#BUT WHAT THE HELL DOES IT LOOK LIKE. THIS IS WHERE YOUR OPINION COMES IN

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

���I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[neurobivergent]

/spoilers. I hope you’ve read the manga lol if not pls skip this/

Oh you’re mostly right and I have thought about this a little. A lot. In a funny way, there’s absolutely a fight breaking out and Sakura ends up having to yell at and babysit these two idiots.

On a more serious note, togame is the type of guy who will like his partner being adored as much as a person can be adored (re choji and the way Jo lights up when choji is doted on). He’s initially wary of Endo but notices Sakura manages to keep up and actually willingly engage in conversation with the guy. (Endosaku date official art) And while you’re right about endo’s jealousy, he’s the exact same. He likes it when his partner enjoys themselves, he canonically goes above and beyond trying to fulfill every single desire/wish that chika has. His aesthetic makes him seem like the overly possessive bad boy, but he’s really just a massive simp lol.

So me thinks - Endo is definitely very proprietary with Sakura, even more than usual in a bid to make togame jealous and prove to Sakura that he’s all he really needs. But Jo is satisfied as long as Sakura is safe and enjoying himself which confuses the hell out of Endo because he does not get the reaction he wanted. “Look at me I can provide in ways you couldn’t have imagined in your wildest dreams. I’m the most unhinged lover of all” with a smug little smirk while togame is completely unphased like “yeah? I hope to god you’re good or you’re wasting sakura’s time. Hop to.” lol. Togame in the manga is also extremely well adjusted and is likely the only patient one in this fuckass throuple. He sort of steers this ship, unintentionally, because he’s so laid back, soft spoken and full of praises and it makes both Sakura and endo’s defences shoot up and he occasionally has to shush and wrangle them and force the concept of “praising you for doing well is not a bad thing”

And while the other way around is probably going to be more rocky, with Endo trying to backseat drive togame and Sakura. He gets very sassy and opinionated about how not stellar togame is at taking care of of Sakura… and it pisses Sakura off, which endears togame because Sakura is being protective of him AND irritates him because Endo is someone togame does not trust all that much and now he’s rudely interrupting them??? Endo settles down after getting told off a few times and that’s where the magic happens imo. I don’t think endo’s the type to be sad/angry about not being the centre of his partner’s world, he would like to for sure, but he’s more the type to make his partner the centre of his world and catering to their every need without hesitation (this is canon btw). So while he’s sitting there outing after getting scolded, he comes to the realisation that his useless pissing match with togame has done nothing but take away from the time both of them could’ve spent reducing Sakura to a complete mess, and he also realises it is what both of them have been wanting to do anyway, which is the first thing either of them have agreed on.

Tldr, both togame and Endo are shameless simps, yin and Yang and they’re cut from the same “raging simp for one Sakura haruka” cloth. Togame’s gentle praises vs endo’s more colourful, filthy… praises nonetheless. Those two are givers, your honour.

Dark haired, green eyed, powerhouses that enjoy riling up and fighting a pissed off, fiery Sakura Haruka. They’re freaks that would absolutely tag team our resident feral kitten your honour, but I’m definitely not talking about a fight.

[bumblebecc]

the one where trinity santos knows that frank is using again, except he isn’t

Trinity knows something is up with Frank Langdon. She just does.

It starts when she walks in on a Monday with a truly horrific looking board. A massive carpile up handled by the nightshift has set them all back and tied up Ortho for the day. Good luck, all broken bones and potential amputations walking into the waiting room. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Dana look frazzled (apart from PittFest, but she tries not to think about that day too much. She puts it all in the Do Not Touch box that lives in the back of her brain). Robby is extra prickly because Gloria keeps popping up and jumpscaring everyone. Perlah’s daughter is turning ten next week and she’s making it a bigger deal than it needs to be (in Trinity’s opinion), so the normally restrained camp of Perlah and Princess is also stressed.

And Frank comes in basically skipping past the waiting room and freaking everyone out.

“Why all the glum faces?” Trinity hears him ask Collins.

“Have you even looked at the board today? It’s like Hell opened up overnight.”

“Never took you for a theater kid.” Trinity spares a look and sees Langdon languidly leaning on the nurse’s station. “So much drama. Nah, we’ll get this straightened up. Hey, look, you take South 15, he’s been here awhile. I’ll handle the rash and fever in North 5. We’ll get these beds opened up in no time.”

“Could’ve sworn you would’ve gone for the potential hernia.”

“Hernia, shmernia. McKay can have that one. C’mon, new attending. We have a waiting room to empty.”

Trinity sits up.

“You’re… optimistic today,” says Collins slowly.

“Ah, you know what they say.” Langdon smirks, snagging a pair of gloves as he leaves. “A cynic has to be an optimist at least some of the time.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Heather calls after him.

And Trinity would just chock that little interaction up to Langdon just being his normal brand of obnoxious if she hadn’t overheard Princess and Perlah in the breakroom.

“He smiled at me and told me to have a good day,” says Princess, audibly bewildered. “Has he ever done that to you?”

“No, but he asked me to tell Jamillah Roslyn happy birthday for her party,” says Perlah, bewildered. “I didn’t even know he knew her name.”

“Something’s up with him,” says Princess suspiciously and Trinity agrees. Parks it in her mind as she and the others steadfastly work through the onslaught of patients. Post-hysterectomy infection (and potential malpractice suit, the fucker didn’t prescribe the poor woman any antibiotics). A simple MI sent up to surgery in record time. A pulmonary contusion in an eight year old from a gnarly bumper car collision.

And then—

“Are you whistling?” Garcia asks, almost in disbelief.

“What, the patient is anesthetized,” says Langdon casually as he makes room for the ultrasound tech. “Don’t be knocking my bedside manner when the bedside isn’t awake.”

