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cyarsk52-20 · 2 years ago

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“Blurred Lines,” Harbinger of Doom

Images by Marina Kozak

How Robin Thicke, Pharrell, and T.I.’s cursed megahit predicted everything bad about the past decade in pop culture

“Blurred Lines” wasn’t supposed to be a meaningful song. It was, by design, a trifle: Pharrell, in imperial-superstar mode, goofing off with the white soul singer and textbook sex idiot Robin Thicke and tossing in a tongue-twisting T.I. verse later for good measure. It’s safe to assume that no one involved in the making of “Blurred Lines” assumed anything legacy-defining was happening in the room where Pharrell wrote the lines “I feel so lucky/You want to hug me/What rhymes with hug me?”

Now, 10 years since its March 2013 release, “Blurred Lines” is a poisonous time capsule. In many ways, all of them unfortunate, it could be considered thesong of the 2010s. Pick any disheartening pop-cultural trend of the past decade and chances are it applies to “Blurred Lines”: The hollow outrage cycle in news, increasingly reliant on hot takes tossed out with superhuman speed, often without a speck of human logic? The predatory power dynamics of the entertainment industry, and American society’s ongoing dismissal of consent? The increasingly litigious pop landscape, in which lawyers and music publishers fight for scraps, and every pop song feels safely Xeroxed from the last one? Every decade gets the songs it needs and the songs it deserves.

It is worth remembering that when “Blurred Lines” first came out, people manifestly did not hate it. In fact, Robin Thicke was considered something of an underdog. This was an absurd designation for the large adult son of a sitcom dad, whose career was launched because jazz legend Al Jarreau financed the recording of his demo and passed it along to R&B superstar Brian McKnight. But for a brief time—starting around 2006, when Lil Wayne remade Thicke’s track “Oh Shooter” for his universally acclaimed Tha Carter II—Thicke became a minor cause celebre within the music industry. Busta Rhymes sought him out; Pharrell signed him to his Star Trak label. Between 2006 and 2013, he released five studio albums, each of which performed respectably—The Evolution of Robin Thicke, his first record for Star Trak, eventually cracked platinum. There was a lane for a guy like him: He was a second-string Timberlake, the blue-eyed soul man whose music could smoothly make the leap onto Black radio formats at a time when radio formats still defined career arcs.

When the Diane Martel-directed video for “Blurred Lines” made its debut on March 20, 2013, it was greeted mostly with praise. SPIN called it“another fun slice of throwback soul from the perpetually underrated Thicke” and gave a fond blow-by-blow of the video’s “many, many great moments.” Multiple publications approvingly noted what they called a sample of Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give It Up.” At this point, the narrative around “Blurred Lines” was framed as a labor-of-love for all involved. For one brief and improbable moment, “Blurred Lines” was a feel-good story.

The song’s first controversy was entirely by design—a week after the video debuted, the “Blurred Lines” team uploaded an “unrated” version to YouTube. As with the original, the unrated cut featured Pharrell, T.I., and Robin Thicke doing silly dances against a blank background, grimacing and mugging at three supermodels as they pranced past. But this time, all three models—Emily Ratajkowski, Elle Evans, and Jessi M’Bengue—were topless, an obvious violation of YouTube’s community standards. The “Blurred Lines” team was clearly hoping the clip would get banned, and it did: The ensuing publicity helped push the song further up the charts.

As “Blurred Lines” became more popular, some opening shots were fired. In a Vice piece, the writer Bertie Brandes asserted that the video was “misogynist bullshit” and argued that it made Robin Thicke “look like a predator,” tailing nude women in black aviators and haggard-looking stubble. But very few other mainstream publications noted any objections as the song’s slow burn gave way to a sizzle in June 2013. “Congratulations to Robin Thicke,” trumpeted Vulture, “who just earned his first-ever Billboard No. 1 with ‘Blurred Lines,’ and congratulations to America for having killer taste in potential songs of the summer. Everyone do the T.I-with-a-hairbrush dance. You’ve earned it.”

There is a certain kind of ubiquity that arrives as a curse, that corrodes any and all goodwill that your success might have generated. If “Blurred Lines” had dropped out of the Top 10 a few weeks later, to be replaced by some other Song of the Summer, Thicke might still be making rounds on the nostalgia circuit today. In this alternate universe, it is probable—even likely—that the Marvin Gaye estate would never have seen fit to enter into litigation. But, rather infamously, that’s not what happened. Instead, “Blurred Lines” stayed at No. 1 for a numbing, dispiriting 12 weeks.

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By any objective measure, three entire months is an absurdly long stretch of time to command the pop charts. Songs that exert this kind of stranglehold on the public imagination always wear out their welcome, but there is a special kind of vitriol reserved for the ones that are upbeat, peppy, or salacious. If Mariah Carey’s soaring breakup ballad “We Belong Together,” a song that spent 14 weeks at the top spot in 2005, came on while you were waiting in line for coffee, you might not wince. But imagine your reaction to Flo Rida’s “Low” (10 weeks in 2008) or the Black-Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling” (14 weeks, 2009) playing over those same coffee-shop speakers. Things curdle when left under a spotlight for that long.

A month after the song hit No. 1, The Daily Beast published a piece titled “‘Blurred Lines,’ Robin Thicke’s Song of the Summer, Is Kind of Rapey.” The writer, Tricia Romano, noted how the phrase “I know you want it,” particularly when paired with a video in which fully clothed male performers leer at naked women who parade wordlessly in front of them, summoned some dark ideas about what sexual consent looked and sounded like. The music critic Maura Johnston, one of Romano’s sources, pointed out that Thicke’s squeaky-clean image—he’d been married to actress Paula Patton for years and wasn’t known in public circles for womanizing—took some of the unsavory edge off of the song. Still, something about the knifelike sound of the word “rapey” sliced through the discourse. Once the idea had been voiced, it was hard to hear the song, or watch the video, in quite the same way.

In response, Robin Thicke went to multiple outlets to douse the flames of controversy—with a gasoline can. “What a pleasure it is to degrade a woman,” he mused sardonically to GQ. “I’ve never gotten to do that before.” (He complained afterwards that the reporter had failed to note his sarcasm and adoption of a Ron Burgundy voice, as if this provided ample mitigating context.) Later, he rationalized that the video was “the director’s idea, and she’s a woman,” adding, “let’s not forget, everybody—[the models] got paid handsomely to take their clothes off.” He came off less like a harmless, square-jawed himbo and more like the asshole in a popped collar at the end of the bar. In turn, “Blurred Lines” didn’t sound like such a good time anymore.

If Miley Cyrus had not wiggled her way into Robin Thicke’s orbit, the story might have ended there. But as “Blurred Lines” climbed the charts, the former Disney Channel star was undergoing a pop metamorphosis of her own. Looking to shed her Mickey ears, Cyrus began flashing more skin, and those images were then fed into the thresher of SEO headlines and emerged as an inventory of body parts: “underbutt, “crotch,” “sideboob,” “spectacular ass.” She also began donning cornrows, flashed a gold grill at a Myspace event, declared her love of “hood music,” and claimed Lil’ Kim as spiritual kin.

Just as “Blurred Lines” hit No. 1, Cyrus released “We Can’t Stop,” the first single from her album Bangerz. The Atlanta producer Mike WiLL Made-It gave the track to Cyrus after Rihanna passed on it, and Cyrus asked the songwriting duo Timothy and Theron Thomas to give her “something that just feels Black.” The lyrics shouted out the “homegirls with the big butts, shaking it like we at a strip club” while in the video—also directed by Diane Martel—Cyrus twerked in the company of Black female backup dancers. Black cultural outlets decried her behavior, with the Root labeling her “the poster child for cultural appropriation,” and placing “We Can’t Stop” in a long lineage of privileged white pop stars turning to Black culture for superficial “edge.” But mainstream media ignored the angle almost entirely.

Cyrus and Thicke represented two halves of an uncomfortable conversation about predation and agency. Both stories were about objectification from different angles. For Cyrus, the Bangerz album cycle was about both her own objectification at the hands of the media and the kind she practiced on the Black women whose bodies she used as props. The “Blurred Lines” video, with its men in elegant dinner attire standing behind prancing naked ladies, represented a vision of the male gaze that even WWII-era grandfathers could recognize. They were both playing with different kinds of fire, and although neither of them yet knew it, their destinies were on track to collide. By the beginning of August 2013, the same month as the MTV VMAs, “We Can’t Stop” was the No. 2 song in America—held off only by “Blurred Lines.”

Absurdly, Thicke might have initially seen a VMAs collaboration with Cyrus as a chance to dial down the criticism that had built up around his song. By giving the “you know you want it” lyrics to a female duet partner, he could shift some of the conception of him as the predatory male lurker. It’s a time-tested move, dating back to the era of screwball comedy: give the woman the role of the aggressor to put off charges of chauvinism. Time and time again during the various “Blurred Lines” controversies, he had trotted out the example of his then-wife, Paula Patton, saying it was a song for her. “She’s my good girl,” he said. “And I know she wants it, because we’ve been together 20 years.” Again, in another timeline—or more crucially, with a star less unpredictable than Cyrus in 2013—this strategy might even have worked. But, once more, that is not what happened. Instead, Miley Cyrus came out on the VMAs stage before Robin Thicke and simulated analingus on a Black woman in a bear costume.

The three minutes and six seconds of Cyrus’ “We Can’t Stop” performance at the VMAs was one of those mesmerizing public messes we rarely experience together anymore. From the moment she emerged—from the chest of a Kanye-style space bear—she exuded a riveting and unruly energy that was as much “Jim Carrey in The Grinch” as it was “out-of-control sexpot,” thrashing and twerking and grinding on the set like an overtired toddler, as the camera operators collected immortalreaction shots. As she had in the “We Can’t Stop” video, she surrounded herself with Black backup dancers whose only job was to provide contrast to Cyrus, towards whom she gestured with proprietary glee. And then Robin Thicke joined her onstage for “Blurred Lines.”

Together, Cyrus and Thicke stirred up the kind of shit-storm that neither could have accomplished on their own. For one shutter-clicked eternity, a white man’s predatory leering at all women met up with a white woman’s opportunistic leering at Black women, and they combined to make an infernal beast with two backs, a “We Can’t Stop”-able force meeting an immovable, Beetlejuice-suited object.

The moment, of course, that all the chatter circulated around was when Cyrus, wearing the foam finger from the “Blurred Lines” video, bent over in front of Thicke, twerking and rubbing the floppy digit on her crotch. There was a tiny grin on Thicke’s face, who was clearly enjoying the moment, but not nearly as much as the crowd, who screamed in response to Cyrus’s ass-shaking as if witnessing the moonwalk for the first time.

To much of white America in 2013, twerking was apparently as scandalous as the twist had been to parents in the 1960s. Conservative outlets fumed, naturally, but even some of Cyrus’ pop-star colleagues came gunning for her: “I twerk all the time like a mofo,” Pink told reporters. “[But] there’s a place for that, and it’s not on stage.” (A 67-year-old Cher registered her own objections: “I’ve seen other girls do it better.”)

It’s nearly impossible to imagine this level of celebrity pearl-clutching today, when twerking is an accepted part of mainstream culture, but Cyrus caused a sensation that set new records for audience engagement in the social-media age. “What is twerking” was Google’s top query for 2013, while Twitter users sent out a record-breaking 306,100 tweets per minute during Cyrus’ VMAs performance. (Gloating, Cyrus tweeted the statistics herself.) This was a growing sign of Twitter’s rising power in shaping pop cultural narratives in real time. Going forward, the Twitter reaction would be part of the news story itself.

Cyrus’ performance marked another significant development: In a vanishingly rare confluence, multiple mainstream media outlets went on record to accuse her of cultural appropriation. The New York Times’ Jon Caramanica called the VMAs “a banner year for clumsy white appropriation of black culture,” singling out Cyrus’ performance. New York’s Jody Rosen deemed the performance “a minstrel show.” Writing in Slate, Tressie McMillan Cottom expanded on this parallel and examined the ignominious record of “historical caricatures of black women.” “Cyrus did not just have black women gyrating behind her,” Cottom noted. “She had particularly rotund black women,” a choice that “[played] a type of black female body as a joke to challenge her audience’s perceptions of herself, while leaving their perceptions of black women’s bodies firmly intact.”

