#genuinely tweaked the fuck out during that one but i love it despite how i had to do floor 30 THREE TIMES

[al0verae]

did that eo stratum tierlist for eo1...im so normal about this series

[pedrospatch]

strawberry

Daddy Dom! Joel Miller x Sub! Female Reader

summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (TW) daddy kink, lots of dd/lg lifestyle elements, reader is collared (day collar) age gap that is self indulgent, reader is mid to late 20’s and Joel is in his 50’s but tweak that to your imaginations if you like. SMUT; p in v sex, rough sex (that reader asks to try), spanking, possible overstimulation (if you squint??) Joel basically fucks reader too much and too hard. USE OF SAFE WORD. aftercare and lots of fluff, references to a pop culture film that i haven’t seen in forever but it’s fine. PLEASE BE MINDFUL OF TAGS AND WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, no worries just scroll on by.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is totally self indulgent, all for me as someone who has dabbled in the lifestyle before. if this is not your thing, no problem at all but kindly keep any negative comments to yourself. huge shoutout to the lovely @swiftispunk for inspiring this with the snippets of her own upcoming series that i am oh so excited for, darling han thank you for not only inspiring this, but for listening to me talk about it and encouraging it! and also to sweet mya @cavillscurls because truth be told her own fic brought back so many memories of a time in my life where i was genuinely so happy, in love, and felt safe with a partner. okay, i am gonna run away to the gym now to listen to 1989 tv (again) and pretend posting this is not nerve wracking as hell.

He’s fucked you plenty of times before.

But never like this. No, never, ever like this.

He’s relentless.

His thrusts are coming quicker, sloppier, harsher.

It doesn’t hurt, but it’s intense. Too intense.

Joel Miller is truly testing your limits tonight.

No, he was pushing you past your limits.

Because that’s what you’d asked him to do.

“Alright, sweet girl. This is the last time I’m gonna ask you before we get started. Are you absolutely, one hundred—no, one thousand percent sure that you wanna try this out tonight?” he had asked you beforehand, skimming the strap of your light pink, lace lingerie with his index finger, his feathery soft touch sending a plesant little chill down the length of your spinal column. Of all the sets you owned, it had to be Joel’s absolute favorite. Normally, it was him who would pick out what you would wear, but tonight he’d decided to let you choose for yourself and oh, you did not disappoint. He fucking adored you in the color pink; loved how sickeningly sweet, precious, and innocent you appeared in the hue as you did the filthiest things to him, with him. When you nodded eagerly in reply to his question, a sigh fell from his lips, the doubt written all over his face as he remarked, “I really don’t think you’re ready. I think we should wait just a little a while longer.”

“I’m ready,” you’d insisted, stubbornly. “I promise. I wouldn’t be asking for it if I thought I wasn’t. But I am, I promise, promise, promise I am.”

“Daddy knows what’s best for you, sweetheart—”

Fingers curled around his bicep, you’d batted your eyelashes, giving him those eyes that brought him down to his knees for you a lot more often than he cared to admit, those eyes that made Joel feel like he was learning his role all over again, despite over two decades of experience under his belt. He used to pride himself for his ability to stand firm against pouting lips, fluttering lashes, and pleading gazes. And then you come along and suddenly it’s like he is in his thirties again and he’s navigating this kind of dynamic for the first time. Even after a year and a half with you, he’s still trying to figure out how to completely unwrap himself from your little finger.

“Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Christ, you made things so goddamn difficult.

“You really think you’re gonna be able to handle it? You think you’re gonna be able to handle me when I get real rough with you, baby? Hm?”

Without missing a beat, you replied, “Yes, Daddy. I can handle it. I know I can.”

You had been so certain that you could.

Confident, even. So confident that when he began going over the rules and reminded you to use your safe word if you needed him to stop, you’d giggled and stated, “I’ve never needed to use it before and I don’t plan on using it tonight.”

Oh, how very wrong you had been about it all.

You’d overestimated yourself, and underestimated Joel. Severely.

His hips snap roughly into yours without an ounce of mercy, over and over, again and again. Beads of perspiration start trailing their way down the sides of his face, the tip of his nose. His chest is flushed, red, and also slicked with a thin sheen of sweat.

You’ve already shattered, unraveled, come undone all over his cock several times—every time with his granted permission, of course. Because you knew better than to come without Daddy’s permission.

Your cunt is swollen, sensitive, too sensitive and at a point where it could start aching if he doesn’t let up soon. However, it seems like Joel’s only getting rougher and rougher as he chases another release.

“Joel—Daddy,” you manage to correct yourself at the very last second through a slew of frantic little gasps for air. “Daddy, please! Daddy please—”

His large hand tightens around both of your wrists pinned to the mattress above your head. Surely he must think you’re begging him for more, when the reality is you’re about to start begging him to stop because it’s just too much and you can’t handle it; but there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to stop, the part of you that doesn’t want to disappoint the man who means the whole, entire world to you.

The man you belonged to, the man you loved.

Even through the haze, you try telling yourself that it’s all mind over matter, mind over matter, mind—

“Stop,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I—can’t take it anymore, Daddy, I can’t take it—!”

Releasing your wrists, Joel pulls himself out of you and you breathe out in relief, until he flips you over onto your stomach without warning. You let out an audibly loud gasp when his hands reach down and take your hips, pulling them up off his bed, putting you on your hands and knees. He brings down one of his hands on your ass in a stinging slap. “That is just too bad, ‘cause Daddy ain’t done with you yet, darlin’ girl. Not even close to bein’ done with you.” Wrapping his other hand around his base, he grins to himself as he glides the head of his cock up and down your slick folds. When it grazes your clit, you jerk forward, away from him, and he tuts, bringing you back to him, his fingers digging into the pillow soft flesh of your hips. “Oh no baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

“But Daddy, I just can’t—”

You’re cut off by your own cry when you feel Joel’s length stretching your walls all over again. It’s just too much.

And you really, really can’t.

He leans over you and presses his lips to your ear. “You asked for this, didn’tcha? Asked to be fucked like a big girl, huh?” He bucks forward into you, eliciting another strangled cry followed by a string of pathetic whimpers. Bringing his palm down in a second strike, he demands, “Answer me when I’m takin’ to you. You wanted this, said that you could handle Daddy bein’ rough with you, ain’t that right now?”

“Strawberry.” You say the word so quietly, you can hardly hear it over the ringing in your ears.

Joel spanks you for a third time, in the exact same spot—so hard, there was simply no way you would wake up without a mark in the morning. “I need’ya to speak up. You’re such a big girl after all—”

“Strawberry!” You grasp fistfuls of bedsheets and the signal for it all to end tears itself from the back of your throat. “Strawberry, Joel! Strawberry!”

It’s only a millisecond that he freezes, if that.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel curses under his breath, pulling out of you. The bed shifts as he climbs off of it and scrambles to pull on his sweatpants before he’s at your side—you’re still on your hands and knees, an unmistakable look of panic on your face. He puts a gentle hand on your back. “Baby, are you alright?”

Your heart is pounding, your breathing labored but you manage a small, tight nod of your head. “I-I’m fine. I just—” Stopping, you grip the sheets tighter, warm tears brimming your eyes. Shame over what you’ve just done is already creeping in and sinking into your bones.

“Are you hurt, sweetheart? Did I hurt you?”

Joel’s voice is calm, but you can hear the concern that laces his tone.

“No.” Your own voice is small. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

“Is it alright if I move you?” he asks. When you nod your head, he reaches out for you and helps you to sit on the side of the bed. Dropping to his knees in front of you, he takes your hands and his and feels his stomach sink when he realizes they’re ice cold; he begins rubbing them between his own to warm them up. “Baby if I hurt you, you need to tell m—”

“I promise, you didn’t hurt me,” you reassure him, swallowing the thickness rising in the back of your throat. You clock the skepticism in his dark brown eyes and a tear slips out, rolls down your face, and splatters onto your bare thigh. “I’m not lying, Joel. I swear.” Tugging one of your hands out of his, you reach up and instinctively clasp it around the blue sapphire pendant hanging from the delicate, gold chain around your neck—he’d presented you with his birthstone last year, not only as a symbol of his ownership of you, but also as a beautiful reminder of your commitment to one another. “You believe me, don’t you? You believe I’m telling the truth?”

Joel’s expression softens. “‘Course I do, baby.” He cups the side of your face gently, brushing away a second teardrop with his thumb. “But I’d really like to know what happened so I can figure out how to best help, okay? Can you tell me what happened?”

Embarrassed, you try turning your head away, but he holds your cheek in his hand, gentle but firm.

“S’okay. You can talk to me,” he encourages softly, his gaze meeting yours once again. “Tell me.”

“It was just too much,” you mumble, meekly. “And too intense.” Heat floods your face as you admit to him, “You were right. I just wasn’t—I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

In an effort to lighten your mood, Joel lightly gives your cheek a delicate pinch and chuckles.

“Daddy’s got that real annoyin’ habit of bein’ right ‘bout a lot of things, don’t he?”

“I’m sorry.” Your bottom lip quivers. “I’m so sorry.”

His smile falters. “Sorry for what?”

“For using the safe word—”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Y’know you ain’t supposed to apologize for needin’ to use your safe word, right? That ain’t how it works, darlin’.”

Dropping your necklace, you place your hand over his on your cheek. “But I feel bad,” you confess. “It makes me feel like—like I let you down, you know? And that’s the last thing I want to do. I just wanted to be really good for you.”

“Oh baby.” Joel lifts himself from the floor. He sits on the bed and pulls you onto his lap, brushing his lips against your temple. “You are such a good girl for me, sweetheart.”

“But I couldn’t take it,” you sniff. “I had to stop.”

“And that’s okay,” he assures you. He wraps you in his arms and gives your body a gentle squeeze. “It ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed ‘bout. You’re still really new to a lot of this stuff, y’know? S’why I told you I didn’t think you were ready.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

He winks. “You should always listen to Daddy.”

You offer him a tiny, watery smile. “I know.”

“And say we try this again one day and it’s just not somethin’ you like or that makes you feel good—or maybe you never wanna try it again at all,” he says with a nonchalant shrug. “That’s okay too. You are still my good girl no matter what—my perfect girl. Always. You understand me?”

“Really? You promise?”

Joel holds up his pinky.

“Oh, you’re being really serious,” you tease him.

“Sure as hell am, darlin’.”

You lock your finger around his and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmur against his lips. You giggle again when he clears his throat and smacks your ass lightly, playfully. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, baby.” Joel pulls away and touches the tip of his nose to yours. “How’s ‘bout we get in the bath and get all cleaned up? Hm?”

“A bath?” You instantly perk up. “With bubbles?”

“With bubbles. And I’ll even let you throw in one of those smelly ball things you fuckin’ love so much.”

You swat at his chest. “Hey! My bath bombs smell really good, thank you very much!”

Joel doesn’t particularly like emerging from a bath smelling like a petunia, but for you, he’s more than happy to bathe in a sea of them, glitter and all.

You trace his collarbone with your index finger.

“Daddy? After our bath can we just cuddle in bed? Maybe watch a movie?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile sheepishly, adding, “Please?”

“‘Course. Pick any movie you want, sweetheart.”

“And can we have ice cream while we watch too?”

He pins you with a stern look. “Alright, now you’re just pushin’ it and takin’ advantage.”

You jut your lower lip. “Please, Daddy?”

There’s no arguing with that, not tonight.

Joel decides to let you have your way. “Alright.”

The two of you spend quite some time in the bath; normally a bath together ends with him inside you all over again, but tonight, all he’s doing is running a soapy wash cloth with your favorite shower gel—japanese cherry blossom—all over your body as he sits behind you, lips pressed against your ear. Joel washes you slowly, carefully, and all the while he’s whispering sweet, tender praise.

My good girl.

My perfect girl.

I’m s’proud of you.

I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.

After the bath, once you’re both dried and dressed in comfortable clothes—him in a clean pair of gray sweatpants and you in nothing but his t-shirt, Joel gives you the remote and instructs you to pick out a movie to watch.

“Make yourself real comfortable, baby,” he says to you, kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be back with that ice cream.”

You shoot him a hopeful glance. “Strawberry?”

“You tryin’ to be funny with me, darlin’?”

“No! That’s just my favorite flavor, silly.”

Joel grins to himself as he leaves the bedroom.

He knows that. Of course he knows that.

It’s why he always keeps a pint of it in his freezer.

You hop into bed and pull the blankets around you as your scan through the guide for a movie—you’d just decided on The Notebook when Joel appears again, a bowl and two spoons in his hands.

“You picked The Notebook again, didn’t you?” he asks without even looking at the flat screen that’s mounted on his wall over the fireplace.

“You said I could pick any movie I wanted.”

“Was just hopin’ you’d pick one we haven’t seen a thousand times,” he chuckled, sliding into his bed next to you. Joel places the bowl of strawberry ice cream in his lap and hands you a spoon. “C’mere, my sweet girl. Come closer.”

You snuggle up to him, and the two of you dig into the frozen dessert as the movie begins to play.

“Baby?” Joel speaks after a while, just as Allie and Noah share a passionate kiss in the pouring rain.

“Hm?” you ask, your fixed eyes on the flat screen, your mouth full of ice cream.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing, you look up at Joel, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you answer honestly.

“‘Cause if there’s anythin’ else I can do for you…”

You purse your lips together and let out a tiny hum as you mull it over for a moment.

“You can hold me closer?” you finally suggest.

Joel shifts in his spot. “I can definitely do that—”

You stop him and point to the empty bowl.

“After you go and get us some more ice cream?”

He exhales an amused snort through his nose and shuffles out of bed, taking the bowl with him.

“Don’t get so used to bossin’ Daddy around,” Joel warns you playfully over his shoulder.

“Too late.”

divider credit to @saradika 🍓

[getosbigballsack]

Random Thought! Geto's is jealous because Gojo had sex with you.

Ps: I wrote this as one of the drafts for @noroi1000 , but I never liked it for her, so I scraped it and wrote something completely different.

Nothing hurts more than finding out that your best friend broke the “bro code” just to have his stupid fantasies fulfilled. That’s how Geto Suguru felt when he caught his best friend Gojo Satoru having sex with you.

He promised, they both promised not to have romantic feelings for you or to be in any form of sexual intimate relationship with you. Why? Simply because you’re also their best friend and you know that they have a track record of being whores since high school. 

So Geto thought it would’ve been best to keep you out of that part of their lives. And even if they both had feelings for you, it would be best to love you from afar, rather than to be selfish only to end up hurting you in the end. 

But I guess those were false promises coming from the lying lips of Gojo. Those same lying lips he saw stealing kisses whenever Gojo thought that he wasn’t looking. Those same lying lips that decorates your neck with nothing but love bites, those same lying lips he saw eating you up on the bed, the night he caught Gojo having sex with you.

He can still remember the sound of your voice cursing Gojo’s name, moaning so sweetly for Gojo as the white haired man eats you out as though you were going to be the last meal for a long time.

Call him a pervert for standing at the door for as long as he did, watching the sight unfold before him. Gojo’s hand sliding up your shirt, tweaking your nipples, pinching the pebbled bud to have you arching your back into Gojo’s hand.

Those dainty little hands of yours that would so often braid his hair were now grabbing Gojo’s hair and scraping at Gojo’s scalp. He knew how soft your hand was, so he could only imagine the sheer amount of pleasure it feels to have his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

None of you were aware that he saw that night, but you’ve both noticed how cold he was towards Gojo and how distant he became with you. 

You tried asking him, you did tried, but all you ever get in response was the light shrug in his shoulders before turning and leaving you to go fuck off with one of his many one night stands. It didn’t bother you that much that he would leave you for a hookup. At this point, you were used to it.

But it did bother you very much whenever he was in a mood with you, and you had no clue what made him that way. Unlike you, though, Gojo had an idea as to why Geto was cold towards him, but he kept it to himself, in fear that he could have been wrong. 

Weeks turned into two months since Geto had found out that Gojo broke the ‘bro code’ and slept with you, and his behavior towards you both has not changed one bit. If anything, he was even more cold towards Gojo, and Geto would just completely ignore your presence despite the three of you sharing an apartment together. 

Though it still hurts that your best friend stopped talking to you. You’ve learned how to deal with it and just stayed focused on your relationship with Gojo. You guys weren’t dating as yet, and you are still having a bit of fun and going on dates. Gojo would buy you gifts, flowers, and lots of tasty food. He’ll take you out during the day when Geto wasn’t home and spend a night or two with you between the sheets in a hotel. 

Gojo was having a great time with you, too. Breaking that so-called promise with his best friend has done him now better than harm. He was happy to be around someone who genuinely had strong intimate feelings for him. It made him feel thing he had never felt before, and fuck everyone else, Geto too because he’d be damn if he allowed anything to ruin what you both had going on. 

It was only a matter of time before Gojo officially made you his girlfriend. He was just waiting for the right moment. 

That moment is when Geto decides to cut the crap and speak his mind. 

[bakugoushotwife]

for ena <3 happy birthday loml, genuinely my other half i hope you have had the BEST day and as far as im concerned…you’re having a birthday MONTH! i’m still gonna buy that star and you can’t stop me hehehehe @suguru-getos

birthday bash || satosugena

you wake up when you feel something pressed against your nose. more aptly, someone else’s nose bumping up against yours. when your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the nearly frightful sight of satoru’s white lashes blinking over wide and crystal clear blue eyes.

