#it's all full of people that go against my dni or are extremely in the opposite direction/exclus

[theacewithmace]

why does the fandom of my favorite thing ever suck so much

[onlyseokmins]

mischief maker • y.j.h.

Pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, priestess!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 jeonghan is an absolute FILTHY menace, light slapping, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? WC: 4.2k A/N: also another thing rotting in my drafts </3 anyways kinda proud of this one but it's also obscene and hard to follow so sorry </3 let me know if you have any theories hahah!!! this goes hand-in-hand with Ashes and Cinders, so definitely recommend to read that one if you haven't already

"Look at how heavenly you are. The lengths you'd go, so dedicated to prove your servitude."

Droplets of perspiration turn into diamonds, littering the bare skin of your back that's exposed more than usual due to the disheveled state of your robes. Neither the dewy sheen coating your skin nor the cold stone you're pressed against causes the chill that sets off tiny bumps decorating your sweat-soaked figure. It is from the sensation of a plethora of tiny gems crystalizing against your heated body before they slide to the floor. 

Each precious jewel that falls creates a tinkling melody. Echoing the sound of the ones wrapped around your neck and sewn into the fabrics that were once draped elegantly over your curves as you moved through the temple.

It's difficult to focus when your eyes are nearly crossed. Your elegant, upright visage is beyond recognition. Instead, a depraved image is reflected in the pristine water of the blessed fountain that flows out into a shimmering pool encased by polished marble. You were always quite meticulous about upholding the beauty of the temple you oversee.

Yet, who's the one sullying all the hard labor the maidens endure under your watchful guidance?

Drool dribbles past your lips, sore and swollen from how many times teeth have bitten into and at them. Now, they have no choice but to stay open and release a series of successive, sultry moans being drawn out of you and resonating throughout the chamber. Head lolling and vision starting to swim, losing count of how many times you've been brought to and over the overwhelming peak of pleasure.

"How does it feel?" Sweeping back long, flaxen bangs out of his glowing gaze with the finesse a mortal man could only dream to possess after hours upon hours of fucking, Jeonghan smirks. Miniscule encrusted diamonds grow, glisten, and gleam, bestowing a dazzling glitter on his forehead before they drop. "How does it feel for your god to bury his cock inside this tiny blessed cunt, my precious priestess?" 

If a verbal answer was needed, the both of you would be shit out of luck. Fortunately, as a sentient being, he can hear the innermost thoughts of many. Usually a low murmur in the back of his mind unless he focuses on them or they are an extremely devout believer in prayer. 

And you just happen to be the high priestess of Yoon. The model of devotion. Possibly the only mortal capable of handling the god of the temple in his true, divine form. 

By now, he has to chuckle at how your little head is only full of nonsensical thoughts. More, more, more, and Jeonghan, god, Jeonghan are the only comprehensive things that cry out to him. Even within the physical tremor of your body beneath him and the fluttering squeezes of your pussy. So much pleasure writhes throughout your very being that it races like electricity in a wire and surges inside his own, erupting into unadulterated waves of even more bliss for the both of you.

He leers in victory. Bringing you to your knees was a lot harder than expected, especially for someone who was supposed to serve the people in his name. To be completely honest, he was the one who ended up on his knees first — cleaning up the tantalizing slick gathered between your legs with his tongue. It was after you had spread them teasingly upon his arrival, accidentally summoned to your bedchambers at the seductive cry of his name. Cock-throbbing whimpers that had fallen from your lips while pleasurably climaxing from your fingers dipping in and out of the wet warmth between your legs. Eager to let go after playing for quite some time with such sweet, pooling arousal.

That was the day he found out just how much more delicious you were than the frothy nectar of the gods overflowing from their goblets during festivities. 

And he had become addicted. 

But now, look at you.

Your saintly garments are an unholy mess. Saturated by a mixture of both of your releases, the pure white colors practically become transparent. Especially following an… unfortunate tumble into the holy spring.

Normally, it would be a punishable offense to defile the holy waters. But when it's a priestess capable of the most powerful purification skills being encouraged to ride the cock of the temple's worshiped being who very much doesn't give a damn — well…

It's why you're splayed across the pool's ledge, lower body on full display for the god to use. Not entirely the most comfortable of positions. But it's somewhat of a respite for your tender breasts that are littered with sore bites and nips from Jeonghan while he muttered praises bards might be inspired to repeat as songs if they weren't so filthy.

You're unable to think a single thought in that pretty head of yours. His hips snap rapidly at such a pace to bully his dick deep within your cunt and with the force that would've broken a human of the same stature's bones otherwise. Lanky, sinewy muscles buzz with a faint glow to match the radiance of his irises.

"What would the maidens that look up to you in awe think if they saw you like this? Your loyal priestesses that respect you? The followers that worship the ground you tread on almost more than how strongly they pray to me?"

You were an influential figurehead of society. Ever since you walked in the steps fate laid out for you by a grand oracle's prophecy, you became the pinnacle of holiness in the surrounding lands. Virginity as a requirement was only practiced in the days of the old texts, and though your romps with the handsome and beautiful people of the citadel were not fully behind you, Jeonghan would make sure no one else could ever satisfy you like he can.

Besides, who could ever fuck a human as well as only a god can?

His stamina is on a whole other level. Unthinkable for a divine being well known for his laziness in the so-called dignified parables spun by the mortal tongue for generations. Maybe it's fueled by the intricate bond formed between the two of you, but it would be a lie to say it wasn't by far the best dicking down you have ever received. Jeonghan's not the thickest cock you've taken, but he sure is the longest and knows exactly how to use it.

"Dirty little priestess, the way this sopping pussy clings around me like a vice." He scoffs at the realization. "No wonder even the mightiest of gods bows down and lays with his mortal queen every chance he gets."

The distraught huff torn from your lungs paired with filthy wet noises when he pulls out of your sloppy hole is music to his ears. Akin to the harps and flutes the muses and their delicate fingers pluck and play to grace the court of deities present among the clouds.

His palm splays out, flying across your ass cheeks with a resounding crack visually reflected by the responsive jiggle and wiggle of your hips following the cruel motion. Scratch that. He bites his bottom lip with glee, the same hand fingering your cunt to scoop up the mixtures of his multiple releases and yours from earlier. The delightful squelching is much better than the heavenly harps of the gods.

Jeonghan figures that's where you'll end up one day, sitting all pretty. Whether or not you'll be a divine being — he refuses to use his wily brain to think harder about that. Though with the way the two of you continue to defile one another, a trip to the underworld may be in your future cards instead.

He reckons you'd love the delightful heat of the lava baths and the cute little boiling bubbles that pop at the surface. Especially if you decided to sink down on his cock… the god shivers delightfully at the thought.

"Vices. How fitting for you mortals."

Tugging the back of your ear with his unsoiled hand so you can turn your head, squishing a cheek against the marble and blearily struggle to look at him through unfocused pupils. Still, you're able to make out the v-shape of his pointer and middle finger — and even the clear strands of arousal stretched between them — before he sticks his tongue out to lick up. All while maintaining eye contact with a smirk, continuing his venomous words.

"Silly brother of mine, wasting time to concoct a drink for the gods who have no need for refreshments. Stupid humans who attempt to brew it with their measly tools as an homage." His thumb returns to circle your sore clit, drawing out more garbled moans. "All those efforts when this," another swipe and he's slurping it up again and tossing his head back with a throaty groan of pleasure, "this is the real ambrosia."

Jeonghan, Jeonghan, Jeonghan, cries your body, your mind, and your soul.

So much that your very being resonates and calls out his true name, causing the god's aura to glow brighter. Dozens of rubies, crystals, jades, and emeralds spill out from his pores at the effort and exertion of his dick slamming back inside of you. It's more thrilling and stimulating than participating in the senseless wars his brothers like to lure him into.

Strength fills him like never before. No one would think the god of mischief would have many believers but humans were petty. They may pretend to walk the righteous path yet they thrive on the downfall of even those close to them. You delivered messages from the god with little thought, for greater forces spiraled his playfulness into much more ominous threats if they chose to — swallowing up his domain for their own brutal goals.

"Why do you not wish for more power?" you'd dared to ask him on the rare days he appeared at the temple. Lounging about on the architecture's high peaks without a care in the world. "Surely you could have greater control."

"My dear high priestess," Jeonghan chides. He's not completely unaware of the effect his acknowledgment of your existence and title has. "The strenuous move of my pinky finger is enough effort asked of me for the next millennium. That alone could cause a child's village to go up in flames just because of a little prank gone wrong."

Your posture remains as refined and poised as always, yet your eyes wistfully trace his features — wishing it could be your hands instead. "I see."

"I imagine the creator molded me the way I am for the benefit of the world. Think of the havoc I could wreak if I was motivated to do so?"

Unbeknownst, the creator did take it into account. Though they made no concerted effort to intervene in the consensual exploitation the mischievous god took of the beautiful priestess. Or maybe it was the other way around? Fully aware of the unspoken thread weaving through the temple of Yoon, content to watch the god become more interested in life as he whispered in your ear. This time, bold words that were definitely not meant to be relayed to his followers. 

The creator let fate be, for the current gods can only fall for a new world to rise.

"Ambrosia that would bring a transgressor due enlightenment and a savior," Jeonghan continues with a dark chuckle, "or a god to their knees. All for this sinful, perfect little cunt."

Moan after moan leaves your mouth, shamefulness long gone the minute the god saw your spread legs, and his azure eyes were immediately drawn to what was in between them. His cock continued its brutal assault, pistoning in and out of what he deemed the world's finest treasure.

"But no one will ever get a taste of this one. It's mine. Mine!"

His slender fingers wrap around the back of your neck. Surprisingly, he lifts your head up gently — just enough for you to nod your head at his growl of "Isn't that right?", though when only more drool drips out of your mouth, Jeonghan shakes your head roughly in a "yes" motion.

"I could break you," he hisses as if he hasn't already nearly done so. "You are as fragile as a blade of grass in my hands." Another harsh slap lands on your backside. "Yet so resilient to my wrath, this hole of yours is always so welcoming. Why?"

Yours, yours, yours.

Jeonghan agrees with a feral growl, one not of this realm. Like a sounding bell and beckoning call from the vast unknown, it sends a vision flashing across your eyes. The sun freezes in the sky with its brilliant, harsh glow yet the world turns eerily cold and not into dust and ashes as expected. Then the sky turns black, a terrifying darkness, and a howling moan of despair. 

The moon joins its counterpart like two eyes glaring at the universe. They shudder in tandem, vibrating at a shaking frequency until you realize. They are staring right at you, unwavering. Like a face. Like a reflection.

A crash and a boom and a roar — then you're coming undone on Jeonghan's cock for an unbelievable amount and length of time. Shuddering as the world falls apart inside your brain, screaming and writhing though not quite in actual pain as the god kindly fucks you through your climax.

"Turn you into one of us, then you would no longer have such a weak mortal body. But even that's not possible… unless it's the creator. Perhaps even then…"

You don't register his words and maybe it's good you don't. He refuses to bare the heart he doesn't have. An ultimate weakness. Not like his foolish brothers. 

And yet…

While waiting for the shaking of your body to subside, his hands ghost over your form as if to ease the trembling. Listening to your heart rate until it no longer beats as crazily as you find rest in lean arms that cradle your body without sexual intention for the first time since the god's descent. After placing your weary body in the fountain, you're soon lulled into a dreamless doze by the soothing lap of the tiniest of waves against your skin and Jeonghan's gentle caresses.

You awaken much later. Feeling a lot more refreshed by some well-deserved rest and your innate healing powers aided by the holy spring's rejuvenation. Flowers in varying shades matching the luminescent color of Jeonghan's eyes litter the bed. Surrounding you with the same sweet scent when in his embrace. Picking one up, you thumb at glossy petals that remind you of the god's silken hair and smooth skin. 

Truly a symbol of his likeness.

"Priestess."

Your head jerks up when the subject of your thoughts silently materializes. A scratchy throat turns even drier and makes it hard to swallow upon spying a glint of silver pinning up Jeonghan's long locks. Another symbol — this one of the god's chilling wrath — is a spear disguised as a fragile hairpin. 

Carved from the bones of an ancient beast slayed by a hero of legends, the shining spear was crafted and embellished by the hands of a talented blacksmith gifted it in the name of his fellow brother and deity. The one that stands before you now, Jeonghan, the god of mischief. 

Tales of the legendary weapon thrown from his slender fingers and whistling through the battlefields to mercilessly strike down foes and enemies alike are documented on ancient scrolls in the oracle's grand library. As the only other one with access to such rare treasures, you'd poured over the delicate artifacts for days to learn more about the god you serve, eyeing the tiny circlet that hangs around his neck, certain it's the powerful aegis that supposedly wields the ability to turn those into stone.

"Drink." A chalice disrupts your view of the god and you take it, grateful at least for something to soothe how parched you feel. If he even notices your anxiety, he stays quiet and sits on the edge of the bed. Playing with a flower stem until you finish, the representative plant somehow looks both foreign yet perfect in his hands. "You saw something, didn't you?"

"Some sort of vision. One that was quite… frightening." 

"Describe it to me."

"Th-the gods. I think, my goodness, I am certain that they were at war."

As you explain in greater detail, weaving your tale of the bleak sun into it, Jeonghan's sapphire irises grow darker. Colder. By the time you've finished, the stem he'd been twirling in his hands has snapped in half and you no longer dare to look him in the eye even when he hums.

"The sun… hm? How interesting."

"Yes." 

You nod knowingly, and he lets out a dramatic sigh. There's a shing! noise and the god stands, a visible aura radiating around his form as the fearful spear elongates, revealing itself. It looks less deadly than described in stories, though you suppose no one who has been pierced by its shaft has lived to tell the story of its killing nature. Delicate and thin with a beautiful glow around it in this peaceful moment. But you know better than to trust what the eye — even one as perceptive as yours — can see and shudder.

"Is it the holy war you fear? Doubt that you'll receive a divine blessing of protection?"

A wry smile graces your lips. "I don't need to worry about being protected. It is my duty to defend the temple no matter what."

Jeonghan snickers, remembering the sharpened tip that almost grazed him. Caught off guard on his first visit when a priestess greeted him with a nocked arrow rather than a subservient bow of respect. And who knew he'd end up bedding that very same priestess, addicted to your body and all that it offered him. 

"Nothing will strip away the divine barrier encasing us so easily," you also point out and he nods, eyes lifting to the sky displayed through the high, open arches of your sleeping quarters. 

"I suppose you're correct. Though I do not know if you'd be able to fend off all my brothers…" The god lets out an undignified snort. "I do not believe they are planning an uprising so I must see what this vision of yours could be about." Jeonghan stretches, sending a lazy grin your way. "Do you trust me?"

You think back to gentle touches after a rough session. Whispers of sweet nothings and meaningless pledges when he thought you had drifted asleep. Waking up clothed in gossamer silk — a gift each time — and various reminders of his touch in the aches of your body that had yet to recover, visual ones scattered about the bed you rested upon each time. 

You recall what your purpose is. The oath you must uphold is proven by your namesake. Your destiny. And more. It is something you cannot forget. Ever.

"Of course," you assure him and Jeonghan laughs carefreely. Like he can't believe your faith in him himself. Neither can you.

He shakes his head, strands of hair shining like gold threads. Taking the chalice from you and lifting your freed hand to place a chaste yet flirty kiss to your knuckles. "Don't forget about me, my priestess. I'll return soon."

Another empty promise. Though you don't refute, playing along with his teasing remarks of you welcoming him back with open legs. Bidding the god a rather casual farewell before he disappears — but not with a wink followed by a bright flash and loud thunderclap.

Once you've sensed his presence is truly gone, you rise from the bed. A lyre sits in the corner and you run your fingers melodically across the taut strings while refining your appearance. You have a job to do after all.

The shrill cry of a raven draws your gaze to the open window where the black bird lands. It hops around, tilting its head curiously and rustling feathers expectantly. You smile, laying out a collection of gems on the ledge for it to inspect and play with. Summoning the maidens of Yoon, you speak to your confidante, stroking its midnight plumage while waiting for them to make the journey up to your chambers.

"Foolish gods, always underestimating. Jeonghan may have forgotten… everyone must have cast it from their minds." Your avian companion lets out a low croaking noise, nuzzling your palm with its beak as if to comfort. "But I… I will never forget." 

Do not. Forget.

Don't you. Dare. Forget

"I won't. I can't."

The voices in your head would never let you. And they will only get louder as time marches on, especially without Jeonghan by your side. But that is neither here nor there. You can't do anything about it except the one thing you — and only you — can do. 

By the time the eldest maiden has ascended the steps, you are alone again. Dressed in the purest of white robes and not a hair, jewel, or garment out of place. There are no black feathers, radiant jewels, or azure petals found in the humble and barren chambers of the high priestess. Just you, with your hands clasped together, and a fixed smile on your face.

"It is time." None of them notice the empty look in your eyes as they bow before you, heeding the declaration that comes from your lips. "It is time to spread the prophecy to the world. The real one."

"Yes, Mother," comes the obedient chorus.

The young women's eyes remain cast downward out of respect and the ambience of power emanating from you. For though they loyally represent the god of mischief, there could be no higher honor than serving a greater goddess such as yourself.

Jeonghan is clever. Wily. Smarter than he lets on which can be a true asset to those unsuspecting. But by no means is he ambitious. He is young too, and though the shell you reside in was destined to be his high priestess, the ancient bind to your soul has a stronger pull.

"He is coming," you murmur to yourself as the maidens set about the command you've ordered.

There's a warm glow bursting from the horizon, a fiery heat swathed in a tender caress making those erratic flames calmer. Softer. You're accustomed to what should be a sweltering wrath full of rage and the indicative hint to the tempered nature makes you smile. But the fuzzy feelings are tainted by a bitter tang of what is to come after the god of the sun's visit.

And so you prepare yourself for Seokmin to bring his eager request in your private chambers, stroking the head of your elusive feathered companion at your side while you wait. Watching as the sun rises higher and higher and an auburn-haired figure makes his way closer and closer.

Meanwhile, a flaxen-haired god's grip might nearly snap the spear he's holding in half. He stares at his eldest brother, aghast.

"You're lying."

"I am many things, Han, but I am not a liar."

"Brother —"

The king of the gods holds up a hand. "You don't have to believe me but it is the truth."

And though Jeonghan wants to fervently deny it, the dragged-down weight of his mortal shell's bones fight against what his godly head refuses to acknowledge.

He's brought back to what he was envisioning while bored out of his mind at his brother's lengthy counsel session. You — touching yourself, needy and forlorn without him there to fill you up — and him — returning to find such a scene and punishing you in the most salacious way possible.

But it's warped by his prophetic powers, proving his brother to be correct. Instead, you call him to bed and of course he follows, seduced by the way your body moves and everything else he wouldn't dare admit. And just as he finishes painting the inside of your cunt with all that he's worth and more, heavily spent from the throes of passion — you strike. Like a cobra lying in wait for its prey.

"Why?" is what he pathetically says as golden ichor drips from the corner of his mouth. The dagger you'd struck into his chest hurting a lot less than the actual damage truly dealt to what no human should ever be able to touch — his heart.

Blinking out of the painful vision, Jeonghan scowls at his brother. "You didn't know we've had an enraged primordial goddess on our hands?"

"Don't turn this on me when you've been fraternizing with said goddess."

Just as he's about to retort, the sudden darkness below the heaven's distracts both gods. The sun slips from the skies and a wail of grief so loud and chilling echoes, the harkening sign to the beginning of an apocalypse. The end. And for the first time ever, they feel a rush of emotion they've never felt in their whole immortal lifespan.

Fear.

As if that's not the worst of it all, he hears your voice. You're slyly drawing on that mental connection between the two of you, so that the phrase can be heard so crystal clear that his knees almost give out at the damnation you've orchestrated.

"And so… let the gods pay as they fall."

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Devour

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: When you accept a ride home from your colleague, Dr. Crane, the last thing you expect is for him to drug you. Crane is surprised as well, however, as his fear toxin has a very... unusual effect on you.

Warnings: NON-CON smut, non-consensual use of fear toxin, sex pollen-esque situations, kidnapping, S&M themes, dacryphilia, fear play, breath play

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You were having an extremely bad day.

There was really no use mincing words about it. From the moment you’d woken up this morning, it had felt like the universe was conspiring against you. A cold shower, thanks to the hot water breaking yet again; facing what should be a criminal amount of traffic on your commute to work; and overall just a miserable shift full of difficult patients and unfriendly coworkers. It seemed like everyone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

And now, as this long day was finally coming to an end, there was one more problem to face.

“Crap, crap, crap, where did I park?” you muttered.

The parking lot was dark. It was raining - of course it was raining. And the result was that you had been unable to find your car for the last ten minutes, and were now soaked through to the bone.

You raised an arm to shield your eyes from the relentless downpour of water, and scanned over the cars in front of you, again. You could have sworn you’d parked in your usual spot, but you had been in such a rush from being late because of the traffic that you must have carelessly parked somewhere else and forgotten.

Just as you were about to give up and go back inside to call a cab, you spotted the silhouette of a familiar make and model. Well, somewhat familiar - it looked like the car was listing to one side, at an odd angle to the pavement. As you approached, you instantly saw why.

Two of your tires had been slashed. The front and rear left wheels were completely deflated, causing the car to lean down and scrape its metal rims on the asphalt. There was no way you could drive this home.

“You have got to be kidding me!” you yelled, frustration crumbling into the beginnings of a sob.

It had been hard to hold it together at work, but you were always careful to project a certain sense of stability in front of the patients, and you had done so today as well. But now, in the privacy of a parking lot crowded with cars but devoid of people, you allowed your walls to come down and a tear to escape the corner of your eye.

“Everything okay over here?” asked a voice behind you.

You spun around, suddenly self conscious, to find one of your colleagues, Dr. Jonathan Crane, standing a few feet away from you. It was hard to see the expression his eyes might have held, behind the glare of his glasses and the sheeting rain between you - but you imagined it must be pity. You probably looked like a soaked rat, standing here clutching your briefcase, clothes plastered against you from the rain. Meanwhile, Crane was perfectly dry under an umbrella, his suit crisp and well-fitting as usual.

“I… no,” you admitted. “Some asshole slashed my tires.”

