peering inside. 

“You can eat it later,” You chuckled. 

--  

“Your parents are kinda cool.” 

You glanced over at Eddie, leaning back against the wall of his van. You’d told your parents that you’d see Eddie home (and had been warned that you shouldn’t be out past midnight). He’d parked up in a field, and the two of you had climbed into the back and lit up one of his prerolls. 

“I think they liked you,” You admitted. “I mean…They were kinda nervous about you coming over, ‘cause of some of the stuff last year, but I think they realize that you’re a good guy.” 

“You tell them I was?” 

“Of course I did. ‘Cause you are.” You glanced at Eddie as you took the joint back from him. He was leaning against the opposite side of the van, watching you in the van’s low light, swirled with smoke. You took a pull from the joint before you pushed yourself up to sit beside Eddie. You passed him the joint back before you reached up. Your hands hesitated at his head. 

“Can I…?” 

Eddie nodded before he tipped his head forward a little bit. 

“Ugh, please. It’s starting to give me a headache.” 

You smiled, gently loosing the hair tie from his head. 

“Promise me the next time you come over, you won’t dress like Steve and give yourself a headache for my parents’ sake.” 

“I promise,” He chuckled. You hesitated before you slid your hand up to massage the crown of his head, where the ponytail had been pulled all evening. Eddie groaned softly, head tipping forward. You smiled as he leaned into you a bit. 

“Thanks,” He mumbled. “I really appreciate you inviting me for Christmas—and making me the stocking and stuff. Think it’s probably one of the nicest things anyone’s ever done for me. Like…Top five.” 

“Happy to be in the top five.” You lowered your hand from Eddie’s head to your lap. He scooched closer, resting his head on your shoulder. You smiled, reaching out and snagging the Metallica stocking from beside you. 

“Want a twix?” 

“Oh, hell yeah,” Eddie nodded. You opened the wrapper, drawing one out and holding it out to him. 

“Thanks.” 

“Sure.” 

“...You’re really cool, you know,” He mumbled around his mouthful. 

“You are, too, Munson.” 

You turned your head, nuzzling his head gently. 

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.” 

Tag list: @amneris21 ; @elen-aranel ; @brandyllyn ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight

#Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson imagine

[harveyb-wabbit92]

Ingo: *mopping the floor.* Who left all these muddy claw prints on my floor?

Emmet: Sorry, Bro. Pinchy (A Krabby) got all dirty in the yard chasing Pidoves, but don't worry. I put him in a nice hot bath.

Y/n:*sniffing the air* Hey, what smells so good?

Emmet: Yeah it’s ki- Pinchy?  Pinchy?! *hyperventilates* PINCHY!!!!!!! 

(runs out of the kitchen anxiously, Cut to the dinner table. Emmet is crying while eating the cooked Pinchy)

Emmet:*chomps* Man that's good. (sobs) Pass the butter. (wails)

Y/n: (hands him the butter) Are you going to eat that all by yourself?

Emmet: Yea. Pinchy would have wanted it this way. Aw...My dear sweet Pinchy! (pats Pinchy) No more pain where you are now, boy. 

(he tears Pinchy in half and drinks the meat out of him) 

Emmet: Oh Arc, that's tasty. I wish Pinchy were here to enjoy this!

{Ingo pats his sobbing brother on the back, while he and Y/n give each other the side eye, both thinking the same thing, “I don’t think Pinchy would enjoy it as much.” they go back to comforting Emmet.]

Emmet: (sobs) Oh, Pinchy.

#s: the simpsons #pokemon incorrect quotes #submas #roommate au #subway boss ingo #subway boss ingo x reader #platonic! Subway boss Emmet #fem reader #krabby

[iguana-eyanna]

do i hate you or do i just need to kiss you

Pairing: Lewis Capaldi x Singer! Reader

Summary: For some reason, both you and Lewis hate each other. But that changes after one night being forced to be with each other in an enclosed space

"Hold the elevator please!" You yell out loud.

You were muttering under your breath, as your heels were killing you at one of the award shows you were nominated for. You were really looking forward for tonight. This was your second time being nominated and you hoped to bring your first award home.

But, a certain scottish songwriter had to steal your spotlight once again.

Yes, you had quiet feud with the famous singer, Lewis Capaldi. You two were often stuck with one another at award shows or events. People thought you two would be a good fit with each other, but each interaction was filled with wallowing and grumbling under breaths.

