#I have been SO excited to get to this one. whew.

[peninkwrites]

A Patchwork Powder Keg - Ch 11 of 14

The gang puts the 'fun' in funeral.

[CW: referenced past abuse, gun violence, violence in general, and canon-typical desecration of a corpse <3]

Crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 10

Ch 12

Mafia AU masterpost

~ A Collective ~

Quackity looks out of place.  He stands alone, the morgue dark and empty, save for a single light hanging overhead.  He’s not supposed to be here, but he’d paid off the attendee, whose only critique had been: “Don’t do anything too weird.”

To which Quackity had replied with a dry laugh, the man’s concerns almost ironic, “won’t be a problem.  I got enough of that shit while he was alive.”

The technician hadn’t made any more comments, quick to leave him.  Not that Quackity had been bothered.  This business is between him and Schlatt alone.  Tubbo didn’t know he’d gone here.  Nor did Karl.  This is for him.

It cost him fifty bucks, but he has one hour for a more personal goodbye to his partner of seven years before he is properly prepped for the funeral.  He won’t need the hour in its entirety, but it’s nice not to have to rush.

The silence is heavy, the buzz of the electrical lighting covering the sound of his own breathing, the only living being in the room.  Quackity stares down at the table, some feeling, maybe rage, maybe pain, some vicious pull of yearning eating away at the inside of his chest.  He pulls back the blue sheet over the body, staring, unflinching at the dead face of his partner and the hole ripped through his skull just above his nose.

“Hey, handsome,” Quackity sneers.  He stares at the body, eyes gleaming with more than just malice.  “I think I like you better this way.  You’re quieter.”

Schlatt does not reply.

“What, nothing to say?!” Quackity is desperately antagonizing a corpse.  He takes a shaky breath, formaldehyde almost stinging his throat, hands balled into fists at his sides.  “If I could I’d fucking break you right now, but you can’t feel it anymore, it’s not gonna fucking hurt you, so– so what’s the point, right?!” A bitter, hysterical laugh.

The silence presses in again.

Quackity tuts him softly under his breath.  “Should’ve had this little chat sooner, eh?  Wouldn’t have been too hard.  On a night Ponk drugged you– because that’s what it was, okay?  Actually,”  Quackity gets distracted from his original tangent, irritation and scathing replacing that longing for a moment, “you never fucking realized that?  I mean, sure, you drank yourself into unconsciousness half the time anyway, but you never fucking noticed those drinks they gave you to– to help with your cough or some shit, whatever, they always knocked you out, huh?  You never fucking realized it.  Never!  You aren’t smart, okay?  You like to talk like you’re fucking clever, but you’re not.  You’re a self obsessed fucking idiot who couldn’t believe that someone might not be too scared of you to do something like that.  You– You’re defeatable, Schlatt!  You’re so fucking defeatable!  Ponk could have killed you any fucking night.  I–” Quackity points a furious finger back at his own chest, almost staggering, leaning closer to shout in a corpse’s face, “I could’ve killed you!  Any fucking night, I could’ve done it!”  He laughs, a cackle.  “Alright?!  You acted like I couldn’t!”  He’s almost screaming now, “you acted like I couldn’t!  Any time I woke you up, y-you had your stupid fucking knife and you held me down with your stupid shaky hands acting like you were in control, like you cut me just ‘cause you didn’t care, I know it was because your stupid fucking hands shook because you were a pathetic drunk, and you still acted like if I really wanted to, if I really wanted you dead, you’d still be able t-to hold me down like that, a-and with the knife, do whatever you wanted and–” Quackity is out of breath.  A pause, the electrical lights’ hum almost feels accusing.

Quackity keeps talking so he can no longer hear them.  “S-So… so don’t even get me started on a night where Ponk knocked you out.  Don’t even–” Another pause, another shaky breath, another defense, “I could’ve chained your wrist to the bedpost, taken your knife, waited for you to wake up, and then…”  He shifts from foot to foot, hands in his pockets, staring at that sunken face, waxy and already somehow less human.  That stubble is never going to scratch his cheeks again, those lips will never again touch him, those teeth will never again push too far.  Quackity is sort of relieved that the sheet still just covers Schlatt’s hands.  He doesn’t want to spiral into what that part of Schlatt left him with either, whether a closed fist or a hand holding onto his jaw, pinning him down, holding his hand, around his throat, running through his hair��� all of it, too much rawness lingers there.

Quackity does have Schlatt’s knife.  He’s fidgeting with it in his pocket.  It’s already covered in Schlatt’s blood, Tubbo’s gunshot close enough there’s a tear through the leather around the handle.  Quackity doesn’t take the knife out yet.  His thumb brushes restlessly over the torn leather.

“Hm,” he exhales a laugh, hysteria traded for calm in an instant.  “Wonder how that chat might’ve gone, y’know?  If you’d been able to talk back, that is.  I mean, if I had any sense in this hypothetical scenario I would’ve fucking gagged you too, right?  Wouldn’t get a word in edgewise…”

Quackity still pauses like he’s waiting for a reply.  It unnerves him a bit.

“Since it’s just us, since you’re never gonna be able to use this against me, maybe I should try being honest,” he says softly.  “Would you have been scared of me, d’you think?  I dunno if you were even conscious enough to be scared of Tubbo before he pulled the trigger, so, I won’t even bother with that shit.  So– So.  If I had you, Schlatt.  If I had you tied down, and if I had your fucking knife against your throat, same way you did to me–” Quackity stops as his voice tremors, scanning a face stiff as stone frantically.  “You wouldn’t have been.  Would you?  You’d tell me I wouldn’t have the fucking balls to do anything, you’d tell me I was weak and pathetic a-and I wouldn’t actually go through with it.  Right?  That’s what you’d tell me.”

Quackity wants him to reply.  He wants Schlatt to contradict him.  To tell him he’s strong, that he’s worth being afraid of.  He hates that.

“Maybe you’d be right, huh?” Quackity has no reason to speak so softly.  He doesn’t want to speak softly, like somehow he’s still afraid.  “I never did it,” he huffs, stepping back, hands out of his pockets, without a knife in hand, instead swinging agitatedly at his sides.  “I had every right to, though.  And I could’ve.  I think,” he stares up at the lights, their harshness making his eyes water.  Just the lights, nothing more.  “I guess that’s worse, though, huh?”  He looks back at his lover’s dead face.  “Huh?  ‘Cause it means I chose not to, right?  You’re a– You’re a fucking monster,” Quackity almost jabs an accusing finger against a corpse’s chest before pulling back quickly, still shifting restlessly, almost twitchy.  “A monster,” he sniffs, clearing his throat.  “I wasn’t– I wasn’t ready.  I wasn’t ready to–” A shaky sigh, he tries to convince himself it’s more frustration than pain.  “I guess I wasn’t ready to lose you, huh?”

Silence.

Quackity glances around the morgue, wiping his nose on his sleeve.  “Disgusting…”

He doesn’t think of Tubbo, or Karl, or even of everything this man made him learn to hate.

“I’m not… I’m not ready.  Because I fucking love you, don’t I?” A cold laugh.  “Loved you.  Love you… whatever, it doesn’t fucking matter,” he mutters.  “I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I know that’s your fault, but it’s still true.  You– Fuck, I don’t even–”  He wants to get out the knife.  Not yet.  “That’s– That’s bullshit.  That’s fucking bullshit!  Y-You controlled my whole fucking life for the past seven fucking years!  Seven years!  I was a fucking teenager you sick fucking bastard!  I was– I was nineteen!” Quackity’s rage is broken down by a sob in the back of his throat.  “I was– I was nineteen.  And you– You made me think I was gonna be worthless without you.  You acted like you were… you were doing me a favor.  Seven fucking years, and you spent every minute making sure I know I was better off dead than without you,” Quackity feels sick.  “But I– I don’t think like that anymore.  I don’t.  I fucking refuse.”

Some of that grief is briefly exchanged for a giddiness that is just as unnerving.  “I– I have Karl now!  Karl!  His fucking name is Karl!  I get to say that now!  I get to say his fucking name!  And you can’t do shit!  You’re never gonna lay a fucking hand on him!  I love him!  I’ve had him and loved him for six fucking years right under your stupid nose!  I don’t know if you recall, Schlatt,” he tilts his head mockingly, “you said you were gonna kill me if I saw anyone else, if I left you, all that shit, and it didn’t fucking stop me, alright?!  He matters more to me than you ever fucking scared me, you got that?!  You couldn’t fucking stop me!  Ha!” He screams it.

Quackity breathes heavily, burying tears almost on impulse now.  “And I’m gonna stop giving a shit about you, eventually I fucking will, alright?!  You died first.  You didn’t get to kill me.  I lived!  I survived it!  And you’re fucking dead, you sick motherfucker!  Fuck it–” Quackity digs the knife out of his pocket and triumphantly stabs it into Schlatt’s unbreathing chest, eagerness bordering on insanity.  “This time–” He begins to saw with a blade truly not made for such butchering, hands trembling with effort as well as mania.  “This time you’re mine, not the other way around–”  There’s a vile crack as he hits bone and keeps going.  He pauses, flinching, when blood spurts out of the corpse from whatever he hit, fortunate enough to avoid getting it on him.  He lets go, leaving the knife still embedded in his stiff chest.  “Y-You don’t–” He turns around toward the cart of supplies the actual mortician had intended on using, muttering with fervor, “you don’t get to make me disgusting– to make me feel disgusting, ever again, not now–” he takes a pair of plastic gloves, hands shaking as he struggles to get them on, “you don’t fucking touch me again–“ pulling them up over his already rolled up sleeves before returning to his knife, tugging viciously, and once the tiny blade begins to fail him, he doesn’t bother with the tools laid out, even if a bonesaw might have been useful, instead he rips out the knife and digs in with his hands, unable to snap open his ribcage but determined to burrow around it, through tough, hardened muscle, the body, the blood, all of it so cold until finally–

He stops.  Quackity tries to search inside himself for something simple, for straightforward grief or clean-cut hatred, or even something natural, something human like horror, and instead he finds only a hunger.  That’s as uncomplicated as it can get.  Schlatt’s unbeating heart is held in his fist.

Quackity stares at it, almost entranced, before something, some unnerved nagging feeling that he’s going somewhere he shouldn’t, snaps him out of it.  He fumbles for a plastic bag, placing the organ inside, hastily covering the now open chest cavity with the sheet, leaving Schlatt’s unmoving face uncovered, peeling off the gloves, carefully avoiding the touch of the gore covering them.  Quackity knows he should make a fast exit now, but he lingers for just a moment longer, staring at the heart through the shining plastic.  He glances back at that man’s face one more time, the bag held tightly in his hand.

“Only fair, right?”  Quackity puts the bag in a large pocket on the inside of his coat.  “Maybe this makes us even, you stupid son of a bitch.”

It doesn’t.

~

Tubbo has never been to a funeral before.  He doesn’t think fear is the usual feeling before attending one.  Although, he also knows funerals aren’t typically destined to end in bloodshed.

Tubbo is as always in an ill-fitting suit, ensuring room for a holster to remain hidden underneath his jacket.  He looks at his reflection and hates that the sight still looks like a scared little boy.  He knows he has to learn how to change that.  There is blood on his hands now, and people he still needs to protect.  Tubbo lets his expression fall blank, but it’s still an imperfect facade.  His hands shake as he goes to tie his tie.  The sharp irritation that rises up at his own shakiness he hates as well.  That impulsive anger reminds him of Schlatt, just as the shaking hands do.  His frustration does nothing to help him steady.  There’s a knock at his door.

“Come in.”

Quackity pokes his head in, already in his own black suit.  He looks restless, eager to get moving.  “Hey.  You ready to go?”

“Almost,” Tubbo frowns, hands fumbling and agitated as he tries to tie it.

“Here, let me,” Quackity steps in, reaching toward him, waiting for Tubbo to step back from the mirror and lower his hands.

Tubbo glances at him, irritated, giving up his efforts and turning to face his friend.  “I know how to tie a tie…”

Quackity smirks, “I know you do.  You’ve got more important shit on your mind today, so, let me do it this time,” he reaches out and ties it for him, pushing it up to his collar, not too tight.  It’s not for Tubbo’s comfort.  Quackity always wears his ties a little loose.  He doesn’t like the pressure around his neck.

Tubbo frowns.  “You smell like… like formaldehyde.  Why do you smell like formaldehyde?”

“How the fuck do you know what-?” Quackity pauses with a frown, still holding onto Tubbo’s tie.  “Uh, had to swing by the funeral home, shit to get him… get him transferred to the church.  There was… there was paperwork.  The room reeked of the stuff.”

“Oh,” Tubbo seems to accept this.  “I dissected some… stuff.  When I was younger.  The smell is awful.  It’s hard to forget.”  A pause.  “Did you know formaldehyde makes you hungry?  I don’t think anyone’s figured out why, but it’s weird, isn’t it?”

Quackity isn’t sure what to make of that.  “Yeah.  Uh.  Weird.”  He refocuses on the tie.  “There,” he straightens Tubbo’s collar.  “Looking good, Tubbo.  You look strong.”

“You know I don’t.”

Quackity puts his hands on Tubbo’s shoulders, looking at him intently.  “Okay, then we’ll prove it to them.  You are strong.  That’s what all this is about, right?”

Tubbo nods.  He wants to believe him.  He doesn’t want to be weak.  He cannot be weak.  He’s already sacrificed pieces of himself to get this far, he doesn’t want to lose any more, but maybe this will be the last of it.  He hadn’t wanted anyone else to die, but as Quackity had reminded him, surviving this required sacrifices.  So he pushes on.  “Is Jack here?”

“Downstairs.”

The two of them leave, only to find Jack coming up to meet them.  “Tubbo– Boss– There’s– Your mate Ranboo, he’s on the phone for you, sounds serious–”

“What?” Tubbo runs downstairs, grabbing the receiver from the phone in the entryway.  “Ranboo?  Are you okay?”

Ranboo’s voice is quieter, uneasy.  “I’m– I’m okay, sort of, but there are these guys here, and they said they worked for Schlatt, they threatened Niki, a-and Niki told me to go upstairs, I’m still in the back, but right now she’s trying to talk to them they’re not listening, and– and I don’t know if they’re going to try something, I mean, I– I know it’s Niki,” his voice tremors, “but there’s three of them and–”

“Fuck– Okay, I will be there as soon as I can, Ranboo.  Keep stalling, keep yourself safe,” Tubbo hangs up.  “Jack, Big Q– Come on, someone is trying to hold up Niki’s place,” Tubbo heads out, Quackity and Jack following, Quackity getting out the keys to his car, Tubbo getting in the passenger side and Jack in the back seat.  “Big Q?”

“Yeah?”

“Drive fast.”

Quackity nods, eyes gleaming.  “Glad to.”

~

One of the men who has invaded Niki’s bakery leans against the counter, drumming his fingers on its surface, staring around the quaint shop with mild interest.  Niki is doing her best to keep her eye on him and his two cohorts, who circle the shop, poking their noses where they don’t belong.  The bastard keeps talking, having ignored Niki’s icy tone.  “Yeah, no.  You’re right, Schlatt isn’t in charge anymore.  He’s not protecting this place, so, why do you think you have the right to tell us to fuck off?”

“Well, that depends, are you here to buy some bread, or not?” Niki says dryly.  Her hands stay behind the counter.

The man laughs.  “No, no sweetheart, we’re not.  I think we’re a bit more curious about that goldmine you have in the basement.  Schlatt’s dead, apparently, you’re gonna need someone to look out for you, right?  A little lady like yourself, you’re gonna need protection.  For a fair price, of course.”

Niki could rip this man’s head off.  She could.  She’d rather not get blood all over the shop.  She keeps talking instead.  “I think you’ll find I can take care of myself.”  One of the men begins to push through the gate behind the counter.  “You’re not allowed back here,” she snaps at him.  “Get back unless you want to get covered in pink frosting.”

The man stops, but still looks toward the back room.  “Is there anyone else here with you?”

Niki prays her brother followed her instructions and went upstairs to the apartment.  “There shouldn’t be.  And that includes the three of you.”

“Aw, but we’re paying customers,” one of them sneers.  He slaps a dollar on the counter.  “I want to buy something.  So open the register.”

“If you’re seriously trying to hold me up right now, I suggest you reconsider if you would like to leave here with all of your fingers,” she sets aside the frosting bag and instead grabs a serrated bread knife from behind the glass.  She holds it with one hand.  The other stays behind the counter.

The man laughs.  “That’s sweet.  Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?  Now open the fucking register.  Or maybe we’ll see if whoever you’re hiding back there is more helpful,” he nods toward the back room.

Niki buries the spark of panic that raises.  They won’t get near Ranboo, and if that means she has to kill them all, so be it.  She’s about to act, when instead the little bell over the door rings.  She looks over to see Tubbo, Jack, and Quackity entering the bakery.  She’s torn between annoyance and relief.  She’d told Ranboo she could handle it, that he should just hide, but he’d gone and called in reinforcements instead.

“Can I help you, gentleman?” Tubbo says coldly.

“You?” The chattier asshole gives him a once over.  “No, no I don’t think so, kiddo.  Where’re your parents, eh?  You’d think someone would’ve taught you to pick your battles a little more carefully.”

Tubbo is immovable, something almost wild behind his eyes that Niki has never seen from him before, it reminds her of a cornered bull, a prey animal who is not made to run away or hide, leaving one other option.

“You know very well who I am and who my parents are,” he scoffs.  “This building is under my protection.  That has not stopped, and I’m not sure where you got the idea you were allowed to be here without my say so.  I believe you remember what I said if any of you were to undermine my authority.”

Jack and Quackity stay close beside him, daring the others circling to come closer.  It’s four against three now, but these three seem set on underestimating them.

“Oh?” The man laughs, hand over his heart, as if endeared.  “How cute.  Under your protection.  I mean, really, your protection?” He bends down so he’s at Tubbo’s eye level, patronizing and in his face.  “What’re you gonna do about it, huh?  We’re not bullies on the playground, little boy.  You’re in so far over your head.  And your old man isn’t around to protect you anymore.”

Tubbo steps closer, unintimidated, gaze piercing as he says viciously, almost amused, “and why do you think that is?  Where the fuck do you think he went, little boy?  Don’t tell me you’re surprised that I had the fucking balls to do what none of you idiots could.  All of you too busy running around kissing his ass and acting like you being his mangy little guard dogs meant anything.  Don’t try and threaten me, it won’t end well for you.  I’m being merciful, don’t make me regret it.  All of you leave now.”

