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jinwoosungs · 8 months ago

Text

09/08/24; 04:15pm

yandere!self.aware!sung jinwoo x fem.reader

you had no idea how this strange love began.

your mind knew that sung jinwoo was simply a fictional character; one whose birth stemmed from a mind of a writer before coming into fruition when an artist decided to illustrate his stories-

yet you couldn't deny how much your heart raced at the mere sight of him-

how your mind painted daydream upon daydream about being together with him, be it while using your own self insert or an original character made to reflect your personality and make your own stories with your beloved jinwoo.

in your mind, jinwoo would always choose you; his heart never once belonged to the infuriatingly lovely cha hae-in because you were the one who loved him from the start.

you were the one who supported him even when he was a mere level e hunter, labeled the weakest in the world along with his frumpy appearance.

you loved him when he had messy locks of ebony hair-

you loved him when all he could afford were plain, blue hoodies, ripped jeans, and damaged sneakers-

you loved him when he was at his worst-

and you had convinced yourself that only you could deserve him while he was at his best.

truly, cha hae-in could never.

but you digress and were getting a bit ahead of yourself. after re-reading his webcomic on your phone, (losing count of the sheer amount of times that you have read his story), your life took on a brighter turn one early morning.

as you were shopping for your usual groceries, you pass by the aisle that held a few shelves dedicated to some books along with some mangas and manhwas alike when a familiar title stops you dead in your tracks.

solo leveling.

not even trying to hide your immense joy at seeing the colorful and physical volume of your beloved series, you grab it while flipping through its pages, completely captivated by each panel that featured jinwoo in various scenarios. as your eyes land on a full page dedicated to him, a giggle was heard escaping from your parted lips as you gave that jinwoo panel a kiss.

feeling your cheeks heat up at how silly you were behaving, you grab the single volume of solo leveling and place it within your cart, unaware of how tiny wisps of shadows slowly began to surround the seemingly unassuming manhwa.

{ ... }

jinwoo had simply began doing his usual 10km run for the day when he felt the lingering sensation of being kissed somewhere on his cheek. the sensation felt so close and real that it made the young hunter stop dead in his tracks.

the last time jinwoo recalled ever being kissed was by his mother, and that had been years ago. now that he was an adult, such kisses came sparingly because it was embarrassing to be doted on by his mother at such an age despite knowing how much his mother would always love him.

so feeling such an affectionate touch put a bit of a smile on jinwoo's face. he touches at the spot where he felt the kiss, blaming it on a mere phantom's touch before continuing on with his day.

however, it was easier to ignore such lingering kisses had it just been a one time occurrence-

ever since that day, it seemed that the kisses felt against his skin became even more frequent. despite how he lived alone, jinwoo swore he could feel a gentle kiss against his head of hair, and even hear the sounds of muffled giggling-

and it was truly driving him insane with curiosity.

when he felt another one of those lingering kisses against his skin did he finally use the system to get to the bottom of this. summoning its translucent screen, he stares straight into it while demanding, "show me the image of the person who keeps kissing me."

[ ... ]

[ ... ... ... ... ... ... ]

[ anomaly detected; connection forged between this world and the other ]

[ view anomaly? ( y / n )? ]

"yes." jinwoo's voice was filled with confidence, ready to get to the bottom of this the moment the system began to work its magic. he saw nothing but static and white noise for a brief second-

yet that all changes when the screen clears, revealing a smiling, young woman.

it was someone he had never once seen before in his life, but seeing the girl smiling so brightly at him made jinwoo's heart lurch within the confines of his chest. his mouth turns dry, and he found his grey eyes practically try to drink in the sight of the strangely beautiful girl.

and the more he stared, the more he knew that it was completely over for him-

for you had somehow taken over his life, leaving him a mere husk of what he once was.

{ … }

as time goes on, you were able to collect even more physical volumes of solo leveling, further expanding your love for jinwoo as you eagerly drank in those colored pages that captures your beloved so well.

however, there seemed to be something… off each time you read those pages. usually, while admiring those panels, jinwoo would often face whoever was speaking to him, giving you the perfect view of his side profile.

yet now, it seemed like whenever you would admire those pages, jinwoo’s gaze would somehow be honed forward, as if he was looking directly at you instead. the speech bubbles would remain the same-

yet jinwoo would no longer be looking at the other character-

only at you (always at you.)

admittedly, it scared you just the tiniest bit, which was what made you stop reading solo leveling. you figured the reason why jinwoo appeared like he was looking at you was probably because you were severely sleep deprived. instead of reading, you decided to search through your album dedicated to jinwoo and choose a new wallpaper for your phone.

it takes you quite a bit of time to decide, but you decided on a particularly good shot of his side profile where he is smiling and deep in thought. feeling your heart racing at the mere sight of him, you finalize your phone's wallpaper before setting your phone off to the side and on top of your nightstand.

deciding to destress with a good shower, you head into the bathroom and turn on the hot water, undressing your clothes while remaining blissfully unaware of how your phone began to display the same, strange shadowy wisps that surrounded the volume of solo leveling you had purchased.

you spent roughly half an hour cleansing yourself in the shower, letting out a sigh of relief when you began drying your hair with a plush towel. now dressed in your usual sleepwear, you were ready to cuddle up in bed while playing games and maybe watch a video or two on your phone.

landing in bed with a wide grin, you take a hold of your phone, ready to open your usual applications when something startling makes you freeze up completely.

the wallpaper you had made for your phone-

the one where you had assigned jinwoo's side profile-

his side profile was no longer seen.

instead, what you saw was jinwoo looking directly at you, his purple eyes seeming to glow with mischief. unable to comprehend nor believe what was going on, you bring your phone closer to you, seeing jinwoo break into a smirk while saying your name.

it sounds muffled at first, yet the movement of his lips and the deep sound of his voice was undeniable-

letting out a sudden gasp, you toss your phone away from you, hands clutching at your comforter when thick tendrils of shadows began to surround the entirety of your room.

the sudden onslaught of darkness overwhelms you, making you lose consciousness almost immediately as a pair of powerful arms traps you in its embrace...

{ ... }

your head was pounding, making you let out a groan when you felt the bright sunlight hitting at the back of your eyelids. coupled along with the near blinding light was a reverent touch that was felt against your skin.

desperate to know what was going on, you carefully open your eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.

as you lay in bed, you saw that you were in a room that was much larger than your own while laying on a bed that had to be triple the size of your own bed. with a groan, you turn your face away from the piercing sunlight-

only to be met with the achingly handsome face of sung jinwoo himself.

your movements were quick, with your legs pushing you away from the person you assumed was a damn good sung jinwoo impersonator. but... impersonator or not, his easygoing smile and kind, grey eyes were enough to make your heart skip beats and your breathing hitched.

was this some kind of sweet dream you were living in?

and why was everything suddenly so vivid?

jinwoo scoffs before saying your name once more, using his large hands to pull your hips closer to him. "now, where do you think you're going?"

your mind was spinning when you felt jinwoo press a kiss against your temple, "y-you... who are you? a-and how did i get here?"

jinwoo was felt trembling a bit before letting out a tsk, delving his fingers into your slightly damp hair before pulling your body flush against his. "oh, i think you know exactly who i am, darling. or do you need a reminder?"

he hums, eyes never once looking away from you when he leans closer to press a series of lingering kisses against your features. the sight of the man you have always loved (and prayed to become real) actually kissing you makes you lose all train of coherency, with you only managing to wrap your arms around his neck in response.

you feel jinwoo smiling against your skin, pressing one last lingering kiss against it before murmuring to you, "you think you're so slick, believing that i could never feel any of your kisses against my skin-

but you're wrong."

the way his voice takes on a deeper, more possessive edge makes you look back up at him, meeting his gaze as they seemed to burn with fervor for you. "i always thought it was strange... how i could feel your phantom kisses against my skin, but could never once see you. i was desperate to know who you were that i used the system to reveal your identity to me."

your breathing becomes labored then, throat turning dry the more jinwoo continues to inch ever so closer to you, "and when i finally knew who you were, i was a goner. the fact that you were in an entirely different universe kept driving me up the wall, since i knew i had to do everything i could to keep you."

you found no words could come from your parted lips, simply trying to bask in jinwoo's confession as he kept gazing at you with an intensity that makes your heart soar. "my days were filled with thoughts of you alone. i needed to see you; to know what you were doing at every single moment- of every single second. so, i used my abilities as a monarch to invade the pages of my story. i made sure that each time you could see me, you would know that i would be looking back at you."

you immediately recall the times where it felt like jinwoo was looking at you through those glossy pages, "i-i always found it strange how it felt like you were looking at me."

a low hiss and a groan comes from jinwoo, and you felt his hands tighten around your shoulders as he begins to actively tremble in response to the sound of your voice once more, “you have no idea... how amazing it feels to finally hear the sound of your voice again. it's.... it's beautiful. better than music to my ears."

you shiver against him, feeling jinwoo gently nipping at your ear in a playful manner when you shakily tell him, "w-what's this? you sound like a man obsessed."

jinwoo was felt smirking against your skin, turning back to meet with your gaze. the look in his eyes was absolutely dark and full of possession at this point, and there was no way he would deny the truth, not to himself or to you, "obsessed? baby, i'm far more than obsessed with you. it's almost like i love you so much that it's become unhealthy... and i'm not ashamed to admit it."

another shiver was felt coursing through you, "y-you would do anything for me?"

his smirk simply widens in response to your question. anything for you? ha! that was an understatement. he would do anything and everything for you. it was practically like a god giving out his blessings at this point. "of course i would... i don't think there's anything i wouldn't do if you asked or needed me to do it. if it's for you, i wouldn't hesitate to do anything at all."

you were suddenly filled with a giddiness then, heart pounding within your chest as a sweet anticipation fills you. no longer were you worried about your life back in the real world, for the man you had always loved jut admitted to the lengths he would go to keep you happy and safe.

jinwoo notices the dreamy look in your eyes and chuckles, bringing your body closer to his while resting his forehead against yours. you were just so precious to him; like a rare gemstone he had to keep safe at all costs. seeing you filled with such joy for him only made him want to love and protect you even more.

"are you happy that i'd do anything for you, baby?"

your eager nods were all the confirmation jinwoo needed to lean closer to you, letting out a whisper of your name before slotting his lips against yours, hungrily swallowing your moans as he kept you pinned against his bed and trapped forever in this world with him-

a world where you will always be cherished and loved by him and him alone.

end notes: self aware jinwoo, you have my heart (⺣◡⺣)♡ currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo sung x y/n #writings 📖

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chaotic-archaeologist · 2 months ago

Note

I saw your post in the thread about the Budj Bim creation myth, and you mentioned that you teach Ancient Civilizations and have a week on Australia and the Torres Strait Islands. I was wondering if you have any recorded lectures on this topic that are available anywhere online?

Or do you have any recommendations for freely available resources to learn more?

Hi there,

I'm so glad you're interested in this (and also so sorry it took me this long to answer)! I'm also tagging @four-ravens-in-a-trenchcoat because you sent a very similar ask.

I'm far from the expert, so I'm going to tag @micewithknives and @acearchaeologist who are both Australian archaeologists with far more knowledge than I. The lessons I've developed have been with their expertise as guidance.

I'll start out by linking to a short piece about Budj Bim and its eel traps being designated as a world heritage site and why that's important:

This page talks a little bit more about the eel traps, the creation story, and the Gunditjmara people who live there:

Unfortunately, I don't record my lectures, and sharing them would probably violate some privacy laws. I can, however, share the readings I give my students.

The week is broken into two class periods, and for each session I ask students to read one scholarly piece and one more pop culture one. The readings for the first part are:

Nunn, Patrick. 2018. “Australian Aboriginal Memories of Coastal Drowning.” In The Edge of Memory: Ancient Stories, Oral Tradition and the Post-Glacial World, 63–107. Bloomsbury Sigma. Clarkson, Chris, Ben Marwick, Lynley Wallis, Richard Law Kelaham Fullagar, and Zenobia Jacobs. 2017. “Buried Tools and Pigments Tell a New History of Humans in Australia for 65,000 Years.” The Conversation, July 19, 2017. https://theconversation.com/buried-tools-and-pigments-tell-a-new-history-of-humans-in-australia-for-65-000-years-81021.

and then for the second class:

Taçon, Paul S. C., Rosalie S. Chapple, John Merson, Daniel Ramp, Wayne Brennan, Graham King, and Alandra Tasire. 2010. “Aboriginal Rock Art Depictions of Fauna: What Can They Tell Us about the Natural History of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area?" https://doi.org/10.7882/FS.2010.008. Smithsonian Magazine. 2019. “A 42,000-Year-Old Man Finally Goes Home,” September 2019. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/mungo-man-finally-goes-home-180972835/.

The important part of this unit is that it comes right after we learn about the four classic river valley civilizations (Mesopotamia, the Indus, China, and Egypt). These "Big 4" all fit the description of the article I have them read at the very beginning of the class about the Key Components of Civilizations.

Australia week is about challenging that definition of civilization by examining where it came from, how it was developed, and who it excludes. At the end of the week I have students come up with another definition of Civilization that does not exclude Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders, Indigenous groups in North and South America, nomadic groups, etc.

