i want you foggin' up my windows

just so you know, i want you foggin' up my windows ,

               and i know that you like my hands on your throat .

                                                       • • • • •

                                                indie multi-chara smut rp

// like i said, i really don't want to get into it too much in public. suffice to say, it is the same character, but they turned him from asian to white. absolutely clownish, childish behaviour, and everyone i can identify as involved has been summarily added to my block list.

i really do need some time to cool off, but you are free to im me for more detail on how i know if you can swear to behave about it, because i really don't want to start shit or do a "callout". i don't believe the people involved would feel remorse, and i also think callouts make these kinds of people double down and victimize themselves. beside, i am above lowering myself to these kinds of people's level.

                                                       • • • • •

                                                       • • • • •

Sunny looks away from the mirror as she finishes doing up her tie, lips quirking up in amusement as she catches the look in the other person's eyes.

                                                       • • • • •

Dove grins as she plucks the massive dildo out of the other person's underwear drawer, waggling it back and forth.

                                                       • • • • •

Sunny looks up from the task of slogging through her emails when she hears the door to her office open. She pauses, smiling at Mary-Jane.

                                                       • • • • •

The bar is smoky and dingy, as bars like to be, and those glasses? Why, if anybody asks, they're filled with water and juice, of course.

Remy walks out on stage, his hair over his shoulder, his suit tailored just so, making the hair on his chest and the swell of his breasts stand out, painfully obvious even in the dim light.

                                                       • • • • •

Antony hasn't tried to make chocolate since he was in cooking school, and he actually thinks he might have a coronary here and now.

Earlier in the week, he'd had the clever idea to make the cute man down the hall some chocolate for Valentine's Day, but now he's thinking that clearly he let his ego get the best of him.

Currently, he's sitting in the middle of his kitchen, head in hands as he stares despondently down at a bunch of fucked up chocolate hearts, most of which broke coming out of the mold, if they even came out at all.

The batch before he burned, and the one before that came out so bitter it was inedible. This was the worst idea he's ever had. He should have just made a fancy dinner like a normal person.

With a groan, he buries his face into his arms.

"Forget it," he mutters. "Just forget it. I'll just die alone. That would be better."

(Azrael/Dove)