#and I'm gonna give them a reprieve

[snackugaki]

memory lane pizza

[robo-writing]

Logan is submissive like a dog is submissive to his master. He revels in the attention you give him, feeds off it. Greedy man he is, he'll take and take, and never will he be satisfied. Your love, your adoration, your infatuation–all fuel to add to the fire that is his devotion. You say jump, he says how high.

Of course you never know how good you've got him trained until it really counts.

The only thing standing between you and a group of men is all six feet of your boyfriend, leering at the assholes who were harassing you on your way home–only leering because your sonorous voice begs him not to hurt them.

Even the sight of their scared expressions isn't enough to satisfy him. True satisfaction would be him using the men as punching bags, but not if it would upset you; as much as he wanted to rip them apart, you were reason enough not to.

It was his fault in the first place, he should've been here to protect you. Your voice begs again– "Don't do it, they're not worth it." And you make him believe it, teeth bared as a warning, but slowly backing away. "Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind," he growls, and they all scatter like mice. Your hands stroke his arm, not stopping until you see his shoulders slowly untense. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, then looks at you. "I'm sorry," he says, pulling you close. "You have nothing to be sorry about," you say, and he can't bring himself to argue. Not when you look up at him like the sun. "For a second there I thought you were gonna take their heads off," you chuckle, leading him to the front door. "I was." "Stop joking Logan–" "I'm not." Your eyebrow raises, having already stepped inside your shared apartment. Before you can protest he descends upon you, holding your neck as to deepen the kiss further. Your lungs burn, allowed a second of reprieve, then returns to kissing you again. "I'm not joking," he gasps. "Best thing in my life, I'd fuckin' kill for you." The way his lips leave you dizzy, you believe every word.

[hans-wh0re]

SKZ HYUNG LINE AND CHOKING

Warning: non con, extreme (kinda) breathplay, all of them are mean

Chan:

"The only sounds I wanna hear are you choking on my cock," Chan snarls as he tightens his vise-like grip on your throat. His hips snap forward with cruel force, burying his thick length into your spasming cunt to the hilt. You gurgle helplessly around the oxygen deprivation, eyes rolling back as he sets a punishing pace.

"F-Fuck… take it slut, just like that," he grunts, other hand threading into your hair to yank your head back at an obscene angle. Drool leaks from the corner of your parted lips with each savage thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

He loosens his hold briefly to give you a split second of reprieve and your body instinctively bucks with a ragged inhale. But Chan is immediately squeezing again with wicked dominance, smile twisting viciously as your airway is cut off once more.

"Love listening to you try and breathe while i'm choking you," he growls, sloppy sounds of his brutal rutting filling the air. You feel yourself teetering on the brink of blackout, shuddering convulsively around the jackhammer pace splitting you apart.

Just when you think you're about to pass out from the dizzying rapture, Chan's grip shifts, closing off your throat entirely. You seize and buck beneath him with garbled, strangled wails as your entire world whites out into an overwhelming release. Through the delirium, you feel thick spurts of cum flooding your battered pussy in time with your own gushing orgasm…

Minho:

"Yes, that's my fucking girl," Minho croons as you writhe beneath his firm chokehold, nails digging crescent moons into the wrist constricting your breath. The filthy sounds of his thick cock pistoning in and out of your dripping slit accompany your feeble grunts and wheezes.

He slows his punishing thrusts momentarily, dragging the swollen head in maddening circles around your abused entrance before sheathing himself fully once more. Delirious with oxygen deprivation and the merciless stimulation, a pitiful whimper gurgles past your parted lips. Minho's eyes darken at the submissive sound.

"What's that, slut?" he sneers, grip tightening incrementally as he rolls his hips with agonizing languor. "You want more of this cock inside your worthless little fucktoy hole?"

You can only respond with another broken noise, desperation contorting your face as he withholds the breath you so crave. Smirking viciously, Minho releases your neck just long enough for you to drag in one desperate inhale before cutting it off again. He resumes pounding into your brutalized cunt at the same devastating pace, ignoring your garbled shrieks of overwhelmed rapture.

"M gonna keep you right on the edge like this," he pants harshly, damp hair clinging to his forehead with exertion. "Stuffed full of cock and just shy of passing the fuck out from how badly I'm choking you. What a lucky little fucktoy..."

Changbin:

"That pretty little face is gonna look so fucked when I'm done with you," Changbin growls, thumb digging cruelly into the hollow of your throat. His pelvis snaps forward with punishing force, burying his girth into your abused slit to the hilt as you choke out a gurgling wail.

You're drooling helplessly in your struggle to take air into your compressed airway, all rational thought obliterated by the fireworks detonating behind your eyes each time his cock splits you open. Pounding relentlessly, Changbin tightens the circle of his fingers around your neck, cutting off breath entirely. The oceanic rush in your ears grows louder as you convulse beneath him, mind blanking into euphoric white static.

Just as blackness begins creeping in at the edges of your vision, he finally deigns to loosen his hold. The oxygen flooding back into your lungs draws a shuddering wheeze of relief that's abruptly swallowed by another hoarse cry as Changbin's thick shaft slams home again. Your battered walls flutter around the brutal intrusion, gushing more of your grool to mingle with the mixture of your arousal already coating his pelvis and thighs in a sticky sheen.

"Fuck, you're gonna milk me dry, aren't you?" he pants, greedy gaze drifting between the sloppy mess your joined sexes have become and the punished, drooling 'o' of your lips struggling for air. "Go ahead, cum all over this fat dick stuffing you stupid, slut…"

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin's dark gaze burns with unrestrained possession as he tightens his grip around your delicate throat. The vicious squeeze elicits a gurgling, strangled cry as he sheaths his aching length fully inside your helpless, convulsing cunt.

"Look at you," he rasps, voice dripping with cruel dominance. "Such a depraved little fucktoy, gagging and choking on my cock like the thirsty set of holes you are."

He draws out with agonizing slowness, the lurid sounds of your arousal thick and obscene. Breathing raggedly through your teeth, you manage to roll your hips in a desperate bid for more friction against the delicious stretch of his girth. Hyunjin watches with darkly amused eyes before abruptly slamming back in to the hilt, never releasing the bruising squeeze cutting off your breath.

Each punishing thrust rips a strangled, gurgling wail from your swollen lips as you writhe and buck violently beneath him. Drool and streaks of your mixed arousal smear between your gasping mouths - you delirious with white-hot euphoria, he coldly focused and ruthless in his domination.

Without warning, Hyunjin shifts his grip, fingers curling around your throat in a vice that fully cuts off oxygen. You seize with a sobbing shriek of rapture as your entire body is set alight, an orgasm of earth-shattering intensity tearing through you like a shockwave. Spots of blackness encroach on the edges of your vision. Just as you start to go limp, hurtling helplessly toward that blissful abyss, Hyunjin releases his grip.

The gasping inhale you manage to wheeze as stars explode behind your fluttering lids is abruptly choked off once more as Hyunjin resumes his merciless pace, maniacal fervour coursing through his frame.

"I haven't given you permission to pass out yet, slut," he snarls, voice edged with insane menace. "Gonna keep you right on that brink, stuffed full and denied air until I've properly bred your slutty womb..."

Overwhelmed shrieks and garbled pleas spill from your abused throat as Hyunjin relinquishes and reinstates the breath-stealing clutch at cruel, calculated intervals - keeping you pinwheeling in the vertigo of orgasmic delirium. He shows no signs of slowing, ruthlessly extending your torture of euphoria into a realm where rapture and agony have blurred indistinguishably...

A.N: Not me writing this at work and praying that nobody walks into my office without me noticing 💀💀

[devotion-disorder]

Not sure if it's just me or not but even after you fixed the link it still doesn't seem to work 😞. Also I'm not sure if this has been answered before but how likely are the boys to kidnap us? What would the living conditions be like for us? Also when is Noel gonna let me out of his freaky sex dungeo-

no you're right the link was broken again 💀💀💀 should be fixed now (fr this time)

I think Noel is more likely than Kuuya to kidnap their target. First for purely logistical reasons - he's got that streamer money to afford a nice place with a spare room while Kuuya is still living in a 4-tatami run-down apartment downtown. But generally speaking, Noel is more emotionally volatile and reckless, while Kuuya is sometimes too cowardly to act on what he wants to do.

In the very loose line of lore i have in my head (which id say are like, half-canon only, so feel free to disregard it), Noel and his s/o hasnt been in contact since their childhood days, and he has changed pretty dramatically since then. On the other hand, Kuuya most likely falls for someone he already sees on a routine basis (a coworker, a 7-11 cashier, his neighbor etc etc) so he's fulfilled by watching at a distance to some extent. So Noel might be more desperate to reconnect with his s/o through whatever means possible.

On a baseline level, the living conditions with Noel aren't too bad. You'll probably be given your own en-suite room, which would be nice if the doors actually had locks on them. He'll spoil you with whatever you want to eat, on the condition that you'll eat it while sitting on his lap. But having all of these 'privileges' also means he can take them away as easily as he gives them out...disobey him and see how fast he can turn your room into a sensory deprivation chamber.

Kuuya, on the other hand, doesn't even have a big enough room for a work desk, let alone two beds. So you can expect zero personal space at all times and everything becoming a co-op activity LOL. Not that he's complaining though. His insane working hours might be your only reprieve, but you might be driven to insanity faster by the sheer boredom of staring at the same 4 walls everyday than the fact that you're cohabiting with a psycho.

[velariscalling]

Morally Grey - An Azriel Imagine

Characters: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader.

Warnings: Alcohol, suggestive language.

A/N: My first ever imagine is HERE!! Honestly I've been so nervous to put this out as it's all very new to me, but I really hope you guys enjoy it! I'm really looking forward to see how my writing develops as I post more, but for now, I hope you enjoy my first post! It's just a load of silly fun tbh. And finally, thank you so much to @sarawritestories for helping me out with the ending, you're the best! <3

Soundtrack: 'Morally Grey' by April Jai feat. Nation Haven

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

Rita’s was bustling.