“happy birthday princess!! i said it first just remember that—“

strong arms secure you fight against his abdomen and morning…excitement. “happy birthday, darling girl…” he purrs next to your ear. suguru. he smirks, a lazy little number. he knows that despite satoru’s hovering, his gravelly morning voice is enough to make you press your legs together on instinct. “we’ve got a big day planned for you, it’s going to be a lovely day.” he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek.

satoru hums in agreement, diving down a bit to kiss your face, concentrating most of his affections on your lips. your own lips part in a smile, their warmth and excitement and love radiating off of them. “n it starts with breakfast in bed!”

splurging on breakfast isn’t inherently special. they usually order your favorites once or twice a week, the rest of the cooking usually done by the two of them together—with you happily kicking your feet on the nearby barstool bouncing conversation with them or humming along to the music to relax.

but today, they got all of your favorites. mocha lattes worthy of your growing instagram blog, nutella crepes and fruit, even the savory option of chicken sausage, scrambled eggs, and breakfast potatoes. some of geto’s servants bring it in already beautifully plated. it’s clear your fiancé’s have been busy this morning.

you won’t eat half of it—and it’s not about how much you eat. it’s about that satisfied grin on your face. you know they know you. to the core, they understand you completely. every detail you’ve mentioned, they’ve memorized. because you are their person. and their person is deeply worshipped. no other day but your birthday could showcase their utter devotion to the woman that ties them all together. satoru poses the plates together for you to snap a picture of—of course starting a birthday reel. instagram will eat first today. and while it’s not your intention—many a follower will fall for you and stew in jealousy all at once. satoru and suguru are going to put on a masterclass.

after eating, they urge you to shower and get ready in something casual. of course they never really specified, and even your casual is runway worthy. they’re antsy and ready to go by the time you step out of your own hair and makeup booth.

it seems your birthday falls during festival season all the way around, and what a beautiful coincidence. the start of spring suits you so well, it’s almost as if they’re celebrating you like your soon to be husbands are. the cherry blossoms are so bright and the vendors line the streets to the fair.

they take turns buying you hand crafted earrings from one stall, silk dresses and wraps, organic candles from the next. all the way into the arcade area, naturally. whose idea do you think that one was? satoru is very intent on winning all the games and getting you a huge fucking prize. suguru is proud to push him to lose his mind over arcade games meant for children by being unnecessarily competitive—and you actually make satoru lose his mind by beating him by being genuinely better. he’s tweaking. and it’s your birthday—but he’d never insult you by letting you win. or apparently even being a decent graceful loser.

“oh you’re CHEATING!!” he whines once your digital streetcar passes the finish line three milliseconds before his.

“i don’t think that’s even possible in one of these.” suguru chuckled out in your defense. you turn your nose up and just roll your eyes at him.

don’t even mention the punching bag okay. that was a mishap. if he could just simply do it over again he would have gotten a higher score.

“900?!” he yelps as the numbers keep rolling higher. he only got 846. “I barely hit the thing goddamn i didn’t know we were going all OUT—“

at least he still won enough tokens to pick out the nicest stuffed toy in the entire place for you. no matter how old you three get together—satoru will be sure to capitalize on the inner child.

you spend hours at the fair and festival, getting all kinds of treats and gifts and trinkets. this is what they can get the girl that has everything—new experiences and quality time!! soon it’s time for dinner, and suguru has all of that planned out.

the car takes you three back to the estate a little after sundown. you’re weighed down with bags and the giant stuffed animal you were so graciously gifted. shortly after getting back to suguru’s home turned the sole base of operations, suguru tells you not to get un-ready.

“woah woah, i hope you don’t think that was it?” he raised a brow when he saw you slipping off your shoes. “time to go out to the lake. let me guide you, my love.” he smirks, holding an arm out for you to take. satoru grins, knowing what to expect. you thread your arm in suguru’s and let him escort you out to the gorgeous lake under the willow in the back of your home.

before you even arrive at the lakeside, you can see the small intimate table set for three. candlelit, with the help of the moon and stars, a traditional italian course. wine paired with your salad, then another wine perfectly suited to your chicken alfredo and chicken parm duo, a third wine to compliment the tiramisu birthday cake with your name dripped in extra mocha. it’s like something out of a storybook. it’s just for you three, their gifts bringing you that peace of mind you had wished for. their joy was so evident—the tender crease of suguru’s brow as he watches you wiggle happily in your seat; satoru’s absolutely puppy lovesick stare even though you’ve been together for three years at this point—it all just makes you feel so safe. it’s always been hard for you to let yourself be loved wholly; almost like you believe you don’t need it or deserve it at times. they make you understand that not only are you a deity in their lives—but you should never feel anything less than this feeling right now. you should always feel cherished. like you’re a gift. that’s not spoiled or entitled or bratty, that’s just true. women like you are few and far between—you’re called princess and angel for a reason. you are holy, you are royalty. that’s why your feet don’t even touch the ground as satoru carries you back to the main house, up the winding stairs to the shared bedroom.

by now, you’re truly exhausted—but blissfully happy. part of you feared they’d go insane—have a full blown party to shower you in materialistic gifts you already have. especially with satoru’s tendency to throw money around like it’s free to him. this was perfect. suguru helps you get out of your birthday outfit, peppering kisses to the exposed skin of your wrist, your shoulder, your collarbone.

now it’s satoru in your ear, brushing the silky locks of yours away, “how about some birthday spankings?”

[walder-138]

Hey, Pooks. 👁️👄👁️ sending in questions for the ask game for all of your OCs:

15) Has your OC ever fallen in love before who their intended love interest is, or is the intended love interest their first love?

21) Any embarrassing secrets your OC demands you take to the grave but you will share anyway?

24) What kind of sleeper is your OC? Light or heavy? What side do they sleep on? Do they like to sleep over or under the covers?

Hello again pookie bear 👀 Thanks for the ask I’ll get right to it!

15) Oz (before Melissa) never really experienced true love. Not like he ever sought after it; he swears he’s unlovable 🙃 The closest he got to a loving relationship was with Gloria, Jenny’s mom, but nothing came out of it. Oz was convinced he couldn’t feel real, true, lasting love until he met Melissa.

Annika… doesn’t do that. She tells herself it’s disgusting, since her feelings are “abnormal” and she couldn’t see herself with a man. But you know, Park was the first woman she accepted that she had a crush on. Annika fell head over heels for her, so I guess Park was her first love. However, Annika’s herself, and there ain’t no way her feelings would be reciprocated. So no, Annika’s gonna be alone forever 💀

Abbey’s first love was Lorelai, but doing anything with her was out of the question when Abbey found her again. Lorelai was beyond fucked up by the experiments to the point where she was practically a vegetable, so that relationship was out of the question. Originally, I was thinking about her and Oz being together, but the way I developed the two was completely out of wack with each other. They interact, but it’s only transactional; they’re barely friends.

21) I’ve got two for Oz 💀

After bro went through his selection and was finally about to leave for Rangers school, he had to shave off all of his hair. The hair he’s been growing out for 4 years; it was a an inch below his shoulders. Yeah, dude wasn’t happy about it.

His mom was shaving him while dudebro was in TEARS. He was crying as he watched 4 years of progress go down the drain, the symbol of his teenage rebellion, spread out all over the floor under him. I’m not kidding when I say Oz was bawling his eyes out.

When his mom handed him the mirror, he only started crying LOUDER. The most attractive thing about him, gone. Then, his very young brother was like, “Mama, why is Ozzie bald?” which just added salt to the wound.

The other one was a month before The Incident happened. Him and his subordinates got cans of baked beans for chow, and Oz was the only person excited, as they were one of his favorite foods. Keyword: Were.

So he takes out his knife, and starts getting the top off. He pops the chain, opens it, and there was about 15 roaches crawling around in it. Oz SCREAMED, threw the can into an open field, then threw a grenade at it.

Any time one of his men would bring it up, he’d put them on lavatory duty.

For Annika, it was during her time as Bell/Diana. That one part with Krauss (think that was his name?) and her and Adler were on top of the building looking for the mf who was working with Volkov.

She made herself look like a jackass in front of Adler. Girl could NOT find him for about 10 minutes despite him being right in front of the building. (I was genuinely tweaking during this part it was so annoying 💀)

“Motherfucker. You said he was at the checkpoint, but these guys all look the same.”

“Briefcase? Like 40 of these guys have brief cases, asshole.”

“I AM LOCKED FIRMLY ON THE CHECKPOINT. I HAVE SEEN ABOUT 10 MEN. NONE OF THEM HAVE BRIEFCASES.”

“How can you see him? It’s pitch black outside and you’re wearing sunglasses. Are you fucking high?”

“Okay, jackass. If you see him, then why don’t YOU take the picture???”

“Bell, in front of the checkpoint.”

“I JUST SAID- oh. Whoops.”

Yeah that was so embarrassing for Annika 💀. Krauss was deadass right in front of her 💀 Not my proudest moment.

For Abbey, it was right after Agent Guinevere Foster (currently Director Foster of the Organized Crime Unit) officially and legally adopted her. Abbey was still trying to get the gist of social interactions and didn’t quite understand when it was inappropriate to interrupt somebody.

Agent Foster was in a very important meeting, and she had to leave a 16 year-old, fresh out of what seemed to be a cult, socially inept Abbey at her desk as the meeting was confidential. Abbey was extremely attached to the woman, and didn’t exactly understand personal boundaries with the people she loved yet.

So, Abbey barged into the room with confidential documents scattered across a desk with a pained expression on her face. She called out for Guinevere, almost in tears, in a room full of high-ranking FBI agents because she thought she broke something. The agents in the room were looking at Abbey like 🤨 cause who freaks out over that. I tell you, Abbey was clinging onto Guinevere whilst BEGGING for forgiveness infront of maybe 40 people 💀

Guinevere was almost fired for that shit, and made sure Abbey knew that.

24) Funny, Oz doesn’t sleep. He’s scared of the dark, and when he does manage to fall asleep, he has nightmares of both Vietnam and the damned Russians. He typically sleeps on whatever side has more room on the floor (if that makes sense? Like not pressed against a wall or smtg?) because the nightmares he has sometimes cause him to wake up feeling like he needs to vomit. Oz slept with a sheet on the bed and a jacket on top of him and called it a day. No pillow, and he usually curls up into fetal position. He also snores 💀

That was, until him and Melissa started sharing a bed 👀 (one of them are gonna be leaving that room pregnant and it ain’t gonna be Melissa)

Annika can fall asleep anywhere. I mean, as a kid she’d sleep in a trunk to the sounds of gunshots at least once a week and she was fine. Fine as in able to sleep, not as in being mentally sound.

Her preference though? A cold, dark, cramped space with a shit ton of blankets on top of her. Girlie either sleeps like a rock or tosses and turns all night. No in-between. Wondering where all the blankets are? On the blanket vortex, and she’s curled up under a table. Go ahead, try to take one. She won’t bite you.

Abbey needs to have her bed set up a certain way to be able to sleep soundly. She has a busted up stuffed platypus that Guinevere picked up at a flea market to help Abbey calm herself. Abbey still sleeps with it almost every night. She can’t sleep without it.

As for her bed, she lays on a soft blanket, 3 pillows, and a thin blanket covering her while she sleeps on her stomach. Her bed is not far from her desk, as she tends to do some (a lot of) paperwork before going to bed. She keeps a coffee maker with a mug she hasn’t washed in god knows how long on it.

[hongism]

04 - s.mingi + degradation (18+)

» s.mingi x gn!reader » 18+ dni if minor » language, explicit smut, cock caging, degradation, praise, ruined orgasms, overstimulation, manual stimulation, anal fingering, use of sex toys/dildos, use of a riding crop, oral sex: m receiving (but not really), some impact play/cock slapping, use of gendered slurs (directed at mingi), dacryphilia, subspace, dominant reader, submissive mingi » wc 2.7k » link to masterlist

today you have mingi on his knees, skin pressing into the pale carpet in a way that looks more comfortable than it really is. it’s deceptively innocent, even without an ounce of clothing on his body and feet tucked under his ass like he’s trying to seem smaller than he actually is. it won’t work in his favor; such behavior never does when he’s already gone this far. 

instead, it earns him a light smack over the top of his thigh with the riding crop in your hand, and the impact draws a whimper from his full lips seconds later. a slight bit of saliva trickles out the corner of his mouth, enough to catch on his chin and stop there before falling further. the visual is intoxicating in a lot of ways, things you don’t like to admit outside the bedroom out of fear of ruining the pretty, picture-perfect innocence you seem to bear there. some part of your brain does wonder what those people would think seeing you dominate mingi in this way when they always assume him to hold that position in your relationship.

on his knees, drooling and whimpering with a solid metal cage around his big useless cock, and you over him with a smile on your lips.

it’s intoxicating.

“you enjoy this, don’t you?” you inquire. the edge to your tone feigns true curiosity but your gaze says otherwise, something borderline sadistic to the way you look down at the man on his knees. “must be so hard having such a nice big cock only to have it locked up right now.”

the riding crop pushes under his chin. you raise his head to look more clearly at his face slowly, admiring the glisten on his brow and in his eyes. something twists in your brain. 

you want to see him cry.

“i asked you a question, baby boy.” 

mingi’s thighs twitch at that nickname, a blatant cue to how much he enjoys it, and his watery gaze flits up to look you in the eye.

“there’s my pretty baby, looking all good and needy for me,” you coo. there’s a faux innocence in your words, lacing some easy praise in to heighten the blow you’re about to deliver. “what a pathetic slut.”

if he could crumple to the floor, you don’t doubt that he would do so now, but he has enough sense to stay put despite how the words send a shudder through his spine. he tucks his hands further under his legs, pressing between where his calves and thighs squeeze together and make his skin splay like the perfect canvas for you to paint on. the red streaks across his pale skin, the sheen of sweat over them, and the way his muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still — he’s a masterpiece, one of your own creation, and you don’t plan on letting anyone else see him.

for now, though, you wish for those crystalline tears to fall, you want to see spit smeared over his neck and chest, and you want to hear him gag prettily for you. 

“what do you want, baby?” you take a moment to squat down to his height, head tilting to the side as you look him in the eye. “want me to touch you?”

mingi offers his first weak nod of the night as his cheeks flush a pretty red and he ducks his chin to the side. 

“good boy.” perhaps it’s a bit too cruel, the way you lower the riding crop further and slip the tip between the small gap in his cock cage. the leather digs into his dick, teasing his slit enough to make mingi writhe under your touch. he’s still good though — still stays put and doesn’t try bringing his hands out from where they’re losing feeling between his legs. it’s going to result in his first ruined orgasm, and you count the seconds in your head before he cries out and a weak trail of cum spills through the slit of metal encasing. “must be hard having to cum like that, baby. can’t even put your big dick to good use, huh?”

“n-no,” mingi whimpers as you pull the riding crop back and hold it to his face.

“clean it for me.”

his tongue slips out like he’s putting it on display. you give him a sweet smile that’s deceptively innocent again. the first slap of the leather on his tongue is a shock to him. it’s almost enough for him to lose his position and grab for his crotch, and you’re nearly tempted to take the cage off for him so he can cum properly. he has to earn that right though. you only give him two more sharp hits to the tongue before turning away and stepping over to the edge of the bed. mingi pants behind you, almost dog-like in how hard he’s breathing.

“need a break, princess? what’s your color?”

“green…. ‘m okay, ‘m okay, p-promise,” mingi huffs out in response, lifting his gaze to you as you look back at him over your shoulder. 

“my pretty baby, you’re so good for me,” you singsong back through a tight-lipped grin. “made to be my perfect little toy… made for me, yeah?”

“y-yes.” 

you exhale a breathy laugh despite his affirmation not being funny in the slightest.

“you aren’t being so chatty tonight, love, are you sure you want me that badly?”

“i do!” mingi almost stumbles over his words in the rush he makes to affirm them, and another laugh slips free, one that comes from your chest with more force. “i do, please, i want you.”

“please?” you echo, arching a brow at the collection of toys before you. you settle on one in particular and pick it up with delicate fingers and a smirk. 

“please, please, i’ll beg, i’ve been good. i’m still in position! i’m being so good for you, y/n, i really am, right?”

“you are…” you turn back towards mingi, letting a genuine smile of adoration come over your lips. “you’re being my perfect little princess, baby. the perfect toy for me. you’re always so good, aren’t you?”

mingi nods like a man possessed, motions erratic in his rush to affirm your words. you press the head of the dildo in your hand further into your palm. 

“do you wish this were you?” the stroke you give to the shaft is long and obnoxious, emphasizing the twist of your wrist and how you squeeze the base lightly. mingi goes dumb for a moment; his gaze flits over the silicone then up to your face then back down to your hand that repeats the rhythmic motions. “can’t even use your stupid cock to please me right now, but that’s okay, right? you can get off if i fuck myself with this in front of you, no?”

the whimper that leaves mingi is borderline pathetic.

“don’t worry, my love. i won’t do that to you. you’ve been so good for me tonight… there’s no need for punishment, okay?”

“promise?” he asks, lashes growing wetter by the second. your gut twists and turns, the desire to see those tears fall over the balls of his cheeks rising up only for you to squash it a second later.

“promise, baby boy.” you step closer to him again, and rather than kneeling down to his height, you merely stop before him and lower the flesh-toned dildo to his lips. “won’t you be a good cockslut and suck for me?”

it’s a lewd mimicry of an actual blowjob — the visual of him taking the dildo that’s settled in your palm right beside your hip almost makes it look real. his lips stretch around the girth, the size of it almost akin to how his own erection would look if not for the metal keeping him locked up right now. there’s a certain haziness to the way mingi blinks up at you, the motions slower than normal like he’s thinking too hard about it or approaching a different mindset that will leave him needy and clingy for hours to come. not that you mind — taking care of him afterward is almost as good as taking care of him during, and you’d rather die than be a bad dom for him. 

you push the dildo to the back of his mouth, hitting his throat in one easy thrust, and the tears overflow. they stream over his skin with ease, and you see his shoulders begin to cave in a bit with each passing second. his hips jut in little staggered motions that betray his intentions, but you simply let him strive for a friction that will never really come. not the way he wants at least. 

he’s drooling around the cock between his lips and wetting it more and more with each thrust. you can't resist the urge to take your free hand to his chin, catching a dribble of saliva and smearing down towards his chest. you cross the planes of his flat chest with a wet path in your wake before reaching one of his budded nipples. just brushing over it with the slightest amount of pressure has him groaning out a low moan. like music to your ears, he repeats the sound when you tweak his nipple a little harder. 

“you can cum, baby boy. think your pathetic cock can squirt for me?” you pull the dildo from his mouth to let him speak, obviously waiting for an answer with the way you dangle the fake cock just out of his reach. his voice comes out gravelly and low when he manages to squeak out a response. 

“good whores can.”

“is that what you are, my love?”

“please,” he whispers, an edge of desperation to his tone, and you can’t deny him what he wants.

“yes, my baby, you’re a good whore for me. all mine.” you nudge the dildo back to his waiting mouth, putting more pressure into your push this time around. mingi takes it almost greedily like it can’t get in his throat fast enough, and he all but leans into it seconds later. you squat down to his level, at last, keeping one arm up to thrust the silicone between his plump lips that have long since swollen up from the overuse. you don’t have your key on hand — it’s over on the bed along with your other supplies — but you won’t be needing it quite yet, reaching down to grip the little bit of his shaft that isn’t trapped within the metal cage. 

mingi gags around the dildo once more, but this time you aren’t nearly as deep in his throat, so you withdraw the toy to let him choke out a few words. 

