#but like swearing is problematic what the fucking hell

[k3n-dyll]

maybe because not everyone has to cater to black and brown readers? if i feel excluded then talk to ur black and brown writers bc why tf would (for ex.) white writers write black readers when…when they aren’t?? yall aren’t victims write ur own shit if u care so much like idk what to tell u but not everyone has to bow down and write the way you want them too.

The fact that this is what you got from me saying that POC feel excluded from fandom is...insane.

I hesitate to even answer this because you sound stupid as hell, but since I think other people need to get this shit through their skulls as well:

If you are a writer, and you claim to be writing an "x reader" fanfic for a character you like, the general consensus is that "reader" in this situation should be neutral for the most part. Sure, there's different versions of that ( "x fem reader", "x masc reader", etc.") , but generally, the idea is that "reader" in this situation could be anyone, yes? A lot of writers on this app and others, write "reader" as if tiny white women are the default.

And you know what?

If you wanna write that way, fine, but say that. If you so desprately want to write about Abby Anderson fucking a 5ft nothing white girl with blonde hair and green eyes - write that. But don't call that shit an "x reader" when you know its a self insert meant to exclude everybody that doesnt look like you. Dont claim to be a safe place for all readers if when POC say they feel excluded from the things you write, you say stupid shit like what this anon just did. If your shit is labeled "x reader" with no other warnings, one should be able to assume that they arent going to see any specifics about body type, hair textures, skin color or eye color - but no. Thats not the case.

I swear, every time we bring this shit up you bitches act like we killed your fucking grandma. If you dont wanna write in a way that everyone can consume, fine, but dont make it seem as if petite white girls are just the default human in every scenario. Theres a content warning over every fic, if you dont want to see how problematic it is to write as if whiteness is the default then the least you could do it leave a big fat warning in that little "CW" section to let us know that you didnt write this with the existence of people that dont look like you in mind.

Oh, and I do write my own stuff btw. Don't ever come in my inbox with this bullshit again. Pissing me off first thing in the morning😒

[smooth-perceval]

Angsty lando pleaseeeeee

This is my first rq omg, sorry it was rushed I have like 7 drafts and I’m trying to clear them out 🥲🫶🏼❤️

Surrender

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader was only trying to console Lando, Lando throws a hissy fit- and some truths are spilled. The ‘argument’ being quickly extinguished.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, very annoyed reader+Lando, fluff ending

Key: Y/N (Your Name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 1,397

A/N: I cannot see Lando being mean- so it was kinda weird to write 😂 Sarcastic asf? Yes! Mean- it seems so odd but I hope I done okay ❤️

Wether Lando was annoyed or not- I shouldn’t have recieved the back end of it.

I only asked a simple “you okay?” And I got back. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” Before storming back over to the car hopping back in and out on track.

Debating wether to go back to the drivers room or stay - I finally decided that going back to the drivers room was my best option. I felt embarrassed- after 4 people asked me if I was okay, I felt to upset and awkward to be around them.

My face was Ferrari red- no joke, shuffling my way back to the drivers room, I sat in pure silence. Did I really say anything bad? Did I actually annoy him and it wasn’t the car? Questioning my intentions for the next 10 minutes or so is all I did. Before I came to the perfect idea and decided to just leave in general, go back to the hotel and dwell on it all there.

While I had the chance to run I did. Straight back to our hotel and straight into the shower, a day washed away once again. I made quick effort to change into a simple shorts pyjama set, lounging out on the small sofa they had in the room.

—

My phone re-woke me. Grabbing ahold and answering, only to realise who it was when the angry voice spoke down the line.

“Where the hell are you?!”

“Back at the hotel?”

“I’ve looked everywhere for you! Nobody knew! You didn’t tell me!!” Rubbing my eyes, a yawn escaping me. I tutted at him climbing off the sofa and into the bed.

“I fell asleep and forgot to message sorry-”

“I’m nearly at the hotel.” And with that he hung up, here I anxiously sat. I get the annoyance but he was the reason I left in the first place.

Sighing I mentally prepared myself for the lecture I was about to withstand. And truthfully I couldn’t be asked for it.

“Y/N.” The door unlocked and he barged in.

“Seriously- what the hell is going on with you? I needed you at the pits today.” Frowning he stormed off into the bathroom.

“Errr- No, you told me to ‘leave you the fuck alone’ so I did.” Leaning over the bed I put my phone on charge.

“Just cause I said it, didn’t mean I meant it.” Tutting I hear him switch on the shower waiting around for it to warm up, he walked back out facing me.

“Wether you meant it or not Lando. I didn’t deserve it.”

“Well who else am I supposed to let my anger out on.” Throwing his hands up in the air like it’s the most problematic thing in his life at the moment.

“You can vent to me any day- you know that. But I won’t take rudeness.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude!” Shaking his head laughing to himself he went back into the bathroom slamming the door.

“There you go again. Just because your cars shit! Don’t take it out on me.” Laying back on the bed with a groan I stared up at the ceiling.

What a dick.

“My car is not shit-” glancing over at him now standing back outside the bathroom door, he looked so pissed off- but why is it okay for him to say stuff and not me.

“Did I touch a nerve?”

“What made you even bring that up? We wasn’t talking about that.”

“The whole reason for your sour mood is that car.”

“Can’t a guy just have a bad day.” Pulling his hoodie off throwing it on the floor.

“There’s a bad day and then a bad weekend. And you’ve been an asshole to me this whole weekend. If it’s not the car then what? Is it me?” Raising my eyebrows at him I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Your talking stupid again.” And once again he stormed into the bathroom, stripping down to his underwear.

“Then what is it?- I’m not a mind-reader Lando! I can’t help unless you tell me what’s pissed you off.”

“Your not listening! Nothing has pissed me off, fucking hell.” I could’ve got whiplash the amount of times he has stormed in and out that bathroom.

The hot and cold was pissing me off- and before I knew it, all the calmness washed away from me- and all the built up annoyance and anger reeled out.

“You are so frustrating- do you understand that.” Furrowing my brows I stood up, gesturing my hands in front of me.

“One minute it’s ‘can’t a guy have a bad day’ then it’s ‘I’m not pissed off’ or it’s ‘I needed you in the garage today’ but your not pissed off right? So why did you need me. Do you understand how fucking childish your being.” Chest rising and falling, we both stared at each other in silence.

“And while I’m getting everything off my chest for once- your car is shit! Man up and tell the team, don’t drive a shit car and then get annoyed at me for asking a simple question. I didn’t build the stupid car, I don’t drive it- I have no involvement!” Turning around grabbing a pillow off the bed I stomped towards the sofa. “Stupid fucking thing it is.” Mumbling to myself while shaking my head.

“Because I have human decency, I’ll sleep on the sofa. But don’t you dare speak to me unless your going to apologise for being a absolute prick.” Throwing the pillow down on the sofa, I went to the wardrobe pulling out the spare duvet, throwing that on the sofa also.

“What- why you sleeping on the sofa…”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology.” With a loud huff he disappeared once again.

When I turned around Lando had retreated back to the bathroom. It’s strange, lecturing someone tires you out, I flopped back onto the sofa, sighing to myself. Was I too harsh…? Yeah- maybe I should apologise…

Before I even thought about what to say I had dozed back off again, not even wanting to face Lando truthfully right now, I’ll only say more things I don’t mean.

—

“Baby…” rocking me gently, I was woken from my slumber. It was pitch black, I just about made out Lando’s face.

“You awake…?” Even though it was just us two, he still whispered. Humming in response, I rolled over facing the back of the sofa.

“I’m sorry…” pressing a delicate kiss to my shoulder, rubbing it gently, he then leant his head against my back. “I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you… your right about absolutely everything.” Followed by another soft kiss to my shoulder.

“Even about the car being shit??…” smiling to myself, I turned back over slowly, wrapping an arm around his neck, playing with the back of his hair.

“That’s the reason I’m so annoyed-” slowly he squeezed himself on the sofa, pulling me half on-top of him. “Your right- I should man up and tell them, not just keep allowing them to fuck up…” brushing my hand over his cheek, I laid my head on his shoulder listening to him vent.

“I just have had enough… I’ve had enough of feeling like a failure every race- because the cars so terrible…” sighing, he fiddled with my hand. “I love you- and that scares me…” smiling wide, I moved his head turning it towards me.

“You love me?”

“So fucking much.” Pulling him in slowly, I placed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Your not a failure, your absolutely wonderful…” a small smile crept on his face at my compliment.

“Your going to tell them what you really think about that car, your also going to give it your all the rest of this season, because you don’t give up.”

“Your also going to start understanding, I’m on your side always… no matter what, I’m battling from your corner. Because I love you, always have and always will.”

Smiling at me, he pulled me down slowly brushing his lips against mine, “does this mean I get some lovin’?” Laughing, I smacked his chest climbing over him standing up.

“You really are lucky I love you.”

“I know I bless myself everyday.” Standing up he placed his hands on my waist kissing me again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Masterlist

[momentomori24]

I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

[thesakuragarnet]

Crimes Of Passion (Dabi X Fem! Reader)

Summary: It's been a decade since your best friend, Toya Todoroki, perished at the hands of his own Quirk. You always liked to think he was watching over you, looking over your shoulder, keeping you out of harm's way in a guardian angel sense. After all, you'd devoted your life to making equipment to ensure that never happened to anyone else. But lately, you've felt like you're ACTUALLY being watched.

[Part one of my Yandere Dabi X Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader mini series]

THIS WORK IS 18+ ONLY! S3XUAL TAGS WILL BE HIDDEN BELOW THE KEEP READING BUTTON!

Non-Spicy Tags: canon-typical v!0lence, swearing, smut, Yandere-ish Dabi, childhood friends, innuendo, stalker/feral Dabi, Support Course Graduate Fem!Reader, Second Person POV

Word Count: 2,435 words

AO3 link

Spicy Tags: slight dubcon, sexy in theory problematic in practice, explicit s3xual content, vag!nal fingering, dirty talk, making out, dubcon kissing, alley s3x, quirk use during s3x, c0me eating, cr3ampie, cunn!lingus, vag!nal s3x, semi-public s3x

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

You were working late at the office again. You'd spent all night drafting plans for your latest creation; it was a special request from a client. This Support Item would help the user maintain their body temperature...something that you took close to heart. Your best friend could've used such a thing...maybe if he had, he'd still be alive. Everyone else had already left. It was too far to walk home. You'd have to take the night train. 

...

It's hard for you to not fall asleep as you lean your head up against the window, eyelids drooping as the train runs through the dark tunnels beneath the city. In fact, you barely noticed when the group of shady-looking men got in the same train car as you. A chill runs down your spine when you hear them whispering to one another, and, instantly, you're wide awake. You look outside, realizing your stop is next. Something is telling you to get off the train ASAP...to get away from these men. As soon as possible. The car screeches to a stop, and, without a second thought, you bolt off the train. You didn't live in the best part of town, and the street is dimly lit when you exit the subway. You steal a glance over your shoulder...and realize they're following you. 

'Fuck.' 

Your mind starts racing, trying to think of a way to lose them. They're getting closer...walking faster. Immediately, you dart into a side alleyway, hoping to lose them through the side streets...only for it to be a dead end. You turn around, and they're closing in...

THUD. 

Out of nowhere, a figure leaps down from the rooftops, landing unnaturally gracefully in front of you. The stranger is tall, dressed in all black, and, in the dim moonlight, you see his hands. Scars trace down his arms, stopping at his wrists, which are full of crude surgical staples. 

"I suggest you four go back the way you came," The figure orders. His voice is deep and raspy...kinda sexy. The thugs are unimpressed. 

"What the hell are you?"

"Your face makes me wanna puke!"

"Keep looking at me like that and I'll kill ya!"

They start jeering, continuing to move closer. The mysterious figure raises his arm, and, suddenly, a brilliant cerulean glow flickers off the alleyway walls. 

"You're not going to touch her," He orders coldly. The men laugh. 

"Oh, yeah? And who's gonna stop us?"

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

You scream as the rush of heat and light surges through the alleyway; a frighteningly powerful blue blaze erupts from the man, engulfing the group immediately in flames. Their shrieks of pain are rather short, and the light dies down to flickers and embers within a few seconds. The smell of burned flesh fills the air, and smoke begins to rise. 

"That answer your question?" The man chuckles under his breath, putting his hand back down. He shakes his wrist, and you notice it's smoking. The man turns on his heel, and your eyes widen. His face looks like a mess of patchwork scars and staples, sweeping under his eyes, over his cheekbones, and around his neck. 

"Stay away from me!" You shout, reaching for the pepper spray in your purse as your bones shake. Terror fills your lungs along with the smoke and ashes. 

"What? No 'thank you'? I just saved your life," The figure pouts mockingly, staring into your soul. His eyes are as blue as the flames that shot out of his hand. 

Something about this man...is hauntingly familiar. The way he speaks to you seems unnaturally natural. It's not in the way a stranger would. 

"Who are you?" 

"You'd think you'd recognize your guardian angel when you see him in person. That's what you call me, right? At least when you talk to yourself, acting like I'm some imaginary friend sitting on a cloud over you. Well...," He smirks, taking a threatening step closer. You freeze. 

"Toya?"

"In the burned flesh," He grins sarcastically, gesturing to his scars. 

"That's impossible. My best friend is dead," You stammer, but the longer you look at him, the less you believe your own words. 

Those eyes. The mannerisms.

"Come on, princess."

You hate the way your body responds to that word. The way it shakes you to your core when it rolls off his tongue. 

"You know it's me," He sings, a cruel smirk on his face as he walks forward, forcing your back against the wall. You gulp, feeling your heart race faster and faster. His glowing cerulean eyes bore into you. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable," The villain sneers, looking down at you with a hungry gaze. Lust. Obsession. Greed. You wordlessly shake your head. This shouldn't turn you on. This should make you run away screaming, absolutely terrified. It partially did terrify you...but...in a sickly thrilling way. The overwhelming familiarity and tension...you're spellbound. 

"All you have to do," He murmurs, slowly leaning down, hands moving to splay out on each side of your head, "is tell me 'no'."

You close your eyes, and you feel his lips meet yours. The moment you give in, kissing him back, you feel his hands on your shoulders...squeezing them tightly over and over...as if he's trying to restrain himself from tearing you apart. You reach up, running your hands through his hair, and a chuckle rumbles in his throat as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him. His tongue flicks against your lip, and the moment you give even a hint of admittance, he practically sticks it down your throat. A strangled whimper muffles in your throat in surprise, and you melt into his arms, trying not to slide down the wall as you feel your legs turning to jelly. The feeling of his impossibly warm tongue tracing along your own makes your eyelids flutter, and when you two part, a strand of saliva connects your lips. He traces kisses down your jaw before roughly pushing your hair back and ever so softly sinking his teeth into your neck. You sigh, feeling his fingers wander down your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. Slowly, they dance further and further south...pausing just above the waistband of your panties. Gently, he slips his hand below them, and you gasp as his fingers trace your slit. 

"Fuck, you're wet, princess," He shudders, sucking on your neck harder, and his other hand presses into your back, grabbing a fistful of your clothing. 

"Toya," You moan softly, "We shouldn't be doing thi-"

"Shut up," He rasps harshly in your ear before effortlessly pressing a finger inside you, "If you don't like what I'm doing then tell me. I'll stop."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit as he curls his fingers intentionally. Another moan crawls out of you before you can restrain yourself, and you give in to the temptation. Everything he's doing feels so good. No one's ever touched you this way before. No one's ever made your heart race quite like this. It's exhilarating. He plants more kisses on your neck, borderline groaning into each kiss, the subtle noises vibrating against your skin. 

