#lmk if you think it needs edits!

[wormsdyke]

[IDs: a series of memes. 1. the fancy winnie the pooh meme. casual pooh is labeled “Earth potatoes” and fancy pooh is labeled “mark watney’s organic martian shit potatoes”

2. the first panel shows a person grinning as they reach for a yellow circle labeled “joking about mark watney getting some alien dick.” the second panel shows a large pink creature wrapping its arms around the person, who is now nervous. the pink creature is labeled “watney’s latest transmission saying something about martian vampires.”

3. the first panel shows a student labeled “watney” passing a note to the student in front of them labeled “nasa.” the second panel shows the student opening the note, angry to see that it says “look! boobs! (.Y.)”

4. the first panel shows squidward walking away with a folded chair, labeled “ares 5 press conferences.” the second panel shows squidward happily setting up the chair, labeled “‘i saw more of mars today. still red and stupid.’”

5. the “they’re the same picture meme.” the 2 options offered in the first panel are “the dude stuck on mars” and “a best friend,” captioned “corporate needs you to find the differences between this picture and this picture.” in the second panel, a woman labeled “literally everyone on earth right now” answers “they’re the same picture.”

6. a couple in wedding attire labeled “popular press conferences on ares 5” poses by a beach. behind them, a person labeled “mark” falls from the sky.

7. a roman gladiator labeled “‘booba booba’ (.Y.)” stands on a night stand and points long horn down to a boy laying in bed screaming in surprise, labeled “nasa.”

8. a large, muscular person with outstretched arms facing away from the camera is labeled “nasa asking for data on the crops.” a much smaller person wearing a skin tight pink body suit faces them and mimics their position, labeled “‘fuck you all i graduated from botany school.’”

9. a title reads “is the sun bothering you king” above text that says “the entire internet the second mark mentions the sun being annoying without an earth atmosphere” beside a photo of a person pointing a gun at the sun.

10. 8 hands interlocked in a circle, labeled existential gen z’s, tumblrinas, space nerds, potato stans, midwestern bitches, nasa, and alienfuckers. the center of the circle says “mark watney.”

11. a 1960s style painting. A mother and 2 children hide behind a partially open front door, smiling and holding knives. they are labeled “solar panels,” “rovers,” and “‘hi it’s me. do i get paid overtime for this?’” the father, labeled “nasa, after a very nice memorial service for the guy they left on mars” walks up the sidewalk unsuspectingly to the front door.

12. a person labeled “nasa” standing at a forked road. one side leads to a beautiful castle labeled “successfully colonizing mars and growing crops on the surface.” the other side leads to a haunted house labeled “mark watney, certified annoying bisexual, is the only one there.”

13. text reading “mark: go fuck yourself / nasa officials hearing this for the third time that day:” followed by the surprised pikachu meme.

14. the trade offer meme. one side says “i receive: human shit” and the other side says “you receive: not dead yet.” the person in the center is labeled “martian potatoes.” /end IDs]

Given how humanity reacts to life in general, can we picture the INSANELY good memes that would have been made in the Martian universe while they tried to rescue Watney?

[imminent-danger-came]

But you are, my love, the astronaut Flying in the face of science I will gladly stay an afterthought Just bring back some nice reminders Yes! You are, my love, the astronaut Crashing in the name of science Just my luck, they sent your upper half It's a very nice reminder

—Astronaut by Amanda Palmer

[grimbeak]

Welcome to Night Vale episode 250 "Father Kevin" transcript

Episode description: There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren's Brood. We are loved.

I don’t make the rules. I just gleefully enforce them, even though I don’t have to.

Welcome to Night Vale.

###

There is no Ralphs. There is Mother Lauren’s pantry. There is no hole out back of the Ralphs-- there is Mother Lauren’s soil embrace. There is no Night Vale. There is Mother Lauren’s brood.

We are loved. We are loved! We are--

[Radio interference. It fades in and out between incomprehensible moments of a man speaking, a woman speaking another language, and a band, before increasing in volume and suddenly cutting out.]

Sorry. It is difficult to break free of the malign influence of Mother Lauren. 

We live in two realities. One in which all is well, and one in which we are teetering over an edge from which we cannot return. I speak from both realities. I speak from both sides of my mouth. 

The conflict that roiled Night Vale continues, but in a strange, slow way. Mother Lauren stands on a podium in what once was Grove Park, her tendrils snaking through every part of the town, and through many of the people. The buildings expand, and contract, like lungs. The trees are melting. The people of Night Vale still bravely fight, but like people fighting in a painting; smudgey, and two-dimensional. 

The Boy--who is the younger version of Kevin from Desert Bluffs--stands next to Mother Lauren, holding her hand. His face shows exertion, as if the greatest battle is inside his body. But he cannot move. 

The last time Lauren came to Night Vale, she came as a representative of StrexCorp, here to conquer us in the name of capitalism. This time? Is different. This time she fights with stranger, stronger stuff. I don’t think she is turning us into another Desert Bluffs, I think, if anything, she is making all of us part of her body. She is transcending, and we are fodder for her change. 

Mother Lauren speaks, and her voice rings out from every part of her body-- which is the entire city. “I am bored already of this,” she says. “It was too easy to defeat you. Your loss is not as delicious to me as I had hoped.” 

But all is not yet lost-- there is a plan. Our future lies with Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. These brave children have followed in Tamika Flynn’s footsteps, coming face-to-face with a librarian and emerging victorious. Now they must come face-to-face with something maybe…  fifteen percent more horrifying than a librarian. A twisted, cosmic god. 

The kids told me they could not give me the specifics of the plan, only that it involved using ropes and grappling hooks to cross the dangerous city streets through the air, guerrilla-style strikes on Mother Lauren’s weak points, capturing Kevin, and finally attacking Mother Lauren when she least suspects it-- at noon today. She’ll never see it coming. 

As part of the plan, I have been asked to create a distraction so that Mother Lauren and Kevin won’t notice what they are doing until it is too late. They told me it is “vitally important” that no-one notice until the plan has been completed, and so I had been sworn to secrecy-- a secrecy I will break for no-one! Except of course, you, my listeners. I could never keep anything from you. 

I thought a lot about what a good distraction would be, and here’s what I’ve come up with-- Hey! Look over there!

