#the chemical reaction au

[meta-quest]

au inspired by @chertila3000 's idea. maybe i should've drawn felix and oswald first (they're the main characters). my excuse is that he's important.

[dontcallmenelly]

art school babies !! inspired by “chemical reactions” by @something-special-you-are <3

[egglygreg]

I was just watching a video of someone trying a bunch of Tumblr's cursed recipes, and it made me remember the worst thing I ever tasted.

Well, what was this terrible combo, this nightmare concoction that still haunts me 15 years later?

It was a black and gold (cheap generic brand) blue lolly and a pretzel eaten together.

I accidentally discovered this while on the school bus as a teen, on our way to a local wetlands for a field trip. I was eating my bag of lollies (soft candies) and some pretzels, and the two flavours happened to mix in my mouth in the most repulsive way possible. None of the other coloured lollies had the same effect.

The flavour was so shudderingly awful it immediately triggered gagging and the desire to vomit. Which for me was wild, because I hadn't thrown up or had nausea since I was like 4. Had an iron stomach at the time.

But I was just in shock as to how putrid it tasted. I still have no idea what was going on to make it taste that horrendous.

Of course, I got as many other people as possible to try it. You know, for science. Same reaction. Everyone was appalled and none of us understood why it was that awful.

Like, I have experienced my fair share of horrific tastes before. My friends and I as kids played a quirky little game called Shots (no alcohol involved) where the group would concoct a potion of the worst combo of foods from the fridge and cupboards they could find, and then make it into a drink in a shotglass. The person who was "it" then had to drink it. The goal? Don't throw up. I was pretty good at this game.

One of the ones I had to down contained (I think) over a teaspoon of Chili powder, milk, vanilla essence, nutmeg, tomato sauce, other random assorted herbs and spices including very old ones from the back of the cupboard, and bits of crushed weetbix cereal. Maybe even some vegemite. What I remember was that it was thick, grey brown, very lumpy, and absolutely vile.

It was still not as bad as the blue jube/pretzel combo.

[7000f1]

thinking about how maybe my 100 follower gift should be to actually start working on my monhun au but I am instead working in a different au why am I like this

[simeffable]

which lobe of the brain is responsible for forcing crushes the second you meet coworkers regardless of genuine interest? asking for a friend

[mindscollision]

///

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

slowly, i'm going down

access full masterlist here!

pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

word count: 4816 words

warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

or

mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.

a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞

taglist: @byuntrash101 @goquokka @ashwoodforest @choisansnotsolegalwife

Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.

Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).

And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.

Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.

He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.

Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.

The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.

A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!

Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?

The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.

A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!

"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.

"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"

Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.

Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.

"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.

"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.

"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.

"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.

Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?

A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.

"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?

"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.

"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.

"Mingi, focus-"

"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.

"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.

Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.

"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."

"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"

"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.

Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.

Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.

"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"

"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".

"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"

Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"

"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.

As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.

"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.

Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."

You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.

That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.

"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.

Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.

"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.

"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.

"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!

"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.

A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.

For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.

"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.

Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.

Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.

Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.

And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.

Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.

He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.

Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.

So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.

His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.

Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-

Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.

To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.

Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.

He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.

Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.

Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.

Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.

Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.

"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.

Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?

"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.

Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.

Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.

Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.

"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."

"Incubus," Mingi points out.

"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"

Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.

"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."

You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.

God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.

"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."

How did that get out there?

You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."

Cute?!

Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.

With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.

"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."

"Mingi- 's so good."

"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"

"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.

Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.

"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.

His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.

Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[bywons]

୨୧ MY DOPAMINE! — p. jongseong

pairing. tutor!park jay x f!reader w.c. 0.8k  tw/cw. organic chemistry rawrr👹, nicknames(sweetheart, pretty girl), kissing on the cheeks genre. non idol au, college/high school au, fluff

sru's note! finals are coming fr and im in need of a handsome tutor smh 😩 feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

"so," jay pushed up his rimless glasses with his slender fingers as he sighed, looking at you, "how do you convert ethyne to benzene?"

it was tough really, both the subject and the situation.

only a week ago you convinced, park jay— the chemistry topper in your class, to tutor you for the upcoming final exams. there was no doubt you weren't even going to get the passing marks at the subject, which was obviously, a shame. but you had to do something! the finals were in a week or so!

but your heart was against convincing jay park to tutor you. it was against the fact that your heartbeat would accelerate everytime he was in the frame, the fact that your pupils would dilate at the sight of him simply adjusting his glasses or his cute face whenever he was solving problems, the fact that you'd find yourself in awe whenever you were lost in his heavenly face.

the fact that dopamine secrets in your body whenever its him.

almost whatever he did, you loved it.

"hey, are you even listening to me?", jay's 'strict tutor' voice snapped you out of your trance.

"h-huh? y-yes!", struggling to actually pay attention to the opened chemistry book in front of you, you lift your head up to meet the firm eyes of jays.

but as soon as you took a glimpse of his blond hair caressing his soft brows with his glasses and rolled arm sleeves to the addition of his beauty, boy oh boy, you were swept away.

"uh huh?", he smirked leaning over the study table, closer to you, "then what's the answer, hmm?"

"it's...", you trailed off, making a fake thinking face to show some level of understanding in the subject to jay, when in reality you had no idea of the tedious chemical reactions, ".... it's uhm-"

"come on sweetheart," sweetheart, "I've taught you this three times already", jay closed the notebook in front of him and sighed, clasping his hands together.

"to be honest jay....", you heavily sigh back, whining as you dug your fingernails in your scalp, mentally cursing chemistry and cursing you lovestruck weak heart, for not being able to concentrate.

"i-i really don't know the answer. i've never been good at chemistry!"

"alright, but is that the excuse you give to the teacher when you fail this semester?"

"no, but-" you roll your eyes, wondering when this was gonna end, but jay cut you off,

"y/n, im gonna ask you the simplest question ever. if you don't get it right, i wont teach you anymore."

this single sentence of jay had you sweating cold, with your heart suffer a crack. Shit. You knew you had to leap for the sun for this one, by hook or by crook.

'cause obviously, you didn't wanna miss your favourite face for a week.

"solve this numerical for me ok?", jay slided a blank workspace with a question on top for you to solve.

you gulped at the question, it was easy but tricky.

few loose strands fondled your cheeks while you worked at the problem, praying to every god that you'd get it right for the sake of jay sticking around.

you groaned, scribbling the whole equation for the second time after you thought it would be right. and if the pressure of the awful subject chemistry wasn't enough, you felt the warm touch of jay's hands, ever so lightly tucking the loose strands behind you ear.

but thank god you had your head down, for your cheeks went crimson.

"i love your hair," jay chuckled, his fingertips still lingering on your cheeks, "come on! you know the answer, hun." hun.

you gulped even harder, and handed him the answer sheet back, manifesting it would be correct. but you were on the verge of keeping cool. jay park smiled at for the second time! and tucked your hair?! oh my—

"hey! i told ya, it's correct!" jay beamed, handing you the paper back.

"finally!", and so you couldn't keep your joy, squealing and giggling. because you got the answer right was a factor, but being able to spend more time with jay made up 99% of it.

but all this time jay admired you as much. so much, that he ignored the tiny mistake done in the numerical he gave, after all he too wanted to be closer the prettiest girl in the world. he rejected tutoring to so many other students in his class, just for his pretty girl. (>.<)

then all of a sudden it came to a halt when you felt a feathery, tinglish sensation on your cheeks, tinting it crimson again.

it was almost unbelievable that jay kissed you, but then he smiled ever so sweetly at you, meanwhile you were losing your mind over this, jaws hung low, eyes widened and cheeks rapidly getting coloured.

"if you manage to get good grades this semester," jay sang, leaning dangerously close to your ears and stealing your breath away as he whispered,

"then i'll kiss you on your lips, pretty girl."

© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.

taglist: open! CLICK ON THE LINK TO BE ADDED!

[hanjisick]

chemical infatuation

genre. yandere au. patient!jisung x researcher!reader

desc. jisung takes part in a high-paying yet sketchy study with seemingly no risks, but the injection causes him to quickly grow obsessed with the daytime staff member assigned to his study.

warnings. needles. vomit. murder.

wc. 3.5k

“is it a bad time to tell you that i’m a little claustrophobic?” your patient, han jisung, nervously shifted in his seat, fiddling with the hem of his sweater.

“we have to keep you in this containment during our research.“

the containment room, with its dim lighting and cushioned walls, seemed to close in on him. the dimensions felt constricting, heightening the anxiety surging through his veins.

every inch of the space was under surveillance, every move to be meticulously scrutinized by the watchful eyes of researchers.

what a sketchy situation. but it was better than he had expected from a craigslist ad that he had chanced upon.

the snap of your rubber gloves pulled him away from his thoughts, “it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”

500 million won. that was enough for him to do anything.

“i’m fine. i’m ready.”

“alright then, pull your arm out of your sweater for me.”

“i have a tank top underneath.” the boy shuffled out of the sweater and placed it onto his lap.

“and as the paperwork says, you have no allergies, anaphylaxis, or any history of mental illness?”

“nope.”

he flinched as the cool alcohol pad met his bicep.

