#or whatever else people try to come up with

[nothorses]

shinigami eyes is inaccurate sometimes. that doesn't mean it's evil.

I've seen more people talking about the shinigami eyes extension lately, specifically because it seems like some "trans inclusive" radfems have been using it to incorrectly mark anyone who disagrees with their hateful rhetoric as "anti-trans".

the conclusion I see people drawing is that shinigami eyes is full of transandrophobic, exorsexist/enbyphobic, intersexist radfems using their moderation powers for evil.

that's now how this works!

shinigami eyes is crowdsourced. everyone who uses the extension can mark anyone and anything as "anti-trans" (red) or "trans-friendly" (green), or "clear" any current markings they might have.

that input is taken into account when determining how said blog/website/account/whatever shows up to everyone else using shinigami eyes, but you will see things marked the way you mark them immediately.

shinigami eyes claims to have some level of human validation involved when they determine public changes to how things are marked, but it's not clear what that looks like. looking through their (fairly inactive) github community page, I stumbled on this person asking about what to do if they've been incorrectly marked "anti-trans":

which confirms my understanding of how shinigami eyes tends to work.

basically, shinigami eyes isn't actually told why anyone marks anyone else as "safe" or "unsafe". even if/when there is "human validation", they're most likely just making their best guesses based on the information available to them: a cursory glance over the blog/account/website that was marked, and how other people have marked the same thing.

if someone's blog is incorrectly marked red, it's probably because one or more people completely unrelated to shinigami eyes moderation submitted that marking. if there was nothing near the top of that person's blog to indicate that person was vocally supportive of trans people (and not just trans themselves) if/when it was checked by a human, they likely just went with what seemed to be the safest bet.

which means if people are abusing this extension to mark folks as "anti-trans" when they're not, we can take action to fix that!

If someone is marked red/"anti-trans" when they shouldn't be, mark them "trans-friendly" yourself. then tell someone else who uses the extension to do the same. it'll update the public marking eventually.

if you are marked red/"anti-trans" when you shouldn't be, and you want to reverse that & prevent it from happening again, it might be a good idea to put something explicit in your bio- like "trans rights are human rights"- so it's front & center if and when a human at shinigami eyes checks a marking someone submitted.

there's another conversation to be had about how much people should be relying on shinigami eyes in the first place, but it's not evil. it doesn't hate you. it's not even exclusionary, historically speaking.

the one thing I will say is that there is definitely some very valid contention around this specific stance they currently hold:

I understand why they might want to avoid wading too deep into questions about what "counts" as a transphobic slur vs. what does not when it comes to intra-community issues, as a pretty public-facing tool for the trans community broadly speaking. but like, "theyfab" is a pretty explicitly exorsexist term, imo.

still, I think this should probably just be taken to their github issues board, where folks can have more of a conversation than the reviews page allows for. trying to pressure them into compliance isn't going to cut it, and our community deserves better than that anyway.

[yung-notorious]

ALWAYS SOME NEW SHIT, AIN’T NEVER THE USUAL! I FUCK YOU SO GOOD TILL I HAVE YOU DELUSIONAL! - ♡

— your roommates are gone, the apartment is yours, and you're laid up in bed with somethin' dangerous. all you need is him, his hands, and a little time to make the most of it. — feat. satoru gojo

+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x college!gojo, excerpt from never lose my chapter 8, porn with plot, situationship, morning sex, that good 'ol sunday dick, protected sex, dirty talk, body worship, sub/dom undertones, trust & boundaries, slight cum play, squirting, riding, fingering, voice kink, gojo kink(?), edging & milking, overstimulation, gojo’s character may be questionable but his stroke game is A1. notes. word count 5.8K, apart of a larger body of work but can stand alone as a one-shot. you can read the full chapter here: A03 & master post. title: lick me - sexyy red ft. lil baby. divider: fairytopea (tumblr)

You knew Satoru was bullshitting when he said he’d be on the phone for a few more minutes. He’s been chatting away for an extra thirty, and you’ve already gone through your entire Instagram feeds stories and now the Tiktok burnout is starting to set in.

Exhausted from doom scrolling, you chuck your phone somewhere across the bed to snuggle deeper into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. You don’t have a single fucking clue what’s being said anymore with his ear now pressed against the phone, but whatever it is definitely isn't related to earlier’s conversation. You think you catch mention of the school’s football team and the names of people you don’t recognize, but at this point, you’re too out of the loop to care. He’s lucky you actually like being around him, because had this been anyone else you’d probably kick them out telling them to go the fuck home.

What’s even more surprising is that despite being bored out of your mind, chilling with him in bed while he talks on the phone is strangely confronting. You’ve had your share of intimate moments at your young age, but you’ve never simply laid up like this with a guy before. It’s domestic as hell— whatever the girls online call it— but you’re not pushing it away. 

Resting your head on his chest as he rubs your shoulder, you let the rhythm of his voice wrap around you like a warm blanket. There’s this cool boyish charm that comes through as he talks— a side of him you’ve caught glimpses of only a few times when he’s speaking to his friends. He’s more commanding and animated, yet somehow still a relaxed version of himself all together, nearly a polar opposite of how he is with you.

And you know what? That’s exactly how it should be, you’re not the one to be treated like a homie. And even though his friends do annoy the hell out of you when they’re together, seeing him be himself with them is undeniably attractive and lowkey turning you on. 

Shifting over onto your stomach, you tuck an arm behind his neck, hooking a leg around his waist, letting your free hand slowly trail down his body feeling him up. Stopping to rest your hand on the inside of his thigh, you look up, waiting for a reaction. 

When you don’t get one— he’s still chatting away— you decide to take it a step further, slowly creeping your hand up to cup his balls, palming his bulge. 

It only takes a couple good rubs for you to feel his dick harden beneath you. Feeling bold, you wrap a tight fist around his length stroking him through his briefs. All it takes is a couple tight ones for his thighs to widen up and you take that as permission to go further. 

Slipping a hand under his waistband to squeeze his dick, you watch him bite his lip, still ignoring you as he lazily stares up at the ceiling. He can try to act all cool and unbothered all he wants, but you know exactly how to melt his ice.

Taking charge, you rub your thumb carefully around his slit, your acrylic nail getting caught in the fabric of his briefs with each pressing circle. It doesn't take much effort before you’re feeling the wetness of his pre sticking to the pad of your thumb as you. Pausing to collect up what you can to wet his shaft, you grip your hand back around his length giving him more quick strokes.

Feeling more daring, you connect your lips to his neck, slowly peppering soft, wet kisses along his skin as you continue working your hand around his dick and balls. You’re finding some sort of fun in all this really, feeling him up in every which way you please while he lays beside you trying to act like he’s not bricked the hell up. 

You can hear every grunt that gets stuck in his throat and cracking of his toes each time you press against the underside of his tip. It’s kind of funny how you’re unsure who’s more of a slut now: you for daring to do this, or him for letting it happen while he’s on a call. Y’all are both some trouble! 

Just as you’re about to go for a gentle bite on his ear you feel the deep bass of his voice against your lips. 

“Choso— Choso…bro I’ma let you go…I’ll try to be over there later tonight. Alright, I'll talk to you later. Bye.” He ends the call to lean over— your hand still tightly wrapped around his dick— to drop his phone onto the nightside with a loud thud.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his composure, it’ll be his own body that will betray him every single time. Men, they’re so fucking weak. You probably could rob him with a fleshlight.

Falling back onto the mattress, he turns to give you a look before opening his mouth, and of all the things you expect him to say, it definitely isn’t, “Why’d you interrupt my phone call?”

“Because you talk too much.” You say smart, releasing him to wipe your hand clean on his briefs along the side of his hip. Sitting up on your elbow to rest your cheek in your hand, you hover above his face to stare down at him challengingly, awaiting his response. This could go one or two ways, but you know for sure either way ends with you getting fucked. 

"All I needed was a few minutes.” He murmurs, his hand glides up your chest stopping just below your neck before gently tracing your jawline with his thumb. 

“I gave you that, now I want your attention.” You cock your head. “Did you forget where you were at?”

"You have it— so now what’s up?" He asks, his tone still soft, eyes locked on yours as he tilts your chin up just as your hand slides over to squeeze his thigh.

“You know what I want…” You breathe, inching closer to his bulge. 

“Yeah?” He lets go of your chin, trailing his hand down your chest. “You don’t have to ask me— could have just pulled it out.” Eyes still locked on yours as you slip a hand under his waistband.  

Letting you go, he gives you space to slip under the covers, lifting his hips to help you tug off his briefs. The second they're gone, your hand is around him, leaning over to take him between your lips. You know exactly how he likes it— your mouth and hand wrapped tight around the tip, teasing him with just the right amount of pressure that’ll make his toes curl.

You know you're doing a good job when his hand resting at the back of your neck tightens, turning into a firm grip that keeps you exactly where he wants you. Not wanting to try your luck deep throating him just yet, you brace yourself with a hand on his thigh for balance, but soon find yourself running your hand along the muscle instead, grabbing on wherever please, feeling out their solid weight and smoothness. Even though his dick is the main event— hot, thick, and heavy in your hands each time you pull off to catch your breath— it’s his thighs that have your full attention. Maybe next time you'll leave a trail of bites and hickeys along them, marking him up good just because you can.

“Get in between my legs...” He throws the covers back making room for you. Without a second thought, you crawl between his thighs, and just as you’re about to shift down the bed to lay on your stomach, his voice interrupts.

“Uh-uh, sit up...” He whispers, and despite it being nothing more than a gentle correction, it still finds a way to make your stomach tingle. You can’t even lie, that bossy shit turns you up. Glancing up at him, you slowly prop yourself up on your elbows to part your knees just enough, arching yourself down low, nice and sexy in a way you know he’ll like. 

Bobbing your head up and down his dick, you lose track of every grunt and curse you pull past his lips. The wet, squishy sounds from each tight squeeze, paired with the clacking of your pretty nails around his dick, become a rhythm you get lost in until the growing dampness in your panties pulls you back in. Fuck, you’re going to have to speed this up because you really want to fuck now.

“Sloppy, baby. Make it—” His voice breaks off, caught in his throat as you pull off to throw a nasty wad of spit on his dick, watching as it drips down his length. “There you go…” He murmurs, a grin tugging at his lips. You don’t even need to look up to know he’s smiling. Anything for him, right?

“Gotta get the sides too. All of it. Just how I taught you...” His words make your stomach tighten. Glancing up through your lashes, you latch onto his shaft, tongue tracing long, slow licks along his length. The salty taste of him mixing with the slick of your spit as you pump the head of his dick with a tight fist.

“Sloppier…spit on it some more…get that shit wet for me…” He murmurs, bringing his hands down into your hair to gently pull back to keep out of your face. Taking a moment to lick his pre-cum and drool off your lips, you teasingly slap his dick against your tongue, testing its weight. Spitting down onto him again, you let it drip slow and messy before taking him back into your mouth, your lips wrapping tight around him. As you glance up, you catch him smiling down at you, and you can’t help but sheepishly smile back. You used to hate giving head, but for him— talking to you like this— you’ll keep going till he busts in your mouth twice. 

You swear everytime he looks at you like that, something inside you loosens up. You never thought sex could be like this— fun, messy, and so damn freeing. That it’s not just about getting him off; but letting yourself enjoy it too. 

Remembering the times he’s whispered for you to drop your innocence and open up awakens those butterflies in your stomach. It’s a mystery how in such a short time of knowing him, he’s managed to create a safe space for you to let go and push past the boundaries you once clung to— all without a hint of judgment. 

But no matter how amazing everything feels with him, there’s this nagging thing that won’t leave you alone—a constant reminder of how off this all this really is. No matter how hard you try to push it aside, the truth is starting to feel impossible to shake, and the longer you avoid the elephant in the room, the harder it becomes to hold it all together. It’s doubt that creeps in at the end of every night, makes you wonder if any of this is even real. But fuck it, you don’t have the time to make any sense of it right now. You can talk it out with Tink later, you have to get this nut in. 

"Ahmp!" You bite back a moan, caught off guard as his hand slaps your ass right when he shifts to sit up.

“Come up here…” He says, and without a second thought, you slide your soaked panties off to straddle his lap. Once fully seated, you wrap your hand around his dick, stroking him from behind your back, while your other hand rests against his shoulder for support. You can feel your wetness sticking against him, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to be a horny bunny and grind your sloppy wet pussy against his chest.

“You know where that condom at?” The question catches you off guard, making you pause— again, definitely not what you expected to hear. Someone’s full of surprises today, huh?

“Yeah, why?” You give him a confused look.

“It’s early, and I’m still kinda tired…I don’t wanna have to worry about pulling out. It be in the back of my mind when we fuck...” He says, warm hands smoothing along your stomach then up around your ribs.

Okay, cool, good to know at least one of you is trying to be responsible. Condom? Sure. Not a problem!

“I think it’s in here.” You lean over, trying to search in the top drawer of your nightstand without tipping over. “Hold me.” You warn, feeling yourself about to topple over. His hands quickly find your waist steadying you. 

“I got it.” You find it stuck beneath a pile of clutter you've been meaning to sort out.

Handing him the gold foil, you scoot back a bit, giving him space to do his thing. As much as you love the feeling of raw sex, there’s something seriously hot about watching him work a tight fist along his length, struggling to stretch the latex over his girth. And as if that wasn’t enough, the damage your sanity takes from his dick snapping back against his abdomen when he lets go is downright disrespectful. 

“Come on— ready?” He grabs you at your ribs, pulling you forward towards him, your breath hitches at his sudden eagerness. “You don’t need this…” He tugs at your shirt, and the second it’s off he’s grabbing hold of your boobs, squeezing them and sucking on your nipples like a baby. Never too tired to suck titties, huh!?

Taking your hand to guide his dick to your entrance, you carefully sink down onto the tip. Yet, no matter how many times you’ve done this, the feeling of just the head pushing through is one that’ll never get easier even with time. 

It’s harder this time around— his dick— no pun intended. After nearly a week of constant sex, you have no choice but to take him slow, inch by inch, feeling yourself clench around him as you sink down.

