#rage bait works so what

[lawva-girl]

Rant alert about silly ppl being mean and hurtful about the hurricanes in the south and Florida right now

This hurricane is actually breaking my heart, I thought people were insensitive and horrible about Gaza (they are and it is so fucking horrible) but seeing the comments these adults leave? Omg “you’ll die if you don’t evacuate.. kids run away all the time but the second it’s a little scary suddenly it’s “my family won’t let me leave”

The teenage!!! Girl (op) was saying her family wanted to not evacuate, but she was trying to convince them. They got into a back and forth and the adult!! Said “if you are in the path you’re gonna die. You should leave.”

SHE DIDNT WANT TO LEAVE HER FAMILY TO DIE??? Do you not have any brain?

Yes I know it’s rage bait but omfg when did we decide that views and attention in comments was worth hurting people? And holy cow im so sick of people saying “why don’t you prepare” “you should’ve left, stupid southerners” LIKE ???

Did we all leave the things we learned way back in 2020 (hopefully school too) somewhere on the road? Like this rhetoric of liberals (in blue states) saying that the people, average Joe people, are at fault and need to pull themselves up by the bootstraps? It’s so disgusting.

Most of them are also white, and when ppl in their comment section call them out, they argue endlessly? Like I feel a pit of despair opening up that will swallow literally everything bc these liberals don’t know how to have any fucking empathy

[guarshroom]

I can be normal about Random Crits in TF2.

[bendgineer]

I think one of the reasons the Harris / Walz ticket has so much momentum is because the campaign is genuinely trying to put out this vibe of fun. Like that's all the "brat" thing is, the coconut jokes, just being kind of silly and fun.

And I think it's working, because let's be real, we are all exhausted. It's been all about preserving democracy, defeating fascism, the past eight years. The message has been "vote for us because the country is literally on the line". The vibes are not good when we are stuck back at that fight, and not even discussing trying to make progress on things like housing, healthcare, education, etc. And the fight to just stop fascism? All still true. Project 2025 is real and is extremely scary. We can't let that man back into office.

But the vibe was "vote for us otherwise we're all fucked :(" and now has shifted to "get in, we're making popcorn and then bullying fascists." Like a lot of the issues conservatives bring up, the Harris / Walz is just not engaging them in good faith, as they shouldn't. Republicans bring up abortion, and the Dems are just like, "you want 14 year old to give birth? Weirdo" and just leave it at that. Like YES, that's what you should do. Because it SHOULDNT be a debate. And it's working. This is how you defeat the identify politics thing Republicans have been trying to push for a while. Just mocking them for the stupidity of it all. "Like seriously? You think a book can make someone gay??? Hahaha." None of the Republicans are reacting well. They can't stand it. Vance even complained about bullying!!! Like do you KNOW who picked you as vp??? It's actually laughable, because they have no room to stand on when it comes to bullying.

And a huge part of the mocking and dismissing of Republicans is that the message is clear - were done debating all this stupid stuff. We've won the last two elections' popular vote - most Americans do NOT want christo-facism. It's time to move on. And that's what gives me hope, and the feeling of hope I think a lot of people have picked up on. It's time to address all the issues we've all wished we've been addressing the past decade. It's important we move onto that, and that's the message I'm getting from this campaign (We're not going back). I think it will resonate with a lot of people, because plainly, we're all just sick of this same old news cycle and fake rage bait over things like "should women have rights?", "Should gay people be allowed to exist?" The general populace have answered YES to both these multiple times, and it is time to move on. Maybe I'm being naive, but I am genuinely excited at the idea of putting to bed these debates (it's exhausting trying to fend your very existence) and moving on to actual economic and social policies that could fix a lot of deterioration over the last 2 decades.

[v-risalab]

i hate not caring about anything as much as tumblr users do

[spacelesscowboy]

just wanna look at fun art ppl post on twitter and all i keep seeing is corporate accounts and people who’d steal memes for a living and pointless discourse and also rage bait.

[vibinwitch]

I watch too much YouTube, I know this because I actually read the comments and engage with Tumblr post readers on YouTube like my YouTube account is just another blog which ALSO means that sometimes I will just be shit posting under YouTube's allowable shit posting guidelines

and I will accidentally stumble across some of the truly most brain rotted humans imaginable just freely saying whatever awful garbage comes to mind and then find out they're actually a highly offended older person who is genuinely probably more used to rage baiting younger kids into defending themselves online

I just genuinely apologized for offending the old man and I haven't seen a response yet but they been real quiet since that dropped but even if they respond I don't really care to keep feeding that energy

I can't read this kind of post aloud to anyone I know because in retrospect all of that is unhinged behavior

[jellyfishsthings]

Hold Your Breath My Darling

WARNINGS: angst, like super angst, lovesick and whipped Spencer, earlier seasons Spencer, Hotch trained reader, Ex spy, fem reader, dying (or coming close to it), panic attacks, typical criminal minds violence... there will be a part two soon, please let my know if I am missing anything else

requests are open

part 2

The BAU team arrived at the small town of Crescent Hills, ready to investigate a series of gruesome murders. The victims all shared similar physical characteristics. The team quickly realized that the killer was targeting women who looked exactly like you, the same hair, the same eyes and somehow personality, which had to be the scarriwst part of them all.

As the team discussed their next move, Spencer couldn't help but stare at her. She was the spitting image of the victims, but she seemed unfazed by the situation. In fact, she suggested that she pose as bait in order to catch the killer. She was the agent her mentor made her, because Hotch would have done the same in a heartbeat. Yet as Hotch looked at the young woman standing at his side, standing tall and holding her head high with pride and bravery, wearing a mask of calmness hiding her whirlwind of emotions with quite the efficiency.

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at the thought of his best friend putting herself in danger. His hands shook with dread and anxiety and his mind raced to a million directions as his heart seemed to weight a few tons more than usual. He was so confused. He had always seen her as a friend, but in that moment, he couldn't deny the intense feelings he had for her. Yes he had always cared for her, and wouldn't wish any harm in her way, but at this moment he desperately wished to have been the genius he claimed to be, to find a way out of this, to solve this without any one getting hurt, to keep her safe and alive and well next to him, hoping she felt even a sliver of the intesity of his emotions. He knew he couldn't let her go through with this plan. He had to act quickly, not caring if he embarrassed himself in the process.

"You can't do this, it's too dangerous," Spencer pleaded with the her, his eyes shining with unshead tears as he saw her walking in her hotel room, trying to make herself more appealing for the UnSub.

"I can handle myself, Spencer," she replied confidently."Do not worry. I have been trained from the best." She whispered as she lightly hugged him and kissed his cheeks and the storm raging inside of him seemed to calm down for a few short seconds.

But Spencer couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her. He had been so focused on his work and solving the case that he hadn't even realized his true feelings for her until now. As the team set up a plan, Spencer couldn't help but keep a close eye on the Reader. He couldn't let her out of his sight. But as she put herself in harm's way, Spencer's heart was in his throat

The warehouse was quiet, the ominous shadows twisting around the corners like specters waiting to strike and fear started clawing its way to her heart. Derek Morgan’s voice echoed in her mind; “You’re one of us, kiddo. Trust your instincts.” But in this moment, trust felt like an anchor dragging her deeper into despair.

She was second guessing herself now as well as her abilities. Maybe she had made a mistake. She had volunteered without hesitation, knowing the stakes were high. A string of brutal murders had terrorized several towns, and the Behavioral Analysis Unit needed to understand what made this killer tick. But she had never expected that the very thing she sought to uncover would entrap her instead.

As she stepped deeper into the warehouse, darkness enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. The cold was biting, but the fear coursed through her veins like ice. She had set off the sound of a chilling recording, a mocking lure that had been crafted specifically for the UnSub. The air was alive with tension, every creak of the old metal structure amplifying her dread.

“Just breathe,” she murmured to herself, but her heart raced faster with every passing second. Somehow, despite the adrenaline's flow, she felt an unsettling calm, as if her body was preparing for something inevitable.

She thought of the team back at the BAU. Hotch would be analyzing their data, Emily and Derek keeping their wits about them, and as she closed her eyes, she could almost hear Spencer Reid’s gentle voice. He was always a soothing presence, with his deep well of knowledge and quirky sense of humor.

“Remember when I tried to teach you how to play chess?” he whispered in her mind, a memory flooding back. They had been at a coffee shop breaking down a case when she had confided that she hadn’t learned the game as a child. With a persistent twinkle in his eye, he taught her the basics, patiently explaining the rules as she fumbled through the moves. They laughed when she mistakenly thought pawns could move diagonally anytime.

In this dark warehouse, she recalled how he had once said, “You have to think several moves ahead. In chess, just as in life.” She held onto that wisdom now, fighting to stifle her panic.

The quiet was shattered by footsteps echoing through the maze of crates and rusted metal. She steeled herself, adrenaline rushing through her as the UnSub emerged from the shadows. He was a tall figure, cloaked in darkness, his face obscured by a mask that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

She fought the surge of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. How? How had he been expecting her? She was a trained spy for the love of God, before joining the BAU, had she rusted her abilities this quickly? It had only been five years. Five wonderful, free years.