The man has flushed red, standing up straight, no longer amused.  “I thought your old man smacked you around enough that you knew to keep your mouth shut?  You couldn’t talk half the time, right?  I liked you better dumb and mute, you know that?  You’d live longer.”  He towers over Tubbo, but Tubbo still doesn’t move.  He doesn’t get out his gun yet either.  The man smirks, gaze wandering to Tubbo’s entourage, “and if you want to talk about your father’s pets, it’s rich of you to say that shit when you’re walking around with his favorite fucking chewtoy.”  He turns his malice on Quackity.  “You’ve been his bitch for years, what is it you do now that you can’t lick his boots?” The man has already doomed himself, but he makes one last mistake, he has the audacity to shove Quackity back alongside his insults.

Quackity doesn’t have the chance for his own anger to rise at the slight, it’s like he blinks and Tubbo has grabbed the bread knife from Niki and has it embedded in the man’s stomach a moment more.  The man isn’t dead.  His eyes widen in shock as he stumbles, but Tubbo doesn’t let him keel over, he holds him up with one hand on his shoulder, his other twisting the blade.

“You shouldn’t have said that shit about Big Q,” Tubbo says, voice trembling with thinly veiled rage.  He twists the knife and the man emits a horrible choking sound that makes Jack flinch.  “You certainly shouldn’t have laid…” he twists the knife deeper, blood reaching him, warm and heavy, “a fucking hand on him, okay?  I hope you understand that is why you are dying, alright?  Hm?  Is that clear to you?”  Another twist and he rips out the blade, allowing the half-dead fool to collapse.  “I didn’t learn that from my old man.  I figured that shit out on my own,” Tubbo spits at him for good measure, more fury still clawing to get out of him.  He remains staring down at the man bleeding at his feet, but he speaks to his stunned cohorts.  “He’s not dead yet.  Maybe you two can get him to a hospital in time.  Take him and run.  Before I gut the rest of you.”

One obliges, grabbing his friend off the ground, dragging him toward the door.  The other goes for a gun.

Niki pumps her shotgun, already having it ready and waiting behind the counter.  “I will blast you to pieces if you do anything but walk out that door.”

The last flees as well without another moment’s hesitation, and they’re alone.  Tubbo is still holding that bloody knife, staring at the blood on the floor.  He’s shaking again.  He almost seems to come out of a daze, shaking himself and looking back up at her.  “Niki– Niki, are you okay?  Ranboo?”

She looks at him carefully, shotgun still in hand, like she’s trying to read something from him.  “We’re alright, Tubbo.  I had it handled,” she says slowly.  Her cautious worry is exchanged for mild exasperation.  “I just didn’t want it to get messy during business hours!” she sighs, gesturing to the blood on the ground.

“Ah,” Tubbo turns from a mob boss to a sheepish teenager in an instant.  “Sorry!  My bad, I didn’t… I didn’t think that through.” 

“It’s okay,” Niki huffs.  “Although, Ranboo, I told you to go hide upstairs!” She turns into the back room, scolding and on a mission.

“Uh, can you put down the shotgun before you tell me off?!” Ranboo scurries into the front to dodge her wrath.  “You didn’t think I was gonna leave you alone with those creeps, did you?”

Niki has a hard time being annoyed with him.  “You worry me half to death, do you know that?”

“Well, ditto!” Ranboo pouts.

“Tubbo?  Doing alright, man?” Jack asks.  “After…”

“Fine, I’m good,” Tubbo says.  Tubbo had told those men to get their friend to a hospital, but some things aren’t survivable.  Just because the man hadn’t died in front of him doesn’t mean Tubbo doesn’t know what he’s done.

“Tubbo, you…” Ranboo is also at a loss, maybe even more shocked than the others at Tubbo’s ability to go just a bit further.

“Yeah.  I did,” Tubbo says mildly.  “I mean, Big Q even told me, I’ll probably have to kill the most people in the beginning, and once they know not to fuck with me, it’ll get easier, right?” Tubbo looks up from the blood on the floor, almost cheerful.

Niki and Jack turn to Quackity, almost judgemental.

“It’s true.  It sucks, but it’s still true,” Quackity shrugs.  That gruesome truth had been what convinced Tubbo to go just a bit further for the funeral today.  Quackity almost wants to explain further.  To explain that it’s better that Tubbo is cut throat with these kinds of people, because the alternative is hurting innocent people.  Tubbo had already given up hostages for fucking pennies, so he needs to put his ruthlessness somewhere.  Quackity doesn’t know what to do with Tubbo’s impulse being to protect him.  Not even to protect him physically, but to kill a man on principle over his dignity.  He also can’t help but think of how fucking tired he is of all these people running around only knowing him as Schlatt’s pet.  Largely only those contained to Schlatt’s circle, but that’s still too many people, and the worst kind as well.

“Sorry again, about the mess, Niki.  I’ll help clean up–” Tubbo starts to offer.

“No, don’t worry about it, Tubbo, you’ve got a funeral to get to.  We’ll see you later, okay?”

“Are you… are you going?  To the… to the funeral?” Tubbo asks, almost panicked.

Niki gives him a worried look.  “Well, not because I feel like mourning the man, but for you?  Of course we’ll be there.”

“No,” Tubbo says too sharply.  “I mean–” He stops with a shaky sigh.  “Okay, so.  The funeral isn’t– It’s not to mourn Schlatt, yeah?”

“Well, no, I’d expect not,” Niki is almost teasing now.  “I more thought you were having the whole thing to spit on his grave, right?”

Tubbo laughs nervously.  “Yeah, yeah something like that.  Look, uh.”  Tubbo gives Quackity a pleading look.

Quackity decides to step in.  “The reason we’re doing this isn’t just for a good time.  Our plan is to…” Quackity thinks over his words carefully.  “Weed out the last of Schlatt’s loyalists and… make sure they’re not gonna be able to cause any more harm.  Funeral is just the easiest way to get them all in one place, y’know?”

Niki gives him a more calculating look, sobered now.  “Weed them out how?”

Quackity bounces back on his heels, hands in his pockets, grinning like a somewhat sympathetic shark.  “As in an incredibly good sniper in the loft of the church how.”

“A sniper?” Niki says sharply.

Quackity nods, tilting his head goodnaturedly.  “And maybe locking the doors to make sure none of them get away, but we know half the crowd at least will just be nosy civilians, so probably not.”

“This is what you want to do, Tubbo?” Niki turns to Tubbo, not quite accusing, mostly cautious.

Tubbo stammers wordlessly for a moment.  “I– er, yeah, I– I want it done.  Alright?  I want it handled.  And I want to make sure no one else tried to pull the stunt these three just did,” he nods to the blood on the floor.

“And this is your decision?” Niki still sounds wary.

“Yes,” Tubbo says more resolutely.

“Tubbo is the boss now.  He decides how we do this, alright?  We don’t do anything with out his say-so.  I promise, Niki,” Quackity knows she probably worries he’s pulling the strings, but that’s not what Quackity wants from this either.  This is Tubbo’s affair.  He had told Tubbo what he believed to be the truth.  The kind of men they would have shot are the ones who are more inclined to brutalize hostages than let them go.  That had swayed him easily enough.  Quackity isn’t exactly worried about civilian casualties either.  Purpled is a fantastic shot.

“I don’t think any of us like it, Niki.  It’s… necessary evil and all that, right?” Jack sounds almost apologetic.

“Fine.  I can’t judge you all, as long as Tubbo is okay with it, I am okay with it too,” Niki shrugs.

“So would it–” Tubbo wavers.  “Would it be alright, if you and Ranboo don’t come, then?  And I’ll just see you both later?”

Niki puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, sincere enough that Tubbo feels weaker.  “As long as you’re okay.”

“I will be, Niki.”  Tubbo doesn’t know if he’s lying or not.

~

Tommy is gloomy, even as he knows he shouldn’t be.  Why would he want to go to a stupid funeral for that shitty old man anyway?  He’s got way better things to do.  Important things.

Like bother that dickhead in a trenchcoat.  What does he think he’s doing, wandering along the river, smoking cigarettes, looking all brooding?  Dickhead.

“Oi!  What’re you doing?” Tommy shouts down at him with as deep a voice as he can manage.

Wilbur jumps, fumbling to catch his lighter, looking around bewilderedly.  “What am I–  What’re you doing?!”

Tommy hops down over the low stone wall to the brick river bank.  “Bothering you.  Obviously.  Is that not obvious to your thick brain?”  He grins.  “I scared you.  Did you think I was a copper?”

“No, you startled me because you were shouting, that is a reasonable human response,” Wilbur huffs.  “And I’m taking a fucking walk.  It’s good for your health, you should try it,” Wilbur snaps.

“I have to walk literally everywhere all the time.  You cannot smoke at Niki’s unless you want to get your ass beat, so you wandered over here.  You gonna tell me I’m wrong, bitch?” Tommy sneers.

Wilbur mulls it over.  “I guess not.  You seem more pissy than usual.”

“I’m not pissy, I don’t get pissy, I get pissed off, as big men should,” Tommy says aloofly, strolling along the edge of the water, hands in his pockets against the cold.  He’s more than ready for this winter to break, it’s overcast enough he has his tattered sweater on over his red and white shirt.

“Okay, then why are you pissed off, big man?” Wilbur asks mockingly.

Tommy huffs, “none of your fuckin’ business.”  He knows it’s a stupid thing to be annoyed about, and he knows this dickhead will make fun of him about it.

“Fine, then.  Forgive me for trying to make conversation,” Wilbur continues to walk alongside the river with him.

“It’s just– Most of the people I actually give a shit about have ditched me to go to some… fuckin’ stupid funeral for an asshole who doesn’t even deserve a fuckin’ funeral,” Tommy kicks a beer can into the river.  “And I’m stuck with you instead.”

“Well, you’re not stuck with me.  You chose to be here.  I mean, I certainly didn’t ask for your company,” Wilbur points out.

“What, you want me to leave you alone to miserably chainsmoke?”

Wilbur stammers wordlessly for a moment.  “...well, no, but…”  He has no retort.

“Yeah.  Right.”

“Who died anyway?”

“None other than the fucker himself, JSchlatt,” Tommy says dryly.

“What?” Wilbur's shock, even hurt, seems genuine.

Tommy turns and gives him a wary look.  “The fuck are you so put out about?  It’s Schlatt.  Don’t tell me you had a crush on ‘im or something.”

“N-No, I– Obviously fucking not, it’s just–” Wilbur fumbles for an answer that won’t raise eyebrows.  “Ruined some of my plans.  To… to fuck with him.  Can’t do that if he’s dead.”

“Those plans were actually that fucking serious?  Your life purpose was gonna be mildly inconveniencing someone vaguely connected to fucking JSchlatt?  I mean, you had to realize that bastard wouldn’t ever give a shit about you,” Tommy points out.  “We can… or, you can, or us, I dunno…” He kicks another bit of trash into the river.  He looks almost shy now, just for a moment.  “We could still fuck around, graffiti shit, y’know.  It wasn’t… uh, it wasn’t totally boring.  No need to stop.”

Wilbur’s spiral of brooding is momentarily paused.  “Aw, Tommy, I didn’t know you cared,” he croons.

“Fuck off.  I can take pity on you and that doesn’t mean I care,” Tommy snaps back.

“Oh, you totally care,” Wilbur says smugly.

“I’ll shove you in the river, dickhead.  Drown you,” Tommy growls.

“Yeah, save me the trouble, I suppose,” Wilbur mutters, staring down at the muggy water.  

“Nah, nah you don’t wanna drown now.  Might run into JSchlatt on your way down to hell.”

Wilbur looks at him, almost offended.  “What makes you so sure me and JSchlatt are going to the same level of the afterlife?”

Tommy shrugs.  “I dunno, just assumed it’s a one size fits all for dickheads, even mini-dickheads like yourself.  Cooler ways to die, too.”

“Oh?  What do you suggest?” Wilbur asks, amused.

“Trains.  Trains are cool as fuck.”

“Trains?” Wilbur does his best not to sound alarmed.  “What’d’you…” He takes another drag from his cigarette.  “What makes you say that?”  He asks carefully.

Tommy shrugs.  “Y’know the trainyard up on the Northside?  Me and Tubbo and Ranboo, we were fucking around over there, and whew!” He shakes his head.  “Shit gets dangerous.  Those fuckers don’t make as much noise as you’d think.”

Wilbur relaxes.  “Oh, trains.  The… the big freight trains that bring shit into the city.  That makes sense.”

“What the fuck were you thinking about?  Toy trains in your grandpa’s basement?” Tommy scoffs.

“No, no I was thinking of…” Wilbur hesitates.  He doesn’t know why.  This random kid doesn’t know a thing about him.  “The subway.”

“The subway?” Tommy looks puzzled.  “Subway has been out of operation for ages.  All that shit got shut down years ago.  I’ve tried finding my way down there, but most of the entrances are bricked up.  One time I found an old grate that led to a station, but it’s pitch fucking black down there and I don’t got a torch or nothing, so,” Tommy shudders.  “Big old dark tunnels like that, they’re freaky.  Trainyard is dangerous, sure, but at least it’s above the ground.  I’m too claustrophobic for that shit.”

“Right,” Wilbur is only half listening now.  “Wait, why were you all at the trainyard anyway?”

Tommy shrugs.  “Gets boring around here.  We were just checking shit out, maybe I was thinking about getting a ride out of this shithole town, who knows.  We’re… we’re not allowed back,” he says gloomily.

“I’d imagine you weren’t allowed in the first place.”

“Not from– I don’t give a shit what the train guys say or the coppers or whatever, Niki said we’re not allowed over there anymore, and…” Tommy exhales through his lips heavily, shaking his head.  “Yeah, no fucking way I’m doing that again.  I get smushed by a train, she’ll wring me out just to kill me again.”

Wilbur smiles.  “Of course she did.  Not that I blame you, what Niki says goes, that’s best for everyone.”

“Yeah.  You don’t fuck around with her.  No way in hell,” Tommy shakes his head.  “Niki was like, mostly telling Ranboo he couldn’t, but not like I’ve got anyone else to tell me off.  She yelled at Tubbo too, all three of us.  Big Q was loads more chill about it.  He laughed about it.  I mean, no one got hurt.  Ranboo just had to abandon a shoe!  The man can get himself another shoe, lucky prick.  Anyway, Big Q didn’t tell Tubbo off for it, and I doubt Schlatt gave a shit if he even heard about it.”

“Right,” Wilbur is beginning to piece together just how much trouble these three kids found together, and it makes him almost nostalgic.  “Who’s Big Q, then?”

Tommy shrugs.  “Some guy who works for Schlatt.  He’s pretty cool, though.  He’s a good lad.  Helps Tubbo with shit, comes to the Secret City sometimes with…” Tommy stops with a frown.  He knows no one is supposed to talk about Karl, not outside the Secret City, just like how Quackity doesn’t want it getting around the personal relationship he has with Schlatt.  Tommy keeps his mouth shut when it’s important.  “With friends.”

Wilbur nods, Tommy’s description drawing to mind some big tough mobster who worked security, but it sounds like the guy was good to these kids, he looked after Schlatt’s kid, and if Niki thinks he’s alright he must be.  Somehow someone like Technoblade comes to mind.

“Well, at least Niki made you three shape up,” Wilbur says.  “She’s right.  I don’t think getting hit by a train is as fun a way to die as you might think,” another drag from his cigarette.

“Eh?  Oh, yeah, I mean.  Dying is a problem for other men,” Tommy leans back against the stone wall, feigning confidence.  “I don’t die easy.”

“Is that so?”

“I mean, haven’t died yet, have I?  Plenty of other people can’t say that,” Tommy points out.  “Case and point– JSchlatt.”

“Touché.”

Tommy hops back up, clambering up the stone wall.  “Anyway.  I still wanna fuck around with Schlatt’s lot.  And I know exactly where to do it,” he gestures grandly.  “There’s a little gathering happening downtown that many of them will be in attendance.  So, Wilbur…” He pauses.  “You got a last name?”

“Do I-?” Wilbur scoffs.  “Do I have a last name?  Obviously.  Wilbur Soot.”

“Oh, right, I think Ranboo said it the other night.  And it was on your I.D.  I knew that.  Well, then, Wilbur Soot, d’you wanna go fuck around in the carpark outside that bastard’s funeral?” Tommy extends a hand with a flourish.

Wilbur stares up at him, doubtful.  “I don’t think you’ll be able to pull me up.”

“Obviously not.  I was gonna make you fall if you tried.”

“Of course,” Wilbur sighs, navigating instead to the narrow steps out of the riverside.  “What’s your last name, then?”

Tommy gives him a look.  “Don’t need one, do I?  Name’s Tommy, innit?”

“Fine, then, Tommy Innit.   Let’s go fuck with some cars,” Wilbur makes his way down the street, Tommy quick to catch up.

“You should let me take the lead on this, Wilbur.  But you can keep watch, I guess.”

“How kind.”

~

“Foolish!  Are you ready?” Puffy shouts upstairs to where her son has been meticulously straightening his hair.

“Gimme just a minute!” Foolish shouts back.  “I’ll be down soon!”

“Do you need help with your tie?” She calls.

“Dad!  No!  I know how to do my own tie!” Foolish whines, thundering down the stairs, his tie twisted around and the tail of the tie hanging out too far.

“Okay, okay, fine, can I just straighten it for you?” Puffy asks.  “Come on, let me parent you a little.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Foolish pauses, leaning down so his father can reach.  She quickly fixes the damage.

“Aw, you look so handsome!”  She resists the urge to mess with his hair.  Foolish is dressed up, but not exactly in funeral attire.  He wears a navy blue button up decorated with little white anchors and beige chinos, looking more prepared for a fancy brunch by the beach than mourning.  Puffy’s outfit is along the same vein, a plum-colored suit and matching tie.

Foolish grins under the flattery.  “Aw, jeez, you’re lookin’ pretty snazzy too!  Ready?”

“I’ve been ready,” she teases, grabbing her keys.  “Come on, this is gonna be fun!”

“And you’re sure it’s not like, invite only or something?”

“Even if it was, I’d like to see anyone stop us from going,” Puffy says haughtily.

They drive toward the church, Foolish flipping on the radio.