“Gimme a second…” You plead, pressing your hand against his chest to keep him from bucking his hips up. On a good day you could take all of him, but with the way he’s bricked up, you’re not trying to bite off more than you can chew. See, this is that early morning dick, It’ll be a lot more than hurtful words flying out of your mouth if he so much as attempts to push you down. 

“Take your time…” He teases, bringing both his hands to rub soothing circles along your jawline, fingers combing through your tresses around your nap. “Too much?”

“It’s enough— you’re not little.” You laugh, bouncing slowly on his length, giving your wetness a chance to moisten the condom as you try to fully take him in. It’s painstakingly slow working your sore pussy down his stiff dick, but guess this is the price you pay for letting him fuck you like a dog all week. 

“My bad…” He chuckles. “Here, come lay on my chest— hmm.” He pulls you into his arms. Slanging one around your back, he scoots the both of you further down the bed gripping a handful of your ass to help guide you down his length.

“It’s too dry…” You come back up, the friction of the condom becoming unbearable as you feel yourself drying up from frustration. This isn’t working.  

“I got you…” He brings two fingers to his mouth to wet them. Pulling out, he uses those same fingers to stroke your pussy, rubbing tight circles on and around your clit. Burying your face in his neck to stifle your moans, you feel yourself grow wetter as he whispers filthy praises in your ear, urging you on. 

“This better?” He lips brush against the shell of your ear. Your thighs quiver with each teasing stroke to your clit, the oversensitivity heightening your arousal. And like a slut you can’t do much but moan against his neck when you feel those same two fingers sink into your heat. Curling deep, giving himself a feel around your velvety walls.

“Mhm…” You nod, slowly rolling your hips down to ride his hand. The exploratory movements of his fingers driving deep, stroking your g-spot. “Right there…fuck…right there…” 

“I got you baby…I got you...” His palm presses against your clit as he drives his fingers even faster making sure to hit that sweet spot over and over, he’s so damn deep he could poke your cervix if he pleased. “…you’re squeezing baby, relax for me…there you go…how that feel, good?”

“Toru…I’ma fucking squirt…” You warn, already feeling yourself start to leak. Shit feels so fucking good he needs to publish a wikiHow on finger stroking pussy.

“Show me— go ‘head baby…you know I got you…” He exhales heavily, his other hand running through your hair to hold you close to him as he bullies your pussy like a pro, digging your coochie out so good, leaving her sorer than when you started. It’s a good soreness though, a sweet discomfort that’s nothing more than a reminder of how throughly he’s fucked you the past week. 

“Fuck— hmmmm!” You grip his hair tight, trying your damn hardest to hold back the moan that’s fighting to erupt from you, but it’s no use because all it takes is one final stroke to your g-spot and you're cumming harder than a bull.

“Oh my god!” You cry out, clenching down on his fingers so tight he has to pull them out. Taking his hands to strum your pussy to keep you squirting, your thighs shake with such a force you have no choice but to cling onto him for dear life. A wave of pleasure hits you so intense your entire body electrifies like static off an old box TV across your chest and shoulders. His fingers are pruney once he lets go, all gooed up and coated with sticky globs of your cum.

Wiping his fingers clean on your thigh, he effortlessly guides your soaked pussy all the way down his dick, and a sweet moan comes up your throat once you’re fully seated. You’re so damn wet you can’t even feel the condom anymore, if it was any darker in here you wouldn’t even be able to tell he had one on.

“Bet that rose can’t do it like me, huh?” He teases, two hands at your waist rocking you forward. “I got you making a mess. Wetting the bed all up...”

“Heh— please shut up…” You laugh, catching your breath. Because of course he’d make a joke eight inches deep in your pussy. No matter how good his dick is it’ll never take away from how corny he can be sometimes.

Regaining your strength, your hands find his shoulders again to steady yourself as you begin a slow pace bouncing on his dick. It starts off a lot sweeter this time, nothing like your usual. No creaking bed or pounding headboard, just the quiet sound of your soft moans and his low grunts filling the room. 

You’re fully lost in the moment when his hips start to move in perfect sync with yours, the delicious drag of his dick massaging your walls coaxes the softest, neediest whimpers past your lips. You’re so in love with his dick, you’re serious when you say you’ll fuck him up if you ever find out he’s sharing, because this shit right here makes no sense. It’s too damn good!

“More…right there…” You whine, needing to feel him deeper. Gripping your ass in response he presses his heels into the mattress, pulling your hips closer towards him to fuck up into you so well you have to put a hand to his chest to hold him back. 

You totally get the need for the condom now— thankful for it even— because with the way he’s fucking you this damn good you don’t think he could push you off quick enough before he’s busting his load. And as bad as you want it, you’d hate to dip into that hundred dollars he gave you to spend half of it on a Plan B. 

“Toru...Toru...Toru.." His name spills from your lips over and over as your brain goes fuzzy, slipping into a dizzy, dick drunken state. He's gripping you up just so right, and every stroke to your g-spot has you coming further undone, scattering every thought in your head until there's nothing left but his voice and touch occupying your mind. 

“You’re so fucking pretty baby…didn’t I say I’d fuck you everyday? Hmm?” His voice rings. 

“Thursday…Friday…Saturday…Sunday…” He murmurs, each day punctuated by a slow, deliberate thrust in sync with the roll of your hips. “You love this dick, don’t you?” He breathes, his hand coming down heavy giving a sharp slap against your ass. 

“I do…” You whine, almost like a declaration, as you pull his hands off your waist to guide them up your chest to cup your boobs, lacing your fingers through his to show him how to squeeze them just right. 

You feel so incredibly fucking sexy bouncing on his dick, riding him like it’s been a while and you miss him. You’re trying your hardest to keep it classy for him, but with one more slap to your ass, you’ll be begging him to take the safety off and hit your pussy raw from the side till it goes numb. You hope he’s loving this shit, because you’re not letting him get up in you for at least a week after this one. Your coochie needs a break!

“I wanna cum…” You whine, searching his face for permission, but he doesn’t hear you, too focused on working his own nut out.  

“I wanna cum…” You whine again, your hands come down to press against his chest to grind your pussy down hard on his dick. You got him buried so deep inside you the weight of your hips are holding down his. 

“You tryna be done already?” His hips still, falling flat as he watches you chase your orgasm all on your own.  

“No. Just don’t move…” You plead, trying to keep him from messing up your rhythm as you hit that sweet spot like a drum. It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to rise up your body, making your face flush hot and your heart rate pick up. You’re almost there! 

“Don’t move— don't move— I’m close…fuck…ahh” You babble out, toes curling. Almost there, you’re almost there!

“Damn boo…” The pet name rolls off his tongue effortlessly, bringing you into focus, your eyes meeting his right as he wraps a firm hand around your neck holding you in place. You got him pussy drunk acting rough and nasty just how you like it.  “When you start taking dick like this? You showing off for me today?” 

“Mmmm— fuck me after I cum…” You say through a smile, his thumb brushing gently underneath your chin. The look in your eyes clear— you’re trying to get broken off like a Kit-Kat. You want it rough, and you know he’ll deliver. He’s got you. 

“Say that again?” He asks as if he can’t understand a word you’re saying. There’s no denying that your voice turns him on. But it’s cool, you have no problem spelling it out for him. 

“I said I want you to fuck the shit out of me after I c— ahmp!” You yelp, a wave of giddy pleasure washing over you from the sting of his heavy hand landing across your ass again.  

“One more time for me?” He pulls you forward, a devilish look in his eyes waiting for you to soften into submission in his hands. 

“I want you to fuck me so bad.” You whine, voice dripping with so much need. You don't give a fuck how you sound right now, his dick drilling your pussy deep, it’s thick head messaging against your puffy walls. “I wanna feel all of it— oowww— mmmm— Fuck! You feel so fuckin— ahh good!—” You moan out, each and every one of his deep strokes punching the words from out of your chest.   

“You don’t want it.” He taunts, a smirk tugging at his lips daring you to prove him wrong— to show him just how badly you want it— to beg. The sudden shift in dominance sends your heart racing, and you find yourself rocking your hips even faster.

It’s this dynamic that you love the most: how one minute he’s soft and tender, talking you through with the filthiest yet gentlest whispers, and the next, commanding and rude, giving you the space to surrender completely and embrace your submissive side. It’s the perfect balance of give and take, and with him talking in your ear nasty like this, you’re more than willing to give it all up and let him lead. 

“Yes I do— fuck…fuck…” You moan breathlessly, lost in the wave of pleasure taking you under. “Make me cum…” You look down at him with those needy doll eyes, the kind that silently beg for more, even as you roll your hips slow and deliberate like the little minx you are, teasing him just enough that you know will drive him wild. 

Every move is a silent challenge, a tease, a true test of his strength and you’re doing it because you know exactly what he wants, and he’s already right there ready to meet you. His hands find your waist again, gripping you firmly, and that awaiting spark of dominance lights up his eyes as he pulls you in close.

No one but him can bring this side out of you, the one that craves to be taken, to be pushed to the edge. You know he’s been holding back, waiting for you to push him there, and now, you’ve done it. His hand then tightens around your frame, the tension in his body radiating through every inch of him, and that tells you everything you need to know; you’ve got him right where you want him, you can let go. 

“You not gonna run?” He presses, but you know your answer is meaningless. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried. 

“No—” You whine, the sound barely escaping your throat as you bounce, the strain in your knees starting to intensify with each movement as you chase your orgasm. 

“No, what?”  Another good grab to your ass, this time with two hands and enough grip to bounce you on his dick himself, fucking up into with a force that causes you to fall forward, nails digging into his shoulders as you cling onto him. “Tell me baby…go ‘head.”

“Fuck…Gojo— Go— AHMP!” Another heavy slap to your ass before you can catch your breath to repeat it. “I’m not gonna run Gojo— I'm not gonna run—”

“You know I love hearing you say it…” He beathes heavy, one hand now threading through your hair to grip your tresses tight, the other fucking you down his dick. “You gonna cum on this dick? Yeah?”

“Yes! Fuck— Fuck— Gojo! Gojo!” You choke out, orgasm fully taking over each and every one of your senses. 

“Again baby…come on…this your dick right…” He breathes, voice low and hot in your ear, hips bucking up fast as another heavy slap comes down to your ass. “Don't run from it…don’t run from it.”

“Fucckkkk— Oh my godddddd! Keep going! Keep going! Don’t stop! Yes! Yes!” You cry out, your pussy clenching so tightly around him that you can feel the rim of the condom scratching against your entrance. The intensity of your grip threatens to pull it loose as it’s already slipped off some. 

“Mmmmm— there you gooo~“ He coos, sensing you reached your climax seeing the way your jaw goes slack and your grip around him tightens. 

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” You’re begging like slut now throwing your arms around him to tuck behind his neck. Feeling you lose yourself, you take your fingers to work them up to brush along his undercut, anything to try and keep you grounded.

“Kiss on my neck…yeah…just like that for me— “ He moans, as you press your lips against his skin, licking hungry, wet, and sloppy. “Just like that…”

“Where you want me to nut?” His question meets your ear with urgency, the pace of his thrusts quickening in such a way that you can tell he’s close to cumming.

“Anywhere…I don’t care—” You gasp, words spilling, your body trembling with anticipation. Stupidest fucking question he could ask right now. He can bust it on your tits, ass, pussy, or even your face. You don’t care as long as his hot cum drips off your body, ready for him to scoop up and feed to you like you’re Suki.

“Shit!— Get up! Get up!” He groans, lifting you up just enough to pull off the condom to jerk his dick. 

“Gimme your hand…” He takes yours to grab his length, wrapping his large hand around yours, guiding you as you both help work his nut out. Both of your bodies are hot and sweaty, and his heavy breathing is perfectly in sync with yours. Your thighs coming down from a trembling mess.

“Like that baby….mmmm…you gonna kiss it when you're done?” He hums through a smile, head thrown back in pure bliss. It doesn’t take more than a few tight strokes for you to feel his dick pulsate, his hot cum spills out running down both your knuckles sticking your fingers together. 

“Oowww— it's so much!” You giggle, endorphins still having you feeling like you're on cloud nine as you watch amazed by the amount of cum he’s spilling, feeling a warm milky streak run sticky down the back of your hand. 

“Fuck—” He exhales, chest heaving as he starts to come down from his climax. His arms drop limply to his sides, but you stay right where you’re sitting on his chest, reaching back as you keep working the cum out of his still hard dick. 

You can feel him twitch with every pull as you coax the last drops of cum from him. There’s just something so sexy about the way his breath stutters and his toes crack as they curl with each slow tug…like you’re draining him of every ounce of cum he has left.

“That’s it…baby…that’s it…alright that’s it…stop…” He warns, voice strained and his face balling up, eyes shut tight as he tries to fight back a guttural moan. You feel his abs tense up underneath you, throwing off your balance but you take a hand to his chest— now flushed red and glistening with sweat— to hold him steady, fist tightening around his dick to jerk him quicker. 

“Uh-uh, there’s more, look…lemme get it all out for you.” You tease with a playful laugh, tightening your hold around him. “Just relax, it doesn’t hurt.” You purr, your voice dropping low and sweet. More cum spilling with every pull. 

“Oh my g— Yooooo! Stop! Stop! Stop! Bro! Stop!” He gasps, body jerking involuntarily from not being used to the overstimulation. His hips shake under your grip as if trying to escape, but he’s trapped under the weight you’re pressing down on him.

“Bro!? I’m not your bro!” You scoff with a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief at the fucking nerve to address you by anything other than something ladylike! Goofy ass, now you’re really not letting up. He must have you confused for someone else. 

“I swear to god,  if you make me nut again— Fuck!” He growls, head tipping back as he wraps a tight hand around your wrist trying to stop you.

“Satoru, you don’t scare me— let go!” You mock, your hand steadily working his dick, grip unwavering even as his strength weakens less and less from every stroke.

“What happened to all that shit you were talking, hmm?” You pause, watching him closely. “Bet that hand can’t do it like mine?” 

“I’ma fuck you up after this…I’m so serious…watch.” He breathes out, a shaky laugh breaking through, his grip on your wrist loosens completely as he gives in, letting you milk him for everything he’s got. He’s probably dead serious too, but the way his fine ass is squirming under you is too entertaining to give a damn. And to be honest, that just sounds like a promise for round two and that’s not striking fear in your heart— or pussy. Ain't no fun when the rabbits got the gun now is it? We can go till the fucking bed breaks boo, y’all got all the time in the world today!