“Look,” says Garcia. “The Cure is low, even for you. At least do Bowie or Santana.”

“You would hate The Cure,” says Langdon and then whistles the first few lines of Smooth freakishly well.

“That’s more like it,” says Garcia.

“You treat me like a radio,” sighs Langdon. “Is that all I am to you?”

“Yes, especially because I am not needed here,” says Garcia. “Look at the head CT. Brain tumor. More than most likely caused the seizure. Far above my paygrade. He needs oncology and a specialized treatment plan, not emergency surgery.”

“Copy,” says Frank. “I’ll call up Blestner and get a consult.”

Garcia’s eyebrow slowly rises. “You’ll just ‘call up’ Blestner?”

“For a potentially glioneuronal mass that size?” Frank clicks his tongue. “Hell yeah I’m calling Blestner.”

“Blestner hates your guts,” interrupts Trinity. She’s too bewildered to stay quiet. “He called you a junkie and told you to put him on the phone with a real doctor last time.”

“And I went through the official channels and put in an HR complaint and everything’s been peachy since,” says Langdon, unbothered. “He loves me now.”

“Huh.” Garcia looks him over slowly. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Indubitably.” And Langdon strides out of the room, already on his pager.

“Keep an eye on him.”

Trinity looks up, surprised.

Yolanda is smiling, but there’s a tension around her mouth that Trinity recognizes from that time when she forgot to wash the pan after making eggs. The this thing is out of my control smile. “He is in a really good mood,” she says. “Which might be nothing. But it also might be something. I haven’t heard him whistle since he passed the Step 3. And that was 2021, so.”

“You don’t think—?”

“No, babe, I don’t think. I just worry.” Yolanda glances behind her, makes sure no nosy RN is looking, and presses a quick kiss to Trinity’s cheek. That was also something Trinity had to get used to. Yo’s touchyness. It’s a plus, she knows now, but there was a time she would’ve dodged away, wary. Now, she leans in.

“My worrier,” says Trinity, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yolanda Garcia backs out of the room, smiling. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

And Trinity keeps a half-eye on Langdon, yeah. And maybe he’s a little too nice to Lupe, calling her a “badass” and then dapping up some random EMT after a successful code. But she’s not really concerned because she’s sure he’ll be back to his usual “I’m surrounded by idiots” self tomorrow.

Except he isn’t.

“He brought donuts,” says Mateo in the breakroom, looking like he’s seen a ghost. “And not Dunkin Donuts. Leonarda’s. The fancy shit. For Nurse Appreciation Week.”

“That’s not so weird!” Kim is sheepishly playing with her hair. “Dr. King gave me a personalized card.”

“Please call her Mel, Kim, no one calls her Dr. King and it’s lowkey a little weird that you do.” Mateo opens up one of the boxes (with gilded swirly writing on top, Trinity knows it’s bougie) and a heavenly smell envelopes them.

Donahue shakes his head. “This… this is some spooky shit.”

“Do you think this is like some NA thing?” Jesse asks. “Like, being nice to people?”

Trinity doesn’t speak, because being allowed in the nurse’s lounge is a privilege that gets easily revoked, but she thinks no fucking way to herself.

But then she kinda forgets about it because she’s pulled for Chairs. Bleh.

Flu case. Ten year old with influenza. Fifty year old with the flu. Eighteen year old with a headache and fever—influenza A. Seventy year old with—you guessed it—the flu.

“Fuck, I hate triage,” she tells the skittish med student who started last week. The name will come to her. Jessica. Jennifer. Something with a J? She’s red-haired, pretty in an effortless kind of way, and petrified of everything that moves and makes Trinity miss Whitaker, who matched into emergency medicine at Allegheny. “Don’t you want some action?”

“Huh?!” Jessica Jennifer Jayla blushes so hard, Trinity looks at her with concern. “No!! No I don’t!”

“Easy, easy,” says Trinity, undeterred. “So you like the boring ones?”

“Oh! You meant—“ the blush recedes and Jennifer Jessica Jaime clears her throat. “The cases. Yeah, uh, they’re alright. I don’t really like traumas that much.”

Trinity eyes her, slightly concerned. “Calm down, Mother Mary. I wasn’t asking you about your sex life.”

Jaime Joanna Jessica frowns. “My name is Julie.”

“Julieee,” says Trinity. “Cool. Just a joke.” And then she follows Julie’s eyesight, which is locked across the room to—Langdon, chatting with an EMT. “No way. He’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

“No!!” Julie is fumbling with her gloves. “He’s 33! And I’m 25!”

“You asked him his age?” Trinity says, absolutely delighted.

“He’s divorced!” says Julie. “It’s not a crime!”

“But it is definitely frowned upon. A resident and a med student, are you crazy?”

“You’re an R-2 with a new attending!” says Julie, suddenly fierce.

“Different departments, plus no one gives a shit.” Trinity could laugh. She could care less how Mother Mary knows about her and Garcia—probably a mouthy respiratory therapist or something. “Good luck with that HR violation, Julie. You should get some better taste.”

“What? He’s so nice. And hot. The day me and Yamaguchi started, he told us we’re on our way to being great doctors.” Yep, those are definitely stars in the med student’s eyes.

Langdon. Being overly nice to med students. An alarm goes off in Trinity’s brain. And she automatically says, “Yeah, he lies a lot,” and beelines straight to Robby, who is intensely charting and pretending not to notice a frequent flyer asking for a blanket (he has about five already). “Okay, is something up with Langdon?”

Robby slides his glasses down at her with intense scrutiny. “Let’s rephrase the question to something more specific, Dr. Santos.”

“He’s whistling in the ER,” says Trinity. “He’s happily doing all the shitty boring cases. He told Perlah to tell her kid happy birthday. He bought the nurses donuts for Nurse Appreciation Week. He’s being nice to med students. Med students. That’s weird.”