The book (The Edge of Memory) by Patrick Nunn is a good one (for this class we only read the third chapter, but the entire book is worth a read.

Decolonizing Research Indigenous Storywork as Methodology is an edited volume that features perspectives on oral history from Indigenous people all over the world, including Australia.

Cheers, -Reid

#he speaks #he answers #archaeology #australian archaeology #Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders

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potatomountain · 5 months ago

Text

CIY CH 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Final puzzle pieces" 📍WC: 3.3k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark romance, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, kidnapping, captive reader, guns, threats 📍AN: finally got it done, but it's just one thing after another now haha whoops 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts and occasionally @daemour 📍dividers and banner made by me! ageless blocks will be blocked immediately if you interact with this post

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The sting reverberating through your cheek woke you up, followed by mumbled obscenities. If you wanted to open your eyes, now you didn't, not when you recognized the voice.

Jongho.

“I know you're awake, your breathing changed.”

Huffing, you relented and peaked an eye open, wincing at the harsh light swinging above you. You lifted your head that had been hanging back haphazardly, attempting to bring a hand up to block out the bright light but you found them tied… to the chair you were in.

Blood running cold you tested the ropes, glancing down at yourself to at least take notice you weren’t in the clothes you had been before. Even cleaned up, modest tee-shirt and jeans, hair pulled out of your face but no bra and underwear. “Who the fuck cleans someone up they plan on killing?” You scoffed out, forcing your anger to the surface and everything else into a box in the back of your heart to better deal with this situation.

After all, who the fuck would fuck someone like that just to tie them up like this?

It was so hard to believe them when they did such contradicting stuff like this. And to leave you with Jongho? The man that wanted nothing to do with you?

Your glare matched his, even if your head was throbbing. No windows or outside light to give you a time so who knew how long you were out for. It didn’t make sense to be out long enough for this after what had happened, but could you get answers? Did it even matter? “Why don’t you just kill me?” You spat out instead, gaze running over his attire as he was now leaning against the only door in the room. Ripped jeans, black sweater pushed up his elbows and for once, no gloves. You could make out some lettering on his knuckles, three on each hand but from the angle, you couldn’t tell what they were.

He caught you looking, flexing his hands before running the palms over his thighs and displaying the tattoo: P-I-R-A-T-E. If he was trying to intimidate you, it didn’t work, you were already expecting your death. You knew you had fucked up bad, so this was your own fault. Plus… what did you really have to fight for? You were a realist, there was no getting out of this. You couldn’t take down a group of skilled men that had ties in both the justice system and criminal world. But you also didn’t think they had a place for you among their group, not anymore.

Those hopes were dashed.

“You look pathetic.” Jongho sneered out, snapping your attention back to his face. “Given up already?” “I’m not delusional, I know how this ends for me.” Did you have the resources and resilience to run? Not without throwing your pride aside for abandoning your job. Your life meant less than your pride apparently.

Jongho rolled his eyes and closed the distance, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re a fucking idiot.” “So I’ve learned. Have any other new insults or will you just end it already?” This time you literally spat in his face, right on his cheek. He wiped it away slowly, the anger in his gaze much fiercer than any he had shown before. This must be how he really felt about you.

How could have things worked out with the unit with him like this anyways? Your own anger began to dissipate, a feeling of helplessness rising up to choke your bruised throat.

“You held a gun to Hwa-” “Ah so you want to beat me up first for threatening the pretty man? Well do it.” “They would have told you if you just asked.” He snapped back, voice raised, You rolled your eyes, struggling with the ropes. “And why should I have? You lot haven’t been the most welcoming. You made it perfectly clear, and still are, that I am not welcome here. Why should I have trusted you wouldn’t do this in the first place if I had come to them?!”

Perhaps it was the throbbing of your own head but you thought he winced at your words. Just imagining things, you told yourself. “So you threaten us first?!” He spat out, fists clenched at his side. “What else do I have left to lose?” Your tone shifted, the weight of your actions, the pain this entire ordeal had inflicted on you, finally reared it’s ugly head. “I have nothing. Nothing but my pride. So just kill me. Get it over with. If you’re going to anyways, just do it. I’m no use to you alive, I have nothing you gain from keeping me like this.” Your head drooped forward, shoulders slumped. It was the truth, you had no value, no worth, and nothing more to fight for.

Silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity, but if you counted your breaths it was a meer couple seconds.

“This is why you should've stayed away. This life takes everything from you." There was an ache in his voice that shocked you, but not as much as the pure defeated pain on his features when you looked up.

It had occurred to you before, that each of them had some ties or reason to really hate the criminal underground and one of the existing families. Seonghwa’s parents trying to sell his sister off to the Golden Circle- Yunho’s father dying in a hit, Mingi’s own troubled adolescence running for the gangs. Yeosang’s program is owned by the red wolves, Wooyoung’s mother being the head of the Pink Boa’s… but you hadn’t once thought about Jongho.

You had tried not to think about him as often as possible, but now you couldn't help but wonder. What had happened to him that he didn’t want you getting involved with this life? For a moment, you wondered if he had been worried about you.

It was dashed away when you heard other voices and he made his speedy escape out of the room. Sure you were now curious but what right did you have to know?

You didn’t expect to leave this, well what looked like a safe house, alive.

Unfortunately Jongho didn’t come right back, leaving you to stew in your rage, fear, and sadness. You didn’t like to be left alone with your thoughts for too long, then you would start to doubt yourself.

But what choice did you have? What outcome could you think of that you haven’t already? The potential to join them? So that you could live?

The longer you stayed tied to the chair, the more dying seemed like a better option. You were ready to give in, to give up. Pride be damned. Your parents be damned. S.K and your friends be damned. You were tired.

Minutes dragged on until you were sure an hour passed, hearing no sounds outside the door. You debated attempting to escape, but the camera in the corner of the room dashed that idea. “Are you enjoying this? Fucking pervert, always watching.” You taunted, staring down the camera so you didn’t have to think. If you attempted to escape, Yeosang would just alert the others… Was that how Yunho knew? Did Yeosang alert them that you took Seonghwa into your apartment? He did admit to having access to the camera’s in the halls, but that didn’t sit right with you. How would they know that you meant harm? How would they know you weren’t just going to fuck the man?

Because if they knew, why would Seonghwa even go into your apartment? Why kiss you? Why would he let you see his tattoo? It didn’t make sense, and you were far too mentally exhausted to continue mulling it over. So, taunting an imaginary enemy sounded plenty fun. “Are you salty Yeosang? I figured things out before you had a chance huh? Kinda liked you watching. Pretty and smart but that little perverted side?” You licked your lips and tilted your head. “Kinda hot. Too bad I can’t see how you’re reacting to all this? Getting stuck watching me while you all- what? Decide how to make me disappear?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “As smart and resourceful as you lot are, I’m surprised you didn’t have a plan for this set up just in case.” Or was this the plan? Were they just keeping you occupied until they had it all put in place?

If that was the case, you didn’t want to wait around for that… well it wasn’t smart to do so. What you wanted was entirely different from what you needed to do to get out of this. You should escape, at least attempt to. You should be giving your all to trying to live another day. To survive.

But those doubts you had pushed to the back of your mind earlier were now pushing forward once more, asking you why you should even try? They just grew stronger the more you struggled. The ropes were thick, rubbing your wrists raw as you struggled but that was the only part of your body exposed to them. Your ankles, knees, and waist were all tightly bound over your clothing. You could potentially grab the chair by the armrests your hands were tied to and prop yourself onto you feet awkwardly to smash it against a wall, but the chair seem bolted to the ground.

So after working up a bit of a sweat struggling, you slumped in the seat and glared at the camera. Still no Jongho, or anyone else, just you, a camera, and your thoughts.

Your thoughts easily won. Minutes ticked by to another hour- maybe more- as you mentally cycled through your life for some purpose to live for, as well as something to bargain or a different outcome than this. Maybe the past few weeks meant enough to them they’d just have you leave the country?

Would you go? Could you trust them enough to agree? No, you didn’t think you could. You had to admit to yourself, whatever connection you had felt growing between you and them felt foreign and broken now. You couldn’t trust it, trust that they weren’t playing you like a chess piece. They hadn’t wanted you there from the beginning, and you were going to cause problems… of course they would’ve played on your vulnerability to get you compliant enough to stay out of their way. That’s what you would have done if the roles were reversed. You mulled over everything they had done. The harsh words, the cold shoulder, the disgust at you: an outsider. The tests, the praise, the desire that had grown and become more visible from them the longer you were there. Yeosang and Mingi having your side against Chan. Seonghwa’s comfort and understanding, his kisses, what he had said to Minho and Chan at the cafe.

“Our treasure.”

Taking in deep breaths to fight off the tears, you shifted your attention back to anything else. It was no good to focus on those things, not when those very same men had you tied to a chair at a location you didn’t know.

It was when you finally got your emotions under control, pushed those feelings back to the box enough you no longer felt like suffocating on them, that the door opened finally.

Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa stepped in, wearing gaudy outfits that really solidified they were mafia for you. As if they should be on the streets starting a fight, yet for a brief moment you let yourself admit they were attractive. Fur hats suited the Captain, and Seonghwa in a low cut gold shirt, neck tattoos on full display, and with black hair styled in a half updo? Somehow he was intimidating.

His eyes softened on you though, while Hongjoong shoved his hands in his jeans and rocked on his heels, not meeting your eyes.

Somehow you managed to keep your cool, relaxing your shoulders and watching Seonghwa through disinterested eyes. “So, no one is denying it. I want to hear it.” “We’re the Black Pirates.” Hongjoong chimed in before Seonghwa could, stepping up to his second in command and lazily drooping his arm over his shoulder. “Half of us were in it before the unit, the other half joined through the unit.” The man smirked as your eyes went wide, a sparkle of hope in them.

You dashed it away as quickly as you could though. “How did you know I was questioning Seonghwa?” “I had Yunho and Jongho install cameras in your apartment when they helped you move in.” Seonghwa admitted, tearing his eyes away from yours. “We’ve had tabs on your phone and laptop as well.”

The anger in the back of your chest tried to rear up again, but you didn’t let it despite a clench of your jaw and a few tightly wound words. “Is that so…” “Ever since you saw my tattoo at the gym, we have been taking some precautions. You are a firecracker after all, an unpredictable one at that.” Hongjoong added, keeping eye contact as he smiled at the sprinkle of praise in his words. You could hear it in his tone, attempting to block it out of your heart. “So when Seonghwa would pick you up, Yunho was to follow a few minutes behind. He acted the second you pulled the gun out, not far from your place already and we had a duplicate of your key just in case.” “I know Yunho getting involved messed some things up-” Seonghwa paused when you scoffed, frowning as it was now your turn not to look them in the eye. “I wanted to talk to you as calmly as I could. Remind you that we do give a damn about you.” “Is that what that fuck was about?” Blinking back tears, you narrowed your eyes on the pretty man, chanting in your head not to break down. You had done that enough around them. “You enjoyed it didn’t you?” Hongjoong quipped out, stepping up to you and taking your chin in his hand. He was much more gentle than Jongho but still firm. “Firecracker… come on, don’t turn us away. I promise we were going to tell you. Just have… some things to clean up first. Now that you know we are the Black Pirates, think about our position. What we have at stake.” You wanted to argue, but his words did ring in your head. San was still in trouble, even more so if he was a Pirate and a cop and they found out. “Then… why? Why are you a crime syndicate when you’re also the legal unit responsible for taking it down?” Hongjoong dropped his hand, standing up and pocketing his hands in his jeans. “Because as one or the other we’ll never be able to shape the underworld into what we need. Seonghwa will lose his sister to the Golden Circle. Wooyoung’s mother will always be under their thumb, unable to get out. Yunho will never get justice for his father… These are all stories you’ve heard of ours and they’re true. The combined power is the best we got.”

“Angel…” Seonghwa stepped up and knelt next to you, expression soft as he cupped your cheek. “We aren’t going to kill you. But you have to make a decision. Either you have to join us, which we hoped you would, or we can arrange for you to leave the country or countryside. We can pull strings so your law enforcement credentials are still valid and can get you a career elsewhere.” The most telling thing was that they didn’t want to kill you. You could see it on their faces. The softness of Seonghwa’s features, the desperation in his eyes, and the way Hongjoong was fidgeting and avoiding your gaze.

It was the loud way your stomach grumbled that broke the heavy tension, Seonghwa fighting off a smile while you tried not to let heat build in your cheeks at just how loud it was. “I think food is in order first. We’ll go make you something and give you time to think about it.” “And by we he means him. I’ll uh, supervise.” Hongjoong offered a charming smile that did calm some of your nerves somehow.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes as he pulled the man by the cardigan to the door. “You will update some of our very worried members about Angel’s state. If I remember correctly, Wooyoung had some very nasty threats if you didn’t update him about her state before nightfall, and it is evening already.”

“We were giving her time to think things over first!” “Well now she has some more. Come come, go make that call.” Seonghwa pushed Hongjoong out of the room, smiling back at you. “Think about it, we’ll untie you to eat and talk things over… like partners okay?” How could your heart not swell with affection?

