#at least CONSIDER it. have some fucking decorum.

[astrid-beck]

It's so fucking crazy nuts that they actually out loud directly made this comparison

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

[submattsmxmmy]

Dead dove: do not eat 💖 Hiii, it's @ariestrxsh and this is my secondary account. Here is my contribution to kinktober. I know the Ghostface trope has been done so many times, but I figured it would still be a fun little smut to write in honor of Halloween.

👻🎀 content warning: smut, degradation, predator/prey dynamic, restraints, knife play, blood play, ghostface!matt, ghostface!chris, slutty!reader

👻🎀 author's note: idk if this would be considered a dead dove: do not eat fic, but it certainly contains some rather dark material, so i'd rather label it that way to be safe. also, my reader's slutty nun outfit may offend you if you're religious, so please scroll and don't read if it's going to upset you.

👻🎀 summary: you're throwing a halloween party at your house in a remote area. the night becomes like a thrilling, real-life horror movie after your friends, matt and chris both show up dressed as the infamous ghostface.

masquerade

"What are you guys going as tonight?" You asked Nick, Matt, and Chris as the four of you aimlessly wandered around the Halloween store that was littered with all the decor you could dream of for the party you were throwing later. You'd done most of your holiday shopping a few weeks prior, but you just needed a few final touches to complete the vibe you were going for.

"I'm going as Stu Macher," Nick responded, fiddling with some tacky Halloween decoration. "I'm going as Ghostface," Chris confidently replied, and your gaze softened as you pictured him in one of those sexy masks.

"Hey, what the fuck, Chris? I'm going as Ghostface," Matt slugged Chris in the arm. Your breath caught in your throat, and your lips fell open as you pictured them both in the Ghostface costume. "Relax. That'll make it more fun. Then no one will know who's who," Chris smirked. "People already have a hard time telling us apart," Matt rolled his eyes.

"What are you going as?" Nick asked you, ignoring his brothers. "Well, I'm going to be the only one out of the four of us who isn't going as a Scream character. But it's going to be a surprise," you told them, wandering over towards a giant cauldron that caught your eye.

"What are you going to use that for?" Matt asked. "Punch bowl! Isn't it perfect?" You asked, picking it up and cradling it in your arms as the four of you continued through the store. "Can you at least give us a hint about what you're going to dress up as?" Chris playfully poked you in the side.

"All I can tell you is, it's gonna be sexy, and you're gonna thank God when you see me in it. I'm trying to get laid tonight," you proudly stated as the four of you headed over to the checkout counter to pay.

Nick, Matt, and Chris dropped you back off at your place, which was out in the middle of nowhere, so you could finish setting up, and so they could change into their costumes. You thought it was fitting you lived in a secluded part of your town's national forest and didn't have any neighbors for miles.

You'd just finished putting out the last of the decorum when people started trickling in. You had fake spiderwebs strewn in every corner, a smoke machine, and a black light.

You were just thinking about how excited you were for the boys to see you in your glowing slutty nun outfit when the doorbell rang, and as you pulled open your creaky front door, you saw Nick covered in fake blood accompanied by a pair of Ghostfaces, the whites of their masks lit up by the black light. "Look at you!" Nick gasped as you gave them a twirl. Chris and Matt's eyes were immediately drawn to your exposed chest and your bare thighs.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface, don't kill me!" You jokingly shrieked, placing your hands on your cheeks and making a fake surprised face. "You look really good," one of them said to you. "So do you guys," you seductively replied, nibbling on your lower lip and looking at the three of them, but especially Matt and Chris. You had a bit of a thing for masked men.

They shuffled into your house, admiring the way you had decorated. More guests started arriving, and the party started to really take off. Nick started hitting it off with a guy you worked with who was dressed as a skeleton, which left you, Matt, and Chris alone.

"You guys wanna scare Nick tonight?" Matt asked menacingly, tilting his head in his ghostface mask, which had no business being as hot as it was. You bit your lip at him.

Chris could tell you were entranced by the costume. "Like the mask, sweetheart?" Chris asked in a deep, menacingly voice that was strikingly familiar to that of the original Ghostface, taking his 'prop' weapon and running the edge along your cheek, but the metal was sharp and cold. "Shut the fuck up. Oh my god, is that a real knife?" You asked him, staring wide-eyed at it.

"Yeah, why does that scare you? Or do you like it?" Chris said in a spooky voice. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Neither. You guys are so immature. Have fun scaring Nick. I'm gonna go enjoy my party and try to find someone to hook up with. Try not to cut anyone with that thing."

You rolled your eyes at them and pushed past them, trying to hide the effect they were having on you. Both sets of eyes traveled to your ass as you walked away. "Why don't we play a prank on her instead?" Matt inquired. "Yeah, she could use a little loosening up," Chris responded.

You couldn't deny that the way Chris had put that blade up to your cheek while he was dressed like that was having a rather strong effect on you, an effect so strong that you desperately wanted to turn back around, grab them by their solid black robes, and beg them both to rail you while they wore their Ghostface attire.

You'd always found them both attractive, but they were your good friends, and most nights that the sexual thoughts about them creeped into your psyche, you were able to will it away, or something you'd never admit out loud to - sometimes you'd just take care of the aching between your legs really quickly, and the thoughts would usually dissipate on their own, but tonight was different.

You could feel a damp warmth between your thighs as you sauntered off in another direction to greet some of your other friends, but even as you asked them how the party was and tried to get your mind off of the Sturniolo boys, you found yourself peeking over your shoulder, stealing glances at them, and losing your inner battle with yourself to fight off your urges.

It had been so long, and you were so horny.

"I think that guy over there is checking you out," your friend who had animals ears on nudged you and glanced off in the direction of the punch bowl you'd bought earlier. Your eye caught a tall man with zombie makeup on that you didn't recognize grabbing himself a cup of spiked punch, his gaze flicking up at you every few seconds. You thought he was kind of cute.

"Go talk to him," your friend urged you, lovingly squeezing your arm. You took one more glance in the direction of where Matt and Chris had been standing just moments ago, seriously considering trying to pursue one of them instead, but when your eyes scanned over the crowd, you didn't see either one of them. You'd missed your chance.

"Okay, fine," you whispered to your friend, rolling your eyes and working up the courage to approach him. You took a deep breath and headed in his direction.

"Hey, do I know you?" You asked, grabbing yourself a red solo cup and serving yourself some alcoholic punch. "You know, some would say your costume is offensive," he said, ignoring your question and motioning towards your exposed breasts in your very ungodly outfit.

"Then why don't you rip it off of me?" You flirtatiously shot back. He looked unamused with you.

"Hey, so, what's the deal with your friend?" He asked, taking a sip of his drink and his gaze looking past you to where you were previously standing. "Oh, my friend," you said in a slightly disappointed tone, realizing you'd just approached and been very forward with a man who had been interested in the girl standing next to you the whole time.

You started back off in the direction you came from, and your friend glanced over at the embarrassment in your expression. "What happened? Was he a dick to you?" She asked, concern in her eyes while she cradled your face. You could understand why he was looking at her instead of you.

"No, nothing like that. If you think he's cute, you should go talk to him. I'll be right back," you responded, feeling your face get hot. You pushed past a crowd of people to get to the bottom of your staircase, and you hurried up the steps before your tears could fall.

It wasn't so much that you were upset about not getting the guy. You weren't even that interested in him. It was a combination of a few things, really.

It was the humiliation of misreading the situation, the insecurity you felt about not being as pretty as your friends, and the constant self-doubt you had about whether you really were a slut like everyone called you and if any guy would ever want you again because of it.

Through your teary vision, your bedroom door caught your eye. You stopped dead in your tracks, sniffling and wiping away your tears as alarm bells went off in your nervous system.

Your bedroom door was wide open, and you swore you'd shut it before the first few guests had arrived. You walked through the door frame cautiously, overwhelmed by a sensation of having eyes on you, studying your surroundings to see if anything else was out of place.

You shrugged off the feeling of being watched, chalking it up to the fact that it was Halloween, and you had been watching a lot of thriller and horror movies in the couple weeks leading up to your party.

You made your way over to the bathroom sink, setting down your red solo cup on the cold countertop and peering at your reflection in the mirror. You didn't want to spend Halloween night sulking in your bathroom while your two hot best friends were downstairs, strutting around in their sexy Ghostface attire and probably finding other girls to sleep with.

You cleaned off the eyeliner that was smudging on your bottom eyelid, glued the corner of your eyelash back down, and readjusted your breasts in your costume.

After fixing the imperfections with your wardrobe, you decided you weren't going to let the night end without taking a stab at trying to have sex with whichever one of the Sturniolo brothers you saw first, excluding Nick of course. You were done pretending like you weren't completely taken with them.

Your gaze flickered over to the reflection of your partially open closet door in the mirror. Again, you could have sworn you'd left it closed. Filled with dread, you slowly tiptoed out of the bathroom, past your bed, and over to your closet. You rested your hand on the round, metal door knob and slowly pushed it shut.

You realized how ridiculous you were being, rolling your eyes at yourself and letting out a sigh at how jumpy you'd been lately. You turned back around and started to head out of your bedroom when all of a sudden, you heard the sound of the closet door creaking open again.

Before you could spin yourself around and identify the threat, you felt a gloved hand cover your mouth and a cold, sharp blade resting against your neck. "What's your favorite scary movie?" The way his voice came through sounding just like Ghostface had you both scared and turned on.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out an audible moan against his palm, causing him to pull his hand back. "What was that?" Chris accusingly asked, speaking like himself again. "What the fuck? How do you make your voice sound like that?" You asked in a shaky voice.

He chuckled in your ear, avoiding your inquiry. "Answer me first. What was that sound you just made?" Chris posed the question again. "Nothing. Real funny, Chris. Let me go," you responded.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your eye as Matt walked around in his Ghostface costume, shutting your bedroom door closed. Your heart dropped as you watched him lock it and make his way back over to you. "Let you go? Are you sure you want that?" Matt cooed, running the back of his gloved hand along your cheek and tilting his head down at you. You gulped.

"Is this turning you on?" Chris whispered into your ear. "Gross," you rolled your eyes. "Only one way to find out," Matt menacingly replied. "Why don't you check her, Matt?" Chris smirked under his mask.

Your mouth fell open, and a strangled whimper came through as Matt reached between your legs, lifting up your skirt and slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Immediately, he felt the wetness leak through his glove.

"Oh, she's soaked. Her clit practically has its own heartbeat," Matt relayed to his brother, drawing circles on it with his fingers and talking about you as if you weren't in the room with them. "I bet she'd like it if we took care of that. Don't you think?" Chris wondered, dragging the blade across your collar bone and between your partially exposed breasts.

You couldn't hold back your delighted sounds as they both put their hands on you. It was like a dream come true. Your prayers had been answered. You'd fantasized about them each separately, but the idea of having them both take you on at the same time didn't even seem like an option until now.

"What's turning you on so much? The mask? The knife? The fact that it's me and Matt?" Chris cooed at you, pulling your top down to reveal your tits. He took the knife and started running the sharp edge against your nipples that stiffened at the touch. You immediately shuddered and let out a whimper.

"All of it?" Matt wondered, continuing to play with your pussy that was becoming wetter by the second. "Answer him, slut. What's got you all wet, hmm?" Chris growled into your ear. Of course, it hurt your feelings to be called that, but there was something about the way Chris said it so endearingly that it didn't seem like he was trying to do anything other than turn you on, and it was working.

"Nothing, it's completely unrelated," you lied, biting your lip to hold back another moan, but your attempts failed, and your head fell back against Chris' chest. You felt his hard cock against your backside, and it twitched at the way you struggled to keep yourself composed. "Yeah, mine's unrelated, too," Chris replied sarcastically, staring down at your tits as he continued to tease them with his knife.

You felt Matt's fingers slip into your hole as he started to fuck you with them. "You want us to stop?" Matt asked. You nibbled on your lip and softly shook your head no. "That's what I thought. She's such a little slut," Chris said to his brother. "Don't you know it's always the slut who dies first?" Chris rasped into your ear.

"Oh, she likes that," Matt cooed, feeling your pussy start to throb around his fingers. You tried to hide your reactions, but your body language couldn't keep your secret from the two pairs of Ghostfaces who manhandled you.

"You still never told us your favorite scary movie," Chris pointed out. "Blair Witch Project," you hesitantly answered. "Mmm. That's a scary one. Especially when you live out here," Matt replied. Chris leaned over to Matt and whispered something in his ear that you couldn't quite make out.

"Lay on the fucking bed, slut," Chris responded as they both let you go. "We're gonna go have a little chat in the other room, and you're gonna lay right here and behave," Matt ordered you. "And if you try to run, you're gonna be really sorry," Chris said, waving the knife in your direction.

They both disappeared behind your bathroom door. You heard the sound of Chris and Matt arguing behind the wooden barrier about who was going to have their way with you first, but you had another idea.

When they both emerged from the bathroom, you were gone, and on your nightstand was a note that read: "come find me in the woods, mr. ghostface. xoxo, your prey" with a heart drawn below the lettering.

"Oh, that sneaky bitch thinks she can be in charge of her own fate. We're gonna have fun with her tonight," Chris told Matt as he picked up the note.

They both disappeared out of the room, down the stairs, and out the backdoor towards the dense treeline behind your house with a flashlight Matt had snagged off your kitchen counter.

All they had to do was listen quietly for a few minutes beneath the blanket of stars and clouds, and then they heard you, crushing twigs and leaves under your weight as you tried to stealthily make your way through the forest.

All of a sudden, you were lit up by the flashlight Matt held in hands. "Gotcha," he said in a menacing voice. You froze and stared at them both, unable to move a muscle. "Think you're so slick, huh?" Chris asked in a low, sexy rasp.

"You know what would make this so much more fun? If she had to guess who's who while we take turns fucking her," Matt suggested, taking a few steps towards you. "And if she guesses wrong, we'll make her bleed," Chris laughed, closing in on you as well.

You'd never seen this side of the two brothers, but it excited you more than you were willing to admit.

You started slowly walking backward until you backed into a tree, and you swallowed hard as you felt its rough trunk under your palms, realizing you didn't have anywhere to go.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Spare me!" You whined, but you couldn't hold back your smirk as Matt pulled the knife out of his robe and cut your costume from your body. You gasped as the fabric fell the floor in front of your feet. You'd never imagined your night would go like this. In fact, this was hotter than anything you could have ever dreamt up.

"We told you that you'd regret running." It was that same ominous, threatening, and sexy voice that Chris had used earlier in the night, so that must have been him. "I thought we told you to behave," said the other, sounding just like the first one. Fuck, you thought.

You watched as the boy with the knife started to cut a hole in his robe, and your eyes widened, and your jaw fell open as you realized what he was doing. You watched as his dick poked through the black fabric, staring you down. He handed off the knife to his brother.

"Since you like to run, one of us is going to have to hold you still," the second one said pinning your wrists above your head with one hand with the other, he held the blade up in front of your face. You saw yourself in the reflection of the sharp metal accompanied by the man in the Ghostface mask beside you, and it sent goosebumps across your flesh.

He closed the distance between the weapon and your breasts, and he started tracing your nipples again with the knife's edge. Your chest rose and fell as your breath quickened. You peered at the boy who was settling between your legs, grabbing ahold of his big, veiny cock with his gloved hand as he started pumping it back and forth a few times, making sure it had reached its full potential.

He hiked up your leg, wrapped your thigh around his waist, and pulled your panties to the side before sinking it into your heat and stretching you out. "So tight," he groaned deeply, feeling the way you gripped his dick. You let out a few loud moans as you adjusted to his size, taking every inch of him.

"That's it. Take it like the slut you are," he gruffed, picking up the pace and wrapping his gloved fingers around your neck. "Like that?" The boy who was holding your wrists cooed as he dragged the sharp object across to your other peak.

You loved the way both Ghostface masks reflected your fear back at you as well as your pleasure, their empty eyes, and their contorted mouths, taunting you. You glanced back at the brother who was between your legs, focusing on his thrusts. His fast and powerful thrusts.