You were about to thank the person who waited for you to get in the elevator and you see Lewis again, who didn't look too happy as he just saw you fighting with your poofy dress.

"Oh, just my luck," you muttered under her breath.

Lewis rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "Can't escape me, can you?"

You resumed silence as you pulled in the entirety of your dress inside and pressed the floor that you wanted to go up to, as most of the singers booked rooms above the banquet hall at the venue.

Lewis just stared at you as you were clearly not wanting to be here and in his rare moment, decided not to say anything that can turn into a fight.

Could this night get any worse?

The rest of the ride was silent until the elevator jolted to a stop, plunging them into sudden darkness. You let out an exasperated sigh, while Lewis groaned.

"Great, just what I needed," you grumbled, trying to press the emergency button but no one replied right away.

Lewis pulled out his phone, seeing that he had no reception, and just decided to turn on his flashlight.

"I think the elevator thinks your dress is too much." Lewis chimed in, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Like your personality?" You snapped back at him, clearly upset.

As minutes turned to what felt like infinity, the two musicians exchanged impatient glances. The tension was palpable, and the silence became unbearable.

Each of you chose a corner to sit down. You chose to take off your pinchy shoes and you looked at Lewis who was mildly bored.

"You know," you finally broke the silence, "it's not like I planned for this to happen."

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "What, getting stuck in an elevator with you?"

You smirked. "Oh, please. As if I'd choose this."

"Well, it's not on my list of preferred evening activities either," Lewis retorted.

"Since we're talking about that, why don't you entertain me on what you'd rather be doing now?" You ask, crossing your arms.

"Psh, like you want to know." He says, shaking his head. He looks over to your shoulder as you await his answer.

"Wait, you're serious?" He asks.

"I got nowhere to be." You said, leaning your back against the cool metal.

Lewis looks down at his lap and thinks a bit.

"I'd be watching Love Island."

"Wait, wasn't your ex on the show?" You ask.

"Yeah, but I skipped the season she was in, she kept on mentioning that I wrote a song about her."

You couldn't help but stifle a chuckle until you started to laugh hysterically.

"I am so glad I'm not you!" You said, also making Lewis join in your laughter.

As the two of you were still confined in your small space, something shifted. You two spoke more compared to any of the small encounters you had in public. You and Lewis started sharing about early struggles in the industry, the sleepless nights spent perfecting lyrics, and the moments when you both doubted your own talents.

You began to shift closer to Lew, your past frustration giving way to a faint smile. "You know, for someone who's my 'rival,' you're surprisingly... human."

Lewis chuckled. "You're not the ice queen everyone thinks you are either."

You share a fake gasp as you hit Lewis playfully in the shoulder.

"Hey um... I wanted to say that I really thought you were going to win tonight. Your album really blew me away."

"Wait, the Lewis Capaldi listened to my music?" You fake gasp.

"I'm trying to compliment you and you're making fun of me?" He asks, crossing his arms at you.

"I'm sorry, not used to you sharing something nice about me." You explained.

"I kinda deserve that. But truly, I hope you get the next nomination. You really deserve it."

You give him a small smile, feeling a sort of flutter in your chest.

"Thank you." You said, slightly blushing.

Lewis comes closer to you, staring at your beautiful eyes in the dim lights gave from your phones.

"Have you ever listened to my stuff?" He asks, amusingly.

"Occasionally." You whisper.

His eyes glint at how you're slightly teasing him.

"I feel like you're holding back with me, love."

You slightly scoff when he calls you that.

"What?" Lewis said.

"I didn't say anything." You replied, trying not to be obvious.

"That lil' scoff you did when I called you love. You're flustered, aren't ya?"

You stare at him with disbelief.

"You know what? I remember why I didn't like you in the first place." You said.

"Oh, so we're being like that again. For a minute I thought you were pretty cool but you're still childish." He bit back.

You got up from where you sat and placed your hands on your hips.

"You're incomparable, Capaldi."

He got up and crossed his arms.

"You're a menace."

Both of you began to burn up with tension, and for some reason, you attacked his lips with a kiss.

Lewis held you tightly on your waist as your hands went through his hair, making him slightly whimper. The kiss began to grow deeper and deeper until a groan was made by the elevator and the harsh fluorescent light turned back on.

You and Lewis broke out of your embrace in a flash, too stunned to realize what each person had done. The elevator opened and you two stared at a few hotel staff and the maintenance who quickly apologized for what happened.