“the medication we are testing for you should not hurt you much as far as we are concerned,” you began prepping the needle and syringe, “the only side effects that we predict could be a minor headache for a couple of days. it is not dangerous.”

jisung closed his eyes as you squeezed his arm slightly, pushing the needle through his skin.

you gently placed the gauze onto his arm, “finished. how do you feel immediately?”

“normal. a little shaken up from nerves, but no problems. what do i do now?”

“you’ll be watched for a month. the only restrictions are that you aren’t allowed to leave this room or use any devices.”

the idea of isolation and confinement weighed a bit heavily on him, but he was determined to see it through.

you motion towards the mattress in the corner, “we will change your bedding twice throughout the month. let us know if you are uncomfortable with the temperature of the room, need extra bedding, or anything else.”

jisung nodded.

“let us know if you need to use the bathroom and we will temporarily disable the cameras for your privacy. but we will take urine samples if we deem it necessary.”

“and what about food?”

“you’ll be fed three meals per day, with two snacks.”

“thank you. that’s all i need to know,” he paused for a moment, “other than your name. what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n,” you gather your paperwork, “your personal belongings will be returned once we go through to make sure there is nothing that could alter our research.”

the door had closed and locked, leaving jisung alone in the room with just his thoughts to keep him company until his stuff was given back to him.

Beginning Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung feels nervous about receiving the injection. Administered at 16:38 with no noted side effects.

you watched the boy through the array of cameras placed strategically throughout the room as he lay on the mattress. his sweater was haphazardly discarded across the room, a seemingly small attempt to make himself more comfortable in the sterile, plain environment.

despite the initial nerves of a new medication, nothing had seemed to happen. at the fifteen-minute mark, you stepped away from the cameras for a moment— if there were to be a severe sudden reaction, it would have manifested by now, you reasoned.

throughout your shift, your attention continued to drift back to the screens displaying jisung’s every move. with each glance, you found him engaged in various activities—doodling, writing in a journal, or simply staring off into space, lost in thought.

nothing seemed to go wrong. perhaps this medication would be approved.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested night snacks. He had slept well. No side effects were recorded.

you press the bright red button, lowering your mouth to the microphone.

“how is everything down there? any side effects?”

“y/n? is that you speaking?”

“yes,” you were surprised that the boy had remembered your name, “what are your symptoms?”

“you should come into the room to speak with me. i’m lonely here.”

“i have to record your symptoms. i can’t come down there unless i know that you’re stable.”

the microphone had only barely picked up his sigh. “i’m normal.”

“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“nope. nothing. everything’s fine. just lonely.”

you sigh. he seemed normal. he was lying in bed, staring up at one of the cameras.

so it was fine, right?

you push open the door, greeted by the grinning patient on his mattress.

“you smell nice. what products do you use?”

what an odd conversation starter. “nothing special. just a lavender-scented body wash.”

he nods. “the overnight staff were fine, but i think that i prefer you. i can’t put my finger on it quite yet.”

was jisung naturally this blunt with his words? or was he flirting with you?

“what do you plan to do during your stay here?”

he leans back against the cushioned wall, “i compose songs for artists. i figured that it would be easy to get a lot of work done in here.”

“i see. is that your songwriting journal then?” you eye the small black book and pen next to him.

he takes the pen into his hand, “yup. it’s one of the few things that i brought here.”

“you’ll have to show me some of your work sometime throughout the month.”

“you can look at my work now,” he grins, clicking the pen, “my name is HAN. look me up.”

the name stays in your mind as you exit the room and lock the door. you find your way back to your seat at the cameras to supervise the man, pulling your lunch out of your back.

one hand holds a sandwich as the other browses through safari, looking at the songs that your patient had composed.

you hadn’t heard any of them, but perhaps it would be a good idea to look into the lyrics. it would give you things to talk about with him for the following month.

the rest of the shift was boring. you watched as he wrote in his notebook, ate his food, hummed to himself— nothing interesting.

the most intriguing thing that you experienced was the occasional ‘help!’ button being pressed, only for the man to announce that he needed to take a piss.

your misery was ended once your coworker entered the room, placing his keys and bag down on the table.

a sigh of relief left you, “thank god. it’s so boring.”

“thanks for the warning.”

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate all of dinner and requested no night snack. Awoke at 01:00 and 03:00. Specified no reason for waking. Special request for morning staff: Deliver lavender-scented body wash.

your eyes stared down at the note with slightly widened eyes.

perhaps he had good intentions, perhaps your defenses were just too high. after all, he might just like the scent of lavender like you did.

“good morning. any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“my arm is a little sore, and i’m a bit restless, but that is all.”

you record his answers— finally something to write down.

“i saw your request from last night. i’ll get a staff member to deliver your body wash. did you run out? i’m sure we gave you enough.”

“i still have some. i just wanted to try yours out.”

how strange.

“you’re coming down to see me today, right?”

“not today. i want to see if your symptoms worsen throughout the day. it’s best to be careful.”

you watch through the camera as he slumps back, visibly disappointed.

today, the boy had begun to act a little bit differently. every couple of minutes, he would stop his writing to look up at the camera.

you would hold eye contact with him for a few moments, even though he couldn’t see you before he would look back down again with a large grin that wasn’t on his face before.

soon, the bottle of body wash was delivered to his room.

“y/n! is that you?” he jumped out of bed as the lock clicked, only to be disappointed to see a man in a mask and gloves leave it right inside of the door.

he crept towards the bottle, snapping the lid off, holding it up to his nose, then inhaling deeply.

“it smells like you.”

you clenched your teeth, writing down the reactions.

walking over towards the center of the room, he peeled his t-shirt off his frame, then pulled down his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

you shrieked, slamming the buttons to disable the camera.

he was supposed to tell you when he needed privacy.

with shaky hands, you began to jot down his behaviors.

once ten minutes had passed, you turned the camera back on in hopes that he was decent again. this time, you had enabled the camera with caution, only to see that he was showering.

you disable it once again and decide that this would be a good time to have lunch.

the image of the naked man was etched into your mind as you tried to force the salad down your throat.

it was a good thirty minutes until you got the courage to turn the camera back on, sighing in relief as you saw him on his bed with sweatpants on once again.

jisung stared up at the ceiling with hooded eyes, chest rising and falling— you weren’t sure what was going through his mind.

you press the button. “everything alright in there?”

he perked up, “y/n, everything is just fine. i wish you were in here, though, instead of behind that stupid camera.”

you bite your lip uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.

changing the subject would be best.

“lunch will be delivered soon.”

“good. i’m a bit hungry.”

you take your finger off of the button, sitting back in your seat, waiting for your shift to be over.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate most of dinner and requested no night snack. Had difficulty falling and staying asleep. Awoke many times to journal. Refused conversation about his symptoms.

“y/n? you’re here, right? right?”

you had only just opened the door to the surveillance room, met with his muffled voice through the speakers.

“y/n? y/n? baby? my beautiful doll?”

the nickname caught you off guard, breath caught in your throat.

before answering, you grabbed the pen off the desk to jot down the behavior. this was not normal.

he stared directly into the camera. “i know you’re here. i journaled the minutes until he would leave and you would replace him.”

your legs shook as you took a seat.

why were you so nervous? it wasn’t like you were in danger. the door was locked. his body language did not seem hostile.

but his eyes told a different story. they were dark, crazed, restless.

“doll? can you hear me? can you hear me?”

your voice stuttered, “what are your symptoms?”

“i missed your voice, y/n.”

“any headaches? dizziness? dry throat?”

“none,” jisung answered quickly, “so you can come down and see me, right?”

you lied through your teeth. “not today. we are still a bit worried about yesterday’s symptoms.”

“fuck!” his forehead hit against the wall.

you took your finger away from the button.

he balled his hand into a fist before hurling it towards the same wall.

jisung crumbles to the floor. “i can’t take it anymore.”

“are you alright? are you in pain? do you need help?” you grasp your pen with an unsteady hand, “tell me what’s going on. talk to me.”

“i need to see you again, i waited all night just for you to tell me no.”

“it’s for the safety of you and myself.”

his voice was barely above a raspy whisper, “i promise i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.”

“jisung,” you started sternly, “i’m unable to see you. please abide by the rules of the study.”

“can’t i quit?”

“you signed a form stating that unless there is a medical emergency, you aren’t to leave this room. i’m quite not sure that you’re in your right state of mind right now.”

“i would be fine if you’d let me see you again.”

it was pointless to argue with the man, so you let go of the button, jotting down the conversation.

jisung did not eat, speak, or move from his spot that day.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, no known medical problems

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation.

“doll, you’re back.” his raspy voice announced your presence just as you opened the door as if he was in the room with you.

on the camera, he was spread out in the middle of the floor like a starfish. his blonde hair covered his face, but you could still see the eye bags forming under his sunken eyes.

“i have a bit of a headache. i’m dizzy. my throat is dry,” he answered your questions for you, “will i get to see you today, doll?”

you were a bit afraid to answer, hesitating as you pressed the button, “i’m sorry. no.”

“but i will be able to see you after the study, right? after the study you’ll marry me, right?”

your heart dropped into your stomach at the words.

“i have a partner, jisung.”