The moment the door was shut you were grinning, unable to help yourself. Crime bosses they might be, but they acted like an adorable married couple at times. And they reassured you the offer to join them, fully, was still on the table.

You could remember both your promise to Haru and to Yunho. They knew this was coming, and now you could see they were asking you to really think this over once it was time. You didn’t know what it meant to be a part of a crime syndicate, considering the other ones at play in the city, but you could not imagine them selling people or producing drugs just for profit or pimping out young girls. Perhaps you could ask them about what their organization actually did, since they worked so hard to keep the Black Pirates out of law enforcement reports, your knowledge over them was limited after all.

Relaxing as you thought of what questions to ask, what was important in your decision, you heard chaos outside your door. It had only been maybe ten minutes since you were left alone, and now Seonghwa was busting through the door. You could hear yelling now, multiple voices, and he seemed disheveled.

“Time to go Angel.” He moved around you to start undoing the knots, but got frustrated and just started cutting them instead. “What’s going on?” Most of the yells you heard were screams of pain, while words were too muffled to hear but none were Hongjoong. “Ambush. Crimson Wolves by the looks of it. Yeosang no doubt has the others on the way for back up but I don’t think we’re making it out of here.” There was a hardness to his tone that frightened you, but no panic. Seonghwa probably didn’t think they were going to die here. So captured and tortured? Your blood ran cold. “Let me help.” He chuckled, finally freeing you and handing you the knife. “They would kill you. It’ll ease our minds if you get out and find one of the others. Left of the hallway there is a backdoor. Find the alley and keep running left until you hit main street. You’ll know where you are and can head back to Yeosang okay?” In a moment of desperation, he kissed you.

Not a goodbye kiss, but there was a desperation there you could taste. Your lips lingered for a second, Hongjoong’s cry for Hwa pulling him away.

One last longing look and he was gone. Now you could run, head to Yeosang, or just run in general. Maybe to SK.

Or, you could try and fight. Make up your mind about where you want to belong. FIght for it.

You left the room with a new found determination, your choice made. There was no going back now.

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

#pirateeznet #mirohsaurorasociety #lapydiariesnet #ateez fanfic #ateez ot8 #ateez x reader #ciy #ateez mafia au #ateez detective au #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic

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watermelonlicker · 1 month ago

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i cackle at how antis echo chamber “louis hates larries” as if that’s so moving oh wow 1. most of it is pr drivel slobbering down his mouth and 2. even if there is truth to it and he doesn’t like that we know too much—being silent is something i can’t do. this is bigger than louis.

this is knowledge and knowledge is safety. knowledge is how you become aware of situations so you don’t fall victim to them and end up controlled by a tyrant like simon FOUL. knowledge is what louis & harry didn’t have as preyed upon CHILDREN that were eaten alive. bcos of that lack of knowledge (FOR ME) larry is more than a ship. it is a goddamn lifestyle (and no asshole) not in the way that it’s a cult, but in the way it literally teaches you the horrors of life and how to navigate those horrors and find power in community.

do you really think the larries didn’t play a factor (A FACTOR NOT EVERY FUCKING FACTOR READING COMPREHENSION) where harry felt safe enough to be more open and explore himself after 1d? do you think larries were not the backbone for louis while he was in that slave contract for 5 years after 1d? and no i’m not crediting solos bcos most of y’all believe the bullshit.

LARRIES are one of the FEW fandoms to recognize, dissect, and expose the insidious shit that goes on bts in the music industry. call us sleuths, detectives, free journalists whatever the fuck i’m sure they’ll teach a class on us one day about the dedication & power a fandom can wield and how those who are threatened by that power use gaslighting and bullying tactics to silence it. larry is not a conspiracy. it is the fucking truth in your blind eyes that your comfort and privilege won’t allow you to see. it wasn’t too long ago the general public thought britney spear’s fans were crazy for noticing shit was off with her FOR YEARS, but despite all the bullying they never gave up and the free britney movement happened. MANY of the people who joined the movement were og deniers btw but again people only join when it’s comfortable or brings clout.

and JEEBUS britney was the biggest fucking pop star in THE WORLD and yet she was being heavily controlled and abused and it was so unfathomable to you? so many of you were so fucking suprised but HOW? HOW WERE YOU SURPRISED??? you thought her breakdown was for shits and giggles? you thought she shaved her head and smashed a window bcos she was having a good time? but let me not even get started on how GROTESQUELY some of you treat addicts and then you fucks will say “ok so it happened to her but that doesn’t apply to your conspiracy loser blah blah” ok brainwashed fool—it is literally a copy of a copy of a copy, a p a t t e r n, a vicious cycle, A SYSTEM. what makes you think if the biggest pop star in the world wasn’t exempt the biggest boy band in the world was? the biggest boy band who again were manipulated and groomed as CHILDREN by the devil himself. and simon never hid he was the devil btw. when you have knowledge and life experience (god forbid trauma) these people can never hide who they are but so many of you still close your eyes to them?

like omfg supporting larry is so simple??! it is fighting for QUEER JUSTICE and QUEER LOVE and making space for queer artists to be themselves openly and not have their love be the thing weaponized against them to destroy them. queer artists should NEVER have to choose between their souls and their dreams. NEVER. THAT is why i became a larrie in 2012, am a larrie now, and will always be a larry truther. their relationship status and the decisions they make i might disagree with is irrelevant to this. the history is what’s important.

#y’all don’t want me speaking up in this fandoms cos i don’t sugarcoat shit #i have always followed the beat of my own drum and THE LOUIS I KNOW would 100% back that #larry stylinson #antis fuck you #and fuck simon cowell hell isn’t hot enough for you #and rip liam this fight is also for you too :/#i know how much you supported them #and god knows what happened to you #you were only beginning to speak out :/

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zolass · 1 month ago

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Detectives Attraction Ch. 06 Top Male Reader x Male Yandere Harem

Didn't know what to do with the chapter- but another one down and some sprinkled past trauma- yes M/N is 28 all characters are late twenties or early thirties.

Also I took yesterday a day off of writing from almost two weeks going strong with writing- and thanks for 500 followers <3 I don't know if I should make a special thing but first I'll probably redo my request page TvT

cw: Mention of past trauma, murder, usage of drugs followed by overdose. 1.4k words.

“The guy mentioned the Serpents, that he was loyal to them–” M/n felt how the honey brown eyes of his partner seemed to burn a hole into the side of his face, most probably in shock, “What? The Serpents have something to do with the break ins in your apartment? That seems– dangerous…” Elias eyebrows furrowed, as he looked back at the road from the passenger seat, leaning back into the sun warmed leather.

M/n only let out a grunt, “They’re not fond of the idea of me getting closer to their shady business– even if I’m most definitely sure they would get away scott free with this shitty system we have,” Both of them knew it was true, “If they suddenly say I resigned to a different station– don’t believe it, I’ll mostly be gutted like a fish in same shady underground warehouse–” Elias pulled a face of disgust, “But I’ll advise you to then lay low– I know you’re a good man– a little naive that you think that you simply can change this place without doing any harm…” M/n continued, before he stopped in front of the building of Alicia Wallace.

“But in this world– it’s not possible to achieve good without doing bad,” M/n mumbled before he got out of the car. Elias sat in the passenger seat for a little longer– the words of his partner echoing inside his head, making him unable to not glance at the man that just got out. Following suit, Elias rounded the car after getting out and closing the door, “Does that mean you’ve–” Elias didn’t continue his words, as if they were suddenly stuck in his throat, but M/n knew what he wanted to know.

“Yes I have– a few times… obviously not against any of these people we’re trying to protect– the ones that only have people outside of the corruption of these groups,” “But what if they were forced?” Elias mumbled, honey brown eyes laced with concern. “That thought crossed me once too– but if you were forced… you wouldn’t take someone’s life with a smile on your face,” M/n grunted as his e/c eyes landed on Elias. “It was pretty early in my life when I had to– realize it. It was in a cruel way too– I lived with a happy family, a mother, a father and two siblings, a sister and a brother,” M/n glanced at the house in front of them– it looked perfectly cut out of a story.

But slowly it turned into a different one– the paint and layout slowly changed, into the house he lived in as a child. The facade was beautiful– just like the one his family wore. “I’m the oldest of us three kids– I was basically the protector of my siblings and I liked to know with me they were safe,” M/n spoke- his arms crossed over his chest. “It was in the middle of spring in which everything seemed to turn worse for me and my family. I came home from school when I was twelve, I thought it would be a day like always– coming home, getting ready for lunch with my family, going out to play or study– just a normal life, but it was suddenly so far from that.” M/N grinded his teeth at the memories.

Elias looked at the detective, who looked so lost in thoughts that he didn’t know what to do so he simply continued to listen– slightly confused why the other even told him his story. “When I stepped into the house– the first thing I noticed was the smell– it was thick and disgustingly clinging to my tongue and nose, it was blood I had found out moments later– when I stepped into our dining room that was connected I found them, my mother, my siblings and my father,” a short heartbeat of silence, “Only one of them was alive– the other three laid dead on the floor– blood pooling underneath them while their empty eyes simply– started in a state of shock into nothing.” Clearing his throat from the feeling of the tightness that squeezed his throat, “You might wonder who it was– it was a surprise for even myself back then– my father. I still remember how– traumatized he looked even if he was the one to pull the trigger, after all he was the one with the gun in his hand,”

There was a moment of silence between them, the fresh breeze sending a few shivers down Elias’ spine, additional to the story. “Well after he seemed to realize I was there– he only told me to call the police and I did– they took him with them he’s in a prison since– sixteen years now, since this unfortunate thing happened, I never visited him– it might be because I want to believe that he couldn’t have possibly done it– after all he basically worshipped the ground my mother walked on he loved us all dearly, they had disagreements of course everyone has– but they never fought, hell even got violent with each other was not a possibility,” M/n spoke, “That’s why I’m still doubting if he really was it– if he wasn’t just a pawn in a larger game. It came out after investigation that he indeed was in trouble because he stood with one foot in a syndicate,” E/c eyes met the honey brown ones, “It was always strange– of course he could’ve been acting and suddenly snapped but I never tried to get behind it, but what I did was get rid of the syndicate my father was associated to,” his hands clenched into fists.

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Elias asked confused, which made the other raise an eyebrow, “Because while all of this happened there were news reporters who put all of it to freely read, if it was on paper or on the internet– ‘The L/N murder’ or whatever they called it back then–” “Isn’t your last name Howard?” Elias suddenly asked, which made a small chuckle ripple from M/n, “Well after I got sent away– and the rest of the relatives and reporters jumped onto the scandal like starving hyenas, I changed my name at that time I didn’t want to have any connections anymore that tied me to it– now all that’s tying me to them is my blood,” M/n muttered.

Elias honey brown eyes were focused on his partner, before he silently nodded. “Let’s go in– maybe Alicia feels up for a few more questions,” the taller man spoke before he stalked up to the steps of the house, the other detective following him close behind. The H/c male was ready to knock on the white colored wooden door, when he noticed that the door wasn’t even fully closed. With a frown he pushed against the door, which opened with a scraping and squeaking.

Both men drew their guns, before walking in with slow and silent steps. Their eyes scanned over the place in case of someone lurking and waiting with a weapon in their possession. But soon the only place they didn’t look in– after finding the house basically abandoned, was the bathroom. After they both stood in front of the door, Elias gave a nod towards the other who kicked the door harshly.

Yet what they saw was– not what they thought.

Laying in the bathtub was Alicia, her eyes unresponsive, and as they walked closer M/n checked her pulse– none. Glancing at her wrist, he could only sigh. Small needle imprints. Said needle laid beside the bathtub, “Looks like an overdose,” Elias mumbled, before he sighed and took a few steps out of the bathroom calling for reinforcement, before stepping back in. “Everywhere we go death seems to have already taken root, huh?” M/n on the other hand didn’t respond immediately.

“She was the last one that could’ve been a resource to getting closer to the Serpents– they really are efficient in what they’re doing,” The detective grumbled, before he stepped out of the bathroom after hearing the nearing sirens.

“Looks like I have to take a different approach,” M/n mumbled to himself as he glared at nothing in particular.

After putting Elias up for informing the closest relatives of Alicia Wallace’s, M/n was glancing at the lit up screen of his phone from time to time. He was wearing a dark coat, button up shirt, a pair of good fitting pants in which he still could run and boots– just as he stopped outside of a club.

He knew it was a place where he could either gain information– or simply have a hit put on his head.