"You taste so fucking good," He hums between sloppy kisses, tracing his tongue up the side of your neck as you feel warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach. "God, the things I wanna do to you."

It sounds like a threat, a promise, and a desperate plea all in one. It shouldn't, but it gives you butterflies. 

"Like what?" You sigh, hooking your fingers into his loose belt. He jerks ever so slightly, as if the touch caught him completely off guard. You pause, worrying you've overstepped a boundary, but he soon leans forward, as if begging you to continue. 

"Tell me what you wanna do, Toya," You murmur as you trace your fingers below, and you feel his arousal through his jeans. 

"I wanna drown you in pleasure until you can't stop begging me for more," He whispers in your ear, "I wanna make you come until you can't fucking think." 

Zzzzip. 

His breath hitches as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling out his throbbing cock. Without a second thought, he pulls his fingers out of you and forces your pants down until they fall to your ankles. 

"I owe you, right?" You huff as he looks into your eyes, and he grins deviously. 

"I've wanted to fuck you so bad, princess," Toya rasps, his gravelly voice tingling your ears as his hot breath pants against your skin. You feel his hands reach underneath you, gripping the flesh on your ass as he picks you up, firmly pressing your back against the wall. You flinch when he presses the tip against your entrance. It's hot. Not too hot...but hot. 

"I'm gonna burn you from the inside out," He murmurs, his deep voice tilting on a villainous laugh. Your eyes widen, heart racing. When he notices, he clicks his tongue. 

"Just a figure of speech, princess. I'd never hurt you...not unless you wanted it," He snickers before slowly lowering you down onto his cock. You gasp as he slides in, eyes rolling back in your head. It's bigger than you expected. It feels like he's practically splitting you open, and the pain is daunting. Nonetheless, you can't help but crave more. You want him to break you. You want him to shove it as far as it'll go. You want him to rearrange your guts until your mind turns to mush. 

"Easy there, gorgeous," He purrs, gritting his teeth as he carefully forces himself all the way inside you. He shudders, and you manage to kick your pants all the way off before wrapping your legs around his waist, locking him inside. 

"Good girl," Toya groans, his lips curling into a predatory smirk as his eyes soften. He looks completely devoted. Consumed by twisted passion. His fingernails dig into your hips, threatening to break the skin. 

"My good girl," He adds before roughly planting his lips on yours. His tongue traces across the roof of your mouth, claiming every inch. Then, he starts thrusting up into you, and you practically see stars. The pain mixes with pleasure, shocks spreading from between your thighs as he fucks you, his breath panting in your ear as he presses himself against you. You can feel the heat coming off of his body. It's enough to make you feel like you're sweating. The sounds of his balls slapping against you with every deep, intense roll of his hips reaches your ears. If anyone else is out this late, all they have to do is turn the corner, and they'll see you getting railed by a murderer beside a sea of ashes. It's taboo. Everything about this screams wrong to you. This is Toya. Your best friend. Your dead best friend. Who seems to be psychotically obsessed with you in the most primal way. But...it all feels so right. You've never felt such gnawing pleasure in your entire life. It's coursing through your veins, boiling in your blood, beating in your heart and throbbing in your nethers. 

"Toya, don't stop," You plead pathetically, the raunchy moan seeming to drive him wild.

"Such a pretty little voice," He laughs darkly in your ear before deliberately picking up his rhythm, pounding into you. Your head spins, trying to decide whether or not the pain overshadows the pleasure. It feels like he's going to rip you apart from the bottom up. His thrusts become haphazard, and his voice becomes needy.

"Fuck," His voice breaks into a soft whine as you feel the warmth spreading inside you, filling you up. Breath hisses through your gritted teeth. You're so pent-up. You're far from your orgasm, despite how much you're enjoying this. Toya pulls back, his face inches away from yours, and he seems to notice your frustration. 

"No, no. We're not done. I'm not leaving until you've come for me," He sighs lustfully before adding, "Until I make you come for me."

You stare into those eyes again. Those burning beautiful blue eyes. 

"Besides," He pants as he slowly lifts you off of his cock, hands firmly gripping your ass, "We can't leave all that in there, now, can we?" 

Before you can register what's happening he lifts you up...and up...and up. He's surprisingly stronger than he looks...and he stops when your dripping slit is level with his face. You shake, partially terrified at how high you are off the ground, keeping your back pressed up against the wall. Your hands run through his hair, gripping to help ground you from the fear of falling. Toya looks up with an expression of pure worship, and you cry out as he dives between your legs, his warm tongue fully extended into you, working to lick you clean. The sounds are positively vile; the lewd slurping noises between your hips overpower all other sounds. You moan his name, your head leaning back against the wall as your eyelids flutter shut, focusing on the feeling of him devouring you. His tongue flexes, twisting in ways that seem improbable, leaving you whimpering for more. He laughs, his hot breath huffing against you as he presses his lips to your clit. You steal a glance to see his gaze fixated on you, staring into your fucking soul. His hands grip you rougher, making you wince as he suckles that sweet spot, tongue flicking against it in all the right ways. You feel yourself getting closer. His touch is so intoxicating. It's so otherworldly. It's so...good. You can't stop the sounds of pleasure coming out of your mouth, spilling from your lips like an ever-flowing waterfall. You feel the familiar clench in the pit of your stomach, and, suddenly, the climax hits you all at once. Your hands turn to fists in his hair, pulling him closer into you as you whimper and moan his name. Toya growls into your slit, the vibrations sending more sensations shooting through your body. Finally, you feel yourself coming down, and you release your grip on him. Toya leans back, looking up at you with dripping lips that he licks clean. He pants, as if out of breath, not breaking the haunting stare. 

"Do you want me to go back to watching in the shadows, princess, or can I get closer, now?"

[sketch-guardian]

Both Angel and RAD classmates learning very early on that Mc saying “fuck it” or some variation of “fuck it” as in “fuck it we ball” “chucked/chucking it into the fuck it bucket” means something horrible is gonna happen not to them but some poor asshole of a demon they hear it and just slowly turn there heads to Mc before all hell breaks loose and Mc has a demon in a choke hold cussing them,their mother,their grandmother,their sister their great grandma etc basically Mc being a menace and not giving a single f if the demon or whoever is several heads taller and bigger they will win

I like how your MC wakes up every morning and chooses violence😂but considering what they're forced to endure every day, I'd say it's the least that can happen🙈I'll do my best to write good headcanons, sorry for the delay by the way😥:

"RAD CLASSMATES+NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS WITH A MC WHO IS A MENACE"

DEMYA

Demya is quite the troublemaker and unlikely to back down from a challenge, so if she ever got into a fight, she would more than willingly fight tooth and nail, with adrenaline pumping through her veins, someone would just have to check she doesn't give a few too many bites. Being probably as much of a menace as MC, Demya would immediately understand from their words, almost as if they were a signal/warning, that a mess was about to break out and would rush to cheer for MC, finding their fighting style quite attractive, after all in her culture, flirting was mainly about showing off strength to prove oneself worthy as a mate. Demya would only intervene aggressively if MC was in trouble, even growling, but otherwise, she would congratulate them on their victory, exchanging a few hugs and kisses, especially on any bruises or scars. Furthermore, it's likely that they would escape before suffering any consequences, giggling like crazy

DOMNRA/MOBIM

Domnra isn't considered a delinquent without a reason, he sometimes gets into trouble and beatings with other annoying demons wouldn't necessarily be new, although he tries to be careful and avoid fighting with Mobim nearby, as the little curse would not approve and get scared. Domnra would immediately sense from MC's exclamations that a fight would break out soon and for once, both for fun and to release tension, Domnra would decide with a pointed smile to join MC in the fight, coordinating like a team, as partners in crime, while Mobim, safely on the sidelines, would cover its eye, clearly in distress, not wanting anyone to get hurt. It's likely that Domnra and MC would then end up in detention, together with Mobim, who would need lots of comfort, but it would be worth it in the end

AZUL

Azul is a chatterbox more than anything, an extrovert who loves attention and entertainment, although he has his quiet days due to his mood swings, so he wouldn't be a problematic student per se, apart from stupid jokes or moments of carelessness. If someone were to provoke MC, usually Azul, in order to avoid involving them and getting them into trouble, would roll up his sleeves, saying something like "I'm sorry dear, but I have to go and make a scene-" before publicly humiliating the other demon, making them lose the will to be seen around Devildom. At MC's first warning and swears, Azul would be slightly confused, thinking it was just their way of expressing themselves, but as soon as the fight broke out, he would let out a whistle and grimace at the sight of some blows, obviously rooting for MC. In the end, Azul would say that he found their attitude badass and that he wouldn't mind witnessing it again, as long as it doesn't bother their health too much. Azul would put some cute band-aids on MC's wounds as well

ZURI

Zuri is a reserved and diligent student in class, she doesn't speak often so conflicts are quite rare, however when they do happen, they are mostly resolved either through words or hypnotic powers in particularly tedious cases. MC would give Zuri a huge headache, not only due to their bad language, but also because of their tendency to get into physical fights with other demons. Not only MC would risk getting hurt, but also ruin their clothes and pay the consequences of their actions. If the situation degenerated greatly, Zuri would intervene with her hypnotic ability to ward off the offending demon and then, despite herself, she would try to put in a good word with the teachers for MC, to prevent them from getting into further trouble. Once home Zuri would criticize MC's recklessness while tending to their wounds, she would even raise an eyebrow, asking in exasperation if it was all part of a plan to impress her. Although it might result quite repetitive, Zuri would point out to MC that she won't always be able to be there to defend them if needed, so they should try to manage such outbursts better during lessons. Zuri would let out a soft praise if she noticed MC actually wanting her approval that badly

ODON

Odon technically, given their age, shouldn't even be in RAD, however there is always time to learn new things, it is also a strategy to try to meet more people and make new friends. The swears shouted by MC to another demon that they apparently are about to beat up would leave Odon slightly astonished, but they would not necessarily intervene, especially because a single glare from the eldritch abomination would be enough for the demon to back down. Odon would smile in a innocent way, but in the eyes of others they would still look like a murderer due to their big grin, making the demon in question regret all their life choices and beg MC for mercy. It wouldn't happen very often for MC to get involved in combat, considering Odon's reputation, but either way, they would show care in treating any wounds and wouldn't meddle too much in MC's affairs if they don't feel like talking, Odon would find MC's menacing nature by the way pretty endearing, except for the foul language almost used as a summoning circle

REMIEL

Remiel is a curious, innocent angel, such vocabulary does not belong to her and if not required for the sake of balance then she tries to avoid violence, usually resorting to words and deeds, furthermore seeing an upset angel of death would be both rare and disturbing, so many demons wouldn't be willing to risk it, despite her tender and somber appearance. Remiel wouldn't know many swear words, so at the beginning she wouldn't understand that MC is predicting the arrival of a disaster, over time she would learn to make the association between exclamations and facts, then she would gently try to dissuade MC from fighting, especially if the demon was sincere about their will to redeem themselves. MC's would also slightly remind Remiel of her uncle, Strife, due to their quirky personality

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel is extremely calm and docile, so much so that he is often mistaken for a statue, otherwise he's pretty chill and would let out a soft tired sigh at MC's swears, already expecting the worst from them. At the start of the fight, Nathaniel would watch the scene shrugging his shoulders and whistling as if nothing had happened if someone asked him to intervene, being an angel, in case MC had the worst, only in that case would Nathaniel get involved in the fight, blocking those directly involved from beating each other, even offering alternative solutions to the conflict, like a teacher or monk passing on his life lessons. Nathaniel's tested patience would be unnerving to see

URIEL

If you think Uriel would intervenes by seeing MC beating a demon senseless with the intent of stopping them, then you are very wrong. Uriel sometimes still feels resentment/prejudice towards demons, so she would be proud to see MC in action fighting one with their bare hands, a clear sign of their abilities, however she would not approve of such profanities expressed before the mess, finding them blasphemous, unnecessary and an offense against the doctrine of the Celestial Realm. Uriel would probably justify MC's actions and think about improving their technique or catchphrase. If the situation got out of hand, Uriel would obviously intervene with her sword to defend MC

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

So!

how many more content creators are going to be accused of being called a pedophile with no hard evidence, a police warrant, anything physical and it's by an anonymous tweet from some stranger online who would rather tell social media than I don't know... HAVE THEM GET ARRESTED BY THE POLICE?!

How many more creators, huh?! How many?! How many more YouTubers, twitch streamers, singers, animators, artists?! How many of you are gonna jump on them???? And it's so easy if it's a guy, right? So easy! And no matter how they react, whether it's calm and calculated, shutting down their channel as a whole, or answering immediately yet obviously angry about it- they are always ALWAYS GUILTY. what happened to innocent until proven guilty? And eo is this person? That they are willing to fan the flames and accuse someone of something so terrible online??? Who are u?????

Why do this now? Why do it how at the HEIGHT of Forever's popularity? Why not do it before so he was never on the qsmp or even long before that? Or in the middle at all???? Why now? That is my question? If this is all true, why now? And why use social media? Why not go to the police if he really did a crime? You are accusing someone of a very terrible thing. Why not do it properly instead of searching for Internet clout? What're we supposed to do? The only thing we can, huh? Cancel. Because that's what u want. Is to cancel him. When he was obviously so loved by the masses yesterday. When he had all those cruise pic photos showing how good his life was. Yeah, I don't think u want him arrested or lynched. No, u want to cancel him. Making me wonder if there was ever a real çrime.

Which I wonder quite often with these cases.

And GUYS. HEADS UP! You know whose next? Hm? It'll probably be Wilbur, probably being said that he approached some underage girl on tour or whatever. Or maybe it'll be quackity or hell, even Philza! Oh, Etoiles got cancelled not so long ago, let's cancel him again! Oh what about Bagerha or Cellibit? Let's throw Charlie into the mix. Ironmouse will be hard to cancel cause she's been locked inside of her room all her life and has a very dedicated fanbase, but I'm sure you bastards will find something.

So mhm, everyone is nexted because antis have proven it to be so easy to get rid of someone they don't like. Gone the next day. All of them are suspectable to it. Cause u know why? Cause they are stupid humans who have said stupid shit! And you will just take anything they said and did and run with it!!! Every time! So it's only a matter of time until someone new gets targeted. And depending on how tough skinned they are, they will disappear in a matter of seconds.

Let's just throw all of qsmp away while we're at it! No more eggs, no more community, blah blah blah! Something problematic will happen and you all will jump on it and say 'oh, I never liked them anyway'. Which is such a lie! Such bullshit, u are all bullshitters.

And I know for a fact that y'all aren't saints. We have all said disgusting jokes. Race, lgbt, whatever! We've all done it- don't lie! Here, I'll go first. I joked about a school shooting the other day with my friends. There, cancel me. I gave you the ammunition, now take your fucking shot.

This happens every god damn time someone u enjoy gets popular too fast. They get called a pedo, or a racist, or a transphobe or anything easy to spark the mob. I have seen it time and time again with creators running away because theyve been chased off their respective platforms. I saw an artists make the most beautiful art ever, get accused of being a pedo by one person, everyone joined in for some reason and chased her away. I will never not be bitter about that. I HATE ALL OF YOU WHO DID SUCH A THING AND IF I EVER GOT MY HANDS ON YOU I SWEAR TO GOD. But I am sick of people 'finding' or bringing shit to light or whatever and then just post it online! Like fuck! If he really did a crime! Arrest him! But he didn't, did he? Cause that's the fucking game we are playing rn.