Robby sighs, slips off his glasses. “Maybe he’s just having a good day.”

“Try a good week.” And Trinity lowers her voice. “Look. Is it possible he’s relapsed?”

Her chief attending leans back in the chair. Clicks around on the computer for a minute. “Dr. Langdon’s drug screening results are private healthcare information that I cannot release to you, Dr. Santos. However, I can guarantee that as of this morning, Langdon is enthusiastically cleared to work in the ED.” He shoots her a look. “So whatever’s bothering you has nothing to do with his recovery. Okay? Conversation done.”

And Trinity stands there, frowning, because things aren’t clicking.

And they don’t until she bumps into Mel the next day.

“Heyyy, MelMel,” Trinity says, fresh off a Cliff bar break. “What the heck are you doing here? Isn’t today your day off?”

Mel beams, cute as ever with her hair up in two twin buns. It must be boiling outside, because she’s in little white shorts and her cheeks are pink from the sun. “Yeah, it is! But Becca and I stayed up late last night baking.” And Trinity does notice the brownie tray. “We might have gone a little overboard.”

“Ah. Baking.”

“Yes, Becca’s very into sourdough lately,” says Mel seriously. Trinity can’t help but have a soft spot for her. A tiny soft spot. “She’s been watching these TikTok videos. My kitchen is now her experiment station.”

“Ah. Your sister. Nice.” Trinity’s about to politely extricate herself from the conversation in favor of a patient when Langdon suddenly appears. And by suddenly, Trinity means he was on the other side of the room, and then he basically teleported to Mel’s side.

“Mel, what are you doing here?” He puts his hand on her shoulder like she’ll disappear otherwise. “Are you—oh! Nice shirt.”

It’s a normal shirt, light pink with a print of Hello Kitty waving. Mel smiles brightly. “Hi!! Yeah it’s—“

“Becca’s favorite,” Langdon finishes and they both laugh, even though it isn’t really funny, like it’s an inside joke. And then Langdon glances down at the tray and says, “Ah, the brownies, shit, sorry, I forgot you were going to bring those in.”

“Well, I felt bad, you got the nurses those fancy donuts and I only gave out cards.” Mel is—pouting? Not really, not in the exaggerated way Yolanda does to make Trinity give her attention, but actually genuinely. Mel’s mouth is a little downturned, her eyebrows are scrunched with mild displeasure.

“Stop, they’d take a card from you over anything from me any day,” scoffs Frank. “Donnie acted like I was trying to poison him. And I’m half fucking convinced Ramón thinks you’re an actual angel from heaven.”

“No, he doesn’t, we have a very good professional rapport,” says Mel.

“Bullshit, he likes you.” And then Frank… softens? Like all the muscles in his neck and shoulders relax and he leans down, looking at her with his weirdly intense eyes and Trinity feels like she walked in on something. And the hand, still on Mel’s shoulder, is sliding down, his long fingers curling softly around her wrist. “Maybe I can’t blame him, though.”

“Oh my god,” says Trinity and they both jump, like they forgot she was even there. “You’re getting laid. That’s why you’ve been so fucking weird all week. You’re boinking Mel.”

“Santos.”

“That’s not a very appropriate thing to say in the workplace,” says Mel, frowning. But she doesn’t deny it. Because they TOTALLY ARE.

“It all makes sense,” says Trinity in disbelief.

Like she knew they were close. Langdon gets her a hot tea from a cafe every morning (Robby always asks where his is and Langdon snarks, “The break room, hands off.”) And the way they follow each other around and bump into each other without comment. That one time Langdon handed her a hair tie when hers snapped during a procedure and her too-bright smile.

“The stupid whistling. The weirdly good mood. You bought donuts. Oh my god. Mel, you and him? For real?”

Langdon’s face is not a nice face. “Can you go one day with causing a potential HR crisis?”

“I know way hotter dudes I can hook you up with, Mel,” Trinity tells her, enjoying this way more than she should. “Like I’m not a man enjoyer, but there’s this guy from med school who all my hetero friends say is a god at eating puss—“

“Okay, enough of that,” says Langdon firmly, and his hand is on the small of Mel’s back, herding her away, and he’s scowling. But Trinity follows, she’s so delighted. Mel and Mr. Asshole? Together? That’s so gold, it’s like platinum level gossip. Princess and Perlah are going to die. “Don’t you have a patient to neglect or something?”

“Possessive much, Langdon?” Trinity waggles her eyebrows. “Or are you that shitty in bed that you’re feeling a little threatened?”

“Frank is very good at cunnilingus, Trinity,” says Mel over her shoulder and ugh, she calls him Frank? And Trinity regrets all the teasing, because she did not need to know that. Or picture that. “I’m very well satisfied, thank you.”

And Langdon is grinning, an evil smug horny grin that immediately takes the wind out of Trinity’s sails.

“I am so texting Whitaker about this.”

“Tell Dennis I said hi!” calls Mel as Langdon ushers her into the break room. Where they’ll probably make out or say lovey dovey words to each other. (Probably not. Mel is a classy lady after all).

“This hospital,” Trinity says and then rushes off to hunt down Garcia.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Six

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I just haven’t been satisfied with this, but I think I just need to bite the bullet and let it go. I’ve had this in the drafts for a while and have edited it three times.

A/N: I think I might focus on some blurbs. Or, if y’all want, y’all can submit ideas for what Smalltown is gonna be like. I gotta write down a general background for Reader’s childhood there. I have a plan, but wouldn’t mind y’all toss some ideas on to the pile.

A/N: Thank you 🐑 Anon for the happy birthday wishes!