#Detectives Attraction - zolass #zolass writes #male x male #mlm #gay #male reader #x male reader #top male reader #yandere #male yandere #yandere harem

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writesvani · 29 days ago

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— f i c r e c s [ 🧸 ];

helloooo besties, it’s your resident caffeine-fueled, nicotine-infused, emotionally unstable writer back at it again. now, prepare yourselves for the absolute shock of the century—I have another hobby. and no, it’s not setting my life on fire for the plot (though, arguably, that too). it’s… reading. gasp. i know. groundbreaking.

because i am nothing if not a selfless, benevolent being, i have taken it upon myself to bless your eyeballs (and quite frankly, your entire soul) with my all-time favorite bts fics—aka the stories that have ruined me in the best way possible. some of these have been my emotional support system for years, holding my hand through the highs and lows, while others have only recently entered my life and immediately made themselves at home in the depths of my soul. either way, they all own a piece of my heart (and what’s left of my sanity). so grab your emotional support beverage, take a deep breath, and let’s dive into the chaos.

starting off strong, i decided to go with matilda by @babystrcandy—the fic that single-handedly made me fall in love with writing and reading all over again. matilda is emotional, raw, angsty, and painful in the most devastatingly beautiful way. it’s the kind of story that doesn’t just hurt—it carves itself into your soul, stays there rent-free, and makes you thank it for the privilege.

i could talk about the storytelling and narration of matilda all day, but honestly? i don’t think i’d ever do it justice. yeah, it’s painful—like someone’s slicing you open from the inside out—but it’s also comforting in a way i can’t explain. it’s everything.

read if you like: YOONGI X READER, brother’s best friend, angst, pining, yearning, childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, YEARNING (yes, it deserves a second mention), and found family, detailed storytelling, nostalgic feelings

moving on to the next masterpiece (but of no lesser value, obviously), my pick is throttle by @alphabetboyluvr. honestly, at this point, i’d recommend anything by this author—everything they write is straight-up art.

i remember reading chapter one a while ago, falling in love, and then... losing the fic. tumblr, we need to have a chat. but the universe (and my detective skills) led me back to this blog, and when i finally found throttle again, i was literally reading with my mouth OPEN. shooketh doesn’t even begin to describe it. dare i say… this author is THE best fanfic writer i’ve ever come across? yeah, i said it.

this story is beautiful—but not in a soft, fluffy way. no, it’s the kind of beauty that lulls you into comfort while something dark watches from the shadows. waiting. waiting. and then BAM, you’re wrecked. watching oc and jungkook fall in love, the build-up, THE GOD-TIER VOCABULARY—i swear, i wasn’t just reading, i was inside this fic. i felt every single word. and don’t even get me started on the angst. the pain. i could write a whole damn essay on why this work is perfection, but i’m seriously trying not to spoil everything, so just bear with me.

read if you like: JUNGKOOK X READER, insanely good descriptions, YEARNING, smitten jk, angst, pain (because we’re all masochists here, let’s be real), amazing plot, questionable characters making questionable decisions, love that consumes you, and SMUT (so good it deserves all caps).

side note: this author needs to write a book. like, an actual book. if they haven’t already, someone needs to force them because their potential is astronomical.

okay okay okay, it’s time for the next one, which, in my very humble yet undeniably correct opinion, is on par with the previous ones—kkangpae by @jungkoode.

i seriously debated whether to recommend this, off labels, or fmu (because everything @jungkoode writes is god-tier), but kkangpae ultimately stole my heart and refused to give it back. what really gets me about this fic (besides the top-tier writing style and chef’s kiss dialogue) is how insanely immersive and well thought-out the concept is. like, first of all, the descriptions? immaculate. even I—someone who struggles to visualize scenes in books—could picture every single detail in this fic as if i was right there.

but it doesn’t stop there. the concept is so elaborate that you can genuinely see how the entire kkangpae system functions. it feels real. like, if someone told me this was an inside scoop on an actual gang’s operations, i’d believe them. and don’t even get me started on the psychological depth of these characters—unparalleled. this author has mastered the art of explaining emotions through body language in a way that just hits.

read if you like: JUNGKOOK X READER, strangers to lovers, psychological depth in fiction, good dialogue, angst, smut, gang AUs, SLOW BURN, sexual tension so thick you need a knife to cut through it, immersive writing, and fresh, new concepts in literature

moving on to the next absolute masterpiece—older by @lovieku .

first of all, let me just say: this is the most delicious smut/pWITHp/destroy me but in a fuckable way fic i have ever read in my life. period. the build-up towards the actual… well, action (you know what i mean) is insane. this author nailed the ache of wanting something forbidden—the slow, torturous unraveling of knowing it’s wrong but being so consumed by it that you physically cannot resist. it’s giving longing, it’s giving temptation, it’s giving i am one second away from losing my goddamn mind over this person.

the pacing? immaculate. the narration? flawless. but my favorite part? THE INNER MONOLOGUE. jk’s pov in this fic??? chef’s kiss. we rarely get male character's pov in bts fics, so seeing his thoughts—his restraint, his YEARNING—oh my god. HE WANTED HER SO BAD BUT HELD BACK UNTIL THE VERY END. LITERALLY. UGH. UGH. YUMMY.

read if you like: JUNGKOOK X READER, age gap, forbidden romance, best friend’s dad au (yes, you read that right), smut, angst, smut again because it’s that good and i’m a horny rat, jk's pov in fics, and perfectly executed inner dialogue.

side note: yes, i am absolutely one of those people praying in front of a shrine for part two, even though i know it’s never gonna happen. but hey, gotta smile through the pain, right?

now, let’s all give a round of applause for one of my all-time favorite authors here—@kithtaehyung—and their god-tier fic hush, yeah.

now, i seriously debated which of their masterpieces to include. 3tan? minted? listen, i LOVE THEM. okay? i consume and reread them on a daily basis like they’re my emotional support system. but. BUT. i need to put you all onto something else. and that something is hush, yeah.

guys. listen to me. i was literally sweating while reading some of these scenes—yeah, it’s THAT hot. the build-up in this fic? everything. every glance. every look. every word. the tension is so thick you could choke on it (and honestly, i wouldn’t complain). the descriptions? top-tier. literally cinematic. i have no notes.

but real talk—why is this fic abandoned, again?? hello?? i need the next chapter like i need air. so i’m putting it here, sending all my prayers, all my manifestation energy, every ounce of spiritual strength i have in me for an update because if we never get it… i might actually die.

read if you like: TAEHYUNG X READER, smut, DELIRIOUSLY GOOD SMUT OKAY, tiny tiny bits of angst (lowkey, but it’s there), smut so hot you might combust, and absolutely insane, detailed, expressive writing.

okay guys, that’s enough for tonight. seriously, i am so tired i might just plop onto the bed and never wake up again. if this is my final message, just know i went out doing what i loved—screaming about fics.

but don’t worry, i’ll be back with more recs soon because i am ready to serve, okay? in the meantime, if you have any specific ideas for what you’d like to read, please ask. i’ve read a lot—mafia, ceo, werewolves, vampires, childhood friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, mermaid AUs, you name it. so feel free to send an ask if you’re looking for something specific, and i will do my best to deliver a fic that perfectly matches your taste.

okay now. peace out. i am officially asleep.

#—♡.vani's recs #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fic recs #jungkook fic recs #yoongi fic recs #taehyung fic #fic recommendation #fic recs

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10yrsyart · 1 year ago

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Connor needs more friends and Tron lost/ destroyed all his friends, so i think they should be buddies 😤👌 they have a lot in common, they can bond over their shared trauma hahah

(the crossover came to me in November and then i shot myself in the foot by deciding to do traditional instead of digital 😂 ...and it hasn't left me alone, so there may be more still)

DBH/ Tron AU

transcript:

Connor: -nothing so far. It appears to be a library archive of ENCOM's back up files. Copies of layouts and simulations. But no location of the GRID server or current status.

Markus: Alright Connor, keep me posted. And be careful.

Connor: I will, Markus.

Connor: (A corrupted security file..? Why-)

Connor: --W A K E U P--

Connor: I'm sorry. Your updated matrix was corrupt, so I had to access your base code.

Tron: Are you a User?

Connor: My name is Connor, I'm th- I'm an android.. a detective with New Jericho.

Tron: My name is Tron. To what do I owe a super computer for the rescue?

Connor: New Jericho received an anonymous tip about the existence of ISOs in ENCOM's dormant system, and I recovered your security program during my search. Perhaps you'd be able to help me?

Tron: I cannot condone any program, or AI for that matter, actively working to harm the Users or ISOs.

Connor: That's not our intent, I promise you.

Tron: ...Very well. On one condition.

Connor: Yes?

Tron: ..I'm an old program, Connor. Would you tell me.. how the User world has changed?

Connor: (smiles)

(BONUS)

Tron: Connor! It's good to see you.

Connor: Hello, Tron.

Tron: How are you?

Connor: I'm well. I was telling my friend Hank about you and the date of your origin. And he said, “For pete's sake, kid, what'cha doin with all us old guys? Ya gotta get out more, get some sun.”

Tron: He sounds like he would have enjoyed one of MY User friends.

Connor: Maybe if he knew who you were, Hank would feel differently-

Tron: NO... no, I'd rather keep my anonymity. It's better that way..

#detroit: become human #connor rk800 #dbh connor #tron #tron 1982 #tron legacy #dbh markus #comic page #comics #traditional art #sketchbook comic #my art #long post.#DBHTronAU

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random-askbox-shit · 5 months ago

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List of everyone asked so far:

@real-british-empire @thatoneaceidiot @ace-of-loop @scp-threats-is-back @ambivertpotato2137

@the-real-gmail @fake-microsoft-outlook @godsfavefemboy @sushi1056 @murpledurple

@erikaskblog @maryland-officially @mid-maryland @vbs-kaitos-big-naturals @psychesetra

@jawdoesstuff @proton-mail-real @antikittysocial @green774 @breadismylifeline

@robonitrogen @the-real-yahoo-mail @thee-tired-0ne @sarah-ankh @kianf1sh

@decafcatfeen @the-official-goose-god @riiviir @homocidalpotat @maryland-no-rabies

@greymonds-bounty-board @more-trans-beans @tameable50 @top-secret-replier @regularsystemdeez

@elogaming @decontextifier @the-m-e-a-t @gimmick-thief @devil-official

@meatybunger @100percent-shell-oil @the-gimmick-doctor @definitely-waste-management @definitely-wikipedia

@whataburger-possibly-official @the-gimmick-astronaut @all-turtles-are-magenta-actually @bored-dromaeosaur @four-leafed-queer-gal

@violet-hady @mun-urufu @theetherealraphael @that-0ne-sam @nanochittle

@walking-at-nighttime-is-the-life @aristarxs @marbledew @some-rando-with-internet @ankoku-teion

@a-friendly-stray @ohio-thestate @literal-trans-beans @nontheanon @smileinc

@scpfoundation-site19 @wikipedia-the-non-official @maryland6th @marylandaccountx4 @marylandaccountx3

@evil-maryland @epiales06 @workplacefire @the-principality-of-sealand @washington-offical-2

@eliza-rivers @the-side-of-blogs @the-colours-system @the-real-liquid-death @the-lunacy-system

@i-eat-rocks-4-funsies @officially-lowes @pennyroyald @aroaceloverofgarlicbread @alchemicalwerewolf

@sunnyd-seltzer-real @santi-the-theory-guy @syahan-system @sentientballofpeasv2 @sentientballofpeas

@grammarly-keyboard @gooseonthetable @garmrin @kharak-the-skeleton @littlegayduck

@literally-lord-montgomery @crowthekiller @cb-writes-stuff @caprisunstwin @canisnebular

@crystalsandbubbletea @vampiricram1 @bees-official @brodiedoesthings @nicoletheslayqueen

@names-confuse-me @nostis-omnia-perdet-omnia @missouri-real @meatierbunger @thegayestidiot

@shakespeare-official-account @thebookshelflord @real-ikea-bag @mozilla-thunderbird @xyzee1212

@walmart-the-official @unhinged-as-hell @ravenwordss @garden-of-runar @izumi-kousei1715

@lienspien @idontknowwhatthefuckimfeeling @sunshine-prongsie-boy @amethyst-marshmallow @random-artistic-idiot

@adonis-bomb-emoji @urnmbr1fan @millyzasilly @t9-anon @lucky-cat-anon

@theacemagpie @thecrazyalchemist @buffalony-official @sleepy-boything-shit @im-an-anthusiast

@cloudstongue @zeeposting @cassylost-inspace @zombieefish

@kasperszilliez @bl00dy-bvnn1 @shark-tranny @cado-thingy

@the-fr-north-carolina-totally @irishfry @voxxxlol @internetsdeadd0ve

@colorfullaudino @kurushimiangel @mushuchanluna

@sink-ling @a-narcissists-warren @desklamper @ryuatewater @twoinky

@sugarloom @phoenixleft1 @mildlybizarrecorvid

@marinipanini @not3catsinatrenchcoat @bagel-lost-to-phyrexia @bagel-the-cardslinger

@bagel-is-yum @vellichorius @certified-bozo @cactus-with-tits @cactus-with-boobs

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alphacentaurinebula · 1 year ago

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Fanfic Recs!

Been on a reading spree so I thought it would be nice to rec a few of my favourite Good Omens fics

The Many-Venomed Earth (teen) - Gorgeous AU 1930s detective story where amateur sleuth Aziraphale must get Crowley off a murder charge. Yes that pun was intentional but actually this one is rated teen. I absolutely INHALED this fic and am halfway through the sequel - it's just brilliant.

Trial & Error (E) - Crowley on trial again - this time in Heaven, and the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale is the judge. AWK-WARD. Hilarious, angsty and hot, what more could you ask!

Half agony half hope (teen) - absolutely loved this one! Regency AU which basically uses the British class system as a replacement for Heaven, with a lovely bit of moral awakening, especially for Aziraphale. I’m a sucker for a good bit of history and there are some nice real historical events referenced within - part of said moral awakening - and really deftly done. highly recommend.