It was the kind of nuanced sociopolitical critique that rarely found this much oxygen in major news outlets, and it clearly took Cyrus and her team off-guard. Tellingly, while Cyrus showed up in interviews armed with snappy retorts to claims she’d over-sexualized herself (“If I really wanted to come out and do a raunchy sex show, I wouldn’t have been dressed as a damn bear”), she found herself completely tongue-tied when trying to grapple with charges of racism: “You’re thinking about it more than I thought about it when I did it,” she protested. Like Thicke, she had come confidently prepared to deal with one kind of backlash only to find herself blindsided by another.

Despite all of this, the VMAs backlash was just a pothole on the road to world domination for Cyrus, America’s most-Googled human of 2013. Immediately after the event, she released her next hit single, “Wrecking Ball,” with the infamous mallet-licking video debuting two weeks later. But for Thicke, the VMAs were purely a debacle. Afterward, he crossed some mystical Rubicon in pop culture. Both he and his hit song were officially toxic.

After weeks of national conversation about the sexual power dynamics of “Blurred Lines,” including radio bans and protests from sexual-abuse survivors, the situation effectively collapsed when a photo emerged of Thicke from an afterparty with his hand resting comfortably on the ass of a young blond woman. Not long afterward, his wife Paula Patton filed for divorce. Desperate, Thicke began projecting Patton’s image behind him during concerts and assuring audiences he was going to “get [his] girl back.” Things only grew bleaker from there: In 2017, Patton accused Thicke of domestic abuse, and Thicke temporarily lost custody of his son. In a metaphor too neat to invent, “Wrecking Ball” swung into the No. 1 spot just as Thicke started his long spiral downward.

It might have seemed, at least initially, that the only one to emerge from “Blurred Lines” smelling like roses was Pharrell Williams, despite the fact that he wrote its controversial lyrics. The song’s sleaziness didn’t seem to rub off on him. Maybe it was his dimples, or his impishly youthful demeanor. He seemed, initially, free to resume his charmed trajectory. But nobody who came into contact with “Blurred Lines” escaped unscathed, and the song would soon come for Pharrell, too.

Talking about the inspiration behind “Blurred Lines” in the same GQ interview where he mused about the pleasure of degrading women, Thicke said the following: “Pharrell and I were in the studio, and I told him that one of my favorite songs of all time was Marvin Gaye’s ‘Got to Give It Up.’ I was like, ‘Damn, we should make something like that, something with that groove.’ Then he started playing a little something and we literally wrote the song in about a half hour and recorded it.”

As far as smoking guns go, it’s hard to imagine an admission more hilariously incriminating. The Marvin Gaye Estate certainly thought so, which is why they made this quote a cornerstone of their lawsuit, which they officially filed at the end of 2013. Except, as the ensuing depositions of both Thicke and Williams confirmed, Thicke’s statement to GQ was a lie—he wasn’t in the room when Williams wrote the words, groove, and melody of “Blurred Lines.” He was high on Vicodin and alcohol, and had virtually nothing to do with the song’s creation.

The dimensions of the court case against “Blurred Lines” are so varied that an entire streaming miniseries could be made about the story, including dramatic cross-cuts between Thicke and Williams’ depositions. One detail often lost to time is that they more or less invited the lawsuit to come crashing down on their heads by preemptively suing the Marvin Gaye Estate. When people began commenting on the similarities between “Blurred Lines” and “Got to Give It Up,” Thicke and Williams’ legal team filed a complaint seeking a declaratory judgment that “there are no similarities between the plaintiffs’ composition and those the claimants allege they own other than commonplace musical elements.”

It was an aggressive move, a classic “best defense is a good offense” gambit meant to intimidate the Gaye family into either foregoing litigation entirely or settling quickly. But no. As the song barreled its way through successive cultural referendums—sexual consent, slut-shaming, minstrelsy, and now, incredibly, the nature of creativity itself—it began to seem like a dark star sent to burn its way through every contentious issue in American culture. But at each point, there was an act of hubris—either from Williams or from Thicke—that pushed “Blurred Lines” back out into the limelight, where it could absorb more punishment.

With their preemptive lawsuit, Williams’ lawyers were acting out of supreme confidence that their case was rock-solid. And, on paper, it was. The Williams/Thicke team would go on to painstakingly demonstrate in court that while the two compositions shared common elements—a groove on electric piano, syncopated bass, accents on a cowbell—the notes and rhythms themselves were different, and the two compositions weren’t even in the same key.

And yet anyone with ears could hear that they were at least in conversation. Remember: The similarities were so obvious that many early outlets erroneously reported that “Blurred Lines” contained a sample of the song. Even if Thicke had spun his Marvin Gaye quote out of thin air, the fact that he groped for Gaye’s name in general, and “Got to Give It Up” in particular, was evidence enough that Marvin Gaye’s spirit was in the room, even if Thicke was not. During the studio sessions, Williams added in all sorts of background noises and soft yelps, which made the lizard-brain comparison even more inevitable.

Williams and Thicke kept attempting to strong-arm the Gaye Estate, which, in turn, resisted—a judge dismissed Williams’ attempt to get a summary judgment, and then the Gaye Estate rejected a lowball six-figure settlement. Things were complicated further by the fact that both songs shared a publisher, and the Gaye family felt bullied by EMI into dropping the suit. In response, the Gaye Estate launched their suit, which alleged “blatant copying” of “a constellation of distinctive and significant compositional elements,” and the battle lines were drawn.

When a jury found Williams and Thicke guilty of copyright infringement and ordered them to pay the Gaye family a staggering $7.3 million in damages in March 2015, a shocked Williams and his team vowed to appeal, stating that the verdict “sets a horrible precedent for music and creativity going forward.” Indeed, the implications of a “Blurred Lines” loss was frightening enough to spur an amicus brief that included John Oates, Hans Zimmer, and Rivers Cuomo among its 200 signatories. “By eliminating any meaningful standard for drawing the line between permissible inspiration and unlawful copying, the judgment is certain to stifle creativity and impede the creative process,” read the brief. It was not enough. The appeals court ruled again in favor of the Gaye Estate, and Williams and Thicke were ordered to pay $5.3 million in damages in July 2015.

The fallout from the decision was incalculable. By demonstrating the value of a high-profile lawsuit against a massive pop song, the “Blurred Lines” case helped underline the potential financial upside to owning catalogs like Gaye’s. If the stampede of venture capitalists competing to snap up beloved artist catalogs—from Otis Redding to James Brown to Smokey Robinson—proceeded from a specific assumption, it’s that whoever owns the assets gets to demand payment.

Now, when pop songs are recorded, they routinely pass through a forensic musicological analysis for any possible similarities to other songs, old or new, often with preemptive songwriter credits handed out as a result. A much more common practice, seen everywhere from hits by Nicki Minaj to Saweetie to Bebe Rexha and Jack Harlow, is to sample a large chunk of a beloved song wholesale, which ensures bigger checks to publishers and downplays the threat of litigation.

Despite losing the court case, Pharrell has won comfortably in the court of public opinion. Ironically, the plagiarism accusations strengthened his reputation as a creative voice, rather than weakened it. He was cast as the martyr, a voice of reason and a representative for creative freedom. “You can’t copyright a feeling,” Pharrell protested memorably during the suit, and it was easy to sympathize with him, the guardian of vibes against the grubby hands of the lawyers. But it’s worth recalling that if Williams and Thicke’s lawyers had preemptively granted a small piece of the publishing royalties to the Gaye Estate along with an interpolation credit in the liner notes, the legal fiasco would likely have been avoided.

Williams also expressed regret for the “Blurred Lines” lyrics, telling GQ in 2019, “Some of my old songs, I would never write or sing today. I realized that there are men who use that same language when taking advantage of a woman, and it doesn’t matter that that’s not my behavior. Or the way I think about things. It just matters how it affects women.” He went on to assert, with perhaps a touch too much wide-eyed naivete: “I realized that we live in a chauvinist culture in our country. I hadn’t realized that. Didn’t realize that some of my songs catered to that. So that blew my mind.” And yet, almost no one called him out. In a feat of near-magical PR, Pharrell managed to skirt responsibility for the song’s effect on the creative landscape and for its problematic message, despite being the person who is arguably most responsible for both.

As the years have worn on and “Blurred Lines” fades into the rearview, the song has come to seem more repellent, not less. In 2013, intersectional and/or feminist critiques of pop songs were hard to find in mainstream media. American pop culture as a whole was inherently frattier: On the pop charts, two strains of music defined by the prefix “bro”—“bro-country” and “bro-step”—had just sprung to life. R-rated Judd Apatow comedies ruled at the multiplex, even as Katherine Heigl, the co-star of the director’s $220 million-grossing 2007 film Knocked Up, faced career exile for noting, correctly, that the message of the film was a little “sexist.” Female celebrities who found their privacy violated by upskirt paparazzi photos were still expected to go onto morning news shows to “apologize.”

In this environment, the voices that rang out against “Blurred Lines” were lonely ones. There was little in the way of evidence, at that point, to prove the song’s wrongness, which is how people resorted to suggestive, rather than concrete, terms—sketchy, skeevy. Rapey. And yet, in the ensuing decade, even more damning revelations related to the song emerged.

Throughout the “Blurred Lines” fiasco, T.I. seemed like a bystander, a guest rapper who was just there to do a silly hairbrush dance and skate past. And yet, in 2021, he and his wife, Tiny, were accused of drugging and sexually assaulting a number of women. Emily Ratajkowski—who at the time of the video’s release, gave interviews about how her bored, disdainful performance in the video turned the song’s supposed misogyny on its head—revealed in her 2021 memoir that at one point during the shoot, Thicke clapped his hands over her bare breasts without consent. (The video’s director, Diane Martel, corroborated the memory.)

Looming over all of these bleak sexual power dynamics, of course, was the man that people still referred to in 2013 as “Uncle Terry.” The “Blurred Lines” video, as directed by Martel, was a Terry Richardson homage in everything but name, from its antiseptic blank backdrop to its lascivious gaze and the balloons spelling out “ROBIN THICKE HAS A BIG DICK.” “It was Diane Martel’s idea,” Thicke said. “She told me, ‘I have this idea to do like a Terry Richardson kind of a video, a shoot with the girls being naked.’” Richardson was often cited as one of the inspirations behind the “We Can’t Stop” video, which was also directed by Martel. Richardson himself directed the “Wrecking Ball” video, in which Cyrus appeared nude. At the time of the “Blurred Lines” video, allegations of sexual assault against Terry Richardson were at least three years old. It would take another five years for the allegations against Richardson to work their way to the forefront of the culture and render him unhirable.

It was these sorts of power structures upon which “Blurred Lines” perched. The song was a fissure crack, revealing rot all the way down to the foundations: The shadowy nature of sexual misconduct in the workplace, the difficulty in reporting it, the power structures actively suppressing it, and its normalization in the entertainment industry. It raised the question: If this “fun” song, the catchy ditty that we couldn’t get out of our heads, could conceal such vast reserves of sulfurous darkness—what else were we missing? A decade on, we’re still sorting out the answers.

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clerichs-xi · 2 years ago

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NOBODY MOVE, QBOMB JUST DROPPED THEIR FIRST ALBUM

#clerichs.txt #THE MUSIC VIDEO FOR POISON POP IS SO HOT #POISON POP IS SO GOOD........#i can't believe i forgot abt them..... THEIR MUSIC IS SO PERFECT FOR ALL MY TASTES #AND they got a bit of an older song animated by!!! THE LEGEND HIMSELF WORTHIKIDS #FROTHING AT THE MOUTH #poison pop is gonna be my anthem for the next little bit

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odetojeons · 4 years ago

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No Better Canvas To Paint A Ruined Landscape — Lee Seokmin

request: hii can i request a sub!seokmin x dom fem reader?? you catch him touching himself and then he is super shy about it when you confront him!!<3

tags: soft dom and fem!reader, shy and sub!seokmin, cockring, orgasm control, light bondage, established relationship, praise kink, noona kink, semi-public sex (kind of?), snowballing, unprotected sex, blowjob, fluff at the end if you squint, seokmin being adorable, and potentially killing me with his cuteness

a/n: I’m a whore for sub seokmin. that’s all I have to say. definitely not alive after this. tbh this was my favorite tumblr smut until now all because seokmin. lee seokmin. yeah. bye.

word count: 7202

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin looks like he might combust into a thousand tiny Seokmins really soon.

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You keep staring at him in interest, looking with an amused lifted eyebrow how his red face turns to the side to avoid your eyes like it’s some sort of plague. There’s a lonely drop of sweat running down his left temple, a hand coming to swap at it and freezing in the middle of the act when your eyes find each other, the blush creeping in his cheeks burning with an even darker shade as you watch fascinated the bob of his adam’s apple when Seokmin swallows nervously.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He jumps a little where he’s sitting when you nudge his feet with yours. Seokmin comically widens his eyes at you when you mouth “what’s going on?”, quick to shake his head what it seems like at least fifty times. A frown forms on your brows, your boyfriend being oddly nervous and suspicious is poking on your curiosity, especially when he excuses himself to the bathroom in a hurry.