Such hypocrites, it's fascinating. Literally yesterday you were kissing this mans feet and exhaling him, but one anon person saw that and chose violence. And you just.... changed your minds???? Like that? Like a switch of a button? Crazy, actually crazy, and childish.

How come everyone flips and flops so easily on the internet??? How is it so easy for you????? And how can u other supposed fans just accept it so easily??? I will never understand and I will bite and claw at all of you. You all loved him 24 hours ago and now with the bare minimum of evidence you flip? You all would be terrible on jury duty. I hope none of you ever get on jury duty.

Anyway, I'll probably get a ton of backlash from this post and delete it later, waking up in the morning with tons of hate. But I don't care. Prove him guilty. Get the hard evidence that he is a pedo and I will believe it when I see it. Have him be in damn cuffs. Get the mugshot. If that is at all true! But I'm not putting my life and art on pause for conveniently timed discourse.

Maybe I'll delete this post tomorrow. But now I'm fuming at all of you.

And yeah, as for me, I had a shit disgusting last year, qsmp and especially forever was one of the few things that got me out of it and calmed me down. And you guys are going to be talking about how wrong and problematic the things he said that was (what was it?) 8 years ago!!! Then guess what, I love a very problematically spoken parent that would make all of you quake and vomit the moment she opened her mouth. But also, that woman saved me from being homeless. For giving me a place to stay after being DEPORTED. So, if u need a little kindergarten lesson today, internet, is that people will say all sorts of horrible cancelable shit, but it's what they actually do, that really matters.

Goodnight.

[bonefall]

Warrior cats finds new ways to be misogynistic every day, I swear. We can't even get a full on "this relationship was abusive," we get a handwavey "[it was] problematic to say the least." And we only get THAT much in the context of laying the blame on Yellowfang for Ashfur's presence in StarClan. Her "pRoBleMaTic" relationship was only acknowledged because they directly connected it to Ashfur and letting him into StarClan, because poor Yellowfang and her skewed idea of what constitutes health love are to blame for why Ashfur was in the position he was in StarClan... MAYBE??? Because this article WRITTEN BY THE "STORY TEAM" is written like it's by a fan just throwing out theories! Just before the Yellowfang section is a part where they basically blame him being in StarClan on Hollyleaf for killing him! "The manner of his death MAY have been what clinched his place among the stars" and "PERHAPS StarClan took the deceitful circumstances surrounding his death into account and felt he deserved to live on in StarClan, despite his faults."

It really feels like they looked at this question of "how could such a violent, hateful man be let into StarClan where he could then become the main antagonist of a whole other arc later on" and answered it with "lol. Idk. But maybe these two individual women are to blame because they fucked up? StarClan isn't infallible and all, but we're gonna spend a few paragraphs specifically focusing on these two individual women being to blame before we start questioning StarClan's decisions as a whole."

SO TRUE GO OFF

God forbid we ask bigger questions about StarClan being flawed, ZOOM IN on these two women! Maybe it's his ATTEMPTED MURDER VICTIM'S fault he's in heaven because she successfully killed him!

I realized the article was from a few years ago, which feels even worse honestly. How the hell can you write this and then end your stupid arc on a cutesy StarClan oopsie, "Even we make mistakes sometimes 8)" while coming down so hard on Dark Forest redemptions in the same breath? Does SC believe in redemptions like the article says or not?

[bohemian-nights]

Let’s talk about the changed between white book laena to black show laena

Book leana had a pretty awesome life. She married at the age of 22 to a man she loved, traveled the world with him, had 2 babies and they lived happily on driftmark with her family together until she passed away at childbirth despite her loving husband doing everything he can to save her. + her husband remarried 6 months after her death.

Now let’s talk about show leana

She married daemon much younger than book laena, was neglected and unloved by him, was forced to live away from her beloved family and burned herself to death because “feminism” 🤡 only to have her husband sleep with another woman on her fucking funeral. And the showrunners claim they wanted to respect her character?????? Disgusting.

In the book laena is the only wife that daemon seemed to truly love. (Until nettles). He never cheated and they had a happy marriage. But when she’s black suddenly she’s the second choice to the white female lead. What a fucking joke. And then they absolutely spit on her by having her husband sleep with said white female main character on her funeral. This show treats its black characters like shit. I really don’t understand why people aren’t talking about this.

This shows deranged fandom tells you everything you need to know about the problematic way they treat black characters. We haven’t even got nettles’s casting yet. The most important dragon seed. Literally who gives a shit about the others? But I wonder why we have their castings but not the casting of the only canonically black character in the dance???? If nettles is not in season 2 I’m going to drop this show. If they’ll introduce the dragonseeds without nettles they are fucking disgusting.

All of this is why I criticize this shitty show and equally shitty fandom👏🏽

People try to act like you’re the crazy one for noticing how these changes affect the treatment of the characters, but nope fandom racism, more specifically fandom misogynoir, is real and it’s happening with HOTD.

Book!Laena was treated with love and respect, but the moment she became Black-ish she became worthless to both the showrunners and the fandom. All she's good for is to be a prop/placeholder. Hell, when she died people seemed more concerned about Vhagar, a dragon, rather than the woman who lit herself on fucking fire.

They made Laena into a stereotype just to make a crazed white woman’s death look better than it was and this demented ass fandom cheers it on.

Because she’s Black and not a cookie-cutter stereotype in the source material, Nettles' whole existence is a problem to these people and she must be cut, erased, reduced, etc.

They try to say she’s completely irrelevant. That the only reason people like her is because she's Black or out of spite, but I can think of a dozen white characters who don’t even come close to reaching her relevancy to the plot

This is why she’s always included where some characters like Ulf, Hugh, Sara Snow, Alys Rivers, Gwayne Hightower, and Silver Denys are omitted, and 5/6 of those characters are confirmed for s2. And I'm not trying to say none of these characters shouldn't be included(well we could do without 2 of them), but they aren't more important than her.

Nettles literally has all the qualities people usually like in characters(the ordinary girl who despite all odds does the unthinkable, she’s a survivor, she’s a final girl, she has one of if not the most powerful men in the realm willing to die for her, and she becomes a goddess like figure) yet she’s hated for it because she dares to be Black. They won't even try to relate to her or see her importance because she is Black.

They’d rather prop up psychos or mediocre flops just because they are white rather than ever admit that Nettles is an interesting and integral character to the Dance. She’s awesome. The man who created these freaking books that you claim to love and swear his word is law thinks she’s awesome and yet you want to deny that she’s awesome and has no real value because you’re scared shitless she’ll upstage your psycho(book!Missy Anne)/boring(show!Missy Anne) fave.

It’s nuts and like you, I won’t be watching s2 if Netty’s not there. They found time for a maid who shouldn't even be there, propped up Addam to the Gods, and gave Hugh an unnecessary sex scene, all while cutting Nettles out. Nope. I’ll skip straight to s3 cause I’m not dealing with this show's BS and blatant disrespect. It’s unacceptable!

[mad-hatter-memes]

Athena P Quotes

A collection of dialogue prompts from various videos from Youtuber Athena P. Feel free to edit quotes if needed.

TW: Swearing, threats, and suggestive stuff

"First of all, asshole, rhinos are vegetarians!" "[Name], you're on my shitlist, I'll see you in hell!" "You did not cook, you burnt the whole kitchen down." "I am having beef with an alive 80 year old. I don't care, she sucks!" "I might say I'm a "bad bitch". But maybe I'm just a bitch." "What was the point in arousing me before you did that?" "Honest to goodness, I don't understand why they're fucking right now." "That was really heteronormative, [Name]. And on pride month no less." "Why do these things always happen...why are men like this?!" "Most people think you look like a prepubescent, sexless, sack of shit...but not me." "This is a crime scene! Have some respect!" "Hey friend...can you calm the fuck down?" "You're the lesbian-est lesbian I know." "If I were to travel back in time and fuck a caveman, that would be weird right? Asking for a friend..." "Shiver me timbers you look depressed." "Long story short...I'm on the run." "Who told you about my asscrack?!" "Oh boohoo your sister cared for you too much, shut up!" "Your lifespan's gonna be tiny if you keep this up!" "Everyone does have to like me; it's the law!" "[Name], I'm exhausted. Can I have my body back?" "Do I need to kick your boss's ass? Do we need to break up? Both?" "What if one day...I wake up and I'm conjoined to my twin?!" "I don't care how many people will die, we need to show off our power!" "Why is damage attractive to you?!" "Do you swear to not kiss anyone cringey or problematic when you're older?" "I can't fit through an air vent, my ass is too big!" "Let's bend the will of other people to make them fully go fucking out of their mind for us." "Where are the nice people at?!" "Who do I have to befriend around here to get a song?" "Hey, I'm kissing your daughter here! Keep it down!"

[storiesbyrhi]

The slightest break in our usual Eddie Munson programming for me to scream about Teen Wolf: The Movie.

Spoilers below the cut.

I'm an original Sterek shipper from back in the glory days. I watched the new episode each week. I was queerbaited to death. In the year 2023, why must I continue to suffer like this?

You chose the villain most associated with Stiles, but can't convince Dylan - the heart of the show - to come back? The reason Stiles is M.I.A. is that he has his 'own fires to put out' with the F.B.I. Lazy?! Lazy writing! He would have come A.S.A.P., but especially after Sheriff was taken by the Oni!

"Maybe you should call your son." What the fuck?

You give me this shitty Stiles-free movie, and then make Derek's son Eli a) obsessed with Stiles' Jeep and b) have the personality of Stiles? And have Derek and Sheriff Stilinski buddy up? And have Sheriff kind of go all dad on Eli too?

Don't get me started on Derek's death. I'm very pro-major characters dying but Derek has suffered unbelievable cruelty and yet, he triumphs. He builds a real life. Then you kill him. Not just kill him, but send him to, what, hell?

"Derek had complicated feelings about that Jeep." Give me Sterek or leave it alone.

Also, on the subject of Derek as a hero - @thisdiscontentedwinter made a succinct and absolutely correct post about it here.

AND, you chose a villain heavily reliant on Kira, her culture, and her family but won't pay Arden what she's worth? You use Japanese folklore and Japanese-American history (e.g. internment camps in the U.S.) but can't even begin to service the meaning or legacy of that? Kira isn't even mentioned?

You replace Kira with Hikari, a young Japanese-American woman, and a Kitsune. Don't worry - she's also Liam's love interest! That means she's got character! Right?! RIGHT?! She literally is just there to deliver Japanese lore, be another body in the fight, and make foxfire and ramen. "We're here for our pain," she says. Yeah, Hikari, you sure are. (Hikari is played by Amy Lin Workman, who is not Japanese.)

Nostalgia couldn't even save this. When you bring something so problematic into the current year, all it does is draw attention to how fucking problematic it was to begin with. Jeff Davis' ego is far too big for him to admit mistakes and rectify them here.

The only good things were Jackson being so Jackson, the introduction of more gore and swearing into the Teen Wolf universe (sorry but I love a "fuck" where there were previously no fucks allowed), Peter's entrance (he's even campier now), and Lydia and Allison's friendship being important.

There's already a huge catalogue of posts on Tumblr about why the movie was so fucking shit lmao. I'm going to enjoy reading them. And, oh my god, am I going to start reading Sterek fanfic again?!

Also, why is everyone wearing flannel?

I miss Isaac Lahey.

How'd everyone else feel about it? Are we all crying in Beacon Hills?

[cascadiums]

Ooh, come back here and tell me more about Quincey never needing to be woken up (I am 80% sure I am aware of the Thing with Quincey Morris)

(under a cut because I'm talking about the end of the book so first time readers, please skip. also forgive me, I got distracted and ended up on a wider thing of what the hell is up with Quincey in general)

I first encountered the Something Is Wrong With Quincey Morris theories in university. My seminar tutor was convinced that Bram Stoker had been to the US between drafts of Dracula and something happened to make him disillusioned with the politics of the country, and so he edited Quincey Morris to be more ambiguous and less heroic. Before that I hadn't noticed Quincey was sort of weird, but once it got pointed out, I couldn't drop it, and that led me to this:

Simmons, James R. “‘If America Goes on Breeding Men Like That’: ‘Dracula’s’ Quincey Morris Problematized.” Journal of the Fantastic in the Arts, vol. 12, no. 4 (48), 2002, pp. 425–36.

I don't have the pdf but jstor gives you free online access to so many papers per month if anyone wants to read.

It's not the first published text on the topic, but it's the first one I read that argued Quincey is a vampire. It's a very entertaining read, it sets up all the evidence like an Agatha Christie plot and makes Quincey seem really suspicious, for reasons such as:

There is no evidence in the novel that he sleeps because he's always patrolling for bats or happens to have already got up when people go to wake him

His transfusion doesn't help Lucy

It's never explained who drugged the servants in Lucy's house right before he coincidentally appears

He fired a gun into the house, what the hell Quincey

Why the hell is a cowboy here anyway? Seems suspicious, he must be undead

For me it veers between very compelling and verging on silly, but it's definitely fun. It sort of feels like the middle ground between literary analysis and a conspiracy theory. But let's face it, there is definitely something wrong with Quincey.

So many people don't even know he's in Dracula. He barely ever makes it into adaptations despite being the man who kills the Count. Arguably, the Big Hero of Dracula. The first guy to mention vampires in Dracula. He should be iconic. Instead, even a lot of gothic lit textbooks forget he's even there. He just sort of.,, falls out of the narrative. I don't know what it is, but something about the way Quincey is written makes him lose significance. His death scene is actually really fucking interesting too! Ties in with some major symbolic themes, is really sad, and yet doesn't make much impact outside of the text. Something is Weird with him.

Some of the theories I've seen include him being a double agent and he's Dracula's real assistant (I guess Renfield is just the distraction?), he's undead, he's a werewolf (okay, I can't find any evidence of this one now but unless it was a weird dream, I swear I read it somewhere), and that he's the result of a passive aggressive character assassination of the US by Bram Stoker because he fell out of love with the notion of cowboys.

I have to confess, I am obsessed with all these theories. I don't really think most of them work, but I am obsessed with them regardless. Because whatever is going on, Quincey Morris is an Outsider. He's like the Count and Van Helsing but in some ways moreso. They get so much more dialogue than him to give you an idea of their mindset, so however separated from the other characters they are, the reader can access them. But Quincey is laconic. His past is ambiguous, his necessity to the plot is apparently debatable, and his actions are kind of baffling. The story treats him very strangely, and theories like that try to bridge the gap.

I don't know, I guess this is sort of reader-response theory? For me it's less about the content of the theories and more about the existence of the theories. Something Is Wrong With Quincey Morris is evidence of some weird stuff going on in the text with the narrative not knowing how to treat him. The novel simulated a battle between historic Europe and modern Britain, and somehow America won, which nobody realised was an option and so the whole thing folded in on itself and erased the cowboy from our collective consciousness.

[ravennaortiz]

Three Months

Chapter 7 of Countdown

As always this is an 18+ only story. This story is AU based and not your typical Sons of Anarchy story. Some readers may find some plot lines and changes to some characters to be problematic please read at your discretion. This story also time jumps heavily so keep this in mind as you read!

Warnings: General themes of the show such as violence, drugs, swearing etc, minor age gap, minor smut in later chapters.