[Cecil runs away from the microphone, his footsteps going right-to-left-to-right, before they fade away. In the distance, after a brief pause, a window is smashed. Several sirens sound, seeming to be cars driving down the street as they fade in and out accompanied with scraping metal. Multiple dogs bark before they fade away as well. A car zooms down the street, seeming to possibly loop around the station before fading into silence. An air-raid siren fades in and out as wind blows, brief chanting is heard, what sounds like an old movie with incomprehensible dialogue plays. The siren stops as the chanting returns, an incomprehensible voice seeming to come from a radio plays, a rumbling is heard, and the Indiana Jones theme plays follows the rumbling right-to-left. Wind seems to blow again and fades out as Cecil’s footsteps return, the beginning few sounding like he just jumped through the window he may have broken. He continues walking over what sounds like metal, and then returns to the microphone, panting through his words.]

So…sorry… little out of breath. …We’ll see if that worked. 

Oh no. Despite what some might say is the best distraction anyone has done in the history of getting people to look away from something important, it appears that Mother Lauren somehow got wind of the plan. She flinched, and the world flinched with her. She glared, and the world swooned. She no longer even has to fight; Night Vale is her thick, sludging heart, her pockmarked lungs-- she has made us part of her disease. 

“I am the universe itself,” she howled, an air raid siren of a voice coming from all places at once. “To fight me is to fight the fabric of existence-- a laughable effort.” 

The Library Tweens were seized by Mother Lauren’s drones--who once were our own citizens, but now are pink, spongy lumps with no eyes, constantly screaming; “Help me! I still feel all of it, there is some vital part of me that remains untainted, I still have a soul!” as they lumber comically towards the tweens. The tweens put up a valiant fight, but they were captured and thrown into the town prison-- which now is covered in a pale, flakey skin. 

The Boy watched this all happen, holding onto Mother Lauren’s hands, enfolded in her multitude of oil-slick wings. Something came over him, and he turned, and struck out at Mother Lauren! With the effort of his entire soul, he resisted her influence, and he stuck a knife into her side! …Without bothering to look his way, she weaved her tendrils around him and he was absorbed into her being. The Boy now stands at her feet, the tendrils fused with his skin, and pulsing sickeningly. His eyes are blank whites. His hands flap about like they are playing an invisible piano. 

Oh, Night Vale… This is the moment of greatest despair. We have not only been defeated, but… changed. We are no longer who we are. 

And to make matters worse, here comes Kevin, unfolding himself from the crowd, strutting up to the podium of his victory. 

He looks around at the city that he has finally driven under his thumb. After years of resisting him, we can resist no more. He sees the bowling alley, enrobed in veins and arteries and malignant tumors. He sees town hall turned into a tongue, covered in white fuzz. 

He sees my own station, my beloved radio station, now entirely made of the same stuff as toenails. He sees all the evidence of his victory. And then he turns, and looks at The Boy. The Boy that he came back for. The Boy that is the younger version of himself, he looks at the helpless boy and he smiles. 

Here, there is a… heavy stillness, but somewhere, thunder. Somewhere, snow. Somewhere, far away, weather. 

###

Weather: Cutting Teeth by Priscilla Snow.

###

Well. 

Okay. 

I don’t know what to do here, honestly. 

Usually when we go to the weather report, a great struggle, or, climactic event happens concurrently with it, and we come back to a problem solved. With my perspective now shifted to the past I can then fill you in on how we made it through yet another dangerous day in our fair town. Now some people mistake this for the weather actually fixing the problem but that’s… that’s not the case. The weather usually just happens at the same time as what fixes the problem, and then I, (utilizing my expert narrative skills), tell you how that happened. 

This time however, everything is more or less how we left it. The Boy? Still captive. Mother Lauren? Still ascendant. And Kevin? Still smiling. 

There will be no victorious shift in perspective. Only a terrifying march through the ceaseless present. And in that present moment, Kevin turns to The Boy. He kneels down, still smiling, and takes The Boy’s hand. Gently, he untangles Mother Lauren’s tendrils from The Boy’s skin. He guides The Boy down from the podium. Mother Lauren, her eyes to the cosmos, is seemingly impassive to the final meager death throes of our little town. 

The Boy looks at Kevin. Kevin smiles at The Boy-- I do not like that smile, but then… I have never liked Kevin’s smile.

 “The last time I was here,” Kevin says, “I said that this was a situation I would not be able to handle alone. And I was right! And I was wrong. Because I can handle it with just me, but, I cannot handle it with only one of me.” 

“I’m sorry,” The Boy says, “but I don’t know who you are.”

It seems that his encounter with the body and mind of Mother Lauren has left him without his memories. He stares blankly at the world like it was a book in a language he took a few classes back in high school, like he should know it, but he doesn’t. 

“That’s okay,” Kevin says, “because I remember enough for the both of us. I’ve never talked much about my father-- he was a jovial man, but a stern man. He was a fair man, but with priorities I did not always understand. I think he did the best job he could-- in fact, I know he did, because, in this moment, I understand him better than anyone has ever understood their own father.”

“Okay,” The Boy says. He clearly doesn’t know why this man is telling him this. He says, “I don’t have a father.” He doesn’t say this tragically, but like he was telling the time to someone who asked. 

“Ah,” says Kevin, “but you do. My childhood was a strange riddle I never could quite solve, and here you are, a neat solution to the question of my life.”

Listeners, I am starting to understand what Kevin is getting at here-- and I’m not sure I like it, but it does have a certain… symmetry to it. Life is rarely fair, but it is often balanced. 

“What are you saying?” The Boy says. 

“Your name is Kevin, and I am your father, “ says Kevin, who is Kevin’s Father. 

“I am? You are?” says The Boy who is Kevin. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father. “I will raise you well, or well enough, or, well, enough, you know? I will see you through.”

He looks up at Mother Lauren. She finally looks down, her tendrils weave through the earth and the bricks and the flesh of Night Vale, her sunny smile clouds over. 

“I thought I was through with you,” she says. 

“You were wrong,” says Kevin, and Kevin’s Father, simultaneously. Kevin’s Father stands tall, and Kevin stands as tall as he can, which is not nearly as tall as his father. Not yet. 

“Dead wrong!” calls a voice from the crowd, and here steps forward Alejandra Nuñez, Ronnie Sharma, and Nanako Barnes of Mr. Prescott’s 5th Period AP English Class, otherwise known as “The Library Tweens”. 

“I thought you were in jail,” I say from my radio booth, because this is all happening in the present moment so it just now occurred to me that I could be an active part of these events. 

“We were,” says Ronnie, “but then, this nice old lady busted us out!”

“I am not old! I’m in my early twenties for God’s sake!” says Tamika Flynn.

