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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 5 months ago

Text

Lens Flare

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Description: Over the past three months, your career has grown by leaps and bounds. Yet at the same time, you can't help feeling dissatisfied. A lot of your feelings stem from what you did the last time you saw him. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant Jake Seresin. It had been fun, in the hangar, under the dead of night - passionate and hot. So too had been the video you filmed and the pictures you'd snapped. But hindsight, well, maybe there is a reason why they say "Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty". Because Jake hasn't called, despite how badly you want him to. A new assignment in North Island might have the potential to change everything for Jake and our Shutterbug, including how they approach everything they hold dear.

Warnings: Once again, this is just some porn with plot. The feral plot bunnies ran away with me, I fear.

Word Count: 8502

A/N: Hiya everyone! I'm baaack! Enjoy this sequel to my fic Photo Finish. It's just as smutty and gorgeous as the last one!

This fic is brought to you all by the constant support of @horseshoegirl, @sarahsmi13s and @desert-fern. You're all my heroes and I love you to bits for keeping me from ditching this story before it even started! I couldn't have written it without you!

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

An old photography teacher of yours once told you never to submit photos with lens flares to any publication, magazine or contest. He considered lens flares the biggest mistake for a rookie photographer. He’d declared, quite adamantly in front of your entire class, using your pictures as examples, how lens flares made photos look cheap and low quality. Given his dislike of the trick of light, he’s also taught you a plethora of tricks to prevent them. Over the many, many years since you left his class, you’ve started to relax and deviate from the rigid rules of photography he once taught you. For a large portion of your career, you've been photographing subjects which cannot be posed in a studio, which helps. Every snick and whir of your camera feels like you are letting go of rules and embracing your art.

You’ve always heard wildlife photography has a tendency to relax photographers' attitudes. It’s a truth you’re very thankful you had the chance to experience. After all, there are no rules when it’s just you, your camera and what feels like the entire world a hair's-breadth away from your camera lens. It’s hard to be frustrated with the sun glancing across your camera lens when it highlights fox kits gamboling in dewy spring grass. Or elk on a frost-bitten winter morning with clouds of their breath dissipating into the clear air. Those pictures were once-in-a-lifetime shots, perfect in their imperfection and richer with the sparkling halos of light.

Being back in New York after years of traveling has made you appreciate the photographs you took even more. Now you feel like you can fully appreciate the wilderness in them. New York is wild in an entirely different way. It’s louder, greyer, more populous, yet just as vibrant. In New York, you’ve been able to capture human nature, snapping minuscule interactions between people who are always in a hurry and always moving. But you also have to work to make enough money to fund your passions. Not having to travel helped bring some stability to your passions. But of all of the things you thought you'd be photographing, fashion models and clothes were never an option. In a way, photographing fashion and fashion models is capturing another kind of wild animal in your lens sights. Models and designers are wholly proprietary and protective over what they consider theirs, whether their clothing or their aesthetic appearance. You’ve had to shoot and reshoot, as well as touch up your photos more than you've ever had to before. Of course, in this case, your primary objective is to make the models and the clothes they are wearing look otherworldly and incredible.

At first, the thrill of doing something new was alluring and exciting. But after a year, trapped in New York City, doing the same thing and working with the same people day in and day out, you can’t help but miss wildlife photography. It's like a persistent ache below your breast bone, something calling you back to the life you lived before. You're missing traveling in arid deserts and verdant forests even more now. And then the US Navy came calling. Now, while you miss the wilderness, you think you might just miss something else, more.

It’s late, half-past three in the early hours of the morning, and you’re sitting out on the balcony attached to your overpriced shoebox of an apartment. You’ve found yourself sitting out here more and more as the summer heat turns into the cool of fall. Your balcony is so small there’s only room for a single chair, and your feet are propped up on the wrought iron railing. New York’s the city which never sleeps and the crackle and groan of the city resonates around you. Your oldest camera, a Canon you bought in college with the pennies and dollars you’d saved from tips earned from waitressing, sits on your lap. All night, you’ve been trying and failing to chase away how unsettled you’ve been feeling by peering through the viewfinder and trying to see things from a different perspective.

But it hasn’t worked. You've been feeling discomfited of late, unsettled and restless. Maybe your listlessness has something to do with your next assignment. You can’t lie, not even to yourself no matter how hard you try. It has everything to do with your next assignment. You should be excited. You should be asleep, because at least if you were asleep, the time would pass sooner. For once, you will not be photographing a new designer collection. In the morning, you're flying to San Diego to take pictures at North Island Naval Base for a follow-up piece sanctioned by the US Navy. Your team is joining you, which should be a comfort, albeit slight and slim. There will be more planes to photograph and possibly shots you can take from within the cockpit or from up in the air.

It took three months to publish the article on the US Navy’s newest hotshot aviation squadron. There had been countless revisions and rounds of approval with the US Navy's Office of Public Relations to greenlight the endeavor. It's been exactly the same amount of time since you met the Dagger Squadron, too - only three months after you edited the photographs, focusing maybe a little too much on one face in particular. Three months after you took the biggest risk of your life, professionally and personally. Three months after you made a sex tape with a client. It doesn’t help that he was a memorable client, too - and how you haven’t been able to forget him.

It's only been two weeks since the magazine hit newsstands with your picture of the Daggers in all their finery near one of the jets on the front cover. Everywhere you go, it seems you see their faces - his face. Your phone has been ringing off the hook ever since. Everyone wants you to take professional portraits of their clients. But your phone has never had the voice you so desperately want to hear on the other end of the line. It's a nationally distributed magazine, after all, and like everything nowadays, published both physically and digitally. The magazine had also mailed special copies to each member of the squadron which was your subject. So he has to have seen it. So why hasn't he called? It's the one question on your mind. It may be the only question on your mind, but it's far from the only thought in your mind.

Chances are, he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. After all, why would he want to?

You couldn't silence the thoughts if you tried - and you have tried, repeatedly. Getting drunk made you maudlin, going out had you seeing his face in every stranger’s and getting laid had made you wish you were with him rather than anyone else. Over and over again you’ve found yourself thinking about those last few moments with him, agonizing over every detail, from the kisses and touches to the last time you saw him. Maybe you hadn’t been entirely clear in your note to him. You can recall the note as if you wrote it yesterday, the note you'd affixed to the flash drive you handed him.

Sure, you told him to call you when he was in New York next. But really, you wanted him to call you, period. Or text you. Something, anything to show you’re lingering in his memory in the same way he lingers in yours. You thought your dalliance had been memorable enough. You hoped you were memorable enough. After all, it's not every day you let a man fuck you up against his jet and record it, forget a man you’ve known only for a few days. Maybe it’s a little silly how attached you’ve gotten to him, given the short time frame, after what should have been completely meaningless sex.

But it’s not meaningless anymore, at least not to you, after how many times you've seen the video since you last saw him. Your camera hadn’t hidden a single thing when you made your little home movie all those nights ago. You’ve seen how his hands had been gentle, his eyes soft. Your entire countenance had been beckoning, beguiling in the throes of passion, needy in a way you’ve never let yourself be before with anyone else. He’s also spoiled you for any other man on the planet - or at least in New York. You haven’t hit the same heights since him, and a part of you is sure you never will again. And now you have to enter the lion’s den, venture right into enemy territory with your head held high and only a camera to shield your too-hungry gaze.

A thump on the railing drags you out of your reverie. Your neighbor’s escape-artist black cat makes himself at home on the railing, paws flexing as his tail lashes through the humid night air. Like you’re in a dream, you lift up the camera and peer through the viewfinder. Tonight, everything seems to be coming back to lens flares. The neon lights fracture in your camera lens, softening the visage of the cat on the railing, green eyes luminescent. With reflexes born of years of wildlife photography, partially stunted after nearly a year of fashion photography, you depress the shutter with a soft snick and a near-silent whir. What you’re left with is a long exposed image - neon lights blurring in the background as one shines behind the cat’s head. Even his fur is blurred, only green eyes in focus, piercing into your soul. It’s perfect, as expected, and you hope it’s an omen for the days to come while you’re in San Diego.

Green eyes, different from those of your neighbor’s cat, haunt you, even more, the following day as you pile out of one of the minivans the studio rented for you and your team, as well as all of your equipment, on the tarmac at North Island. The humid, sticky air stinks of jet fuel and salt water. The wind brushes past you, snatching at your hair and ripping your sun hat right off your head. It's hot as it brushes by, providing no relief to the insistent heat.

Your team just laughs as you chase, bedraggled and exhausted, after your hat. The wind pushes you towards the hangars at the end of the tarmac, colossal doors thrown open while rows of jets stand gleaming. For the first time, you think you understand why Jake is so in love with being up in the air in his jet, how close to the elements he must be with adrenaline coursing through his system. You raise the camera resting against your chest, leaving your hat to fly where it wants, because you have to capture this.

When your camera focuses, you start snapping with abandon, capturing the sun-drenched metal and heat waves rising off of the pavement. You’re not sure what pictures the editors will select to go with the article the journalist is going to write. Regardless, you’re stealing the time to take some filler shots now, when it’s bright out still, and blindingly golden outside. Your team is far behind you, still clustered by the cars, as you trail between the shining metal hawks, cockpits closed and emblazoned with names and callsigns. Your heart stutters in your chest when you see his jet, the text dark and fresh, announcing he’s been promoted. So, he's still operating out of Naval Air Station North Island.

Faintly, you can hear voices emanating from one of the open hangars, so you creep closer, your old Canon camera clutched to your chest like it can protect you. Twenty-four of the US Navy's best aviators are saturated in gold, settled in creaking plastic chairs. Jake’s at the podium, laser pointer in hand, completely relaxed as he talks about things you couldn’t understand if you tried. The light glints across his face, catching angelically on the burnished strands of his hair. A singular fluffy lock has broken free of his hair gel’s hold, trailing softly across his forehead. It makes your fingers ache to push it back into place. But you can’t, because you won’t interrupt or embarrass him. So you take pictures instead, breathlessly, silently, framing the aviators limned in gold like they’re deities waiting to go to war.

You’re not sure when it happens, but he sees you - bright green eyes colliding with yours, a nearly imperceptible frown creasing his brow before the skin smooths. He doesn’t look happy to see you. In a way, it makes sense. You were just a one-night stand, something sexy to indulge in - not someone he'd want to keep forever. The look lances through you, skewering you in place as the wind and sun stick your blouse to your back. He doesn’t acknowledge you but for one curiously blank look, and you’re mortified as you walk silently back to your crew, who are now grouped around the jets in awe.

As expected, Adam and Lea, your stylists extraordinaire, are already scribbling away. Lea's flicking through the tablet in her hands. If you were a betting woman, you'd bet good money they are already planning outfits to take advantage of the blue, gold and white theme of North Island.

“Hey, Boss!” Amy, your assistant, is nearly bouncing in place with her excitement. You're not sure how she's so energetic despite the heat and the hours of travel. “Our liaison should be joining us soon. They'll give us a tour of the base and then show us where we'll be setting up shop this week.”

She doesn’t notice how frozen your smile feels and how mechanic your nods are. All you can think about is Jake. He must have known, right? What are the chances he didn’t know you were coming to North Island to take more pictures? There must have been some briefing or notice informing the aviators why you're here. After all, you’re here to photograph the Dagger Squadron. Then why was his face so blank when he saw you earlier? Thinking about him is driving you crazy, but you're not sure you can stop. All you want is to know whether he could ever feel as strongly for you as you do for him.

When your liaison walks up ten minutes later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see you have not one liaison, but two. Neither of your Navy appointed liaisons is Jake, something which you should have expected, but you were still hoping for regardless. Lieutenant Commanders Trace and Floyd are smiling from ear-to-ear as they greet your team by name. Lea and Katie seem especially enthused at seeing the soft-spoken bespectacled WSO again. Lieutenant Commander Trace is her same unflappable, cool, collected self. Her presence and dry sense of humor has you in stitches as you and your team follow behind her like a herd of ducklings. There are familiar faces around what seems like every corner of the base. But none of the faces are the face you still want to see so desperately.

Jake Seresin shows up again as you’re oooh-ing and ahh-ing over the big hanger, burnished yellow, orange, red and pink in the light of the sun. You’ve got your camera up to your face, lips pursed in concentration, eyes squinting as you peer myopically through the viewfinder. It's his voice you hear first. Just hearing it, with the same rough timber, makes you remember what he told you, before you fell into his arms and headfirst into this situation with Jake Seresin.

God, baby. You killed me this morning. Wearing that pretty little skirt and those high heels. I wanted to bend you over and fuck you until you were leaking my cum.

It’s not a good sign, is it? How you’re unable to even look at his face without giving yourself away. The evidence of your feelings must be on your face, which feels uncomfortably hot. The heat is completely unrelated to San Diego's sky-high temperature and you shy away from eye-contact when you pivot and face the rest of your team, and the trio of Lieutenant Commanders. The sight of him hits you in your solar plexus, robbing your breath and leaving your palms uncomfortably clammy.

“Hi.”

It’s a quiet greeting, your voice swallowed by the sight of him. It feels like your tongue is two times bigger than it should be in your mouth, unwieldy as you force it to move like you want it to. He doesn’t hear you, or even acknowledge you standing there waiting for him to notice you. Standing there, you finally realize how big a gulf there is between you and Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin.

It's a sharp contrast. He's standing there in his khaki uniform crisp and new, blond hair dark at his temples from the shower he must have taken. In contrast, your shirt is covered in wrinkles, your hair is frizzy with flyaways escaping your braid and your worn jeans are butter soft but have definitely seen better days. He ignores you for the rest of the afternoon. It hurts, of course it does, when he doesn’t notice you in the same way you notice him. But you have a job to do. You can’t - you won’t - jeopardize your career for a man, not even a man as beautiful as he is.

The now-trio of Lieutenant Commanders shows you the Officer’s ready room, where you'll be setting up for the interviews. Each member of your team is also given a badge on a lanyard allowing you limited access to certain areas of base. Soon enough, you're left to survey the ready room and prepare your team for the days ahead.

“I know it's been a long day already for you all.” Your smile is a little wry as you continue, “It's been a long day for me too. All I want is to unwind and get out of these heels!”

You let the scattered chuckles from your team peter out before continuing.

“Before I can do so, we need to sync up on what we're going to be focusing on over the next few days.”

“First and foremost on our list? Getting pictures of the Daggers while they are being interviewed. The interviewer is an old friend of Admiral Kazansky's and will be spotlighting each of the Daggers. As a part of the interview, we will be expected to get photos of each member of the squadron in their flight suits, their khaki uniforms and their dress uniforms.”

You raise your hands up to stall any questions. “I'm aware this isn't exactly the type of photo shoot we're used to. Katie, you’ll be on hand to help with their make-up during the interview. We're keeping it light and subtle. For the interview photos, we want the aviator's uniforms and medals to shine.”