She couldn’t falter. In her mind, she anchored herself to another memory: a sunny afternoon with Reid. They had shared ice cream on a picnic blanket, debating the best flavors like children. He had quipped that pistachio was underappreciated, while she insisted on the classic chocolate chip cookie dough.

“You’re practically a gourmet, aren’t you?” she teased, and his laugh had brightened that day, sunlight dancing in his eyes.

But now, there were no sunny picnics; shadows danced along the walls as the UnSub advanced towards her. She could see glimmers of rage flickering in his eyes, an intensity that struck fear into her heart.

“Let’s see just how strong you are,” he hissed, gripping her arms in a vice-like hold. She gasped as pain shot through her, but even as she winced, she summoned the memory of Reid, who had taught her the importance of mindfulness in the face of fear.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, fueling her resolve with every ounce of anger she could muster.

But he laughed, a cruel sound that sent tremors of dread through her. The sharpness of reality cut through her feelings of safety, and she swallowed hard, desperately piecing together scattered memories, trying to fund the best course of action but it was already to late. She felt sluggish and slow, something was wrong.

She tried to find the good memories, to find courage and strength, such as Reid’s infinite patience, his love for obscure trivia, the whimsical way he could make her smile even in the darkest of moments.

“Your game is over,” the UnSub snarled, his breath hot against her skin.

As he began to carry out his twisted intentions, she closed her eyes tightly, conjuring one last memory, one that radiated warmth in the encroaching darkness. The night Reid had confessed his fears of inadequacy, only to find solace in their bond, his fingers grazing hers in comforting reassurance, his eyes reflecting the kind of understanding that only comes from empathy.

“I’m not afraid,” she whispered, even as fear clawed at her soul. “No matter what happens, I’m not afraid. I will not give you the satisfaction of the perfect murder, trust me it will be a fight to bring me down.”

"Oh, but you have already lost. I think you must be feeling it be now."

Her heart pounded with the realization that she might not escape. But in those harrowing moments, as she fought against the loop of pain and despair, she anchored herself in the love and camaraderie of her team—every shared laugh, every overcoming of hardship. No matter what happened, they would carry her spirit forward.

In those last flickers of consciousness, she thought of Spencer, his brilliance, his laugh, and the unyielding strength of their bond. She hoped he would forgive her for failing to bring him the answers they so desperately needed, all while holding onto the belief that even the darkest of nights must give way to dawn.

With that thought, she embraced the memories that would never fade, hoping they would echo in the hearts of those she loved, a reminder that even in their darkest hours, they could find light.

Then the darkness came.

The cold grip of fear tightened around Spencer Reid's heart as he stood in the dimly lit acting conference room of the BAU, a small desk office of the local police station. The air was thick with tension and the weight of impending decisions that could alter their fates. He paced the floor anxiously, running a hand through his tousled hair while his mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

“Guys, we can’t go through with this,” he implored, turning to face his team, his voice a tremor of desperation. “The unsub is more unpredictable than we anticipated, and we can’t risk her life. What if—”

“It’s not just about her,” Derek Morgan countered, crossing his arms. “This mission aims to take down a dangerous criminal. We need to act fast before he slips through our fingers again.”

“But what if he targets her, Morgan?” Spencer’s voice escalated, echoing in the room. “I've analyzed his patterns. If she’s involved, she’s at extreme risk. We can’t afford to lose her!”

Emily Prentiss, caught between the mounting urgency and Reid’s grave expression, glanced at the other agents. “We have to trust our instincts, Spencer, but you know we all understand the risk involved. We can deploy a secondary team to protect her—”

“No!” Reid snapped, panic threading his tone. “You don’t understand. I can’t shake this feeling. What if this is a trap? She shouldn’t be there. We need to stop this. We need to call it off.”

The room fell silent as his pleas hung in the air, but time was running out, and the team had a job to do. With reluctant determination, they gathered their gear and left the conference room, unknowingly walking into the lion’s den.

Spencer’s heart raced as he followed them, a whirlwind of dread washing over him. They arrived at the location of the suspected meeting and quickly fanned out, but dread settled deeper in his chest as time ticked away.

Minutes felt like hours, and Reid’s worries morphed into a nightmare. Suddenly, over the comms, a shout broke through the chaos, and panic pierced the stillness. “She’s down! She’s down!”

Spencer’s instinct kicked in, but it felt like running through molasses as he pushed past his teammates. His breath quickened dramatically. He reached the scene, and there she was—Her body lay still against the cold asphalt, pale and lifeless.

Everything around him blurred as the sirens wailed in the distance, blending into an agonizing scream that reverberated in his mind. He dropped to his knees beside her, an overwhelming despair crashing down like a tidal wave. “No, no, no…” he chanted, disbelief coursing through him as the realization sank in.

He placed his hands on her chest, feeling the emptiness where her spirit should have been. “Stay with me. Please,” he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks as he started CPR. Each pump felt futile, desperation fueling his actions—A metronome to the rhythm of her fading heartbeat.

“Come on, please! Breathe, breathe!” Spencer’s voice cracked as he pressed harder, not willing to accept the undeniable truth standing stark against reality—a truth that seemed to throng his senses.

Suddenly, strong hands pulled him backward. “Spencer, let the medics handle this,” a voice shouted through the fog of his anguish. It was Morgan, trying to wrestle him back to reality.

“No! I can’t! I won’t let her go!” Reid screamed, thrashing against the hold, fighting against the gravity of grief. But the world around him was collapsing, everything turning hazy, the wail of the sirens growing louder, drowning him in despair.

“Spencer!” Morgan’s voice cut through the fog, but it felt distant, as if coming from underwater. He was pulled away from the scene, from her cold body that lay so still. The agents moved in, the medics began their work, but Reid felt as if a piece of himself was being torn apart, the agonizing reality sinking its teeth deeper into his soul.

He fell to his knees, the weight of his failure crashing into him like a heavy stone, unyielding and unforgiving. Tears streamed down his face as he watched helplessly, the ache in his chest mimicking a gaping wound.

Desperation clawed at him as he realized that no amount of pleading or data could bring her back. And in that moment, the chaos of the world faded away, and all he knew was a profound loss that reverberated through every fiber of his being.

And then the impossible happened. She was still bleeding, covered in deep cuts by a knife that would scar her for life. Yet her chest lifted lightly before falling down.

Once.

Twice.

He was sure he was dreaming of it. His mind playing a trick on him, not being ready to register his life without her existence.

But no.

It was true. She was breathing.

[struwberrii]

suna headcanons 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

here are my silly sunarin headcanons!! hope you guys likey

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ (also is mostly relationship stuff but not all)

has the craziest sleep schedule like he stays up all night, falls asleep at 5am, wakes up at 8 am and just goes to school fine

buys you snacks from the vending machines daily

teases you a lot but is really flirty about it

probably most active at night and invites you out when it’s dark, he just likes how much emptier everywhere is

has the best music taste and always puts you onto his music

nonchalant dread head of japan

would probably sneak into your house through your window just to see you

says the funniest things with the most deadpan expression which makes it 10x

if you dont reply to his messages fast enough he hits you with the "why do you hate me"

he’s too honest sometimes and has a bad habit of saying things that are rude when he really didn’t have to

randomly tackles you and play fights

bros the type to pick you up and jump into the pool with you

does the bare minimum with all his school work

starts talking like you and using your slang when you guys hang out long enough

he’s the guy people talk shit around bc they think he’s quiet and a loner but he’s lowkey a shit starter and shares what he hears

slacks/lazy in most things but he carries you guys in fortnite

his bed is covered in stuffed animals from you, even all the cute sanrio ones

ur his profile pic online

i feel like he’d use discord and get paid as a mod on some server 😭😭

calls you stupid as a term of endearment

he can always tell when something’s wrong, like he can sense if something’s off with you

probably wears a lot of sweat pants

always smells really woody and fresh (yk like generic men’s cologne idk 😭)

very touchy, loves having an arm around you waist :3

allergic to drinking water, ik his piss is acid (honestly same here….)

his sister loves you so much

lowkey the worst at soothing you/cheering you up so he just hugs you

let’s you do skincare on him, he thinks it’s relaxing

i feel like he’d own at least one of those stupid tiktok fidget toys that he swears works but everytime he uses it he can’t stop laughing thinking about how stupid he looks

has a bad diet only because he’s too lazy to actually cook

burps SO LOUD and SO OFTEN like hold it man

has a tiktok account that he rage baits people on and reads the comments to you pretending it wasn’t him who wrote them (smh)

tries to teach you volleyball so you guys can kinda play together

i feel like he’d know a lot about the stars and like the constellations

i also feel like he’d really like coke floats (ice cream + coke in a glass) a lot for some reason

acts like he doesn’t really care but he cares so much

he’s only vulnerable and emotional with you

randomly attacks you with kisses

i feel like he'd know some really good unknown dessert spots all around town

i feel like hes an adidas guy

says out of pocket stuff on purpose with no reaction just to see you panic (he thinks its funny)

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[humiliatemeplesse]