“Schhhhhoooowwww— oh my god!” He groans, his plump lips parting with a low, desperate growl. “Alright c’mon, chill! Stop!” 

“Keep lying telling people I snore, and I’ma tell your friends you moan like a bitch." You taunt, leaning closer. Pressing more of your weight down on him, your strokes turn into slow teasing massages around the tip of his dick with your palm. 

“You still mad over that?” His eyes open meeting yours as his hands grip the sheets in an attempt to hold back from cumming. He can try to look intimidating with those blue eyes all he wants, but they aren’t moving you.

“I don’t get mad, I get even.” You bite back with a whole lot of sass, letting his dick go the moment you feel your hand start to cramp up. He jerks slightly, caught off guard by your sudden release. “Told you to stop trying me.”

“Clean yourself up~” You shoot him a look, wiping your cum-sticky hand off his chest as you ease yourself off his body and slide off the bed.

“Fuck you…” You hear him mumble under his breath with a laugh as you search the sheets for your phone, panties, and top before making your way to the bathroom to pee.

“What!?” You give him a look back, the fakest mean scowl you can muster up right now. 

“Nothing— Fuck…” The back of his head hits the pillow again as he exhales deeply. 

"Oh, okay! Like I won’t sit my ass on your chest and kill you. Talk to me nice." You fire back playfully, slipping on your top after giving up on the search for your panties— probably somewhere tangled up in the sheets.

Finding your footing, you cross the room to unplug the diffuser you left on throughout the night. With a gentle click, its light shuts off. You take a moment to gather yourself before stepping out and closing the door firmly behind you, leaving him to figure out what the hell just happened. You too are going to need a few minutes alone to yourself after this one. 

[carmenscarnations]

I know people go off on Apple when she says; "but Briar, we all have our part to play" however I think it's clear this line has been drilled into her by authority figures a thousand times, which we see throughout the series from both Grimm and her Mother.

You can tell in the past there may have been times she's tried asking related questions about stories and ways to go "off the page" but as a result she received the "we all have our part to play/we all must do our part" line as an answer and sort of as a "comfort" with the explanation that everyone must play their roles or "poof"

Yes, it was insensitive and a bit ignorant of her to say that to Briar but imo she was only reciting to Briar the same thing that she has had fed to herself for years, like a sick and twisted way of "comforting" them both and that all of this will be worth it for their "happily ever afters."

She's not the delusional, selfish girl a lot of the fandom has made her out to be, she's scared. She's been raised with the belief that nothing good comes from straying from your story and seeing those closest to her (Raven, Ashlynn, Hunter, and now Briar) not want to follow their respective stories? It TERRIFIES her!

She loves her friends and being raised knowing all the horrors that come with not following your story petrifies her for her friends' sake. She's divided between wanting them to be happy but also not wanting them to vanish and endanger others in their stories.

[highvern]

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it.  There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work. 

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength. 

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot. 

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.  

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble. 

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles. 

In his truck, the radio hums one of his fifty million cassettes. He only breaks the comfy lull at a deserted intersection. “One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy. 

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu turns right, humming along to the next song the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door. 

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. He thrusts two paper cups and a greasy paper bag across the counter and greets the next customer in line.

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool. 

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him. 

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out. 

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together. 

You want to kiss him. 

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car. 

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips. 

“Where are you going?” you call. 

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach. 

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going. 

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers. 

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating. 

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of? 

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours. 

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often. 

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant�� is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite. 

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded. 

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen. 

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?” 

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches. 

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts. 

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines. 

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook. 

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point. 

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen. 

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now. 

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one. 

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time. 

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck. 

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there. 

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy. 

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.  

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks. 

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne. 

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot. 

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest. 

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze. 

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world. 

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile. 

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute. 

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week. 

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter. 

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending. 

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration. 

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you  and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone. 

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock. 

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years. 

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more. 

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims. 

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff. 

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?” 

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic. 

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ‘congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.” 

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass. 

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest. 

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision. 

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him. 

“You’re so good— fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet. 

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

taglist: @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee 

@bokk-minnie @cookiearmy

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@lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope @whrryuu

@wonrangwoo @xchaenx @nuttywastelandmentality @champagnenoona @kyeomofhearts

[wonderjanga]

Here's a stupid dumb crack idea you can't really die in Fawcett City like you can get hurt cartooningly but you can't die like getting hit in the head when it acts of like a mild inconvenience and gives you a headache and a scar but you won't die from it

If you leave faucet for a long time then you can die but everyone there is Immortal and kind of unaging unless you want to age

Captain marvel forgot to tell the Justice League this while fighting a villain who proceeded the flash when acts in the head

People in Fawcett don’t die. That was something the Justice League hadn’t known when Marvel had called them for help to fight some villain. Everything was going fine and dandy at first. They were winning, obviously, but then something just had to happen. A piece of the rubble somehow, you couldn’t ask any of them, fell on the fastest man alive who wasn’t able to dodge for whatever reason?Everyone, besides Marvel and the villain, who were still fighting by the way, went quiet as a mouse.

Supes: *looks horrified* “Oh my Rao! Flash!?” *flies over and lifts the rubble up*

Flash: *wobbly stands up, springing up and down like an accordion* (accordion squash)

Marvel and the villain didn’t even look their way, meanwhile, everyone is trying to get Flash to stop being a human accordion.

Supes: “Keep him still!”

GL: “I’m trying!” *using his ring to try and hold Wally still*

Batman: “Try harder.” *is trying to administer a sedative*

After that whole fiasco…

Marvel: “Hey, guys, I apprehended the villain. Where were you- why is Flash passed out on the floor.”

After they explained, seeing all their traumatized and scarred expressions, Marvel finally explained that in Fawcett, people couldn’t die. Not unless they wanted to anyways. When most Fawcitizens got hurt, they bounced back very similarly to Tom and Jerry. A wonderful demonstration of this conveniently happened when someone nearby just happened to run off a roof, hovered in the air for a solid fifteen seconds before looking down and then proceeding to fall. They then dug themselves out of the human shaped hole they left, dusted themselves off and walked off like nothing happened.

Safe to say, none of them wanted to come back to Fawcett after this. Though unfortunately, there are still times they have to visit.

Goon: *evil laughs and runs up to Batman and shoves a couple sticks of TNT into his hands*

Batman: *can’t safely throw it anywhere because of the civilians around so it blows up*

Goon: *pointing and laughing*

Batman: *standing there, somehow still alive and covered and soot. He blinks rapidly before grabbing his shark repellent and emptying the entire can on the goon’s face, eyes, and mouth*

As for why Bruce was so pressed to the point where he emptied an entire canister of shark repellent on the man? He could feel the soot everywhere. It somehow got under his mask so he feels it on every inch of skin near the upper part of his torso.

Don’t worry though, this chicanery happens to everyone else too. Like, every single Lantern that has entered Fawcett has taken a comically large hammer to head and has gotten a large bump as a result.

Marvel: *walking by when he does a double take seeing John* “Oh my Gods, what happened-”

GL(John Stewart): “I DON’T want to talk about it.”

Then there was the time Hawkgirl was chasing after a villain one time and they happened to get into Fawcett. She actually slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel. Then, the villain she was chasing stepped on a rake and got a good smack to the face.

Marvel: “Hawkgirl! What’re you doing here?” *flies down, happy to see his friend*

Hawkgirl: *gestures to the villain with a long red line down their face from the rake’s pole* “I was chasing them.”

Marvel: “Cool, cool, cool, uh… what happened to his face?”

Hawkgirl: “He stepped on a rake.”

*silence*

Hawkgirl: “Why do your people just have bananas and rakes laying around?”

Marvel: “What…?”

In conclusion, nobody besides the Fawcett heroes like being in Fawcett.

[softness-and-shattering]

I think in general it can be easy to forget that other people dont come out and then immediately transition and be fully their true gender in every single aspect, indistinguishable from the outside as a person who's trans at all. I had an...interaction with a few trans femmes like a month or so ago, about a trans guy who had miss-stepped pretty badly in trying to avoid dysphoria, because he had been misgendered by family all day. From that context he's probably a teenager and therefore probably not transitioning much. (I know this is a lot of assumption but I think its fair?). He's been called a girl and treated like a girl all day. And these...femmes? Can I say that? were acting as though he was being a classic entitled guy oozing fragile masculinity. This young person being called a girl all day may know himself to be a man but its clear nobody else in his life does. Nobody looks at him and sees a man. Yeah of course barely hatched trans people are fragile and sensitive about their gender. Doesn't make him entitled to demand whatever from others, but also doesn't make him an entitled macho bro-dude, it makes him someone fucking up because he's in pain.

It sometimes happens to me a little bit the other way in discussion of how like, queer spaces not really being inclusive because you have to pass a femininity vibe to check to get in can be transmisogynistic. Every now and then Im like "huh, this is a trans guy/butch problem" and then I remember, trans women who dont 'pass' also fall into the 'too masculine-looking to be "safe" for femmes and thems' category. Which is also why Im not totally sure on the exact definition/scope of transmisogyny, because from my perspective this particular thing is about anti-masculinity regardless of if its deliberate or wanted or intended, and regardless of one's identity because its an external judgement being made. I think its also getting harder for trans guys to 'pass', like top surgery and what top surgery scars look like are becoming more known. And theres the whole clusterfuck discussion about how people are perceived and how people want to be perceived and in some places if you wear a dress youre seen as obviously a woman but in other places with the exact same presentation youre seen as a man in a dress. I dont have anything to add there, just thinking about it.

wait where are all the trans guys

Historical-anthropological research, especially the work taking place before the 21st century or outside the West, tends to focus entirely on transfeminized groups. So when reading these works it’s pretty natural to ask — wait, where are all the trans guys? This is a reasonable question with a few clear answers; this post is something quick I can point people to.

The central condition of transfeminized groups' absorption into feminist activism has been to accept a kind of symmetry with select TME groups through the understanding of trans femininity as "gender variance." Under this framework, transfeminized groups' social position can be understood as a consequence of gender variance and some abstract violation of cis norms; this was proposed by people like Susan Stryker and Emi Koyama [1], among others, and continues to structure trans inclusion today. It also fails when considering several basic aspects of these groups:

Transfeminized groups are associated with hyperspecific labor practices, most frequently sex work, but also hair styling, drag, makeup artistry, acting, and other forms of 'gender work.'

Metropolitan transfeminized groups appear in the archive as highly clustered and active groups connected with, but usually intensely split from, the masculine men they fucked.

Transfeminized groups become a kind of 'third gender' on an epistemic level; they are Known to wider society before and after “coming out�� in a way that USAmerican transmasculinity has only recently vaguely approached.

Transfeminized groups are heavily clustered in labor practice, social organization, and epistemic position, although this is not universal -- certain strains of USAmerican transfemininity have become a bit more labor-agnostic in the last two decades, not-so-coincidentally alongside more general currents of gender-labor liberation. The messy strains of trans male identity recovered from the archive and from current practice tend to lack labor, social, and epistemic coherence. As Aaron Devor notes in FTM, his 1997 history of FTM men, trans men in the 20th century tended to transition out of cities and into the countryside, finding low-profile places they could exist in. These practices, and the earlier "female husband" practices described by Jen Manion, relied on the labor-agnostic nature of transitioned manhood in order to disappear from public life. Transfeminized groups, on the other hand, are categorically restricted from the main form of economic life historically available to women -- marriage. Their labor practices are heavily constrained and have almost always revolved around some form of 'gender work:' as Susan Stryker put it, you need to get people to pay you for being a trans woman. Transmasculinity pushes away feminized restrictions on labor; trans femininity is labor.

Because transfeminized identities are so often labor-identities, and because their specific brand of 'gender work' and hormonal/silicone/surgical embodiment usually requires both specialized training and community support, nearly every metropolitan center in the world developed highly centralized transfeminized groups over the course of the 20th century [2]. As Ochoa notes, this visibility is partially due to epistemic visibility (everyone knows what a trans is), partially due to group structure (people work and train each other), and partially due to the selectively visible demands of finding clients. Fledglings come in with a way of being that is always already visible to society, but changing the body to match and learning how to fully enact and slowly contest the third-gender labor-identity they've been given takes a lot of community support.

So as labor-identities, transfeminized groups tend to a level of labor/community/epistemic coherence that has no clear counterpart. The news archives we have of trans men (as seen in Manion) position them as singular and easily absorbed back into the female gestalt; the cisgender feminist/gayguy/AIDS researchers that form the bulk of historical-anthropological work saw them as unnecessary to their grand theories of gender; the communities themselves have been materially fractured and, for the groups that rise out of lesbian-feminist activism, only partially committed to their own existence. The result of all this is that there is no clear equivalent to the "transfeminized groups" of Jules-Gill Peterson; there is no symmetry to trannydom, and while additional work to unearth trans manhood in the archive remains extremely valuable, sometimes the necessary level of label-coherence and social existence just isn't there.

[1] Stryker, "My Words to Victor Frankenstein Above the Village of Chamounix: Performing Transgender Rage," Emi Koyama, "The Transfeminist Manifesto" [2] As seen in Namaste, Invisible Lives, Prieur, "Mema's House, Mexico City," Kulick, "Travesti," Newton, "Mother Camp," Ochoa, "Queen for a Day," Hegarty, "The Made-Up State," and plenty more. Most of these works came out in the late 80s and 90s due to a combination of the feminist "third gender" craze, the burgeoning field of masculinity studies, and AIDS.