Tag List @fleureeee

"She seems to be settling in" remarked Alvarez as he sat in Templo with Bishop as they watched the Santo Padre Club through the window. "Yeah. Hasn't contacted anyone back home though. Seems to be ignoring calls and such. Shes taken a liking to Coco surprisingly so I asked him to talk with her today and try to get her to reach out." replied Bishop as Alvarez chuckled.

***

"Rocky have you reached out to your crew yet?" asked Coco as he sat down at the table she was sitting at with Gilly and Angel. "Can you like get off my ass about that? If I want to speak to them I will." replied Rocky sharply not looking up from her drawing. "Oh, so we gonna be like that huh" replied Coco as he snatched the pencil from her. "Seriously? You're such a child" pouted Rocky as she crossed her arms and glared at him making Angel and Gilly laugh. "Says the insolent child" replied Coco with an eye roll as he put the pencil on the table. "Can you even spell that?" replied Rocky with a smirk. Coco sighed and rubbed his face as Gilly and Angel howled with laughter. "You're lucky I like you" replied Coco as he tried not to smile. "I'm so terrified" replied Rocky as she picked the pencil up and went back to her drawing.

"Look, I get it your mad and hurt. You get to be mad and feel hurt for as long as you want." started Coco as he watched her closely, he could see her deflating some. "But, they did what they thought was best with limited time. They just wanted you to be safe" finished Coco hoping this was enough. He had no idea why everyone thought he should be the go to person just because he had a kid. Hell he had fucked up severely with his own kid as it was. The two stared each other down for several minutes before Rocky rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. "Good?" inquired Rocky showing she -had sent a group text saying - Alive. "Thank you. Was that so hard?" asked Coco with a raised brow as he punched her shoulder. "Gilly, Coco hit me" whined Rocky as she rubbed her arm. "Behave Coco" stated Gilly trying to be serious. "Really man?" laughed Coco.

***

The sound of both their phones going off had Juice and Half-Sack dropping the gaming controllers they were using to see what was happening. Neither spoke for a moment. "Well at least she said something" stated Half-Sack as he looked over at Juice. "Suppose so" replied Juice as he sent her a message back - Miss ya. "I'm sure she will come around like Chibs said" offered Half-Sack trying to convince himself as much as Juice. It sucked not having Rocky around and the lack of communication had not helped anyones morale at all.

***

Rocky looked at the message from Juice and felt a sharp pang in her chest. How could two words hurt so much she wondered to herself as she sat her phone back down before excusing herself from the table.

[hippiegoth97]

Diary of a Hawkins Hussy: A Stranger Things x Reader Anthology

Banner by me :)

Master List

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smut, drug references, age gap, groping, fingering, unprotected sex, praise, dom/sub dynamic, use of a shock collar (do not try this at home), use of restraints, edging, orgasm denial, light crying, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, light squirting, problematic characters

Word Count: 12.5k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Diary Entry #1: Martin Brenner

May 28th, 1983

Dear diary,

Today marks the day I officially join the adult world. I just got back from graduation. I'm still dressed in my cap and gown, with my diploma sitting in front of me on the desk. I did it, those four years of hell we all call high school are finally over. I'm free. And now, I can focus my attention on my true ambitions in life. No more Chem flashcards or asshole teachers telling me what to do. No more Mom and Dad policing my every move. Nope. I fully intend on doing the one thing I've been itching for from the moment I saw that 'Help Wanted' sign in the shop window. I'm going to work at Waxed Out Records downtown, as an assistant manager.

Waxed Out is the coolest store Hawkins has to offer, though it doesn't have much by way of competition. I've always loved going there, ever since I was a kid when Mom would bring me along on her trips to pick up the new ABBA or BeeGees. Music is my lifeblood, I can't go a single day without listening to some form of it. I've dedicated almost my entire (though limited) existence to curating my collection of vinyl and cassettes, expanding my tastes as far as the eye can see. I love it all, rock, hip-hop, pop, country, blues, jazz, disco, metal, the list goes on. I'm the perfect candidate to work at Waxed Out. I only hope the lame owner, Mr. Harris, will see that at my interview tomorrow. But until then, it's a relaxing night of Stevie Wonder and weed to calm my nerves. I'll let you know how it goes.

May 29th, 1983

Dear diary,

I got the fucking job! Mr. Harris was totally impressed by my extensive knowledge of all things music! I knew I had this in the bag, but I'm so excited, I could just scream! My hand is absolutely shaking as I write this, you have no idea. I start next week, and my first shift can't come soon enough. I need to get the hell out of this house, and into my own place. It shouldn't take long, I've saved up all of my graduation money in a very special hiding place. Just a couple hundred bucks more, and I'm finally on my own. I won't have to listen to Dad tearing apart the house, searching for things to pawn off to buy more booze. It's a good thing I have multiple self-installed locks on my door, or else my collection would be toast. I also won't have to listen to Mom telling me how much of a drain on her I am, or her lectures about 'ambition' and 'wanting more for myself'.

I like to think I am very ambitious. I got this job all on my own, and I'm saving up my pennies like my life depends on it. I know exactly what I want out of life. Simple pleasures, like music and sex. More on that particular subject, I highly intend to expand my current hook-up pool. High school boys (and girls) were all well and good while I was still under the legal definition of a child. But I'm a woman now, and I have every intention of bagging any man or woman that catches my eye. From freshly graduated young women, to strong men in their fifties, and everything in between. As long as they're hot, nothing else really matters. And in that department, Hawkins sure knows how to deliver. Chief Hopper, Mayor Kline, Joyce Byers, this one white-haired guy in neatly pressed suits that comes to town every so often...I'm getting a little turned on just thinking about it. More to come later, probably about my first day of work.

June 1st, 1983

Dear diary,

You'll never guess who came into the shop on my first day of work today! It was none other than that guy with the white hair I mentioned before. I didn't learn much about him, except that he really likes classical music. He picked out some Bach and Mozart, which isn't usually my strong suit. It sounds pretty and all, but it comes off a little hoity-toity, if you know what I mean. But it makes sense for a guy like him, he seems very intellectual. Oh, you should've seen him. It took everything in me not to stare as he browsed the classical section. But his hair was styled neatly as it always is, though a little longer than what's typical for a man his age. And he had on this grey suit that fit him extremely well...I managed to get a couple good glances at his ass. And shit, he must have a Soloflex at home, or something because...it was as tight as a twenty-year-old's, I swear.

He didn't say much. He smiled at me when he came up to the register, and I could totally feel my cheeks burning bright red. It was embarrassing, at first. But if my mind wasn't tricking me, his smile got wider at my reaction. I didn't bother to say much to him, I know I would've made a complete and utter ass out of myself if I tried. But I managed to get out a 'thank you' once I'd rung him up and he paid. He said he'd be back in a couple weeks, almost like it's a routine for him. I'm not sure why, there's only so much Beethoven and Chopin in the world, ya know? But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't counting down the days until that gorgeous, yet mysterious, man with blinding white hair comes walking through the shop door again. Safe to say I won't be able to get that smile of his out of my mind either...fuck me.

June 15th, 1983

Dear diary,

It happened. He finally came back, and this time, we actually had a bit of a real conversation! I (mostly) managed to keep myself together this time, and I'm beginning to think that he likes me. At least, I hope he does...

You hear the little bell hanging above the front door to the shop tinkle, signaling for you to repeat the phrase Mr. Harris has trained into you. "Welcome to Waxed Out. Let me know if I can help you find anything." You say flatly, not looking up from the romance novel you picked up from Melvald's earlier this afternoon. You hear purposeful steps clicking on the linoleum, taps and drags of men's dress shoes on a path to you.

"Yes, miss..." A voice you recognize speaks just across the counter from you. You look up from your book, realizing it's the exact man you've been hoping would return. He's wearing a charcoal suit this time, but that seems to be the only thing that's changed about him. He smiles at you, eyes flicking to your chest to read your name tag. "...Y/N. I was wondering if you could help me find something in particular." He speaks in a calmly commanding, slightly gravelly voice. You hadn't heard much of it upon your first meeting, but it certainly sounds very pleasant to your ears. He carries an odd air of authority, which just as bizarrely makes you want to follow any orders he might give you.

"Sure thing, sir. What did you have in mind?" You reply kindly, coming out from behind the register in preparation to locate whatever it is he's looking for.

His eyes follow your form as you come over to him, and you realize just how tall he is in comparison to you. He's well over six feet, which only adds to his intimidating nature. He seems a bit distracted by you, though, as it takes him a moment to answer you. "Oh, yes. Well, I was hoping to find something for my...daughter." He says with a strange pause put before that final word. Your heart sinks at this revelation, and you suppose he's probably married, too.

"Oh, I see." You reply, and you're sure he can see your face falling slightly at this bit of information. You force yourself to perk up, to make the sale, even if your hopes to potentially sleep with this man have been dashed. "How old is she?" You ask, clasping your hands behind your back.

"She's about to turn twelve, so this would be a birthday gift." He replies, still smiling at you. You take a peek down at his hands, looking for a ring. But they're nestled in his pockets at the moment, leaving you without that small piece of evidence to confirm your suspicions.

"Oh, that's nice." You say awkwardly. "Do you know what she likes? Or did your wife give you a list?" You ask, trying to crack a small joke. But his face hardens, which makes you immediately regret asking.

"No wife, I'm afraid. She died when Ele— Jane was very young." He says, bringing the smile back slightly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—" You try to apologize, but he puts a hand up to stop you.

"That's quite alright, you couldn't have known. But I raise Jane all by myself, and it's hard to know what girls her age like. So, I was hoping your female perspective could help me with that." He gestures at you, his smile widening again.

"Yeah, sure. Um, let me see what we have here..." You trail off, going around to the other side of the store towards the soundtrack section. Musicals are usually a pretty safe bet. Wholesome enough for parents to approve of, while also entertaining enough for kids of all ages to get something out of it. You flip through the records, digging out Grease, The Wizard of Oz, and The Music Man. "I think these are pretty good options. What do you think?" You're about to turn around to bring the albums over to the man, but you find that he's been standing right behind you this whole time. You bump into him in the process, and his close proximity startles you. "Jesus!" You gasp when your record-full hands meet his chest.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that." He says with a laugh, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you. "Are you alright?" He asks, gazing down at you with concern.

You try to speak, but all words have escaped you in this moment. You're too busy getting lost in his eyes and taking in how strong and firm his hands feel as he touches you. You find yourself wondering how they'd feel while touching you in other places, which you realize is wildly inappropriate. A harsh blush creeps up your cheeks, and you force a thick swallow down your throat before answering him. "Yeah, I'm good. But, uh...here." You hold the records out for him to look at. He takes them from your hands, and you're finally able to breathe easy again. "Do any of these look alright? If not, I can keep looking." You add, wanting him to leave as a satisfied customer. If you do well here, maybe he'll come back again...and again...and maybe for more than just music.

"These look great, Y/N. She's going to love them. You mind ringing me up?" He says, drawing your eyes to his again.

"Oh, you're going to buy them all?" You ask curiously. Parents are usually pretty stingy when it comes to getting albums for their kids. Perhaps it's a fear of the discs getting scratched or broken.

"Why, yes. Should I not?" He questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

"No, no. I just meant...I wasn't sure you'd do that, I guess." You fumble over your words, walking the both of you over to the register now. Perhaps some distance from him will help you calm the fuck down. If you come off too doe-eyed and naïve, he may not have much interest in you.

"Well, let's just say you're a very good saleswoman." He chuckles, the sound of which stirs something inside you. You punch in the prices on the stickers Mr. Harris put on said albums, which comes to a total of sixteen dollars.

"Thanks, I appreciate that." You giggle, biting your lip slightly before taking his payment. He pays with a credit card, from which you nosily read the name of its owner. Martin Brenner. He doesn't look like a Martin. Although, you suppose you don't know what he does look like, either. You bag up the records for him, handing them and his card back to him, as well as a receipt. "Here you go, sir. I hope Jane enjoys the albums." You say sweetly.

"I'm sure she will, thanks again for the help. And please, call me Martin. I'm sure I'll be back here again soon. You've got good taste, Y/N." Martin winks at you, before heading towards the door to leave.

"See you 'round, Martin." You say cutely as he leaves, earning another pleased glance in your direction. Once he's walking down the street and towards his car, you double over onto the counter to take some deep breaths. "God, that man is sexy as hell." You say aloud to yourself, overwhelmed with the entire interaction that's just transpired. You know he's a bit advanced in age, but Martin sure knows how to flirt. You're a little weary of the fact that he has a kid and everything, but it's not like you're looking for anything long-term. You just know you want to fuck him, even if it's only once. You can tell there's something secretive about that man, and you're dying to have a peek behind that proverbial curtain to see exactly what it is.

June 26th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin hasn't come back the the shop in a while. It seemed like things went pretty well the last time he came in, but who knows. Maybe he was just being polite. I haven't even seen him very much around town like I used to. I suppose he could be busy with his kid, or something. Being a single father can't be easy. But I can't help it, I think about him all the time. He's so handsome, and the way his hands felt when they touched my shoulders... They were so warm, and felt firm and strong. I replay that moment over and over in my mind. I even dream about him now, about everything I think he might want to do to me.

The dream is almost always the same. I'm at the shop, and Martin comes in. There's no one else around, and he's not there for records this time. He's there for me. He comes right up to the counter with purpose, beckoning me out from behind it to put myself in front of him. He caresses my cheek, before leaning down to kiss me. He's gentle and tender, and his hands lift me up to sit on the edge of the counter. We kiss for a while, enjoying the moment. 

Now, this is where things really heat up...he undoes my jeans, pulling them and my panties down to my ankles. He reaches between my legs, and he puts his fingers inside me. They're thick and long, and they feel so damn good. While he does that, I unbuckle his belt, and open up his slacks to pull out his dick. He's fucking huge, at least, he is in the dream. I pump him in my hand a few times, and he lets out a quiet groan while staring down at me. He's so damn hot, I can barely stand it. He pulls his fingers away, and takes hold of his cock himself. He gets closer, and shoves himself into me. Once he starts, he doesn't slow down. He fucks me fast and hard, and I like it. He holds me down while I squeal and squirm for him. He grunts and growls with every thrust, railing me against the counter until I'm screaming his name.

I always wake up right after I cum, having to change my panties because I've soaked through them from my orgasm. It's clear that I want Martin to an embarrassing degree, I only hope he will want me just as much. Time will tell, diary. Time will tell.

June 30th, 1983

Dear diary,

Martin came in again today. He seemed...off. He still talked to me, nice as ever. But it was like he was stressed out about something. Our transaction was very short this time around. Every passing second where he didn't look at me, or touch me, or talk to me felt excruciating. All I could think of was the insane desire I felt to just go up to him and make my intentions perfectly clear. I was shocked to find I hadn't actually done it, the fantasy became extremely vivid. But when Martin came up to register with a couple new picks, and his cock still in his pants, the daydream quickly dissolved into shame.

I realized that I probably shouldn't think and feel so strongly about a perfect stranger like this. All it does as make me feel like a silly child, not to mention I basically gave myself away by blushing so damn much. I mean, I'm only eighteen years old. What could an experienced, well-established man like him possibly find desirable in me? Who knows, maybe I'll hold out hope a little longer. Maybe if I wait for him to make a move, this might work out. Ugh, I need some weed to think this over.