“Seb and Kris - the two of you will be measuring the light levels in this room during various times of day and setting up artificial studio lights as necessary. I'll also need you both to check on the lighting situation in the big hangar we were in with the desks and the United States flag on the wall.”

“Adam and Lea, it may not sound like it yet, but I will need you both on your A-games. By special request of Admiral Mitchell, we've been asked to stage a beach bonfire. He wants this interview to echo the beginnings of this squadron. They became a team on the beach and now they are a family. I'm thinking we need cozy textiles and bright winter-toned colors. I'll leave the color palette to you both. All I ask is we have a cohesive palette for the squadron as a whole. As always, measurements for the aviators are included in this dossier. One of the minivans is yours. Our office in San Diego knows to expect you both.”

It doesn’t surprise you at all when Adam and Lea make a beeline for the doors as soon as you’re done with them. You’ve worked with them both long enough to know how they operate. They’ll be downtown and looking through the clothing on display before you can blink.

“Ames, while I run point with the admirals, you'll be sourcing the beachfront we can use for the bonfire. I'm not sure who you'll need permission from, but there might be a bar owner who can give us permission.”

Before long, it feels like you're the only island of calm in the entirety of base. Seb and Kris wander in and out of the room, measuring the light and carting in and out lighting equipment. Even the teleconference you have with the Admirals, both of whom are in Hawaii, due to fly back in a couple of days, goes smoothly.

Over the next few days, you find yourself building on the rapport you created with 6 of the aviators in the Dagger squad in the following days. You also meet the other half of the Dagger Squad. But at the same time you are building a relationship with the other Daggers, it feels like you're losing the relationship you once had with Jake.

The only time you see him during the four days of interviews and pictures is when he is being interviewed. Even then, he spends more time chatting with Amy and Katie than you. Even when you address him directly, he's silent, content to play puppet to your puppet master and then disappearing to an area off base you don't have access to. It hurts, and you’re starting to get weird looks from the other Daggers. They’re all too polite, or too cognizant of their positions in the Navy to ask you any prying questions. At least, until the bonfire.

It hadn’t been difficult to organize at all, in the end. All Amy needed to do was speak to the proprietress of The Hard Deck, a little bar a few miles off base. Penny had been more than happy to hand over the usage of the beach outside her bar for the night. The combination of good food, even better alcohol, and of course, no interviews relaxed the Daggers enough for you to get the candid shots the magazine was looking for. Halos of light spark across your screen with each snap you take - lens flares sparking to life, again and again.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with Jake?”

The question makes you jump and nearly chuck your lens cap into the bonfire. You fumble awkwardly as you try to collect your composure.

“Lieutenant Commander Trace. What can I do for you?”

Your voice is a little shaky as you wheel around and face her.

“You don’t have to do anything for me!” She’s smiling at your discomfort, something wicked curling her lips. “And anyways, didn’t I tell you to call me Natasha three months ago?”

You’re smiling despite yourself at her antics.

“It’s good to see you again, Natasha.”

“Forget about me. Why aren’t you talking to Jake?”

You should have known she wouldn’t be able to let it go.

“Three months ago, you could barely keep your eyes off of him and the same was true of him. He went out of his way to chat you up every chance he got. And now? Something happened between the two of you after we all left the hangar, and now neither of you is talking. You were fine when you showed us the pictures the next day. But now?”

You shrug, lifting your camera up to snap another couple of pictures of the squadron having fun.

“Oh my god. I can’t with the two of you. Either you walk over there and talk to him, or I’m going to get him to talk to you!”

You grab her arm before she can march away.

“I can’t, Natasha.”

You try grabbing for her, but before you can, she’s already gone. His eyes cut over to yours the more she speaks, and you’re not sure you like the way he’s glancing over at you. Your heart is in your throat as he skirts around the bonfire and sidles up to you.

“What are you doing here? Natasha has this crazy idea you’re heads over heels for me, but the way you’ve been acting says differently. So what are you doing here?”

His voice is so quiet you can barely hear it over the crackling bonfire. His face doesn’t change its expression once the entire time he’s speaking to you, barring one tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it smirk. Once again, you have to thank Adam and Lea for their work because the Lieutenant Commander looks good enough to eat in his sweater and butter-soft jeans. But you know he's not happy to see you. The disappearing act he's been pulling ever since he saw you outside the hangar four days ago is proof.

“You know what I’m doing here, Jake.”

“You're taking photos for another article. I know, I know.”

His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling maddeningly as he prowls closer to you.

“But between you and me, it’s just the official excuse, isn't it?” He tugs at a strand of your hair, reeling you closer to him. “But unofficially, I bet you want more of me. Maybe you want to make yourself another home movie? See my handprint on your ass cheeks again?”

His words have heat rising to your face, never mind how your skin already feels too toasty from how you've been huddling near the bonfire all night to keep yourself warm. Form-fitting dresses are not beachwear, especially not in late November. But you’re dressing to impress, wearing sharp blazers and business frocks. Add to the dress the camera and purse you’ve got over your shoulder, and you’re definitely not equipped for the beach.

“How do you know what I want?”

Your voice is thready and light, and your head spins the closer he gets to you. It's weird. You've been aching to have him this close to you all week, but now, when he is actually close to you again, you feel like it's too much, like he's too much. Every night in your hotel room, you've been coaching yourself to ignore him. You’ve had to in order to compartmentalize and be professional while on base. Yet, after only a few minutes in his presence, all your defenses are shredded like tissue paper.

“Because you're looking at me like this.”

Wafts of fragrant wood smoke drift by you and him as you stand mere inches away from each other. You can’t refute his statement. Not even a little bit, not even at all. You've never been able to mask your emotions, wearing your heart on your sleeve and your feelings in the pursed set of your mouth and the raise of your eyebrows. But you’re still not sure what you can say. If he’d propositioned you with the same vulnerable look in his eyes the first day you were in North Island, when he first saw you again, you would have folded like a cheap lawn chair. Then, you probably would have been more than content to pass on your expensive hotel room and make his lonely base apartment a little warmer. But he didn’t, and you’re not sure you can take the risk anymore.

Jake’s shoulders hunch, sinking into the impossibly soft cashmere of the sweater at your lack of response.

“I…” His smirk flattens, something like his Hangman mask taking its place. His shoulders never drop past his ears the longer you stand there with him at arm’s reach and pretend like you’re having a blast at this beach photoshoot turned bonfire party.

“I’ve read this all wrong, haven’t I?”

His sigh is gusty and almost too loud. “I was waiting for you to say something, because I’ve been dying to see you again. But then you ran away when you were taking pictures of the Top Gun class. Afterward, I - I didn’t know how to say I missed you, which is weird, I know. We only knew each other for a singular night.”

If your jaw isn’t on the floor already, you know it will be soon. Already, you’ve been getting too many questioning glances from your team and the Dagger Squadron. Then there is Natasha’s well-meaning meddling from a few minutes ago. Even the admirals have glanced over every once in a while at you and the normally cocky Lieutenant Commander standing in near silence. It’s not a conscious thought which has you whirling around in the silky sand and snagging a hand into his sleeve. You’re not sure why you’re doing it. All you know is if you’re having this out now, you need to have it out in private where it will not be injurious to your career or his.

Thankfully, Jake doesn't fight you as you pull him towards a corner of the parking lot. Your face feels flushed, and your chest heaves with panic at the thought someone could know what you and Jake did.

“I…”

You cover his mouth with your hand, pretending the feeling of his skin on your hands doesn't burn, like you’re not completely aware of the masculine heat emanating from his skin. For several long moments, you stand in the shadows between two pick-up trucks in the parking lot. Each of your muscles is tense, waiting for someone to realize you've disappeared with Jake Seresin, of all people. You don’t want to think about the possibilities they were assuming. The prickling, uneasy sensation doesn't pass with the moments but does fade a little.

“What was that about, huh?”

You just glare in response.

“I thought it was better to have this conversation where we were less likely to be overheard, is all.”

Your voice is prim, and your nose is tipped upward. It's obvious Jake doesn't feel the same way you do about this conversation, if he’s asking you questions like this.

“C'mon, sugar. If you wanted to let me down, you could have just said it by the bonfire. I promise I won't harass you.” His brow is furrowed as he thinks through all the implications of your statement. “Then or now.”

“I…” You fling your hands upwards, feeling this sudden urge to rage at the stars above you. How have things gotten so twisted? In your head and between you and Jake?

“I don't want to let you down, Jake.”

You growl, then, because you know what you feel, but the words aren't coming out of your mouth the right way. He's patiently waiting for you to figure it out, lips pressed into a thin line, and green eyes scorching through you.

“I’m not rejecting you, Jake. When I came to North Island Naval Base and saw you standing in front of the lectern, I wanted you to smile when you saw me. I wanted some indication you felt the same way I did. I also wanted to kiss you, but it wouldn’t have helped then.”

You're smiling again, just a slight curve to your lips, a smile Jake is mirroring.

“Then you pretended I didn't exist. You pretended I was just someone you worked with before. Not someone who you were intimate with. Not someone whose life you changed with your stupid smile and your piercing eyes and your big, gentle hands. I…”

To your embarrassment, you're sniffling and fighting back tears. “I didn't know why, or how to deal with it, so I just pushed back all my feelings. I pretended the same thing you did, and tried to ignore how much it hurt.”

“Fuck.” The quiet expletive echoes around you. “I messed this up, didn't I?”

He's pacing now, back and forth in front of you, shoes sliding through the gravel as he marches. He's ruffling his hair, face scrunched up in anguish at your words.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. I've watched our video so many times, I know my favorite parts. Fuck, sweetheart, I even took the picture of your ass with my handprints on it with me when we were deployed a month ago. I was nearly given so many demerits because of how hot that picture is.”

Your heart seems like it’s going to burst out of your chest, beating as hard as it is.

“So why didn’t you call?” The same plaintive, sad tone is in your voice again.

“What could I have said?” He’s finally stopped pacing back and forth at least. He flings his hands out from his hips “Sweetheart, I want you, I need you. I wish I could fly to New York right now to taste you again?”

You have to snicker at the sarcastic, sardonic note in his voice.

“It’s a little melodramatic, but I would have taken it.”

Just as quickly as you snicker, the laugh peters away into a gentle sigh. “All you had to do was tell me you missed me, Jake. All I wanted was for you to tell me you wanted to see me again.”

“Would it have mattered if I did?”

He’s stepped closer again, close enough you can feel the heat of his skin against yours. One of his big hands cradles your jaw as he looms over you.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl.” There’s a smirk on his face as he ghosts his lips over yours.

“Why would my answer matter then?” You’re not sure where the sass is coming from, but it’s making Jake smirk even more. “Knowing the decision you made?”

Thankfully, you don’t have to think of a response with a brain wholly occupied by the man drawing you into his arms. You melt into the kiss like it's something visceral you've been missing. His hair still feels the same against the pads of your fingers, golden silk, as you wrap your arms around his neck. He still tastes like you remember, too, cinnamon and smoky spice intermingling on your tongue as he licks into your mouth. Your heart sings when he gently positions your camera so it isn’t crushed between the two of you.

You whimper when he pulls away, chasing after his mouth like you're addicted to it. He still kisses like he flies, you note dimly, thoughts far away. The car at your back is cool, the metal searing into your skin as the sun has long since set. But the cold temperature of the car has nothing on the man crowding you up against it. His eyes are lidded, gaze hot as he takes in the sight of you. The dual temperatures are enough to make you shudder.

“Look at you, darling.” His hands are just as hot as his gaze as he trails his hands down your sides. “A single kiss, and you’re aching for me.”

You can’t deny the effects this man has on you. In truth, the time for denial would have been some time before you made the movie at the hangar. You’re so far down this path there isn’t a way to turn back.

“You want me just as much.”

Your voice is quieter than the rush of the waves, yet loud enough you can see the impact as they hit his ears. He’s still just as fit as he was three months ago, all hard, hot muscle as he presses up against you, cedar and plum wafting through the air off his skin. You can feel the jut of him against your hip as he muscles you even further against the car, spreading you out like a meal he wants to eat. He transfixes you with a glare when he pulls away, even as he smirks at your breathy moan. You watch, eyes lidded, as he opens the truck door and sets your things on the broad seat. You’re panting with need when he comes back to you, body shivering as he leans into you again. His hands find their home against the curve of your waist, fingers still nimble as they focus on tracing your curves in a way which might be driving you just a little mad. You almost wish you were wearing a blouse and skirt again like last time, because at least then you could feel his hands spread across your ribcage, searing their heat into your bones.

You’re lost in him, utterly captivated by the way his tongue tangles with yours, the way he makes you moan. Unlike the rough, claiming kisses of your first sexual encounter with Jake Seresin, these kisses are tender and sweet. They’re searching and tasting, like he’s trying to learn what makes you tick and what makes you moan. In truth, it feels like he’s trying to take you apart only to put you together again. This time, you’re not sure you’ll ever be the same, forever changed by the man in your arms.

“Fuck…” The word is an exhale pressed to your pulse-point, sticky, sweet, and blindingly hot. “Baby, let me take you somewhere other than this dusty, dirty parking lot. I think I really need to see you spread out on my bed this time.”

“Yes, please.” The words leave you in a strung out moan as you tug him closer, fisting your hands in his hair and sweater as you see fit. You’re past caring so long as he’s pressed so perfectly against you.

When he finally steps back from you, you’re gratified to see he looks just as rumpled and debauched as you feel. For a few moments, you stand there, drinking him in, hands aching to draw him close again, to touch him again. He takes your hand, entwining his fingers and yours. His hand dwarfs yours, skin slightly rough as his hand cradles yours. You let him lead you to the truck and help you in, because a part of you isn’t sure you’re going to be able to let him go even when you have to.

It’s silent, but for the sounds of the road as he starts his pickup, one hand never leaving its spot on your thigh. Your hands find the camera again, snapping with abandon the vista blurring past the windows and the man driving you. The streetlights halo through the lens view, speckling the pictures with circles of golden-butter light. It seems like time slips past in a slow trickle. You’re still looking through the camera when the engine cuts off, the sounds of the night trickling slowly back into your ears.

Jake’s eyes sear through you when you carefully gather your camera and bag up, legs shaky from that look alone as you step onto the pavement. His hand finds yours again, as you follow his broad back up a flight of stairs and through an unassuming white paneled front door. You’re surrounded by the cedar and plum of his cologne as you step in, the scent lightly drifting through the air. Jake crowds you against the door as soon as it closes, hands divesting you of your things even as his mouth slants over yours again. The heat sparking between you ignites again, a flame bursting to life in your chest, fed by the soft moans leaving his lips as you kiss him with wild abandon.