Warning: Kidnapping, Hostage Situation for Reader, Guns, Violence, Death, Yandere Behavior and themes

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

After the initially panic and dread of being kidnapped settles into Reader’s bones, they’re quickly brought to the Iceberg Lounge. Where a Penguin waits to discuss the details of their ransom with them. He’s kidnapped a Wayne or two over the years, but with how well hidden the family has kept their newest member he might as well scope them out and see if he can make a pretty penny from ransoming them. Give them a proper Gotham introduction.

When Penguin finally has Reader he wrongly expects typical Gotham high society behavior. Threats, insult, bargaining, begging, bribing, hell, even crying. But, Reader, even while terrified, keeps being polite. Referring to him as Mr. Penguin, Sir, and saying please and thank you, while doing exactly what they’re told. Honestly, Reader’s more polite and respectful than half his goons and his own goddamn children. Such a damn shame they couldn’t have been his brat.

So he chats with them. Just for a bit.

How does Reader like Gotham? Who’s their favorite bat brat? What’s their favorite food? How much money did your Momma and Daddy leave you? Just friendly get-to-know you questions to help with the nerves. No need to worry. Everyone’s a bit scared during their first kidnapping. But, do they usually live past the first one, sir? Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t ya? You’ll have to be careful with that.

It’s all quite tense for Reader, just sitting in an empty club with a dangerous man. That is, until word comes in that Bruce Wayne is paying the ransom in full. Apparently, it made Gotham headlines. The newest Wayne kidnapped. It’s all over the News, nearly every channel. Yet, Reader notices something. Why don’t they show my face, sir? It’s because this isn’t going to be your last time getting kidnapped. You’re in Gotham, baby bird. We’re all hostages in this city. How sweet of them to try to protect you from it.

It isn’t long after that, when the lounge gets visitor before the ransom money could even be dropped off.

Red Hood.

One of the Bat Brats, as Penguin calls him. His arrival raising Cain. Rubber bullets and real ones flying everywhere. Penguin gets a hold of Reader, rest his umbrella gun to their temple. Come now, Red. Don’t make me blow their pretty little head off. I’m actually fond of this one. Best of the Wayne bunch, in my not-so-humble opinion.

And, in one of the few times since becoming Red Hood, Jason hesitates. Because if he fails, if Reader gets hurt like he did, he’ll probably burn Gotham to the ground. It’s not an option. He can’t, he won’t, and he will not allow it. And, that thought, is at the forefront of his mind as he looks at Reader’s terrified face with a gun pointed at their head.

The pause, however, is noticeable. Not just to Reader, but to Penguin as well. A sign of weakness or a sign of something more foreboding. It last for a brief moment. Then Red Hood is back in action. Only, in that single moment, a decision was made. A dark decision. Something that had been healed and supposedly buried.

Batman had always fostered the importance of preparedness in them. So, of course, Jason had a magazine of live bullets ready to go for an emergency. And, this was a fucking emergency. Who cares about a few goons? And Penguin fucking deserves it.

Bruce will understand this time. How sad is it that he does?

Penguin barely escapes, with only a handful of his men still breathing and a few bullets in his shoulder, but he lives. Along with the information that the newest Wayne brat is precious enough to a Bat Brat to break the no-kill code again. Though, that might in itself become a problem for Gotham. Once again, Gotham will baptized in blood. Only, the sins are still growing under the red water. Perhaps, this time Gotham will drown in it instead.

Jason grabs a shaking and terrified Reader while leaving the lounge filled with bodies. He’ll take care of it later. Right now he needs to get Reader back to the manor, or somewhere anywhere safe. Away from Gotham, away from its criminals, and, most of all, away from him.

For a moment he had been… enraptured when he saw how scared his precious Reader looked with a gun to their head. How they looked at him with such a pitiful pleading expression. The way the shook and quaked. How fucking big their eyes got in fear.

Reader kept looking at him with those same watery fearful eyes. Those shaking fingers. A tremble that they must be all the way down to their bones. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute. Cute.

He didn’t make it for before he snapped, grabbing Reader’s face to ask what they talked with Penguin about. What did he want from you? Why did you look so friendly with him? Don’t you know he’s a criminal. He’s dangerous. He just wants to see them cower like that again. Just once more.

It takes a long moment for him to calm down and pull himself away from terrifying Reader. Eventually, noticing an oncoming storm and realizing he had better get Reader somewhere safe and back to Bruce so he can go back and clean up the trash.

Jason leaves a throughly shaken and distraught Reader on the GCPD roof. Right next to a lit Bat Signal for a tired Jim Gordan to find.

Jim finds Reader in the storm, mildly despondent from the entire ordeal. After ushering them inside and trying to lightly question them, he makes a call to Bruce that Red Hood had rescued Reader and they the GCPD had them safe. Bruce, naturally , breaks all sorts of traffic laws to get to them when he hears the concerned tone in Jim’s voice.

Reader, exhausted from the days events and shock, falls asleep in one of the spare chairs in the GCPD building. Bruce practically melts in relief when he finds them, picking them up and gently loading them in his car. NOT A DAMN TRUCK. To take them back home. Most of the GCPD find the gesture touching. What a sweet father he is. How lucky Reader is to have such a loving father.

Arriving home, Bruce puts Reader to bed, and makes sure Alfred is on stand by to comfort them and see to their every need. Watch them. Let me know if there’s even the slightest sign of a nightmare.

After taking a moment to let his eyes linger on a sleeping Reader, he heads down into the Batcave. Calling the family together for a meeting.

Stephanie is distraught. It’s her fault Reader got taken, all her fault. She shouldn’t have left them alone. She should have been right there be their side the entire time. At every moment and got every second.

And, Bruce, with deceptively calm yet devastating words, confirms just as much.