“–the hot topic of the day remains, of course, the funeral of the infamous JSchlatt.  A man whose impact on this city is, put gently, er, felt, is sure to gather a crowd, wouldn’t you say?”

“You couldn’t pay me enough to go into that church today, the kind of trouble that man attracted while alive was bad enough, I’m sure he’s going to draw in as much harm dead as alive.”

"Well said!  He's certainly made enemies over the years.  I'd say he's most famous for an older sensation in the news, do you know what I'm referencing?"

"I'd wager a guess you're referring to that nasty business, what, almost a decade ago now?  Well before she retired, the abduction of a local hero's–"

Foolish changes the station until much more cheerful disco comes through the speakers.

~

Ponk doesn’t know why they’re doing this; attending the funeral of a man whose life they tried to prolong feels almost in poor taste.  Foolish had reached out and asked if they would be going, which Ponk considered to be rather generous, again considering their opposing histories with the man.  They haven’t gone out much since what happened that night, and it feels wrong, it feels fearful, for them to continue staying shuttered away in Eret’s house.

“D’you want me to get your tie?” HBomb offers.

“Yeah, sure,” Ponk had halfheartedly been messing with it with their one good hand, but it’s a lost cause.  They turn, allowing HBomb to tie it for them, adjusting their jacket as well, pulling it over their shoulder, their sling remaining tucked underneath it, that arm still frustratingly useless.

“Are we all ready?” Eret asks.

“Yeah, I think so,” Ponk shifts restlessly.  They’re still sore, each breath just enough to irritate unhealed ribs.

“Do you have that champagne, H?” Eret asks.

“Uhh, yep!  Got it,” HBomb hands her the bottle.

“Shall we?”

Ponk, Eret, and HBomb arrive to see other familiar faces chatting outside of the church, Puffy, Foolish, Bad, and Ant having beaten them there.

“Hi, Eret! Hi, Ponk! Hi, H!” Foolish spots them first.  “Glad you made it!” He grins.

“Well, not every day such a… special individual keels over,” Eret smirks.

“So true, so true,” Foolish nods.

“As this is such a day to celebrate for you both, I thought I’d bring a gift,” Eret offers the champagne.

“Aw, Eret, you shouldn’t have!” Puffy simpers dramatically as she accepts.

“Glad you guys dressed for the occasion,” HBomb teases.

“Same to you,” Puffy smiles back, none of the three obeying the formality of all black either, Eret in a dark emerald gown, HBomb’s suit brown instead of black, and Ponk’s red vest standing out as well.  Bad and Ant have also chosen to stay on-brand, red accents pushing against the traditional black.  The group seems ready for a far more eccentric party than a funeral.

“Is that–” HBomb cranes his neck, looking over other attendees filtering in, those in black either civilians looking for some intrigue or maybe even a few genuinely grieving goodfellas joining the crowd, but HBomb has eyes for a particular mourner.  “That’s… Uh, anyone know what Connor Hedge is doing here?”

All present whip around to get a look, save Eret, who faces HBomb curiously.

“As in Mayor Hedge?”

“Yeah!  He’s… he actually looks kinda put out,” HBomb is torn between pity and amusement.

“I think he knew Schlatt,” Ponk offers helpfully.  Ponk also notes a few more half-familiar faces, people who had actually been in Schlatt’s circle, also entering the church.  Ponk tries not to let it make them nervous, focusing instead on the teary-eyed mayor.  “Huh.  Poor guy.”

“Poor guy,” Ant says more sarcastically.

“That sure makes for an interesting addition to this crowd, huh?  I think we’ll all want to get a good seat,” Bad says cheerfully, holding open the door.

“Oh, hey I think I see Fundy already in there!” HBomb heads in first, calling out to the nervous looking accountant, appropriately dressed in all black.

~

Tubbo is beginning to feel very sick.  He sits against the wall in the antechamber off the sanctuary, hearing the soft hum of voices of people filtering inside.

“Alright, Purpled is set up in the loft– Tubbo?” Quackity returns, hesitating.  “You good, man?”

“Purpled has… he’s got names, and photos, right?  A-And he’s only doing it if he’s absolutely sure, right?” Tubbo stares, fixated at the worn carpet.

“Yeah.  He doesn’t miss, alright?” Quackity says carefully.  “You doing okay, Tubbo?”

“No.”

Quackity sighs, glancing at his watch.  He sits beside him.  “What’s up?”

“I know you said– You said these men, these people, they’re… this is the right thing, and once they’re taken care of, we won’t have to–” Tubbo stops as his voice trembles.  He steadies.  “It won’t be like this.”

“Right.  I mean that, Tubbo.  These people are the biggest threat to us we have.  And once you prove that you aren’t gonna go down without a fight, once these guys, the ones who take it personally, are taken off the board, you’re in the clear, alright?” Quackity doesn’t know how many more times he’ll need to reassure this kid.  Tubbo chose this life, and he understands why he’s hesitating, he admires it even, but it’s something they cannot afford.

Tubbo is quiet for a time, seconds extending into a minute, and extending further still.

“Look, Tubbo, you… you know I made that list myself.  The names on it, they’re the type of people who wouldn’t fucking hesitate to kill you or me,” Quackity keeps pushing, a gentle hand on Tubbo’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I can do it, Big Q,” Tubbo says softly.

“What?  What’re you talking about, Tubbo?  You’re not– You won’t have to do anything, once everyone’s gathered, Purpled handles the rest.  I mean, he probably won’t be able to get them all, but hopefully the survivors will know better than to stop running, right?  Or, if you want this to be clean, Jack and I, we can pick targets, take two more off the board so Purpled can handle the rest.”

“No, no, that’s not–” Tubbo sounds young again, weak and tired and even a little weepy.  He takes a shaky breath.  He refuses to allow this to sound like weakness.  “I can’t, Quackity.”

“Can’t what?  Tubbo, man, it’s not–”

“No, I’m sorry, Quackity, I know you worked hard to plan this, but–” Tubbo stops, wringing his hands in his lap, refusing to look Quackity in the eye.  “It was easier.”

“What’re you talking about?” Quackity frowns.

Tubbo reaches out a hand, fist clenched like he’s still holding a knife, twisting it.  “At Niki’s.  It got easier. I don’t want it to be easier.”

“Oh.”

“He– He said those things, and I got angry, and I–” Tubbo feels a lump form in his throat.  “I didn’t even have to think about it.”

Quackity isn’t sure what to say.

“I don’t regret defending you, Big Q.  But what I did, how I did it, it didn’t- It didn’t have to be like that–”  His voice breaks and he vehemently brushes his eyes before tears can fall.  “You know that’s something he would’ve done.  You know it is.”

Quackity cannot argue, because it’s true.  Tubbo’s noble intentions don’t change that Quackity can think of too many times where Schlatt had killed someone for daring to look at him the wrong way.  Maybe Quackity had convinced himself that someone killing for him out of loyalty instead of some twisted form of ownership made it better, but he nonetheless cannot tell Tubbo he’s wrong.

“Okay, Tubbo,” Quackity sighs.  This makes things harder.  “It’s okay.  I’ll tell Purpled it’s off.”

“What?” Tubbo doesn’t know why he expected more fight, looking over at him in surprise.

Quackity gives him an exasperated, irritable look, but they both know there’s fondness underneath.  “This is gonna be fucking annoying as shit, but… okay, you go tell Purpled it’s off, I– You’re gonna give me a minute to think.  Even if we can’t kill them, we’re gonna scare these bastards, alright?” Quackity stands, pacing, the soft carpet muffling the tap of his oxfords.

“Oh– Okay,” Tubbo scrambles to his feet, somehow feeling like he’s gotten very lucky.  He rushes up the narrow, rickety wooden stairs.  “Purpled– whoa whoa, hey!” He raises his hands.

Purpled, bandana pulled over his face and hood pulled up, had turned around his sniper rifle remarkably fast.  “Oh my god, announce yourself, will you?  Do you want me to shoot you?” He snaps.

“N-No, ideally not, um,” Tubbo pauses just long enough stave off a heart attack before he can speak again.  “Okay, uh, it’s off, Purpled.  You’re no longer needed.”

Purpled’s scowl is visible just from his eyebrows.  “Are you serious right now?”

“Um, yes.  I-I mean, we’ll still give you half your fee, for, you know, wasting your time, but, yeah,” Tubbo steps out of the way as Purpled sulks past him, rifle over his shoulder, hit list abandoned.

Tubbo grabs it, having a feeling it’s something best not left lying around.

“You owe me one for this bullshit, HQ,” Purpled huffs, packing his rifle in the hollowed out trumpet case he carries it in.

“Yeah, yeah, fair enough,” Quackity waves him off, still thinking fast.

“Hey, uh, Boss!” Jack pokes his head in, surprised to see Purpled has joined them, but he has other priorities at present.  He refocuses on Tubbo.  “Thought I’d let you know that, well, the Mayor is here?”

“What?” Quackity turns on him sharply.  He sighs heavily.  “Y’know what, might’ve been a good call, Tubbo, last thing we need is getting accused of an assassination attempt.”

“I wouldn’t have missed,” Purpled huffs, snapping the case shut.

“Yeah, we know that, but when the guy two rows over eats a bullet, d’you think the media won’t jump on it?” Quackity snaps back.

Purpled doesn’t retort, making his exit through a side door.

Quackity continues pacing.

“Uh.  What’s going on?” Jack looks between them, baffled.

“I don’t want to just fucking shoot a bunch of people, and Big Q is trying to think of a work-around,” Tubbo says wearily.

Jack steps in, shutting the door behind him.  “Well said,” he nods smartly.  “If I can do something, I mean,” he shrugs.  “You know.”

Quackity is doing some careful consideration.  He will admit, no killing puts a wrench in his usual repertoire.  Tubbo hasn’t sworn off all bodily harm, but it’s a bit hard to break peoples’ kneecaps enmasse.  Fear, however, Quackity thinks he can manage.  At present the debate is no longer what to do, but if he should do it.  He’ll allow himself some selfishness at present, considering the position he’s been put in, as right now the debate is the ramifications on his career.

To be fair, most of his clients are, well, not scared off by criminal activity, especially in matters of disrespecting JSchlatt.  No one will drop him as a lawyer for this, and his long-term plans… well.  Owning a casino doesn’t exactly require respectability.  As for legality, there is probably some ambiguous law against this, even beyond the typical desecration of a corpse.  Quackity probably would advise against this behavior to any client, to any other rational human being, but it’s the best idea he’s got.

“Jack, there aren’t any kids in attendance, right?”

Jack stares at him, curiosity with a hint of dread.  “...No?”

“Great, good to know,” Quackity says dryly.  He stops his pacing, hands clapped together.  “Alright, you two, stay here, or stall or whatever, I…” He hesitates.  He doesn’t know where to begin explaining to them what his plans are, and if either of them were to protest, that’s all the ideas he has and without it, this whole bullshit affair will have been for nothing.  “I gotta get something out of my car.”  And with that, he takes the same exit as Purpled, leaving Tubbo and Jack to their own worried confusion.

“Er, you’re the Boss, what do we do?” Jack asks.

Tubbo tries to focus up.  He and Quackity had planned for this part.  This is, not only an event meant to take care of their enemies, it is also Tubbo’s first instance in the public eye.  He was going to speak anyway.

“Um, you wait here for… For Quackity, and I’ll… I’ll get this thing going, then,” Tubbo straightens his tie and tries to pat down his hair.

“Can do, Boss.  You’ve got this,” Jack gives him a casual salute, half-teasing.

Tubbo smiles weakly, “thanks, Jack.  I guess… I guess we’ll see.”

Tubbo enters the main hall, walks quickly past the closed cherrywood casket, and up to the pulpit.

Oh, fuck there are too many people here.  Quackity was supposed to start, then Tubbo was meant to speak, and then Quackity finishes things off, followed by Purpled.  Tubbo doesn’t want to do this.

“Um, h-hi–” Tubbo begins, faltering, feedback whining through the church’s harsh speakers.  The soft chatter dulls slightly, and now there are eyes on him.  Tubbo had done his best to ensure as many of his loved ones as he could manage weren’t in attendance, back when the plan had been for a firefight, but now he really wishes they were there.  He leans away from the mic, clearing his throat.  “Thank you all for coming to this… interesting occasion,” he smiles stiffly.  He does make out a few familiar faces in the crowd, largely because they stand out as a row of color in a sea of black.  Niki, Ranboo, and Tommy are not here, but Tubbo sees familiar faces from the Secret City, from his exploits the other night, and that’s almost a comfort.  The Badlands, Captain Puffy, as well as Ponk, and Niki’s buddy Eret, even Fundy is nearby.  Tubbo pushes on.

“I mean, I don’t know how well you all knew Schlatt– oh, I’m…” Tubbo doesn’t want to announce himself as Schlatt’s son.  That’s the opposite of what he wants.  “I am what you could call his successor, by the way.  My name is Tubbo Underscore.  And to be clear, successor only in, well, I suppose title.  Not in methodology or… or ideology.  To be clear.”  You’re repeating yourself like a fucking parrot, when you’re not stammering, that is.  Maybe you are better off mute.  Tubbo hates that for a brief moment, Schlatt’s stupid snide voice worms its way into the back of his head.

Tubbo takes a deep breath, for once holding onto that bitter anger and resentment that has been festering inside of him longer than he can remember.

“I don’t know how well some of you might have known Schlatt, I’d say I knew him better than most.  He was part of my life for… for quite a long time.  So, I feel like I got to know him.  I’m sure he’s pretty… pretty divisive in this crowd as well.  Although, I do have a feeling a lot of you don’t know anything about him other than his name being a big deal in the paper,” Tubbo scans doubtfully over many unfamiliar faces, as if daring them to show a sign of embarrassment or guilt.  He continues, ”I’ll say he was an interesting man, with a lot of… a lot of strange ideals.  He did have what I consider a semi-compassionate side, but I say this, mostly because I somehow lived this long.  Maybe that was some compassion on his side, but then again, maybe not,” Tubbo almost wants to announce it, to tell everyone here about Schlatt’s hit list.  Ponk is here, Fundy too, and others of Schlatt’s inner circle that made the list, even the mayor, Connor Hedge. Actually, Connor is in the front row and has had the most emotional reaction Tubbo has seen thus far, dressed in all black, and crying softly into a tissue.

What if you told them?  What if you told them all that if Schlatt had his way, this whole affair would call for a lot more caskets?

Tubbo thinks that might be dangerous.  Whether it implicates him in the murder, makes him seem weak, or something else, he has a feeling Quackity would advise him to keep those kinds of cards close to his chest.  He’s running out of words, though.  He hopes Quackity gets out here soon.

Quackity is hurrying.  He’s skittish as he returns from his car, having gotten his chosen prop out of the glove box, keeping the bag tucked inside of his jacket as he reenters through the side door, where Jack is listening intently through a thin crack in the door out onto the stage.

“How’s he doing, huh?” Quackity asks breathlessly, debating between shoving the whole bag up his sleeve or keeping it in his pocket or what.

“Pretty good, I’d say,” Jack says offhandedly before finally looking back at Quackity’s efforts.  “What the fuck is that?!” His voice goes up an octave.

“Sh! Don’t– Don’t yell, alright?!” Quackity says furiously.  “It’s Schlatt’s heart.”

“You wanna run that by me again?”

“It’s Schlatt’s fucking heart, okay?!  Don’t worry about it,” Quackity snaps.

“But– But Schlatt’s out there, you didn’t just, you didn’t get it there, so–” Jack stammers, staring at the bloody organ in vague horror.

“So it means I already had it, well done, detective,” Quackity says snidely.  “Get it together, Manifold.  Don’t worry your bald little head about it.  The casket, it’s facing the audience, right?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s– It’s up on the platform, so I doubt anyone’s gonna be able to see in it proper, if you’re… if you’re planning on putting it back?!” Jack tries bewilderedly.  “Does– Does Tubbo know about this?!”

“No, but he will soon,” Quackity grins.  “Come on, follow me out.  If shit hits the fan, you’ve gotta grab Tubbo, I’ll keep eyes on me, got it?”

Out on the stage, Tubbo continues, hoping somehow his speech will do its job.  “...Looking to the future, which, I mean, that’s got to be more important than looking at the past, right?  So, looking at the future, then, I think we should make sure his legacy dies with him.”  Tubbo’s gaze focuses in on scattered faces throughout the crowd, the same ones he had mugshots of buried in the inside pocket of his jacket.  “And anyone who plans to uphold his legacy, well.  Schlatt didn’t exactly die of natural causes, now, did he?  It’s a closed casket for a reason,” he says with an icy threat that surprises himself.

Tubbo tries to pull himself back, hands curling into fists, and then uncurling, in the pause between words he almost thinks he can hear Connor’s weeping.  “I… I won’t say this is a celebration, but it certainly isn’t about a loss to our society.  It’s… it’s more an acknowledgement.”  Tubbo feels almost weak with relief when Quackity enters his peripheral, fumbling for a hasty exit.  “Schlatt will not be forgotten any time soon, but we’ll try our best, yeah?” Tubbo gives an unsure nod before stepping back quickly.  He looks at Quackity almost pleadingly, hoping for some sign he’s figured something out.  Quackity gives him a nod, shifting his jacket somewhat suspiciously.

Tubbo backs up to stand beside Jack, who's taken up post to the right of the lectern, adjacent to the casket.

“Hey there, folks,” Quackity begins, lighthearted and charming as ever.  “I really do appreciate everyone coming out, this is going to be an important event for us all, I think.  A… a turning point, even,” he smiles.  “See, Tubbo over here is a lot more patient than I am, I think.  He’s polite, he’s… good at talking,” Quackity gives him a nod.  “I am also polite and good at talking, when I need to be, but right now, I think I should be a bit more… a bit more to the point, if you will,” Quackity looks over his shoulder at the casket, mulling it over.  Not yet.  “Schlatt is dead because he went too far, he crossed the wrong people, he did too much damage, y’know?” He turns back to the crowd, still smiling, almost shark-like.  “His death was deliberate.  It was a consequence for his actions, he fucked with the wrong people,” Quackity gestures with his hands as he speaks, hyper-aware of the weight in his inside pocket.  “I think we all can agree Schlatt was, for a long time, one of the most… influential men in this city, right?” A laugh sharp as daggers.  