[eph3merall]

can you write something abt loser!reader x fratboy!chris, where reader starts seeing someone else and chris gets jealous. I love your writing sooo much !!!

it's been radio silence from you to chris for about a week now. he's confused, because what the hell? last time he noticed, he was the only guy who ever gave a shit about you. so to see you posting a picture on your instagram with you and another guy made his face twist into some disgusted expression while staring at his phone.

you looked happy. like, happier than you usually were with him. which he found fucking ridiculous, considering for a good chunk of time chris was the only one who put up with your rambling and annoying habits. the post didn't get many likes, barely up to 150. it was mostly just some of your friends who probably thought your new boyfriend was hot and some random people who thought you were pretty, based on the comments.

he doesn't notice the swirl of jealousy unfurling in his chest, a second later and chris is banging on your dorm room door only to be met with silence. his knuckles bang against the wooden door unsteady on it's hinges, jaw ticking and teeth grinding together subconsciously. only again, you don't peek your head out in the crack of your door like normal, you don't come to answer and smile almost immediately as you spot chris.

he's standing awkwardly in front of the door to your dorm, either no one's home and he looks like a fool right now or you're ignoring him. he knows that 'friend' of yours who shares a room with you is out at a frat party tonight, and you don't even go anywhere—so why the fuck aren't you answering?

he's about to blurt out your name but thought against it as the hallway was deathly silent right now, especially so late at night. he'd probably get complaints from whoever roomed here. his knuckles rap against the door again, shifting around awkwardly. a swirl of frustration and annoyance bloomed in his chest, because you couldn't possibly be busy.

he tries the knob—obviously nothing. until the sounds of shuffling are heard inside, and a second later you're standing in the doorway with messy hair and weary eyes. a yawn mixes in with your words, too tired to even realize this is chris. you've been ignoring him for a little now, afraid if your new boyfriend found out he'd call it cheating or something.

chris doesn't say or do anything before shoving you inside and closing your door, met with dim darkness and the only lighting provided from the warm lamp on your desk. your dorm room is a cluttered mess of trinkets and work and textbooks, tabletop a pile of studies and some clothing items littering the floor.

"what's your fuckin' problem, kid?" you stare at him. it's like this for a little, the two of you staring as chris impatiently waits for his words to register in your thick ass skull. you don't really know how to respond, truthfully. lips tugging into a frown and shoulders lifting up and down a little, you take a seat on your bed. the sheets are everywhere, having just woken up.

chris is standing there looking so out of place. he keeps on thinking about that stupid post of you and that guy, forcing himself to try and calm the fuck down. "what, gonna sit there in silence? fuckin' heard me, know y'did. what the hell is goin' on? you've been ignoring me like i have the flu."

the little space is silent, and you kind of hate it. normally, silence comes as a comfort to you. it relaxes your head and makes you much less anxious, but this time it felt uncomfortable. it felt deafening, as you gnaw on your bottom lip until it's started stinging from the constant abuse. "i dunno. i, uh, i got a boyfriend," you shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. because it technically wasn't, you and chris weren't even together.

"oh, alright. whatever, then, so you go n'give me the silent treatment? that's some childish shit n'you know it," he scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest lazily, obviously upset. but why? he was more so upset at you not telling him and forcing him to jerk off into his hand for the past week, than the boyfriend part. he couldn't give a shit if you started dating your best friend.

chris isnt good with feelings. he'll play everything off, ignoring the way his chest burns as you justify what you did. he's barely listening to a word you say, the particular label 'boyfriend' stuck in his head. he couldn't believe someone like you pulled.

"so.. y'know," you've crossed your legs together on the plush mattress of your bed, eyes darting around your littered floor and practically refusing to look chris in the eyes. "sorry. didn't mean to ignore you.." and that's the truth. because chris has stuck with you, while your life turned to practically shit and everyone started becoming someone you couldn't trust. chris just rolls his eyes, scoffing under his breath and starting towards you. he stands in front of you, lip curled in annoyance as he looks you up and down for a second.

"whatever. y'should pay me back for all that lost time though.. so uh," chris' hands are gravitating towards his belt without another second, unsure of how to deal with what he's feeling in his chest every time he hears you mumble the word 'boyfriend' in his mind. it makes him feel sick. he wont ever admit it though.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns @slut4brunettes

©eph3merall 2024

[keferon]

So I had ideas for Mecha Pilot AU while reading some of the things that other people have sent and those ideas turned into this!

Enjoy some Hot Rod shenanigans!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It starts when Hot Rod catches First Aid trying to smuggle a metal sheet out of the base. 

Well, no, it really started when the higher ups said that Jazz, allegedly, stole a half put together experimental mech unit. Which, Hot Rod would like to point out, makes absolutely no sense. Jazz is smart. If he was going to steal a mech, he’d wait until it was completely built and fully functional. No, there was something else going on and it had something to do with those strange upgrades that a few of the mechs got. Jazz had taken one look at them and booked it. 

Then immediately stole a half made mech that was completely covered in the stuff. 

All of this happening after he had been gone for months before mysteriously returning. 

Point is there’s something going on and it started with Jazz.

Presently, it has something to do with First Aid and the hunk of metal he’s carting around. 

The hunk of metal that looks like that strange upgraded plating. 

“Sooo…” Hot Rod says as he looks the other pilot over, “We stealing now?”

“No, I- this is- Vortex is up next for the-.”

“Nah man, you’re fine.” Hot Rod walks over to the back of the cart and places a hand on the metal. “I’m game for whatever we’re doing, I just want to know if we need to be sneaky.”

“It- what? We?”

“Yeah.” Hot Rod smiles and tilts his head to the side, like this was a given. “So, we stealing?”

First Aid gives him a look that’s a cross between befuddlement and scrutiny. It’s one he gets often, but the newer pilot seems well practiced with it. A solid eight out of ten honestly.

“This isn’t for profit.” First Aid says slowly. “And this isn’t for me.”

Hot Rod’s smile takes a slightly more feral edge. “Even better.”

_._._

Apparently Jazz has an alien robot boyfriend and the higher ups were using parts of his body for upgrades. 

Very morbid, but sadly not surprising.

They need to get as much of the original frame as possible back to Ratchet as that would make repairs easier. 

They’ve apparently been getting a lot of the pieces that had already been on other mechs through “collateral damage”.

First Aid had shrugged, “It’s not my fault if an upgraded mech gets between Vortex and a monster.”

The real tricky bits to get were the ones still on base and being tested. Which, for some reason, included an entire oversized thumb.

An oversized thumb he and First Aid are trying to sneak out from under Shockwave’s nose. 

“The rest of the hand was in random parts of the base.” Hot Rod mutters. “Why did the thumb need to be in such a secure area?”

“Complain louder. I don’t think the bugs heard you.” First Aid sasses in a hissed whisper. 

Hot Rod shivers at the reminder of Shockwave’s “helpers”. Knee high robots with four legs and a hexagonal face. They would’ve been cute had their singular yellow eye not reminded him of the eerie visage that is now the scientist's face. Shockwave used them to help in his work but to also keep an eye on his lab and the surrounding hallways. 

“Don’t even go there, Aid. You’ll end up jinxing-.”

His warning is interrupted by a faint skittering from around the next corner. 

“Crap crap crap crap crap crap crap.” Hot Rod looks around frantically before shoving himself, First Aid, and the thumb into the nearest door.

It turns out to be a closet. What kind of closet? Hot Rod doesn’t know and he refuses to find out. While it could be a normal supply closet, he’s not taking the chance that it could also be storage for strange and dubiously ethical experiments. 

So Hot Rod crams himself into the small space while keeping his eyes entirely focused on the door as he closes it. He and First Aid hold their breaths as the skittering of the bug gets louder, comes right in front of their hiding spot, then continues on without pause. 

They both let out sighs of relief and Hot Rod sets his forehead on the door. 

First Aid makes an inquiring hum. “There’s a vent in here. Think the thumb would fit?”

“Oh no.” Hot Rod says, face still against the door. “Do you have any idea how loud that would be? We aren’t dragging a large metal thumb through the metal vents and destroying our hearing with the echoing screeches.”

“Well, what do you propose we do then? Take it out the front door?”

_._._

“That never should have worked.” 

“You should never underestimate the power of looking like you know what you’re doing while carrying a box.”

“That never should have worked.”

Said large and long box holding the alien robot thumb sat innocently in the back seat of Hot Rod’s truck. 

_._._

“We need a movie for Rachet and Drift.”

Ratchet, who is helping Jazz repair Prowl, gives Hot Rod that “befuddled and scrutinizing” look that everyone seems to give him (A definite ten out of ten for Ratchet; truly a professional in giving out looks to others). “What?”

“Well, yeah! We’ve got Ratatouille for Jazz and Prowl. Aid and Vortex got a reverse Ratatouille-.”

“How’d you hear about that?” First Aid demands.

“Tailgate.” Hot Rod answers easily, then turns back to Ratchet to continue his previous thought. “So now we need to think of a movie for you and Drift!”

Ratchet’s eyes narrow in the unspoken promise of bad things to come. “No.”

Hot Rod, being the one who got a mech that catches on fire and made it work, takes Ratchet’s look as a challenge. He snaps his finger and points at the older man “I got it! ‘The Iron Giant’.”

Ratchet scoffs, rolls his eyes, and gets back to working in the alien robot’s arm. 

“What?” Jazz protests, while keeping his main focus on the internals of Prowl’s arm, “Iron Giant? Really? That’s a loose connection at best and you know it.”

“Oh? And do you have something better?” Hot Rod playfully challenges. 

“Dude, ‘Lilo and Stitch’ is right there.”

“How is that any better than mine?”

“Because War Crimes McGee here,” Jazz gestures to an amused looking Drift before getting back to his work, “is a better fit for Stitch than the Iron Giant any day of the week.”

Jazz may have a point, but while Hot Rod’s mom may have raised a fool, she definitely didn’t raise a quitter. 

“So Ratchet here tells Drift all about ohana and kicks off his character arc?”

“Not everything's one to one, Roddy. I’m not using Prowl to become the best chef is Paris. You just don’t want to admit I’m right.”

“I agree with Jazz.” First Aid cuts in. 

Hot Rod gives him a mock glare. “You’re just saying that so you won’t have to agree with me.”

First Aid shrugs. “True, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“Children. The lot of you.” Ratchet grumbles. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

And yeah! Ideas was mostly ‘Hey, they could probably have Vortex get pieces of Prowl back since fights like that are bound to be very chaotic and Vortex would have no hang ups about attacking allies every now and then’

It went further as the idea of Hot Rod and First Aid trying to do spy things and be sneaky but somehow succeeding due to Shenanigans was too funny to pass up XD

Loving this AU so far and all the cool stuff people are making for it!

OMG THE CHILDREN ARE STEALING FROM THE BIG CORPORATION IM SO PROUD OF THEM~~

Also the way all these different plot lines are crossing each other and occasionally coming together is just so cool I love it

Like, yeah we have fucked up horror, we have space drama, we have Lilo and Stitch aaaaand we have option to combine them together. Also now there is Shockwave so all the guys have the "free angst" option I gues ahahah

[cjlouwho]

Rocker and Deacon are out shopping for groceries or whatever and Deacon just subconsciously reaches to hold Rocker's hand or to put his hand on Rocker's waist, while they're talking about something else, and Deacon not letting go even when they bump into someone they know.

Rocker is a little surprised because he remembers how they started off all clandestine and now Deacon is freely showing affection in front of others.

Okay, I saw this and had to write something about it 😩 then it turned into 1000 words! I hope you enjoy!

They've been together, really together, for four months now. No more hiding, no more affair, no more dirty little secret.

Deacon's moved into his own apartment, he's explained everything to the kids, he and Annie are figuring things out through their attorneys.

He and Rocker have even filled out all the proper relationship agreements at work.

All these steps came pretty naturally. They left both Deacon and Rocker feeling more free than they ever had their entire lives. Like a heavy weight had been lifted off of them.

They weren't exactly the most exciting pair. Sure, the sex was incredible, adventurous, sometimes daring, but life was about more than sex.

It was about fixing the broken cabinets in Deacon's apartment, it was dealing with the nightmares Rocker sometimes suffered from, it was making sure they got enough rest to be able to deal with whatever happened at work the next day.

It was figuring out who they were as a couple, all the things they liked and all the things they hated. It was laughing together, fighting together, helping each other, holding each other.

It was dealing with grocery shopping for two households on a Saturday afternoon.

“We should have gotten two carts.”

“You really want to try and maneuver two carts down every aisle through all these people?”

Deacon managed to step out of the way just before a lady could ram him with her cart. He sighed. “No. I just want to be done with this.”

“We just gotta get some breakfast foods for your place and we'll be finished.” He waved Deacon along. “Scoot scoot.”

With an eye roll, he turned and headed for the next aisle, Rocker following behind with the cart.

Deacon grabbed up a box of Fruity Pebbles and placed it on the side that had all his items, stopping with he noticed the look Rocker gave him.

“What?”

“That for you?” Rocker asked.

“Do I look like a Fruity Pebbles kinda guy to you?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

Deacon glared at him. “They're for the kids, Donovan. It's their favorite.”

Rocker shook his head, pushing the cart forward to get out of another man's way.

“What? What is that?” Deacon asked. “Why are you shaking your head?”

“They don't like Fruity Pebbles anymore.”

“Yes they do.”

“No they don't.”

“Yes, they- How would you know?”

“The last time they came over,” Rocker explained, “Lila mentioned that Samuel threw up Fruity Pebbles in the car and now none of the kids can handle the smell.”

Deacon picked up the box. “No Fruity Pebbles then,” he said, placing it back on the shelf. After letting three people pass between them, he moved back over to Rocker's side.

“Should I be offended that you know my children better than I do?” he questioned, wrapping an arm around Rocker's waist as they continued down the aisle.

Rocker smiled. “Well, technically you were in the shower when they told me, so...”

“Oh, the truth comes out,” Deacon said with a laugh. “You were just gonna let me think I should know this information?”

Rocker shrugged as they turned the corner. “It's fun to see you squirm sometimes.”

“Oh, you're gonna be doing some sq-”

“David!”

A woman's voice had Rocker and Deacon turning their heads to the side.

“Mrs. Chase!” Deacon greeted, smiling brightly at the older woman. “Good to see you!”

“You too. Busy day in here today, isn't it?”

“That's what we were saying,” Deacon answered, giving Rocker a pat on his side before resting his hand back on the same spot.

It was a little thing, and Rocker knew he should be used to it by now, but he wasn't. They'd spent over a year hiding. Making sure no one saw a touch, a glance, heard an unprofessional word. They'd once driven an hour out of town to go out to dinner somewhere that they knew no one would know them. And even then, Deacon had to be sitting so he could face the entire restaurant, just in case someone were to enter that he recognized.