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You stare at his empty seat, the plate of food laying almost untouched on the table. It’s been a while since the both of you hosted a party on your house, so you wanted to make the experience good for your friends — and you know Seokmin does too, but for some reason he’s acting… whatever the way he’s acting —, having even put a lot of effort into dressing up for the occasion. Something must be wrong, so you excuse yourself from the friends who are sitting on the table and go through the little crowd, heading towards the bathroom.

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“Seok-ah?” you ask softly where you stand right in front of the door. No answers. You knock again, this time a little bit louder. Maybe he didn’t listen to you, the music loud enough to shake you all the way to your bones. Again, no answers. Your frown worsens, gripping the handle and turning it just to be met with an empty bathroom. “Seokmin?”

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He’s not there, and okay, there's definitely something wrong. Seokmin sometimes tends to go through stuff you have no idea about because he keeps thinking he might bother you with his problems, and you just want him to know that you love him so much that it pains you more to see him suffering in silence than hearing him talking about it. Overall, Seokmin is the biggest overthinker ever, your sweet and shy boyfriend, a ball of sunshine despite his little defects you’re so fond of.

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You go to the master bedroom, your last hope to where he must be as your house doesn’t have many rooms. Worry settles deep within your stomach thinking that Seokmin might be sick or something.

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He isn’t.

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Quite the opposite, actually. Seokmin is more than healthy.

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You were not even remotely prepared for what you find inside when you open the door of your room. Seokmin is standing in front of the old escritoire you bought from an antique store, one of his sprawled hands supporting the weight of his body on the desk and broad back dressed in a white social shirt, still turned to you as the music overlapped the sound of your arrival — everything normal at first, and you’re about to open your mouth to question if everything is alright with him when your eyes catch a movement.

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Seokmin’s arm is working on something really fast, hand going up and down, tiny, soft noises coming from him, and your mind goes blank when the realization that Seokmin is jerking off sinks deep within your core.

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There’s a shiver rocking on your body, head spinning.

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“Seokmin,” is what you say, monosyllabic and completely flabbergasted.

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Seokmin snaps his head so fast in your direction you think he might have broken his neck for a second, eyes widening right before he closes them very tightly and moans loud enough that makes you want to close the door in fear of someone listening, but you’re too stuck in the fact that Seokmin almost just came to even be able to move from your spot.

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“F-fuck,” he cries out, the grip he has around the base of his cock almost painful, probably there to hold his orgasm back. You’re stunt into silence as he scrambles desperately to hide his beloved friend back into his pants, struggling with the zipper in the process because the bulge is too big.

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“Seokmin,” you say again, like it’s the only word that remains in your vocabulary. Your mouth goes dry, heat burning on your lower stomach when you look at the notebook in front of Seokmin and sees one of the videos you record to be his fap material when you’re not around, playing on the screen. But you are around. “What are you doing?”

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It’s more than obvious what he’s doing. Even so, you still find yourself asking.

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Seokmin still hasn’t turned around. You know he must be very embarrassed right now — who wouldn’t anyway —, if the blush spreading all the way down to his ears and neck is anything to go by. His body stiffens when a soft moan comes from the notebook speakers, hands reaching to close the video and the screen so fast he knocks some things off of the table and into the ground.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Turn around,” you tell him, finally finding enough strength to close the door and lock it. Seokmin flinches at the sound, shoulders tensing, but he remains unmoving. “Now.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He flinches again, this time because of the finality in your tone, leaving no spaces for objections. Seokmin then complies, turning his body to you like every movement pains him deep within the bones, hands coming to cover the front of his pants and head hung low in shame.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You take a sweet moment to admire Seokmin’s figure; his shirt is open until the third button, firm and red chest peeking out of it, sweat glistening his skin to a beautiful shade of gold, biceps looking like it would pop out of the sleeves of his social shirt and lips swollen, probably because he must have bitten them really hard. Fuck, your boyfriend is so hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You lift a finger and crook it a few times towards yourself. He gets the message, coming closer lightning fast and stopping right in front of you, still refusing to look you in the eyes. You had enough of this attitude, spinning him around so his back could be against the door and cradling his chin between your fingers to tilt his head enough to look at you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Aren’t you going to answer?” you question with a pout, voice poisonously sweet. Seokmin’s shiver doesn’t go unnoticed by you, satisfaction licking on your lower stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I— I-I’m, I was…” Seokmin mumbles intelligibly, a moan escaping his lips when your nails sink onto his shoulder and the darkness swimming in your eyes leaves his legs weak. He can’t shiver, needs to remain composed or else he might embarrass himself further, if that’s even possible, might make you realize the reason why he’s like this, might make him—

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin shivers.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“‘M s-sorry.” he offers, hips bucking slightly when he hears your pleased hum.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Are you though, sunshine?” bodies pressing closer, you watch Seokmin’s arms twitch, not knowing if he’s allowed to touch you. You smile at that, biting at his lower lip. “You were so desperate to touch yourself you came here all alone and jerked off to one of my videos? You don’t seem very apologetic to me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He whines at your condescending tone, head hitting the door with a soft thud when you tilt his chin back to lick a hot stripe up his neck, pulling it to the previous position once you’re done teasing him a little. There’s a sound threatening to come out of you when you see how much want is written all over his face.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I-it’s because you look—” Seokmin’s sentence gets cut off in the middle when he feels the feather-like trace of your fingers on his hands that were still doing a very poor job of hiding the press of his cock to his pants. It brings tiny goosebumps all over his skin, Seokmin needing to take a deep breath before proceeding. “You look s-so hot with these clothes…”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your touch stills completely, and Seokmin’s heart might jump out of his thoracic cage any time soon, but even so he doesn’t stop talking.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“And, and t-the way you were dancing was just— j-just so fucking sexy,” he mumbles quietly, closing his eyes for a second like he’s remembering how you swayed your hips obscenely to the beat of the music earlier. A flash of a memory runs through your mind, Seokmin sitting on your couch, manspreading as he watches you with one of his legs moving up and down nervously. “Want to f-fuck you so bad.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah?” you tangle a hand on his hair, fisting it so you could pull his head backwards and pleasure yourself with the moan he gives you. Seokmin blinks at the ceiling, like he’s willing himself not to move. “My baby boy got hard watching me dance?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The pet name does something to him. It always does. Seokmin bucks his hips involuntarily, the front of his hands hitting your stomach as he ruts against his palms with such a whiny mewl you could swear you feel a punch to your lower stomach.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yes. So hard.” and his voice, so sweet and beautiful, makes your penties start to soak. His hot breath fans your face, chest heaving with the intensity of it. “I’m so hard for you, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You slap his hand away. Seokmin turns his head to look at you, eyes big like he has been caught doing something very wrong.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Lost your manners, sunshine?” grabbing at his wrists, you pry them away to take a better look at his bulge, finding endearing how his cheeks immediately go redder at that. It looks painful, the outline of his cock pressing tight against the fabric of his blue pants, and you try not to let the smugness seep through your voice when you notice a wet patch of precum on it. “You’re that desperate you even forgot how to ask?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You trap his hands behind his back; realistically, Seokmin could break free at any time he wants, with him being almost twice as bigger than you, but you know he wouldn’t do it because right now you got this kind of power over him that surrenders Seokmin putty, and it turns you on so much. He looks so good this way, back resting against the door, hips stuck to the front like he wants you to do something, eyes looking down at you with a hunger, a hunger to take what he wants already, but at the same time with an enormous amount of submission.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

And Seokmin is huge, not even just down there but in the rest of his body as well. Huge, thick thighs, huge chest, huge biceps; he is broad enough to tower over you even if the height difference wasn’t so big. And still, he chooses to give in to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Everything about Lee Seokmin drives you insane.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please…” he says, barely above a whisper. With the door closed, it was more than enough for you to be able to listen even through the loud music going on outside. “P-please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please what?” you press further, fingers coming back to make a hot trail on his cock. Seokmin bucks forward a little, whining when you press a thumb on the cockhead.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmmm,” is all he answers, face burning with shame when he averts his eyes elsewhere. Seokmin knows very well what you want him to call you, it only happens when you’re feeling extra mean and horny, but he’s always so shy about it even if he has called you that more times than you can count.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Adorable.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You sigh, letting go of his cockhead and wrists to cradle his face with your hands, swallowing the frustrated cry he lets out with a kiss. Seokmin takes a few seconds to react, mind in haze with all of the electrifying horniness shocking his body, and then you feel his hands hold on your waist tight enough to leave marks. He moans, as if having your lips on his is the best reward he could ever ask for, and you yelp when Seokmin turns you both around and slams your back against the door. Seokmin kisses you rough, tongue pressing so hard on yours your head ends up hitting the door with a faint noise.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Fisting a hand on his hair, you hold onto it tight enough to make him hiss at the slight, but pleasurable pain. Seokmin is trying to take what he wants and you’re having none of that, using the hold on him to control the pace of the kiss and tilt his head to the place where you want it to go. You suck at his bottom lip, sinking your teeth in the plump flesh just so you could soothe it later with your tongue — and do that again, and again, and again. It doesn’t take long for him to be putty with your ministrations, knees buckling under his weight until he’s kneeling on the floor. You bend down slightly as he does so, kissing his breath away.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Look who’s getting all bold now,” you scoff when you part away, Seokmin’s eyes half lidded and swollen lips open to take big lungfuls of air. “Yeah, that’s right.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You stare down at him, the sight of your taller boyfriend on the floor making something evil twist in your belly.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Kneel for me like a good boy and I’ll let you fuck me like a bad one.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please,” Seokmin begs at that, moaning when he closes a hand around his cock. You tsk, grabbing his jaw tightly and squeezing it between your fingers. “Wanna come.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Stop that before I decide to punish you,” you admonish, watching his eyes go wide for what it feels like the hundredth time this night and his hand falls uselessly on the side of his body. “Actually, you know what? Take your clothes off and lay on the bed.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin blinks a few times as if processing the order, walking over to the bed with trembling legs. He looks at you for some seconds, face burning red, and starts to unbutton his social shirt. You keep watching in silence, cooing at the cuteness of your boyfriend, right before the breath is punched right out of your lungs when his toned abs come into view. No matter how many times you see his body, it never fails to make you incredibly horny — the duality between his adorable face and the rest of him leaves you speechless.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You clear your throat when Seokmin covers his chest, embarrassed with being stared so attentively. Not your fault he’s so hot.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Come here, sunshine,” you purr, sitting on the other side of the bed and patting on the space beside you. He nods a little as if telling himself to obey, hopping onto your side and laying on his back after he finishes taking off his shoes. “Take your pants off too.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