Surprisingly, there’s no shouting. No disagreements. Not from Stephanie, and certainly not from any one else. Just the cold realization that it was her fault Reader was nearly hurt and the solemn acceptance of it. They were supposed to have a chance to get close. Stephane won’t ever let it happen again. She’ll always be close from now on. In every way she can. Even if she’s not worthy.

Jason having gone back to clean up his mess before reporting back to Bruce and the others had more startling news. No one mentions a thing when they see the blood on him. Nor the empty magazines. Nor that familiar look in his eyes that reminds them of when he first came back. Someone had torched the Iceberg Lounge before he got back. Penguin is still running free, but the lounge is up in fire and smoke.

He did manage to see a figure leaving when he finally saw past the flames.

A Talon.

The Court of the Owls was active once more.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

With the whole Kidnapping thing and the Court being active again despite its previous destruction, Reader’s life went on completely lockdown. They aren’t allowed to go into Gotham at all. Not that they wanted to. The only reason Bruce didn’t just unenrolled them from Gotham Academy is because Damian, Cassandra, and Duke vow to watch them closely and report everything back to him.

Alfred, from then on, drives them all to and from school. Leading to quiet, bordering awkward, mornings and afternoons.

After the whole ordeal with Penguin and Red Hood, Reader is ninety percent certain the family is Gotham’s Bat vigilantes. Mainly due to the fact that Red Hood reminded Reader eerily of how Jason acted to be around them. Luckily, he barely managed to hold himself back. But, it was clear, enjoyed their fear and wanted to scare them. The whole situation resulted in Reader’s momentarily loss of control.

It also didn’t help that everyone seemed to disappear now.

Sure, Reader rides to school with Cassandra and Duke everyday. Damian is also there, but he just silently watches them with those poisonous green eyes of his. The three of them now hovering in the distance down the back of Reader’s neck. Nevertheless, as soon as they were all back in the Manor, the place becomes like a ghosttown. Even Alfred disappears for hours on end now.

Reader rightful assumes it’s more Bat work. But, there’s no one there to talk about how the incident made them feel. To help them verbally process the ordeal. It hurts.

What hurt the most, however, was Stephanie avoiding them.

Now, if Stephanie had just given them even an empty excuse and left the room it probably wouldn’t have hurt so much. But, to watch the blood drain from Stephanie’s face at the sight of Reader and then physically run away from them was offensive and down right painful.

Then there’s the additional fact that, coincidentally, Jason starts showing back up at the manor. Undoubtedly, helping the others with whatever they’re doing in the library. But, Reader sees him as more often as they pace the empty halls of the manor. And, that hysterical gleam in his eyes reminds them of that night they were rescued.

Tim has been like a ghost since the beginning of Reader’s stay. Every time Reader seems to make progress befriending him, he disappears. Only to reappear and act like nothing happened. Unnaturally, he acts like they’re somehow even closer than before. Each and every time. Like he’s never let Reader alone. Ever. Like he’s always been there watching. And, then he disappears, again and again. Only staying for brief moments.

Barbara is just a thought in Reader’s mind. Reader has seen more of Jim Gordon, her father, than Barbara in the recent weeks.

Mr. Gordon had been wanting to check in on them after the incident and ask them a few questions on what happened that night at the Iceberg Lounge. He was quite gentle in his interrogation, if you could call it that. Barbara had told him Reader wasn’t used to Gotham’s madness and must be treated gently.

Not to say Barbara isn’t checking on Reader. Tim’s not the only on constantly checking the manor cameras as Reader paces.

Dick was like a stray wind. Blowing through the manor, knocking Reader over with the shower of affection then disappearing again. To the library. To Buldhaven. To the ends of the world and back for all they knew. Unfortunately, Reader was growing desperate for any sense of comfort and would cling to him when he came. You have no idea how happy that made him. It was so cute how sad Reader was when he left now. How nice it felt to be needed.

Bruce was different, though. After the incident, he somehow managed to find a way to suffocate Reader with his presence without even being in it for long. Appearing at random to just watch them before disappearing again. Nothing was ever said. He just watched them then vanished.

Reader dreads having to bring up the whole incident with Penguin and Red Hood to Nana. They don’t want to cause anyone back home to worry. Besides, it’ll just remind everyone about that incident a few years back. The one that Reader does everything to forget about. The incident that would probably change a few things for better or for worse. For the family and for Gotham.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Yeah, Penguin lives. But, for a reason. Don’t get mad, please. (I did research and found out he was basically Yandere for his mother and killed his father and brothers to have all her attention for himself. And, he has children. 👀)

A/N: Also, reader’s getting some mild tragic backstory. It’s the DC universe. Everything’s gotta have a bit of bitterness. It’s all for the plot.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Taglist:

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury

[withlovemark]

“how to ask your girlfriend if you’re bad at sex?”

warnings: smut! vibrator, protected sex, overstimulation, squirting

jisung! rummages through your drawers looking for your phone charger, his phone a little under 20%, when he stumbled upon a pink device, half the size of his hand, with a hello kitty top, confusion etched onto his face.

bringing it closer, he examines his new discovery. clicking on the one button he could find, the device comes to life, vibration coursing through his fingers.

he drops it in shock, finally realizing what it was before furiously shutting it off as fast as he could, every click just switching to a new beat before finally powering off and throwing it back where he found it, slamming! your drawer shut.

why the hell did you have a vibrator?

“sungie, you okay in there?,” you yell from your living room.

“y-yeah baby! just dropped my phone,” he replies quickly pulling his phone out of his pocket and doing the only thing he could think of.