“i know,” he smiled lightly, “it’s me. but soon i’ll be your husband, right?”

this was too much. you felt sick. you needed to alert the rest of the team and let someone else take over this case. hell, you might even quit your job.

“imagine you as han y/n. it sounds beautiful, doesn’t it?”

his crazed voice rang through your ears as you stood up from your seat.

“nobody else has ever made me feel this way, do you know that? all i want is you. and i’ve only seen you twice. isn’t that absurd? love is just so beautiful.”

his words caused you to still. you felt like a deer in headlights.

“do you think the shot is what made me crazy? because ever since we met eyes after you gave it to me, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. about your touch, even through the gloves. all of my songs have been about you. i even drew you.”

waves of nausea came crashing down on you.

“i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.”

jisung scoffed at the thought of him, “and he’s the one who gets the pleasure of passing by you every day? do you like him? i’ll gouge his eyes out and wear his skin if you like him more than me, hm?”

you raced towards the trash can in the corner of the room, stomach churning as your breakfast came right out of your mouth.

the smell was putrid, acidic, disgusting. but not as disgusting as the words of the sick man behind the camera.

“did you watch me shower, my love? i don’t mind if you did. your lavender body wash felt so good on my body, i imagined it was you in there with me, washing my body yourself—“

you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

“he’s crazy! he’s gone mad!” you point towards the surveillance room, tears streaming down your face as you try to explain the situation to the nearest person that you can find.

“calm down. go to the break room. i’ll alert the rest and we’ll handle it.”

“you’ll be okay,” a staff member reassures, handing you a much-needed drink from the vending machine, “he won’t be able to escape. we will detain him and try to get him any help that we can.”

“even aside from how creepy he was, i just feel terrible, you know? i gave him that shot.”

“it isn’t your fault. he knew what he was getting into. we tried our best to determine the effects. there was no way of knowing.”

although he was right, guilt and horror still ate you up as you rested your head in your hands.

“this is why our job is important, so that only one person gets hurt instead of an entire population of people.”

“what a shitty job.”

he laughed as he got up, “tell me about it. i’m gonna go see what i can do to help. let us know if you need anything.”

the door closes and you lay your head down on the table, closing your eyes.

all you could think about was the man and his words.

‘i can’t wait until i’m finally out of here. i can finally have you all to myself. i’ll kill that night staff for taking you away from me.’

would he be able to leave? would he be able to get over this love sickness? is it reversible? nobody knew anything about it. the only thing that could be done is watching him.

it only seemed to get worse over the days, and you didn’t want to know what he would be like at the end of the month.

Overnight Notes

Han Jisung (Male)

23 years old, psychosis

Acterenol, Administered 16:38, 5/17/25.

Intramuscular, Upper Arm

Notes: Jisung ate no dinner and requested no night snack. Did not sleep through the night. Refused conversation aside from asking for previous staff, Y/N L/N.

you no longer worked with jisung. instead, you had been assigned to a new case.

“it isn’t too late to back out, we have a few more candidates willing to take your place.”

“i’m not nervous. go ahead and inject me, doctor,” the patient joked, pulling her sleeve up.

“and as the paperwork says, your only allergy is mild reaction to shellfish, but no anaphylaxis or any history of mental illness?”

“all correct.”

you were wiping her bicep with alcohol when the door had opened, screams piercing your ears from outside of the soundproof room.

“y/n?”

blood dripped onto the floor from his heaving form, eyes bloodshot and locked right on your form. in his hand, he held a loaded handgun, the smell of gun powder seeping into the room.

the patient in front of you screeched, immediately making a run for it before her brains were splattered across the room.

your ears rung from the shot, standing stalk still as jisung approached you.

everything was moving too quickly. you couldn’t process a single thing. your head was spinning. you needed to survive.

“please, i’ll do anything, don’t hurt me.”

“i told you. i won’t hurt you, i’d never hurt you. i couldn’t hurt you.” a bloody hand ran through your hair, taking advantage of your frozen figure.

“i can’t believe i’m so close to you right now.” his nose buried into your neck and you could feel the cold metal of the gun pressing against your back.

“they’re all dead. and you’re back.”

he dropped the gun to the floor, fishing through his pocket.

before you could register what was happening, jisung had already lodged a needle into your arm.

“sleep tight, my doll, i’ll get us out of here.”

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒.𝐌𝐆 ♡

Intoxicated

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Your friend needed your help with trying out one of her experiments, and let's just say Mingi was about to never let you leave the bedroom ever again because of it.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.21k 

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Wolf Au. Fantasy. Suggestive.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Wolf!Mingi x Wolf!Reader [Mates] 

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Scenting. Lowkey scent play. Mention of glands. Pet names. Heavy manhandling. Mingi has kinda lost his mind from lust. Oral. The reader is literally littered in teeth marks and hickeys (whoops). Unprotected sex. Videoing. Sex tape. Swearing.

Thank you, @hwasangelbaby, for requesting Mingi for this day... I'll miss you. ♡

Note : Hi. So I've been hit with some sickness over night and I didn't get time to finish this but I wanted to post something. So I'm sorry that I'm leaving you all high and dry. I promise the next one will be good. ♡♡♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

“Just try it, trust me.” The voice of one of the she-wolves replayed in your head as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You had just had a shower, getting ready for the day when you were reminded of the perfume that was given to you for an experiment. You see Dove, the she-wolf, had been learning potion-making from Yeosang, and had asked you to be a test subject. At first, you said no, because let's face it, you weren't about to take something that could possibly hurt you, curse you or kill you. But after she explained herself, you decided to help her. So here you standing with a suspicious perfume in your hand, placing it slowly on the spots she mentioned, ‘Place it on your glands, wrists and just behind your ear’.

“Okay…” You sighed to yourself, rubbing in the liquid. Now, what might this do, you may ask, according to Dove it was a pheromone enhancer, a chemical to open your mating glands and potentially helps you find your soul mate quicker. But before Dove gives this to an un-mated creature, she wanted to see if mates would still become more crazed by said smell. So she asked you, since you were mated to Song Mingi, one of the guards and a member of the leader circle, she knew his reaction would be worth it.

Mingi was expected home any minute, and honestly, you were shaking with nerves. You didn’t know what the smell would do and worry clouded your judgement. And what’s worse was you couldn’t smell it yourself. Since the liquid was unscented and only activated with your scent you have no clue what it smelt like on yourself since it's your own scent. So you sat in your matching shorts and shirt PJ set with little pink hearts as buttons on the front of it. Your fingers were tangled in the hem of your shorts fiddling with the fabric until you suddenly heard a deep voice echo through the home.

“Darling I’m Hom―.” He quickly cut himself off at the sudden whiff of the most intoxicated, sweet scent. It was like his brain cut off, leaving one the animal nature conscious. He began to stalk the bedroom. You couldn’t hear a thing given he was like a silent stalker, only letting his prey know he was there when it was too late.

“Mingi...Is that you?” You gulped having heard your lover's voice before it was strangely cut off. Was he okay? Can he already smell you? What if he left thinking it smelt bad? A million reasons slipped in and out of your mind making you go to stand up but before you could do anything a large snarl and broad figure appeared in the bedroom door frame. “M-Min…”

Mingi rumbled lowly, making your wolf cry out for his. You instantly felt the urge to strip yourself for him, let him have his way with you. But you stayed still awaiting for your lover to speak. He took only three large steps to reach you on the edge of the bed. You could finally see his features and it only made you whimper seeing his eyes were pitch. Dark with lust, and his nose flared taking in more of your scent. Your hand slowly moved to grab his and the minute your fingers grazed his palm he snapped. His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up while his other arm gripped around your waist, holding your body flush against him. His nose brushes against your bond mark, the mark that symbolizes you were his and he, yours. He took a big inhale, taking in your new enhanced scent.

“My pretty little wolf.” was all he said before gripping the front of your top and ripping all the buttons open, making them scatter everywhere. His mouth latches onto your mark, biting down, hard, making you scream out in the sudden painful pleasure. He grunted against your skin pulling away to see a new mark on top of the old scared one. He wanted to do it more, make you riddled in his love bits, hickeys…. teeth marks. The sheer idea of his teeth marks all over your smooth figure made his blood go straight to his cock. “Mine.”

He lifted you up to kiss along your bare collarbone, nibbling slightly on the top of your exposed beasts. You were standing on your tiptoes so he could reach your nipples, suckling them with care. To say you were in an awkward position was an understatement but you stayed like that purely for Mingi’s pleasure and as his hands snaked onto either side of your hips letting him rut his erection against your tummy. You knew you needed to move. “Min..B-bed.”

He grunted in response, removing his lips from you, lifting his hands onto his own hips so he could watch you crawl onto the bed. You never broke eye contact with him, slipping off your shorts and panties, you spread your legs so he could get a good view of your soaking core. His eyes danced over your body feeling proud of the hickeys he had left on your chest and neck, but he needed more. More bites, make you covered in him. He pounced on you in an instant, biting any part of skin he could reach in a short amount of time. He sinks his teeth into your flesh, sucking lightly, then licking the wound before moving on. Repeating that process over and over until you were covered in bite marks and harsh red love bites everywhere. “Mingi…Mingi please.” You squirmed, feeling the soreness of the bites but you couldn’t have it any other way. The feeling of each mark aching and the desire to show them off to the world made your head spin.