“She did a real daring and action-packed jailbreak!” says Nanako. “I wouldn’t have known someone that ancient had it in her!”

“Ugh,” says Tamika. But she does look exhilarated about having once again taken part in an adventure. In one hand she holds a rope, and in her other hand she holds a copy of the novel “Autumn” by Ali Smith. It’s the British first-edition, the one that was printed on a working blowtorch. 

“Point is!” says Alejandra to Mother Lauren, “You’ll have to stand against us!”

“And me,” says Tamika, shooting a menacing jet of fire from Ali Smith’s elliptical portrait of Brexit-era Britain. 

“And me,” says Kevin’s Father. 

Kevin, the young boy that he is, looks around, unsure. This is all a lot of new information all at once. But he makes his decision; “And me,” he says. 

Mother Lauren laughs, and the mountains laughs with her, hollow booms in canyons and passes. She swats at Kevin-- but Kevin dodges. Mother Lauren’s face flickers with concern, she swats again-- nothing connects. The streets roil. 

“I knew you before,” Kevin’s Father says, “I know that somewhere in there is human vulnerability!”

“Laughable!” screams Mother Lauren. She is not laughing. 

Mother Lauren’s drones advance, but a few stop. And then, human faces start to come out of their pink, fleshy lumps. 

“We could neither breathe, nor could we die!” the people inside the drones say. “We were… trapped! In the moment between breaths! It was torture without end!” 

Other Night Vale citizens give them thumbs-up, indicating empathy.

“No! I am a god!” shouts Mother Lauren. 

“Yes,” says Kevin’s Father, “and like any god, you are defined by the belief of your worshippers.”

Mother Lauren’s face screws up in fury. And then she scowls, up again at the cosmos. “Yeah! Okay! Screw it!” she says. “This universe was getting too small for me anyway.” 

And with that, she floats into the sky. The stars open like a door for her. She steps through-- she glances back, for a moment, at the city below her. “One day, I will return,” she says. “Or I won’t. T B D.” And then the stars swing shut behind her. And she is gone. 

Gradually, the city comes back to itself. The people shake off the influence of Mother Lauren. The buildings. and the earth, and the trees return to themselves. All is as it was. Minus those who are dead, or injured, or missing, which is… a good amount of people. 

At the center of all this is a boy and his father. The boy is holding his father’s hand. The Boy is holding his own hand. Kevin is holding Kevin’s hand, and together, Kevin walks back to his home, to live, if not always happily, then at the very least, ever after.

After the Kevins pass through it, Carlos pulls the plug on the portal, deciding that science, while worth some cost, is not worth every cost. Science must be in the service of humanity, never the other way around. It is a tool, not a goal. 

Oh-- he says that the portal made a real cool “zap” sound as it turned off. 

The Library Tweens--as they wish to be called--have declared the creation of a new teen militia, to protect Night Vale from any further incursions from Desert Bluffs Too, and anyone else who might want to mess with them. Tamika Flynn, who knows a thing or two about leading a teen militia, offered to be a mentor, but The Library Tweens put out a statement saying; “Uh, that’s okay, no thanks, ma’am.” 

What lies ahead for Night Vale? 

I cannot say. Our future is an unwritten slate. Our past is a diary scribbled in handwriting none of us can read, and our present is the view through a dirty window-- specifically, for me, the dirty window in this studio, through which I can see Amber Akinyi teaching her son how to ride a bike. I can see Michelle Nguyen and Maureen Johnson taking their poodle-earwig mix (or, poowig) out for a walk. I can see-- ooo, I can see a mysterious van with the symbol of a labyrinth on it with a man who is not tall and a man who is not short inside, driving some unknown cargo out into the scrublands.   

In short, I see the day-to-day of a town who has been through… a lot, but remained, through it all, very much itself. 

I see Night Vale. 

And I love it. 

Goodnight, my favorite town! Goodnight. 

###

PROVERB:  Hit me with your best shot! Ow! Okay, actually, that sucked! Uh, please hit me with one of your worse shots, instead, thank you. Ugh.

[the-heartlines]

dragon seer; seared by sunlight

helaemond | e. 2.4k

"he slipped into her repeatedly, a quill into ink, writing his words upon her body passionately, his insignia dipped into hot wax, sealed completely inside her. seared into the very soul of her being."

[not-tallytals]

hey @loupsbane :D!!

[eudikot]

Editing Reigen's socks to uphold the pink agenda

[weirdcat1213]

Lord please, when the song is over

save me please

[countinglegoclowns]

I figured I should share the love in terms of how I edit screen shots! Tutorial under the cut! (I hope my handwriting is legible lol I don’t like typing on a tablet)

[alliaskisthepossibilityoflove]

Several sentences Sunday

@wikiangela tagged me (thank youuuu!) and I actually have some sentences for you - 17 minutes of them to be precise 😘 Ren kindly allowed me to record wedding bells (why yes, I love friends to fiancés stories, thank you for noticing 😘), so here it is (link goes to google drive, because the file is too big to embed)

wedding bells by renecdote [podfic]

Tagging @renecdote 💕, @shitouttabuck, @try-set-me-on-fire, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @callmenewbie, @captain-hen, @housewifebuck, @lover-of-mine, @thewolvesof1998, @jeeyuns, @mistmarauder, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @mayonnaisetoffees, @athenagranted and anyone else who has anything they'd like to share

[ammaterasu]

recently i've watched a few "hidden gem" that I want to bring attention to... with my personal ratings

Firebird (2021) - 6.5/10

Based off a true story, Firebird recounts the clandestine sexual affair between a soldier and fighter pilot on a Soviet Air Force Base during the Cold War.

The development was steady and all-around fine. But it was towards the middle/end, where the themes became more serious that I got hooked.

Hidden Kisses (2016) - 8.5/10

Nathan, a newcomer in highschool shares a hidden kiss with another boy at a party one night. However, the kiss is photographed and posted online, overturning their lives.

A simple concept, but so beautifully executed. It touched heavily on growth, acceptance, rejection, from peers, community, and especially family, which i am always fond of.

Mi Mejor Amigo (2018) - 9/10

Lorenzo lives a sheltered life in Argentine Patagonia with his parents and little brother. When a good family friend is going through difficult times, his son Caíto moves into Lorenzo's family home.

It was surprisingly heartfelt, and i grew very fond of their beautiful friendship.. and maybe... something more? their banter was so realistic as well which is what really cemented this for me.