Every time he bottomed out in you, a desperate mewl escaped your lips, filling the atmosphere. The masked man started to mimick the sounds that poured from your mouth while his brother fucked you, and you adored every second of it.

You loved the way they were feeding your sick fantasies, holding you at knife point, wearing their sexy costumes, and fucking you dumb while they degraded you. Your sounds became louder, more urgent, and less inhibited. You could feel the intensity building.

"Scream for me, bitch," the man between your legs chuckled. His mean words, his hand around your throat, the movement of his hips, and the cold, sharp metal dancing across your skin were enough to cause you to snap.

You hit the point of no return, clenching around the mystery man's rod, sending him to the same fate shortly after. You could feel his twitching cock filling you up as your orgasm took its course, the two of you moaning in unison while you finished together. Your legs grew weak as you came.

"Oh my god, Chris. Matt. Whoever you are," you breathlessly panted. You thought for sure you'd be able to tell them apart by now, but you had no idea, and you found it all the more enticing.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed, slowing down his thrusts, pulling out, and watching his seed flow out of you. He stared down in awe at the mess he made, taking in the sight and savoring it while his breathing pattern returned to normal.

"I've been waiting for this," the boy to your left said as he switched places with his brother. He took the knife, hooking it into your panties and slicing the delicate material, watching the fabric fall to the ground and revealing your pretty pussy to him.

Then he cut a hole in his robe like his brother had done, and you peered down at his gorgeous cock poking through the tear in the material.

He roughly pried open your legs, guiding them open with the blade. He dug into the inside of your right thigh with his gloved hand and rested the knife on your lower stomach. You couldn't keep yourself from admiring his big, throbbing dick, and you sharply inhaled as you felt him slip his tip into your entrance.

"Oh, fuck," he moaned as he bucked his hips forward, his entire length vanisihing into your tight hole. Your eyes flicked back up to his Ghostface attire, taking in the incredible view of being fucked by a man in such a sexy mask.

The man beside you restrained your wrists, pinning them above your head again. "Alright. Time to guess. Who am I?" The boy beside you asked in his creepy Ghostface voice, tilting his head at you as he tightened his grip. You innocently peered up at his mask, searching for some kind of hint in his demeanor.

"Chris, is that you?" You asked uncertaintly. "Wrong. Remember what happens when you guess wrong?" Matt cooed, running his gloved finger along the underside of your chin. Your eyes were glazing over, your lips fell open, and your cheeks were flushed.

Chris applied more pressure to the knife, running the blade along your lower stomach and drawing blood. You let out a satisfied whine as you felt the release of the knife cutting you. The warm, sticky red fluid glistened in the moonlight as it slowly dripped down your abdomen.

"So pretty," Matt whispered, brushing your messy hair out of your face and his eyes dancing between your desperate expression and the way the blood looked so beautiful on your skin. Moans began pouring from you again as Chris fucked you senseless up against the tree.

"Please, Mr. Ghostface. Harder," you begged, your eyes lazily rolling back into your head as your breasts bounced to the cadence of his thrusts. "Cock dumb little slut," Chris menacingly chuckled at your pathetic pleading, but he still gave you what you so enthusiastically craved, relishing in your desperation for him.

You loved feeling helpless and giving yourself over so willingly to both brothers as they used you for their own pleasure. Your whimpers became louder and fuller as you neared your tipping point again.

"Harder," you cried out again before your orgasm took over. Your gaze danced between both of their masks, and your pussy started rhythmically throbbing around Chris' cock as he delivered a few more monumental strokes. You felt a wonderful, relieved feeling in the pit of your stomach as you came unraveled under the control of both boys.

Your brows pinched together, your knees weakened, and your stare began to lose its focus until you couldn't concentrate on anything except for the pure pleasure and ecstasy coursing through you. You were pumped full of Chris' cum as his cock twitched inside of you, and as you came down from your intense adrenaline rush, you felt all your muscles relax.

Both men chuckled, removing their masks and revealing their identities to you. Sure enough, you had guessed wrong. Chris leaned in and chuckled into your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You may have guessed wrong, but we're going to spare you. You're worth way more to us alive than dead."

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: loser!jeonghan, sub!jeonghan, virgin!jeonghan, afab reader, reader is a lil bit of a pervert (for jeonghan duh), smut, handjob, body worship, etc.

part 1, part 2

wc: 1573

a/n: i had never considered loser!jeonghan til anon mentioned him but lmk if u guys would like a pt. 2!!

masterlist

yoon jeonghan had to be the prettiest boy you had ever seen.

he had the cutest smile, the biggest doe eyes you'd ever seen, – hidden behind the nerdiest rims known to man, but still – the most adorable yet dorkish smile, and fuck, his hair was the most angelic shade of blonde and hung down to his shoulders.

it was a mystery to you how the boy didn't have all the girls swooning for him. okay, so maybe he was socially awkward and a bit of a loser, but who didn't love themselves a cute loser?

since the moment you'd spotted him in your physics course, you'd been wanting a chance to get him alone and do every depraved act known to man on the boy.

you knew be was a virgin (or at least that's what your mutual friend josh had told you), so getting the chance to rob him of his innocence was something you couldn't stop thinking about. and you also knew he liked you back (information also courtesy of joshua).

technically, you couldve already approached him and propositioned yourself to him, but you didn't want to scare him off. no, you wanted it to happen naturally. except that every passing day, you became more and more desperate for the boy, almost unable to pay attention in class in favor of staring at him.

then god finally smiled down on you and granted you the perfect chance to defile the boy.

it wad kind of embarrassing, really, the way in which you immediately ran to the other side of the classroom and pushed joshua out of his seat in favor of partnering with jeonghan for the final project. joshua simply chuckled, knowing this day was going to come eventually. jeonghan, on the other hand, seemed frozen in place, staring at you with wide eyes and a cute blush on his cheeks.

thank god for public decorum, because you would've taken him right then and there.

fast-forward to the end of the class and you had managed to make plans to meet at your dorm the following day. it had taken some effort to get conversation out of jeonghan, as he would refuse to make any form of eye contact and shyly stare down at his notebook instead. luckily for you, you were extroverted enough for the both of you.

that was how you ended up in your dorm room almost a whole day later, dressed down in your skimpiest loungewear and with a few snacks prepared on your coffee table (you had also stocked up on condoms just in case, but those were likely to be used later on).

opening the door, you welcomed the pretty boy, holding back a smile at the way his eyes widened at your lack of clothing. you decided not to be too forward and let him in, directing him to the couch and taking a seat by his side.

you only managed to do some work for less than an hour before you suggested a break.

"jeonghannie, don't you wanna take a quick break? i can make you a tea or something," you suggested.

"o-oh, no, that's fine. we can take a break, though, if, if you want," he stammered, wincing at himself due to how clearly nervous he was.

"sorry," he sighed, "i-i'm not usually this awkward, i swear. you can ask joshua."

"oh?", you tilted your head to the side, turning to face him on the couch, "what's making you feel awkward? is it me?", you asked.

"no! it's just," he adjusted his glasses, taking another breath, "y-yeah, you make me kind of nervous," he admitted.

you lightly laid your hand on his thigh, causing an intake of breath from him, "you don't have to be nervous," you leaned closer, "can i tell you a secret?", you whispered.

he leaned closer to you, turning so you could whisper into his ear, yet clearly shivering at the proximity.

"you make me a little nervous too."

turning back around, he opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly not knowing what to say.

interrupting, you continued, "you're just so pretty ... been wanting to build up the courage to talk to you all semester," you pouted, lifting your hand to caress at his cheek, humming when he furrowed his eyebrows and instinctively pressed his cheek to your hand.

"hannie ... can i call you hannie?", you asked.

"yes, c-call me whatever you want," he stammered.

you got even closer, noses almost touching as you stared down at his lips, "can i kiss you, hannie?"

"y-yes, please. please kiss m-"

you cut him off with a soft kiss against his top lip, letting your tongue come out at the end and give it a teasing lick.

groaning far too deeply for a simple kiss, jeonghan's hands became fists on his lap, eyebrows still furrowed as if he were in pain.

he was just the cutest thing. and you needed to do something about how frustrated he was making you feel.

again, you pressed your lips to his own, this time going for a heavier kiss. both your hands went to hold his face in your hands, positioning him so you could kiss him how you liked. he was shy in copying your movements, forcing you to be a bit more aggressive in your kisses so he'd try and follow along.

eventually he came to obey your silent demands and open his mouth for you, allowing his tongue to play with your own in a timid way. unable to control yourself at how adorable you found his shyness, you came to scoot onto his lap, straddling him as he gasped into your mouth.

"hands on my hips, hannie," you mumbled against his lips, placing his lip hands on your hips.

his nimble fingers would dig into your skin any time you suckled on his tongue, causing you to do it over and over again.

you made out for a while, with him eventually being able to match the pace of your kisses and even letting his tongue dance with your own.

"hannie ..." you breathed out, "can i make you feel good? hmm?", you muttered, hands coming to unbutton his shirt, receiving no complaint from him.

"w-what are you gonna do to me?", he stuttered, letting you remove his shirt altogether.

your fingers faintly trailed up and down his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he moaned and shivered when they made their way to his nipples, toying with them meanly.

"so fucking pretty ..." you muttered almost to yourself, "just wanna see you, bunny. wanna touch you and make you feel good. is that okay, pretty?"

the twisting and pulling of his nipples continued, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth open with heady breaths, "yes ... do whatever you want, just- please."

thanking him with a kiss, you leaned closer to him, letting your hands slowly trail down to his pants, sneaking a hand past the belt you so-easily undid in the process. his cock was already hard, begging for you to pull it out from beneath his boxers and play with it.

stroking him with both hands while your mouth made its way to lick at his sensitive chest, you hummed in satisfaction at any and every moan and gasp of pleasure the pretty boy let out.

"do you like this, bunny? like my hand on your dick?"

"it's so good ... feels so fucking good, i- please dont stop," he whined, glasses foggy due to his heavy breath.

your mouth made its way back to his own, licking at his open lips and speeding up the movements of your hand. you knew he'd likely cum very soon, with this clearly being his first assisted orgasm. but it didn't matter. all you wanted was to see the pretty boy fall apart as a result of your touch.

"i'm gonna- fuck, i'm sorry, i'm gonna cum ... c-can i? please, need to- fuck, please," he pleaded pathetically, voice getting so high and breathy.

it made you lose your mind, the way he truly became the embodiment of a pretty angel feeling the touch of a woman for the first time. a sick part of your brain wanted to make sure you were the only person to ever touch him. you wanted him to come back to you again and again, needing your touch.

"cum, bunny. be a good boy and cum, okay? it's okay, just wanna make you feel good," you whispered encouragingly into his ear, smiling when you felt him immediately let go.

"t-thank you thank you thank you, oh, it's so- thank you, it's so good, so fucking- so fucking good," he cried as he trembled under you, head thrown back and eyes glassy.

you kissed his neck throughout his high, whispering encouraging words against his skin as he came down from it, thanking you consistently until the end.

"thank you, that was- that was amazing," he breathed shyly.

"yeah? you were so good, baby. glad it felt good," you smiled as you ran your fingers through his long hair.

"uh, i- what about you," he muttered, unable to make eye contact.

"that's okay, baby. i can show you how to make me feel good next time."

"next time?", he asked with wide eyes and the ghost of a smile.

"yeah, baby. thought that was it? no, pretty," you responded condescendingly, "i'm gonna keep you all to myself now."

[jarofstyles]

Lush

Hello my ducklings! Since we have been getting a lot of questions about our Patreon and what is included, we decided to give you guys peeks into the series we have exclusively on there. This is Lush, escort y/n x dark businessman H. There will be some twists and turns in this one, hot smut, a fake relationship and a possessive and slightly obsessive dark H- our favorite. This series will only be on Patreon but this is the first part to give you a taste!

Check out our Patreon for access to Lush and our other exclusive series + 100+ exclusive writings.

Warnings- escorting, mention of homelessness and money struggles, daddy kink etc

WC- 2.9k

-----

Y/N knew her job, and she did it well.

Sit still, look pretty. Perched on her favorite client’s lap, his strong thigh covered in a trouser that matched the blazer that probably cost more than she’d made in the last 3 months, she sipped her champagne quietly and ‘let the men talk.’

Harry Styles was an enigma. He had popped up a few weeks ago, bringing her to a dinner after a debriefing in a lux hotel in one of the bigger hotels on the Vegas strip. The window had overlooked it all, a penthouse that seemed to be used quite frequently considering the fridge had been stocked and he had socks stuffed in a drawer that she’d used later that night.

“I need you to sit on my lap, keep me company.” He had said plainly. The man was intimidating. Broad and tall, soft brown hair swept back and off his forehead. Stubble shadowing his face and over his lip, his features were sharp and his eyes a little harsh, but she could whole heartedly admit that he was the most attractive client she’d ever had. Being a year in after escaping a situation that was still haunting her nightmares, she had been eager to accept the higher paying and well vetted job she had, thank god, stumbled into. It wasn’t conventional, no, but nothing really was in Vegas.

“I can do that.” She replied, hands folded in her lap. He stood before her as she had sat on the couch, looking up at him as he spoke. “Is that all we’re doing in our time together?” To put it in a nicer way of asking. She could have bluntly asked if he was going to want sex, but she did try to at least have a little decorum- until the situation granted the freedom of it. It wasn’t uncommon for her and she was safe, tested, and generally did enjoy sex- but it was a job. This time, however, would probably be enjoyed more than she had in the past. A real attraction to the man would be helpful in many parts of making this more enjoyable.

“Who said that?” He rose a brow, looking down at her. It was a smoldering look but she couldn’t find it in herself to look away as he got closer and tilted her chin up. “I intend to take everything you’ll offer. I’d suggest canceling your plans for tomorrow.” She didn’t have to ask why. It was clear this man intended to fuck her, and fuck her well.

Spoiler- he did.  Harry had, for all intents and purposes, rocked her shit. So when she found his name on her books twice the next week, she hadn’t complained. She’d been excited, actually, considering she’d been able to feel the sting of her ass when she’d sat in the Lyft the next morning to take her to her apartment. Another good thing about him, she found as she looked in her purse, was that he tipped extremely well. More than was deserved, if she was being honest, but the one time the girl brought it up he had shoved another hundred dollar bill into the waistband of her sleep shorts and sent her on her way.

It had become known to her that he specifically requested her. If she wasn’t available, he’d offer more money than the other client was paying- and her Madam had no problem with that, considering it upped her cut. She found herself with him 3 times this week, frequenting clubs and drowning out business talk as his large hand splayed across her waist and the other hand held a sweaty amber colored liquor on the rocks. Much to many of her friends and client’s surprise, Y/N didn’t drink much. She stuck to lighter things, champagne and rosé, and kept to a one to two drink maximum. She preferred keeping a clear head when on the job and honestly? Drinking wasn’t her thing. A buzz was nice, but anything past that meant a headache in the morning. She wasn’t a morning person to begin with.

This meeting was going past its normal time, making her wonder what was being said. If she was being frank- Y/N didn’t do much listening in his meetings. It felt like they were talking in code, another language, and she couldn’t be assed to listen about imports and exports and blah, blah, blah. Her brain was happy to sit and be warm on a handsome man’s lap, observing the dance floor. Dancing used to be so fun, something she’d always loved to do as a child. Now she didn’t get to do as much, even though she’d wished she could. Club dancing was far different than her normal type but if she was on the balcony of the most VIP of the VIP sections, she was going to take her people watching to the next level.

“Y’alright?” His raspy voice breathed over her ear, not taking his eyes off the men who were talking amongst themselves. “I know it’s late. We can go back soon.” While Harry wasn’t the most warm and fuzzy person, he did respect her time. He was a little scary, truthfully, and she didn’t want to upset him. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was respectful and kind to her, he spoiled her with tips and orgasms, and she had no complaints. If staying out a bit later than he had said was the least of her worries besides his scowling, she was golden.

“I’m okay.” She smiled. “People watching. Sorry, I’m not paying attention. Dunno what half of the stuff you’re talking about means.”