Crane had taken a few steps toward you, and now was holding out the umbrella to you. It wouldn't do much good at this point; you were already completely drenched and shivering. But you appreciated the gesture. You took the handle he offered, freezing cold fingers brushing against his for just a moment.

“Let me take a look,” Crane offered.

You wanted to tell him to not bother. That the damage was done, and there was no reason for him to get soaked, too, when at this point all that could remedy the situation was to call a cab. But before you had the chance to say anything, Crane was already stepping out from under the umbrella and leaning down to examine your front tire.

He kicked it with the toe of his fancy leather shoe a few times. Seemed to consider something with his hand to his chin for a moment. And then turned back to you and held his hand out for the umbrella. You gave it to him.

“Doesn't look like you'll be able to patch that up,” he confirmed.

You had already known that, but resisted the urge to tell him so. He was just trying to be helpful; you weren’t going to snap at him.

“Do you have any other way to get home?”

You shook your head.

“The bus line that goes by my apartment has been out of service for weeks. Something about an investigation,” you told him. “They found chemicals or a potential bomb or something. I don't even know. Just my luck, I guess.”

Crane’s voice had a soft lilt of amusement as he responded, or maybe it was just in your imagination.

“Sounds like Gotham for you,” he said.

For the first time, you looked up at his face. Crane wasn't particularly tall, but he had an imposing presence all the same. It was his intelligence - obvious from the moment you stepped in the same room as him - and his eyes - a hollow, piercing blue even behind his glasses - that gave him an air of authority. You were familiar with him as a colleague, but hadn't spent much time actually working with him. He was the Head of Psychiatry at Arkham, and you were one of the general physicians on staff. There wasn't a great amount of overlap in what you did. Crane made policies and studied the patients’ minds. You just tried, desperately at times, to keep them from succumbing to outbreaks of lice and flu.

As he looked back down at you now, you felt oddly comforted by Crane’s presence. He was intimidating, yes, but he also seemed to hold real interest in your predicament. Like he was concerned about what would happen to you, a coworker he barely knew and probably hadn't said more than a dozen words to before this. You recalled something - just an aimless piece of gossip - that you had heard from one of your nurses a few weeks ago.

“Crane is such an unbelievable creep,” she’d said.

He didn't seem creepy to you. A little awkward, maybe, coming to play the white knight and offer his opinions on a car tire that you could clearly tell needed to be replaced. But friendly; kind. It felt like he was your first piece of good luck all day.

“Tell you what,” Crane said, lowering his head to yours just a bit so as to be heard over the rain. “My apartment isn't too far from here. Why don't I drive you there, and you can dry off and change into some clean clothes while I call a tow?”

Gratitude flowed through you. Okay, you decided, he could play the white knight if he wanted to. If pretending that chivalry wasn't dead meant you could get out of this awful rain, you would take it. Still, part of you felt bad for making him go out of his way.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“It's really no trouble at all,” Crane assured you.

He motioned for you to walk with him, and set off toward a dark corner of the parking lot. You trailed alongside him, eager to stay under the shelter of his umbrella.

Crane’s apartment felt strangely secluded. It was quiet; with none of the usual bustle of other people coming and going, having arguments over dinner, smoking on the patios. No neighbors, Crane explained to you. He had the fourth floor all to himself, for the time being, due to renovations in the other two apartments. You weren't sure what they could possibly be renovating. The whole apartment building was spotless and modern; expensive-looking in a way that told you Crane had a lot of money. More money than anyone who worked at Arkham Asylum should have, considering the paltry wages they paid. But, you weren't about to judge; maybe he just came from a wealthy family.

“Would you like some tea?” Crane asked, shrugging out of his damp suit jacket and running a hand through his hair.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Crane filled a kettle with water, took two mugs out of a cupboard, and dropped two tea bags into them.

“Hope chamomile is okay,” he said, as he set the kettle to boil. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Let me get you some dry clothes. Wait right there.”

And with that, he disappeared into one of the rooms. 

You took a quick survey of the space around you. It was bright in the kitchen, but in a strangely clinical way that reminded you more of an operating room than a place drenched in sunlight. Maybe that's what they were renovating in the other apartments. For all the expensive amenities this place seemed to offer, harsh white fluorescents seemed an odd choice. 

Crane reappeared with a few items in his hands.

“Nothing fancy,” he explained, “but these should fit you. And here’s a towel if you need it.”

He offered what he was holding, and you took it. The logo on the t-shirt was for the Gotham PD. Strange. As far as you knew, Crane wasn’t connected with the police. It seemed a bit odd for him to have this shirt, but you didn’t question it too much. You didn’t really know him well at all, you reminded yourself. Who could say what he got up to in his free time?

“Guest room is down the hall and on the left,” he told you.

You thanked him and shuffled away to get cleaned up. You were dripping onto the linoleum of his kitchen floor, and you felt bad, again, for all the trouble you were causing. Crane surely had his own errands and hobbies to get to after a long day at work, and they almost certainly didn’t include looking after his errant coworkers. You smiled to yourself. Maybe after all this was over, you could do something nice to thank him. 

Crane’s shirt was only a little bit too big on you. He’d given you a pair of lounge pants as well. It was hard to imagine Crane wearing anything like this, even in his free time. He was always so well put-together in his suits and ties. Even though you mostly only passed him in the hallways, it was hard not to notice someone who so clearly took pride in appearances.

As you reentered the kitchen, Crane snapped his phone shut. He looked up from where he was sitting at the table, one mug of steaming tea in front of him and the other at the chair perpendicular to his. He smiled, and you took your seat.

“Tow truck is on its way,” Crane told you. “It’s all taken care of. Drink your tea and then I can drive you home.”

“Thank you… again,” you said. “I really feel bad that you’re doing all this. What do I owe you for the tow?”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing.” 

Crane waved a hand. He was still in his dress shirt, but had rolled up the sleeves. You noticed for the first time how muscular his arms were. Not absurdly so, but more like the tense, lean muscle of a jungle cat. He still wore his tie, but reached up to loosen it a bit. 

“Drink up,” Crane continued. “It was cold out there. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

You raised the mug to your lips. Crane watched you, maybe just a little too intently, and you suddenly understood the nurse’s comment about him. He did have a disconcerting quality, just below his carefully curated surface. But still, he had been nothing but nice, and so what if he was a little socially awkward? The tea passed smoothly over your lips; the perfect temperature, but still hot enough to warm your throat.

“Delicious,” you commented. It felt like the warm tea was snaking its way through your body, mending aching joints that you hadn’t even realized were tense until now. “What did you put in this?”

Crane’s expression didn’t waver as he answered you. 

“Just tea… some sugar…”

It almost seemed like he was about to say more, but didn’t.

“Just sugar?” you asked.

You took another sip. The flavor was unlike any tea you’d had before; there was a complexity to it that you couldn’t put your finger on. A sweetness that somehow tasted different than usual.

Crane smiled, and said nothing. He took a sip of his own tea, carefully replacing the mug when he was finished.

A rumble of thunder shook through the apartment, and you jumped in your seat.

“Afraid of storms?” Crane asked. Casually, but with a glimmer of interest.

“Not really,” you replied, embarrassed. “Just a little jumpy, I guess.”

You took another long gulp of your tea. The mug was already half empty, and you could still feel the warm liquid soothing you. You were getting more relaxed by the minute. Strangely so. And something else was happening, too. A flutter in the very bottom of your stomach; like you were back in middle school at your first co-ed dance, building up the trembling courage to talk to a boy you liked. You looked up from your mug at Crane, to see that he was staring intensely at you.

“Um, I’m sorry,” you began, not quite sure where you were going with the sentence. “I’m just…” “Feeling okay?” Crane asked. 

There was concern in his voice, but his tone didn’t match the expression on his face. He was rapt; observing you like a rat in a maze. Like he was trying to read what was going on behind your eyes, which now felt like they were bugging out of your head.

“I…”

A new sensation rippled through your body, ending in a sharp pang right between your legs. You gasped, and your eyes went even wider. With shaking fingers, you reached out toward the mug in front of you.

“What the hell did you put in this?” you whispered.

Crane ignored your question. Your heart was pounding as he dragged his chair closer to you, leaning in so that his blue eyes were level with yours.

“What are you seeing?” Crane asked. “Rats, spiders? Does the room look normal to you?”

“What??”

He wasn’t making sense. You didn’t understand his words - and yet, you did, because as you looked around the room, it did seem to swirl in front of you. The bright fluorescent lighting took on an impossibly harsh tone, making shadows appear in all of the far-off corners. They started creeping closer to you, darkening the sides of your vision.

“Snakes are a pretty popular one,” Crane continued, his voice now clinical. “Do you see snakes?”

What was he talking about? Rats, spiders, snakes? Either this apartment needed way more renovations than you’d thought, or Crane had lost his mind. 

“I don’t know what you’re- ah!”

You were cut off mid sentence as another wave of something moved through you. Horrified, you finally recognized what it was. Desire.

Crane seemed to realize it at the same moment, watching you miserably cross and squeeze your legs. 

“Fascinating…”

His eyes trailed over you almost lazily as he took in your whole, writhing body. You weren’t sure how you had managed to stay in your chair this long. As whatever had been in the tea took hold of you, your heart raced faster and faster, and you felt an ever-building need to be touched. By yourself, by anyone. Even… The idea of it repulsed you, but that didn’t stop the want.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Crane observed. “Tell me: do you have a fear of intimacy, or does being afraid just turn you on?”

You wanted to spit insults at him and tell him to fuck off. But you were immobilized by a pressure that seemed to squeeze all the air out of your lungs. You had never felt such pure terror before. Your body was too hot; a weightless, flaming heat pulsed through your every limb. And woven through all of it was that gnawing, primal hunger that started deep inside of you and seemed to try and claw its way out. 

Crane sat calmly across from you. He took off his glasses and folded them neatly in front of him on the table. His eyes shined with something that looked like lunacy; ten times brighter now, without the thin pane of glass obscuring them.

“Based on the way that you don’t seem to be bothered by anything else… I’m going to assume it’s the first one,” he said.

It infuriated you that he was right. You’d had bad experiences with intimacy, and they had shaped you into a woman who was fearful of her own sexuality. You had no idea what Crane had spiked your drink with. But whatever it was, it was bringing those fears to the forefront of your mind; forcing you to face them instead of pushing them down deep - where they belonged, you thought bitterly. You couldn't ignore the arousal that creeped through you, clouding your mind even as it terrified you. And the worst part of all of this was that Crane was here to watch. There was, ironically, no greater intimacy than fear. Your fear was the most personal, private part of you.

You took a deep breath, and pushed up from your chair, hands still shaking as you braced them against the table. You were going to get out of here, you promised, even if you had to do it through clenched teeth.

“Impressive,” Crane remarked. “You’re actually trying to fight through it.”

He stood up, easily, and hovered next to your hunched form. You looked up at him, trying to force as much hatred into your eyes as you could, despite the intense pain and arousal that wracked your body. With great difficulty, you stood up straight to face him. It felt like you were about to pass out, but you stood your ground.

“I really don’t know where you think you’re going, though,” Crane said calmly. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

Just as you were wondering what he could possibly mean by that, Crane's lips came crashing into yours. You let out a muffled cry - half of shock, but half, to your ever-growing horror, of need. You mewled against his mouth, disgusted with yourself, but unable to stop. Your eyes were blown wide. Crane’s were closed, his brows furrowed almost in concentration, as he wrapped his arms around you.

When Crane finally broke the kiss, you could feel your lips starting to bruise. He smiled wickedly down at you.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you,” he growled. “Does that bother you?” The drug - whatever it was - still had a powerful hold on you. But you could feel yourself slowly regaining control of some of your faculties. Probably, you could have answered him. Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, yes , what he'd said had terrified you.

“Well, it should,” Crane replied to your silence. His tone was still clinical, almost detached, as he continued. “You’re going to do whatever I want you to, or else this is going to get a lot worse for you. Do you understand?”

You didn’t want to answer him, but something within you was starting to slip. You were losing the fight to stave off your own submission. You nodded.

“Good.” Crane kept smiling at you, his eyes now blazing. “You know, I think you like it when I’m mean to you.”

You hated the way that your thighs clenched around his words. The way you could feel the blood rush to your clit. You were practically throbbing. 

“That’s good for me to know,” Crane continued. “But maybe not so good for you.”

You yelped as he lifted you up, forcing you to straddle his waist. Crane was a lot stronger than he looked. Outside, the storm continued to rage; you could hear the rain roaring against the windows.

“I have to say, I really didn’t expect things to go like this,” Crane said as he carried you through the apartment. You were heading down the hallway, but not into the guest room you had been in earlier. “I’m usually not the type to put out on a first date,” he joked. Suddenly, you were thrown down, landing roughly on what felt like a bed. “And I doubt you are either. You know… considering…”

As you lay on the bed looking up at him, Crane pulled at his tie and took it off, throwing it down next to you. Next came his belt. He untucked his shirt and started to work on the buttons, his hands moving nimbly down the front of his body. He wore no undershirt, and you hated yourself for staring at the way his bare chest peeked out from behind the fabric. Leaving his white shirt on but unbuttoned, he climbed onto the bed to hover over you.

“But I think we can make an exception just this once - don’t you?” His lips hovered inches away from your ear, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

The rage that you felt momentarily pushed aside the fear that was still swirling inside of you. Scrambling to grab at the moment, you pushed his body with all of your might, trying to throw him off you.

You might as well have been pushing against a brick wall. Crane stayed exactly where he was, chuckling as he shrugged your hand off.

“Oh, honey,” he said, his voice full of pity. “I like it when you fight.”

He kissed you again, even more roughly than before. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, and you swore you could taste blood. You thrashed below him, trying to kick out but unable to because of how tightly his body was pressed to yours. You scratched at his back, but that only made him moan greedily. Out of other options, you tried to bring your hands to his throat.

“Oh.” Crane broke away from you, just slightly, enough to snatch your hands away and slam them against the bed. “So that’s what you’re into. You can just use your words, you know; I want this to be good for you, too.”

With one hand keeping both of yours pinned, Crane brought his other hand down to your neck. Your eyes widened with fear, and he seemed to drink in your desperation. Frozen, you willed yourself to fight back, but couldn’t. Crane’s fingers ghosted over the soft skin of your neck for a moment as he looked at you.

With a wicked smile, his hand clamped down on your throat. Your vision was already clouded from whatever drug he had slipped to you, and now the sides of it seemed to close in, trapping you in your own body as his hand tightened. It wasn’t enough to actually hurt you, but the panic it caused made your heart rate spike more than you would have thought possible. You felt your pulse thump against his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut and started to breathe quickly, in short, desperate gasps. Crane’s hand that was holding your wrists in place came down to tug at the hem of your pants.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Breathe through it and focus on me.” His voice, gentle but commanding, was in stark contrast to the way his hands hungrily moved over you. You opened your eyes to see his cool blue ones staring back at you. He had somehow wrestled you out of your pants - the ones he had given you less than twenty minutes ago - dragging your underwear down along with them, and you lay beneath him in nothing but your borrowed shirt, tears streaming down the sides of your face.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Crane said, one hand still on your neck. The fingers of his other hand started to trace small patterns on your hip. “Scared, such a mess, crying for me. Sorry if I cum too quick; it’s just hard not to get riled up when you’re like this.”

Crane unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his thighs. You didn’t want to look at him, but you could feel him pressing against the inside of your leg. He was clearly enjoying this.

You let out a choked sob, and Crane’s smile grew. He was pressing against your entrance, threatening to take you at any moment he wanted.

“You’re wet,” he commented. “You’re actually turned on by this.”

No, you told yourself. No, you weren’t; it was just the drug he had given you. Some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac that was making your body function independently from your mind. You didn’t want this. But then, why did you feel such a rush every time his hands brushed against you?

“Fear is exhilarating, isn’t it?” Crane said quietly, still hovering just on the edge of penetrating you. “Some people find it addictive. Seems like you might be one of them.” He let out a short laugh as he pressed just a bit more into you, inch by devastating inch. “It makes the mind so malleable,” he continued. “Just think: less than an hour ago, you were so afraid and alone that you agreed to come with me - a man you barely know - back to my apartment, alone. That was a bad choice. I’m sure you realize that now. But in that moment, you were so pathetic and vulnerable, I think I probably could have gotten you to do anything.”

You tried not to listen to him; to block his words out. This wasn’t your fault. He was your coworker - a senior member of the staff, for fuck’s sake. You should have been able to trust him. But you had, and look where it had gotten you.

“Now here you are,” Crane continued. You realized with a gasp that he was fully inside of you. “Still just a scared little girl, shaking in my bed. Crying her eyes out.”

“No,” you said weakly, tears still streaming down your face. “No, no, no…”

Crane removed his hand from your neck, and placed his elbows on either side of you, caging you within his arms.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like this,” he spat. “I feel you clenching around me. Maybe I was wrong; maybe it is just being scared that gets you off.”

Now that your hands were free, you brought them to grip at his shirt collar, trying again desperately to push him off. You tried to wriggle away from him, but all that did was make Crane moan at the friction and laugh at your struggling. 

“Slow down, honey,” he warned you, his voice thick with sex. “I already warned you how fast you’re gonna make me cum.”

One of his hands found your hip, stopping you and holding you in place. Once he had you submissive again, Crane started to move his hips in slow circles, relishing the feel of you. Despite yourself, you arched your back and grabbed at the sheets with your fingers. He felt good. A fresh round of tears sprang to your eyes as you moaned loudly.

“That’s it,” Crane praised. “Cry for me. Beg me to stop, hit me, scratch me - it doesn’t matter. None of it changes the fact that you’re enjoying this.”

Again, you hated him for being right. Even through the fear - even knowing how horrible what he was doing to you was - somehow, you only wanted more. The room swirled around you, shadows creeping in on your vision again. 

You gasped as Crane’s thumb found your clit. You had been on the edge of an orgasm practically since Crane’s drug had entered your system, and it took everything in you to fight the feeling that was building as he pressed on your most sensitive spot. 

“Don’t be shy,” Crane pushed. “You can rub yourself against me; pull my hair if you want. Whatever you need to get off. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You hated Crane. You hated him so much - for what he was doing to you, for how he was enjoying it, and most of all for how he was making you powerless to fight against the pleasure. Making your own body a traitor against you. It was obscene and embarrassing and terrifying. With a flash of passion, you reached up and slapped him across the face.

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” he growled.

It was the first time you’d heard him swear, and the realization sent a new heat pooling between your legs. Crane, usually so organized and meticulous, was starting to come apart.

“You have no idea how good you’re making this for me,” Crane teased. A few strands of hair, slick with sweat, were sticking against his forehead. “You’d better be careful, or I’m not gonna be able to pull out of you in time.”

You cried out, half in frustration and half because of the way his thumb was still brushing against you with every shallow thrust of his hips. Everything you tried to do to him only spurred him on more. Your face contorted in anguish, eyes staring up at the ceiling as an orgasm finally ripped through you.

Crane was babbling in your ear - god, he never shut up. You weren’t even paying attention; too focused on your own private nightmare that was unfolding but never seeming to end. You bucked against his hand, involuntarily pushing his cock deeper, and heard him utter a breathless curse.

“Shit.”

When you were conscious of your body again, the first thing you noticed were the wet ropes of cum squirting across your breasts. You still wore Crane’s t-shirt, and the damp fabric pressed against your skin as Crane rutted into his hand above you. Disgusting. He was so depraved. So unbelievably fucking creepy. So hot.

You shook your head. That was just the drug talking. Crane flopped down on the bed next to you, smiling. Pleased with himself. It made you shudder. He let out a satisfied breath.

“Well, again, not what I was expecting,” Crane grunted, sitting up to balance on one elbow as he looked at you. “But I’m certainly not complaining.”

His blue eyes looked at you, making you squirm under the intensity. Without warning, he pinched your chin between his fingers and held you in place for a long, horrifically sensuous kiss.

“I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”

Outside, thunder crashed again, and you jumped.

[linooluvr]

𖥻𖥻 - attention! (teaser)

full fic posted! i can't put urls help me >-<

pairing - professor!bangchan x student!reader

genre - fluff [smut in the full fic] minors, dni.

teaser contents - reader is referred to as she/her, explicit language, pet names [pretty, baby, doll] mutual pining, power imbalance [not explicitly written], age gap [5 years, everyone is of age!]

teaser wc - 1k + [2 screenshots]

warnings - none

notes - this is extremely self indulgent (and my first time writing smut) don't mind me :D btw i don't condone this irl! this is purely fantasy. lowercase is intentional.

chris tried to keep his staring to a minimum, but it was extremely difficult. you decided to come to class in a short, flowy skirt and a matching blouse that showed your cleavage off just enough to still be appropriate for uni. your goal today was to finally make a move on mr. bang, your professor. you waited until a friday rolled around so in case things didn’t go your way, you wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of seeing him the next day.

you two have always had an obvious attraction to each other. not obvious enough to draw attention, but more than obvious to each other. you’d come into class early just to have a small chat with him before the lecture started. he’d seem to enjoy your company; always happy and open when you two were alone and he would leave his classroom door cracked so you would know you’re welcome in. you’ve developed a crush on him to say the least, exiting his class with a fluttering heart and sodden panties just from your casual conversations.

twelve minutes. just twelve minutes until your peers begin to pour out of the lecture hall and you'd be all alone with chris. your heart is pounding, nerves and excitement flooding your veins. you occupy yourself with your phone so time seems to pass quicker. your confidence dissipates as the minutes count down but you decide to stick to your plan. you pull your phone out to open the group chat with your closest friends to help calm your nerves.

before you get the chance to respond, you hear chris dismissing the class. people get up at their own paces, tidying their space up before leaving. you watch as each of your peers leave one by one. you pretend to busy yourself with packing to not look suspicious to chris or your fellow classmates. you watch as the last person exits the lecture hall and silence fills the now practically empty room. you grab your black tote bag and stand, shakily walking over to chris's desk.

"good afternoon, mr. bang" you say shyly, unsure if your presence is currently welcome or not.

"good afternoon y/n." chris says with a smile. "you know you can call me chris, right?"

"y-yes, yes i know. i'm just. i don't know. nervous, i guess?" chris looks at you with a small head tilt, slightly confused and concerned by your nerves. he watches as you place your tote on the floor and rest against his desk.