As it always was on a Friday night, really. They probably should have known better than to come on a weekend, but the welcoming vibrancy of the bar was a welcome reprieve from a long week’s work. Y/N took a deep breath as the music hit her, exhaling as she let any remaining stress seep from her body and into the night.

Before she could think too much about the busy days she’s had as of recently, a hand grabbed each of hers - one perfectly manicured, one covered in swirls of black ink - and pulled her in the direction of the bar. Mor flagged down a barman who recognised them immediately - it wasn’t a rare occurrence for the Night Court’s Inner Circle to make an appearance here.

After a moment, she handed her a shot glass filled with bright green liquid. “Bottoms up, you’re gonna need it tonight,” she grinned, already having necked her own. Feyre giggled as Y/N raised a questioning eyebrow at the blonde, throwing back her shot anyway and wincing at the tangy liquid.

“And why is that, exactly?” Y/N cocked her head at her friend, who’s brown eyes danced with excitement.

“Oh come on,” she rolled her eyes playfully, already flagging down the barman for yet another shot, just for herself this time. “You really think Cassian’s going to let us miss out on tonight? He’s been preparing his song with Rhys for days.”

It’s true - Cassian’s favourite night of the week was their newest tradition, open mic night at Rita’s. Four songs, four duos, randomly selected. Or so he says, anyway. He probably matched himself with Rhysand so he could convince him to sing Mysterious Girl together.

Feyre gripped Y/N’s hand from her other side, clearly trying her hardest to hold back a squeal of excitement. “How are you feeling?” She knew that there was more to that question than meets the eye. It wasn’t a secret that Cassian’s little game had paired her up with Azriel, much to his delight.

She put on her mask of indifference that she had mastered over the months of knowing the shadowsinger, refusing to give any details away of her incessant feelings for him that prodded at her constantly. “I am feeling absolutely fine, High Lady,” she smiled, eyes shining, but a scoff from her left interrupted her.

“Please,” Mor drawled, looking at her with a face that said, don’t even try. “You literally can’t fool anyone, especially not us, so drop the act.”

Okay, so maybe she hadn’t mastered her mask as well as she had initially thought, her twin’s nod of agreement cementing that conclusion. “Okay fine, but what do I have to be nervous about? You are all the ones who should be nervous when we out-sing you.” She smirked at them, but they shared a knowing look.

“There it is, changing the subject,” Feyre chuckled, nursing her drink in her hand. Y/N scowled at her, but she could never actually be mad at her. Frankly, she was more irritated by the fact that she knew her so well. “What? Y/N, this is what happens every time we bring him up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, when an arm was slung over her shoulder, and Feyre’s. “Ladies,” Rhysand’s melodic voice sounded over the music as he appeared between the sisters. He nodded at Mor with a grin, who was already on her… third, or fourth shot? Who knows. “Cass will have a temper tantrum if I don’t drag you all over to the stage right now.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with a laugh and allowed her mate to spin her into his arms, and they both made their way over to the Inner Circle’s area of the bar. Y/N’s heart warmed at the sight of them, knowing that her twin, her double in every way, had found her happiness. Mor looped her arm through hers as they walked behind them, her eyes following Y/N’s gaze. “You’ll have that soon, you know.”

Y/N looked over at her. She was so breathtaking, her brown eyes contrasting her golden hair, and her signature red dress hugging her flawless body in all the right places. Any male or female in this room would be lucky to get her, and yet, she didn’t care. Next to her, though, Y/N felt like nothing. As if Mor could sense her thoughts, she squeezed her arm affectionately. “Come on. Tonight’s the night you’re going to show that other side of you- oh don’t give me that look, I know it’s there.”

Y/N huffed, a lighthearted sound, and shook her head softly. “I wish I had your confidence,” She murmured, a dry joke.

“Babe, you’re sexy. When are you going to realise that?” The sheer certainty in Mor’s voice had Y/N raising her eyebrows at her friend, who simply nodded, as if agreeing with herself. “Channel it tonight. I’ll be watching.” She winked, and released her arm as they arrived at their own table right in front of the stage.

Rhys and Feyre had already taken their seats at the centre, High Lord and Lady looking elegant as ever. Cassian sat to Rhys’s right, his excitement akin to a golden retriever, as Amren, who was sat next to him, clearly tried her hardest not to throttle him. Next to Feyre sat Azriel, his looming shadows making the already dark bar appear pitch black in his presence. There were two empty chairs to his left, and finally Nesta sat at the end of the table, clearly trying to make the most of as much peace and quiet as she could get before the night’s shenanigans unfolded. Mor was quick to take the seat next to her, leaving Y/N between her and Azriel. He gave her a short smile as she sat down, ever the emotionless. “Are you ready?”

The low, icy voice of the shadowsinger never failed to take her by surprise. If the living embodiment of darkness could talk, it would sound like him. She looked at him, his hazel eyes glowing even in the darkness, and replied, “Are you?”

Before Azriel could respond, a flute of sparkly champagne slid from Y/N’s left into view. She turned to see Nesta, wordlessly handing her the drink, with grey-blue eyes that told her that she, too, thought she needed an extra little liquid confidence tonight. She noticed Mor biting her lip so hard she looked as though she may explode, and she rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she turned back to Azriel. To her surprise, it appeared as though a similar grin was tugging on those lips as well.

He merely raised his glass to hers, eyes shining with a grin that he wouldn’t let fully show on his face. She picked up her own glass and clinked it against his, matching his honey gold gaze.

Let the night begin.

It’s safe to say that the performances of the night were… well, entertaining. Cassian was a little too excited dragging Rhys up to perform their number first, giving major boyband energy up on that stage. Feyre was in fits of laughter, but Nesta looked like she wanted to claw her eyes out… but perhaps secretly enjoyed it behind that mask of disgust. Y/N’s two sisters were up next with a rendition of Love Story in which Nesta was surprisingly involved, followed by Amren and Mor’s take on Lady Marmalade, which was frankly the worst thing anyone had ever heard. If the monster lurking beneath Amren’s skin was anything like her singing voice, then Mother help us all.

It wasn’t long before her friends were cheering and whooping as Y/N stood from her seat - the final song. “Get him girl,” Mor whispered as she passed her, Azriel on her heels. She felt the shadows licking at her ankles as she ascended the steps to the stage, gripping the microphone that had been handed to her on the way.

As Azriel situated himself to her left, she stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at the floor, uncharacteristically tense under the gazes of all their friends. It was no secret that Azriel had the most beautiful voice you’d ever heard, a gift from the Cauldron itself, but it occurred to her now that maybe no one else had heard it before. Aside from her, at the couple of short practices they  had done. Even then, she didn’t think he was giving his all.

Y/N faced the front and prepared for the music to play - she was more of a seasoned performer than Azriel. She had played her fair share of gigs around Velaris, a good handful of which on this very stage. If she was showing some confidence, she hoped that it would spark some inside of him. She steeled herself, breathing in deeply as she raised the microphone to her lips, and the music began.

���He’s got gold eyes, crooked smile, knows that he drives me wild,”

She felt the heat of the spotlight on her as she let her voice ring through the bar. It was soft, to begin with, giving the song room to breathe, to build. She looked over at the man she was sharing the stage with, noticing tension already lost from his shoulders at the sound of her voice. His eyebrows were raised ever so slightly, and she knew then that he’d realised how she’d changed the lyrics to fit him, those perfect golden eyes.

“Can’t help myself, no I’m not in denial,”

The smile she sent his way was telling, it spoke a hundred words. But it wasn’t just her grin that conveyed the message she sent: you’re okay, you’re with me, move with me. There was something between them, an invisible thread connecting the two of them, body and soul and mind. Certain thoughts, certain feelings - she could feel his, and he could feel hers. A bond like this had meaning, they both knew this, but neither of them were bold enough to explore it, acknowledge it. Across that bond, she beckoned him: Azriel, you’re with me, and I’m with you… play with me.

“I know he’s no good for me,”

There was a flicker of something in the shadowsinger’s eyes, as if his mind had decided to pull him down an alternative route to the one he was prepared to go down, the one where he’d back out and run. A shadow of a smirk lingered on his lips, as his own shadows danced around him excitedly, egging him on. The weaving tendrils were clearly more than satisfied with the idea that flashed through their master’s mind, whatever images Y/N’s words had conjured up. Azriel, play with me.

“But when he gets down on his knees,”

The spark in his eyes only seemed to brighten as he brought the lyrics to life, sinking slowly down onto his knees before her. The shit-eating smirk he wore on his face in response to her evident surprise could have sent her to her own knees as she beheld him, kneeling, for her. Mother spare her. A quick glance to her right at the others confirmed that they had all had the same reaction she had, and she feared that the bar staff may have to assist in picking their jaws up from the floor. Azriel’s face was challenging, knowing, yet almost the picture of innocence as she felt his response in her mind: You told me to play with you. She sent one word back at him: Bastard.

If he was going to play dirty, so was she.

“He’s so eager to please, knows the right frequencies,”

He reached a hand out as if to touch her - where, she wasn’t sure - but she grabbed it before he could make any contact. Scars felt rough against her soft skin as she walked slowly, teasingly around him and she sang the chorus, her heeled boots tugging her posture upright so her body curved in all the right places. She caught Feyre’s eye as she circled Azriel, still knelt on the floor and looking as though he was more than content to stay there forever. Y/N’s sister looked like her eyes were about to bulge out of her head, her smile growing so big that Y/N thought it would be too big for her face. Next to her, Rhysand simply winked, an encouraging smirk boosting her confidence.

“They say he’s morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite colour,”

As she made her way back to the front of Azriel’s view, still gripping his hand as he held it upright for her to use, she slowly lowered herself down to a squat in front of him as she sang the line. From this angle, she was now much closer to his face than before, and she noticed the subtle sheen of lust glazing over his eyes. It almost made her lose balance - almost. She brought his hand gently to her lips, placing a chaste kiss onto his marred knuckles, and he took in a sharp breath. Most people flinch when they see his hands, or grimace, or turn away. Not Y/N. No, she thinks Azriel’s scars are part of his story. The backstory to a warrior, a survivor. Scars are not the memory of what happened, but a testament to who you have become.