This time Seokmin complies faster. It must hurt a lot, seeing the big bulge down there, and his fingers fumble to undo the button and the zipper so fast you’re surprised he didn’t hurt himself in the process, taking his pants and boxers completely off and throwing somewhere neither of you care. Seokmin’s hard cock slaps against his belly with a soft sound, smearing precum on his lower stomach. It’s an angry shade of red for being denied for so long, the wet mushroom tip making your mouth water as his hips kick upwards with the sheer need of touching it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin looks at you with big, expecting eyes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Seems like you were so desperate you couldn’t even hold yourself back from jerking off like a horny teenager,” you start, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. Seokmin visibly trembles when you pull away, rummaging through your nightstand’s drawer to find what he knows very well it’s a cockring. “So why don’t you do exactly that for me? And maybe, if you put on a good show, I will let you come.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin stares at the golden thing between your fingers and swallows, taking it when you hand it to him. He looks at the ring like it’s a dessert — you know how he loves being edged even if he won’t admit it, enjoys being denied just so the sensation of his orgasm could be bigger later —, closing a fist around his cock and pumping it a few times before slidding the ring down until it fits tightly at the base. Seokmin’s needy moan drowns your own, sounds like music to your ears, hips thrusting into his hand and he can’t possibly hold himself back.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hgnnn, fuck,” he whines, pace fast where he does up and down movements on his cock. You lick your lips, mouth salivating with the size of Seokmin’s length. He’s so big, the thickness of him being so much it pleasantly hurts to suck him off, and it doesn’t help that he has such beautiful, veiny hands. “F-fuck, feels so, ah, so good.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin’s eyes catch yours looking at him like he’s a whole banquet being served just for you, the want and darkness in your eyes surrendering him into a shy mess. He blushes furiously, arm coming up to hide his face from embarrassment and legs pressing together to try and cover his cock — of course it doesn’t hide, Seokmin is too huge and too hard for that.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Don’t do that, sunshine,” you admonish, cooing when he shakes his head. Fingers closing gently around his wrist, you pry his arm away to take a better look at your shy boyfriend. You smile at him, endeared with his cuteness. “Let me see you being beautiful for me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Y-yeah?” Seokmin murmurs, and you nod at him, fingers teasing on his nipple. His back arches softly, eyes closing and a whimper escaping through his swollen lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” you echo, too entranced on his noises to possibly think straight. Big breaths; you will your impatience down, wanting to see Seokmin pleasuring himself some more. “Such a big cock. Makes me want to suck you off until my mouth hurts.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The lewd sound Seokmin lets out to that punches a moan straight out of you, fucking up into his own hand as if your words were the ones doing so. He presses a thumb on his cockhead, spreading the precum all over the tip and slipping his fist further down when he concludes it’s wet enough. Seokmin writhes on the bed, unable to contain the hot surge of pleasure coursing through his veins. His free hand flies to his left nipple, pinching it with more strength than you thought he would — it makes his whole body tremble, head sinking back into the soft pillows and fingers letting go of the red bud to squeeze the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Please, ah, p-please, wanna— W-wanna cum so bad,” Seokmin begs, wants your hands on him. Of course it’s smaller than his own, but you know how to flick your wrists just right to make him feel good, and he needs that right now. If they were your fingers, they would warp perfectly around his cock, even if they didn't close all the way around it as you stroke him. Or maybe you’d tease him a little, as you sometimes do to him when you want to be a little mean. It always pulls the sweetest and loudest whines from Seokmin, you saying that his reactions are cute. “Touch me, please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I am touching you,” you tell him with a pout, referring to the caress you’re doing on his biceps. You chuckle when he makes a frustrated groan at your retort, knowing very well how you’re going to be today.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin doesn't say anything else — knows it won’t make you touch him anytime sooner —, breath hitching and hips shuddering with pleasure. He continues to slowly rub his finger over the flushed head of his cock in teasing little pats. There’s a bit of squirming on the bed, Seokmin trying to grasp on his own memory the sensation of your hands on him, playing with his thickness with a tiny smirk on your lips and it’s like you enjoy seeing him writhe around in desperation. Seokmin opens his eyes to find you with that exact same expression, moaning when he fucks up into his hand again after he fists his cock, panting heavily.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin lets out a soft cry of relief, knows he should be more invested in putting on a show for you than concentrating on his own pleasure, but you love anything he does anyway. Also, it’s not like he has enough patience to hold himself back, has been hard for such a long time his balls may even start to turn purple soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

So he plants his feet on the bed, hips kicking faster, rougher, moans high and wanton as he fucks his own hand. Seokmin watches you intensely, how you look so good with those clothes, lips swollen from the kissing and dark eyes lusting for him. He thinks about your mouth on his cock, how you look so pretty with the girth inside it and holding his hips down when Seokmin thrashes around, too desperate to cum down your throat to stop himself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your imagination works on something similar as you enjoy Seokmin falling apart right beside you. What would be his reaction if you pressed your feet on his cock where he sat across the table almost an hour ago? Would Seokmin keep talking with his friends, disguising the way his breath would turn shaky and unsteady? Would he pretend that his girlfriend isn’t rubbing him off right then and there, regardless of who could hear or see the obscene noises of him moaning or the way you move your feet on him?

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You would love if I touched you right there under the table, wouldn’t you?” you purr your thoughts out, watching the pad of his fingers play with his nipples. Seokmin has always been sensitive there, and honestly it turns you on so much. He nods fast at your question as he pinches the bud, rolling it between his thumb and index finger. “But instead of telling me, you went to our room and jerked off to one of my videos without asking for permission.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin turns his face away, cheeks burning at what you’ve said. You weren’t exactly talking about the video when you said permission, but rather him touching himself. He knows very well he needs to ask you before doing so.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin is nearly on the cusp, but knows he won’t trip over and orgasm solely because of the cockring. It makes him almost cry from frustration, hand jerking himself off furiously and it’s always like he’s on edge, unable to come but the pleasure high enough to make him think that he will.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I-I didn’t want to, hmmm, ruin y-your party.” Seokmin admits with a small cry, not wanting you to look at his face right now. He struggles to gather words, mind in a haze from neediness. “‘M sorry— s-sorry, please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Awwww, my sweet baby boy. You’re not ruining anything.” you coo, cradling his face between your hands and turning it towards you, his eyes still not meeting yours even so. You caress his blushed cheek with your thumb, pecking his lips one time and noticing how Seokmin shivers beautifully at the pet name, hand still working fast and rough on his cock. “Honestly, watching you fall apart for me is way better than any party.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin is visibly affected by the affirmation, head sinking further into the pillow and hips twitching where they thrust up into his fist.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So beautiful for me, so stunning, my pretty baby boy.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Fuck, and he can’t take it.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Noona,” Seokmin moans out, shame twisting his gut along with pleasure, but it feels so good to see what the name does to you that he suddenly is not so embarrassed anymore. “Please, please t-touch me—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck, Seokmin,” a hand grabs at his jaw, your body trembling with the need sinking deep within your bones. It’s so fast your mind spins and for a moment you think you might pass out with all the blood surging down to your core. “Shit, call me that again, baby. Come on.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-Noona— Noona, please, I’ve b-been good,” Seokmin begs, writhing all over the bed, and you think he might start crying very soon if you don’t give him what he wants. “I-I’ve been so good, ah, just— J-just give me what I want, p-please.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So fucking good for me,” you moan, getting on top of his thighs and kissing him stupid. Seokmin lies plient underneath you, pace not even faltering. If anything, it became faster, the little kicks of his hips making you bounce on his lap. “Want you inside me.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin grabs your waist at that, but you only hold onto his wrists and pin them down beside his head. You move up on his lap until you’re sitting on his hard cock, the wetness of your folds seeping through your panties only serving to remind you how you’re still with your clothes on.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“God, look at you,” there’s a whine, and you’re not sure who lets out, you or him. You move your hips over his cock, like you’re riding it, and the stimulation on your needy cunt makes you squeeze Seokmin’s arms bruisingly tighter. “So desperate… I wanna do really bad things to you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“T-tease me—” Seokmin starts, words being drowned on a choked out moan, and it has you stunt, him saying something like that since he’s usually more quiet in the bedroom. At least when he’s not crying or pleading, of course. “Tease me until I’m begging for it.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The smile you give him is dirty and dark, nearly a sneer, and he throws his head back. If there’s one thing you love about Seokmin is how he enjoys submitting to you. He feels pleasure on letting go as much as you feel taking over, especially knowing that if he wanted to, he could manhandle you right now, push your face on the bed, pull your ass up and fuck you until you cry. But Seokmin won’t. He doesn’t want to. He loves having you on top of him, teasing him, touching him, ordering him around.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah? Fuck, such a dirty baby boy,” you roll your hips to emphasize your point, basking in the way he writhes so beautifully underneath you. So ready to be torn apart and pieced back together later. Seokmin presses back, moving himself obscenely. “Stay still.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Reaching to the nightstand again, you move your hand blindly there until you’re able to pull a soft blue silk from the drawer. Seokmin widens his eyes at it, gulping at the implications behind the fabric.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re not obeying me today,” you admonish. To be honest, you would rather get the ropes or the cuffs that are in the wardrobe, but your own impatience and desperation ends up winning and choosing what’s closer. “Touching yourself without my permission, not begging properly, trying to take what you want and now… You can’t even do something as simple as staying still?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-Noona, Noona,” is all he’s able to say, body shaking from wanton. Seokmin let’s you pass the silk through his wrists with practiced ease and ties them up together, and then at the headboard. This way his arms are restricted, biceps bulging due to the position. “I’ll be g-good. I’ll be your— y-your good boy, please—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tell him instead, fisting his hair and yanking his head backwards. You kiss his chin, parting away to finally take your clothes off.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin stares all the way through it, dark eyes drinking the sight of your naked body, the faint sound of the music adding to both of your fuels like a dirty soundtrack.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Like what you see?” you tease with a raised eyebrow, smiling at the way his cheeks turn red.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Fuck yes,” Seokmin answers even so, wrists pulling at the silk trapping them as if he’s trying to break free and touch you. The sincerity in his voice makes you blush softly. “Y-you’re so hot, Noona. Can’t believe I have you all for myself.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s something possessive burning at his eyes that has butterflies dancing on your lower stomach. You suck a deep breath, leaning down to capture his lips on yours. It’s far too messy for your own good but you don’t really care, wanting nothing more than to kiss the breath out of Seokmin’s lungs.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You succeed, pleasure swelling up in your insides when you have him panting, mind in a haze and chest heaving uncontrollably. He lies there, pliant for you as you lick one of his nipples. The reaction is immediate, Seokmin’s hips kicking up and his hard cock consequently slipping between your chest. A shiver rocks all over his body, your teeth biting at the red bud and sucking at it until his voice gets an octave higher and so, so sweet it makes you moan.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You bring your free hand to thumb at the other nipple, tongue doing circles all over it. Seokmin is desperate, thrashing on the bed as if he’s being electrocuted. You bite harder for good measure, snatching at his waist with a firm grip and pining it back down on the mattress.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So sensitive, my cute baby boy” you appreciate with a hum, making sure to press your chest onto his overwhelmed cock. It’s painted in an angry shade of red now, the veins protruding against the length.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There’s spit obscenely connecting your mouth to his nipple, and the realization coils heat on your blood and pumps arousal all over.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“People might hear you if you don’t keep it down, you know?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

What you’re not expecting is how he tenses at that, muscles contracting, back arching off of the bed and hips stuttering where it fucked his cock between your chest. Seokmin moans, so loud you instinctively put a hand over his mouth to make him quieter.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

When his body falls limp again, the room is full of silence, other than the sound of his labored breath filling the air after you let go of him. You’re completely quiet though, still processing what just happened, head spinning.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You came,” it wasn’t a question, the scene that just unfolded in front of you being enough confirmation to your suspicions. “You just had a dry orgasm.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your tone was full of amusement and unbelievaness. You can’t quite grasp that fact; it’s not the first time he has used a cockring, but it’s the first time Seokmin actually was able to come with it on and also being barely touched. Laughing incredulously, you trail a finger down his still hard cock, watching him squirm violently underneath you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“W-wait, Noona, I—” his words get cut off by his own moan when you take the cockring off, throwing it somewhere in the room as you hurry to fetch yet another thing from your nightstand. “Ah, f-fuck, I j-just came, N-No— Noona—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You close a fist on him after pouring lube on his cock, watching in pure ecstasy the look of bliss turn into one of frustration. You feel Seokmin’s body twitch to the touch of your hand and react heavily as you keep going, with no remorse, slicking his cock up and flicking your wrist faster and faster.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You know what to say if you want me to stop,” you tell him. It’s overwhelming, really, but nothing could ever top the sensation of your fingers around him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

It makes Seokmin’s brain fuzzy, and it’s too much, his cock already sensible from his recent orgasm, but at the same time he wants to squirm away, he feels the mind numbing pleasure sink deep within his bones. Seokmin moans louder, pulling at the fabric binding his wrists in place, and shaking violently on the bed.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Ah! Fuck! Noona… f-fuck… ahh—” he pleads, swollen lips trembling, abs contracting and relaxing, the blushing red running all the way down to his chest, and legs kicking when he tries to get out of your grip because it feels so damn torturously good.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You take it all in, the burn of arousal lighting a flame on your lower stomach. All mine. You lick at your bottom lip, letting out a soft whine as Seokmin whimpers high in his throat, his hips moving, back arching, head thrown back — beautiful and yours.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Want me to stop, sunshine? Then say your safeword,” Seokmin groans at your remark, feeling tears well up in his eyes, body writhing out of control. He moans again, shaking his head a no as he humps his hips up into your hand.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“A-ah! Ah! Noona… ah! Hgnnn, Noona, p-please…” he begs, hands trembling and he actually thinks he might go crazy soon.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Dirty boy, had a dry orgasm even with a cockring just from thinking people might hear you,” you say, tone soft and gentle despite your ministrations. “Should have tied you up there, on the chair, and overstimulated you in front of everyone else.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You press a thumb on his cockhead, so hard you see a tear finally run down his cheek. Seokmin looks beautiful like this. So beautiful.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Almost came earlier from being caught jerking off too,” you add, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “My sunshine is a little bit of an exhibitionist, isn’t he?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The fight has already left him, leaving Seokmin a stuttering mess. He only moans and shakes his head and pleads and you actually feel a little bad for the cry he breathes out when you let go of his cock. It’s short livid though, the hurry to rearrange yourself and sit on his lap making you almost fall on him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin doesn’t comment on your desperation though, doesn’t even have the strength to, and watches you line him up against your soaking cunt like you’ll die if you don’t get to ride him until sunset, the party long forgotten.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Need you inside, need you,” you moan as you sink on his cock. Today morning you fucked, Seokmin hugging you and thrusting inside you lazily when he was spooning you just after you woke up, but it still feels almost like too much, the stretch of his cock splitting you open leaving you gaping. “So damn big.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You open your eyes — don’t even know when you closed them — finding the prettiest view you could ever have. Seokmin’s fingers turned white from how hard he’s gripping the fabric around his wrists, and you think for a second that he might break the headboard, if the way he’s pulling at the silk is anything to go bye. The sweat goldens his skin, a gorgeous contrast with the redness tinting his face, neck and the beginning of his chest. And it’s stunning, really, his eyebrows frowned from pleasure, tears in the corner of his eyes and lips swollen from all the rough kissing.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