“My little wolf. So pretty, all marked up.” He bent down to give your thighs a soft kiss, but his hunger surged through him and your scent was driving him crazy. You whimpered feeling his hot breath pool against your pussy. You didn’t realize he was so close to your core until his hot tongue licked a long strip along your folds. “Yours so wet and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You enjoy being covered in my marks. You a dirty little girl hmm?”

His words made your head spin and his lips on your sensitive bud made you lose control. “Mingi, please. just fuck me, do something p-please.”

He chuckled sitting up, letting you go, so he could sit on his calves staring at you. “My god, as if you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” He leaned over your frame grabbing your phone off the counter before opening the camera. “I wanna remember these marks, so when they’re healed I can mark you up. Again….” He took a photo, “And again...” He unzipped his jeans letting his cock out so it could brush against your puffy pussy, then he presses record. “and f-fuck again…” He sunk deep in your cunt groaning out while he recorded his cock slipping in and out. He kept the camera on the way your chest bounced and the marks and hickeys painting you like an art piece.

His art piece.

- ♥︎

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟒 : 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ◇

Intoxicated

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Wanda needed your help with trying out one of her experiments, and let's just say Steve was about to never let you leave the bedroom ever again because of it.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.21k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Wolf Au. Fantasy. Suggestive.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Alpha!Steve x Luna!Reader [SoulMates]

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Scenting. Lowkey scent play. Mention of glands. Pet names. Heavy manhandling. Steve has kinda lost his mind from lust. Oral. The reader is literally littered in teeth marks and hickeys (whoops). Unprotected sex. Videoing. Sex tape. Swearing.

Masterlist | Kinktober List

“Just try it, trust me.” The voice of one of the she-wolves and your friend Wanda's voice replayed in your head as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You had just had a shower, getting ready for the day when you were reminded of the perfume that was given to you for an experiment. You see, Wanda had been learning potion-making from Bruce and had asked you to be a test subject. At first, you said no, because let's face it, you weren't about to take something that could possibly hurt you, curse you, or kill you. But after she explained herself, you decided to help her. So here you standing with a suspicious perfume in your hand, placing it slowly on the spots she mentioned, ‘Place it on your glands, wrists and just behind your ear’.

“Okay…” You sighed to yourself, rubbing in the liquid. Now, what might this do, you may ask, according to Wanda it was a pheromone enhancer, a chemical to open your mating glands and potentially helps you find your soul mate quicker. But before Wanda gives this to an un-mated creature, she wanted to see if mates would still become more crazed by said smell. So she asked you, since you were mated to the ruler of The Ancient Lands, Alpha Steve Rogers, she knew his reaction would be worth it.

Steve was expected home any minute, and honestly, you were shaking with nerves. You didn’t know what the smell would do and worry clouded your judgement. And what’s worse was you couldn’t smell it yourself. Since the liquid was unscented and only activated with your scent you have no clue what it smelt like on yourself since it's your own scent. So you sat in your matching shorts and shirt PJ set with little pink hearts as buttons on the front of it. Your fingers were tangled in the hem of your shorts fiddling with the fabric until you suddenly heard a deep voice echo through the home.

“Darling I’m Hom―.” He quickly cut himself off at the sudden whiff of the most intoxicated, sweet scent. It was like his brain cut off, leaving one the animal nature conscious. He began to stalk the bedroom. You couldn’t hear a thing given he was like a silent stalker, only letting his prey know he was there when it was too late.

“Stevie...Is that you?” You gulped having heard your lover's voice before it was strangely cut off. Was he okay? Can he already smell you? What if he left thinking it smelt bad? A million reasons slipped in and out of your mind making you go to stand up but before you could do anything a large snarl and broad figure appeared in the bedroom door frame. “S-Steve…”

Steve rumbled lowly, making your wolf cry out for his. You instantly felt the urge to strip yourself for him, let him have his way with you. But you stayed still awaiting for your lover to speak. He took only three large steps to reach you on the edge of the bed. You could finally see his features and it only made you whimper seeing his eyes were no longer blue but rather... pitch. Dark with lust, and his nose flared taking in more of your scent. Your hand slowly moved to grab his and the minute your fingers grazed his palm he snapped. His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you up while his other arm gripped around your waist, holding your body flush against him. His nose brushes against your bond mark, the mark that symbolizes you were his and he, yours. He took a big inhale, taking in your new enhanced scent.

“My pretty little wolf.” was all he said before gripping the front of your top and ripping all the buttons open, making them scatter everywhere. His mouth latches onto your mark, biting down, hard, making you scream out in the sudden painful pleasure. He grunted against your skin pulling away to see a new mark on top of the old scared one. He wanted to do it more, make you riddled in his love bits, hickeys…. teeth marks. The sheer idea of his teeth marks all over your smooth figure made his blood go straight to his cock. “Mine.”

He lifted you up to kiss along your bare collarbone, nibbling slightly on the top of your exposed beasts. You were standing on your tiptoes so he could reach your nipples, suckling them with care. To say you were in an awkward position was an understatement but you stayed like that purely for Steve's pleasure and as his hands snaked onto either side of your hips letting him rut his erection against your tummy. You knew you needed to move. “Steve...B-bed.”

He grunted in response, removing his lips from you, lifting his hands onto his own hips so he could watch you crawl onto the bed. You never broke eye contact with him, slipping off your shorts and panties. You spread your legs so he could get a good view of your soaking core. His eyes danced over your body, feeling proud of the hickeys he had left on your chest and neck, but he needed more. More bites make you covered in him. He pounced on you in an instant, biting any part of skin he could reach in a short amount of time. He sinks his teeth into your flesh, sucking lightly, then licking the wound before moving on. Repeating that process over and over until you were covered in bite marks and harsh red love bites everywhere. “Steve...Stevie please.” You squirmed, feeling the soreness of the bites, but you couldn’t have it any other way. The feeling of each mark aching and the desire to show them off to the world made your head spin.

“My little wolf. So pretty, all marked up.” He bent down to give your thighs a soft kiss, but his hunger surged through him, and your scent was driving him crazy. You whimpered feeling his hot breath pool against your pussy. You didn’t realize he was so close to your core until his hot tongue licked a long strip along your folds. “Yours so wet and I haven’t even fucked you yet. You enjoy being covered in my marks. You a dirty little girl hmm?”

His words made your head spin, and his lips on your sensitive bud made you lose control. “Steve, please. just fuck me, do something p-please.”

He chuckled, sitting up, letting you go so he could sit on his calves staring at you. “My god, as if you couldn’t get any more beautiful.” He leaned over your frame, grabbing your phone off the counter before opening the camera. “I wanna remember these marks, so when they’re healed, I can mark you up. Again….” He took a photo, “And again...” He unzipped his jeans letting his cock out so it could brush against your puffy pussy, then he presses record. “and f-fuck again…” He sunk deep in your cunt groaning out while he recorded his cock slipping in and out. He kept the camera on the way your chest bounced and the marks and hickeys painting you like an art piece.

His art piece.

[bonebrokebuddy]

The Fume Hood Incident

A continuation of this post where @stealingyourbones and I regale tales of Mr. T, our high school science teacher that was the inspiration behind my addition to the popular Danny Phantom Science Teacher AU post that sparked the whole thing off.

I was able to catch the incident on camera & after rewatching it, decided that not enough of peoples faces were shown to be able to discern their identify & have decided to post it here.

—

First, context.

It was the last day of my freshman year of high school.

Mr. T was donated a god awful teapot made by a student in ceramics with the only stipulation being that he “blow it up.”

And according to my notesapp notes, he reportedly said, “One of my great pleasures in life is finding common regular normal things in life and making them go boom.” Right before we left our class to do the experiment in the lab classroom next door that had a fume hood. And from what I remember of the man, that absolutely fits.

I do not remember what chemicals Mr. T used to make the reaction but I do remember that we were extensively warned that it gave off noxious fumes and shouldn’t look directly at the light as it could damage our eyes.

Trudging into the other classroom, Mr. T set up the experiment in the fume hood.

At first, everything was going well. The teapot exploded and the room was bathed in red light.

Then we looked up.

You see, when you install a fume hood, generally you connect it to a chimney so the fumes can go out. The fucker that installed it did it improperly so the noxious fumes went DIRECTLY INTO THE CLASSROOM.

Immediately Mr. T evacuated the room and rushed us into the hallway.

The fire alarm went off.

The class, giddy from the feeling that we just blew something up and made the fire alarm go off in the last day of school, we we’re ecstatic.

We cheered.

—

Naturally, the faculty were kinda pissed because the alarms once again were set off by Mr. T & they had to call off the firetrucks that were auto-called and we’re charged for it.

Mr. T had to report the incident to the same cop as the magnesium incident and he was so proud to tell the officer it finally wasn’t his fault the fire alarm went off.

The school sued the installation company for incorrectly installing the fume hood and got it properly working the next year.

That day will be a core memory of mine that I will treasure til I kick the bucket.