"nervous? do you know why?" he asks looking up at you. your heart clenches at his words, not exactly knowing how to respond. you think and begin to realise feigning confidence is the best way to go about this.

"because of you" you say, not exactly sure how he'd react. you see one of his eyebrows raise for a second but he regains his composure.

"me? why? oh shit, i didn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, did i?" he asks as he gets up from his chair and stands in front of you, concern overtaking his features.

"no! no no, you didn't, it's just.. okay." you say before taking in and releasing a deep breath "so. i just wanted to know if… you were single?" you ask as you look up into his questioning eyes. the inquiry seems to calm his nerves as concern leaves his face and is replaced by a soft smile.

"why? who's asking, hmm?" he hums as he inches towards you.

"chris, don't tease okay?" you whine with a pout, but his answer seems to lean towards him being single.

"oh i'm not teasing, just curious. would the person asking happen to be the pretty girl standing in front of me?" he asks, his confidence growing when he notices how you react to his words; face flushed and cheeks tinted red as you nibble on your bottom lip.

"yes, i'm asking" you look away as he seems to be getting closer and closer, his cologne beginning to waft towards you. he chuckles deeply as he takes his hand and places it on your waist softly, giving you an option to push him away.

"and why are you asking?" chris asks looking down at you "is it maybe because… you want me y/n?" you look back up into his darkening eyes and nod slowly. his touch sets you ablaze and his gaze melts you from your heart to your core. "oh, so is that why you dressed so pretty today? trying to get my attention, baby?" you nod and this gives chris the green light to continue his teasing, his hand now softly gripping your waist as his unoccupied one reaches up to gently take your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting your face up when you take a moment to respond to him. "i asked you a question, pretty"

"yes, you're why i dressed up. wanted your attention" your voice already seems to be softer than usual and chris takes note of that.

"but you already had it, baby. you just needed to ask" chris speaks softly as he searches deep into your eyes, already seeing how they're hazy and clouded with lust.

"can i kiss you, doll?" chris whispers, your faces mere inches apart. you whimper and nod rapidly, eliciting a deep chuckle out of chris before he closes the gap between you two. his kiss is so soft and tender, it makes your head spin. you bring your hands up to wrap around his shoulders as the kiss deepens slowly, the action causing your chests to press together.

notes - okay so, this is just a snippet cause i just wanted to see if anyone would.. wanna read this? 💀 this is my first time writing anything really so i'm a bit nervous to see how this will do. please give me any feedback, good or bad! if you'd wanna read the rest (i have some pretty nasty smut planned) please lmk ^^ thank you!~

©linooluvr 2024 | translation or reposting of the author’s works is strictly prohibited. author’s work is protected under copyright laws and policies. tumblr is my only platform! if you see my work posted elsewhere, please report it and let me know right away! please do not plagiarize my work! thank you :)

[ohraicodoll]

You Bury Me

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OC The Last of Us 7k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Warning: Hurt/Comfort. Explicit Sexual Content. 18+ Minors DNI

“I'll never know If there's danger in confession Or it's memory that presses Like a blade against my throat Another word and I could choke But what's worse? Tellin' you my feelings Or to die without revealing That you got inside my head And set a fire there instead?”” -”Ya'aburnee” by Halsey “Ya'aburnee means "you bury me." In Arabic however, it represents the idea that you hope the person you love will live longer than you, so you don't have to live without them.”

“Well aren’t you a stunner,” Tommy grinned, looking her over despite her stance giving off the vibe of a wet cat being forced into a room full of children. She shot him a withering stare, glare sharp, but the hostility wasn’t there like usual. Just extreme discomfort. He only kept smiling and she disliked how they were starting to be unaffected by her now that they were getting used to her.

She glowered, hands fidgeting with the material of her dress, feeling bare and uncomfortable outside of pants and entirely weaponless. The dress was snug, fitted to her body, short bell sleeves of all things draped from her shoulders. She hadn’t worn anything fitted in over a decade, hadn’t worn anything other than pants since the Outbreak. Even now she wore whatever she could grab off the floor, whether it be hers or Joel’s or Ellie’s. At this point Joel was complaining about both of them taking his shirts. But Maria had forced the black dress onto her and pushed her into it even after she’d sneered at the ruffled skirt and v-neck that showed more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Tommy’s wife was starting to grow immune to her snapping as well, knowing that for as much as she barked, there was zero bite against her especially while she was pregnant. 

She’d brought it on herself and was going to suffer through it. When sandals were brought out, she flat refused. She could fight in a skirt if she needed to but she drew the line at anything other than her boots, no matter how much Maria corrected her that she wouldn’t be fighting at all. This all had been done with much protesting. A lot of protesting. But she’d been at a disadvantage. She had initiated the trade. Maria didn’t need anything from her and therefore didn’t have anything she wanted for the trade she’d been trying to do between them. Instead, the woman had given her another option in the spirit of integration. She had to come to one of Jackson’s monthly gatherings and dress up for it. Literally. She almost walked out. Almost. This felt like a sort of punishment of the worst kind. A punishment for all the stress and fights and problems she’d been at the center of. Maria was trying so hard to force her to be like everyone else and didn’t understand it was like stepping on a pile of sharp, hot blades. It was physically uncomfortable to be around so many people, especially dressed as she was. No armor. No one understood how intense that feeling was except for Joel, even Ellie having a hard time processing sometimes.

Maria grinned smugly in that overly assured way she always did when she thought she knew better and her teeth grit behind thinned lips. She needed Ellie or Joel as a buffer between her and everyone else, not liking the feeling of the attention being on her. But the teenager had already run off to find her new friends and she wasn’t going to hold her back. The older man was nowhere to be seen since working a construction shift. 

She was trying. God, was she trying if only for Ellie and Joel’s sake but it was hard getting used to being surrounded and not on edge 24/7. Ellie had made sure to wolf-whistle at her when she’d seen her, now that she knew how, and asked if she was wearing the outfit because she had a concussion. The little shit. She wanted to lay out back with the pigs and die. “Fuck off, It was part of a trade,” she bit out, the words easier in her anger, slightly glaring at them both in an attempt to hide her discomfort, “All this for a damn record player.” Tommy’s brow furrowed and he looked over at his wife with a frown, “Record player? Our record player?” Maria shrugged, “Yeah, we don’t really use it or have any good records for it so I’m trading it to her.” The younger Miller winced, looking between both women almost fearfully though the look he was giving her was far more nervous, “Sweetheart, I’m sorry but I traded that today. I didn’t know-” “You traded it?” her voice cut him off incredulously, irritation and the bitter taste of disappointment on her tongue. Her tone was sharp, cutting, as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach, “Seriously? Maria-” Tommy cringed harder, eyes roaming as if to search out Joel or Ellie out of safety, while his wife raised her hands placatingly, “I didn’t know, Red. Listen, I’ll figure something out. I’ll see if someone else has one and I’ll make it right.” She felt stupid. She never asked for anything herself. Never tried to get non-essential items or things just for her. Every trade she had made or request had been for the two people she cared for or the kennels. Join the community, they had said. She tried. If only to keep from getting kicked out and Joel and Ellie from being ostracized because of her. Everyone was still terrified of her and she knew that if she got kicked out, there would be no stopping the two of them from following her no matter how much she protested. 

So she tried even when it felt like being skinned alive for their sake.

She’d tried to make bridges between her and Tommy, get along somewhat with Maria and even approached her for a trade. It had felt like she was being choked while doing it, but she had and had then suffered Maria’s ministrations and been forced out of her comfort zone for even a hint of a prize. Had sat there, seething as Maria did her hair and dabbed makeup on her, nails digging into her thigh. Now there was nothing but embarrassment. 

Stupid. Fucking stupid. Her cheeks were flush and her chest tight, feelings she never allowed to sink in now flooding her. Embarrassment. She was so embarrassed. She hadn’t felt embarrassed since she was younger, hadn’t cared what people thought of her in the years since the Outbreak but now- the feeling was hot and sticky in her chest.

Spinning away from them with a snarl, she pushed through the crowd of happy people dancing around them having a good time and tried to ignore the flutter of her skirt against her legs and the pressing atmosphere of too many people. Skin bumping against her bare arms, laughter in her ear, the lights too bright. Too many eyes, staring, judging, standing at her back. Their laughter was choking her, the music for once not helping but muffling her ears to the point she couldn’t hear herself think. Panic. It hit her hard and she tried to breathe as she ran for the exit.

It’d been a mistake. She wasn’t the same girl from over twenty years ago who had loved music so much she had forced herself into the spotlight despite her fear and anxiety. Letting Maria dress her up, making her feel like a semblance of that girl again, had been a mistake. That girl had died and needed to stay buried if she was going to survive. She wasn’t bashful, gentle, pretty, or delicate. No, that’d all been beaten out of her over and over and over again by life and everything cruel. The world chewed up those types of people and she hadn’t let it, had gnashed her teeth at it and become something else to survive. Maybe she wasn’t made for settlement life. She wanted to claw the dress off her body and burn it, stick her head in a bucket of water until the makeup ran off. She had let herself want something and got burned for it. At least Joel hadn’t been there to see it all, mock her for playing dress up and see how she lacked in comparison to all the other women he could have. She wasn’t sure if she could handle his laughter. He kept her around because she was ruthless, not because of how she looked, and now she appeared weak. Ellie noticing had been bad enough. She didn’t remember the walk home. Only the press of the fabric constricting her skin, the slight buzz of the electricity overhead, the way her heartbeat was overwhelming in its rapid pace. Her breathing was choked around the panic and rage and embarrassment crawling through her veins and she needed to hide away for a while. The slight squeak of the front steps grated in her ear but pulled her back into herself enough to realize she had made it. She huffed out another annoyed sigh, unlocking the front door. She was going to shower, rinse all the stares and laughter and evidence of her humiliation, and hide in bed. Maybe get up early and take a morning patrol shift if only to clear her head and avoid the looks of all the townspeople that had witnessed her embarrassment, breathe in the woods and the wilderness. Hell, maybe she’d take a dive into the river and let it wash her downstream and away from it all. But as she opened the door, she came to a frozen halt. There was music playing in the living room. The soft crooning of Ella Fitzgerald filled the space, the tune soft and low with only the slightest crackling of a worn speaker. It wasn’t the busted radio Joel had tried to fix that cut out every other second. The lights were low, only a lamp on in the corner, and the music made the space feel so much softer, almost warmer. And there it was. The record player she had made the deal for sitting on the top of a small end table that most of the time was covered in books or tools or gun parts. “Hey,” she could feel Joel’s presence even before he spoke, that part of her mind that always kept track of him no matter where he was in the house or around her. But her eyes were stuck on the record player and the spin of the vinyl, watching the motion hypnotically and flooded by the music. Everything drained from her, leaving her hollow, frozen, empty. Her voice was loud in her ears, a roar in a chasm, but she knew it was barely a whisper in the space between them, “I was going to trade for that.” Joel didn’t reply but she could see him rub the back of his neck out the corner of her eye, the slight wince crossing his face as he tucked a hand into his belt, “Sorry, I got it from Tommy today…I knew you had your eye on one and you’ve been stashing records in the downstairs room with no way to play them. This one even has one of those cassette slots for that tape you keep and I know Bobby who runs the library has a good stash of those-” “Joel, shut up,” she whispered though none of the usual harshness was there. Instead, she was struggling to breathe, to suck in air past the knot in her throat and the stinging feeling in her eyes. He’d gotten it for her. Not for him, but for her. He had noticed the things she did, what she liked, and had done something nice for her. Often the things he did for them were utilitarian in nature though he did more for Ellie. It was how he showed he cared. Fixing Ellie’s window, loading the woman’s packs with everything she might need the night before her morning shifts, getting her new boots when her old ones started to rip. But there was no practical reason for the record player. He knew bits and pieces about her that she had given him, scraps of her life. Knew she had tried to be a singer before the world went to hell  and her love of music. Knew that the cassette tape in her bag, the one she’d murdered people to keep from getting a hold of, contained her favorite music her sister had made for her as well as her own voice from a rough band practice Annie had recorded. It’d been a birthday present. Remembered the way she would trace her fingers over the records in the wreckage of stores as they passed through them on the road. He’d watched and cataloged it all and had noticed. He’d always noticed her. “Maria made me dress up in exchange for that,” her voice was raspy, choked, “Stuck me in this stupid dress and forced me to put on makeup and did my hair and made me go to that party. All part of a deal so I could get that player.” Joel was quiet, not interrupting but taking her in. Gauging how best to approach lest she run or snap. She could feel his eyes burning into every inch of exposed skin, to the tightening of her hands and the clenching of her jaw. But slowly he stepped a bit closer, more into the light, with a sigh, “It looks good on you-” “I look fucking stupid, Tex,” the words were spit out aggressively, “I feel ridiculous. They all saw me and there were so many people- But I did it. Then Tommy said he’d already traded it and…I don’t know.” She finally turned to look at him, the words a jumble. She couldn’t even understand what she was trying to convey. The overwhelming feeling of shame and disappointment and panic that had flooded her and made her want to run. She caught the way the light reflected off his eyes, the furrow in his brow and the tightness in his shoulders. He was being careful. Even after all the time they’ve known each other, he knew sometimes to be careful. Not to spook her. “You don’t look stupid,” he muttered gently in an effort to convince her and met her eyes, not breaking eye contact and trying to persuade her to listen, “You…you look beautiful and I’m not just fucking saying that. I wouldn’t lie to you, darlin’. Don’t listen to that voice inside your head, listen to mine and what I’m saying.” She swallowed, heart racing, “Why?” “Why listen to me?” “No, why did you do it? Why did you get it?” The thought weighed heavy, but also was a distraction to keep from focusing on his voice calling her beautiful. It was dumb and meaningless. Placating. He hadn’t mentioned needing a record and had listed things that only pertained to her. She had records, she had been eyeing it. It felt like she owed him a debt, but that thought also sounded like an excuse, the alternative something she couldn’t quite process. The record was ending, the soft music stopping and leaving them only in silence. He stared at her, took in the hard press of her lips, the way her fingers were fidgeting with her dress, the stiffness of her body as if at any second she’d bolt like a wild animal. Maybe she would. She was more animal than woman most days. Joel sighed and chewed on his lip, tasting a hint of blood from the dry cracked skin, “Because I knew it would make you happy.” The scoff that left her mouth was broken, half-hearted. It tasted of excuses and denial. “When have you ever cared about what makes me happy?” “Don’t,” the word was hard and unyielding, almost a snarl, his brow furrowing deeper, “Don’t do that. We’re far, far past that kind of bullshit now, Starshine, and you know it. We’ve been far past that for a good while now. Maybe out there you could have gotten away with that bullshit, but not here and now. Not after everything.” She did know it. But it was the last barrier she could keep between them, a shredded tattered thing to shield herself. The vestiges of that hatred that had burned at the beginning of their relationship so long ago, had stayed long after he started fucking her and then had dissipated when they weren’t looking like a magic trick. 

Distrust had turned to respect and then protectiveness behind their backs. She didn’t want to think about what it had turned into next. She’d done so much to keep them both safe because they were hers. She’d burn the whole fucking world down for them, would rip and tear whoever she needed to just to keep them safe, and would smile the whole way. But she and Joel had never spoken out loud what they were. She knew what Ellie was to her, to them both, but between the two adults? That was something else. They were hers and he had said she was his before. But it wasn’t something solid or straight forward. The last tinges of her old self who had been awkward and didn’t know how to navigate dating and relationships still hung on in that aspect, but it was mostly fear. It was a dance she didn’t know the steps to, a language she never learned. She understood sex and family but it’d been so long since she had a relationship and her last had been twisted into something ugly. It was tangled together with her sister, with her death and her screams and the sound of a gunshot. She didn't know how to detangle love from violence. Joel stepped closer and her instinct screamed to run. Her heart was beating like a rabbit caught in a trap, the intimacy almost as frightening as a gun to her head or a Clicker’s teeth. She wasn’t breathing anymore, dressed fisted tightly in her claws. “I know shit’s different here, but unless you have some plans to go back across the country then this is it,” Joel’s accent was thick as he continued to step closer, words direct and to the point, “This is home. This is the place we protect. Ellie, me, and you. And if this is where we’re gonna be I want you to be happy. I want you to have your music, have whatever you want. I’ll fix that guitar and we’ll teach Ellie or I’ll hunt down all those dumb comics she likes so much. Fuck, I’ll be the one to learn to cook if I have to so she stops complaining and so you don’t have to. I’ll let you bring those dogs home whenever you want and maybe let Ellie keep one. I want you happy.” She was choking on her heart, air trapped in her throat and she didn’t know what to do but stand there and shake and listen as Joel painted an image of a life she wasn’t sure she could allow herself to want. “You’re it for me, darlin’,” Joel huffed out a chuckle and shook his head as if disbelieving he was having to tell her outloud, “You and me. I’m not looking at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. You and Ellie are my purpose and that means I’m going to take care of you both until the day I die. In whatever capacity that means. Whether it continues like we’ve been, continues to a church one day, or out there in the woods without Jackson. It’s us three. I’m not asking you to let your guard down or stop snapping at any dipshit who thinks they can handle you or be some domesticated stepford wife. But I want this place to be home. All of ours.” Her eyes were flickering everywhere else except his own and she wondered if she had ever felt so terrified. Not since the beginning. Not since watching her own version of Ellie get torn to shreds. Not since she’d hollowed everything inside her but the rage and the ugly parts and let it fester into something wild. She’d survived beatings, survived with the worst type of people, survived being a weapon and not once was terrified during those years. Fighting and survival was easy. Killing was easy. Mindless sex was easy. Feelings were not. Feelings got you hurt, got you killed, killed you slowly and made you crazy with worry and the endless possibilities of what could happen. She’d seen Joel wrestle with them. The panic attacks and that numbing fear. There weren’t supposed to be feelings with her and Joel. But that was a lie. They’d been there, deep and hidden under other things. Protecting Ellie. Getting her to the Fireflies. Adjusting to living in Jackson. Jobs and patrol and helping. They were all a distraction. He lifted a hand to her cheek and she couldn’t help the flinch, the shivering as if she was standing in a freezer. But Joel didn’t back off, let her get adjusted and close the distance between them on her own like coaxing a wounded animal to safety. Her hands dropped the now wrinkled fabric of her dress and instead reached out to grip his flannel shirt, relaxing bit by bit while his hand moved to dive into her brushed and slightly curled hair. “You’re mine,” he whispered, feeling the soft strands between his fingers, “Say the word and I’ll get you every damn record player in this town. Whatever makes you happy.” She choked out a laugh that was half a sob, the sound releasing from her throat, and her eyes stung. But she only squeezed them shut, struggling to breath and enjoying the feeling of his touch. His other hand rested over hers on his shirt and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, leaning against her, “You do look beautiful, baby. I promise. You take my goddamn breath away. It’s a good thing I didn’t see you out there, I’d probably have made an idiot of myself or bashed someone’s face in if I caught them staring.” The laugh that ripped through her seemed to break loose everything choked up inside of her. He called her beautiful. The words sent something close to butterflies in her stomach. It didn’t feel real and this new territory still terrified her, but little sparks of joy lit her way. She had vague memories of feeling this way years ago. But this was real and now and felt so much brighter than her memories. She couldn’t help the slight smile, voice still slightly unsure, “I had to promise Maria I wouldn’t fight anyone there.” Joel chuckled, holding her tighter against his chest, rocking her slightly, “You wouldn’t be breaking your promise if I was doing the fighting.” Looking up at him, she let herself sink into his warmth and lifted a hand to trace the beard along his chin. It used to be that this was the Joel she would get at night only. Slightly teasing, slightly playful, more open especially after sex. A stoic wall in the daytime. Something had shifted after leaving Jackson that first time, after he’d tried to dump them off on Tommy. Shifted more after his injury and Denver. Now as they settled into life in Jackson, she could see fully how at ease he was with her. There had been progressively more smiles in the daytime, more soft touches even if discreetly. Eventually not so discreetly. His hand in her back pocket, his arm around her shoulders, on her back. Starshine morphed from being an insult to an endearment. It had been a slow, gradual change, but it had happened. She had only refused to acknowledge it, maybe out of fear. Now staring at him, she let herself see that more often he was smiling at her than frowning. Only called her Red when he was angry or frustrated otherwise it was Darlin’ or Starshine. His room had quickly turned into their room and every morning he was usually wrapped around her. Was there waiting at the gate everytime she had to leave without him, though he preferred to stay at her side. Tommy had once called all three of them codependent and maybe they were, but they were safest with each other. They were home. So she lifted herself up and drew his face down to her, breathing against his lips and almost tentatively kissing him. Like it was new, like she would have if it was twenty years ago and they were meeting back then. She couldn’t say all of what she was feeling out loud, was too tired to admit how much he had shaken her foundation with this one seemingly small act and then demolished it entirely with his words. So she breathed into him, whispering along his lips, “You’re mine too,” and kissed him softly and hoped he knew everything that entailed. He pressed back against her harder, mouth slotting against hers and groaning. The hand in her hair gripped her neck and pulled her as close as she could get, the other moving to grip her waist and the soft fabric there. She felt unsure, awkward, not used to feelings being between them so openly and  the pace being soft versus brutal or fervent. Her fingers trailed over the salt and pepper beard of his chin, the slight wisps of curls at the base of his neck, the muscles of his biceps as they wrapped around her. It was almost an effort not to sink her nails into him, to bite his lips with her teeth. Their steps were fumbling as he walked her backwards until her back hit the living room wall. His hand was roaming all over her, touching the bare skin of her legs and drifting his fingers upward under her skirt. They kneaded the soft skin of her thighs and he moaned into her mouth though that quickly turned into a chuckle as his hands found the pair of shorts she put on under the dress. He looked down, lifting the fabric to peer at the additional clothing underneath, “Did you put shorts on underneath this?” She blushed, swatting his hand to drop the skirt, “Shut up, I felt naked.” Joel chuckled and bent, pressing kisses to the underside of her neck before trailing lower, biting and dragging his lips as he went, “You’re cute when you’re bashful, ya know that? It’s fine. Just one more thing to take off ya.”