"It's uh - it's alright." Lewis said in a whisper, quickly brushing his light brown hair away from his face.

You nodded in agreement, already grapping your clutch purse and shoes.

"I'm just going to take the stairs." You said in a hurry, quickly running away from the scene.

Lewis was about to run after you, but his manager stopped him in his tracks, trying to see if he was alright.

He just looked at you slightly jogging away, out of his grasp.

+

You were in your bed, sipping on some wine as you indulged watching the bachelor to forget what happened in the past several hours.

You didn't just kiss your archnemesis, no. You kissed someone that you couldn't STAND. How is this possible? You two were bickering in that enclosed room, and then it led to a courteous conversation, then back to fighting, then you combing through his soft locks as your mouth discovered his -

"Stop it." You mumbled to yourself, gulping down your wine to momentarily forget what happened tonight.

Suddenly, you heard a soft knock on your door. You wanted to ignore it, but something told you to at least check who it was. You got up from your bed and put on your slippers, looking through the little peephole in your door.

There stood a slightly anxious Lewis who had his hands in his pockets.

You opened your door and he was slightly bewildered, not thinking you'd opened your door for him.

"He-Hey. I um, I asked your manager where you stayed. I wanted to check if you were alright."

"Yeah, I'm... I'm alright. Just trying to forget I guess." You said, motioning how you were watching reality TV with some wine.

"Well, the thing is that I - I really don't - want to forget, if that makes sense." Lewis said, trying to choose his words carefully.

"Look Lewis. I don't know what came over me. Maybe I just wanted to shut up that cute face of yours -"

"You think I'm cute?" He asks, smirking.

You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You just love choosing what you want to hear, don't you?"

He shrugs casually as you see how he started to relax a bit.

"I'm sorry. But on a serious note, I feel like I haven't given the best impression of myself to you. I want you to know the real me, someone who doesn't make very obnoxious jokes when he's nervous around pretty girls."

Now it was your turn to smirk as you cross your arms across your chest.

"So, you admit I'm pretty." You said, smiling.

"Okay, okay. I get it, it's annoying." He said.

You unroll your hands and you smile at him, leaning closer to your door.

"I'd love for us to get to know each other. There's this breakfast place I saw nearby the hotel, want to go tomorrow around 10 AM?"

"You're making plans so quickly?" He asks, impressed.

"Well yeah, I need to act fast before I remember why i hate your guts."

"Hate's a strong word." He said, making the two of you laugh.

"But yeah, tomorrow morning sounds good. I'll meet you here."

"Yeah, let's not take the elevator though. I don't like kissing before the first date." You joked.

He smiled before he slowly walked away.

"Agreed, night!" He said, waving to you as you did the same.

You close your door and lean on it for a second, exhaling as you smile to yourself.

This was definitely going to be a night to remember.

#enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers trope #lewis capaldi #lewis capaldi x reader #lewis capaldi fic #lewis capaldi fluff #lewis capaldi imagine

[duckapus]

Just Another Day at Luigi's Flower Shop

Idea for an episode with an unusual format; The main plot follows a character outside of the crew, while the crew are having one of their usual big chaotic adventures in the background.

The focus character is Amitie from the Puyo Puyo series, who Luigi has hired to help out at his Flower Shop. There's a few reasons he decided to hire some help. The first is that, with the shop gaining popularity and taking up more of his time, having employees around to shoulder some of the load just makes sense for maintaining a healthy work-life balance. There's also the fact that he's constantly getting dragged into the rest of the crew's bullshit or called on to help deal with some major crisis, and in both cases he currently has to close up shop whenever that happens. If he's not the only one working there, it can stay open during regular business hours even when he's inevitably dragged off into adventure kicking and screaming.

Anyway, Amitie's there for her first day at work, and dealing with the usual trappings of a retail job in the heart of the Mushroom Kingdom. That is to say, Idiots, Karens, Memes, the actual Karen as one of the few actually decent customers, and an attempted holdup by Wheeler (Shroomy's career criminal grandpa who stole Mario's liver that one time) that she manages to solve through a Puyo Puyo match because of course she does. Also Marcy buys a cactus for her apartment and names it Pinchy.