“Morally grey, what can I say? Grey’s my favourite…”

She rose to her feet, prepared to give Azriel some space to begin his verse, remembering the nerves that clung to him barely a minute ago. As she began to turn, taking the first step away from him, something cold slithered around her ankle, and one around her waist. The shadows pulled her straight back to where she was as the music lowered, and held her in place, as if they knew that hearing his voice would send her to the floor. And Mother above, they knew her well.

“What can I say? No I don’t pray, but for your body, I’ll worship,”

She could have sworn her knees buckled, but she couldn’t tell from the shadows holding her still. Azriel’s voice was like silk, so soft and pure, yet it lit her insides on fire in a way that she’d never felt, burning her up like a beautiful, dying star. If his voice was to be the thing to send her to her death, then so be it. She would die very, very happy. He reached out once again, and this time she did not stop him as he ran his hand up her thigh all the way to her waist from his position on the floor. Even kneeling, his Illyrian frame was intimidatingly large, her body standing not too much taller than his. His eyes watched his hand intently as it traced the curve of her side, as if they didn’t have an audience, one that was most definitely gaping at Azriel’s sudden brazenness.

“Girl don’t be afraid, my love’s a grenade, just be a good girl, you can take it,”

Like an angel rising from the ashes of war, Azriel stood slowly, wings flaring as he rose to his full height. His gaze was already intense when she was the one looking down at him, but now that he was the one towering over her, the darkness in his eyes shot electricity straight through her body and into her core, her head reeling with thoughts so sinful that nothing could save her. His hand on her waist squeezed on the words good girl, and she was forced to bite her lip hard to stop herself from reacting in a way that would later be incredibly embarrassing. His eyes tracked the movement, lingering on her bottom lip as she released it from her teeth with a pop.

“Call me insane but for you, I was made, I’d burn the world down if it’d make you feel safe,”

The fire in Azriel’s eyes blazed as he took one step toward her, and another, and another, closer and closer. The upper hand that Y/N had held up until now had slipped, yielding step after step backward, her control completely faltering. She had always known that doing this with Azriel would likely create some… tension between the two of them, and he must have known, but Cauldron, this was unlike anything she had ever expected. Azriel was so close that she felt his body heat, felt her face warming, likely for everyone to see under the harsh glare of the spotlights.

“It’s you that I crave, and nothing compares to your taste,”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel like Azriel meant every single word he was singing. No, he didn’t write the lyrics himself of course, but the way his eyes burned with such feeling, and… what looked to be desperation, told her there was much more to this than meets the eye. And Gods… the way his voice cracked ever so slightly with a primal need as those final words left his mouth had her praying to whatever higher powers she could to forgive her for the damning shivers he was sending straight to the very heart of that taste he craved so badly.

As the chorus rolled around once more, their voices finally blended as one, and nothing had ever sounded so right. Azriel’s shadows danced freely around the two of them, creating a tornado of darkness, of intimacy, where they were right in the eye of the storm. The song continued, and the pull between the two of them was magnetic, almost hypnotic as they completely forgot about the audience they had; their family who were most definitely gaping like fish out of water. Y/N could feel Azriel’s warm breath on her face as he sang, his angelic voice whispering less-than-angelic promises that only she could hear in the way it trembled.

Y/N honestly didn’t think that Azriel could get any closer - what she failed to consider was that the shadowsinger was in so deep that he wasn’t planning on stopping until there was absolutely no space left between them. As the song once again softened, Azriel took his chance and leaned impossibly closer, abandoning his vocals in favour of a different use of that mouth. Y/N inhaled sharply as Azriel’s lips brushed against hers, gently, experimentally. Some instinctive part of her that knew this was right pushed her forward to press her lips a little harsher against his, earning a shiver from the shadowsinger. She heard a soft rustle coming from behind him as his wings twitched from the anticipation.

As he pulled away, Azriel heard a shaky exhale escape her lips, caused only by the feeling of him, the heat of two bodies pressed close together, the rush of meeting the lips of the person who, deep down, you know is made for you. Your partner. Your mate. That shiver he elicited from Y/N was the final straw - the last thing he needed to cement his plans for the night. His face still inches from hers, he whispered with a voice so low he wasn’t sure it had even come from him, “You’re mine tonight.”

One moment, the IC were watching dumbfounded at the scene playing out in front of them, some wondering if they really should be averting their eyes (apart from Cassian, who sat with a shit-eating grin on his face). The next moment, the stage was empty, a whisper of shadows the only thing left standing in their wake. Azriel had disappeared in a flash, winnowed to who knows where, taking Y/N with him.

“Goddamn, Az,” Rhys chuckled into his drink after a beat of shocked silence. “Nicely done.”

“No! But they didn’t even finish their song!” Cassian pouted, gesturing wildly at the empty stage as the music still played from the speakers.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s their priority right now, Cass,” Mor giggled, practically vibrating from excitement and pride, exploding with glee at what had taken place since her little pep talk earlier.

Rhys set his glass down on the table in favour of throwing an arm over the top of Feyre’s chair. “It’s about time those two did something about the obvious, right?”

As Feyre’s eyes sparkled with delight for her twin, she giggled at his words, overjoyed at the knowledge that Y/N may at last feel the happiness of having a mate. A partner for all eternity.  “Yeah… finally.”

[iliketangerines]

a lesson in shrubbery

a/n: i'm a little late...just give me a second to catch up

pairing: tsu'tey x afab!na'vi!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), rough sex, orgasm control, teasing, public sex (you're in the forest), doggystyle

perhaps you had pushed him a bit too far this time, vying for Tsu’tey’s attention whenever he was trying to teach his trainees and also deal with the outsider at the same time

it’s just that he had been so distant lately, spending more time complaining and muttering underneath his breath about Tsyeyk Suli rather than paying attention to you

you knew that it was the stress of becoming future olo’eyktan and the increasing encroachment of the sky people on eywa’eveng

and you really should’ve just let things settle and cool until you brought up your own problems to Tsu’tey

but really, you were also tired, the bedroll cold when you went to bed and barely warm when you woke up, Tsu’tey’s tail whipping out of the tent flap as he sped to go to training

it had frustrated you, leaving you to stop cutting and peeling fruits for him, finding the best cut of meat for him at meals, and talking to him during meals

you had thought your avoidance towards him would perhaps maybe bring his attention to you, but he hadn’t even noticed, barely present at any meal times, off in the forest deep in the night to practice his hunting and stalking skills

and then, you had resorted to bothering him during training, when you knew he was busy to try and get his attention

he had not appreciated it and dismissed you many times, but you supposed flirting with the dream walker today snapped him out of whatever trance he had on training

his hand presses further into the small of your back as he thrusts his cock into you, barely a rhythm as he snarls at you, fangs bared

“what, you think i can’t please you? my own mate?” his voice is a deep growl, sending shivers up your spine and your tail whipping in the air

he grabs it into his other hand, pulling at it roughly and drawing a loud choked sound out of your throat

you claw at the dirt underneath your hands, tears staining the earth along with your arousal, the clear liquid dripping down the inside of your plush thighs and into the dirt

Tsu’tey ignores your clit, opting to just growl and snap his hips into yours, enough so that there’s a wet slap every time he fucks back into you

it’s feral how he snarls, spitting insults about the dreamwalker, and you can barely process them as he lets go of your tail and brings it to grip onto your hip, nails digging into your skin

“you belong to me, yeah? only i can fuck you like this, make you this into this pathetic mess.” his hand that was pressing into the small of your back moves forward and grabs onto your kuru, gently tugging at it

pleasure bursts in your vision as you gasp for air, “Tsu’tey please please, i’m sorry, i- agh ah hah!”

his hand once again tugs on your kuru, and your mind goes blank, tongue nothing more than a block of wood as you struggle to beg for your own pleasure

“aw what? you’re gonna have to speak up, syulang.” his voice holds a tint of arrogance, teasing, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fall apart underneath his hands

bruises would be sure to paint your hips, you would remember every thrust everytime you sit down or crouch, and you struggle to formulate sentences as you try and answer his question

“agggh hah mmnng,” only pathetic moans can slip from you as he angles his hips slightly, finally giving you slight reprieve as the tip of his cock bullies into your sweet spot, a rush of your arousal rushing through you and coating him

a thick ring of your slick forms around the base of his dick, and Tsu’tey stares at it, licking his lips as he lets go of your kuru, draping his body over yours so that his chest presses into your upper back and leaning his weight onto one forearm

“c’mon syulang, i can’t hear you.” his fangs sink into the skin of your neck, tasting your sweat and your musk, feeling your heartbeat on the tip of his tongue

Tsu’tey brings his fingers to your clit, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves, his hips still steadily fucking into you with wet slaps

“agh ah ah i- ughh,” it’s the only thing you can whine as he rubs your clit in between two fingers roughly, the callouses on his fingertips rubbing deliciously against you

you can hardly think, back arching further to try and get him deeper into you, only focused on how you need to cum

your mate groans, feeling your pussy clench around him, sucking him in deeper, tempting him to cum inside of you so that you smell like him, so that no other suitor would dare to try and chase you

Tsu’tey nips at your neck once more, making sure that there would be bitemarks left before pressing his tongue against the mark to ease the pain

“you think you deserve to cum? after all that? after flaunting what is mine in front of that demon?” anger flares through him once more at the thought of that dreamwalker taking you away from him

“please, pleeaase, only yours, forever yours” you whimper it quietly, heavy tongue somehow forming the words as you drool, so close to your release, to the height of pleasure

he groans at your admission that you belong to him, that you’re only his, and he kisses your neck as he grunts, pinching at your clit again, rubbing it just how he has memorized

his fingers have mapped your body, traveled every crevice and bump and knows you better than he knew himself

Tsu’tey belonged to you just as much as you belonged with him, and he was yours

a groan falls from his mouth as his hips stutter and his hot cum fills you, short shallow thrusts fucking his seed further into you as he rides out his orgasm

you keen as you cum at the same time, pussy clenching tightly as you bring him in deeper to you, desperate needy whine moans falling from yout mouth as you finally dive over the cliff into pleasure

the both of you pant into the air, letting it cool and bring you back to reality

still, your brain still feels full of fuzz, like pollen had sunk into your head, and you lay limbless in the shrubbery, too tird to try and talk

Tsu’tey stays for a few minutes more before pressing a soft kiss to your neck and pulling out of you, whispering a small apology as you whine at the feeling, oversensitive now

he gently picks you up into his arms, smiling to himself now that you smell like him completely and wholly

the wind is quiet as he brings you to the calm rivers, “the water’s going to be cold, syulang.”

you nuzzle into his chest, humming, and he steps into the water slowly, letting you sink into the water with him as you cling onto his neck and breathe slow breaths

he settles you into his lap, running his hands over your body and wiping away the sweat gently from your neck and your face

trailing one hand in between your legs, he gentle cleans you of your arousal, pressing apology kisses to your forehead as his fingers rubs at your sensitive pussy

you just let out a somewhat irritated and hum and cling tighter to him, not wanting this moment to end

“i missed you, Tsu’tey.” it’s a quiet whisper from you, but he hears it and sighs, leaning his chin on your shoulder

“i know, i missed you too. i’m sorry, i should’ve paid you more attention, syulang. forgive me?” his voice is just as quiet, the words only for you and the quiet of the forest

a pause of silence from you passes by, “yeah, i forgive you.”