Her hands dug into the fabric of his shirt and she was determined not to pout, objecting at being called cute of all things, but quickly found herself melting at his ministrations. The delicious friction of his beard on her skin always did something to her and she was feeling especially sensitive to him, her nerves on fire. Joel bit down on the junction between her neck and shoulder, sucking and teasing the skin, drawing a moan from her mouth. There’d be a mark there, she knew that, and didn’t care. “I wouldn’t mind you wearing dresses more often. Jesus, woman, you’re gorgeous,” he moaned against her skin as he kissed the top of her cleavage. Unconsciously, a yelp left her mouth when he bent down and scooped her up with his hands under her ass, arms flying around his neck and legs crossing around his waist. He grinned at the sound and the flush that heated her cheeks, “I got ya, darlin’. Just wanted to get you to the room before the kid bulldozes in here.” “You are not climbing those stairs with me,” she hissed, looking at the staircase behind them. No matter how strong he was, she also was very aware of both their ages and that if they injured themselves stumbling down the stairs on their way to have sex she’d ask Ellie to put her out of her misery. Joel huffed a laugh, “You’re right, I’m not. We’re using the downstairs room. I’m old, I ain’t stupid.” The spare bedroom on the first floor had quickly become the spare after Joel had complained the handful of times she’d slept down there. Now almost every night she shared the upstairs bed with him lest she wanted to be woken up by him kicking the side of the mattress and grumbling to “get to the room.” It held various things they had scavenged and collected like the guitar Joel had made a project to get to working order, the pieces for it she’d traded along with his craft bench she got for him, her hoarded music, and the various knickknacks she hadn’t wanted to clutter up what she had deemed Joel’s room. Though every now and then the things she put there would somehow appear upstairs, out on full display on top of the shelves and dressers mixed in with his belongings. His own way of making her stuff mingle with his.

He carried her through the door and kicked it shut with her foot, quickly remembering to hit the lock as a precaution after Ellie had almost barged in on them a couple times before. Joel made sure to take advantage of holding her, fingers kneading the soft skin of her ass and keeping her pressed tight against him. With a squeal she hadn’t heard herself make in over two decades, she was dropped down on the small mattress on the far side of the room and he quickly climbed on top, not leaving her alone for even a second. She could feel the delicious pressing of his arousal through his jeans, the way he ground it against her core making her groan. His mouth found hers, frantic and eager, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and diving into the soft graying curls of his hair. She loved to feel the weight of him on her, the hard press of him steady and assuring. Hands quickly tugging his shirt out from his jeans, she felt the heat of his skin and the ridge of every scar she had cataloged by that point. Bullet grazes, knife slices, the puckered edge of that brutal stabbing that had almost taken him away from them. She knew them all, had kissed and licked every single one and memorized them. 

Joel Miller’s body was a thing of beauty, not softening even with age or settlement life. He’d quickly taken up a position in the community he knew how to do well. Construction. It kept him active, in shape, working with his hands and that meant he was still covered in muscle from a hard day's work. It was also why she wasn’t surprised when he had gained the attention of most of the women in Jackson, especially now that he had softened up personality wise. But he’d chosen her. Was kissing her, currently worshiping her mouth and trailing those rough fingers along her arms to intertwine with hers together. It was her that was making him moan and pant her name. Not her name. That name, the one given to her at birth by a woman who didn’t care who she was, had been given to the woods and the bodies she’d left behind. No, he whispered the name they had given her. The only name that mattered now as if she was baptized into this new life the moment she’d met them and been given it. 

Red. Starshine. Darlin. Theirs. His. Her fingers pressed into the skin of his back and she hooked her legs around his, welcoming him to settle between her thighs while she poured everything into kissing him. She swallowed each sound, welcomed the burn of his beard against her skin, feeling arousal shoot straight through her and pool at her core. When she went to unbuckle his belt, he paused her movement and pulled back, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and the deep V of her dress, “Not yet. I wanna savor this dress on you. Show you exactly how beautiful I think you are.” She bit her lip at the heated look, the slight smirk as he sat up, hands roaming over her thighs. Her own insecurities turned her nervous and she struggled to keep eye contact as his hands found the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down and off of her. He chuckled and threw them across the room, “Next time you wear something like this, you can go without those…if I’m feeling generous and let you leave the house.” “Let me, huh?” she whispered, bottom lip still between her teeth. Joel bent down and pushed the skirt of her dress up, bunching it around her waist, “Can’t have other men wanting what’s mine.” He took his time, tracing the edges of her underwear teasingly, the rough pads of his fingers sending small shocks through her in anticipation. Ever so slowly, he pulled her panties off her legs and knelt between her thighs, leaving heated kisses against the skin. She swallowed, mouth dry, and let out an airy chuckle, “Better watch it, Miller.” He paused, dark eyes meeting hers, “What’d I say about my name, Starshine?” Smirking and remembering that night so long ago when he had fucked her in the abandoned store, the night that cemented the path they would take, she raised herself up on her elbows and stared down at him, “Joel.” And then his tongue was on her, parting her folds and licking up every bit of her arousal. A moan tore from her mouth, head falling back as he devoured her whole, lips sucking on her clit and teasing her desperately. His hands palmed her bare ass and the thick meat of her thigh, fingers bruising as he teased her with his tongue. Joel had always been so good at that, something she had gotten intimately familiar with once they had settled down and were able to finally have time to explore one another. No longer having to have quick  blind fucks in the dark, one ear open to danger or Ellie waking up. She didn’t think he even got to see her with her clothes fully off until they made it back to Jackson. But now that they had time he made sure each moment lasted. He played her like his guitar, pulling sounds from her mouth unbidden with each flick of his fingers and tongue. Joel Miller was good with his hands and knew exactly what to do to make her come hard and fast when he wanted her to. But he was taking his time, bringing her to the edge then slowing down before doing it over and over again. She was never one to beg, but she could feel the plea on her mouth as she ached all over for release and overwhelmed by the sensitivity. She panted his name in desperation and could feel him grin against her, mouth glistening with herself, “Tell me what you want, darlin’. Come on.” So fucking cocky, this asshole. She was tempted to swallow her words, swallow her own tongue just to be defiant. But then he dipped his tongue into her, the flat plane of it sending shockwaves through her body and she growled, “Fucking make me come already.” He laughed at the not so gentle plea as if knowing she wouldn’t mewl and beg like he wanted, shaking his head, “So bossy.” But she didn’t care after that because he was sucking her clit between his lips and his fingers were pumping into her, hard and fast, curling into the exact spot that made her see stars. The friction of his beard on her, his tongue, his hands were all so much and she was overwhelmed, body made of fire and lighting searing every nerve. She came against his mouth, orgasm hitting her hard enough it took her breath away. Her body felt like it was floating, Joel’s careful hands keeping her from washing away, gentle lips leaving soft kisses along her thigh. A thrill went through her at the gentle affirmations and breathy, “good girl,” he whispered into her skin. She was still catching her breath, but could feel him locate the zipper on her dress and he helped her to sit up to pull it up. So gentle with her like she was the most valuable thing in the world. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and slowly she undid them, feeling his eyes on her as he kneeled between her thighs. His hands never left her skin, trailing softly over her calf but letting her take her time. Each layer came off of him. Shirt, undershirt, belt, jeans. He let her unveil him like it was a ritual. And when he was naked before her, both of them bare and heart open, his hands cradled her cheeks when he kissed her. It was more intimate than anything she had ever felt and was as if he was cradling her raw heart between his hands. It was fire and fear and joy and so much and yet not enough. It was an I love you without words. She pulled him down on top of her and deepened the kiss, tongue swirling to lick up every bit of herself and devour his own taste. Everything that made him Joel. Her gasp was swallowed as he started to push into her, groaning at how tight and warm she felt, thighs slick with the aftermath of her orgasm. Her forehead was pressed against his and she drank down every little sound his mouth made, every hitched breath, watching as his lashes flickered against his cheeks. The pace was slow, building, and she hooked her legs around his calves to usher him deeper, wanting him to fill her up as much as he could. “Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, fingers tightening on her thigh while the other intertwined with the hand above her head. She held onto him like her life depended on it and let her drown in him, gave him the control and simply held on. Trusted him. Each stroke was a lightning strike and she could feel the way he was slowly losing himself in her, the pace becoming faster and thrusts more aggressive. Her orgasm was climbing, pleasure tightening low in her belly, skin hot with sweat. Her hand clenched his, almost a sign to him, and he broke at last. His mouth collided with hers, tongue against her own, teeth biting into her lips. Joel pounded into her relentlessly, her name on his lips and hold bruising. This was how she liked him best. Passionate and uncontrollable, a fucking tornado to be reckoned with. She’d seen it only when it came to them. Whether it be protecting them or destroying everything in his path to get to them. Joel was as much a beast as her at times but she’d always accepted that, never shied away.

Like calls to like.

Both their orgasms were building together, crashing into one another as if their bodies knew. Every tense moment, every decision and fight and fuck and choice, had led them together and she felt it in her whole being that this was who she was supposed to find at the end of the road. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let go, letting her be pulled under by him and their bodies and everything that had come before and would come later. It was fireworks and electricity and everything as her orgasm hit and she moaned hard into his mouth, feeling him release inside of her, warm and full. He would always follow her over the edge and the thought made her eyes sting. 

They were panting, breathing each other in, bodies sweaty and sticky and the cooling air doing nothing against heated skin. She opened her eyes and met his dark irises, watching her intently, and she couldn’t help but grin at him wide. His breath caught and he swallowed hard, hand leaving her thigh so he could trace the crinkles around her eyes. He caressed the skin with his thumb in reverie, drawing out a blush even after everything they had just done. It was new to feel so exposed. A second later they could hear the front door crash open followed quickly by the familiar stomps of Ellie entering the house, kicking the door shut even after they had told her a million times to stop doing that. They froze, eyes locked on each other, waiting to see if she would call for them or try to enter the downstairs room for some reason. But they could track her loud steps up the stairs and a bit later her door shut. 

It was hard to believe she ever used to be good at walking silently out beyond the walls. They both breathed a sigh of relief and then chuckled only for Joel to quickly hiss, pressing his face against her neck as she unconsciously clenched around him, “Darlin’ don’t laugh while I’m still in you.” She had to try and keep another chuckle in, a first for her, knowing it would only make her do it again. Teasingly, she did it on purpose one more time only for him to bite her shoulder and she yelped, letting laughter take over her once he had pulled out. He chuckled as well, pressing small kisses all over her skin. It would take time to get used to all the new. The new change in their dynamic, the open feelings, the music, the softness, the laughter and smiles, the fear that came with it all. Lifting your armor can leave you vulnerable but without doing so there was no way the joy could get in as well. And she couldn’t live her life without them, would brave every horror imaginable for them.

She’d take it all if it meant she got to keep both of them. ______________________________________

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[powderblueblood]

YES, NURSE RATCHED - a hellfire & ice retelling of chapter eight's most pivotal moment, from eddie's pov

a special treat for my love @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, reader's last name is also mentioned, this is lore-filled and handsy so if that's not your thing keep it truckin, minors dni i do not like you go away warning for strong language, smut inthe form of public fingeringgggg, drug usage, extremely bad parenting (al munson klaxon), evoking the feeling of a comedown, billy hargrove gets his shit rocked, excuse all typos it's redacted o'clock and i'm a little buzzed word count: 2.6k

The first thing you should know about the following occurrences is that they are preluded by a whole lot of next thing Eddie knows. Things snapping his attention to the left, to the right, knocking him over the head, rearing up on him with little to no warning.

Number one? His dad showing up at Reefer Rick’s, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived and frantic, putting on a pantomime of being so psyched to see his boy! Rick snapping to attention and falling into his role of affable associate of Munson Senior immediately, despite the apology he’d tried to press against Eddie right when Al crunched the gravel of his driveway. What followed was a bender that Eddie couldn’t help but give into. Al has that effect on people, even him, even Eddie in his angry, angsty resoluteness that he should know better. 

You try knowing better when you're all bewitched, bothered and bewildered and shit.

Cue cut lines and records blaring until daylight broke over Lover's Lake– then Eddie, rising at noon but barely landed from his previous (ill-advised and bad-parentally-supervised) high, got it in his head that he ought to show up for school. At least for a little bit. 

Because they’d tossed your last name around a little last night, Al and Rick. Doevski this, Doevski that, in weird, vague terms that Eddie didn’t all the way understand. And the more weed he smoked and the more Jim Beam that got passed around, the less he remembered.

Which, dumb, right?

You’d tell him that was dumb.

You’d tell him he should have stayed sharp, listened up, gathered information.

He passed out on Rick’s sagging couch, mind searing with nothing but thoughts of you nagging him for intel.

Eddie woke up cotton-mouthed with your name on his lips. 

He needed to see you.

To catch one of your avoidant, barely-there glances as you flit through the hallway or maybe even spy you smoking a cigarette on the outdoor bleachers, reading in silence with Ronnie or Wheeler.

He’d think of what to say to you in the moment; probably spurned on by the sneer you’d give him– which he’d totally have earned, for having the nerve to ignore you for so long. 

Forgive me, he'd say, hands held aloft in Christlike composure, I just couldn't look you in the eye knowing you were getting willingly boinked by some Ivy League sweater monkey.

And then you'd have to admit your little bullshit college boyfriend wasn't Ivy League, and he'd prod you with that for a while, and things would eventually ebb back to whatever shade of normal you two were pretending to be. So? Okay!

But.

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s peeling into the parking lot and the first thing that he sees, bada bing, is you. All however many feet of you, steel true and planted on the hood of Billy Hargrove’s fucking Camaro, wielding a baseball bat like a sword.  

Eddie’s heart stops for the full entirety of a what fresh hell is this filter-focused second before he skids the van to a halt and launches himself from it. 

He advances this helluva scene just in time to hear you holler out, right in front of God and everyone,

“One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!” 

Eddie’s tread stutters and he wonders if this is what people mean when they use the expression taken out at the knees. Can he get a fucking encore, please? 

But then there’s the issue of the rabies-ridden Hargrove, the kid who’s snorted so much of Eddie’s dubiously cut supply that it’s no wonder that word has gotten around that he can’t keep his johnson rigid. There’s a thread dangling somewhere that makes Eddie wonder how familiar you are with that concept but. Alas. Digression. 

Hargrove calls you a cunt, and Eddie’s vision is replaced with a swathe of red. 

How ‘bout you try playing it cool, hearing someone talk to your girl like that, after a night of fun family drug-taking? 

Wait. His what? Hold on--

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s side-swiping Hargrove like a dirty bumper car, yak yaks something kind of funny (he hopes) and does not turn to look at you standing backlit like a holy fucking statue. Because he knows you’ll look beautiful up there, white hot with rage, holding a weapon poised for minor automotive destruction. He can’t handle beauty, not right now. Because of that thing from before with his knees. 

“...now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

It’s impossible to say whose hair trigger that tugged first, yours or Eddie’s. That’s like chicken vs egg. That’s like Han vs Greedo. That’s like, irrelevant. 

That baseball bat clatters to the pavement, a hearty overture to Eddie’s surge of empowerment, of rage, of insisting that she isn’t, I’m not, she isn’t, I’m not, nobody talks about her like that–

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting beside you. Outside the principal’s office. Hand split open and aching, nose backed up and a little bleeding, coming down like the fucking Hindenberg. Reckoning with the fact that he wouldn’t need to be a little morning-after zipped on coke to throw a punch for you, if it came down to it. If it came down to it, he would have tried caving in Billy Hargrove’s other eye socket. He would have made him look like the Elephant Man if you needed him to. 

He liked that Eraserhead movie you made him watch. 

“He needs an ice pack…”

The soft mumble from you makes Eddie take this breath that makes his chest feel like it might concave. You, you. Reckless, unbuttoned, unlaced, off-kilter you, that still had time to snap at him after he’d tried to freeze you out, that still had eyes that asked him did it hurt? 

Eddie eavesdrops on as much of your grilling with Higgins and the hot guidance counsellor as his damaged eardrums will allow. Temporary insanity. Disgusting prank. He wonders what that’s about… and again, didn’t even think to question what brought you onto the hood of Hargrove’s car. He just saw you. He just acted.

He just keeps doing that. 

And then he hears. College. Application deadlines are within touching distance. 

“I can turn this around.”

Of course. Eddie hadn’t even thought about that, because he’s him. And it was something you were probably worrying yourself sick over, because you’re you– you wanted out of here. To get up, go, be someone great.

“New York, ideally,” you’d said to him once, tightrope walking across the broken bleachers outside; you’d been waiting around for him to give you a ride home, but he had a deal to make first. You were weirdly patient, weirdly pensive that day. “Someplace I can go and burrow in and absorb everything and grow out of a crack in the sidewalk, new.” 

Eddie’d held your hand, helping you step over a gap in the bench, “Not taking Manhattan by storm? Hurricane Lacy?” 

You–and he remembered this–had held onto his hand for a few more minutes, a cigarette dwindling in the other. Your fingers were cold; they clutched at his a little tighter when you spoke again. 

“No. Not Manhattan, not midtown, not big business. I have precipitated a change in my weathervane.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that someone taught me the difference between being important and being significant.” 

Back in the room. Eddie drawls out some stupid crack to Higgins, who he’s still supplying with enough benzos to take out Jonestown a second time, which is the only reason he hasn’t been booted out of Hawkins High for absolute and final good. And then you’re alone again, the two of you. Together. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s spending the last of his energy like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, horsing around on the nurse’s saddle stool while you rifle through her office. You are all edgy and commanding because you have no idea how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me.

Good. He likes you better like this, at least for right now. Likes to watch you attempt to pirouette on the razor’s edge of your relationship to one another, mostly because your attempt is more graceful and easier to watch than his is. And he likes to watch you. Watch you do anything, really. 

Watch you snap at him to get on the bed. Fuck. 

Watch you tear and dab at his busted knuckles. Fuckfuck. 

Watch you talk about Cat People and press his hand to his chest and tell him he’s injured and wrong and watch you watch searing, singing alcohol on his split lip dry up. Eddie watches your eyes brighten and darken with curious affection, like those twinkle lights that fade in and out, steady as breathing. His breathing is anything but steady. His knees have come apart, letting you stand between them.

You dab and he lets this broken sound loose from him, because the proximity of your body to his feels like a fresh fucking spring breeze and god, god, the way you’re touching him with such gentle, measured movements, like you’ve choreographed every one–

You’re so exact. You’re so organized. He wants to unexact you.

Eddie uses his good hand, not that either of them are really any good, and presses as much of you into him as he can. The flush of your front, the flush of your mouth, he even has to stop those shorn denim-sheathed legs of his from wrapping around your hips. Eddie’s grip, it travels, hitching tweed up the curve of your ass. 

You don’t push him away like he figured you might, you don’t indignantly demand what is going on?! You don’t. You weave your hand up the line of his thigh, to the hard edge of his crotch where he is straining, a rigidity that’s been building since you went all Nurse Ratched on him. 

A rigidity that’s hard to keep down around you, badum-tsssss. 

Fuck.

Eddie almost knocks the word loose with a low groan that’s pressed into the supple flesh of your cheek, your lovely blushing fucking cheek, a cheek he goes to kiss or bite or something but misses by a hair because you’re straining your neck back. To look at him. Not soberly, he hopes. 

Someone down there is wishing him death by dick.

Not the wettest, wildest, filthiest dreams that he’s had about you (and categorically, there have been many) could have prepared Eddie Munson from the earth-shattering consequences of this tiny gesture. Your tongue, perfect and pink, darts to his lip, stinging and sore and comes away with the tiniest drop of ruby-red blood sitting on its tip. 

And you suck his bottom lip between yours, eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie’s cock jumps as his heart does, not a second out of time, as you clamber up, into his lap– so completely un-Lacylike, so totally… unexact. How, in all the vastness of Heaven and earth and Middle Earth and Hell and the Bookstore and the closet and his bedroom and the van could he be so fucking stupid?

“Just friends, right?” Eddie is deaf to how pained it comes out sounding.

His good hand travels. He finds your thighs, the softness there giving way to easy indents for his fingers and he knows, he knows that this is where his hands should be–unless, higher could be good? Higher, high up past those offending, incriminating lace top stockings that drilled through Eddie’s mind like an ice pick, giving him whatever the opposite of a lobotomy is. Haunting him with a fervour, begging him to snap them, but there’s no fucking time for that, god it hurts but there’s no fucking time for that because you. Two. Are. In. The fucking. Nurse’s. Office. 

But the world has ceased turning. 

Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent attempt at a moan as his fingers push past to the beating, radiating core of you that the throbbing, radiating core of him longs for. 

You’re so wet, and soft and lush and it rings through is head like a fucking hallelujah, you’re wet, you’re wet for him.

More than anything, he needs your encouragement–he needs to know that you want him to keep going. That you want him, that you want him, that–

You nod, frantic and undone, and Eddie kisses you for it just before he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. But nothing in his body tells him to zoom out–in fact, the only thing he wants is more in. More you, more of you wrapped around him. He moves his hands with a clumsiness usually uncharacteristic of him, fucking guitar guy, fucking painting miniatures and shit guy. But it works, according to you and the way you keen against him with your beautiful, spit-shining lips parted and pulling against his. 

These little noises, chirps and swallowed moans of yours– it’s like music. He wants to choke on them.

Eddie’s voice kind of cracks open again, letting a little air and a touch of begging out. He strains, pained, cock aching against the hitch of denim. “Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Because you’re lonely, and Eddie knows that, with his fingers stroking you deep. You’re lonely, or would be, were it not for him. And it feels like now, in the heady swirl of these few moments that are stretched into an infinity, that he’s using it against you, but he’s not. He should be the one doing this for you, he should be the one making you feel this way, making you tremble even as he clumsily thumbs at your clit, because he thinks knows you and he thinks you want it unmeasured and unshackled and washing over you in a wave of sheer blind devotion and that’s why his tongue is all over your neck. 

That’s why his knuckles are split. 

That’s why there’s no malice in Eddie’s voice when he croaks, “Just friends? Lacy?” as you rock and spasm, hands clutching him around the shoulder and whimpers barely deadened against his lips. He can feel the texture of your pinched brow against his own. 

He wants to clutch you as close as he possibly can, but he’s got one good arm and it’s between your legs.

Between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Sobriety hits like a tidal wave as your breath returns to its normal rhythm; Eddie’s doesn’t quite have the same rebound. He’s still huffing a little, out of exertion or out of nerves, as he slips his hand out from under you, brushing what was off on his jeans. A small patch of his own bodily fluid collected there too, making sure he’s wearing the both of you like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter as he walks around for the rest of the day. 