Y/N had no reality of what he did. No clue. She was too afraid to google him. To ruin the illusion she had of him in her head. He passed the background test and signed the heavy contract that came with hiring her, so he wasn’t about to harm her or anything- and from what she’s learned in Vegas, sometimes you’re better off not knowing. There was a lot of shady business practices that went on. It was legitimately upset her if he was a bad person outside of the law, so she decided not to go searching for answers she possibly didn’t want to find.

“That’s good.” He murmured, pressing a private kiss underneath her ear. “Don’t worry about it. S’nothing interesting anyways. Got t’keep up appearances.” His voice dropped. “Would much rather be between your thighs. Missed this body while I was away.”

And, Oh. It made her hot, a nervous giggle leaving her throat as the words tickled against her ear. Harry had gone away on a business trip, he’d prefaced it because he had been gone 4 day. He’d prescheduled to meet her on the day he came back. Her stomach did a swoop in her body as the cool hand that held his glass deposited it on the table, finding her thigh and squeezing over it. “You did?”

She had to wonder if he was buttering her up, but the thought was dispelled because Harry didn’t need to do that. He had always been a bit blunt and she liked that about him. Less sweet talk that he didn’t mean. What he said made sense- complimenting her body and her mouth and appearance, what she did for him, but he never went too far and said things he didn’t mean. So she believed him when he nodded, slipping his hand further up her dress and making her swallow thickly. He’d given her pretty lingerie he’d bought from wherever he went, the buttery silk laying against her body under the dress that hugged her figure. Red, he said, because she was a little devil between the sheets. “I did. Got t’bring you with me next time.”

Some girls did that. Y/N wasn’t even sure what the rate would be for a trip, but the idea appealed to her. “You sure you can afford it?” She whispered back, a playful tilt to her lips. Obviously he could. He was by far the wealthiest man she had in her books, evident by the liquor he ordered, the watches he wore and the cars the drove in. It was arousing to her, if she was being honest. When she settled down one day, the one thing she really wanted was financial stability. Maybe that sounded shallow, but with her history with no money and being a little jaded, it made sense to her.

“Can afford that, and a shopping spree for you while I do business.” He brushed his cool fingertips against her slightly damp panties. Harry didn’t smile often, but when he did? It was a smirk. A hot, arrogant little smirk that she should probably be annoyed by, but wasn’t. “Need to get you out of here, though. Have something I want to talk to you about before I sink you down on my cock.” His fingers retreated after a gentle brush to find them wet, moving to her leg as he began to wrap up the meeting. People would listen, even if they weren’t finished- he just had that way about him.

—--

Y/N had no clue what, exactly, he wanted to talk to her about. They’d had some nice conversations so far about a plethora of things. Movies, books, restaurants, some morals. But it wasn’t too deep. Both of them had seen it for what it was, even if they had impeccable sexual chemistry. She didn’t know the man all that well, only what was told to her and what he had divulged- and knowing the man had a sweet tooth didn’t account for much. So it was slightly intimidating when he asked her to meet him in the living room of the suite as he put away his watch and jacket.

What could he possibly have to talk to her about? Her brain was coming up with nothing.

“C’mere.” He sat himself down on the couch, offering his lap back up to her. It wasn’t something she did in private unless his hands were down her panties or she was riding him, but she decided to go for it. Her heels kicked off to the side, she sat herself back in the familiar way. It had taken her off guard, but his hand took her own and she watched as he flipped it over, thumbing over her ring finger. “I need to ask you a favor. A proposition.” He murmured, calculating eyes going back to her face. “And you can say no, if you want. I’ll understand.” Of course, this made her alarm bells ring but there was little time to panic. Considering he was a very get to the point man, he did exactly that. “I’d like for you to quit your current job and pretend to be my fiance.”

The bomb was dropped. Why, exactly, a man of his caliber needed a fake fiance? She had not a fucking clue. Harry continued, her face slack in shock. He took that into account, it seemed. “I like you. You’re polite, know how to behave in public. Gorgeous little thing. You’re intelligent, you’re quick, and you understand how to keep to yourself. That’s a very valuable thing to me.” His thumb resumed rubbing her ring finger. “We have incredible sex. You fulfill and exceed my needs, and I’m satisfied with sex for once in my life.” Y/N let him do whatever he wanted and thoroughly enjoyed it. There was no faking it with them. Their chemistry crackled in the air when it shifted. There was no doubting that. “My family has been pressuring me to settle down. I have no time to properly date, nor the desire to.” He sure as fuck wasn’t the type to go on dating apps, and the dating pool he was around was a lot of vapid people with money hungry libidos. At least he would know Y/N was there for money and there would be no confusion between them. “I enjoy your company. It isn’t traditional nor conventional, but I’d provide for you. I will deposit your average monthly income in your own bank account and give you a card to my own. I’d pay for your rent while you stay with me, and you’d have free time to do as you please. Whatever hobbies you’d like. Horse riding, art, reading, I don’t care what it is if you like it.”

Her head was swimming. What the fuck? She’d heard of men falling in love with escorts, sure, but this seemed… More transactional. For some reason, it made her feel a little more comfortable. He wasn’t proclaiming love after barely knowing her. He knew how it went and that she needed to be provided for. “Like a sugar baby?” She blurted out.

“Not particularly. My fiance in title. You’ve been introduced as my girl to everyone already, so it isn’t a difficult sell to anyone but my family. We’d announce our engagement, I’ll bring you to London to meet them, let it run it’s course.” His eyes bore into hers. “I don’t want you with anyone else while you’re mine. I’ll be the only one you sleep with, and vice versa. I don’t want you to split your time between me and anyone else. I’m asking for devotion, which is a lot. But I’d like it to be you.”

“Why?” Y/N knew he had explained it but it was still confusing. “I know what you’ve said but… surely theres other people that you’d want to ask? I’m just an escort you’ve been seeing for a little while. I mean.. The sex is great, don’t get me wrong.” And she was extremely attracted to him and his energy, but… “I’m not in my escort mode all the time. I don’t want to be working 24/7. I’m not as docile while off the clock.” She wasn’t about to get put into 24/7 smile and nod territory. It was fine when it was an outing, or even a night, but she did have a personality she quite liked outside of it.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be agreeable all the time. In fact, I’d like to see you fight me a little.” Harry’s smirk returned. “Makes the sex hotter. But…” he returned to his business face. “I chose you because we get along. I don’t like a lot of people. I may pretend I do, but it’s difficult for me to find people who don’t make me irritated. You’re… interesting to me.” It wasn’t the answer she expected, no, but still. She had more questions.

“So what about after it’s all done and over with? I’ll end up on the streets, homeless again because I know Madam isn’t going to just let me back on her lists.” She crossed her arms, not realizing what she’d said. Harry caught it, pocketing it for later. It didn’t sit right that she had been on the streets at all, but that wasn’t a topic he could broach right now. He didn’t have the right to ask yet.

“I will make sure you’re set after this is done.” He promised. “I will have all of your expenses covered while you’re with me. Nails, hair, food, clothing, hobbies. You’ll be making your pay and then some every week and not touching it. And if it ends early, I will payout an extra mil. Does that sound reasonable?” He rose an eyebrow. “I’ve got the paperwork with me, but you can sit on it if you want.”

“How long can I sit on it for?” It took everything in her to not bite at her nails. The one thing the acrylics were good for was curbing that habit. “It’s not a no, but I’d like to look at the contract and have a lawyer look over it before I agree to anything.” As young as she may seem, she wasn’t stupid. This would be a perfect way to take advantage of her. While she didn't have that feeling from him, she’d be dumb not to protect herself.

She didn’t expect the smile from him, but it made her heart beat a bit faster as he brought her hand up to kiss it. “Smart fuckin’ girl you are.” He laughed. “Good. That works with me. I hope you do sign it, though.” His eyes darkened a bit. Harry wasn’t good at sharing and the idea of this pretty thing belonging to him, in essence, made his dick twitch. “I’d love to take you with me to Italy and see you on my yacht. Maybe fuck you on it. Think you’d really love that.”

Y/N had a feeling she would, too. The idea of being with one man, a man she so far enjoyed despite a bit of arrogance and intimidation, was appealing after a year here. But she needed to cover her own ass before sinking into something too good to be true. “I would.” Her nails moved from his hand to card through his soft hair. “I’d love that. But I think you should focus on tonight, hm?” Her legs opened a little, and she guided his hand back to where it had been previously. “Take a look at the pretty things you’ve already got, Daddy.”

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!! Draco and wizarding politics please?

When Granger had spoken to him for the first time their school days, it had been to ask him what Potter would need to do to get the conservative vote for his appointment to Head Auror.

What she'd really meant was the Slytherin vote, because two wars hadn't taught anyone anything, apparently. It was exhausting. He's exhausted.

"A Slytherin wife," he'd snarled, because Potter and the Weasley had had a rather public break up last year and because he's exhausted and he didn't understand why she was talking to him, why she thought he'd give enough of a fuck about her to help her or Potter.

Just because he was the only moderate member of the Wizengamot that got anything passed didn't mean he was interested in telling her how he did it. He'd worked for those relationships and spent hours studying every law that had been brought to the floor in the past fifty years and got his barrister's license at least half because if he couldn't argue logically on top of spitefully he might as well not even run at all.

What did Potter do? Put some people in jail and give interviews about rehabilitation that didn't amount to shit because he couldn't get a tax break off the Wizengamot floor the way he went about it, never mind anything else.

He's utterly unprepared to be told he has a guest and find Harry fucking Potter on his doorstep.

Potter hasn't been to the manor since Voldemort was here. Draco's had several events that decorum obligated him to invite Potter to, considering his place in society, and he hadn't even had the decency to RSVP.

"What the hell do you want?" he snaps.

"Um," he shuffles his feet, looking down at his feet like he's eleven years old and useless again and not like he's nearly thirty years old. Draco hopes this is a nightmare. "Hermione says I have to ask you out. Like. On a date."

Draco slams the door in his face.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move. 

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever. 

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes. 

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells? 

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes. 

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum. 

Or survival instincts. 

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . . 

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion. 

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still. 

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.” 

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person. 

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem. 

A serious problem. 

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?” 

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head. 

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?” 

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was. 

Flattering, but incredibly obvious. 

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.” 

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.” 

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves. 

Or a lot harder, sometimes. 

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . . 

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes. 

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside. 

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe? 

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone. 

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now. 

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.” 

Red Hood laughs. 

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!” 

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes? 

She spent way too long in Amity, yes. 

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake. 

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . . 

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . . 

Then again, her life is her life. 

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now. 

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.” 

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?” 

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling. 

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that. 

Hm. 

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies. 

Well, so is Amity Park, of course. 

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not. 

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances. 

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved. 

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells. 

Definitely inappropriate. 

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says. 

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means. 

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly. 

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.” 

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it. 

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment. 

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering. 

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?” 

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows. 

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . . 

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . . 

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.” 

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because. 

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way. 

“Are you sure?” she asks.

[catladyoftheyr]

🎲 .☘︎ ݁˖𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙧.☘︎ ݁˖ 🎲

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (18+ Smut!!)

Synopsis: You walk out on your date after getting dumped in a restaurant and call Stan to take you home. He comforts you and you end up in his bed 👀🤫

Warnings/highlights: alcohol use, cigarette smoking, shoplifting, blood mention (skinned knee), arguments, implied age gap (I envision reader in your mid-late 20s), protected sex, condoms, romantic sex, cunnilingus, pet names, strong language, enthusiastic consent at multiple points.

Notes/ word count: 3.2k ish, about as slow burn as a one shot smut can be lol, uhhh this took like a week on and off almost so I hope you guys like it 🫠

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“I want to be more serious about my future. I have a lot of important plans and responsibilities. And… I don’t think you’re the right kind of woman for my future. I’m sorry.”

You coughed, choking on a sip of your cocktail. You’d thought things were going really well. You hadn’t expected to be dumped, especially not over a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant. The look in his eyes didn’t seem sorry to you either, rather he looked chagrined to have to explain this to you. “You’re leaving me? You dragged me all the way out here to dump me?!” Your voice rose and attracted stares but you didn’t care at the moment.

“Please, let’s be rational. I understand you’re upset by my decision but there’s no need to act out like this.” Your date's voice remained steady, but hints of embarrassment were clear on his face.

“Of course I’m upset! You drove me to a nice dinner, held the door for me, told me I looked nice, and then we sit down and you tell me I’m not good enough to be part of your future.” You felt the tears start to well in your eyes. You were angry with him or course, but you were truly heartbroken. You’d just said ‘ I love you ‘ two weeks ago and now it was over.

“You’re causing a scene,” he hissed under his breath. “This is what I’m talking about. I want to run for Mayor, take over family estates, things that require class and sophistication. I just don’t think someone from your, um, background would fit in with that kind of lifestyle. It’s just not compatible.”

You swallowed more of your drink, hoping the alcohol would calm your nerves. Tears were flowing by now, and the surrounding tables were gawking at the ongoing argument. “So you’re breaking up with me because I’m not classy enough for you? Because you think I’m trailer trash? Fuck you.”

“Can’t we at least finish our meal? I wanted to do one last nice thing for you. You’re acting like a child. Have some decorum, please!”

Something about that sentence sent you over the edge. You grabbed the whiskey glass sitting in front of him on the table and splashed its contents down the front of your date. “How’s that for decorum? I’m out of here. The check’s all yours.” You grabbed your bag and stormed out of the restaurant, tears streaming down your face. You pushed the front doors open, intending to sulk on a curb for a while and collect yourself. You heard your date calling after you and saw him weaving through tables and waiting patrons with “sorry” and “excuse me”.

“Hey! Wait up please!” He called after you, reaching out to grab your hand. You yanked it away and stumbled through the threshold into the parking lot. Your heel caught in a small pothole and sent you tumbling onto the asphalt. You swore and pushed yourself into a sitting position to inspect the damage. The heel was cracked, but seemed walkable for now. You’d skinned your knees and roughed up the skin on your palms though. You picked gravel from your skin and sighed as a thin line of blood dripped down your calf. Apparently your date had gotten the message, because he’d stalked back inside the building. You saw his car parked nearby, shining in the sunset, and considered letting the air out of his tires but decided it wasn’t worth it.

You stood, wobbling on your damaged heel. You ambled down the street, not ready to have to find a ride home. You knew there was a gas station a block or 2 over and headed in that direction. You saw the familiar lights of a convenience store and went inside, immediately going toward the coolers and shelves in the back. You grabbed a small bottle of whiskey off the bottom shelf and glanced toward the register. The cashier was involved in a newspaper and hadn’t glanced up once since you’d come in. The security cameras seemed to be long since operational as well. You slid the bottle into your purse covertly, fishing out some cash at the same time.

You strolled toward the register and asked for a pack of cigarettes. You handed over the cash in exchange for menthols and stuffed the change in your bag. You walked out only having paid for one of the items and with no one the wiser. You sighed and sat down on the curb, pulling the liquor from your purse. You might as well drink your sorrows away, you figured. You pulled out your cell as well and scrolled your contacts while knowing there was really only one option.

You pressed call and held the phone to your ear waiting for him to pick up. Soon enough you heard a gruff voice on the other end sounding surprised to have you call him. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Um things didn’t go well tonight and I kinda need a ride home. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

“Where are you? Give me 20 minutes. No, no it’s no big deal. Quit apologizing. I'm grabbing my keys right now.”

“Thanks, Stan. I owe you one.” The line clicked and you lit a cigarette. The lung cancer warning on the box was starting to seem like a promise rather than a threat. Life was a shitshow. Your leg had stopped bleeding and now there was a trail of dried crust on your leg. Your palms still stung from your fall and the skin was raw. Soon enough a shiny red Cadillac pulled up in front of you and your boss was getting out of the front seat.

“Jesus, Doll. You look like hell.” The older man’s face wrinkled with disapproval as he glanced over you.