Tsu’tey smiles and continues to hold you in your arms until the night underneath the eclipse appears

[zablife]

*Skids to a halt after crashing through inbox door* DID SOMEBODY SAY SLEEPOVER? I am here, bestie!

Can I please request something spicy for my Italian husband? I will let you have creative choice over scenario. I’m craving some Luca smut in whatever form! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Tysm for your request, Claire! I had so many ideas I wanted to share, but settled on this naughty encounter about the first time Luca makes you squirt. I would apologize for my filthy imagination, but I'm not sorry in the slightest 😂 I hope you enjoy!

18+ MDNI

Let Me Spoil You

"Luca, I'm not sure I can," you whimpered, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you studied him nervously. "I've never done this before."

"Then it's a good thing I have," he teased, sucking at the ticklish spot near your hipbone as your breathy moans filled the air. Pulling away to tongue the blossoming bruise, a mischievous smile spread across his lips as he returned his attention to your sticky inner thighs, peppering them with delicate kisses.

"Let me spoil you, principessa," he begged as though he hadn't already spent the entire evening lavishing you with attention.

You gulped and nodded slowly, opening your legs wider to welcome his touch. With a hitch of breath, you felt his long fingers slide against your dewy folds once more and into the tight clutch of your cunt.

Green eyes sparkling with nefarious delight, he wasted no time seeking the soft, spongy spot inside you that turned your legs to jelly. As he added firm pressure and lapped gently at your clit, the warmth in your belly returned with rapid speed.

Soft pants turned to whimpers as your hand fumbled in Luca's dark curls, grasping a bit too tightly as your brow furrowed at the odd tingling sensation. He drank in your adorable look of confusion, smirking at the memory of the times before when you'd stopped him, insisting you'd wet yourself if he continued. As he predicted you began to whine in a familiar high pitched wail that made his cock ache. "It's too much, Luca! I'm gonna...gonna..."

"Shhh, angel, you're doing so well for me," he cooed without giving you reprieve. Crooking his fingers against your sensitive walls in such a way that had you clamping down, hips bucking against him. He held you against the mattress with his muscular forearm, watching your face and neck begin to flush with the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, taunting, “You want it, don't you?"

A sizzle of electricity charged down your spine as he pumped his fingers within you, forcing shuddered breaths from your trembling body. Knowing you were staving off the inevitable, Luca added another finger, betting you wouldn't be able to fight the exquisite feeling of fullness. As your back arched against him, he praised, "You look so fuckin' beautiful like this." Then in that deep, commanding voice you couldn't ignore, "Cum for me, gorgeous."

Before you knew what was happening, a wave of pleasure crashed over you, black spots dancing across your vision as your legs shook. Luca moaned appreciatively as the first gush of fluid drenched his wrist, opposite hand pressing down on your abdomen to coax another squirt from your pulsing cunt. As your head dropped to your shoulder in exhaustion, Luca watched a little puddle collect with a swell of pride.

Focused on the pleasant little aftershocks rippling through your spent body, you were only vaguely aware of him withdrawing his fingers from you. The lewd squelching sound was soon replaced with the satisfied grunt of a man tasting his victory and you began to giggle. You'd never met a man who enjoyed giving pleasure so much as Luca Changretta.

He took such good care of you as evidenced by the gentle way he woke you after you'd drifted off to sleep, insistent on bathing you and changing the sheets before bedtime. Carrying you toward the bathroom for a hot soak in the tub, he nuzzled your check and whispered soft words of praise. “I knew you could do it, angel.”

Zablife Sleepover

-----------------------

Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@red-riding-wood

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@the-fangirl-diaries

@kmc1989

@stilestotherescue 

@helen06dreamer

@chaosinkest1996 

@pietroxreader 

@galactict3a

@ietss

@mostly-marvel-musings

@writeroutoftime

@yolobloggers

@outlanderuniverse

@anilovessadbooks

@tremendousstarlighttragedy

@elliaze

@leenieweenie

@snickersmee

@niktwazny303

@thomashelbyswife

@garrison-girl-08

@allie131313

@shelby-fangirl00

@beastofburdenxo

@ryecosse

@skydisneylover

@already-broken144

@mcumorningstar

@jaymcdowell

@iwantanoldfashionedmillionaire

@justlulu

[imrllytootiredforthis]

I rlly wanna play with afab!yeonjun's clit while he bends over a table☹️💔 I wanna make his legs shake and everything

coming home to him cooking a delicious dinner for you, knowing how stressful work is for you right now. all he wants to do is make it all better, give me a little reprieve from all of the frustration of your day.

he calls hi to you when he hears the door unlock and you slowly shuffle in, grumbling about something under your breath.

he understands. as much as it makes him sad to see you like this. so tired and upset.

so he smiles when you enter the kitchen. "hi baby, dinner's almost ready, i just have to finish this up and then-"

he barely has a chance to finish his sentence, much less greet you any better and ask you how your day's been before your body is pressing against his from behind, pinning him to the counter.

"wha-what are you doing, you're gonna bur-"

your hand reaches around him, shutting off the burner before maneuvering back to him, slipping beneath his apron to tug lightly at the waistband of the criminally short pair shorts he's wearing.

your breath is hot against his ear, your chin pressing against his shoulder, "m' so sorry baby, just can't help myself, just wanna play with your pretty pussy~"

he knows he shouldn't-

but he folds just like that-

moaning when your fingers play with his clit through his shorts, it feels so good fucking good but it's not enough, he wants you in him, touching him directly, feeling how wet you're getting him.

"m' sorry baby, just wanna feel you cum on my fingers, wanna make a mess out of you" you mutter again, "i'm so, so sorry."

he feels his cunt clench around nothing, aching to have you inside of him, to have you playing with him until he can't take anymore of it and then going on, still.

yeonjun makes no protests when you press him against the edge of the table, manhandling him like he weighs nothing to you.

but you're still gentle, god you're still so fucking gentle with him like he's something precious that you're afraid to break and that's what makes his head spin like he's floating.

"my shorts-" his voice sounds hoarse, his hips bucking against your hand as your fingers feel the warmth seeping through the fabric. "take them off, please take them off,"

you oblige him, leaving open-mouthed kisses over the back of his neck, sweeping his hair out of the way with your nose for better purchase as your fingers deftly un-work the drawstrings of his shorts, dropping them around his ankles.

"fuck," you groan, "you're so fucking wet,"

he can hardly control his body. his thrusting hips or shaking body, his clit throbbing as you rub it through his soaked panties.

he can't take this anymore, he can't take this anymore.

you take mercy on him, hooking your fingers around the soaked fabric and pulling to the side, brushing them through his folds before slowly, teasingly dipping a finger into him, pulling out just as quickly as he sobs, unable to help how his thighs shake on either side.

teeth nip at his earlobe, hoarse moans filling the room, failing to keep himself quiet. "i'm so sorry junnie, m' gonna make you feel so good, make you cum so hard."

"please," he doesn't even recognize his voice anymore, how quickly you've made him sound this wrecked. "please, please just do it, i can't take it anymore!"

he doesn't understand how you make him like this, needy and desperate and splayed out bent over the table with his legs spread, begging for you to just play with his pussy until he can't think straight anymore.

but it doesn't matter because you flip him over, gently resting his back against the table as you let two fingers slip into him, ripping a guttural groan from deep in his chest and start rubbing your thumb over his sensitive clit, red and throbbing from the friction of the fabric.

he looks down at you with half-lidded, bleary eyes, rimmed with tears that are barely hanging on. "don't stop, please don't stop-"

his lips are slick with spit, swollen from him biting at them. you kiss him. you kiss him over and over and over again. and you don't stop, muttering breathlessly between the clashes of your lips.

not when he cums the first time, slick dripping down your fingers, making the slide all the easier. making his body all the more sensitive.

"i'll make it up to you, promise."

not when he cums a second time, trembling, legs trying to close around your hand only for you to pin them open again.

"g'na make you feel so good,"

not when he squirts all over your fingers, a muffled scream making it past his lips, his eyes rolling back as he soaks your hand and you continue, still.

"love you, love you so, so much."

you mutter, finally pulling away to see what a mess you've made of him. of spit and slick and cum.

and his widen as you get on your knees, strong hands keeping them separated.

when you look at him with those eyes and he can't say no to you as you stick your tongue out and lick a broad stripe through his folds, ignoring the way he screams in oversensitivity and pleasure and groaning with the way he tastes.

"m' so sorry baby,"

a/n: not proofread, and probably never will😽just enjoying yeonjun with a pussy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life in the City 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: A brief reprieve from the snakish prince.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You nurse your glass of wine. You're not much of a drinker, you mostly brought it for Melanie. Despite her agitation, she seems to be enjoying it. She snuggles up to Clark as you sit awkwardly at the other end of the couch.

You really shouldn't be here. The longer you sit in silence and pretend to care about the movie, the more you think of leaving. You definitely crashed their party and they're not being very subtle.