“Hey, it’s a good time for self reflection, right?  The truth of it is, we are all mortal.  All his power, all his… ruthlessness, it wasn’t enough.  He never knew when to keep his head down, to stay out of the way, so he got mowed over,” Quackity doesn’t plan on confessing to aiding and abetting in a murder, but he has to do something close.  “He... let's say he underestimated people he thought were weaker than him, right?  It’s a… a dog-eat-dog world out there.  I think that serves as a good lesson for all of us; well, most of us, right?  I hope I'm being clear to you all, I really do.  If you–” Quackity takes a deep breath, an almost manic energy rising inside of him, “if you want to live, you don’t fuck with us!”  Quackity hears his own voice echo from the back of the church, the silence that follows immense and daunting.

Quackity is almost itching to get a move on, he feels like maybe he should be a bit more hesitant.  He laughs, cutting through the silence, his voice alone, “even this, I’m maybe… maybe not being candid enough, so, let me fill in the blanks for you all.  A little… a little guidance, on how to take this warning of ours,” Quackity turns on his heels toward the casket, his own heart pounding against his chest.

His back is to the crowd now.  They won’t need to know the details, it’s like a magic trick, a bit of slight of hand, and they’ll all be too taken by the spectacle to wonder how he reached inside a dead man’s chest so fast and unaided.  Quackity opens the casket, irritated to have to look at this pathetic man’s face again, but not for much longer.  Quackity unbuttons Schlatt’s shirt in the middle of his chest with well-practiced ease, that same knife in his right hand as he cuts through the careful stitches of a mortician.  He doesn’t need to, it’s mostly for effect at this point.  Schlatt’s face barely registers to him now, too overcome by the blood roaring in his ears.

Across the stage, Tubbo is growing more and more nervous.  “Jack,” Tubbo whispers.  “Jack, what’s he doing?”

Jack is staring with fixated, almost knowing dread, but he shakes his head and doesn’t say a word.

Tubbo stares, as from the side of him, he sees Quackity, having sliced open his dead father’s chest, pull something out of his pocket, something a red so dark it’s almost black, something about the size of a tyrant’s iron fist…

Quackity turns around with all the flourish of a performer, Schlatt’s heart held aloft in his barely bloodied fist.  This is where the screaming begins, Connor Hedge keels over and faints in the front row, but Quackity does not stop.

“One fucking step too close, and we will rip you apart–!”

There is a spray of blood around Quackity, glistening in the church lights, extending from the exit wound through his back like beaded wings unfurled, as a gunshot echoes through the hall; and Quackity’s speech is cut short.

[maroonmused]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel's Spider-Man (Insomniac Games Video Games), Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader, Peter Parker/You Characters: Peter Parker, Spider-Man, Mary Jane Watson, Wilson Fisk Additional Tags: set after Insomniac’s Miles Morales game and sometime before SM2, petermj are best friends, Peter Parker is Trying His Best, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, First Dates, Organized Crime, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Sexual Tension Summary:

Being a thief and a glorified errand girl for Wilson Fisk landed you in an abandoned maggia front, minutes before your scheduled first date with the cute brunette you’d met online. Peter something. If you ever did get to learn his last name, it’d be after you escaped Spider-Man by the skin of your damn teeth.

or

At MJ’s behest, Peter breaks through the self-imposed romantic drought by trying out a dating app. He’s sure he strikes gold when he finds you.

But Spider-Man’s never far behind when Peter Parker is on the precipice of something great. Of course he has to deal with a break-in first.

[flowachild]

work is :) almost done :)

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny goes on Vacation and leaves his job to his Co-workers

So! Danny hasn't had a break from his Hero Career since the day he turned into a Ghost. He has been constantly fighting battle after battle against his worst enemies one after the other.

Even after joining the Justice League, he didn't really have a chance to take a break. He never really asked for help because it didn't seem like a big enough deal to bother them with. He just kept on working.

Until the day he accidently mentioned this to one of his Co-workers, and they practically Force him to take a Vacation.

He has been fighting Crime, nearly every single day since he was 14, with at most a day or two in between battles for all that time, and he is now entering his 20's. They are horrified that he never asked them for help, no matter how easy the job may have been.

After a while of convincing him, they eventually get him to agree to tale a Month-Long Vacation.

He actually gets really excited after he agrees, and he is planning on exploring deep space for the entire month. He is actually really looking forwards to it now, and seeing this everyone who volunteered to take over his Patrols all promise that they will absolutely not bother him until the trip is done.

So, Danny leaves for his Vacation and the other Heroes set up shop in Amity Park.

Danny left them instructions on how to deal with Ghosts, how to pacify specific Rogues, and how to sent them back to the Ghost Zone when they are done. They feel like they are fairly well prepared for their Month Long Mission, especially since Danny described it as a very easy job.

Then the first Rogue Attack happened.

The team dispatched there, made up of a few mid-level JLA Members and some JLD Members for safe measure, takes nearly an Hour to defeat the Ghost. And they barely manage it.

They are surprised at how hard it is, but are even more surprised when they find out that the "Box Ghost" is labeled as a Low-Level Nuisance.

So, they call in a few higher level members to help. They do not want to interrupt Danny's Vacation.

Then they have to call in more JLA members, and again, and again.

By the time Danny managed to get back from his Vacation, the Founding Members and all JLD have been called in.

He thanks then for the opportunity to finally have a break.

Danny: Seriously, thanks guys. This was the best break I've had in years.

JLA: *out of breath and haggard* yeah dude...no problem...let me just sit down for a minute...whew!

Danny: Oh, I can't wait for the next time I can go on vacation!

JLA: *looking like this: 😐* ...yeah sure bro...

[kaisturni]

cabin fever | m. sturniolo

→ matt x fem!reader

→ plot; things are heating up at the triplet’s cabin in vermont; especially between you and matt. the group of you, him, his brothers, nate and madi spend a needed getaway at the cozy house. unknown to everyone else, confessions, tension, and late nights make it even hotter between you two.

→ includes; smut, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, f!oral receiving (matt the munch AF), mentions of drinking, blood/bleeding (NOT PART OF THE SMUT), light fluff

→ a/n; madi nate nick and chris all have super minor roles and they don’t add to the plot at all btw. this one is HOT. CALOR. CALIENTE. (imo) enjoy!

MINOR PROOFREADING

——————————————————————————

“hey, we’re here,” a voice gently whispers to me, i realize belonging to nick as i slowly come back to consciousness.

the groggily feeling of sleep soon goes away and in its place is excitement; we’re finally at the cabin.

this isn’t my first time vacationing with the triplets; we’ve been going here since we were little. once becoming friends with nate and madi, they soon joined in on our yearly trip to the cabin.

i almost immediately fall stepping out of the car, my brain forgetting that my body was completely stagnant during the 4 hour car ride up here.

i put my hands out and brace for impact; but it never comes. instead a pair of arms swiftly caught me before i had my lunch with the gravel,

“dude, you gotta be more careful,” a voice chuckles from behind my head. it’s matt; i know his voice the best out of all of them.

he helps me stand up right, “whew thanks,” i breathe out with a laugh, he says nothing but delivers a nod in response. i turn on heels to grab my suitcase from the trunk,

“here let me help you, wouldn’t want you to almost fall again,” he offers, i roll my eyes at him as he takes the duffel bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, not giving me any time to think of a response.

i know to some that may seem flirtatious, but unfortunately it isn’t. sometimes i can’t help but feel disappointed that there isn’t something more but the guilt of feeling like that towards one of my best friends since childhood is stronger than my urges.

however, i would be a liar if i said i didn’t find him attractive. the tattoos on his body, light stubble he lets grow in sometimes, messy curls, plump lips, his eyes… jaw…

i quickly get the ongoing list of the physically mouth watering things about matt out of my head; feeling almost a guilt that i found him so hot. i shouldn’t think about one of my best friends since childhood this way, so i force myself not to.

forgetting about my previous daydreams, i follow the rest of them into the house, taking in the joy of being at the cabin again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

the house is big enough to where everyone is lucky to have their own room, and mine sits at the end of a long hallway, just past where chris and nate sleep.

i open the door and smile at the sight that matt has already placed my stuff down on the bed for me.

i internally slap myself, why am i reading into this? he just put my stuff down in my room. nothing else about it.

i take my duffel off the bed and seat it on the floor beside me and replace it with myself on its cushioning. i hear a knock at my door,

“come in!”

thinking i’m going to be met with matt in my doorframe, i look up, and i am only about half right.

“we’re gonna start cooking dinner now since it’s getting pretty late and we’re all starving, wanna help?” chris asks, poking his head between the a small sliver in the door.

i can’t help but giggle at his actions, “yes, i’ll help you, but next time you knock just open the door all the way, don’t be creepy,” i kick my feet up and yank the door open,

“i’m not creepy i’m polite!” he argues, voice fading as he descends to the kitchen,

“never said that!” i joke, my footsteps quickly follow behind him.

i join the rest of my friends in the kitchen, and start slicing vegetables, while chris and madi go on their own dinner tasks.

getting way too caught up in a conversation with nick, my knife skills began to be… less than subpar.

“FUCK!” i yell and instinctively drop the knife, the sound of the blade echoing through the room and blood from a large cut in my hand leaking everywhere on the counter causes all hell to break loose.

“oh my god! do we need to go to the ER?!”

“get a towel, NOW!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine!” i yell, doing my best to stop the panic from everyone else, the pressure from the towel stopping the blood flow for now.

“we need to get that cleaned, the first aid kit is in my room, come on,” matt says, taking my unadulterated hand into his and guiding me upstairs into his bedroom.

“sit,” he points to his bed and i follow his finger and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

he ruffles through a drawer and pulls out a large first aid kit, since when was it in his room?

“this will sting like a bitch, but it’ll stop it from getting infected,” he says, shaking a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and removing the make shift dressing i have from my hand.

i close my eyes tightly and wince at the contact of it on my skin, biting my lip through the pain.

“it’s almost over, don’t worry. i’m gonna put some ointment on it then a bandage okay?”

his words are soft and comforting, which somehow eases the pain to a lower level than before.

he applies the ointment first, and i sign blissfully at the relief it has on my wound.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well,” he adds casually, wrapping the bandage around my finger.

i can feel my cheeks grow hot at his statement, him not knowing the effect his words of praise had on me.

i internally slap myself again. why do i keep thinking about him like this? jesus christ there’s something wrong with me.

“thank you matt,”

“anytime.”

for a moment, we just stare at each other. the silence is almost suffocating, and for the first time i feel like he wants to say something but doesn’t. i wonder if he thinks the same thing about me today.

i decide to quickly break the silence, “let’s go back down and eat, yeah? i don’t know about you but i’m starving,” i lie, i’m actually not hungry at all. almost cutting my hand off had a way of perfectly curving my appetite, but it’s the only thing i can think to say to rip me out of the chokehold that this silence has on me.

“me too, c’mon” he stands up and reaches out his hand for mine.

i’ve never been more confused in my fucking life. it was one thing to catch me when i fall, bring my suitcase inside, but praise me? hold my hand twice? i don’t know if i’m just delusional or if this is part of some code matt wants me to decipher, either way, i’m at my wits end.

i take his hand to help me up, and he smiles at me and we drop our hands at the same time. i smile back and he turns away to lead us back downstairs, i make sure he’s first so that he doesn’t see my face contort into a look of embarrassment.

definitely way over thinking it.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧

after a great dinner and a few drinks all around, everyone says their goodnights and head to their bedrooms.

i do the same, and after a few hours, despite no one else in the house being awake and a couple drinks in me, i am nowhere near the point of falling asleep.

tossing and turning is all i can manage myself to do, sweating i don’t know which; being so hot and bothered by everything matt has done earlier or the vermont heat just personally attacking me and only me tonight.

i peel off the sheets and pillows, and it provides me with some relief for a little, but does nothing to fight my consciousness. with this temperature, maybe i just need a glass of water.

i creep downstairs as quiet as i can to not wake anyone, and i do the same with opening the fridge.

i look through it for a few seconds trying to find a water bottle, when a sudden voice behind me makes me jump,

“couldn’t sleep either?”

it’s matt. what the fuck, i thought he was asleep?

“matt, you scared the shit out of me! i thought you were asleep,”

i put my hand on my chest to cure the spike in heart rate, and turn around changing my focus back to the fridge.

“looking for a water? great minds think alike,” I hear his feet shuffle close behind me, and i feel the immediate spike in heart rate come back again when he moves me over, brushing up against me with a steady grip on my waist.

“right over here,” he says? pulling out two water bottles from the fridge. i feel like i’m going to fucking explode.

“thanks,” i crack open the lid, “so what’s keeping you up this late?” i say as my best attempt at remaining as calm and cool as possible.

“eh, y’know, just thinking about things. what about you?” he asks, and we sip simultaneously.

there’s honestly two answers to this question, I could say the truth or i could just agree.

i decide to go with the significantly less risky answer, but before i can even get the first word out he starts again,

“idea, let’s go in the hot tub,” his smile is so fucking innocent when he says it, it just drives me nuts.

i don’t even bother bringing up how ‘the heat is bothering me’ when he’s standing there, asking—no, not even asking me to go to the hot tub with him; telling me.

“oh yeah i’m down. maybe the heat will help us get sleepy,” i lie through my teeth, but saying it as nonchalantly as possible so he hopefully can’t hear the nervousness in the undertones of my voice.

“perfect, i’ll go change real quick and meet you out there,” he slips away with a light jog and i head his door close before i can even actually process what’s going on.

unfortunately there’s no time to think too deeply about it, and i book it to my room to change.

i have a couple options that i need to decide through quickly, ultimately landing on a dark blue stringed two piece.

i throw on the tshirt i had while sleeping over my bikini and quietly jog to the hot tub, located on the back end of the property, in its own reserved area. matt is already in there waiting for me, arms spread and his eyes lock with mine right when i come outside.

“hey,”

“hi, how’s the tem-“

“are you just going to stand there and talk or are you going to come in?” his words leave me slightly dumbfounded, but i can bounce back from this.

“oh, i’m coming,” i say, beginning to peel off the shirt I have on. i walk to the edge and begin to lower myself in, matt’s eyes locked on my body the whole time.

i pretend not to notice.

“thank you,” i say to him, a confused look popping on his face.

“for what?”

“taking care of me today, you didn’t have to do anything you did at all,” the words somehow just flow out of my mouth without realizing and i watch him as he lets out a light hearted laugh and looks down,

“you already thanked me today before, but no problem, i wanted to,” he replied, turning his gaze to match mine, i swear i feel like his eyes can see into my soul when he looks at me now.

“you did? why?” i ask out of genuine curiosity. it’s not like he would have never done something for me before today, but it was different; it was how he did. whether it has to do with me specifically or not, i really want to know.

“you’re my favorite girl in this world, how could i just not take care of you?” i don’t notice that we’ve slowly been moving towards each other this entire conversation, and now our bodies are just a few inches apart.

“this whole time i was thinking you were just being nice— matt, you don’t know what you do to me,” i confess, my stare going back and forth between both his eyes, aching for any hint at what he could be thinking.

“god, speak for yourself, it’s almost impossible to stop how i feel about you; or hide it” he pushing the hair in front of my face behind my ear and pulls me closer to him by the back of my neck.

the feeling i had when he caught me today, cleaned my hand and praised me, brushed up against me, all comes rushing back to me instantly, blissful in the knowing that it’s justified.

“can i kiss you?”

this man could not get any more perfect.

“mhm,” i give out and nod in affirmation, and immediately feel his lips press against mine.

at first the kiss is slow and deep, his hands not being able to sit still against my skin.

i feel the heat between legs rise, and i shortly become impatient with the painfully slow pace he’s at. as much as i love it, i’m craving more; more of him.

i gently bite and suck on his bottom lip, earning a groan from him, and he instantly gets the message. his kisses become sloppier, less tamed, and they start to work their way down my neck.

i moan in pleasure as he sucks the sweet spot between my neck and my collarbone, holding my back and nipping as he makes his way up to hungrily claim my lips.

“can i take this off?” he waits for my consent, fiddling with the small strings that are holding my bathing suit together.

“do whatever you want to me,” i breathe out, and i mean it.

he pulls me in by my waist and kisses me again, our tongues battling as he unties the strings of my bikini top and removes the fabric between us without breaking a single kiss.

the cold air on my tits compared to the steaming hot tub causes me to gasp, and i pull even closer to matt, pressing my chest against his own.

he moans lightly and moves his mouth from mine, holding me up by the legs around his lips to carry me to the edge of the hot tub.

in no time he claims my nipple, sucking and licking hard on the area, making me grow even wetter by the minute.

“mmh, matt” i moan out, tipping my head back in pleasure.

“feels good, baby?” i nod vigorously, and he descends his kisses down me stopping when he gets in between my legs to my clothed core.

his thumb circles my clit, and i have to bite my lip in order to not scream his name immediately.

“you’re so wet already, i love it. can i taste you baby?” he purrs, knowing exactly what kind of answer he’s getting, well aware of the state he put me in.

“y-yes, god, please do,” i beg him, and he works immediately to untie the strings of my bottoms and let them fall off, exposing myself to him.

the steam from the hot tub does not do me any favors in the burning heat in my core, both from that and the sheer fact i want him to fuck me senseless right now.

“mmm” matt begins,

“i knew your pussy would be pretty, just look at how beautiful you are,” he rubs his fingers between my wet folds and i blush at his words.

“i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are,” he says, right before pushing my legs further apart for him to suck my clit.

i can’t help myself from grabbing a handful of his brown locks and squeezing my legs together against his head, and he groans in response.

his groan sends vibrations further into my pussy, making it even more impossible to suffocate the loud moans escaping from my lips.

he goes to work making out with my core, and each suck, kiss, and moan makes me exponentially closer to exploding all over him.

“m-matt i feel it i’m-“ and he stops, i shoot him a confused look, attempting to get rid of the edge that’s holding me right now.

i rub my own clit, looking him in the eye and watch his breath hitch as i moan at my own self pleasure.

i almost manage to stick two fingers in myself, but before that happens he grabs my wrists, taking the pleasure from me yet again.

“i stopped because i want you to cum on my dick, can you do that for me?” he questions softly, rubbing his clothed erection on my pussy.

the feeling of it makes me buzz, “yes i can matt, fuck me,” i say in a mix of demanding and asking, and he removes himself from his black swim trunks and lets his throbbing dick spring out.

he pumps himself a few times before aligning up with my entrance. matt pushes himself in, lewd noises escaping from both of our mouths and bodies slapping against one another.