“Thanks, Stan. You really know how to boost a gal’s self esteem.” You cracked a smile anyways, his presence was familiar at least. You knew he was just ribbing you anyways.

“Seriously though. Must have been a helluva bad date to leave you like this.” He sat down next to you on the curb and draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. “You’re gonna catch pneumonia, it's cold out here.”

“Thank you. Do you want a smoke?” You offered the carton toward him. Stan pulled one out and pulled his own lighter from a pocket. His face turned sour as he inhaled.

“Yuck! Menthols? I thought you were better than that!” He handed you the cigarette and pulled out his own box. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as you smoked. He was technically your boss, but he’d been letting you stay in the extra room at the shack rent free. He’d told you that you were welcome as long as you wanted or needed and that helping out around the shack was more than enough for him. You’d settled into a comfortable routine in the last couple months since you’d been in town.

“Thanks again for coming to pick me up. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Hey, like I said, it’s no sweat off my back. I’ve had my own problems in life. I might be a cranky old man but I’ve got my good qualities. And you’re a real help around the shack. Those teenagers don’t know what they’re doing.” Stan put out his cigarette on the curb and looked over at you again. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Can we go home first?”

“Alright, doll. Let’s get going.” Stan got up, wincing slightly after an audible pop in one of his joints. He still offered you his hand and you took it. He held the car door and shut it softly after you. He turned the key in the ignition and turned up the radio. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You’ve had enough trouble tonight.”

You drove home in relative silence, staring out the passenger window and fighting the urge to cry again. Once you arrived at the Mystery Shack Stan made sure to grab the car door for you again. You tried to convince him you could walk without leaning on him, but after wobbling on your broken shoe he pulled your arm over his shoulder. Once inside he flipped on one of the light switches, leaving the room dim but still visible.

“Hold still” Stan said, and lifted you onto the shop’s counter before you could protest. He pulled up a chair and sat in front of you, his jacket still draped over your shoulders. “My God, girl. What the hell happens tonight?”

You flushed sheepishly. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. But first let me grab the first aid kit; we’ll get you cleaned up.” Stan went into a back room and rummaged around, swearing when you heard something fall. He returned with a large first aid kit and a damp towel. “Thought you might wanna wipe off your makeup.” You took the towel and cleaned your face, touched by the thoughtful gesture.

Stan sat on the chair in front of you, assessing the damage you’d done to yourself after the tumble in the parking lot. “Let me see your leg” you obliged, lifting your leg and resting your foot on his knee. He unbuckled the straps of your heels, tossing them aside. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out alcohol wipes and bandages. “You talk, I’ll fix. Deal?”

You nodded and started to try and explain the events that had transpired earlier this evening. Stan interjected at regular intervals, using less than pleasant words to describe your now ex lover. When you’d told him that you’d dumped the drink on your date at the table Stan chuckled and “atta girl!”ed you. You winced when he wiped your knees and the alcohol stung.

“I know sweetheart. I know it hurts.” His tone was gentle, like he was speaking to the twins or another loved one. He placed a bandaid gently on your knee and wiped your palms. “I think that ought to do it. That guy’s a real piece of work, you know. You’re better off without him. All these rich folks think they’re better than us, but money can’t buy everything. I’m getting off track. Is there anything else I can do for you tonight, hun? How’s that knee treating ya?”

His eyes were soft and his questions genuine. Tonight had proven that Stan cared for you. It also awakened something in you. He was handsome for his age, and there was a soft side under his gruff exterior. “Well, you could kiss it better?” You asked, giving him your best doe eyes. Stan swore under his breath, probably cursing your name.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You stare when you think I’m not paying attention. When my shirt rides up because you just really needed help getting that box off the shelf?”

“Fuck me, darling. You’re a troublemaker.” Stanley took a step closer and brushed the jacket off of your shoulders. “Such a pretty sight. You really are beautiful, I hope you know that. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“Let’s get lucky tonight, Stan.” You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Kiss me” you whispered.

He couldn’t hold back anymore and closed the gap between you. His lips met yours and it was gentle. He cupped your face in his hands softly as he kissed you. When he broke the kiss he still cradled your face. “I haven’t kissed anyone in a very long time. You’re something special, sweetheart.” He kissed you again, a hint of sensuality deepening it. “Let me show you how a gentleman is supposed to treat a lady.” He murmured as he helped you off the counter. Stan took your hand and let you to his bedroom.

He kissed you firmly as you both tumbled onto his bed. His hands continued to cup your face as you kissed, and yours tangled in his hair. Your legs twist around each other, allowing you to feel Stan’s erection through his pants. You moaned into his mouth, trailing your hands down his back. He pulled back for a moment, staring down at you on his bed. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart? Say the word and it stops now. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to do this. Please, Stan. I want you.” You ached for his touch, the pressure of him on top of you, hips lips on yours. Stan nodded his head and kissed you once more. He sat you up and slowly undid the zipper on your dress, watching it pool on the floor. You laid before him in just a bra and panties, barefaced and messy hair. Stan looked at you like a priceless painting.

“Shit, sweetheart. You’re so goddamn good looking. I’m the luckiest man on earth tonight.” Stan licked his lips before kissing your collar bone. You tugged at the buttons of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin on yours. Stan helped you unbutton and remove his shirt, gray chest hair trailing down beneath the waistband of his slacks. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down to meet you. Your kisses were passionate, tongues melting into each other and hands intertwining.

Stan kissed down your neck and chest with a trail of light pecks. He unhooked your bra and paused, seemingly marveling at your bare breasts in front of him. “You’re an angel,” he whispered in the dark. You smiled in between breaths, unsure if he could even tell. Stan kissed down your breasts and gently took one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasped softly as he sucked, careful to never use his teeth. His rough hands fondled the other one and you felt his erection grow stronger as he worked on you.

Stan kissed his way down your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your underwear. “May I?” He asked as he glanced up at you.

“Please” you murmured softly. You needed more of him desperately. Stan nodded and ran his fingers gently against your sex through the fabric. Though light, the touch sent electricity through your body. His fingers found your clit and kept circling it over your panties, the fabric dulling the sensation; you arched your hips in an effort to gain more friction and pressure. Stan smiled and pulled you closer to his face, kissing your inner thighs. He hooked his fingers in your underwear and pulled them off. “My god, angel” he whispered before planting a soft kiss on your folds.

You gasped as you felt his tongue slink between your folds. He licked and sucked around your clit with the expertise only age and experience could lend him. Stan lapped at you with a sincere focus you’d never seen in a partner before. Someone being so focused on your pleasure rather than going through the motions was an incredible turn on. “Fuck. Please-don’t stop” you moaned. Stan took your words of encouragement and became even more voracious.

You gasped as you felt one of his fingers enter you and work its way back and forth. The added sensation led to the beginning of that swell of pleasure. He added one more finger and pumped them in and out with steady rhythm, hitting your g spot on every forward movement. You could feel your pleasure building and wrapped one of your hands in his hair. He wouldn’t have dared to pull away anyways but the grip reassured you that you wouldn’t float off the bed. “Stan! Oh my god. I’m gonna cum! Please keep going” you were almost breathless as your orgasm reached its breaking point. Pleasure burst through you and you cried out, gripping the sheets and Stan’s hair with enough force to make a grown man shudder.

Stan pulled back once you released your fist from his hair, his erection straining his pants now. “You taste incredible sweetheart. You really are an angel.” Before he could say anything else you sat up and were pawing at the buckle of his belt.

“Please. Let’s keep going” you said in a low voice. Stan chuckled and helped you undo his belt and drop his trousers to the bedroom floor. The outline of his cock stood proud in his white boxers. You’d never looked closely before and he was large. His size was intimidating but you were already imagining it inside of you, pulsing against your walls.

“Slow down a little, sweetheart. I’m not as spry as I once was. I don’t want to break a hip.” Stan was smiling as he swatted your hands away. He discarded his boxers and his member stood at attention in front of you. You felt a flush of arousal in your lower core as he stroked himself. Stan fished a condom from his nightstand and smoothly rolled it onto himself. “Too old to become a dad, doll. The twins are already a handful and they’re only here in the summer.” He leant in to kiss you and your bodies tumbled back onto the mattress.

Stan’s cock was at your entrance but paused. He locked eyes with you to ask for one more silent confirmation and you nodded, whispering “I’m ready” in his ear. He pushed forward and you gasped as he fully entered you. “Oh my god” you murmured as he began to slowly pump back and forth. You wrapped your arms around Stan’s back, pulling him into a tight embrace as he fucked you.

“You feel so fucking good, baby” he panted in your ear. Stan nipped and kissed at your ear lobes while he thrusted. He couldn’t get enough of you and wanted to kiss every part of you he could manage. He grabbed your legs and pushed them up against your chest, allowing him to enter at a deeper angle. The switch in position ensured that every thrust sent you deeper into your own pleasure.

You were lost in each other’s bodies and you couldn’t think straight, only wanting him to keep pushing into you. You were digging your nails into his back, trying to find a way to pull him even closer to you. “Fuck, Stan! I’m so close!” You cried out. You were surely loud enough to wake anyone else up in the house, and Stan kissed you to quiet you. His thrusting was getting faster and he was surely close to his own release. Moments later you felt your second orgasm begin and your eyes rolled back as you rode the wave. The sensation of you clenching down on him sent Stan over the edge as well. He groaned into your mouth as he came, panting as he pulled out slowly.

He discarded the condom before joining you in the bed again. He slid in beside you and pulled the covers around you both. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly into his embrace. “It’s been so long since anyone else has been in this bed,” he murmured softly. “Kind of hope it doesn’t change.” He kissed your cheek with a sleepy softness. “Good thing I like trouble” was the last thing you heard before you dozed off in his arms.

[sugar-omi]

Professor Holden, who teaches marine biology and gets just so excited about the material. He stands too close to you sometimes when you stay after class to ask him about some part of his lecture, but it's just because he's passionate about the material, right?

Professor Holden takes some students to the aquarium one evening for a more hands-on lesson. It's crowded though, lots of people milling around to see all the animals, and your group gets a little separated. You find yourself at the edge of a large open pool, watching sting rays swim, sometimes close enough for patrons to touch.

Suddenly you sense someone behind you, then you feel a hard, warm body pressed against you. You start to turn, but before you can, you hear a familiar voice -- it's Professor Holden, and you see his strong, tattooed arm come out at your side to point to the water. He's telling you all about the sting rays, about their natural habitat and the different types, but all you can feel is his hot breath on your neck, and all you could think about is how your professor should absolutely, positively NOT be making you feel this way HI SORRY JUST PROFESSOR STUFF BYYYYE

JUST DROP A BOMB AND LEAVE WHY DONT YA?? OMG????

idk about yall, but my head would fucking swim.

the area is crowded, people moving all around you. so of course he comes up from behind you, he's tall enough to see over you but if he knew how much his big body, warm and solid and true, was affecting you, he wouldn't do it.

or at least, he wouldn't do it with the intention of telling you about sting rays and a bunch of fun facts that you are not listening to because your eyes are stuck on his long, sexy, strong fingers and veiny hands.

even though the waves of his sleeve is pretty, you can see the cords of muscle in his arms. he's not the most muscular guy you've seen, but if he was any bigger, you'd either get the ick or your pants would be frighteningly sticky...

and his voice. oh his fucking voice when he's this close...

his voice is light, and happy, but he's still a man and you can hear the slight rasp of his voice, and when he leans into your body, not realizing that he's forcing you to lean forward too so he can point at a different stingray that's pregnant and starts telling you something about how some stingrays lay eggs, and others carrying the eggs until term. but your immediate thought is that he could do that to you if you two were stingrays, instead of student/teacher who unfortunately have to maintain decorum instead of fucking like animals.

are you joking? yeah. are you losing your mind over him a little too much and you can already hear your friends making fun of you or giving you a look once they hear the thoughts going through your head? also yes.

but with his body this close to you, his voice purring right in your ear.. his arms caging you in, albeit on accident. he's just trying to purchase himself as he tells you all these interesting facts. it'd be bad if you two fell in after all.

oh and when the smell of his shampoo and cologne hits you... it's almost euphoric.

really, you should not be this desperate over your teacher. it's not even about the rules, it's that it's stupid how this man is consuming your thoughts and sending alarm bells all throughout your body, begging for him to have you, for you to have him.

your body is damn near screaming at you to push this man down and- you won't finish that thought.... you also won't even entertain the thought of what position professor holden would take...

would he wanna be on top, would he be rough or soft, take his time with you.. or would he want you on top, alleviating all his stress after a long day of teaching....

no. it's a thought you will not consider. not even a bit! you have restraint, and you will use it!

as long as he stops looking at you like that, stars in his eyes and a smile as he eagerly awaits your response to the mass of information he dumped on you...

but his eyes are as blue as the stingray's swimming pool, and they're deeper than you've ever realized, that you're sure you'd drown in his gaze...

yeah no, you're fucked. you re so fucked...

[lazystar]

The Long Way Home

Choi San x Fem!Reader

WC: ~ 6.5K

Warnings/Content Notes: 18+ !!! MDNI!!! SMUT, BDSM Dynamics, Dom!San, Sub!Reader, BFFS -> FWB -> Lovers. ANGST! Cursing, Alcohol Consumption, Jungkook at the scene of the crime, Jokes about divorce. Smut warnings after the cut.

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A/N if you enjoy reading this please consider reblogging and leaving a comment ty it genuinely means a lot to me to see y’all’s reactions to my work :)

SMUT Warnings: BDSM Dynamic, Dacryphilia, Impact Play, Bondage, Choking, PIV Sex (no mention of protection remember to wrap it up y’all), Fingering (F Rec), Degradation.

The Long Way Home

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Tequila was the worst invention known to man. Your pounding head and naked body declared this thought as you gazed over to the man in the bed beside you. Some jock you couldn’t even recall the name of. He was some fucking guy, maybe his name was something basic like Matthew? If he asked you his name you would’ve blanked and probably said some random name like John. His snores made your head sting with a headache as you tried to recall how you ended up nude and having to do yet another walk of shame.

The memory hit you as you shrugged on one of your one night stand’s hoodies and your jeans. The walk of shame uniform, some random guy’s clothes paired with your own you sighed to yourself.

The bright lights, booming bass, jungle juice, and losing your best friend in the crowd as you both flirted with the many attractive people at the party. It was just a local affair. Crawling with the washed up twenty somethings that all resided in rather small city you called home. All of them regularly relived the glory days of raucous partying and drinking away the stressors of everyday life, you and your best friend and roommate wee no exception to this.

It was cheaper than a bar and honestly more fun. Mr. Anonymous was one of the hosts and putting on his best Flynn Rider-esque smolder as you batted your false lashes and giggled like a fool. You were about to “oh my god you’re so funny” your way into some good sex. Or so you thought, except you recalled on your walk to your apartment that the guy didn’t even last five minutes and you didn’t even cum. It wasn’t even hook up yelp review worthy.

You barged into you and your best friend San’s shared apartment with a loud huff slamming your keys onto the entryway table. Not even looking up from his phone San let out a laugh, “Who the fuck pissed in your cheerios bun?” Bun had been your long time nickname from San due to your shorter stature and constant habit of twitching your nose when annoyed.

“Well Mr. Mountain Flynn Rider guy didn’t even last ten minutes and I was left disappointed AGAIN!!!” You wailed as you flopped beside him onto your lumpy couch. “Like I get it, I take a while to finish but he couldn’t at least help me?! Where is the fucking decorum in hookups these days.” He lets out a loud laugh at your rant and then suddenly stopped, he looked over at you like he just discovered the secret to time travel. Eyes wide and brows raised, his mouth was agape with a smile.

“I just got the best idea! Why don’t we just start hooking up. We talk enough about our sex lives since we’re so close, we know what the other likes. Why not just fuck?” He says his grin now a smirk, he waggled his brows and nudged you with his elbow.

“Did you smoke something? Are you high? Are you unwell? That’s a fucking terrible idea! Like holy shit that’s an insanely bad idea! One of us could catch feelings, someone could get hurt, it would be a mess. Have you seen any movies where that works out?” You exclaim. Your hands were thrown in the air and you began to consider smacking San upside the head in hopes you could help him create some new braincells for some cognizant thoughts. He just shrugged your way and continued on with his master plan.