Meanwhile, Professor E. Gadd buys some fertilizer to experiment with, and ends up creating a giant plant monster that swallows him whole and attacks the city. The crew jumps in to stop it as usual, grabbing Luigi to help since he's the one most knowledgeable about plants. They spend basically the entire episode fighting it in the background, with Bob making at least one hentai joke because of course he does, and then Meggy and Mario get the idea to defeat it using the flower shop's entire stock of weedkiller. Mario uses the Professor's credit card to pay for it on the grounds that he's the one who caused the problem so he's gonna pay for the solution.

Then at the end of the episode when the giant plant stuff has been resolved and Luigi and Amitie are closing up shop we get this exchange;

Luigi: Sorry your fist day was so hectic.

Amitie, as bright and chipper as ever: That's okay Mister Luigi, I was kind of expecting it.

Luigi: Really?

Amitie: Yep! You and your friends kinda have a reputation. If I didn't think I could handle crazy stuff like that I wouldn't have applied in the first place!

Luigi: That's a relief. I was honestly worried you'd run off screaming an hour in like the last few hires.

Amitie: Oh, you definitely won't have to worry about that from me!

Amitie, suddenly extremely grim and serious: Because I really need this job, and I don't care what I have to do or who I have to go through to keep it.

Luigi, shivering slightly: . . .

Amitie, back to cheerful: Well, see you tomorrow Mister Luigi!

Luigi, after she leaves: ...Yeah, she'll fit right in with us.

#smg4 #smg4 ocs #puyo puyo #episode idea #amitie puyo puyo #luigi #luigi's flower shop #smg4 karen #smg4 wheeler #marcy bobowski #professor e gadd #bob bobowski #meggy spletzer #mario #seemed like a fun idea #reblog if you too would die for pinchy the cactus #running that kind of business by yourself when you have the lifestyle luigi does is just not sustainable #wheeler exists to cause problems on purpose #i'm using a puyo puyo protagonist i had to include an actual match somewhere #you go the entire episode with amitie acting basically exactly how she does in the games #and then those last few lines sucker punch you with the reminder that she's an smg4 parody character

[invisibleraven]

Compliments! Your smile lights up a room, sweet tarts

"Alright people, pleaces please!" the PA called out, and Carrie took in one last deep breath before she struck her pose. Modelling wasn't the top of her list for life ambitions, but it paid the bills, and it was only until she could get Dirty Candi their record deal.

Plus, well, it did come with some perks. The free clothes and swag was always nice, and it wasn't like she minded all the attention.

But it was the cute photographer that kept getting assigned to her shoots that she really liked.

Reggie had been the one to shoot her first campaign; a fall ad for GAP that was shot on the hottest day of summer, with her frolicking in fake leafs all bundled in wool and tweed. But he brought something out in her, and that first shot was what netted her job after job.

"Come on Carrie, let's see those pearly whites!" he called. "You smile lights up a room doll, so let 'em see it!"

Carrie giggled despite herself and smiled all the wider, circulating through the crowd for the Dior ad, wearing a dress that made her feel like a million bucks. Quite an upgrade from the GAP anyways.

Snap after snap, pose after pose, Carrie kept smiling, letting her mind drift to when all this would be a funny anecdote she told people. When she had her name in lights due to her talent and not just her looks.

"Alright, everyone, we're going to change lenses and readjust the lighting, so take 5!" the PA called out.

Carrie sighed, letting her posture slump, and kicked off the awful pinchy shoes. Those she would donate if they offered them to her, make no mistake.

"Great job doll," Reggie said, offering her a water bottle.

"Thanks," she said, sipping at it delicately, not wanting to have to do much make up adjustment. "You booked to do the Vogue shoot next month too?"

"Alas I have a conference with National Geographic then, so I think you'll have to put up with Brett for that one," Reggie said apologetically.

Carrie wrinkled her nose. Brett was alright, but he didn't have Reggie's skill and he always smelled vaguely homeless (and high). "Wait, National Geographic?"

"Yeah, I do more than ads you know, I contain multitudes," Reggie sassed. "But honestly I did one of those genetic tester kits and found out I'm like 3% Ashkenazi Jewish, so I did a photo essay on rediscovering my roots."

"You're Jewish?" Carrie clarified.

"Non-practicing," Reggie said with a half shrug. "Unless my MeeMaw is visiting."

"That project sounds so cool. My dad always said he wanted to do something similar to go find his roots in the Philippines," Carrie said wistfully, and when Reggie sent her an odd look she grinned. "I'm adopted."