For much of the way to his bed, your eyes are closed. You trust Jake to lead you the right way, not to hurt you as you stumble and shudder your way through the apartment in his arms. His lips don’t leave yours once, moans ripping out of your mouth as he leaves you breathless. He’s far from quiet too, softly grunting when you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck, gasping open mouthed into yours as you rub at his bulge. Arousal bubbles in your veins, crashing over and through you. You squeal when he pushes you onto his bed, the mattress so firm it's almost hard as you bounce against it. Your hands shake as you fight with your clothes. Adrenalin makes you clumsy as you nudge your shoes off and fight futilely with the zipper at your back. Eventually you give up, choosing to lean back on your palms. When you look up, Jake’s staring down at you, eyes trailing from the curve of your mostly exposed legs up to your chest and back down again. He’s got his lower lips between his teeth, brow furrowed as he shrugs the sweater off.

Once again, you remind yourself to thank Lea for her work, because if you thought the shirt looked good buttoned up, it looks even better as it slips off his arms. He’s still wearing his dog tags, the silver chain glinting in the moonlight through the windows as he prowls over you.

“You’re still prettier than the pictures you take, baby.”

You feel like you are barely breathing as Jake licks into your mouth. The heat of his body grounds you, the points of contact just enough to tell you this is real.

“Breathe, beautiful.” His hands draw you up until you’re kneeling on the bed, your hands on his shoulders as you peer up into his eyes. Your resulting exhale is shaky as you drag in breaths with just enough oxygen to keep your head from spinning.

“Let’s get you out of this pretty dress, huh?”

“Jake.” His name falls out of your mouth like a prayer. His hands are practiced, sure as they drag the zipper down from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine. The fabric of your dress gapes forward until it’s around your waist.

Jake's eyes seem to glow in the moonlight as he takes in the simple black bra you're wearing, hands tender and hot as they drag over your bare skin, mouth wet and sharp as he drags his teeth across your collar bones.

“Mmm, baby.” His moan has you gasping, your body listing into his as he purrs the words into your skin. “I'm going to make you feel so good.”

When he lets go of you, your nipples are firm peaks in the cool air. When he removed your bra, you're not sure. All you know is you want him, desperately, urgently. Your panties feel like too much material as they cling to you, the gusset damp. Your hands are clumsy as you wrench the dress off, shaking as you peel your panties away from your skin, you flush as Jake's chuckles echo in your ears.

Divested of your clothes, you're faced with one of the prettiest sights of your life. Because, Jake’s standing there, with his belt unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned. His cock bulges out through the v-shaped opening, and your mouth waters as you look him over.

“God, Jake, please.” Your voice is a whine as you reach for him, fingers resting against his taut abdomen, back arched as you wait on all fours.

“I’ve got you baby.”

His promises drip over your bare skin like hot and gentle summer rain. Your eyes close as he cups your jaw, the rustle of fabric foretelling his bare skin joining yours on the bed. You let him position you where he wants, drugged by the sensations of his big hands. You steal the opportunity to kiss him again, palms splayed over his pecs, and the cool chain of his dog tags brushing against your fingers. Falling into him is too easy. It’s just a series of kisses, a sweet tangle of tongues as you let him cradle you in his arms. Sparks of need, of want traverse your moon-stained skin, hips canting against his thigh in need.

“How long has it been since you’ve cum, sweetheart?”

There’s amusement in his tone as you wrap your arms around his neck, breasts pillowed against his chest as you nudge his nose with your own.

“Just a couple of days ago.”

His chuckle makes you pout.

“And how did you cum?”

He rolls you over, ghosting a kiss over your lips as he peers down at you. “Was it some guy you brought home? Who didn’t know how to make these pretty moans spill out of your mouth? Did he make you think of me the whole time?”

When you moan, it’s because he’s pressing into you, the stretch of him making your toes curl.

“N-no.” You screw your eyes up, trying to string the words together. “It was just me. With a vibrator, watching our video.”

“Fuck, there’s my good girl. Waiting for your Lieutenant Commander to make you scream, right?”

You’re so far beyond words all you can do is tug him down, fisting your hand in his hair until you can kiss him again. He’s just as eager to pull you in, hitching your legs up until they’re propped over his arms, keeping you spread open as he pistons his hips until you see stars.

“Please, please, please.”

You’re babbling, your orgasm crashing over you with each sharp thrust. Your moans intertwine with Jake’s guttural grunts as his hips stutter at their steady pace. It feels like you’ve been set on fire when you cum, pulsing waves of heat washing over your body. Jake’s shivering as he slumps over you, blanketing your body with his. His hair is sweat-damp as you card your fingers through the fluffy strands.

“Missed you, Jay.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” The words are languid and soft, syrupy and sweet.

It feels like you could fall in love with Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin as he gathers you in his arms for what must be the hundredth time tonight to clean you up. Every glimpse of the man you see when he's not putting on his Hangman mask intrigues you more. There's a gentleness to him when he's like this, a secret softness shining past his imposing exterior. You want to know more. You have to know more.

The realization of how little time you have left with Jake eviscerates you. Only two days left. Two days to love this man as much as you can. You can’t tell him how close you are to falling for him. Looking at his apartment, you have a feeling it would just scare him away. His apartment is almost austere, the off-white walls blending into the pale cream carpet on the floor. Everything is bare, with no pictures on the walls and no personality. It’s a trend throughout the entire space, everywhere but the bedroom. There's a cheery quilt at the foot of the bed. It's the only vibrant color in the apartment, the one thing which screams home.

“It's pathetic, isn't it?” You jump at his words, gripping at the footboard of the bed in an effort to keep from falling.

“It's not pathetic, Jay. Just…” You turn, clad in the soft tee he'd pulled over you after the shower. “Just different than I expected.”

“I know what it looks like, sweetheart.” The same sad soft tone is in his voice again. “It looks like I don’t have any roots. Like I’m scared to let people in.”

He slides his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder, his golden hair dripping as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “Maybe that is the truth.”

Your heart breaks a little at the soft surety in his voice, even as he does his best impression of a koala around you.

“Because like it or not, I’m going to leave one day. I’ll have to leave one day. Another deployment. Another mission. And chances are, I may not be coming home.”

You clutch at him tighter, because right now, you’re not sure you can think about him not being in San Diego the next time you’re here.

“I was okay with my reality.”

When you wrestle your way out of his grip, you’re maybe a little too rough, evidenced by the grimace on his face as you walk away. You’re not sure where you’re going but away has to be enough. You’re not sure you can face him after he’s said something like this. After all, here you are, ready to risk it all in a sultry cross-country romance, ready to give your heart to him, possibly years of your life to him. Then there he is, admitting so callously he might not be coming home one day.

You’re staring unseeingly at the stars when he slides his arms around you again.

“Are you okay, Shutterbug?”

You lean back into him, because he feels perfect against you still.

“Shutterbug is new.” You’re trying to change the subject, because if he’s insistent about it, you’re going to explode.

“Nuh-uh.” His hands turn you around until you’re looking at him again. “Tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl.”

“You’re so callous about how you’re ready to never come home again! Why would you say that to me, Jake? I’m ready to risk everything for you. A cross-country relationship, half here, half in New York or really, wherever it’s convenient for us to meet. If you’re not willing to do the same, then what is the point of what we just did?”

You’re choking back a sob as you stand in front of him. Your eyes are screwed closed, hands wringing the hem of the t-shirt clothing you.

“Why does it matter that you missed me, and that I missed you?”

“It matters, because, sweetheart, you didn’t let me finish what I was going to say.”

Your arms wrap around his waist easily as he tugs you closer.

“I was going to say, I was okay never coming home before you. You’ve been running around in my head, the center of every thought, the subject of my every dream for three months. You kept me going when we were deployed, too. All I wanted was to come home safe so I could fly out to New York and see you again.”

“Now, at least I know I’ll be welcome when I come by.”

You’re smiling from ear to ear as you kiss the underside of his jaw.

“Yeah, you will be.”

You're still smiling as you walk into the Officer's Ready Room at North Island the next morning. You've got the same swagger you had in your step the first time you and Jake crashed together. Only this time, you have his phone number on your phone and the promise of a romantic dinner for two tonight. You'd be lying if you said you weren't still worried about the long distance relationship, spending half your life in New York and half here. But more than anything, you're ready for the challenge and excited to. At least you know who you're going home to - and, he knows who he is coming home to, as well.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @dakotakazansky @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @a-reader-and-a-writer @hookslove1592 @mshistorylover @hangmanssunnies @kmc1989 @chaoticassidy

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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notbecauseofvictories · 2 years ago

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My best friend and I had a call recently---she’s back with her family for a bit helping out with some hometown stuff. As part of the stuff, she’s been going through a (deceased) relative’s scrapbook, compiled in the American Midwest circa 1870-1900 and featuring mostly cut-out figures from the ads of the day.

She talked about how painstaking this relative’s work was. (Apparently the relative was careful to cut out every finger, every cowlick; this was by no means carelessly or hastily assembled.) But she also she talked about how---the baby on the baking soda ad is ugly, it is so ugly, why anyone would clip this heinously ugly illustrated baby and paste it into a scrapbook? Why would you save the (terribly told, boring) ghost story that came with your box of soap?

(Why include these things in the first place? we asked each other. ”There’s a kind of anti-capitalism to it,” she mused.)

And we discussed that for a bit---how most of the images, stories, artists, and ads were local, not national; they’re pulled from [Midwestern state] companies’ advertisements in [Midwestern state] papers, magazines, and products. As a consequence, you’re not looking at Leyendecker or Norman Rockwell illustrations, but Johann Spatz-Smith from down the road, who took a drawing class at college.

(College is the state college, and he came home on weekends and in the summer to help with the farm or earn some money at the plant.)

But it also inspired a really interesting conversation about how---we have access to so much more art, better and more professional art, than any time in history. As my bff said, all you have to do to find a great, technically proficient and lovely representational image of a baby, is to google the right keywords. But for a girl living in rural [Midwestern state] of the late 1800s, it was the baking soda ad, or literal actual babies. There was no in-between, no heading out to the nearby art museum to study oil paintings of mother and child, no studying photographs and film---such new technologies hadn’t diffused to local newspapers and circulars yet, and were far beyond the average person’s means. But cheap, semi-amateur artists? Those were definitely around, scattered between towns and nearby smallish cities.

It was a good conversation, and made me think about a couple things---the weird entitlement that “professional” and expensive art instills in viewers, how it artificially depresses the appetite for messy unprofessional art, including your own; the way that this makes your tastes narrower, less interesting, less open.

By that I mean---maybe the baby isn’t ugly! Maybe you’ve just seen too many photorealistic babies. Maybe you haven’t really stopped to contemplate that your drawing of a baby (however crude, ugly, or limited) is the best drawing of a baby you can make, and the act of drawing that lumpen, ugly baby is more sacred and profoundly human than even looking at a Mary Cassatt painting.

And even if that isn’t the case....there was this girl in [American Midwestern state] for whom it was very, very important that she capture every finger, curl, and bit of shading for that ugly soap ad baby. And some one hundred years later, her great-something-or-other took pains to preserve her work---because how terribly human it is, to seek out all the art we can find that resonates with us, preserve it, adore it.

It might be the most human impulse we have.

#I of course went on a tangent about henry darger because I love darger and he was also pulling/tracing/finding inspiration in local ads #I was also thinking of the scenes in banshees of inisherin where gleeson plays the fiddle in the bar and the woman sings #clearly not professional! nowhere near mozart.#but you know what? those people are making art. they are engaged in the most human thing you can possibly do #my mother once talked about how when she was growing up in the chicago area the irish immigrants would sing and play at parties #and her mother (one generation removed from immigration) would scoff #because who did they think they were! they weren't professionals. they were making a spectacle of themselves.#''and then it died out. no one sings and plays at parties anymore'' she said quietly #celestial emporium of benevolent knowledge

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justafellr · 2 months ago

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Now let's talk about the limp drama queen themself, Ennui

My version of Ennui is a lil bit different from the Ennui in film. They are still very much deadpan, listless, lethargic and very very lazy. But I put heavy emphasis on the royalty/privileged aspect of their personality All of their basic need is met daily and have grown too comfortable with what they have, leaving everything outside of that failing to satisfy them. They are indifferent and at times a little contemptuous, not wanting to deal with or associate with most people/things out of apathy for those kinds of things and that smug sense of "I'm too good for this" or "This is not worth my time", representing my artsy fartsy side and my overall laid back indifference to most things in the world that aren't my business or don't affect me Tho they seem like they don't care about anything or anyone, they really do care a LOT, specifically of where they should focus their energy on and what to associate with. They regulate the other emotions often and is extremely level headed and down to earth as a result of their laid back nature, often being the one to point out the obvious solution majority of the time. Because of this, they are prolly the MOST intelligent emotion next to Sadness, Disgust, Fear and Anxiety Their design is heavily based on the concept art of Ennui when they had a lot of royalty motifs. I wanted to give Ennui a nose but I could never find a position that I was satisfied with so I just got rid of it, and I also realized that I'm literally redesigning them and I can make them look however I want lmaooo. Wanted to make them pink with my version as well but thought they might look too similar to Embarrassment in colors so I went back to a more violet indigo

I also took inspiration from Picasso paintings for their face since they are considered a high art that only the rich and privileged can afford. Really wanted them to feel high class in their appearance and I genuinely love the abstract look for their face and overall look. They almost like like a rich painting come to life lol

#inside out #inside out redesigns #inside out ennui

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rebecca-arielle · 3 months ago

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hello have not been on here in literal years and reactivated simply to post my modern bridgerton hcs that came to me as i was falling asleep would not let me go until i wrote them down! enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

the entire family is still very much british upper class - they regularly interact with the royals and attend all the family event like wimbledon and ascot. they are regularly featured in the pages of the tabloids much to their annoyance. they also went to either oxford, cambridge, or st. andrew’s (franny)

- anthony - still who he is, took over edmund’s position in the family business. huge company either a law firm, business like real estate or holdings. he’s ceo and damn good at his job. still viscount but it is really in name only.

- kate - still very much who she is, i can see her either going very much a lawyer or the artist route but i like to think of her as leaving her art as a hobby that she does simply for the pleasure of it.

- benedict - artist can do either painting or photography but has become very famous for it, initially it was because of the family name but then people started seeing his talent for what it is. his photos have been featured a bunch of times in british vogue and he is one of their go to photographers.

- sophie - very much a primary school teacher because of her experience with araminta as a child she was determined to not let that happen for other children so she makes damn sure that while they are at school in her class they know some one is looking out for them.

- colin - travel writer. he works for some magazine and has his own column. the magazine is owned by like some big media company that has their own building.

- penelope - pen works for a different magazine that is owned by the same parent company as colin’s so they work in the same building when colin is not on assignment. she secretly still runs lady whistledown that is like deux moi and once she gets outed she starts her own mini media empire. still besties with eloise.

- daphne - she is very much the perfect socialite philanthropist that is so perfect she seems like she would be a bitch but truly is that nice. is still married to simon after they fake dated due to some media scandal. lives her absolute best WAG life and has the season down to a science.