You met this straight guy on line who was baiting faggots for money. You weren't scoring with any gay guys, specifically Doms, so when he said you could suck him off for fifty bucks you jumped at the chance. He was hot and very dominant, very bossy, he called you a cocksucker like you liked to be called. So he came over to your place and you sucked him off as he relaxed on your furniture, you on your knees of course, and thankfully swallowed every drop of his hot, straight cum. After he came he said "thanks for the blow job faggot," and left. Then, a few nights later, he was online again. He manipulated you to get you horny and invite him over again even though you couldn't really afford another fifty bucks. And then you did it again, and again, and again. Three times a week, occasionally four. Eventually you were so comfortable being his cocksucker and getting over the shame of paying for cock, you told him you have a fetish for guy's sweaty smelly socked feet, and you asked if you massaged his if you could sniff them. He laughed and then told you that for twenty five more dollars you could do it. But you couldn't afford it. You were going without already paying him $150-200 a week. You had paid rent late twice already. So, he made a bargain with you. You could get your face six inches from his sweaty socked feet as he kicked them up and relaxed in his cum afterglow but you couldn't touch them, not with your hands, not with your face, nothing. You could just stare at them from six inches away and take deep deep sniffs trying to get their stink in your nose. It gave you a raging, dripping hard on but it was the most frustrating thing you'd ever experienced. But you just couldn't afford the extra money. So that's how it went, every visit. And he wouldn't let you switch sniffing his sweaty socked feet for sucking his dick for the fifty bucks. You knew he was breaking you down, you knew that eventually you'd have to pay him the extra twenty five bucks to get to massage and sniff his awesome stinking socks. I'll get a second, part-time job, you thought. And you actually did. So you worked all the time and spent what free time you had paying him to come over to your place, pay him $75 a visit, so you could suck his dick and sniff and massage his sweaty dirty straight socked feet. You became his total cocksucking sock slave bitch, and he was getting rich off of you

[devotedfem]

→ Darkweb

Synopsis: In your 4 years working for the FBI you never witnessed something like this. An unknown hacker that stole all of your confidential files has been blackmailing you for weeks. The only thing he asked in return to not leak confidential information, it's a "date" with you out of the city.

Jeon Jungkook x f. reader

Genre: criminal au | yander-ish

Tags: criminal Jungkook, detective reader, chasing, violence, yandere Jungkook, stalking, stalker Jungkook, hacking, kidnapping, delusional Jungkook.

From the series masterlist; The chasing.

The burning feeling of rage and frustration run hot in your veins. Your files were hacked, all of them.

Every time you try to open a file, a mocking notification shows up:

Accept my date pretty please?

That was what anger you so bad, because the person who is doing all of this just wants a date with you and that was ridiculous and absurd. Couldn’t they ask you like a normal person instead of stealing confidential information? It wasn’t that hard.

“Fucking creep,” you groaned sighing deeply, already tired of dealing with this.

This information was delicate, and the government would arrest you or even kill you if these files fall into the wrong hands. It was something that genuinely frightened you, this wasn’t a game for you, this was serious but that psycho was playing mind games with you, and for what? For a simple date? There must be a bait, definitely.

You tried again to open or close a file, and the same notification shows up, but three times.

Accept my date pretty please?

“Oh my god! Okay you fucking annoying creep!” you shouted, clicking on the accept bottom.

And then, nothing happened.

You snorted rolling your eyes, but your breath hitched the moment that the screen of your laptop went completely dark, and then, another notification shows up, telling you the direction of your date, but what scared you was the message below it:

Don’t be late and go ALONE, or you’ll regret it😊

Your hand trembled a little when you closed the notification, but you felt relieved when you opened your files without problem this time.

But that uneasy feeling was heavy in your stomach, something was really off with this person. But you weren’t a coward and neither a bad detective, so you will endure this.

Hopefully you will end alive.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The last thing you remember, it’s sitting in a restaurant waiting for your stalker before you felt a sting at the back of your head and everything turning black.

You groaned with pain, blinking slowly to open your eyes. Your heart stopped and your veins run ice cold at the sight before you. You were in a dark warehouse, with your legs and wrists bounded, sitting in front of a table with candles and food.

Was this your date?

The realization frightened you, and although you were expecting something like this to happen, you didn’t feel any less scared. You couldn’t help the tears streaming from your eyes.

A tall and buff man sat in front of you, he was dressed nice and all in black. He has a youthful face with piercings in his lips and tattoos all over his arms. Your heart squeeze inside of your chest, he was so handsome, why didn’t he just ask you out?

He took off the tape of your mouth, smiling prettily like a bunny.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you kidnap me? Couldn’t you just ask me out like a normal person? Or fucking have this date in that restaurant instead of… here,” you said watching your surroundings with distress.

The sweet smile of the man fell at your words, his face hardened making you feel nervous.

And then, he slammed his hand on the table, making some things to fall to the ground, shattering. You startled scared, watching him with wide eyes.

“You will speak to me nicely! And you should be more grateful that I took you here instead of killing you!” he shouted with anger, and your eyes blurred with tears.

You nodded, too scared to speak.

His face softens immediately, and he stands to come closer to you, grabbing gently your chin to make you look up at him.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you sweetheart, but don’t make me angry again, okay?” he asked softly, but his eyes were hard with a warn written in them.

You nodded again, but he just sighed annoyed.

“Words, y/n.”

“Okay,” you whispered, and he smiled at you widely, stroking your cheek as a reward.

“That’s my good girl,” he said smirking, but he didn’t move from his place, instead he came closer to you, leaning his hands on each side of your chair, caging you between his arms. You looked up at him with fear, and he seemed to like it.

“And no, I didn’t kidnap you. You accepted this date, it’s consensual, and you know what is consensual too? You living with me very far away from here.” He said with mischievous and darkness in his eyes.

This time you cried with desperation.

“No that’s not true! I just accepted your date, not you kidnapping me!” you wailed, scared and angry, but he just looked at you with amusement and sadism.

“You should’ve know better before clicking that bottom.”

You laugh wetly with bitterness and no humor. The man was crazy and that didn’t even surprise you.

You were so fucked up.

Ko-fi

Taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @oddracha

[atrwriting]

mercy — fem!highborn!reader x davos blackwood

was everyone else going crazy to find out that this man is actually named davos ?? absolutely wild. i refuse to believe it is davos, but alas — i must comply.

someone said that this guy would match your freak and i haven’t been able to unsee it and therefore i compose

as always, warnings: smuuuuuuut, knife play, choking, swearing, switch reader, power bottom davos, my very own self indulgence

____

with your family and several others declaring for rhaenyra targaryen, the one true queen, it led to others seeing women in a different light. a daughter of a highborn family like you would not be trapped to embroider for the rest of your life — unless you wanted to. that was the beauty of choice and what rhaenyra had started — you should have the same opportunities of men in that age, including the opportunity and ability to choose.

and so you did: you chose to fight.

with war brewing, how could you stand by and only wield a needle and thread when you didn’t want to and had the ability to do something else? what, were you going to embroider the war? some battle with red thread? illustrating the rage and fighting of men losing their lives with and against fire and blood? absolutely not. if you could wield a sword instead, and weren’t half bad — maybe that would save someone else from fighting.

and so you did. you started training.

you weren’t half bad, honestly — given your size and age. most men began when they were boys and very small, growing into their strength and work ethic. you could not be blamed for your lack of skill — it just meant that when you could wield a sword against a worthy opponent and beat them, you would gain the respect you deserve.

and you would work for it. you had to.

in order to achieve that, you had to actually find willing opponents. despite the fact that they declared for rhaenyra, that did not mean that other soldiers wanted to face a woman in a fair fight. you tried not to take it too personally — as they would probably fear for your father’s response if you had been hurt. you tried to understand, but you wanted to improve — needed to improve.

however, there was one person that was willing to spar with you.

you rolled your eyes just thinking of the name.

davos blackwood.

there was nothing wrong with him — but he bothered you. got under your skin in a way that no other man could, nor even dream of being able to. he taunted you the first time you had ever met him, and taunted you further towards the first time you had ever sparred with him. you did not mind someone baiting you, but to be constantly reminded of your lack of skill, your womanhood, and the approaching war was a weight on one’s shoulders that a beginner could not always bear the weight of. they would not expect a young boy to withstand that pressure, and didn't understand why davos would expect you to handle it. when that insecurity was opened and showcased for onlookers to see fighting in daylight, it was even harder. you didn’t understand why he was trying so hard to, frankly, haze you — and it’s not like he seemed open to fair or friendly communication.

so you tried to avoid him.

you tried.

you really, really did try… but in the end, he was the only one willing — and you had to learn.

you sighed with reluctance — knowing what you had to do.

when he was alone in the camp you were both staying at, you walked up to him.

“...lord blackwood?” you asked, trying to refrain from using a soft voice.

he turned around to face you, a smirk already growing on his lips. one of his hands was lazily gripping the hilt of his sword, while the other grasped his hip. his shoulders were wide and strong — indicative of how skilled of a fighter he was. you clenched your teeth — hoping you wouldn’t regret this, as you could only benefit. you had to keep reminding yourself of that — a means to an end. that's all this is and would be. it's worth it. you then tried to meet his eyes as the wind swept his brown hair from his line of sight.

if he wasn’t so snarky, you might have found him attractive.

might have.

“yes, my lady?” he asked.

you could hear his smirk in his tone — like he already knew what you were going to ask, and how much you did not want to ask it.

you folded your bottom lip in between your teeth. “...would you be willing to spar with me?”