—

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hypothetically…

haechan: i’m sleeping.

jisung: if u find a hypothetical hello kitty vibrator in ur girl’s hypothetical drawer, does that mean ur bad at sex…hypothetically?

haechan: im up

chenle: yes

mark: no

jisung: mark pls elaborate

chenle: fuck u how about me?

jisung: idgaf about ur opinion!

haechan: yeah! wdgaf!

chenle: k. all im saying is my girl doesn’t need a vibrator with how good my dick is

mark: don’t listen to him, think of the vibrator as your friend 🙂‍↕️

jisung: this isn’t about me! it’s hypothetical!

haechan: yeah, i agree with mark … my girl and i tried it last month and 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

mark: too much unwanted information about ur sex life but yeah same here, felt like i died and went to heaven for a split second too

haechan: omg what type of vibrator ur girl got? 😛

mark: not telling you

haechan: ☹️

chenle: real men used to go to war for pussy now they let a battery operated device beat them at sex

haechan: stfu chenle u know nothing!

mark: real men used to go to war for pussy now they’re scared once their girl touches a vibrator she’ll never need his dick again

haechan: ooooohhhh get him!

*chenle has left the gc*

haechan: dramatic ass bitch, no one add him back!

jeno: what’s happening here?

*renjun has added chenle to the gc*

mark: couldn’t even last a second 😂

haechan: renjun you traitor!

renjun: i actually don’t give a fuck!, jisung just go talk to your girlfriend about it for the love of god! and chenle stop messaging me!

chenle: just ordered a vibrator, gonna prove to yall that my girl don’t need that shit

haechan: which one did u get? u want recs? 🤓

jaemin: jisung can you ask y/n where she got her hello kitty vibrator so i can get one for my girl? 🥺

jisung: this is not about y/n!

—

he sighs in frustration, his friends were absolutely no help but he was more at ease knowing that their girlfriends had one too. taking renjun’s advice, he decides to just talk to you about it but he couldn’t find a way to do so.

he stays there on your bed googling how to ask your gf if you're bad at sex?, until his phone died, leaving him staring at the wall.

you entered the room, eyeing him suspiciously, he was supposed to be back in the living room 30 minutes ago, it doesn’t take that long to grab your charger, “you okay?” you ask.

“amibadatsex?,” he quickly blurts out, brain completely shutting down.

“what?,”

“am i bad at sex?,”

“what?! no!,”

“oh…”

“is there a reason why you’re asking this?,”

“i uhm…found your vibrator”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, “oh my god jisung, why were you snooping through my stuff!?”

“i wasn’t! i was just looking for your charger, i swear!,” he nervously explains, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.

“i-i got one when you were on tour,” you confessed, cheeks still pink from this conversation.

“oh…,”

”yeah…” you look down at your feet, just wanting the ground to open up, swallow you whole and take you away from this conversation.

jisung walks over to where you were standing, gently turning your face towards him, “you don’t have to be embarrassed baby but can you please tell me why?, i don’t feel too good about it,” he reveals his insecurity and you knew you had to clear things up.

“i just- i couldn’t cum with my fingers alone anymore…i needed yours but of course that wasn’t possible so i decided to try it out”

he feels his pants tighten at your confession. the image of you getting frustrated at not being able to cum without him going straight to his cock.

“did it work?,”

“uhm yeah, it actually did….but it can never make me feel the way you do,” you admit, easing his worries.

he thinks back to what mark and haechan said. “can i try it?,”

“huh? i mean sure, i don’t know what it would feel like for you though,”

“oh my god no….can i try it on you?,”

“oh…like you’re gonna use it on me?,”

“yeah, can i play with you?,”

“oh o-okay,”

slowly you walk over, grabbing the vibrator out of your drawer and handing it to him, nerves of excitement bubbling through you.

“how does it work?,” he asks, inspecting the pink device again.

“well, it has 8 different vibrations, i usually just use the first 3, they feel the best for me and well you just place it where you would usually touch me,” you explain and he nods attentively.

“sit down,” he backs you into your bed, voice going an octave deeper and all you can do is follow his order.

sitting on the edge of your bed, jisung kneels down right in front of your core, you watch him, feeling yourself getting more turned on with every second that passes.

he pulls your shorts down, hips automatically raising up, before diving back into your clothed core, breathing in your scent and pulling your panties to the side, “you’re already so wet baby,” he praises licking a strip down your folds. there’s no way your vibrator is going to taste you before he does.

“does it turn you on knowing what i'm about to do?,”

you moan in response pussy clenching at nothing, “stop teasing sung please,”

jisung clicks the device once, the vibration hitting your ears in the quiet room, quickly pushing it on your cunt. you hiss at the first contact and he pulls it away, afraid he had hurt you, “what? what happened? are you okay?,”

“im okay sungie it was just too much too quick,” you smile, “here,” you guide him back to your pussy, “just push it lightly first, let me get used to it,” he does so, moving your vibrator in slow circles until it finally hit you at the righ spot, “ohhh, f-fuck,” you moan. jisung takes note of it, placing it there again earning another whine from you, “r-right there, baby, turn it up”

he clicks it again, the device gaining more speed before placing it back on your wet pussy, “oh my god!,” you moan, hand clutching his t-shirt, pussy clenching around air, “f-feel what im feeling baby,” you say, grabbing his other hand and leading it right to your hole. his fingers disappearing in you, “you’re so fucking tight,” he compliments in awe.

with the way he has curled his finger repetitively hitting that spot you can never seem to reach, the vibrator humming against your clit, your body gives in quicker than usual, “i-im cumming, baby i-dont stop, keep it right there,” you moan, pushing his hand harder, the added pressure finally sending you to release, back hitting your bedsheets, eyes rolling back. jisung watches in amazement, collecting the juices with his tongue making you whine.

all he could think about is if you were that tight around his finger, how would you feel around his throbbing cock.