“c-can you finger me? please?” 

your mind goes blank for half a second, hand reaching up to sweep away some of the leftover tears on his cheeks before you recover and remember your place in the scene. 

“mm, keep sucking.” you push the dildo down to the floor then go to pull mingi’s hands out from under his thighs. the freedom has him flexing his probably numb fingers as best he can, but he doesn’t waste any time in sitting up on his knees and bending in half to reach the fake cock once more. you get to your feet, eyes taking in the pretty expanse of his back and ass, the red marks on his hamstrings that indicate how much pressure he was putting on his hands. even as you retrieve the lube from the bed, mingi doesn’t budge and continues to follow your gentle orders without complaint.

you announce your arrival behind him with a sharp backhand slap to one side of his ass, delighting in the way he jolts and clenches around nothing. his noises are muffled by the dildo, but still music to your ears as always. his cock dangles uselessly between his legs, and the metal encasing jingles with his sporadic movements. 

your first finger is cold when it slips into the heat of mingi’s ass, no effort put into trying to warm up the lube when you know how much mingi enjoys that first chill a little more every time. your fingers aren’t nearly as long as mingi’s so the effort that goes into searching for his sweet spot is far greater than it would be the other way around. he seems to content to wait, dick still dribbling strings of translucent cum like he never stopped cumming in the first place. you know by now he’s surely bordering the brink of overstimulation, the limit where it starts to become too much, but he keeps whining each time you threaten to pull your fingers out of him.

“one more, baby boy, then we’ll be done for the night and get you cleaned up,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him at this point because of how far gone he is. it’s endearing in a way, at least in your eyes it is, and it turns intoxicating once more with the first brush of your fingers over his prostate. 

“hngh, o-oh… y/n, ah, i’ll cum early!” his mouth pops off the dildo to spew the words, and spit pools on the wood floor with his motions. 

“the sooner you finish, the sooner we can get you in the bath, love.” you dig your fingers as deep as they can go, crooking them midway to repeat the same brush over his sweet spot. it garners you the reaction you were after — mingi cries out louder than he has so far in this session, legs going weak as he threatens to topple over. you grab for his hip with your free hand and try your best to steady his big body before he fully falls. all his cock can do at this point is give a few more weak spurts of the same translucent cum that pools on the floor between his legs. “good job, baby, look at you. you did so well for me.”

“y/n, i-i, fuck, i—”

“shh, baby, you’re okay, i’ve got you, okay?” you turn him to the side as gently as you can, trying to avoid any of the bodily fluids that are now spread over the wood, and help him lay flat against the floor on his back. you won’t make him stay there long, only enough for him to catch his breath and get some feeling back in his legs. you’ll get the key to his cage later too; you can’t risk leaving him right as he’s coming down from an orgasm even if it’s just a few feet away. so you drag yourself up his lanky body and settle over his waist with hands planted on his shoulders and a smile on your lips. “you with me still?”

“y-yeah,” he pants, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that there are wrinkles around his temples. you shift your hands up to brush over those spots, and the man under you relaxes into the touch. 

it’s a slow process, bringing him down from the intensity of the orgasm and overstimulation, but it’s comfortable as well if you ignore the sweat sticking to your bodies. 

“mm, okay, ‘m back, i’m back. fuckin’ drowsy as hell,” he murmurs some time later. the way his words slur is indication enough of his exhaustion, but you aren’t about to let him pass out on the floor like this.

“okay, big boy, up we go then. let’s take a bath and let me get everything cleaned up then you can pass out.” you move to climb off mingi and get to work, but he catches hold of your waist and tugs you back down to his face momentarily.

“love you, baby.”

you smile into his lips, pressing a chaste kiss there.

“i love you too.”

[sinisterlyhan]

01. lee minho / 9486 words

fwb!minho, oral (f & m receiving), unprotexted sex, female reader, slight angst and fluff, romance, lots of kissing, mc being kind of a brat, minho being kinda dominant 

a/n: ahh, i finally wrote for minho! i hope this is good ;;

the thee bags of sugar you poured into your cup of hot coffee have probably been completely dissolved by now, considering the obsessive way you kept stirring the liquid with your teaspoon and not actually drinking it.

keeping your eyes out the glass window by the coffee booth, you allowed your mind to drift off to a familiarly foreign place as you mindlessly watched the passersby.

your lashes fluttered along with each shift of your eyes, your gaze jumping from one insignificant person to another as you accessed the idea that people are literally everywhere around you—annoying kids, depressed students, tired parents, and the slow folks.

the concept, more than often, flies past you on a daily. therefore, when you sit down and truly acknowledge the number of people you brush past every day, it is quite a staggering fact.

but what’s more bewildering than that, though, was the fact that out of all these people you could meet and think about, the only person who has ever really been on your mind was lee minho—a nice classmate, a good friend, and a few quick fucks.

a few. you heaved a lonesome sigh and replaced it with a bitter huff of laughter.

you wished it was only a few quick fucks. you should have stopped after a few of them and you should have never picked your hand up and sealed his ‘fuck buddy?’ deal with a firm handshake. but you were lonely back then, dry and lonely.

you had wanted love, genuine or not, and minho’s seductive kisses down your body were the closest thing you could get to feeling appreciated, so you made the biggest mistake of agreeing to be friends with benefits with him.

it has been half a year since you two established the relationship; the sex was frequent during the first few weeks, and then the passionate nights started to space out a little until you two spent more time with plans to hang out than to fuck each other.

your immature mind hadn’t been smart enough to fathom the idea of you ever falling in love with somebody like minho, because you knew you weren’t the type to blatantly fall for someone out of your league. it was the kick that got your to seal the contract.

but alas, minho has been more than irresistible the past few months.

he wasn’t just a fuck buddy, he has never been just that from the start of it all. nothing about your new relationship was awkward despite you two being silent classmates for so long until a house party came and messed it all up. and unlike what you expected, he never tried to distance himself to keep that sole status.

he wasn’t aloof, nor did he act like a stranger. minho was a good friend, a good classmate, and a good fuck if you may say so.

he has helped you with your classes numerous times; printing assignments last minute for you in the library because you were too sleepy to do so last night, scanning his thorough notes for you unprompted because he noticed you struggling during class, reading through your materials out of his class time just so he could further explain something to you.

he’s also been the best emotional support you’ve had; he has never complained when you unreasonably snapped at him because of too much stress, he puts up with your constant overthinking and temper tantrums, and he gets you snacks on his own grocery run because he thought you might get some cravings sometime during the day.

and, of course, the sex has never once been dull ever since you met him, but it was in a lot of the little things he does that makes your heart ache the most; it was him always making sure you’re okay, and him constantly giving you praises. how he loves to make eye contact and hold your hands. how he knows exactly when to be soft and when to be hard.

when did he stop being just minho to you, you haven’t the faintest idea. but your feelings for him have changed drastically over these amazing months, and it became your downfall because he has not contacted you for weeks.

just complete radio silence, nothing, gone.

“i’m telling you he likes you, okay?”

you rolled your eyes as you snapped out of your trance. turning your head to look at jisung, you pursed your lips and shrugged in bland disbelief. “shut up.“

“no, you shut up and listen to me,” he leaned forward on his seat, his eyes glaring because he was sick and tired of being ignored by both of his friends. but now he’s got a fifty-fifty chance of being a matchmaker, so he planned to go all out. “i have known minho for as long as my fat baby legs can waddle to the sandbox in the park, okay. and not once have i seen him run away like this.”

“this, this thing that he is doing?” his finger excitedly jammed against the surface of the table as he stared at you pointedly, emphasizing his words with each jut of his jaw. “this is serious, and what serious thing can he be afraid of?“

you waited for him to speak, but the silence he purposefully left out was urging to be filled in. you looked away, baffled, and you scrambled your mind to think of something to say.

“i don’t know? faili–“

“wrong!”

“a dise–“

“terrible answer!”

“ma–“

“zero points for yo–ow!”

“knock it off, jisung!” you scolded with annoyance after you flicked his forehead with your fingers, shoving his head back to the cushion of the booth seat. “i know what you want me to say… i just won’t say it.”

“he loves you, (name),” jisung said, hiding every bit of uncertainty behind his persuasive facade—his presentation face, as he calls it. “i really think he does.”

and he wasn’t lying. jisung gave the situation a fair share of analyzing, and he concluded with the fact that minho might just have fallen in love with you. because one thing he knew about minho was that while he is kind, he is not nice.

there is a distinctive difference; kindness is selective, it is earned, it is given by choice. nice is blind, it is a mindless thought, a moral conscious.

anything that goes between minho and his goal, or his dignity, or some dramatic factors as such, minho will not hesitate to lash out. he is kind, not nice.

and you—you’ve been plucking the kindness out of him like he was a river that could never run dry.

disrupting his study schedule to tutor you? ditching his long-term friends to keep you company? apologizing first and being the bigger person in petty arguments?

minho was good to you when he didn’t have to, and he still was kind to you when he didn’t want to. he wanted to keep you happy, he gets the thrill of being able to take care of you, and you can feel comfortable around him.

jisung would even go so far to say minho was head over heels for you now, with his heart bleeding dry for your sake. and he’s running away from it because the concept, the feeling was foreign to him.

“just go to his house, find him. he probably misses you like crazy,” he urged tentatively. “talk it out, or fuck it out if that’s what you guys are used to.”

“do you think it’s that easy? like i can just go up to his home and kiss him?“ you asked, exasperated that jisung didn’t seem to understand the limitation of your tolerance for humiliation and appearing desperate to other people.

“sure, why not! i’d totally do that if i were you!” he boasted, clapping his fist to his chest as he huffed through his nose. “it’s not like he isn’t jerking off to the thought of you anyway! it’s either that or he’s crying himself to sleep at night!”

“that’s…” your voice awkwardly trailed off.

“too much?”

“no, no, just…” you hummed with a slight shake of your head, unable to break through his innocent gaze and not sure how to tell him you missed seeing minho in his naked glory. so instead, you chose to back down. “nothing.”

you blinked, still processing his previous words in your head as you finally brought your coffee up to your mouth to take a short sip.

the sugary taste was barely seeping into the bitterness of your coffee, the last three bags of sugar you added having done nothing to help you savor the taste. and you thought about how minho would probably switch his drink with you or offer to order you a new one if he was here.

jisung watched as you put down your cup and reached for another bag of sugar. he laughed, shifting his legs and leaning against the back of the booth. “the sugar is bad for you.”

“i know,” you muttered as you shook the bag and let the content spill all over your drink.

jisung watched with nonchalance as you picked up your metal spoon and started stirring your coffee again. and he didn’t say a single word.

minho pushed his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose, and he continued with his note-taking as his eyes focused on the massive text displayed on his laptop screen.

it was all he has done this day. right after morning classes, he headed out for lunch by himself and simply went home. he tried to ignore the stubborn unfamiliarity of spending most of his time alone, hoping the ghost of your voice would eventually stop haunting his heavy steps into the local boba shop, or even just to the edge of his bed when he decided to take a short nap.

he woke up alone, dazed and annoyed. but he was mostly tired; tired of being alone when he knew you were a call away, tired of drowning in chosen solidarity because he wasn’t brave enough to confront his feelings, tired of being scared that you wouldn’t return the affection his heart discreetly held for you.

it was very unlike him, and the change was frustrating. minho never thought himself to succumb to romance yet here he was, making bad decisions and pushing you away when all he wanted was to hold your body close.

the uneven grip on his pen caused him a sudden scrape across the lined-paper. he glanced down the rogue tweak of the letter 'r’ and he clicked his tongue. dropping the pen, he rummaged through his crowded pencil case for a white-out, just in time as the doorbell to his apartment rang.

he furrowed his brows as he perked up, his head turning to look behind his shoulder at the door. discarding the matter at hand, he stood up and made his way to the front door, where he sung the door open and immediately revealed you standing before him.

“hi,” you breathed out when you met eyes with him, your gaze hardening slightly in sudden timidity.

minho gave you a quick scan before he nodded. he, too, feeling rather awkward at what felt like a confrontation to him. “hey.“

“can i come in, or are you going to keep shutting me out?” you laughed meekly, pointing into his apartment and letting your eyes move away from him briefly before returning to his face. “i’m already here anyway, you might as well.”

“i… yeah, sure, come in,” he said, taking a step aside as he opened the door for you. he watched you head inside, kicking your shoes off and shoving them to the side. he eyed the plastic cup in your hand, and he attempted to make light conversation out of it. “you got coffee?”

“oh, yeah. i was hanging out with jisung just then,” you said, turning to face him. you stuck your hand out, giving him the cup. “do you wanna try some?”

“no, i’m good.” he waved his hand.

you looked at him, a faint pout forming on your face before you shrugged and brought the straw up to your mouth. “okay then, it’s probably better for you anyway,” you sipped the coffee, “i dumped like… six bags of sugar in it.”

the change of facial expressions on his face was priceless. he went from processing your words in confusion, then his eyes widened in surprise, and at last his brows furrowed in dismay that you were still sipping the drink like you didn’t just turn it into a liquefied candy cane.

“okay, no, i’m confiscating it,” he said after allowing you a few more obnoxious sip. he grabbed the cup away from you and held it out of your reach, ignoring your continuous protest. “do you know how unhealthy that is?”

“yes, but it’s sweet!“ you complained.

“it’s sweet until you get type-two diabetes.” He rolled his eyes, turning around and heading over to the fridge located in the open area where the kitchen was. “especially when you don’t just drink one cup of coffee every other week, you drink it several times a week, which can toll up to a lot of sugar intake and i am not about to let you run around self-sabotaging your health–”

he stopped talking when he turned away from the fridge and immediately saw you standing before him. the proximity of your faces was a little too close for his liking—not his subconscious, just his stubbornness—and he didn’t know what to do when he was confronted with it so abruptly.

he hasn’t seen you in some time, which gave him no opportunity to create such intimacy. and even though he had missed being able to feel comfortable with you being close, he suddenly didn’t know what to do. he would love to keep his emotions in check, and he would love to not spill secrets he had no intention to tell.

you glanced down to his lips and automatically huffed. jisung’s words flew back into your mind then, telling you to just kiss him now that you’ve made a mistake of stepping into his personal bubble. it wasn’t like minho was actively pushing you out anyway. you could just try, and if it doesn’t work out in your favor, you could just play it off.

a gasp left his chest when you suddenly leaned in and kissed him. your hands went up to cup his jaw, bringing him closer to you when you felt him starting to reciprocate the kiss. you have longed to do this for so long, sometimes it felt like you’d forget the way his lips feel if you go without it for one more day.

the nervousness within was slowly started to vanish, but part of your brain registered how minho wasn’t kissing you with the same vigor he used to whenever you two share a kiss. it felt out of place to feel his mouth move so slowly against your own, and it was not in a harmonious way.

his lips slacked against yours because his brain wasn’t functioning well. minho has missed you more than ever and this—this was practically a dream come true! he was finally kissing you again, and he wanted nothing more than to keep going, to put roam his hands all over you again.

but he couldn’t. he couldn’t allow himself more depths to fall for you, he couldn’t keep digging his own grave with uncertainty and doubt.

he would rather guarantee he can still be friends with you after sorting out his feelings, than risk you not returning his affection and jeopardizing your comfortable relationship.

“w–wait, (name)–stop–” he pulled away from you, taking in a breath of fresh air when his lips detached from yours. the air was eerily cold, he didn’t like it at all.

your hands dropped from his face, your heart sinking to your stomach the same way. that was enough indication—him pushing you off pretty much told you everything you needed to know about how he felt, and god, you felt so conflicted at the discovery.

you were mad at yourself for letting him allow so much control over you. the sheer anger that bubbled in your chest when you felt tears brimming at the back of your eyes was immeasurable. you warned yourself about this, you warned yourself about him, yet you still fell. and now you felt weak and hopeless because he didn’t love you back.

you also felt wronged somehow. the fact that minho has been such a kind friend to you has given you the false assumption that he would at least give you an explanation. if he didn’t want to keep the sexual relationship, he should have just been truthful to you instead of trying to ghost you for weeks and leaving you to your lonely thoughts.

but you wouldn’t have cared if you didn’t like him. him ignoring you wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t fall for him.

“what is your fucking problem, minho?” you asked, your anger boiling up. but despite that, your voice was more leveled than ever, as if you were exhausted. it was all being suppressed in your chest, burning and rotting away.

you smiled at him a little, the forced kind of smile, and you sarcastically laughed when you spoke, “if you got bored of me, you could have just said so.”

minho opened his mouth, surprised. but the light glimmer behind your eyes created a new kind of chaos in his head. he has seen you cry before, and this time it was all him.

“i–no, that wasn’t the problem, i just–”

“did i do something then? are you mad at me, or something like that?“ you cut him off with a scoff, shaking your head slightly as you frowned at him. “because you left me alone for weeks. you were a terrible friend to me, and i had no idea if it was me or you.”

“i’m not bored of you, (name). neither am i mad at you,” he replied quickly, sighing as he looked at you with softened eyes. “it's—something personal happened, nothing was your fault.”

you pursed your lips together, feeling slightly less agitated as your questions slowly got resolved one by one. “what is it, then? what happened to you?“

“i…” i fell in love with you.

you waited for seconds for him to talk but all minho could do was look down at the floor, fearing for what would happen to you and him if he ever told the truth. a sigh left your lips at his silence, disappointed that he couldn’t give you a proper answer.

“fine, don’t tell me,” you said, turning around to leave the kitchen area.

“hey, wait, where are you going?” he followed suit, panic flooding into his eyes.

“away from you,” you muttered as you put on your shoes. “don’t worry about seeing me again, i won’t bother you anymore.”

minho hasn’t realized he was unintentionally ruining the relationship until this point. in his attempt to keep his feelings secured and hidden, all to prevent the breakage of your friendship, he failed to notice the damage all the avoiding did to it.

now you were planning to leave him forever, to walk out and completely cut him out of your life. and oh, he was scared. he could not bear to never seeing you again, or even just to stomach the thought of you hating him because of his stupidity.