July 8th, 1983

Dear diary,

You're never going to believe this, I can hardly believe it. Martin came in today, for much longer than all the other times. He really chatted me up, and I was happy to talk to him for as long as I could. It felt like he was waiting to ask me something, but he couldn't quite find the words, or courage. To think, he was the one who was nervous. But once I got the ball rolling on a much-anticipated conversation, it became very clear as to why...

"Oh, hey, Martin. What would you like today?" You chirp as the man walks into the shop. You perked up immediately once you saw him crossing the street, waiting for him to come inside and give you the time of day.

"Afternoon, Y/N. I'm not too sure what I want, honestly." He says oddly, not quite looking your way. He seems anxious, or nervous. Could it be because of you? "But I know I can always trust your recommendations." He turns his head to meet you with a smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he comes toward the counter.

"You got it. You lookin' for more classical? Or, perhaps you'd like to branch out into something...younger?" You hint, standing before him in a meek pose. You clasp your hands behind your back, and look up at him from under your eyelashes.

"I-I suppose I could try something new." He stutters slightly, looking you up and down. Shit, maybe it's working.

"Sure thing! Follow me." You spin around, your short skirt flouncing upwards at the motion. You lead Martin towards the Lionel Richie and Phil Collins. You figure he doesn't want to waste time on teeny-boppers. He clears his throat before following you, and you smirk to yourself at him losing his cool. You pull out the albums you have in mind, and fully expect him to be standing right behind you again. You guess correctly, but this time, you purposefully put your hands on him when you turn back around. "Oh, didn't see you there. Not a lot of space in these aisles." You speak somewhat suggestively, running the back of your hand along the lapel of his navy blue suit jacket.

"Quite right. What do you have for me?" His eyes flick down to where you're touching him, then to the sultry smile on your face. You give him the albums, and he chuckles while looking them over. "I don't know, Y/N...these might be a little too hip for me."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Martin. You seem pretty 'with it' to me. Besides, Lionel and Phil are perfect for when you bring a woman home. If that's your thing, anyway." You continue to run your hand along his jacket, gauging his response to it. He hasn't told you to stop yet. If anything, he seems to enjoy it.

"It's been a while since I've done that, actually. Much longer than I'd like to admit." He says, somewhat embarrassed.

"I don't believe that for a second, you're way too handsome." You compliment him, still testing the waters.

"Oh, you don't mean that. A young lady like yourself surely has no interest in someone like me." He shakes his head, laughing at your suggestion. He probably thinks you're really trying to sell him on the vinyl, but you honestly don't give a shit about that.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Martin. I personally find you...very attractive." You speak lowly, turning your hand over to actually touch his chest now. Your palms creep up along his clean white shirt, and you gently take hold of his necktie. "And I'm not just saying that to sell you more records." You give him as sincere a look of desire as you possibly can, batting your lashes to make it clear to him what you're looking for.

Martin thinks it over for a moment, contemplating that you could potentially be a really good time. But he shakes his head, sighing deeply. He can't possibly take such a young woman home. It wouldn't be right...would it? "I-I'm flattered, Y/N, really." He sets the records down, taking hold of your hands. "But I don't think I could give you what you're after." He says sadly, already kicking himself for denying his desire to have you. He's been thinking about it for weeks, but he's sure you couldn't handle what he truly has in mind.

"Why do you say that?" Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. You were sure this would work. Doesn't he like you? Doesn't he think you're pretty?

"Forgive me for coming off a bit crude, here. But I'm just not sure that you're mature enough to handle the kinds of things I'm into, intimately speaking." You're confused by his words, you don't understand what he means by that.

"And how would you know?" You ask, becoming irritated with him for thinking you're some immature girl. He scoffs, surprised by you.

"I guess I don't, Y/N. But I wouldn't want to hurt you. I really like you. I think you're very pretty, and sweet. I'm just not sure it's a good idea." He shakes his head again, putting your hands down before pulling his own away.

"Well...maybe I'm not afraid to get hurt, Martin." You smile again, his attempts to deter your interest have only piqued it further. "It's very simple, really. I want to sleep with you. I don't care what you're into, I got up to some pretty crazy shit in high school. But if you really don't want me, that's fine. I can find someone else if I really want to." You figure there's no use for formalities at this point, so you lay it all out for him. The ball is in his court now, it's only a matter of if he wants to play.

He sighs again, still unsure of what to do here. "You make it very difficult to say no to you..." He says, pausing as he reads your expression. He supposes it can't be all bad, you're the one coming on to him. If you really want this, then who is he to deny you? "Are you absolutely sure this is what you want, Y/N?" He asks, cupping your cheek like he does in your dreams.

"Yes, I want this more than anything." You reply breathlessly, unable to believe this may actually happen. There's a tense moment of silence between you, and he finally nods in agreement.

"Alright. What time are you finished here?" Martin asks.

"Nine o'clock." You answer, biting your lip in excitement.

"Perfect, I'll pick you up. In the meantime, would you mind ringing me up for these?" He smiles, picking up the records you've chosen for him.

"Okay." You practically skip over to the register, though you don't really want him to leave. You bag up his purchase, and he makes his way out onto the street. You'd been hoping for a goodbye kiss, though perhaps that would've been too weird. You glance over at the clock, finding that you have two whole hours left before closing time. You pick up your novel, but you find it hard to focus on the words. All you can think about is what Martin could possibly like in bed that he thinks would be 'too much' for you. Handcuffs? Been there. Whips? Done that. Spanking? Roleplay? Anal? Check, check, and check. High schoolers are way kinkier than anyone gives them credit for. You can't come up with anything else, so if anything, you'll show Martin just how well you can keep up. You hope that'll impress him, for some reason.

The time passes excruciatingly slow, but thankfully a few more customers come along to distract you for a while. You make four more sales before the shift is over, not too bad for a record store in a less-than-booming small-town downtown area. You gather your things at 9pm on the dot, and head for the door with keys in hand. You step out into the muggy night air, turning your back to the street while you lock the door to the shop. You suddenly feel a figure behind you, who extends a hand to grab hold of your waist. You jump and let out a small scream, whipping around to see who it is.

"Shit, Martin! You scared me!" You say once you see that it's just your new conquest who's been waiting for you.

"I'm sorry. Are you ready to go?" Martin asks, slowly pulling you into him by the hip. He takes a second to get a good look at you, as if he hadn't already done so while you were helping him in the shop. He finds you to be very alluring, in your Cyndi Lauper t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder, and the short skirt that barely covers your behind. Not to mention your beautiful face, without a single blemish or sign of age to be found.

"Ready when you are, Martin." You reply suggestively, running your hands up and down along his shirt again. Your touch seems to break him out of his trance, and he turns the two of you to head towards his car. It's slick, and black, with a driver and everything. "Nice wheels." You comment, sliding into the seat while the driver holds the door open for you.

"Thank you." Martin replies smoothly, getting in after you. He sits very close to you, and the driver closes the door behind him.

"So, where does a man like you live around here, hm?" You ask coyly, putting your hand on his thigh. He peers down at you, watching your every move. You've noticed he's pretty restrained overall, very methodical with his movements and reactions.

"Oh, it's a humble house, really. Not far from here." Martin replies, and you nod.

"'Humble', huh? Does your job not pay you enough to have a large house and a driver?" You giggle, bringing your hand a little further up his leg. "I guess I never asked, what do you do for work, exactly?" You question curiously.

"I work in government, at the Lab." He replies shortly, too focused on your hand growing closer to his crotch. You're so forward with him, it's kind of throwing him off.

"Oh, I see. I bet that's pretty interesting." You continue on your teasing journey towards his cock. You want to feel him, and play around a bit before you reach his home. You've always had a problem with patience.

"You could say that." He says, just as your fingertips brush against his length. You smirk in satisfaction at finding it, and boldly take hold of it. His throat catches at you groping him, and you find his eyes to see how he's doing. His mouth sits slightly agape, but he doesn't say or do much else. You think he's enjoying this, since he's growing in your hand. But you'd be hard pressed to know for sure.

"Does this feel good, Martin?" You ask quietly, not wanting the driver to hear.

"Y-Yes." He stutters. You continue to touch him over his clothes, becoming very wet yourself as you watch him hold back his noises. He lets out muted sighs as opposed to moans and grunts, but the sound is still more than enough to turn you on further. "We should be there soon, Y/N." He says, taking your hand away from his cock, holding it in his instead.

"Sorry." You apologize, realizing that you've possibly made him uncomfortable.

"Don't be. It's alright. Just be patient for me. Can you do that, Y/N?" He says lowly in your ear, sending a chill up your spine. You nod silently, but he needs to hear you answer. "Use your words." He commands in a husky tone, sending a flare of pleasure between your legs. Now I see what he was talking about. Lucky for him, I've played this game many times before.

"Yes, I'll be patient." You answer breathlessly.

"Good girl." He answers simply, smirking at your quick obedience. Maybe you can handle him after all.

...and there we were, off to his house to have sex. I swear, I kept having to pinch myself to make sure it was actually happening, and not some extremely elaborate dream. But every time I felt that little sting of my nails digging into my flesh, all I was doing was driving myself even more crazy. That little confirmation of reality repeated again and again, made me feel all tingly inside. We couldn't get to his home soon enough, I wanted to touch every inch of his body in the back of that car. But I had to be patient, because that's what he told me to do. I could feel it in my soul that disobeying him would have been a very unwise decision...

"Here we are. Home sweet home." Martin says as the car pulls up to a house on the end of a dimly lit street. It's unassuming, the basic 'white-picket-fence' home of the typical middle class worker. It's not unlike your own house, perhaps slightly smaller. But you suppose a single man with a young kid doesn't need very much space. Your mind turns to his daughter, Jane. You wonder if she's home, and if she'll be upset that daddy brought home some random girl.

"Is your daughter home?" You ask nervously.

"No, no. She's at a friend's house tonight. Don't worry, we'll be all alone." He chuckles at your concern, he finds it very sweet.

"Oh, okay. Good, I'd hate to have upset her." You reply, waiting for the driver to open the door to let you both out.

"I appreciate that, Y/N. But please, I'd hate for the evening to focus on Jane. Especially when I've brought such a beautiful young woman home with me." He says warmly, gently pulling you along as he steps out of the vehicle. He leads you to stand upright, and you both walk to the front door. He unlocks it, letting you inside. The interior is exactly as you expect, a warm little house for two little people. Children's drawings on the refrigerator, kitschy trinkets on shelves and cabinets, probably left over from his deceased wife. That thought makes you a little sad, though it quickly disappears when Martin wraps his arms around you from behind once he's closed the door.

"Hey there, handsome." You giggle, leaning back into him for a moment. "I love your home, it's very cozy."

"I'm glad you think so, Y/N. It does get a little lonely sometimes." He speaks softly, lowering his head to press a kiss to your neck. You sigh blissfully at finally having his lips on you, they're very warm and soft.

"Well, hopefully I can help with that. At least for tonight." You reply, tilting your head to the side to give him better access. He responds well to this offer, planting more blazing kisses to your throat. He doesn't nip or suck your flesh, which would usually disappoint you. But the way he's holding you close like this makes it feel just as passionate. His hands wander up your body, palms brushing over your shirt. He stops just below your breasts, apprehensive to venture further. "Go ahead, Martin. I want this." You murmur, turning your head to look back at him. He seems different now, the air between you has changed. The atmosphere has become charged with expectation and anxiousness, and you can feel his erection prodding against your ass. He resumes his journey upwards, carefully cupping your tits over your shirt. You let out a quiet moan, gazing at him as you do so. He smiles at the sound, pressing a little harder with his hands to earn another one.

"Shall we take this upstairs?" He asks lowly, and you nod. He lets you out of his grip, stepping ahead of you. He takes your hand, leading you up the steps to his bedroom. You pass a quaint bathroom, and what looks like a kid's room along the way. You don't bother to take more than a small peek inside, you'd hate to come off nosey. Martin takes you to a room at the end of the hallway, pushing the door open to reveal the master bedroom. It's still as warm and cozy as the rest of the house, dressed in those signature hues of yellow, orange, and brown left over from the 1970s. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you take a seat on the edge of it. You take your shoes off, and he removes his suit jacket.

"So, what's this strange 'thing' you're into, Martin?" You ask curiously, setting your bag down on the night table beside you.

"You'll see soon enough. But I'd like to...get to know you a little bit first." Martin answers, giving you a look while undoing his tie. He loosens the knot around his collar, before slipping the loop over his head and untying it entirely. "Have you ever been tied up before?" He asks, holding the ends of the tie in his hands with purpose.

"Yes." You reply simply. He nods, bringing the tie over to the bed. He lays it out neatly beside you, presumably to be used later. "Should I...take my clothes off?" You ask, becoming a little unsure of yourself.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when and how to do everything. Is that alright?" He speaks firmly, expecting you to agree.

"Yeah, that's fine." You say casually. You watch as he hangs up his jacket, and methodically takes off his shoes before placing them neatly in his closet. He comes over to you, sitting beside you on the bed now.

"You're very beautiful, Y/N." Martin says, brushing a loose hair behind your ear.

"Thanks." You blush, looking down at your feet. He puts a finger under your chin, bringing your head up to face him again.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes. Please." You reply, you've been waiting for him to do this for a very long time. He brings his face closer to yours, and your eyes flutter closed in preparation. His lips meet yours, and you immediately melt against him. "Mmm." You hum into the kiss, following his small movements. He doesn't use tongue, you suppose he's a bit old-fashioned that way. But you don't mind, he's still a very good kisser. He pulls away, taking your breath with him.

"Take off your shirt, please." He orders politely, clearing his throat. You do as he asks, pulling the garment over your head and tossing it to the floor. You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to make his next move. "Pick it up and fold it." He says, a serious look on his face.

"Oh. Sorry." You laugh nervously, bending down to pick up the shirt. You follow his instructions, holding in neatly in your lap now.

"Now, put it on the table." He says. You do, and he smiles again. "Good girl." You face him again, wondering what he's going to ask you to do now. He doesn't say anything else, but he reaches his hands forward toward your chest. His eyes flick to yours, asking for permission. You nod, and he grabs hold of your breasts through your bra. You moan at his touch, quickly becoming hungry for so much more. He massages your tits, almost as if he's inspecting them. You oddly feel a bit like an expirement, and he's taking mental notes of your behaviors and reactions. "Does this feel good, Y/N?" He asks in a neutral tone.

"Yes." You breathe. You decide to try and strip him down a little bit too, reaching over for the buttons on his shirt. His eyes follow you, almost waiting for you to break an unspoken rule. You stop in your tracks. "Can I?" You ask, biting your lip anxiously. You want to see him, but you don't want to make him angry.

"Can you what?" Martin smirks, and you see now that you need to use your words again.

"Can I unbutton your shirt, Martin?" You ask, clearer this time.

"Yes, you may. But from now on, call me 'sir'. Okay?" He says.

"Yes, sir." You giggle at how it sounds at first, but if he likes it, then so do you. You resume your desired task, starting with the button at his collar. You push it through the stitched hole, exposing the rest of his neck. You notice Martin's grip tightening a little, which makes you moan again. You wonder if he'll do it every time you undo another button, testing the theory. You open the next one down, and he does the same thing, squeezing harder for a moment, before resuming his gentle massage. You undo the next button, and the next, moaning louder with every squeeze he gives you.

"You make very nice noises, Y/N. Are you enjoying yourself?" He questions, still coming off painfully formal. If it were anyone else, you'd probably be put off by it. But his overall sense of confidence whenever he speaks makes everything he says sound attractive to you.