Giant Little Ones (2019) - 8/10

Two popular teen boys, best friends since childhood, discover their lives, families, and girlfriends dramatically upended after an unexpected incident occurs on the night of a 17th birthday party

It started off average.. but at some point.. without even realizing it, i fell in love with the movie and characters. They really grow on you and by the end of it, despite the heartache, you are left with a contagious beaming smile

[nomstellations]

is it not hypocritical to say we shouldn’t police people on what they enjoy for vore and then get upset about familial vore? /genq

i think i'm well within my right to criticize such a thing in fact, anon. i dont think i ever spoke of policing anyone who enjoyed it- i cant stop anyone from liking it but it makes me viscerally uncomfortable and i avoid interacting with it. i think you're misreading what i said, i didnt mean ALL TYPES OF VORE are cool and we should do what we want forever, because uh. we shouldn't. like the people who swallow live animals whole, or the people who sexualize and draw fetish work of real life people without their consent, and incestuous/underage vore content. please don't twist my words into implying i'm willing to excuse anything under the vore umbrella

you shouldnt police someone for liking digestion when you don't, no! but there's a line in the sand you have to draw where certain things become unacceptable and thats where that line is drawn. even in a safe, wholesome, nonsexual context...you have to acknowledge that power dynamic is very creepy and can make people VERY uncomfortable, esp when it has been used to groom people. its something i feel is better left alone- i can think of a dozen different ways to protect a baby than swallowing them whole. as always i just ask people to like. put it in perspective. think of how that comes off to others, think of why it's as controversial as it is, and think about why its commonly banned from a lot of vore spaces. it gets way too close to incestuous material for most people's comfort in a nonsexual setting and in a fetish setting thats downright unlawful.

[rosesradio]

ts crit & the battle of the allegations that all crit is bullying, written and narrated by: a person that is sometimes a little hater, but is now legitimately concerned.

(a post discussing the nature & sources of crit & fan concerns, not contributing to crit)

friendly reminder that, with all the stuff happening in the sanders sides fandom with updates and crit and everything, it is perfectly okay to post ts crit. no one is being a mean, big bad wolf for doing so. the two types of crit i’ve seen are actually very reasonable and important:

1.) crit of the lack of honesty regarding when the next ep will be coming out (though this has since been announced, at least within a bracket). not the time it’s taking--although there have been jokes--but the lack of honesty. crit of thomas’s defensive reaction to when fans asked for a tss update. crit of other weird & bad social media & business practices (i.e. the patreon from ex-patreons, more “adult” posts that are seen by the (assumed) pre-teens in his audience, etc.)

2.) crit of the creators thomas & team continue to endorse, such as jkr and butch hartman. a lack of addressing any of the controversy and continuing to put things like hp in his brand makes fans (like myself) uncomfortable. it’s perfectly reasonable to want a statement of some kind on it, especially considering his lgbtq+-friendly brand.

if you don’t want to see crit against a creator you really like, that’s fine. no one’s making you look at it. but to pretend that all crit is bullying is lumping legitimate fan concerns with essentially hate mail.

to say “thomas is an asshole and the show sucks” would be mean and uncalled for (and also untrue).

to say “thomas should be more clear on what age range of audience he wants, so that way kids aren’t seeing things they shouldn’t” or “thomas should address somewhere on his sorting video that he doesn’t support jkr’s views & maybe donate to a trans charity with some of the ad revenue” is legitimate criticism and not at all bullying. if you think that it is bullying, you probably need to get off the internet and form any kind of relationship and, i dunno, grow as a person.

[crossbackpoke-check]

a game of approximation

luka dončić/miro heiskanen :: 2k :: part of There’s Only One You

It's a trick shot, really. An illusion to create space. That’s what falling in love with Miro feels like: a fadeaway, graceful exit, a swan dive backwards into nothing but a swoosh, the sound of Luka’s text sending and then him turning and running back the other way.

[thetrunkofmymind]

I am taking down names when i see racist bullshit in bandom fyi. I hope you face consequences in your personal and professional lives, but given how unlikely that is because of structural racism i hope you step on an upside down charger plug. repeatedly

[gildinbainas]

" what do you want ? " (from Kaiba)

THE SOUNDS OF NIGHTMARES SENTENCE STARTERS .

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆ || @shachou

❝What  do  you  want?❞

The  greeting  was  a  lot  more  than  he  expected  from  the  CEO  given  the  way  that  they  last  parted.  In  fact  ---  and  he  was  ashamed  to  admit  this  ---  but  there  was  some  part  of  him  that  had  betted  on  Kaiba  simply  turning  him  away  at  the  door.  He  had  prepared  himself  for  it;  prepared  himself  from  the  humiliation  of  being  left  outside  the  building  for  all  to  see.  In  all  likelihood  it  was  probably  deserved,  rooted  from  the  things  said  out  of  passion  that  day.  He  wouldn't  have  blamed  Kaiba  at  all  if  that  was  his  fate  after  several  weeks  of  radio  silence  yet  that  was  not  what  happened.

Several  cameras  leered  down  at  the  Atem  from  outside  Kaiba  Corp  and  though  the  lenses  were  not  human  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  there  was  still  some  part  of  him  that  could  almost  feel  Kaiba's  judgmental  gaze  glaring  daggers  through  the  various  lenses.  It  was  in  those  moments  that  he  held  his  breath,  still  hoping  the  doors  wouldn't  slide  open  for  him.  Because  at  least  he  could  return  home  with  his  pride  in  tact  sparing  himself  the  humiliation  of  having  to  own  up  to  a  lot  of  things  he  felt  rather  embarrassed  about.

Kaiba  had  seen  right  through  the  act  although  if  Atem  were  in  his  right  mind  at  the  time,  he  may  have  fought  harder  to  make  Kaiba  understand  that  he  didn't  ALWAYS  see  someone  else  when  he  looked  upon  him.  Those  chess  lessons  and  coming  to  lunch  at  least  once  a  week  had  more  to  do  with  wanting  to  have  some  sense  of  normal  connection  to  an  old  friend  than  anything.  Maybe  they  weren't  dueling  anymore  (  and  at  this  rate,  they  likely  never  would  ),  but  chess  was  still  a  form  of  potential  competitive  gameplay  that  could  feel  normal  between  them  in  time.  Once  Atem  got  the  hang  of  it  of  course.  The  other  stuff…  the  visions…  the  longing  for  another...  That  stuff  was  rooted  within  his  own  dreams  and  the  little,  jarring  mannerisms  from  Kaiba  that  activated  the  old  memories  ---  nothing  more.