“wait, no, hold on–” he grabbed ahold of your hand when you grabbed the doorknob. before you could fling him away, he turned you around to face him and, impulsively, grabbed your face to crash his lips against yours.

yes, crash. with the amount of force he was using, the word crash would deem fit. you tried to push him away from you, but your little fists were futile to his broad chest, and soon enough he had you weak at the weeks with the exasperating way he was kissing you.

you could taste this one, his emotions were vivid at the tip of his tongue as he finally learned to surrender himself into you. he was desperate, he was lustful, he was burning at the tips of his skin just to kiss you like there is nothing else he could mean more than this exact moment.

when he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes. it was intimidating and confrontational, everything he thought he couldn’t handle now being pierced through his action so he could prove a point.

“i didn’t…” he shook his head. “i’m so sorry for ignoring you, i did it because i… i didn’t want to ruin our friendship… because i realize i won’t be able to fall out of love with you if we keep being friends, if we keep sleeping together.”

that took such a drastic turn. you never thought things would turn out this way for you, but here minho was, looking so deeply into your eyes and telling you he avoided you because he was scared his love would ruin your friendship. what a damned miracle!

“you… you coward, stupid, dumb, annoying–” you lightly punched him across the chest, feeling such staggering relief that you felt like crying. “you didn’t even give me a fighting chance, you just assumed i won’t like you back.”

“i know, i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t even try to drop hints, how was i suppose to let you know i love you back?”

“i know, baby girl, i’m sorry.”

the shock within him vanished quickly. he didn’t have the time to express his delight the way he would want to. you were standing before him in all your glory—beautiful, genuine, emotional.

and he wanted you with him in a way that was much closer than this.

nudging his nose against yours, minho let his lips meet yours at a slower pace this time. he was gentle with you, his arms holding at the side of your waist to pull you closer as you two kissed.

your hands flew to circle his neck as you stumbled out of your untied shoes and into his chest. minho let himself linger on your lips for a while before he started to trail his kisses down your jaw.

your neck was a territory he has marked many times before, and he never fails to make sure he adds something new every time his lips touch the skin. his teeth grazed past your neck before he met at the crook of it, and he obnoxiously sucked a dark bruise on your skin just so you would whimper in surprise.

sigh—how he missed that whimsical little sound. it was always so heavenly to hear, even when the action that caused it was more than devilish.

he marked his way back up to your lips when his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. he slipped his hand under it, his palm touching your bare skin for a brief second before he retreated them to clutch at the fabric of your shirt.

“can i take your shirt off, baby?” he mumbled into your mouth, his hand already raising slightly in anticipation.

you nodded, raising your arms as he complied and pulled your shirt up. you two broke apart to allow it to go through before leaning back toward each again. minho discarded your shirt off to the ground, his hands couldn’t wait to finally meet with your torso.

he kissed you fervently, his fingers holding the same amount of enthusiasm as they glided past the small curve of your waist. up and down, a faint squeeze to hold you in place, and then he pushed you forward so your back hit the door.

putting a hand between the back of your head and the hard surface, minho reluctantly pulled away from you, this time with no intention to dive back to your lips again because of all the other access to your body you’ve given him.

he breathed heavily, his voice growing raspy. “i’m gonna make it up to you.”

“i expect you to,” you replied boldly, causing him to raise his brow.

that was not something you would otherwise say in a situation like this. minho would have put you in your place if you ever attempted to give him an attitude. but he planned to let it slide this time, after all, he did hurt your feelings and he was at fault here.

“good.” was all he said before he started to move down your body.

his lips met at your collarbones, then to your chest where he skipped over your bra and went straight down to your stomach. he planted light kisses all over your skin, his tongue occasionally swiping across to wet up your body a little more.

he was kneeling before you by the time his hands met the waist of your pants, and he looked up with brows raising teasingly at you as his hands circled to the front. his fingers carefully popped open the button before they hooked through the belt loops and slowly pulled them down to your ankle.

your knees trembled at the touch of his hands, gliding up and down the back of your thighs and ever so slightly tugging you toward him. your breath hitched in your throat when he leaned up to kiss your clothed core, the sudden touch sending a surprise jolt across your mind.

foreign but familiar—it just came too sudden. you hadn’t realized this was actually happening until your panties were dragged past your thighs, the cold air a stinging proof that you’re with minho right now, and his lips were getting dangerously close to where you’ve been aching to have him these past weeks.

his hands curled around your legs, gripping your flesh firmly to keep them apart as he liked it. he moved up your inner-thighs. he continued to send tingly sensations all over your body until he stopped for a second, as if waiting for a dramatic effect, for a lingering thought to vanish before he latched his lips to your pussy.

his tongue darted out to lick between your folds, feeling the wetness gathering at your entrance upon the pleasuring stimulation. your moan went straight into ears, lighting up the delight inside him, and he continued to lather himself all over your cunt, wasting no time to poke his tongue in and out of you rhythmically.

you grabbed a messy chunk of his hair, pulling at it as you desperately tried to rust against his face, taunting him to shove his tongue deeper inside your heat. the position made your legs feel sore, and the mere attempt to grind down on him was just difficult, but you could take none of those into mind that when his mouth mercilessly sucked at your clit until it was red and swollen.

he was luxuriating himself in you—in your taste, in your voice, in your movement. your essence dripping past his tongue in a slurpy motion, your walls clenching at the digits he had graciously slipped into your heat, and ecstasy took your voice up into a milky whine when his teeth barely grazed past your clit as he sucked at you.

the heat in your chest expanded and engulfed itself all over your body. without yourself even realizing, your legs have moved apart to give minho more access to touch you even more.

“fuck, minho, please!” you exclaimed, your head hitting against the door.

ahh, you still know how to beg. perhaps not as profusely as he would have wanted you to but you were polite nonetheless. not to mention, your fingers scratching through his soft locks was enough indication that he was doing a splendid job. and he couldn’t wait to hear more of you, to feel more of you.

moving his face down to your heat, he drove his tongue inside you once again while his thumb went to press circles on your throbbing clit. you let out a choked moan, the sudden change of stimulation a very pleasant surprise, and he has your climax pinned at his mouth in no time.

gathering up your juices into his mouth, minho finally pulled away from you and stood up. he didn’t bother to wipe your essence off his lips, he just went straight for your mouth as he pressed his lips against yours. and you were in too big of a haze to distinguish the taste of yourself and his saliva, still trying to come down from the orgasm you’ve missed having from him.

minho brought his hand up to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb carefully as he contemplated his next move. perhaps he was putting a little pressure on himself to make sure this encounter would be perfect, because he thought it somehow needed to be after hurting your feelings.

but part of him also ached for a good fuck after so long. not just with anybody but with you. the scorching desire in his chest would ultimately fuel his instincts today, and maybe he’d not be able to keep his cool when he could finally be inside you.

just the thought of it made his insides burst. he should have never distanced himself from you. it was such a stupid idea.

“up,” minho commanded as he leaned down to tug at your thighs. and you listened to him, jumping up so he could catch you around his waist, your arms going around his neck as your lips moved past his face to run freely down his neck.

you were enjoying the feeling of his skin, kissing him all over in ways you wished you had been able to. your teeth bit down harder when you heard his tiny giggle at your almost amateur attempt on leaving him a hickey, a frown appearing on your face at the fact that he wasn’t taking you seriously.

he brought both of you over to the couch and he dropped you down on the surface, his body quickly hovering over yours as he got onto the couch as well. you looked up at him, your eyes smiling funnily in a way that made him pause his movement. 

this was supposed to be a heated moment, yet somehow a single quirk of your lips was able to make his walls crumble.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, pinching your waist and causing you to squeal at the itch.

“nothing! it’s just…” you reached down for his hand and brought it up to your face, kissing his rough knuckles as you smiled at him. “i’ve missed you, that’s all.”

minho wavered, the glint behind his eyes dimming with a sense of being completely enamored. at the way your lips would smile, at the way your gaze held all of him, even just at how your smaller hand gripped his own. he was so infatuated, he could see no end to it.

“i’m sorry for suddenly leaving you,” he said, leaning down by dropping onto his forearm. your fingers still clung into his palm when he moved it up to your chin, his thumb tracing the tip of it before it moved up to your lips. “i promise i won’t do it again.”

his thumb traced your lower lip, a movement so sensual that you couldn’t think about much of anything else. just the mere fact that you got him back, and that he too has fallen in love with you, was enough to make you drop every ounce of your sanity.

you felt like you’ve got all you need already.

“kiss me, minho,” you pleaded quietly, opening your mouth more so his thumb would shift across your teeth.

he felt your legs move underneath his body, pressing together in a squirm. and he knew you wanted him between them, he knew you were waiting for him to pull them apart instead of doing it on your own. because everything needs to be done by his hands, that has always been the way you two worked, and you would obey him with ease.

flashes of your naked body came before his face. flashes he imagined when he was alone at night, trying miserably to replace you with a toy, or sometimes even himself. his lids dropped as he shifted to look down at your body, soft and awaiting his instructions, and he lightly growled to himself.

impatience suddenly took over him then, the previous moment gone in a blink of an eye. he leaned down to capture your lips, his hands going to your knees to spread them apart so he could place himself right in the middle.

you complied with him, kissing him back and tugging at his shirt as a signal that you wanted it off his body. minho huffed through his nose, slightly annoyed that he has to break away from you but he quickly yanked the collar of the shirt and pulled it over his head.

the flex of his arms was visible as he did so, and your eyes widened shyly without looking away. god, you’ve always loved the way he was built—just muscular enough to ogle at and not too much that they become uncomfortably distracting.

having second thoughts after seeing his toned chest, you decided to sit up from your spot and pushed your hands against him. minho frowned at you, his voice silent but his head-tilt asking a thousand questions. he was going to kiss you, why have you stopped him!

you grinned as you pushed him back, using your body weight to make him fall to the other side of the couch until he was under you this time. you laid on top of him, your small frame trapped between his legs as your head right at the crook of his neck.

minho was about to verbally ask you for your intention, but his eyes rolled up into a close when you kissed his neck. your hands roamed across his chest, your nails dragging ghostly against his skin in an unrecognized pattern as you peppered your kisses and kitten licks all over him.

he sighed in content, feeling your lips on every inch of his body, hot and loving. and he loved being treated this way, like he was being worshipped, like he was a god and you some mere peasant who had to rely on him for a living.

“(name),” he said, his voice sharp as he opened his eyes.

you perked up at him from the waist of his pants, your hands teasingly located near the middle. they had been scattered all over his abdomen, touch here and rubbing there, but never once did they meet at the middle where the obvious bulge of his pants was.

looking at his unsatisfied expression, you could only feel a sense of amusement as you pouted. your lashes fluttered up at him as you scooted back a little for better access. your smile was unfading when you leaned the lower side of your cheek right on top of his clothed member.

“what?” you asked, your smile widening at the hiss he let out.

“stop teasing me,” he said.

“hmm…” you pursed your lips, your finger dragging past his thigh to your face, then you palmed down on the shape of his member. “but it’s so fun.”

for someone with a waterfall dripping past your lips, you sure could find some time to be bratty like this.

rolling his eyes, his tongue poked at his inner-cheek as he turned away for a brief moment. when he looked at you again, his gaze was less hooded than it was amused. but it wasn’t your kind of amused. it wasn’t playful but degrading, the glimmer of it making you shiver.

“you want to say that again, baby?” he asked, his hand moving down to your head. he gently ran his fingers through your hair before he tugged at your scalp, his action light but not without harshness in it.

you whimpered under your breath, your brows furrowing helplessly as your head tilted to the side. “no.”

“good girl.” he released your hair then, gesturing toward himself. he nodded at you, smirking, “keep going.”

you didn’t mess around this time. your hand reached to the rubber waistband and easily pulled his sweats down to his thighs. you scooted your body up, your mouth salivating at the mere sight of his clothed member. you quickly tugged down his boxers, letting his cock spring out before you carefully grabbed its base.

minho sucked in a deep breath at your touch, your small hand covering around the base of his shaft. he closed his eyes with a blissful sigh when your lips finally touched his tip, giving him a little kiss before pressing them against him to dart your tongue over his slit.

licking past his red tip, you trailed your tongue over his shaft once before you went back up to his tip. then you finally took him in your mouth, your head bobbing up and down at regular speed as your hand rubbed the uncovered area.

minho groaned, his hand quickly flying down to your head. he let it lay there, only wanting something for him to hold onto as you sucked him off. great pleasure released from his abdomen, spreading all across his body as you hollowed your cheeks and licked him up as your head moved.

he opened his eyes to look down at you. for a second, you were focused on keeping him in your mouth, but you seemed to have felt his eyes on you so you glanced up at him.

he cursed at your wide-eyed, innocent—well, as innocent as you could look with his dick in your mouth, at least—expression then. his chest doing a flip as you slowly dragged your lips up to his tip to add stimulation to it, the smooching sounds you let out deafening to his ears.

there was something about your facade. it was the way he knew you were just putting up a naive front to rile him up, looking as pure as possible as your lips printed a smile on the top of his shaft, your tongue still poking out to lick him irregularly as if you get to be in control here.

(and, yes, to a certain level you do have control. to a maximum level, you have his utmost attention and all of his heart.)

holding onto the base of his cock, you tilted your head to the side and squinted your eyes mischievously at him. dragging the side of his tip against your cheek slowly, you let out a lewd hum, something like a relieved moan but it didn’t lack a tinge of questioning noise in it, and you watched him as if waiting for his patience to crack, waiting for his tough walls to fall beneath your feet.

he was falling. his face didn’t much show it, and either did his muscles tense under your body weight. but minho was completely surrendered to you; how could he not? you’re such a pretty thing, your warm mouth feeling heavenly as they moved up and down his shaft in an agonizingly slow pace.

his breathing was elevated now, he could feel his chest suffocating with deep arousal, and he wanted nothing more to have your walls wrapped around him now. forget your lips, he needed the tightness around him.

“okay, no,” minho spoke after a moment of thought. he attempted to sit up, his hands moving out to grab at your elbows. “you, get up, now.”

you listened to him, sitting up from your spot while he pulled at your arm. you followed his lead, letting him bring you onto his lap where you heat met with his hardened member. The confusion that once lingered in your head immediately faded away when you felt his girth snug between your folds, a whimper leaving your lips excitedly as you grind down on his member, wanting more friction out of a mere touch.

minho huffed, a tingly sensation fixated at his abdomen. his movements were beginning to get hasty but he has a general direction of what he wanted to do. he wanted you, that was all he knew. and with you sitting prettily on top of him, his mind knew exactly what he had to do despite the pitter-pattering of his heart.

although clumsy, he was precise when he gabbed you by your waist and hoisted you up with your help. he moved his hand down to hold up his dick, angling it right at your entrance before he glanced up at you through his tousled hair.

his eyes were striking, dazzling you as he waited for permission to handle you. you weren’t able to say much, a knot present at the back of your throat that could only be released when you could finally feel full again, full of him. so instead of talking, you brought your hands to your sides where his laid, and you lightly spread your knees further apart to drop onto his cock.

minho moaned lowly, feeling the warmth of your entrance as his tip got lathered up with your essence. he took that as a green light, and with a tightened grip on your skin, he guided you to sink on his length by pushing your body lower and lower until you were sat with him stuck within your walls.

your eyes shut when you felt his stretch, opening you up so deliciously that you needed a moment to breathe. you took all of him in you, his length a pleasantly erotic sensation inside your cunt that even a small scratch of friction could get your head all fuzzed up in a dream.

you felt full, oh so very full, in the most delightful way possible. you felt like smiling when you adoringly looked at him, because you loved him so and you didn’t think you could get this back again. your walls unconsciously clenched around him when you felt like shifting your position a little, and the little breathy sounds he let out a kind of music you adored.

he stared back at you after the sudden commotion and his heart melted. your faint smile was an undeserved treasure you somehow decided to grant him on a daily, and the fact that you always made him feel so snug and good, both chastely and sexually, was nothing short of a miracle.

his hand slipped from your waist to lace through yours, holding you softly as lust blossomed in his eyes.

it has always been the two of you who could make each other feel this way. the thrill of first love, the nostalgia of being intimate, the fear of losing one another—no wonder you two fell in love, it was a match made in heaven.

he brought you down to kiss him, and your arms instinctively flew around his neck. you allowed him a second of solace before pulling away just enough to speak, your voice small with praise. “fuck, you feel so good.”

he laughed, biting at your jaw where his face got draped over by the falling of your hair. “good, but i’m about to feel even better,” he whispered before reattaching his lips to yours. between the tangled lips, you could hear a needy whine sounding from the back of his threat, and you giggled into his mouth. he wanted you to move.

you carefully brought yourself up, your walls scraping past his cock in the process and catching up a burn. then, slowly but still at a non-torturous pace, you lowered yourself back down on him. you kept up with the speed, going up and down on his lap and moaning with every new stretch of your walls.

minho’s hands slipped from yours to caress all over your body, touching you gingerly as if you were his pretty porcelain doll. when his hands met your chest, he gave a small frown at the bra that was still attached to your body, and he quickly unhooked it to expose you completely.

your thighs stuttered when you felt him clamp his palm over your breast, the sudden jolt of pleasure hitting your head. his hands moved to cup your side, his thumbs reaching to press against your nipples and twirling circles with it. then he leaned forward to take your perky bud into his mouth after kissing around the bouncy area, licking your milky smooth skin before his tongue swiped across your nipple.

he kissed across your chest, his lips unable to remove from your skin as you relentlessly moved up and down on him. the plethora of pleasure, the immeasurable amount of enjoyment manifesting into this electrifying sensation all across your veins. it was all from the way minho felt so good inside you, and the passionate touch of his mouth on your everywhere.

“ahh–min–” you hugged him close with a sudden scream, only able to utter his name halfway. the jolt had knocked the air out of your lungs when his cock brushed against your sweet spot, making your knees buckle weakly and your movement halting to a messy rhythm.

minho raised a brow, feeling playful upon seeing your drastic reaction. he pulled away from your face, his eyes searching for your face. “hmm? min–what?”

you furrowed your brows then, a blush escaping to your cheeks at his seductive voice. as you struggled to keep up with the thrusts, you pursed your lips together and flashed minho a soft grimace before you squeezed your eyes shut again at the sensation. you didn’t plan on finishing your cut off sentence and you just wanted to keep hitting the sweet spot over and over again, because god, it made you feel so, so good.

but minho wanted otherwise. unfortunately, he has the upper hand here. he wasn’t the one who’s been moving rigorously the past minutes, he still got lots of stamina stored up for him to hold you in place. you whined when he did, his hands pushing down on your hips to prevent you from sliding up his dick.

you looked at him, your eyes wide as sweat glistened on your forehead, sticking the hair to your pretty skin. the arousal was dripping inside you, aching to be moved around, longing to be penetrated.

hoping to gain an ounce of sympathy, you pouted with a slump of your shoulders and pleaded, “minho, please.”