Eddie, throat starting to tighten up, pulls you in for one kiss, to give you one last taste of where he’d been split open for you. Melodrama dances around it; shades of we shouldn’t have, but we did, but we can’t, but now I have to fucking live with the fact I cracked open this Pandora’s box and I’m sorry. 

Or something to that effect. 

And you see right through him, because you always do. Hair in a muss, lips flushed, adjusting your skirt, re-exacting yourself, you clean up any evidence that this had ever happened. At least, on a surface level. 

Eddie dares to look at you once more, and you dare to look back at him. And thank god he’s sitting down, because that look shoots him right through the fucking aorta. You, wide-eyed and small-looking, pupils darting and unsure, are asking him why. Pleading with him, why. Why do this. Why now. Why at all, ever, why did you have to. Even though you know. 

“I–”

“No, I know. I know. I certainly know.”

Because you’re Lacy. You know everything. 

Eddie does think about going after you for a second, after your curt nod and dash through the door but he knows that it’s a zero-sum game. He has nothing good to say. It’s not even you that’s rendered him speechless– funny thing, you usually do the opposite. You always give him something to say. He just has nothing good to say. Nothing worthy of you. 

So he sits there, on the examination table, waiting for the mythical Nurse Lydia to tend to his wounds. 

First he’ll will himself soft, then he’ll will himself sane. 

Famous last words.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Two.

Ahhh, fuck it. Why not another chapter to get the ball rolling? You guys are so good to me with your lovely comments, so in turn, you get more story!

Previous chapters - One

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,312

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Hey Jade, I’ll give you some privacy,” Marv, their driver spoke with his usual wide smile upon seeing her climb onto the bus with a guy he recognised but couldn’t immediately place why. “Need to go find me some food anyway.”  

“Alright, Marv. The food truck has just about everything tonight. No more bad burgers!” she chuckled, moving through the narrow gangway. The bus wasn’t what he’d expected it would look like, a small lounge area at the front, two rows of sleeping bunks towards the centre, a tiny kitchen area and even smaller bathroom (complete with an amusing handwritten sign that advised if anyone took a crap, their head got flushed along with it) and finally, another lounge area right at the back.  

The seating section surrounded a small table, the space perhaps the least claustrophobic on the bus. It certainly looked a lot larger on the outside than it did within. How she coped being cooped up in it while travelling, he didn’t know.  

“Do you want a drink? I’ve got wine somewhere, do you like Merlot?” she asked, beginning to root around in the overhead cupboards. “No, it’s in the kitchenette. Hang on.” 

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” Sitting down, he had mere moments to take stock of what an interesting day it had been so far. It had started out not so great, jammed against a barrier with a crush of a permanently apoplectic mosh pit behind him, the early evening bringing with it something much more comfortable and sedate. He was joined again quickly by the woman who only continued to captivate him further with every passing moment, passing him a solo cup half filled with red wine. 

“Sorry for the uncouth receptacle. We don’t keep breakables on the bus beyond coffee mugs, save things getting smashed to hell,” she explained, taking a seat. “So, tell me more about you. You’ve fascinated me so far. I want to know what lurks beneath the extremely attractive exterior.”  

Yes, she certainly was very naturally charming, Adrien feeling his stomach flutter pleasantly. She hadn’t asked him about his acting, or which industry people he knew, what he’d be working on next, oh no. Him. She wanted to know about him. It made for a refreshing change, although eventually she did inquire into his profession, one she was slowly making waves in herself. Lamentably, although she’d been in quite a high number of projects over the past eight years, he hadn’t actually seen her in anything. Or so he thought.  

“I mean, it was only a small, independent movie, but I’m really proud of it, playing an icon like Janis. She was such a huge influence,” she spoke, watching his eyes widen. 

“Shit, I have seen you in something. I saw you in that! Sorry, it’s just, you look very different to how you did playing her, obviously.”  

“What did you think?” she asked, sipping her wine. “No need to flatter me either. Be honest.” 

“Honestly?” He paused a moment, scratching his chin and pulling his cigarettes out, lighting up and knocking the pack across the table to her, Jade sliding the ashtray closer. “I think you did the best with what you had to work with. You played a very convincing Janis Joplin from what I know of her, but the direction of it wasn’t great. They could have done a lot more. From what I remember, you really put your heart into it, green to playing a lead role as you were - and that did show – but your performance what made it.”  

His words surprised her. Not because he hadn’t enjoyed the direction of the biopic, but the fact he’d been completely honest with her. “Thank you. See, so many people have been phony about it, blown smoke right up my ass, but what you said was exactly how I felt. I put my all into it, although I ultimately felt like I was only as good as what I was given. They skipped over so much of her life that would have made it even more interesting, only to go for the sensationalist element. Bloody pissed me right off.” 

He loved the way her speech was a mishmash of Britishisms and Americanisms, a slight New York lilt coming through on every sixth or so word.  

“You’ll learn the further you get into it, be more selective over what you give your time to.” She asked him if he minded giving her a little more advice there, Adrien only happy to, liking very much how completely unpretentious she was.  

In her world, she was a big deal, huge, in fact, but in acting she was still a relatively small fish in an extremely large pond. As for Jade, she considered herself extremely lucky, getting to listen to the wisdom a man who since winning an Oscar seven years before had only gone from strength to strength. 

“I know it comes with the job, speaking to press, but I always feel somewhat antsy about it,” he began a time later, as they spoke of the pitfalls of their respective careers, chewing the corner of his lip. “It isn’t even an editing thing; your words just tend to get filtered through the gaze of so many other people and it ends up as a rendition of you rather than the definitive portrait. And preconceived notions can be tough to shake.”  

Oh, the affinity. His words definitely struck a chord. “This is why I’m very interview shy. I’m too much of a juxtapose, and people don’t know how to take me. Yes, I’m quite quiet and introverted to a degree, but also, when it comes to my work, I don’t take any shit, and I will call people out on it. This leads to me being labelled as difficult, all because I tire of the same bullshit questions that my male counterparts don’t get asked, for example.  

“So, I set certain terms, dictate which are allowed and unallowed questions, and that apparently makes me an obstreperous bitch. Journalists go in there and instead of focusing on what I actually say when they meet me, they’ve already made up their minds. Then the filtering you speak of happens, and it gets even fucking worse.” She paused then, tightening her mouth a little. “Just say if I talk too much. I tend to jabber on when I feel comfortable with somebody.”  

He reached for her, sweeping the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “You’re fine. I like hearing your thoughts.” In turn, she liked sharing them, too. There was something about him she felt inexplicably drawn to, like she could trust him with anything, and not receive a drop of judgement; just a very good ear.  

“So, why Seventh Gate?” he asked a while later, watching as she played with the flame on a candle she’d brought in to illuminate the space the darker it got. She detested false light as much as he did. “Is it from the urban legend?” 

“Yes!” she enthused, utterly delighted at his accuracy. Surprisingly, not many people guessed right away. So the aforementioned legend stated, if anybody passed through all seven specific gates dotted around in a woodland area within Hellam Township in Pennsylvania, they descended directly to hell.  

“A few buddies and I went and did the trail one time, drove down there with the location details of all the gates, but completely chickened out of crossing all of them. It was dumb, because it’s a complete myth, but nope, we were way too pussy to do it,” he laughed, watching as she giggled with mirth. 

“We shot a music video there, got wasted drunk and ended up running through all of them. We did the last one bare assed naked, me with Jen on my back while chugging a bottle of vodka and screaming ‘take me Satan!’ at two in the morning, with the entire production crew crying laughing.” 

“You’re fucking insane,” he laughed, that laughter loudening considerably as he pictured it. 

“Yeah, we’re a little mental when the mood takes us.” 

He could well believe it. “I sense there’s a lot more you could reveal that’d probably make my hair stand on end.” 

Hmmm. To divulge her years as an absolute hellion to the nice guy sitting adjacent to her, or keep quiet? “C’mon, spill.”  

Well, he asked for it.  

“We got arrested for inciting a riot outside Tower Records in downtown Oklahoma, about five years ago. Huge police presence, fans jumping on cars, us thriving in the middle of it with our security team going crazy. It was fun. We got let out shortly after thanks to the negotiation skills of our manager, played the show that night, and then caused about ten grand’s worth of damage at the club the afterparty was held in. 

“Still though, through all of that madness, I think I was just playing a part, getting the hedonism out of the way. I found fame so early, signed at seventeen, an album recorded in the same year and thrown out onto one tour after another for sixteen months without a real break. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I still like to party, but not to those kinds of extremes.”  

“Not so wild any longer, huh?” 

Oh, the grin that spread across her perfect, pillowy pout. It made him twitch quite sharply in a place he wasn’t sure he should quite so soon after meeting her. “Only in two places. On stage and in bed.” 

He arched an eyebrow, eyes sweeping her a few times. “Being a tease again, hmm?”  

“Depends.” The look she fixed him with amped his pulse instantly, Adrien not able to remember the last time he’d had such efficiently potent sexual magic cast upon him. 

“On?” 

Taking a big gulp of her wine, she licked a drop from her lip, staring into the blazing green of his eyes. “Whether if I came over there and straddled your lap, you’d let me kiss you or not.”  

He had to admire her nerve. She had way more game than he did. His eyes fell to his thighs, then back at her with a smirk. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”  

She moved the three feet separating them slowly, her glide all feline, much more cheetah than tame house cat, her eyes glinting like blue shards through the dim light. Moving carefully astride him, it burned slow like napalm, her hands resting to his chest, stroking down as he clasped her narrow waist, their foreheads touching.  

“Mmm, wow, Mr. B,” she purred, her heart thundering through an inferno within her chest. “Aren’t you absolutely divine close up?” Her lips had caught his before he could even think of replying, their kiss deepening to a slow dance of tongues within a second. It was lazy, yet scorching, their hands roaming one another as the burn gained heat.  

A soft moan echoed her throat, her hands moving to rake her nails down the dark stubbly beard flecking his cheeks and neck, the sound darting right to his cock. His entire being hummed with it, the desire to slowly peel off her clothes, but he wouldn’t be that guy. He never had been, and oh, how his body hated him for it, feeling her pressed right up against him, aching in his gut to take it further.  

“Oh wow,” she murmured, her mouth moving to his neck to lay delicate little kisses, swirls of her tongue tasting his flesh, the salt of sweat mixed with whatever cologne he wore faintly lingering there against his gorgeous skin. “The way you kiss gives me serious cunt flutters.”  

He snorted, laughing softly at her so alluringly delivered crudeness. “Yeah?”  

“Mmhmm.” That little hum preceded her mouth landing upon his again, and god, how she could have ripped all of his clothes off and ridden him to the edges of heaven right there and then, she was so torridly aroused by the man beneath her. She wouldn’t, though. Gone were the days of quick sex with a hot guy simply to sate her desire. With him, she knew she wanted more. “Okay, if I don’t control myself now I never will, but please know you make that very difficult.”  

He shook his head, arms tightening around her. “Sorry. I’m not about to let you go.” More kisses followed, a little calmer, gentler passions exchanged, the contented murmurs he made causing her heart to skip happily. At thirty-one years old, it had been a long, long time since a man had made her feel like she was a young woman in first flushes of becoming utterly besotted with somebody, and even though she was more than used to it, it pained her that she’d have to let him go in a few hours. 

That feeling? It was entirely mutual.  

Eventually, they settled to resting beside one another, two sets of long legs propped up on the table, Jade lying with her head against his chest as they talked, and talked, and talked.  

“So, why’s it complicated?” 

“Well, I suppose it isn’t really, but some would see it that way. We’re just a mixed bunch of nomads,” she began, before launching into the story of how she came to be. “So, my mum is the daughter of Italian immigrants. My grandmother was originally from Staten Island, brought there as a baby in arms after her parents moved from Sicily, but then relocated to the UK when my great-grandfather got work over in London for way more pay. They used their entire savings to take the ship voyage over and lived penniless in the Walthamstow slums until his wages came in. 

“She grew up poor, but eventually prospered, met another son of Italians and married him, had my mum, but their marriage ended when she was eleven, so my grandmother moved her back to Staten Island for a fresh start. She wanted to be with a man who actually had time for her away from his career. My grandfather worked his way up from washing dishes to head chef, eventually restauranteur, and he always put work before his family, so my gran bailed and went back home. 

“Then after four years, very sadly and quickly, she learned she had breast cancer and passed away, so my mum and uncles crossed the ocean again to return to London and live with my grandfather and his new wife. Are you keeping up so far?” 

“I am,” he confirmed, making a side-to-side motion with his hand. “There’s a lot of back and forth between Staten Island and London, but I’m with you. Carry on.” 

“See what I mean, though? Nomads! So then, mum starts dating this guy at eighteen and unexpectedly falls pregnant. She had no idea what to do, of course coming from a very devout Catholic background she felt guilty as hell over the idea of abortion, but knowing she’d only be nineteen when she gave birth was scary, too. To make it scarier, the guy she was with told her he wasn’t ready to become a father and vanished into thin air, leaving my poor mum alone with an impossible decision to make. 

“Well, that was until she met my dad. They fell in love very quickly, and he told her it didn’t matter that she was carrying another man’s baby, he wanted to stand by her and raise me as his own. He always says, “We are not bonded by biology, but god sent you to me as my baby. You are my first born, always.” His name is on my birth certificate, and he adopted me right away. I mean, it’s obvious I’m not his biologically because he’s black, but he’s the only dad I know. You might have seen him earlier, actually. He was the guy who looks a little like Morgan Freeman who was probably looking at me with a mixture of mild despair and a lot of pride. He’s out here for work currently, so swung by to watch us.” 

“Why despair?” he laughed, trying to remember if he’d seen such a man in the chaos of that afternoon. 

“He says I’m entirely too noisy with a microphone in my hand.” 

His mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, kissing the top of her head. “He’s got that right.” 

“How are your eardrums now?” she asked, looking up at him with a grin that had him in soft fits. 

“Better,” he confirmed, tightening his arm around her. “Continue.” 

“Right, so yeah, dad is originally from Harlem, but he got a scholarship place at a university in London based on his academic excellence. And believe me, my dad is so, so smart. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. So, years later, after he’d fully qualified as a doctor and done five years of residency, he was offered a job at New York Presbyterian, we moved back to Harlem, lived in an apartment for a while and then they bought a beautiful brownstone that they still live in to this day.” 

“Why did he choose London?” he asked, curious when there were so many amazing colleges in the US. 

“He said he wanted to see a little more of the world before he locked himself into being a surgeon, so applied further afield. When he was still studying, him and my mum used to save all their cash and take little backpacking holidays in Europe when I was a baby. There’s a great picture he keeps in his wallet, holding me at the top of the Eifel Tower when I was one, screaming my lungs out!” 

Something she had made a very good career out of, he thought. “Do they just have you, or have you any siblings?” 

“A brother and a sister four years younger than me, twins, too. Rachel and Marco, named after my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. I got named after my mum’s favourite gemstone. She’s really into Oriental artefacts, it’s what she studied at uni around looking after me, Asian art. She works as a curator now at the Guggenheim, specialising in antiquities from Asia.” She then paused, looking up at him sheepishly. “I’m talking too much. Again.” 

“Shut up,” he scolded softly, “I could listen to you tell me about your life for days.” 

That made her smile, always thinking she went on entirely too much when she spoke of her life and loves. “Tell me more about yours. About your parents and siblings,” she requested, idly stroking his abs through the dark fabric of his t shirt. 

“No siblings, mom said I was too much trouble to think about having more,” he joked, smiling at he thought about her. “She’s a painter and photographer, and my dad is a professor, he lectures in social science at NYU. He likes to paint, too, it’s what bonded them. He met her at an art class they were both taking while they were at university, and he said he has never, ever seen paint used in the haphazard way my mother creates her art. That’s what first attracted him to her, seeing this woman with her hair all pinned up with paint brushes, paint smudges all over her face, staring at her canvas with the kind of focus that made her look constipated, apparently. 

“When I was a baby, she used to put my hands and feet in these huge tubs of paint and let me crawl around on giant canvases, and I’d thrive, covering myself in as many colours as I could, rolling around and making a huge mess. My grandmother used to shake her head, baffled at it all, but my mom was just like, “He’s expressing himself, I’m starting him early!” I love to paint for hours, days even when I’m not working. My overall creative drive definitely comes from them. Well, her mostly. The Lois Brody method.”  

Her head shot up, eyes rounding. “Your mum is Lois Brody? Oh my god, she’s a legend! I love her photographs!” she cried, Adrien smiling with pride. 

“Yeah, she’s amazingly talented. Has this way of capturing something completely minute that others wouldn’t notice and making it the focal point of the entire photograph. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s incredible at seeing what others miss,” he revealed, still smiling widely. He was very proud of his mother, and it showed.  

“I had no idea you were her son, but then I don’t know who anybody is. It’s actually embarrassing, how it sails over my head, or how I get people confused. I met Katy Perry and thought she was Zooey Deschanel recently. I told her I recognised her from the TV show Weeds, and she’s just like, ‘eh?’ at me. I’m such a twat,” she confessed, hiding her face behind her hand as he laughed.  

“Don’t feel bad, I’m not clued up on pop culture either,” he reassured her, Jade suddenly snorting. 

“That isn’t even my worst one. Jen and I went on holiday to Nepal a few years back, and I saw a guy dressed in orange riding a bike and thought he was the Dalai Lama! The tour guide was in hysterics.”  

As was Adrien, laughing so hard, he had tears in his eyes. “His holiness on a bicycle. That’s amazing!” 

“He might like to cycle! You don’t know that he doesn’t!” she cried in a cutely comic voice, her laughter escalating as she sat up, the gorgeous man who embraced her unable to stop himself from completely falling apart.  

“Stop it,” he hissed, one arm still around her, the other hugging his stomach, which was starting to hurt. “You’re so damned funny, oh my god.” He composed himself for all of three seconds before falling to pieces again, Jade softly slapping his chest. “I can’t breathe!” 

“It isn’t that funny,” she protested, laughing now purely at him continuing to crack up. 

“Yes, it is!”  

He wouldn't forget that in a hurry, or the night he was sharing with her either, looking at his watch and becoming painfully aware he likely didn’t have long left with her as ten o’clock loomed, asking the question he’d been putting off for the last few hours. “How long do I have you for, then?”  

“Until midnight. Then I turn back into a pumpkin.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“You know, like Cinderella.” 

Oh, god. He couldn’t handle so much laughter. “Cinderella doesn’t turn into a pumpkin, her coach does!” 

Cringing, she hid her face, shaking with laughter. “Oh, yeah that’s right.”  

“You’re incredible,” he laughed, holding her close again. “I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna let you go in two hours, you know. This idea doesn’t sit well.”  

“No,” she sighed wistfully, stroking his chest, placing a kiss against his collar bone. “Not with me either. God knows when I’ll get to see you again, because I really want to. I’m locked into touring until December, though.”  

“Yeah, I have two weeks off as of today and then I’m going to Hawaii to shoot Predators. I’ll be there for a month for all the outdoor filming, then back for a month and a half in LA to finish the rest, then I have three weeks of press stuff booked more or less solidly until mid-December.” 

“Boo hiss,” she pouted, hand moving to stroke his face, hating that it would likely be around three months until she got to spend time with the lovely man whose arms she lay in again. “It’s what we signed up for with our careers, but it doesn’t stop it from being disappointing when things like this happen. When you meet someone you really find a connection to, and then can’t spend any further time with them.” 

He looked sad, kissing her head, the cogs in his brain beginning to turn as he entered a few moments of contemplation. “What if I didn’t have to leave you just yet?” Met by a face of curiosity, he continued. “How do you feel about tour bus stowaways coming along on tour with you for a week, should said prospective stowaway be able to make that happen?” 

Her eyes lit up, pushing herself to sit straighter. “Really? You could do that?”  

“Maybe. Gimme ten minutes to go and check.” Kissing her, he stood up, lighting a cigarette and pulling his phone out, heading back down to the front of the bus to make a phone call, the night air cooler than the heat of the day he’d felt himself baking under. While he made a call to his manager, Jade sat and fiddled with her jewellery, nervously awaiting his return. What if he couldn’t? But, oh. The joy if he could.  

She could scarcely believe it, that the man actually wanted to blow off his commitments in order to spend a week on a bus with her while she and her band travelled around California to continue to west coast dates of their tour. Seven days with him, although of course it wouldn’t be all of the time, having her own interviews to be present for along the way, visits to radio stations as well, a webcast she was also taking part in too around their live performances. Some of the time would be better than nothing at all, though. 

When he walked back in, her heart catapulted into her mouth, his face expressionless before slowly, he began to beam. “Looks like you have me for another week.” 

He was deafened for the second time that day, this time by the pitch of the excited shriek she let out, scrambling from her seat and bouncing up into his arms, raining kisses all over his face as he laughed softly, holding her tight.  

Seven days. Seven days that would change everything for them both.  

[mushroommushy]

Please please tell me your ideas I will be so normal about it I am not at all desparate for Broken Masquerade content

Boy I have so many ideas I actually need to put this in a draft to list all of the brainrot things I’ve had circling in my head!! This does include some negative things so feel free for me to ask to tag.

All of the colleges (Particularly Harvard) adding Thaumaturgy to their classes is extremely cool in the canon and I think there should be many more schools

Site-43 College beloved I want to go there so badly please be real c’mon :[

Those Facebook mom groups…oh boy there’s so much drama

Lord help all the poor kids with minor anomalous power

Segregation with schools, even restaurants

A lot of anomalies end up in homeless shelters because not many jobs are willing to take the backlash of anomalous employees

Shitty parents faking their kid having a dangerous anomaly so they can send them away

Because they think the foundation would just kill them because of all the propaganda

You know that the cults are gonna take advantage of this to try and grow their numbers

Chaos Insurgency propaganda against the foundation

A flag that shows your support for the foundation, GOC, anomalies hanging outside your home

New Genders from the tumblrinas like us

Twitter DNI’s are a genuine hell

‘DNI IF YOU SUPPORT SCP’S/THREAT ENTITIES/OBJECTS’

‘Block me if you call anomalies SCP’s that’s a slur’

Speaking of slurs there’s probably a lot more

COTBG members constantly calling the Nälkan’s Sarkics just to piss them off

And Maxwellium members getting real pressed over internet drama

Someone trying to make the nicknames the Serpents Hand has into a slur

Dr. Glass walking down the street and just has someone scream ‘JAILER’ at him and he is desperately trying to not commit a crime

Also Twitter being Twitter

‘Is it wrong to kin SCP-076-2? I’d murder too if I was under the ocean.’