And  he  had  tried.  The  gods  only  knew  how  much  Atem  tried  to  rid  himself  of  the  images  in  the  beginning.  If  he  could  only  explain…  except  the  time  for  explanations  had  passed.  All  that  was  left  was  for  him  to  apologize  with  the  hope  that  in  time,  Kaiba  would  forgive  him.  Because  despite  the  man  being  someone  else  and  NOT  the  one  Atem  obsessed  over  centuries  ago,  it  still  felt  strange  not  having  his  rival  in  his  life;  a  sort  of  emptiness  that  made  being  back  in  this  timeline  seemingly  pointless.

Yet  much  to  his  majesty's  dismay,  the  doors  did  in  fact  slide  open,  though  not  right  away.  There  was  enough  time  in  between  security's  voice  speaking  to  him  and  the  guard  awaiting  Mr.  Kaiba's  response  to  give  Atem  all  kinds  of  anxiety.  Kaiba  was  a  busy  man  and  so  he  had  no  obligation  whatsoever  to  cancel  important  phone  conferences  for  someone  who…  well,  Atem  shuddered  to  recall  their  last  fight.  Even  so,  the  doors  slid  open  with  the  once  king  promptly  stepping  inside  the  building.  Like  usual,  the  people  within  were  moving  about  like  a  well  oiled  machine.  They  paid  his  majesty  no  heed  as  he  was  led  towards  the  double  doors  of  an  elevator.  Kaiba's  office  was  way  up  high  though  the  ride  wasn't  long  enough  to  give  Atem  second  thoughts.  Before  he  knew  it,  another  set  of  doors  were  sliding  open  putting  him  face  to  face  with  a  man  whose  expression  behind  the  desk  would  have  scared  any  lesser  man  back  into  the  sanctuary  of  the  elevator.  Nevertheless…  He  sighed.

In  truth,  Atem  could  barely  remember  the  words  that  befell  his  lips  in  the  wake  of  his  heartfelt  apology.  He  wasn't  in  the  business  of  rehearsing  such  things  and  anyway  he  doubted  something  quite  rehearsed  would  have  reached  the  CEO  in  the  manner  that  he  needed  it  to  anyway.  Considering  Kaiba  was  a  master  at  sniffing  out  bullshit,  Atem  felt  it  best  to  attempt  his  apology  on  a  whim;  with  no  certainty  of  the  words  to  follow  but  with  a  sincerity  that  he  hoped  was  evident.  After  all,  he  too  could  be  rather  stubborn  and  prideful.  The  fact  that  he  was  here  apologizing  after  all  this  time  should  have  been  telling  enough.

When  it  was  over,  a  silence  ensued  between  them  that  was  stifling  at  best.  Of  course,  Atem  did  not  truly  expect  a  response.  He  wasn't  looking  for  Kaiba  to  say  'I  forgive  you'  or  anything  of  the  sort.  This  whole…  word  vomit  of  an  apology  was  done  in  the  spirit  of  extending  the  olive  branch;  an  attempt  at  owning  his  own  bullshit  and  hoping  the  gesture  would  at  least  let  Kaiba  know  he  was  willing  to  work  at  repairing  their  fractured  friendship.  It  was  the  pharaoh's  own  fault  things  went  sour  and  he  knew  deep  down  he  likely  deserved  Kaiba's  ire  at  the  time.

Still,  when  the  silence  ensued  far  too  long  for  the  game  king's  choosing,  he  opted  to  turn  for  the  elevators  again.  He  had  said  his  peace  so  all  that  was  left  was  to  show  up  for  chess  lessons  next  week.  He'd  know  then  if  his  apology  was  heard  and  accepted.  Worst  case  scenario?  He  was  left  in  the  cold  to  stew  over  the  awful  that  fractured  their  friendship  in  the  first  place.

The  escape  outside  would  not  take  long  at  all.  During  the  earlier  exchange,  Atem  had  kept  much  space  between  himself  and  Kaiba's  desk.  That  icy  gaze  was  more  than  enough  to  paralyze  even  the  most  confident  of  guests  so  Atem  needed  the  space  ---  needed  the  air  to  breath  words  without  allowing  that  gaze  to  trip  him  up.  And  he  had  succeeded  except  as  he  made  to  exit  the  room,  Kaiba  finally  broke  the  longstanding  silence,  but  the  words  spoken  baffled  the  king.

❝I  remember...  everything.❞

It's  enough  to  make  Atem  turn  away  from  the  sliding  doors,  still  keeping  his  distance  yet  watching  his  rival  with  a  newfound  officiousness.  Just  what  exactly  was  Kaiba  to  remember?  Their  last  row  was  quite  recent.  Time  had  passed  sure  enough  but  certainly  not  enough  for  either  of  them  to  forget  it.  It  had  gone  about  as  bad  as  it  could  go  and  in  Atem's  eyes,  that  was  what  made  it  unforgettable.  At  least  for  Atem,  the  row  bothered  him  enough  to  mope  about  it  for  several  weeks  so  in  his  mind,  Kaiba  couldn't  have  been  speaking  about  that  disaster.  He  was  speaking  of  something  else,  but  what?  Nothing  was  ringing  any  bells.

And  so  he  found  himself  looking  even  more  puzzled,  lips  slightly  parted  and  poised  to  inquire  of  his  meaning.  'I  remember  everything...'  Such  an  odd  thing  to  say  after  an  apology  yet  he  would  not  have  said  it  for  naught.

❝Kaiba,  I...  don't  think  I  understand.  What  do  you...?❞

His  words  were  cut  short  by  the  CEO's  sudden  rise  from  behind  the  desk.  His  expression  remained  as  stoic  as  ever  giving  Atem  little  clue  as  to  how  he  might  be  feeling  inside.  The  room  felt  tense  ---  suffocating  even  ---  but  it  had  felt  this  way  from  the  moment  Atem  entered  through  those  doors.  His  anxiety  was  at  an  all  time  high  made  only  worse  by  his  rival  standing  over  him  with  a  demeanor  that  was  signaling  all  sorts  of  red  flags.

❝Your  hand.❞

Atem  looked  up  at  him,  confusion  still  etched  upon  features,  but  wordlessly  did  as  he  was  bid  all  the  same.  He  extended  his  hand  and  waited  as  Kaiba  fished  something  out  of  his  pocket.  Kaiba  placed  the  object  in  hand  with  Atem  looking  down  at  it  curiously.  He  held  up  the  object  and  after  a  quick  once  over,  he  realized  it  was  a  tiny  figurine  of  an  old  god  he  served.