“hmm,” he squinted his eyes, lightly snapping his hips deeper into you. “please…? please what, baby.”

you clenched your fists, feeling the annoying pain of his slow, slow thrusts. part of you wanted to see how long he could keep up with this, this burningly slow pace. but hellish ache at your pussy overshadowed your tendency to be bratty and childish. all you wanted was to feel the pleasure again, so you begged as he wanted you to.

“please fuck me, minho,” you asked, desperation pumping out of your mouth like gold, “please fuck me–your cock feels good, i–i want more!”

minho laughed lowly, the moany sound hiding under the edge of his voice when he saw how you struggled to speak. the heat on your cheeks adding to the overall flair of his sight, your bare appearance the greatest art he’s ever laid his eyes on. and your words made him soar off the moon, you needy little thing! you’d break yourself with embarrassment to keep feeling the euphoric feeling only he could make you feel, wouldn’t you?

how pathetically adorable. maybe he should help you out a little, the moment a silent fulfillment to his own desire to pound himself quicker into you.

he gripped your hips tighter by digging his nails into your skin and he helped you up on his length. he waited for a moment before he forced your fragile body down on his cock, earning a chocked strangled whimper from you. he continued in a regular rhythm. occasionally, he would push his hips up to meet with your pussy, adding to the strength of the pound and making your moan louder with the strike.

you let loose of your muscles when you felt that you’ve lost the control, and you pressed yourself closer to him in hopes to regain the previous position. the magnified gratification came unknowingly like a ghost, his dick finally able to find your g-spot again, and this time stayed haunting you with every slick thrust.

as your pussy started to salivate more with each snap of your hips, the squelching noise was also becoming harder to ignore. it mixed in with your heavy breaths, the sound of sex reverberating around you both, and you could feel your orgasm approaching inch by inch, threatening your release.

minho was watching you carefully, his eyes fixated on your face as he observed every little movement. your jaw hung open at the constant moaning, your eyes barely able to open clearly because of the overwhelming sensation—everything about you made him feel confident, possibly even narcissistic at some point.

but he really enjoyed the fact that you succumb to him so easily, and you shamelessly showed it through your body without even knowing.

he wondered if you knew you were clenching incredibly tightly around his cock. it didn’t seem to be a conscious action, considering how you could barely string a coherent sentence together. judging by that, though, minho knew your climax was approaching close, and he planned to get you to it with as much care as possible.

pulling you off him suddenly, he sat up quickly and pushed you on your back. he hovered over your body, only laying on top of you after he re-inserted himself inside of you. your legs went around his hips, bringing him closer by the back while he leaned his head down to briefly kiss your neck.

“hey,” he smiled, his hand caressing through your hair as he looked down at you with soft eyes.

you raised your brows at him, silent breathes huffing in and out of your nose as he started to thrust into you again. you touched his face, squeezing his cheeks with a smile. “what?”

minho was right. he does feel closer to you like this.

his eyes shifted down to your lips and back up into your eyes. affection engulfed him quickly, it does every time he stares into your eyes. he gets reminded of the way he fell in love with you again and again whenever he does.

and he never minded the constant reminder. he enjoyed the process. it was a lot of emotional talks, playful banter, and a lot of good sex. all of which he felt like he could have with you for the rest of his life, he wanted to have with you for the remaining of his stupid lifetime.

he unconsciously pounded deeper into you then, his mind wanting you to feel all of him to the rawest sense. you moaned at the sudden change of force but you welcomed it by opening your legs a little more for him.

your toes were curling after a few more hard thrusts, your stomach churning impossibly at the way his cock felt sliding in and out of you. when you felt the tightening feeling in your chest, you looked up at minho and grabbed his hand, huffing out hastily, “min–minho, i’m close.”

“i know,” he hummed loving at you, picking up his pace to bring you over the edge.

you arched your back at the feeling, a silent scream leaving your mouth. he pinned your hands to the side of your head, his hands hugging your small ones, and when your head moved back down to face him, he wasted no time to put his lips on yours again.

god, it was like he literally cannot keep himself off you.

your mind was getting foggy. you weren’t sure whether it was from the passionately way he kissed or from the burn between your legs, but you felt like you couldn’t quite process anything clearly anymore. well, anything except for one thing.

when minho pulled away, he kept himself close. his lips were grazing against yours but he wasn’t close enough to kiss you. and you could feel his lips move against yours ghostly when he whispered, “i love you.”

you processed that one. the words hit you really strongly too, your heart practically sunk up to your throat at them. you wanted to say it back, you planned to say it back, but you only sucked in a strong breath when minho rammed against the sweet spot in you. your eyes rolled back at the unprecedented attack and your back lifted off the couch once again.

“oh fuck–minho, please, please–ahh!”

he continued with a few more harsh thrusts before you released around his cock with a whine, your hands tightening around his at the pleasure. he had his head buried at the crook of your neck, his hips continued to move as he drowned himself in the scent of your body. he was chasing his own high now, his cock twitching inside your warm hold as he pounded into you.

your walls slurped him up, tightening around him to add stimulation. and when he felt like he was about to come undone, he quickly pulled out of you and sat up. his hand moved to his cock, quickly pumping along his length as his eyes trained on your sweaty, delicate body.

you looked at him before slowly sitting up, you went on all fours and crawled closer to him before positioning your face before his cock. minho shakily breathed out a sigh when you nudged your face against his tip, then you stopped at your opened mouth, waiting for him to pour himself over your tongue.

“ugh, you’re gonna swallow me, baby girl?” he hissed out, and he bit his lower lip when you nodded, widening your eyes naively at him.

he groaned, his abdomen tightening at the mere sight of you, hot cum sprouting out of his slit and landing on your stuck-out tongue. you held your breath, feeling the liquid dripping past your tongue before taking it back into your mouth and rolling it around. when you looked back up at minho, you grinned a little and stuck your tongue out at him.

his lips twitted at the sticky substance lingered on the tip, little lines stretching from your lips to your tongue. fuck, you filthy thing! how dare you make his heart all disheveled and gone.

“fuck, you’re so hot,” he muttered under his breath as you sat back on your heels.

you laughed, wiping your mouth and swallowing the last of him. “thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.”

he rolled his eyes then, the corner of his lips turning up into a graceful smile. he tackled you to the couch then, your hot body pressed against yours, but the atmosphere was more romantically chaste than sexual this time. you two were just two lovers naked in each others’ arms, putting complete and utter faith in each other that you would be held safe.

you two went quiet, basking in the silence. but you could hear him, his heart and his skin, pumping and brushing along yours.

would you have thought of this months ago when you first met minho? no. you have dreamt of it, but you never thought it could be true. and the dream was shattered when he suddenly decided to ghost you weeks ago.

but it didn’t matter now. you were here with him, he was holding you tightly like it was the only thing he knew to do.

“i meant to say it back,” you broke the silence first, “i love you too.”

despite knowing the answer already, minho still breathed out a sigh of relief anyway. he pressed a kiss to your head, his eyes closing calmly as he nodded. “i know.”

you smiled. minho has been a lot of things—a nice classmate, a good friend, and a few quick fucks. but you never indulged in the idea of you and him together. the idea that minho could be you and him together, that he could be a partner, a boyfriend.

the idea that minho could be an ‘us.’

[orbitariums]

aftermath | steve rogers

request: "oneshot where steve fucking obliterates us and doesn't realize it until after sex.”

note: oo i love this request haha i saw it and i was like i’m at your service. rough steve is hot and also cute!!!

warnings: rough sex, smut, nsfw, creampie, slight pain after sex *the good kind*

word count: 1.6k

    Steve was a generally calm person, and his calm demeanor translated into your sex life with him. That wasn't a problem for either of you though, he was more than intuitive when it came to your needs. Satisfying you came naturally to him. That was why it was no surprise you were approaching a fourth orgasm while Steve's hips rolled into you with ease. The real surprise was how rough he was being. 

     You hadn't expected it from Steve and had never seen this kind of energy from him before. It was almost feral, the way he loomed over you, how hard his hips snapped into you, his eyes void except for that intense glare of lust and burning want. You could hardly focus on anything but the intense pleasure you were feeling. It was like your entire brain had gone to mush. You'd felt amazing feelings with Steve before, but none like this.

    "You like that?" Steve grunted in response to a high pitched moan that had slipped out of your trembling lips.

    Your whole body was in overdrive because of how hard he was fucking you, because of how good it felt, you couldn't control the incoherent noises that came out of you. Your hair was askew on your face, your bottom lip tugged into your mouth.

    "Yes, baby," you babbled. "You're fucking me so good."

    Steve nearly growled, looking down and pressing his forehead against yours, digging his elbows into the mattress on either side of you. His strong, toned body brushed against your own naked body each time he pushed himself inside of you, and you could feel him straining to keep up, to hold off his own orgasm so he could chase your fourth one. 

     He had made you come twice during foreplay, once during intercourse and now he was going for another one. Luckily for you, like him you had a quick recovery period, just the benefit of having superhuman abilities. Still, despite those abilities, Steve was fucking you - hard, and this was not something you were nearly as likely to recover from quickly.

    "Fuck," he choked out, his jaw ticking, the veins in his forehead surging as he felt himself drawing closer as well. His breathing in your ear, ragged and heavy and unhinged, only made you more aroused. You felt yourself clench around him, and he hummed in approval. "That's it, baby. I want you to come all over my cock for me, again."

    You moaned, pouting gently because feeling him so deep inside of you was evoking more than just strong physical feelings. You felt his hands all over your body, tweaking your nipple, and leading up further, until one of his hands teased at your neck.

    "Can you do that for me?" he asked, in a gentle, inquiring voice that did not at all match the rough, careless manner in which he was fucking you.

    As he asked this question, his hand wrapped fully around your neck, enough so that you could feel it in all the right places, though still leaving room for you to breathe. He was being rough - not stupid. His hand around your neck though, was what brought you to your orgasm - feeling the hard skin and the strength of his muscular hand around your neck while his cock slammed in and out of you from below.

    "Y-yes," you choked out, bucking your hips up to meet Steve's own. You moaned in shock and pleasure - you didn't think he could be any deeper inside of you. He was taking so much control, not worrying about if he was doing too much, which was why he generally held back most of the time. You practically spasmed, your legs twitching as you wrapped them around his torso and his back. "Fuck, Steve! I'm coming, baby, shit."

    "That's it, that's a good girl," Steve praised you, bringing one hand down to your clit to bring you to that finish line. You almost screamed at the added stimulant, and nearly blacked out from the shock of the orgasm. After you had came you were a blubbery, moaning mess, babbling on and on about how good it was and how good you would be for him. You had never come so hard, and it was your fourth orgasm of the night. It took a lot of work, and then again he made it all seem so easy.

    Now it was time for Steve to take advantage of his pleasure, after working you up so many times. He'd been holding back his release, but your orgasm set him off. He was burying himself into you without pause, fucking you into oblivion now, groaning and moaning above you. He was using you, and you surely didn't mind. Steve was unhinged, his beard scratching your sweat-glazed skin as he buried his face into your neck, scrunching his eyes shut. All you could hear were his deep moans in your ear, as if he were desperate for release, slamming into you harder and faster by the minute to bring himself to liberation.

    The room was filled with your arousal, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his hips bucking into you, both your voices as he finally came, releasing his hot and big load inside of you, more than either of you had expected. You even moaned satisfactorily just at the feeling of how much there was, how much he was filling you up. You liked being filled by him, and he knew that, which was why he stayed buried deep inside of you long after he finished, your two bodies melded together, sweaty and panting and breathing heavily.

    When Steve finally pulled out, slowly and graciously, his arm outstretched over your head as he held onto the bedpost (which you were undoubtedly slamming into while he thrusted into you), he hummed with approval. You were too spaced out to even look, instead choosing to focus on the veiny arm that was above you and bulging with muscle.

    "Look at that," Steve crooned, his fingers lightly tracing along your entrance, which was stuffed with his cum.

    Steve, true to his nature, placed two fingers inside of you, curving them slightly and fucking them in and out of you until his cum started sliding out from you and onto the bed sheets, then pulling his fingers out of you with a satisfying glide. You whimpered at the slight twinge of pain as he placed his fingers inside of you, because of the aftermath of the rough penetration. It was a good pain, though. His head perked up at the sound of your whimper, and he seemed to have returned to normal Steve state, not as rough and careless as he had been just minutes before.    

    He seemed alert, curious,

    "What's that, kitten?"

    You blushed, smiling at the nickname, and suddenly became very shy. You had essentially became a hot blob when Steve was drilling in and out of you, not how you usually were. You imagined you looked very silly. Then again, Steve was different from how he usually was, and he hardly seemed to realize it. You brushed your legs (which were quite sore, as was your core) together, hiding your bare flesh from Steve, playfully.

    "Nothing," you smiled, and Steve smirked up at you, not sure what you were playing at, and gently pushed your legs apart again so he could see you.

    "There you go, beautiful," he commented, eyes focused on one thing and one thing only, and then his lips, as he brought a gentle kiss to your clit, as a means of calming you down, getting you to talk. "You okay?"

     You grunted, running your fingers through Steve's hair,

    "Mm hm. Little sore."

    You tried to sit up, but felt another pleasantly painful twinge as you repositioned yourself against the pillow. You tried to hide that you were breathing heavier.

      "Okay, maybe a lot sore," you chuckled, and Steve immediately began to coddle you, asking all kinds of questions.

    "Are you okay? Was I too rough with you, baby? Do you need anything? Oh god, did I hurt you? I forget I'm still stronger than you sometimes, even though you're-"

    You just laughed it off, kissing his cheek as he cuddled next to you, holding him while he held you.

    "No, Steve. You didn't hurt me, and I'm fine. You were rougher than usual though, that's for sure."

    Steve raised his brows,

     "Really? I hardly noticed."

You scoffed, laughing, and shook your head playfully at him,

    "Hard to believe. But I loved it."

     "I'm sorry, YN," he said, and genuinely sounded guilty. "I don't wanna hurt you, YN, you need to tell me if I'm hurting you. I try not to forget how much stronger than you I am, but I guess this is one of those times, huh? I'm sorry, I guess I was just... releasing unaddressed stress. But I shouldn't use you for that."

    "Steve, calm down! I told you, I liked it," you said, shoving him. "It was a good kind of rough, a good kind of sore." You turned to face him, caressing his beard with your palm, your voice lower and quieter. "I like you being gentle during sex. But you should fuck me like this more often."

    If that didn't make Steve want to go again, and harder, he didn't know what would. And after your final round of the day, Steve made sure to take good care of you, running a bubble bath and declaring his love for you. And despite his rough nature during sex, he was still very gentle in the aftermath.

[xomarauders]

I couldn’t find if you take requests, so ignore this if you dont! I loved your little fic of Marlenes coming out process, adored it! I got a hint Sirius was holding a secret of his own (😌) and maybe you could write something with Marls and Sirius having a conversation coming out to each other, sharing, realising they’re not alone? *kiss* no matter if you get to it thank you for your work ❤️

you ask and you shall recieve! 

i hope you enjoy this second bit. i have uploaded it onto ao3 as well if anyone wants to check out both parts there (: 

—

Sirius was running harder today, his feet pounding harshly against the solid ground. No matter how hard Marlene tried to keep up she couldn’t. She paused, letting him continue to race ahead of her as she dropped her hands to her knees and gasped for air. It was a cool day, and the lake rippled slightly as the wind blew, continuing on to whistle through the trees. Winter was coming soon, which meant the three broomsticks would be serving hot chocolate on Hogsmeade weekends. She wondered idly if Dorcas would like to join her in having one.

“Fuck!”

Marlene popped her head up at the sound of Sirius’ exclamation. He was sitting on the ground a few meters ahead, his long hair falling into his face as he slouched forward, one hand circling around his ankle. With one last deep breath, Marlene jogged towards him.

“What happened?”

“My fucking ankle. I tweaked it last week when—” He paused. “I tweaked it last week and it’s still giving me issues.”

Marlene knelt down and gently took Sirius’ ankle her hand, feeling for some sort of tear or strain. He sat silently as she worked, which Marlene found quite suspicious. Sirius was, well, pretty dramatic most of the time and this subdued Sirius that had been appearing more and more lately was definitely starting to concern her.

“What sort of thing do you and the rest of you marauders do on those nights you sneak out to cause you to fuck up your ankle this bad?”

Sirius looked at her. “You know we sneak out?”

She shrugged. The truth was that Marlene only knew they snuck out because she had seen them last month when she was up in the astronomy tower, waiting to meet Dorcas. The two of them had started becoming closer and Marlene—though the very idea scared her—has started to have feelings for the other girl. She had yet to anything about these feelings, though. It was strange, maybe, but Marlene wanted to be out to her friends before attempting to start anything with Dorcas. What fun would it be if she couldn’t tell anyone about her?

Marlene looked at Sirius, who had resumed staring off into space. She frowned, suddenly feeling guilty about not catching onto his obviously distressed state earlier. How terrible a friend she must be for not noticing despite running with him nearly every day and sharing a common room with him.

“You were pushing yourself pretty heavily,” She said, taking out her wand and transfiguring a stick into some wrap to tie around Sirius’ ankle. “why is that? James tell you that you need to for Quidditch, or something?”

Sirius shook his head. “Just stressed.”

“About what?”

He looked up at her and Marlene could see the worn-down look in his eye. The genuine sadness there made her heart ache for him. It was not a look that belonged on Sirius Black’s face.

“Have you ever…felt alone?” He asked, and Marlene pretended not to notice the way his eyes filled with tears. She nodded.

“Well, that’s how I feel. I…I have a secret and I’m too afraid to say it out loud. I’m scared of what could happen if I do. Scared of being rejected, of losing my friends. Of losing Remus.”

Sirius said the last part softly, and Marlene got the feeling that she perhaps was not supposed to hear it at all. She stayed quiet for a moment, eyeing him, and wondering if maybe, just maybe, Sirius was like her.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make your friends turn their back on you, Sirius. Especially Remus.” Marlene said solemnly. He scoffed.

“You don’t know that.”