- simon - is a huge sports star, think david beckham. technically was still the duke but officially gave up the title to piss off his father. this man was born to be girl dad.

- eloise - once she realized just how much privilege she has, she put her money where her mouth is and is constantly going to protests much to anthony’s annoyance (not because he doesn’t agree with the cause just because she is giving the family a bad name in the press, he actually super proud of her.) el went to school for a degree in women and gender studies and is super involved in academia when not getting arrested.

- phillip/a - a botany professor at the university where el is based out of. still has the kids from their previous relationship with marina but they were able to get a divorce because it is the 21st century and co parent the twins quite well. their gender honestly doesn’t matter for this, they love plants and eloise - the order of that is not important.

- francesca - autistic, it is important to me that you know that. she is a film composer, she loves getting to create the score for movies and that it doesn’t require that much human interaction.

- john - still unfortunately passes away, but prior to that was some kind of finance guy. was generally the nicest guy and loved fran with his entire heart.

- michael/michaela - hot. like the most beautiful human being you have ever laid eyes on. they work as an actor because it’s fun but secretly are insanely smart and like build computers for fun.

- gregory - anthony’s mini me and he wouldn’t have it any other way. he works for the family company and loves it. generally small bean like but is insanely tall, like taller than benedict much to everyone’s annoyance but no one more than hyacinth. he worships the ground lucy walks on but they only have three or four kids because they have access to birth control.

- lucy - a mini kate. also a lawyer who’s family firm got bought by kate’s and then started working under her where she eventually met greg when he was visiting his favorite sister kate for their monthly lunch date. has ocd.

- hyacinth - a child prodigy, started university at like 15 (which she never lets greg forget) works as a ta (or whatever the uk equivalent is) for agatha who is an old family friend through whom she meets gareth. her field is like archeology or some other super niche thing. (agatha does not have to teach, she does it because if she doesn’t how else will the new generation ever be taught the right way to do things)

- gareth - is so fucking chill but absolutely matches hyacinths freak. no one is quite sure what he does, he has explained it many times but no one truly knows even hyacinth.

- violet - was besties with princess diana (old money england) she unfortunately passes around the same time as edmund and she just loses it. luckily it is the modern days was able to get help but it took a little while. though once she is back on her feet she is a force to be reckoned with. she runs the family foundation which focuses on mental health and allergy awareness.

thank you for reading this! i will take no criticism at this time but welcome any addition thoughts!

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rosesbxrry · 2 years ago

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I’ve got my eyes on you

Pairing: Boyfriend! Heeseung X Fem! Reader X Roommate! Jake

Genre: Smut🔞 (Minors DNI), Heeseung and reader have a established relationship, Roommate AU!

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), Hard Dom! Heeseung, Sub! Reader, Jake is like neutral, threesome, double penetration, anal sex, voyeurism, nipple play, squirting, cum eating, clit play and slapping, dirty talking, slut shaming, degradation, blowjob, degradation, multiple orgasm, cream pie, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, Heeseung being mean. Hopefully I didn’t miss out anything else.

Summary: Jake has always loved capturing the beauty in any subject, the camera being his appendage for as long as he could remember. But pursuing what he loves in college didn’t end as well as he thought before he met the two of you, the couple who would change his black-and-white perspective for years to come.

Main masterlist

Word count: 6,242 words

a/n: I have no words to describe how horny I was while writing this. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this while I slave away to do my long awaited thesis 🥲 🥲 Also, I want to say thank you so much for 1,600+ followers 🫶🫶 🤧

Jake was always told that he had an eye for art.

Aligning the clear lens near to his right eye while the other shut closed, feeling the robust outline of the camera weighing his arms as he brings it up and the subtle tap on the flat button before—

Snap

He took a picture worth a thousand words.

From photography to filmography, Jake’s aptitude talent to be able to capture the nuances of angles and depth earned him a scholarship from a rather prestigious college to further his education.

Succumbing to the naivety of pursuing his skill in a more formal method, his passion for the art had been confined in a small defined box. The initial gratification and contentment of crafting a piece of pure refinery were moulded into the rules of academic guidelines.

He might abide by his philosophy, but he’s not stupid to flop his studies.

The semesters were filled with bleak and gruelling days— suffering through classes, assignments and professors that seemed to come and go. Nevertheless, he thought that he would spend his roaring twenties enjoying life and creating projects, with the possibility of doing a gallery show to display pieces of his creation to the world.

What seemed to be a rock bottom situation has graced him with the silver lining he needed.

Lee Heeseung was another fellow student in the school, a year older than him, who needed a new roommate in his apartment.

Coincidentally, Jake decided to move out of his parent’s house for independence, finding solace in the fact that the male was reasonably trustable and able to save money simultaneously.

It was initially awkward, mostly coming from him, who was slightly tense about living with an older person other than his family. Jake upholds respect as a constitution to his morals, but he slowly loosens up his relationship with Heeseung from a stranger to his best friend.

But it seemed Heeseung came with a combo, and that was you, his roommate’s girlfriend.

Intertwining his life with Heeseung meant that you were also in the package, often visiting the apartment to bring food or have a movie night together. As a result, Jake often feels like he is imposing on the couple because no one wants a third wheel tailing your scarce intimate time with each other.

However, it seemed like you and Heeeseung didn’t mind his company, often inviting Jake to activities like a trip to the aquarium or a study picnic on the grass field on the campus ground.

The couple knew about Jake’s talent with the camera, often asking him to take pictures of the memories for sentimental purposes.

For all his life in filming and snapping pictures, whether it be organisms to inanimate objects, the subject of his inspiration has never come close to how perfectly the two of you looked through the camera’s lens from his eyes.

At first, his impression of the couple’s relationship was admiration, understanding and respect for each other in overcoming complex obstacles, seeing one another as equal rather than subject to the emotion and stress that manifested during those squabbles.

Still, it didn’t sit right with him to call it admiration, and the turning point soon tests the hypothesis when in the dead of the night one day, he heard you and Heeseung having sex for the first time.

The walls that separate his room and Heeseung’s were arguably not that thin, but it wasn’t thick enough either to muffle the whimpers and moans coming from the room next door.

Jake felt like he had a stomach ache listening to the couple’s soft lewd sounds, not because he hated it, but quite the opposite; the noises turned him on.

It began as something that flew over his head, not dissecting the whole thing in great detail until he heard it for the second time, and then the third time, and before he knew it, he had his pyjama pants down to his knees, desperately humping his pillow to the rhythm of his friends having sex with a palm clamp over his mouth.

He fantasizes about the two bodies mingled with one another on the white sheets of Heeseung’s bed; the eloquent actions of touching, grabbing and thrusting that aggregated into white milky beautiful essence oozing out of your hole—

Jake came on the fabric of his pillowcase with the thought of capturing the cinematography of such an imaginary masterpiece deeply rooted in the reality he could never witness.

So much adrenaline was pumping through his body that he could hear his heart beating.

He woke up groggy and tired the next morning on those days, feeling like he got hit by a truck at how uneasy he felt. He dreaded coming outside, knowing he’d see you and Heeseung making breakfast together, embarrassed to even make eye contact with them.

The male felt nauseous, in fact, filthy to the core of even masturbating silently to the notion of them fucking. Realization slowly dawned on him that the search for the term to describe how he feels about the two of you has concluded in his head— infatuation.

No words could ever express the emotion better on how he felt in the enchanting relationship they shared.

The mundane life he had owned morphed into restless torture of constant tossing and turning. He felt guilt eating him up, more so because he hid such a deceitful act of touching himself while putting up a disguise behind his friend’s back.

At the culmination of the chaotic situation, Jake saw Heeseung's gallery by accident.

The younger male wanted to call his missing phone in his room, asking permission from Heeseung, who was doing the laundry at the time, if he could use the older male’s phone. However, while pressing on the phone app to search for his number, his clumsy fingers, by chance, opened up the gallery instead, causing his eyes to bulge out at what he saw.

It was a thumbnail of a recent video logged into the first file, big enough for him to decipher the image that made him almost drop the phone.

The camera's angle was situated visibly at the side view of Heeseung in between your legs, missionary position with a blanket covering the area where your bodies meet. You were gripping his arm that was caging the sides of your head against the familiar bed, and Jake didn’t need to stare for too long to understand what was going on.

A dull sound rang in his ears, and his throat grew dry as his heart erratically beat against his ribcage. Then, with a shaking thumb hovering above the video icon, Jake’s breathing was as loud as his swallowing before pressing on it reluctantly, pupils trembling in nervousness.

The video played.

Heeseung was thrusting into you, hearing the sound of soft skin slapping mixed with whiny, muffled moans and grunts that echoed against the phone’s speaker. The upper part of their faces was cut out from the shot, but in the dimly lit room, the smirk on Heeseung’s face was evident.

“Shhh, didn’t I tell you to quiet down princess, or are you purposely doing it for Jake to hear you?” Heeseung whispered slowly against your ear, eliciting a small cry from your lips.

Eyes as wide as saucers, Jake couldn’t believe what he was witnessing, his name leaving his roommate’s mouth while fucking you.

Heeseung chuckled darkly, smacking his hips harder against yours. “Fuck, that’s it, isn’t it? You tighten up everytime I say his name. Such a dirty girl.”

Jake’s breathing shallowed beyond disbelief at what he was hearing.

Heeseung fastens his pace, causing you to sink your nails into his arm desperately. “That’s why you like it when I fuck your ass, right? Reserving your pretty pussy just for Jakey to ruin it.”

A gasp left his lips in total shock.

Something unfathomable brewed deep inside Jake’s stomach when he realized that Heeseung was penetrating your ass the whole time under the cover.

Jake envisioned your drenched, sweet pussy clenching around nothing at the thought of his cock in you and the little nickname that Heeseung teasingly used to build up the tension— a taut knot settling at the bottom of his gut at how turned on he was by the act.

But the last sentence that Heeseung said made him freeze like a deer in headlights.

“Imagining he was the one filming us right now.”

Every fibre of his body reacted to those words, playing them repeatedly in his head like a broken record. Jake felt like his head was doused with a bucket of cold water without warning; mind and body underwent a spiralled loophole of a fever dream.

He was in a state of disorientation when Heeseung walked into his room obliviously.

“Hey, Jake. Did you find your— wow, you okay dude?” Heeseung’s voice fell into deep worry at how ghostly his friend’s expression was.

Jake’s lack of response causes Heeseung’s eyes to trail to the phone he was holding tightly and the obvious sound emitting from the device.

The older male’s face distorts into multiple stages of horror and dread in recognition. The fear that pierced his wide eyes while looking back and forth between Jake’s face and the phone indicated that he was caught red-handed.

The taller male swallowed hard. “We can explain.”

It didn’t take long for Heeseung to call you to come to the shared apartment, albeit in between explaining to you on the phone, Jake heard muffled shouting of fury on your end while his roommate walked mindlessly in circles, trying to calm you down.

Sitting on the sofa patiently in the living room, Jake didn’t know how to handle the whole ordeal or if he was ready to accept whatever lay ahead with the two of you.

The sound of the apartment door swinging open echoed the space, revealing a dishevelled you trudging past the hallway into the living area. Jake felt guilty at your current dismay, possibly running directly here after finishing your class on campus as you were still carrying your backpack.

When you make eye contact with Jake, you look down in embarrassment.

“Okay.” Heeseung tried to fill in the awkward silence calmly, the pregnant pause giving away how thick the tension was in the room. “Where do we even start?”

You scoff distastefully, putting your backpack down harshly on the ground. “Start? How about you explain to me how the video was even found out in the first place!”

Jake drowned out the disputed exchange between the couple, trying to mallow down his rapid breathing. If he let this kind of situation escalate, it might end up being a dumpster fire in a few minutes. His mind wandered to articulate the proper sentence to begin, finally settling on the information he had been aching to know.

“How long…..has this been going on?” Jake didn’t realize how nervous he was until he spoke with a slight rasp, breaking his silence since he discovered the video.

His question shifted the attention of the two to him, realizing that the true dupe of the sitch had been wearily calmed the whole time. But, of course, they didn’t know that Jake himself kept a not-so-innocent secrecy as well.

“The first time we did it…..in my room.” Heeseung glanced your way as a confirmation while you gave a subtle nod back at his reply.

“Why did you guys film it?”

You and Heeseung exchange eye contact with each other apprehensively.

“We did it for the first time out of impulse, and when Heeseung mentioned your name in the middle of it—” You grimaced, trying to explain, but the words died in your throat out of pure awkwardness.

Heeseung flashes you a consoling look.

“Long story short, we didn’t realize how much you have an effect on us that we kept going even after the first. Well, the video, it's…..a living proof of that.” Heeseung continues, biting on his lower lip at the end.

Another excruciating pause follows suit.

It was hard to focus as you tried to read Jake’s facial expression but to no avail. It made you realize the loud ticking sound of the clock in the living room or the soft noises coming from the neighbours above behind the pin-drop silence in the backdrop.

The agitation was getting on your nerves, and all you could think about was the guilt that overshadowed everything else.

“We’re really sorry, Jake.” You apologize sincerely. “We didn’t mean to use you in that kind of way.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung muttered in agreement, flashing a remorseful downward glance towards the younger male with a sigh. “So, we totally get it if you want nothing to do with us and move out of the apartment.”

Anyone who was in Jake’s position would be bewildered by circumstance— finding out that your roommate and his girlfriend had been deliberately having sex for you to hear next door and, on top of that, gaining arousal from your existence unknowingly undermines the friendship that was built on trust seemed borderline intrusive.

But that was the perception that the two of you presumed.

In his mind, he couldn’t fathom such a surreal moment he thought was just an erotic fantasy in his mind was happening, as if the planets had aligned for the sky above to bless a disparate soul like him with the epitome of heaven.

Jake could feel the thrill of revealing his divulgence without a second thought; a small smirk curled his lips.

“Oh no, I don’t think I can do that.”

He chuckled slowly, watching the two faces turn perplexed by his words.

Jake gave a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, have you guys seen how horrible the set-up for the video was? It looks like a cheap DVD porno that many juvenile teens would drool over. Who else other than me can prevent that kind of thing from happening again.”

At this point, the two looked like a pair of gaping fishes standing in front of him, as if he grew a third head or said something wildly demented, completely disregarding the fact that he had insulted the camera work of the video.

There was a notable doubt in their expression, yet slightly reposed by the tether of hope that Jake was saying what they thought he was saying based on his words' innuendo.

“You guys weren’t really being sly about the whole thing, you know. I can hear you banging from a mile away.” Jake revealed, smiling cheekily when the couple immediately flushed in embarrassment.

“Oh my God, Jake.” You let out a tired sigh, but a hint of relief flooded the way you dragged your breath at the end. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

The younger male was slightly taken aback by the question but answered earnestly with his feelings because what he was about to say next will completely overturn the course of each other’s relationship.