“i would,” he replied. “you have not asked me since our last. i have some time now — should we find an open space?”

you shook your head. “perhaps this evening... when people have retired?”

he raised an eyebrow, obviously displeased with your decision. “...why is that, my lady?”

“less of an audience, my lord,” you tried to say confidently.

he raised an eyebrow at you. “battles are not won in private, my lady.”

you tried to keep your tone flat, fighting the urge to turn your nose up at him. “i’m aware.”

“so why do you not join me now?”

“i would like to make mistakes once or twice in private — and then i will feel more comfortable where others can see.”

“you would do fine now, my lady,” he spoke, but then dipped his head. “but as you wish.”

you felt dirty after he agreed — you couldn't put your finger on why. the dip of his head — like he was giving into the conquest and silly dream of that of a young girl. a young, naive, innocent girl who would never be taken seriously, no matter how hard she tried — but you couldn't think like that. you couldn't afford to — especially not during the time of war. you swallowed you pride, and waited for your meeting.

he kept his promise. later that evening, when the sun was setting, you finally met him in the sword shed before you intended to meet him in the makeshift arena. you found him sharpening his sword, face being illuminated by the lamp light. you entered the shed.

"good evening, my lady," he greeted, with a hint of grit in his voice.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "good evening, lord blackwood."

"following in your fashion — should we start with something easy? something, say — one starts with at the wee age of — eleven, perhaps?"

“i never asked you to go easy on me — but i would have hoped that after i voiced my concerns as to why i would prefer not to have an audience when i spar with you, you would’ve understood.”

“and — pray tell, my lady, why would i have understood?”

you slapped your sides in defeat, beginning to get frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t read between the fucking lines. your cheeks were beginning to pinch at the feeling of flush. “because it was like you were constantly reminding me that i am new to this and that it was unlikely that i would ever get better!"

he raised his eyebrows then, eyes widening. the smirk was still playing at his lips, as he couldn't help but let an amused chuckle push past his lips — intending mockery. “my intention was to make you better, my lady.”

you shook your head in disbelief, almost scoffing. “i just — it would’ve been nice —“

“nice?” he scoffed, walking towards you then. he approached you with his hands behind his back, but his walk was led by his head, neck, and shoulders. it stuck out at you like he couldn't wrap his head around as to how you could believe or say such a thing. “my lady, there is no nice on the battle field. not only do you have to beat the swords you go up against, but also the men wielding them. i was not nice to you because there is not enough time. you do not have enough time to learn at the pace of a boy, because you are a learning to fight as a woman during the time where another woman is fighting for her crown. you need to be good — for your family, for your army, for your queen — and because i want you to be good.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, sucking in a sharp breath at his words. there stood davos, pleading with you to have confidence in your own ability and skill — despite how he always made you doubt it. you didn't know what to think, let alone believe. “i am not naive enough to believe that the battle field is nice — just forget it, i can’t —“

you went to turn away, but he stopped you. he grabbed you by the elbow, and you immediately turned to face him. within almost an instant, you had stopped his other arm. you shoved his grip down at the same time you pressed a knife to the skin of his neck with your free hand.

you bared your teeth at him, the tip of your nose pulsing into a snarl. there was a dagger to his throat, but nothing compared to the ones you shot with your eyes. your pupils dilated so the only thing in your vision was blackwood and his dark eyes, only focused on yours. both sets of eyes had seen peace and danger, fire and ice —but neither knew the feeling you had when you looked into davos blackwood's eyes and witnessed the exact moment he realized you had been the one to best him. to have his throat at the mercy of your wrist, and have him still smirk down at you — was a feeling that startled you, and excited you.

he pushed against the blade, forcing you to reluctantly allow his head to lower to yours. you could feel his hot breath on your face, shrinking your space. "is that what will make you feel more confident, my lady? — you think you can best me, with a knife to my throat?"

he walked forward, forcing you backwards. you continued taking steps backward when he did not stop. soon, your back was pressed up against a table your lower back had been stopped by. the force of davos' hips collided with yours, pressing you against the table. the plumpness of your ass was pushed into the wood as davos planted himself between your thighs. "is this how you make yourself feel safe? — because even if i am stronger, that does not negate the fact that in a moment's time you could bleed me."

"i could —" you bit — as if that statement was something monumental. as if you hadn't agreed with his own statement. as if it wasn't pathetic.

you watched as he realized that fact the same time you did.

"but will you?" he asked, in a soft, taunting voice.

"i could," you spat again.

pathetic, you spat to yourself in your head. at that same moment, davos smirked down at you.

"there is nothing more enticing than a woman who knows her strength," he spoke, tone threatening to break. "especially against a man whom they both know could end her.”

“testing me, davos?” you spat, nose turning up at him. his smirk wavered when he felt the sharpness of the blade scrape his skin, threatening to draw blood.

“oh — i find myself doing more than that, my lady,” he pressed forward once more, so your noses were almost touching. there were inches — barely inches — between your lips, words ghosting over your skin. his breaths hit your lips with such force you almost believed they were touching. you couldn't let it show on your face — couldn’t let him know he was winning, or that he won. “you want to keep that blade at my throat? be my guest — as long as you let me do this.”

with your lower back pressed against the table and the knife flat on his throat, davos locked you in by placing both of his hands on either side of your thighs. he leaned forward, and he took what he wanted. he took, and took, and took until you were putty in his hands. he held your lips hostage with his own, leaving you at his mercy. mercy, mercy, mercy. you were jailed in his embrace, hating and relishing it at the same time.

your free hand gripped his collar, pulling him into your knife and you. you didn’t even realize you were doing it — or maybe you didn’t want to admit it. maybe you didn’t want to admit that you liked the man who constantly bullied you, nor that you liked the boldness in his smirk before he kissed you.

“you bastard —“ your insult was breathless. pathetic. ridiculous. it made him smile, and it only made your pride and shame swirl in your chest more. how dare he? how could he? “you fucking — !“

“that’s right, my sweet — “ he grunted, pushing your skirts to the side. you felt the cool air hit your exposed thighs, a blush rising to your cheeks. he laughed against your lips before sliding his tongue into your mouth. you could’ve if you wanted to — you so could’ve — you could’ve, you could’ve, you fucking could’ve, but you didn’t want to — you didn’t want to push him away. the knife, still pressed against his skin, wanted to push him away. wanted to cut him. wanted to bring him pain. wanted to get him away — but you? no. your body’s reluctance fell away once you felt his hands slips between your thighs. “hate me — come on — show me how strong you are — show me how much you fucking hate me.”

his thumb was on your clit, sensitive with excitement and anger — never been touched before. his finger drew circles; a long curve on the top of your bundle of nerves, fast when it made he made his way towards the top of the circle once more. long, and drawn out was his torture. he wound you up tight, only for him and at his mercy. he shoved his middle and ring finger inside you, letting the pads of his fingers rub the length of the roof of your cunt. the beckoning motion brought you closer and closer to him, no matter how hard you tried to fight him inside.

“keep that knife at my throat, my lady,” he spat. “let’s see if you can keep a steady hand without drawing blood when i make you cum. — i’m betting you can’t.”

“fuck…” you trailed off off, getting lost in his movements. “f-fuck you.”

“that’s all the brave fighter’s got?” he spat into your ear, making your hair stand. “weak words? you claimed you were of a higher skill — am i going to be the one to prove you wrong?"

you couldn’t concentrate. you couldn’t. there was no way. it would’ve been useless to even try. your let your neck relax as his lips found the length of the side of your jaw, kissing and nibbling at the clammy skin. he found your pulse point — thumpthumpthumpthumpthump — and sucked the blood from the source, and to the surface. you couldn’t see, but you felt the blood rise to the top of the skin and settle. your blood, your veins, your fucking heart was pounding as it rested at his mercy. his. him. davos. he controlled every part of you — including where your blood moved, pooled, and clotted — and you didn’t know how to feel about it. you were swimming in his embrace, holding onto him for dear fucking life.

“fuck, fuck, fuck…” you cried.

“that’s right, my sweet,” he spoke. groaning in your ear, “that’s it. show me. show me how much you hate me. i want that knife to almost cut me when you cum. i want to see the look of hatred in your eyes when you make a mess on my fucking sword hand.”

you couldn’t stop it.

you couldn’t.

it was useless. pathetic. worthless.

your head fell against his strong, broad shoulder and you felt every part of your being lose control. every single one of your muscles tightened. your grip on the hilt on the knife tightened and the grip on his leathers tightened. everything was so fucking tight you didn’t know how the strings inside of you that were wound so tight didn’t fucking snap. it should’ve snapped. it should’ve snapped like the light behind your eyes, blinding white being the only thing you could see. you thought you could hear your own cries, his grunts — but you weren’t sure. your were lost, floating in your own release while his fingers didn’t relent against you.

“so-so sensitive,” you choked out, vision still hazy.