Jesus, Etc (Gen)- the very first Good Omens fic I read, in that desperate post S2 period where all I wanted was a funny, happy resolution for those ineffable idiots...and this one delivered!

A Narrow Escape to the Country (teen) - properly funny. Aziraphale and Crowley appear on a daytime househunting tv series. Hilarity ensues.

Married at first sight (teen)- another reality show, which I have not watched, but that did not interfere with my enjoyment of this fic. Fake marriage is like…my favourite trope. Give me more.

Muddle through somehow (teen)- oh wait, here’s some more! Fake marriage and fake kid and fake country cottage. The voices are spot on in this one!

The Grinder Logo Doesn’t Even Have a G in It (E) - You've almost certainly read this already and if you haven't you must. Post season 1 fic which manages to do footnotes RIGHT. Properly funny, extremely hot, and pretty flipping adorable. I loved it.

Slow Show (E) - AU. Who possibly hasn’t heard of this fic? But it is fantastic, and hot and romantic and gorgeous.

#good omens fic rec #good omens fanfiction #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens fanfic

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

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bloody kisses — part three: cinnamon girl boy

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 10K content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, self-doubt, shame, worries about aging, heavy petting, oral (male receiving), first time giving head, gag reflex training, assplay, doggy style, protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, bad family dynamics, hints of poverty, discussions around divorce, tim's internal battles, dominant!tim, bratty!shane, nasty dirty talk (anyone who identifies my favorite line gets a gold star), lmk if anything has been missed! dividers: @saradika-graphics a/n: i wanna cry @perotovar let me play with their beautiful blorbos and i had so much fun. i've never written m/m before so they took a HUGE risk on me - thank you so much for trusting me to treat them well!

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications ♥

(from @chronically-ghosted: if you liked my humble take on this, you can find my masterlist here!) ♥♥

Russet streaks of late afternoon light filter in through the vinyl slats over the grungy carpet when Shane opens the apartment door. He shuts it with a sigh, locking it behind his back, before tipping his head against the frame, closing his eyes, and taking a long inhale. On the exhale verging on a sigh, he tosses his keys onto the ripped and faded black couch to his right before trudging into the linoleum kitchen.

There’s a note on the counter:

Gone to visit Barry’s kids in New Jersey. Be back on the 10th. Money for food is on the fridge.

Shane’s dark eyes flit to the M magnet that Samantha left here the last time she visited from Maine. Even their father came that time.

He snorts resentfully when he sees it: twenty bucks to last him two weeks – thanks Mom.

Chances that she left him anything in the freezer are lower than the chance he’ll be able to stretch this twenty till Friday.

Shane slips off his leather duster and tosses it over one of the precarious bar stools. He snatches up the half empty packet of cigarettes from the scuffed living room table, takes one out, and lights it. He flops into the cracked leather, stuffing fluttering out of the cushions on impact, one of the metal springs stabbing him in his flat ass. Head against the ridge of the couch, Shane lazily puffs out smoke rings, his lips pursed, up to the ceiling.

There’s about a dozen – maybe even twice as many – feelings in his chest right now, all bubbling and curling and spitting and scratching at his insides. Some of them are good – most of them are great, actually (god he can’t remember when he last felt this fucking ecstatic about anything) but some of them . . . some of them scare him so much he can barely breathe.

Call, Tim had said, in his soft, low voice, the smell of sweet syrup still in the air, the plates with pancake crumbs sitting in the sink behind him. Call, if you need anything.

The detective’s card sits in the left pocket of his duster.

Shane shakes his head, a grim smile on his face. Can I call if I’m just fucking lonely without you?

He sips at the cigarette a bit, following the hazy trail of smoke as it wafts around the room. His eyes fall on the cracks of his life, this apartment he shares with his mother and her boyfriend. Stacks of newspapers by the bookcase that’s missing a few shelves. A cereal bowl he left by the window two days ago when a few friends invited him out to go check out Maxxx’s new stereo system. Takeout boxes and beer cans. Unfolded laundry in a plastic bin, the edges cracked and torn off. A few pictures when he was a wiry kid, then a wiry teen. He has a few good memories with Samantha, when he was fourteen and she was seven. That was the only time in his life when anything ever made any sense.

When she’d ask if he’d play her a s–

Shane’s eyes narrow at his bedroom door. Without looking, he snuffs the cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and stands up. Barry knows what would happen if he went into Shane’s room without Shane’s express permission – mother’s boyfriend or not – but Shane locks up every time. He keys open his bedroom door and finds everything as he left it. But that’s not what has him moving down onto his hands and knees, laying flat on his stomach to get a long arm under his bed. With a bit of searching, Shane’s face breaks open wide in surprise as he fingers curl around the long wooden neck. Slowly, Shane crawls back and with him comes his old acoustic guitar.

By the line of dust on it, it really had been several years since he played this thing, but turning it over, the rightness of it settles into his hands, his hips, his bones. This is where it was always meant to be.

Seems like I’m finding all kinds of rightness out of nowhere.

He strums once. The strings are horrifically out of tune, but the thoughts swirling around in his brain make him smile. Fist under his chin, he props his head up on the guitar’s body, contemplating.

He can still smell the sugar from breakfast and Tim’s aftershave from after breakfast. His heart squeezes without his control . . . and his ass twinges. Heat roars up his entire chest and he has to curl in on himself, rolling onto his back, to keep from exploding, a big stupid grin all over his face. The last twelve hours flit across his memory, each moment better than the next.

Call, if you need anything, Tim had said.

I need you to tell me what to do now. Am I the same person? Do I want to be? If I left all of this and everyone behind, who would I be tomorrow? Would you keep me around then?

Do you even really like me now?

He takes his hands down from his eyes, sighing and staring up at his popcorn ceiling, not unlike Tim’s.

Beneath his right hand, his metal bracelets clatter with the wood of the guitar.

Samantha.

Samantha likes him, or at least used to. She loved some version of him. Little sisters are always supposed to love you, but maybe he could find that version again. If it’s still there.

Shane sits up and begins to clean his room.

Night comes and the light from the Morrissey apartment stays on a young man gathering trash and throwing it away.

Tim hasn’t been this on edge since the four or five times he’s tried to quit smoking. He sits in his car, rain pouring down, heating set on low for an early November evening, and he thinks about all the ways this can go wrong. He stares up at the second floor of the tenement apartment, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel.

Like file folders, he sorts his worries from least to most earth-shattering.

Shane is vulnerable right now. There is no one else in his life he can turn to with questions, and he had been left to fend for himself on and off since he was fifteen (Tim has pulled up his file only half a dozen times for follow up work on the shooting and Shane’s rap sheet often catches his eye). Of course, he wants nothing more than to be the person who Shane comes to with questions or concerns, or fuck, even just an ear to listen to. But, at his age, Tim is all too aware of what a situation like that could do to him.

He’s already in too deep and he fucking knows it.

Earth-shattering worry number two: he is a cop and he has booked this kid more times than he can count. Just for petty stuff and he was never the one to press charges – always the DA looking for an easy numbers game to boost his image before the elections. Tim fucking agonized over that and not just in Shane’s case – these kids weren’t in need of help, the attorney’s office said, they were problems that needed to be put down. So how fast would the DA’s head spin around and explode if he showed up to the policeman’s ball with the “Satanic Temple” on his arm, nevermind just another man? While that would be a sight Tim would cherish until he died, he can’t ask anyone – especially someone as new to all of this as Shane – to handle something like that.

Which brings him to his final worry, the big concern that has him nearly start up his car and drive off, to call Shane on a payphone and apologize for not being able to ever see him again. Tim’s old. He’s fucking old and Shane shouldn’t have to carry decades worth of baggage when the kid’s got a fucking trunk of it himself. He’s old and a has-been and Shane has the rest of his life ahead of him.

Of course, this is all assuming Shane would ever want something more with him and this isn’t just sex for him. But maybe that’s all it should be. Both of them dirty little secrets to each other that can fuel Tim’s fantasies until his cock finally stops working (which is probably pretty fucking imminent), and something that Shane can laugh about with his partner some day.

With a sigh, Tim watches a figure move around behind dirty windows on the second floor.

The only way Tim would walk away now is if Shane told him to take a fucking hike. And that’s a really big problem.

He turns off the car, grabs his tan raincoat, and heads towards the apartment building.

When Shane opens the door, Tim wonders if he had a stroke and is seeing things that aren’t really there. Shane still has all his earrings, his rings with his unusually jet-black hair, but the duster is gone. Shane has answered the door in a black sleeveless shirt, with faded but roughly-intact jeans, and bare feet. He looks –

“Laundry day.” Tim’s eyes snap up and Shane frowns petulantly. “‘S laundry day . . . n’ this is all I had.” His fingers around the doorframe tighten. “You gonna come in or just stand there and make me look like a fuckin’ rat?”

Tim is very much aware of how much he looks like a cop even in plain clothes, and the tie with slacks isn’t helping. But he can understand why it might make things difficult for Shane to be seen with him.

But, fuck, if he only knew . . .

“Sorry.”

He steps across the threshold and Shane shuts the door behind him, sticking very close to the wood to give as much space between the two of them as possible. The rain patters in the silence as Tim tries not to stare too much, but that pattern-picking part of his brain can’t help but lurch into overdrive.

The apartment is empty. That’s the first thing he clocks. The second are several black garbage bags by the front door and the distinct smell of Pinesol in the air, sitting only faintly above the stench of cigarettes. Tim’s eyes fall to the cracked patio door, then the ashtray that has three very freshly stamped-out cigarettes in the bowl. Either two of Shane’s friends just left or –

“You want, um, something to drink?”

Shane moves swiftly from behind him to the kitchen and Tim’s gaze latches to his back. His ears are by his shoulders and Tim gets a brief flash of the borderline fear in those dark eyes before he disappears behind the wall.

“No, uh –,” Tim clears his throat and takes off his coat, then his holster, laying both flat on the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. “I’m good. Mind if I smoke though?”

Shane returns, a beer can in his hand and slides into the plastic chair on the left side of the chipped table beneath a sickly, hanging fluorescent light. He cracks it and takes two long pulls before putting it on the table with a thud. He picks up his own packet and Tim thinks he might see a tremble in his hand.

He’s not sure if he feels vindicated, even elated, that Shane might be as nervous as he is, or just terribly awkward.

“Make yourself at home.” Shane indicates the chair across from him with a jerk of his head before he lights up. The chair squeaks on the linoleum as Tim pulls it back and gingerly sits down. He stabilizes his elbows on the table to keep his hands steady as he takes out a cigarette from his own packet and lights it against his mouth.

The heady rush of smoke combined with the fresh scent of rain soothes something and he forcibly tugs at his own courage.

“So, um, how’ve you been?” Fantastic start, Rockford.

Shane lifts those thin shoulders, eyes skirting the edge of the table. “Good. Went, uh, to see X the other day. He’s getting better. Says the hospital should let him out soon.”

“Good. That’s good.”

The room is so quiet, he can hear the paper burn and curl from the smoldering end of the cigarette between his fingers.

“And you? You've been – um?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good. Xavier – sorry – X’s testimony was really useful for identifying the shooter and establishing a timeline. Should be a pretty open and shut case.”

At that, a wry smirk curls across Shane’s face. He looks at Tim with something that might be described as a teasing grin as he knocks loose a line of ash. “Probably the last and only time X is gonna be helpful to the police.”

Tim responds with his own grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything different. Where’s the fun in easy cases?”

They both chuckle, eyes on anywhere but each other. And yet the tension has cracked, just a bit. Enough to let Tim lean back in his chair and breathe out a long, relaxed plume of smoke.

“But, uh, you called because you wanted to ask me something?”

Shane’s ink-wet eyes glance up at him and Tim feels the knot beneath his chest bone throb.

“Oh – yeah, right. Um, I was thinking about something you said over breakfast the other day . . .” Tim’s heart swells; he thinks about that morning all the fucking time too. Soft golden light and harsh black hair, spread across his chest. “And I was wondering if you still talk to your old friend in the NYU music department.”

That is not the question Tim had been expecting.

“John? Who works at the guitar shop on 7th?”

“I’m not thinking of going to school,” Shane adds quickly, the tips of his ears going red and Tim has to make an effort to keep his eyes on Shane’s face. “I still think school is a fuckin’ racket made for rich people to make themselves richer and maintain authority over –,”

“Yes, I still talk to John from time to time. Why?”

At this, Shane shifts in his seat, eyes low, shoulders rigid with tension. He taps his thumb on his knee uncomfortably.

“Iwanajob . . .”

“Sorry?”

Shane scrunches his nose (the band around Tim’s chest tightens – god, he’s so fucking cute) and huffs.

“I want . . . a job. At the guitar shop . . . and I was hoping . . . you could introduce me to your friend. John, or whatever.” He adds sullenly as if Tim hadn’t just said his name twice.

The buzzing awareness that is always present at the back of Tim’s mind suddenly clicks on. Like a camera taking film, he looks around the room. The trash bags. The tidy apartment. Fucking laundry day.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “Why, uh – why that place?”