Now though, with this woman that Deacon knew but Rocker had never seen before, his hand remained just above his hip.

“Mrs. Chase, this is my boyfriend, Donovan Rocker,” Deacon introduced. “He goes by Rocker though.”

And damn, that still felt new too.

Boyfriend.

Not acquaintance.

Not co-worker.

Not friend.

Boyfriend.

It might seem a little juvenile to some, using the word boyfriend when the two of them were in their forties and fifties, but in their line of work “partner” could mean many things. So, boyfriend it was.

Deacon gave Rocker's waist a little squeeze, “Donny, this is Mrs. Chase from my old church. Makes the best pies in the world.”

Rocker smiled, reaching out to give her hand a shake. “Nice to meet you, Ma'am, I've actually heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, my,” she replied with a little giggle, shaking his hand as a blush rose on her cheeks. “You're very handsome.”

“You're very sweet.”

She looked over at Deacon once she let go of Rocker's hand. “A lot of us have missed you at church, David.”

“I miss some of you guys too, it's just... that's Annie's place to go now. It wouldn't be fair to her.”

He left out the part of the news spreading like wildfire as soon as he and Annie filed for divorce. How the rumors had gotten so bad that the priest had called and asked him to not return. It wasn't like he was going to anyway, but that definitely put the final nail in the coffin.

Mrs. Chase nodded, her facial expression remaining soft, nonjudgmental. “Well, you have my number still, don't you?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good. Use it. Call me soon and I'll bring you a couple of my pies.” She looked back at Rocker. “You like cherry?”

“Love it.”

“Good. I better get going. It was good seeing you, David, and nice meeting you, Rocker.”

After saying their goodbye's, they started down the next aisle.

Using one hand to steer the cart, Rocker wrapped the other around Deacon's shoulder, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Can we get out of here now?” Deacon asked, gripping onto Rocker's shirt with his hand as they passed a group of very loud tourists.

“Breakfast foods,” Rocker reminded him.

Deacon dropped his head down. “Damn it.”

[bisexualmikisayaka]

if we go by the theory that some number of the people who come to fromville are reincarnations of the original townspeople who are destined to come back again and again until the children are saved (jade, tabitha) and others are basically unlucky bystanders in their current life who get trapped with them (jim) then let’s think about other characters. namely, i agree with the theory that abby was maybe someone who was reincarnated. it’s implied she dreamed of the town when she was a child, and what was her final act? she was about to kill her son, believing she was doing the right thing (an echo of the event that kicked all of this off, something that would have ensured everyone was doomed until the next cycle because no one is free until the children are saved) but she couldn’t. because boyd, someone outside of the cycle, stopped her.

i’m quite enamored with boyd as a character who fights desperately against fate. he is adamant about how he refuses to be broken by the town, and although he knows some things like his Parkinson’s are inevitable, others he feels compelled to change. but the thing is, if my theory holds, he never should have been there at all. he was a total rando who got sucked up into this cycle of death and reincarnation and horror but he started to make things different. he made a difference in people’s lives, and most significantly, he stopped the story from repeating itself. what if jade and tabitha need someone like him to truly end the cycle - someone who was never involved in the first place but tries so fucking hard now that he’s a genuine threat to whatever controls fromville? i mean, why else would this place try so hard to break him if he didn’t pose a danger to the evil there? sure, it’s a very petty evil, who likes a cheap shot, and he did directly challenge them. but i think boyd needs to find tabitha and jade asap because i really believe he might be the key they’ve been missing in each round

[jeonsblackgf-writes]

Brat Tamer | JJ Maybank

summary: You underestimate JJ when it comes to sex

pairing: JJ Maybank x black!readee

word count: 7,942

warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f), face slapping, rough sex

AN: I’m high yall so when I started writing i literally could not stop .. and now here we are! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

________________

The summer heat was stifling, heavy enough to make tempers flare. But you didn’t sweat—ever. Not physically, not metaphorically. It didn’t matter if it was the middle of July in the Outer Banks or someone testing your patience—you stayed cool.

Today was no exception. You sat at your usual table on The Wreck’s patio, long legs crossed and nails tapping against your lemonade glass. Freshly manicured, your nails caught the sunlight in a way that was impossible to ignore. The poor waiter had already tried twice to get your drink order right, but still, the lemonade didn’t taste like what you asked for.

“Listen, baby,” you said, your voice syrupy-sweet but laced with edge. “How hard is it to add strawberries? I know y’all got ‘em. I can see them behind the counter.”

The boy stammered something about checking again, and you waved him off, exhaling in annoyance. “Can’t find good help no more,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair.

Across the patio, JJ Maybank lounged in his seat, sunglasses sliding down his nose as he tilted his head to watch you. He wasn’t subtle. That amused grin tugging at his lips wasn’t, either.

“She’s somethin’ else,” JJ said, low enough for only Pope to hear.

You caught him staring, though. You always caught them staring. But JJ didn’t look away like most people did when you locked eyes with them. No, he leaned into it, smirking like he knew something about you that you didn’t.

You let it slide for now, but when the waiter returned with your drink, still wrong, your patience hit zero. “You know what?” you said, voice sharp as the click of your heels as you stood. “Forget it. I’ll make it myself.”

You stalked toward the bar, every step calculated, hips swaying just enough to make sure everyone knew you were somebody. On your way, though, you couldn’t resist stopping at JJ’s table, your shadow falling across him.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say, or are you just gon’ keep gawkin’ like a lost puppy?” Your words were pointed, but your tone was teasing, a challenge wrapped in silk.

JJ slid his sunglasses off, eyes a piercing blue that raked over you slowly, boldly. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to bite first.”

That made you pause. You leaned closer, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne and whatever mischief was brewing in those eyes of his. “Boy, you couldn’t handle it if I did.”

“Try me,” he said, voice dropping just enough to make your stomach tighten.

You studied him for a beat longer than you meant to, then tilted your head, a slow smirk spreading across your lips. “Cute,” you said, straightening and taking a step back. “But I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ chuckled, low and gravelly, as you walked away. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

You didn’t stop, but you tossed a look over your shoulder, the curve of your smile enough to keep him hooked. “Don’t hold your breath, Maybank.”

But as you made your way behind the bar, the heat wasn’t just from the summer sun anymore.

The sun was setting now, casting the Outer Banks in golden light, but JJ Maybank wasn’t about to let you go that easily. Something about the way you dismissed him—like he wasn’t worth your time—lit a fire in him.

You weren’t his usual type. You were high maintenance, all diamonds and designer sandals. The kind of girl who expected the world handed to her on a platter. But damn, if you weren’t intriguing. Sharp tongue, sharp wit, and sharp enough to cut through his charm like a knife.

He stood up from his table, sliding his hands into his pockets as he watched you behind the bar, instructing the staff like you were running the place. Maybe you were. He wouldn’t put it past you.

When you turned, you spotted him leaning against the bar, watching. You rolled your eyes. “What now, Maybank?”

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer. “Figured you were too busy bossin’ everyone around.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” you shot back, resting your forearms on the counter. You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without a shred of hesitation. “Now, you followin’ me, or you just lost?”

JJ leaned in, closing the distance between you until your faces were inches apart. His voice dropped low, just for you. “Maybe I’m both.”

You blinked, your composure slipping for half a second before you masked it with a scoff. “Cute. But if you’re lookin’ for a handout, you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

He smirked, catching the faint crack in your facade. “Who said anything about a handout? Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“You? A challenge?” You laughed, leaning back, but your pulse betrayed you. He was too close, his presence electric, and you hated that it was working. “Boy, please.”

JJ’s eyes traveled down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, princess. But you’re the one still talkin’ to me.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but nothing came out. He had you, just for a second, and he knew it. That smirk widened, lazy and confident.

Before you could regain the upper hand, JJ stepped back, breaking the tension just enough to leave you wanting more. “Enjoy your drink,” he said, turning on his heel and sauntering away, his swagger as cocky as ever.

You stayed where you were, blinking, wondering how the hell you let him get the last word. But as you watched him disappear into the crowd, you felt it—that little spark of curiosity burning hotter than you wanted to admit.

JJ Maybank had your attention, and that was dangerous. For both of you.

The night rolled in, and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around The Wreck gave the place a dreamy vibe. You stayed longer than you planned, sitting at your table and letting the warm breeze dance over your skin. If you were honest with yourself, you were waiting.

Waiting to see if JJ Maybank had the audacity to come back.

You didn’t have to wait long.

“Thought you might still be here,” his voice drawled from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder, arching a brow. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, his T-shirt clinging to him in all the right ways, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of trouble.

“And what if I am?” you asked, turning back to your drink and swirling the straw lazily.

JJ took it as an invitation, sliding into the seat across from you like he owned it. “Figured you’d want some company. Can’t be easy keepin’ up that mean girl act all by yourself.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Oh, trust, I’m not actin’.”

“That so?” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The way he looked at you wasn’t casual. It was deliberate, like he was daring you to react. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it.

“You must be real bored,” you said, leaning back and crossing your legs. “Or just desperate. I can’t decide which one’s worse.”

JJ chuckled, low and rough. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

“‘Bout what?”

“‘Bout you,” he said simply. “You act like you got it all figured out, but I think you like pushin’ people away just to see who’s stupid enough to stick around.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you leaned in, lowering your voice. “And you think you’re stupid enough?”

He smirked, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze again. “I think I can handle you.”

“Boy I’ll break you,” you scoffed, laughing softly. “You couldn’t handle half of me.”

“I dunno,” he said, his voice dropping, rougher now. “You seem like the kind of girl who likes seein’ people try.”

You stared at him, your stomach flipping in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t wrong. You liked the game, liked the power it gave you. But this wasn’t just any guy trying to impress you. JJ was playing your game and flipping the rules, making you wonder if you could keep up.

Before you could respond, he reached across the table, brushing his fingers against the back of your hand. It wasn’t much, just a light touch, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t pull your hand away. You didn’t say anything. But the heat between you was undeniable, sparking in the space neither of you dared to cross just yet.

“Good,” JJ said after a beat, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Means I’m gettin’ somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching your hand away and shaking your head. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But you didn’t leave. Neither did he. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over.

The tension hung heavy between you and JJ, crackling like a live wire. You told yourself you were just bored, letting him hang around for entertainment. But deep down, you knew better.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk firmly in place as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And maybe he did.

“So, what’s your deal, princess?” JJ asked, breaking the silence.

“My deal?” You arched a brow, stirring your drink as if you weren’t fazed. “What’s yours? What’s a Pogue like you doing sniffin’ around Figure Eight?”

He grinned, the kind of grin that said he didn’t care what you thought of him. “Maybe I just like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you don’t know when you’re out of your depth,” you shot back, tilting your head.

JJ chuckled, leaning forward again. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I think you like that about me. You’re used to all those Kook boys doing whatever you say. Bet you don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t play by your rules.”

You stared at him, your lips pressing into a line. He wasn’t wrong, but you’d never admit that. Instead, you let a slow, teasing smile curve your lips. “And you think you’re that someone?”

He held your gaze, his blue eyes piercing. “I know I am.”

The confidence in his voice made your stomach flip. You leaned closer, your faces inches apart now, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Boy, I could ruin you without even trying.”

“Do it,” he said, the challenge thick in his tone. “I dare you.”

The air between you felt suffocating, your heart pounding so loud you swore he could hear it. His eyes flicked down to your lips, and for a split second, you wondered what it would feel like. You were a different breed, JJ would have his dick tucked, crying back to his friends if you got a hold of him

You could feel the heat between you intensify, like everything around you faded out, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. His gaze flicked down to your lips again, and you caught your breath, heart pounding as the words left your lips before you could stop them.

“Don’t tempt me, Maybank,” you murmured, the edge of your voice betraying the control you were trying to hold onto.

JJ’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it only deepened. “Then maybe you need to be reminded of how good it feels when someone calls your bluff. Maybe those kook boys don’t fuck you good enough, but me? I’ll fuck you just right.”

Your hand twitched, the urge to push him away—or pull him closer—fighting for dominance. But you stayed still, your breath shallow as you stared at him, a slow burn crawling beneath your skin. The space between you seemed to close with each passing second, and you fought the impulse to give in. To give him what he wanted.

He leaned forward, so close now that his breath was warm against your cheek. “I know you feel it, too. That thing between us. Don’t act like you don’t.”

You took a slow breath, the sharpness in your tone returning as you shoved the fire creeping up in your chest down. “You’re right,” you said, voice quieter now. “I feel it. But don’t get it twisted, Maybank. This little game of yours? It’s gonna cost you.”

JJ’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and something darker. He leaned in just a little more, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’m counting on it, princess.”

You froze. The tension was unbearable now, and for the first time, you felt that little bit of control slipping. But you weren’t about to let him see that. Not yet.

You pulled back quickly, putting a few inches of space between you, eyes narrowing as you gave him a look that said you wouldn’t back down. “You talk a big game, but can you actually keep up?”

JJ’s smirk never wavered, the cocky confidence radiating from him. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He stood up, slowly, never taking his eyes off you. “I’ll see you around, princess.”

As he walked away, you watched him, heart pounding in your chest, a mix of frustration and desire swirling inside you. The game was only just beginning, and you weren’t sure who would end up winning. But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were you.

The days that followed were a blur of half-hearted attempts to focus on anything else. You were used to getting what you wanted, on your terms. But ever since JJ Maybank had come into your life, it was like everything shifted just a little. He was everywhere. The way he looked at you, the way he challenged you—it made your head spin.

You weren’t used to this.

It was a warm afternoon when you found yourself back at The Wreck, seated at your usual spot with a drink in hand, waiting for your friends. You told yourself you were just there for a good time, not to see if JJ would show up again. But as the minutes ticked by, you found your eyes wandering to the front door with the hope that he’d walk through it.

And, of course, he did.

JJ strolled in with that same lazy swagger, looking like he’d just stepped out of a beachside magazine shoot. He scanned the room, and for a second, his eyes locked onto yours. You narrowed your eyes at him, giving him the cold shoulder, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

But you couldn’t ignore the way his lips twitched when he saw you.

Without breaking eye contact, he made his way over to your table, sliding into the seat across from you without asking. His grin was cocky as ever. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back in your chair. “And what? You think I’m just gonna follow you around now?”