You reach for a handful of popcorn to busy yourself. The crunch blocks out Melanie's shameless whispers. She doesn't get much back but she doesn't give up. You can't find an exit plan that isn't completely obvious.

Finally, she quiets down upon getting a grunt from Clark. She nestles against him and rests her head on his shoulder as he drapes an arm over her. You can't help the pang of loneliness. You're not jealous, it's just been a while since you had someone to snuggle aside from your stuffed hippo.

You sit back as you swallow down the last of the kernels with a swig of wine. You put the wine glass on the glass coaster Melanie kept reminding you of. As the evening sets in, the room is only lit with the glow of the television. The haze of colours and alcohol itches on your eyelids.

You yawn and plant your elbow on the armrest, leaning into it as you tilt your head. Your lashes close, only for a moment before you twitch. You feel a tickle on your hip. You lift your head slightly and peer down from the corner of your vision.

Is he... touching you? Maybe it's a mistake or he doesn't realise he's doing it. You freeze, mortified. You should clear your throat or move or something...

You can't. His fingertips brush down your thigh and back up it, lingering just along the curve of your ass. You reach for your wine and he rescinds his hand, curling his arm around Melanie as she gives a delighted moan.

What was that? You're overthinking this. He probably thought it was her. Somehow. You're not sure. He's a nice guy, a stranger still, he wouldn't just touch you.

You drain the last of your wine and stand up, "just gonna pop into the bathroom."

"Whatever," Melanie dismisses as she rubs Clark's chest. 

You don't look at him but you swear you can feel his gaze on you. You circle around the back of the couch and find your way to the bathroom. You close yourself in and shake the jitters from your nerves.

You're tired and you don't know if it even happened. You've been drinking and maybe just maybe you're a little tipsy. Well, at least the movie is almost done. You can try to catch the last bus or turn in for the night if Melanie lets you have the couch.

You get yourself together and go back out. As you near the couch, Melanie and Clark quickly part, their sloppy kiss ending in a pop. You try not to give away your discomfort and resume your seat, pressing yourself against the armrest as small as you can.

"I'm getting tired, sweetie," Melanie whines.

"The movie's not done," his voice is rocky and low.

"I've seen it," she pouts.

"Well, I haven't. If you want to lay down, I'll be in when it's over," he says coolly but not unkindly.

"You can finish it tomorrow," she simpers.

"Hon, you got a friend here," he reminds her, "don't be rude."

He looks at you and sends you a smile you barely glimpse as you shy away.

"I never even invited her," she hisses under her breath.

"Go to bed, Mel," he retorts, his timbre steady, "you've had too much wine."

"I haven't had enough," she snarls.

"Honey," he softens his tone, "remember what we talked about."

She's quiet as she stares at him. You can only see the back of her head. She sniffs and leans in to kiss his cheek, "sure, sweetie, I'll be in bed..." she stands, tickling his jawline, "waiting for you.”

You give a sheepish ‘good night’ but she doesn't answer, or even look your way. You dip your chin down, embarrassed by her indifference and turn your focus back to the television. Well, not much longer and you can hide in the dark and wait for morning.

Clark bends forward to take the bowl of popcorn off the table. He sits back and offers you some as he sidles a bit closer. You shake your hand and murmur, “no thanks.” All the salt and butter is already curdling in your tummy.

He shoves a few kernels in his mouth and chews as he watches the screen. You don't enjoy it as much now. Your nostalgia sears away as the tension rises between you and him. The kiss that should be a resolution is suddenly awkward and cringe worthy.

“So,” he swallows, “how long have you known Melanie?”

His voice is like thunder in the lull. You rub your arm, his shadow lurking at the edge of your eye line as you keep your head straight. You clear your throat, “for a while… since high school.”

“Oh, wow, she never mentioned you,” he says, “what's that like ten years or something.”

“About that,” you answer. 

“I mean, don't know why it wouldn't have come up. A friend who brings snacks? That's the best kind,” he puts the popcorn down and grabs one of the coloured napkins to wipe his fingertips.

“Um, I stayed… back in our hometown. Went to school in the next city but lived at home so… just moved here to see what it's really like,” you shrug.

“Oh, just got here? How are you liking it?”

“It's… blurry,” you chuckle nervously. Didn't he want to see the end? He's talking over the whole thing.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he stretches his arm across the back of the couch as he reclines. He sets his knees wide as his hand rests just behind your head. “I grew up on a farm. When I got here, I was so lost.”

“A farm?”

“Oh, yeah, big wake up call, but there's not much fodder for journalism in a field,” he snorts.

“Right, you're a journalist?”

“Sure am, with The Daily Planet. Little magazine you may have heard of.”

You blanch and nearly slap yourself, “Daily Planet? Clark… Kent?”

“Ha, so you've heard of me.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” you pause. He's older than you expected but you're not surprised. Melanie always had a type. “I wrote a review of your work in my undergrad.”

“You did?” He sounds amused as he leans a bit closer.

“Sure, well, we had to choose a contemporary writer…”

“I'm flattered. You did journalism?”

“Not exactly, it was just one class,” you wilt into the armrest.

“So what do you do?”

“Well, not what I studied,” you sigh, “I work a desk job. Data analysis.”

“Riveting stuff,” he kids and nudges you playfully when you don't laugh. “You know, Mel never mentioned she grew up in a small town. She always just seemed like she was from around here.”

“Uh, yeah, well, she hated the place so…” you scratch your chin as the hest crawls up your face. “How long have you and her, er, been dating?”

“Well, three months officially. Before were were just ‘having fun’,”he brings his hands up to curl his fingers in quotation, “that's what she called it anyway.”

“Oh, well uh, she seems to really like you,” you utter dumbly.

“Yeah, I think so,” his smirk is laced in his tone.

The room goes completely quiet and suddenly the drum track begins. You watch the credits roll as Clark faces the television. He laughs, “oops, guess I wasn't paying attention.”

He drags his arm from the back of the couch as he stands, his hand grazing your shoulder. He stretches and you notice the hem of his shirt lift, a peek of his muscled stomach above the elastic of his sweatpants. You quickly dart your eyes in the other direction. 

“I should… go check on her, but can I get you anything? Water? Help dilute the wine?” He offers.

“Er, well, no, I can get some myself. I’d hate to infringe–”

“Well, I wouldn’t ask if it was a problem,” he says.

“Really, it’s fine, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

He nods and glances towards the hall, “you know, it didn’t bother me having you here. I’m sorry about her.”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know she forgot. She’s done it to me too. Before we were… official,” he says the last word with punctuated syllables.

“Oh, I’m sorry–”

“See, it’s not that hard to apologise so, I’ll make sure she does,” he interjects, “and I’ll let you settle down. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted. Coming all the way here after work. You really went out of your way and I had a great night. Thanks.”

“Er, yeah, sure,” you murmur, “thanks for… joining in.”

He reluctantly leaves you as you watch him with bated breath. You’re so frigging awkward. You wait until you hear the bedroom door shut before you get up, taking the wine glass with you.

You go to the kitchen and rinse out the glass, refilling it with fresh water. You bring it back to the living room and move a pillow against the armrest, pulling down the fluffy throw onto the cushions. You shut off the television and tuck yourself in, the blanket too short, even for you.

What a lame Friday night. You could’ve had more fun alone.

🌆

It takes a bit for you to even feel tired. Your body is achy and sore but your mind is racing. Finally, you manage to close your eyes for more than a few minutes. You roll over to face the back of the couch and nestle into the pillow. You yawn as you feel yourself drifting.

A high pitch leaks into your ears. You twitch and your lashes flutter. It’s just the pipes or a siren somewhere in the distance. The city sure is loud. You hear it again, something more akin to a squeak.

You shift onto your back as your stomach tingles. You cover your face with your arm and try to ignore the irritating sound but it just doesn’t stop. Your eyes snap open as you rip your arm off your head, realising what it is.

The soft low growls in return, the steady tap against the wall… it’s not the pipes or a siren. It’s Melanie. And Clark. They’re… 

You flip the pillow over your head and bend your arm around it, blocking out the noise. Just when you think you can’t get any lower. You’ve been there before. The third wheel, the wing woman. High school was just you standing against the wall as Melanie made out with boys at a party you weren’t even invited to.

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe it’s that you didn’t see what was right in front of you. The one friend you thought you had, forgets you just like everyone else. This whole thing was a mistake. Moving to the city just so you can be her tag-along.

You wallow in your self-pity and sink down into your unconscious. The world slips away from you as your dreams ripples with muddy colours. You feel as if you're floating, bobbing on soft waves, disoriented and dazed.

You wake to the clink of glass. You groan as your head aches, the cushions stiff and unforgiving. Your neck is knotted just above your shoulders. You rub your cheek and stay as you are, still under the pillow as you get your bearings. You remember where you are and cling to the dregs of sleep in your eye.

Cool air tinges your skin, your leg hooked over the blanket. You hug the crumpled throw as the night seeps icily though your pajamas. The thin short set speckled in the little red hearts offer little warmth. You reach back to pull the shorts to your thigh as it rides up and tilt onto your back.

As you do, you sense a shadow over you. You peek under the slits of your eyelids and see a figure standing just a few feet from the other end of the couch. Long breaths blow into the air. It’s too large to be Melanie. It’s him. Is he watching you?

You can’t move. You’re paralysed in horror. Why is he just standing there? Goosebumps raise on your skin. You feel a whisper against your hip where he touched you earlier. It just can’t be that. He’s too nice.

You don’t know what to do so you close your eyes and lay completely still. You measure your breath as you wait. There’s a soft thunk as he sets down a glass on the table by the armrest and walks up the side of the couch.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move…

He tugs on the throw and spreads it over you as best he can. His fingers drag up your arm and he lingers, stroking your cheek as you resist the urge to pull away. He lets out a low growl and lumbers away, swiping up his glass as he goes.

You let your eyes open and catch a glimpse of his silhouette. His back is bare and thickly corded. The moonlight limns his muscles just before he disappears into the hall. You shudder as you release the heavy breath from your chest.