"Oh cool, so am I!" Reggie exclaimed. "My parents weren't the best kind of people, and my grandparents weren't equipped to handle a teenager, so my friend Julie and her family took her in. Ray Molina is the best dad a guy could ask for, he's the one who got me into photography."

"Wait... your dad is Ray Molina?" Carrie clarified. "Dad to superstar Julie Molina?"

"I mean, yeah?"

"I would kill to meet her. See if she has tips on getting signed. Also ask for embarrassing Reggie stories," Carrie gushed.

Reggie blushed. "Well next time she's in town I'll introduce you."

"Places!"

"Maybe after the shoot I could even tell you some of those stories myself?" Reggie offered. "Over pizza and beer if you're allowed?"

"I am owed a cheat day," Carrie hummed. "Sounds perfect."

With that she kissed his cheek and dashed off to fix her lipstick and take her place. And there was no need to fake her smile while she was facing the camera. Especially not with Reggie's equally blinding one looking right back at her.

#filled prompts #ficlet #jatp sweet tarts #julie and the phantoms

[rygoespop]

Thomas and Friends: Tales from Sodor (Story 112): The Feared and The Brave

Happy 2024 everyone! Here’s the first story to kick off 2024, enjoy!

Narrator: The Feared and The Brave

Scene opens at Brendam Docks, as a Rail Ferry arrived

Narrator: One day, at Brendam Docks, a pair of visiting engines arrive

The drawbridge lowered, revealing Gator as he puffed off the Rail Ferry

Salty: Yargh! Well I’ll be, Gator! Good to see you again!

Gator: Hello Salty! Long time no see!

Vinnie: *blew his whistle as he puffs off the ferry* Hurry up Gator! I wanna get this done!

Gator: Ok ok Mr. Grumpy Tender!

Scene transitions to Tidmouth Sheds, where the 11 Engines (Thomas, Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, Percy, Toby, Emily, Molly, Rosie, Stanley, and Rebecca) are at their berths and Toby on a siding

Narrator: One day, at Tidmouth Sheds, the engines were excited to see who the visiting engines are

Percy: Oh I’m hoping its Gator

James: Nah, I think its Axel

Stanley: Hoping its Sam, he’s friendly since he helped us build that museum

Just then, a whistle was heard

Thomas: That sounds like-

Percy: Gator!

Gator: *puffs in* Hello Everyone! It’s good to see you all again

Molly: Hello Gator, its great to see you again

Gator: Yes Molly! It’s great to see you too!

Vinnie: *blew his whistle* Alright Gator, that’s enough with the introduction

Thomas: *shocked* Oh no! Not him again!

Vinnie: Hello shrimp! We meet again!

Gator: Thomas! You know this engine?

Thomas: Yeah! He caused trouble during the Great Railway Show on The Mainland

Flashback shows footage of The Great Race

Emily: He almost tried to hurt Philip!

Vinnie: Pipsqueak had it coming

Thomas: Well I stopped you!

Percy: Gator, how did he come with you?

Gator: Well Percy, on the way to Sodor from Colombia, we had to make a stop in North America to pick up Vinnie

Just then, Sir Topham Hatt showed up

STH: He’s right, I called both The Colombian Controller and The American Controller to have Gator and Vinnie help out on expanding a new railway on the Island

Henry: New railway?

Gordon: What do you mean sir?

STH: It’ll be a while, but in the meantime, all of you get to work!

Scene transitions to Molly pulling 3 Express Coaches

Narrator: Soon, everyone got to work

Gator blew his whistle as he pulled 5 Trucks full of crates

Gator: Hello Molly!

Molly: Oh, hello Gator

Gator: Carrying Passengers?

Molly: Well, y-yes! I sometimes take the express

Gator: Well, that is kind of brave to see you pull something that is deemed scary

Molly: Y-yes, yes it does

Scene transitions to Vinnie arriving at Knapford Yards

Narrator: Meanwhile, Vinnie is up to old tricks

Vinnie: *sees Philip* Ah ha! There you are!

Philip: *shocked* Oh no! Not again! *oiled away*

Vinnie: *puffs after him* Come back here shorty, I wanna play with you!

Billy was puffing down and across a rail crossing pulling 3 Flatbeds of Oil Drums

Billy: *stops after he sees Philip* Philip?

Philip: Billy! Look out!

Vinnie: *crashes into the flatbeds as oil splashed on him* Raugh!

Billy: Hey! *crossed*

Vinnie: No where to run this time!

Philip: BoCo help me!