“I think you can’t stay away,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping a little lower. “I think you like the game. And you’re not ready to let me win yet.”

You huffed, trying to mask the little flutter in your chest. “Keep dreamin’, Maybank.”

But he didn’t back off. Instead, his gaze slid over you, slowly, deliberately, making your pulse quicken. He was testing you, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you.

“I’m not dreamin’, princess,” he said softly, his voice almost too low for anyone else to hear. “I’m just enjoyin’ the view.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt your cheeks flush, but you kept your face neutral, refusing to give him any indication that his words had landed. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips curving into a playful smirk.

“Is that so? You sure you’re not just tryin’ to get under my skin?”

JJ’s smirk widened, and for the briefest moment, you saw something more in his eyes—a flicker of something deeper. But it was gone before you could name it. He leaned in, mirroring your posture, his face only inches from yours.

“I think it’s working,” he said, voice thick with something dangerous. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t feel it.”

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

JJ’s gaze flicked to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You don’t have to admit it, princess. But I know you’re just as interested as I am.”

You stood quickly, your chair scraping back as you leaned over the table, the distance between you vanishing in an instant. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Maybank.”

His smile didn’t falter. He leaned forward just enough to close the gap, his lips barely brushing against your ear as he spoke. “Maybe I’m just waitin’ for you to show me, then.”

The electric tension that shot through your body in that moment was undeniable. Your heart raced, pulse throbbing in your ears. You hated how much you wanted him—how much you wanted to break and let him win.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pulled away, your composure returning as you straightened up. “Nice try, but I don’t do charity cases.”

JJ laughed low and easy, sitting back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you. “We’ll see about that, princess.”

You walked away, but this time, you didn’t feel the relief you usually did. You knew something had shifted, and you couldn’t deny the pull toward him any longer.

And, somehow, you didn’t want to.

It was getting harder to ignore the pull, the way JJ seemed to be everywhere you went, always so damn close. The chemistry was undeniable, and every interaction felt like an unspoken dare. But the game was far from over. You weren’t about to let him think he had you figured out just yet.

But you also couldn’t help the way your body responded when he was near. Every time he got close, you could feel it—this electric charge between you that made it hard to breathe. You didn’t know whether to run or lean in, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy for him.

It was late one evening when you finally cracked.

The Wreck was quieter than usual, the late-night crowd thinned out, leaving the place with a calm, almost intimate atmosphere. You were sitting at the bar, swirling your drink in your hands, letting your thoughts drift. That’s when you felt the familiar presence.

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was JJ. You could feel him, his eyes on you, drawing you in even from across the room.

“Couldn’t stay away?” he asked, his voice smooth, almost too confident.

You looked up at him, keeping your expression neutral. “What do you want, Maybank?”

He slid onto the stool next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his body radiating into yours. “I told you, I’m just curious. Still don’t think you can handle it?” His tone was teasing, but there was something else lurking beneath it—something darker.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the temptation to let your guard down almost overwhelming. “I’m sure you don’t know the meaning of the word ‘handle,’” you shot back, though your words were laced with more heat than you cared to admit.

“Think I don’t?” He leaned in closer, his voice lowering, sending a shiver through you. “I can handle you. I think that’s exactly why you keep tryin’ to push me away.”

You looked at him, eyes locking. The intensity between you was suffocating, the kind of tension that had been building between you for days now. There was no going back.

Without thinking, you slid off your stool, standing right in front of him, so close you could feel the heat from his body envelop you. “Don’t try to act like you know me, JJ,” you said, voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “You couldn’t handle a girl like me.”

His eyes darkened, lips parting slightly as he leaned in, not giving you any space to escape. “I think I could.” His voice was a growl, a soft challenge hanging in the air between you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you almost couldn’t breathe. The way he was looking at you, the way his body was just inches from yours—it was too much, and yet, you wanted more.

He reached for your wrist, gently pulling you closer. You could feel the calloused warmth of his hand against your skin, a contrast to the softness of your own. “I’m not some Kook who’s gonna back down,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “I’ll push you until you can’t stand it. Until you beg for mercy.” He licked your ear.

You swallowed, your chest rising and falling with each breath, your heart a wild mess in your chest. You wanted to fight him, wanted to say something, anything, to push him away. But it was hard to find the words when everything in you screamed to just give in.

Instead, you pushed him back, just slightly, your voice barely a whisper. “You better be ready for the consequences.”

JJ’s lips curled into that familiar smirk, the one that said he was already three steps ahead. “I’m counting on it.”

Without another word, he let you go, standing up slowly and walking toward the door, leaving you breathless in his wake.

You stood there for a long moment, struggling to collect yourself. But something inside you knew you weren’t done with him. Neither of you were. The line had been crossed.

And you both knew there was no going back.

It had been weeks since that night, and the tension between you and JJ hadn’t let up. If anything, it had only grown. There were still moments when you’d catch him looking at you with that cocky grin, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there were moments when he’d be all too serious, like he was trying to figure you out.

But tonight? Tonight was different.

Your friends had dragged you out to a house party on the outskirts of the Outer Banks. The house was packed with Kooks and Pogues, loud music blaring from the speakers, people laughing and dancing like the world didn’t exist beyond this moment. You told yourself you were just here for the fun, to forget about everything else for a while. But you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

JJ Maybank was the last person you wanted to see tonight. And the first person you were hoping would show up.

You had been making your way through the crowd when you saw him—standing in the corner, drink in hand, with that same lazy confidence he wore like armor. His hair was slightly damp from the heat of the room, his shirt clinging to his chest, and that smirk? It was there, as if he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.

You paused, watching him for a beat. It was almost like he was waiting for you to come to him.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction. Not yet.

Instead, you found your friends and tried to lose yourself in the chaos, but it didn’t take long before JJ was on your radar again. You could feel his eyes on you, and every time you turned around, he was closer, moving through the crowd like he owned the place.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had been avoiding him long enough.

“Hey, princess,” JJ’s voice was low and smooth, right behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, almost too quickly, your eyes locking with his. “What do you want, Maybank?” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his gaze slid over you made your chest tighten.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was something else in it—something deeper. “But I think I already know the answer.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s that?”

JJ grinned, stepping closer, his body just a few inches away from yours now. The air between you was thick with tension, like a magnet pulling you toward him whether you liked it or not. “You’re thinking about me.” His eyes dropped to your lips, just for a second, before meeting your gaze again. “Aren’t you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you hated that it was so obvious. But you weren’t going to let him win so easily. “Not as much as you think, Maybank,” you said, though your voice was a little less convincing than you intended.

JJ chuckled, a sound that made your stomach tighten. “You keep lying to yourself, princess. But you can’t lie to me.”

You tried to step back, but JJ’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist gently. “You don’t have to fight it anymore. I know you want this.”

The feel of his hand on your skin was like fire, and the tension that had been building for weeks came crashing down in an instant. You stood there, staring at him, your pulse racing.

“I don’t have to fight anything, Maybank,” you whispered, leaning in just enough so your lips were barely brushing his. “But don’t think you’ve won yet.”

JJ’s smirk grew, and for a second, it was almost too much to handle. He leaned in, lips grazing your ear as he whispered, “Oh, princess. We both know I’ve already won. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

You should’ve pushed him away. You should’ve said something—anything—to end this before it went too far. But you didn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your body betraying you once again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “I think we both need a little privacy.”

The offer was tempting, too tempting. You knew the consequences, knew where this could go. But at that moment, you didn’t care. You weren’t ready to stop, not yet.

Without saying another word, you let him lead you through the crowd and upstairs, your hands brushing against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

JJ had this way of making everything else disappear, and the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hand in yours, the pull between you two undeniable.

As you stepped inside a random room, the cool night air from an open window hit you, but you didn’t feel cold—not with him so close.

He turned to you, his hand sliding to your waist, pulling you closer. His eyes locked with yours, the playful smirk replaced by something more intense, more real. “You’re not gonna regret this,” he murmured.

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and every inch of you screamed to step back. But all you could do was nod, your voice barely a whisper. “I already am.”

JJ’s lips curled into a grin, and without another word, he kissed you.

The kiss was all fire—fierce, hungry, and urgent. You could feel everything in that moment: the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands roamed, pulling you even closer. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but your body didn’t care.

“JJ..” you whispered, as his hand urgently went all over your body, tilting you head back as he started to place wet, open mouth kisses on your neck.

“I know baby…I know.” He whispered, as he started to take your clothes off one by one.

Wanting to have control, you pushed him onto the bed, a grunt escaping his lips as he watched you run your manicured hands along his thighs, that siren look in your eyes, making him wait to cum in that moment. Without another word, you bit onto your lip, as you watched yourself zip his pants down, him helping you get him out of his jeans, leaving him only in his drawers.

“Remember when I said you couldn’t handle me?” You asked him, seductively. JJ gave you a small chuckle and nodded his head. You hummed, looking at him as you stuck your tongue out, running it along the outside of his plaid boxers, a moan falling from his lips as his back fell onto the bed. You licked again, this time slower, and harder.

“Jesus..do something.” he groaned, looking at you again as you kept licking the base of his dick in a teasing manner. The music from the party was still going loud so if anywhere were to hear you, they would be listening to damn hard.

“What do you want me to do baby? Talk to me.” You spoke, pulling his dick out from the pee hole. It was red, very red, and pre-cum was leaking from the tip so you did what any girl would do and licked the pre cum from his dick before taking his entire tip into your mouth, making sure that your mouth was wet, before abruptly stopping, JJ’s eyes popping open, almost scowling at you.

“What happened to you putting me in my place? Guess you just like every other kook den huh white boy.” You teased, giving his tip another soft lick.

Your words must’ve ignited something inside him, because he immediately reached forward and gripped your neck, catching you off guard. It wasn’t enough to kill you but enough to stop a little air flow. He leaned close, until your lips were barely touching.

“I’ve tried to play by your stupid ass rules. You’re gonna see why those kook idiots could never handle a girl like you like I can.”

You were suddenly thrown on the bed, JJ growling in the process. He immediately started to discard your clothes, not wasting any more time and not giving you a second to say a thing. He looked at your underwear and smirked.

“Matching set huh? How’d you know my favorite color pretty girl?” He asked, leaning down to rub his hands along your neck, wrapping both his hands around it before running them along your chest slowly, feeling it ride up and down quickly as he continued to move down to your breasts. He smiled at you before opening your legs and getting in between them properly. He continued to rub, going along your sides and your stomach, truly admiring your soft brown skin, before stopping right where he wanted to. The party on the other side was long forgotten.

“That’s a coincidence. You ain’t nobody special boo.” You retorted, despite the vulnerable position. You mouth would never let up, and he knew that.

JJ smiled, almost as if he were taking you for a joke, as he started to pull your underwear off. “Okay baby.”

With your panties gone, he finally got a chance to get a good look at what he had been thinking about so much. It was like watching a kid get his favorite toy. Your pretty legs were wide and welcoming, your pussy leaking, almost as if it were fucking fake.

He was in awe, he had never seen anything so pretty. Not only were you fucking soaking, you had a fat fucking pussy, a fucking perfect, and he would’ve came in his pants right then and there if he didn’t wanna eat you so bad.

He took one long sniff and moaned loud, almost catching you off guard. Nobody had ever done that.

“You smell so fucking good mama , can’t wait to eat you til you cry…” He whispered, placing open mouth kisses on your plump thighs, holding a tight grip on them. He licked the space between your right thigh and your pussy, causing you to gasp and bite your lip “You talked so much shit I swear to god I’m gonna make you regret agreeing to let me have you.”

Part of you was scared of that statement, not knowing what he truly meant, but you knew you were about to find out.

“Such a pretty pussy..” He whispered against your lips, slurping and sucking on your clit until he pulled it into his mouth and let it go. You let out a loud whine as your back arched against the bed, trying to close your legs from the immense pleasure but JJ growled and snapped your legs firmly back in place, watching your facial expression as he sucked your clit harder, shaking his head into your sopping wet folds.

“What were you saying? About me not being able to handle you?” He asked against your lips. Before you could answer, he placed his lips back on your clit, sucking harder and harder until you were pushing his head off you, not like he’ll let you. As his sucking continued, he added two fingers into your pussy, slowly fingering you as he watched you unfold. His mission was to make you come at least two times. That way, you never stop wanting more.

JJ flattened his tongue on your clit, and set rubbing circles, using his tongue, enjoying the feeling of your clit throbbing against him. You moaned, almost too loudly, pushing his head into your waxed pussy.

“Fuck yourself on daddy’s tongue. Give me that nut baby.” He rasped, allowing you to move your hips against his mouth, letting you use him any way you wanted. He was eating your pussy better than any guy you had come across.

“Fuckkkkkk JJ, Im gonna come.” You cried, gasping loudly as he sucked your clit harder. Your vision going white as you came, not realizing the liquid that came out of you. When you came down, youopened your eyes to see JJ looking at you like you were a prized possession.

“I just made you squirt…”

You widened your eyes, but before you could say anything, his mouth was back on you for the second time and you almost choked on your moan from how sensitive you were, but he didn’t care. He had a point to prove.

JJ slide two fingers into you, and started fingering you hard, and fast. Not caring about how loud you were, JJ watched as you continued to let out the most beautiful moans he had ever heard, and he wanted to heard more. He moved up to your mouth, placing his lips on yours but not giving you a full kiss. His ego got bigger as he watched your eyes twitch before they rolled in the back of your head.

“Hey hey..eyes on me or I’ll stop. I need two more baby, two more and I’ll think about taking it easy on you.” He whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, his lips finally found yours. You pulled your top down, pinching and playing with your breasts as you kissed him

He swallowed your moans, his fingers never letting up as you unraveled even more. He knew you were still sensitive, but you were so adamant and couldn’t stop running your mouth. It was his mission to give you what you been asking for. He tilted his head, pushing his tongue into your mouth, letting you suck on it before pulling it away, biting your bottom lip and letting it go. You were drunk off him and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped your face in his hands, squeezing your jaw to open it as he spat a big glob on spit into your mouth, smiling as he watched you swallow it and smile at him with your tongue out. You were a fucking freak. And he was going to take advantage of every minute of it.

JJ pulled away, but kept fingering you as he looked you in your face, watching even facial expression you make.