The corners of his mouth slid upwards knowingly.

“You guys aren’t the only ones secretly enjoying it.”

If someone asked Jake what his proudest creation was, he wished that he could show them the sight he was capturing right now with his camera.

His figure stood a few feet away from Heeseung’s bed, perfectly encapsulating the shot of the couple making out with your back facing the camera, watching through the crips lens as he zoomed in the way Heeseung shoved his tongue into your mouth as he pulled you closer on his lap.

Jake’s fantasy of the two could never compare to the one he witnessed.

He felt excitement overwhelming his body, holding the camera steadily to focus on Heeseung’s hands, grabbing onto your ass, pulling on the strings of your lace panties until the crotch was wedged between your crack.

Your sweet moans filled the room, no longer timid like before when Heeseung convinced you and Jake that it was the perfect time to film.

The younger male was also nervous— it wasn’t that long ago when the three of you talked about what happened, finally coming to a conclusion about the addition of Jake into the bedroom.

He didn’t realize how nerve-wracking it was, feeling his cock growing hard against his jeans at the way your hips were desperately grinding on Heeseung’s clothed erection, facilitated with the help of the said male’s hand grabbing onto the flesh of your exposed ass.

“Such a needy girl.” Heeseung chuckled darkly after releasing your lips messily with saliva, kissing your neck as he buckled back to meet your movement. “You love it, don’t you? Knowing that Jake is watching you hump my cock so desperately while you show your bare ass to him.”

Heeeseung looked directly into the camera between your shoulders while nibbling on your skin, enjoying how Jake’s fingers tightened their hold on the equipment when you whimpered loudly in confirmation.

He moves close to whisper into your ears, hands snaking along your back to unclasp your bra.

“Let’s show him how much of a little slut you can be, okay?”

Jake’s breath hitched when Heeseung turned you around to face the camera, revealing your ample chest for him to marvel at as it bounced softly, nipples beautifully erect under the dimly warm lights of the room.

You caught sight of how Jake moved forward eagerly until his knees were flushed at the edge of the bed, your skin turning hot at the fact that he was filming your exposed breast so minuscule.

Heeseung pulled you roughly until your back was leaning on his naked chest, narrowing your chance of curling away from the vulnerable position. His large hands cup your breast from behind, kneading the swell in a tender and circular motion.

“Hands behind your back, baby.” Heeseung thumb at your stiff peaks, his nails digging at the sensitive area that you gasp out at the sensation. “Or I’ll have to show Jake that you can come with just your tits being played with like before.”

Jake couldn’t believe his ears, and his mind was already running wild at the thought, wishing that you'll keep pushing Heeseung’s button until he did carry out the punishment for Jake to see.

But you shook your head between the junction of his neck with your eyes squeezed shut, obviously not wanting to be subjected to such a humiliating act, especially for Jake to witness.

“No?” Heeseung teased, pinching your nipples before pulling them away harshly, twirling the hard peaks back and forth with his thumb and forefingers.

You whimpered in agony, clawing at his thighs resting between your hips while shoving your nose deeper into the crevice of his neck in mercy. Heeseung laughed at your state, panting hotly against his skin as he abused your tits.

“Then be a good girl and spread your legs apart for us, yeah?”

Us.

That specific pronoun sends waves of unfathomable pleasure between your and Jake’s legs, reducing both of you into a brazen state.

Following Heeseung’s order, Jake almost let out a moan behind the camera when you slowly opened your legs, his hands trembling at the sight of the very prominent dark and wet patch in the middle of your panties that sticks to the outline of your pussy like a glove.

Heeseung let a breathy chuckle at Jake’s striking reaction. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

A hand escaped to curved downward along your stomach, dipping in between your hips to rub at your clothed folds. You buck your hips at the friction as Heeseung’s deft fingers drag along your puffy lips, eliciting a mantra of moans from your throat.

“This pussy gets nice and soaked just thinking about us. Right, baby girl?” Heeseung cooed, causing you to nod obediently, chest heaving at the way his fingers probed at your sweet entrance teasingly, letting a gush of juices escape to drench your panties even more.

Jake was enamoured at the sight, absolutely winded with a whole zoo churning in his stomach that he didn’t realize he was kneeling on the soft mattress of the bed, capturing the way Heeseung was stroking your clothed pussy while the other was still playing with one of your nipples lazily.

It didn’t help that you were watching him through half-lidded eyes, head lolling to the side with mouth agape when you eyed the visible bulge of his cock through his pants.

Heeseung glances at you when you squeeze his thighs a little harder, following your gaze to see what has captured your attention, causing him to grin.

“Looks like we got a big boy in our hands, huh, princess.”

Jake’s ears immediately perked up behind the camera, unbestowed to him that two sets of eyes were prowling on the outline of his aching cock like a predator hunting for its prey.

Heeseung nudged his nose against the underside of your ear. “Why don’t you be a sweetheart and help him out a little?”

There was no hesitation in the way you hooked on the belt hoop of his jeans, pulling the younger male closer until his crotch was arm’s length from your face. Jake was taken aback by your action, almost letting the camera fall while shuffling his knees on the bed to follow your lead.

You spread your palm over his bulge, dragging sensually with a little pressure to feel him over his jeans. A breathy hiss left his lips when you squeezed lightly on the head, and the friction felt deliciously good that he buckled slightly when you continued to smooth his erection.

The sound of his belt clicking and feeling the tight confinement of his jeans slowly loosening up, he throbs hotly when you tug at his pants, bringing them down to his thighs with his briefs.

“Fuck, Hee…..his so beautiful.” Jake immediately blushed when you whined incredulously at the male behind.

Jake’s cock stood proudly against his abdomen, fully pink and erected from the stimulation of watching Heeseung play with your tits and pussy. Milky pearls of cum had dribbled out of his slit and down to his length, head twitching when he felt your hungry gaze on him.

But you were drooling at how his veins pop up prominently, and his cute balls are nice and tight; it entices you to reach out and fist him firmly.

“Shit—“ Jake could hold it any longer, moaning at the sensation of your hand pumping him slowly and smearing his precum along his thick length.

Still, Jake was determined to fix the shot to you stroking his cock so deliciously, his abdomen tensing up when you flick your wrist harder when you reach his sensitive head, and then moaning loudly when you drag down to the base with a pressure, collecting his wetness between your fingers.

Heeseung watched you play with Jake’s cock as he rested his chin on your shoulder, heavy eyes soaking in the pleasurable sight of his girlfriend giving a handjob to his roommate.

“Baby, use your other hand to play with his balls.” Heeseung mumbled his command close to your ear. “I think he’ll enjoy it.”

Jake rolled his eyes to the back of his head when you fondled his heavy balls, gritting his teeth when you massaged the soft flesh indolently enough to make his hips stutter, igniting the knot in his stomach and making him lightheaded to the touch.

The younger male was gasping for air behind the camera, never thinking such minuscule action could drive him insane.

You lick your dry lips at how adorable his body reacted as you continue to use both hands, feeling an ache in your mouth and wondering how he would feel against your tongue.

Fuck, you bet he tasted sweet.

“Hee, Can I…..?” You ask gullibly to the side, and Heeseung doesn’t need any clarification before shaking his head at your antics with disapproval.

“If you want something in your mouth, baby, you have to ask him nicely. Where are your manners?” You whimpered when Heeseung slapped your clothed clit hard for Jake to witness before pushing your panties to the side, rubbing you raw against his padded fingers.

Jake observed with amazement how Heeseung treated you roughly, loving how you cried pathetically before looking up at him with hope-pooled eyes between your lashes.

“Jakey, can I please suck your cock?”

The way you asked him so crudely with such innocence had him swallowing hard, letting a sound of approval leave his throat.

Jake thanked the heaven and stars when you engulfed his head around your plump lips, reaching out to rest a hand on your head to steady himself. With your hands around the base, you tongue at his slit to taste his sticky precum before suckling to take more and more of his length into your mouth.

At the same time, Heeseung slipped two fingers into your tight hole without warning; the sudden stretch of your velvet walls to accommodate his long fingers almost caused you to choke on Jake’s cock with saliva.

“Easy, princess. You don’t want to hurt our precious Jakey.” Heeseung used his other hand to securely hold your jaw, ensuring that your mouth was still attached to his length.

“I’m sure the underside is very, very sensitive…..”

Heeseung had never been wrong with Jake’s ticks, and you flattened your tongue to rub on the veiny side of his erection until he felt the drag of your textured taste buds that accentuated the pleasure.

The exact pace was established momentarily— Heeseung was pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy hole with the rhythm of your head bobbing and tongue swirling around Jake’s cock.

The hand holding the camera felt heavy when he grabbed your hair tighter as you plunged your mouth deeper, and he groaned when the tip of your nose was flush against his pubic area, feeling his tip pressing against the back of your throat.

You did this a couple of times, gliding in and out of his length until the wet sound that emitted echoed in the room.

Heeseung scissored your hole relentlessly, feeling you soaking his fingers until it dripped down his knuckles. “Look at you, letting your boyfriend watch you stuff your mouth full with another man’s cock, you dumb fucking slut.”

Tears blurred your eyesight as Heeseung spat at you with degrading words, swallowing around Jake’s hard cock as your boyfriend inserted another finger to abuse your hole, loving how the rough stretch enlightened your arousal.

Jake watches you through the foggy lens simultaneously as you look up to show him the lewdest expression through the camera, the corner of your mouth wide open with his cock and drool dripping down your chin so obscenely.

His cock pulsates at the picture-perfect moment, feeling his threshold teetering around the edge before he loads your mouth with his creamy seed, bucking his hips as a loud moan ripples out from deep within his chest.

“…..that’s it, you eat up Jake so well.” Heeseung’s three fingers curl to press on the tender spot of your cervix, and your walls spasm around them as your sweet release encapsulates you with euphoric pleasure.

The vibrations of your moans around his spent cock kept Jake’s orgasm elevated beyond the clouds.

Everything happens in tandem with each other— you were swallowing Jake’s hot cum while Heeseung rides you off your orgasm as you rock his fingers for more friction.

It gave Jake the perfect moment to readjust the camera's focus on the couple as the tension simmered.

But it didn’t end just yet.

“Come here, pretty girl.” Heeseung coaxes you after licking his fingers clean with your arousal, making you release Jake’s cock with a loud pop as he manoeuvres your head to the side. “I want to have a taste too.”

Jake’s heart lurches from his chest when Heeseung captures your lips and devours your mouth full of his cum. The kiss was sloppy and wet, even downright dirty, as two tongues wrestled to taste each other’s cavern, frenching with open mouths so vulgarly that the slimy spit mixed with yours and Jake’s essence dripped down straight out of a porno.

The proud smirk on Heeseung’s face while he sucked on your lower lip and glanced over at him briefly told Jake everything he needed to know.

“Do you need me to prepare you, princess?” Heeseung asks, wiping away the white strings that form when he pulls away.

He watches you tentatively through hooded eyes, chest rising and falling with puffy lips before looking at Jake nervously. The older male had the gall to chuckle at your state, finding gratification in your shy reaction as he tucked away a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think Jake minds filming me finger fucking your pretty asshole with your head down.” Heeseung curiously looks at Jake’s way at the end.

The said male was heaving in his breath, having the front row seat as he imagined your pink, puckered hole being shoved in and out with Heeseung’s lanky fingers to loosen up your walls, your face flush against the pillow muffled with your cries.

He might get lucky if Heeseung felt the need to take the extra step of letting you come again, your pussy in full display for him to see you clench against absolutely nothing as you drown your folds with your own slick.

This must be a dream; it has to be.

“N-no, I want it to be tight…..” Your desperate plea cuts through the tension, tucking your bottom lip with your teeth as you tug on Heeseung’s pants impatiently.

Heeseung smiled gently, knowingly.

“Okay, baby. But next time, we'll show Jakey how I prepared you, alright?” Heeseung was surprisingly considerate, kissing you on the forehead softly as you nodded at his reply.

Heeseung didn’t want to overload the two with too many things.

Of course, the dominant side of him sought out the ecstasy of showing off to Jake how much he could turn you into a messy whore for their cocks, but this was the first time, and he much preferred if you were in a state where you were confident enough to share it with Jake.

As for the said younger male, Heeseung couldn’t tell with the camera in front of his face but by the adorable body language visible for him to see— Jake’s cock that went limp was hard again against his stomach, head leaking with creamy white beads.

It reassured Heeseung that Jake had no plans to run away anytime soon.

Your soaked panties and Heeseung’s pants and briefs were discarded to the floor of the room. Scooching to hover over Heeseung’s lap with your back to him, the said male was fisting his cock with his precum while his other hand grips on your hip.

“Down you go, princess.”

With the swollen tip of his cock probing at your hole, you whimpered as you slowly sank to ease his length into your walls. It took you a few more breaths at the tightness, but the comforting thumb massaging your sides urged you to bottom down to his base, completely sitting on his lap.

“How does that feel, baby?” Heeseung was nibbling at your earlobe, wrapping his arms around your waist as he slowly rocked your tense figure.

You were breathing heavily, and the initial stretch was a bit painful at how big Heeseung was, but soon, the discomfort slowly disintegrated into waves of pleasure as your walls adjusted to his size.

“So, so good— I can feel you deep inside me.” You huffed, clenching around him as a sign for him to move.

Heeseung pulled your back to his chest before he descended to lay on the mattress with you on top of him. The position nudges him deeper as he locks his legs around your knees, thrusting up leisurely as an appetizer for what’s to come.

Jake listens to your soft pitchy moans every time Heeseung moves his hips, getting off to the visual of your hole clenching around your boyfriend’s cock with your legs wide apart for the camera to capture.

A callous hand unconsciously trails to fist his hard cock as Jake jerks to the sound of your ass clapping on Heeseung’s thighs.

The once sensual pace turns heavily ruthless as he relentlessly thrusts up, yet the aching in your wet pussy makes you realize its emptiness as you clench back at Heeseung’s cock.

“Ah-aah— Jake— please…..I need you in me.” You call the younger male out as you pull your outer lips for him to see how desperate and pink your hole is, causing him to freeze at how completely fuck out you were.

His action seemed to garner frustration down the older male’s throat.

“Jake,” Heeseung growled sharply, gripping your waist as he rammed you harder with a dark glare over your shoulder. “Put the camera down and fuck her pussy.”

Jake frantically crawls towards you, the camera thrown on the soft mattress somewhere without a second thought.

A drool dripped down the corner of your mouth, teary eyes watching him align his head to your entrance as he filled you up so deliciously good that it hurt to have your holes simultaneously penetrated.

“Oh my god— yes, Jake— fuck, Hee—“

You choke out incoherently when Jake moves to slam his cock in and out at the same time as Heeseung did without mercy, arching your back as your tits bounce with every impact from both the back and the front.