Extremely dangerous TikTok trends involving anomalies that makes both the GOC and SCP have collective heart attacks

Some girl posts a video from a foundation site doing Macarena during a breach and is just immediately cancelled on every platform

You know there’s gonna be dumbass teenagers trying to find some real dangerous shit to seem cool

‘Oh a lake full of bodies that makes you enter through mind control??? Sounds cool and not totally dangerous I’m gonna find it and go swimming’

Gonna readmore this it’s getting long lol

Five missing teens later the foundations getting slandered even though they did nothing

Articles with the ‘How to tell if ‘X’ is an anomaly’

Of course they’re bullshit and usually offensive

Charities to support anomalies

An actual cult around 2662 that didn’t spawn anomalously

You fucking know that the Christian’s will either take 343 well or absolutely horrifically

There’s also two sides of people when it comes to Cain and Able

The ones who hate Cain and think Able is reasonable and the people who think the opposite

Cain’s also not allowed to leave site-17 for more than just the fact he’d kill plant life it’s for his own safety tbh

Meri does get chances to wander the woods! Just..not in public because they rampage that would happen with the amount of broken phones and cars would be horrible

Iris gets to go home because she deserves it

I feel like Gerald would become a meme in general and people pay his hospital bills for him lmao

Parents keeping their kids out of school and switching to online or homeschooling to keep them away from anomalies

Conversion camps to send your kid to so people can ‘release them from their curse’

Those got the serpents hand real heated

Speaking of them they have the snarkiest Twitter account ever and just roast the living hell out of every word that comes out of the foundations mouth

Podcasts

So many fucking podcasts

There already is a writing on the broken masquerade hub of the foundation making a video with outdated slang to appeal to kids

But I think Dr. Gears should just stare at a camera and say swag with a straight face it would be beautiful

Kondraki, Clef and Gears get called dilfs and not a single one of them knows what it means

‘Kain’s the goodest boy’ even though he’s morally corrupt as fuck is very common

But he will Fuckin run if you even try to touch him he does not need his fur messes up

Ok I don’t want this to be a mile long so I’ll stop here but!!!

If you want more dm me so we can talk 👀👀👀 I need SCP friends

[doostyaudi]

My employer headcanons? Real?

So, what do i make of the employers in general? Well i think i should start at their purpose! Id like to think of them as being likened to angels in way, granted they aren't, but i think that's the closest words i can use for them. Their general purpose is to make sure the world is in check, as well as the "plot", they're assistants of The Higher Powers in this way as the Higher Powers r busy doing their own things.

Employers do not care for humanity, they honestly quite dislike humanity, finding them "barbaric", "emotional", and any other word u can find to describe humanity, i guess.

Employers are siblings, they are one hell of a messy family

They follow a "code", it doesn't have an official name, but most refer to it simply as the "Employer Code". I wish i had a full list of what these are, all i really have a vague idea what they would be. I have a few that are solid codes: don't hurt/kill another employer, don't go against the higher powers (questioning them n such), and attempting to "run away" (not doing your job in an act of defiance, faking ur death, ect). If an employer breaks any of the codes, they will be given massive restrictions, if its bad enough they will be straight up exiled/killed.

The employers have their own realm they hang out in, it's really just a chill zone for them. They all have their own sections for their respective employers, basically their own house in a way lol. Usually retired employers live here

Yes, employers can be retired, it depends on what their purpose was

Employers are considered souls in a way since they aren't physical and can only interact with people/objects cuz of weird dimensional logic n stuff.

Okay! Individual employers! Right!

Auditor - the employer ever, honestly, we love auditor, dni if u don't /j. Auditor is probably gonna have the biggest write-up out of any of the other employers, not only because we know the most abt her, but also because she's my fave AHSHSHDHD. Oh. Yea. I hc Auditor as genderfluid and npd haver, i am a genderfluid auditor truther, so if u see me using fluctuating pronouns for her, that's why! Ill try and make it as comprehensive as possible tho lol. Uhm. Anyways! Auditor is the second youngest employer, her purpose is to "keep things in check" in short terms. Ironically enough, she has had a hand in not doing this, fucking up Nevada cuz she felt like it. This is NOT her job and the other employers are MAD at her for it, they do not like auditor and try to distance themselves from her. Fortunately for auditor, she doesn't like them either! She's Nevada's biggest hater and hates anyone who hates her, ur either with her or against her. She's impulsive, quick to anger, rash, unprofessional, and does everything in her power to make sure everyone knows she's cool and awsome and amazing and not to be messed with!!!! Then she trips over herself. Despite this, she's good at making plans, is very organized, best on the battlefield than any other employer, and is extremely protective of the ones she cares abt (it's. Very few but it's obvious who her favorites are). She has some control over hell, being able to have little minions of the sorts that keep an eye on things in there for her. People do not fear her, but they rather not deal with her. Oh also she loves sugar-filled food/drinks, she has a sweet-tooth lol.

Deliberator - the youngest employer. Despite his age, he is the smartest out of the employer, constantly doing research into different topics, making sure he's 10 steps ahead of everyone. He's the complete opposite of auditor in a way as he thinks more on logic than emotion. Ironically, hes very empathetic and tends to care for others he logically knows he shouldn't. He most definitely cares for humanity more than the others because of this, also he can't ever get himself to truly hate Auditor like the others do. He was most likely made to keep auditor "in check", being able to predict what auditor can and will do and using that against her, making sure she doesn't do more damage than she already has. Id like to think he has an interest in birds tho, nothing makes me think that, he just seems like a bird lover to me!

Conductor - the 3rd eldest employer. Her job is quite straightforward, she makes sure everything is perfect and in tip-top shape, cleaning up any mess others make. Because of this she is quite bossy and a complete perfectionist, freaking out whenever something goes against her perfectly made plans, even if it's completely insignificant. She can sometimes get in over her head about plans and how everyone is going to manage it, obsessing over small details. She tends to be more backhanded than the other employees, very passive-aggressive if u will, rarely letting others know how she truly feels about something. Also id like to think she likes to gossip with Stygian and Deliberator alot.

Stygian - the eldest employer. His job is to maintain the spirit realm and help lost souls to the others side. He maintains purgatory and the parts of hell Auditor doesn't have control over. Its a quite simple job compared to the others as it doesn't need as much thought and 4D chess playing to do, though who says guiding lost souls and making sure they don't get fucked up is an easy job? Knowing how Nevada is today, Stygian must be one hell of a busy guy. He's quite emotionally distant and tends to just do what he needs to do. Like. If you tell him a joke he'll just. *look* at you, he may have found it humorous but he doesn't laugh. People find him quite cold and distant because of this, though he's just am old man who wants to be left alone, but doesn't mind the company of his siblings every once in a while.

Uhhh yea i think that's everything.... It was nice to let that out of my system... I might have missed a few things/misinterpreted something... Sorry if i have! It's been a while since I've re-watched anything.. I honestly tried playing mpn2 again but i remembered why i stopped playing it! It set my computer on fire! O.o (not literally!! It was just so incredibly hot after only 20 minutes!! Sigh...)

U may not agree with everything ive said, and that's okay! Just don't be a jerk abt it, ok?

[hussyknee]

do u really not see the difference btwn writing fanfic on the internet and buying a game whose storyline is actively being written by white supremacists and having the money go directly into the pocket of the most vocal & influential terf in the UK? that's not even touching all of the other racist and offensive bs in her series inc her antisemitism, appropriating first nations cultures, her asian racism, etc? i guess thats why you dont have 'antisemitics dni' on your blog

First, let me be clear – I do not give one single shit about Harry Potter. They are the best memories of my extremely shitty adolescence, I still read fanfic from time to time, but other than that, if I never hear the word "Harry Potter" again it will be too soon. I care about the fact that you clowns are

encouraging bullies and endangering mentally ill marginalized fans

leeching the air from leftist and queer discourse

fuelling a Western culture war that distracts from combating systemic transphobia

making suffering Black and brown communities, who mostly see white and Western trans people, think that trans people don't have any real problems beyond video games

Now, on to your ask:

I said never said not buying the game was the same as writing fanfic on the internet. I said that the furor over buying the game is leading to everyone who had anything to do with Harry Potter, including just writing fanfic, being bullied. I've had to unfollow so many people for reblogging posts attacking people for being in the *fandom*.

Asking people to refrain from doing something to prove that they care, especially demanding that they don't, has never in the history of activism worked. Black people have been speaking out against copaganda shows forever and STILL get harrassed. Indigenous people have been asking people to boycott Avatar and gotten nothing. Some people comply, but more do the thing simply out of contrarianism, and the entire issue becomes a culture war divided along political affiliation. People on the right go out of their way to do the thing, the people on the center and center-left won't really care, and people who identify as leftist divorce themselves even more from the rest of the left as being no better than the right, which eventually devastating results when it comes to actual elections and agitating for political change.

What works a lot better is harm reduction. Pirating is harm reduction, asking the HP fandom to offset JKR's fuckery by making their own merch, promoting indie games and donating to trans healthcare funds is harm reduction. People won't stand for being policed, but they like giving and also not paying for stuff with a clear conscience. You would have raised so much fucking money and promoted so many different things in all this time you've spent giving the game negative engagement clicks and keeping it trending on social media so long after its release.

You keep insisting that people shouldn't be fans because JKR equals her fandom with her own influence. This is called buying into the right-wing narrative. The woman is delusional (I can't think of a non-ableist word atm, and I honestly think that she's not all stable) and you're enabling her and her terf cult. We created the online HP fandom ourselves back in the aughts, before there was any merch, before movie rights were ever sold to WB, a full decade before her advertising machine ever woke up to the fact that an internet fandom existed. JKR has lost relevance for HP fans a long time ago; imagine the slap in the face for her if the fandom starts countering her bigotry by very prominently engaging in trans activism? The JKR terf cult in the HP fandom are a minority, like TERFs themselves (they're only so loud because the right-wing promotes the shit out of them). The vast majority of fans are just the kind of vaguely well-meaning cis people who don't agree with transphobes but are pretty ignorant about trans issues. And I do mean the vast majority, because literally a billion people grew up on her books and only a bare fraction is on social media at all, and even fewer even see the leftist drive to boycott the franchise.

Let's talk demographics. Because of the aforementioned vastness of consumers, the majority of HP fans are cis het, abled, neurotypical Millennials. Because of the way internet penetration works, the majority of HP fans online and even in fandom are white or Western. Leftist spaces mostly attract young and marginalized people, and transformative fandom is full of neurodivergent women and queer people. Which means the majority of people you're reaching are young queer neurodivergent people who have limited economic power themselves. And the people most vulnerable to and impacted by policing and harrassment are trans, Black and brown, Jewish, mentally ill, poor. Do you see the problem? You're policing the very bottom rungs of the socio-economic ladder on the off-chance of maybe influencing a privileged few who might give a damn.

This is literally why we say that boycotts, especially over social media, don't fucking work. Firstly because they penalize the most disenfranchised consumers, it's hard to reach enough people to even explain why they matter, it's hard to keep up with the constant discourse and changing information, and it relies entirely on performance. Someone can stay quiet or nod along furiously to whatever you're saying and then just...go out and buy the thing. Social censure doesn't work when you have the option of not having to face the consequences. Contrary to hellsite opinion, the Fantastic Beasts franchise died because it sucked, and Harry Potter is dying because it's fading from relevance and JKR is being an embarrassment. The wider market doesn't even know y'all exist.

As for the game being racist and antisemitic...you come on my blog, a South Asian who has been in fandom for twenty years, and try to tell me about racism in media???? NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF ALL MEDIA IS RACIST AND ANTISEMITIC YOU ABSOLUTE CLOWN. I'm from South Asia, our children grow up on books written by colonizers! LORD OF THE RINGS is white supremacy! NARNIA is white supremacy! Disney and Marvel is one of the biggest figures in US military industrial complex that razed the Middle East to the ground. It's so ubiquitous that we have to accept the racism and white supremacy as a matter of course to engage with any Western media! And even then fandom is so racist it's hard to even exist in it! We get run out of it when we try to talk about it. You suck on white supremacy every single day you live like it's your Mum's teat! Do you know what it's like to hear whiteys ranting that people who consume this one game they hate are being antisemitic and racist??? While still fawning??? Over cop shows???? And Disney???? And sending Black people??? Death threats??? Over a game???

I don't say "anti-Semites DNI" for the same reason I don't say "racists DNI". Nobody identifies as a racist or antisemite, that's not how systemic oppression works. Radfem and Zionist and Communist are political identities. Radical feminism is underpinned by transphobia and racism, Zionism is currently entrenched in Palestine occupation, Western communists refuse to acknowledge USSR and Global South genocides. See how that works?

Bitch, you didn't just come at me about JKR's indigenous cultural appropriation when I was among the few who were trying to discourage people from supporting Fantastic Beasts back in 2016 and literally got flamed for it. You people did not give a single shit about Natives back then, and you don't give one now. Just like you don't actually care about Jews and never did. I literally never heard about why and how openly alt-right people keep getting this kind of power and position in the gaming industry. Conversations about antisemitism in gaming and antisemitic tropes in entertainment haven't gotten this much traction. No wider revelations about how entertainment media directly funding and promoting social harms. But sure, it's about antisemitism and racism and has absolutely nothing to do with a mess of white queers realizing they can weaponize it like a cudgel against anyone they believe are against them. We know you whites. You care about excuses to take the moral high ground without having to do any self-interrogation or cost to yourself.

Finally, to give y'all one example of where the current discourse around this stupid shit is at:

Fuck you.

[jellyfish-grave]

I've been meaning to make a pinned post for a while now, so...

HI!! Welcome to my blog!!! :D

I'm Camms/Sunny, I go by He/they, and I'm not giving my age srry (but im a minor).

I'm matching PFPs with my beloved @buttercup-flower-x (my love my boyfriend my world my everything yesyes wahoo!!!)🎀🎀🎀

My obsessions are Spike Chunsoft games (read: Danganronpa and Rain Code), Persona 5, Outer Wilds, Gravity Falls, Scott Pilgrim (a bit.), Project Sekai, Vocaloids in general (if u come up to me just to tell me vocaloid fans who got into it through proseka are fake fans uh. Dont 😶), a lot of extremely niche media (The Orbital Children, Tatami Galaxy or An Untitled Story for example), A Hat In Time AND THIS MFING EMOJI 🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀!!!!!!! I have a thousand OCs, and even more AUs!! :3

I draw (traditional+digital) Ocs and Fanart, I code, I sing, I write, and some other stuff ^^

You can find me on AO3 @/Jellyfish_Grave where I post some AU stuff (and sometimes even some OCs).

Classic DNI applies, but there really isn't any point saying so. Oh and DNI if you're a fandom purist. Like you only want perfect healthy stuff be created for fandoms. I'm too lazy to explain my arguments, so I'll just block you if you don't respect that! Just be nice, and don't start shipping discourse ty ❤

Anyone is welcome to DM me, but I will block you if you make me uncomfy or if you actively hate one of my favs. Nothing against you ^^

I will be horny on main at times. It's rare so I generally don't wanna make an alt just for that, but be warned. I might consider making a tag just for it so people can block it but yeah.

Blog tags are:

#Camma the drawer (art tag)

#Camma rambles (my original posts)

#camms lore??? (Vent tag) (I will not get offended if u block it. I created it so u can block it. Just don't reblog these ^^)

#Cam Ocs (for any oc related content)

#camma fics tag (self explanatory! Posts with links to my fics.)

My sideblogs are these!!

@daigo-rikuto (my p5 protagonist's blog)

@paler-entries (hasnt been updated in a while, unreality blog)

@sanananananananan (one of my p5 oc's blogs. Very empty. Bleh)

Some ships you can expect on this blog (so if they trigger you, you can leave and be on your way safely o7): Akeshu (P5, Goro Akechi×protagonist); Timebuddies (Outer Wilds, Gabbro×Player Character); Scollace (SPVTW, Scott Pilgrim×Wallace Wells); Komahina (Sdr2, Hajime Hinata×Nagito Komaeda); Makoyuma (MDA:RC, Yuma Kokohead×Makoto Kagutsuchi), Billford (Gravity Falls, (original) Stanford Pines×Bill Cipher) and some more I'm probably forgetting. I'm generally a multishipper but those are my main ones!

All of my OCs will be tagged with their full name (except the few that don't have family names, in which case the tag sample will be [story they're from] [name]).

Don't scroll too far into my danganronpa art, I was a cringe kid back then. Cringe as in had unlimited access to internet so that did not turn out well. Please don't harass me over like 2 year old posts thx

[onlyseokmins]

show and tell • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), best friends/idiots to lovers!au Warnings: swearing, lotssss of teasing/switch dynamics, tickling, reader is obsessed w/ seokmin's body, they're idiots your honor and they're a lil bit in L-word 🤮, mingyu thrown under the bus as always, ONE BAD PUN BC I THINK I'M FUNNY, sex is as silly as me, BIG COCK SEOK 🗣️ like he's fucking huge okay, oral (both rec. kind of), attempt at 69 but seok's a menace the entire time, fingering, CRYING/TEARS, possession, biting, marking, multiple orgasms, squirting, lil bit of cumplay ig?, mentions of prev partners, overstim... i think that's it lmk if i missed smth 🥵😰 WC: 6.5k A/N: um so this is the most self-indulgent thing i dared to post you're WELCOME i shall now go die in a hole to never be seen ever again... happy belated birthday to the loml ugh ty to all the frens that let me sob in their dms and to @onlymingyus for helping me with a damn title 💖

The commonly shared belief among your friend group was that Seokmin is abnormally soft when it comes to you.

You thought they were full of shit. 

The bestest buddy in the world was also the softest ray of morning sunshine to ever exist in general. You could barely count on one hand the number of people he genuinely ever showed disdain towards or didn't get along with. All in all — it was extremely hilarious in your opinion because Seokmin's fluffy personality greatly contrasted with his lean, sharp physique. 

Ironically, the main reason you ended up in this position.

Just moments before, you were on his bed and caged between his arms. The dog tag necklace you'd gifted, engraved with his birth date and initials, swinging in the same rhythm that your heart rapidly beats with the small space separating your bodies. A sly grin raises the corners of his lips, the long fingers of his left-hand creeping up to trail lightly at your sides.

"I know you have abs."

Seokmin's hands fly up to wrap defensively around his body, though all in good jest. "You can't just ask a dude how many abs he has!"

"And you can't lie to me by saying you don't have any! Do you know how many of your dude-bros have blabbed about your crazy gym routine to me? Can you even guess how many girls bitched at me 'cause you weren't shirtless at my pool party? As if that's my fault?"

"But it's mine?"

"No, all I have to do is prove them wrong. So, show me the goods!"

You sucked at making up your mind — what to eat, what to wear, what to watch, what to do — okay, but who doesn't? It's something Seokmin was very familiar with, hence him always having to pick up wherever you left off. He also knows just as well that once you've settled on something, you'll see it through to the very end. Eventually. 

Which normally works out in his favor except in moments like now. So he resorts to a different preventative measure — tickling the decisiveness right out of you.

Like hell you'll let him do what he wants.

Maybe the whispers about him being soft for you were right. After all, it's to your utter benefit when you push at his shoulder. Only a bit unbalanced, he easily falls onto his side and you scramble to climb on top of him at record speed, one arm pinning Seokmin's wrists against the pillow beneath his head. 

Unfortunately, this looks like one of your 3,718,493,842 very bad choices in life. Once again, something you didn't think all the way through. Sure, you've bested Seokmin at light wrestling and play-fighting before — back when you were toddlers and all he did was cry.

Now, at adult ages, it seems like a horrible, terrible, very bad idea to have him beneath you. Your fingers play with the hem of his black t-shirt that's ridden up ever so slightly, unbearablely close to the leather band of his silver belt buckle. 

Seokmin's pupils are blown wide as he looks up at you with a strange, almost starry-eyed look of surprise. Black bangs flipped up across the dark gray of his blanket, silver chain askew shining against his collarbones, mouth slightly ajar.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of sitting right on top of him, completely obliterating the distance between your bodies earlier, and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination from what you can feel nestled in between your legs. 

"Would it be inappropriate of me to take your shirt off right now?" you can't help but ask.

He laughs, all breathless and high-pitched like he does when he's nervous. "You're asking for permission?"

"Seokmin," you whine and shift your hips in protest without thinking. Another bad move. Oops. "I'm trying to be polite."

"You have me pinned to my bed with the intent to strip me and you're worried about being polite?"

"Oh, please, you could easily break free."

It's true. His wrists twitch a bit under your grasp, almost like he's attempting to do just that but you're faster once more. Or he's just letting you have your way with him. Whatever the case, your other hand firmly holds both of his down which only brings your faces closer together.

"Don't move."

"Okay," Seokmin agrees and licks his lips, "at least you know what consent means."

"Are you consenting?"

"Depends on what to."

"Me taking off your shirt."

"… Should I be flattered?"

"Very."

Brown eyes close, his brow furrowing. For a minute, you think you've accidentally taken things too far and are about to quickly apologize and backpedal before things backfire until his lips quirk up and Seokmin snorts.

"Never imagined you'd be stripping me like this."

You would agree because what the hell? All this for some abs? But the way he says it makes you pause.

"Have you imagined this before?"

Expecting him to panic or something, you're even more taken aback when he bites his lip like he's holding back more laughter. 

"And what if I have? You'll be offended even if I lie." 

You narrow your eyes challengingly while his sparkle. "Are you… flirting with me?" 

"That is not how I flirt but okay." 

"You're being weird. Weird weird. Like super-duper weird." 

"Says the one soaking my jeans, right now." 

You want to scream. Instead, you let out a scandalized gasp, eyes widening. The effort it takes to bolt away means you must release Seokmin. Something that doesn't even cross your mind with the shame heating up your cheeks, mortification setting off every sirening alarm in your nervous system.

Your first mistake.

Countless other mistakes will be made after this, but looking back — could they really be watered down to just a mistake after the end results? Why you're even so embarrassed in the first place is beyond you. And your best friend has zero intentions of letting you get away from him.