Shane stiffens imperceptibly again. He’s got that “caught-in-a-trap” look about him – the kind his suspects get when they’re about to confess something, willingly or otherwise. Shane’s wide eyes glance over Tim’s shoulder as if he had pointed a finger. Tim turns and is rail-roaded again for the second time since coming here.

“Is that yours?” Tim stands, leaving the cigarette in the ash tray, and crosses the room, careful not to touch the shining guitar on its holder but getting as close as possible to examine it. It is a beautiful guitar, the body waxed and the silver of the tuning pegs bright in the low light. It takes Shane a second to answer.

“Yeah.” The admission is breathy, a release from a too-long-held inhale. Tim thinks his voice wobbles a bit but he dare not turn around to see what’s on Shane’s face. “I used to play a lot. I loved music as a kid, thought I was pretty good. Samantha loved it when I wrote songs for her. When we got older, she’d sing along with me.”

Tim clocked a white note stuck on the counter when he walked in, but he was too far away to read it. The way Shane said her name, Tim gathers that she’s not an ex, but someone closer. However, his file never mentioned any Samantha, so she must not live nearby or be someone he sees frequently.

When we got older . . .

Tim straightens up and looks at Shane. “Is Samantha your sister?”

Shane stares at him wide-eyed for a minute before shaking his head, smiling faintly.

“I hate it when you fucking do that.”

Tim’s stomach knots. “Do what?”

“Figure me out as soon as you look at me. Yeah, dude, Samantha is my sister. Half-sister anyway. Mom and Dad tried to do the whole divorced parents who get along thing for a while, but it didn’t last. Now I don’t see her unless she can get the car for the weekend. But she says she won’t come if she’s not invited and I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”

Tim nods, the sick knot in his stomach melting into butterflies.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just . . . curious, I guess.”

Shane watches him silently as he rejoins the table. The chair squeaks again. Tim lights another cigarette when he knows he shouldn’t but Shane’s smile has him trembling.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?”

Tim swallows. “Can’t help myself do what?”

“Be curious,” Shane says softly, something unreadable and expansive in his gaze. For a second, he looks a decade older and a millennia wiser. He lifts his voice, louder, deeper when he continues. “Guess that’s part of being a cop.”

“You know, technically, I’m a detective, right? Not on patrol, only handling specialized cases.”

Shane sucks the last bit of his cigarette, his eyes bright with mischief. “A-Cab, Rockford. I don’t make exceptions.”

Tim wants to kiss that smirk right off him. He squeezes his own knee briefly before leaning into Shane’s space, the corner of the table separating them, to tap out his ash. He relishes in the way Shane’s eyes skitter up his forearm to his shoulder. He’s not the first to be intimidated by Tim’s size, but he is the first that Tim would gladly overwhelm with it.

“Seems like you did the other night,” he replies, his voice throaty and scratched. It’s not entirely intentional – Tim’s mouth has gone shockingly dry.

This time, Shane’s entire face flushes pink and Tim grins. Old dog still got some tricks, don’t he?

“I’m just fucking with you, kid.” He chuckles. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He hears how that last part sounds and bites his tongue in regret. Of all the things Tim wants Shane to know, assuming he thought their time together was a mistake is definitely not one of them. He does not want Shane to think he is something that Tim wants to keep a secret.

But by Shane’s unabashed intake of Tim’s forearms, chest, and curls on his hairline, he probably didn’t need to worry too much.

It’s been years since he was so shamelessly checked out and it makes his heart pound. He wouldn’t dare return the ogling but, fuck he wants to. Last time, it had been all about Shane and making Shane feel good, which he would do without question again and again and again. But he is desperate for an exploration of Shane’s body as much as he knows it needs to be an exploration for the both of them.

Or it would be, if he could get a goddamn grip. Last time - probably only fucking time, you sleeze.

“I k-know–,” Shane’s voice cracks and the blush flares again, only briefly this time. He clears his throat and sits up a bit in the chair. “I know that. I know. It’s just . . .” Shane sucks on his cigarette nervously, his cheeks hollowing, like he’s warming up to something. Something sour rolls down the back of Tim’s throat, his stomach clenched, but years of training keeps his face as smooth as stone. Those dark brown eyes, as gentle and fluid as mercury, stare up at him and Tim knows he’s such a fucking goner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim nods. Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Shane leans forward, drumming out another line of ash into the glass tray. He straightens against the back of the chair as he tugs one knee to his chest, expression wary, and wraps a skinny arm around his shin.

At the last second, Shane drops his gaze and instead decides to interrogate a dirty spot on the table.

“When I first met you,” he began slowly, “you wore a wedding ring. But now . . .”

His eyes flicker to Tim’s left hand, third finger, absent of any jewelry, sitting on his thigh.

Tim thinks of the first time he saw that irate seventeen year old punk in the station. He had a ripe black eye and an annoyingly smug smirk on when the officer on duty chucked him roughly into a holding cell.

“That’s perceptive of you.” He flexed his hand into a fist, once, then twice, then met Shane’s stare ahead on. Tim has to hastily swallow a deep lungful of smoke to smother the sudden uptick of his heartbeat. “You’re right,” he says, stiff, on a throaty inhale. “I was married until about five years ago.”

A large knot visibly slips down Shane’s throat, his cigarette tilting dangerously between his fingers, ash hovering over the carpet.

“Hm, and to a . . .”

The way his eyes go wide, Tim wants to bury a kiss into that agitated pulse on Shane’s throat, but instead, he just nods slowly, avoiding sudden movement that might startle the wild animal ready to bolt across from him.

“Yeah, Shane, to a woman.”

Shane continues to tear into his own lip. He retreats before Tim’s eyes – crosses his arms on top of his knees and leans his head back. He stares into the rain outside, the beer at his elbow long forgotten. This isn’t the answer he was hoping for.

“Oh,” he says.

Tim leans forward onto his elbows, entering into his space again, but this time more hesitantly. Shane’s bare foot is inches from Tim’s fingers.

“Shane.”

“Hm?”

“Look at me.”

With a steady hand, Shane flicks the end of his cigarette with his black thumbnail, ash falling, and with a very level gaze, he returns Tim’s watchful eye. His face is so blank he barely has any features.

“What?”

“I’ve fallen in love with women and men.”

The impenetrable ice in his eyes melts and Shane frowns. “You can do that?”

Again, Tim nods, this time a faint smile on his face. How easily he forget how fucking clueless this kid is and how fucking cute his obliviousness makes him.

“But I’ve only slept with women before, am I–,”

“It’s not about who you’ve slept with, to a certain degree. It’s who you are attracted to.”

“So there’s more than just being gay?”

He wants so badly to reach across the edge of the table and take Shane’s hand. Soothe him. Feel those rough calluses against his skin again. He can feel the heat of his own cigarette coming painfully close to the backs of his fingers so he tamps out the cigarette in the glass bowl, Shane’s eyes watching him the whole time.

“There’s a lot of things, sweetheart,” Tim says softly, the nickname slipping out as it had before, in his own apartment with Shane in his lap. He hopes that sweetheart sounded casual, a nickname more than a reflection of the hot knot tightening in his groin. “But at the end of the day, it comes down to what feels right to you. How you see yourself. You might have to spend some time figuring it out, asking yourself some hard questions, but you’ll get there.”

Shane nods, again swallowing the words that are so clearly caught in his throat. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and stares out the window at the rain. Tim’s mouth dries up at the sight of his long, exposed throat.

“Is that why it didn’t work out between you and your . . . wife?” Shane asks quietly.

Tim runs his gaze over the piercings in Shane’s earlobe, the delicate bones within the cartilage, then to his set jaw and, finally, over his plush, pouty lips.

“No.” He can hear how hoarse he sounds, how wrecked, but having Shane in front of him again, all those feelings, all those basic urges he denied for the past few weeks come roaring to the front again. He of all people should have known suppression and repression never, ever work. “We were just different people. It had nothing to do with the fact that I also fuck men.”

He watches Shane tremble, the skin on his bare arms suddenly electrified. Slowly, with a shaking breath, Shane twists out his own cigarette, pushing it down roughly with two fingers.

The thing that has been circling Tim’s mind – like a rabid dog tearing out chunks of his ability to think straight – slides out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What have your other partners told you?”

Call it twenty years on the force.

Call it a finely tuned bullshit detector.

Call it whatever you want, but in that moment before Shane opens his mouth, Tim knows he just considered lying to him and Tim’s heart plunges into his gut. He loathes the idea that Shane might lie to him, lie to him about being queer or an aspect of himself he still has questions about. Having someone older and more experienced than him in life alone at Shane’s age would have made all the difference to him as a young man and more than anything, more than his stupid cock, that’s all he really wants. He wants to be there for Shane because no one, not even his own family, has ever told him he means a damn.

And you mean so much to me already.

Then Shane lets out a shaky breath, the crease in his brown carved deep, but one glance at Tim and it melts away. Without warning, he stands up right and for a split, wonderful second Tim thinks he’s going to crawl into his lap again.

But Tim realizes he’s waiting for something.

With a voice that comes from a very small place, Shane mutters, “there hasn’t been anyone since you.”

He blinks up at Shane for one second, and then two, and his words register, click in, and everything else fades away. Tim’s on his feet with his finger snagged through one of Shane’s belt loops before common sense or patience can catch up with him.

“Is that right?” Tim purrs as he takes the curve of Shane’s neck in his massive palm, the other going to waist, and Shane instantly gasps at the touch. But that initial elation hardens and he glares at him. Tim is distinctly reminded of an annoyed puppy.

“Don’t sound so fucking pleased,” Shane snarls through bared teeth. His black nails dig into Tim’s forearm, a warning and a plea. “It’s not like I think about you all the time or anything.”

His eyelids droop when Tim squeezes the back of his neck and Shane lets out a low moan. Tim drops his head against the other man’s forehead. The boy smells like cloves and cinnamon and definitely pot and it’s going to haunt Tim’s memories forever. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to nuzzle that bare cheek.

“You’re all I think about. Every minute, every day,” Tim hums, “I can’t stop thinking about you and all those little sounds you made when I fucked your ass.”

Another sound, a better one, squeaks out of him – one of protest and desperation and carnal need – and Tim’s control snaps in his hands.

The hand on Shane slides to the back of his head and Tim all but shoves those pouty lips into his mouth.

It’s just as fucking fantastic as he remembered.

Frantic. Needy. Tim kisses him like it’s his job to lick clean the cigarette smoke embedded on Shane’s tongue, on the inside of his mouth, the split cracks in his dry lips. His fingers tangle into that starkly black hair, the strands faintly damp, and his other hand slips to his low back. At that, the boy pulls back enough to let a whine escape from his open mouth before Tim yanks him against his chest. He feels Shane grow hard against his thigh and all the blood rushes out of his brain.

Briefly dizzy, Tim stumbles forward, his hands catching the table behind Shane’s hips, pinning the younger man between him. He nips at Shane’s neck, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck me, baby. You’re going to give this old man a heart attack.”

Shane guides him into his mouth, his fingers clawing gently at the scruff of his beard, a slower, softer repeat of how Tim had initiated. Warm air puffs across Tim’s beard when Shane retreats, eyes searching for something he needs to find on Tim’s face.

“Actually,” he breathes softly, “I really do think about you all the time too.”

Tim has never been more grateful for the rough grip on his cheeks because that’s all that’s keeping him from sinking to the ground on wobbly knees. Shane takes another kiss before his hand slips into Tim’s meaty paw and tugs him into the living room. He guides him back to the couch and, with a not-too-gentle push, shoves Tim down against the cushions. The detective goes without resistance.

The pale light from the rain beyond the window and the fluorescent glow behind him etches Shane in a soft halo. Brightness in Shane’s eyes tells him that the man is running on instinct alone – and that’s perfectly fucking fine. Whatever – anything – Shane wants, Tim will gladly offer it up.

But when his hands drop to Tim’s belt buckle, the rush of heat up his body leaves him almost catatonic.

“Mhmm, f-fuck, sweetheart, wait a second – d-don’t wanna rush things if you’re not –,”

The sound of his zipper tearing open is like a gunshot and there’s no denying the raw hunger that smears the edges of Shane’s eyes to a dangerous black.

“You have to walk me through it.” He sounds awe-struck.

He sinks to his knees and Tim considers he might actually die on this fucking couch. The heat radiating from those black-tipped hands that run up his thighs has Tim moaning in the back of his throat. He wants to curl that beautiful hair around Shane’s elegant ear – what would he say if Tim told him he has an elegant ear – but he’s using all of his energy to not immediately come when Shane tugs his pants down his hips, just enough to palm him through his boxers.

As if the sensation of a half-hard cock surprises him, Shane’s lips split apart, eyes locked onto the wet spot beneath his hand. Tim swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, knuckles white as he grips the cushions, watching with aborted breath Shane stroke him gently. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” Tell me I’m not forcing you into anything too fast because I’m fucking obsessed with you.

“I want this.” Shane shuffles closer, his hand dipping down to cup his balls, the scent of his cloves hitting Tim again, and Shane quietly gasps as the cock beneath his hand hardens more and more. “I wanna s-suck your cock.”