"Yes. It feels really good." You answer, still opening up his shirt. There's just three more buttons left, and what you've revealed so far is exactly what you were hoping for. This man clearly works out, he's very fit. His muscles aren't anything crazy, but he has not let turning gray slow him down one bit. His chest and stomach are toned, with a small amount of salt and pepper hair in all the right places. You tug the tails of his shirt out of his slacks, undoing the final button. "Your body is amazing, sir." You say breathlessly, meeting his gaze again.

"Thanks. I try my best to stay in shape." He smirks at you finding him so attractive. He massages your chest more roughly now, drawing more noises from you. He leads you to lie down, with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to yours again, one hand leaving your breast to slip under your back. He unclasps your bra, and slides the straps down your shoulders. He folds it up nicely while still kissing you, setting it off to the side for a moment. Martin grabs hold of your bare breasts now, rolling the nipples between his thumbs and fingers.

"Mmm." You moan against him, enjoying every second of this. You feel up his own chest, marveling at his firm muscles. After a little while, you want to feel more. You lower a hand down his stomach, over his belt until you reach his erection again. You ghost over it, earning a low groan from Martin's lungs. It's the first one you've heard from him, and it's sexy as hell. You start groping him again, your heart pounding in your chest as you expect him to stop all this and punish you. But he doesn't, he lets you continue to touch him, still letting out those same breathy groans. "Please, sir. I want you so bad." You whimper when his lips leave yours to go to your neck again. You squeeze him a little harder in your hand, wanting him to move things along.

"Patience, Y/N. Be a good girl for me." He pants between kisses on your throat. He loves how needy you are, how badly you want him to touch you and be inside of you. He's never seen a girl so desperate, but he's only getting started. A few minutes later, Martin pulls away. He sits up, taking off his shirt entirely. He stands to go hang it up, and then turns to look at you again. "Take off your skirt." He orders.

"Yes, sir." You answer, standing off the bed to remove it. You fold it nicely, putting it and your bra on top of your shirt on the table. You sit back down, and he smiles at the sight of your pink lace underwear. "What should I do now?" You ask, feeling oddly self-conscious while sitting in nothing but your panties and socks.

"Lie down, Y/N." He says, before digging deeper into the closet for something. You do as he says, putting your head on the pillows. You try to position yourself casually, posing your arms and legs in various ways. But nothing feels right. You decide to stop trying so hard and just lie still, though you're curious as to what he's looking for. He comes back over to you, holding a silver metal box. He puts it on the bed, and silently opens the clasps. He pulls the top open, revealing what looks like a collar. It's a large, tan ring with white, squared nodules around the inner circumference. There's an electronic lock on the side, and a small remote next to it. It appears to be a shock collar, which makes you swallow hard.

"What's that?" You ask, though you feel a bit stupid asking. What else could it possibly be?

"Oh, just something to ensure that you'll follow my every order." Martin answers simply, looking at you with an odd smile. He raises a brow at your widened eyes, closing the lid of the case for a moment. "Do you still want to do this, Y/N? I completely understand if you don't." He offers you one final way out. But you want this, a little shock can't be that bad. It could be a lot of fun...right?

"I want this, sir. I'll do anything you ask." You reply, and he nods. He opens the box again, and takes the collar out of the foam lining inside. He clicks a button on the remote to open the ring, and comes over to you to put it on.

"Sit up for a second." He says, and you do. He puts the collar around your neck, the nodules digging into your throat with light pressure once he clicks it in place. You lay back down once he's finished, and he presses another button to power it on. A low buzz kicks on around your neck, the sound startling you. You gasp slightly, drawing his eyes to you again. "Is everything alright?" He asks, checking in on you.

"Yes, sir." You nod, breathing heavily. He puts the remote down on the table for a moment, and picks up his necktie.

"Put your hands above you head." He commands. He ties your hands together at the wrists with the silk fabric, leaving a small amount of slack so you don't lose circulation. "Good girl." He praises, taking in the image of you in your newly bound state. Your eyes have blown wide with desire as well as fear, your chest rises and falls with heavy, rapid breaths, and the cherry on top is the small wet spot of arousal on your panties. "Are you ready to play, Y/N?" He asks with a grin, very eager to set things into motion.

"Yes." You reply, hoping he'll touch you soon. He's been quite stingy with his touches thus far, drawing everything out for the sake of driving you crazy.

"Good. I only have one rule. If you misbehave, you get a shock. But I'm sure a smart girl like you has already figured that out." He chuckles darkly, almost looming over you from the side of the bed. You nod in understanding. "Perfect." He brings a hand to your chest, carefully caressing the side of your breast. You gasp at his touch, the softness of it sending tingles along your spine. He travels downwards very slowly, going down to your stomach and waist. He meets the hem of your panties, looping a finger around the fabric. He reaches over to do the same on the other side, and gingerly pulls your underwear down your thighs, knees, and ankles. He doesn't fold them up this time, nor does he put them with the rest of your clothes. Instead, he puts them in his pocket to keep as a souvenir of your night together. You don't mind, many guys have done that before. You take it as a compliment, if anything.

You instinctively spread your legs apart a little, expecting him to start touching your pussy soon. But it appears you've guessed wrong, because Martin quickly picks up the remote and presses it. You feel a strong, paralyzing current running through you, making you cry out as your body convulses outside your control. "Fuck!" You huff when he finally stops, your muscles relaxing against the bed.

"I didn't say to move, did I?" He asks angrily, and you shake your head. "Use your words!" He almost shouts at you, holding up the remote as a threat to shock you again if you don't speak up.

"No, sir! You didn't! I'm sorry!" You apologize frantically, fumbling over your syllables. That shock scared you, there's no doubt about it. But you're surprised to find that it also felt...kinda good.

"That's right. Now, have you learned your lesson?" He asks, eyes burning into you as he waits for your answer.

"Yes." You nod. He doesn't say anything else. Instead, he drags his hand lazily along your ankle, creeping up toward your knee and thigh. He draws closer to your cunt, watching your breath hitch and heart skip a beat while you wait patiently for him to touch you. You observe silently as he continues to torture you with waiting so long. You need to feel his fingers on your clit, or sinking deep inside your pussy. You feel compelled to cry and scream for him to give you what you want at this point. But you hold it all back, you have to obey him if you're going to get what you so deeply desire.

Martin's hand reaches your inner thigh, and he presses on further to touch the very outside of your silk. You moan at the sensation, as unsatisfying as it is. "Hmm, so soft." He observes aloud, wondering how often you shave or wax your most intimate areas. He travels deeper, finally making contact with your clit with the very tips of his middle and ring fingers.

"Fuck." You whine, using every ounce of willpower to keep your hips from bucking off the bed. You don't imagine he'd take very kindly to such lack of self-control.

"More?" He questions.

"Yes, sir. Please, touch me." You whimper, begging him with your eyes. He does as you ask, dragging his fingertips along your slick folds. You're quickly heating up as he continues to stroke you, sweat forming inside your pores. He's still very slow and methodical, noting your every sound and expression like before. "More, please." You beg, still resisting the urge to buck and thrash around on the bed. You'd love nothing more than to grind your hips to get yourself off against his fingers.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." He smirks, moving further down to press a finger inside your soaked hole.

"Oh, god." You gasp. He pumps the digit in and out of your pussy, brushing against your g spot ever so slightly. Without you needing to ask, he adds another. "Fuck...yes..." You moan breathlessly, your eyes rolling back into your skull. His fingers are the perfect size, as long and thick as you dreamt they would be. He keeps his snail's pace, but you don't even care. He's inside you, and it feels so damn good.

"That's a good girl...do you like having my fingers inside you?" He asks curiously, though the answer reads plainly on your face.

"Yes, sir. You feel so good, I'm so wet for you." You shake your head in the affirmative as you speak, letting him know how amazing he's making you feel. Normally, Martin would have a mind to shock you again for responding in such a vulgar way. But he likes hearing these dirty words falling from your lips. You're different than the others, you're special. You make every single salacious statement sound like lines of poetry to him. This may only ever be a one-time thing, but you'll certainly be one that he'll never forget.

"I'm glad to hear it, Y/N." He says softly, continuing to work you over like it's his day job. He continues to go slow, but your insides are boiling all the same. You can sense your release nearing, and you're sure Martin can as well. "Are you getting close?" He asks, noticing your walls have started to flutter around his fingers. He'd love to see how beautiful you look when you climax.

"Yes, sir. Please, don't stop." You plead as the waves of your oncoming orgasm begin to roll over you.

"I won't, Y/N." He says softly, almost like a promise. It's uncharacteristically sweet, considering he's got your hands tied up while a shock collar sits tightly around your neck. Just a little longer, and you'll be calling out his name. He hopes so, anyway. He certainly likes how it sounds coming from you.

"I'm almost there...can I cum, sir?" You ask, meeting his eyes.

"Not yet, Y/N. Hold it for me, just a bit longer." Martin replies firmly.

"O-okay..." You stutter, gasping slightly when you feel your orgasm about to sneak up on you. You try your best to hold it back, to obey Martin's orders. It's becoming increasingly difficult, however. Your thighs keep twitching, and a constant whine floods from your lips from keeping it all inside.

"Just a little more, I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me." He insists, increasing his pace ever so slightly to up the stakes.

"Fuck...sir, please...I want to be good for you. But I nee—" You beg, which is quickly interrupted by another intense shock. His fingers left you at the last second before he flicked the switch, but the painful waves seem to only extend your pleasure. You continue to moan until he presses the button to stop the electric current.

"I told you to wait, Y/N. Don't make excuses, and don't disobey me." He shoves his fingers back into you, and rapidly curls and thrusts them this time.

"Oh, fuck!" You cry out, tears pricking your eyes now. He's purposefully trying to make you break the rules, but you refuse to earn another shock anytime soon. You keep your orgasm tangled up in a quickly dissolving chain, waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

"Do you want to release, Y/N?" He asks flatly, peering down at you. He marvels at your resolve to follow his orders, he knows it's taking everything in you to hold on for him. What a strong little thing she is... he muses to himself.

"Yes! Please, sir! I want to cum so bad..." You exclaim, your bound hands helplessly clawing at the pillow beneath your head.

"Go ahead." He nods, giving you a small smile again.

"Fuck...Martin!" You moan loudly as your release takes over. Your thighs quake, and your insides clamp around Martin's fingers. The pleasure is so intense, like nothing you've ever experienced before. Holding off for so long has made your orgasm ridiculously powerful. You're blinded by bright white light that consumes your entire being, and you can't stop trembling and moaning for a good fifteen seconds. He watches this event unfold, his gaze drawn downwards when your arousal spills warmly into his hand. He takes his fingers out of you, grabbing a washcloth to wipe his hand with as you come down. You're left panting wildly, slathered in sweat that's dampened your hair and the bed beneath you.

"Was that enjoyable for you?" Martin asks, as if he didn't just witness you having the best orgasm of your entire life.

"Yes, sir. It was amazing." You gush, smiling uncontrollably at the utter bliss you feel inside.

"Good. I liked it quite a lot, too." He replies, and you hear the jingling of his belt opening. You open your eyes to see Martin undoing his pants. You watch hungrily as he exposes his clean white briefs, and the stiff cock sheathed inside them. He puts the slacks away, and comes back over to the bed. He makes sure you're paying attention, before slipping his underwear down his legs. His dick slaps against his stomach, the head red and swollen with need. You want to take him in your mouth, or to ride him, it doesn't really matter. You just want him inside you again, to make your fantasies a completed reality.

"Can I suck your cock, sir?" You ask cautiously, looking up at him with doe eyes.

"No, thank you. I've never liked that very much. But I think you want something else a bit more, don't you?" He questions you again, taking hold of his length and stroking it a couple of times.

"Yes, sir. I want you to fuck me." You say boldly, biting your lip.

"I ought to shock you again for that filthy mouth of yours." He threatens, but he's not really all that serious about it.

"Do you not like the things I say, sir?" You ask with a bratty pout, toying with him a little bit.

"I-I do. Much as I shouldn't, I really do." His tone falters, which clues you in to how much he immensely enjoys you saying dirty things.

"Do you want to fuck me, sir?" You continue with your own inquiries, hoping to drive him to slam his cock into you, or even shock you again for acting out of line. You're enjoying this far more than you'd truly expected, and it appears he is as well.

"Yes." He almost whispers.

"Do you want to make me scream your name?" You press on, testing the limits.

"Yes." Martin continues to rub himself as you speak. Slow and languid, not nearly enough to make him lose control. Just revving himself up for when he's deep inside you.

"How do you want me?" You ask again.

"What do you mean?" He replies, confused as to what you're referring to.

"Laying down? Hands and knees? On your lap? How do you want me?" You repeat yourself, your words dripping with lust.

"Oh, I see." Martin blushes slightly at his misunderstanding. He thinks it over a moment, before answering. "This way is fine...for now." He says, climbing onto the bed to join you now. He spreads your legs apart with his hands, tenting your knees and placing himself between them. He gives you another kiss, warming you up before the main event. His hands grab at your tits, massaging them roughly.

"Mmm." You moan against his mouth, wishing you could bury your hands in his hair and tug on it. His lips move lower down to your neck, and he brings a hand to rub against your clit for a moment. "Oh..." You whimper quietly.

"Are you ready?" He asks in your ear, ceasing his touch on your bundle of nerves. He takes hold of his cock, running his tip along your silk.

"Yes, sir. So ready...you have no idea." You reply, waiting for him to penetrate you. Without another word, he puts his head above yours to watch you as his dick slips inside you. "Oh, fuck." You exhale while he fills you up. He's the perfect size, reaching every inch of your soaked pussy flawlessly. "You're so big, sir." You compliment him once he bottoms out.

"Thank you. You're very...warm." He says, somewhat awkwardly. You're guessing that's his best attempt at talking dirty.

"Do I feel nice and tight inside? Am I wet enough for you?" You try to help him out, saying all the vulgar things on his behalf.

"Yes. You're perfect, Y/N." Martin rasps, slowly pulling out before slipping back in. He lets out a low groan at the slickness of your insides. He continues to thrust in and out at a very slow pace, similar to how his fingers were working inside you earlier. But you want more, you want him to rail you like he does in your dreams. You know he has it in him, but you're unsure how to say it without him shocking you again.

"Can you go faster, sir?" You ask politely.

"Not yet, Y/N. Patience." He says in warning, still moving so very slow. You swear he's just trying to make you squirm. You can't help your neediness, so you grind your hips to meet his thrusts. He pulls his cock out of you as a result, and takes hold of the remote to give you another shock.

"Shit!" You shout at the painful current going through your body once more. Your muscles seize up, and Martin just watches the helpless look on your face. He lets it go a little longer this time, making you afraid that you might pass out. But just before you're about to possibly lose consciousness, he turns it off.

"It appears you have a problem with listening." Martin growls, which only turns you on more.

"I'm sorry, sir. I only want you so bad, you feel so good inside me." You explain, the pitchy whine in your voice making his cock twitch. How can he resist you when you sound like that?

"You promise to be good for me? To listen to what I say?" He questions, his expression stone still despite his ever-growing hunger for you.

"Yes, sir. Please...I need you." You beg tearfully.

"Very well." He responds, before slamming his cock inside you.

"Fuck!" You squeal. He proceeds to hammer himself into you now, gripping your thighs with frustrated strength.

"Is this what you want, Y/N?" He asks while panting as he fucks you good and hard.