“Bun, honey. Think about how much easier and safer it would be. No walks of shame, we’d get tested first obviously, I wouldn’t fuck anyone else so we both stay safe, and come on. I know how you like it.” His voice grew almost husky as he looked deep into your eyes. The change in his energy made you squirm and you couldn’t help but think how hot he looked. You had eyes, you knew your best friend of over ten years was hot with his dark eyes and muscles that practically bulged out of his tight shirts.

“Fuck it. Show me what you got.” And with that his lips crashed onto yours, his hand laced into your hair tugging on the roots just hard enough to make you whine into the kiss.

“Oh Bunny I’m gonna ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try Sannie.” He quickly knocked the smirk off your face with his hand wrapping around your neck, he squeezed a bit and gave you a glare.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Your underwear was soaked as you gazed at him with wide eyes and a moan fell from your lips as he chuckled darkly. He quickly tugged the hoodie off of you and smirked down at you, noticing your lack of a bra. “Fuck your tits are so gorgeous, look at you. You look pathetic all needy for me.”

“ ‘M not pathetic.” You whined. His hand that was around your throat previously gripped your jaw squeezing your cheeks.

“Yes you are, I bet you’re all soaked and your little pussy is begging for me to fuck you. But sweetheart, you didn’t earn it did you? Back talking, sassing me, telling me that fucking me was a horrible idea. Such a dumb little bunny under me. I should just leave you right here all worked up.” You felt out of control as you shook your head no, ten minutes ago you would have never thought of yourself having any sexual relationship with San. But here you were silently pleading for him to fuck you stupid. He watched with glee as your eyes began to water and you began to beg for him to touch you, for him to play with you like a doll. He had you where he wanted you, needy, lust filled, and wanting only him.

“Sannie please! I want you! I need you! I’m gonna fucking lose it if you don’t do something.” Your voice was whiny and you sounded on the verge of tears as your roommate simply smirked at you.

“You have ten seconds to strip and get on my bed, You know how I’ll wanna see you waiting for me.” You bolted, shoving your jeans down and kicking them off, then your panties as you scurried to his room. You practically leapt onto his bed and got right into his favorite position; kneeling on his bed, hands on your knees, head held high, not moving a muscle.

San during your rendezvous rundowns had divulged his preference for BDSM encounters rather than vanilla ones. His stories had you internally squirming when you two discussed your sexual encounters. You hadn’t really had experience with kinky sex like San did. He’d visit BDSM clubs, done his online research, met up with some subs once or twice as he learned more about his dominant side. He told you about how he loved when some of his submissive partners would cry as he would play with them, using impact toys, vibrators, ball gags, collars. He was a rigger, he explained one time, loving using intricate knots and ties with rope to create, as he put it, “the perfect present for myself”. He loved seeing how his other partners would plead to touch him as he fucked them into delirium.

Now here you were, about to get fucked into that same delirious state. San strolled into the room and leaned against the doorway as you kept your pose. He loved seeing you following his unspoken orders. But he knew as a good dominant he had to make sure you were comfortable with him. “Y/N before I do anything I want to know your limits, what are you comfortable with? I know you like choking and hair pulling, some spanking, some spit play. But is there anything you don’t want me to do to you?” You blushed at his consideration, you knew he was going to do this but seeing his concerned eyes and soft smile your way had you feeling butterflies in your stomach.

“Ummm, no face slapping, just hands being tied or bound is okay, I wanna be able to see you, and um, just don’t go too crazy. Oh and don’t call me a bitch I’ll kick you.” You nodded, your last sentence elicited a chuckle from San as he shook his head walking over to you.

“So you’re okay if I for example say, hmmmm. Y/N you’re being such a good little whore for me. Getting right how I wanted you and answering my questions like an obedient little slut.” His brow quirked and he tilted his head. He didn’t show it but he was reeling watching the shy flush on your cheeks and how you tried to rub your thighs together to feel some friction.

“Yes Sir, that's okay with me.” You nodded, quietly appraising his reaction to the title. A growl erupted from him as he manhandled you onto your back and spread your legs wide.

“Oh Bunny, Sir’s gonna make you fucking scream.” With that promise he pulled you into a searing kiss as he began to push his fingers inside you and quickly locate the spot that made you cry out in pleasure. He watched as you threw your head back and moaned, his fingers grew faster as you began to squirm. He wasn’t even fingering you for that long, maybe a few minutes but he had you on the brink of your first orgasm. “Aww is Bunny gonna cum already? Uh uh, not yet baby, you gotta beg for it.” You cried out in frustration as he pulled his fingers out and slowly began to circle your sensitive clit.

“Please sir, please let me cum. I fucking need it. I’ll be so good, I’ll do anything. Please let me cum and make a mess for you.” Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you begged for him to let you cum. You felt like you were going to squirt all over the sheets as he toyed with you. He smirked and roughly shoved two of his fingers back in you and jackhammered them right at your g-spot. The slick sounds of how wet you were along with your moans and panting breaths were all San heard. He bent down and kissed at your neck has he slowed his fingers down for a moment and made a come hither motion with them, the attention on your g-spot had you falling into a state of euphoric delirium, you couldn’t even think a coherent thought as you moaned out his title over and over again.

“Fucking cum for me Bunny. I wanna see what a messy little slut you are for me.” He whispered into your ear, the kiss on your lips that followed sent you over the edge, his fingers quickened as he leaned back up to watch your orgasm splash against his palm and your body thrash about, he watches as your eyes rolled back into your head and your back arched as he continued the onslaught on your overly sensitive pussy. Your cries of relief and his name had him on cloud nine, this is what he had wished for. He had wanted you in his bed more than anything when he would hear your hookup stories. He wanted to make you cum over and over again, to hear you moan his name has he pounded into your wet cunt. Now here you were coming undone all over his sheets and whining as he overstimulated you.

“Sannie I cant take any more too sensitive.” You whined and he stopped immediately. He laid beside you and pulled you into his arms, rubbing yours and whispering praises into your sweat soaked hairline. Your head lulled onto his shoulder and you snuggled into his body heat feeling safe and relaxed as you synced your breathing with his.

“You were so good for me Bunny, you did so good. How do you feel? Do you need me to clean you up and get you some water?” You nodded and he went into the bathroom and grabbed a damp washcloth and gently cleaned up the mess between your legs. After, he grabbed you a glass of water and helped you drink as he kept on praising how well you took your first time with him. “So what do you say? Want to keep doing this?” You nodded aggressively and he let out a light laugh as he kissed your forehead. “Only time we’ll have rules is in the bedroom okay, no need for those dumb ass contracts or whatever shit they do in those girly movies you like. It’s still us being us except I eat you out and boss you around in bed.” You let out your own laugh and statement of agreement. He made it all so casual and comfortable. Any worries you had fell to the wayside as you found yourself under him once again, his hands in your hair and yours cupping his cheeks as giggles made their home in between each kiss.

You fell into an easy routine that was just you two being Mountain and Bun, except now you often are sleeping beside one another sticky from sweat and he’s made you cum several times. It felt right, like you two had been destined for something more than friends.

Soon enough the kisses and physical affection transferred from the walls of your apartment to out in public. Your friends noticed the possessive hand around your waist and glares San would give at any man who would look for a tad too long at you on nights out at the bars and clubs in the city. But when asked if something was going on between you two, San would lead the way with denying anything more than friendship. This lead to a routine of you both denying anything serious was going on, much to everyone’s disbelief as it was clear as day you two were more than friends.

It was an unspoken rule to deny a connection between you two when asked, but a spoken one to only sleep with one another. You two were just friends, friends who kissed, cuddled, and slept together. Friends with benefits, nothing beyond that. Right?

But, something beyond San tying you up and regularly making you cum up to ten times a scene was going on. Stolen kisses, cuddles under the glow of the tv, and nights ending in romantic passionate sex were growing more and more common. Mornings where you would find yourself wrapped around him as he cooked you breakfast, lazy days spent in his favorite hoodies, nights where you laid by his side and played with his fingers as you compared the size of his hands to yours. It was more than just lust.

You knew you were down bad, but you had no one to explain it to. There was no rule against being open about sleeping together but you both seemed to agree silently on keeping it just between you two. The pair of you seemed to just keep it under wraps to avoid your friend’s questions or comments. But avoiding it all was becoming too much, it was driving you insane. It was making you feel used and discarded even if he was treating you so well, you just wanted him to say something so you knew he wasn’t just using you.

Fall came, leaves crashed against the sidewalks and your feelings began to chill like the air outside. It was another night out for you, San, and your seven other friends, this time in a crowded club with booming bass, sultry air, and many other drunk people looking for a good time. You and San were dancing on one another with him subtly peppering kisses on your neck as your hips swayed against his. After a while you pulled away shouting you were grabbing another drink.

At the bar a tall, tattooed man saddled up beside you. His eyes danced along your figure admiring the short dress adorning your frame. His lip rings emphasized his sultry smirk as he offered to buy you a drink. “The name’s Jungkook. I’ll buy you a drink, but in exchange grant me once dance.” You were charmed by his attitude and agreed. Your hands soon found their way around his neck as his grip met your waist. The heavy beat of the R&B of the club and the lust filled air around you two pushed San from your mind as the tall man had stolen your attention.

“Gorgeous I don’t think your boyfriend is too happy you’re dancing on me like this.” The raven haired male said into your ear as you both swayed to the beat. His strong grip on your waist was anchoring you to the moment. The liquor swirled your brain as all of your inhibitions began to throw themselves aside. Your attention was brought back to San, you could feel his angry laser like stare on your back as you danced with Jungkook. Why was he mad? It’s not like he would openly say anything about you being off limits anyways.

“He’s not my boyfriend, just my roommate. We hook up but it’s nothing serious.” You reply back loud enough to be heard over the music.

“So he won’t keep staring at me like he wants to murder me if I kiss you?”

“He can be mad he doesn’t get a say in who I kiss.” You snark back and Jungkook pulls you into a kiss, his hands snaking down to grab your ass over your short skirt and your hands reaching into his flowing locks. Before things could get too heated you felt a hand grabbing your arm and pulling you away. “WHAT THE FUCK LET ME GO!” Your disagreement went unanswered as San dragged into a hallway away from prying eyes.

“Y/N what the actual fuck was that? Were you trying to make me jealous?! Well congratulations it fucking worked. You’re mine, nobody else’s. I thought you knew that.” His voice was filled with anger and his tone was almost like a snarl. You shivered and felt the familiar feeling of your head beginning to float at his authoritative behavior.

“Sannie, you never said we were anything more than friends with benefits. How was I supposed to know I wasn’t supposed to kiss other boys, I wouldn’t fuck them but I can’t kiss em?” Your tone was playful but also clearly annoyed at his power play when he wasn’t your boyfriend. He was the guy you lived with and fucked, not the guy telling you he loves you and wants to spend his life with you.

He had no power over you when it came to expanding your horizons while being single.

“No Y/N you’re mine.” San’s glare began to anger you. He can’t say shit like that then not say you two were a couple.

“No San. I’m not fucking yours, matter of fact I’m never going to be ‘yours’. You can have someone else in your bed, sharing a place with you, and being your plaything. I’m done with the games and the back and forth on what I am to you. I’m so done with you. If you have any once of respect for me you’ll do me a favor leave me the fuck alone.” You stormed away before he could even make a move to try and save the shreds of your relationship. You walked as fast as you could to find your friend group. With your head hung low and as quiet of a voice as you could muster in the loud club you told your friends, Hongjoong, Yunho, Minho, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, and Wooyong that you were not going to be able to go participate in your regular hang out nights anymore, your only explanation being you and San weren’t on good terms and you didn’t know if your friendship would be good again.

The guys didn’t see or hear the exchange but they saw the angry tears running down your cheeks that you had been trying to hide and knew that the situation was not good in the slightest. They watched you angrily wipe at your mascara stained cheeks and march off. They were worried for you. They saw San off in the hallway he had pulled you to, his head was pressed to the wall as sobs wracked his body. His fist was hammering the wall as he appeared to be cursing himself for what went down. The boys felt like children caught in the middle of their parents fighting and it had them all feeling a major sense of unease.

You spilled the beans a few days later to Yeosang, Wooyong, and Seonghwa when they came to check on you while you were staying on your friend Winter’s couch. She was helping you navigate moving out and moving on from the boy you had been hurt by. She knew the whole story and comforted you as you told the three boys about everything, well not all the sexual things after you got into a little bit about it and they looked ready to send you off to a convent. The boys were angry for you they understood that you felt played and that your feelings seemed to be disregarded, but they also understood that San was not the best when it came to emotional vulnerability or communication. They wanted you to open the door to him to try and repair things. But you were insistent on never speaking to San again due to how hurt you were. You couldn’t bear looking him in the eyes knowing you had been a toy to him. That he wanted to have all the aspects of dating you, but wouldn’t even admit he was sleeping with you. Was he embarrassed with you? Were you not enough? Your mind would spiral every night as you laid on Winter’s couch questioning your value to San, your friendship as a whole, your own sense of self. You picked yourself apart to the atom, finding more and more reasons to wonder what it was that made San begin the denial of your relationship when asked about you.

They helped you pack your things when San was at work and within the hours of his shift any trace of you was gone. Your new apartment was only a few blocks away with San none the wiser. When he came home to see every trace of the years you’d shared by his side gone, his heart was crushed like a hammer was hitting him square in the chest. The end of September was now San’s least favorite time of year, because it’ll forever mark when he lost to you due to his own stupidity.

Days without either of you speaking turned into weeks, then months. The cold gray winter had come in to chill your bones and steal your breath. It turned your cold heart to ice as you began to move on from the beautiful boy you had fallen for. It was as if the past few years never existed. Like the way you slept for months in his bed was an illusion. It was a fog, always a fog. Until those cold nights called for another body to join you in bed. Nobody else was good enough, it had to be him. The man who had you Pavloved into orgasming to the sound of his voice, the man who made your mind melt. San, Choi San was the only one for you.

San was no better off, cold nights yearning for your touch. Your voice haunting every time he had to rub one out. “Please Sir, please let Bunny cum! I-I’ve been so fucking good for you please!” one of his favorite memories. He could always remember every aspect of that night. He had been practicing some new Shibari tie methods and had you bound into the perfect present, intricate knots holding your breasts in place, your pussy exposed with your hands bound to your legs so you were immobile. You looked delectable with those pleading yet wild eyes, drool leaking from your mouth, and makeup running down your face. You looked practically angelic to him as he watched your eyes roll back into your head as he bullied his cock into you over and over, he recalled how with a whispered “such a good girl for me, yes you can cum.” the scream that flew from your lips as your eyes rolled back, the gush of your orgasm around him and how your pussy milked him dry. He remembered how you looked at him with such loving eyes as he took care of you and how you would let him lay on your bust as you kissed his forehead and assured him he wasn’t too rough with you. He remembered that while you slept he uttered “I love you” while he looked at you.

But he couldn’t get to make memories like that again, not until you’d let him speak to you, not until he could fucking find you that is. And most definitely, not if you have a new boyfriend or someone he can’t compete with for your heart.

While the two of you were pining for the other like a high school production of Romeo and Juliet the rest of the friends you and San shared were extremely annoyed by the way you two were acting like a divorced couple.

“I’m team Mom aka Y/N here but I don’t wanna deal with who has custody of us at Christmas being an issue. They need to kiss and make up” Yeosang declared while sitting with the others at lunch. They had planned a lunch to plan the intervention because as much as they didn’t want to admit it they would rather be annoyed by you two being romantic or possibly walk in on you two, than have to deal with the split custody issue. Thus the “Stop the Divorce” squad was put into action. They wanted you both happy and most importantly back together.