“yeah, take that shit baby. you’re doing so well.” he moans into my ear, his repeated statement of praise is music to me.

“you’re so beautiful, how can anyone be so perfect,” he breathes out, hard deep strokes becoming sloppier by the minute.

matt’s words cause me to hit dangerously close to cumming, and without warning i paint white all over his dick; but that doesn’t stop him”

“sorry i d-didn’t say it happened s-so fast,” i apologize as he keeps thrusting into me,

“mm don’t be sorry, you did just what i asked. i’m gonna cum too angel,”

“cum in me, matt”

he wastes no time arguing with me and releases shortly after into me; his and my own liquids leaking down my thigh.

i do my best to catch my breath, and he cups my face and presses a sweet kiss on my nose,

“i made a mess outta, you huh,” he laughs playfully, also trying to regain his own air.

i let out a tired laugh of my own “yeah, i’m gonna have to shower and go to bed; after all that, im surprisingly ready to sleep,” i tease and poke his chest, he drops his jaw pretending to be offended.

“yeah yeah, surprisingly, whatever. can i join you in that shower?” he suggests, handing me a towel before covering himself with one too.

“hm, only if you join me in my bed after,” i smile, wrapping my body in the soft material,

“deal,” he whispers, kissing my head, carrying me all the way to his bathroom, before grabbing my things and putting them on his bed.

except this time, it’s our bed.

[teeskzagain]

Anonymous asked:

so i’ve been thinking about how people think san’s a bit scary and intimidating while he’s an absolute sweetheart on the inside. imagine dating him and everyone around you being a bit intimidated by him, thinking he’s a rough guy and even being slightly worried…

what they don’t know is that you have him wrapped around your finger, that he’d worship the floor you walk on and that he’d simply do everything just to see you smile.

i wonder how this would translate into situations in the bedroom 🙂‍↔️

also!! i hope you get account back soon 💗

no because let’s talk about it!! the duality of choi san is actually INSANE (like his twink era??) mans could go from radiating dom energy out in public but once those doors close??? oh he would be ON HIS KNEES FOR YOU 🙌 whew, i’m in lofe with this scenario

and thank you for that, you’re too sweet🤍

wc: 3k

warnings: face riding, neck kissing, praises, dry humping (san cumming in his underwear) a shit ton of dirty talk, use of nicknames: baby, sweetie, sannie, 18+ MDNI

~

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~

~

starting now, you make the executive decision that absolutely no one is meant to truly understand the relationship between you and your boyfriend, choi san. this is proven true at the formal get together you and him were currently attending, with your two friends making him a topic of conversation on numerous occasions.

like, at this moment.

“just look at him,” yena gawks from across the room, cup swirling in her hand, “i don’t know how you even had the balls to go up to him…”

“let alone date him.” suiji finishes as she eyes your boyfriend up and down. he’s currently standing stoically in the corner, chatting up the birthday boy, kang yeosang. your lips curl fondly at the interaction, knowing well just how excited san was about seeing yeosang this evening.

you allow their little comments to resonate in the air before giving your two friends a look and then a soft laugh, “how come you guys say this every time we go out?”

“because it’s still insane!” yena throws an arm out as if to prove her disbelief, “how can you not just shrink under his gaze?”

suiji does a dramatic shudder at the remnants of his presence, “i’m serious y/n, he’s so scary looking.”

“there’s no problems with the relationship, right? anything i need to know? are you feeling safe?” yena’s rapid fire of questions and sudden concern makes you want to roll your eyes straight out of their sockets.

it’s been four months of dating san at this point, and one would have thought that the acceptance stage surely should’ve passed by now. however, for some reason, these two just can’t fathom the idea that choi san is ‘datable’. actually. it’s not just them, but the general public appears to fear san like some sort of bad omen. from the barista at your local coffee shop, to your favorite cashier at the grocery store; somehow, this negative stigma seemed to have developed around your poor, clueless boyfriend.

they should all be ashamed of themselves, you think with a frown, almost about ready to scold the girls when the tall, broad man himself waltzes straight into your circle. the way yena and suiji immediately clasps their lips shut at his entrance, you want to laugh, but quickly are captivated by your boyfriend who’s stopping right in front of you.

“baby…” his voice starts off somber and low, and he regards you with an expression that’s seemingly all too familiar, “it’s time to go.”

hmm? instinctively, your head tilts slightly as you sport confusion, “already? but, weren’t you just talking with-”

“y/n. let’s go.” he’s firmer in his tone, a hard face planted on. you blink before giving him an understanding head nod. you understood quite well what his authoritative stature indicated, essentially making it pointless to argue back with him.

when san whips around towards the girls, ready to begin your goodbyes, they seemed to have crowded together out of fright. the slender, narrow eyes that have proven to instill fear glower onto yena and suiji and you’re almost positive you see one of them trembling. oh, please.

“i’m sorry to cut the pleasantries so short, but it’s getting late for us. we’ll see you around though?” he quips off the question with an eyebrow raise, and by now you’ve huddled closer to him.

yena could only stumble out, “y-yeah, see ya later.” while suiji waved him away frantically, both trying their damndest to avoid eye contact with him.

he takes off while you offer your own smile and a curt wave. and even as you happily catch up behind the brooding man, your two friends are still left puzzled as to what exactly it is you see in him. both you and san make a few more rounds of goodbyes, some of the guests sharing their own inquisitive gaze at the impassive male in comparison to your gleeful smile. but neither of you paid attention to that.

no, the only thing present in the two of you’s minds was the anticipation of what was going to happen later tonight. like for when you step foot into your apartment approximately 10 minutes later, his eyes glossy as they tediously watch you, with yours trailing the outline of his delicious outfit.

the car ride over had been filled to the brim with unspoken thoughts, asses shifting and squirming in their seats, and a swirl of low breaths emitted by you two. san’s never been one to demand control over the relationship, him hardly every seeing the need to command anything out of you. he’s always been perfectly contempt with you taking the reigns while he sits back and enjoys.

and you were well aware of that.

but in a moment like that, a circumstance where his head became heavily engrossed with conceptions of you, well, he couldn’t help if a more stern tone slipped out of him. he just had to get you to recognize what it was he was yearning for. what it is he needs from you.

“sannie..” your head’s tilted down so you can peer up at him through your eyelashes, making a slow trek towards him as he stood idly in the living room, “are you in a mood?”

in a matter of seconds, you can physically see the changes your boyfriend has. his usual, cold face soon melting into an intense cry of plea. of course you knew the answer. you can read him like book by now.

you stop in front of his body, a hand pressing into his chest while the other raises to graze the side of his face, “oh, you poor thing. i know it must’ve been difficult at the party for you.”

as if you’re a magnet, once you let up on san, your hand dropping to his arm, his head shoots down into the exposed part of your neck. he’s feverish in the way he immediately starts to kiss on your skin, with in between pecks he starts to speak.

“fu-uck…,” he lands a rather large kiss smack dab in the middle of your throat which leads you to buzz out a soft whimper, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

he travels around your sternum, making sure to mark up any unclaimed spots, “couldn’t stop picturing you…” he nips at your skin this time, “us getting home tonight and me making you cum so fucking hard.”

your eyes are fluttering from a combo of both his words and his lips, your hands moving on their own to explore the brawniness that is choi san, “yeah…is that right?”

he lets out a strained groan as he begins to work his way down to your cleavage, “ah- my cock’s throbbing so bad right now.” the words topple from his lips an octave higher than you’re used to, and it’s clear just how turned on he is. which in turn makes your own panties dampen at the realization.

“sannie…” you gasp, feeling his mouth trailing down the fabric of your dress with some of his spit sopping through, “you know- you have to please me first. me first, then i’ll take of you, sweetie.”

he’s on his knees for you by now, staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. your head droops to meet his gaze right as his hands grip the hem of your dress. he lifts it up past your hips, revealing your cotton underwear which sports a wet spot clear as day.

“i know. i know, baby. i’m gonna make you feel so good. don’t you worry.” he ducks his head in between your thighs in preparation for licking your pussy through the soft material, a motion he does in a clean swoop. it only amplifies the extreme sensation you’re experiencing, “you won’t have a single thought in your head when i’m done.”

your body stirrers at the contact, “oh! oh my god.”

san is absolutely in love with your reactions, watching and hearing how horny you are because of him. it fuels him. he repeats his licking action, this time stopping at the top of your cunt to suck on your sensitive bud. you register his saliva permeating through your underwear, a squelching sound now filling the air, and your face contorts.

“mmm, sannie i’m gonna ride your face,” your eyes are crinkled, no longer able to hold his eye contact, as involuntarily your hips buck against his head, “fuck. just wanna grind my pussy deep into your perfect face.”

he squeezes his lips around your skin. it doesn’t even matter to him how your harsh rocks causes his face to rock along side with you. he’s ravenous. hungry for you. eating you out like he’s been deprived of your sweet cunt for days.

after a low rumble, san guides a hand to your clothed sex and pushes away the fabric. swirling, lapping, fiending into your naked core, you’re hit with double the intensity than you had previously, and you nearly squeal. he circles his head all around your thick pussy, wanting to bury his face deeper into your skin, which makes your eyes roll back.

the direct stimulant makes you see stars, him taking in pieces of you within his mouth and supplying a great deal of pleasure to those areas. your own moans fight for dominance while san’s squishy munching competes for which noise is the loudest, yours gradually getting louder and higher the more he devours you.

“i feel close,” it comes out more breathlike as you interlock your fingers into his hair for balance, “fuck- fuck- i think i’m gonna cum soon.”

with that, san offers no mercy. he wants to see you cum, needs to feel your orgasm hit his face. he quickens his pace with his wet tongue, before moving into more swift and timely sucks. the mixture of stimulants has your eyelids glazing, and it doesn’t help how occasionally san would mewl straight into you. he finds this so incredibly arousing.

you dig your hips further into his nose, you full on grinding against him by now, and you can’t even think straight. everything is pushing you closer and closer and closer-

“shit! i’m cumming! i’m cumming!” when your boyfriend nicks that spot, that spot with his driven hunger solely focused on it, your orgasm rushes through your body and out of your cunt, you yelping aloud in the process. it spritzes and coats san in a spit/cum mix, his face becoming sickly wet as you draw out your blissful high.

not once does he move to detach himself. he eats you out all during the duration of your orgasm, and when you finally have the strength to look at san again, you see his large, puppy-esque eyes just entranced with you. he watched you cum all over his face, just like he wished to before.

at the end of it, your chest heaves up and down as you attempt a small smile for him. aside from the minor spasms, you had gained some sense of awareness again.

“i’m so proud of you. you made me feel good, just like you promised.” you speak with nothing but gratitude, your hand easing up the grip in san’s hair as you transfer it into a light stroke, “you ready to be taken care of now?”

he parts your cunt with spit strings attached, his lips and face utterly covered in your moisture. he looks about ready to combust on himself, the way his eyes are hazy and low, his breathing irregular, “i’m ready. need a release so bad, i can’t take it anymore.”

sweetly, you reach down to help him up, “i hear you. come on, let’s go to the room.”

you lead the way as he follows you back into the bedroom, you instantly ordering him to strip from his pants once inside, “since you did a such a great job, i wanna treat you to something.”

a look of relief washes over san’s face. while still in his underwear, you direct him towards the head of the bed frame as you hook your fingers on the band of your panties to slide them down and off your legs. you meet him on to the bed, and right off of the bat, you can see a noticeably large bulge, poking out the material of his dark blue briefs.

if someone were to mistaken the expanding wet spot as san just having came on himself, you wouldn’t be surprised. but your boyfriend produces large amounts of arousal on the regular, so this is nothing new for you. if anything, you can start to feel yourself get horny all over again.

when directly in front of him, you bring one knee over so you’re straddling him, your pelvis just barely hovering over his lap, “just sit back for me, okay?” you eye him sincerely, “im gonna take care of you.”

right as you start to lower yourself on to his covered length, a sharp inhale from san has you pausing briefly, “baby, i don’t know how long i’ll be able to last. feel like i’m gonna explode any second.”

with a tiny laugh, you continue downwards till you make contact with your core and his cock, “it’s okay. don’t want you holding back either, i want you to enjoy this.”

and just like that, you allow your cunt to spread flatly against his erection, then ever-so leisurely, you start to roll your hips. you purposely begin with a slow pace, wanting to build up the intensity as time progressed, and judging by the facial expressions he wears, this seems to do the trick for him as well. even through the sensitivity, you push through.

“i knew you’d like me rubbing myself against you,” your hand clashes with the headboard as you steady yourself, digging your core deeper into the hard surface, “you liked it when i grinded on your face, i just had to give your poor cock the same treatment.”

inaudible moans fall from san’s throat, him now throwing his head back on the board, “sh-shit. it feels so nice, too nice.”

“i can feel you twitching below me,” you hip, your eyes becoming more hooded by the second, “are you really that close to finishing?”

“nrgh- yes.” he groans and you can see his stomach begin to convulse, his panting growing more prominent within your ear.

at this prospect, you dish out a hushed mew yourself, fastening the thrusts into his own clothed sex. your pussy acts as a stimulant for san, sending blips of pleasure through his aching dick the more you continue your rubbing.

you make sure to work every section of his length, running and dragging your glistening pussy lips against his wet fabric. you’ve suctioned yourself so far into him, that right now, you can distinguish which is his base and which is the head of cock. your cunt does a slightly bump whenever you find yourself running against the tip.

it’s euphoric the pleasure he’s having right now. never having been this turned on before, he basks in the feeling brought upon by you. how you know just when to squeeze the right amount of pressure onto him, or when to simply grind faster and harder on to the cock that won’t make it for much longer.

leading you to a point of where you’re full blown humping san into oblivion. the creaky noises of the bed acts as evidence of your hard work, along with the not-so-subtle whimpers that he buzzes out every chance he gets. he’s lost in heaven.

“you’re gonna make me cum on myself,” he follows that up with a louder groan, “fucking- i’m so close to cumming, ’m so close.” he even tries to match your rhythm but even that prove to be difficult with just how mindless you’re about to leave him.

“let it all out, sannie. come on, i know you’re almost there.” you reply back with an equal amount of desperation in your voice.

a string of ‘please’ leaves his mouth, his eyebrows scrunched inward with his troubled face. he’s so far gone, he isn’t sure that he’ll even survive the orgasm he’s about to have. when you buck particularly hard into his sensitive head, a wave of pleasure hits him and his cock relinquishes his stored up cum.

“hmm, y/n- i’m cumming!” a guttural moan overtakes the room as san releases all over himself, and you, his underwear now soiled to a point of no return. his cum leaks through and even form to mix with your previous liquids. it awakens something within you and soon the feeling of his orgasm is causing a surprise one for yourself, your eyes vibrating and a whiny shriek spilling out.

you quiver harshly on top of your boyfriend as his body twitches sporadically, the two of you somewhat finishing in sync. a few spurts of your juices seep down into his briefs, vice versa for you, and then next thing you know you’re both catching your breaths after the intense session.

“you’re so fucking hot.” he murmurs, eyes dazed and throat bobbing, “left me soaking in my underwear.”

“i love you,” you whisper back as your bring your forehead to his, still relishing from your second orgasm tonight, “you’re so good for me.”

“i love you too, baby.”

see, many question what it is about your boyfriend that you love so much. in their eyes, he’s nothing more than a fearsome man, threatening the innocence of a poor, girl like you.

but if there’s one thing you could never deny, was that your (in reality) sweet, puppy of a boyfriend knows just how to give you the actual best orgasms of your life. and luckily for him, you know how to give it right back to him.

your guys’ relationship is perfect as is. regardless if others can fully comprehend it or not.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.” 

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought. 

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it. 

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky. 

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over. 

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.” 

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like. 

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids? 

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!” 

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery. 

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.” 

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses. 

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing. 

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced. 

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received. 

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.” 

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed. 

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing? 

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips. 

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons. 

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests. 

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth. 

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).  

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks. 

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’. 

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air. 

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes. 

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned. 

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.” 

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?” 

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!” 

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.” 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent. 

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that. 

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still. 

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once. 

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.” 

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat. 

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.”  _____________________________

You thought about quitting. 

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck. 

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine. 

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing. 

“Hey, titty-shirt!” 

The loveliness was ruined. 

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words. 

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction. 

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!” 

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring). 

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.” 

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.” 

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you. 

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house. 

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.” 

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.” 

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?” 

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers. 

“Okay.” 

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered. 

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway. 

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides. 

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks. 

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?” 

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose. 

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive. 

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?” 

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.” 

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs. 

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt. 

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen. 

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita. 

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!” 

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand. 

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-” 

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.” 

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-” 

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.” 

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.” 

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit. 

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him. 

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.” 

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles. 

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.” 

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed. 

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.” 

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?” 

“Yeah, evidence.” 

“EVIDENCE?” 

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet. 

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed. 

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines. 

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” 

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic. 

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely. 

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at. 

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?” 

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled. 

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly. 

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?” 

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child. 

“Alright, but-” 

“Yes!” 

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good. 

“What happened to Belinda?” 

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.” 

“She has kids?!” 

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins. 

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean. 

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork. 

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight. 

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.” 

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way. 

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?” 

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours. 

“I think you love being treated like a slut.” 

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?” 

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider. 

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?” 

“JEONGHAN!” 

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing. 

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious. 

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath. 

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster. 

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips. 

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you. 

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back. 

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again. 

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back. 

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt. 

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them. 

You went to work. 

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing. 

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic. 

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.” 

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little. 

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate. 

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans. 

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows. 

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached. 

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm. 

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.” 

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head. 

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips. 

“I’m tired, you just go.” 

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit. 

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat. 

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants. 

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-” 

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?” 

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-” 

“Well, then give us a ride?!” 

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left. 

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-” 

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!” 

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-” 

You’re not even sure why you lied. 

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!” 

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face. 

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-” 

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child. 

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted. 

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?” 

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-” 

“Why are you crying?” 

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line. 

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had  tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern. 

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made  you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual. 

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..” 

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up. 

God, you were pathetic. 

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. 

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face. 

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar. 

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-” 

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him. 

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes. 

There was a significant pause. 

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation. 

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?” 

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush. 

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you. 

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket. 

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling. 

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it. 

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze. 

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great. 

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt. 

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser. 

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his. 

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen. 

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!” 

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing. 

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing. 