There is no better canvas to paint a ruined landscape than Lee Seokmin.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

He gasps, throwing his head back when you lift yourself up until only the tip of his cock is inside, and slam yourself back down, pelvis flush against Seokmin’s. You fall in a comfortable rhythm from there on; riding him like a pro, making sure to clench as tight as you can just to see him sob and plead and beg for whatever it is that you’re in the mood or willing to give him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“G-god— I l-lo—” he tries, struggling to get words out with the way he’s bouncing on the bed with the force of your hips fucking down of his cock. “I love— I love y-you, N-Noona, Noona, fuck—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Seokmin,” you moan, holding his face between your hands. It’s barely a kiss when you lean in to smash your lips on his, more like a moment in which your breath mingles with his and you both become one. “Seok-ah, Seokminnie, sunshine— you sound so, so pretty and sweet, my beautiful baby boy. I love you so much.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“U-untie, please,” Seokmin cries out, pulling harder at the restraints. “Wanna t-tou— ah, touch you, please, I have— h-have been so good—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“You’re always good, baby,” you reassure him, reaching out with fumbling fingers to undo the knot on his wrists. “Come on, sunshine. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Your brain can’t even process what happens as soon as he’s free; there are big hands on your hips, Seokmin planting his feet on the bed and fucking up inside you so hard you’re not able to support yourself up, body falling limp on top of his. He’s moaning by your ear now, so high and affected, and you think you can actually feel the spit running down from the corner of his mouth and sticking to your shoulder.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“S-shit, shit, Seokmin,” you whimper, louder than you ever had this night, can’t even rock your hips back because Seokmin is holding you tight and pulling you down on his cock, pace brutal and unrelenting. “You’re s-so desperate, fuck.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Wanna cum, w-wanna cum,” he keeps saying, burying his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You feel his lips there, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting at it in a weak attempt to muffle his moans. Seokmin has always been the most vocal between the two of you, but you know it’s useless at this point, the people in your house probably know what is going on by now. “P-please, please, Noona, Noona— Want— N-need—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Before you can even answer him, the chant of “Noona, Noona, Noona” leaving his lips like a prayer has your orgasm hitting you suddenly. Your whole body tenses, muscles contracting tightly as the mind numbing sensation washes all over you, and you don’t know how much time you spend coming but when you come back to yourself Seokmin is still fucking you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You put a trembling hand on his chest and use the other free one to grab at his wrist, signaling for him to stop. At that, Seokmin starts crying. Like really crying.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“N-no— Let m-me come, let me— L-let me come, please, please, please,” he begs, and you coo at him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” you peck his lips gently, wiping the cascading tears with your thumbs. “I want you to come on my face. Can you do that for me, hm, sunshine?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin stares at you with big wide eyes and you think you might die from how cute he is. He nods what it seems like a hundred times.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Words,” you remind him with a soft, calm voice, and smile when he answers a meek yes, please. “Good boy.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin blushes, sniffing a little and lifting his upper body up to have a better view of your lips descending on his cock. You kiss the tip one time, giving it a kittenish lick, and suckle at it hard enough to prove the salty taste of precum, not wanting to tease him more since he has been so good. Seokmin shivers, hips contorting on the bed, and you feel pride swell inside you when you realize he’s trying to stay still.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You give his thigh a gentle pat, licking at the underside of his cock and bobbing your head a few times. You grab at the base of his length, slaps it on your tongue and look up at Seokmin. A small part of you gets embarrassed with the way he’s watching you so intently, but it’s quickly replaced with a burning need to see him coming.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“G-gonna cum, cum, I-I’m— I’m coming, shit, fuck, hgnnn, N-Noona—” you hum at his cries, the last warning you give him before reaching up and taking one of his nipples between your fingers; you twist it as hard as you can, and then he’s coming.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Seokmin moans, more like screams, and he arches forward, fingers flying to grab your hair so hard it hurts a little. There’s cum shooting out of his cock, your hands helping him out as the white ribbons fly across your face. Most of it lands on your mouth, some on your lashes and cheeks, some on his thighs and abs, and some even end up hitting your hair.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The thing is that Seokmin doesn’t stop coming. His hips keep twitching, cock slipping and he thrusts on your face, unable to keep himself still as he rides his orgasm. After what seems like a good few minutes of him coming, Seokmin falls limp on the bed, his eyes closed, chest heaving with his labored breath, and looking completely fucked out.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You’re quick to kiss him, his tongue pushing against yours when he tastes the leftover of his orgasm. His hips kick miserably, a little bit of come sliding down his softening cock.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Holy shit,” is what he says after a few minutes of silence, laughing weekly. You follow Seokmin, laying down beside him as you do so. “I think that was the best orgasm of my life.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I think so too,” you agree, Seokmin moving his body to lay on his side and take a better look at you. He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear, his heart eyes making butterflies dance on your stomach. The fact that he’s looking at you like that even so you’re dirty with come, sweat and possibly spit makes you want to marry him. “So, you have an exhibitionism kink.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

The affirmation seems to have caught him off guard, his cheeks warming up adorably as he coughs. You giggle when Seokmin tries to turn his back on you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“I hate you,” he mumbles with a pout.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Nah, you don’t,” you dismiss, and you’re right, he doesn’t. He could never. “Maybe we should try that out later?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Try what?”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Me tying you up in a chair and making you come in front of everyo—”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Shut up!” Seokmin laughs and yells at the same time, hitting a pillow on you. You just grab it and throw it somewhere in the room. “You’re dirty.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“So is you,” you add with a smile. Seokmin turns around and pulls you by the waist.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Yeah,” he admits, hugging you tightly. It should be disgusting considering both of your conditions, but it only feels right. “Only dirty for you.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

You scoff, mortified.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Now you shut up,” you swat at his — incredibly big and hot — arm, his giggles making all types of things to your heart. “Fucking sap.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

“Hmm hmm,” Seokmin hums, and looks at you like that again. Full of love and respect and content, and there’s no better feeling than this. Together. With him. “A complete sap.”

⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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chaoticrobotics · 2 years ago

Note

What are the animatronics' music preferences?

Freddy: Oh I enjoy a wide variety of genres. Usually I stick with some kind of alternative-indie, pop, or EDM. One of my favorite bands is Red Hot Chili Peppers!

__________________

Chica: I LOVE music from the 80s, or has that vibe to it! Like workout music! Songs you can get your body moving to! Oh especially synth-pop and new wave type music! I love A-ha and Duran Duran! Oh! I also love a good musical! Little Shop of Horrors, Heathers, Sweeney Todd, they are all so awesome to listen to and I will be singing them all the time!

__________________

Roxy: I'm more into the metal scene. Screamo, post-hardcore, grunge, things like that. Avenged Sevenfold and Sleeping With Sirens are some bangers! I'll listen to Three Days Grace at times too. Alt-rock is also something I'm into.

__________________

Monty: I really like folk and jazz music mixed in with rock or alt-rock. Also swing music at times. My go-to band to listen to is Poor Man's Poison or Bid Bad Voodoo Daddy, but recently I found The Devil Makes Three and that band is really cool so far!

__________________

Sun: I usually listen to instrumentals or video game music! Things I can play in the background while doing things without getting too distracted by the music! Whenever Moon plays a game I'll listen to the soundtrack and pick songs I like that show up to add to a playlist. I really like the Bugsnax soundtrack and also the music in Just Shapes and Beats! I also listen to classical music from time to time, mainly piano like Beethoven.

__________________

Moon: I don't know... I just hop from one thing to the next. I don't care too much about what is being played. I'll listen to country, fold, hardcore rock, death metal, lullabies, EDM, anything really..... Though, I have been drawn to more uh... messed up music recently. Things with disturbing messages and themes, kinda like horrocore or something I think. Bands like Will Wood, Dr.Steel, and Creature Feature have been in my music rotary recently.

__________________

DJMM: As HARD as it may be to believe, but I like EDM haha! Electronic music has always been my favorite! Dubstep, electronica, House, EBM. Oh! Actually, I do also like industrial music! Which does have electronic properties to it, but it leans more towards rock and punk! It really is an aggressive style but in a very good way! My preferred bands right now are I Will Never Be the Same and Circle of Dust, but I'm sure it will change soon enough considering I was just listening to Celldweller a whole lot before finding those other bands!

__________________

Mapbot: I have been informed by the DJ that my music taste is known as glitch, breakcore, or experimental. I listen to two different artists when given the chance to request a song. They are as followed: Nero's Day at Disneyland and Lauren Bousfield.

__________________

[Had a lot of fun with this! Found a lot of new music to listen too as well! Since Bonnie and Foxy aren't here to answer, I'll answer for them.

Bonnie liked swing and jazz music along with classical. He listened to people like Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. Though he would happily listen to other genres as well, but he never cared much for EDM that was way too electronic. Like he can stand Daft Punk but not so much someone like Skrillex.

Foxy, like DJ, is pretty obvious in his choice of music. He loved sea shanties, but would also listen to acapella. The Longest Johns and The Jolly Jogers were people he loved listening to because of how they sang sea shanties. He definitely did also listen to musicals with Chica though! The two of them would sing for hours, especially duets.]

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the-good-bad-truth · 2 years ago

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I want to dive deeper into the toxicity of rock genre. There is nothing wrong with liking 1 genre or even having an opinion. However, there is a line b/w having music preferences and constantly hating an artist(s) or genre just because it's not what u listen to. There's been fans or even bands themselves who will hate on someone for wearing band merch. I can understand why their defensive especially if the person wearing it doesn't know the band and wearing it cuz it looks cool but is it a bad thing. The artist, Yungblud, who I think is actually underrated gets hated cause he paints his nails, is open about his sexuality and wears skirts. I guess it has to do with the misogyny, homophobia and toxic masculinity within this genre. In the 80s, most of the men would wear makeup, fishnets and also paint their nails but we're seen as hot. The big names in rock also like to play the blame game. I think it was Gene Simmons who said rock was dead cuz of fans. He is right that people can found ways to listen to music w/out paying. But does he expect his fans who most likely need to pay bills to pay for $200+ tickets/merch or another remastered greatest hits album. Is it the fans fault for artists getting paid less or the labels/streaming services that cheat the artist. Its also like he and many already popular rock bands aren't really suffering financially from streaming cuz they already rich. If anything it's smaller artist that have to find new ways of promoting and building a strong fanbase. I think this is what bands can learn from younger bands cuz I don't think older bands were able to build a close bond with fans like the newer artist have. I saw a comment saying if anyone actually liked mgk music then there losers or something like that. So ur saying that a 15 yr old who is struggling with anxiety or a 30 year old who got sober with the help of mgks music is a loser. Corey Taylor is known as Slipknots frontman but to rock media he is the guy whose opinion is seen as "law" in rock. I've seen videos where he talked about how he hates or made "jokes" about pop/ hip hop music, mgk, to cd cases to comparing imagine dragons to the new Nickelback. I think it's weird and maybe he's not totally to blame but it's like u really want to be known as the guy who hates everything and complains that rock is not original but won't allow artist to be original because then their try hard or posers. He's not the only one that does this, there are many others who criticize new artists. In stranger things, they used "Master of puppets" by Metallica and ST fans used it in TikToks but Metallica fans were upset. I didn't see what the issue was because doesn't it help the band. I think that new alternative music is original cuz artists are blending genres or adding their own twist on the older rock. You have Post Malone, mgk, juice wrld, Yungblud who combined Linkin park, blink 182, and rap/hip hop together. You also have more female artists like Halsey, siickbrain, Nessa, Billie eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, Halestorm. They call new rock not real music or that it's just cheesy lyrics but wasn't a majority of 80s bands like Poison, Kiss, Motley crue songs about girls, sex and parties. Those lyrics weren't exactly relatable but they were great because those fans wanted music to have fun to and the bands provided the larger then life, crazy, fast paced lifestyle their fans dreamed of. You can take every genre and see why people would gravitate towards it whether it's cuz of the vibe or energy it creates, relatable lyrics, or it just sounds good. That's why this new music is perfect cuz it isn't really about who can wear merch or who slept with the most girls or parties the hardest but instead it's about being who you want to be w/out being judged, having a good time even when your having a bad time in your mind. In a way, rock is still an escape for people who wanted to take a breather from their problems and worries and just enjoy music.