Just as Vinnie got up to Philip

Diesel 10: Hey! Leave the runt alone!

Vinnie: *sees Diesel 10* Oh, you again! Time to finish what we started!

Diesel 10: Come get me! *he clamps Pinchy and oiled out of the yards*

Vinnie: *blew his whistle as he puffs backwards* Get back here!

Scene transitions to Vinnie chasing after Diesel 10 through the countryside

Narrator: Soon, Vinnie and Diesel 10 raced through the countryside

Vinnie: Come back here! I’m gonna enjoy this!

Diesel 10: You’ll never catch me!

Diesel 10 oiled onto The Fenland Track, as Vinnie got on the same line

Diesel 10: Hope you like swimming in the marsh! *honks his horn as he oiled fast and off the bridge*

Vinnie: Huh?!

The section of the bridge broke and Vinnie crashed into the Muddy Marsh

Vinnie: Oh!?! Ah no!

Narrator: Vinnie crashed into the Muddy Marsh!

Scene transitions to Gator, who arrived with Rocky, to get Vinnie out of the Marsh, Sir Topham Hatt was there

Narrator: Soon, Gator arrived with Rocky to get Vinnie out of the muddy marsh, to make matters worse, Sir Topham Hatt was there, and he was crossed

STH: I don’t know who do you think you are Vinnie, but when you’re on my railway, you should have some respect, and I’m sure your controller is annoyed about this

Vinnie: Yes sir, sorry sir

Scene transitions to Gator shunting Vinnie to the Steamworks as the sun sets

Narrator: Soon, Gator shunted Vinnie all the way to the Steamworks

Gator: Hey, look on the bright side Vinnie, at least we’re here to help build an expansion to this railway

Vinnie: You know, your right Gator, we’re here to help out

Gator: That’s what I like to hear!

Vinnie chuckled as the camera pans to his mouth as he secretly makes an Evil Grin

Vinnie: Soon, I’ll get back at them

Gator: What was that?

Vinnie: Oh uhhh.. Nothing!

Gator: Oh

Steam clouds rolled in

Story End

#thomas and friends

[ghostzzy]

since apparently i am now in the habit of posting my post-top surgery updates in the middle of the night:

after the puking last night, things have been way smoother. i’m off the pain meds! and now just using edibles as i need them to take the edge off. the drains are also getting much less uncomfortable as the days go on, thank god, and i coughed a lot less yesterday, so that’s good. the incisions are a little pinchy and stingy sometimes but right now the primary discomfort is actually just from my abs and my ribs. my core is not used to being used and my ribs are notoriously slippy and sticky thanks to my eds so the wrappings and the laying-in-one-place-for-hours isn’t super comfortable. but again, it’s not unmanageable. all of this has been really surprisingly manageable as far as pain goes.

van came to visit yesterday and that was rly nice! and i caught up on gbbo with my mom. and everything has been pretty chill. i’m a little bit sad i cant go to my dad’s and participate in thanksgiving - mostly i miss my brother - but my mom & grandma & i will watch the parade and the dog show in the morning and that’ll be nice. actually i’m sadder i wont get to see mishka on her birthday tomorrow ;-; she’s just too rambunctious to be around while i’m this slow and have tubes hanging out of me. but van says i can facetime her.

but yeah all things considered i think i’m doing really well. like physically and emotionally. haven’t cried or freaked out at all yet, being very patient and asking for help without shame, taking it easy, listening to my body and what it needs, etc etc. so far so good. <3

#and now unfortunately i have to wake my mom #to undo my mummy’s tomb of pillows so i can go piss. #she’s being really very supportive and graceful in taking care of me and i really appreciate it #but i am looking forward to not having to wake her in the middle of the night anymore 😭 #izzy.txt

[echo-of-sounds]

teddy bear collection?! could we see? 🥺👉👈 if you want to share of course! i don't want to sound creepy

Yeah, of course! It's not creepy at all. These are my newest! The panda is Harry, and the brown bear is Rumpletum. They're my first Jellycat teddies :3

This is my Gund collection! Their names are (back row, left to right) Finley, My First Friend Teddy Bear (he doesn't have a given name), Philbin, Pinchy, and Slumbers. In the front row, from left to right, are Ripple Toothpick, Toothpick, Kai, Snuffles, and Fuzzy.

I also have these four that I've had for a while. They aren't from anything in particular. The green one is a Build-a-Bear from over fifteen years ago. The smaller one on the right is an angel bear.