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too. 

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-” 

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground. 

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae. 

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other. 

His hand dropped from your lips. 

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless. 

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?” 

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.” 

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in. 

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well. 

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?” 

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?” 

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.” 

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park. 

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway. 

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?” 

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed. 

“You’ll see.” 

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful. 

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis. 

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly. 

“What do you think?” 

Jeonghan was looking at you. 

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.” 

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well. 

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other. 

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.” 

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you. 

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained. 

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back. 

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.” 

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?” 

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second. 

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?” 

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-” 

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you. 

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face. 

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically. 

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky. 

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly. 

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.” 

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.” 

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” 

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body. 

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily. 

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around. 

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.” 

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance. 

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear. 

“Jeonghan, please touch me-” 

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble. 

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing. 

“Jeonghan, I can’t-” 

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway. 

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it. 

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch. 

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest. 

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder. 

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.” 

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection. 

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off. 

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now. 

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties. 

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this. 

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties. 

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear. 

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.” 

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly. 

“N-ngh, fuck..” 

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.” 

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine. 

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it. 

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-” 

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face. 

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. 

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole. 

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-” 

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming. 

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face. 

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.” 

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.” 

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs. 

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit. 

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin. 

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying. 

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs. 

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples 

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it. 

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly. 

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply. 

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling. 

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.” 

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating. 

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.” 

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows. 

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock. 

It was long and right by your fucking face. 

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out. 

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.” 

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up. 

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane. 

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin. 

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture. 

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then. 

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?” 

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting. 

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage. 

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.” 

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply. 

Or almost perfect. 

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you. 

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.” 

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue. 

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly. 

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth: 

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

[mangosrar]

call it what you want.

matt sturniolo x fem reader. enemies to lovers!!

WHEW YALL HEY. it’s been a while but i’m super excited to be back. love u ❤️‍🩹

warnings: suggestive. arguing

this will be multiple parts!!!!

pt2

"im not a child anymore! i cant move 2 inches without them being on my ass about something" you exclaimed as you paced up and down the living room.

nick sat on the couch, gawking at you as you ranted. you sighed before stopping and pointing a finger at nick.

"and you know what, they dont do this to my brother, nooo he can fuck all the girls he wants but i mention one guy im not even dating and suddenly im going off the rails" nick just stared at you with a questionable expression on his face.

you knew he wouldnt understand, his parents were so lenient, so the fact you were going on a 20 minute tangent about how strict yours were was completely futile and you may as well be speaking in a different language.

you dropped your hands and whined before stomping over to the couch and plopping down next to nick.

"i mean, how could i win nick? they want me to be happy but i wanna be happy with a hot boyfriend" you said as you turned your head to look at him, he just looked down at you with a sympathetic but mischievous look.

"im worried my advice is going to get you in trouble" he cringed. you pulled your head back and furrowed your eyebrows, encouraging him to continue.

"i mean... you need to rebel y/n, find someone whos completely foreign to them" you stared at him, thinking for a second.

it wasnt like you wanted to, but the fact that their heads would fall off if you found someone who was the complete opposite of your parents and their expectations, brought you a little bit of complete fucking joy.

it was like a lightbulb moment, your eyes widened, and a cheesy grin pulled at your lips as you practically leaped off of the couch and continued your pacing.

"i need someone who is all mean and mysterious, or maybe a guy who drives a motorbike or plays the drums" you rambled looking at nick for approval but being met with a flat expression on his face.

"seriously y/n?" he questioned.

"whatever im just brainstorming" you waved him off.

"whoever he is needs to be nonchalant, he needs to smoke and drink, maybe dabble in partying every now and again, he needs to have tattoos and long hair. i mean be honest, if you came home with a guy like that, i think your mom would drop dead" he explained, letting out a small laugh before leaning forward slightly.

and as if god himself was listening, matthew sturniolo appeared in the doorway, in all of his long haired and tattood glory, sipping on a can of root beer, watching you intently.

both you and nick snapped your head towards him as he stood there with a stoic expression.

"what do you want weirdo?" you asked, raising your eyebrows.

he squinted at you before sticking his hand out besides him in question.

"your in my house y/n. the real question is what do you want" he spat.

truth was you and matt had never gotten along. despite your decade long friendship with his brothers, there was always something about him that you couldnt stand and apparently matt felt the same way towards you, so the two of you started an unspoken hatred for each other one day and it has stood strong ever since.

neither of you were sure why it started, but matt always hated the way you thought you were better than everyone else, how you could never admit when you were in the wrong, or the way your scent stuck to everything so he could always smell you around the house, but mostly he hated the way his cock would jump when you looked up at him with those big doe eyes, even when you were spitting insults at him.

"i want you to stop listening to our conversation and get the fuck out of my face" you bit back, turning to face him and crossing your arms, keeping your hard stare fixed on him.

"please, you love it when i get in your face y/n. and you know what, have a little more compassion, your parents are wonderful people." he scoffed as he took a step towards you, keeping his eyes trained on yours. he was clearly trying to get under your skin, and it was working.

"they dont even like you matt, i wouldnt be so up their ass" you smiled sarcastically. he just laughed before taking another step towards you.

"and i cant stand their bitch of a daughter so were even" he spoke lowly, shooting daggers at you. there was a few seconds of silence where you and matt were just glaring at each other. wordlessly throwing insults and screaming at one another, before nick cleared his throat, causing the bubble around you both to pop.

you and matt turned to look at nick who was standing up from his seat on the couch, with an expression that you couldnt place. you could feel the heat radiating off of matt, in the midst of the bickering you hadnt realized how close he had gotten, you hadnt realized how good he smelt, or how him looking down at you like a disobedient child made you want to drop to your knees there and then.

nick opened his mouth to speak, his eyes jumping from you to his brother, who was stood not even a foot away.

"back to the topic at hand...why dont you date chris?" nick said like it was the most obvious option.

"you cant be serious..." matt trailed off, looking at his brother.

"no way nick, hes like my brother, plus my parents like him" you explained, ignoring matts comment, moving away from him and taking a seat back on the couch, folding your legs up underneath you.

"fake it, be in a fake relationship with him" you werent sure what planet nick was living on, but he was not helping in any way shape or form.

you just rubbed your hands over your face, groaning at the realization this was never going to work. there was a pregnant pause, all 3 of you, thinking completely different things, before matt broke the silence.

"ok so let me get this straight, you wanna piss off your parents, and show them your all grown up, by finding a guy in a biker gang..... as a scare tactic?" he asked, sending questioning looks between you and nick.

"not a biker gang matt" nick replied flatly, shaking his head at him.

"so just someone with tattoos, and long hair?" he spoke, placing his drink down on the coffee table and crossing his arms over his chest.

you shrugged and nodded your head at him. why was he so interested.

"so you just wanna use someone, to make your parents mad?" he furrowed his brows, desperately trying to get this right, but you were sure he was trying to make you feel bad so you didnt go through with it, just so you would stay miserable. or so you thought.

"call it what you want matt, i dont care what you think, this is none of your business" you spat.

you watched matts eyes wander from yours to his brothers who had been suspiciously silent. they were exchanging glances, like they were speaking some sort of wordless language, and it was concerning. usually, matt wouldve threw an insult back at you, but his expression didnt even waiver.

pulling your eyes away from matt, you turned to nick with a confused expression, and studdied his face, watching as his eyes lit up and he grinned, before turning to face you with a look in his eye that you couldnt decipher.

"before you say anything, just hear me out"

_______________________________________________

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @chrisenthusiast @st4rswrld @soursturniolo @kvtie444 @mattslolita @flowerxbunnie @lovingsturniolo @its-jennarose @ermdontmindthisaccount @secret-sturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @justaslvttygirl @urfavstromboli @recklesssturniolo @delimeats-000 @gloomymatt @gwenlore @nickdevora @sturnioloenthusiast

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Jamil Viper - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Main Street]

Jamil: Hmm, the width of this street is much narrower than I thought… If it were to turn the corner here…

Ortho: Jamil Viper-san! What are you doing here of all places? The afternoon classes will begin soon.

Jamil: Ortho… Maybe you could hear me out.

Ortho: Th-That's a pretty serious look you got going on… Sure. If you're alright with it, I can listen to what you have to say…

Jamil: So, tomorrow is my birthday…

Ortho: Huh, your birthday!? Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Thanks. I'm happy to celebrate it, but because of it, I'm in a bit of a conundrum.

Jamil: Well... It seems that Kalim has been plotting something for my birthday.

Ortho: Eh, plotting something? Is he planning something ominous…!?

Jamil: So, after coaxing hints out of him, and gathering more info from other folks around me, I finally was able to piece together his plan.

Jamil: Apparently, he's been planning alongside my dormmates on throwing a birthday parade in my honor down main street.

Ortho: Oh, nice, that sounds fun. Isn't it a good thing that he wants to throw a parade?

Jamil: Seriously… Do you even get how expensive parades can be, not to mention the difficulties of pulling one of successfully?

Jamil: I was so worried about it, I stole a glance at their plans, and just as I expected, it's not well thought out at all.

Jamil: If, somehow, it was to be a disaster and he says, "let's try again tomorrow!" it could further inflate the costs and labor.

Jamil: Plus, I'm not supposed to know about it, so I can't stop it. If I try to run interference, they might try something else which would also be just as bad…!

Jamil: That's why I thought about what could be done to successfully pull this off quick and painlessly, while minimizing any damage Kalim and the others could do...

Jamil: Which is why I am now secretly examining the proposed parade route prior to the event.

Ortho: Eh. So, you're telling me that you're basically doing the prep work for your own parade…?

Jamil: Don't remind me… I'm feeling pretty embarrassed by it already…

Ortho: B-But hey, you're still excited for your birthday, right? Especially since it's your special day!

Jamil: ….Yeah, I guess it's okay. It's a day where I don't have to stress about so many things.

Ortho: Oh, hey, so, what about if you try to surprise everyone else during the parade instead?

Ortho: Maybe you could shoot off fireworks at the front of the parade, or try summoning something via magic!

Jamil: I see… I mean, it is pretty irritating to always be on the receiving end of surprises. Might not be bad to see their shocked faces.

Jamil: Thanks, Ortho. I'll think about it.

[Scarabia Dorm – Lounge]

Jamil: Alright, now. I think I'll put together my lunch for tomorrow before taking a shower… Hm? Oh, what are you guys still here for?

[Scarabia mob students stand there awkwardly]

Jamil: Eh, nothing? Don't worry about it? What's that plate you just tried to hi… No, nevermind.

Jamil: I know nothing. That's right, I know nothing… So, please… Please let things go as planned…!

Jamil: …Whew. Tomorrow's a busy day, so I guess I'll finish up what needs to be done, too.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

Jamil: Ah, whew. Today was another full day…

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[Jamil's roommate greets him]

Jamil: I'm back. …Yeah, that's right. There were so many people in the washroom that it took forever to take a shower.

Jamil: You were done pretty quickly, though… Oh, are you actually studying for once?

Jamil: What, because you're going to be busy tomorrow? Oh, so you're saying you're not studying because you want to… Nah, don't mind me, doesn't matter the reason, better you go ahead and do it.

[paper slips to the ground]

Jamil: Hey, you dropped something… Oh, right, the Headmaster did send out a notice earlier.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Jamil: Quality of life improvements, huh. Then they should start with making the shower rooms bigge… Achoo!

Jamil: That's no good. I should dry my hair quickly before I catch a cold.

Jamil: Oh, I almost forgot, I received some hair milk from Najma for my birthday. I should apply some before drying.

Jamil: Urgh, the scent's pretty strong. What is this scent…? Lotus flowers? Oh, she should know this is way too fragrant for me!

Jamil: Is she just trying to mess with me even for my birthday? No, wait, she's more the type to have not put that much thought into it.

Jamil: I'll make sure to at least thank her… Before going back to my usual oils from tomorrow... Hey, I'm going to use the dryer.

Jamil: I can't really take my time drying my hair in the shared washroom. Especially since I require a lot more time…

[starts blow-drying hair]

Jamil: …Improvements, huh. Now that I think about it, I guess it could be useful to have a large standing mirror in the room.

Jamil: Whenever I'm setting my hair in the morning, it's pretty inconvenient that I can't see the back of my head. What I'd really like is a three-sided mirror.

Jamil: If I had known there wouldn't be one in these rooms, I probably would have brought one. Or maybe, I should write and request one.

Jamil: …Nah, it'll just get in my roommate's way. And I wouldn't want it to be used without permission… I dislike having to share my personal items.

Jamil: If I were to try and request some kind of new implement for the room, I think it'd have to be…

Jamil: A COMMERCIAL-GRADE REFRIGERATOR!!!

Jamil: That's exactly what I need! Ah, yes… It would be insanely convenient to have a refrigerator in my room!

Jamil: Sure, there is a fridge in the dorm kitchens, but it is a little too far from my room. Like, the last time I made ice cream…

Jamil: I'd have to wake up in the middle of the night and make countless trips back and forth to the kitchen to stir it. That was frustrating, especially since I was sleepy, and it's a good distance away.

Jamil: It'd be better if I had one in my room. And then I might as well also get a wide sink, stove and oven too…

Jamil: …Wait, that's basically a whole kitchen, huh? I guess it's not really something you'd put in a bedroom.

[finishes blow-drying hair]

Jamil: Alright, it's mostly dry now. I'll just apply some oil, and… done.

Jamil: Hey. Sorry for all the noise again today… WAIT, HUH, HE'S ALREADY ASLEEP EVEN THROUGH THE LOUD HAIR DRYER NOISE!?

Jamil: Geez, he doesn't have a care in the world, huh. I almost feel kind of jealous.

Jamil: Alright, then. Time to look over my notes and prepare for tomorrow, then go to sleep.

[Scarabia Dorm – Jamil's Room]

[alarm rings]

Jamil: Hrn… It's morning already… Yaaawn.

Jamil: I'm still sleepy… But there shouldn't be a crowd in the bathroom this early… I should go wash my face while it's empty…

Jamil: Whew. I feel more refreshed now that I've washed my face… I really do like it in the mornings, since no one else is around.

Jamil: Looks like my roommate is still sleeping, so I'll just go ahead and quickly finish up my appearance for today.

Jamil: I guess I'll start with my makeup. Hm… Yeah, I think I'll just go with my usual palette.

Jamil: First, my sunscreen and colored lip balm. And I'll need eyeliner… Ah, looks like it's almost gone.

Jamil: I still have some spares, but I'll have to make sure to buy some extra.

Jamil: It was a little frustrating when the last eyeliner I would always use took off on Magicam and became hard to find.

Jamil: It's annoying when you can't even keep using the cosmetics you like because they go out of stock.

Jamil: I'd rather they keep a consistent stock of their standard products, instead of trying to come out with new colors each season.

Jamil: I'll have to look for some other brands next time, something that's water proof, and won't come off even if I sweat from running or cooking.

Jamil: …Alright, I'm done. Next, I just need to set my hair.

Jamil: First, I'll take my hair oil and rub it into the ends of my hair to moisturize it… Good. Just from first glance, it doesn't look like there's any damaged strands.

Jamil: It's nice that ever since I've grown out my hair, I don't wake up to bed head, but… I never expected to have to spend this much time taking care of it.

Jamil: Letting it grow out may be easy to do, but it wouldn't do to let it go wild. Grooming it well should be the bare minimum of etiquette.

Jamil: Especially since I don't want to be seen as unsightly…. I'll just finish the braids with magic… And, done.

Jamil: …I've set it as perfectly as I normally do, but since today's my birthday, maybe I should try to spruce myself up just a little more than usual?

Jamil: Today should be a pretty long day, so I think I'll use a stronger eyeliner… Might not be bad to add a splash of color, too.

Jamil: Not only do I have the dorm party, but my clubmates have also reached out, and I promised to get together with my classmates, as well.

Jamil: …Ah, well. Looks like today is going to be one busy day. Heheh.

[Main Street]

[birthday celebration cheers]

Ortho: Ah, I spy Jamil Viper-san! Looks like he's having fun celebrating with everyone.

Ortho: Heheh… He was griping a lot yesterday, but he definitely seems like he's enjoying himself. He looks so happy!

Ortho: Hey, Jamil Viper-san! I'm here to celebrate, too. Happy Birthday!

Jamil: Hey, Ortho! You came all this way to join the celebration, too? Thanks, everyone.

Requested by @farfalla049.

[irana5711]

Mr. Silvair x m!reader (NSFW, porn without plot, descriptions of male genitalia)

whew, my first time writing male readers. critique appreciated! not proofread

Ever since arriving in this strange world that oddly reminded you of a Purgatory, you couldn't help but think that something is wrong with your body. You felt yourself changing, losing bits and pieces of your humanity. So, in consequence, you relied on Mr. Silvair quite a lot. The nurse lurking around wasn't as helpful as you'd thought early in your journey - your opinion changed drastically after seeing her cut through a lost girl in an attempt to "cure" her. But the long haired doctor surely was something else... You felt warm around him, as if he understood you better than anyone else ever has.

Entering his laboratory for the nth time that day, you open your mouth to greet Mr. Chopped, but quickly close it when you see him asleep. He's like a cat, really! Whatever. You're content with poking his cheek and watching his eyebrows furrow before going back to normal. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest as you approached Silvair's makeshift office. Recently, you felt yourself get more and more flustered around him: he cared for you and never judged you regarding any problem you came to him for. And for whatever reason, he seemed more than happy to check your body. You knocked softly on the door, before hearing his confirmation.

"Hello. You unwell?" he smiled at you, extending his arm to place a hand on the side of your neck.

"Healthy. Wanted see you."

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly as he took in your appearance.

"Hair long. Can I cut?"

Of course... He needed it for another test. You handed him the scissors nearby and let him collect a few strands. On the shelves, his collection of materials sat nicely - he must have cleaned it recently.

"One thing. You remove fabric?" Mr. Silvair pointed towards your coat, obviously asking you to strip. Freezing in place, you couldn't muster up the courage to deny or accept. So, he took matters in his own hands. Carefully, he slid your coat down your shoulders and folded it neatly before putting it on the corner of his examination table. His cold hands prodded at your stomach, back and chest.

"Good. Healthy."

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth, but is quickly replaced by a yelp once he pushes you on the table, back arched as he bends you over. This wasn't the first time he'd been very thorough with his examinations, nor the first time you offered parts of your body for the sake of his curiosity, but today he seemed more excited than usual.