#toxic #music #rock music #gatekeep #fans #yungblud #mgk #KISS #old vs new #hollywood #opinon #hate #young generation #pop punk #maneskin #greeta van fleet #travis barker #billie eilish #metallica

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bookgeekgrrl · 3 years ago

Text

My media this week (13-19 Feb 2022)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 His Boy Next Door: #38 Top to Bottom (RJ Moray) - another lovely episode of Jack & Channon's story

🥰 Pictures at a Revolution: Five Movies and the Birth of the New Hollywood (Mark Harris, author; Lloyd James, narrator) - "Explores the epic human drama behind the making of the five movies nominated for Best Picture in 1967-Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, The Graduate, In the Heat of the Night, Doctor Doolittle, and Bonnie and Clyde-and through them, the larger story of the cultural revolution that transformed Hollywood, and America, forever." This was fascinating & well-told & I thoroughly enjoyed it but my overwhelmingly my thought, multiple times through the whole thing was, the more things change, the more they stay exactly the same.

🙂 Whiplash (CBFirestarter, TrenchcoatBaby) - 142K, Destiel dystopian BDSM AU -

😊 Haven werewolf 'verse (YumeArashi) - 96K, Haven OT3 no-Troubles, werewolf AU - 37K is main story, the rest is vingettes/deleted scenes/notes and outline for intended sequel -

😍 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf (BlueSimplicity) - 147K, werewolf/soulmate AU - FANTASTIC fic: funny, fluffy, hot, great characterizations (esp of supporting characters as well) - instant forever fave

😊 Murder in First Class (Miss Underhay Mysteries #8) (Helena Dixon, author; Karen Cass, narrator) - this continues to be a quietly enjoyable cozy mystery series

💖💖+119K of shorter fic so shorter work shout out to these I really loved💖💖

Fierce (leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)) - MCU: Stucky, 15K - gorgeous little fantasy AU

Maybe the Real Gold Medal Was the Friends We Made Along the Way (thedishandthespoon) - MCU: Stucky, 18K - Olympics AU

TWO new episodes in the fabulous To Be Seen Aright verse by Deastar! Ours Will Still Be Hot (1.9K) & this braided business (10K)

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

Explained - s1, e1

The Larkins - s1, e3-4

Agatha Raisin - s4,e3: A Spoonful of Poison

Star Trek: Discovery - s2, e1-4 - started back up again with these nerds

The Brokenwood Mysteries - s1, e1-3 - shout out to @door for convincing/reassuring me to give this a shot, it is delightful.

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

The Present Age - Climate journalist Eric Holthaus believes in a better world

Last Seen - Episode 4: Africa’s Lost Year of Hope

Desert Island Discs - Leslie Caron, actress (literally did not realize Leslie Caron was still alive! also they last interviewed her in 1956 which makes this the longest gap between interviews in their history)

Lore - Episode 192: Time Will Tell

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Panorama of the City of New York

Aaron Mahnke's Cabinet of Curiosities - Fill In The Blankenship

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - International Cocoa Quarantine Center

The Present Age - Joe Galbo is the man making memes for the U.S. government

99% Invisible #477 - Call of Duty: Free

Ologies with Alie Ward - Cycadology (RARE PLANT DRAMA) with Nathalie Nagalingum

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Extreme Travel with Dave Seminara

Shedunnit - Bonus: Jennifer Morag Henderson Interview

FILMS TO BE BURIED WITH Patreon Crew! - Ellie Taylor!

Twenty Thousand Hertz - Pirate Radio

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Last Sears in New York City

Aaron Mahnke's Cabinet of Curiosities - The Right Word

You're Dead To Me - Eleanor of Aquitaine

This is Good for You - Ep 25: Collecting Sneakers Is Good For You

Strong Songs Bonus Episodes - And Now, Some More Beatles Covers

Grim & Mild Presents - Sideshow 4: A Living Curiosity

Endless Thread - Space Heist! (Or, How to Steal a Planet)

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting Debussy

Video Game music (station) - this ended up being a random mix of pop songs, occasional video game tunes in the mix; good but not what I was expecting

Presenting Backstreet Boys

Gentle Latin Electronic

Golden Age of Boy Bands

Mamma Mia: Original London Cast

Dancing Queen

CREDITS: Diane Warren

Tell the World: The Very Best of Ratt

Whitesnake

CREDITS: Charli XCX

Waiting To Exhale (Original Soundtrack Album)

#sunday reading recap #bookgeekgrrl's reading habits #bookgeekgrrl's soundtracks #it was a very werewolfy week in fic #which is no bad thing #that mark harris book really was so interesting and a fun read #but whew i'm really not exaggerating when i say most of the big themes covered haven't changed even a little bit #jared morehu is my fave character on the brokenwood mysteries #when i realized it was the same actor that played nasir i was 😍😍😍#also fun (so far) to be back on the uss discovery again #discovered diane warren - holy cats what a legend!#this is good for you podcast #20k hz podcast #99% invisible podcast #strong songs podcast #shedunnit podcast #ologies podcast #endless thread podcast #cabinet of curiosities podcast #last seen podcast #desert island discs #you're dead to me podcast #lore podcast #the present age podcast #films to be buried with podcast #atlas obscura podcast

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

Text

Centerfold 4- Memory’s Been Sold

Centerfold Masterlist

Author’s Note: Written for Meghan who requested some fluffy A/B/O smut and then I came up with an idea and ran with it. Smut will start after the plot is established. Also, this is gonna go toward my @spnabobingo squares. This chapter fills my Slutty Omega square and is rated E for Explicit.

Summary: Dean is living the normal-boring life with Lisa. When he opens the newest Playboy, he gets the shock of his life.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Beta!Lisa, Alpha!Dean x Reader (memory)

Word count: 2083

Story Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! , masturbation, pornography, mentions of multiple partners, mentions of fem-fem porn

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

Dean pulled his pickup into the gas station down the street from Lisa’s house...his house. He had a house. He had a home, a family, an 8-5 job on a construction crew. He had...a real life. A real boring life. He was bored, but he supposed it was normal to feel bored, right?

“Hey, Jerry. The coffee fresh?” Dean asked as he walked into the convenience store.

“Half hour old,” the clerk, Jerry, answered with a smile. “And, uh, it’s Tuesday!”

Dean chuckled as he grabbed a thick paper cup and poured dark, bitter liquid into it. “New mags came in, huh?”

“Yeah. The Penthouse center is hot as hell, man. Oh, and the Playmate of the Month is the hottest omega I’ve ever fuckin’ seen!”

Dean laughed as he fitted the top on the cup. “Well, bring ‘em out, man. You know I’m gonna buy ‘em.” He took a drink as he walked up to the counter. Jerry had a Penthouse and a Playboy on the counter already. “They’re that good, huh?”

“Dude...especially the omega Playmate, man. She is smoking hot.”

Dean set the coffee on the counter and picked up the Playboy, slipping it out of the sleeve and looking at the cover. The cover was a woman, Taffy Rose according to the tiny script on the bottom next to the photographer credit, in a strawberry-print bikini and bunny mask. Hot, but nothing special. Nothing different or new. But he flipped the magazine open to the center and gasped.

“Holy shit.” The bunny mask was gone, her body on full display except the bits of skin hidden by the pink feather boa. His throat went dry. His cock got hard in jeans. His head felt like it might explode.

“I know, right?!” Jerry exclaimed, happily. “Isn’t she the hottest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yeah. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever…” Dean’s voice trailed off as he focused on her neck. No mark. He hoped they hadn’t photoshopped one out. She was the hottest thing he’d ever touched, tasted, the best thing he’d ever missed out on...Taffy Rose, Y/n Y/l/n...his omega. Dean cleared his throat and tried to close the magazine, but he couldn’t. She’d grown up so beautiful and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “She, uh...she been in anything I might’ve seen?”

“I don’t know, Dean. I’m Googling her name as soon as I get home. I suggest you do the same, man.”

“Yeah. Uh...I’m just gonna...I’m just gonna take the Playboy. I’ll get the Penthouse next time, Jer.” Dean threw a ten on the counter and walked out with the magazine, leaving his coffee behind and not even caring. He sat in his truck cab for a few minutes, staring at her photo. Y/n went into porn. Whoever would have thought that sweet little innocent young woman with the overprotective parents would- “Actually, no, that makes sense.”

He rubbed his hand over his erection as he looked at the ‘fuck me’ look in her eyes. It didn’t take long for his mind to drift back to her under him, holding him, letting out gasping cries as he fucked her, that look in her eyes as she dug her nails into his shoulders.

His cock softened as he remembered getting on the phone with her to tell her he was leaving.

He felt like he was going to cry when the line clicked. “Y/l/n Residence!”

“Y/n, it’s Dean.”

“Oh, hey! I just got finished washing every surface you touched,” she said, giggling. That giggle tugged at his heart. “I can’t wait to see you again, though. It was so worth the cleaning time.”

“Yeah, uh...it was awesome, baby, but...my, uh, my dad called.”

“Oh?” Dean could almost hear the heartbreak in her voice.

“Yeah. He...got word of a job in Connecticut. He’s pickin’ us up tomorrow.” There was silence on the line for a minute. “Y/n?”

“You’re leaving?” she squeaked.

“Yeah.” Dean had to fight the tears. “Yeah, we’re leaving.”

“But...what about...I...am I gonna get to see you again at all?”

“Not unless you can sneak out tonight. Dad’ll be here in the morning. We’ll be gone before noon.”

“Oh God.”

Dean took a deep breath and started the truck, driving home with a pit in his stomach. He immediately hid the magazine in his desk and sat in the rolling desk chair. He looked around to make sure Lisa and Ben were both out of the den area, hoping they were out of the house, before pulling up Google and searching for ‘Taffy Rose omega xxx’. Several thousand results popped up, so Dean went to the first. A video on Pornhub labeled ‘Sweet omega Taffy seduces her best friend Kat at a sleepover’. Dean swallowed and licked his lips, turning his volume down almost all the way and clicking on the video. She looked fairly innocent, without looking fake, which was a feat of its own considering he knew he was watching porn. The other actress wasn’t pulling it off anywhere near as well, especially the overacted reaction to ‘Taffy’ kissing her.

Dean could remember making out with her when she was just a little younger than the 18 year old she was pretending to be on his screen and it filled him with yearning to see her wrap her arms around this other woman’s neck and pull her in for a passionate kiss. He watched a little longer before hitting the back button and started searching through more and more results.

‘Omega Taffy Rose and her hot omega stepmom’ ‘Taffy Rose fucks her best friends’ ‘Sunny Sweets and Taffy Rose Turth or dare’ ‘Batgirl and Supergirl caught by Poison Ivy’

“Holy shit, she’s the hottest Supergirl,” Dean whispered, as he pulled his dick out of his jeans and started pumping it. It occurred to him, as he lazily jacked off and clicked through the ‘Taffy Rose’ tag on XNXX .com, that she was always with other women, usually other omegas. It took him forty minutes of clicking to find ‘Beta Brad Bull wants to know what omega tastes like’.

Not a single alpha in any of her videos, and not a mark on her neck, despite the fact that so many of her omega co-stars had marks that they had failed to cover no matter the makeup they used. And Brad and Taffy didn't go further than oral.

"That's weird," Dean whispered, tucking his dick back into his boxers but leaving the jeans open in a V. "Usually 'mega actresses are getting knotted every other scene."

He clicked off of the porn site and went back to Google, searching 'Taffy Rose alpha'. He found several blogs asking why a porn actress was unmated, some wondering how she could be in this business without fear of being taken by force, and some judging her for doing porn in the first place, but eventually he found an interview with her. He turned up the volume a bit and started it.

"Taffy, you have just burst on the scene and you've been staring in so many films this past year, it's crazy how popular you are all of a sudden!"