She thought for a moment, wondering what she should say next. She thought back to the past few weeks, about how desperately she wanted to confide in her friends, in Sirius, and how she too was scared of rejection. It was a terrible, feeling as though you could not share your most authentic self with your closest friends. She would not let Sirius feel that. Neither of them had to.

“Fine, I don’t know.” Marlene said. She reached out and took hold of his hand, prompting him to look at her. “What I do know is that I won’t turn my back on you. There is nothing you could say to me that is going to make me love you any less, Sirius. You’re one of my best friends and I care about you too much to let anything come between that.”

Tears fell from Sirius’ lashes and he shook his head. “You don’t know—”

“Try me.”

He sucked in a breath, trying to compose himself before whispering into the wind so softly that Marlene almost missed it.

“I’m gay.”

Marlene smiled at him, recognizing the look of relief in his eyes, even as the fear lingered. She remembered that feeling, remembered the support she had received from Dorcas and she wanted to give that to Sirius. With her arms wide open, Sirius fell into them, crying in earnest now, and she held onto him tightly.

“Please don’t hate me, Marls.” He whimpered and Marlene had to bite back tears of her own.

“Oh, Sirius. Never. I could never hate you.” She laughed slightly. “Besides, it’d be pretty hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay when I’m a lesbian.”

Sirius pulled back, looking at her with wide eyes. “You’re—”

“Into girls? Yes.”

Sirius opened his mouth, stunned for a moment, before punching her lightly in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I wanted to! I almost did like ten times! C’mon, you know how intimidating it is!”

They laughed, their tears turning into those of joy as they embraced each other once more. Marlene felt like she could breathe again. Coming out to Sirius made it seem more real, made her feel even more empowered than she was before when it was just a secret between her and Dorcas. She wondered if she would continue to feel like this the more people she told. Lily and Alice would be supportive, there was no doubt in her mind. She would tell them tonight. She would tell James and the rest of the team during practice. Surely they would be happy for her before James made them promptly get back to work. She would tell Remus in the library where they studied. He would probably nod his head and offer a small smile, thanking her for being so honest.

“You should tell your friends.” Marlene whispered.

“You should, too.”

She pulled back from their hug, smiling her watery smile.

“Let’s do it together.”

[yellowocaballero]

ugh what you said about jon just helplessly missing deisha and despite being able to connect, still ultimately grieves alone forced me to think about this one book that said something like “grief is a room you enter alone” and I just ;_; something I love about your metas so much is that you rlly pick apart how it can be true that multiple things can be happening at once - he’s being understood, but he can’t be understood, he’s monstrous, but he’s human etc. basically I adore these essays and just reading how you build and present flaws in characters I think is genuinely making me a better writer

THANK YOU...I think we all grieve alone, just a little bit. With people, and maybe especially with more intangible things - when we move to another city or country, when we live alienated from our home cultures, when our bodies fail us, or when relationships fail. It’s inherently such a solitary thing.

And yeah, so often in life we’re feeling so many contradictory things!! Maybe even ALL THE TIME! I’ve loved and hated simultaneously, I’ve never wanted to see someone again and found myself constantly seeking out contact. You ever never want someone to text you, but you’re sad that they don’t text? I want to go back to my workplace but also I want to keep working from home forever. So it’s a real, legitimate feeling, I think.

But that’s also not why I write it that way. Stories inherently kind of have to work on both a literal and symbolic/metaphorical level. You said that you were interested in the writing bits, so I’ll get specific - I determine what happens in layers. Some things are the most essential aspects of the story, and everything else has to warp around that. Hope Etc is a very weird and bad example because a) I put no thought in this story and b) the nature of daemons is that they literalize the metaphorical. So basically every physical thing that Jon does is metaphorical for something. 

So what a story is ‘about’ is the most important thing, and this can change and shift throughout the story as you realize what keeps cropping up time again and again (which is kind of oxymoronic). I use monster vs human a lot for this specific fandom, because monsters can have whatever metaphorical significance you fucking want them to, but other stories such as hope vs desolation, optimism vs pessimism, wanting to die vs choosing to live, etc, work too. The second thing is tone - which determines the message of the story dramatically. What a story is ‘about’ can’t be pessimism when you have a light-hearted and comedic tone. Unless you’re getting REALLY creative. You can add a lot of additional themes to that, but a bunch of themes together make is what something is about. Also very important is that for me what something is ‘about’ includes genre. 

Then what’s kind of wrapped around that is the metaphor. Literal things happen, which have metaphorical meaning, which advance what a story is ‘about’. Not everything that happens is metaphorical - sometimes things have to happen to advance the plot - but things that happen need to advance something. Either plot, or a character arc, or they need to have metaphorical significance. In my opinion the most deft writing is when everything that happens has all three. 

I think over metaphor is character arc and character. When something happens in a story it has to advance the plot and advance the character’s arc. The character’s arc forms a trajectory that spells out the theme. A character arc for me frequently means the relationship between two characters, which often really really work to highlight theme. I think people push each other to change and grow a lot. If it’s a romantic relationship I push that ‘growth instigated by the other’ hard. Also, foils. I think the best romantic relationships are foils. I love foils. I always write foils. Just adore them, they’re so easy to write. Just make someone the opposite of someone else but give them the same theme. It’s great. This is also why I’m always saying that I don’t really sit down and ‘make characters’, characters just happen based on what needs to happen. I don’t decide anything about a character when I start out besides “haha exact opposite of canon character” or “haha amnesiac PI” or “haha roleswap”. And that’s coming from someone who rarely uses canon characterizations and who writes everybody as a thinly veiled OC...and maybe that’s why everybody kind of ends up a thinly veiled OC...

Over that is plot. Plot is what has to happen to make all of these other things happen. I can’t plot. I think I can’t plot because I’m too worried about these other things and I forget ‘oh yeah, Things Have To Happen’. Maybe there’s other people who plot first and then figure out these other things based on what happens in the plot? ....why...

So I kind of made that a gumball, layered thing, because that’s how I build the story. And I shouldn’t have, because these things all feed each other. What a story is ‘about’ is highly dictated by what you’ve decided the character arc to be - highly - and it creates a feedback loop as both of these things get changed and twisted and tangled during writing. A story never ends how I intended, because different things crop up. But there is a ‘priority list’ for me, and that’s kind of the layers - these characters have to act in X way because that’s one of the cornerstones I need to hit for the genre, so I have to have their character arcs match this. Characters can’t act in a certain way just because the plot makes them - granted, sometimes they do, but that means that you have to go back and tweak their character arc to match. You cannot have something metaphorically happen that goes completely against the theme, unless that has repercussions. Plot isn’t the story for me, the about is the story. None of this is hard and fast, and there is nothing that you can’t do, you just really have to view all of these things in a complex interplay that constantly affect each other.

I think of it like gears? They all work together and churn together to make the story work. But if you twist one gear, the others move too. You first imagine it this one way, but then you keep on tweaking and tweaking and tweaking, and then everything else has to change too, so then you’re like why did I even bother to outline, outlining is stupid, and also I have this funny joke so I have to go back and change everything, and...

Wow, maybe that’s why I’m so bad at planning shit..

My...goal? Is to make it so that Everything works on every level. You should be able to read a story completely literally and completely miss the metaphorical meaning and still vibe. But unfortunately the way it turns out for me sometimes is that the symbolism outweighs the literal. When I write absurdist/surrealist stuff it’s just me being lazy and not having to have things be literal, lol. What you get when something only works on a symbolic level and not on a literal level at all is Utena. And I’m writing trashy fanfic so I can’t do that. What normally happens in practice is that things happen literally for a bit, and then I’m like ‘oh I’m Sensing a Theme’ and then I start playing into the theme, and then things happen because it’s thematic. Plot is...plot should be more important to me...

And then of course there’s grounding all of this in human emotion and making sure there’s a climax (me, shaking hope etc: THERE’S NO FUCKING CLIMAX), and dealing with all of that stuff that makes it actually emotional and impactful instead of just abstract and dumb. 

I chose not to use examples for all of that because I wanted it to just be broad writing advice? I can kind of point out there examples of that line of thinking in my writing, and I probably can for Hope, Etc, but it would be a bad example - both because the NATURE of that story is that the literal is INHERENTLY a metaphor so you really cannot view anything in that story as literal, nothing in it is literal - also because I put no thought into it. 

Of course that’s not my process. That’s not my process at all. I don’t sit down and figure this shit out. I didn’t read any of that anywhere, it’s just me bullshitting, that entire thing was just me bullshitting relentlessly I am so fucking sorry. My process is that I joke about ideas with friends, I sit down at a computer and I kind of thump a keyboard for a few hours, I live my life and daydream stuff and kinda make little movies in my heads, I go home and slam the keyboard some more, halfway through I walk up to my beta and go “hey what’s the plot of this?” she helps me figure it out by giving me very bad ideas, I kind of slam my keyboard some more, and then it’s done. And then I kinda edit it a little maybe whatever and then I post it. 

There’s not a lot of thought involved. I really can’t stress enough how I don’t think about all of this when I write. I’m really brain empty. When I do these analyses what I’m doing is that I’m looking back over my story and then I’m like...Oh That’s What I Was Doing! Huh! Neat!

Haha that got long. I’m not a good writer. Thanks for the ask!

[bobbyshaddoe80]

Liberated Audio Reviews

Blake's 7 - The Liberator Chronicles Vol. 2

RELEASED AUGUST 2012

Recorded on: 18 October and 25 November 2011, and 15 March 2012

Recorded at: Moat Studios

Review By Robert L. Torres

The Magnificent Four by Simon Guerrier

'A mission to steal data from the planet Mogul goes badly wrong when Cally and Avon are outflanked and outgunned. And then they are teleported to safety – to an alien spaceship stolen from The System, which is crewed by Gilden Trent and his small team of rebels.

For Avon it’s the opportunity to start over again without Blake.

But can Trent be trusted?'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B between the episodes Countdown and Voice From the Past.

Magnificent. Defined in the dictionary as 'impressive, deserving of admiration, especially due to an unusual quality involving size'.

The word is often used when describing something vast in size and scope, but magnificence can also be attributed to the quality of something that involves a small group. A prime example would be the title characters of the classic Western The Magnificent Seven. Even the accomplishments made by the John Wick character could be described as magnificent despite them being done by one man.

Magnificent is an apt word to describe the impressive storytelling quality that Guerrier has pulled off with this Cally focused story.

Cally, as played by the exquisite Jan Chappell, was always one of my favorites from the original cast. She was someone that wasn't a hardened cynic like Avon (who provides much needed support for Cally in this story), nor was she cowardly like Vila. She was someone that genuinely believed in doing the right thing and saw fighting against the oppressive tyranny of the Federation to be a very serious responsibility.

I was also always fascinated by her stance as someone that, for all intents and purposes, was the alien of the group (due to her coming from a race of telepaths). I have my own thoughts and theories about the Auronar, but that can wait for another day. Despite having powers of the mind, I always felt that Cally was very much the heart of the team.

I love that this story has Cally and Avon meeting up with a group like Blake's, on a ship like the Liberator, only to learn that they are little more than highly skilled pirates.

I love that the events of the Series B episode 'Redemption' are brought up and how the crew of the Libertine are a result of the aftermath of the events from that story.

I love how the story showcases in the crew of the Libertine a distorted reflection (and perhaps a retroactive premonition) of what would happen to the crew of the Liberator should they lose their way by abandoning their morals and scruples and just give in to blind self interest... Which for the most part is exactly what started to happen during Series C and ultimately came to fruition in Series D.

A minor nitpick, but I always thought the planet Cally came from was called Auron and her people were called the Auronar. And yet in this story and others, they refer to her as being an Auron. Is it a case where one singular person is an Auron but the collective term for the species as a whole is Auronar? It is a minor thing, I know, but still something that stuck out.

Something else that is a bit of a minor flaw is that at one point in the story the voiceover narration switches from Cally to Avon. There is a specific reason why this happens in the narrative, but it still comes about rather unexpectedly.

Given the stories in these chronicles are events being recounted AFTER the fact, there is the inevitable problem of how to create tension and intrigue with life threatening peril for the characters when most fans know the show backwards and are fully aware of what the inevitable fates for many of the characters are.

Luckily for Guerrier and many other writers, they do create moments that make you wonder how such and such will be able to survive whatever life threatening peril is thrown at them, and manage to cleverly pay off how they survive without falling into 'Oh Come The Fuck On' Territory.

8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Anyway, this story is very well done and is the first of many plots that involve coming across potential allies for the Resistance movement, only to learn the would be allies are often a lot worse than their enemies in the Federation. Definitely give it a listen.

False Positive by Eddie Robson

'Dr. Lian has a mysterious new patient – a man who was found shot in the leg near Engel City, a man who is delirious and talking about the most extraordinary acts of rebellion.

She prescribes drugs and the use of the alleviator – a device that will dig deep into his memories – to unlock the truth about Carlin Guzan.

But the truth that she exposes is far more shocking than she bargained for...'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B after LC Vol. 10's Retribution, between the episodes Horizon and Pressure Point.

This story is definitely a step up in quality from volume 1's 'Counterfeit' and is an excellent Blake-centric story. The framing device for the recollection of the events is actually quite clever as it ties in with the adventure itself in a very naturalistic manner.

The dialogue scenes between Blake and Dr. Liam are excellent. Kudos to Beth Chalmers for giving the character of Dr. Liam the right balance of professional intrigue and personal curiosity as she learns more and more about her 'patient'. But this story belongs to the late Gareth Thomas through and through and it is great to hear him be afforded better material than during his first go round back in 'Counterfeit'.

I always rather liked Blake from the start, and a large part of that is down to the performance of the late Gareth Thomas. The character of Roj Blake was a passionate idealist fighting for a noble cause, someone who could be diplomatic but understood the need for action rather than simple civil disobedience. As someone that broke free from an oppressive government, he immediately gains our sympathies... even if his passions occasionally bordered on overzealous fanaticism. This is largely due to what the Federation did to him personally by trying to rewrite his mind, killing his family and even destroying his public image by falsifying accusations of paedophilia.

Since the Federation enact the same tactics on countless others without any hesitation, morals or scruples, it is no wonder why Blake is so overwhelmingly passionate about wiping out the corruptive and cancerous tumor that is the Federation. Not only to avenge family, but to ensure that people are given the freedom to choose for themselves and not simply be coerced into following the rules through propaganda, torture, drugs or mind control.

Speaking of drugs and mind control, that goes to the heart of the plot: Blake going undercover at a Federation research facility that is conducting a clinical drug trial for the development of a new pacifying sedative, which the Federation hopes to employ in order to ensure total compliance and obedience to Federation doctrine.

Ironically enough, that is exactly what would come to pass towards the tail end of Series D... But we already know that, don't we?

7 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

All things considered, it is a pretty good story. This story, like a few others in the Liberator Chronicles range, could work as a two-hander stage play with a couple of tweaks. It also could easily have worked on TV or even as a full cast audio. Give it a listen.

Wolf by Nigel Fairs

“I heard his death cry. I felt it. And there was a word. ‘Wolf’. You, Servalan. You were the “Wolf”. You killed him. I want to know why.”

'Some time ago, Blake and his crew were helped by a revered Auron scientist named Gustav Nyrron. He stayed aboard the Liberator for a time and then disappeared.

Cally wants to know what happened to Nyrron, and only Servalan knows the answers.'

Chronological Placement:

Set during Series B between the episodes Pressure Point and Trial.

This is a very intriguing Servalan focused story, featuring Cally and a return appearance by Gustav Nyrron from Volume 1's 'Solitary'.

They say that a protagonist is only as good as the antagonist created to provide drama/conflict. This is especially true when the character of Supreme Commander Servalan (along with the equally excellent Space Commander Travis) was introduced as the Liberator crew's primary antagonist in the Series A episode 'Seek-Locate-Destroy'.

A large part of why the Servalan character has left such a lasting impression on the minds of fans had to do with the casting of the late Jacqueline Pearce, and the way she played the role. Her grace, charm, beauty and seductive allure went hand in hand with a ruthless ambitious edge along with a keen strategic mind.

In many ways, Servalan, as played by Jacqueline Pearce, reminded me of Alexis Colby as played by Joan Collins. Although Servalan was a bit more reserved than Alexis.

As such, it makes perfect sense that the Liberator Chronicles would provide ample opportunities to explore the villains as well as the heroes. This story does well to explore Servalan's character along with her thoughts, beliefs and how she carries herself as she recounts events. The recollection is pretty interesting cuz it comes about in multiple ways.

We learn a little bit about Servalan's childhood in reference to a game she used to play with others. Its interesting how this story, along with the upcoming 'Kerr', 'President' and 'Three', provides more insight into the character than the show ever did. The aforementioned upcoming stories do provide some great insight into why Servalan is the way she is... But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

I love the scenes between Servalan and Cally, as I do not recall the two of them having much screentime during the series proper... If ever. But I could be wrong.

This story has some great twists and turns as it deals with exploring how Servalan used Nyrron as her personal plaything in her efforts to lure the Liberator into her clutches.

Although Nyrron will be featured again in the story 'Brother' off of Volume 11 (which I will talk about eventually), I think this is the story that features him the best. We learn the most about him as a character, and much kudos to Anthony Howell for bringing much pathos and nuance to the Auron scientist.

The story also lends itself quite well to philosophical debates regarding how each side views the other. Naturally, Blake's crew view Servalan and the Federation as an evil and oppressive tyranny, while Servalan and those within the Administration view Blake and his ilk as little more than terrorists wanting to bring down the only force for law and order in the galaxy.

It is that clash of ideals and personal morals that will be explored to great effect in future volumes as well as in the full cast audios.

9 out of 10 Plasma Bolts

Final score for Liberator Chronicles Vol. 2 in its entirety is 8 out of 10 Plasma Bolts. It is a profound step up in quality compared to Volume 1, and it demonstrates that things can only go up from here in terms of character exploration and engaging plots.

Special credit to Craig Brawley of the Big Finish Listeners Facebook Group for his tireless efforts in mapping out the chronology of the audios and determining his they fit in with the established TV continuity.