"Inside finger can?"

"...can," you squeak, waiting for him to make a move. The odd sensations you felt when you were with him only seemed to intensify now, making your cock throb and stiffen. Your stomach was churning pleasantly as Silvair touched you, one hand massaging your back to release tension as the other was busy loosening you up. It felt weird, having a foreign object entering you, but as he poked different spots inside, he suddenly hit the one that made you see stars. A girly moan echoed throughout the room, making you clasp your mouth shut. Mr. Silvair stopped abruptly, a small grin playing on his lips.

"Feel good?"

Your legs shook as he slid in a second finger, teasing your sweet spot mercilessly. You gripped the edges of the table tightly, knuckles turning white as pathetic whimpers left your mouth. Once your cock was leaking and aching, Mr. Silvair pulled his fingers out at the last moment and gave you a smack for good measure, making you twitch. You were left breathless on the table, drooling slightly as the doctor rummaged around behind you for some materials. Cold, slimy liquid dripped onto your gaping hole when he returned. You could hear him laughing quietly behind you as both of his hands gripped your hips.

"Me come in. Good?"

Despite his warning, he left you with little time to brace yourself as he pushed in. He moved slowly, the blunt tip of his cock stretching you to your limit. You lifted yourself up on your toes, trying to get used to the various sensations assaulting your body. He leaned down and pressed his chest against your back in an attempt to comfort you, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Once your muscles relaxed, he moved his hips faster, the lewd sounds of skin hitting skin bouncing off the walls of the room. Your cock bounced in the air, hard and neglected as Mr. Silvair was too focused on pounding into you with reckless abandon. He caught you in a headlock, choking you and letting you breathe after a few seconds, making your adrenaline spike and arousal affect your body in ways you had never felt before. You squirmed and groaned and ground against Mr. Silvair's dick, your hole twitching and squeezing him tightly, a clear indicator that you were close to climax. With a devilish smirk, his free hand reached around your waist and gripped your cock, stroking it wildly as you screamed in pleasure. Your vision blurred and fat tears rolled down your cheeks as ropes of cum shot out of your spent length. The doctor bit down on your shoulder, huffing desperately when ecstasy overwhelmed his senses.

He collapsed onto you, releasing you from the chokehold and pressing his cold hand against your forehead.

"Good? Healthy?"

In the bliss following your union, your body now feeling the chill of the run down place, you let yourself melt into his embrace.

"...good."

[boopshoops]

I've... never really ever been to somethin' as fancy as this before. Oh? You want to dance? ...Pfff, sure. Why not?

Set to home screen: Aight, let's get going.

Home Transition 1: You should've seen how excited Neige was to see Vil here too. But the more I hear about Vil... really makes me wish Neige would take the hint. Don't get me wrong, Neige is sweet as candy, I know, but it's obvious Vil needs some space.

Home Transition 2: I feel like if I make one wrong step, people are gonna look at me like I'm crazy or something. I'm not used to all this etiquette. Welp, not like that's anything new anyway. Let's go have some fun.

Home Transition 3: Yuu's been... huh? Haaa, I swear to Sevens, one moment I think she's missing forever and at the next she's doing whatever the fuck she wants. Just get that cat-thing to distract her for a bit, I'll be over soon enough.

Home Transition 4: If I see one more pinch of glitter getting anywhere near my face, it's on sight. Seriously, I'm gonna be finding this shit everywhere for the rest of my life.

Home, after login: The more time I spent trying to get this whole outfit sorted out, the more I felt conflicted about RSA being invited to this party... but now that I'm here, it's not so bad.

Tap Home 1: I kept having to try on all these uncomfortable dresses before we FINALLY landed on something that suited me. Pants are so much more comfortable anyway. "Who's we?" Ah. Yuu and Neige helped me out a bit.

Tap Home 2: ...Pfff, I've watched Chenya sneak up on like, five different people now. It gets funnier every time. What a dork. That short red head looks so mad-

Tap Home 3: I...uh... think I might've saw someone crying when I came in. Should I... tell someone? I feel bad just leaving 'em be.

Tap Home 4: Hey, look, if you think you're struggling with dancing along, you can come stand on my feet. I know how to lead with this kinda thing... I mean, if you wanna. Not that you're doing bad, I- fuck. You know what I mean.

Tap Home 5: ...You've been hiding under my cape for a good while now. I know it's all shiny and big and whatnot. But do you need something? I'm sure there are other places you could go. Oh? Nah. You're not botherin' me. I just thought you might be getting bored.

Groovification: Hahaha! You shoulda seen their faces when I finally started dancing. Let's out-prince these princes....... man that sounded cheesy. Pfff-

Tap Home Groovy: Whew... I think I'm gonna take a break outside for a bit. Maybe explore NRC campus while I have the chance. Crowley always gets on my case when I sneak in here with the cat boy.

Home Transition Groovy: Ya know, I'd be down to do something like this again. Maybe with more casual clothes, but still. I liked seeing all the shocked looks on peoples faces when they see I actually know how to work this kinda look.

Art tags!!! 🫂💕

@thehollowwriter @skriblee-ksk @distant-velleity @justm3di0cr3 @kitwasnothere

@lowcallyfruity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @cecilebutcher

The lovely fan event is by @starry-night-rose !!! 💕

[kaijuparfait]

long ramble of me going through the venom trailer because i am insane totally normal about it

this isn't anything professional, just me spouting out random words as i run around in circles like an excited dog-

OK LET'S GO:

firstly... king please change your clothes its been years, why are you still wearing that exact same outfit???

BUT i am a sucker for the light going over and past Eddie as he walks, i just think it's so cool hehe,,

E: "You should probably know that I have a really dark and unpredictable side to me."

hmmm... i'll believe you. at first, it sounds like he's telling this to Venom, but I wouldn't be surprised if Eddie is telling this to someone else and this "dark and unpredictable side" is Venom.... Or he is telling this to Venom and Eddie just really wants to kill now which. I am ok with that, love that for them, they should be allowed to do what they want

cleanly punching off the lock via the ~ Power of Friendship ~ (or something like that)

not the dogs :( i'm assuming this is a place to hold dogs for like. dog fighting?? i think? which is terrible and those guys deserved to get their heads eaten!

E: "I'm giving you a chance, sweetie."

LET. EDDIE. KILL. everyone say thank you Tom Hardy for being Eddie cause WOAH i am. normal.

V: "Just say "when"." E: "...when."

WE'RE SO BACK its just like the "Mask!" "Copy." bit from the first movie omg we're so back, these two make me ill i love them sm

also Eddie not even flinching at the knife, most likely Venom turning off the pain (or something) but I like to think Eddie's just cool like that (these close ups of Eddie's face makes me wanna do a study on him, just draw him a million times for the fun of it, and i will! Tom Hardy is a beautiful man!)

either venom is fully acting as shoes or Eddie is wear the most busted up pair of crocs i have ever seen and both options are so great. either way- KICK! that guy is GONE you even see him slouched against the wall, surrounded by bricks in a later scene, Venom and Eddie are not messing around this movie!

I- hhhhh. ok. I'm ok. Yeah these two are NOT messing around, Eddie could not care less about these dudes, there is no hesitating, no guilt, no fear in this man's expression AND I LOVE IT <333 GET ANGRY! GET SCARY!!!

AND WE HAVE THE BOI. THERE HE IS!!! the roar sounds different too i think, it's very cool tho, feels like a shrill, higher pitch than i expected but i don't dislike it

let the dogs be free! they immediately start attacking those guys and i love it <3 doggy :3

AND EDDIE IS FIGHTING TOO WOOOOO i need to redraw all of these frame cause WHEW! making me blush with these shot compositions, so good. so much trust, Eddie knows Venom will keep him safe and jumps in! literally! i adore how Venom's head is following him too, it's so creepy, the way it just slithers through the air, I wish to send all my love to the teams who work on Venom, there are so many points from the trailer and the first 2 movies that I wanna dissect, just to point out all his little movements, very fun

speaking of his little movements- squinty eyes :3 and the half venom, half eddie face again! always a win, forever iconic <3

tearing apart this venom scene OK! the little tendrils by Eddie's face, the way they move around is so UGH its so weird and i adore it! This "pose" is also fun because we really get to see the inside of Venom's mouth, most importantly his teeeeeth, in a long, pretty still shot that isn't when his mouth is wide open, the artist in me is loving it

also the team always does an amazing job on just making Venom look alien- the thick veins, the shiny black skin, and the tendrils that are holding up the bad guy split apart, instead of being just one tentacle, very gross, but in a good way

E: "We.. are..-" V: "WE ARE VENOM!" E: "We.. are..-" V: "VENOM!!" E: "No.."

They share one braincell, holy fudge, I love symbrock fjdkslfjsdk

and Eddie just keeps trying! same tone, same level, and Venom is so excited

V: "Oh!"

(I also love these shots because we get a nice close up of how Venom's mouth moves when pronouncing words)

E: "Yeah.. We.." V: "We.." E + V: "are... Venom." E: "...We really need to work on that."

and they get there eventually lmao, the way they say it is so in sync, even the eye movements are the same, how they open wider, and THE VOICES hhhh the voices.,,.. Tom Hardy is such a good. voice actor? in this sense ig.. i am on the ground, pure joy with how Eddie and Venom's voices overlap here

and Venom goes to town! lovely meal <3 getting a meal with the bf <3

I am LOOKING oh my goodness his mouth can open WIDE... normal feelings rn, yup, mhm!

doggy :D dog friends :D also Eddie no shot you stole that guy's shoes lmao??? nice boots tho (as someone who wears cowboy boots often, i would love to see Eddie in a full outfit.. putting that in the drawing idea list...)

V: "DELICIOUS! You take me to all the finest places!"

see! dinner date! :3 I can just hear the smile on Venom, i love when he's happy

and the world's most pathetic wet cat of a man (I say with the upmost affection) is back!

more proof that Eddie is never NOT sweating and that Tom Hardy's Eddie voice has the most confusing accent- i think he's saying

E: "Honey, I don't know."

but he could very well just be stuttering, or maybe he stopped midway and instead said "I need- I don't know." but i'm hoping they're at the point of pet names, go full comic, let Eddie call Venom "love" and "dear" and "my darling"

[Edit- thank you @.bridoesotherjunk for pointing out that he says "I need a Tylenol." i need better listening comprehension i guess??? lol?]

i don't know 100% of the Venom lore, still have tons of comics to read, so i won't talk much about the potential storyline here but- 4 SYMBIOTES!! maybe maybe maybe the Life Foundation Symbiotes... these babies got some funky colors.. they already used the name Riot but these 4 could be Lasher, Phage, Scream and Agony if i pray hard enough, the colors don't match but i can dream!

totally not emotional over this little bit of Venom that was left behind from that one after credits scene trying to bond with a host gently. yup yeah my heart isn't hurting at all!

LET MY BOY GO, HE DID NO WRONG!!!

my favorite local cryptid, what a creature

and he changed! finally! nice shirt tho, buttoned up only part way? the HAIR??? good stuff

fire seems to be a known weakness now, looking at the background, and i can't guess what they're looking up at, Eddie does speed up for it tho. I'm gonna say either a helicopter or something else they're gonna try and jump up to? Venom does go-

V: "OH SHIT"

during this scene so maybe it's one of those Symbiotes from before? Who knows, I could guess a hundred things but idk

THE WATER SCENE!! FROM THAT ONE BEHIND THE SCENES PHOTO TOM HARDY POSTED!!!

Venom in the last bit and Eddie being just himself if the first portion of these clips show that these guys 100% know what they're doing and have some sort of device (shown in the right image) that is capable of doing some crazy damage to Venom! Which! Oh no!!! I enjoy fight scenes underwater tho (Looks at Godzilla), very hyped for this one, I really wanna see how Venom swims. Yeah that sounds a bit weird but like. no way he's swimming like a human, c'mon now

E: "We are living the dream, my friend V: "You mean it?!" E: "NO."

Can't get over Venom's delivery here, he sounds so genuinely, it made me laugh, especially to how exhausted Eddie sounds lmao

LAS VEGAS??? y'all guessed right, they really are gonna get married in vegas,,

Eddie in a suit, HELLO??? my guy is looking snazzy! really tho, he looks so nice a suit, the BLACK AND WHITE suit? perfect. I saw people saying that they hope that Venom is the suit and just. me too..

MRS. CHEN RETURNS omg this cast are all so <333 she is GORGEOUS that dress is beautiful on her AND HER HAIR Mrs. Chen my beloved

Mrs. Chen sounds so happy to see Eddie, and Venom also very excitedly say hi, my heart is going to burst, it is overflowing, this part of the trailer makes me smile so much AND THEN THEY DANCE WITH EACH OTHER!!! I know it's called The Last Dance but I was not expecting a dance with Mrs. Chen??? I am more than ok with this tho, Venom and Mrs. Chen, dancing on the stairs, they look so happy, they're having such a good time i can't, my heart can't take this <3

AND LOOK HOW THEY HOLD HER HANDS.. they... they care about each other so much i'm going to cry in the theaters- no i'm gonna cry NOW.

is that a xenophage i see??? that thing is HUGE HUH??? i fully understand Venom in this (side note, i ADORE how Venom goes "JESUS CHRIST" upon seeing this thing, the line delivery get's better every film, that was so genuine) this design is insane tho, i might spend some time doing a study on it

Toxin is here! YIPPEE!!! love the voice, thought it was Venom for a second the first time i watch this but its pretty good

I have no clue who the people are that are in this tower thing, I've seen a few theories but i ain't embarrassing myself by guessing wrong here lmao

(running out of image spaces sorry!)

in the clip of Venom walking into this lab (?) and then getting violently shot at, is it just me or does Venom seem small? I'm guessing the door is just really big but like. idk maybe i'm just mixing up my Venoms and thinking that he's not as big as I remember

really quick cut of what may be 2 more Symbiotes like the 4 from earlier? maybe they're the same and are just changing colors, maybe they're new, who knows! I love their colors tho, the one on the right (in the clip) looks like it's blue and pink and i think that's cute

Xenophage breaks into this lab, love that for her, she is still terrifying!

E: "We may not make it out of this alive, buddy."

haha what do you mean by that king?

V: "Eddie... the time has come..."

HAHA PAUSE. uhm. he said the same thing last time at the end of Let There Be Carnage and Eddie didn't let him go but, istg, IF THEY DIE AT THE END OF THIS MOVIE. i know its the last of the trilogy BUT THEY DON'T NEED TO DIE, SONY, MARVEL, DON'T DO THIS TO ME. i am going cry violently at the writers... i don't think i will ever stop crying if they die at the end

they're in this busted up helicopter, already intriguing, but when it zooms in on Eddie's face, he's tearing up??? this movie is checking off every emotion, i need to remember to stay hydrated before i go see it, i will cry so much

I don't even think i'll be able to handle just one of them dying, the end of the first movie made me tear up the first time i saw it, and that was before i was as insane about them as i am now, i will be UNWELL in the theater

And last but certainly not least. HORSE VENOM WOOOOOO

the design for this things is insane, i didn't think i'd ever wanna draw a horse in my life but like.. kinda changing my mind ngl (weird detail, Venom horse has hands and feet and not hooves!)

E: "Be honest with me, how fast do you think you can make that thing go, without killing it?" V: "..ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!"

Venom sounds a bit muffled in this clip which makes it a bit more funny to me, i won't lie. Eddie is hanging on FOR HIS LIFE THOUGH, geez i know he said "how fast" but Eddie gets LAUNCHED OFF VENOM when they go over that cliff. fun reference to the first movie, how Venom grabs onto Eddie as he flies up, like on the motorcycle <3

this horse scene has to be earlier on because Eddie is in The Outfit and is also not wearing shoes??? i refuse to believe he'd put it back on, and in the helicopter-"it is time" clip, Eddie is wearing that white shirt, which looks like the undershirt to the suit (maybe) so the Las Vegas scene happens before them running from the explosion/fire.

oh right, the song that's playing? Space Oddity by David Bowie? yeah it's about an astronaut dying along in space.... which... is not very comforting...

god this trailer makes me so hyped, October cannot come faster i need this movie NOW. please.

man the trailer is kinda confusing, i'm already making guesses on where things happen and what the context could be, but literally anything could happen in this film. there are so many things that just don't make sense yet and it's hurting my brain I JUST WANNA KNOW! are those new Symbiotes or not? What even is the plot? Will Eddie and Venom profess their love to each other? Will Sleeper be real? How many times will this movie make me cry? Only time will tell

...and it's only the first trailer! head so full of thoughts, heart so full of emotions!

[webslingingslasher]

omg what if Peter gets trouble a gift for x-mas BUT trouble didn't bother with a gift for him bc she thought that he wouldn't care about her enough to get her a gift

'what's that?'

'oh!' peter holds out the package, when you stare at the printed santa wrapping paper, he nudges it a little. 'it's for you.'

your entire stomach dropped, you knew you should've gotten him something. you were so convinced it would be stupid, but now you're eating your words.

'c'mon, trouble. what, never got a gift before?' it's fine, you could play it off. you hesitantly reach out for the box, it's even got a bow on top.

'no! i just... haven't gotten yours in the mail yet.' it's fine, you could figure something out. you had two days before he left for home.

'you didn't have to get me anything, trouble.' you peer at the gift, 'ditto, parker.' peter waves you off, 'just open it, c'mon!' you hide your guilt with a smile.

gently tearing the paper, you're met with a gift box. it has a reindeer and a penguin hugging, you peek up at peter, he's itching for you to see what's inside. 'open it, open it!'

handing off the scraps of paper, peter crushes it into a ball, keeping an eye on your face. the gift is revealed, a gray hoodie, with a spider-man mask emblem on the left top corner.

your heart expands three sizes, your thumb runs over the raised embroidering, it's high quality. 'isn't it awesome? i saw it when i was shopping for may like, three weeks ago. i just had to get it for you.' he's so excited, he was proud to know he found something he knows you'd love. and you got him nothing in return.

'okay, okay, put it on! cause there's kind of a part two of the gift.' you feel terrible, it's hard to push back the love for the clothing over the overwhelming hurt you have over getting him nothing. you knew you shouldn’t have talked yourself out of it.

you didn't want to be in peter's spot. something to give and then receive nothing in return. a subtle hint that one cares more about the other.

your silence has peter tone down his excitement, maybe he was a little off with his gift. 'do you not like it? i can return it and you can pick... no! why are you crying? is it that bad?'

you shake your head, using the back of your hand to wipe a stray tear. 'oh, whew! for a second i thought you hated it, but nope, peter picked good. so good you're speechless and crying, look at me go.'

proud. boastful. meanwhile you're solemn and glum.