Soon enough their plan to get you two to hash shit out was put into action, Hongjoong the unofficial leader of the group sent San and you separate texts asking to meet up at his recording studio space to hang out. You arrived first, you had made yourself at home on the sofa and then about five minutes later San was walking into the room. “Oh fuck no, I’m not doing this.” You exclaim, grab your things, and make your way to the door to leave. It’s San who surprisingly makes the move to block your way out. Hongjoong and the others maneuvered to exit and lock the door as you and San stared down one another with laser like focus.

“Sit. The. Fuck. Down. Y/N.” He hisses through his teeth, using the tone of voice he reserved for those occasions you would have tested his patience when your dynamic was in place.

“You’re not the fucking boss of me anymore Choi San. Just fucking UGH!! Let me go!” You bark back.

“I’m not going to lose you now when I finally have you back in my life, I won’t make that same mistake again.” His voice sounded as if he was about to cry, it was broken. San’s voice carried his emotions after not seeing you for months,he sounded lost, hurt, terrified, and so, so sad.

“You won’t lose me Sannie, you never did. I went overboard leaving like I did, I was just so… so fucking scared. I was with you every day. I slept in your bed, woke up to you, brushed my teeth while you showered, held you when you cooked. It was becoming so real, so domestic, it felt too coupley when you wouldn’t even claim me as someone you had even been fucking! I couldn’t take it anymore, it was too painful.” Your voice broke as you crumpled to pieces before your former lover. His own eyes filled with unshed tears as he looked at you. Your hair hung in your eyes as you stared at your shoes. Your arms were wrapped around your body like a protective shield as you rocked back and forth avoiding him as your confession hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Oh bun. Shit, baby. I— fuck it. I love you Y/N I have loved you for years. I think it was sophomore year of college when I realized how I’d fallen for you. It was when you were there for me when Mina broke up with me, you didn’t even do anything but sit and listen as I cried. You told me something that day, do you remember?” You shook your head as you looked up at him with wide eyes at his confession. Your heart was thumping, head reeling at the words he’d just blurted out. “You held me and said ‘San, any chance to love you is a chance worth having. You love so greatly, so wonderfully, so wholeheartedly. Love from you in any capacity is love worth lifetimes of happiness that anyone would be blessed to have.’” You began to cry as you realized he was telling you the truth, he remembered verbatim the words you told him that day. He remembered the veiled confession you made.

“San, I love you too.” You whispered, almost incomprehensibly.

“Say it again, please”

“Choi San, I Y/N Y/L/N am undeniably in love with you.” You said louder, now smiling at him with tears cascading down your cheeks. His own tears falling from his eyes as your lips crashed onto his. The kiss tasted like salt from your mingling tears. He smelled like his cologne mixed with his own natural scent that was something so addictive. He felt like home. The warmth of his hands felt like forever.

You moved back in shortly after San confessed, loving him felt like walking on air; light, freeing, and gentle. The domestic routine was something you loved, a good morning kiss, another kiss as you both left for work, a welcome home kiss from him as he cooked dinner to reward you as you came back from a longer day at the office, so many kisses just because. He spoiled you in affection and words of his adoration for you, he made you feel so at home.

It was game night at your home with San, your friends all lounged on your couches as you curled into the worn leather loveseat nestled into the crook of San’s arm. Your head was resting on his chest as your sock covered toes poked at the arm of the small sofa, his laughter lightly shook you as a fond smile crept to your face as Seonghwa was forced into telling another embarrassing tale of his college dating woes. “So she walks into my dorm, I’m thinking ‘hell yeah I’m about to lose my v-card and BAM! The lego collection scared her away like DAMN can’t a man get laid and like legos?” He laments and the snort that left you at his story has the whole group laughing. “Okay just for that miss piggy, your turn, truth or drink?”

“For the sake of my liver, truth.”

“What’s the wildest thing San and you have done while fucking?” The sip of your single glass of wine for the night nearly launches from your nose as the boldness of Seongwha’s question sets in.

“What defines wild to you?”

“Nah sister, just answer the question.”

“Well there was this one time he had me collared with a leash but also tied up in this crazy position, like my ankles and wrists bound together so I was practically immobile. He fucked me so hard I blacked out, we’re okay with like him still going even when I’m not all there in the head. We’ve talked boundaries about that stuff so don’t keep looking at him like he’s a psycho. And yeah, or would you rather hear about how he had to punish me for being such a brat, he went so hard on me that day I had to call off work for three days so the bruises on my ass could heal and I could sit down properly?” You smirked and looked up at San, his eyes were burning onto you as his own smirk settled onto his face. He bent his head down and uttered one small phrase that had you shifting in anticipation.

“Strike one bun, you know I don’t like the idea of them imagining you all exposed and slutty for me.” His voice practically sounded like a purring lion. The shiver that went down your spine was visible to anyone looking your way.

“Well damn. Don’t go having war flashbacks over there Mr. and Mrs. Pornhub.” Yunho prompted as he cleared his throat. You shrugged and the game kept going. The questions only seemed to grow bolder as time passed and soon enough you all grew progressively drunker.

“Y/N truth or drink but if you drink it’s 3 shots this time!” Wooyoung drunkenly declares.

“That’s so foul, okay lay it on me.”

“Who in this room would you tell San you’d be cool to have a threesome with?” San’s grip on your thigh grew harsh in a warning. You promptly took the shots and groans of disappointment rang out as your friends still asked you to answer.

“Fuck it, ummmm Joong I guess.” You say not thinking as the alcohol muffled your mind of any proper filter.

“Strike two.” San’s voice rings in your ear. Like baseball, one more and you’re out of luck. So, you turn on the brat mode.

“I mean come on we all have eyes, Joong is cute and I’m not saying I would do it but hey who knows.” You shrug and you feel San’s eyes burning into your skull as Hongjoong blushes wildly and murmurs a question filled “thank you?”.

The third strike warning never comes as San finds an excuse for the party to end and within the hour you find yourself bent over his lap. The loud thwack! of the shiny leather paddle reserved for only the harshest of your punishments against your ass rings out as he orders you to count. “One! Thank you sir.” THWACK! “T-two! Thank you sir.” and so on until you hit fifteen. Your ass is ringing with pain as he manhandles you silently onto your back with your head hanging over the edge of the bed. You didn’t even have a moment to process before your ankles are on his shoulders and his cock is being pounded into your sopping cunt, tears leaked from your eyes and were hitting your hairline as cries of pained pleasure were ripped from your throat.

“Shut the fuck up and take it like the greedy whore you are.” His warm palm encased your throat as he squeezed it, choked gasp filled moans fell from your lips as the familiar feeling of floating euphoria filled your mind. The blood rushing to your head combined with the sensation of his hand around your throat squeezing your airway made each thrust hit that much more intensely. Your mind was going blank and you dropped into the headspace that made you lose all sense of thought and control. Your mind was solely consumed by San, only San.

“Sir, gonna cum!” You cried as that knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. He shook his head and pulled out, he pulled his hand away and maneuvered so he stood at the side of the bed near your face.

“Only good girls get to cum, you know that. Or are you too stupid to remember Bunny?”

“‘m a dumb bunny and forgot sorry sir! Please let me cum!” The tears fell harder toward your hairline as you gazed at him with pleading eyes.

“Suck Sir off and I’ll maybe let you cum.” He asserted and he began to thrust his cock down your throat as soon as your mouth opened. His cock bullied the back of your throat, spit trailed from your lips to your cheeks and hair as you gagged and moaned around his throbbing hard length. You could barely take half of him, but you wanted to please him so badly you relaxed you gag reflex and watched his face screw up in pleasure as he watched his length create a bulge in your throat as you worked to deep throat the entirety of his pulsating cock. It felt like hours of him thrusting in and out of your mouth, your mind was numb and you were still yearning for orgasm. After a few choked “Good girl bunny.”’s you felt his cum shoot down your throat. He pulled out and let the last few ropes of cum shoot over your face moaning as you tried to swallow more of his load.

“Oh Bunny you did so well for me, let Sir make you cum all over for him okay? Want me to eat that pretty little pussy and make you squirt for Sir?” A dumb nod in response was all it took for him to begin lapping at your sopping hole, moans and growls rumbled against your aching clit as he suckled on it like he was having his last meal. His tongue was expertly thrusting in and out of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit as he moved his head to lick you from your asshole to your clit a few times. Your head was reeling as silent screams left your lips, your eyes rolled back into your head as he gently nibbled at your clit. You couldn’t even give San a warning as with one last thrust of his tongue the wire in your core snapped and you felt that jolt of pleasure spread from your head to your extremities. Your legs shook as your fingers dug into his scalp and you held his head to your pussy. Gush after gush of your orgasm flooded from you as he continued to lick and suck at your core. You couldn’t even declare it being too much before another white hot orgasm hit you. You continued to whine and squeal as you soaked the sheets. He pulled away and watched as the lady sprays of your orgasm fled your body. “That’a girl, you there for me baby?” You nodded tiredly as he maneuvered you so your head was resting on a pillow. He had prepared prior to starting the scene having some water, baby wipes, and some pain cream for your ass for aftercare. He whispered soft praises as he moved you once again to massage your aching ass cheeks with the cream and to clean the sticky mess between your thighs with the baby wipes. His gentle touch was so comforting as he made sure you were comfortable after the intense scene was done. Once he was done cleaning you up and making sure you were alright he began to help you sip some water and he whispered more praises to you as you came down to earth from your headspace. Your heart was so full of love and warmth as you took in his gentle hands rubbing your arms and his honeyed voice cooing how proud he was of you, how good you were, and how in love with you he was. He held you close, his chest pressed firmly against your back as you began to be lulled to sleep by his steady heartbeat and the encompassing warmth radiating from his body.

“Sannie?” You whispered hoarsely, looking over your shoulder at him with shining eyes full of happy tears. He smiled and moved to rub them away with his free hand, he peppered kisses on your forehead as he did so.

“Yes my love?”

“I’m so glad the guys made us talk, I can’t imagine not having you in my life. I love you so much.” His own eyes began to fill with tears as he moved so he could kiss you deeply. He didn’t need to respond, his kiss conveyed his feelings. His kiss was warm, filled with the years of adoration he held for you. His arms were safe, protecting you from ever being harmed by the world outside your bedroom. His heartbeat was the metronome by which the melody of your happiness kept time. San was home, he was your forever.

To San, your soft skin was his oasis in a desert. The warmth of your skin on his was his security. Your hands held his heart. Your voice was what he imagined Heaven to sound like. You were his forever. You were his home. You were his peace when the world was too great to bear.

Mr. Mountain and his Bun, could anything be more wonderful? In your eyes, nothing could be better than that. Nothing could be better than loving Choi San. And to him, nothing could be more perfect than loving you with every fiber of his being.

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Taglist: @stolasisyourparent

1 October 2023:

Thank you for reading this far! If you like it please consider reblogging it helps a LOT! Please remember that this is a work of fiction and all of the idols mentioned are used as face claims for characters I’ve come up with. None of their actions or behaviors are indicative of who they maybe be IRL :)

[timeslugarts]

First Play

Vox x Vera (oc)

So I wrote this just now, my first ever nsfw piece, smut and all!

Vox and Vera's first encounter meeting at Valentino's party.

And all the fun they have 😘

Also, please let me know if you like this, I'm constantly embarrassed by my writing.

No beta we die like men

God, this party sucked Vox thought as he downed his drink. He had things he could be doing right now, money he could be making! Valentino insisted he come to this event though, he needed someone there not just to look pretty but to show off the power and influence he had, and Vox was that lucky bastard. 

It was exactly the type of party you'd think Valentino would throw. Hot, sweaty, sickly sweet. The bodies in the middle ebbed and flowed with the music, everywhere he looked people were grinding, and making out and doing… more. Vox grimaced, people really had no shame, no sense of decorum. There were sex rooms RIGHT THERE for Christ's sake!

Valentino was graceful enough to give Vox a VIP space, though he was the only there and would likely be the only there until he made an expeditious retreat at a reasonable time. 

Another drink appeared at his table, he took it and downed it in one go. He could feel the headache start to form with each boom of the bass. You think Valentino would at least grace Vox with his presence considering he was here for him after all. Vox could see Val at the other end of the room, surrounded by his whores, making out with one while his hand was suspiciously hidden under another's clothes. Vox couldn't say he was jealous, but he definitely wasn't pleased. He was still glaring at Val when someone interrupted his line of sight. A woman walked in front of Val, her hips swaying with every step, bright blue flames danced around her neck gently, her hair a matching flame that licked upward. She was a beacon amidst the darkness of the crowd, and she was heading… straight for him.

Quickly Vox straightened his coat, fixed his bowtie, and checked his breath. Surely she was just like everyone else in this club, looking for whatever money and power she could get her grubby little hands on. He could at least have a little fun with it though, use her up and toss her out later. 

They made eye contact and Vox laid on his most charming smile, and then she walked right past him. His grin dropped, what the FUCK did she not realize who he was!? This was not gonna fly. He stood up looking for the little blue flames, she was over by the bar talking to some lowly sinner, who was also ugly, and short, and ugly. 

Vox had to play it cool though, show her what she could have. He walked to the bartender and asked him to get her another of what she was drinking. The bartender set to work and as he handed the woman her drink he pointed down the way at Vox, who plastered another charming smile on his face and gave her a cool two fingered wave. His little blue flame looked at him unimpressed, but waved back. She resumed her conversation with the sinner as if nothing had happened. 

Vox growled. 

He enjoyed a good game of cat and mouse, and he was nothing if not patient. He sat at the bar idly watching until the sinner and her talk, growing more bored by the second. He looked back at the bartender waving his glass, signaling that he wanted another one, a fresh glass was placed in front of him. He looked back over to where his prey sat …and she was gone. He panicked, eyes going wide looking for his little blue flame.

"You know, if you wanted to talk to me all you had to do was ask." She was leaning on the counter on his other side. He jumped, knocking the glass and its contents across the slick surface. 

"Shit." He hissed looking for the napkins or something to clean the mess up. 

"Don't worry, Nen's got it." She waved at the bartender who waved back. "Come on." She took his hand. He couldn't deny, this bitch was bold and it was turning him on. Her voice was silky and watching her ass in that tight black dress was a show. He could tell where she was leading him, one of the "private" rooms in the back of the club. 

Vox was salivating. Maybe this party wasn't so bad. 

His little blue flame produced a key from her cleavage and pushed the door open, beckoning him in. He was thrilled, he'd only been sleeping with Val recently, too lazy and tired to actually pursue someone that really interested him. So to have one fall in his lap felt exhilarating. 

He walked past her, giving her a smirk on the way inside. She followed behind, shutting the door and leaning against it. 

"So what did you want to talk about?" Her silky voice purred, an eyebrow delicately raised. 

He towered over her, placing a clawed hand on either side of her small frame. 

"Oh I think you know." Vox said lowly dipping his screen so it's more level with her head. 

Her small hands started undoing his bowtie, "I'm not sure what you're talking about." She batted her pretty lashes up at him. 

He trailed one clawed hand from her cheek down her neck and rested it on her clavicle. She shivered and he grinned at the effect he had on her. 

"Stop playing games, doll." She had swiftly undone his bowtie and the first couple of buttons on his dress shirt. The feel of her warm hands against his skin made him hiss. 

"I don't play games… doll." She gripped his collar and pulled his screen into a heated kiss. 

Vox gripped her shoulders pulling her closer to him. She moaned at the contact allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. She groaned feeling the subtle shocks from his tongue and fingers.

"Oh you're spicy." She gasped for breath, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt. She ran her hands down his chest and he gasped at the contact. She pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side. 

She pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top, grinding her hips against the ever growing tent in his pants. "You're one to talk." He huffed out, letting out a low groan. 

He bucked his hips into her making her fall forward, hands landing on either side of his screen. He ran his hands up her sides groping at her breasts, squeezing and kneading the tender flesh. 

He swallowed her moan with another fiery kiss.

Lucifer, was she soft.

Small sparks danced across her body as his fingers gripped her body tighter.

"Careful honey, this is an expensive dress." She laughed. 

"I can work around that." Vox said quietly, working his claws down to the delightfully skimpy thong she was wearing underneath. He pressed one claw against her heat and in one swift motion he tore her undertakings to shreds. "Impatient are we?" She asked, grinding her bare wet pussy against his cock. 