[thenardiers]

I just listened to the les mis OBC the whole way through for the first time (spotify doesn’t have it available in ireland so it’s not as immediately accessible to me as other cast albums), and I thought it would be fun to jot down my initial reactions!

tl;dr: it's good! a very 1980s rollercoaster but good

- the instrumentation overall is really really gorgeous, it's like the harsh minimalism of the original london album but tweaked and boosted - the little 1980s keys backing up the first half of the bishop's speech are great - this valjean’s soliloquy is SO GOOD, both the instrumentation and vocals... "he called me brother" :((( I could quote half of the lyrics here kfjgbkgfn wilkinson’s delivery consistently hurted - good god this foreman is vicious - randy graff knocks it out of the PARK!!! absolutely losing it!!! pogchamp!!!! I never listened to her fantine properly before what is wrong with me - terrence mann’s lighter-voiced javert sounds like he’s running on nothing but unbridled rage and genuine terror of the law - I mostly like leo burmeister's thénardier but there's definitely something inherently british about the musical version of the thénardiers that gets lost in translation internationally. same with gavroche. obviously they're french but the musical started out in the west end and it shows - however I have also seen the 1987 tonys performance and I do appreciate how genuinely feral jennifer butt looked as madame T. she somehow looks nothing like she sounds here - no FUCKING talk me I'm stars - no disco enjolras but we do get a funky little bass twang in red and black - I already made a post today about crivello's hyena laugh but oh my god. oh my god. I think this moment just singlehandedly made me care about grantaire - I adore david bryant's marius because he sounds 50% lovestruck and distracted by daydreams and 50% drenched in chronic anxiety and taking everything far too seriously, just as victor hugo intended. this man would print out business cards despite having no friends to give them to and randomly burst into tears in the middle of the street because he had an upsetting thought - judy kuhn really is such a good cosette with such a beautiful voice and in my life made my heart hurt,, I finished the brick only a couple of weeks ago! the ending is still too fresh in my mind!! - I'm SO GLAD so many of this cast were brought back for the 10th anniversary they absolutely deserved it - I've heard of people mistaking enjolras for javert but I briefly mistook marius for javert when he showed up during building the barricade. that was a low moment. - I'm trying to gather my thoughts on frances ruffelle but I dislike the musical's interpretation of éponine so deeply that I don't feel I'm a fair judge. I do like her cheeky piping little voice when the script isn't making me want to eat my laptop - javert at the barricade: dog son of a wolf but the dog is vibrating with anxiety like a chihuahua - I think this is my favourite colm wilkinson valjean performance period?? his voice is just pristine on every track???? good god bring him home absolutely ruined me - dog eats dog SLAPS. love how viciously he rips through the entire thing - oooh javert's suicide really playing up the panic sliding sharply into despair, I'm so used to That Bootleg from 2003 that it's really strange to hear mann singing this with barely any anger whatsoever - turning is kind of a skippable song for me generally but oh my god. the little 1980s synth "womp womp womp womp" at the end of this version is glorious, up there with the wailing guitars in the symphonic recording - not a huge fan of this beggars at the feast but the little "hoo hoo hoo" at the beginning is great. also I like that jennifer butt finally was allowed to be a little feral vocally - judy kuhn's voice SOARS in the finale but also ;W; that shit hurted. working as intended but Ow

overall: will Definitely listen again!! a few bumpy spots but the overall performances and great little moments of character quirks will keep it fresh for a long time I think. literally the One Thing keeping me from immediately ranking it higher than the original london recording is the fact that alun armstrong pops off so severely at every opportunity in the olc. david bryant’s marius was the biggest surprise for his wonderful stressed booby antics.

24601/10

[agmapansa3008]

En Of Love Review

In case anyone is interested in my review of this little Trilogy. This is just my opinion, I don’t mean to offend anyone, so I hope it doesn’t come off like that!

Beware of some spoilers, therefore under the cut:

TOSSARA:

It was boring, but surprisingly that was the intriguing part? It didn’t have any unnecessary drama. For example, Mark is also in love with Bar? That’s fine, Bar just tells him: ‘Sorry, but I like Gun, not you’. So really, it was just sweet, a chill relationship slowly developing. Well, as slowly as possible in 4 eps. I liked the boring, I can’t really explain it.

I really liked Bar. He was a bit of a tsundere, but overall he was sweet and very honest and genuine. He also wasn’t afraid to tell Gun when he was being too much, if for his own sake or even Gun’s sake. You could definitely see that he was the mature one between them, even if he was also pretty childish at times.

I really liked Bar’s friend group, they were entertaining. Although, I’d like to think that they knew that Bar was also already feeling something for Gun, otherwise their constant pushing towards him would be a bit obnoxious. Beam and Na were adorable (and I totally ship them). It’s a shame that we never heard who Na had a crush on. (Pss, Beam Beam Beam).

The relationship overall was really sweet! They had a lot of cute moments and Win and Folk had some good chemistry. I actually really like that they didn’t immediately go from “I like you” to relationship, but that Bar said that yes he likes him, but his feelings are still growing, so he can’t say Yes, yet.

BUT alas, I just didn’t really like Gun. He came off a bit creepy, to be quite honest. Two things specifically:

One, he came off like a stalker: When Beam was talking all about how Gun’s obsessed with Bar, how he knows everything about him and Bar was just sitting there going: “Aww you like me so much, you’re so cute.”, I was just getting major stalker vibes. I get that he’s been in love with Bar for 6 years, but imagine Bar not reciprocating the feelings. Tweak the vibe of the show a bit and you have a stalker thriller (yes, this is exaggerated, I still stand by my point)

Two, he’s kind of emotionally manipulative: The whole confession scene during the Moon & Star contest, for example, completely rubbed me the wrong way. Though this might be a me-thing. I’m very much allergic to public confessions, proposals even worse. I feel like the person being addressed is getting pressured into saying Yes, no matter their feelings. Yes, Bar reciprocated Gun’s feelings, which good, great. But if he hadn’t? Gun even went as far as saying that “He doesn’t know if he could handle it, if Bar rejected him”, crying on stage in front of supposedly the whole Uni? Thaaaaat’s not cool, man

So yeah, overall refreshingly boring with no unnecessary drama. Bar is cute, the relationship was sweet, but I didn’t really like Gun, I’m sorry.

Love Mechanics:

Oh boy, where to start. Where TOSSARA didn’t really have any drama, this one had it all.

Mark, sweetie, I love you and you deserved better. Vee better treat you right from now on, because boy oh boy was I pissed at him. War did a fantastic job portraying the character, especially going from bitter to cute to really bitter to cute again.

Despite my upper point, I didn’t hate Vee. Yes, he’s a fucking idiot, and quite frankly the kiss with Ploy was even dumber than Tonhon’s kiss with Amp but he and Ploy mutually cheated on each other, so we know the relationship wasn’t going well for a while. I’m unclear if he ever told her about also being unfaithful, I bloody hope so. Other than that, he was a major dumbass, but he quickly realised his mistake and tried to reach out. I’m still happy that Mark let him stew, though. 

Their whole dynamic was intriguing. I was really hooked on them and I loved that we basically had a shift midway through. War and Yin had some crazy chemistry, as well and it’s so weird to know that War is apparently 4 years older than Yin. You cannot tell.

That being said, the dynamic suffered from the rushed storyline and the batshit timeline. Shit feels like hours or days have passed and people talk about a year, months and “long times”, it was bizarre. Even when we got a sign that said ‘One month later’, it didn’t feel like a month had passed at all, it was all just weird.

Because of that character motivations greatly suffered and I constantly felt like I was missing something, like I hadn’t seen an important scene because we were simply not shown. 

It was still really good and I hope with 16 episodes, the complete Love Mechanics series will deal with the pacing better and do more show than tell. I’m really looking forward to it because I really wanna see more of Mark and Vee, and especially War and Yin.

This is Love Story:

While Mark somehow managed to become my fave character overall, This is Love Story is probably my favourite of the Trilogy.

If TOSSARA is the Romance part and Love Mechanics the Drama part, then Love Story is definitely the Comedy part.

Nuea is such a dumbass and I love him. He’s completely helpless and it’s hilarious.

Praram is adorable right until he’s a flirty little devil, he’s precious. The ‘A brother, who’s not a real brother, like a Daddy is not a real Father’ line is fucking iconic.

Prarak knew what was up from the very beginning, we stan.

I really liked Gun’s reaction to Nuea telling him (by accident, no less) that he’s planning on hitting on his brother. Basically “He won’t fall for you anyway, but if he somehow does, break his heart and I will break something else.” Amazing.

I liked how the other couples were integrated. Not too much, but believable since they are all basically in one friend group.

That being said, the friend group was as always bloody amazing. The way they would roast Nuea right there, publically on Facebook was savage and hysterical. 

(War’s part in Love Story was to look impatient and on the verge of killing his friends and I love it. He was so pissed at everyone when he was just trying to teach the twins some damn math.) 

Love Story had the least messy timeline of the Trilogy, which really helped the story. Even while being the shortest, it still felt the most natural and least confusing. 

Overall I enjoyed the Trilogy more than I have thought from previous reviews I’ve read. It had good actors, the couples were nice and while the timelines were messy due to the short episode spans, I still enjoyed myself. Looking forward to Love Mechanics, though I am not looking forward to the love triangle part - and I don’t mean Ploy, I mean Nuea, especially after seeing him with Praram. Though I am looking forward to more Mark. I fucking love War.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Can you do an Elliot smut where the reader finds a scar on elliot's stomach while sleeping with him

We are just going to pretend S4 Elliot does not exist at the moment so I can bask in the glory of my imaginary soft, sweet, lonely, needy Elli.

Warning: Sexual content

The first time you hooked up with Elliot Alderson, it was an accident. Not an “oops, tripped, and fell on his dick” accident, but a you “swore to GOD, no more guys until you had thoroughly vetted them and made sure they weren’t assholes, but fuck if he wasn’t just THE cutest” accident.

Your friend, Angela, swore he was a nice guy and swore he was only perceived to be an asshole because he was so bad at socializing. Even though she was drunk as hell, you believed her. She’d been friends with Elliot forever, and if someone as sweet as Angela had been friends with someone since childhood surely, they were at least a decent human being.

Most of your awkward small talk consisted of discussing the irony of Angela’s terrible choices in boyfriends and the idea she liked to play matchmaker despite being unable to properly match herself.

“There’s a reason for that,” Elliot said, his hands turning his beer bottle nervously.

“Yeah?”

“How long have you known her?”

“Mmm, five years now,” you reply before taking a sip of your drink and peering at Elliot over the rim.

“She picks people who don’t really love her—usually, they just love the idea of her. That’s how she protects herself.”

You raise your eyebrow, considering the accuracy of Elliot’s statement.

“I think we all have a little bit of that in us,” you said with a sigh.

Elliot seemed to internalize your statement, thinking deeply before finally asking you, “Do you wanna maybe get out of here?”

You fucked against the door of your apartment, laughing a little at the audacity of the situation. You wanted to write off as a one-night stand, but Elliot’s eyes stayed with you. You knew you couldn’t quickly forget the way he looked at you when he asked you to leave, and the way he looked at you when he asked you if you were sure before he hoisted you up and slammed into your body.

Three weeks later, you hooked up again, once more at your apartment. Elliot made the lamest excuse to see you and you teased him for it until he gave you the sweetest, softest smile, and you attacked him, like an animal, once more not making it any further than pushing aside offending bits of clothing before grinding together to reach your climaxes.

Before he left, the two of you set a proper date at a Chinese place not far from his apartment. You had decided you would meet at Elliot’s, then walk to the restaurant together.

When you got off at the East Broadway station, you raised your brow at the graffitied platform and strong stench that emitted from the stop. It was just far enough from Chinatown that you had never used the stop before.

You walked the few blocks to Elliot’s quickly, purposefully, and were unsurprised when you were able to jog up the stairs and open the door without being buzzed in.

Elliot said he lived in 4C, so you made your way up, thinking about how quiet the building was, wondering if all of its occupants were asleep during the day.

“Hey,” Elliot said, opening the door almost right after you knocked.

You smiled, and Elliot stepped aside to let you in. After a quick scan, you decided that Elliot’s neatness suited his personality, and aside from his unmade bed, nothing was out of place.

“Cozy,” you said, proffering another smile for Elliot.

“Thanks.”

You put your hands inside your coat pockets, but Elliot made no move to indicate he was ready to leave. Instead, he crossed the room and sat on the couch, his eyes flicking to the seat next to him.

After shrugging out of your coat and hanging it across the back of his kitchen chair, you joined Elliot on the couch.

“How was your day?”

“Alright,” Elliot said, his eyes dancing over your face. “Yours?”

“Kinda shitty. Long. But—” you said trailing off, biting your lip and readjusting your position on the couch so you were facing Elliot.

“But?”

“But better now because I’m with you.”

Elliot shook his head, clearly mystified.

“I was surprised you wanted to see me again.”

“Why?” you asked, honestly perplexed.

“I’m a nobody.”

“Well, hi nobody. Nice to meet you because I’m a nobody, too.”

“Is that Dr. Suess?” Elliot said with a quirk of his dark brow.

You laughed and answered, “Not that I know of.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not especially. Late lunch. You?”

Elliot shrugged.

“Since you’re feeling so nobody-ish today, we could just order in?”

“That would be great,” Elliot said. “If you don’t mind, I mean. This must seem so fucked up. I asked you out, and—and…”

“I’m just glad you wanted to see me again,” you said softly, looking at him with genuine interest. “We can go out some other time—if you want to see me again.”

“I do,” Elliot said, turning his body to face me. “I’m just—I fucking suck at this.”

“I’m no expert. Believe me. And you know what?”

Elliot looked at me with wide eyes, so I continued.

“I’m totally okay with this. You. Me. Getting to know each other. Really getting to know each other,” you said, clearly referencing your previous two encounters.

Elliot grinned, and you thought it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

“Should we order now?”

“Later,” you said, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing Elliot.

You could feel him smile into the kiss before he pulled you closer, working to pull you onto his lap.

You kissed, slowly and lazily, with no clear end in mind other than memorizing the taste of one another. His tongue moved languidly against yours and you thought you could do this forever, just kiss him until the edges of your mind softened, blurred into nothing but the scent, taste, and feel of Elliot Alderson.

That was until Elliot’s cool fingers slipped under your shirt and ghosted across your lower back, causing you to shiver and break the kiss, both of you chuckling softly as Elliot apologized and withdrew his hands.

You grasped his hands and pressed them together between your own, warming them.

“I want,” Elliot began, his face twisted in an expression of worry.

“Tell me.”

“I want to go slow. Learn what you like.”

“Okay,” you breathed, releasing his hands and pushing your body into his, grasping the back of his head to pull him in for another kiss.

Elliot’s now much warmer fingers found their way to your back again, and he pulled back from the kiss to ask if he could take off your shirt. You raised your arms in response, and he pulled your sweater over your head, tossing it on the floor.

Elliot’s eyes raked over your skin, making you feel beautiful under his appreciative gaze. He raised his hands and lightly touched your collar bone with his fingertips. He slowly lowered his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he dragged them down your body—over the tops of your breasts, pausing to squeeze them before sliding down over your stomach, your hips, and then stopping to dig into your thighs, grasping them and causing you to exhale a shaky breath.

“Bed?”

Elliot nodded.

You slid from his lap and kicked your shoes off on the way to the bed. You heard Elliot do the same, and you turned around to face him, kissing him again.

Elliot’s hands grasped your ass through your jeans and you moaned at his firm contact, leaning back to expose your neck, inviting Elliot to kiss you there.

He read the signal and pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your back so the two of you were flush against each other as he nipped and sucked at tiny spots on your neck until you were a mewling mess, clutching at his back before pushing away so you could pop the button on your jeans and shimmy out of them.

Elliot smiled at your haste, and you smiled back, falling onto the mattress to get comfortable.

“Shirt?”

Elliot swiftly pulled off his long sleeve shirt, your eyes raking over his torso appreciating his lean physique—

“Elliot? What happened?” you asked as you clambered to your knees and move to inspect the obvious scar on his abdomen.

Elliot ran a hand through his hair, twisting the spiked strands while he avoided your burning gaze.

“This was a bad idea,” he said, bending to pick up his shirt.

“No—no this is not a bad idea,” you said, standing up and pulling his shirt from his fingers. “You don’t have to answer—it was rude of me to ask. I’m sorry.”

You bent your head, twisting to get him to look up at you, and Elliot did, his eyes full of sadness, hesitancy.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you continued, reaching up to cup his face. “Unless you want me to go?”

Elliot quickly shook his head no.

You looked at each other for a few moments before you pulled Elliot’s body to yours, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin.

At first you just held on to each other, Elliot’s chin resting on your shoulder. You reached up and scratched at the short hair on his head before running your hands over his back again.

You felt his lips on your shoulder, a soft kiss, and then you felt his tongue, sliding along your shoulder and to your collar bone.

“Elliot,” you breathed. “Want you so much.”

You two fell into bed and resumed your slow explorations. And as you kissed down Elliot’s chest, you squeezed his pecs, tweaking his nipples and pulling a low moan from his throat. Your tongue danced through the dark line of hair that led down his abdomen, and you felt Elliot’s hips buck. You bit down on the fabric near the button of his jeans and pulled it open with your teeth.

You dug your thumbs into Elliot’s hips to hold him still and tongued at his zipper until you could clasp it between your teeth. You looked up to see Elliot on his elbows, watching you with clouded, half-lidded eyes. You grinned and lowered the zipper.

You sat up to pull off his pants, leaving his boxerbriefs on. You tickled Elliot’s feet and pulled a grin from him before you crawled back up his body, your tongue revisiting his abdomen.

Cocking your head to the side, you looked over his scar, knowing without a doubt it was from a gunshot. Maybe Elliot wasn’t ready to talk to you, maybe he wouldn’t ever be ready, but you could at least make sure he knew that you cared about him now—

You traced the outline of the scar with your finger and Elliot shivered. He was still watching you and you looked at him with compassion before bending your head to kiss softly at his scar, tracing your tongue over the rough ridges of his skin before planting another soft, sweet kiss.

“Thanks,” Elliot whispered, his eyes shining with adoration.

You slid up his body to kiss him again, settling your weight. He clutched you and rolled you over onto your back, his hands sliding around to finally unhook your bra.

Elliot took his time with you, as he said he would. And with every shiver of pleasure he gave to you, you knew that he was thanking you—for understanding him, for not pushing him, for just wanting to be with him and letting that be enough for now.

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard: Jaime x Brienne - Elementary AU

Just FYI, I am sending ahead that I absolutely, with all of my heart adore Elementary and Jonny Lee Miller’s and Lucy Liu’s portrayals of their characters, which is why this moodboard should please be regarded as an homage to the show above all else, even if I take the romantic high road here despite the fact that the show seems to follow the trajectory of the platonic love (which is so pure and so well written I still cry) up until this point of time, though as a shipper... one can still hope, right?