The minute Seokmin's hands are freed, one flies to keep your hips pressed against his while the other gently braces your back. Lifting his torso up with insane core strength he clearly was lying about not having, you have no choice but to wrap an arm instinctively around his neck like a koala. Your other hand curls into a fist, clinging against the fabric straining with the flex of his chest muscles while simultaneously attempting to push him back in a futile effort.

"Breathe," Seokmin murmurs in mild concern. His eyes crinkle as he smiles encouragingly. "Breathe for me, babe."

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath. If you inched any closer forward, your nose would brush against his, and leaning too far back would end up with him on top of you again.

"This is all your fault, babe."

"You're the one that started this in the first place, babe."

"All I wanted was to see your abs," your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, "babe."

"All you had to do was ask, silly."

"I did!"

To your horror, he leans in even closer with a devious smirk so his nose brushes tenderly against yours. "For yourself. Not others."

"What… what are you playing at Seokmin?"

"It's like you misinterpret everything I do on purpose."

"I — "

"If you think I'm just playing around you're sorely mistaken."

A beat of silence. "Then what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he says innocently even though the hand on your back trails upwards and not-so-innocently unclasps the bra underneath your shirt. 

Your jaw drops. Of course, your modest top is still on and the shoulder straps keep your undergarment in place. Yet, you feel naked with the way Seokmin shamelessly ogles your covered chest and lets out a satisfied groan, pleased that you weren't wearing a sports bra. After all, it's not the first time he's done that for you — but it is under this strange context.

"Seokmin — "

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Tell me." His voice is low, rougher than you've ever heard, causing tingles to shoot down your spine at the way he says your name. "I should take full responsibility for whatever happens."

His last sentence echoes over and over inside your head because yeah, what the hell is going to happen? — until you blurt out, "You find me attractive?"

Finally, Seokmin acts the way you expect and are familiar with, his shy demeanor coming out like sun rays peeking through overcast clouds. Bowing his head, forehead flopping on your shoulder, he admits defeat. 

"As if that's even a question, goofball."

"No way — there's no way! My bestie, you, find me, your bestie, like. Hot?"

"Look, I know it's cliché to fall for your friend and all that stupid shit," he grumbles, "but you don't have to sound so shocked. I already know thanks to Mingyu."

You freeze. "Know what?"

"… You're really going to make me say it?" he laughs in disbelief and shakes his head against your shoulder, causing your loose strap to slide down. "When my pride's already in tatters?"

Urging Seokmin to pick up his head and look at you, you face his brown eyes straight-on and cup his flushed cheek. "What did Mingyu say that crushed your pride?"

He sighs. "He told you I liked you before I ever got the chance to say it myself to you."

Your eyebrows raise. "He did?"

"Yeah. And I thought you just. Well. I don't know, I thought you were just ignoring it out of consideration or something. Obviously. Since you didn't say anything."

"… All 'cause I was pretty sure he blabbered about accidentally spilling the beans to you about me liking you."

The both of you pause, silently cursing poor Mingyu. He did mean well. Somehow.

"You're joking right," Seokmin whispers, "is this real?"

"What makes you think it's not."

"Because you've only ever returned my feelings in my dreams."

Your pride swells at that, wrapping your arms around his neck daringly. "Dream about me often?"

He falls backward on the bed, taking you down with him with your bodies pressed tightly together. You admire his handsome features with renewed thirst while he shuts his eyes, no longer forcing yourself to view him through the platonic lenses you'd kept on for so long.

Then his eyes flash back open and you flinch at the burning desire blazing within them. He's never looked at you like that, at least not directly and it ignites the equal yearning you feel for him like a match.

"Yeah," he answers your teasing question, "I do."

Just the thought alone makes you dizzy. Your best friend, your sweet and lovely Seokmin who puts up with all your bullshit, laying here on this exact bed with thoughts of you consuming his mind. Pining for you. Wanting you. Shit, you think he deserves to have all his fantasies come true. And you're more than happy to help him out. 

"What do we do in your dreams?"

"Everything. Anything."

An iron-clad grip will probably leave bruises behind but it's not enough to stop you from a slow, lazy grind of your hips. You sit up for more leverage, hands on his broad shoulders for support, watching with smugness oozing out of your smile as he struggles to continue his wholesome thoughts.

"Holding hands, cute dates, buying you pretty things… "

"C'mon babe," you tease, "what else?"

"Ah… " Seokmin sighs, throwing an arm over his face to hide his eyes though it can't hide the flush creeping up his neck, to his cheeks, and coloring his cute ears. "You know… "

"Nah, I don't. Not unless you tell me." 

"… Just gets lonely in bed. At night. Cold."

"We've slept together before when I've stayed the night and vice versa."

"Mhm, but never with my dick inside of you."

You coo, trying to keep up your unbothered façade as though the quickening pace of your hips isn't making an insane mess of his lap. 

"Poor little Seokminnie had to jerk off all by himself." Leaning down to whisper maliciously in the ear that isn't shielded by his elbow, "Or did you do it while I was laying next to you because you were so frustrated?"

"As if," he scoffs, "and I'm not sure what you mean by little."

Like a switch has flipped, two hands return and grip your hips, keeping them stationary. To prove his point hard, it's Seokmin's turn to grind his pelvis up into the moist heat of your covered cunt while holding you still to feel every agonizingly delicious drag of his cock. The way he can feel you pulse against him even through your thin shorts, the devastating whimper that leaves your mouth when the rough fabric manages to catch your clit just right make up for the mildly gross stickiness of precum inside of his jeans.

A sadistic grin leers at you, almost a snarl. Such a jarring contrast to the normally soft, fond looks you're used to and a shudder runs through your body at the shock, another rush of heated arousal dripping from your pussy.

It's cute, Seokmin thinks to himself, how you put up this act and think you're the one in control when it's really me, the one whose lap you're on.

"Can you even blame me?" he growls, not waiting nor expecting any answer as he sits back up, jostling your body in the process. "I was so good, so well-behaved in front of you. And yet you waltz around me with barely anything on all the damn time, flirting with all my friends in that skimpy bathing suit without a care in the world… "

You don't even know when you ended up on your back. Staring wide-eyed into Seokmin's narrowed ones, his eyelids fluttering as he recalls these memories, fist clenched and arms tense as he towers on top of you once again. He's panting, lower body still pressed against yours.

"Batting your eyelashes at me, giggling, grinding that sweet ass all over me on the dancefloor and then skipping away even though I wanted to touch you so badly… and if that's not torturing enough, constantly showing up in my dreams, always out of reach… So yeah, I'm just a little frustrated, sorry."

"I'm… I'm… I-I didn't know — "

"I know that. I know that and that's why I felt like utter trash. You didn't mean any of it and here I am throwing my disgusting fantasies on you."

"Don't say that," you plead and cup the side of his face, running your thumb repeatedly across his mole. "You're not trash, Seokmin. I wasn't thinking — I mean I didn't realize… I just — "

"Please," he interrupts suddenly, desperately begging. "Please tell me… if this… if this is going to be a spur of the moment, out of pity, and a one-time thing… please tell me you don't want this. That you don't want me — "

"I want to kiss you." 

You watch his body tremble before he takes a deep breath, smiling up at him as his eyes gradually open. They blink owlishly at you, nearly crossing in his attempt to scan your face if he really heard you correctly as you guide him by the jawline close to your lips.

"I want you, Seokmin."

To be honest, you've never really imagined what it'd feel like to kiss your best friend. The movies you've watched make it out to be magical, enchanting, and something out of a fairy tale. Sure, maybe they're not wrong but the majority of entertainment is the bad boy turning sweet or a soft boy remaining a gentleman.

Nothing's prepared you for awakening the beast in a good boy.

He kisses you with a ferocity that steals your breath from the get-go. A sensual clash of teeth, tongue, spit, love bites, and nips. Seokmin always had an enjoyable, pleasing tone to his voice and it sounds even better when he's grunting and groaning in the laidback battle for dominance.

Somehow, your clothes are merely disheveled and not ripped off despite continual tangling and grabbing at each other. Once again, you find yourself back on top as you gasp for air — having to push him away when he chases after you for more kisses. If you thought he was pretty before, he's even lovelier with shiny, swollen lips and a dazed, hungry look in his eyes.

Despite pouting at the sudden distance, the man astonishingly looks at you like you've hung the stars in the sky. As if he's never seen the ugly sides of you, your lowest and most embarrassing moments. His gaze trails from where you sit on his thighs to the rise and fall of your heaving chest to your blown-out pupils with such appreciation and awe that your cheeks are set aflame.

Although maybe you're just seeing a reflection of your own adoration. Running your hand down the toned length of one of his arms, you intertwine your fingers together. A smirk returns to your face as he squeezes back, distracted.

"So, can I see your abs now?"

Seokmin groans your name and chews on his lip, uncertain. You shrug and toy with the hem of your own shirt before decisively pulling it over your head. A blissed-out sigh escapes his mouth at the reveal.

Your bra is undone — thanks to his earlier mischief — and barely covers your breasts. Threatening to fall off at the slightest move, you pretend to protect what little modesty you might have and keep it in place with a free hand. 

"Tit for tat?" you tease.

He audibly gulps and you watch his Adam's apple bob. You wait patiently, letting him go at his own pace and back out if he wants. Though he does relent because he feels at comfort with you, revealing his gorgeous tan skin and upper body you hadn't seen in what feels like years.

"Omigod…" you gasp out and he cringes, upper body taut with nerves. "You've been hiding a six-pack away from the public for so long?"

"I — "

"I want to touch them."

"Why are you so obsessed with my abs?"

"'cause they're mythical. Like unicorns or… or Bigfoot."

"You're comparing me to a yeti?"

"Not yet…i!"

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculous pun. "I thought I was getting a 'tit for tat'?"

"Yeah," you nonchalantly slide off your loose bra and toss it somewhere on his bedroom floor. Seokmin doesn't even get to relish the bare sight of your tits for his own enjoyment because you're grumbling, "can't even show his best friend his fine ass abs," and he has to correct you.

"Maybe if I was your boyfriend, I'd show them to you all the time."

"Oh? Is that a promise? A threat? A distraction?"

"An offer. A suggestion even."

"It's pretty tempting," you play coy, "can I touch you if I say yes?"

"Only if I can touch you too."

"Then yes." Your pointer finger travels down the flexed crease of his skin to right above his belly button. "Can I see your dick now?"

"But I want… I'd like to… taste you."

"Later," you assure and daringly place a kiss above his waistband. Your hands tug at the belt when his hips stutter upwards. "Please?"

He's gone the moment you flutter your eyelashes at him and so are his ruined jeans. Discarded on the floor to join the growing number of other clothing when he says yes. 

Even Seokmin himself would admit he is indeed too soft for you but his cock certainly isn't. Your eyes nearly bug out when it flops against his stomach, angry red and leaking tears of precum. He grits his teeth at how much it aches, perfect jawline even more prominent. 

His self-esteem would have been dashed to pieces at the devastating frown on your pretty face but it's greatly inflated when all you can do is whimper out, "You're so big… "

"Yeah?"

Your best friend — no, now your boyfriend, you suppose — hisses when you blink at him. 

"There's no way you're gonna fit."

"Hah, 's never been a problem before." Nails dig into his thigh, the little show of possession at the mention of his previous partners wickedly giving Seokmin another ego boost. He's quick to try and appease you though by saying, "don't worry, babe… let me prep and taste you, I'll make it fit I promise and you'll feel good."

"Fuckin' sweet talker." You feel a hand reach out to temptingly slip under the band of your shorts. "Everything about you is always so sweet."

"'m sure you taste even sweeter." 

"Seokmin…" 

"Hm?" His touch grows bolder at the moan of his name, squeezing at the plumpness of your ass. "Will you please let me have a taste? Just wanna help you out." 

You won't be thinking I'm so sweet after this. 

Eager to touch him, you nod and start to take off your shorts but Seokmin is faster. Nearly tearing them off your body in excitement and somehow managing to position your bare lower body right where he wants it. 

Luckily, you're able to face his neglected cock. A shriek leaves your mouth, though, because the hardened tip of his tongue is searching for your clit, lathing and suckling on it when he does find it. 

You try to focus on your prize but it's difficult with the vigor he's attacking your throbbing, needy pussy. Seokmin holds you up high enough that he can leave occasional nips on the inner crease of your hips before harshly licking and sucking up your messy arousal. Shaking his head back and forth with an animalistic growl, all you can do is resort to pitiful kitten licks and slobbering mindlessly on just the side of his cock. 

The more you attempt to wrap your lips fully around the tip, the further down he brings you to his mouth until you're almost suffocating him. A brutal assault where you can only twitch your hips to which he agreeably grunts, gliding you across his open mouth ever so slightly. Unable to escape the throes of pleasure, not that you would want to — you give up and give in. 

Tears fill your eyes as your body convulses and shakes, staring longingly at his cock through bleary eyes. Seokmin's muffled moans as he gladly helps you ride out your orgasm with your fluttering hole clamping around his tongue barely registering in your ears. You feel like you're floating while underwater in the most delicious of ways. 

Seokmin manages to nudge you enough so he can catch his breath while waiting for you to come back to him. A fond smile on his lips when you're finally able to move and he helps you flop by his side. 

"Why on earth are you a pussy-eating pro?" 

"You keep complaining about things most people don't find fault in." 

"I wanted to suck the life out of you, not the opposite." You reach for his cock again but he stops you — again — and rubs the back of your hand consolingly while he wipes the wet mess you'd left on his face with a smirk like a badge of honor he takes pride in. "Lee Seokmin!" 

"Shhh, don't whine, baby. Almost there, I'll let you have my dick soon. Give it to you real good. Now that I've confirmed what a tight, good little pussy you have for myself, gotta make sure you're stretched out enough. Don't wanna hurt you." 

"It already hurts, 'm so empty, 'min." 

"Greedy," he snickers, knowing you're full of shit, and sits up. "After I just stuffed you with my tongue so well that you complained about it, now you want me again?" 

"Always want you. Always have. Didn't realize it before but it's true. 'm sorry, Seokkie, need you so bad though." 

"Lucky I like you so much. Now turn around, let me see that lovely ass of yours." 

You do as he says, clambering up on all fours and arching your back prettily, looking over your shoulder to see what he'll do next. 

The sight alone is a wet dream. He's licking his lips, brown eyes honed in on your puffy, seeping cunt until he's snapped out of the trance when he realizes you're watching him. He sticks out his tongue to pull a silly face and you shake your head in disbelief. 

A finger traces up your spine before it turns into his palm pushing down between your shoulder blades so your cheek is pressed into the pillows. You can just feel the heavy heat of his cock but he pulls away before you can savor it for too long. A constant tease that leaves you whining again in frustration and wiggling your hips enticingly, a futile effort. 

"I know you're desperate. 'm sorry, don't wanna cum too fast and disappoint you though." 

"You won't disappoint me." 

"Nope, I'll make it worthwhile. Promise. We can do whatever positions you want after this. I'd like to see you riding me like you do in my dreams, personally." Watching how you clench at his words, he chuckles. "Knew you'd like that too. Now, let's see…" 

He slips a digit inside your hole muttering, "There we go," and adds another. And another. Three fingers explore your gummy inner walls and he hums in contemplating tones before he begins scissoring motions to get your pussy to further open up. 

Your moans are muffled by the bed and Seokmin simply increases his pace to make them louder with a sneer of satisfaction you don't see. You do feel him kissing down the length of your spine, more love bites that make you squeal at each pinch. 

"So cute and perfect. What 'm I gonna do with you?" he asks and pretends to understand the unintelligible garble to his rhetorical question. "Yeah, that's right, babe. Fuck you even more stupid than you are now 'cause it's what you deserve." 

Retracting his fingers, licking them clean, and mumbling how pretty you are — then he's finally wrapping a veined hand around his even veinier cock to tease at your entrance. 

He plays with your wetness, coating his tip with it and making both your mouth and pussy drool. And god, does Seokmin relish the vision before him. 

You're everything to him and that thought alone makes him bite down on his lower lip, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. He doesn't want to fuck this up. Every muscle in his body tenses when he takes a deep breath and eases himself inside, enraptured with the way your soft pussy lips part and cling around his length to welcome him. 

When he glances up to check how you're doing, he has to reign himself back from exploding or thrusting insensitively all the way in. The way your eyes roll up, a stain of drool left on his blanket, and the feeble thank you's followed by a filthy series of moans — he lets out a string of curses that would make even a depraved whore blush out of shyness. 

"S'big, s'full," you hiccup, clenching and unclenching in rapid successions that has Seokmin wheezing, though he tries to comfort you. 

"'m not even all the way inside, sweetheart. Bear with me, babe. Breathe. I've got you." 

"Got me… hella fuckin' full."

"You can take it. I know you can." He pushes his hips forward a bit more. "There you go, sweetheart. Relax just a tiny bit… Yeah, that's it…" 

Praises fall from his lips and you sob at both the goddamn stretch and unfathomable pleasure. You already feel him buried in your gut reaching spots you didn't even know existed by the time he's almost bottomed out for his pelvis to press temptingly against your ass — you're pretty sure you can feel him in your lungs at this point.

"S'deep…!" 

"Feel so fucking good… d'ya need me to pull out a little, baby? You still with me?" 

You answer him by bravely using whatever strength — or more like the urge for him to split you open and take it all because you want to be as good as he's telling you that you are for him — and push yourself back so he's fully seated within your tight cunt. 

You're probably screaming if your raspy throat and ringing ears are anything to go by. He's panting and rubbing his forehead with a groan. 

"Fuck, what are you so hot for?" 

The air feels like it's been punched out of his lungs, the same way his cock is being suctioned and squeezed. In an effort to wrangle whatever control is left within himself, Seokmin focuses on your body and how it reacts. Laying over your arched back to press your bare bodies close together in an intimate fashion. 

You can feel his necklace and its cool touch on your burning skin. The recollection of never seeing him without it since gifting it to him reignites a possessive streak in you and has your pussy pulsing around him more fervently. Suddenly you long to have his mark engraved on you permanently, etched into your body and soul just like the inanimate object. 

It's almost a shame when he pauses to tug it free so it doesn't break and let it hang over your shoulder instead. Not that it matters much, for you'd only have a temporary imprint of a dog tag shape on your back. 

As if he can read your muddled mind (he probably can), Seokmin makes up for it in his concentration to delay his dizzy cloud of absolute unbridled lust. He's already left many physical reminders of his touch where you'll definitely be sore later scattered around your body and as a bonus — bites down where your neck meets your shoulder. 

(You have no idea how you'll explain the obvious teeth marks to your friends the next day but you know they'll know. Especially when Seokmin — the little shit that he is — shamelessly shows off the various marks you'll leave all over him later tonight.)

But you don't think about that right now, any and all thoughts consumed of him, him, and him. You're full. So full. Oh, how you ache to run your fingers across his gorgeous body the same way he's able to yours, sneaking a hand underneath to fondle at your breasts and tug at your nipples. You suppose that can wait, already inching toward another crashing orgasm when he's unable to stay still anymore and starts shallow, cautious thrusts.

"Mm, ah, 'min… Seok… min… "

"'m here baby, you're gonna cum for me already, aren't ya?" He pulls his dick out far enough to see the way your essence glistens and coats his length and then smoothly stuffs you full again. "Go on and cream on my cock, make me yours."

Shockingly you shake your head. "No, too soon!"

"S'kay, I know you can give me another one after. If you let go now, it'll feel even better after. You're still so tight, I can barely move."

You really can't believe you're about to climax so soon again. There's not really a choice to hold it off anyways, especially when his hand moves away from your tits and mercilessly rubs your clit. He could've just fucked your throat raw with how hoarse your voice is now with all the sounds he's drawn out of you.

As you recover from the fuzziness of a second orgasm, he'd taken out his cock that's basically gone numb at this point (he's not sure if that's a good thing or not), and appreciates the delectable view of how your hole has been stretched out perfectly in the shape of his cock to accommodate him so sweetly. It all screams I am Seokmin's and he fucking adores it. And you.

There's only one thing left to do. Paint you with the color white.

"You ready for me?" 

You breathlessly huff out a yes but honestly, you're unsure if you will be able to handle another peak without passing out. Seokmin soothes you, whispering that this will be the last one for this round accompanied by two chaste kisses on each of your shoulder blades. So wonderful and perfect, he reminds and suddenly you can do anything he asked of you.

Which is good because he's finally snapping his hips hard and fast with better ability, drilling into your warm, wet pussy he calls his that confirms that ownership itself with filthy noises of agreement and gushes of more arousal. You moan out a mix of yes, yours, and his name — growing so fucked out that when he asks you where you want him to cum, all you do is feebly bounce your asscheeks against his abs when he refuses to move.

"Shit, you gotta tell me now or I'll… fuck, I'll do it inside. I-I know you're on the pill but… "

"Please…"

"You'd look pretty with it all over your back but also spilling out of your pussy… "

"If you don't cum right now anywhere… I'll cry."

"You're already crying." His thumb brushes at the trail of tears that spilled over your eyelids.

"Seokmin…!"

"'m sorry, let me give you what you want."

His hips resume slamming at a rapid pace, hitting deep within that magic bundle of nerves without fail. Stars swim in your vision and the mind-numbing pressure twisting in your lower gut builds up without warning.

It's a silent scream this time and a peak that doesn't seem to end. As your body violently shudders and shakes for what feels like hours at its intensity, Seokmin's release is triggered. Gently thrusting as you spasm around him, milking his cock as it starts to fill you up with a comforting warmth. In a daze, he's forced out by the end of your explosive orgasm and watches with a slack jaw in awe.

He's managed to leave beautiful lines of white across your ass and back as intended. Though the bit he'd left inside of you is mostly expelled by you squirting and coating his thighs with your release, if he looks close enough, there are still globs of cream left around the outer lips of your cunt that has him groaning.

"This is better than what I've dreamt about."

"Of course. Real thing is always better."

"In this case, yes." 

"… Do you still think I'm sweet?"

"… Somehow, yes."

Seokmin laughs as you collapse flat against the bed. You need to clean up but both of you can afford to rest a little first. He lays down next to you on his side, bringing you into his arms and you immediately snuggle your face into his chest before fixing him with a serious gaze.

"I don't get it."

He stiffens in fear. "Wh-what?"

"You fucked your previous partners, right?"