-

And finally, the video.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i got wasted like all my potential ; after your repeated mistakes, struggles with the lab work, and lack of progress, tsukishima scolds you harshly till you’re breaking down in front of him

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | #daleelahwritings🐭

The air in the lab was always thick with the scent of chemicals, the hum of equipment, and the nervous energy of students trying to avoid mistakes. Each week, the practicum grew more complex. What started as simple measurements and basic reactions quickly escalated into multi-step processes that demanded precision and a deep understanding of biochemistry—both of which you struggled with.

Today’s experiment involved a protein extraction procedure. The lab instructions were dense with scientific jargon that made your head spin. You reread the steps multiple times, trying to make sense of them, but it was like trying to decipher a foreign language. Around you, your classmates were already setting up their stations with practiced ease, moving in groups they had long since formed. You couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they worked together, exchanging tips and helping each other out.

You glanced over at Tsukishima, who was busy assisting another group with the accuracy of their results. He looked so calm and collected, his tall figure standing out as he leaned over to explain something with a level of patience that was hard to reconcile with the way he always seemed to snap at you.

Determined not to mess up again, you carefully measured out the reagents, trying to remember everything Tsukishima had scolded you about last time. But as you transferred the solution into the centrifuge, your hand slipped, and the liquid spilled across the countertop. Panic surged through you as you frantically tried to clean up the mess, knowing that this mistake would not go unnoticed.

And it didn’t.

Tsukishima’s shadow fell over your station, and you froze, your heart pounding. He let out a long sigh, his frustration palpable. “Are you even trying to read the instructions?” His voice was low but edged with irritation. “I showed you this step just last week. How could you mess it up again?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. The entire class seemed to have paused, all too familiar with the routine by now—another day, another scolding. It felt like everyone was waiting for you to break under the pressure, to finally admit that you didn’t belong here.

But Tsukishima, as harsh as he was, didn’t walk away. Instead, he grabbed another set of reagents and started the process from scratch. “Pay attention this time,” he muttered, demonstrating the steps once more. He moved with the precision and confidence of someone who had done this countless times before. “You need to stop being so careless. This isn’t something you can just half-ass.”

His words stung, but you nodded, forcing yourself to focus on what he was doing. He had a way of making you feel like a complete idiot, yet there was something in the way he didn’t just abandon you that kept you from giving up entirely.

As he handed the equipment back to you, his gaze softened slightly. “If you keep making the same mistakes, you’ll never get this. You need to practice more, or you’re going to fail.”

“I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I really am.”

“Try harder,” he snapped, but his tone lacked the usual bite. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely angry or just tired of seeing you struggle. He watched as you completed the step under his supervision, nodding slightly when you finally managed to do it correctly.

Over the next few weeks, the pattern continued. Each lab session brought a new challenge, and with it, more opportunities to mess up. Whether it was miscalculating concentrations, mixing up solutions, or just getting lost in the labyrinth of complex procedures, it seemed like you were always on the verge of disaster. And Tsukishima, true to form, was always there to call you out on it.

“Did you even check the pH before adding that buffer?” he asked one afternoon, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your notes. “This is basic stuff. You should know better by now.”

You hung your head, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks. It wasn’t just his words; it was the weight of knowing that you were disappointing him again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, not for the first time.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Being sorry isn’t going to help you pass this class. Are you just trying to waste my time?”

His question hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel your throat tighten. You had spent so much time just trying to survive each practicum that you hadn’t really stopped to think about why you were doing this in the first place. But instead of answering, you chose to keep silent, hoping that maybe this time, your apology would be enough to placate him.

Tsukishima remained silent, clearly waiting for you to say more, to give him something to work with. He wanted you to argue back, to tell him what you were struggling with so he could actually help. But when all you offered was another weak, “I’m sorry,” you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes.

He hissed with tiredness and frustration. “Well then, you’ve got your goal so perfectly. Congratulations on making me waste my time on you.” His tone was bitter, laced with a sharp edge that cut deeper than any of his previous scoldings. “If you’re just going to keep saying ‘sorry’ and not actually try to improve, then maybe you should rethink why you’re even here.”

After his scolding, Tsukishima turned away from you, leaving you to struggle on your own. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it difficult to focus, but you forced yourself to push through. Determined not to be the failure he saw you as, you stayed long after the other students had left, methodically redoing each experiment that you had messed up earlier.

The lab was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint hum of the equipment and your own breath. It took hours, but eventually, you managed to complete the tasks, albeit with trembling hands and an exhausted mind.

You silently placed your lab report on Tsukishima's desk, hoping this ordeal would be over. As you turned away to return to your station and pack up, you heard him flip through the pages. His silence was unnerving, and just as you were about to make your escape, his voice, laced with irritation, stopped you in your tracks.

“Is this your idea of fixing things?” His tone was biting, and you flinched, slowly turning back to face him.

He was staring at the report with a look of deep dissatisfaction. “You’ve been here for hours, and this is the best you can do?”

You felt your heart sink. “I—I tried to—”

“Try harder!” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. He stood up, towering over you, the full weight of his height and anger making you feel small and insignificant. “Do you even care about this? Because right now, it seems like you’re wasting both your time and mine.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears, but his harsh words felt like daggers. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” he cut you off sharply. “I don’t want apologies. I want results! Do you even understand how much effort it takes to fix your mistakes? And yet, you keep making the same ones over and over. It’s like you’re not even trying to improve.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain that you were doing your best, but the words got stuck in your throat. All you could manage was a pathetic, “I’m trying…”

“Trying?” Tsukishima scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “If this is your idea of trying, then you’re hopeless. At this rate, you’re going to fail this class, and I’ll be the one who has to watch you flounder around, wasting everyone’s time.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. The tears you’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally spilled over, and you quickly looked down, not wanting him to see.

But it was too late. Tsukishima noticed, and for a moment, his expression flickered with something other than anger—maybe regret, or concern—but it was quickly masked by his frustration. “Crying isn’t going to help either,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its edge.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing. You wanted to disappear, to run away from his harsh gaze and never come back. But you were stuck, rooted to the spot by your own shame and helplessness.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, he added, “Why are you even here if this isn’t what you want to do? If you’re just going to half-ass everything and cry whenever things get tough, then maybe you should think about whether this is the right path for you.”

That was the final straw. The weight of everything—your struggles, his harsh words, the pressure from your parents—came crashing down on you all at once. A sob broke free, and before you knew it, you were crying in earnest, the kind of crying that came from deep within, raw and uncontrollable.

Tsukishima looked alarmed, clearly not expecting this reaction. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure of what to do. But then, awkwardly, he stepped closer to you, hesitating before finally placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, stop that,” he said, his voice much softer now, almost gentle. “I didn’t mean to… damn it.”

You couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much you tried to pull yourself together. The stress, the fear, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came pouring out.

Realizing that his words had done more damage than he intended, Tsukishima, still awkward and hesitant, did the only thing he could think of to comfort you. He pulled you into a hug, his tall frame enveloping you, one hand gently rubbing your back as he murmured a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace and the unexpected softness in his voice finally starting to soothe the raw edges of your emotions. Tsukishima held you, his own heart pounding in his chest, wondering how he’d let things get so out of hand.

As your sobs began to quiet, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His usual cold demeanor was gone, replaced by an expression of concern and regret. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you have to understand… I just don’t want to see you fail.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, still shaken but calmed by his unexpected kindness. “I… I’ll try harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Tsukishima sighed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” He paused, looking down at you with something softer in his gaze. “We’ll get through this, together.”

He sighed, letting go of you and running a hand through his hair. “Look, just… try not to take everything so personally. I’m hard on you because I want you to do well. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t bother.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his honesty. “You… care?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t read too much into it. I just don’t want to see you fail.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope ignite in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Tsukishima’s grumpy exterior than he let on. And maybe, if you kept trying, you could prove to him—and to yourself—that you were capable of more than just making mistakes.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 3658

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains background themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

3. Cream filled Sponge Cakes (with chemicals)

Bucky

They plan out what they’re going to do when they get to the hospital on the car ride over.

“I think it’s best if you wait outside at first,” Bucky says, glancing away from the road for a second to try and gauge Steve’s reaction to this. He looks neutral. “Just because she’s already pissed,” he adds. “And it’ll probably be overwhelming having one person telling her they’re taking custody, let alone two.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. “That makes sense.”

Bucky holds his hand out over the center console, waiting for Steve to take it. He does, and Bucky grips his hand tight. “I’ll get the initial stuff out of the way. I’m sure there’s gonna be a ton of paperwork.”

“What if she refuses?” Steve worries. “She can, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Yeah. I don’t have any legal hold on her. Yet. I’ll just have to try and talk sense into her, get her to see that we’re better than the alternative.”

Steve gives his hand a squeeze back. “You can do it.”

Bucky sighs. “I hope so. I really do.” Inside though, he’s already not so sure.

They get to the hospital about forty-five minutes after Bucky’d hung up from the phone call with the police officer. He spots a cruiser parked outside when they approach the emergency room, and it rankles his nerves to think of Mary being forcibly shoved into the back seat of said car.