The bedroom door snaps shut as you clutch the blanket tight. It starts again. Melanie’s moans, Clark’s grunts, and the knocking of the bed frame. Quicker than before, almost furious. You just want this night to end.

[cheollipop]

*slams hand on Sleepover Buzzer* been thinking about San being so busy with promotions and concerts that one night when he gets home he simply can n o t help himself. He remembers you giving the okay for somnophilia, and when he sees you’re wearing the necklace that means it’s okay to fuck you in your sleep, he just can’t help himself.

Just imagining him trying to be so so quiet as to not wake you up as he tries to roll his hips gently into your cunt, but poor baby is just so needy and desperate that he’s making so many whines without realizing it, his hips moving harder than he means them to, and wakes you up. Poor baby is just trying to get off because he missed you so much and couldn’t wait until morning to slip inside you 🥺

But congratulations on your 2k followers!! Here’s to hoping there’s many more to come(😏)!! 🎉 🥳

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

ANON YOU'RE CRAZY FOR THIS SKJDBKSN first ask and you give me this???? no regard for my mental health huh- anyway, I'm gonna pretend i didn't have an insane amount of fun writing this ahem. but thank you so much!!! you're too kind <3 I hope you enjoy reading~

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

w.c.: 0.9k

tags: smut, consented somnophilia, san is just so needy and desperate :(

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

He shifted restlessly on his side, stuttered exhales fanning over the back of your neck, eyes trained on the dainty, silver necklace hanging off its circumference. Pressing his pelvis to your lower back, San seeked reprieve as he stretched you open, two fingers stuffed into you with no intention to give pleasure, but simply to prepare you to take his leaking cock.

Part of him felt guilty—what was supposed to be his first day off in weeks eaten up by a last-minute interview, continuous promotions taking him away from the comfort of your arms and into endless crowds of screaming fans, your thought-out dinner eaten alone and a bed half-empty, your eyes pulled shut before San could walk through the front door.

His leather belt slid off the moving duvet, clanging softly over the crumbled pants on the floor by the bed. San’s movements halted, peering over your shoulder and releasing the breath he was holding once your resting features came into view. Scissoring his fingers once more, the hushed squelch of your cunt mixed with the spit he’d used as a makeshift lubricant sent a wave of burning arousal down to his core.

He pressed his lips to your clothed shoulder as he wrapped the fingers that were once inside you around his cock, pumping it quickly while he inhaled your scent. The whiff of his cologne sifted through his nostrils, and only then did he realize the familiar colour of his hoodie hugging your figure, an involuntary groan echoing in the back of his throat.

He didn’t bother with checking if you’d awoken, running his dripping cockhead through your folds once, twice, before sinking into your welcoming heat. It was as though the weeks of being apart from you—and the built-up tension they resulted in—had melted off his shoulders as soon as you had him wrapped up within your walls. San’s hands scrambled to pull your pants further down, leaving them around your knees and swinging his bare thigh over yours. He wrapped an arm around your middle and rolled his hips, his eyes fluttering shut as a wave of pleasure overtook his senses, repeating the motion until the languid pace ceased to be enough. Pulling you closer to his chest, the soft cotton of his hoodie gliding over the button-up he didn’t bother taking off, he bucked his hips into your sopping cunt with building desperation, weeks of yearning piling into every thrust as he rocked your sleeping body back and forth.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing out needy groans onto heated skin while he chased a high he’d been unable to reach in your absence, his hand providing him with nothing but unsatisfactory orgasms followed by disappointment and longing. But now, with you enveloping his senses, your walls clenching around his throbbing length unconsciously and whimpers escaping your slumbered lips, he found it hard to hold back. He adjusted his position, bending his knees behind yours and bringing one of your thighs over his hip, the new angle allowing him to sheath himself fully within you. A broken moan reverberated between the four walls, masked under the loud melody of skin-on-skin as San fucked into you relentlessly, the tingling in his lower belly prominent as he rapidly ascended towards his high. Your breathing quickened, fidgeting growing longer in intervals as San brought you mind-numbing pleasure in your sleep, not quite ready to release yourself from the clutches of your dream.

But San was so close, his stuttered moans airy and high-pitched as he drove his cock into your clenching pussy, revelling in the sleepy whimpers he drew out of your parted lips. You were starting to wake up—eyes squeezing shut before relaxing, body slumping back into his warm chest, your hands squeezing around the veiny arm he had secured around your waist. But he didn’t stop, didn’t pause to greet or kiss you, too caught up in an orgasm merely a breath away, his cock throbbing uncontrollably within your warm walls.

“F-fuck, Sannie,” a soft groan as you brushed off the remnants of your slumber, and San was unloading three weeks’ worth of longing into your heat.

He folded himself over you, pushing your chest down onto the mattress and bucking his hips into you twice, stuffing you full of his length as he pumped a pool of hot cum into your used pussy, rolling his hips to give you everything he had. He held you down as you writhed under him, his cockhead pressing into your g-spot while it spurted watery ropes of his seed between your walls. Pleads and whimpers muffled into the pillowcase, breathless curses flooding out of San as you clenched around him, a stream of cum leaking out of your stretched hole.

San’s lips peppered kisses over your clothed back, remaining still within you while he came down from his high, warming his cock inside you while you whined for more. He took in your flustered features when you peered back at him over your shoulder—eyebrows furrowed and beads of sweat reflecting the moonlight—begging him to keep moving, rocking back into his body to give yourself pleasure.

Wrapping an arm around your middle, San rested his chin over your shoulder and nuzzled his nose into your temple. His cock��still soft and sensitive, barely twitching in interest—dragged over your fluttering walls, San’s smile stretching against your cheek.

“Sannie's got you, darling. 'Gonna fuck my baby hard enough she forgets I was ever gone, how's that sound?”

[munson-blurbs]

PLEASE MAKE MY MEET CUTE DREAMS COME TRUE BUG!!

What IS my personality? Hm... Generally I'm pretty upbeat, fun-loving, and compassionate, but around Eddie?! 🙈 I'd be a lil shy I'm not gonna lie haha

Hobbies include bird watching, thrifting trinkets, and graphic design (oh and writing FILTHY SEXUALLY EXPLICIT STORIES, can't forget that). No need to incorporate all of this, just giving you ✨variety✨

My pronouns are she/her.

And I'll just leave you with some emojis I like 😌

🪻🪺🐀🪿🐞🫐🥨🏕️🪕

As meta as it would be to have Eddie reading the smut you wrote about him, bird watching was what caught my eye. Hope you like this!

CW: mention of drug use/dealing WC: 628 Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

It had stormed in Hawkins for a week straight. Seven days of dodging raindrops and spending your free time cooped up in the house. You were on the verge of going stir-crazy until the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds this morning. 

Plucking your binoculars from their spot on your shelf, you head out into the woods. Before the storms, a pileated woodpecker had made a nest in one of the trees, and you were anxious to see if it had survived the lousy weather. 

Mud squelched beneath your boots as you trudged towards your favorite picnic bench. There wasn’t anything special about it per se, but it stood out from the others because of the JH+JB carved into the table. Whoever JH and JB were, you hoped their love was still strong. 

You adjusted the focus on your binoculars, aiming your gaze at the tree where you’d seen the nest just over a week ago. A soft sigh of relief slipped through your lips when you saw that it was still intact; in fact, there were now three little eggs inside of it. 

Hours felt like mere minutes as you soaked up each moment outdoors, following the calls of the sparrows that populated the tiny forest. Hawkins wasn’t a bustling city, but it was still nice to have a reprieve from the normal sounds of the suburbs. Out here, there were no car horns honking, no tired parents scolding their mischievous children, no—

“You here to buy or sell?”

The sudden noise startled you; if you didn’t have the strap looped around your wrist, you almost certainly would have dropped your binoculars. That would have been embarrassing. Just like the yelp you let out when the man spoke. 

“Whoa, didn’t mean to scare you.” He gave a sheepish grin and held up his hands in surrender. “Just figured if you wanted to buy, I could offer you a sweet deal. But if you’re selling…well, you’re kinda in my spot, so…”

You collected your thoughts, trying to keep from getting lost in his deep brown eyes. “No. I mean, neither. N-Not buying or selling. Just, uh, birdwatching.”

He cocked a brow. “Birdwatching?”

“Y-Yeah.” You scrambled for more words, unused to being tongue-tied. “Y’know, just…watching birds.”

“I gathered that much.” He sat next to you, placing a tin lunchbox on the table. “So what kind of birds are we watching?”

You explained the whole nest-surviving-the-storm saga, expecting him to roll his eyes or get bored. But he didn’t. Instead, he looked at you with those beautiful doe eyes and gestured to your binoculars. 

“Mind if I take a look?”

You nodded and handed them over, hoping that the time he spent looking through them would afford you the chance to conjure up some actual conversation topics. 

He peered through the binoculars. “I see the nest! Holy shit, there’s about to be some bird babies.” He looked at another tree. “Here we’ve got some sort of brown bird just kinda…doing its thing.” Keeping the binoculars pressed to his eyes, he looked directly at you. “And here we have a really pretty girl who’s gonna let me treat her to ice cream.”

“Sure. Yeah, um, that would be great.” You felt your body tingle with bashfulness. An insanely cute guy was asking you out. “I love ice cream.”

The guy looked surprised, like he couldn’t believe that line worked. “Me, too.” He stood and held out his hand to help you up. 

You accepted it gratefully, but before you stood, you looked at him. “I just realized that I don’t even know your name,” you mused. 

He laughed. “That would be good information, huh?” He shook his head at his own blunder. 

“I’m Eddie Munson. And you are?”

--

[bunmurdock]

this might be tmi but i'm also gonna start my period soon and idk if you or anyone else experienced this too but i kinda get little cramps a day or two before i actually start. they're not really consistent but they'll catch me by surprise throughout the day since i'm not really expecting them.

thinking ab matty sensing the way your body tenses with each cramp and, knowing you're going to wait until the pain is absolutely unbearable to take medication, offers to help…

he has you laid out on the bed, back against his chest. he's got two fingers pumping in and out of you and you’re all nervous bc he’s never offered to do this before (he’s only just recently told you ab his heightened senses), but he’s taken to cooing softly, speaking in hushed tones that sound more likely to be spoken to a small, skittish animal.