"Yes, sir. This is exactly what I want. You feel so good." You continue to moan with every thrust, wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. He allows you to do this, using you as leverage to keep pounding your pussy like his life depends on it.

"Should I go harder? Faster? Tell me what you want, Y/N." Martin offers, spellbound by your helpless noises.

"Fuck me harder, sir. I know you can...you're so strong...I can take it." You plead to him, bringing your bound hands down to rest around his neck. You have to hold him, to feel him in any way you possibly can.

"I'm sure you can. You're such a good girl for me." He chuckles, snapping his hips to drive into you with more force.

"Shit, I'm getting close again, sir..." You warn him, though you're not sure how well you can hold it this time. He's hitting your sweet spot with every motion of in and out, and you're sure he isn't far behind.

"You know the rules, Y/N." He burns, picking up the remote again. You watch him with frightened eyes, though your lips curl into a mischievous smile.

"Do it." You blurt the words out.

"What?" He asks, dumbfounded that you're actually asking him to shock you.

"Shock me. It feels really good, sir." You reply seductively.

"If that's what you really want..." He trails off, still thrusting roughly into you as he presses the button. It appears the collar works like a taser, sending an intense shock to you, without affecting him at all. You moan at the sensation, savoring the pain and pleasure mixing together inside your clenching belly. Your walls spasm around his dick, making him groan. That's another reason why you asked him to do it, you knew he'd like it, too. He lets the current go on for longer again, watching your face twist in ecstasy. "You really are something special, Y/N." He says, in awe of you. He flicks the switch to turn it off, and your body relaxes underneath his.

"I try my best." You quip, breathing far more heavily than you were before.

"Here, let's try hands and knees for the end, hm?" Martin suggests, quickly pulling out and rolling you onto your stomach. He pants erratically behind you, waiting for you to get on your knees.

"Mmm, yes, please." You hum, kneeling before him while arching your back. You lean on your elbows, your hands resting just below your head.

Martin takes a moment to look at you in this position, noting your readiness to take him once more. He can deduce that this is your favorite position, and as a man of science, he can understand the anatomical reason as to why. He takes hold of his cock, running his leaking tip along your folds to tease you again. He grunts at his sensitivity, needing to hold back himself so he can fully please you. He'd hate to leave a woman unsatisfied. "Ready?" He asks, barely pressing the head of his dick against your entrance.

"Yes, sir. Please, fuck me." You plead, fighting the reflex to back yourself into him.

"Well, I am partial to begging." He says with a light laugh, before shoving his length into you.

"Fuck, yes." You moan as he hits even better angles inside you from behind.

"More?" He asks, needing you to tell him exactly what you want. He loves how verbal you are, how unafraid you are of sounding so pathetic.

"Yes, sir. Fuck me hard and fast...I wanna cum on your huge cock." You're whimpering and teary-eyed again, but you can't possibly be bothered to care.

"Sure thing." He answers simply, grabbing either side of your waist. He pulls out, making your skin slap together loudly as he thrusts back in with force. You cry out, gripping what you can of the covers below you. It's hard to manage with your hands stuck together, but you try your damndest. Martin grunts very loudly as he continues to fuck you at the pace you asked for. You're almost there again, and he can feel it. He's right behind you, his stomach preparing to tense as his balls tighten.

"Can I cum, sir?" You ask through a moan. You can feel your arousal lubing him up with each stroke, some of it rolling down your inner thigh in warm drips.

"Not yet. Soon." He mumbles, driving himself as deep into you as humanly possible. Your insides are so snug around him now, threatening to strangle him altogether. He's looking forward to feeling you let go around him.

"Please, sir...please, please...please..." You repeat the words incoherently, they're the only things you can think to say. You're an absolute mess, holding your orgasm in so hard that it almost hurts. Your brain has turned to mush, and you know you can't keep it in forever.

"You've been a very good girl tonight, Y/N. Let it all go for me." He growls, sensing his own end taking him over.

"P-push the bu..." You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What?" Martin asks, trying to figure out what you're saying.

"The button. Push...the...button." You force the words out, every syllable of which threatening to open the floodgates. But you want to feel that delicious shock as you cum, you just know it'll all be worth it.

"Of course, Y/N." He says breathlessly. He does as you ask, forcing his own climax back for the sake of you violently losing control around him. He presses the button, and you finally feel it wash over you.

"Martin!" You choke out his name as your body seizes up one last time. Your pussy clenches around his dick, yanking a loud groan from his throat.

"God—" He thrusts into you uncontrollably, his cum coating your insides messily. If you could flex your vocal chords right now, you'd scream at how good his sloppy bucking feels. You continue to tremble and convulse, releasing a small mess of juices from your pussy. The warm liquid soaks his cock, making him groan again. "Y/N, I—" He gasps, unable to believe how otherworldly you feel inside. He keeps thrusting through the pleasure, forcing your cum to mix and spill out onto your thighs and the bed.

You're on cloud nine in this moment, savoring every second of electric current pulsing through you, and every needy stroke Martin continues to make inside you. He finally turns off the collar, powering it off entirely. You slump against the bed, taking him with you as he still won't stop fucking your pussy. "Martin..." You moan, trying to warn him that he's gonna make you cum again if he doesn't let up.

"You feel so good, Y/N. I've never felt anyone like you..." He praises.

"G-gonna cum again..." You make a second attempt, but he doesn't seem to hear you. You've broken him, in a way, making him the desperate one now. You let him keep going, regardless of the fact that you're getting a little sore. His thrusts feel so good, and he seems to want to experience you clamping down on him one last time.

"One more, just one more...can you do that for me, Y/N?" He asks with desperation in his voice. His breath lands hotly on the back of your neck, his body sliding around on top of yours as you're both covered in sweat.

"Y-yes...I'll be so good for you, Martin. Make me cum." Your words are all the motivation he needs. He picks up his pace again, pounding you into the bed as he tries to give you another orgasm. You cry out over and over, waiting to feel ecstasy rush through you for the third time.

"That's it...just like that, Y/N. Good girl." He pants, feeling your walls fluttering again.

"Oh, shit...I'm gonna cum, sir. Can I cum, please?" You whimper.

"Y-Yes, you can..." He stutters, and you sense your high taking over once the words pass his lips.

"FUCK!" You scream, thighs quaking as you're rocked to the core again.

"Mmm, ah—" His breath catches in his throat as you soak his cock again, even more than last time. You spill down your thighs and his, every spasm pushing more fluid out of you. You almost start sobbing as your final high subsides, and he stills himself within you. He carefully pulls out, gazing at the sticky mess left between your legs. You lie still, trying to catch your breath. As you do so, Martin gets off the bed and unlocks the collar. He takes it away, putting it and the remote back in its case. He also unties your hands, checking for any bruises left on your wrists. Finding none, he retrieves a damp towel from the bathroom to clean you up with. "How are you feeling?" He asks as he wipes away the mess from your sore flesh.

"I'm great, Martin. That was so fucking good." You say softly, feeling completely exhausted now. Once he's done cleaning you up, he helps you sit up and redress, sans your panties. "Thank you." You say, standing to meet him once you're fully clothed.

"For what?" He asks curiously.

"For giving me what I've been dreaming about for weeks." You reply cheekily, giving him a short kiss. You suppose it's time for you to leave now, to go back home to your parents.

"You dreamt about me?" He questions, as if it's impossible for you to have done such a thing.

"Mmhmm, every night since the first day you came into the store. Shit, I've had to change my panties in the middle of the night so many times because of you." You giggle, playfully poking his chest.

"Right." He gives you a soft smile, unsure how to respond to that. "Well, I can have my driver drop you at home, if you like. Or the store, if your car is still there." He offers.

"The store is fine. Thanks." You reply, and he goes to a phone on the dresser, presumably to speak to the driver. He retrieves a robe to put on to escort you to the door after the brief call, tying a firm knot around his waist. 

"Come along, then." He gestures at the bedroom door, and you open it and head for the stairs. You go all the way down and to the front door, stopping for a moment. "What is it? Did you forget something?"

"No." You shake your head, lifting up your bag to show that you've got everything. "I just...if you ever wanted to do this again, I wouldn't say no." You end with a shrug, unsure he'll even consider it.

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." He answers, smiling a bit bigger for your benefit. Unfortunately, for your own safety, he can't do this again. If only you knew the kinds of things he's gotten himself caught up in these last few years, the awful things he's done in the name of 'science'. He can't put a sweet young thing like you at risk, no matter how amazing the sex is. But for now, he can let you think there's a chance, he can't bear to break your heart. You'll just need some time to forget about him, to move on to someone your own age. That's all. At least, he hopes so. He'd hate to have you come back here looking for him, when this isn't even his real home at all. It's all staged, sitting empty and waiting for him, or anyone else working in the lab, who needs a cover to blend in. It's a shame you fell for it so willingly, though he supposes that's kind of the point.

"Cool. Well, hopefully I'll see you in the shop again. Or around town." You say, going to him for one last kiss goodbye.

"Of course. I'll be around." But no, he really won't. He'll have to avoid your store like the plague now. What a shame, you've got such a wonderful selection of Chopin. He puts a hand on the small of your back, giving you the final kiss you're waiting for. He kisses you hard, wanting to sweep you off your feet one last time. You hum against him, wishing you didn't have to let go. But he makes the decision for you, and the regretful look on his face tells you he won't be coming to you again.

You're not stupid, you know this was probably a one-time thing anyway. It hurts to know he's lying to your face, but you're sure he has a good reason. You figured his vague answer of 'government' as his job meant something top secret, maybe even dangerous. You get it, truly, you do. And he doesn't need to know that you see right through him. Let him have his illusion, it'll only hurt more to shatter it.

"Bye, Martin." You give him a small wave, and go outside to the car that's waiting for you. It's a dead silent ride back to the record store, with the driver glancing back at you suspiciously a couple of times. He drops you off outside Waxed Out, and you walk down the street to the lot where you've parked your car. You get inside, turn the key, and drive home while replaying the exquisite moments you and Martin shared together. It'll be a while before you get over that man, and you don't mind that one bit. He was something special tonight, and you're sure he feels the same about you. At least he has your panties to remember you by.

August 10th, 1983

Dear diary,

I was right. Martin hasn't returned to the store, and I don't think he's ever going to. I get it, his work is probably too much to balance with hooking up with me and taking care of his kid, if he even has one. I still dream about him every so often, and we do all the things we did that night over and over again. I still wake up with soaked panties every time, but all it does is remind me that I'm never going to see him in that way again. I hardly see him around town, either. And the few times I have, he ignores me when I wave at him. It's like I don't exist, or at least, he turns away before I can see him look sad. I'd like to think that's what he's doing, anyway. I know, I know, this was only sex. Wild, crazy, kinky-as-fuck sex. But still, that's all it was. And that's all it needs to be.

As they say, onwards and upwards. Speaking of that, I've finally got my own place! No roommates or anything! It's totally cheap and doesn't look like a complete dump. And it's all mine. No more nosey parents, not after I move in there in a couple days. I've got my shit all packed up and ready to go. My freedom can't come soon enough, diary. Until then, I'm gonna get high and masturbate while thinking about Martin again. What can I say? That dick was something else...

[justasparkwritings]

GUTS: Bad Idea, Right?

Pairing: MxM; Min Yoongi x Park Jimin

Genre: Smut – Lovers to Exes

Rating: NC17

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Oral sex, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, safe sex

Song: Bad Idea, Right? 

            “It’s not like you tripped and fell into his bed, again,” Taehyung laughed, lips coolly sipping on his Americano. His eyes were alight with curiosity and humor, brows raised in a jovial expression. He couldn’t help himself, laughing at me for what amounted to yet another “one night stand” with my ex, Yoongi.

            “I did too!” I argued.

            “How?” Jungkook asked, tilting his head in curiosity. “I’m trying to imagine how you tripped into his bed. How did you even get there? Didn’t he move?”

            “I – he kept blowing up my phone.” I shrugged, as if my explanation was believable.  

            “You were with us, and Hoseok, how the hell did we not notice?” Jungkook gaped.

            “It’s because he’s a liar,” Hoseok said as he joined our group, coffee in hand. “He said he was going home to sleep.”

            “But he never said where!” Taehyung laughed.

            I could feel my cheeks flushing, making it blatantly obvious that I’m both embarrassed and dying to tell the details of my evening. I can’t ignore how deeply problematic it all was, sleeping with Yoongi once more. It was always a bad idea, and I know I should’ve probably not, but I couldn’t abstain, not four months ago, or two months ago, or even last night.

            It had all played out like some 90s pop-punk music video: purple and blue lights strewn across the wall and dancing faces, the music a little too loud and the crowd was an over zealous group of people ecstatic Seokjin had returned from his military service. Red solo cups were everywhere, remnants of jello-shots accompanying them in the piles of trash that would inevitably have to be taken out. The host – a friend of Hoseok’s – was nowhere to be found, most likely in the bathroom taking a hit or making out with one of their partners. In the middle of it all, Jungkook was grinding against some curvaceous brunette with a wide grin and bright eyes. Taehyung was trying his hand at pool, and I was in the corner, nursing my vodka soda and staring at the night as it unfolded.

            That was until my phone started to buzz, and I begrudgingly pulled it out of my pocket.

Yoongi: What are you doing?

Jimin: At a party

Yoongi: Whose?

Jimin: Seokjin’s post - military welcome back party

Yoongi: Oh – is it fun?

Jimin: It’s fine – why?

Yoongi: Just wondering what you’re up to

Jimin: Am I sensing some undertone?

Yoongi: That seems like a big word for a drunk you

Jimin: I’m not drunk

Yoongi: Then come over

Jimin: Why do you want me tonight?

Yoongi: I always want you

            I stared at the conversation, knowing full I was going to wreck my plans for him. How could I not? It’s not like I was thrilled with our break up, or like I was patiently waiting for a time to bring up getting back together. We broke up because we were both treading water, drowning in our jobs and not having any time for our relationship. At least, that’s how I felt… Yoongi seems to have different feelings but it’s not like he’s ever going to share them with me. I should add that as a reason we broke up: deeply withholding. But alas, I will not.

And if I’m honest, Yoongi’s gorgeous, a sexy mysterious man with the most luxurious long black hair. And while there are other qualities I loved about Yoongi, like his sensitive stare and how gentle he was with my heart most of the time, I couldn’t help but admit in that moment, with a reckless abandon in my gaze, and Yoongi asking me to come over, that all I wanted was to lay on my back and let Yoongi fuck me. Which would inevitably lead to Yoongi ghosting me for another two months, until he knew I was out with my friends and that I would, without hesitating, blow it all for one more night with him.

            So last night, I found my friends and told them I wasn’t feeling well and was going to head out. The biggest lie I’ve ever told, because I was feeling fine and had been looking forward to this party all week. Hoseok stared at me, concerned, his brows speaking volumes to his displeasure and disbelief that I was in fact going home. Jungkook and Taehyung were too busy and too drunk to think twice about it.

            I hopped in my car, and despite knowing that I was abandoning my plans (drinking, dancing, possibly hooking up, and passing out somewhere in the house only to be woken up at 6AM by birds chirping and no memory of the night before or how he got there), I couldn’t stop. I drove cautiously to Yoongi’s new address, an apartment complex with an inner courtyard. Staring up at the floors, I scanned the second for him. Yoongi stood, sweats and baggie t-shirt on, gaze locking me in.