You feel so full to the core, being fuck out of your mind, that you claw at the bedsheets from the pleasure.

“Dirty slut, one cock is not enough for you, is it?” Heeseung hisses out right below your ears, reaching out to slap your tender clit forcefully.

You cried out in pain, clenching around the girth of their cocks as they ruined your insides roughly. Jake bit the inside of his cheeks, watching from above as Heeseung landed another harsh slap against your clit that you almost lurch forward if he hadn’t forced your hips down.

“Hee—hahhhh— stop—“

“Stop?” Heeseung's laugh was almost sinister, rubbing circles around your tender clit precisely with his thumb as tears streamed down your cheeks, burning with humiliation.

“Fuck, you deserve to be treated like a dumb slut. Letting another man fuck your womb instead of your loving boyfriend.” He snapped.

Your surroundings were starting to blur, disappearing from your spatial consciousness until the pleasure numbed your body to your extremities at the way their cocks were abusing your sensitive walls. You were on the brink of bursting into a million pieces, and Heeseung could tell that you needed one more push to bring you to heaven.

“Jake.” Heeseung held your wrist until his nails dug into the thin skin to stop you from trashing any further.

Jake was stunted out of his mind at his name being called out, especially when he was close to reaching his high. Heeseung gave him a powerful stare down with a gleam of insanity behind those big eyes.

“Slap her clit.”

Jake knew the older male wasn’t asking; it was a direct command for him to carry without question.

Immediately Jake’s eyes went to yours below, only to see it begging with helplessness for him to follow Heeseung’s order. He could recognize the blown-out desire to release yourself from the prison of being edged for so long, and all you ever wanted was to come.

Like he was being bewitched by the couple, Jake felt a click at the back of his mind that he had never felt before in his life— even during his time with endless capturing of the camera, nothing could ever compare to how perfect this moment was.

The sound of his slap on your wet clit erupted you into a fit of moans, your abdomen tensing up before you squirt with your back arched on Heeseung’s sweating chest.

All your liquid drenches him with your sweet scent, spraying his lower half and the bed wet as your body convulses uncontrollably. Your skin was breaking into goosebumps that seemed never ending as Jake and Heeseung filled you with their hot seed blissfully.

It felt like time had stopped momentarily, letting the three enjoy the well-deserved orgasm that tumbled over their senses.

With a hand over your eyes, you were sobbing loudly in the backdrop of their groans, bucking your hips in the air until the last drop of your liquid leaked out.

The limpness of your body urged Jake to pull out, watching his creamy load bubble down to the crack of your asshole so ethereally until it met the white rim that formed as Heeseung lovingly rode you out of your orgasm, his heavy balls drowned with arousal as well.

Soft whispers of praises escape Heeseung’s lips against your ears, stroking your stomach with butterfly touches as he licks your salty tears away at how well you wet the bed for them, hearing your hiccups bounce through the walls.

Jake peeks to rummage around in search of his camera, taking it in his hands as he switches to taking a picture and saving the video content he filmed. He aligns the lens to his eye despite trembling at how heady your scent was sticking to his body.

Snap

He could never get enough of the sight of his artistic muses, all picture-perfect for him to capture.

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caustinen · 4 months ago

Note

Hollywood!AU Clegan....

How about John wins a major award (career changing recognition) and Gale's his plus one at the event, and John goes for a massive smooch when his name is announced and it becomes a viral meme? :') <3 <3

Hehee I ended up trying something bit different with the format of this one but I hope you like it, thank you for the lovely idea!! 🖤🤍

hollywood au! award season (drabble)

John’s lips are twitching into a smile despite his best efforts as he observes Gale staring at the front page of the newspaper in mild horror.

“That’s…” Gale bites his lip and stops talking, and John has to look the other way because the way his husband bites his lips together in a straight line is both funny and insanely cute. They have been out late partying and thus the morning has started even later. While Gale hasn’t had a drop of alcohol he looks a bit hungover from the lack of sleep alone, slower and softer than usual, somehow.

“You look like you’ve been in a fight.” That’s what he finally settles on, diplomatically, still staring at the half-page picture. John nods, controlling his expression, and smiling just as diplomatically. “Well, it did look like I was trying to wrestle you down right before, so…” Gale hides his face into his palms. “Don’t remind me,” he whines, ”it’s not funny! Look at your lip, John! You can see exactly where my teeth got caught, I can’t believe this is how you-.”

John takes the paper from his hand then. ”It’s really not so bad,” he says, ”and I really liked the piece that goes with it.” He grins, and when Gale still looks bothered he clears his throat and starts reading aloud.

“At the end of the night John Egan, 35, took home the best actor trophy for his widely acclaimed performance as Layne Cornell in worldwide hit ’I’m Only Sleeping’. Fondly nicknamed ’Hollywood's Sweetheart’ since early in his career, the star had been previously nominated twice, once in the supporting actor category and once for the main trophy, but last night’s triumph marked his first individual reward in the Academy Awards. The long awaited honor brough this well-respected peer a standing ovation, but the moment before receiving the awards was almost overshadowed by a sweet incident with his husband, Gale Cleven-Egan.

As the actor’s spouse was getting up to congratulate Egan for his accomplishment, the later in visible excitement leaned to give him an assumedly affectionate peck to the lips. A miscalculation of speed, however, almost toppled Cleven over to the benches behind them, taking Egan with him. Luckily no one was hurt and a roar of laughter around the couple covered for the mishap as Egan managed his affection before walking up to the stage to accept the esteemed award after making sure Cleven was standing on his two feet again.

Egan is known for his cheekiness, and he stayed true to his nature last night as well as he started his acceptance speech with “apologizing for being disheveled after his better half tried to take a bite of him.” As the cameras panned away from Cleven’s now meme-formatted face hidden in hands, Egan then thanked the film crew, emphasizing the amazing work of the art departments on the costumes and cinematography, both of which have also received awards this winter in Golden Globes and Brit Awards. He took time to name all heads of departments and fellow stars on the screen alike, a class act through and through.

For the fans of what netizens have affectionately coined “Clegan” in reference to the relationship of Egan and Cleven, the night’s big prize was surely in the final part of his speech, however, when the violins were about to start to play. “Nothing in life is ever achieved truly alone, and certainly nothing about my career would have been possible without my husband,” visibly touched Egan started his conclusions, “my dear Buck, thank you for your patience, your guidance, your companionship, and for your amazing body. Baby, this is for you as much as it is for me. Thank you for your time, enjoy the rest of your night!”

Egan has never been shy to show his affection for his significant other ever since the couple made their relationship public in 2022, shocking audiences around the world as it was announced Egan and Cleven had been in a secret relationship for years. Later that year they tied the knot, and while generally still keeping their love private, they are often spotted together in Egan’s professional events. Egan’s social media presence has become something of a shared internet joke as he often posts exclusively from his husband who seems different levels of unimpressed by his doings.

I’m Only Sleeping did well in box office as well as receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews from critics before now being the trophy magnet in the award season. It also received Oscars for best supporting performances by…”

John looks up from the paper. ”And so on and so on.” Gale’s expression has softened despite the blush on his face having deepened. Bucky is suddenly so overwhelmed by emotion he drops the paper to the table as he stands up to reach for his husband’s hand and pulls him up too. Gale instantly hides his face into his neck as he relaxes to the embrace, leaving John to press an admiring kiss to his golden locks.

They hug and sway for a little bit in silence as Gale gathers himself. ”… I just wish your lip wasn’t so swollen in the picture. Otherwise it was cute,” is eventually muttered against his t-shirt, making Bucky chuckle. ”That was my own fault. Not the first time you left teeth marks on me either.” Gale sighs and finally looks up to him, the experssion in his big eyes a mix of anguish and amusement. ”Why can’t we ever manage to be cool about anything?”

He makes a protesting sound in surprise as he’s spinned around and then ends up with his back against the fridge, a huge familiar body crowding him against it. ”I think we’re plenty cool,” Bucky says absentmindedly like he’s already moved on from it, ”did I ever tell you how incredibly sexy you look bed-warm and ruffled?” Gale looks at him, unimpressed. ”Well, you did specifically take time to thank my ’amazing body’ while accepting a goddamn Academy Award, so-”

Bucky leans back so he can take a good serious look at Gale, his hands on both sides of the fridge around his head. ”Doll,” he says, and oh, the blush is back, delicious, ”I’ve done most, if not all of my best work under the influence and inspiration of this body. How could I have not-”

Gale shuts him up with a kiss, and decides it’s time to test the performance of his critically acclaimed idiot on his own.

(Hope you liked it!! 💘)

(more of hollywood au)

#buck x bucky #clegan #mota #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #writing #hollywood au #bucky #buck

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magnifythesun · 6 months ago

Note

Hiii so mexican salsa YES this post is a prompt! Feel free to change it to whatever you like, but I'd love a lil' story like this:

Ian and anthony are both very obviously in love and the whole smoffice knows it, but them lmao! I'd love this fic to be just text messages or slack posts or sth, where the cast and crew report of sightings of Ian and anthony doing very ianthony stuff and not realize it themselves. Maybe they come up w a way to show or nudge them in the right direction? But Ian and Anthony will still make it a bro moment (broment) bc they think the other one just wants to be bros LMAO ~ Japhan2024 💖

@japhan2024 FANTASTIC IDEA I have to believe that the Smosh cast legit has a secret group chat for stuff like this hahaha the looks on their faces whenever Ian and Anthony do something shippy is priceless

im going to wrack my brain for my favorite moments lolol I hope you enjoy!

(mid writing note: i first wrote basically all texts but it wasn't quite flowing the way i wanted it to so now there's a little more prose lol. this also taught me i do NOT know enough crew members' names)

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56346769

---

It took Erin less than ten minutes to create The Group Chat following the slapping video caress incident.

Erin: "okay so what the fuck"

Tommy: "i'm beside myself."

Angela: "SO WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT"

It began, and all hell broke loose from there.

Most of the cast and crew didn't know Anthony too well when he first returned, but everyone could tell Ian began to positively glow once he came back. It had started mostly with little under-the-breath comments about how big Ian had smiled at something Anthony did, or shared glances after they looked lost in each other's worlds. It's not that everyone wanted to speculate about their bosses, but rather that their bosses were practically giving them no choice.

The real watershed moment was the birth of The Group Chat, which finally provided an outlet for all ianthony incidents witnessed by the cast and crew.

---

Shayne: "Please tell me how Anthony managed to turn his smosh cast interview into an hour of us complimenting Ian."

Tommy: "i swear he practices in his car on the way to work"

---

Erin: "not them discussing deepthroating injuries for like three whole minutes..."

Erin: "while Anthony sucks on his rainbow lollipop......"

Chanse: "they are not beating the allegations"

---

Josh: "So this is I think the fourth video I've edited where Anthony has called Ian daddy??"

Josh: "WHAT is the thought process. I just can't put it together. is Anthony just like yeah I'm going to call my bro daddy about seventeen separate times with varying levels of seriousness and that's good and het and normal."

Erin: "Josh, istg you don't see the half of it. Come watch them film and pay special attention when the cameras are OFF."

---

Erin: "im losing it"

Arasha: "oh god. what happened"

Erin: "i am not fucking kidding right now anthony just called him submissive and breedable."

Keith: "WHAT"

Erin: "he said what he said."

Angela: "BREEDABLE????????????"

Erin: "in front of god and everyone."

Angela: "BREEDABLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

---

Tommy: "catching up on the main channel sketches and i just have to ask"

Tommy: "How many men can Ian date in his sketches until he realizes he'd like to date one in real life?"

Chanse: "don't SPEAK to me about it"

---

Tommy: "bicurious, hmm? Ian would you like to share something with the class???"

Chanse: "hes so deep in the mental closet his art is trying to scream it at him through his subconscious."

Chanse: "ive been there 😞"

Josh: "I've never been more prepared to edit a video in my whole life"

---

Angela: "Erinnnn not u directing them to stand closer together 😭😭"

Erin: "look I'm at my wits end. I'm thinking forced proximity might do it"

Keith: "if that could work they would have gotten it during kissing currency 😙💸"

Shayne: "@ courtney is this your thought process behind wanting a kissing video"

Courtney: "HA"

Courtney: "yes."

---

Courtney: "okay so if our plan at this point is just to make them read so many fanfics about themselves out loud that they spontaneously realize they're in love, we've got to find some fics that don't contain the word 'cummies'"

Angela: "what are cummies?? 😇"

Shayne: "ANGELA I SWEAR TO GOD"

---

As the incidents kept piling up, a plot began to form. Maybe Anthony and Ian were just so oblivious that they all needed to adopt a certain 'push-comes-to-shove' mentality, and do what had to be done. Everyone agreed, they had to find a way to put them in such a charged situation that this would all finally boil over, and the astounding tension that had plagued the office would be resolved. The ultimate achievement of this long-weary Group Chat.

Erin: "okay so one more time. everyone has talked with HR, yes? and everyone slated for the vid is comfortable with the concept of spin the bottle"

Angela: "what's spin the bottle? 😇"

Tommy: "STOP"

Shayne "1) Yes for the thousandth time, we promise. 2) What the FUCK are we going to do if this bottle never lands on Anthony and Ian"

Erin: "I will keep this shoot going as long as necessary."

Shayne: "That sounds like a threat?"

Chanse: "I'm suddenly regretting my decision. May I take my week's vacation right now?"

---

Erin: "how..."

Courtney: "did you see the look in their eyes????? :O"

Angela: "FATE WAS ON OUR SIDE. IT LANDED ON THEM THREE WHOLE TIMES"

Erin: "yes but,,,,,"

Tommy: "don't speak to me I'm still reeling"

Keith: "oh please don't tell me it didn't work."

Chanse: "i just have one question. how did they kiss THREE TIMES and still not realize."

Courtney: "they were both practically levitating from giddiness"

Arasha: "they just kept looking away from each other and laughing it off... they didn't see each other's expressions 😭😭"

Angela: "guys. guys"

Erin: "what"

Angela: "do u know what this means"

Angela: "now that we've pushed them over this hurdle... They're going to start bro kissing in their sketches"

Chanse: "oh my god"

Josh: "oh fuck you're right"

Erin: "that's it."

Erin: "im quitting smosh"

Amanda: "Oh hey guys! We have a group chat?"