“i need to feel you,” he makes his way over to you, soft lips landing on yours as you taste yourself in his tongue. he pushes his body on top of yours, making you feel his hard member, “you feel that baby? that’s how much i need you”

you swiftly discard his tight jeans, freeing him from his boxers, large cock springing up to his stomach. reaching for the condom in your nightstand, you place it on him, he moans at the squeeze of your hand, his rock hard boner somehow getting harder and you start getting worried. his cock was always enough to make you see stars but with the added vibrations you’re not too sure if you could take it.

you didn’t have much time to dwell on it as he lined up against your core, slowly entering you, moans mixing in the air.

“fuck jisung, y-you’re so big,”

“baby,” he grunts, rocking into you, your wet pussy making it easy for him to slide in and out.

he grabs your vibrator again, clicking it on and placing it back on your clit, pussy immediately tightening around him. he groans as you pull him closer and closer towards you, the vibration going straight to his cock, “holy fuck,” he gasps at the new sensation.

“f-feels so good sungie,” you whine against his ear, hips meeting his every thrust, getting quicker and quicker. the rest of your clothes being thrown across the room. you grab onto his back for support.

with his body against you and yours still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, jisung feels you cum hard. you were so fucking tight around his dick, it all feels too good. his lips swallow your moans as he continues his actions, desperately chasing his release.

“j-jisung” you gasp in pain, vibrator still placed firmly on your clit, but your boyfriend’s thrusts were getting messier and messier, signaling his nearing orgasm, and you wanted him to cum just as hard.

soon enough the pain turned into pleasure, a new commotion stirring up in your stomach, down to your toes. you no longer understand the feeling that’s taking over.

your vibrator has made you cum so many times before but you never felt it work with your boyfriend’s dick — this was entirely new territory.

“f-fuck, j-jisung, i’m gonna-,” you scream at the overstimulation, legs shaking, toes curling and before you knew it your pussy pushed him away, juices squirting onto his belly.

“holy shit babe,” he groans, the action sends jisung into overdrive, watching it all unfold as his release quickly fills up the condom, “aghhh,” he grunts in pleasure, body going slack on yours as you tried to calm your racing hearts.

“what just happened?,” he asks in amazement.

“i-i think i just squirted,”

“you think?”

“i think so, i-i don't know, it's never happened before,” you confess, getting embarrassed. he can’t help but smirk proudly, knowing that he was the first and only person to get you to do that.

jisung kisses you before you have the chance to hide behind your embarrassment.

“that was so. fucking. hot,” he compliments in between kisses” let’s do it again”

—

he finally finds your charger on top of your desk, his phone coming alive. in just a span of 2 hours he and his new friend have made you cum a total of 6 times, him 4, the room smelling of sex. and honestly he could go again but you have made him stop for now, body exhausted.

*7 dream, 1 cup*

jisung: hi chat

haechan: he’s alive! so how was it? tell us everything! 😏

chenle: no one cares

haechan: i care!

mark: yo dude u good? you just stopped responding

jisung: sorry, phone died

jisung: can confirm

jisung: 😩😮‍💨🤯🪦💐🕊️☁️👼👍

*haechan reacted 🤩 to your message*

*mark reacted 😂 to your message*

renjun: you’re welcome

chenle: just paid for expedited shipping yall better not be lying to me rn

jaemin: jisung did you ever ask y/n where she got it?

jisung: oh it’s at www.NowCummingToday.com/sanriocollab-hellokitty-vibrator

jaemin: thank you!! 😚

renjun: that can’t be a real site

jeno: holy shit they have so many options

chenle: robots are gonna take over my girls pussy and it’s your faults

haechan: ooh! try the rose toy! that one’s crazy ahaha 🤓

jisung: 🫡

mark: 🫡

jaemin: 🫡

-

an: happy bday to my baby jisung <3 (p.s. i tried to do the little smau text thing bcs those are my favorites to read but i honestly couldn’t find an app that was free plus too lazy to figure it out so sorry!…if anyone has tips pls let me know >.< )

[imblueeforyuu]

Yandere frontman x male guard reader

Your life was boring, you worked an office job that barely pays enough for your living expenses. And it was just boring. you thought you were meant for more, maybe you were meant to be an astronaut or maybe a simple barista just something different then your office job, something more interesting. So when a card inviting you to a special job in a murder game you jumped on that opportunity. 

Cleaning blood off the ground was not what you were expecting, you thought it would be more exciting like maybe shooting the loser, or even just incinerating the dead players. But you got one hell of pay increase you didn’t dare complain. Even if what you did all day was get on your hands and knees and scrub dried blood. 

You’ve heard horror stories about the frontman, someone so ruthless he’d kill anyone no matter how important they are, then take their organs and eat em. You sure your coworkers are exaggerating. But you’ve never met him so you wouldn't know. your “friends” always said how weird it was you’ve never seen him since he likes to just appear. Which you think is total nonsense, doesn’t a guy like him have something better to do then stare at his underlings as they work? You're more than certain they're just trying to scare you. But one day he does decide to show himself.

“You, come with me,” the frontman pointed at you. You were smart enough not to talk back and you just followed him.

You were one of three people whose assigned job was to clean the blood so it was a complete shock when the frontman told you your new job was to stay and clean his room. But you didn’t complain, god no. So you started to clean his office silently and quickly. It was a lot easier than cleaning blood, obviously. so you got to go to your room earlier. Your life was getting better by the day, until the frontman started talking to you. 

At first it started off tame, him mumbling to himself about whatever was on his mind, then he started commenting on some of the players, he’d look back to you when you cleaned asking you for your opinion, aka you just nodded or shook your head when he asked. Then he started talking to you about his dead wife which was a little too much. You were not here to be his therapist just to clean glasses. And lately he started being oddly touchy, he’d call you over and make you sit next to him, then he would make you rub his shoulders, it was definitely odd. 

“[name],” the frontman beckoned you over. 

“Yes sir?” You come and stand next to him. His mask was off and he was staring at his tv looking at all the players running around and chatting amongst themselves.