I will also send ahead that I had to do some tweaking to create the Watson/Sherlock dynamic since Jaime’s character is different from a Sherlock Holmes in many ways, so I employed a little workaround I hope suffices.

To give a bit of a teaser, here the plot bunnies I have thus far:

Brienne of Tarth knows what she is getting into whenever she takes on a new client. After all, she chose to become a sober companion to deal with the unexpected and help those who can’t help themselves in times of crisis. What she doesn’t know is how she stumbled over this most curious case. First she gets an ominous phone call from an assistant to Mr. Blackwater to request her services for his friend who just came out of rehab and now needs some looking after, then she finds out the same man would not meet up with him.

All Brienne knows about her client is that his name is Jaime Lannister, a former consultant for the King’s Landing Police Department, and that yes, this is the same man known as the Kingslayer in the Seven Kingdoms after he killed Aerys Targaryen, but was found to have acted in self-defense even though evidence begged to differ a lot, or so she heard on television. From the medical files she was provided by the facility, Brienne knows that he lost his hand and as a result got addicted to pain killers, which resulted in his drug abuse that landed him in the rehab in the first place.

Their first meeting couldn’t be any more unfortunate as it doesn’t take long for the truth to unfold that Jaime Lannister does not want and won’t tolerate a sober companion, or “mannish drug nanny” as he puts it, to watch every of his steps.

“I have no intention to be using again, so Bronn can just fuck off and leave me alone. He actually has a lot of experience with that ever since he got his villa.”

Brienne won’t budge, however, she never does, and makes it clear to her new client that she won’t be going anywhere until she knows for sure that he is settled in and doesn’t run the risk of relapsing anymore during this very critical transition period from rehab center to normal life again.

She is used to clients who display hostility towards her, show mistrust, but Jaime Lannister puts a new level to it, because no matter what, Brienne not once encountered an client who would play fanfares late at night, arguing it vital to his recently picked up again consultant duties, dumping trash on her bed for a “long overdue experiment concerning decomposition of evidence” or introducing her to police staff as his “personal valet.” Though Brienne will have to admit, despite his sheer intolerable behavior, Jaime Lannister is even better than the rumors about him would let one assume: through deduction alone, he sees right through a crime scene, gets down to the bottom of it and finds the culprit. It is such a stark contrast to the childish man trying to drive her out of the house. On the job, he is exceeding any expectations, is sharp, focused, and cuts through lies and stories with the precision of a scalpel.

Jaime, for his part, would rather have this sober companion gone for good, but Miss Tarth appears stubborn enough to stick around against better judgment, or perhaps Bronn pays her better than he would have calculated. His interest in her witnesses a slight peak while working a case, since his “personal valet” happens to have some medical insights bringing him forward in finding the murder suspect that would have taken him quite a while longer.

Not that he would admit that to her, of course. After all, Jaime shouldn’t be surprised by her knowledge of the field. He did his research and knows for a fact that she is a former army doctor turned drug nanny. Nevertheless, she happens to have deductive skills of her own, he discovers, and while unrefined in some aspects, she has a certain clarity in her mind that most others lack.

However, in the end, that shouldn’t matter. Jaime has other things to do, and she is just the constant reminder of his failure, which is why Jaime undertakes the efforts necessary to drive her out of the house. At last, his research reveals that one thing that may drive her over the edge – how she ended up as a sober companion in the first place. In the course of a heated argument, Jaime snaps and confronts Brienne about it that she only ever took on the job because she failed to keep Renly Baratheon safe when she worked as his personal secretary and he ended up getting shot in the streets outside a restaurant where they met with Catelyn Stark for business dealings.

When Jaime considers himself the winner at last, he is taken aback by Brienne’s reaction, however:

“It appears your only method of dealing with your own emotions is by projecting them on others.”

“So you deny you have any problems? Please. I just proved that wrong.”

“I know I have them, and that means I am three steps ahead of you. Because you can’t look into the mirror because you are ashamed of what may be looking back at you. And quite frankly, I find that… craven.”

After that, neither one knows how to talk to the other for a while. Brienne genuinely considers quitting the job, but before she makes that decision, Jaime brings himself to an apology, which is, she knows, an absolutely rare exception.

“I overstepped a line to drive you away. I am not used to have other people deduce things about me. I tend to think that no one ever really got me other than my brother, perhaps, but that’s another story. Because yes, I wanted you gone so that I don’t have to face the fact that this is the reason why you are here. I want to do my job and forget about those past months. I wished they never happened.”

“They don’t go away, though.”

“I know. But there is just going forward from here, for me at least… but… it was wrong of me to take that out on you. Which is why I am generous enough to offer you my services as part of what I tend to refer to as a truce: I am willing to dedicate some of my free time to Renly’s murder case.”

“Hell no.”

“… I actually thought you would be flattered by that. You are aware that I am the best consultant currently residing in King’s Landing, arguably in all of Westeros I daresay?”

“That is my responsibility and my responsibility alone.”

“… You want to find the person responsible yourself.”

“Your deduction skills are, as per usual, very much on point.”

“… Well, if that is the case, I can only offer you my resources, should you decide to dig into his case again, or otherwise be of assistance. I still propose a truce as part of our agreement of sober companion and client because, frankly, I gave it some thought and I suppose you are the least trouble. Imagine some dimwit stepping on evidence at crime scenes. You at least know how to stay put.”

“… I suppose that is a compliment.”

“You may take it as such. So do we have a truce?”

“You need trust to have a truce.”

“I trust you.”

And on that trust, they start to build for the next weeks. Brienne finds herself more and more drawn to Jaime’s work whereas Jaime can no longer deny Brienne’s apparent talent for detective work outside the medical sphere. She is perceptive and thanks to her military training knows more about fighting than most ever will.

He finds her… promising, in a way. Just like someone once found him promising, only to destroy it all, but maybe, just maybe, he can make things right this time, who knows?

While Brienne enjoys the work more and more, she knows that her days with Jaime Lannister are limited, which means she must not get attached to either the man or his profession. When Brienne communicates that to him, Jaime starts distancing himself from her. Brienne already fears for a relapse and is close to calling Mr. Blackwater to request an extension, but before she can make the call, Jaime breaks his silence with a sudden offer: to become his apprentice and become a consultant like him.

“If you decide to take the offer, of that I assure you, I will train you to the best of my abilities. Make you cry, very likely. But once the training is completed, you should know all there is to know about solving crime the way I harnessed that skillset.”

“I am a sober companion.”

“And before that you were a personal assistant to Renly. And before that an army doctor. You see, a woman once told me that I was craven for running away from my problems, and I think it is time I give these wise words over to the next generation sitting before me. I think you are running away from an opportunity, just because you are afraid of making that step. You want to be out there. I saw you at the crime scenes. I saw the satisfaction on your eyes when we got the bad guys.”

“And I don’t deny it. But I am helping people, too, as a sober companion. I am preventing people from relapse, I am preventing them from committing crime.”

“And that is admirable, without a doubt. And you are good at your job. You kept me from the drugs and I thought that was virtually impossible. Nevertheless, I think this is an opportunity for you and…”

“And?”

“And me as well. Because I have to admit that… that my work has been better ever since you started to come along. I don’t know why, I just know that this is the case. That I am better with you.”

Brienne remains unsure about the offer for a while, but eventually agrees to the training regiment, no matter how much spiteful glee Jaime takes in basically tormenting her.

Jaime, for his part, rediscovers how much joy it gives him to do this job, and discovers something new as well, starting to understand how Tyrion loved training him to become a consultant back in the “good old days,” not just to make the other suffer, but to see them grow, deduce, put the pieces together. When he watches Brienne, when he sees her succeed, Jaime finds himself succeeding. And when Brienne is proud and happy, he finds himself smiling along.

As things progress, their truce soon grows to a deeply felt friendship since both lacked someone to rely on with those very private insecurities and inner demons for a very long time.

Brienne admits to how she ended up as Renly’s assistant, namely because she was hopelessly in love with the man, as Jaime had rightly deduced on the day they had their first fallout, and that she chose to join him to be around him.

“After I came back from my military service… I don’t know, I had so many people die, slip through my fingers, people we were sworn to protect, good people, good soldiers and far too many civilians. And then I heard that Renly was running for presidency after Robert’s death and I just… I just wanted to be sure that he was alright. I have seen the results of political upheavals in times of crisis during my service as an army doctor. I know that political enemies tear each other to shreds and that this will always lead to bloodshed on all sides. No one really questioned me and my decision because… you know, trauma. Everyone just assumed I wanted something boring, something conventional after all that I saw and went through. And perhaps I did, I don’t know. I just wanted to keep close to Renly, that much I knew. But then… Renly was killed and I only ever held him as he died.”

“And you couldn’t identify the guy.”

“It was a shadow. And it had Stannis’s name all over it.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Not yet.”

“You see, it’s always risky to deduce from the conclusion to the fact. It should be the other way around.”

“Those are the facts. Renly ran as an independent party to split potential votes between him and Stannis because he didn’t want Stannis to ever make it past the primaries. He had a motive to want to have him removed. Many of Renly’s voters went ahead and joined Stannis after his death. He has a woman in his ranks who will carry out almost any kind of task you give to her. It was Stannis. I know it, I just need a way to prove it.”

“Melisandre of Asshai. I read some interesting things about her.”

“She is a murderer. And one of these days, I will be able to prove it that she and Stannis did this.”

“You just need the remaining evidence.”

“Even more so since he runs for president. I will rather leave the country than live under him as my commander in chief.”

“And you would just abandon me? How rude. Even more so as a former sober companion.”

Jaime, for his part, also finds the courage to let Brienne in on his secrets, even the ones he kept so well for all those years, such as the true nature of Aerys’s assassination and Tyrion’s disappearance, and how it broke him that his brother went behind his back to kill their father and Tyrion’s ex-lover Shae before disappearing to Essos as it was planned to buy Jaime time to prove his innocence of Joffrey’s murder.

“What pissed me off foremost, though, was that he didn’t trust me. That was always the thing we relied on, that was stone one. That was our truce. He trusted me and that I trusted him. Blindly. Or so I thought. Because my smart, smart little brother didn’t trust me to clear his name. He didn’t trust me as his brother, as his friend, as the consultant he helped frame when he picked me up after the Aerys affair to offer me a new perspective. He believed he was the only one who could clear his name, and when Tyrion saw no chance anymore, he quitted, on himself, on me, on our work. And I will never forgive him for that. Well, that and murdering two people for the simplest and most basic motive there is: revenge.”

As things progress, it isn’t until long that they run into a hacker group called No One run by a man named Jaqen H’ghar. They “help” them on a number of occasions to gather evidence they could not otherwise acquire, in exchange for oftentimes publicly humiliating Jaime, such as carrying around a sign to encourage people to “Slay the Kingslayer with a Golden Slap,” a task many people happily agree to, apparently. The members remain ominous, only ever appearing in chats wearing masks. A young group member, a teenage girl, catches their attention as Brienne pieces together that this is in fact Arya Stark. Due to Brienne’s personal involvement with her family, she feels ever the more urged to help the girl and keep her from potentially committing worse crimes to carry out her revenge against the people she deems responsible for the deaths of most of her family.

However, Jaime’s and Brienne’s attention soon turns to politics as the elections come into the hot phase, only to be shocked to the core when a newcomer emerges from Essos to enter the race rather late: Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons as she is called, wants to become president of the Seven Kingdoms alongside her rivals Stannis Baratheon and Cersei Lannister.

Things take a sudden turn with the re-emergence of someone Jaime thought he would never see again in a life time, and a nemesis who may no longer be just after the infamous consultant Tyrion Lannister but now the new detective team solving cases in King’s Landing.

And if history taught them one thing by now, then it is that this person will do anything to get what he or she wants. And from the sounds of it, that is one thing and one thing only:

Power.

A game of cat-and-mouse begins, putting everyone involved in danger as a country is bound to decide on who will come into power next…

 Additonal Image Sources: Elementary ( 2012-), http://gwendoline-christie.com/.

[borisbubbles]

Eurovision 2010s: 95 - 91

95. Duncan Laurence - “Arcade” the Netherlands 2019

2019 will forever go down as the year where Europe learned all about piano ballads and bisexuality, which we have Duncan to thank for! Inclusive icon <3 And let us be honest, “Arcade” was pretty awesome. It’s a wonderfully immersive moody ballad that connects deeply on a personal level, peppered with instantly memorable gutpunchers (”Loving you is a losing game” is both an amazing line and painfully relatable). Excellent backdrop and camerawork gave the song a vibe of palpable desolation. Major props of this camera shot near the end:

^ this is a moneymaker. Well done, Hans Pancake. 

And the most important thing is, ummm, hello, the Netherlands will host Eurovision 2020, meaning I can attend next year in person without bankrupting myself. 😍 

However, despite the fact that “Arcade” is a pretty great entry overall, it has one GIANT problem: The act is terrible, and I *will* ::cracks knuckles:: proceed to roast the shit out of it. 🤜😤🤛

Now, I understand what Hans was going for his usual tryhard pseudo-cinematic spiel. However, -and independendly from my general distaste for the ‘White Guy With a Piano’ trope (this is 2019 how is anyone still gushing over them like they’re a fucking novelty O__O)-, sitting down is always a losing game. It is a momentum-slayer, and therefore never a good idea. The fact that they kept on tweaking the camera angles during the rehearsals says enough, honestly. The Dutch tried to amend the lack of dynamism with that stupid glowing orb and I mean:

Duncan is actually a fairly attractive dude but that lightning makes him look as if he’s terminally ill. You know when you DON’T get bad lighting angles such as this? When you stand up, like a normal fucking person. 😤

Many others also critically panned that (let’s be honest) ugly-as-sin piano. The Dutch delegation responded with the usual pretentious rubbish:

um sorry wrong shitpost, hang on... ah, found the right one:

and I mean, who the fuck cares? Just because it’s ~vintage~ doesn’t mean it’s not ugly. Just because it’s ~vintage~ doesn’t mean we have to like it? Not  a single casual fan will recognize that piano as a vintage prop, just as an hideous one, WHICH. IT. IS. The pretentious elitism/glaring stupidity behind it all just makes me wanna SPITT!! 😤 Karma quickly caught up with the Dutch arrogance however when their 56% or whatever ridiculous winner odds they had amounted to... Third place with the juries and Second Place with the audience. 😈 and “Soldi” becoming the europe-wide summer hit instead of “Arcade” 😈 In the immortal words of Kim Kardashian, #ItIsWhatSheDeserves. 

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94. Lucie Jones - “Never give up on you” United Kingdom 2017

[2017 Review here]

It seems the UK is limited to ONE great entry per decade, but Lucie definitely deserving of love. “Never give up on you” transformed from the most boring song ever into a genuinely gripping support song and well, it’s really great? Lucie is a cherub-voiced seraph who carries this song into the highest powerballad eschelons and that’s no easy feat!

Unfortunately, the UK, like always, fell victim to anti-Brexit sabotage causing them to flop!! 

Damn’ you Remainers, will the bullying EVER END???? and that was the UK,

Honestly, I expected much worse given how blasé the BBC usually is towards Eurovision? It’s really not the fault of their entrants though, who always give their all and get screwed over through circumstance. Yes, “Brexit” is the buzzword being tossed around as a humorous excuse for the non-stop British failures, but let’s be honest we all know it’s just the BBC’s attitude towards ESC. Perhaps the Big 5 should have a Brexit of its own...x

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93. Amir - “J’ai cherché” France 2016

Shock boot? Well, no I think #93 is actually a really good spot for Amir. After booting most glorious trashfests that are bad songs, it becomes time to slowly boot the good songs that aren’t trashy. 😭 

However, I do recognize Amir as a well-deserving ~Legendary~ French entry. It feels like a long time ago, but France was one of the most underperforming countries in Eurovision until Amir strolled along to capture everyone’s hearts with his irresistable magnetism <3 “J’ai cherché” is an infectuously cheerful song, with it’s toe-tapping goodness brightening up my day every time I listen-listen. 

That said, I DO have to put my big boy panties on and make a big boy decision: We’re closely making way towards the god-tier and the further we go, the less “this is a good song and little else” is going to cut it. THANK YOUOUOUOUOUOU FOR MAKING-MAKING FRANCE STRONG AGAIN, THOUGH ^__^

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92.  Sunstroke Project - “Hey Mamma” Moldova 2017

[2017 Review here]

GLORIOUS MEMELORDS <3

It came as a surprise at the time, but retroactively we all should’ve seen Sunstroke’s top 3 finish from lightyears away. Other than Olia, “Hey Mamma” has all the ingredients that made “Runaway” good, but improves them. There is EPIC SAX

There is instant hilarity of their trademark non-English (”I AM NOT THAT UNFOUNDED BOY” lmao what???)

There is a ridiculous underlying storyline (song about an angry mother-in-law / pre-marital sex <3)

There are wacky visuals, such as this ICONIC leg choreography

or the JUST AS memorable bridesmaid twist: 

It really just is the old Moldovan adage of transforming nothing into EVERYTHING using a few very clever stage-hacks, but brought to a whole higher level. 😍 Sometimes I wonder whether we are worthy of their presence, but as long as Moldova continue blessing us with their staging magic, Eurovision will be a better place.  

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91. Malcolm Lincoln & Manpower 4 - “Siren” Estonia 2010

One of the things that make Estonia my favourite country in Eurovision (as well as a top 5 country in *general*), is that they are MASTERS of the alternative genre. 😍 Eesti Laul is so fun because of... um well, mostly because of all the ridiculously named bands that compete in their NF (Vanilla Ninja <3 Tenfold Rabbit <3 Facelift Deer <3), but also because it’s a place for refuge for indie darlings, quite unlike any other ESC country.

However, “Siren” marks the only time one of said indie darlings actually won Eesti Laul and that makes them very special to me. The song is a beautiful, haunting, touching ethereal soliloquy on how lame life has been and the yearning for the strength to carry on... which, I don’t know about you, but GOSH SO RELATABLE!!! 

Further enhanced by the fact that Robin Jukhental is a lovable dork, hopping around the stage as an avatar of social anxiety, as his second-in-command absolutely WRECKS that piano <3. In other words, the exact type of entry the audience would despise but I am smitten by. ANGELS <3