“you think i’m done with you?” he spoke. your strength was beginning to waver, as was your knife from his throat. you could feel the exact moment he realized it. “can’t even keep a knife to my throat at your most vulnerable? how do you expect to fair, yeah? in battle? — shall i get you a needle and thread instead, my lady?"

something inside of you snapped inside you for a second time that night — but this time it was anger. your gaze, aflame, caught his. how dare he? how fucking dare he? with a snarl, you spat, “unlace your fucking leathers, blackwood.”

fire also danced within his irises as the corners of his mouth raised once again. for the first time that evening, you had me davos' fight as an equal match.

you would not back down.

his fingers left your dripping cunt, and he began working at his strings. you struggled to catch your breath as you came down from your high, forcing yourself to regain composure. and, yet — there was davos. smirking. confidently. not fearing the knife at his throat, nor fearing the girl who held it, nor that she was now his match.

his tore his eyes away from you to spit on his hand, coating his long member. though angry, you couldn’t help but grow hungry at the sight of his red, leaking tip. there was no desperation on his face, but davos blackwood had control over his expression. his demeanor. his emotions. but his cock? red and neglected? there was no control. it plunged into your sopping wet cunt, buried in you until the hilt.

your cunt blossomed around him. you felt your walls blossom for the man on top of you. your womb, warm and welcoming, wanted to suck him in and never let him leave. you had never known pleasure like this, wanting even the most frustrating of men to give it to you.

you threw the knife on the ground.

you pressed your flat palm to his throat, curling around it. your squeezed the sides of his throat. your teeth were bared once more, fighting for dominance against the predator before you.

davos smiled, diminishing your resolve.

“there she is,” he spat, smirk wide with his teeth on display. “there’s my fighter.”

"fuck you," you replied.

"good," he responded, before sliding his length inside of you.

that was the thing with davos — showing vulnerability like succumbing to pleasure made you feel weak, whereas davos never felt weak. even in a vulnerable state such as this — this, joining bodies as one, each thrusting their hips against the other seeking to reach their own peak, while also relishing in the fact that you were helping the other reach theirs. his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, deliciously painful and bittersweet. even in his most vulnerable state, davos radiated power. there was dominance in his state of weakness and pleasure that was asserted over you, and you had no choice to bow — no choice but to give in.

“you missed me so bad, didn’t you?”

there you were — a light sheen of sweat on your skin glistening with the dim light of the lantern as you thrusted your hips to meet his. there was one firm hand of his, pressing down on your stomach. every time he could feel the thrust of his own cock through the soft skin of your stomach, you witnessed a flash of mischief in his dark irises. a groan collected in the back of davos' throat — building, building, and building until it came out in a growl. carnal. animalistic. untamed, and all yours. you couldn't help but moan at the sound, sending a gush of pleasure swirling around his cock. he glanced up at you, smile being illuminated by the lantern.

“that’s it, my sweet — whine for me.”

and you did. oh fuck, you did. it was all you could do besides let your muscles go taut at the idea of losing all control to the pleasure of the tip of his cock hitting that space behind your clit deep inside you. once more. that's all you needed. once more. one more peak. your pride would understand — you could not feel shame with the feeling of pleasure so electrifying. every crook of your body was hot and clammy — but you didn’t care. you couldn’t care, and neither could he.

“you just want to cum, don’t you?” he asked. “i know you do, yes? — answer me.”

he slapped your your sensitive clit. it sent sparks up and down your nerve endings, making you squeal and jump. you glanced up at him, and immediately connected your gaze with his dark one. his eyes tested you — your pride, your shame, and your being. however, the want and need in your hips was stronger than you — but that didn't matter. that was the strength and fight davos' wanted, and he would lose to.

“i do,” you whimpered, folding your bottom lip into your mouth. your eyes, like a doe’s, pleaded with him through your thick lashes. you thought you saw a flash of pride on his face, but you couldn’t tell. “fuck, youfuckingbastard — please, davos, just a little longer… ‘m so close.”

“ohhh — that right, my lady? yeah?” his gaze was heavy — dark, tired, but fueled by lust. his throat was worn and scratchy, and the thickness of his voice mirrored it. “showing that fight you promised me, yeah? just like i asked? so beautiful and fucking strong —”

"fuck..." you sobbed. your womb was blooming once more, sucking him in farther and farther into you. he welcomed the pull from your warm, wet, and gummy walls — for you had no strength to push him from you, and neither did he.

"shall i spill my seed into you, my sweet?" he asked, chuckling darkly. he cock continued to pound into your throbbing cunt until you could only think davos, davos, davos. your grip on his throat grew tighter — but not because of your anger, but because you could only cling onto something to hold you present. "shall we create the bravest, most dangerous fighter there has ever been?"

his words were beginning to slur together, like ears underwater. your brain was swimming, being pushed and pulled through saltwater waves that wove ropes around your lungs and hips.

"if you dare..." you whined, failing at sounding brave.

"i would dare," he immediately spat, plunging his cock in once more.

your grip on his throat tightened as he spanked your clit once more, sending you spinning. your thighs locked around him, pulling you into your core and trapping him there. it only enraged him — energized him. it was the final fire that spread throughout him to snap his hips once, twice, thrice more into you and spill himself inside you. your peak made you cling to your lover in the lamp light — holding onto him as you both fell forward into each other, clinging to each other.

you had fallen onto his shoulder, seeking rest. his cheek was pressed against the side of your face. his lips pressed a warm, wet kiss on your cheek — and then another onto the love bite he left on your skin. you felt his tongue poke through his soft lips and lick the bruised skin, sealing his mark in. with his dark gruff voice, davos stated, "that is how you best a man, my lady."

"fuck you."

----

so what do we think? love u guys xoxoox - L

[dotster001]

How they Get You under the Mistletoe, Part Two

Summary: Staff and Non NRC students x gn! Reader

A/N: IT IS 11:54 ON DECEMBER 25TH, SO I FINISHED THIS ON TIME LET'S FUCKING GO!

Part One

CW:It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age. Also, use of alcohol in Crewel's part.

Dire Crowley

Rage Bait

The ghosts thought they were helping. They had decorated Ramshackle, and you were having a holiday party before your friends left for winter break. But they'd also put up mistletoe. And every time you tried to take it down, they'd float up and move it farther out of reach.

“Surely there's a special someone who'll be here tonight,” one of them said with a giggle.

“We just don't want you to regret not making a move, when you're our ages,” another one said with paternal softness.

You grumbled and stormed back over to the party, which was quickly getting out of hand. The later it got, more people showed up, and now there were more strangers than friends in your living space. And as though that wasn't bad enough-

“Prefect!”

You groaned when you heard the headmage’s voice. You turned around from the broken glass you were sweeping up, and sighed.

“What can I do for you, headmage?”

“I consider myself very generous, and can overlook a simple celebration, but this is out of hand.”

“Yah think?” You shouted, gesturing at the fight that had just broken out in the corner.

“How do you plan to shut it down?”

“I'm working on it!” You snapped, walking away with a dustpan full of glass, ready to sweep up the newest disaster.

“I have an idea,” he said, half a step behind you, not missing a single beat, despite the crowd doing its darndest to separate you.

“What is it?” You said, only half listening as you set down the dustpan.

He grabbed your arm, yanking you to the side.

“Kiss me,” he said with a wicked grin.

“What the fuck!”

He smirked even deeper, pointing up. And there was the mistletoe from earlier….but you could have sworn it was over there….

You made eye contact with one of the ghosts who winked at you.

“H-how is that gonna help?” You stuttered.

“Surely, your peers would find it unsettling to see the Headmage kissing his lover.”

“Lover?” You rolled your eyes. “You're not my lover-”

“But you'd like me to be,” his eyes twinkled.

“You don't even give me enough money to reward Grim when he actually passes a test.”

“Doesn't matter. I'm a handsome man. You can't say you're resistant to my charms.”

You pulled out of his grip and snapped.

“Oh please! If I was going to go for any of the staff, I'd go for Crewel!”

“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you're too scared to kiss me.”

“What!”

“You're worried that if you kiss me, you'll be forced to accept your feelings.”

“Shut up!”

“I'm a very generous lover-”

You slammed your lips against his, angrily. He kissed back with just as much force, his hands twining in your hair. The anger turned quickly to passion, and you were soon overwhelmed by the feelings inside you, shoving him away from you as you pressed your hands to your open mouth in shock.

He smirked, and you realized no one was in your dorm, except Ace, who was staring in complete disgust.

Divus Crewel

Double dog dare you

Vargas and Sam were both drinking with Crewel at the staff holiday party. It was meant to be a calm relaxed evening. But you'd shown up to interrogate the Headmage about something, and now Sam and Ashton were acting like fools.

“C'mon, man up!”

“We know you want to.”

“Gentlemen, please, let's be professional,” Divus grumbled as he threw back his glass.

“They aren't in your class anymore!”

“And my friends say that they are head over heels for you.”

“C'mon man up!”

“If you say man up one more time!” Divus scowled.

“If you don't, he will,” Sam snickered, pointing at Crowley, who did, indeed, seem to be trying to huddle you over to the mistletoe that someone had decided to put up for some reason. Though, the longer Crowley was shifting you, the clearer it became that this was a malicious plot.

“I dare you to swoop them up from under his wing, and give them a kiss they'll never forget,” Vargas said childishly.

Divus looked over at you, snatched Sam's drink, chugged it down, then stormed over to the both of you, buoyed on by the cheers of his friends.

“Scuse me Headmage,” he slurred, yanking you to him and kissing you sloppily.