❝Anubis?  Why  do  you  have  a  tiny  statue  of  Anubis?❞

But  even  as  the  query  befell  lips,  the  significance  of  it  hit  him  like  he  had  suddenly  lost  a  duel  in  the  worst  of  ways.  His  head  quickly  shot  up,  eyes  wide  as  he  looked  from  the  object  in  hand  to  the  man  standing  over  him.

No.

Just....  no.

There  was  absolutely  NO  WAY  he  could  be  speaking  about  such  things.  He  couldn't  possibly  know  of  such  things  yet  the  longer  he  stared  at  Kaiba,  the  more  Kaiba's  words  began  to  make  sense.  Images  swirled  around  his  head;  images  the  pharaoh  spent  ages  trying  to  bury  beneath  the  sands  of  time.  He  could  almost  see  himself  ---  as  if  within  the  very  air  in  their  space  ---  standing  behind  this  very  statue  while  whispered  words  sought  to  comfort  him  after  a  long  day.  He  could  almost  see  the  flashes  of  golds  and  reds  clothing  bodies  in  the  throws  of  stolen  passion.  A  slender  leg  hooked  about  a  firm,  perfect  waist...  Cries  muffled  with  deep  kisses  while  Anubis  looked  over  their  scandalous  deeds,  serving  its  own  judgment  and  protection  from  other  eyes  that  could  never  understand.

Atem  let  quivering  fingers  curl  around  the  object,  averting  his  gaze  in  a  manner  that  alluded  he  understood  the  reference  ---  and  quite  clearly.  He  had  lost  any  and  all  ability  to  look  Kaiba  in  the  eye.  Having  spent  weeks  reminding  himself  that  the  past  was  in  the  past,  he  came  here  fully  prepared  to  let  it  all  go  for  good  and  now...

❝How?❞  he  managed  to  blurt  out,  his  voice  barely  above  a  whisper.  The  soft  tone  was  but  an  attempt  at  hiding  the  waiver  in  his  voice.  He  was  embarrassed.  Not  because  of  his  actions.  He  could  never  regret  loving  his  priest  or  the  stolen  moments  together  yet  even  so,  it  felt  like  he  had  been  caught.  It  felt  like,  despite  their  carefulness  in  the  past,  that  their  actions  had  finally  caught  up  to  them.  To  think  he  had  been  seen  in  a  manner  unbecoming  of  a  royal...  God  if  Shimon  could  see  him  now...

Atem  turned  away,  staring  at  the  doors  while  his  face  burned  down  to  his  very  core.  Despite  feet  being  rooted  in  place,  the  urge  to  flee  was  very  much  within  him.  This  was  a  moment  he  NEVER  imagined  would  happen  ---  could  happen.  The  things  he  did  with  his  priest  were  so  scandalous...  so  taboo...  Only  the  gods  knew  of  such  sin  and  mayhaps  the  vizier,  but  otherwise...

❝I  don't...  how  could  you  know?  Why  would  you  know?  I  don't...  desde quando... i---since  when?❞  He  could  feel  himself  slowly  unraveling  with  this  revelation.  Whatever  intentions  he  had  before  were  quickly  going  out  the  window.  What  mattered  now  was  hoping  he  could  dance  around  the  subject  matter  then  put  another  several  weeks  between  them.  Of  all  the  things...  He  was  done...  and  being  here...  with  him...  knowing  what  he  knew...  just  bury  him  now.  Gods  just  end  him  where  he  stand.

[ghstzzn]

so needy — enhypen hyung line

pairing(s): enhypen hyung line x fem!reader (separate!)

genre(s): pure smut. with some plot from overexplaining.

tags/warnings: SMUT! MDNI! needy but not quite subby, rough & sloppy unprotexted sex, face fucking, jake munch agenda, masturbating (m. rec), male whimpering yupp, lots and lots of descriptions of boners, seriously they are all hard. no prep for reader, exhibition heh.. (parking lot & bathroom at a party), tried my hardest to go needy im a hard!dom writer im sorry, creampie, one pullout method, cum eating, cum... feeding?, biting, uhh lmk if i missed any srsly. wc: 3.2k. 400-700 for each

💭: WE LIKE OUR MEN IN HEAT GROWLS🦅🦅🦅 @jjunieworld and i. we went insane. i went insane. i seriously tried to make them needy and jakes is probably the closest ill ever get to writing a subby idol. its hard. sorry. ill try harder because i like this i think. <3 i need to get them pregnant asap.

heeseung had been in the recording studio since he had woken up, and yet he still had a long night ahead of him due to editing and touch ups. he was going insane.

you had sent him a selfie of you when you woke up, complaining about him being gone. it was innocent. but heeseung has been rock hard since.

his thoughts were full of you— every lyric had just reminded him of you and fuck he’s never needed you this badly before. the pillow that he’s kept on his lap all day felt like a fucking brick and he’s been subconsciously bucking his hips into it.

heeseung lets out a groan, throwing his head back as he cups his hardened cock through his flimsy sweats. he cannot take it anymore. pulling out his phone, he shoots you a text, complaining that he was hungry and didn’t feel good— a little lie because he knows if he told you he was painfully hard, you’d just tell him to wait. he can’t do that.

you’re so sweet to him, truly, you ask him if he’s okay and tell him you’ll be there in ten.

the door automatically locks when it's shut and you walk up to him, resting your hand on his forehead. he is feeling warm. heeseung leans into your touch and groans softly before grabbing your wrist, throwing the pillow and sitting you on his lap.

not even three minutes later, he’s thrusting up into you relentlessly. you’re desperately trying to grip onto anything, his shoulders, the chair and even the equipment table behind you. heeseungs grip on your hips is tight, bruising even. 

you’re both already cumming, the pace he set was too much for you and he’s simply been hard way too long to last more than seven minutes. though, as soon as he emptied himself inside you, he’s lifting you out of his lap, shoving aside an expensive keyboard and shoving your face down onto the table.

“fuck- fucking take it,” he spits as he continues pounding you from behind. “b-been so fucking hard all day, all because of you.”

his cock is hitting the most sensitive spots with his brutal speed, you almost feel as if you really did something wrong. you reach up to grip onto something, knocking into a few buttons in the process, turning on some music— which honestly helped cover the sounds of your moans but probably not necessary due to the soundproof room.