“Gimme another one, Gush on my fingers baby, I need it.” He whispered, fingering you harder, watching you writhe under him. He leaned down and took one of you nipples into his mouth, sucking and biting on the brown nub until you were a whining mess under him. He smiled against you.

“You talk all that bullshit, but look at you. A bitch for my fingers. A pogue. Wonder what your friends would think if they saw you.” He teased, slowly moving his fingers, his thumb rubbing at your clit harshly.

You smirked slowly, “What I do ain’t nobody business but mine, welcome to the roster big daddy.” You whispered, almost like a moan,

The way you were reacting to him made him want to do unimaginable things to you. He knew he had to really give it to you. You had too much mouth, never had anyone to put you in your fucking place. Tonight that changes, and JJ could give a fuck if anybody hears.

“Keep talking to me like that. It just makes me more eager to fuck you up mama. After I’m done with you, there won’t be a roster.” He replied, pinching your nipple, making you squeak.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of your pussy and shoved them in your mouth, making you suck them. You moaned, silently thanking yourself for your good hygiene. Your tongue moved slowly in between his fingers, moving from one finger to suck, and then the next, making sure you stick your tongue out to lick up his finger slowly as he watched you, biting his lip.

“You’re a fucking slut.” He laughed, pulling his fingers away and pushing you back on the bed. “But i’m not done with you.”

JJ’s then went back to your pussy, slurping on your juices as loud as he could as you shook under his touch, hold his head with both your hands as you thrusted into his mouth, biting your lip. He moaned against you, letting you use him as your thrusts started to get rougher.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkk, I’m gonna fucking cum.” You cried, your face scrunched up in pleasure, using the same hand to hold him close to push him back, but he grabbed both hands and did his face in deeper, as you screamed, squirting on his dick.

“Stop running, or i’ll fuck you until you pass out.” He growled, before moving your legs up high, “Hold your legs up.”

You did as told, watch as he went from your pussy to your ass, suck on the rim. You gasped, from both pleasure and shock, watching as he went to town on your asshole, using his tongue to push past your rim, fucking your rim slowly. With you holding your legs up, rubbed your clit with one hand and pushed four fingers into your pussy with the other, thrusting aggressively

“Tell me how good i’m making you feel or i’ll stop right now and leave you right here.” He growled, sucking at the puckered hole, his hands still moving. Before you could say anything, you let out a loud gasped as you arched your back off the bed, squirting around JJ’s hands. Your legs shook violently as you came.

“Guess that said enough.” He laughed. “Suck my dick and I’ll think about giving you some dick mama.”

You said nothing, as you sat up and got in front of the bed, letting JJ move back to give you some space. You got on your knees and began rubbing his thighs, looking up at him with a drunk smile as he ran his hand across your cheek, before trialing up to your braids and gripping them hard. He used his other hand to hold his dick and guide it to your mouth, not giving you a chance to adjust to the size and length of his dick before he started thrusting into your mouth, Luckily for you, you give extremely good head, and adjusted quick, getting your mouth wet as he trusted in and out harshly. You wrapped your lips around his dick, watching as he hung his mouth open and let out a loud groan before taking his lip into his mouth and looking down at you as you looked up at him, tears in your eyes. It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

JJ gripped your hair with both hands now, thrusting even harder into your mouth until he couldn’t reach anymore, smirking as he watched you take his rough he was being. Your eyes looking up at him was the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He was looking foward to ruining you.

Before JJ could come, he pulled you off of him, leaning down to pick you up, and throw you right back on the bed, and turning you around on your hands and knees. He pushed down the middle of your back to deepen your arch, your ass perfectly in front of him. He moaned, giving your ass a loud smack causing you to gasp, before leaning down to kiss the area he hit.

“Read to get your life fucked up?” He asked, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You scoffed, wiping his kiss off.

“Fuck me, or don’t. Either way I’ll get fucked.” You shrugged, wanting to rile him up. JJ must’ve caught, because his face turned dark and before you knew it he was thrusting into you from behind, having a harsh grip on your hips, one that’ll probably bruise later. His head tipped back as he roughly fucked you from behind, using one hand to grab you by your back and pull you to him, his thrusts powerful and firm. A moan coming ron you ever thrust.

“Imagine…dick like this every day for the rest of your life.” He moaned, using both his hands to hold into your breasts, your whines becoming louder as you feel yourself about to come again. “Shit it’s so fucking good, i’m gonna fuck you up over … and over .. and over…”

You moaned at his words, as he pushed you back down, your face in the pillows as his foot was now on top of your head, angling your body so he could thrust deeper. His thrusts were ruthless, not letting up on you at all. You almost felt dizzy, but you couldn’t tap out…now now, he just started fucking you.

But it was so good, You grabbed onto his ankle of his foot that he planted on your head and started aggressively throwing your ass back, catching him off guard, his hands now on his own hips as he watched you do the work, sounds of smack and squelching along with your combined moaned filled the room.

“Jesus fuck, slow down.” He gasped, his head tilted back but you didn’t listen, in fact, you went harder, loving the small whimper that just escaped him.

JJ was in bliss, he smiled into the ceiling as he felt your ass crash back into his pelvis again and again. He rubbed his hands slowly up and down your back, loving the feeling of you gripping the shit out of his dick. He quickly pulled out of you, turning you on your back and immediately thrusted into you, leaning down on you, grabbing your neck with both hands and pounding you into the mattress until you kept tapping him, officially tapping out but that didn’t stop him, he smiled. He took one of his hands and slapped you across the face before placing it back on the side of your neck, spitting in your mouth.

“Nobody could ever fuck you like this. Fuckkkkkk.”

“Perfect fucking pussy. That dick feel good baby? Hm?.” He groaned, grabbing his phone from the nightstand before propping it up on the lamp right across from you and pressing record, and ramming his dick into you at a unforgiving pace, causing you to choke on your moan, your cream creating a white circle around his dick.

“Tell the camera who’s making you feel good.” He demanded, forcing you to look at the camera. You finally got a look at yourself, your braids were kinda frizzy, and your eyes were low and tearful as you tried your best to take what he was giving you.

“It’s yours, daddy. It’s all yours.” You cried, feeling yourself sauirt once again tonight, your legs shaking drastically. You cried against him as you came again. JJ smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. Never in your life have you submitted to a man…ever. It felt foreign, but good at the same time.

“Good job baby.” He praised, allowing you to come down from your high. “Too bad I didn’t come yet.”

Your body went limp as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, turning the lower half of your body to the side, before lining his dick up with your pussy and thrusting harshly before pulling out and doing it again. You slowly started to slide up away from him, your pussy too sore to keep going. JJ growled and yanked you back down before pounding into your pussy, grabbing your hip and your thigh as he punished you.

“Stop *thrust* fucking *thrust* running.” He snapped, in between thrusts, using one hand to slap harshly at your face before stuffing his fingers in your mouth.

“I want everybody to hear you. I want every man whose ever fucked your to hear you.” He moaned, grabbed the phone from the night stand and turning the camera to face you.

You were ethereal, your eyes big and glossy, lips puffy and raw from the kissing and biting. You had hit marks and buckles littered across your collar bone and neck. A true masterpiece. JJ smirked at the thought.

Your walls began squeezing around JJ, prompting him to want to nut faster. He leaned down, face to face, moaning against your check as his breathe hit the side of your face. JJ’s moana and groans were getting louder, more rough. Him pumping his dick into made you moan loud, the way he touched you, sucked you. You just might drop all your other hoes.

“G-god I’m gonna cum all in your fucking pussy. Gonna fill you up so fucking good mama.” He could feel his orgasm coming as he watched your face etched in pleasure. JJ bit his lip, tilting his head back and he thrusted harder into you, chasing his own orgasm, the bed hitting the wall with every thrust.

“W-wait JJ- I’m not on birth control.” You gasped, clenching around him. He hummed.

“Guess we’ll be busy for the next 9 months.”

JJ thrusted into you one hard time before letting himself go inside you, moaning as he looked down at where you were connected and kept thrusting slowly, fucking his cum back into you as much as he could. When he was finished, he pulled out of you, laughing at your fucked out, cock drunk state.

Your body was limp, only thing moving being your chest because of how hard you were breathing. Your eyes towards the ceiling, not sparing JJ a glance as he looked at you lovingly.

“Hope you know this means your mine now pretty girl.”

You couldn’t do anything but nod, which made him laugh.

“Told you I could handle you.”

[blissfullyecho]

My Skinny Tips for the Holidays

If you’re in the US, Thanksgiving is this week and next month begins all the holiday parties and events for Christmas, Hanakkuh, Kawanzaa, and all other winter holidays that will include a ton of processed and sugary foods, seasonal coffee’s and fun drinks, and alcohol.

A note for the dieting police out there: Don’t even try it with me.

How I Manage the Holidays + My Body

So generally during November and December, I eat very clean (except for the holidays). I allow myself a Thanksgiving plate with everything (literally everything), dessert, sugary fun drinks/alcohol, and leftovers. This is the same thing I do with Christmas dinner as well. I don’t limit what I eat on the actual holidays, but the other days I do.

How I Eat on Non-Holiday Days

So like I said, I eat very clean in Nov and Dec because I know it’s going to get crazy on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day. So I stick to eating mostly vegetables, soup, and lean protein. I actually stop drinking smoothies this time because I’d rather eat my protein than drink it so I’m not feeling hungry so soon. I get hungry faster when I drink a smoothie than I do with actually eating, so I eat more (just sticking with veggies, soup, and lots of lean protein). I do cut back heavily on bread, rice, and pasta; but my main source of carbs comes from fruit, sweet potatoes, and corn (corn is carb-heavy). I also cut OUT added sugars. I read the label on everything. 0g of added sugar is what I get. Like I said, I still indulge on whatever I want during the actual holiday meal which are things loaded in sugar, so I cut back for the month. And for everyone saying “it’s restricting” … babe, respectfully, shut up. Cutting out added sugar that does nothing for you except make you crash, bloated, ruin your gut lining, decrease collagen production, can increase your A1C (diabetes risk), and turns straight to fat is not restricting. You’re gonna have that stuff on the holidays— you can cut it out for 3 weeks, I promise.

Managing Holiday Office Parties & Community Events

I still enjoy the office potlucks and other mini events because I usually reach for the protein options instead or the veggie options. I’ll have the turkey, the ham, the deviled eggs (deviled eggs hate to see me coming), the cranberry chicken salad, etc. I still enjoy myself, I’ll just not have the pumpkin pie, the Mac and cheese, the stuffing, etc. because I’m saving that for my actual Thanksgiving/Christmas meal. Also… I do not trust other people cooking for me unless I’m there watching things happen. I don’t know what goes on at your house lol.

… But what if Paula from HR brought in her world famous (insert sugary, fatty, super processed, but super yummy food here)?

I’m most definitely going to have something if it’s something I can’t get anywhere else. If there is something that I know looks good (or is actually good) and I’m not gonna have it at my Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, then I’ll have some. I don’t say no because it’s not part of my “diet”. There’s this girl I used to work with and she would bring in these cheesy, turkey, apple, and cranberry sliders. They were SO GOOD. I would have 1 slider and then load up on the celery and other veggies or fruit.

Alcohol

I’m not drinking alcohol unless it’s Thanksgiving, Christmas, or NYE. That’s just a no go for me. When I drink, I like to drink socially. But there’s 3 days for the rest of the year where I’m going to be drinking all night, so I don’t have any alcohol unless it’s the day of the holiday.

Bring in a healthy side option

For my office potluck, I’m making a fruit bowl, a veggie plate, and a large charcuterie board. My work bestie and I will prob be the only ones picking off of the veggie plate, but at least we do have options to load up on in case Paula from HR brings in that delicious yummy option and we want a full plate of food like everyone else.

If I’m going to have it on Thanksgiving or Christmas, I’m not going to have it anywhere else (unless it’s protein)

I will skip the sweet potato casserole and the macaroni and cheese because I’m going to have it on my Thanksgiving and Christmas. Again, I don’t care for home cooking unless I was there watching you cook for me (or if you’re a cute old lady or a grandma, I trust them so much). But the point is, I’m not going to have 8 Thanksgiving dinners this month. I’ll have one with my family and that’s it. I’m not even doing a Friendsgiving this year (but that’s only because we’re all traveling or working). But the main reason we gain weight during the holidays isn’t because we have a treat or two, it’s because we are having a Thanksgiving or Christmas meal every 2 seconds.

What’s on my Thanksgiving/Christmas plate?

I eat whatever I want, but I’ll only have a plate and a slice of dessert. I don’t get seconds or thirds. I’m a one plate girly and that’s it but I load my plate with everything and I give myself solid amounts. I don’t put tiny scoops of anything on my plate. I’d rather have food on my plate that I can’t finish rather than me cleaning my plate because I didn’t put enough of anything on there and still feeling hungry and restricted. I want to enjoy myself with my family. Thanksgiving and Christmas isn’t the time to feel restricted. For dessert, I’ll have a slice of a dessert. This year I’m being told we’re having pumpkin pie and Dutch apple pie, which are both my favorites. So I’m going to have HALF a slice of pumpkin pie and HALF a slice of the apple pie and it’ll equal to one full slice. With alcohol, I’m always drinking water. I actually drink water with my meal and drink alcohol around the meal. I personally like to stick to red wine.

How do I handle leftovers?

My family likes to give the kids (which would be me, my sibling, and our cousins) the leftovers so we can take it home. I try to take most of the protein, green bean casserole (my all-time fav omg), and deviled eggs (my grandmother makes the best, it’s impossible to beat her tbh) whereas my sibling and our cousins like to take the macaroni, garlic mash, stuffing, sweet potato casserole, and the other foods.

Exercise

I’m exercising everyday. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas I’m exercising. I have my own routine but on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll also be doing a hot (plump) girl walk after my meals to help my food digest. But even on my rest days, I’m doing active recovery.

The whole month isn’t a holiday.

I think you just have to manage the holidays by reminding yourself that’s it’s not Christmas or Thanksgiving everyday. You don’t need a full Christmas or Thanksgiving plate each day. Still enjoy the fun Starbucks drinks or Kelly from the marketing department’s apple pie, but order the tall Starbucks and not the grande or venti. Have a slice of the pie and not 1/3 of the pie. Don’t eat the candy on the table that you don’t really care for but it’s within reach so you eat it anyway. Save that for something you actually do like.