…

…

…

When he woke up the next morning with a killer hangover, he would have thought it was all a dream. Until he saw you sleeping in a chair by his bed, holding a bucket full of vomit.

Mozus Trein

The Parent Trap

He'd invited you to the holiday party at his estate in the country. He thought it would be a low key way to introduce you to his daughters. If you got overwhelmed, you could blend into the crowd, or hide in his guest room upstairs, and no one would even notice you'd slipped away.

His daughters were a little too excited that he was dating again.

“Papa, you gotta!”

“It would be so romantic!”

The good news was, they liked you. Unfortunately (fortunately?) they might have been a little too excited.

“I'm not going to pull them away from the party, just to kiss them under a leaf,” he said with a glare.

“Don't worry, you don't have to pull them away!” Ania said with a smile, pulling out her magic pen. Unfortunately (fortunately?) Ania was incredibly gifted with flora magic. Materializing mistletoe above the two of you would be simple.

“I absolutely forbid it,” he hissed.

“Y/N! Over here please!” Darleen called to you. You politely excused yourself from the conversation you were having, and walked over to the group, eying his children nervously. Your gut instincts were definitely right.

“You don't have to-” Ania covered Trein’s mouth with her hand, giggling excitedly.

“What's going on?” You asked, eying him in concern.

“Just stand right there!” Darleen said, both daughters taking three steps back, before Ania quickly muttered a spell. You looked up and saw the mistletoe, your eyes widening. You looked over to his daughters, but they were already running away, hiding in the crowd.

You looked at Trein, feeling your cheeks warm as he stared at you with an empty expression on his face.

“We don't have to-”

He said, gently taking your hand in his, caressing the back with his thumb.

“I would be a fool not to accept this gift,” he said, sounding bitter, but there was light in his eyes. You smiled softly, and he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Ashton Vargas

Decoration Team

He'd somehow tricked you into decorating the employee lounge with him. You always thought he was more brawn than brains, but this wasn't the first time he'd tricked you into manual labor, so maybe you were the dumb one.

“Hah! Good work!” He slapped your back affectionately, and you stumbled into the table you were decorating, causing a couple of the tchotchkes you'd just placed to tumble forward. You frowned, and sighed, but he laughed again.

“Forget the table. I need you for something,” he snatched your wrist, dragging you to a corner of the room. Then, with absolutely no warning, he picked you up, and placed you on his shoulders. You gripped his head, absolutely terrified that you'd tumble.

“Don't worry. I got you. That's why I built up these muscles!” He momentarily let go of your left thigh to flex. This did not ease your panic.

He reached into his pocket and handed you something.

“Hang that on the ceiling right above ya! Let me know when you're finished.”

You stared at the mistletoe, and sighed. The sooner you put it up, the sooner he'd put you down.

“So, uh, is this a popular decoration for a staff party?” You asked, trying to ease your anxiety through conversation.

“Nah.”

“Nah? Done, by the way.”

He gently let you down from his shoulders, then turned you to face him.

“This won't get much use at the party. This decoration is for my….personal…enjoyment,” he purred as he took your chin in his hand.

Sam

*Gasp* you tripped!

Sam's shop always had weird things. But definitely the weirdest thing it had at the moment was the out of control mistletoe bush. A student had bought it, tried to cast a spell on it, then promptly returned it when he realized it was growing beyond his control. Normally, Sam had a strict no return policy. But he'd stared at it for moment, then agreed to the return.

It was the end of the night, and he was finally getting around to fixing it. He was simply staring at it, trying to puzzle out how to clean it up. You were staying far away. Partially because the monstrosity the mistletoe had become was horrifying beyond the realms of imagination, but also because….

You know…

Mistletoe.

Not that Sam wasn't unbelievably attractive. It just would be awkward if you both ended up near it. And Sam was a professional. He'd probably just laugh lightly and send you on your way. But still…it would be awkward.

Right?

“Sam,” you said, but he was so engrossed, he didn't hear you.

“Sam, I'm gonna clock out-” you had taken a step forward, but tripped over what felt like an outstretched leg, right into his arms.

“Ah! Are you alright, my little imp?” His voice sounded concerned, but the expression on his face didn't quite match.

“Y-yeah,” you said, trying to pretend you didn't notice just where you both were standing. He looked you up and down, rubbing your arms, as though looking for any injuries.

“You're certain?”

The mistletoe creature thing wrapped around the two of you, and you stiffened as you were pushed closer together. You tried to keep your mind off of the muscle you were feeling under his clothes.

“I know how to fix this. But should I?”

“Huh?” You gasped, mildly horrified about the implications.

“I can get out of this easily, but I could leave you as a sacrifice to the mistletoe.”

“What!”

He snickered. “Or we can make a deal.”

Uh oh. You've seen him do this to other people, but never to you….

“Sam, you write my paycheck. You know I don't have any money to give you.”

“I don't want money. But you do have something I want,” he leaned in so that your noses were pressing together. “I'd like your heart. Think that's a deal you can make?”

Neige le Blanche

Marketing Campaign

After the SDC, Neige had pushed to get his manager to take you on. And now you were a notable up and comer, doing projects with Neige.

This campaign was for a cologne. It was winter themed, with hints of cinnamon and cloves, and Neige was to be the figurehead of the campaign. But he'd been insistent that you be his partner in this ad. You hadn't tested the product, you hadn't received a script or any information, other than the fancy outfit you'd been given for the photo.

Your manager was quickly giving you the rundown as hair and makeup worked on you, and you were just kind of nodding along, until,

“Wait, say that again?”

“You're going to be kissing his neck while you stand under the mistletoe?” Your manager said.

You stiffened, earning a scolding from your makeup guy for wrinkling your forehead.

“I know it's a big jump for his image, but your face will be at an angle, so you might not be associated with the image cha-”

“Does Neige know about this?” You asked, your voice squeaking a little.

“Yes. Of course he knows,” you manager rolled her eyes, before continuing with the brief.

Your manager continued briefing you, but you felt light headed and couldn't focus on her words.

Now that you were on the photo set, you stood stiffly waiting for the photographer to pose you.

“Sorry, Y/N, I meant to tell you about the shift in my image, but I forgot.”

Would it be unprofessional to say that it wasn't the image shift that had you tense?

“Don't worry about it, Neige,” you tried to laugh it off, but quickly you were being positioned for the photo, Neige tilting his head back, fully exposing his neck, where it was implied that he had used the cologne from the campaign.

You were positioned with your lips pressed to his neck. You really doubted you even needed makeup for this shot, your face was barely visible, but whatever.

“I'm really sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, barely moving his lips as the camera whirred.

“Don't worry about it,” you whispered into his neck.

“Alright, slowly kiss up his neck, then you're gonna grab his hair and kiss him. Slowly. We want to do this in one take,” the photographer said. You felt your cheeks grow warm, and you made eye contact with Neige, whose cheeks were slightly pink.

“Sorry,” he breathed hoarsely.

“It's fine,” you whispered, following instructions, slowly, and kissing him, the taste of apples invading your mouth.

“Got it!” The photographer shouted, and you both separated quickly.

The photographer grinned at the photos on his camera, then raised that smile to you, giving you a wink.

“You were right, Neige, they were perfect for this one!”

You turned to Neige, your eyes wide, and you noticed he was heavily avoiding eye contact, his face bright red.

Rollo Flamme

Purity check

Can you tell from how I write him that I have religious trauma? 😂

Now that you'd been studying at NBC for a semester-long exchange program, you realized how close you'd grown to him. But still, sometimes you felt like you needed him to back off. You weren't a child, you could do what you wanted. Including-

“It's none of your business if I made out with someone!”

“There are rules to be followed on this campus. I don't know how they did things at NRC, but we have standards here.”

“Look! I didn't make out with anyone! And if I did, I don't need to tell you about it!”

You both glared at each other. He broke first.

“Come,” he said, grabbing your arm, and pulling you to the corner of the room where the mistletoe hung. He shot a glare at the couple that was using it, and they ran.

Come to think of it….this whole party was illegal. Why was he zeroing in on you? How was that fair?

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

“What!” You shouted, and his glare deepened.

“If you're worried about appearances, we are under the mistletoe, so it would be socially acceptable.”

“That's not-”

“Kiss me, and prove that you haven't been illegally kissing someone while at an illegal party,” he looked so fucking smug. Like he knew he'd won.

“How is that going to prove-”

“I'll taste someone on you. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear.”

“Everyone here is kissing people-”

“You're here to purify you from those mage’s poison-”

“You're insufferable!”

“Please just kiss him!” You'd forgotten the vice president was with him, too caught up in the anger you were filled with. “If you just do it, we can all go home! Please!”

You both glared at each other, then you sighed, and kissed him. When you pulled away, he pursed his lips, eying you up and down, his cheeks dusted in pink.

“Return to your dorm within the hour, and you won't receive detention.”

And then he waltzed out as though nothing happened.

Chenya

…I'm praying for your soul….

“Mwahahaha!”

You stiffened. You knew that laughter. He was here. You'd locked every door and window, just in case. You'd told him you were spending a quiet night in, when he'd stolen Ace's phone to text you. And you intended it to stay that way.