Shayne:

#asks #ianthony #my fanfic #i so hope you enjoyed this!! <3

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whenmemorydies · 5 days ago

Text

Another Storer/Calo musical deep cut:

Eddie Vedder, lead singer of Pearl Jam and the focus of so much of my adolescent thirst whose voice is featured all over The Bear’s soundtrack -

See: Vedder’s rapid-fire, gutteral one-two-three-four-five against one […] torture from you to me of PJ’s "Animal" over the end credits of 1x01 System or propelling the energy in Richie and Syd’s last ditch effort to save Friends and Family in 2x10 The Bear. See: Eddie (and Neil Finn) wailing And though we try to forget it, you will make me call your name, as I shout it to the blue, summer sky in "Throw Your Arms Around Me" over shots of Carmy making Syd's lamb ragu for Cl@ire while Syd undresses at home (this fucking show lmao) (also shout out to Melbourne/Naarm rock group Hunters & Collectors whose song Vedder and Finn covered). See: Eddie's yearning as he croons I've been planning out all that I'd say to you in PJ's "Come Back", as Carmy and Syd have metaphorical sex under a perfectly level table (shout out to @sydcarmyfan for that brilliant meta). See also: Vedder covering The English Beat's "Save It For Later" and singing, Save it for later, don't run away and let me down, you let me down in 3x02 Next while we see a litany of working class and racialised hospitality and food service workers gearing up for another work day in Chicago, just as Carmy is about to commence fucking over his working class and racialised crew at The Bear for the remainder of season 3 (this fucking show, gah) -

that Eddie Vedder, who is more commonly associated with Seattle and the grunge movement that was birthed there, was actually born in Evanston, Illinois: the same suburb of Chicago that its implied the Berzattos lived in (I say implied because its never explicitly stated on the show but we know that 2x06 Fishes was shot in Evanston). I always get a little chill up my spine when I come across connections like this on the show.

The Bear is such a love letter: to the food services industry, to film, to romance itself and almost certainly, to Chicago.

Author's note:

Enjoy this video of Eddie Vedder continuing to be a man after my own heart, talking about visiting his grandmother's old home in Evanston - a home he describes as the Sun that the rest of his family orbited around - which made me tear up because that's exactly how us grandkids felt about our Ammamma's apartment in Canada. Eddie talks about his grandmother having 6 kids and wishing he had bought the apartment to keep it like a time capsule, only to meet the current residents and changing his mind because it was a place full of "love and power and good vibes" that they took and also raised their 6 kids in. And all of this before launching into "Throw Your Arms Around Me" *sigh*

Its no secret that I love The Bear, but what I might love even more than the show itself are all the tangents, winding paths and deep cuts that it takes me to and which pull at my own memories and history. This art is so cathartic for so many reasons. And I doubt I'm the only one on here feeling that way.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #sydcarmy #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear meta #eddie vedder #pearl jam #the bear soundtrack

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 7 months ago

Text

Lately, I’ve been thinking about Leon, Ada, and Claire. Especially on their relationships because I think they’re pretty interrelating so here’s another analysis made by yours truly <3

TW: mentions of mental illnesses, MY OPINION! + observations. This is strictly based on my knowledge. I’m majoring in English- doesn’t mean I’m 100% correct, it just means I’m pointing out some things that I thought were pretty cool. Take this with a grain of salt.

So I actually propose that we bring the color theory into play, mainly between Leon, Claire, and Ada.

In RE2R and in Infinite Darkness (death island too but I’ve yet to watch it), Leon is portrayed as blue. (His RPD uniform and his suit/jacket) back in my English class (film vs book) we talked about the different types of people and how the author/creator purposefully assigns a character a specific color.

By majority belief, the color blue represents sadness and often times calmness as well. However, I have a different view on why CAPCOM seems to love Leon in winter colors (blue/green/purple)

Leon is the definition of the Blue Character Theory- these types of characters are compassionate, loyal, confident, and can manage their emotions (keep it cool in other words) but sometimes these characters are prone to become over emotional (depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, etc.) and I actually wrote a small paragraph on Leon in infinite darkness about this because I found it so interesting that Leon- a cool and reserved guy, has these complicated emotions welled up inside him and one of the only ways we can tell is by the color of his representation. (Think of Euphoria and how colors really affected the way the characters act, especially Maddy and Cassie and how different they are.)

I’m also going to be hella bold and say that his eyes are a CLEAR representation on his character by color analysis. His eyes are blue, not only because he’s a white man- but because the “eyes are the windows to the soul” thing really does help us understand him better. They clearly did this on purpose to let the viewer catch a glimpse at Leon’s raw personality. His eyes are very expressive if you really REALLY analyze them.

And when you bring someone who is represented by the color red (Claire and Ada) there’s already an established connection between the two. Although Claire and Ada are way too different in personalities, I like to believe that they both have at least the same level of ambition, stubbornness and leadership. Red characters are known to lead or take matters into their own hands when the world is against them. If no one is going to help them then they’ll do it themselves.

In ID, Claire did her own investigation. She took charge and decided to that if no one would help her, including Leon, then she’ll just do whatever she can with the power she has. Ada is similar in that aspect. Ada has a way of getting things done her way, just like Claire. She uses the art of manipulation to make sure her plans are fulfilled, even if it means at the cost of others. She’s ambitious and goal-driven, much like Claire.

CAPCOM represents the two women in explicitly red or at least with red items (hair, dress, shoes, etc.) it makes me believe that they know what they’re doing when it comes to giving characters their own individuality.

Now, we know that blue and red are complementary colors based on the color wheel.

But we also know that Leon and Ada don’t really have a healthy relationship (I’ll get to this in another post near the future once I’ve got evidence) which is contrasting to Leon and Claire’s relationship. Which prompted the question: Why?

I mean, yeah Claire is Chris’s sister and by affiliation Leon enjoys her company. But it is also clear that the two of them worked very well back in RE2R (the fence scene) their chemistry and tension was high but when he’s with Ada, it seems different.

It is no doubt that Leon had/has (? I’m just as confused as bro tbh) a crush on Ada. I read somewhere from the notes on Leon that he was actually glad to have seen Ada in RE4R (not too sure for RE4OG since almost everything is about the remake)

CAPCOM purposefully follows the Red Oni/Blue Oni trope (a Japanese folk tale, shout-out to my professor for putting me on that) but what why are there two red ones and one blue one? Is CAPCOM keeping their choices open for Leon’s potential love life? I can’t say for sure what’ll happen or what everything means because this is something I over analyzed.

Remember, I’m only an English major student, I still believe my observations are pretty vague or at least a little bit underdeveloped. Hopefully sometime near the future I can make better analysis 🙏🏼

Also, tysm for all the amazing comments and reblogs 🥹🙏🏼 idk how to reply to reblogs but I really do appreciate the fact that you guys like my fics. I promise I have more to write (I have a list in my notes app lmao)

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #re4 leon #leon #leon kennedy headcanons #di leon #claire redfield #resident evil 4 #resident evil 2 #resident evil claire #ada wong #resident evil ada wong #re4 ada #re4 remake #re2 remake

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ghostieyanyan · 1 year ago

Text

~Fox and their love-sick hound~

Yan!Dog!Rook x Fox!Mc

Warning: yandere, hunting (its rook...), stalking, drugs??,

I really wanted to write something for this. like I said in the mainly art version of this. I 100% think Rook as a Dog is a Golden retriever. they're hunting dogs but also little ray of sunshine. i know there is a movie about the fox and the hound but in the movie the dog is a blood hound. but rook... as a golden retriever.. i had to qwq

~~You found the fanfic! There’s an art piece that goes with this, here you go! Enjoy ^^~~

~~~~~

Surprise! surprise! the classes were over and everyone were doing their club activity. You were just stopping by each club to see how everyone was doing. a friendly visit, you can say.

You stopped by the music club and saw that their 3 members were playing a new rhythm game on cater's phone.

You stopped by the Basketball club. you quickly left when you say Floyd throwing the balls like they were dodgeballs...

you stopped by the board game club. Azul and Idia were playing a card game that you couldn't understand with Azul honey laced words trying to explain it to you.

you see the film club in the hallway for a film shot. vil seems to be lecturing a freshmen... fun.

you see malleus on the roof looking at gargoyles, you wave to him and he waves back.

you watched Riddle ride his horse, flawlessly. Silver was sleeping on a horse and Sebek was screaming at him to wake up.. fun.

the magical shift club were playing their game

you see Jack and Deuce running around the school and you quickly yelled at them to not to drink water.

now the science club, you were honestly on the fence on even entering. its nothing about the club that made you uncomfortable. it was a certain hunter that did.

when you first meet him, he went on and on with compliments about your beauty. at first it was nice and quite flattering but it started to make you feel uncomfortable and you started to feel a little self-conscious. did everyone notice that you misplace your buttons? or did everyone notice the way you part your hair? all this "positive" attention was too much for you to handle and when you confront him about it.... it was like he was holding back before cause now he just wont stop! You started to avoid him every chance you got. the spotlight was just too much for you to take and you didn't have the heart to tell anyone about how you felt about this. it was too embarrassing and frankly silly to not like all the "praise".

you were still at the door to the science club... and you really didn't want to leave this club with say hi or checking in like the others... plus! Trey will be there! he might help if Rook does... a Rook.

You took a deep breathe for courage and open the door. you were introduced to a cloud of purple mist that smelled floral but sour? with the force of the mist, you were knocked down on the floor. you immediately braced yourself on the floor. the mist took a good minute for it clear out.

"Little pup! Are you okay?"

towering over you stood Divus Crewel, you couldn't see his face but you did see his coat which helped you to identify him. his hand was extended to you.

"im okay.. what happened here??"

you took his hand and stood. with your other hand, you waved off the remaining mist.

"tsk.. it seems a pup mixed the wrong herbs to the base making the reactions to be more... monstrous than it was intended. we normally have good ventilation here but.. frankly, if you haven't open the doors, we'd likely suffocated by the fumes, so thank you pup."

he starts to walk away to check his students, leaving you standing there process what he said... good thing you went into the science club then huh.. you thought. you make your way in the class room and helped some of the students clear out the rest of the mist, it was still kinda hard to see everyone but with a little wave of a notebook as a makeshift fan, it cleared up quickly.

you noticed that there is a lot of beastmen in here? weird but you didnt seem to mind too much. the kicker is when you recognize a non-beastmen beastmen.

"trey? aww you have cute little doggy ears!"

Trey has cute dog ears on his head! one of the ear's is up and the other is flopped down. They were just the cutest! As you were distacted by his ears, he laughs and turns to show off his tail. he knew what he was doing.

"heh.. we were making transformation potions kinda like the sea Witch but instead of turning merfolk into human, we tried humans into beastmen."

"ah.. that makes sense but... umm... may i..?"

you motion to his tail and ears. he lets out a charming laugh and nods. your face beamed as he bends down to you so you can pet his ears. they were so soft and when you brushed your finger on the bottom edge of his ears, they twitched. you tried to hold your joyish squeal and just hugged trey.

"hehe... im guessing you like my ears and tail?"

"mhmm..." you said in his shoulder

"you dont look half bad yourself, perfect"

you felt a flitch on your... head, no... ears? you immediately push yourself off trey and ran to the nearest glass shelf to look at yourself in the reflection. you had big long ears standing on your head. they looked a lot bigger than trey's ears but not like bunny ears. you looked at your behind and saw you had a big long tail. it was flowy and the fur looked coarse but soft too.

"but how-?"

"it was likely when you opened the door, and the mist hit you. any ways, i need to check with Professor Crewel and see when an antidote can be made. if you don't mind perfect, can you help out the other freshmen to clean up? we should get this place clear out of the mist or any hidden residue. there's extra lab coats and gloves over here."

"o-oh! ya sure. i dont mind."

you ran to slip on a lab coat and... felt someone's eyes on you. you looked around and everyone seemed to do their own thing. maybe your just not used to the extra sensations with your ears and tail?

you shrugged it off and hurried to check on everyone and clean up.

"..."

~~~~~

3 days...

3 days until you ears and tail were gone. Trey said since they were mimicking the sea witch's merfolk to human potion. they estimate they potion will last for 3 days. anyone with ears and tail (that aren't suppose to) are suppose to check with professor crewel immediately.

Frankly ace and epel are not helping! they keep laughing and messing with you. blowing wind in your direction to watch you ears and tail twitch. if you're nice they use magic, if not, they get close and blow in your ear.

"my gosh! quit it!"

the only time they actually stopped (until next time) is when deuce and jack are protecting you from them. such sweet hearts. they compliment it and Deuce actually ask to feel them, he's just curious!

Sebek isn't much help either. he doesn't play jokes on you but his yelling is 10x worst now. you were half tempted to go straight to malleus or lilia and ask if they can talk to sebek about his volume.

other than that everything has gone quiet... its just smooth sailing. until 3 days is up, you continued your day like normal. you get comments here and there but everyone (except ace and epel) has been main respectful. bet the science club are getting lots of questions. maybe some went to azul for a temp cure, i mean, scarabia can be really loud with all the parties. what about Trey? cater is probably all over him with request for pictures or maybe he should get ears and a tail.

you laughed to yourself as you make it back to the Ramshackle dorm. Grim is with ace and deuce right now, after they were caught messing with the desserts. so you have alone time for a while, yippy!

your ear twitched and you quickly turned around to find... no one there.. maybe.. an animal? with too many strange feelings, the ears and tail sensing things, you just haven't been able to feel alone recently.. you quicken your steps and rushed inside your dorm. you quickly locked the doors and check the rest of house. locking doors and windows. you did a quick clean of the place, no hanging jackets or clothes that can be mistaken as figures in the house. you're suppose to just enjoy alone time... which you don't feel alone.. which is concerning.. you run to your room and try to get comfortable. new clothes, and your phone with ace and deuce's number on standby.

you lay down on your bed and took a deep breathe.. then you were out like a light.

~~~~~

running.

how and why were you running? it was the third day, you were suppose to say good bye to the ears and tails, plus the strange feelings those ears and tail senses you couldn't shake off. you were tired of it, the first day, they were really cool to have and the senses were really neat but the strange feeling of just something, or someone, just made the whole experience sour for you. even when you were in the ramshackle dorm with grim, grim had to contently be your voice of reason, which is new but not unwelcomed. you could tell that grim was starting to worry for you, which made you feel a little guilty.

that night, you needed some fresh air. once you were out of the dorm, you sat on the pouch. the cold winds felt nice on your ears. you took a deep breathe and looked at the stars to calm your nerves. you just had to wait a few more hours... until midnight, right? you took a few minutes to just relax in the stars until you felt like you had enough and started to make you way inside.

when you stepped inside, you were greeted with a shadowy figure in your way. you froze, all you can see from his figure were their sharp eyes. no one moved for a moment...

....

the figured jumped at your direction! the ears and tail wasn't just for show, the potion gave you beastmen abilities too, like speed and strength. but mainly the speed part is important right now.

you swiftly jumped out of the way and ran.

you didn't know where to go. if you try to run to the other dorms, it'll take you some time just to get into the hall of mirrors. but if you head to the forest by ramshackle, there's a tiny chance you lose this creep but if they catch you, its all over for you.

you had to pick no chance or a tiny chance!

but you have beastmen senses, if you go into the forest. maybe they'll aid you away from this creep!!

who cares, just run!!