He goes to the check in desk with Steve and asks for Officer Santiago. “I got a call about an involuntary hold. My submissive,” he says. 

The woman at the desk does a double take at that, looking up and down Bucky where he stands like she’s just realized he’s a different species. “Oh,” she says. “You're one of those?” 

Bucky ignores it, but he can sense Steve tensing up by his side, indignant on his behalf. “Yes,” he says. “I am.” He’s not going to waste time getting on his spiel about mental illness and stigmatization. They’ve got bigger problems right now. “I’m going to need her records,” he says, injecting authority into his tone. “And any paperwork for transfer of custody. The cops brought her in. Name’s Mary.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and tries to look self-assured while he waits, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if the woman demands a last name.

It takes her several minutes to gather everything up for Bucky. She hands it all over to him and says, “That’s the paperwork for custody. The attending physician should be able to provide you with her medical workup.” She points to a set of double doors. “You go down that hallway and to the left. Bed number four.”

Bucky nods and thanks her, then turns to Steve.

“I know,” Steve says, putting on a brave smile. “I’ll wait here.”

“Baby.” Bucky steps close, pulling him into his arms. Steve’s physically just a little bigger than him, and Bucky has always liked the novelty of that. He kisses him gently and then rests their foreheads together for a moment, letting Steve feel their connection. “I love you,” he says quietly. “You’re the best thing I could ever hope for, you know that?”

Steve’s smile is more natural, now. “Yeah I know it.” He gives Bucky another kiss and stands back. “Hey, what about this?” He knocks on Bucky’s shoulder—the metal one. “She know about that?”

Bucky realizes that he’s not wearing his glove, and tries to remember if he’d had it on at the café. He frowns. “Oh well. I don’t think that’s going to be her main focus, not after I explain everything to her.”

“Yeah.” Steve gives him a light push. “I Love you. Now on and get the hard part over with. I’ll be here when you need me.” 

Bucky nods. He knows he will. He goes back to the check in desk, one last question on his mind. “Is there a food court or something around here?”

Mary

Mary’s taken a break from saying pissy things to the cop who’s guarding her. She’s been so angry, she’s felt like her skin’s boiling. But now she’s starting to get tired, too. She hadn’t slept last night, just stayed up and gabbed on the phone to that crisis counselor. 

She grits her teeth as she fumes about that, feeling betrayed all over again. That bitch had called the cops on her!

“You can tell me anything you want to. I’m here to listen, remember?”

Liar!

“I hope you know I don’t have insurance,” Mary snaps at the officer. He’s sitting in a chair in her little curtained off area. He regards her coolly, saying nothing, and she jerks her head to indicate the emergency room. “And I’m not paying a single red cent for any of this.” So far, they’ve taken her blood, her pulse, an EKG, and sent in nurses, a resident, and several shrinks. They’d tried to put an IV in her but she’d ripped it out as soon as nobody was looking. “I’m suing the hospital,” she adds. “And you. I’m suing the whole police department.”

“Okay,” Santiago says, annoyingly calm.

Mary growls, rattling her hand where it’s cuffed to the bed rail. “This is unconstitutional!”

There’s the sound of a throat clearing, and then the curtain to their area is being pulled aside. Mary’s eyes go wide when she sees who it is. “You?!”

Bucky smiles politely at her. “Me.” He steps into the curtained room, a little snack bag in his hand. He holds it up to show her, and she sees the Hostess logo. It’s a bag of little … sponge cake pastries. “Best I could do on such short notice. They’re for you, if you behave,” he says, talking to her like a pet being offered a treat.

Mary wrinkles her nose. “Pass. D’you even know all the chemicals they put in those things?”

Bucky shrugs and turns to offer them to officer Santiago, who more than happily accepts. Mary pouts as she watches him rip open the bag and stuff one in his mouth.

“How are you doing, Mary?”

She turns her attention to Bucky and scowls at the way he uses her name like he knows her. “Awful,” she says. She jerks her head at Santiago. “Officer Dickwad over here won’t let me have my phone.”

“Language,” Santiago says dispassionately, through a mouthful of cake. 

“Shut up and eat your fucking donut, Rent’a’cop.”

Bucky

He puts his foot down once she starts flinging curses and insults at the officer. As a paramedic, Steve is always in and out of emergency rooms, often working in coordination with law enforcement to deal with uncooperative patients. So Bucky knows just how much drama and belligerence these guys have to deal with on the regular. 

“Hey,” he says sternly. “Don’t disrespect him. He’s just doing his job.” He’s not mean about it, but it’s verging on what Steve likes to call his “Dom” voice, and Bucky can see how it affects Mary. She freezes up, all of her focus on him. For a few seconds, she even forgets to be angry. Bucky takes the opportunity to step close to the bed. He eyes where she’s cuffed to the rail. “Mary,” he says gently. “I know you don’t want to be here. I know you’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am,” she growls. “They just showed up and threw me in a cop car! Didn’t even give me a choice!”

Bucky reaches out and places his hand atop her cuffed wrist. It’s his metal hand. Her eyes widen when she sees it, but she doesn’t pull away. “I know,” Bucky says. “And I’m sorry it happened that way. But do you understand why people were concerned for your safety?”

Her face tenses up as she tries to hold back some emotion (something tells Bucky it isn’t anger, this time). “They called the cops,” she pouts. “They lied to me.”

“They did,” Bucky agrees, wanting to placate her. “But you were hurting yourself, honey. And you were talking about doing worse, weren’t you?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead staring at where he’s holding her wrist. “I … I talked about a lot of things,” she mumbles. “It was just talk. I don't even remember half of it. I didn’t … I wasn’t really gonna do anything.”

“Can you show me where you hurt yourself?” Bucky asks, careful to keep his voice gentle. “I want to see how bad it is.”

Mary shivers, shaking her head sadly. Her hair is loose and hanging messy around her face, so Bucky reaches up to tuck it behind her ear. He hears her give a quiet, shaky inhale. “Come on now,” he coaxes. “Let me see.”

For a long moment, it seems like she won’t obey, but then her shoulders sink down and she takes a deep breath and lets it out, whispering a tiny little. “... kay,” as her hands creep down to take hold of the tee shirt she’s wearing. It’s extra large, going all the way to her knees, and it’s all she’s wearing. Bucky doesn’t know if the police brought her in that way, or if it’s something the hospital gave her to put on after being examined, but either way, he schools his expression as she edges the tee shirt up her leg, higher and higher, until it becomes apparent that she is wearing underwear, and she’s bared her hip to him.

Cutting, then.

Bucky looks her over, not as upset by the fresh cuts so much as the old ones. They litter the skin of her upper thigh and hip—some so old they’re scars, some still in various stages of healing. Bucky forces himself not to touch, even though his brain is screaming at him to fix fix fix! There’s nothing here that can be fixed easily—certainly not with a bandaid. Bucky takes a moment to calm himself down before he asks, “How long have you been doing this, honey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers. She shoves the tee shirt back down and meets his eyes. “Why are you here?”

Moment of truth, Bucky thinks. “The police called me. They got my number from your phone. They wanted to call your Dom to come get you.”

She frowns, looking confused. “But … you’re not—”

“Officer Santiago,” Bucky says quickly, cutting her off. “Could you give us a moment alone please?”

“Sure.” Santiago gets up and takes his bag of cakes with him. “Just a couple’a minutes,” he warns, then steps outside the curtain and pulls it shut. Bucky can see as his shoes walk away.

“You told them you were my Dom?!” Mary hisses.

Bucky looks at her sternly. “No. They assumed I was. You had me in your phone.”

“I … I did?”

Bucky’s mouth quirks. “Yeah, you did.”

“Well that doesn’t mean anything,” she huffs. “I’m not even submissive.”

“I think you know that’s not true,” Bucky says. He reaches up and gathers her hair back in one fist and pulls—gently, just enough to put the barest of pressure on her scalp—forcing her to raise her chin. She visibly reacts to it, softening into his grip, eyes slipping closed and features going slack. “You like that,” Bucky says, making it a statement rather than a question, because it’s obvious she does.

Her eyes open slowly. “S’nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He releases her hair, cupping the back of her neck instead. He grips her firmly in his hand, and this time she nearly moans, lips parting and the sound coming out before she can fully stifle it. Bucky’s mouth curls and he hums. “And that? Is that ‘nothing’ too?”

“Please.” She’s having a hard time maintaining eye contact, which is typical. There’s a little pinch between her eyebrows that’s so sweet and needy, Bucky wants to kiss it. It makes her look like she might cry, and that thrills him too. “Please,” she whispers. “I just wanna go home.”

“You’re not going home, Honey,” he tells her, keeping the grip on her neck steady and petting at her hair with his other hand. She’s going down a little, likely so easily because of the alcohol in her system, because of how deprived she’s been until now. She whines a little at his words and he shushes her. “They won’t let you. You’re either gonna have to let me take you, or else stay here in the hospital, in the psych ward.”

Mary whimpers. “No.”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “I know. I don’t want that for you either, but you have to make the choice. If you want to leave here, then you have to sign the paperwork that gives me custody of you.” He tilts her chin up. “Look at me now, Honey.” She’s sluggish, so it takes a second, but her eyes come up as she obeys. They’re a little glossy, pupils blown wide, and Bucky gives her neck an encouraging squeeze. “Good girl,” he praises.