But that voice was nearby…

You grabbed a throw pillow from the sofa, preparing for the moment he would appear.

You felt something smack you in the face. You looked at the thing that hit you, that had fallen to your feet. You picked it up, rolling it around in your hands, before your eyes widened.

“Mwahahaha!”

“Wait…” you whispered, the implications of the mistletoe in your hands finally hitting.

The mistletoe was yanked from your hands, by an invisible monster. It reappeared above you, then a mouth was on yours. He tastes like stolen strawberries, and one too many desserts. The lips left yours, and you felt him disappear again. Then his tail appeared, wrapping around you, as you felt him set his chin on your shoulder, a purr making your heart rate calm.

“Mmm you're delicious. Glad I stole that little toy from Riddle,” he giggled.

“He doesn't know you're here, right?” You whispered.

“Hee hee,” he vanished with that giggle, as you heard.

“Y/N L/N! Relinquish the thief!”

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir @lucifer5lucy

[mintiicinnamonii]

Hi, I have a request, how about an (Amnesia rules) one-shot with Macaque and his female S/O?

Like macaque somehow winds up with amnesia (memories going back to the time of the brother hood maybe?) and once he catches sight of his wife he’s immediately smitten and starts flirting and trying to court her the entire time as everyone tries to figure out how to fix him? Please and thank you 🙏🏻

notes: this is my first oneshot, apologies! i went for a more clingy macaque approach, since he was way shyer during the brotherhood era. also, since the brotherhood era was before macaque was betrayed and started to develop his abandonment issues, he was probably way more affectionate, thus this. so now yall get clingy cat macaque and his wife

Amnesia Rules Macaque

“What do you mean, ‘he’s looking for me???’” You asked through the phone, tapping your foot on the floor, eyebrows furrowed. MK was on the other end, hastily explaining. “I MEAN that we woke him up while he was mystic monkey meditating and now he doesn’t remember us, hates the Monkey King-“ You sighed. “Doesn’t he already hate him??” Silence. “Thats besides the point! He’s been looking for you for AGES, We had to tie him up so he wouldn’t escape!”

You groaned. “I’ll be right there.”

—

When you walked into Pigsy’s Noodles, out of all the things you thought could happen, you did not expect this. Macaque was clinging onto you like a koala, hissing at anyone who went 50 feet close to you. “So you’re telling me, that Macaque lost his memories??” You asked, crossing your legs as Macaque nuzzled your neck. “Yeah, basically..” MK groaned. Wukong, who was hiding behind the counter as to not get mauled to his impossible death by Macaque, peeked his head out. “Geez, I forgot how annoying Macaque was back then-“ He shut himself up as Macaque growled at him. “Hey, no growling.” You scolded, petting Macaque’s head. The monkey purred, leaning into your touch. “You’re great with your hands~” He chuckled as you went bright red. “So.. how do we get him back to normal??” Sandy raised a brow, looking at the smitten monkey. Everyone in the room looked directly at Tang, who was eating his noodles without a care. “What? Why are you all looking at me?” Tang crossed his arms as Pigsy facepalmed himself. “Tang, you KNOW WHY! We need to get Macaque back to normal!” 

Wukong nodded from his hiding spot. “Yeah! Can we go back to grumpy Macaque and not have a Macaque thats trying to maul me 24/7, Jangles? PLEASE???” You shrugged. “I dunno.. I like cuddly Macaque. Can we keep him like this?” You kissed Macaque’s forehead as he purred, hugging you tighter. Your heart melted; it was if you were watching a little cat. A cat so adorable you couldn’t help but take a picture. For blackmail. Totally not because you thought it was cute. 

Tang hummed. “I mean.. if this works the same way it did when Monkey King lost his memories.. we just gotta crush him with a rock.”

Your eyes widened as you choked on your spit. “CRUSH HIM WITH A ROCK?! THE HELL YOU MEAN ‘CRUSH HIM WITH A ROCK?!” Macaque noticed your anger, looking up at you. “Starlight? Everything okay?” You snapped out of your rage instantly, glancing at Macaque. “I’m fine Mac. No need to worry.” You squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek, causing a bit of pink to creep up his face. Macaque, in an attempt to hide this, buried his face in your chest. 

“Any blunt force will do, cause we aren’t exactly in a place where giant rocks are right now..” Tang said, fixing his glasses. “So what do we do then? Keep him like this?!” Pigsy asked, crossing his arms. “Please do.” You chimed in. Suddenly, Mei gasped. “I have a great idea.”

—

“WHY DID I HAVE TO BE THE BAIT???” Wukong screamed as he ran through Flower Fruit Mountain. Sandy, Tang, Pigsy, MK, Mei, and you watched as Macaque chased a screaming Wukong down. “DON’T WORRY MONKEY KING! YOU GOT THIS!” MK yelled, giving him a thumbs up. “Okay.. almost there..” Mei watched carefully. As Macaque chased Wukong, he got closer and closer to the cliff where they all were. “NOW!” 

Sandy quickly pushed a beige boulder off the cliff, crushing Macaque with it. You were just standing there, flabbergasted as your best friends casually crushed your husband with a boulder like it was nothing. Sandy pat your shoulder in consolation as you stood there. Wukong sighed in relief. “Thank god its over-“ As Macaque stirred, Wukong yelped, summoning his cloud and flying away instantly. You on the other hand, ran right up to him. “Hun?? Macaque??” You asked frantically. Macaque got up, groaning as he rubbed his head. He looked over at you with those gorgeous amber eyes. “Hey, gem..” He smiled. Suddenly, you hugged him tightly, peppering his face in kisses. “Oh thank GOD you’re back-“ Macaque blinked, confused til he looked up to see the others on the cliff, peering down and awwing at the sight. “Ah. I see..” He sighed, looking back down at you and your worried face. He chuckled. “Don’t worry, plum..” He kissed your forehead. “Nothing can make me forget my love for you.”

[milkbobatyun]

save your tears

pairing: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: you were bitter enemies, from the start and for eternity. nothing could repair your relationship

word count: 770

a/n: proud jiaoqiu haver since he first came out, i have started to build him now (finally, ik) this is lwk similar to a jiaoqiu piece i'm working on in my drafts rn...

it was no secret that you and jiaoqiu were bitter enemies. when it all started, you forgot. maybe it was when you had butted heads during a lesson during your younger years. maybe it was the time he had put dirt and leaves in your sachet during break. maybe it was when you had purposefully tugged on his hair.

the fights were too many to count on one hand, so eventually, you stopped.

when you had heard about jiaoqiu again, it was after the both of you had graduated, you setting up your own pharmacy and him becoming the famous doctor of the merlin’s claw.

despite your rivalry, jiaoqiu still came to your shop the most often, to collect herb supplies. perhaps he hadn’t yet shaken off the habit of vexing you, for the herd of fangirls who swooned and fainted in front of your shop doorway every time he entered was enough to give you a pounding headache.

however, after the brutal war, you took notice of the absence of an annoying fox, with his sly smile and fluttering fan.

it was only when feixiao paid you a visit on behalf of her doctor that you learnt the news.

the bundle of herbs fell from your grasp, the paper crinkling as it hit the floor. without a glance back, you ran to jiaoqiu’s house.

jiaoqiu’s head turned towards the direction of the door as he heard it open with a creak.

the soft footsteps padded into the room, before the person froze.

“feixiao?” jiaoqiu’s voice wavered, uncertainty tainting it. “is that you?”

you saw how his eyes were covered with bandages, his ears twitching, trying to catch a sound. behind him, his tail swung restlessly.

“jiaoqiu,” you breathed, your voice caught in your throat.

“you,” jiaoqiu’s voice changed immediately, ears flattening against his head. “get out.”

you were startled by the tone of his voice, but instead, you stepped closer. tentatively, you reached out your hands, fingers gently brushing his face, tilting it in all kinds of directions as you muttered under your breath.

jiaoqiu’s hands swatted at yours, as though you were a fly or a bug.

“get away from me.” he snarled, unwelcome evident in his voice.

hurt, you withdrew your hands.

“what happened?” you whispered, sorrow saturating your tone.

“hoolay.” jiaoqiu’s curt voice broke the silence. “used myself as bait. can’t see now.”

jiaoqiu waited for you to respond, arrogance in your tone. the prolonged silence unnerved him. he was used to your sharp cutting remarks, not this heavy, suffocating silence.

the sight of his bandages tore at your heartstrings. where was that confident and sly foxian you had known in your youth? in front of you sat a broken healer, one who knew his future in the field of healing was bleak.

a sniffle and rustle broke the silence.

anger flared up within jiaoqiu, coursing through his veins, his fists clenching at his sides.

“if you’re going to cry those crocodile tears,” jiaoqiu growled, baring his fangs in your direction with anger, “then get out.”

when he didn’t hear your footsteps departing from the room, jiaoqiu’s hand wandered blindly across the tabletop before it came into contact with the teacup that sat atop its saucer, drained of the tea it held.

jiaoqiu aimed the teacup in your direction, throwing it in a fit of rage.

with a clear tinkle, the cup shattered against the floor, at your feet. the porecelain pieces scattered, scuttling across the floor, hiding in the nooks and crannies.

wiping your tears with your sleeves, you bent to pick up the pieces. it was just your luck that one of the shards sliced into your palm. a pained hiss escaped from your lips.

jiaoqiu’s ears stood up in alertness as he spun his head towards the source. reaching out his hands, he searched blindly for where you were.