“hah- heeseung it’s t-too much!” you manage to squeak out, hiccuping and whimpering.

you’re spasming around his cock once more, he sloppily thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and emptying himself on your lower back. you weakly lift yourself to peek behind you, glancing back and forth between his still hard cock and his eyes that were full of nothing but lust. 

heeseung will be here all night— and so will you.

─────────────────

jay thought it’d be a good idea, a great one! he brought you with him to tour some fancy guitar museum he was invited to. you both were so excited to attend, throwing on your best outfits— which included that one dress that jay absolutely went feral for.

he could barely focus on the guitar he was testing out when you were sitting so pretty and patient in front of him, smiling and cheering him on. he didn’t even realize he was fucking up the chords, face red when he realized it wasn’t just you and him in the room.

you sat in the acoustics room with him, dress riding up your legs, leather jacket hanging off your shoulder as you watched him pick at each string with so much adoration in your eyes.

jay was going to go fucking insane. he can feel himself hardening at the mere sight of you— truly he’s usually better at keeping himself kept in public.

when you asked so sweetly to try out at guitar yourself, he thought he would combust right there.

he helps you choose a guitar, slipping the strap around your neck and even setting up the amp for you. jay sits back and watches as you play around with different chords you’ve picked up from him, but his eyes refuse to leave your fingers.

the way they delicately pluck each string or how they grip the guitar pick, how your other hand grips the neck of the guitar to hold down strings. he almost groans when he watches you almost struggle to fit them around it.

if only that were his cock. 

jay has to keep yanking and pulling at his jeans. he almost grabs the guitar from you just to cover his inevitable boner. his jaw is clenched, he wants to leave so fucking bad. he’s seconds away from pulling you into the closest room and tarnishing his image just to fuck you.

finally, your time at the guitar center was over. jay’s practically dragging you to the car and you aren’t even sure why. maybe you did something to upset him?

as soon as you reach the car, he’s sandwiching you between him and the cold surface. your boyfriend doesnt waste a second before grabbing your hand and forcing you to grab his throbbing cock through his jeans.

“for the past four fucking hours,” he grits out, nuzzling his face against your cheek, “four fucking hours that i’ve been so fucking hard. because of you.”

your face is red and you’re whipping your head around the parking lots, it’s almost empty thankfully— and dark outside. “i-i did this?”

he groans in the crook of your neck, “please, baby, fucking need you now.”

those are the only words you need to get you to drop to your knees. your hands shake slightly as they fumble with his belt, pulling it apart and yanking his jeans down just enough to free his cock. 

it’s practically red and leaking, you almost pout when you think about your poor boyfriend being that hard for so long because of you.

jay seems to not like how long you're taking because he’s immediately taking your hair into his fist and smacking his tip against your lips. you eagerly invite his length into your mouth, using your hands to work whatever you can’t fit. 

he has to hold back from cumming right there. the way your lips wrap around him so well, your throat struggling to take him. this is exactly what got him hard in the first place. jay rocks his hips back and forth, pushing his cock further and further into your mouth.

“yeah- fuck. taking me so well, huh?” jay mutters, biting his lip to contain his grunts. “thought about this exact fucking thing in there. so pretty around my cock.”

his words make you hum in arousal, sending vibrations down his length. jay groans and throws his head back, pushing you further down his cock. the gag that rips from your throat is almost enough to make him empty himself all over your face.

jay continues to practically fuck your mouth. your hands drop to grip his thighs as you let him use your mouth however he pleases. both of his big hands in your hair, forming a messy ponytail tail as he continues to thrust into you roughly.

“fuckfuckfuck! almost there, baby.” he’s almost whimpering, it’s so good. after a few more thrusts, he’s pulling out and cumming, emptying himself onto your cheeks and lips. 

there’s so much cum you have to take him back into your mouth to save yourself from a messy shirt.

jay pants as you ride him through his intense orgasm. needless to say, he’s fucking you again in the car this time.

──────────────────

jake was restless. he was quite literally rolling around on your bed as you ignored him for some stupid fucking book.

“jake, i seriously need to cram this by tonight. then we can hang out!” you promised him.

six fucking hours ago. he groans loudly, loud enough to make you scoff and shake your head.

“why don’t you go play on my pc?” you suggest sweetly, “you love the games i have on there!”

“i dont want to do that.” 

you sigh and shrug your shoulders in response, you already told him countless times that you were busy and he’s the one who chose to stay.

“baby, please just take a break.” he pleads. “there’s no way you’re finishing this by tonight.”

he rolls over on his stomach and grips onto your leg, sporting a dramatic expression. jake was right, there was no way you were finishing any of your work tonight, but that almost gives you more reasons to not take a break. 

“the sooner i finish, the sooner i'll be all yours baby.” you tell him, patting his fluffed up hair down, messy from rolling around.

he groans again, “noo, baby i want you- no i need you now!”

“why are you so antsy right now, jake?” 

jake drops his head into your lap, muffling his voice. “ ‘m so horny.”

“hm?” you hum, not quite hearing him. he only responds by softly kissing your inner thighs, unable to hold back any longer.

he pushes his jean clad cock against your soft mattress as he travels down your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses behind. 

“jake.”

“i said im horny. im so fucking horny and you smell so good.” he repeats, lifting his head to look you in your eyes.

your brain freezes at his words. “i… i’ll be done soon, i promise- just-“

he cuts off your words by pressing a desperate kiss over your clothes cunt, sending shivers down your spine. you can feel yourself getting wet by his needy and desperate actions.

“jake!” you whimper out when he licks a stripe over your pajama shorts. he doesn’t even care that you’re still fully clothed, a piece of flimsy fabric won't stop him.

your boyfriend continues to make out with your cunt through your shorts, shifting to bite and suck at your thighs. “pleaasee.” he lets out a muffled whine.

you’ve already dropped your books and papers beside you, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as your hands find their spot in his long hair. “fuck— jake slow down!”

jake shakes his head, his own hands moving to yank down your sleep shorts. he knew you weren’t wearing panties, and he’s pretty sure that’s what got him so horny in the first place. the amount of times he looked down at your thighs to catch small glimpses of your ass and cute cunt because they were barely covered.

it took so much restraint to not shove his aching cock between your thighs— make you forget all about your boring paperwork.

jake attaches his lips to your clit, sucking and practically making out with it. every now and then he shoves his tongue as deep as he can inside your oozing hole, gathering all your juices on his tongue and slurping.

you can’t tell who's moaning louder, you or him. he’s attacking your cunt with everything he has all while rutting his hips into your mattress, attempting to pleasure himself but he could honestly cum untouched as long as he had your sweet pussy in his mouth.

he’s groaning against your cunt and letting out incoherent curses, “f-fuck.. hmph so- so good.”

your eyes roll to the back of your neck and you can feel the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“jake- gonna cum, please dont fucking stop!” 

jake listens well, continues to suck and lap at your wetness as if its his last fucking meal. you don't even notice his hand leaving your thigh to jerk himself off but when you do— it pushes you immediately over the edge. 

you tremble as you cum all over his mouth, and he only eagerly slurps it up. he doesn’t pull away and until you yank him up by his hair, you stare at his soaked lips, your arousal dripping down his face. 

he lifts himself up to kiss you, feeding you your own cum, his hand comes up to grip your neck as you engage in a desperate kiss.

when he lets go of you to rid himself of his pants, your hand comes up to touch the wetness left on your cheek— it hits you that jake came all over his own hand while eating you out.

there was no way you were letting him out of your sight tonight.