"You have no idea." He groaned.

"Show me." She whispered. With that she shimmied down his body and began undoing his pants with deft hands. When his dick finally sprang free, he hissed feeling the cold air hit it. That feeling was quickly replaced with the warm wetness of her mouth. 

Vox could only make a strangled noise as her tongue swirled around his head. He gripped at her ponytail and bucked his hips into her mouth, she gagged, but accepted him. Her hand squeezed his shaft as she bobbed her head around him. His free hand clutched the pillow tightly, he was certain something tore, but he couldn't give a shit about it right now. Not when her mouth felt so damn good.

Too good. 

"Shit, stop." He whipped her head up by the pony, her mouth coming off his cock with a tasty pop. 

She grinned up at him, "had enough?" She licked her lips and he felt himself glitch. God she was hot and she knew it. 

"We're done when I say we're done." He growled pulling her back up to him kissing her and tasting himself on her lips. 

He grabbed her hips and flipped her on to her back. She was beautiful, sprawled out beneath him. Lips glistening, chest heaving, and her little blue flames dancing around the two of them. 

He wrapped his hand around himself, pressing his cock against her wet folds, covering himself in her slick. He tried to keep his breathing even, but fuck was he excited. He couldn't wait any longer. 

Vox pushed himself into her, the moan she let out was so lewd. He could feel the sweat on his back, it was taking all his concentration not to come here and now. Before he had even settled in she started to move, how was she so good? Val could never.

He began to move with her hips, slow languid thrusts, enjoying her tightness and the view in front of him. Her hands trailed up and down his body, nails scratching at the skin. He snapped his hips when she pinched his nipple. 

"Ah- fFf-uck." The smile she wore was sultry, she had him wrapped around her long gray fingers. He snapped his hips again and she moaned. He sped up, he could handle it, besides the way her breasts bounced with every thrust had him mesmerized. 

He continued at the rough pace, she had wrapped her legs around his hips. He was so close, the way she smelled, the alcohol in him, he knew he wasn't going to last.

He wasn't going to finish before her though. He placed his thumb harshly on her clit, she moaned, gripping the sheets. He circled the bundle of nerves until she was gasping, mouth open wide. He took his other hand and pressed into the sides of her throat, she made a choked sound. 

Drool started to trail down from her mouth to his hand. Vox grinned as he continued to fuck her hard. Before he knew it, her back arched and her walls clenched around him sucking his cock into her. 

"Fuck!" She screamed, muscles taught. 

That was his cue, thank Satan, he wasn't sure he could keep going. He pulled out and came onto the floor. Val would pay the bill, whatever, he didn't care.

He fell on the bed next to her panting and sweating. 

Her little flames danced around his head as he looked lazily at them. One of them even flew to turn the room light off. 

Vox stuck his fingers out and a flame dipped in between them. It felt warm, not hot, but just a gentle heat. "What are these things?" 

"Mmm, I'll tell you later." She said quietly, eyes already closed. She snuggled up into his side breathing gently. 

Did he want this? He wasn't sure, but maybe he could pretend to be a normal nobody with a beautiful woman for a night. He dropped his arm around her and slowly powered down. Listening to the crackle of her small flames, and the soft sound of her breathing. He was out before he knew it.

BZZ BZZ

"Fuck!" He reached around for his phone before finding it and throwing it across the room, before placing it back on the bed which had grown cold. He snapped his head up, no one was there. 

Fuck.

He looked around, she was gone. 

Fuck. He pulled his pants up and put his shirt on. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Vox dashed out of the room, it was morning and he was entirely alone. He checked his pockets, his wallet was gone. 

What a fucking idiot. He got conned! Played for a sucker!

He slammed the door open to Valentino's room, "who was she!?" Vox growled darkly. 

Valentino in a robe with a face mask on looked over at Vox uninterested in whatever he was saying. 

"Who was who darling?" 

[thetarttfuldickhead]

It’s fair to assume that Jamie felt tricked and betrayed when he was unceremoniously sent back to Manchester in spite of putting himself out there and taking some steps towards making nice at the exorcism in 1x06 – but I think that we often fail to consider that the team, in turn, may have felt tricked and betrayed by Jamie.

Because at the bonfire, they’re by and large ready to accept his overtures, aren’t they? His hold over them, such as it were, has been broken, but when they see him trying they’re happy enough to give him another chance: a team united, as Rebecca sourly notes. When Ted goes to remove Jamie’s shirt from the dressing room at the end of the episode it’s very much framed as a dismal moment, for the show – and for the team, who are all looking solemn or uncomprehending or unhappy. There’s no relief or celebration (although, to be fair, in some cases it might just be a sense of decorum holding them back).

So, as far as the team is concerned, it’s sad, but at least it ended with them all on somewhat decent terms, yeah? Only, then comes the interview before the City game in 1x10. Note the lack of resentment when Jamie first shows up on the screen: it’s all hey and oh and amigo Jamie. Yes, there’s Colin’s barb about the lack of barbers in Manchester, but ribbing is a thing, yeah, and Colin is a sassy bitch, and furthermore he has a fucking point: the hair is bad. They all aw appreciatively when Jamie states that he would never say a bad word about his old team, and it’s only when he proceeds to say a fair few bad words that they lose their temper. And from their perspective… mustn’t this look like Jamie was the one tricking them earlier? Like he was fooling them into thinking he gave a damn about the team and wanted to be a part of it, only to then turn around and shit all over them? We, as viewers, understand why Jamie’s lashing out at Ted, and at Richmond in general, but the rest of the players saw how upset Ted was over Jamie leaving, and have a harder time squaring their former star tearing into their gaffer, and them, like that.  

To me, this goes some way towards explaining why they’re so resistant his return after being somewhat upset – or at least not happy – that he left. It goes some way towards explaining why they react so strongly and negatively to his apology. I’ve always found that slightly jarring and very interesting, the way they shift from seemingly regretting his leave in 1x06 to being so furious with him in 2x03. Of course, the bit where he actually was a huge prick also plays a part in it, as does the lingering pain of relegation, and the fact that it’s easy and safe and convenient to blame all the old stuff on Jamie since his absence coincides with the team coming together and choosing a better path – but I do think that on some level the team simply daren’t trust that this isn’t just Jamie trying to pull a fast one on them again.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

I Am Perfectly Normal About Step by Step Episode 7

Sighs. 

Dear readers, I do not have time for this. I have trainings to make, I have shows to catch up on, I have practice to go to. But alas

Here I am 

Once again 

Overanalyzing the fuck out of the body language in my silly little gay Thai shows. 

Because the BODY LANGUAGE in this episode??????????? HELLO?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!

GOD! Jeng and Pat’s interactions are putting worms in my brain. ALRIGHT, LET’S BEGIN

First off: 

Jeng 

When Jaab calls Jeng to accuse him of secretly dating Pat, Jeng immediately starts closing himself off, because he may not currently be secretly dating Pat, but Jeng is head over heels obsessed with Pat already and is trying to hide his feelings, from his brother and from himself by placing his arm across his chest and slouching to hide himself a little better. But of course, he is incapable of truly hiding his feelings for Pat because his whole apartment is BLUE which is Pat’s color. 

And Jeng is nervous, like he knows that he has feelings for Pat, and now he knows that his feelings are obvious enough to his baby brother who is friends with his crush and if his brother knows, then who else knows? Jeng is constantly moving in this scene, he is folding and then unfolding his arms, he is turning forward and then backward, he is pacing!!

When Jeng gets the news from Jaab that Pat is dating someone, his back is turned to the camera. He is facing Pat’s color, but he is in the final stages of trying to hide his feelings by giving the audience nothing but the nervous scratching of his neck to read. 

Until he sinks under the weight of the news that Pat is taken, at which point he sits down on his desk and then his nervous energy is transferred to his fingers, which are fidgeting as he considers whether or not to ask Jaab “Who is Pat seeing?”

Edit: peace, love, and my firstborn to @respectthepetty who has granted me a gif of Mr. Fidget

But he freezes, only shifting the grip he has on his phone while he waits for Jaab’s answer. After Jaab replies Jeng is constantly moving some part of his body: his arm, and then his torso as he takes a deep breath, and then his head as he looks down. 

Jeng, Pat, Put Round One: 

It does not take long for Jeng to figure out who the secret boyfriend is, because Jeng is totally platonically interested in Pat’s life, Jeng is in fact ~completely normal~ about this man. Jeng certainly would never see Put’s wallet, after already having one subtle “he’d not interested in you anymore” at the aquarium with Put, and immediately put the pieces together.

gif from @earthpirapat

Nor would he spend his work hours sulking because he sees Put and Pat flirting with each other...

gif from @earthpirapat

And he 100% most definitely would not need to be physically pulled away from Pat by his brother, because seeing Pat and Put together has made Jeng forget all workplace decorum, and Jeng, who has been unaware of how far over the line he has actually crossed with Pat over the last few episode, is now no longer capable of hiding his intentions while in a workplace setting. 

Especially not when he is wearing a light blue button up shirt, because he’s trying to be neutral but his feelings for Pat are still seeping through. 

This is less a body language note, and more a body placement note, but Pat is positionally closer to Jeng than he is to Put in this scene. 

Put and Pat

With the flirting we get between Put and Pat during the interview, we can see how they might work together as a couple. There is some illusion at least of playfulness and familiarity, they are feeling strongly enough towards each other that they aren’t capable of being 100% professional during that shoot (and neither is Jeng) because he’s too busy looking like a kicked puppy. 

But when we return to Pat’s home, where he and Put are sharing a meal, suddenly the vibe is very different. 

The lighting is dark and white and cold, with a hint of warmth from the lamp in the corner behind Pat, Pat who spends the first part of the meal smiley and trying to engage Put in conversation. But Put is too busy on his phone to pay much attention. In fact, for the entire time that Put and Pat are eating together they do not make eye contact. Only after Pat says that he is full and tries to leave the table, does Put meet his eye. 

This is starkly different than when Pat and Jeng are in the kitchen together: 

gif from @smittenskitten

Here the lighting is bright and warm, golden and more natural in feeling, and Jeng and Pat dedicate too much time to eye contact. Drawn to one another, rather than trying to pick up a connection that was lost years ago. 

The incompatibility continues when Pat has his breakdown on the commercial set. We saw in the earlier dinner scene that Pat is sensitive and that Put, like Jeng, is capable of hurting Pat’s feelings. However, Put only comforts Pat when he himself has made an inappropriate/slightly mean comment about the noodles Pat made, knowing that he fucked up. When the going gets tough, and Pat succumbs to intentional external aggression from Chris’ mom, only Chot reaches out to comfort Pat.

Put won’t even look Pat in the eye. 

Pat runs off to have a #hotgirlmeltdown behind a trailer and Jeng shows up. And this is where I start to go feral, because the HANDS the BODY LANGUAGE the way Jeng is constantly trying to keep himself in check. The way he starts to reach out to take Pat’s wrist, and then immediately pulls his arm back, because he knows that is not an appropriate touch between a boss and an employee. Between Yutaka’s split second reach for Minoru’s hand and Jeng’s split second reach for Pat’s hand I am being personally victimized by the gay yearning of fictional Asian men. 

gif by @pharawee

Jeng looks at Pat approximately a thousand times, trying to figure out what to do, his body making all these little movements like he keeps considering whether or not he should touch Pat, if he can comfort Pat, how he can comfort Pat. 

And Pat leaves him no choice, Pat and Jeng are hidden behind a trailer away from the eyes of the rest of the office, and Pat is too distraught to be thinking about appropriate workplace decorum, and instead seeks comfort from a person who he has feelings for, who has made him feel valued, and supported, and listened to in a way that no one else really has. 

gif from @pharawee

And again, the body language, especially from Man is exquisite here. Jeng is stiff, he doesn’t initially relax into the hug, again his brain catches up to his heart, and he starts to reach out to complete the hug, to touch Pat’s shoulder or arm, and again he stops himself. Jeng’s initial response to this hug is handled in such a way that someone walking by would not read the encounter as romantic. The first few moments of this hug are truly just Pat needing comfort, and his boss being the only person around.

But as Pat continues to cry, Jeng gives in. He finally touches Pat and the second that he completes the hug, the second that his hand makes contact with Pat’s arm, it’s over. There is no more plausible deniability. This is an extremely unprofessional hug, this is a “oh no the boy I like is sad and I must comfort him” hug. Because Jeng makes contact with Pat’s arm and then leans his head down to rest his chin on Pat’s head. 

gif from @pharawee

And it does not leave until Pat finally calms down and breaks the hug. 

So, here’s the thing, it’s not entirely Put’s fault. Like, when Put is being attentive to Pat it seems to go well (the tickling scene from earlier) but his priority is work, and his priority has always been work. Put can’t be seen getting too comfortable with people, on set Put can’t really engage in the behaviors a boyfriend would, Put is still at the will of his manager. But Put left Pat last time in part to pursue a career, and those same things that pulled them apart last time have not gone away. 

Whether Pat realizes it at the moment (and I don’t think he does) getting back together with Put is a last ditch, desperate attempt to try to channel his feelings for Jeng somewhere else. At one point he used to love Put, at one point he and Put seemed to really work together, he can have fun with Put, he and Put know each other, Put is more comfortable with his sexuality now. It could be easy, it could be easy to forget his feelings for Jeng, it could be easy to find the feelings he once had for Put. 

But…

And to Put’s credit, he is extremely forgiving and patient, he says they can take it slow. The whole time they were interspersing teasing with kissing with talking Put and Pat are constantly touching each other, stroking their thumb along a shoulder, running their fingers through each other’s hair. They are comforting touches, they are familiar touches. They are touches that Pat can’t get from Jeng. 

But it doesn’t feel the same, and they both know it, and where Put seems willing to give it time, I think there is a part of him that knows this is not going to work out. Pat is too in love with Jeng. I want to shout out the post by @chicademartinica because it analyzes the use of barriers as a way of showing that Put is trapped outside of Pat’s world. 

So Pat goes to the party, and he drinks and he drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks because it is easier to get drunk and forget that he can’t ignore his feelings for Jeng, and so that he could, as @shortpplfedup so aptly identified in conversation, have some deniability. 

Pat goes to the party and before long he is sitting next to Jeng. Because Pat is also not able to control himself as much as he should. To my mind, Pat is his usual amount of light hearted tease with Jeng, making digs at his breakdown, trying to rope Jeng in to singing karaoke with him, etc. but Jeng, who is at least a glass of wine in, if not more, is uh…much much much more obvious then he usually is. 

Listen, I know what you are all going to say when you read the next sentence, but you know what I mean. Man is a physicality beast. He is an expert in knowing where and how to place macro and micro expressions. He knows when Jeng is supposed to read awkward and stiff, he knows when Jeng is supposed to read comfortable and relaxed. I am struck, watching this couch scene, by how many times Jeng looks out the corner of his eye in Pat’s direction without ever turning his head to face him, when Pat leans in to suggest they sing karaoke together. 

When he turns to face Pat, he is only able to keep his eyes on him for a second at a time, he keeps turning his head almost 180* in the opposite direction every few seconds, changing his body position, smiling, Jeng literally cannot help himself. He’s already had to rein himself in once, almost making a comment about Pat that would not have been work appropriate. 

Pat gets drunker, Pat in fact gets obviously drunker, but we aren’t really certain where Jeng lies in his inebriation levels. Which is fun because that means we get to decide if he is looking at Pat and saying “I will still be there” SO SINCERELY because he is also buzzed/tipsy/drunk and therefore no longer fast enough to stop his mouth. Or if he is deciding to be bold because he knows that Pat and Put are together and he wants to show Pat he is interested. Or if he thinks that Pat will have a repeat of last time, and blackout and not remember everything that Jeng has said. 

It is harder to tell on Jeng than on Pat, but I am pretty sure that Jeng’s cheeks are at least a little flushed, and let’s be real 

gif from @junghaesin

This man is under the influence. Of what? Alcohol? Love? Doesn’t matter, Jeng has gone full Heart Eyes, Motherfucker at the work function. Rest in peace to everyone, and especially Chot who is going to have to deal with their stupid, sorry, gay asses. 