She practically melts at hearing that. “Please …” she says again. 

Bucky would bet money that she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. He does, though. He knows down to the marrow of his bones what a ‘please’ like that means. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll take care of you. I will.” He bends and pecks a kiss to her forehead, then steps away. She makes a weak noise of protest and he shushes her. 

“I’m just gonna go get officer Santiago back. … And my husband, Steve.”

She blinks at the word ‘husband’. “Steve?” she repeats, shoulders shrinking as she pulls into herself. “But—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky promises. “He’s a very nice man. You’ll like him.”

Mary looks unsure. Bucky’s glad she’s down, otherwise he’s fairly certain she’d be arguing by now, maybe even pitching a fit and cursing. Instead, what comes out of her mouth is a hesitant little, “... He’s like you?” 

“No. No he’s not designated. He’s—”

“Normal.” She says it so sadly, sounds so demoralized. Bucky has to fight the urge to correct her, to give her a speech about how, ‘just because they’re designated, it doesn’t make them abnormal’. He bites his tongue. What’s more important right now is that she’s making progress in accepting the reality that she’s almost certainly submissive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s not like us. But I wanted him to come in here and meet you. Do you think you can do that for me, Sweetie?” The pet names come naturally, are a part of his dynamic as a Dom, and Bucky can tell that she responds favorably to them. “Hm? Answer me, Mary.”

(And of course, the use of her name gets instant attention and obedience.)

“Okay,” she says. “Yes.”

He smiles and gives her a heartfelt, “Good girl,” wanting to show her that he’s pleased, that she’s doing well. “I’m gonna go get him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve

Steve is equal parts excited and nervous to meet the woman Bucky has found, the woman they’re going to be taking care of. … Maybe more, if things work out. 

He holds Bucky’s hand as he’s led back to where the emergency room beds are. Bucky draws back the curtain and Steve sees the cop sitting there, looking bored, … and her.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Hey.”

She’s pretty—which is saying a lot, because that’s Steve’s first thought, despite the state of her. She’s got goo gobs of dark eye makeup that it looks like she put on once she was already drunk, and by now it’s been smeared to kingdom come by tears and her own hands. Her hair sits messy and unbrushed around her shoulders, and her eyes are glazed and tired from a high that’s probably going to wear off soon and leave her looking even more exhausted than she already does. 

“Hey,” Steve says, eyes flicking up and down her body where she’s sitting on the bed. She’s wearing nothing but a big tee shirt, and Steve allows himself one glance down at her shapely legs, then resolutely keeps his eyes trained upwards. She’s a disheveled mess, but even like that, Steve can see how she drew Bucky’s attention, that day in the café.

“Hi,” Mary says.

Steve smiles hopefully. By his side, Bucky squeezes his hand in encouragement, and offers, “Mary, this is Steve, my husband.”

Steve watches her face, curious to know what she thinks of Bucky being married. He’s expecting displeasure maybe, imagining that a submissive would feel jealous or upset, if their prospective Dom was already attached to someone else.

But she seems to stay calm, sitting there and taking Steve in with slow blinks, even looking a little bit shy herself. “... You’re big,” she eventually says. “I thought you’d be smaller than him.”

Steve grins and he hears Bucky’s scoffed, “Size has nothing to do with our dynamic.”

Steve knows he’s got half an inch on Bucky, more muscle mass too, but he’s never felt bigger than his husband. Bucky’s personality, his dominance, is larger than Steve.

Mary’s still staring at him, a thoughtful little pinch between her eyebrows. Steve waits in expectation of a question, but none comes. “What?” he asks. He pulls up the room’s extra plastic chair and sits close to the bed, offering her his hand. He’s surprised when she takes it. Steve stares thoughtfully at his hand as she drags her fingers over his fingers, his palm, still not saying anything. He looks over at Bucky, concerned. “Did they give her drugs?”

Thankfully, Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s down,” he explains.

Oh. Okay. That’d explain her calm affect. Steve had come in here halfway expecting a screaming hellcat. He hadn’t expected this. He turns back to Mary, giving her a friendly look. “Did you have questions you wanted to ask me?”

She bites her lip, clearly working something out in her head. “Bucky said you two have a ‘dynamic’.”

“He did.”

“But he said you’re normal.”

Steve’s lips thin once he figures out what she means. “We’re all normal,” he scolds. “But no, I don’t have ‘Dominant or Submissive Personality Disorder’, if that’s what you mean.” He puts sarcastic quotes around words to clearly convey his distaste for the classification. He wants her to know how ridiculous he finds it.

“Babe,” Bucky warns quietly from behind. “We’re not getting political right now, okay? Just focus on her, on what we have to do.”

“Right, sorry.” He knows that Bucky’s right, so he tries again, telling Mary, “I’m ‘normal’, but Bucky and I still have a very intimate relationship together. We’re husbands. So yeah, we’ve developed our own dynamic. When I’m with him I tend to follow his lead, so to speak.” He smiles and shrugs. “It works for us.”

Mary looks like she’s thinking this new information over. There’s a slowness to her, a dreaminess in her expressions and her reactions.Steve figures it’s a combination of her being down, and not being sober. In fact, he can smell the vodka leaking out of her pores. It’s actually pretty horrible. “So does that make sense?” he prods her gently. “Mary?”

“… Yeah, I think so.” She eyes him up and down, looking back and forth between him and Bucky. “What will you do?” she asks Steve. She blushes a little from asking the question, so he deduces that she’s asking what he’ll do with her; what their dynamic together will be, outside of her and Bucky.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, because that’s all he knows for sure, and he wants her to feel safe. Steve knows that it’s absolutely crucial for this woman to feel safe right now, if they’re going to take her home with them. “Bucky and I both will.” He holds her hand—the one that isn’t cuffed to the bed—enveloping it between his. “It’ll be much better than staying here,” he promises. “You’ll be so safe. And much happier.”

Mary’s body draws in, seems to actually get smaller as she pulls back into herself. “I’m never happy,” she says mournfully. It hurts Steve’s heart to see it, so he knows it must be killing Bucky, given his overly protective instincts. Steve glances over at him. “Babe?”

Bucky has a clipboard full of papers, which Steve knows must be the custody orders. “Here, Honey,” he tells Mary, handing her the clipboard and the pen. “This is what you have to sign to be able to come home with us.”

It kind of bothers Steve that Bucky doesn’t encourage her to read through the documents more thoroughly, but he doesn’t say anything because he knows they have only the best intentions for her. She’ll be safe with them. He watches as she signs her signature in the places Bucky points out, trying to scan some of the fine print as she goes. Anxiety is written across her face and she starts to bite at the chapped skin on her bottom lip. “But, um … what if I’m not what you think?” she worried, not looking at either of them. 

Bucky pets her hair and reassures her. “You are, sweetheart. Trust me. And we’re gonna take you to a therapist anyway, to get an official diagnosis.”

Normally Steve would be scoffing at the word “diagnosis,” but he’s too busy watching the two of them together. There’s a strange feeling in his gut, at seeing his husband touch Mary like that, at hearing him call her pet names and calmly take control of her. Steve’s never seen Bucky dom another person before, and he … he kind of doesn’t hate it. In fact, it’s actually making him feel all the more attracted to Bucky, and curious about Mary. Like he wants to help, wants to get to know her.

She signs the rest of the documents without making a fuss, so Steve figures he’ll be getting that chance.

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[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: cisfem Character: Trafalgar Law Vibe: NSFW Consensual AU: Canon Prompt: Aphrodisiac Gift Giver: @supernaturallyginger

Summary: An accident in the lab turns your little alchemy experiment into a big, pink problem. One that, for once, has nothing to do with flamingos. (this ran a bit longer than I meant, but I didn't want to end it a few sentences after the set up XD )

Content Notes: manual masturbation, hand job, sex, hurried consent, but no dubcon, implied or otherwise.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

Your experiment had been going great, until it wasn’t. The mixture destabilized unexpectedly and exploded into a fine mist. Fortunately the reaction hadn’t been a impactful explosion, but the fine particles had filled the lab you were working in.

Alarms went off because of the particles, and Law was at the door, yelling through it.

“Oi! Are you alright!?”

“Fine!” You yell back and start coughing. “I’m fine! Don’t - hack - do NOT come in!”

You were going to be fine. You’d been doing alchemy since before you were old enough to walk. Thanks to the constant exposure you were pretty much immune to any kind of chemical. But the dust had coated your goggles and you were having a hard time breathing because it was so thick in the air.

The Tang’s exhaust would clear the room soon enough, but you still made your way over to the door.

“What happened?” Law demanded, frowning at you from hall.

“Aggressive kinetic repulsion between the compounds.” You grin, and cough lightly as the air starts to clear.

“… You mixed things and they exploded.” He deadpans.

“There wasn’t a blast.” You insist, wiping the goggles clean and happy to see the room was clearing up. It took another few minutes before it looked safe and you stood under one of the vents and shook your whole body, sending a cloud of particles up and into the vent.