───────────────────

sunghoon was giddy when he found out he could bring a plus one to the prada after party. he literally couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when he told you that you could accompany him.

but now he almost regrets it. 

since you were his plus one, you had gotten a free outfit from the brand. and god was it the best thing he’s ever seen you wear. but also the worst.

this wasn’t his only issue. you were his plus one. so why the fuck were you pretty much attached to jungwon at the hip? why were you ignoring him when he’s the reason you were there?

it’s not like he was angry either, instead he just really really wanted you right there next to him. he was so fucking horny. 

even before you both left the house to head over. he had no idea what the outfit looked like until you put it on and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

sunghoons also not really the type to voice his every thought to you, otherwise you both would’ve skipped the party entirely just to fuck.

well, he wasn't angry. but he can’t help it when the horniness eventually turns into pure sexual frustration. he leans further into the couch as he watches you bounce back and forth from jungwon and heeseung. 

your lonely boyfriend couldn’t even tell if he was jealous, angry or hurt. above all, he just wanted you to sit on his cock for the rest of the night. he understood that you were having fun, some of your other friends in the industry were also invited to this party but he couldn’t help but to feel so left out.

he almost groans as he watches you make your way to yet another one of his members. what about him? he’s here too! his cock twitches beneath his dress pants and he sets his hand with his drink on top of it, hoping it’s not obvious that he’s suffering at this very moment.

“you okay, man?” a voice calls from behind the couch, sunghoon looks up to see jake hovering. “you haven’t moved from that spot in about 40 minutes.”

sunghoon nods and shrugs, “can you tell my girlfriend to meet me over here? i haven’t seen her all night.” he lies through his teeth, he’s literally been watching you all night.

jake tilts his head in confusion, “uh, yeah. i’ll go get her, be right back.”

he taps his finger on his cup as he watches jake whisper in your ear, pointing behind him in his direction. you glance behind jake and sunghoon quickly averts his gaze.

you nod and respond to jake before making your way over to your boyfriend. 

sunghoon quickly downs his drink as he sees you walk towards him, a soft smile on your lips. so now you’re finally paying attention to him?

“what’s wrong, hoonie? jake said you needed me.” 

he nods, setting his drink down and grabbing your wrist instead, “yeah. i do need you, right fucking now.”

you don’t get a chance to question his words before he’s yanking you towards the furthest bathroom in the building. you’re heels almost make it too hard to keep up with him and you’re calling out his name but he’s too occupied on finding any empty bathroom to fuck you in.

sunghoon finally finds one, tugging you into it and slamming the door behind you and clicking the lock.

“what’s wrong, baby?” you ask him again.

“why are you talking to every single one of my members but not me?” 

you blink at him, surely you’ve interacted with him throughout the night. a smile grows on your face when it clicks. “awwe, hoonie! are you jealous?”

sunghoon grips your chin with his hand, “i’m not jealous. you ignored me, there’s a difference.”

“i wasn’t! and i’m here now, right?” 

he rolls his eyes, smushing his body against yours and the door. “baby seriously. need you so bad right now, i had to watch you talk to everyone while i was sitting there so fucking hard.”

your eyes widen slightly, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“god this fucking dress— i’m going insane.” he ignores your question completely, pulling the bottom of your dress up your thighs.

“sunghoon! we can’t- not here!” 

“mm, i don’t care.” sunghoon mutters as he pulls your dress above your hips. “told you i needed you, huh?”

he grips your hips and moves you against the fancy bathroom vanity, turning you around and laying you flat against the counter.

sunghoon ruts his clothed hardon over your own panty clad cunt. “feel it? feel how hard you make me all because a stupid dress?”

“y-yeah, hoonie.”

he sucks in a breath of air and yanks down your flimsy thong before practically ripping the button off his overpriced pants to free his angry cock.

you glance at him in the mirror when he aligns his leaking tip with your wet entrance. no amount of slick and arousal could make taking his size any easier.

“wait- baby i can’t take you like that..!” you pleaded with him.

sunghoon doesn't listen, stuffing you with his length, ripping a gasp from you, forcing you to throw a hand over your mouth to contain any more noises from you.

he wastes no time before beginning to pound into you, your hips slamming against the edge of the vanity with each thrust. you feel every vein against your walls and soon the initial pain turns into pleasure.

your boyfriend’s sloppy and brutal pace tells you just how fucking needy he’s been for the past few hours. sunghoons letting out a string of curses as he continues to abuse your cunt to chase the orgasm he’s been craving for so long.

“god. fuck- so fucking tight.” he groans out. “n-need it so bad.”

you’re biting your own hand to contain the noises that are desperately escaping your mouth, his pace making it impossible for you to stay silent. sunghoons bending over as he continues to fuck into you, gripping your throat as he leaves harsh bites on your shoulder— marks that’d be impossible to cover due to the thin and flimsy straps on your dress.

“shit—“ his movements stutter before hitting his peak, his warm cum filling up your insides but he doesn’t dare stop.

he continues to desperately thrust into you, overstimulating himself because he’s still so stupidly hard. grunts and whimpers are leaving his mouth, muffled by your neck and hair— but his noises only bring you closer to your own peak.

“hoon..! c-cumming, please.” 

even after you cream around his cock, his movements don’t stop. his thrusts are sloppy and his cock is knocking against your cervix, fucking you hard and deep all because he needs to cum again.

sunghoon lets out a loud groan as he finds himself emptying himself once more inside of you. rocking his hips slowly to ride himself through his second intense orgasm, it was almost painful.

he slips out of you with a grunt, his cock still half hard but he decided right there that the both of you would be leaving the party early.