            “Hey,” he said from the balcony, and that was all it took for me to take off at a brisk pace up the stairs. Whenever I saw Yoongi, my brain went fuzzy. No thoughts could penetrate the deep attraction I felt for him, the hazy blah blah blah of whatever lust-fog overcame me time and time again.

            I hastily closed the gap between us, lips meeting Yoongi’s as I hungrily kissed him. My teeth pulled Yoongi’s bottom lip, hips rocking into his, hands tugging that luxurious mop of black hair.

            “You can’t fuck me on the balcony,” Yoongi growled, a hint of red on his cheeks, a little embarrassed by this depravity.

            “Fine, then show me inside.”

            Yoongi’s last apartment, which he’d lived in for 7 years, was much smaller, a two-bedroom, windowless box he shared with Namjoon. He hadn’t minded the lack of natural light because he was always in the office, working long hours and keeping his nose to the grindstone. But when he’d been promoted, and transitioned to remote work in the pandemic, he needed more light and more space. Namjoon in turn was ready to move in with his lover, and thus Yoongi searched for the perfect place to call home. No apartment had met his needs until a few months ago when he saw this one. With two bedrooms, a view of the courtyard on one side and a view of the creek on the opposite, it was brimming with everything he wanted. As we stepped inside, and Yoongi locked the door, I took in the spacious living room and modern kitchen, still finding remnants of his last home here.

            “Well, this is an upgrade.” I said.

            “Thanks.”

            “Still two bedrooms?”

            “Yeah, bedroom and an office.”

            “Look at you, leveling up,” I teased. I watched Yoongi draw the shades and caught sight of his gentle biceps and the quiet expanse of his back. As the room grew darker, I grew hungrier.

Knowing Yoongi would never give me a grand tour, I took it upon myself to wander the apartment, first checking out the office, before casually meandering to the bedroom.

            “That took less time than I thought,” Yoongi said, leaning against the door frame. He pushed his hair out of his face and licked his lips, eyes raking over me.

            “What?”

            “I didn’t expect you to come here in jeans tighter than sin and a t-shirt that I promise you I can and will tear from your body,” Yoongi smirked. “You also made your way to the bedroom in record time.”

            “Oh, should I go change? Slip into some sweatpants I guarantee I left here? Oh wait,” I dropped my gaze to Yoongi’s lower half, where the navy sweats were cinched and hanging from his hips.

            Yoongi flushed. “I was going to mail these back.”

            I laughed. “Don’t lie to me.”

            “Fine. I was never going to give them back; I was going to keep them.”

            “They were a birthday gift,” I lied.

            “Don’t lie to me.” Yoongi replied.

            “You kept them.”

            “Yeah, and?”

            I wanted to fight him, to get some sort of answer from him on what we were doing. Does he want me the same ways I want him? Does he cancel his plans in case I come through? Last night wasn’t our first song and dance, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask.

            “Are you going to kiss me, or are we going to keep up this repartee until we exhaust the conversation and have to discuss our breakup and subsequent hook ups?” I said instead.

            Yoongi licked his lips, eyes becoming hungry. “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to strip you bare and have my way with you.”

            “Then stop talking and do it already.”

~~~~~

            Yoongi made slow work of stripping me. And why shouldn’t he? He needed to lock this memory in, because how much longer would I engage in this with him? Based on our tristes, and the pure fact that we have slept together at least 3 times in the 6 months since we’ve been broken up, I was beginning to feel like this was unsustainable. If we’re not a couple, is he just leading me on? He knows how deeply I loved him, but had anything in our situations changed enough to get us to where we needed to go? Or was I always going to fall prey to this bad idea, seeing him in the cover of night, sleeping in his sheets without regard to how shitty it made me feel? Or could I treat him as casually as he treated me? The depths of Yoongi’s feelings for me remained unknown, and I had to let them go if this night was going to continue.  

            It was easy to do, when Yoongi’s lips were suckling and kissing every inch of my bare skin. Or as Yoongi trailed his tongue along the lines of my tattoos, fingers gracing the taut skin of my abdomen. He teased me for as long as he could stand it, his cock hardening while he performed his ministrations across my nipples and down the light happy trail leading to my fully hard member. My hands were tangled in his lush hair, pulling and tugging as my want began to take over.

            I always wanted Yoongi, wanted another night with him, wanted the feeling of his embrace and his member and his lips all over me. I craved it regularly, and nearly texted and asked for just this a few weeks ago, but refrained. Before Yoongi, a backslide was not something I did. Once I was done in a relationship, I was done and over it. But how could I ever be done with Yoongi?

            “Yoongi,” I moaned, hips rising to press into Yoongi. “You’re being an asshole on purpose.”      

            “Yes,” Yoongi hummed. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

            I groaned at the endearment, missing how it sounded coming from Yoongi’s baritone voice.

            “I want all of you.”

            The double meaning sat uncomfortably in the air. I hadn’t meant it to be so…. Romantic? So laced with passion and heat in a way that was not appropriate for this evening. I just meant it as…. Fuck it I don’t know what I meant. Not wanting to let the pall of my confession ruin the evening, Yoongi slipped his hands down my sides and gripped the front of my jeans. His lips lowered against the hollow of my ear as he whispered, “Then have me.”

            Feeling emboldened by the directive, I eagerly flipped Yoongi over and slid the sweatpants from his hips. I bit his lips as Yoongi’s member sprung free, hard and thick and dripping. I laid on the bed, head between Yoongi’s thighs and kissed up them, teeth pulling the pale skin and reddening it.

            As I teetered on the brink of taking Yoongi fully between his lips, I had a brief flash of clarity, knowing I either needed to dive right in, or stop completely. There was no going back from this, from my confession or sex with him, no acting like my feelings for him were not real. As I stared up at the glorious man in front of him, who was easily the hottest man I’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing up, I told himself the only thing that would lessen the potential backlash to this night: fuck it, it’s fine. Which I think should be deemed as the new YOLO. But more on that never.

            I lightly traced the vein up Yoongi’s shaft, swirling my tongue over the tip and delighting in the precum that had beaded at the tip. While I’m not a cum-girlie, I have missed how Yoongi tasted, and it caused me to dip low, taking all of him at once. I began to pleasure Yoongi, unaware of my own hips rutting against the mattress, too lost in the dulcet tones of Yoongi’s arousal. He moaned and groaned, hands pulling at the sheets while I swirled my tongue, sucking him down. I could feel the strain of Yoongi wanting to come, to unleash himself into the depths of my throat, but was equally met with a firm restraint, holding him back from release.

            “Stop,” Yoongi growled, the pain of ending this moment written across his brow.

            “Why?” I asked, Cheshire smile on my lips.

            “I need to fuck you.”

            “Fuck my throat,” I offered.

            “No,” Yoongi said.

            “What if I want to fuck you?” I asked.

            “Do you?”

            “No,” I shrugged.

            Yoongi rolled his eyes, the indecision of this libra driving him a little mad, like I always had.

            “Great, doggy or missionary?”

            “I want to look at you,” I answered. Yet another confession I hadn’t meant to share tonight.

            “On your back then.”

            I smiled with pure delight, hoping to lighten the mood. Afterall, I was getting almost everything I wanted.

            Yoongi made quick work of sheathing himself with a condom before he parted my legs.

            He hesitated. “Did you-

            “Prepare for this?”

            “Yeah,” Yoongi confirmed.

            I nodded. “Yeah, didn’t know if I’d get strange dick tonight so I prepared.”

            “I hate that,” Yoongi admitted.

            “What?”

            “Strange dick.”

            I stared at him, the sweat already pressing Yoongi’s hair to his forehead. “Me having strange dick or the concept in general?”

            “You.”

Yoongi realized the corner he’d backed himself into and stared at me pleadingly. Unlike my confessions, which were honest and true and slightly painful, it was clear in his discomfort that he had said it before he realized what the implications would be.

            “Yoongi,” I said softly, my eyes widening with barefaced hope. We should’ve probably stopped, had a conversation, and returned to sex if we were truly emotionally ready for it. But Yoongi wiped his face of anything remotely confessional before I could say anything else.

            “Fuck it, it’s fine.” Yoongi said, and he pressed his tip slowly into my entrance.

~~~~~

            “You’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” Hoseok asked, still nursing his rather large mug of espresso.

            “Probably,” Taehyung said, the jovial light in his eyes replaced with concern.

            “I am not.” I said.

            “You are too,” Jungkook said.

            “Can’t I evolve and change?” I asked them.

            Hoseok stared at me, full judgement in his eyes. “You can, but you won’t.”

            “What makes you so sure?”

            “Oh my god,” Taehyung said beside us, staring at his phone.

            “What?” We all asked, turning to stare at him.

            “Holy shit,” he said, eyes widening further.

            “What?” Jungkook demanded.

            “Did you know about what happened to Seokjin?”

            “What do you mean what happened to Seokjin?” Hoseok asked.

            “What the fuck is going on?” Jungkook demanded, his whine more endearing than alarming.

            “Read this,” Taehyung put his phone between us, and as we collectively sucked in our breath, I read the headline:

            Famed Actor Kim Seokjin Returns from Service to Tell-All from Former Bunk Mate: The Partying, Drugs and Men Revealed Below

[hongjoongscafe]

But I Still Won

Drabble series

D.5 {serieslist}

Pairing: idol!seonghwa×photographer!reader(jihyun) (Jihyun is an imaginary person. I am not shipping anybody here. I just like this name.)

Genre: smut, fluff, angst.

Summary: she didn't expect to get fucked by

her idol... Well, it still happened.

Warnings: unprotected sex (Hongjoong will hit you with a rod if you don't have protected sex), cumming inside.

Note: poll for the next part is given at the end. Also, I changed this part a little bit. I'm sorry about that 😔

PIz, do vote.

Word count: 570

Masterpost

*DO NOT REPOST, PLS*

I need help, that’s what Jihyun thought, "Harder, please," Jihyun moaned when Seonghwa gave a hard thrust into her squelching pussy. "There!"

"So good. I love your pussy so much, fuck!" His deep moans made her leak like a faucet. "Such a little slut for me."

“Hmyeahhh,” she choked out.

“Fuck! I can never forget this pussy. So good,” he grabbed her hair and pulled her off the studio table.

Everything was scattered around– the pens, papers, his keys, his wallet– the table. His pants were thrown away and her skirt was hiked up, boobs hanging out of her blouse. They were in intense pleasure.

You might wonder how they ended up here, right? Well…

“So Jihyun, you have an option between Seonghwa and San. Pick one and you have to work with them. It's gonna be a documentary of their day-to-day life. So that means you need to spend a few days, day and night,” The head videographer informed.

The whole ATEEZ group was there in the meeting hall along with other staff members. Although they assigned the members themselves. But this time, to make the newbies comfortable, they gave them reliable options.

Jihyun was tensed. She knew that going with Seonghwa would be problematic. He was a horny man who couldn't think straight when around anyone with a pussy.

So without other thought, “I think I would like to work with San,” she awkwardly said.

Later on, after the meeting when Jihyun was about to leave, Seonghwa pulled her with him. His face was angry, his nose flaring, and the nerves in his eyes were popping out.

He shoved her into his studio, “why the hell are you so stupid!?” he exclaimed.

“What!?” she snapped.

“Why the fuck did you say San? I was right there,” he threw his arms up and smacked his thighs.

“I didn't want to work with you!”

“Well get used to it because now you work here… And you will work with me and I'll make sure of it.”

They both looked into each other's eyes intensely. Their chests heaving up and down from anger. And in the blink of an eye, she was splayed on the table.

“Fuck, that was awesome,” Seonghwa took a deep breath, still inside of her. He was laying on her while she was bent over the table. “I swear I can do anything to keep this thing with me,” he moved up and removed himself from her. The trail of cum leaked out of her.

Jihyun collected her blurred mind and took some tissues that were on the table at the far end and wiped her bottom. She tucked her boobs in and fixed her outfit. Everything was crashing down now. She wasn't supposed to be here like this with his cum inside her.

As she was about to leave, Seonghwa called her.

“Listen, I'll talk to the head and make you work with me. There is no way that I'll let that pussy go away from me,” his eyes seemed like they were dead. How could someone be so lust-eaten? She couldn't understand why he was like this.

She sighed and left. While walking back to her car, she reminisced about what Seonghwa said. “I swear I can do anything to keep this thing with me,” he thought of her as a thing. He just needed a good pussy and nothing else.

“What have I done!?”

.....

Sanaa’s note:

Hii, how are you all? Hope you are fine!💓

The behaviour of all the characters is visualized.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional ; @jhmylove ; @nanibecute

*lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist*

*original pictures are not mine, I just edited them*

Results of the previous poll:

Link to the new poll:

Have a nice day/night💓

[pgaftrpar2ie]

Hoodwinked on OakPoint (2017)

Okay so #BOOM. Holdon lemme-

Set the Scene: October 2017, Bronx, New York, Halloween Night

Its my first time in #NewYork, I just turned 18 and my gurl @ the time had brought me tickets to go see #TRAVISSCOTT !! On #HALLOWEEN NIGHT!! @ the time i was the biggest Trav fan, truthfully idk if we were fighting at that time (we were always fucking fighting) but she #FISHERR looked out I will say that much.

PS: D****** would end up being my most #toxic love/relationship, which you'll begin to understand in later post. Anyways..

Lets put this into perspective. Im not a person that brags cause my family story started in a place of poverty. I love where im from, #PGCounty. Simply put-my family did everything the right way to get us out of that situation and that's the story I choose to tell. Now if you FROM THAT then you KNOWW #hood shit when you see it.

My biggest pet-peeve has to be: You was never raised in that environment but you swear you THINK you know how to move cause you not "scared". Then me "reading-and-reacting" gets confused for overthinking and being "pussy". So you think.

No. That?.. Her? Problematic.

So we get into the concert. Travis literally takes 1.30hr to come out with NO OPENER, or I dont remember. In the mist of his taking his sweet ass time-it was some niggas in that mf ready to shake the spot on bro. They was moving hella funny fr. They had secret lil call outs, matching Mocler's on and shit, it seemed like they was looking for somebody. They had these masks on like different animals type shit and im just lookin, watchin how they move. See, I was lookin too hard, lacking-just right behind me over my shoulder was a Monkey mask and a Moncler.. Damn. I got caught lookin by the same person ion want the attention of. Fuck it. Be cool, we cool. I think to myself.

My gurl on the other hand has no clue what the hell is happening, turns around, cusses the dude out for standing too close. Great.

Some "yeah, whatevers" and a couple "sound goods" were exchanged as I stepped in between them. Situation diffused. Problematic.

TRAVIS SCOTT IS ON THE STAGE. Im screaming, she screaming, everybody's pumped. Its great. Now if you ever survived the Rodeo you know there's no such thing as staying in one spot. if you not strong enough you WILL get pushed over. Its simple. So I got my gurl in one arm and the other hand recording/moshing, whatever. I held it down. In this moment there's actual #peace and #serenity. We not fighting, Travis Scott is flying on an eagle, were looking in each others eyes the whole time during #Drugs Like This, I almost loved her. So close.. Then she looses her purse. #OMFG. Money, ID, Social, phone, charger gone, all in the fucking purse. Why. UGHHHHH

First instinct, make my girl happy. I pull out my flashlight and point it at the floor, franticly moving people out the way and interrogating them at the same time. This somehow makes my gurl more unhappy. Problematic.

I look up and Zebra face, Moncler man got the fucking bag. He's literally looking back smiling as they walk through the doors of the warehouse. In between us there 2000 people, raging. Fuck