"Yeah, it is. I mean, I just started this as a fun way to make some money and now it's a full-on career!" Dean gasped at her voice. It was deeper than he remembered, seasoned with age, but that giggle at the end was exactly the same. That giggle made his heart hurt.

"Well, as long as you're having fun, right?"

"Exactly!"

"Now, I've noticed, and I'm not the only one, that you seem to favor lesbian scenes. Is that a personal preference, a reference to your actual sexuality, or-"

"Oh, no! I love guys. I live for cock, but…” Dean’s dick twitched at that. Why did her voice sound so musical...especially saying something so filthy? “I don't fuck alphas and there's a lot more work for an omega willing to fuck another omega than an omega willing to fuck a beta."

"Now, why don't you fuck alphas? It would seem a natural thing for you, right?"

She looked down, a bit of the bashful teen girl showing on her face. "Um...I just...it's dangerous, since I'm not mated...and it's special, ya know?” She bit her bottom lip and looked back up and Dean’s jaw dropped. “I may be a slut, but I can't fuck some random alpha and take his knot. I've never taken a knot and...probably never will."

"Fuck, I'd give anything to have you on my knot, Y/n," Dean whispered as the door opened and Lisa and Ben entered. Dean scrambled to exit out of the browser and cover the open jeans with his t-shirt. Reality crashed down on him. There was his family. There was his beta girlfriend and her son...his boy whether by blood or not. “H-hey, honey. How was work?”

“It was good. How was your day, Dean?” she asked, walking over to the desk in the den.

“It was-it was a day,” he answered, tilting his head to allow her to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” Lisa asked, pulling open the half-closed desk drawer. She gasped and slammed the drawer closed when she saw the magazine. “I cannot believe you!” she snapped.

“Come on, Lees, it’s just a Playboy,” Dean defended.

“‘Just a Playboy’? Dean, you’re living with a teen boy now! You can’t have this stuff! You can’t expose him to-”

Dean scoffed and stood, looking down into her eyes. “Lisa, I promise you that boy knows about porn and knows how to find the good stuff online. My Playboy is probably too tame for him.”

“How dare you? Ben would never-”

“Yeah? Check his browser history.” Dean rolled his eyes and stepped around her, walking out of the house and to the garage. He grabbed the cover and pulled it up just enough to open the door and climb into the front seat of the Impala. He took a minute to let a wave of nostalgia roll over him at the feel and smell of his baby before he settled back, legs kicked out and jeans shimmied down enough to pull his cock out.

He closed his eyes and wrapped his fingers around his base. He could see Y/n in his mind. He could hear her laugh. He could see her smile, the way her eyes lit up when he said her name. He started moving his hand up and down his length as he remembered the way Y/n looked at him the first time he sunk his dick into her.

He ran his thumb across the head and gasped as he remembered her digging her nails into his shoulder muscles, how innocent she sounded when she said ‘I think you can go faster’, the way she whimpered with every thrust, the way she wrapped her legs around his waist and babbled his name, the way she whispered ‘harder’ and thanked him when he grabbed her white wood headboard and started pounding into her like the alpha he was. He wanted nothing more than to knot her, but she couldn’t take it.

She could take it now. He wanted to fill her and knot her and make her scream. He wanted to hear her moan and giggle and gasp and-

His breath caught as cum shot out of his cock, splashing over his hand. He gasped in a breath before another stream of semen left him. “Fuck.” Dean fucked himself through his climax until there was absolutely nothing left for him to give and then he slumped into the leather.

He was suddenly filled with despair. He found her. His omega, the one that got away, the one woman his mind returned to in quiet moments. He found her, but she was in the San Fernando Valley in California and he was in Cicero...with Lisa and her boring, normal life. Lisa and her son that she coddled. Beta Lisa that sent him away when he went into rut, who would never be able to take a knot. He loved that Lisa took him in, nursed him back from the brink of breakdown, but the yearning he had pushed down since he was sixteen years old was now back with a burning vengeance.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

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

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth @flamencodiva @wasabiwitteks @rainbowkisses31 @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661 @officiallyunofficialperson @dolphincliffs @mrs-meghan-winchester @gayspacenerd @foxyjwls007 @ilovefanfic86 @marvelfansworld @f-yeahfandoms @wonderlandfandomkingdom @hhiggs @sev3nruby @hobby27 @paintballkid711 @divadinag @thewhiterabbit42 @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural @letsby @supernatural-bellawinchester @onethirstyunicorn @swinchester27 @chalicia @sunnyroadtrips @screechingartisancashbailiff @death-unbecomes-you Hunter Tags - @atc74 @sandlee44 @spnbaby-67 @kalesrebellion @tumbler-tidbits @hoboal87 @stoneyggirl @kbl1313 @cookiechipdough @mrswhozeewhatsis @winchesterxfamilybusiness @holylulusworld @pretty-fortune @screechingartisancashbailiff @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @imperiusimpala

Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm @deanmonandnegansbitch @jadesupernatural @stoneyggirl @4fareader @squirrelnotsam @lyarr24 @akshi8278 @pretty-fortune @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits

Centerfold Tags- @mychemicalimagines @moron225 @ladyofmaidensandwine @that-one-gay-girl @roonyxx @teresa-67

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #a/b/o dynamics #alpha!dean #omega!reader #lisa braeden #pining #pornstar!reader

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

Text

Ghost Wedding: The Remix

So, uh, here’s the first actual fanfic I’ve written, and the first full length piece I’ve written in literal years. I wrote it for my own amusement, after weeks of eating up various bits of TWST lore and scenes and going “But, how would the whole Ghost marriage story have gone with a Yuu who was more like me a goth bisexual disaster?

What follows is a series of vignnetes, starring a Yuu who’s the only girl in NRC, with deeply questionable taste, told in the second person. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, I crave positive feedback and like when other people enjoy the things I like.

Contend warnings for blood, body horror, emeto, coarse language and pretentious word choices.

You've been here a while. En-Arr-See wasn't precisely a safe place, what with your dorm being a condemned hellpit of tetanus and black mold, and powerful magicians having mutagenic psychotic breaks only curable by kicking their ass so hard it flies out their mouth. But certainly, it wasn't boring, and you'd made friends. You had your scrappy ginger Ace in the hole; your serious mamas-boy Deuce; your funny little not-a-cat Grim. Hell, you even have your Horned Boy, he of the poison-coloured eyes that never seem to leave your face when you talk about fun things like books and music and the moral imperative of dissolving the monarchy. And, you were on speaking terms with a good chunk of others. So, when your favourite little robot came up to Crowley, yelling something about ghosts kidnapping his brother, you took his hand and said, "Ortho, show me what's going on." After all, you won't let anything happen to Idia. You have plans for him yet.

~*~*~*~

Some beauties might launch a thousand ships, and in your (objectively correct) opinion, while Idia's beauty wouldn't lead to a ten year siege of Troy, he'd certainly convince everyone attending Whitby Goth Weekend to haul off into the sea with a beat of his lashes. The first time you'd seen him, you'd simply stared in slack-jawed awe. He was luminescent; even leaving behind the fiery hair that flashed and swelled behind him, his eyes were a bright clear amber, and his skin translucent, with his own blue veins serving as the detailing in the marble. Add in the deeply circled eyes and the bluish discolouration of the lips, and the figure he presented was arresting, astounding, more beautiful and unreal than anything you'd conjured up after staying up all night reading ghost stories. "Magnificent," you'd said to yourself, and if your friends gave you a strange look, well, fuck 'em. They have no sense of beauty or taste.

Unfortunately, the intensity of your gaze proved too much for him, and he'd fled. You'd had no time to pursue the object of your infatuation either, class would soon begin, and Grim was yelling. Later, then. There's all the time in the world to ask after the fine young man with the lamplight eyes.

~*~*~*~ "Oh no," you said when Ortho showed you the video. "She's really hot."

Grim gawked and Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you take from this?"

"You're the one with an all-boys school. What's a girl like me to do when a pretty girl pops up?"

"She's a ghost, Yuu."

"That's the best part."

"My brother-"

"I'll help you, dear." You set a hand on Ortho's shoulder. "He must be so frightened, right? I'll do what you need."

Before anyone could say anything else, a racket started up outside, and things got a little busy.

~*~*~*~ "Do you mind if I sit?"

Idia looked up at you. starting at the intrusion. His face was awash in blue from the conjured screens around him, his lips gone black. "...Why?"

"Tables are full. I'd rather not eat standing." He didn't explicitly say no, so you settled across the table, a few chairs down. He made a fascinating tableau as you picked at your lunch, flicking through and typing at the screen. Lines of code, schematics for all sorts of tech, occasional comics all flit across the pane of light in a million shades of blue. Until...

"Could you pretend I'm a bug?"

You squinted. "What." What the actual hell did he mean by that.

"Pretend I'm not here. I'm beneath notice."

You stop for a moment and smile, faint enough that he can't see the devil in it. "You want me to treat you like an insect."

"Yes." Hard to see in the light, there was a small twitch by his temple, a barely perceptible shake in his long fingered hands.

"Alright." With that, you slide down the table to directly across from him, settle you chin in your hands, and stare at him unblinkingly.

"?!?!?" The squawk he made was undignified and deeply, deeply endearing. "What are you doing?"

"You asked me to treat you like an insect." You smile at him, full of mischief and good cheer. "So I'm looking at you very closely. I'm taking in every sweet action, and delighting that the day has conspired to put something so wonderful in front of me."

Oh, who would have thought that this blue boy could turn so pink! As he pulled his hood up, you chuckle and move back to your tray. "I'll let you be," you say, and did indeed, for the amount of time it took him to close up shop and flee back to the depths of Ignihyde. When you waved at him as he went by, he nearly tripped in his haste.

~*~*~*~ "Stop laughing."

The boys did not listen.

"May others show you the kindness you've shown Idia if you're in a bind."

"You're just mad because she's gonna kill your-"

"Grim? Shut the fuck up. Now; who's helping."

After a chorus of 'no's, you drag your fingers through your hair. "I hate all of you so fucking much right now... Ortho, your ideas?"

Ortho's idea was deeply enticing but Crowley would not have the school leveled, and thankfully, the two of them threatened and guilted the others into helping. You'd have to say thank you later, but god, then Crowley might think you actually liked him instead of just finding him funny, and who needed that in their life?

"Alright, so... A plan?"

~*~*~*~ As badly as he might've liked to have escaped, there was only one empty seat in the class, and it was by him. So, Idia threw his hood up, along with his headphones, and started blatantly ignoring you.

"Idia." Silence.

"Idia." A faint grunt and he turned away from you.

"Shroud," you intoned in the most sepulchral tone you could, setting you hand in his field of vision. He whipped his head at you, the fire in his eyes nothing compared to the changing colours on his head.

"WHAT."

You raise your hands in supplication, trying to still your racing heart. "I'm sorry dude. I wanted to ask where you got your screens?"

"My screens?" His eyes flicked back to his schoolwork, hovering in the air. "I made them myself."

Your face lit up in awe. "That's amazing dude, holy shit. How'd you do that? It's a damn miracle."

"Ah... well..." Two sides warred within him - pride that someone recognized his tech genius, and his deep seated anxiety that anyone trying to be nice was just fucking with him. Fortunately for both of you, pride won out. "It's certainly something complicated for a magicless normie like you to understand." He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you really want to hear?"

You fixed him with a level look. "Never call me that again. Now, start like I'm five and go from there."

He stared back at you, and you stared right back. "Indulge me, Idia."

He gave you a smile full of sharp, crooked teeth, and while you tried to still the palpitations the sight of them gave you, he started with very basic theory, and went from there.

~*~*~*~ "You are not going to seduce the ghost bride, Yuu."

"Why the hell not?"

"You're a girl?"

"You're kinda plain."

"You're fat."

"She's probably straight?"

You point in turn at Leona, Azul, Vil, and Kalim. "So?, no I'm plenty hot actually, get fucked, and... Okay, That is a good point. But Kal, you have no idea how many straight girls I've managed to kiss."

"I think you'd die, Shrimpie," Floyd said as he flopped heavily over your shoulders, giggling as you attempted to untangle yourself. "And you're short."

"Yeah, but you have no idea how hot I am when I'm actually try- Shut up, Vil - Like, I clean up so good you guys. I even made a suit a couple weeks ago -"

"That's convenient? Weirdly so?"

"I found suiting that wasn't moth eaten and decided to have fun, at least-" You finally escape from the noodly arms of Leech the Wild One. "Let me suit up and show you? I can be so sexy, you guys. Come on."