“Ah, it’s going to take hours to clean the lab.” You sigh. “And no one else can-.” You hear the door open and look over to see Law stepping in. “Wait you!”

“I’ve got my room up.” He says, and you can see the air around him is crystal clear, if not tinted a little purple as the fine mist of pink mixes with the power’s blue shift. It’s a small shell around him, but the thick dust is probably limiting how wide he can push right now.

“Just don’t stay in too long, I’ll get this sorted.”

“You’re really okay?” He questions after a moment’s pause.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m not working with anything I’m not already immune to.” You assure him, before shooing him out. It takes hours to get things cleaned, but you’ve wiped down the surfaces, stood under the little shower in the lab, pitched your clothes and put on a spare set of scrubs. Everything that can be cleaned is clean. The walls still need scrubbed, but hunger compels you to take a break.

You’re surprised to see Law outside the lab, reading a book, when you exit. He looks up as you smile down at him. It was a sweet gesture, and a useful one too. Not only was it nice to have company even if you didn’t realize it, but it certainly kept anyone else from wandering in.

“All done?”

“Almost, need a break and som-AH-CHOO!” The sneeze catches you off-guard and you don’t get your arm over your mouth in time.

You look at Law, horrified to see speckles of pink-tinged saliva on his chest. Law just looks irritated to have been sneezed on, but his expression changes when he sees your face and he looks down at his spattered shirt and chest.

“Shit.” You swear, and Law puts his hand up.

“Room - urk!” The blue tint expands and shatters, his concentration broken as a powerful jolt tenses his muscles and makes his blood rush. He tries to say something, but even just shifting to look up at you causes his clothing to set his skin on fire. Instead of words a needy moan drips from his lips, and he slumps in the chair, panting and clawing his shirt off.

Your brain breaks a little as you try not to panic about accidentally making an explosive aphrodisiac. You ran through the ingredients listed and tried to consider how it would function. The resulting explosion wasn’t your concern, you needed to sort out how to resolve Law’s situation.

“It works so fast, it should metabolize quickly too.” You say after a second. “We need to get you stripped and rinsed off to stop any more absorption, sorry.” Your apology is followed by forcing Law onto his feet and against you.

The captain was taller than you, but you weren’t carrying dead weight across the entire sub, just to the lab’s shower a few feet away. Once you got him under the shower head - and by the seas the way he shivered and moaned with every move was killing you - you let him sit there. You got the water going and started to help him strip.

Law did his best to help, but the water was torture. A necessary one, but he’s grabbing the soap and scrubbing everything he can reach. Every drop of water is a pleasurable jolt through him, every sud and stroke is edging him and the frustration is driving him mad. But the faster he can get cleaned up, the faster the shower will turn off.

Getting him out of his pants while he’s desperately getting himself cleaned off was a battle of your own will. He was hard and erect and leaking. You closed your eyes to stop from staring pulling your view down to his ankles and getting the wet clothes in the bin.

Once he gets rinsed off you turn the water off and step back. Naked, wet, panting - his hair’s stuck to his flushed skin and his cock’s twitching. It’s all your fault, in the strictest sense. At least when you were getting him stripped you realized what had happened. The dust had gotten on the bottom of his boots and neither of you noticed.

So he sat out in the hall for hours that way. The sneeze was just a catalyst at that point.

Law was swearing under his breath. Every time he reached for his swollen cock he’d pull his hand back. The soft moans were turning into strangled desperate whimpers, his legs open as he shifted his hips up into the air.

“I’m sorry, if this isn’t what you need, captain.” You say before getting down on your knees between his legs. You looked at him and saw him nod his head.

Gripping him carefully he nearly cries out. Gently, but with enough pressure, you stroke his shaft. Law comes undone, body shivering almost violently as he scrambles to try and hold onto something in the shower stall, head thrown back and pushing his back off the wall.

It was hard to tell when he finally came, the steady leak of precum coming out just a little thicker and a little faster. It was enough to slick your hands better than the water - and you didn’t dare use your saliva until you had time to brush your teeth.

You watch him carefully. Putting more pressure in your grip you pump his twitching shaft harder. Mumbled thanks fall from his lips, between the desperate gasps, and grunts as he cums again, and again.

Eventually sweat replaces the dampness of the shower, and the humid huffs of air from his lips are deeper and stronger. The flush on his skin is still there, but he’s only trembling when he cums. Something he has more control over, his own tattooed hand gripping his cock, bringing himself to climax when your hand started to cramp.

You felt like you should leave him to it, but he’d requested, if not a little timidly, for you to stay and watch. To watch him. You had no objection, but you did have a small, persistently growing issue. Once the initial panic had subsided, and once you’d realized he would be okay, your body started to react.

He was hot. He was always hot. He’d been stoic and mysterious when you’d first joined the crew, and then reserved and awkward the more you got to know him. He was smart, if not socially awkward, but kind. Supportive.

But the sight and scent of him now was… intoxicating.

You hadn’t felt effected by anything for years. Not like this. It wasn’t the alchemy. It was just him, and his scent, and you wanted so much more, so bad it was painful. It wouldn’t be fair of you to ask right now, or maybe ever, but once he was done you could just go somewhere and-.

“You… want me, right?” He husks, and your body jerks. He grins, hand slowing and readjusting his sitting position. “It’s okay. You have a terrible poker face.” He says, grinning and catching his breath.

Deciding not to over think it, or not being in a position to over think it, you take the scrub pants off and put your hands in his as he helps steady you while you straddle his lap. You help line him up with your dripping lips, sinking down slowly.

Hands on his shoulders you sigh as he stretches you, filling your slicked pussy kindly. It feels even better than you imagine and you exhale a swear as your thighs press against his hips and you swear you can feel his heartbeat from his dick.

“Even better,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you before you stop him.

“The stuff,” you say rolling your hips. “I haven’t - if I kiss you, you’re going to get dosed again.”

Law frowns and your heart skips a beat. It’s not just the compound, the feeling behind it is mutual. You swear you hear him growl before he grabs the scrub top you’re still wearing and pulls it up. You’re confused for a moment until he prompts you to open your mouth and puts the bunched up fabric between your teeth.

“This way I won’t kiss you on accident.” His hands wander up your sides, wandering over your breasts as he places kisses in the middle of your chest.

The kisses continue while his hands move down to your hips, and he urges you to start riding him. You moan into the shirt, fingers in his hair as he lavishes your chest with attention. He brings his knees up to help brace you while you’re leaned back enough to give him such access.

One hand grabs the meat of your ass, his other shifting enough that his thumb can tease your clit while you ride him. The rush of sensations, coupled with the unintentional teasing from earlier whip you into a frenzy quickly.

“Please, please,” you huff and his grip tightens as he pulls you down onto his hips roughly. You can feel the hot rush and the extra slick from his orgasm to know he came again. You were so close, but he only stills long enough to put you on your back.

A surprised squeak escapes you as he pulls the shirt up enough to cover your face, hands on your legs and he’s buried back inside you, thrusting desperately. Every slap of skin sends a jolt through you as you pant and moan inside the shirt. You’re not muffled this way, and you don’t have to hold back, so you let pleasure spill from your lips as the usually quiet captain rails you.

“Cum for me, please. Fuck you feel so good. I want to feel you cum against my cock. I wanna fuh-fill you up, one more time.” He huffs, voice demanding but barely above a whisper. “A dozen times more. For as long, as you want. Please, cum for me, I’ve waited - wanted - needed - for so long.”

You lower the shirt, wanting to see him, wanting him to see you. “Ah-almost, almost, please, don’t stop, just ah - HNNGH!!” The pleasure slams into you, and your grunted cry of pleasure turns into a gasping, shuddering cry as Law continues to thrust into you, fucking you through the orgasm.

A few more heavy thrusts push into you as satisfied sighs leave you both, Law’s pleasure leaking out of you.

Wet, disheveled, in need of another shower, in need of clean clothes. You smile, basking in the moment, and enjoying the look of love, more than just lust, that’s in your captain’s eyes. Though, maybe captain won’t be the right label. Not after all this.

A worry for another day.

Law leans down and kisses you, and you return the gesture, humming appreciatively for a split second before realization dawns on you both.

[jackwolfes]

jesper fahey's guide to high society and falling in love

"Lord Wylan Van Eck seemed to make an explosive first impression with Lord Jesper Hilli Fahey. Onlookers enjoyed the sight of their chemistry as they danced although, as this author understands, too much heat with the wrong sort of chemicals can cause quite the ugly reaction."

This is not the summer Jesper Fahey plans to marry. As the son of a modest baron, he has plans for the season ahead - but they don't account for meeting Wylan Van Eck. One bad dance is all it takes to launch Jesper on the season of a lifetime; one full of long days, gossip rags and marriage-minded marquises. The best he can hope for is to avoid getting into trouble too deep to escape from, but anything might happen in a season like this one.

Or: Regency-era Wesper AU

Read on AO3

Part 1: Ch1 // Ch2 // Ch3 // Ch4 // Ch5 // Ch6

Part 2: Ch7 // Ch8 // Ch9 // Ch10

Part 3: Ch11 // Ch12 // Ch13 // Ch14 // Ch15 // Ch16 // Ch17