“c’mon, baby, relax. jus’ wanna make you feel better, that’s all.”

the fluctuating hormones in your body have you giving in all too easily, your hips squirming as wetness pools between your thighs. it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he’s gotten you so wet, just with a few teasing words and the promise of an orgasm or two.

“is this all f’me?” he’d murmur in your ear, his fingers pulling out for a moment to slide through your puffy folds, circling around your clit a few times before dipping back inside you. “mmm, good girl, getting so wet. just listen to my voice baby, you’re gonna feel better soon.”

and when he crooks his fingers, pressing against that little spongey spot inside you, you whine and clench down on him so tight that he lets out a surprised huff, chuckling low in your ear.

“did that feel good? yeah?”

knowing that you’re still feeling a cramp or two every so often the longer he makes you wait, matt focuses on making you cum, massaging your clit with the heel of his hand as he slips another finger inside you, your pussy fluttering around his digits. it’s an embarrassingly short amount of time later when you’re whining and squirming, your legs beginning to tremble as you near your peak.

“you close, baby? that’s right, that’s right, go on. cum f’me, baby.”

and when your body locks up around him, your slick gushing around his fingers, he lets out a satisfied sigh.

“just like that, baby, there we go. did so good for me, sweetheart, so damn good.”

as you’re coming down, he rubs his other hand against your lower belly, his palm warm where it presses against your skin.

“all better?”

head spinning, you force yourself to take stock of your body. the cramping in your belly had mostly gone away, leaving smaller, duller pulses of pain in their wake. these cramps were much more manageable, but matt doesn’t even let you climb off of him, his palm on your lower belly sensing the less intense cramps. he has three fingers in you still, and he crooks them slightly, testing our how overstimulated you are. your back arches as sharp pleasure rushes through you, a strangled sound getting caught in your throat.

“shh, shh, shh…” matt croons softly, moving his free hand to cup one of your breasts instead, his warm hand gently kneading, another quiet sound leaving you as your sore, tender flesh is massaged. “i know, baby, i know… just give me one more. almost done, honey, c’mon.”

and as he starts to pump his fingers in and out of you again, it’s like your body is helpless to do anything but surrender to the pleasure he’s stoking within you, the overstimulation fading as your pussy flutters around his fingers, something inside you desperately wishing that it was his cock inside you instead.

(matt would absolutely be willing to get his sword bloody, if you know what i mean, but this is too new to you right now. maybe in a few months…)

when he pinches your nipple, you’re gone, clenching like a vice as your back arches, the prettiest sounds leaving you as you turn your face into his neck. your breaths are shaky as he finally gives you a reprieve, pulling his fingers out and licking your slick off them, your hazy eyes focused on how plush his lips are wrapped around his fingers, determined to get every drop of you onto his tongue.

you sink into his embrace, curled up against his chest like a needy puppy as your breaths even out and consciousness slips away, hearing only his voice as he soothes you to sleep, his hands warm as they press you closer to him.

- ⭐️

STAR NONNIE OH MY GOD THE. SCREAM. I LET OUT IN MY SOUL THE WAY HE TALKS HERE MADE MY TUMMY DO THE THING. it hurts it is pulsing it is soaking the floor!!!! ꩜_꩜

share your mm thoughts

[darkfictionjude]

You know, seeing how angry Sally got and then how he almost immediately apologizes + being so controlling to the point of not even allowing certain foods + no sense of privacy reminds me of Adora, the mother in Sharp Objects, and how she treats her younger daughter. Now I'm concerned, no way this guy gonna have a good reaction if we try to be more independent, it seems like he pushes us to it with the whole 'go be a normal teen' talk but then throw us right back in to the safe bubble. I love him but that guy must be worse than the rest of the family combined, Percy really is the normal brother.

I’m a gone girl lover and I’ve been meaning to read sharp objects because I’ve heard of how horrible the mother daughter relationship is there

But yeah, I’ve been saying it since forever. I get many people love him but he’s the main reason Crowny is so far behind from the rest of their peers. Even before the two years Crowny was isolated, the only reprieve they had was nia who tried to give them something normal. Sally would never teach them how to drive. It’s like on one side he wants them to not be hauled up in their room but on the other he can only loosen the leash so much because that’s how low he thinks of them. As a writer I love that, someone thinking lowly of someone is usually based on hate but Sally thinks low of Crowny out of love 😕

But hey people love toxicity (I’m people)

[whimsicalpolitical]

"i'm gonna hang up now, kay?" "wait...no."

With matty <333

thank you!!

sleepy dialogue prompt 🧸

^ "i'm gonna hang up now, kay?" "wait...no." (matty)

The room is dark, save for the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the open window. A gentle breeze wafts in, caressing your bare legs as you lay sprawled on the bed. The sheets are cool against your skin, a welcome reprieve from the summer heat that lingers even in the dead of night. You press the phone to your ear, your eyes heavy with fatigue, listening to Matty's familiar voice.

“Fuck,” you hear him sigh, “tonight was the best show ever. First one that’s sold out.”

You smile to yourself, “you don’t know how proud I am.” You pause, “how did it feel?”

“It felt surreal,” he says, “can’t even put it into words. The whole show was mental.”

"I wish I could've been there," you murmur, a hint of longing in your voice.

"I wish you were here too, love," Matty says, a touch of wistfulness in his tone. "But just a few more weeks, yeah? You’ll be with us for a few days and I'll make it up to you. I promise."

“s’ just shit, we haven’t seen each other in a month, matty.”

“I know, love,” he says softly. “Believe me, I know. I miss you every single day. Anything I can do for you? Make you feel a bit better?”

“I’d say give me a cuddle but you know,” you shrug, “you can’t.”

“Baby, you’re killing me, c’mon, something I can do right now to cheer you up.”

Even though his touch would help you, hearing him talk about his success with his band is equally soothing. They put so much effort and love into their show. Hearing that it has payed off makes you incredibly happy.

“Tell me more about tonight. What was the crowd like?”

“Mad,” Matty laughs. “They were absolutely mad. Singing every word, jumping around. You should have seen it. During ‘If You’re Too Shy,’ I thought the floor might cave in with how wild they were going.”

“That sounds incredible,” you say, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah, right?” Matty chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “But you know, I’ve been thinking a lot about changing things up a bit. The style, I mean.”

“Oh?” you murmur, curiosity piqued even through your drowsiness. “What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know, really. Just... something different. Maybe strip things back a bit. More raw, more intimate. I want to explore new sounds, new feelings. You know how I get restless with the same thing over and over.”

You hum in agreement, understanding exactly what he means. “I think that could be amazing. You’ve always been good at reinventing yourself.”

“Thanks, love,” he says, his voice softening. “It’s just... there’s so much more I want to say, so many ways I want to express it. I don’t want us to get stuck in one place. I want every album to feel like a new chapter.”

He continues, “but then the fans want songs that aren’t on the set list. Feels a bit shit to just ignore them, you know?”

You hum.

“I’ll definitely play your favorite song at your show next week, don’t worry ‘bout that.” He laughs, “but how about you? How’s work, anything new.”

There’s a brief silence, filled only by the distant hum of the city outside and the gentle rustle of the sheets as you shift slightly.

“You still with me, love?”

“Mmhm,” you murmur, eyes already closed and on the verge of falling asleep “Just tired.”

“Thought you passed out on me already,” matty says just above a whisper, “I love you, darling.”

“Love you, matty. m’ so proud of you.”

Matty grins from ear to ear. It’s the best reward from him getting to listen to his girl being this excited.

“Alright, I’m gonna hang up now, kay?”

“Wait… no.” You speak louder then bevor but still nothing more then a crooked whisper.

The line goes quiet for a moment, and you can almost hear Matty’s surprised smile through the phone. “What’s up, love?”

You take a deep breath, the words coming out softer than you intended. “I just... I don’t want to say goodnight yet. Tell me more. Anything.”

“Alright,” Matty says, his voice a comforting hum in the quiet. “Did I ever tell you about the time we played that tiny pub in Manchester? Before everything blew up?”

“I don’t think so,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

You both know that it won’t take long until you’re out like a light but it doesn’t matter because it means you want to listen to matty even when you’re not present. You once told him that it helps you dream of him and of course he wants you to. He wants you to love him in every scenario.

[tinystepsforward]

i've still been keeping tabs on what's happening at automattic. a couple of things i've observed:

toni schneider (who is a man btw), the interim ceo, has been quite open with staff in ways that mean they generally seem relieved to have him leading the company for now. i've heard people speak optimistically about him from all parts of the spectrum (by which i mean: staff who are trans tumblr users right through to staff who are "anti-woke" or whatever and were absolutely intolerable to work with as a trans person), which seems like... a good sign? maybe.

this relative transparency includes things like weekly updates from an executive level, as well as openly saying that he did have to directly speak to matt and encourage him to, you know, stop posting.

matt is back to his usual milquetoast blogging, and replied to someone on mastodon about the AI issue saying he'd comment on it when he's back in may, so whatever toni said to him seems to have worked for him keeping out of it for now.

people have no idea what it's gonna look like when matt's back.

the best case scenario is that schneider manages to create a significant enough boost in morale and productivity that "it'd be nice if we just kept him" becomes a sentiment that isn't held just by the rank and file. i don't know how likely that is, but there's a sense of cautious hope and of making the most of this reprieve from matt's increasingly erratic decisions no matter what.

the tumblr staff statement was approved by schneider and hr, so i am also hopeful they won't face repercussions. what they said might seem pretty mild from the outside, or carefully worded, but it's pretty clear to me and to most people who've worked at companies like this that it's a pretty bold one.

i'll quote a friend:

keep reminding the more histrionic elements out there that: 1. there really are trans people, INCLUDING TRANS WOMEN, in the fight here. 2. we don't have nearly the power they seem to think we do. 3. we're fighting anyway. was the statement we wrote enough? fuck no. does it fix everything? fuck no. but we literally called out the CEO, and got the greenlight for it from the interim CEO. i don't know where this will end, but that's not nothing.

i'm not sure automattic deserves the immense honor of having this many of its brave, dedicated trans staff put effort into trying to make it better. but it has them, and it would be wise to do its best to keep them. so many of us — even me, even now — believe in the ideals that drew us to the work automattic does, and hope that it can return to them. we will see!

other things i want to say:

the wellbeing of my friends on staff is my priority. i am interested primarily in their safety, and won't pressure them to give me goss. the ways i've spoken publicly are already pretty scary to people who might worry about retaliation against them just for being known to be my friend.

this is a regular personal blog. i'll keep updating if there's shit to update about, but i also don't work at automattic any more (thank fuck, again), have a life, and am not interested in declaring matt my specific nemesis or otherwise acting purely out of spite.

some of youse really deeply do not understand companies, the internet, generative ai, or pretty much anything else i've said. that's okay — big tech in particular is fucked up on purpose bc it benefits those in power to have it be incomprehensible! but maybe it's not a great position from which to get mad at me specifically or at staff for idk not personally assassinating matt.

got tired of blocking transphobes so i've turned anons off. i'll probably flick them back on eventually.