Tim grunts, his legs opening wider, sliding low into the cushions and now Shane hovers over him. Here is where with other partners in recent years, Tim would lock up. There’s gray in the curls at the base of his cock and his tummy hangs out a bit more, no matter how much he runs. But Shane doesn’t seem to register any of that. His mouth is still open in raw fascination, as if showing off how fucking deep he’s going to take the cock inches from his face. The sight splits heat between his groin and his heart. Tim is not going to fucking rush this. He’ll let Shane touch whatever he wants for as long as he wants even if it makes him come like an overeager teenager.

Suppressing that peak of heat at Shane’s touch, Tim digs his fingers into Shane’s mop of hair like he’d been wanting to since the kid first offered that drink. At his immediate touch, Shane’s eyes roll back in his head and Tim takes that as an opportunity to scratch at his scalp, with a slight tug at the end.

“Oh, fuck, please lemme me suck your cock.”

Shane’s breathing hitches when Tim loosens the grip on his hair, runs his thumb down his temple, scuffs his cheek, and then drags that puffy bottom lip down. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes misty and shoulders slumped forward, and Tim has barely touched him.

“Take me out, baby,” Tim murmurs, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Wide eyes never losing their nervous light, Shane dips his hand below the elastic waistband (why didn’t he put on better underwear?) and cups him, slowly dragging his shorts lower as he pulls Tim’s cock into the light.

Tim has to remember to breathe. Fuck, it’s so hot in this fucking room. With trembling fingers, he tugs the knot of his tie away from his throat and unbuttons his shirt down to his ribs, as Shane runs an experimental grip up and down the length of his cock. Tim hisses as heat flares brightly and a little too fast.

Shane’s eyes flick up to his face. “Sorry, too dry?”

Without waiting for a response, Shane cups his hand beneath his mouth and spits, a giant, slick glob. It might be the hottest thing Tim has ever witnessed with his two eyes. Shane’s hand returns and Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he groans.

“S-s-shit, baby, that’s really good.”

Tim wants to open his eyes, to see Shane’s face, to get a glimpse of what is going on in that beautiful head, but he can’t drag himself out of the lusty haze long enough.

And then, after several slow, long pumps that have him harder than he can ever remember being, Tim feels Shane’s palm twist just as his thumb swirls the head and swipes the leaking tip. Pleasure roars up his spine and his hips jerk off the couch. His eyes snap open and find Shane not proud, but surprised. His mouth opens again in glee.

“I fucking love that too,” he murmurs, his hand moving a bit faster now. “Love it when they play with the tip.”

“Mhmm, hmm.”

As Shane finds a slightly hurried rhythm with his strokes, Tim is greedily storing away images and sensations in lockbox after lockbox in his memory. Has Shane’s hands always looked so thick?

“You can try whatever you want.” Tim murmurs, his gaze jumping between the hand around his cock, Shane’s mouth, and that hand with the black nails against his thigh. “If you like something, I’ll probably like it too.”

Shane wets his lip, his eyes darting to Tim’s face as if looking for permission. Tim nods, his heart pounding in a completely different way than from exertion, and has to breathe into his stomach as Shane parts his lips and lowers his mouth to his cock. Inch by inch, he takes him deeper and deeper, his hand falling away to Tim’s other thigh, as he sinks closer to those gray-streaked curls.

Tim is genuinely caught on the knife-edge of pleasure and pain. Exquisite pleasure saps his entire body of energy, every grunt and sigh bursts of tiny releases, but with every inch into Shane’s warm, wet mouth, his tongue a rough glide on the underside of his cock, it becomes harder and harder to not buck his hips and god, does he fucking want to. He wants to grab Shane by the back of the head, hold him steady, and fuck that mouth like it’s the last fuck of his life. But he won’t, he can’t – Shane isn’t ready for that and quite honestly, neither is he, despite how the arousal of that mental image floods him with hot satisfaction. He’s going to tear apart this couch with his bare hands, though.

Shane gets about halfway and then chokes and Tim is yanked out of the dream in a panic.

“B-baby, are you okay?”

Shane splutters and nods, the back of his hand coming to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks. “My gag reflex is shit though.”

Tim sighs with relief and a strangled orgasm. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. Better than fine, actually.”

Tim meets his eyes as they go dark and hungry with a flash of that spitfire that Tim only ever saw on the other side of a metal interview table before.

“Guess you’ll have to train up my reflex, then.”

“Yeah?” This kid has no idea what he’s playing with. Shane kneels between his spread legs, hands gently rubbing the meat of his thighs, those dark eyes swirling almost maliciously. Tim pinches Shane’s chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, thrusting that belligerent mouth up. “You gonna listen to an authority figure for once in your goddamn life?”

“I’ll try my best,” he pouts, his neck arched back.

“Blow on it.” Tim commands. “Start from the bottom and go to the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim’s cock visibly throbs and Shane hasn’t even opened his mouth. But then he does, leaning forward when Tim releases his chin. He blows a quick burst of air around Tim’s curls, before opening his mouth wide and breathing heavily, wetly, warmly around the base of the cock in front of him. Then, as he was told, he lifts up and to the very top of that leaking head.

“Take the tip – just the tip – and suck on it, gently at first.”

Shane does as he is instructed, his eyes never leaving Tim’s face or losing that maniacal glint, and he sucks, making a similar face (Tim assumes) as when he’s slurping up ice cream. Shane sucks harder and a loud, lewd moan rips out of Tim’s throat.

“Now take it all in, as much as you can. Then swallow.”

Shane dips his head, mouth gliding down his veiny shaft, spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth, going down and down and down until he breathes sharply through his nose. Tim, clutching at sanity as it sprinkles through his fingers, watches the sharp planes of Shane’s shoulders and back churn and roll as he lifts his head up and down. He wants to loop his fingers through those black curls so badly.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” Shane grunts his approval, the blush of air against his groin sending a bolt of pleasure up Tim’s spine, and he soothes his own tattered nerves by digging into Shane’s hair, scratching a bit like he had before. But then he loosens and just lets his hand rest contentedly on the back of his head.

The drumming beat of rain and Shane’s wet mouth is a narcotic. The sight and sounds and smells of it all makes his brain melt, deep desires usually chained down by his restraint snapping and popping free like fireworks.

What’s he going to feel like when Shane can take all of him?

How long and how often does he have to do this to train him up?

Could he come home after working a twelve hour shift to Shane crawling onto his knees and sucking him off, just like this? Like this, in perfect domestic bliss –

Out of nowhere, Shane swallows and Tim has to claw into his own thigh to keep from coming right then and there.

“Oh, fucking Christ –,” he yelps. As if encouraged, Shane tries to go a little deeper, swallow a little harder, but he gags again. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet and Tim wonders if it's possible to black out from being so aroused.

“Sorry,” Shane mutters, wiping his mouth again. “Your cock is so fucking big. It felt big in my ass but this –,”

Tim’s eyes slip closed. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t – can’t say those things.”

He breathes heavily, the pounding in his heart only slightly stronger than the blood pounding in his cock. But Shane is suspiciously quiet.

Tim opens his eyes and finds a curious expression on Shane’s face as he stares at Tim’s cock. No, not his cock, a bit below –

Shane turns and tugs the low, tattered table behind him closer. He puts Tim’s foot against the edge, and then does the same with the other. The haze in Tim’s brain won’t let him piece it together until Shane dips his head, tongue already out.

“Whoa, whoa, baby–,” he grasps Shane’s shoulder and he stops. “I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to push you too far tonight.”

Shane rolls his eyes, flatly annoyed. “I’ve eaten ass before, Tim. I’m not a blushing fucking virgin.”

Tim can actually feel the second that sweat breaks out across his hairline. “A-are you sure?”

“Yeah, I actually know what I’m doing there. I mean, an asshole is an asshole, right?”

He isn’t sure if he likes how fast Shane has grown in confidence, or if it’s the sexist thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s the one not entirely ready.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Fire away, then.”

And with that first kitten lick, Tim finally comprehends just how fucked he is. He knew he was, but it’s not until Shane masterfully rims the edge of that ringed muscle does he know, with clear certainty, this kid is going to ruin him.

Shane’s hand curls around Tim’s shaft, his tongue prodding his asshole, and Tim makes a loud, open-mouthed moan that hits the quiet air of the apartment and shatters.

Within seconds, he’s hurling towards a release so violent, his thighs shake. Shane pumps him slowly, his mouth making everything wet and drippy, his eyes eagerly catching every twitch and moan Tim makes.

When Tim feels his balls draw up, dangling over the precipice, he snatches Shane by the hair and yanks him back. Again, Shane makes a sound like an irritated cat.

“C’mon,” he huffs, his face red as if he had mitigated his breathing. “Lemme do this.”

Tim swallows everything – his tongue, his orgasm, the desire to lick the brat right out of Shane’s pouty mouth – and shoves it all down as far as it will go. He’s left sweaty and panting, holding Shane by the flat of his hair at arm’s length. He swallows again and sits up, that airless high settling. Shane scowls petulantly

“You still want me to fuck that ass, right?”

His glare cracks in half. Those swollen lips part and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop sucking cock. Got it?”

Shane nods more insistently, tongue swiping fast against his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.”

Tim lets go and resists the urge to correct him to how he addressed him before, but fucking Christ, one thing at time.

“Which one is yours?” Tim nods towards the two closed doors across from him. Wordlessly, Shane points to the one farthest from the living room. “Show me.”

Tim barely grunts as he stands up, his knees dangerously unsteady, his back twinging from the low position on the couch and the fact that there’s more padding on a highway road than inside of those cushions.

Again, just as he thinks he might tip over, Shane takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads him through the door.

The sun had set on an already dark day, so in the burgeoning twilight, Shane’s room is a collection of shadows and blue outlines. Beyond the vinyl window slats, the rain pours harder than ever, muffling the sounds of cars on the street and the blunders of other people in the building. With the door closed, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so, more like a soothing hand against his sweaty neck. The pleasant scent of incense is unmistakable, a far cry from any other smell in the apartment.

The effect of it all, standing in Shane’s room, alone, is . . . isolating.

“It’s not much,” Shane murmurs, as if he worried Tim would find something about his space distasteful. “But I did clean up.” His eyes grow wide as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that I thought, or even expected that this – that you’d –”

Tim brings their locked hands to Shane’s cheek and gently, sweetly kisses him on the mouth. For a man so confident in his ability to drive his partner insane with his tongue up their ass, the boy quivers beneath a soft touch. Tim pulls back and finds blurry, unfocused eyes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tim hums and strokes an errant curl back from Shane’s cheek.

“This.” Shane says immediately. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Where do you sleep?” Tim asks, quietly, letting the words slow to a rumble, his free hand gently cupping the boy’s neck. The bed is unmissable, but he wants to give Shane as much control as he needs. Beneath his hands, Shane’s breathing stutters for a moment, before biting down on his bottom lip and leading Tim to the haphazardly made-up bed. He sits, big eyes staring up at him, at their bound hands, before releasing his grip and lying back on the bed. He scoots up, nestling that all black hair against his gray pillow.

“Here.” His voice is strangled, choked, his fingers twisting together as he picks at his nails. “Right h-here.”

“Is that why you look so good right here, baby?” Tim slides the tail end of his tie out of the knot and off his neck. Shane licks his lips, transfixed, as Tim continues to unbutton his wrinkled shirt. The bit of clothing falls to the floor and Tim nearly matches Shane in a white sleeveless shirt. Black and white, punk and cop. There’s poetry in there somewhere.

Tim continues to undress; shoes first, then socks, and finally his slacks. Shane gets a little jumpy as he crawls up the bed.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes.” Tim raises an eyebrow at the jeans confining his hard cock. “No, sorry, n-no – I’ll take them off.”

Tim gives him enough space to unbutton his pants, then sloppily jerk them off. He flings them over by Tim’s and Tim grins. He settles back down with Shane nearly underneath him and gently strokes his cheek. Everywhere he touches on the boy, it’s warm. Women aren’t like that, usually, and in turn, it satisfies something deep inside of him. Tim thinks of the tender warmth of the heated skin of a deer after it’s run a long distance.

“You still want it, baby?” This he asks honestly and without the grungy purr to his voice.

Again, without hesitation, Shane nods, but then stops. His chest swells like the words he wants to say are caught on the back of his throat, his nails gently biting into Tim’s chest, so Tim presses thoughtfully into the arch of Shane’s jaw, encouraging him. His doe eyes darting across Tim’s face, tension coiling up in his thighs, Shane says,

“I want it from the back this time.”

Oh, fuck.

With half of a groan and half of a laugh, Tim dips forward and loosely bites Shane on his ear. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Shane giggles as Tim’s nips slowly turn to open-mouthed kisses. He sucks sharply on the thrumming pulse of his neck, and Shane groans, his whole body writhing to be closer to Tim’s mouth, his skinny arms going around Tim’s broad shoulders.

“Do you mind?” Shane asks, breaking apart for a moment, his lips brushing Tim’s mustache. “I know you did it last time and if you wanna, um, I mean I can try but –”

Tim grins through the smile pressed onto a corner of that sweet mouth as he sits up on his knees. He smooths a hand up through the faint trail of hair just above Shane’s waistband, then up his ribs, stopping to thumb a hard, pink nipple, before kissing both of his cheeks.

“No, I don’t mind. I will never, ever mind when you ask so nicely.”