Pat continues to drink, and then, OOP: 

gif from @smittenskitten

Jeng has an excuse to take Pat’s wrist, plausible deniability “I was trying to stop him from drinking more” but honey, that hand stays on the wrist for way longer than #justcoworkers should touch. 

And then Pat chugs the rest of it, and Jeng tries to stop him, and he freezes and for just a second, Pat’s wrist once again passes across Jeng’s fingertips. This time, just brushing together as Pat moves his glass back to the table.

gif from @smittenskitten

Moving on to my absolute favorite part of the entire episode. THE SHIRT SCENE. Yes, I know this scene is probably more accurately referred to as The Grass Jelly scene or the Drunken Hallway Conversation scene but I DO NOT CARE. I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE ACCURATE, I DON’T CARE WHAT IS MORE APPROPRIATE, ALL I CARE ABOUT IS THIS:

gif from @earthpirapat

“Mr. Jeng can make grass jelly” Pat says, drunkenly, as he tugs at Jeng’s shirt with enough unsteady force to knock them both back into the wall. You can see the top of this man’s boxers. Does Jeng seem bothered by it? No. Does Jeng seem angry about it? No. Does Jeng try to switch drunken men to support when Pat starts being overly familiar with his tank top? No. 

What does he do? 

HE. LOOKS. DOWN. 

He does not protest. Pat’s faculties are gone and all that is left is Pat’s affection for Jeng. He wants to eat grass jelly because that is a food he associates with Jeng. (Let’s be real here, Pat doesn’t want to eat grass jelly, Pat wants to eat Jeng). Pat plays with Jeng’s shirt because he can’t help but touch Jeng. 

To be completely honest with you, whatever the implications of the grass jelly are, whatever the implications of Jeng just watching this happen, dead fucking silent, I don’t care. I care about how comfortable and familiar it is, and they aren’t even together yet. I don’t care how much sexual tension is acting as an undercurrent to that interaction, I simply think this is so goddamn fucking cute! 

As for the rest of the drunk man shuffle, the benefit of having a Certified Tol Boi like Man, is that Jeng can hold Pat’s hand and cup his chest without it inherently coming off as inappropriate to outsiders, because he is so tall that only Pat’s wrist is really the only thing that can sit somewhere on Jeng’s shoulder that Jeng can grab. Jeng simply must hold Pat’s wrist and/or hand, and he’s slipping more towards Pat’s hand. Convenient. 

This is less a body language analysis and more a “in case you didn’t notice because I did not notice at first and @shortpplfedup had to tell me” JENG TAKES OFF PAT’S SHOES. 

Between this and the t-shirt grab, my brain just wants to spin and spin and spin towards all the domesticity they could have if they were allowed to be a couple right now. 

And now, dear readers, I am coming to a close. If you have gotten this far, again I marvel because, holy shit this is literally so long, and for what? 

So I will end with this, Jeng is a goner, and we’re heading towards the break in the dam. Jeng and Pat have tried to keep their feelings for each other at bay. Jeng has tried to be professional about this, Pat has explicitly made an effort Not To Date His Boss. They have failed. Pat failed the moment he stopped kissing Put, and he failed again the moment he grabbed Jeng’s shirt. (and also a bunch more times, see: eating together before he knew who Jeng was, see: furniture shopping, see: putting on the chef’s hat, see: watching fireworks together). Jeng has been failing the entire goddamn time. God he tried so hard in the beginning, when he learned Pat was going to be his employee, he pulled back initially, he gave critiques, he did not play favorites, but it did not take long for Jeng to come up with more and more excuses for why something was work appropriate. “Oh you won’t have time to go home before the gala, just shower at my place”, “Oh, I’m only available on Sunday for a meeting, just come to my place”, “Oh, I didn’t know where you lived so I let you sleep at my place,”, “Oh, the rooms weren’t booked properly, why don’t you share my place?”

But where are we at the end of Episode 7?

Jeng is, in the light of day, with his employees milling about the room, looking Pat in the face and saying that the video of him drunk is, and I quote “pretty cute.” which means, by extension, Jeng is calling drunk!Pat “pretty cute”, which means that, by extension, Jeng is calling Pat “pretty cute”. Narak indeed, Jeng, narak indeed. So, all caution has been thrown to the wind, Jeng is over trying to be professional, it’s time to officially enter Jeng’s “I Lost Focus and Had A Consensual Workplace Relationship” Era. 

[twoturtlesinatubetop]

A Creak Through The Crater

>>FIC BELOW THE CUT<<

a gift for @surfpent for the @mcyt-halloween gift exchange !! ill be honest, this one got away from me a little uhmm.. the concept is basically ghostbur but what if he was the creaking from hit videogame minecraft

1600 words, crimeboys, i do not support cc!wilbur fuck that guy

with that being said, hope you enjoy o7

—

Even after all these months, the air still smells like ash. A carpet of foggy smoke hangs low over the ground, coloring everything gray. Tommy visits L’mantree every week. Not because he’s some sappy sentimental bitch. No, no, he’s a big man. And big men have big manly traditions they must follow. That’s all this is. Honestly.

It's been a gloomy couple days, but whatever. Tommy cuts one more poppy from its stem before tucking his dagger back into his pocket. He decides five will do.

See, he's been doing this for a while now. He's sort of a Tradition Expert if he does say so himself. Usually he leaves five flowers at the foot of the tree, six if he's feeling adventurous.

Why are they always gone by his next visit, you ask? Ha. Tommy doesn't have time to worry about such silly little things. Probably the wind blowing them away or some cow with an appetite.

It doesn't matter. He never stays too long. He stops by long enough to drop off the flowers, have a minute or so of sombre quiet, and then he goes about his day.

Today will be no different, he's sure.

The trek up the hill is always annoying. The ground’s still littered with debris. Concrete, metal beams, just a boatload of shit that sticks and pokes at his shoes.

Obviously he could stop and clean it up, but time waits for no man. At least the terrain at the top of the hill’s less fucked up.

Familiar branches start coming into view.

With a sigh, Tommy drops the bunch of flowers on an exposed root like he always does.

If Wilbur were here, he’d suggest at least tying the bouquet together, Tommy. Ooh, have a little decorum, Tommy. Meh meh meh.

But the high-pitched bitchy little Wilbur in his head has no power over him. So Tommy sits on the grass, as Un-Decorum-Ly as possible, and leans back against the trunk.

The trek up here was longer than usual. There's some kind of construction project happening by the Prime Path. That slowed him down a little. Fucking new people always running around building new shit. On this server? By next week, it’ll be vandalised at best, destroyed at worst so what's the point, really?

Point is, Tommy doesn't feel like walking back just yet. Big men get tired too, you know.

Okay, he could stay a little longer today. Have a quick power nap, maybe. No one except him comes around here anyways. It's no big deal.

He manages to doze off, gazing up at the roof of half-singed leaves before closing his eyes.

It could be minutes, hours, Tommy’s not sure. But at some point he's woken up by a bothersome light seeping through his eyelids.

He groans. It's late afternoon, it's been muggy for ages, and the sun chooses now to show its stupid fucking face?

Except, when he petulantly opens his eyes, the annoying beam isn't sunlight, but a soft glowing blue coming from right above his head.

What in the shit? It looks like it's coming out of the L’mantree.

After squinting up at it, Tommy does consider just going back to sleep. Maybe he's dreaming, imagining things, seeing shapes where there aren't any.

But when the light doubles in brightness, Tommy shoves down his weariness and gets up with a grumble.

The glowing comes from behind the bark. A bright radiant blue, seeping through the grooves of the wood. It looks like someone's placed a lamp at the centre of the trunk, like a weird Jack o’ lantern but, you know, it's a fucking tree.

Tommy tentatively places a hand over the cracks.

He draws back with a gasp when the light pulses, a warmth thrumming beneath his fingertips.

Okay. Okay! Fucking nevermind. He is awake. Wide awake.

Tommy snatches his satchel off the ground. He throws it over his shoulder in a rush before booking it back down the hill. Whatever that is, he decides it’s not his fucking problem.

…

Tommy has put off his next visit for weeks now. He debates not coming back at all. He comes up with a lot of excuses in the process. It's time he moved on anyways, he reasons. Totally fine and normal, normal and fine.

But as the days go by, his pride catches up to him.

Is he really going to stop because of… whatever that was? Tommy Innit did not fight a whole ass war only to be bested by some glowy wood. He's better than that!

Odds are it's just Tubbo playing a dumb prank on him. Has Tommy confronted him about it? No. Is he still going to blame him for it? Yes.

Tommy shoves his shit back into his bag and strides out his house with a rebuilt confidence.

The Prime Path is still cluttered with random build projects. It's like everyone else is trying to find a New Big Thing to replace the literal hole L’manberg left. Tommy gets it sort of, but he also thinks it's kind of pathetic.

He stops by the wild flower patch again. This time, he gathers six freshly bloomed cornflowers. As if to go Ha! See? I’m not scared.

As Tommy hikes back up the hill, the cracks in the wood have widened. So much so that he can see the blue light blinking through the fog from a distance. Leaves crunch beneath his feet, making him jump a little.

Tommy leaves the flowers at the roots per routine, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off the tree, off the web of wood woven and backlit by the most vibrant blue he’s ever seen.

Tommy steels himself. He’s strong, he’s brave, and he’s not scared of a dumb fucking tree.

Tommy shuts his eyes (out of strength and bravery, not because he’s nervous) and places his palm over the blue light.

It beats. A dull but steady rhythm that undulates against his skin.The blue light glows brighter and brighter, so much so that Tommy has to crane his head away.

Out of nowhere, the moss crawls up the bark. It wraps around his fingers, over the edges of his palms, moist and mushy. Tommy yells out, ripping his hand away. The moss stretches, clinging to him like a living web of mottled green. Fuck that. Actually fuck that, what the hell?!

In an instant, instinct grips him in a vice. Before he knows it, he’s pulled his dagger out of its sheath and plunged it into the wood.

Tommy’s breathing comes ragged as he pulls his shit together. He scuffs his hand against his pants, scraping off the remaining moss. Okay. From here on out Tommy Innit hates trees. All trees. They’re worthless hunks of wood that stand there like right bastards. He’s never coming back ever. Stupid L’mantree isn’t worth his time anyway.

With a huff, he pulls his dagger back out the bark.

And a viscous blue ooze drips from the wood like a puncture wound.

Tommy scowls at the… blue shit– for lack of a better word– with disgust. What in Prime’s name is going on? Last he checked, trees don’t bleed. Do they? No, they definitely don't.

Breaking the silence, a long drawing creak pierces the air. Chipped ash-grey fingernails dig into his shoulder, rings of bark rough on his skin even through the fabric of his t-shirt.

Tommy whirls around, heart pounding in his ears, ready to plunge his knife into his attacker.

Only for it to drop to the ground.

The creature(?) freezes in front of him, going stock-still as if it too is in shock.

This tall, lanky, asymmetrical thing… for a good few seconds Tommy can't make sense of it. Its body looks like it was made from the bark of the L’mantree itself. Its “hair” comes in the form of unkempt roots flying in every direction, thorns jutting up and out like a false crown. A trail of moss drags at its feet. But, oh, the most piercing trait this creature possesses is the multiple luminous, royal blue eyes littered across its shoddy imitation of a face.

The only way Tommy could recognize his brother is the long, withered cloak still draped over its jagged wooden shoulders. He knows those patches. Tommy spent hours sewing them on.

“Wilbur?” He says through a breath, more a question than anything else.

Wilbur— or, what’s left of him— doesn’t move, not even an inch. He doesn’t blink. His chest doesn’t rise or fall.

Strangely enough, his many eyes aren’t trained on Tommy, but a few steps behind him. He’s staring at the flowers.

Without really thinking, Tommy turns to pick up the bunch of flowers.

By the time he whirls back around, Wilbur’s moved closer. Tommy flinches, “Agh! What the hell—”

Wilbur’s palm, covered in moss and tree rings, lies face-up and outstretched in front of him.

Maybe Tommy’s dreaming. Maybe he inhaled too much smoke and he’s hallucinating. Maybe he’s finally lost his fucking mind. Either way, some kind of autopilot flicks on in his brain and Tommy deposits the bouquet in Wilbur’s hand.

Still no movement. But he does blink. Each eye closing and opening again, slowly and out of synch, like a weirdass cat.

Once again, it could be minutes, it could be hours. Tommy can never be sure. All he knows is by the time he musters up the willpower to move his feet and walk back down the hill, when he looks back over his shoulder, Wilbur is nowhere to be found.

[something-about-sunflowers]

Fucking unfriendly reminder:

You don't have to like Izzy Hands. You can say whatever the fuck you want about him. (Ideally you can have some fucking decorum and keep it out of the Izzy Hands TAG but I suppose we don't always live in the ideal world.)

But if you're gonna mock him for his appearance or his voice then, please, shut up and have SEVERAL seats. Izzy Hands (a la OFMD) is not a real person and cannot be affected by what you may have to say about him but the person who gives him a face and a voice, Con O'Neill of course, IS. It is incredibly fucking rude to try to insult Izzy for his looks or his voice when those looks and that voice actually belong to Con.

I know some of yall don't give a shit about Con because you've heard some second-hand-second-hand bullshit about him but attacking someone for things they cannot control or change about themselves is vile REGARDLESS of who it is. If you can't be assed to not be a dick for Con's sake then at least consider that there are people who haven't done (or who have not been accused of) ANYTHING to 'deserve' those insults that might look or sound like him.

It costs 0.00$ to not be a dick about someone's appearance/voice/other things they cannot control about themselves.

[skaruresonic]

"These guys really treat mental illness with all the tact and decorum of a bull in a fucking china shop."

That what it feels like to me as well when I read those comics, like Surge trauma dump only to this Sonic treat her as a "gimmick" and the treatment Whisper get especially in Urban Warfare got me baffled.

I mean, it's not that surprising considering Flynn treats amnesia like an internal switch that 180s your personality when even the games don't do that. Chip doesn't lose his Light Gaia abilities, nor does Shadow become the life of the party, but Eggman gets sapped on the head and suddenly he's building toys for kids. Sonic receives the same treatment and he's sipping tea, pinkie raised, with Blaze.

In that case, the worst that can be said about it is that they're treating the subject matter too flippantly. But sometimes when they try to be Deep(tm), they wind up mangling this stuff in such a hamfisted manner that it becomes offensive. Like, yes, we get it, we fans love drama, but not like this, man.

Why is Whisper forced to offer Tangle the bigger apology for being triggered by Tangle's insensitive remark?

Why is Sonic's response to people in pain to go "I'll beat your ass until you decide to shape up" and "OH SO YOU THINK WE SHOULD MURDER EVERYONE HUH ESPIO?" Why does he sound like a freaking abuse apologist when he insists to Kit that Surge is "hurting herself"?

Why is the piece entitled "intrusive thoughts" when Lanolin does not seem to be least bit perturbed by them? Intrusive thoughts are ego-dystonic, meaning they're the opposite of what you usually stand for. You might think, for instance, "kill your dog" if you really love your dog, because you would never do such a thing.

Brains are weird. They cook that shit up extra spicy just to prepare you for the worst-case scenario (not that anxiety and the like are so clean-cut and rational, ofc, but that's the most basic gist). If your intrusive thoughts don't distress you, then they're just... thoughts, with no more moral weight than any other thought you have.

That is to say, if Lanolin was in any way suffering ego dystonia from her thoughts of causing an accident to hurt Sonic, we would have seen some pushback, some internal struggle, but no. She shows zero signs of compunction. She acted on those thoughts. The text describes it as "intrusive thoughts" while the subtext suggests rationalization. And sending those implications can potentially be dangerous to impressionable readers.

This is a case where, although I don't think ABT meant harm, he probably also didn't realize how dangerous it can be to conflate someone who intends harm and rationalizes it with someone who would never act on their violent thoughts.