#not bnha #personal? #i just love bears so much #jellycat #gund #teddy bear #asks #anon

[mtreebeardiles]

Restoration, Epilogue

And that’s a wrap, folks! Thanks so much to everyone who read! 

Also on AO3!

English Countryside

Marshall-Coats Estate

2191 CE

 "Explain to me again why I can't just go talk to my fiancé?"

 The two little girls sitting across from him both sighed, rolling their eyes to add to their collective exasperation. 

 "Because," Caitlin began, folding her hands atop the table and eyeing him. "You're getting married. It's bad luck."

 "I thought that was only if a groom sees a bride," Shawn pointed out. "Neither of us is a bride."

 The two girls looked at each other, as if considering this angle for the first time. Madeleine tapped her chin while Cait drummed her fingers against the table. 

 "Too risky," Madeleine declared. 

 "Agreed," Cait said with a sharp nod. She eyed Shawn again. "Why take any chances?"

 Shawn bit back a smile even as Everett snorted from where he was adjusting Kaidan's tie. 

 "Some risks are worth taking," he informed the girls, and he smiled this time as two sets of eyes narrowed upon him, raising his hands up in surrender. "But I suppose I can wait a little longer."

 "Girls!" Lydia stuck her head through the door, spotting her two wayward children. "There you are! C'mon, you've got to get dressed!"

 "I don't like the pinchy shoes," Maddie grumbled as she slid off her seat and padded after her big sister. 

 "You don't have to wear them until its time," her mother was assuring her as she ushered the girls out ahead of her. She turned to look Shawn over, flashing him a tired but happy smile. 

 "You look amazing, love," she remarked. "You lot all set in here?"

 "I think so," Shawn said, glancing over at his brother as he gave Kaidan's vest a final pat. "Thanks, Lydia."

 "Think nothing of it," she said, waving it away. "It's high time we had another thing to celebrate around here, and I can't think of anything better than this."

 "Did the other sister not get married here?" Evvy asked once Lydia had gone. He settled at the small table beside his brother, Kaidan taking the seat opposite. 

 "Noreen? No. They held that wedding in London, nearer to where her wife grew up," Shawn replied. "It was too…painful, I think, at the time, though I know they've had other celebrations here since. Birthdays and such for the older family members."

 "This place is pretty amazing," Kaidan admitted. He and Everett had gone for walks along the property every day since they'd arrived, taking in the sights, the quiet, the calm. "Kinda reminds me of my parents' place, out in the orchard back home."

 "Has that same sort of atmosphere, yeah," Evvy agreed. He clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Think you're ready?"

 And Shawn wasn't sure how to answer. In some ways it felt like he'd been ready before he even knew Leigh, before he even understood that he could have something like this. Maybe it hadn't been very specific, that feeling, that want, and maybe it didn't necessarily need to play out like this, but the sentiment was the same: to find himself. Find where he fit. Connections of so many different sorts, threads strung between one person to the next, foundations to build because he chose to build them. 

 A family, in every beautiful iteration of the word. 

 "Shawn!" 

 EDI this time, dressed in a sharp suit and tie that matched Evvy's and Kaidan's. "It's almost time."

 He smiled, taking Evvy's hand and giving a squeeze. 

 "I'm ready," he replied. 

 ----

 They kept the wedding party small, but not the wedding itself. Inevitable, really, with the sheer number of blood relations Leigh had, with the additional bonds formed beyond familial ties, and for the first time Leigh could remember in recent memory every single cottage on the estate was at capacity. Loved ones from nearby, loved ones from out of the country, loved ones from off-planet and he was infinitely grateful for Kaidan and Everett's assistance when it came to finding appropriate dextro options for their Quarian and Turian guests. One of the fields made do for games and sport, Krogan energy expended with plenty of room for them to spread out, and he was grateful the girls hadn't bruised themselves too much in their attempts to greet one another according to Krogan custom. 

 Still, the look on Lydia's face when Cait had expressed a desire to join Urdnot one day still set him quietly laughing to himself even days later. 

 It was getting to be that time, the ceremony set to begin just before sunset, and Leigh knew he didn't have many moments left to spare. With Noreen covering for him he quietly slipped away, out of the house, careful to tread along the worn path to keep dirt and mud off his shoes until he reached the grassy knoll a quick walk from the main house. Trees of varying types and heights surrounded him but his feet turned unerringly to the right, picking out the path from memory alone until he stood before a young, study oak. 