'seriously, trouble. put it on!' it's the absolute least you could do, he already went miles ahead of you. the cardboard falls to the floor when you pull the fabric up, it's a bigger size than you'd normally wear. 'that's part two. i got it a little bigger so i could wear it and get my scent on it for you.'

your heart’s about to burst open, it's fleece lined and ultra soft over your skin. 'i wore it when you weren't around, so it should smell like me.' you bring a sleeve to your nose, it does. it smells like a giant peter hug. his hands pulled the hoodie over your head, a dopey smile took over his face.

'super cute. it's your superpower.'

with that, you fall into his chest with a sob. it's not a good one either, arms wrap tight around you, his cheek resting on your head mashes the cotton further down. 'i lied!' you clutch his shirt, shame spills out.

'about what? that you like it?' your head thrashes, he couldn't be more wrong. it was your most favorite possession now that it's been added to your collection.

'i didn't get you anything!' you pull him tighter to you, terrified he’d push you away and tell you he hates you. 'i'm so sorry,' you breathe in and out deeply. 'i was going to but then i didn't think you would get me anything and that's not the point of christmas but i didn't want to make you feel weird and, and,'

'i made you feel weird?' it's not the right word. 'no! i just...' peter pushes you back, his hands cup your face to force you to look at him. 'made you feel bad?' you nod, he guessed correctly.

'i meant it, trouble. you don't have to get me anything, i just saw it and thought of you. it's not a big deal, i promise.' that made you feel worse and he can see it.

'stop it, stop. you heard me, right? i got that weeks ago. christmas was just an opportunity give it to you, but if it was april or june or whatever the fuck month, i still would've bought it.' featherlight kisses to both cheeks. 'it’s a just because gift, christmas was just an excuse to give it to you, okay? you've gotten me plenty of those before, i don't need one now.'

'i'm so sorry, peter. i promise i'm gonna get you something, i mean, it won't be a christmas gift because you're going home and i won't be able to give to you until you get back so then it just becomes-'

peter grins, like he's thinking quicker than you are. 'a just because gift? like the one you're wearing?' you were the one that fucked him over, yet he's the one making you feel better. it still works.

'yeah. i think so. but, it will have christmas wrapping paper.' a stoic nod, 'of course. i mean, that's the only stuff i had in the house. it's not like i chose that pattern on purpose.' (he did. but he'd die before he admitted that to you.)

you look down at your new hoodie, you love it. your hands run down the front, it's so, so soft. you look back up, peter loves that you love it. 'not a christmas gift?' peter shakes his head, 'psh. of course not.'

your words lower, you reach up on tippy toes for a kiss. 'just because?' hands on your hips as peter leans in has your stomach fluttering, it's been a minute since he's kissed you so soft and slow. 'just because.' 

[demonsword586]

Beelzebub Attacker part 5

Whew! Took a bit longer than I expected but still managed to finsih it on Beel's Bday

(Pg: Close up of Beel's sexy wet chest)

The moment you gave up counting,the Beelzebub moving inside of you thrusted upward with a thud,penetrating deeper and deeper inside you - deeper and deeper into a place you'd never touched,or thought you'd ever touch.

Mc: I'm so hectic,that I can't quite think!

Squirt-!

Against your will,you buckled at the waist,gushing clear water between your legs again.

Beelzebub: Ah,coming again. You,I mean. Not me.

Mc: (I know that!!!)

Beelzebub spoke in a uncharacteristiclly affectionate voice and pressed his hand on your stomach like before.

Mc: Urgh!! Don't touch! I'm feeling strange!!

Beelzebub: You can feel strange.

Mc: It feels good. Ah! No! It's....turning me weird!...Ughhh!!

Beelzebub seemed pleased with your response,and you could see the red glow of the VI VI VI markings in his eyes depen more.

Beelzebub: You're doing well. Keep feeling strange. Is it your first time squirting this type of liquid?

Beel 1: This is a waste.

Beel 2: Hmm...it truly is a waste.

Beel 3: I agree. It would be a crime to leave this behind.

Several Beelzebubs started using your body to rock and discuss with each other in a way that felt like choosing a menu at the dinner table.

Mc: Uhmm...what?...Aahh!!

Before you even realized it,Beelzebub had picked up a pace of rubbing infront of you.

Mc: Ah,ah,ah!

Beelzebub: Ha,ha...

Every time you and Beelzebub moaned together,the chorus of other devils around you increased in volume. It was as if they were getting off on watching you and Beelzebub have sex.

In the moment,you were the protagonist in the porn you always watched with bloodshot eyes.

As soon as you realized that,a eush of excitment and somehow smugness spread through your body like a fever.

At the same time,Beelzebub who had been relentlessly playing with your backside earlier pushed his finger which had only gone in a little earlier,all the way in.

Shwoop!-

Mc: Ahhhh! This feels good! Something's coming!

Beelzebub: I like it too....Something's coming?

Mc: Ugh,ugh,ugh,ugh,I think it's leaving me again!

Beelzebub: Huhuhu,is jt coming or is jt leaving?

Mc: Ah,ahhh! I mean it...Ahhhh! Its coming!!!

Squirt!!

Half incoherent and unashamed,you spewed out a fountain with your waist in the air,as though you coudn't control the movement of your hips.

The jet of water which was nowhere near as strong as the first one,didn't stop but continued to shoot out pointedly at Beelzebub.

Beelzebub let the water hit him with glee as he kept teasing you.

Beelzebub: Anyone would think...I'm on fire...

Mc: Ah,ah,ah!

As you watched Beelzebub's face that was much too lewd and gorgeous,you felt an excitement that far surpassed your shame, rolled your eyes and arched your back as you felt a finger enter your backside.

As if on cue,all the Beelzebubs ejaculated in union,spraying cum all over you.

Splat-Splat-!

Feeling like your entire body was covered in waem soup,you heard the sounds of a shower or rain as the cum dripped on to the floor where there was no longer room for it.

Mc: Ha,ha,ha...

Mc: (Cum shower...I suddenly crossed it out of my bucket list...)

Over your dazed and panting form,multiple Beelzebubs leaned in and kissed you all over as if they'd been waiting for it.

Everyone poured their love on you with relentless smooching sounds,but the longest and sweetest kiss was from the Beelzebub who had ejaculated inside you while holding your thighs.

When the lips parted with a smooch,all that reflected in your eyes was a pleased expression on Beelzebub's face.

The Beelzebub between your legs,so the one who brought you here in the first place,spoke.

Beelzebub: You...You really are delicious.

Mc: Ha,ha...What do you mean?

As you breathed heavily to catch up on your lack of oxygen, Beelzebub held something out to you with a refreshing smile.

It was a glass of Beelzebub's cum that the waiter had offered earlier.

It was a glass half-filled with clear liquid that wasn't cum,to be precise.

Mc: What is,eh...No way!

You noticed the contents of the glass and turned pale,but he didn't seem to mind at all and acted pleasently,raising the glass to the ceiling to catch the light.

Beelzebub: Yes,this is the last of the fresh holy water you spewed at me.

Beelzebub: Waiter!~ Keep this fresh!

When Beelzebub spoke,the waiter from earlier immediately rushed over,politely took the glass,and slipped inside.

Mc: (Eeeeek!!)

As you stood there speechless and dumbfounded,Beelzebub took your hand with a boyish grin far from the one he'dhad earlier.

Beelzebub: Mc,you are such a delicious person. Your body,what you make from it and your being.

Beelzebub: Your bodily fluids will be stricly preserved like mine and drunk in one gulp on the most important anniversaries.

Beelzebub: The day the war with Heaven is over... On top of the corpses of the three Seraphim.

Beelzebub looked terrifying for a moment,but then he smiled and gently wiped your sweaty face with the back of his hand.

Beelzebub: You. I'm liking you more and more.

Mc: Was this...What you meant by rest? Idiot.

Mc: I don't even have the strenght to put my underwear on by myself...

Beelzebub: Looks like you've had enough rest. Good girl/Good boy.

Beelzebub: Alright,let's go an have proper sex.

Mc: Huh?????

You momentarily blanked out.

You wondered if the rush of pleasure and dopamine messed with Beelzebub's brain and he was speaking nonsense,but you were already being lifted up and carried in Beelzebub's arms.

Mc: No! I mean,I don't hate it! No,wait,no,actually,I like it! I love it! But wait,I'm going to die!!!

But your words were soon cut off by Beelzebub's mouth,who was holding you and preventing you from saying anything else.

As you arched your back at Beelzebub's touch,the cum dripped from your body.

As Beelzebub held you,another Beelzebub approached,put his arm around your shoulders,and licked the drops of cum hanging from your nipples with the tip of his tongue.

Mc: Ugh!

Beelzebub 1: If you'll let me,I'd like to pierce this nipple later,I really do like you.

Beelzebub 2: Then,I'll tattoo your wrist while you pierce the nipple.

Belzebub 3: The wrist sounds good. Meanwhile,should I tattoo your ankle?

The Beelzebubs who still surrounded you chorused in agreement that it was a good idea.

Their stories quickly evolved into other topics and you didn't know which one to focus on.

Naberius: [His Majesty has severe ADHD,so if he changes his mind quickly on an important topic, it's not his brain that's bad;it's his frontal lobe that's bad.]

Mc: (Beelzebub has ADHD,so he'll get distracted quickly. So if I see an opening,I'll sneak out...)

Beelzebub: Oh,but sex comes first right now.

One of the Beelzebubs refocused on you,and they all looked at you and gave you their signature cool smiles.

(Pg changes to darkness)

And...

Over the course of the night,you learned the hard way with your 'entire body' that he was distracted by most things,but when he got hooked on one thing that interested him,he was more engrossed than most.

Meaning from head to toe,inside and out.

[just-jordie-things]

MOREE headcannons for choso i really do love your other headcannons! heh

hell yes i love how open this is i'm gonna give ya such a random smattering of choso headcanons <3 tagging @delzinrowe bc it's choso and we talk abt him a lot so some of the credit for this has to go to her <3 ___

choso is a bit of a menace at the grocery store, but he doesn't mean to be. he's intrigued by all the packaging of different snacks and drinks- sometimes just regular products too like tissue boxes or toilet paper rolls. it often takes a couple hours to get the shopping done with him in tow. he's drawn in like a child to a candy bar!! if something is packaged in bright colors, expect to have to tell him what the product is, because he's gonna be interested in it.

i think he'd hate carbonated drinks. i think the bubbles would be a shock to his system ((did he even drink water before he met you??)) but i think he'd LOVE flavored milk. chocolate and strawberry. picturing choso casually having a lil carton of milk in his hand makes me soft. he'd go to yuji as soon as you introduce him to the wonderful beverage to see if his brother had ever tried such a delicious treat.

choso's always touching you. he doesn't know what pda is, but he's very into it... in an oblivious way. if he's not holding your hand, then his arm is around you. if you're sitting together he prefers to have you on his lap, but tucked into his side and under his arm is the next best thing. and he'll kiss you, anywhere, anytime. standing in line at the bank? the sunlight caught your eyes just right and he was just overwhelmed with the urge to cup your face and kiss you so longingly one could assume you were lovers reunited after years apart... but no, you've just been in this line together for fifteen minutes. you could tell him there's a time and place for such acts of passion but... whew you gotta catch your breath first, don't you??

he's always catching lil critters to show you. he noticed you liked to point out when there's a squirrel crossing the street, or a lady bug on the windowsill, so he notes that little creatures are some of your favorites. now on walks he keeps an eye out for any critter to present you with. he's caught all sorts of things with ease and surprising gentleness- despite being a massive hunk of muscle. he's managed to catch (and later release, of course) rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, toads, a couple of turtles, possums, even street rats. as well as bugs- just about any bug he sees. some are more exciting than others, the dragonflies, the ladybugs, rollie pollies, caterpillars, snails.... you could probably do without the roaches and big spiders, but you try not to show your squeamish side as you thank him for showing you and politely ask him to put it back on the ground <3

choso pouts if you don't shower with him. bc why wouldn't you? he got the water to the temperature you like... what, is he supposed to shampoo his own hair?? are you mad at him??

choso is quickly becoming a favorite of mine i'm sorry gojo but i have to cope somehow

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Get in the Truck - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Five of Pedrotober: Esquire Outtakes Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: E because this is mostly just filth. With a hint of angst. I can't not write angst apparently. Unprotected p in v, oral, they fuck in a truck here, y'all. Honestly probably could have made it hornier but I had to go touch grass after writing it.

Word Count: 1324

a/n: WHEW It's been 8 million years since I last wrote smut but this Esquire outtake would not let me rest until Joel was written into it. This one is dedicated to the wives of Joel Miller. You know who you are. <3

"Get in the damn truck."

You cross your arms in refusal, standing your ground as Joel glares daggers at you, one arm slung over the side of the truck bed, the other braced against the open door. You can see the tension in his shoulders, you always can when you fight, but you're not about to give in. Not this time.

"Make me."

"For the love of god, why are you so fucking stubborn?" He walks back toward you, but you're practiced in the art of Joel Miller, and you don't move a muscle even when he's right in front of you. His broad frame towers over your much smaller one. "Get. In. The. Damn. Truck." he grits out again, teeth clenched.

He'd called you stubborn, but truthfully you'd learned from the best. "I'm not getting in that truck until you tell me what the fuck we're doing." His expression shifts to something unreadable, just for a moment, but you catch it, the way the pain flashes behind his eyes.

"LET'S GO!" Ellie interrupts as she plows into the garage with her backpack in tow, hopping in the front seat and shattering the tension between you and Joel. He holds his position for a moment and then you both resign to the excitement of the young girl left in your charge. Joel opens the back door so you can slide onto the bench seat. You ignore him as you slip in.

"Get in the damn truck."

His voice is as rough now as it was the first time, even when it sounds as a harsh whisper against your ear. Your gaze flickers to Ellie's sleeping form on the other side of the smoldering fire, and when you look back at where he'd been just a moment ago, you realize he's already halfway to the truck.

He's opened the door to the backseat by the time you catch up to him and you slip inside, the space becoming crowded the moment he joins you. "What the fuck are we doing, Joel" you ask him again once the door is closed, but he leaves you in an odd silence that feels suffocating.

"We're taking her to Tommy," he returns as though it's the simplest of tasks. As if crossing the country would be easy without the presence of infected and raiders and FEDRA in every major city across what used to be called a country. As if he has any idea of where his brother actually is.

"And you just expect me to be okay with this? With risking my life to go on this wild goose chase?" you inquire, your voice quickly rising in volume and intensity. "Joel, you know how often people talk about a cure. It never pans out. What if we do all of this, put our lives at risk, put her life at risk, only for it to be for nothing anyway?"

"We don't know that," he insists. "We owe it to Tess to..."

"Tess is dead, Joel."

Quiet hangs between you, and you wonder why you used to find solace in its intensity before the outbreak. Back when you'd sit in your car before work trying to compose yourself before going in.

"Tess would have wanted us to see this through," he grumbles, the same ache in his voice that you'd heard earlier.

"And she also wouldn't have wanted us to die trying."

You sit in silence again, and you can't tell if he's being stubborn or if he's actually contemplating your point.

"Tommy, then? Think this is the way to find him?" You wince at the sound of your own voice, aware of how much his brother's disappearance has hurt him. Made him feel so undeniably unworthy of any kind of love.

"Fuck no," is his response, followed by a low growl. His hands find your waist in a grip that makes you want to wince and pull away. But you can't. Not now. Not when you can already feel the heat pooling between your legs.

"Then what is it?" There's a sense of finality to your tone. An unspoken ultimatum stands as the only barrier left between you. He has to tell you or this is as far as you'll go. There will be no more getting in the truck. No more protecting the girl. No more of whatever the relationship you two share is. "Joel?" you ask again.

Instead of an answer, his lips are on yours as he shifts you back against the passenger side door. Your hands are collected in one of his calloused palms as he pins them above your head, the glass of the window cool against your skin. Your mind screams at you to stop him, to remind him that this isn't why you're here, but your body disagrees.

This is exactly why you're here.

It's already hot in the truck despite the chill in the air outside, and your mind flashes to your high school boyfriend and the shit job he'd done of getting you off in the back seat of a truck not unlike this one. You're thrust back to the reality of something much better as Joel works his way down your jaw, chapped lips against smooth skin. You struggle against his grip, a silent request for him to let your hands roam his body the way you want them to.

He refuses, instead guiding your hands to the headrests on either side of your shoulders. "Don't move them," he instructs, and you can do nothing but obey.

Your mind is fuzzy as you struggle to remember why you were angry with him in the first place. It's hard to recall when he's between your legs, dragging your jeans down your thighs. Impossible to remember when he's there, fingers pressed against your center, gathering the slick and pressing inside. A distant memory when he drops down to eat you out like it's what he needs to survive.

And maybe, you consider for a moment, it is.

His name falls from your lips again when you come, dulled by the sound of your heart beating in your ears. Your shoulders scream in pain from the awkward angle and the way the door handle presses into your back, but you can only focus on the way his tongue continues to circle your clit.

He laps at you until your hand falls from where he'd placed it to push him away from your overstimulated body. It's dark in the truck, but you can feel his eyes on you when you realize your mistake.

"I told you not to move."

Joel hauls you against him, your knees digging into the worn seat on either side of his hips as he forces your hands on the headrest behind him. "Keep them there." This time, you follow his order, even as he lifts you just enough to pull his cock from his jeans so you can sink down onto him, your body shuddering as he fills you.

"Please," you whisper, your head falling to his shoulder as his hands sit firm on your hips, preventing you from moving the way you want to. He holds you there, stretching you until you feel like you've forgotten everything. Forgotten why you were mad, what you were doing, where you were going.

Why you were going.

"I need you," he grunts out, one hand slipping between you to rest against your stomach. "I need you here." He presses his hand against you and your fingers dig into the headrest behind him, nails biting the fabric as you feel him filling you. "Do you feel that? Here."

And you do. you finally understand. It doesn't matter why or how or where or when. You'd do anything for him if it meant you got to feel this. He might be willing to risk his life for a lost cause, but you'd simply be willing to risk your life for his.