“are you hurt?” he questioned, voice laced with concern, hands outstretched helplessly. guilt hit him like a wave. you were only trying to be caring and a decent person, but his actions were too hostile this time.

swallowing down the pain and tears, you weakly mumbled an answer that jiaoqiu didn’t quite catch. you cupped the shards in your hands, discarding them into the nearby bin before fumbling out some apology.

“...i’ll leave.” you excused yourself before scuttled out of the manor, the sound of your footsteps fading in the distance.

silence settled like a thick, heavy blanket, jiaoqiu’s sole companion.

in the quiet which was only disturbed by the quiet ticking of the clock, jiaoqiu sat, wrapped in his thoughts. had he pushed too far?

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[shixcherie]

This Kitten Purrs | Choi San ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 07 : Thigh Riding

↬ [ Synopsis ] : When tension runs high and nothing seems to work, you decide to throw one final bait for your roommate San to take, enlightening him of your desires. This time, he actually takes it, reciprocating with equal passion and intensity. Game night turns into a wild night of intense pleasure—riding thighs with hands and mouths everywhere, making this kitten purr.

Word Count : 1.6k Genre : Non-idol u, Smut, Angst. Pairing : Roommate! San x F.reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut(18+), both are switch!, dirty talk, dom/ sub undertones, dom san, sub fem reader, thigh riding, pet name(kitten), self pleasure, nipple play, biting.

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 07 is here ma chéries ☆ and it's our kitty San's turn for some fun. A shorter one compared to my other fics, but I promise, it's not going to disappoint. Hope you enjoy it ma chéries.

Also, I successfully completed one week of Kinktober '24. Brb, gonna cry in a corner. I can’t believe I finally committed to something and am actually seeing it through. Thank you so much for all the love and support you've shown for this rookie kitten.

Wednesdays were always booked and busy for game night. Phones were on silent, snacks and drinks were on the table, the PS was plugged in, and the game was ready to begin. You, Yunho, San, and Mingi all crashed at your place, crowding on the couch while you comfortably perched on San’s lap.

You and San had always been so comfortable being physically touchy with each other, so it was normal for you to sit on his lap. Kissing on the cheeks, back hugs, forehead kisses, and sitting on his lap had become common occurrences around the house.

As your eyes were glued to the screen, your fingers moved swiftly over the controller. You all cheered with every kill, eating and drinking the evening away, not realizing five hours had passed.

Now, the final match began—the most intense 2v2 yet. San and you were on one team, with Yunho and Mingi on the other. The tension peaked as San gripped his controller, ready to give it his all one last time. Only, his team wouldn’t be winning. You wouldn’t let him.

Why? Because San had whined all afternoon, stubbornly against the idea of you going on a blind date with some random guy named Mingyu. “What if he turns out to be a serial killer?” he’d tried to convince you. “Can’t let the resident kitten get killed so early, now can we?” He pouted, smirking as mischief glinted in his eyes. You both knew these complaints were baseless and ridiculous.

Kitten? you scoffed. If anyone’s a pussy here,its him.

The real reason was his desire to have you all to himself, though he was too hesitant to make the first move. And, let's just say, you shared a mutual desire to have him too, especially since these blind dates were turning out to be disappointments. So, you decided to give him a cheeky little push,a bone to the hungry animal, curious if he’d take the bait.

If he did, the blind date was off.

Your plan was all set and ready to be executed as you shifted in San’s lap, seeming innocent, but your intentions were clear to you.

As the game raged on, you subtly rocked back and forth on his thigh, eagerly awaiting a reaction. His arms tightened around your waist, tension building with each movement, but he stayed quiet, trying to focus.

“Yah, are you trying to distract me?” San complained, his tone playful but strained, his lips forming a pout.

You laughed, your eyes still on the screen. “Me? Distract you? San, focus, please. We can’t let them win.” You smiled to yourself, knowing exactly what you were doing, continuing the subtle rocking with your goal in mind.

His grip tightened, and though he said nothing more, you could hear his breath hitch as his focus slipped the longer you kept moving. The game was already lost, but your game was well on its way to victory.

Just give in already, Sannie!

“Fuck!” San cursed loudly, tossing the controller aside as the victory screen flashed for the other team.

“Told you we’d win!” Mingi cheered, fist-bumping Yunho.

Yunho grinned. “Looks like someone got distracted” he teased, shooting a knowing look at you and San.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while it lasts.” San muttered, waving them off. “Next time, we’re winning,” he added smugly, confident in his future victory.

“We’ll see,” Yunho smirked, pulling Mingi along. “See you guys next week.”

San watched them leave, his eyes following as the door shut softly behind them.

“I’ll play with you later, Sannie,” you said as you got off his lap, pretending you had somewhere urgent to be. “Can’t keep Mingyu waiting all night, can I?” You turned, walking to your room to get ready for the blind date.

San's hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice needy. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you? And now you want to leave for this date with some random dude?”

“Maybe I did,” you smirked, leaning back, letting your head rest against his shoulder as you traced your fingers slowly along his thigh. “But what are you going to do about it, Sannie?” you teased, your voice soft but daring, the challenge hanging in the air between you.

Piecing together the situation, a low, sultry chuckle escaped San’s lips as they brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder. He bit down gently, a silent declaration that the challenge had been accepted. “Kitten needs to be punished.” he murmured, his voice dark with intent as his desires took over.

Got him right where you wanted. Now, the real fun started.

“Stand up” he commanded, a devilish smirk adorning his lips as his dominant side surfaced, his eyes darkening with desire. Blinking a few times, you smirked, and obeyed without hesitation, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed over you.

Dom San is hot!

Leaning back, San settled comfortably, his eyes locked on you. “Undress for me, kitten.” he said, his voice dripping with anticipation, waiting for your naked form to grace his view. You obeyed, the thrill of submitting to him already making you wet down south as your hands got rid of your tank top and shorts.

Your naked form, delicate yet extremely sexy, almost made him take you right then and there. But he wanted to devour you bit by bit, both for the sake of punishment and to fulfill the satisfaction of your cancelled date.

“Now,” he continued, his gaze locked on you, “touch yourself for me.” His words were heavy with desire, wanting to witness how you pleasured yourself. The memory of your moans from a few nights ago still lingered in his mind, those nights when you’d leave the door just slightly open, knowing he’d peek in, and your sultry cries of pleasure were loud enough for him to hear and brick up in his pants.

Your hands cupped your breasts, giving them a few squeezes that made San practically salivate, eager for a bite, maybe even a hard suck on those perky buds. Your fingers pinched your nipples, hardening them, ecstasy coursing through your body as you broke apart under his intense gaze. Pinching them harder, you gave a final tug before your juicy breasts bounced back to their original position with a jiggle.

Now, your hands traveled down south, every move diligently followed by San as his dick hardened in his pants. You tugged at the waistband of your lacy underwear, pulling it down quickly. As it fell to your feet, you began rubbing your wet core, soft moans escaping your lips as tremors ran through your body. Your fingers slipped inside your heat, the delicious stretch making you ache with frustration that it wasn’t his touch you were feeling. The frustration drove you to pump your fingers faster, slick gathering on your skin as the pleasure built, edging you closer to a heart-stopping release.

That’s it. San couldn’t wait any longer.

With one swift motion, he pulled you back onto his lap, capturing your lips as an urgent hunger consumed him, thanks to your little sexy performance. His grip on your hips tightened, his lips messily nibbling, occasionally biting your lower lip. “Move, kitten.” he commanded, and you moaned as he tugged at your lower lip, sucking and showing no mood to let go of your sexy mouth.

Without a word, you shifted in his lap again, your thighs pressing against his as you rocked forward, slowly testing the friction. The sharp intake of breath you heard from San was enough to encourage you further. You repeated the motion, deliberately this time, feeling his hardness beneath your hand.

“Fuck…” San breathed, his voice strained as he enjoyed the sensations erupting on thighs. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements as you continued to grind against his thigh. The feeling of his thigh between your legs, combined with the strong grip of his hands, sent waves of pleasure through you.

Your pace quickened, your breathing becoming heavy as you chased the friction. San’s eyes were glued to your face, watching your blushy cheeks, your lip between your teeth, and your eyes rolled back as you lost yourself in the rhythm. His hands never left your hips, pushing and pulling you against him with just enough pressure to drive you closer to the edge.

“San…” you whimpered, feeling the tight knot in your stomach about to snap. He groaned, his hands gripping you even tighter, practically guiding you into each movement now.

“Cum for me, kitten.” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Can you do that for me, pretty? Will you let me take care of you?” His rough voice transformed into one filled with sweetness and care.

The duality pushed you over the edge snapping the knot as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as your body trembled with release. San’s name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as your movements slowed, riding out the high.

But was San done, though? Fuck No!

You could feel how hard he was, his arousal pressing hard against you hands. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice dripping with lust. “I’m not letting you off that easy. Ready for round two, kitten?”

With that, he carried you to his bedroom, and you still recovered from your high as excitement grew inside you in anticipation of the wild night that was about to come.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.