 He reached out, fingers trailing along its bark. 

 "Hey dad," he whispered. "Thought I'd pop by and chat a little before things get too wild. You know how these Marshall-Coats weddings can get." He trailed off, throat tight. 

 He swallowed past it. 

 "I'm sorry I haven't been stopping by as often as I should," he went on. "Work, you know? But I know you do. And I don't blame you for the choices you made. It was a different world, back then, and you only ever wanted to keep us safe." He leaned in, resting his forehead against the trunk. "It's a different world now, too, different even in just the past few years. Change is like that sometimes, I guess. I know I've changed, and I think I can safely say that it's been for the better.

 "I met someone. Maybe you already know that. He's… he's really something. I love him more than I thought I could ever love someone. He chose me, and I chose him back and… I'm sorry you didn't get to meet him. I'm sure you would've approved." He huffed out a laugh, reaching up to swipe at his eyes. "He makes me…so fucking happy, dad. It wasn't easy getting here, and it was…it was pretty dark, I think, darker than I wanted to admit to myself. But I stumbled through, and I kept walking, and… maybe there wasn't much I could do, for the people who had their choices taken away from them. Too soon, too young. The ones who're here with you, now, all these new trees… But I have my choices, and I can keep making them. And I'm going to. I'm going to choose me, and I'm going to choose him, and… I'm going to choose us. This family, these people. This place. For as long as I can."

 "Leigh?" 

 Noreen, her voice hushed but insistent. "It's about that time."

 "Okay," he said, sniffling as he pulled back from his father's tree. He heard her come up behind him, laughed a little as she reached up and dabbed gently at his cheeks with a handkerchief. 

 "What kind of best woman would I be if I didn't make sure you looked stunning on your wedding day?" she teased, her smile soft. Knowing. 

 "Thanks," he whispered. Her smile widened and she offered him her arm. 

 "Let's go," she said. "Wherever they are, I'm sure they're happy for you, Leigh."

 ----

 The ceremony almost felt like a dream. 

 Soft lights strung in the boughs of trees, sky providing just enough cloud cover for a spectacular twilight, and it all felt a bit liminal, a bit ethereal, and he started to wonder if any of it was real. 

 But then Leigh was there, walking towards him, Noreen giving him away, and it was real when he smiled at him, real when he took his hand and held it, real when they turned to the speaker presiding over their ceremony. And he'd been surprised at the lack of raised eyebrows when they'd revealed their desire to have Bakara conduct the ceremony. But the Krogan Councilor was a dear friend to them both, bonds forged and strengthened in aligned aspirations to guide the galaxy in a new direction -- a better one, they hoped, for those who would come after. Arrayed to either side of them were members of their small wedding party -- Noreen joining Gabby and Kenneth and her wife, while on Shawn's side Everett, Kaidan, EDI, and Joker were beaming. Out in the crowd, he knew, were more friends: Miranda, Gianna, Charley, Liara. Two whole rows had been given over to Geth guests. Tali and Garrus, James and Ash and Piper, Jack and Samantha. So many more than Shawn would have ever imagined, and he fought not to think of their gift to him the night before: 

 A new hoodie, one that would turn out to match others that each of them had, bearing the insignia EDI had created for the Normandy. 

 "You're part of the Normandy family, Shawn," Joker had said when he'd presented it to him. "Our family."

 Leigh, they'd promised, would get his once they made things official.

 He bit the inside of his lip, refocusing as Bakara began to speak. 

 There were many Earth customs for marriage, and they had opted for something simple: announcements of intent, declaration of their love, vows to hold, to have.

 To choose, every day, a path they could walk together towards a mutual happiness they would build together. 

 I promise, Shawn said. 

 I promise, Leigh echoed. 

 Rings exchanged, proudly presented by Cait and Maddie, and the first tears started to slip the moment Leigh put Shawn's on for him. Started falling in earnest when he saw the raw emotion on his partner's, his husband's face, and then they were kissing, laughter caught between them, tears mingling until it was impossible to tell whose was whose. 

 As it should be, he thought. 

 Choosing this, choosing them, choosing their future together and whatever it may bring… he rather thought they'd earned a good, happy cry.

#my writing #Restoration #Shawn Shepard #Leigh Coats #shawn x leigh #Everett Shepard #Kaidan alenko #mass effect #EDI #Joker #a real labor of love here hahah