[inksandpensblog]

Four F's

As uncomfortable as this episode was to watch, there was something about Chosen's behavior in the most uncomfortable scenes that intrigued me. Not because of any hints it might give about Chosen's character, but because there was an element in these moments that I was surprised to see represented so starkly.

We all meme on Chosen for being traumatized, but this episode decided to play traumatization 100% seriously...even, I believe, going as far as to have Chosen display four of the recognized trauma responses.

Now, I say "four of" and not "the four" because sources actually disagree on how many there are, and even what they are and what to call them. Fight and Flight are the ones everyone knows about, and Freeze is getting more recognition nowadays, but there are many suggestions for what the fourth is, and some say that there are actually as many as five or six. Fawn, Friend, Flop, Flag, Fatigue, and Faint are all ones I've seen suggested, with some being different words used to describe the same phenomenon.

Throughout "The Box", it is my belief that Chosen displays the responses of Flight, Fight, Freeze, and Flop. It'll become clear why I chose Flop for the fourth one once we get there.

Chosen's first action upon realizing he's in the white chamber is to try and break out of it. This could be either Fight or Flight; if it's Flight, it's very Fight-y since he's attacking the walls, but if it's Fight, his intent is to leave the area so there's still Flight spurring him.

I considered that him simply standing there and taking Victim's opening punches without reacting might be a Freeze response, but I'm not sure he was actually that phased by what Victim was doing yet. He seems more nonplussed than anything; he doesn't dodge or block after taking Victim's hand and pushing it away the first time, his arms don't come up to defend, he isn't even in a fighting stance. At this point, the box itself- while not a threat he has the ability to combat at the time -is still a bigger threat than the random stick ineffectually hitting him for no reason he can discern.

Still, at some point he decides he's had enough of being punched, and he goes to tackle Victim. This is him fighting back, but I don't know if it counts as the Fight response because Victim isn't the source of his stress (as far as he knows), it's the box they're both in...but it could be that being in the box has put strain on Chosen's tolerance, leading him to lose patience sooner or react more aggressively than he would've otherwise, which might quality it as Fighting. Another thing that makes me unsure is that Chosen's movements during this tackle read as being very deliberate and self-controlled. He made the choice to counterattack, with awareness of himself and his actions. He isn't acting on impulse, here, this action wasn't driven by instinct.

After this, Victim starts utilizing his environmental advantage, and Chosen gets knocked around a bit. Once he realizes that getting Victim to stop isn't gonna be as easy as he thought, he decides to Fight.

...but what actually follows seems to be a blend of Flight and Freeze. Victim's attacks are too fast for Chosen to block effectively, and he's kept busy trying to keep his guard up while Victim keeps finding the weak spots he leaves open. Victim's attacks are also strong enough now that the rapid blows might be disorienting Chosen; he's constantly attempting to move away from Victim, but they're purely reactive motions that are probably involuntary. He's trying so hard to get himself situated that he's unable to attempt any counterattacks, and Victim moves fast enough that even when Chosen does get a moment of reprieve, it isn't enough time for him to find his footing.

(Brief interruption while I rag on him again for always falling for the sneak attacks. Always. Every single time. This man still has not learned to watch his back. Dark took advantage of it, Spyglasses or Shady or whatever we're calling him took advantage of it, and now Victim is too.)

He ends up cornered, which...is usually the worst position one can be in during a conflict, but apparently having something to brace himself against was all he needed, because he's able to recover enough of his wits to actually start Fighting back. (It isn't the first time he's done this, either: think back to his fight against the vira-mech in Return.)

Of course, it doesn't work, and he gets choked and thrown for his troubles, but he isn't out yet. Watch how he rolls after landing: he turns as he falls, so that his shoulder hits the ground first, and he takes the impact of every flip with his elbows, all while keeping his head from hitting the ground. He's going with the momentum of the throw, letting it carry him away from his opponent. This is tactical. He's still Fighting. When he slows to a stop, it takes little effort for him to prepare his next move.

The fire does nothing to deter Victim as he moves in to attack again, and Chosen gets knocked around a bit more. But unlike the first time he got knocked around in this fight, Chosen actually blocks and dodges this time, while still maintaining his guard, and even throws a few of his own punches.

Unfortunately, he's still unable to meet and counter all of Victim's attacks, and by this point in the fight he's exhausted enough to take the breather when the opportunity arises. But I don't believe this means he's stopped Fighting, because he only does this when there's a pause in the conflict, and he stands up of his own accord before the conflict resumes.

(Side note: either the lasso was invisible at first for some reason, or Victim started moving his arm in the twirling motion before the thing was actually in his hand, and I'm not sure what to do with either option.)

Chosen knows the lasso won't be a picnic, but his resolve to Fight doesn't diminish. (Though since his initial strategy is evasion, this could also be considered Flight until he's downed by the lasso.)

His attempt to outmaneuver the lasso with literal flight doesn't work, but even once he's been roped he's still Fighting. In an effort to loosen it from around his throat, he tries to take control of the slack by looping it over his shoulder, the same way Victim loops it around his own arms when pulling him in.

Victim's next punch sends him directly to the floor, and the combined forces of the blow and the impact of the fall (plus the aftereffects of choking right before this) seem to rattle Chosen enough to perhaps disorient him again; he slips into Flight as he tries to steady himself, moving away from Victim.

Unlike when the lasso was first brought out, the introduction of the whip causes Chosen to Freeze momentarily before pushing him deeper into Flight. He hears it crack, looks at it, looks at Victim, and then renews his attempt to crawl away. Putting distance between himself and his attacker takes precedence, even over getting his feet back under him.

This trend continues after the first strike; the impact is enough to roll him over onto his back, and instead of trying to right himself or get into a more defensible position he just continues trying to get away from Victim, scooting backwards. There's no time to roll over or get up because he can barely get his limbs out of the way in time as Victim keeps pace with him, advancing as Chosen retreats.

And then, we come to the moment that first made me realize what was happening...

...the literal Freeze. Though I suppose it could also be read as a form of Flight, since Victim can't follow him into the ice. But still, he's immobilized by fear, though not in the traditional sense, as the cause of immobility is external rather than internal. Fortunately, he's also protected until he's had time to process what's happening and determine how he wants to combat it. He has, temporarily, escaped. The ice also renders the lasso ineffective. Depending on whether you read this as Chosen quickly shifting tactics after losing his fire or purposefully misleading with fire so the shift to ice would be unanticipated, this could even be another form of Fight, one which buys himself time to recuperate.

Because when Victim attacks the ice, he bursts out in full-on Fight mode, destroying the lasso in the process. He manages to evade each of the following attacks, and the one time he's grabbed he manages to break free of the hold. But he forgets to watch his back (AGAIN!!!) and gets roped once more.

Even so, he continues to Fight, attacking Victim directly this time instead of trying to gain control over the lasso. Even his own fire being used against him isn't enough to break him out of Fighting, though afterwards he does switch back to trying to take control of the rope...and this time, he actually gets enough command over the slack to have Victim's own shuriken slice clean through it, freeing himself enough to pull his even more impressive reversed-fire attack. (And he actually closed the distance between himself and Victim before attacking, so he's definitely in Fight mode here.)

Unfortunately, this attack is also nullified, and once he's released he's exhausted again.

This is when the fourth response comes in.

Now, I hadn't realized what I was seeing, at first, so I didn't clue in to the fourth response until after it had already started. I'd wondered why he didn't try to correct his balance when Victim threw him into the chair, as even if he was too tired to resist force that was no reason to just let himself hang off the lasso like that; it would behoove him more to lean forward. So I rewound a bit, to see if I had missed anything. And I had.

He doesn't have the wherewithal to pick himself up or even move out of the way before Victim lifts him up. So his hands fly up to Victim's hold on his throat and he struggles—

and then he stops. And he's still, the whole time the chair is being placed.

For the rest of the scene, from the moment Victim moves to throw him onto the chair (and barring the one time he gives Victim his attention and his intermittent attempts to struggle whenever he thinks he has an opportunity, because bless him he's still Fighting), he's completely limp.

Is it his exhaustion? Partially, but I don't believe that's the only reason.

You see, he's actually not completely limp. If you watch, anytime there's an abrupt movement, there's a moment where he's not as loose-limbed as he could be, before he relaxes and goes even looser.

True, it might be exhaustion that pushed him to this point...but this isn't merely a lack of energy. Whether instinctual reflex or deliberate choice...this is the Flop response.

Look at how his body acts, when he is moved. Look how his limbs swing, responding to even the tiniest brush of force, as if he doesn't control them. Look how he does nothing to oppose or avoid any sort of imposition. Look how he literally Flops, without any hint of self-direction.

He's ragdolling.

Yeah, remember that short? It's a trauma-response now.

That's pretty much the end of it. Chosen ragdolls, aka Flops, for the rest of the video, except for a few brief moments that I consider to be him still Fighting. Because even when it seems like he's succumbed, he hasn't completely. He's still biding his time, staying alert for opportunities.