“But one day – you w-want me too, right?”

Ribbons of meaning hang over that question, their soft tassels hard to grab before slipping through Tim’s grasp. His brow furrows, his hand resting on Shane’s hip. The boy stares up at him like he hangs the moon in the sky.

Those ribbons drag forward new questions of their own, questions he can’t ask himself, much less out loud. They all clatter and fall into one big heap in his mouth and he can’t untangle them right now, not while he has Shane looking like that, but one slips through before he can stop it.

“You wanna do this again, with me?” The question lingers in the air like smoke, as gentle and insistent as the rain outside.

Shane’s fingers curl around Tim’s wrists. He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I . . . like you.” Blush trickles up his neck and into his ears, but he keeps his grip. “If you wanna keep me around, I mean.”

His voice goes small, from somewhere he never lets anyone see. Just as Shane’s eyes jerk off him, shame hot in his gaze, his body going rigid, Tim leans down and kisses him, the softest kiss they’d ever shared. The scent of cloves comes again as Shane offers his tongue and Tim takes it.

They kiss in the cover of the rain, in the shelter of the space that is entirely theirs, for one eternity and a half. When Tim opens his eyes, he is someone new, someone changed. Someone he doesn’t recognize and that’s a wonderful thing.

“I’ll take you like you want,” he says softly. Beneath his chest, skin to skin, he can feel Shane’s heart pounding. He hopes Shane can feel his. “But I wanna see your face for a bit. Is that okay?”

Shane nods and kisses him as he tries to pull away. Tim smirks and rubs Shane’s hip bone with his thumb.

“Remember what I said about preparing? Have you been doing that?”

Shane bites his lip as if caught doing something particularly filthy. “Yeah, I’m up to three fingers now.”

Fucking hell. Be cool about this.

“Good, baby. Do you have lube?”

Shane rolls his eyes, that blush now blotchy on his throat. “Duuuh. I don’t know why you think I’m some bl–”

“– ushing fucking virgin. I heard you the first time.” Shane narrows his eyes playfully and Tim cannot wait to spank that smirk right off him. “Then go get it.”

Shane wiggles out from between Tim’s legs and crawls over to the bedside table. He digs around a bit before pulling out a box of condoms and a blue bottle. He tosses them at Tim like he’s throwing laundry detergent, before hovering for a moment. Lips between his teeth, he stiffly slips his underwear off and down the floor. His bracelets clink as he moves and Tim can tell it sounds like an air raid siren to him. Naked, he crawls back to bed and settles beneath Tim flat on his back.

“For someone who is so bothered by authority,” Tim begins and just as Shane frowns, wrenching his mouth open to argue, Tim sits back between his thighs and folds his knees up, spreading him wide. Whatever retort Shane had dies on his throat and the only thing left is a soft whine. “You are such a good boy. I didn’t even have to ask you to get naked for me.”

Shane’s cock, exposed for the first time all night, twitches on his stomach. He squirms as Tim picks up the bottle and clicks up the lid with his thumb, his other hand resting briefly on the arch of Shane’s foot.

“I’m gonna start with one again, but move faster into two this time, okay? Then we’ll see if you’re lying to me or not.” Resistance flashes in Shane’s eyes at Tim’s smirk, but the boy stays silent.

But that defiant look melts away to aching bliss when Tim drizzles the lube between his cheeks, and then Tim’s own fingers. His other hand curls around Shane’s knee and squeezes, grounding them both.

“Probably should have gotten a towel,” Tim mutters and the sound Shane was going to use to reply fractures and crumbles, oozing into a throaty moan when his asshole spreads apart around a single finger.

Maybe it’s his age, or maybe he’s never had his asshole played with in a way he likes, but Shane is so fucking sensitive. He’s twitching and gasping after a few strokes, black nails curling into the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, not from pain or discomfort, but from trying desperately not to come. Tim recognizes that look; he wore it himself fifteen minutes ago.

Shane’s cock is trickling all over his stomach by the time Tim adds a second finger. And true to his word, it goes in without much resistance, much to Tim’s delight. This means there can be a bit more fun than just aimlessly prodding. Shane lets out a high moan when Tim’s fingers change angles.

“What the fuck are you doing down there?” Shane pants, sweat peaking at his hairline. He moans again before Tim can answer, his back arching off the bed.

“Searching.”

“For fucking what? I–,” Shane’s eyes snap open, horror and heat etched in the dark rims. “You can’t touch that, it’s not fair. You’ll make me come.”

Tim kisses his knee as he adds a third finger, grinning when Shane’s head thumps back against the pillow. “I think that’s the whole point of this, sweetheart.”

Shane whines his answer; Tim speeds up his thrusting, giving up for now.

“You’re doing so well, darling, so well. You did so good to prepare for my cock.”

Shane fists the bedsheets, his thigh muscles tightening. Tim thinks he can’t actually comprehend his words, until he wrenches his jaw apart. “Just your cock. I did it for your cock, Rockford, no one else’s. Don’t - don’t want anyone’s cock but yours in me.”

This is just cock-drunk babble, tongue loose with whatever nonsense fills his mouth, his brain no longer in control.

Right?

Either way, Tim slips his fingers out with practiced precision, easing on the condom, then squirting his cock and Shane’s exposed hole with lube in one go. If Shane has noticed anything, his blissed out expression doesn’t change . . . until he feels the tip of Tim’s thick head expand his asshole.

His stare locked onto Shane’s blissed out face, Tim pushes forward, using Shane’s knees as leverage.

The boy honest to god chokes. His cock spits up his chest.

“Ohmy god . . .”

Tim goes slow enough he knows it won’t hurt, his fingers opened him enough that the lube only adds to the pleasure, but he’s not entirely worried about that right now. He wants him stupid and babbling again.

“This cock, sweetheart? This is the cock you’ve been making room for?”

Shane whines, lips white between his teeth, nodding vigorously. Tim rubs his hip soothingly and Shane’s face breaks open with a loud gasp. His eyes snap down to where he swallows Tim inch after inch.

“You’re so much bigger than my fingers. Holy fucking shit. I forgot how big you are.”

“But you like that, right?” There’s a collective sigh of relief as Tim finally is flushed against him. Huffing like a wounded animal, Tim pushes the mop of hair back from Shane’s sweaty forehead. “You like how I fuck you, don’t you?”

Shane nods again, as Tim grips his waist and he wraps his fingers around Shane’s forearms, his bracelets tinkling softly, as he settles in for what he can’t even possibly imagine.

“You’re damn fucking right I like how you fuck me.” Shane rasps out. “Wouldn’t let you do it if it didn’t rock my fucking world.”

“I’m gonna go a bit faster than I did last time. You say stop if it gets to be too much.”

“I know what a safeword is, Rockford, I’m not –,”

Tim rolls his hips forward, knocking a surprised breath from Shane. He stabilizes a bit better with his knees and then picks up a rhythm, slow but deep.

“If you say blushing fucking virgin one more time, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking you.”

But words fail him.

They fail Tim too, eventually, when rings of heat stack, one upon the other, up his spine. Every time Shane’s asshole clenches around him, those rings drop lower, closer to his groin.

It feels too fucking good.

The rhythmic chime of Shane’s metal bracelets clinking together can barely be heard over the rain outside, and the peaks and valleys of the heavy moans piling up in the room.

Shane’s flattened hand against his head board, he grinds his hips down, forcing even more resistance than just his tight hole.

“Fuck,” he whines high and loud, Tim tightening his grip on his waist as he all but bounces Shane on his cock. “Oh god, I can’t – I can’t –,”

Tim’s skin is so hot he wonders if he’s giving off steam. He’s sweating from his forehead, his neck, the backs of his knees, a slick wetness spreading across his groin every time he slams that cute little ass back against him. Not another single word of derision has passed Shane’s lips in what feels like forever, his mouth switching rapidly between grinding his teeth and dropping open when Tim brushes up against something nuclear.

If Tim is steaming, Shane is melting. Every muscle in his body is weak, knees around Tim’s hips to give him better access. Cum rolls in white streaks off his stomach and onto the rapidly shifting sheets.

Tim knows if he just breaths on the that pink cock, it’s all fucking over – so he slows, and pulls back out of him.

A Shane with a functioning brain would have demanded an explanation but the gooey mess of a boy in the bed only lifts his gaze.

“Turn around,” Tim pants.

“What?”

“You wanted me too . . .” Tim spins his finger, squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand. “Turn over.”

“Oh, right.” Despite that almost sleepy murmur, Tim can hear the disappointment. At the head of the bed, a shaking hand swipes away one pillow then the other and Shane buries his face in the mattress.

His ass is already pink as Tim spreads his thighs, his knee nudging his right leg to bend, and lines up. But Shane is murmuring something into the sheets.

“… stop.”

Tim freezes, one hand around his cock the other flat against the bed by Shane’s hips.

“You want me to stop?”

Shane lifts his head enough to look back and whine. “Don’t — don’t stop.” Crackling with unspent energy, Shane rubs his face against the sheets like a cat. “Please.”

Tim grins as he lines himself up again, his free hand coming to Shane’s thigh when the cockhead spreads his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not gonna –,”

Tim stops moving. It’s long enough and unusually fraught enough for Shane to lift his head in confusion, Tim’s cock barely in.

“What happened?”

Tim is staring, struck dumb and mindless at the sight of Shane’s lower back.

“You’ve got two dimples here,” he murmurs, the growl in his voice thick and rough.

“Yeah? So?”

Without warning, Tim yanks Shane onto his hands and knees by his waist. The sudden movement is rough for his loose muscles and he yelps.

“Fuck – what’s got you all fucking twisted up now?”

Tim is no longer entirely himself. His shoulders seem broader, nose sharper, mouth firmer. His eyes have been eclipsed by black as one by one, he puts his hands on Shane’s hips, and then twists his thumbs to fit into the divots of his dimples as he, achingly slow, pushes back into Shane’s abused hole.

“You’ve got fucking handles built in, baby.” Tim murmurs and heat radiates from where they are connected, Shane’s skin flushed with red and goosebumps. The sensation jams the signal to Shane’s brain.

Behind him, Tim kisses his back almost lovingly.

“I’m definitely gonna wreck your shit now.”

On the first tug, the one that snugs Tim’s groin right up against his ass, Tim knows he only has seconds left in him.

These strokes are brutal, fast, and short. Whatever sounds tears itself from Shane’s throat is the prettiest thing Tim has ever heard. His mouth goes wet as he watches Shane’s shoulders and back go loose again and on another day, he’s going to clench his fist around that mop of hair and pull until Shane begs him to stop.

Another day. But not today.

Tim focuses on the things he can control to elongate that enormous orgasm that rattles his teeth. His thumbs in the perfect little divots of Shane’s back; he pushes down, increasing the pressure higher up, and actually hears the cum squirt out onto the bed, followed by a groan that shakes Shane from head to toe. He focuses on his breathing, the short huffs out his nose, mouth closed shut but tiny mhm mhm mhm’s escape anyway. He tries to focus on the glint around his pelvis but that makes things worse.

He focuses on – fuck, what can he focus on? – Shane hasn’t made a noise in –

“Shane, baby, are you okay?”

He gasps out as though electrified. “I’m trying so hard not to come, I don’t want it to fucking stop, but you hit my g-spot three thrusts ago and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle. He rubs a warm palm up Shane’s spine, then gives his neck a reassuring squeeze, before leaning forward and draping himself over Shane’s trembling frame, never slowing those fast, rough thrusts. He noses his ear as his hand slips around the cock leaking profusely onto the sheets.

“You can come, but it has to be loud and messy.”

Just half a stroke down and Shane comes with a cry that paints the inside of Tim’s brain permanently. And he keeps coming, gasping, wet and whining. Over his shoulder, Tim feels a dribble against his knee and that, combined with all of Shane’s delicious fucking sounds, knocks free Tim’s own release, the swell and burst far away from his control. Shane’s elbows are trembling by the time he slumps to the side, trying and mostly failing to avoid his own cumstain. Tim drops behind him in a haze.

He’s already sore, every muscle tightened then released over and over and over again. He can’t inhale properly and he’s got a stitch in his side. There’s a pulsing all over his body and he isn’t sure if that’s from coming so hard he nearly shot off the condom, or his heart pounding like it’s about to explode. His skin is wet and sticky and he’s hungry but exhausted and he would hate all of this if he was alone, but . . .

Weary down to his bones, the breath settling in his chest and the fog lifting slightly, Tim puts a hand on the narrow waist in front of him. Fingers join his, wrapping together, as the frenetic energy of the room slows to a crawl, each moment plodding along in front of the next like fat water droplets.

“. . . good, that was good,” Tim slurs to no one in particular, his eyelids flickering open and shut. “You’re . . . s’good.” He knows they should talk, but he’s past speech, or rather anything coherent, his consciousness slipping beneath the churning dark waves of sleep.

The smooth back in front of him, shiny with drying sweat, shakes in a dizzy, silent chuckle.

“Go to sleep, old man.”

Tim knows he should be offended, or he thinks he should, if he could comprehend language right now, so instead he settles into the warmth and the darkness. Soon the only sound he can hear is the rain pattering against the window and Shane softly snoring before reality winks out.

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