…And for anyone who is going to rage type a weird message saying I’m promoting anything unhealthy, please save yourself the time.

Happy Holidays! 🤍

✨ My new book “The Luxe Girl’s Playbook” is available now (this is the link). It’s about going into 2025 a brand new, leveled up version of yourself mentally and how you can make everyone that doubted you absolutely sickkkkk. It’s the mental diet we all need. It’ll be unavailable mid-December 2024 🫶🏼

[laswells-ashtray]

The fun thing about taking a childcare course in college is that now I'm going to tell you the 141's key features of attachment when they were children/toddlers and you can't stop me.

If you've seen nay of my Price-posting then you know I think his parental situation consisted of a dead mother and a drunk father who was heavy handed with a belt, this stands.

John's key feature of attachment when he was just a little toddler was safe haven, returning to dad when he was upset even if the man had drunk himself into unconsciousness. But the lack of conscious interaction did nothing to soothe his distress or anxieties, so in the long run, it resulted in an ignorance towards the man's actions. John couldn't tell you if he entered or left a room because he became so apathetic to his presence and he became reliant on himself for comfort and protection that in his adult years it's why trying to explain his discomfort or anxieties to someone else makes his skin crawl. It's also why he so often acts as a base of security for the other men, spending years self-soothing leads him to try and soothe others the way he never was.

Kyle was without a doubt proximity maintenance, didn't matter if it was Mum or Dad. He wouldn't need to be clinging to them but if his Mum was in the living room and then moved to the kitchen then he carry his blocks through to the kitchen table so he could play while she was near. If Dad was out in the garden fixing up his older brother's bike then Kyle had his toy cars and was playing with them on the steps just a few feet away.

He didn't need their attention at every second but he needed the comfort of knowing they were nearby. He has a great relationship with both of his parents, on the worst of days he'll go home and sit in the kitchen while his mother cooks and they'll talk. She doesn't want his help because God, if he isn't fucking useless with anything other than a pot noodle but she'll let him sit there for as long as he needs and they'll just chat about whatever.

Simon's was secure base. If little toddler Simon Riley was exploring a new environment then he needed Mum somewhere in the general vicinity so he could return back to her every 10 minutes or so to stop the experience from becoming overwhelming.

Only, we all know what his childhood was like. And my perception of it is that his mother's mind was elsewhere, her priority was ensuring Simon didn't do anything to anger his father. So, it resulted in almost a disinterest, the less she cares about what the little one is babbling on about then the less likely he is to get enthusiastic and subsequently loud, which would upset his dad. And the lack of interest or comfort she provided led to Simon approaching new environments with an uncharacteristic disinterest for a child of his age, he wouldn't explore or participate in any of the same sensory seeking activities as other children his age. He'd just sit there on his own and glance around with a blank look. In later years he'd struggle to form good relationships with people because of his perceived disinterest, he'd never be enthusiastic about anything. Eventually, he'd learn how to express himself in a way that doesn't make him embarrassed but also can't be mistaken as a lack of care.

Johnny is without a doubt separation distress. Take him away from his Mammy and see what fucking happens. If Mrs MacTavish is cooking then he's standing by her side and holding on to the edge of her cardigan. And when she realises she's three seconds away from tripping over him then he's sitting on the counter and her cardigan is draped over his shoulders as he babbles away at her.

He has a good relationship with his dad too, mind you. His dad never took it personally but Mr MacTavish knows that when Johnny Boy comes home after being away for months, he's heading straight to his Mum to give her a hug. He keeps one of her old scarves at the bottom of his bag and switches it out whenever he goes home not because he can't live without it but he sleeps a little easier knowing that it's there. If there's anyone in his life whose opinion he cares about it's Mum, if he's going to get a new tattoo then he'll ask her opinion on it first and if she has suggestions then you bet your arse that he's adjusting it accordingly. He can go months without talking to her but no force on earth can stop him from being a Mammy's boy.

[neostellarjpg]

inner mono-dialogue

the more time i spend being davepeta with you the more i realize almost every single problem in my life was caused by my obsession with being this unfeeling cool dude

but youre cool already

like in the way that actually matters

youre chill and friendly and just nice and thats all there is to it

youre shamelessly yourself even if everybody around you is a jackass and gives you shit for it

youre similar to jade and john in that way

i really envied that about them

but its different actually being at the control panel and feeling where that earnesty comes from

it makes me wanna match your energy and keep that pawsitivity ball rolling even if it ends up being weird or cringe or whatever

fuck man do you know how exhausting it is building yourself social hoops to leap through all the time and when you trip up even once its suddenly the end of the world

what kinda dumbass does that its like dealing with life in hard mode for no reward

fuck that noise

i like your way better

Nepeta's heart burns and shines inside you.

:33 < thank you :))

:33 < but you know

:33 < i dont think doing things your way is unrewarding

:33 < its like

:33 < a shield!

Dave scrunches up with discomfort.

X33 < i dont mean that in an insulting way!

:33 < the fact is that shields are just purractical sometimes

:33 < it doesnt make you cowardly to hide behind one

:33 < in the same way that it isnt cowardly for a predator to hide in the bushes when stalking prey

:33 < its just a way to make sure you dont get hurt!

:33 < purrsonally i found shields too cumbersome

X33 < im a hunter after all!

:33 < and i guess maybe the same goes for my personality

:33 < its not really that im purrticularly brave for being myself

:33 < i just didnt have a say in the matter in the furst place!

:33 < honestly if i had a choice i would have loved to be more like you dave

:33 < you can befriend people almost effortlessly

:33 < and its beclaws youre also just a nice person

Dave recoils in surprise, but Nepeta passionately pushes forward.

:33 < fur real! i feel it inside you! theres a really strong sense of empathy there

:33 < its just like mine! just smarter, and a bit more analytical

:33 < whenever we encounter someone mew, its like i f33l you lock onto them, and you gather so many insights into their purrsonality without even trying

:33 < and you can use that to bond with others without giving every part of you away

:33 < which unfortunately

:(( < i never really knew how to do

Nepeta sours with unpleasant feelings. Your brows scrunch together with both pain and sympathy.

Nepeta has a big and complex heart. She always tried her best to keep it from spilling over, but it always did in the end. And it was embarrassing. It was embarrassing when your friends dismissed your hobbies or focused in on your strange quirks. It was embarrassing when they revealed they knew about your crush on Karkat that you'd worked so hard to hide. And it hurt whenever he would say mean things about you. He and anyone else.

But you always puffed out your chest and sucked it up. You stuck to your guns no matter what. Because it was fun! The things you liked, the people you liked, were fun, and they made you feel good. Why couldn't anyone else see that? And why did it seem like they never gave a single thought to who you were?

You curl in on yourself. Your chest hurts. You suddenly really miss Equius.

And you miss Rose. You miss Jade. You miss John and Karkat and Aradia and Tavros and Terezi and all the others. You miss all the people you can go outside and see whenever you wish, and you miss all the people that you have no hope of ever seeing again. You feel the choral echo of all the times you've ever felt this need for comfort, this thrumming pain searing hot inside you, like hunger wracking your stomach.

You clench your teeth. You remember being on your bed, curled in blankets, not having eaten a proper meal in days. You remember holding your stomach and sneaking to the kitchen, turning your shoulder at every step to look fearfully behind you, only for your fingers to falter hopelessly on the handle of the refrigerator, knowing there was nothing for you inside.

You shake with anger. You know that feeling. The feeling of being chased by something much bigger than you, a hulking silhouette of menacing strength following your scent through the thicket. You'd clutched a beast carcass to your chest, barely breathing as you stalked clumsily through the trees, performance wavering from exhaustion and hunger.

You'd almost died. You'd almost died often. And then after escaping death so many times, it one day claimed you. Casually. Unflinchingly. And the world beat on without you, leaving you stunned by your own insignificance. You'd looked out onto every preceding moment of your life, wondering if there was anything to truly be proud of in the face of your friends accomplishing all these fantastical things. You'd felt lonely before, but after that, you were truly walled off from every single person you knew.

And now, despite everything, you're alive again. Twofold, together with someone.

A warmth coats the ache inside your body. The two parts of you swirl together, feeling and tasting each other, trying to understand themselves.

It feels like a hug.

[changingplumbob]

Chatting about Dating Deanna - Reece Edition

At Devin's insistence Deanna has agreed to take a trip to Thrift Tea or whatever it's called to let Devin try find her some outfits for the show. Not being a shopper herself she's convinced her best friend Reece to come along since they have similar fashion tastes.

Reece: I just can't believe you're actually doing it

Deanna: Yeah well, you've found your person haven't you. You seem happy. I want in on that. But not with you and Samir because ew. Do you want to see the pictures from the first lot of applications

Reece: I would but... you know I only like guys. I would just say they're all cute and have nothing else to offer. Talk to me once you've met them

Deanna: Deal

Devin: Oh! Oh! What about this one???

Deanna: Devin it's a dress. Try again

Reece: But you've worn dresses before. Like at prom

Deanna: I will wear some dresses if she insists but they have to be the fashion style I like

Devin: Don't worry De I am on it. Oh Luna, what do you think of this one for you? Gorgeous and pink

Deanna: Devin and Norah have been working on challenges for the contestants and honestly I'm a bit scared with their brains. Like are the people there to woo me or play survivor?

Reece: Well yeah but whoever wins will have to put up with Devin

Devin: HEY! I heard that and I'm fabulous

Reece: I just mean you've got her and Artemisia and Joey, they'll need to be able to handle your family

Deanna: True

Reece: I've been thinking about my contribution

Deanna: Okay genius, dazzle me

Reece: Joey was mumbling something about not being able to call households households because of something watcher related and I thought... give them group names!

Deanna: What?

Reece: For when they're in the villa with you. And you can name them... after robots! Because you like building robots

Deanna: That is the most geek idea I have ever heard

Reece: Yeah well I'm a young adult now, I've embraced being a geek

Devin: Ohhhhh! What about this one?

Reece: That dress does actually look nice

Deanna: *sighs* Since I like the colour I suppose I'll try it on

Devin: YES! Okay Lu see if you can find some matching shoes

Deanna: But Reece there won't be enough robot names for all the rounds so think of some other names options please. Less geeky ones would be great, I am not a geek after all

Reece: Maybe not but you are a tech head

Devin: De come on! Dress up time

Deanna: You know if being trans was a decision and not a state of being I'd be tempted to say Devin's constant dress up games when we were kids made Emisia a girl

7 spots available!

Dating Deanna - Contestant List, Challenge Overview, Joey's Contestant Creation Walkthrough, F.A.Q, All In Guide

[turbolezgooo]

Bro this outrage about CaitVi relationship in S2 is baseless

Come on. They started their adventure when they met in jail. There was already tension and attraction the moment they met but it was all swept aside because of their individual agenda (Finding a lost sister, proving themselves, saving people, etc). Everything started with some things unspoken. Every time bad things happened they never blamed each other. When Vi stopped Cait from shooting Jinx, Cait never said it was the wrong choice or that it was Vi's fault that her mom died. Cait came to Vi's arms and they held each other. Cait's suggestion for Vi to join the enforcers wasn't a fully thought-out delivery as she admitted later on but it was her offer to allow Vi to make choices when they went after her sister. Cait understood the importance of Jinx to Vi even after Jinx killed her mother. The only problem they had was that Vi wasn't ready to let go of her sister, but she trusted Cait to do what "needed" to be done. To take the step she never could. It was a deep and personal problem that Cait never took offense to and how could anyone?

Cait was upset after Vi stopped her from taking the shot again, but that wasn't really because she wanted Jinx dead. It was because she had unresolved grief. Sadness, anger, rebound relationships, burying herself in work- all telltale signs. While it was messed up for Vi to say what she said in the pit, Cait did reflect on how she was "acting more like Jinx". When Cait spoke with Singed, she understood how an act of love can seem "unspeakable" to others (like why Vi kept protecting Jinx even though she had killed Cait's mother and her adoptive family). On the other side of the coin. Vi laments everything she decides relating to her sister and literally beats herself up over the consequences along with what she said in the pit to Cait. She felt she had lost everything again because of her choices and what she said. Then Jinx, Vander, and Isha came back along-- she had another shot to save her family. When Singed walks out of the commune, it's actually pretty symbolic that Vi walks a similar path and ends up seeing Cait again. At this point, Cait already has some time to think about what happened between her and Vi. You could see there's the spark of passion and trust first before even a hint of resentment. In the aftermath of the commune, Vi is upset at Cait that Jinx is in prison but there's a lot to back up her reaction. She didn't trust Cait fully with her sister and father on the line because she didn't know if grief and Ambessa still had a hold on Cait. And of course, Vi's own experience of losing her family and imprisonment is a trigger. When all the cards were down, they held space for each other. Even though Cait still hated Jinx, she saw how Jinx wanted her sister safe. She didn't make the decision to put Jinx in prison, she didn't punish her, or make decisions without Vi. Although Vi should have responded better to Cait saying Jinx still needed to take responsibility, Cait needed to hear the echo of who she was- grounded and someone who does believe in people. Cait's and Jinx's interaction shows where Cait was moving towards. An understanding. A clearer picture of who Jinx really was and how she saw herself. How she wasn't the villain she thought she was. Why Vi keeps trying to save her over and over. The similarities between the two sisters. Cait and Vi both just needed time & space to get back to a mutual understanding of themselves and each other. Cait affirms her understanding and acceptance of Vi and her family by staging the breakout. Vi affirms that she understands and accepts whatever Cait does due to grief or clouded judgment. Nothing changed their feelings for each other. The jail scene is a culmination of their journey as individuals and as a couple. They come back to the start but now everything else that came in the way is gone. No responsibilities. Nothing to prove. All that's left are two women who've been through hell and came away with more understanding and love for each other. It wasn't out of place IMO.

I feel that the relationship was NOT underdeveloped or 'badly' written. You just need to understand unwavering love. If you've ever consumed sapphic content, ya'll have to really read between the lines and dig deep lmao. Everything ended with some things unspoken. That's just how sapphic content traditionally has been. Watch a Portrait of a Lady on Fire and write an essay or something. Do better. Be gayer.