"Um… most… of them… "

"Like this?"

"Uh… " he narrows his eyes. "What… what do you mean?"

"There's no way they would've wanted to let you go if you got a stroke game and stamina this good. Unless you were just too much of a beast in the sheets — which I could understand."

His arms tighten around you. "I'm sorry, did I go too hard on you? I just didn't wanna cum too fast."

"No, you're insane but it was… incredible. You're the unreal one here."

"Didn't expect that when you harassed me about my abs, huh?"

"I did not harass you and of course not, did you?"

"No, but… I'm glad it did. You… don't…  you don't regret it, do you?"

"No, why would I?" He breathes out a tiny sigh of relief which has you raising an eyebrow but you continue on. "I don't get why they didn't try harder to stick around. I mean you're perfect. In all aspects. I one-hundred-percent mean that."

"They weren't you, though. I'm sincere when I say you've always been the one. I was just afraid…" 

"You're a damn good actor, you know that. I had no idea."

Your favorite smile beams at you. "I did major in theater. And we're both kinda idiots."

You slap at his chest playfully and he covers your hand with his. "I like you too, you know that? Like really mean it when I say I do. Even if you just obliterated my fucking vagina out of existence."

"There's no way, I most certainly did not." He kisses your forehead. "'cause you still have to ride me like promised."

"I don't think I'll be able to."

Your eyes close, ignoring Seokmin's gasp of shock and protests about cleaning up. He can tell you're pretty exhausted and acquiesces, shifting you into a position more comfortable for you to be able to doze off for a bit.

But you take that opportunity to spring to life, sucking the nastiest hickey on his neck right above his silver chain. One that will take weeks to heal. He lets out a moan as you do it and when you back away, the atmosphere has heated up again.

"You're giving me a hard time," he points out with an eyebrow wiggle and you giggle. 

Urging him to roll over, you lug your aching limbs up and over so you can straddle his upper body. Adding more and more love marks and bites on his chest, neck, and arms. It's your turn to stake a hushed claim of mine whispered into his ears that you nip at. And he giggles, loving the attention you're showering him with.

His cock is stirring to life under your ministrations as is another pool of arousal swirling in your gut. Despite the hiss of oversensitivity and slight pain you both feel, you ease his length back inside. Nearly crying out because this new angle means he's stuffed in you even more, you don't know if he can fit until you're gasping in relief once you're successful.

He tentatively brushes his fingers against the bulge that appears in your lower tummy, wanton moans erupting from both of you at the gesture. It sends chills down your spine and you shiver.

"Gonna have to help me move, dunno if I have enough strength to make your dreams come true."

"S'kay, we have forever to act them out again and again," he reassures you which erases your pout. "You'll get used to me with enough practice."

"You think so?"

"Well, we can only test that theory to make sure."

You giggle as he pulls you in for a tender kiss by the back of your neck. "You're naughtier than I could've ever imagined."

"But you love it. You love me." His smug look only grows at your agreeing hum and when he flexes his abs. "Now, shall we see if all the work I put into my abs is worth it, babe?"

onlyseokmins: February 2023 ©

Taglist: @joshibambi @junhui-recs @pandorashbox @rubyscoups @woozluv @darlingvernon @charcharfairy @httpswonwoosglasses @yeosayang @buffhoshi @horanghae8star @noraehey @misssugarlips @tinkerbell460 @aceofvernons @dejavernon

[echoes-lighthouse]

Freakiest Thing Each Of My Selfships Is Into <3

I was just scrolling through the tag and remembered how much I fucking love hearing about other people's niche kinks so I decided to make a post about the weirdest side of my selfships :D

My platonic selfships are of course excluded and my nostalgia selfships are also excluded because they're weird enough without adding extra kinks to them. Also, most of these are focused on my f/os rather than my s/is because I'm like 90% ace but still interested in kink and also fictional sex with my f/os.

Anyways they're under the readmore because I don't tend to post n$fw on this blog so I don't expect everyone to have the tags blocked! Please dni if under 18, etc

Jester- she likes being free-use on occasion so we'll have nice big parties with her on a table and everyone is well-trained on the rules and her safewords and she gets dicked down proper and I tell her she's doing a great job

Tate- absolutely rampant mommy kink, which wouldn't be quite so weird if his mother didn't live next door :I

Himiko- feral kitten play, baby! Especially if we're showing off for the other LoV members, we go full kitty mode and draw lots of blood and tumble around together and have fun

Tomura- age play in all of the most extremes: diapers and bottles and gloves that curl his fingers into a fist so he can't use his quirk or his hands, poor baby

Toshi- we're like 80% vanilla but we have done a couple of me-as-student, him-as-teacher roleplays that get us both going partially because of how absolutely taboo it is for both of us

Zero- uhhhh, it's Rick Sanchez I don't know what the craziest could possibly be? we have a lot of public sex at those kinds of parties, or on planets where that's the norm. I like to control him while he's having sex with someone else, tell him exactly what to do while he pleases them. OH, we do consensual non-consent scenes and somnophilia scenes, that's probably the wildest stuff maybe?

Val- the extremely vore-adjacent experience of having sex in someone else's body: the intimacy of making love in their bloodstream, nestled against a single red blood cell

Grell- blood play that is not safe or sane, but very much consensual: we got a little carried away one time and I almost bled out afterwards but I was okay: she's vicious with a scalpel, what can I say? My beloved half of Jack the Ripper.

Cecil- our relationship is 95% platonic but he's had a few phases where he's worked up enough to use me: it's kind of a sex doll situation where I'm not very active and I keep to a smaller form and let him do whatever he wants

Tumblr- we're still in the experimentation phase! nothing too wild in this relationship: she has a bit of a daddy kink (and a praise kink) but that's about it.

Monokuma- exhibitionism, baby, I'm out here doing a solo show for the cameras until I get some sweet bear loving. Technosexuality, I suppose? I would like to make him overheat ^-^

Death- hmmm, just some body worship: I could eat her out for hours and I think I do, when she lets me. Cock warming if she's got one for the day.

Gertrude- not very exciting: lots of cliche artsy lesbian things like oils and massages, waxplay and foodplay, painting each other nude and overflowing the bath by accident when we're cleaning up

Dirk- plushophilia, dubious consent, and forced orgasms: control over the other person's orgasm is one of the ultimate powers in our relationship and it swings both ways in turn

Jonah- *chanting* desk sex, desk sex, desk sex... cockwarming and powerplay. he takes out his frustration over bad business deals on me and I'm very ready for it, but sometimes I put up a fight just so he can wear himself out a bit more getting me where he wants me

Which do you think is the wildest?? I think I'm too close to really choose. You should do this with your selfships also if you'd like to!! I really do like hearing about characters and people's niche kink preferences and I think selfship/kink crossovers are something I don't see enough of.

[corey-cumminghams-malewife]

🌹post-michael corey cunningham 18+ alphabet🌹

corey cunningham x gn reader

minors dni

my first piece on tumblr. thought i'd start with one of my top 5 slashers i'm thirsty for.

🍆🍆🍆

a (aftercare)

♡ very attentive

♡ will clean both of you up with a washcloth that's been soaked in warm water

♡ will kiss your forehead and cheek in a soft possessive manner

♡ will bring both of you a small glass of choccy milk before cuddling

b (their favorite body part of theirs and yours)

♡ he loves his hands

♡ there's so much he can do with those large hands of his

♡ fix, create, build, kill, caress, bring pleasure, dominate

♡ the list is endless

♡ his favorite body part on you is your eyes

♡ they convey so much to him when words fail

♡ they show him adoration, love, care, sympathy, empathy, desire, pain, excitement, happiness, vulnerability, submissiveness

♡ he can stare into them forever

c (anything to do with cum)

♡ has to come inside you every time

♡ doesn't care whether its in your mouth or your hole/s

♡ refuses to see his cum lay against the bedding or drying on your skin

♡ must be down your throat or deep inside of you

♡ will push the cum back into your hole/s if it leaks out

♡ if he's feeling particularly depraved he'll eat his own cum out of you

♡ creampies. that is all

d (dirty secret)

♡ his bottom drawer of his dresser is full of underwear that he stole from you

♡ has pieces even from his pre-michael days

♡ lays on his bed with the garments covering his face and jacks himself off while inhaling your scent

♡ will also use your underwear as a cumsock

♡ if he's a switch (post-michael not a sub) will also furiously masturbate with your underwear shoved up his ass

e (how experienced are they)

♡ not very experienced

♡ only fooled around with maybe two people in highschool before sharing a night or two with allyson

♡ pre-michael he was very eager to learn all what allyson and then you could show him

♡ post-michael he knows what he wants and what he wants to experiment with

♡ will not hesitate to try something new with you or to take the lead in the bedroom

♡ the shyness has left him

f (favorite position)

♡ mating press and doggy

♡ wants to be as deep inside of you as possible

g (are they goofy or serious in the moment)

♡ serious for the most part

♡ corey is obsessed and extremely possessive over you

♡ sex is one of the most important and prominent ways he can take ownership of you and join with you in a near spiritual way

♡ so lightheartedness and being goofy in the bedroom is not high on the agenda

h (how well groomed are they)

♡ leaves himself natural aside from some minor trimming maintenance

i (intimacy, how are they during the moment)

♡ corey is overwhelmingly intense and passionate during sex

♡ he doesn't take sex with you lightly and it shows

♡ other times he is brutally rough and dominating. animalistic even.

♡ you are left with hickeys, bite marks, bruises, scratch marks and aches

j (jacking off, their views on masturbation)

♡ corey is always lusting after you

♡ so if you can't see each other for a while he has no qualms about jacking off to thoughts, photos and even videos of you. let's also not forget about your underwear.

k (one or more kinks)

♡ corey has quite a few kinks

♡ breeding, somnophilia, bdsm, ddlg/b, knife play, blood play, public sex, fisting, choking you, sounding, dacryphilia, c&b torture, praise and degradation and a few more he's yet to express to you

l (favorite locations to do it)

♡ the bed

♡ shower

♡ kitchen counter

♡ movie theatre

♡ you bent over his motorcycle whether in his garage at home or at the auto shop

m (motivation, what gets them going)

♡ just the mere initial sight of you os enough for corey to be straining in his jeans

♡ when your clothes pull taut across your ass, groin or chest

♡ when you bend for something at just the right angle

♡ corey loses his mind when you whisper in his ear or give him the mischievous eyes and devious smirk

♡ when you show him your undivided attention and lots of affection

n (no! something they wouldn't do)

♡ corey's pretty damn depraved but he won't do bathroom stuff

♡ will not share you with anyone... unless its michael (yes, peepaw's still alive!!! i refuse to aknowledge the ending of halloween ends)

♡ will not be a sub. pre-michael corey would of most likely been quite subby but post-michael corey is not. at most he'll be a switch on occasion

o (oral, preferences in giving or receiving)

♡ enjoys both equally

♡ really enjoys a nice bj

♡ but will go absolutely feral when given the chance to skullfuck you

♡ loves hearing your moans and tasting your essence when he sucks you off/eats you out

♡ enjoys rim jobs too

p (fast and rough or slow and sensual)

♡ it depends on his moods or simply his whims

♡ whether pounding into you at a brutal unforgiving pace or taking it slow and making soft love, corey enjoys both. there's no one or the other

q (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

♡ enjoys a good quickie

♡ when time is short for you both to be in one another's company, a quickie is more than enough to tide corey over until he can get his hands on you for hours at an end

♡ loves the thrill of a quickie in his house with his mom slinking around, at the auto shop during a work day or even in the movie theatre

r (risks, are they game to experiment? take risks etc)

♡ big risk taker

♡ loves to see how far he can push your body over the pleasure and pain threshold

♡ enjoys experimenting in bringing both you and himself pleasure through trying out various things he's seen on the net

♡ loves when you jack him off while riding his motorcyle

s (stamina, how many rounds can they go for? how long do they usually last?)

♡ has a shitload more stamina since he started to religiously work out everyday to keep him fighting (killing) fit

♡ he seems to be able to pound away into you over and over again until your sobbing from overstimulation and exhaustion

♡ he can last a good 3 to 5 rounds

t (toys, do they own toys? do they use them?)

♡ yes!

♡ corey has purchased many toys for you and him

♡ he likes vibrators, vibrating dildos, vibrating cock rings.

♡ loves using the hitachi magic wand on you and if he's in a dark mood he'll shove it up your hole too

♡ dildos and anal plugs of various and increasing sizes

u (unfair, how much do they like to tease)

♡ corey's not much of a teaser

♡ the only time he'll like to tease is when you've been particularly bratty or difficult on that day

v (volume, how loud are they? what noises do they make?)

♡ corey's a moaner and quite vocal

♡ he's not high pitched though

♡ his moans are low and throaty

♡ will praise, degrade, whisper words of possession and babble nonsense too

♡ will whimper, groan and grunt some too

♡ if you're being very vocal during a particlar time in the act, Corey will let his inhibitions free and join you. this will of course make the room sound like a porno is being shot inside

w (wildcard, randon headcanon)

♡ wants to have a threesome with michael

x (x-ray, what's going on in their pants?)

♡ corey's a good 7.5inches when fully erect

♡ like the rest of him, his cock is thick and beefy

♡ it curves upwards a little at the top

♡ he is uncut

♡ has a few veins here and there

♡ he has a bulbous mushroom head

♡ large heavy testicles

y (yearning, how high is their sex drive?)

♡ fairly high

♡ his sex drive was about average before meeting you

♡ but after meeting and getting involved with you and post-michael? he finds lust (not just bloodlust) dominates his body and thoughts more often than not

z (how fast do they fall asleep afterwards?)

♡ typically corey is a deep and overthinker so he will likely stay awake for some time after with many different thoughts running through his mind

♡ if its been a hot summer's day and the auto shop has been especially busy then he'll find himself drifting to sleep much quicker afterwards than he normally would

♡ the same could be said after he's had a successful kill/s on that night

♡ he'll fall asleep faster then. sated and content, having fed both his sexual lust and bloodlust

hope this was satisfactory as i enjoyed writing it ❤

[cookstorys]

Xavier Thorpe x Male reader

Angst to fluff typa thing where xavier and m/n get into an argument which leads to M/N leaving and talking a walk in the dark woods (its night out) but m/n gets attacked by the hyde pretty badly and leaves him there in the forest (his legs are hurt pretty badly) and hes left there until the morning when xavier finds him unconscious while out on a run. It ends with m/n waking up and with fluff and xavier constantly apologizing to him :D

𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜

_____________

Character- Xavier Thorpe

Show/Movie- Wednesday

Warning- Sad, Mentions of an attack and blood!, Language

Author Note- Loved this request, def didn’t lowkey cry making this 😹, also added my lil spice to it hope you don’t mind 🫶🏾

Females dni

_____________

“Are you serious right now? Me and Ajax?!” You yelled. At this point, it was just ridiculous. Lately, Xavier has been very jealous and clingy. At first, you saw the behavior as kinda cute but then he started going too far. He was practically suffocating you in his love and not in a good way. However, today he accused you of something extremely surprising.

“Yes, Ajax! Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the way you look at him?!” Xavier sounded ridiculous. You couldn’t contain your laugh any longer. He had to be joking right? You kept laughing at this until you saw his stone-cold face. “Oh my god, your serious.” You stopped.

“Very. The sexual tension you two have been radiating for a week is insane.” You couldn’t help but scoff at this. Xavier was being serious, extremely. “I’m not doing this right now.” You walked towards his bed to grab your stuff. “[Name] you’re not leaving in the middle of an argument. You have no right. Where are you even going.” Xavier threw his arms up in defeat. “I don’t know. Might go fuck Ajax, who knows?!” You yelled back and slammed the door.

_________The Woods__________

You walked along the old trails of the woods. The sun lowered itself into the sky. Your music was blasting at full volume. How could Xavier even think you could cheat on him? Especially with Ajax, your best friend, out of all people. The sound of leaves rustling behind brought you out of your thoughts. You looked behind you and saw nothing so just ignored it.

You kept to the trail until you felt someone following you. You walked a little faster towards nevermore. Then you heard a deep growl come behind you. You didn’t want to ask questions so you took off running toward the woods. Your vampire speed came in handy. You stopped at a small river stream obviously out of breath. Then, you heard the sound of a few twigs breaking.

You pushed out your fangs, ready to fight. You saw the beast coming full speed at you. Luckily you were fast enough to dodge the hit. You could’ve run away (and now looking back you should’ve) but you needed to blow off some steam and what’s a better way of doing that than kicking a monster’s ass?

You dodged another hit of the monster’s claws not excepting it to use its other to slash your leg. “FUCK!” You screamed as your body hit the ground. Your fingers brushed against the open slash on your thighs. Why weren’t you healing? You should’ve been healed by now. The monster’s claws were rushing toward your face next but you dodged it. You jumped on its back clinging to it. You released your fangs into its neck. It let out a loud growl, grabbed you by the neck, and threw you towards a tree, hitting your back. “Fuck.” You whined.

The sharp pain from both attacks sent a shock through your body. You couldn’t keep fighting, hell you could barely even walk. The monster walked towards you, grabbing you by the neck and pushing you against the tree. Your leg ached for medical attention and your back screamed for the nice feel of You and Xavier’s bed. Xavier. Oh no, you were going to die with your last words to Xavier being about fucking your best friend. Your mind flashed to images of Xavier being the one to stumble upon your lifeless body. The thought of it sent a tear running down your face. You couldn’t die yet, not now at least.

You took hold of the monster's arm making sure to tighten your grip around it. Than pushed its claw away from your bruised neck. A new fire erupted inside of you. You used your one good leg to kick it across the small stream. It dropped you to the ground with a loud thud, you gasped for air. You looked towards it to see it was running the opposite way. You let out a laugh mixed with happiness and relief. Then the pain shocked back thru your body. You lay on your back staring at the night sky. Life was slowly fading out of you and all you could think about was Xavier. His smile, his hair, his adorable small dimples that showed up when he smiled, and his drawings.

You smiled as all the beautiful memories you made with him flashed thru your brain. Your hands found their way to the necklace you both share. Smiling as your eyes gave into the darkness.

__________________

Your eyes slowly opened to the bright sun rays aiming straight toward you. You looked around to take in your surroundings. Then made an abrupt stop when the aching of your head got a little too harsh. You heard the door open and looked up to see Xavier. He looked like he hadn’t slept in hours, and his hair was a mess. He even looked like he was crying.

Xavier's facial expression softened at the sight of you being up. He dropped his newly bought chips and tackled you in a hug. “I swear I’m never arguing with you again. I’m so sorry, I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry baby.” He cried. You slowly hugged him back. You both stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other’s presence. “I love you, Xavier.” He smiled. That was your first time saying I love you. “I love you too.” You smiled and kissed him but stopped when there was a knock on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Tyler apologized as he sat his get-well-soon balloons with the others. “How are you feeling?” He asked. Tyler was a close friend/coworker of yours so you appreciate the caring act. “Thank you.” Tyler nodded his head. “Oh also here’s a cup of coffee. I thought you’ll probably want one.” You laughed at the thought since you were craving coffee. “Thank- fuck.” You cussed as the Frappé slipped from your hands. “I’ll go get the janitor.” Xavier stood from his seat and walked out.

Tyler went into the bathroom in your room to get some napkins. As he went to clean up the mess you recognize the two bite marks on his neck. “Tyler how’d you get those?” You asked as you reached out to touch it. He quickly took a step back and covered them. “Some kid threw something at me.” He answered. You gave him a suspicious look but before you could ask him a question Xavier walked in. “No janitor so I guess we have to clean it ourselves.” He said. Tyler looked between the two guys. “I have an early shift gotta go. I’m happy your okay [name].” He smiled but it seemed wicked.

“You ok [name]?” Xavier asked. You quickly responded with a head shake. “Of course.”

[scripted-downfall]

I never did understand that mentality. "Oh, this person doesn't like J*red? Well, let's threaten and throw slurs at this person! That'll make them like him! 😄"

Like, no. That's not how that works.

Also, for a while, I used to have nothing against Jared. No, I wasn't a Stan, but I didn't hate him either. I thought he was a pretty alright dude. And I kinda bought into the whole J2 thing for a while too. Until I started hearing about this shit about him. And at first, I didn't think much of it, it was one story here, one story there, but then it kept. Happening. And then I saw the receipts. And I rewatched convention clips, and this was the turning point for me. It surprises me there's no one talking about this anywhere else. Not Twitter and not Facebook. Or maybe there are, it's just not tagged or trending, which it should be. People need to know about this.

- ʀᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴏɴ (•‿•)

Exactly! It makes no sense in my mind at all.

For context: I also didn't feel especially strongly about JarPad at first. I saw him in the context of the show and found his acting utterly atrocious --- it became a long-running joke in my family and friend base --- but I didn't really care much about him. As I mentioned, I don't look much at bts stuff anyway. This was then followed by a few of my Sam-critical and JarPad-acting-critical posts, which got me slammed by stans so vehemently that my inbox was full of little else for about a week. (I never really mute posts or block people --- perhaps I should, but I never feel the need --- but I muted a few posts and blocked a few folks during that first wave of b.s. I can't bring myself to regret it, either.) After that point, I got even more suspicious of JarPad's character --- I mean, if a man inspires a fanbase like that (heavy on the bad extremes, light on the moderates, and with a hefty dose of threats), something questionable is probably going on. And then I looked through Tumblr and saw posts about him doxxing service workers, treating people like shit in general, the tattoo debacle, et cetera, and I saw his temper tantrum about The Winchesters, and I just lost any and all respect for the man. (And then his stans had the nerve to be like: "well, it's clear you're just jealous or something, since you clearly spend all your time thinking about him" and I'm just sitting there. Like. Wot??!? I honestly do not think of the man unless I'm watching SPN and dying because of his acting, or if someone brings him up.)

I definitely follow what you're describing though. That's probably the path I would have taken if the stans didn't chuck me into the deep-end of antiJarPad, and I think it's admirable that you paid attention to all the warning signs. (A lot of people I know have... not.) I also very much agree that this information should be wider-spread than it is... I only know what's going on because of Tumblr --- though, I confess, I don't have any other social media (is Tumblr even social media? I don't think so, tbh, but anyway) so I wouldn't know if there's much on there --- and it took some conscious research to find/verify even then.

Thank you for the ask! (Stans dni)