In answer to the confused silence, you took your keys out of your pocket and chucked them at Deuce's confused face. "Adeuce! Grim! It's on the vanity in my room!"

"But ghosts?"

"Say you're clearing out things so that we won't bother... No, actually just go the balcony way."

"You can't unlock the balcony from the outside without a lockpick, it only locks from the inside."

A moment of silence. "Lilia, what the fuck?"

He shrugged. "I moved everything two inches to the left once to see if you noticed."

"I wasn't imagining things?!?"

This'll take a moment to sort out, and the clock is ticking...

~*~*~*~ You truly liked the woods! Green and quiet. Full of things that crawled and scurried, little friends that squeaked and croaked and hissed. The occasional precious treasure of a small bone or edible mushroom. So, you were quite surprised when you found Idia, miserable, crouched beside a fallen log.

"... Skipping gym?" Going by the uniform, the most likely answer. "Or did you finally realize that outside doesn't always bite?"

He scowled at you, and you stifled a giggle when you realized that yes, he was actually covered in bug bites. "They should replace this with a mall."

"You hate malls. Too many people." You reached out a hand, and pulled him to his feet. Idly, you wondered if he'd let you try and fit your hands around his waist, but thought better of asking.

"Game stores are alright. No one bothers you in one, or in arcades. And." He stopped, as he brushed the dirt from his legs, before continuing in a mumble you only got the gist of.

"Me and Ortho will be your big, scary guard dogs?"

"... Who'll notice me with both of you?"

"Everyone." Because he's the most beautiful person in the room, and they'd be mad not to look. "Because you show up so rarely. It makes it all the more noticeable when you are out, so everyone pays attention." You held out a hand. "I'll take you out the back way so you don't get in trouble."

No dice. He held his hands in close. "I'll just follow."

"Alright. Why'd you go out this far in the woods with no map, anyways?"

"There's no cell service..."

"Clearly, we need to turn your blood into a wi-fi signal, instead of liquid sugar."

He huffed, but he did follow you, and was actually approaching a good mood once you escorted him through the Ramshackle gates.

~*~*~*~ "Hey, what did I miss?" It took entirely too long to get a single lock of hair to to a perfect insouciant flip over your forehead, even with the eternally stylish Sam's help.

"She's slapped everyone who went to propose, and when she does you're paralyzed for 500 years."

"Christ," You say as you adjust a pin on your lapel. "We have to get Idia back, he'll get what? A week before he gets the hand."

"She's so fussy!" yelled Grim. "You have to sing and have a dog and she hates poison flowers."

"Clearly, she has no taste." Honestly,you thought her taste was just fine, what with thinking Idia was the finest of the bunch. He was very princely, if your tastes ran to exquisite corpses with the personality of a neurotic goblin. "Who wouldn't want poison blossoms?" Tie? No tie? Tie? No tie? No tie. And unbutton. Leona wishes he had this chest.

"We know she has no taste because she chose Idia."

You chose to ignore that, and clapped. "Okay, Round Two!"

~*~*~*~ The truest tragedy of this school was that it was all boys. Not that boys were bad by any means, you certainly enjoyed them, but... girls. Tall girls! Short girls! Busty girls! Petite girls! Butch girls! Femme girls! Fat girls! Girls!

So many kinds of girls, and you, in all of your plump and handsome glory, were the only girl in an entire high school. Welcome to hell.

You accepted no gifts that came unvetted. You had friends ward the everloving bajeezus out of your dorm room. Grim was more than happy to test your food and drink for tampering, but it was exhausting. You at least knew that any food you ate at the Mostro Lounge was clear, but that was only because everyone was too damn scared of the eternally hovering Floyd to try anything while there.

So, you eat a lot of vending machine snacks.

You've been standing there for fifteen minutes, trying to figure out the best combo with your limited funds, when someone coughed behind you.

"??? Oh, hey Idia." You stepped aside while he shuffled up to the glass and peered in. "Anything to recommend? I got this." You waved your bill in the air.

He only looked at you a moment before looking back at the machine. "That won't get you much."

"Ah, don't I know it. But it's all I got."

He still wasn't looking directly at you, but a smile started to creep across his face. "Get your bag."

"Wha-" He was already tapping out a beat with the keypad, blue sparks flying from his fingertips, the machine starting to groan and shiver. With a final note, the snack machine gave a final heaving shudder - and every single snack fell to the bottom of the machine.

He was so proud as he smiled at you, reaching down and pulling a single bag of gummies from the spilled mess. "You first."

And, as you stuffed your schoolbag and pockets full of thieved goods, praising his genius, his cleverness, his skills, he just glowed.

~*~*~*~ "I guess you were ahead of the game, Yuu. She hates that no one's dressed up properly. And..."

"And? You raised an eyebrow at Ace.

"You do look stylish. But you need backup."

"Of course. You'll all rescue people while I distract her!”

"But what if she slaps you?"

"You'll step in if that happens. But we have to dress you all up."

"Did you makes spares?"

"No." Tragic, everyone would look so cute in summerweight green wool. "Let's ask Sam, he's got everything."

~*~*~*~ "Okay, Ortho, you see?" You held his back to your chest, and raised your hand in front of his face, palm away from him. As you wiggled your fingers, you could see movement on the back of your hand. "Those are tendons. Those, and the muscles, are what move the bones, make your hands move. If you put your fingers here," you say as you place his fingertips over the moving lines, "you should be able to feel it."

"I do! They go up and down. What's the popping?"

"That's my faulty joints, we'll cover those another day. Now," you flipped your hand over, and moved his fingers to your wrist. "You feel that?"

"That is your pulse! It's not as string as it should be."

"I'm not always in the best of health. So, Ortho. My hand moves by muscles and tendons when I think of it. My blood moves through my body, one beat at a time, and you can feel it. Right?"

"Right."

"You," you say, as you take Ortho's other hand. "Your hand moves by motors and servos, when you think about it. Electricity and magic moves through your body, in beats so fast we can't perceive it, and it's as measurable as my pulse."

"... Because I am a robot."

"Because you are a bit different. But we're both alive, we're both real, just in different ways." You turn to look at Ortho directly, and he looks back at you with yellow eyes that are actual, real lamps. "Don't let anyone ever say you're not real, or alive, or good enough, just because you're different."

And though you can't see it, you can feel Idia smiling from the corner of his room.

~*~*~*~ Alright. No more time for memories, only the here and now. You've got a heart full of love, a pocket full of ring, and a head full of stupid. You're as prepared as anyone else who went in. Start on your left foot, and...

"Hello? Excuse me?" You make a cursory knock at the doorframe before stepping in. "I heard there was a wedding."

The bride - Eliza - whirled on you, and stopped. She was even more of a vision in person, airy translucence and fine, sweet features currently arranged in confusion. "Ah- Yes! I'm getting married to my darling Prince Idia! Right away, so-"

Not if I have my way about it, you thought to yourself as you arranged yourself in a perfect bow, one hand behind your back. You pretended not to notice Idia trussed up with rope, but you filed the sight away for later. "How wonderful. I wish you only happiness. But it must wait."

Before she could get her hand ready, you straightened and fixed her with your best smile. "My dearest princess, I cannot let this happen until I dance with the most beautiful person in this room. It would be improper to do so with a newlywed, and I cannot know peace until I dance. Would you be so kind, my fair princess?"

She was still baffled. "Aren't you a girl?"

You keyed up the brightness. "I am, and I dance very well. Would you indulge me, my dear?"

You could see her considering it. "You... are rather princely. Can you lead?"

"Of course. May I?" Again with the bow, and to your delight, she returned with a flawless curtsy. Hand in hand, you began.

~*~*~*~ It was delightful, to dance with this silly ghost girl. Everywhere your bodies touched, from her hand in yours to what would have been a fine chest, but was instead a clean and elegant ribcage festooned with pearls, heat seeped away and left only a chill as cold as clay. Her footwork was flawless, considering she no longer had feet, and she was so easy to chat with. She asked you about your dog (none currently, but you'd love to have one, and there was Grim in the meantime), your singing, (little voice to speak of, but that was what vocal coaches were for), and why you wanted to dance with her (because when would the chance ever come again? Unless fairest Eliza considered her for forever and a day.)

"But what of dear Idia?" She'd almost looked towards where Idia no longer was, having been unknotted long ago, but you drew her back in before she could notice the chaos around her.

" 'Dear Idia', though as beautiful as the moon in the sky, has cold feet, my love. He's afraid of dying. But I? I'd cherish you for all of eternity." You leaned in closer. "I am not afraid of dying, beloved. To journey with you through realms beyond mortal reach. I can think of nothing more exciting than to cross the barrier to the other side, hand in hand with you. In the words of a fine sir from my home, 'to die by your side/the pleasure, the privilege is mine'. Please, please consider me, please..."

Here's how it should have gone: She said yes, and you put the ring on her finger, and all was well. But you'd awakened such a sweet hunger in her, she could not wait for propriety. Instead, she grasped your face and kissed you with the passion of five hundred years search, found.

~*~*~*~ It was so pleasant at first, that you couldn't help but return it. When had anyone ever kissed you with such passion? But quickly, the chill began to overtake you. It could have been bearable, but after that was pain. You started to shake, uncontrollably, as every nerve in your body was scraped away with a rusty blade, and as you weakly tried to push away, as blood began to flow from your eyes, your mouth, every pore and orifice, she still would not let go. All you could think was it hurts it hurts it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts and, as you slipped to a grey place beyond where pain could touch you, you barely noticed the cacophony around you, or something hurtling towards the two of you from the corner of your eye.

Something blue.

~*~*~*~ When you finally woke up, through a drugged and painful haze, you couldn't tell where you were. When you jolted up, the pain of it sending you into a nauseated fit of blood-flecked coughing, a familiar yelp sounded, and you turned to see Idia, little the worse for wear.

"You're up, uh..." He fumbled something onto the table, behind his back. "I."

You just looked. At him, at the surroundings. A hospital bed, with gifts and flowers (most filched from the wedding venue, but someone had stuck Jade's poison blossom into a vase and set it in the far corner). Idia was the only one present, seeing as it was the middle of the night.

"Ortho's getting things you might need. I... I hate hospital scenes..."

"Hurt's over.” You tried to settle yourself more comfortably, failing miserably. “Here comes the comfort." You reached out a hand, as he looked anywhere in the room but you.

"Idia." Silence.

"Idia." More silence.

"Shroud." He hesitantly placed his hand in yours, tinting pink as you pulled the sleeve up. The sight of it made you gasp. His fine wrist, so small even you could put your fingers around it, was mottled with deep bruising, blacks and purples set so deep into the skin that there was crusted blood on the surface, despite being unbroken. It was so, deeply, incredibly...

Beautiful. It was all you could do, not to press your lips to his wrist and taste his pulse as it flitted under his skin. To clean the blood away with your own tongue and cover the marks that your hungry ghost princess had made with your own teeth. Not hers. Yours.

Really, no wonder you'd been so enchanted with Eliza. You're cut of the same cloth.

"It must hurt."

He jerked his hand away, making you both wince. "What the hell is wrong with you? They only reason you're not dead is everyone pouring so much healing magic into you that it exhausted almost everyone. I." You could see flickers and flashes of orange sparking along the full length of his hair. "I'm not worth dying for. Why?"

What do you tell him? That it was the right thing to do? That you wanted to prove that you could woo a pretty girl? That you didn't want him dead? That you were a possessive bitch that couldn't stand the idea of someone else having him, even if unwilling on his part? All were true, but what do you say?

It proved a moot point, as when you opened your mouth to say something, anything, something shifted within you, and the only thing Idia received was a gout of blood square in his face.

~*~*~*~ After you'd slept, you reached for your phone in the thin morning light. Your friends where texting well wishes and condolences, and explanations of what happened after you went down (It seemed Idia had tackled Eliza clean off of you, and after some chaos she ran off with her retainer, rending this entire day moot). Even more interestingly, you found a text from an unknown number:

- I'm still mad at you.

You huffed to yourself, and after a bit of thought, start to text back.

- Dude I'm so sorry about the uh. blood puke. - I'll pay for cleaning - Also you know, you could have just asked for my number a long time ago? - Like a normal person? - Who doesn't break into phones to steal said numbers while I was unconscious next to you, what the fuck dude - That's not what this is about though. - You've got every right to be mad - That whole day was traumatizing, and you didn't deserve any of it - I'd rather sort this out in person but if text is easier for you right now we can do that - One last thing though

You stopped, and thought Do I actually do this? and went what the hell.

- I still need that dance I went in to get from you

#twisted wonderland #twst fic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #ghost wedding #my writing

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