~~~~~

...

you were hiding now...

you do have beastmen abilities now but doesn't mean you still wont get tired. you were hiding in a little hole, two fallen trees made this small hole in the ground and you were so grateful that you noticed it. maybe you could run out of the forest now and hide in another building? maybe you successfully made the creep lost? hopefully..

you tired your luck, your chest felt so heavy but you had to get help.

you tired to be slow and quiet as you crawled out of the hole. an arrow was shot right in front of you, in the ground. you let out a quick scream and ran.

your running was short lived when heard a whistle in the wind and a sharp pain in your leg, you were shot. you fell and rolled into the dirt.

this is it. you couldn't make it home and now no one will hear from you again. you felt like your life was flashing before your eyes. regrets... guilts... what was the last thing you said to everyone..? would they be okay without you..? would you be okay without them...?! you feel hot tears falling from your eyes. you didn't want to go like this! there was so much you wanted to experience in twisted wonderland! please someone, hel-

"Aww~ Trickster, no need for these tears. shh... i was only playing~"

your heart downed, you slowly turned your head around to see him, Rook Hunt.. he stepped closer to you so you can see him better. he had floppy golden ears on his head and a wagging tail to follow...

"Aw~ My Trickster~ i see I've stolen your breathe away so let me explain. the day where you heroically saved everyone in the science club from our demise, we, including yourself, were gifted beastmen abilities. id admit, it took every fiber of my being to not just jump you when you were all over Chevalier des Roses. but.. i decided, since we were gifted these abilities, i should test them out. to understand your creations, you must test them. so i selfishly took on the hunt for my mon cher renarde~~"

he took off his hat and bowed, taking one of your hand and gently kissing your knuckles. you were too shocked to even respond. you were feeling too many emotions at once. does this mean you'll live? Rook was the strange figure that you sensed... that's why you haven't seen him in days. he did all of this to test the potion...? he shot you in the leg!!

you started to feel little headed and just collapsed on the floor. as you were falling in and out of conciseness, rook picked you up bridle style and started to talk some more.

"Ahh~ Mon cher Renarde~ watching you deny your instincts only to let them take over was truly an honor. Vraiment magnifique~ your cute little twitches, ahh~ i couldn't get enough. i might force you to take the potion again.."

he stops and smiles at you. a smile that made you feel sick.

"hehe~ just kidding~"

...

"unless..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

French words!! i used google translate so sorry for the people who knows french.

Mon cher Renarde = my dear fox

Vraiment magnifique = truly beautiful

#twst fanart #twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #yandere twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #art #digital art #twst rook hunt #twst rook #twst rook x reader #twst yandere rook #twst yan rook #twst yandere rook hunt

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sopranoentravesti · 5 months ago

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Not directly inspired by anything except for *gestures vaguely at the surrounding shitshow* but I do think more people could stand to read this article by Dara Horn about Roald Dahl from 2021.

I’ve included text of the article as well, under the cut. And to head off the whining of those who will perceive this as an attack on their favorite children’s book writer or whatever: read the damn article. This isn’t about “cancelling,” someone for being bigoted (hell, if I boycotted books or plays because the author was virulently antisemitic, there would be precious little to read). It is about understanding a really dark part of human psychology that is at play in conspiratorial thinking— which of course is at the heart of antisemitism— that Roald Dahl capitalized on. Developing a more mature sense of morality, rather than indulging in the bloody politics of blame and vengeance is crucial.

There’s nothing quite like the realization that what you thought was an empowering work of art is actually a 200-page exercise in trolling. It took me more than 30 years to figure out that I’d been trolled by Roald Dahl.

Dahl, who dominated juvenile publishing when I was growing up, revealed himself late in his career to be a vicious antisemite, who thought “powerful American Jewish bankers” ran the US government. He told the New Statesman that “there is a trait in the Jewish character that does provoke animosity, maybe it’s a kind of lack of generosity towards non-Jews. I mean, there is always a reason why anti-anything crops up anywhere; even a stinker like Hitler didn’t just pick on them for no reason.” This was in 1983, the year in which Dahl published The Witches, his 13th novel for children.

Apparently, Dahl had been an antisemite his entire life, but it didn’t prevent him from being essentially canonized after his death in 1990, and it didn’t much affect my thoughts about him either. I had adored his books as a child, and I’ve never taken much interest in the now-obligatory grunt work of connecting artists’ personalities (often horrible) with their works (sometimes great). And although Dahl was not only an antisemite but also (and even more damningly these days) a misogynist and a racist, he hasn’t been canceled yet. Who doesn’t love Roald Dahl, or at least his stories?

Hollywood certainly does. The most recent Dahl adaptation, which began streaming on HBO Max this Halloween season, is called Roald Dahl’s The Witches (note the value of the authorial brand), directed and written by Robert Zemeckis, with the help of two younger Hollywood powerhouses, Kenya Barris and Guillermo del Toro. It stars the high wattage Octavia Spencer, perhaps best known for her Oscar-winning role in The Help, and A-lister Anne Hathaway, not to mention the voice of the comedian Chris Rock. In fact, this is the second big-budget version of The Witches, the first having been a 1990 film starring Anjelica Huston.

But The Witches was on my mind long before I’d heard about the new movie. It was one of my favorite books when I was a child, one I read repeatedly and pressed into the hands of friends. I was eager to share it with my own children and hesitated only because, as a child, I’d also found it somewhat terrifying. But when I read it aloud to my eight-year-old son last month, I discovered that it was far more terrifying than I remembered, and for entirely different reasons.

The key to Dahl’s success as a children’s author lay in how he pitted children against adults, making children into a beloved underdog class whose moral victory lay in vanquishing their powerful exploiters. His heroes are blameless boys and girls tortured by diabolically abusive adults, whom they destroy in outrageous revenge sequences of the sort even the most fortunate child occasionally fantasizes about. In James and the Giant Peach, for instance, the orphaned James, enslaved by his villainous aunts, squashes them to death with the titular fruit. In Matilda, a kindergartener uses magic powers to terrorize a school principal who routinely locks children in a nail-studded closet. In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the starving Charlie, living in the sort of poverty that would make Oliver Twist qualify as a one-percenter, inherits a fantastical candy factory—but only after a book-length morality play in which wealthy children and their entitled parents are absurdly tortured and maimed. In George’s Marvelous Medicine, a boy forced to care for his heartless grandmother concocts a potion that makes her shrink and disappear.

In short, Dahl is like a modern Charles Dickens, except instead of social justice and spiritual redemption, Dahl’s books offer only revenge. Kids, like all emotionally and morally stunted people, eat this stuff up. Dahl tapped into something primal and hideous in the human psyche: the desire of disenfranchised people to feel righteous precisely by demonizing others. As a kid, I bought this too. The sheer sadism of it went right over my head until I shared these books with my children and saw how I’d been punked. And The Witches was the worst.

The Witches is about a boy who is orphaned in the opening chapter—pity points are always crucial for Dahl—and then adopted by his loving Grandmamma, a kindly old lady who fills him in on a little-known scourge. Witches, she explains, are real. They are demons disguised as women, and their sole purpose is to entrap and destroy innocent children through their diabolical magic. One unfortunate boy, for example, went off with a witch and returned unharmed—but later hardened into a stone statue. After vanishing with a witch, a girl reappeared only in a landscape painting in her family’s home, changing positions whenever the family wasn’t watching and even aging as years passed. (That one haunted me for decades.) Other children are “disappeared” in ways worthy of an Argentine junta. Kids better watch out.

One summer on a beach vacation with Grandmamma, our hero wanders into a hotel conference room occupied by a group calling itself the “Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.” In fact, it is a coven of witches discussing their latest plan, a potion designed to turn children into mice. They discover the boy and immediately mouse-ify him, but now that our talking mouse hero knows where they keep their potions, he and Grandmamma hatch a clever plot to administer them to the witches themselves. Hijinks ensue, evil is vanquished, and although the narrator remains a mouse, he doesn’t mind. He and Grandmamma embark on a crusade to take out the witches of the world, and he never has to go to school again.

The book chimed perfectly with the stories of “stranger danger” that other 1980s children and I were constantly fed in state-mandated school curricula, but it made that threat delightfully preposterous—and manageable since all one had to do was believe that certain adults were actually demons with recognizable tells. It was a highly rewarding fantasy. After all, it was clear to me, as it was to every young reader, that even adults who didn’t molest children in shopping malls were nonetheless conspiring against us, making us do dehumanizing tasks like making beds and taking tests. The book was empowering. With its frisson of secret knowledge, it made us feel righteous and invincible. Unfortunately, revisiting it as an adult revealed that the book was cribbed from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion—and helped me understand, for perhaps the first time, antisemitism’s seductive appeal.

“Witches,” Grandmamma explains, “are not actually women at all . . . They are demons in human shape.” How do you spot one? Well, since they’re demons, they have toeless hooves instead of feet and claws instead of fingers, disguised by fashionable shoes and gloves. You can’t spot those, but you can spot their “larger nose-holes than ordinary people” (the better to smell you with, my dear). But the real tell, of course, is that witches are bald—which is why a witch always wears “a first-class wig,” which she puts “straight on her naked scalp.”

As I read this aloud to my enthralled son, it was hard to miss how much these witches resembled women in, say, Stamford Hill (the London version of Borough Park). It was also hard to miss how much they resembled caricatures from Der Stürmer or a medieval blood libel. Was I overinterpreting?

You be the judge: “Wherever you find people, you find witches,” Grandmamma tells her innocent grandchild. “There is a Secret Society of Witches in every country. . . . An English witch, for example, will know all the other witches in England.” If this was too subtle, Grandmamma clarifies: “Once a year, the witches of each separate country hold their own secret meeting. They all get together in one place to receive a lecture from The Grand High Witch of All the World.” The boy’s question about this fun fact is, at this point, predictable: “Is she rich?”

Grandmamma replies, “She’s rolling. Simply rolling in money. Rumour has it that there is a machine in her headquarters which is exactly like the machine the government uses to print the bank-notes you and I use.” The boy then asks, as any normal child would, “What about foreign money?” You already know the answer: “Those machines can make Chinese money if you want them to.” Here, the boy turns skeptical: “If nobody has ever seen the Grand High Witch, how can you be so sure she exists?” Grandmamma counters, “Nobody has seen the Devil, but we know he exists.” All of this isn’t merely true, we are told, but “the gospel truth” (the italics are Dahl’s). After all, Grandmamma “went to church every morning of the week and she said grace before every meal, and somebody who did that would never tell lies.” As Grandmamma warns her dear boy, “All you can do is cross your heart and pray to heaven.”

Alas, crossing his heart and praying to heaven doesn’t protect our hero from his encounter with the Elders of Witchdom, at which point Dahl drops all pretense. The Grand High Witch, we learn, “had a peculiar way of speaking. There was some sort of a foreign accent there, something harsh and guttural, and she seemed to have trouble pronouncing the letter w. As well as that, she did something funny with the letter r. She would roll it round and round her mouth.” The Grand High Witch, in her Yiddish accent, explains to her secret society how they will lure England’s children by buying high-end sweet shops and poisoning the candy, since “Money is not a prrroblem to us vitches as you know very well. I have brrrought with me six trrrunks stuffed full of Inklish bank-notes, all new and crrrisp” (italics mine).

Few children can resist the lure of witches. My son loved the book so much that he wanted to see the movie. Perhaps you are wondering: is the 2020 Hollywood version, whose creators unsurprisingly included plenty of Jews, antisemitic? The short answer is no, or not exactly, but that’s also the wrong question.

Adapting from a source this hideous was never going to be easy or entirely uncontroversial, and the new film has already been slammed for portraying limb differences as evil (instead of the claws mentioned in the book, the film’s witches are depicted with missing fingers). Despite that tone-deaf choice, it’s clear that the filmmakers were aware of the book’s larger problems. To their credit, they knew they had to fix something, and they went big: instead of contemporary England, Roald Dahl’s The Witches takes place in 1968 Alabama, and the protagonist and his grandmother are Black (Octavia Spencer’s Grandmamma is even a voodoo healer). Unlike the 1990 movie, the witches no longer have big noses and are, in fact, racially diverse. At first, this does seem poised to dilute some of the book’s inherent awfulness: when a Black witch attacked the protagonist in an early scene, I had high hopes for a story where “evil” was depicted solely through Marvel Universe methods of pancake makeup and special effects. But that scene proved to be half-hearted tokenism, since the rest of the film focuses almost entirely on, to use the current term, white-presenting witches—and most tellingly, what really distinguishes witches in this film is that they are rich. As we watch a flashback of the lily-white and fabulously dressed Anne Hathaway as the Grand High Witch attacking an impoverished Black child in a 1920s Alabama shantytown, Grandmamma tells us that “witches always prey on the poor.”

This class warfare idea is utterly absent from Dahl’s book, but it perhaps unintentionally provides a trendy update to his rather old-school racial antisemitism: the idea that a secret society of fantastically wealthy “global elites”—often, but not inevitably, Jews—prey on the poor. This means that bigotry against them, rather than being retrograde, is, in fact, a fresh and righteous way of “punching up.” Instead of just protecting innocent children, this new Grandmamma now also shares her truth to defend the downtrodden, like every righteous nutjob tweeting about the Rothschilds or George Soros. In the book, nothing much happens with the Grand High Witch’s counterfeit cash. But here Grandmamma commandeers it at the film’s triumphant end and hands out hundred-dollar bills to the hotel’s exploited Black employees.

If this sounds tedious, it is. Roald Dahl’s The Witches is wretched less because of the book’s wretched premise than because it is a conventionally lousy children’s movie, full of Hollywood pieties (in the climactic scene, Grandmamma actually lectures the Grand High Witch about the Power of Love), canned stereotypes and recycled animation. That doesn’t mean kids won’t love it, of course. As Hollywood knows well, everyone loves a good conspiracy theory—and that’s the problem.

My kids laughed their way through the movie’s animated mice and cookie-cutter triumphs, enjoying everything that conventional children’s stories do best—reinforce their audience’s expectations, vanquish villains, and make powerless people feel superior. Conspiracy theories make for great stories, but in an era when a nontrivial proportion of the American electorate apparently believes in the QAnon conspiracy theory that a secret cabal of satanic pedophiles preys on American children and the country, I couldn’t help feeling that this film was, at the very least, ill-timed.

It is so easy, after all, to believe in a conspiracy, so self-indulgent, so appealing—and, as I now finally understood, so much fun. Watching this mediocre and unremarkable movie left me shockingly ill at ease, precisely because it was so mediocre and unremarkable. My discomfort was compounded by the knowledge that the eight-year-old me would have loved it too, not knowing any better. Few children do. In the elaborate, magical long game of luring innocents into handing over their hearts, it turns out that the Grand High Witch was actually Roald Dahl.

#roald dahl #antisemitism #dara horn #conspiracy theories #I too loved Dahl’s books when I was young— especially Matilda #but as an adult I find this mindset repugnant #books #the witches

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