“You’ve been working for me about 3 games now, right?” he took a sip of wine.

“Yes sir, I have.” You said. He smiled before finishing his drink.

“Go fetch me some more tequila,” he handed you his glass dismissing you. 

You hoped that was the end of that conversation but it wasn’t, he told you to sit down next to him while you watched the finale. Wasn’t he supposed to be with the rich fucks, Why was he here With you?  Maybe he was finally done dealing with those pretentious vips, he always seemed to complain about them. 

“Hey, do you ever think about staying here after the games are done?” He smiled at you. You turn to look at him. His smile was too big, he was too happy. Your stomach churned, he was up to something.

Of course he was, he liked to take 456 random people every year and make them fight in a game show where if they lose they die, of course he was up to something. Maybe you just thought you gained an understanding with him, maybe you thought you were special for befriending him, were you even friends? You guess not, yeah now that you think about it you were more like a pet, forced to listen to every word he said. You’d sit when he told you, you’d fetch whatever he wanted. You really were like a loyal dog. So maybe it was best to sit still and wag your tail for him.

“Of course.” 

a/n mc is more like a janitor but whateverrrrr

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

halfway there (fully smitten)

written for @steddie-spooktober Halfway to Halloween pop up event!

rated G | 2,832 words | on AO3: halfway there (fully smitten) | prompt: half-o-ween meet cute, modern au, flirting, steve harrington is simultaneously super charming and on his game AND easily flustered

Steve would do anything for his kid siblings.

He would.

It’s just…

“Why’d it have to be this Saturday?”

“Because that’s the halfway mark?” Dustin says as if it was obvious, rolling his eyes for good measure.

“Oh you’ve got to–” Steve scrubs a hand down his face; Yeah. fine. That makes sense. It is called the ‘Halfway to Halloween’ craft fair. “You don’t even like crafts.”

“There’s going to be more than just crafts.” Dustin says, again, like it should be obvious. “C’mon Steve, even Max wants to go. Like, actually wants to go.”

Steve looks over at the Max in question, gazing up at him with her usual scowl on her face.

“She doesn’t look like she wants to.”

“Yes she–”

“She does.” she says.

“See??” Dustin gestures excitedly towards her.

Steve sighs again. Of course she’d want to go, she’s always been all about that spooky crap.

He looks down between the two hellions he’s so proud to call his siblings.

Internally.

Internally he is.

He sighs again, turning away from where they’d corralled him at the end of the hallway.

“C’mon Steve where’re you–”

“I gotta call Angie,”

“But–”

“I have to call off our date, dingwad!"

Dustin insisted that they be there right when the fair opened at 10 am, but after a syrup incident at breakfast and a couple bathroom breaks, their two hour drive to the 4H grounds the show was being held at, turned into two hours and 45 minutes, landing them in line at 10:10 am.

They waited their turn to pay the entrance fee, Dustin bouncing on his toes the whole time, and as soon as the bright orange bracelet was on his wrist, he was off. 

Surprising Steve further, Max was right on his heels, scanning seriously over the first line of vendors.

“You shits better have your phones on you!” Steve calls after them, getting offhanded waves in return.

He watches them go a little on ahead, sliding between the already hearty crowd much easier than he would, then turns to look at some of the vendors’ wares himself.

It was not a great place to start paying attention, to be completely honest, the racks and tables filled with all sorts of stuffed animals with bloody gashes, exposed broken bones, and dangling bloodshot eyes..

His shock must’ve been fully apparent because the bearded man behind the stall table guffaws at his expression.

“S’not for everyone, kid. I get it.” he says when Steve apologizes.

There are people selling their collections of movie memorabilia, specialty indie costume companies selling their scarily (ha) detailed rubber masks, some folks are selling crystals, some are selling crochet, some have tiny taxidermied mice..

It’s honestly kind of overwhelming.

He stops at one end of this barn (the second in the grounds’ row of five that were full up for the occasion), leaning up against the open double doors.

He’d originally been concerned about the cool cloudy weather, thinking it’d be too cold to be walking around outside like this, but a lot of vendors had space heaters plugged in behind their booths, and there were so many people bustling through and around the space that the wide open doors were a blessing to his already sweating brow.

Taking advantage of his spot out of the flow of people, he opens his phone to check on where the gremlins were (two barns down already what the hell??), when Dustin’s text comes through.

He puts his phone back in his pocket and continues on.

The next booth he comes to is another with taxidermied things, though these are all bugs. Different beetles, bees, and butterflies pinned into shadow boxes.

For some reason, he gets kinda stuck at the display of colorful wings. He’s never really liked bugs, never had a strong opinion about butterflies, but these things are… seriously beautiful.

Some he remembers the names for without having to look at the little tags the vendor wrote up for them; Monarch for one, and he knows this blue one is an Emperor Butterfly from that Animal Crossroads game Max got him hooked on for a while a couple years ago, and he’s inspecting the pattern of greens and oranges on another when he feels someone brush up against him.

Suddenly aware of how long he’s been standing in front of the display, probably blocking a whole bunch of others from getting to look too, he glances back, stepping out of the way with a “Shit, sorry!”

“No worries man, I can look just fine from right here.”

Steve’s busy looking down at his feet to make sure he’s stepping around the boxes stored under a nearby display table, “No, really, I just got caught up looking at them;” he finally gets his feet in a safe spot, and turns to the newcomer, “They’re all really–”

He’d made the mistake of looking up at the source of the voice, and now his own is stuck in his throat.

Steve’s a sucker for all things 80s, the aesthetic (a new word introduced to him by Max) at least, and this guy looked as if he was plucked right out of time and delivered to him on a shiny silver platter.

A mess of dark frizzy curls, deep dark eyes, ripped skinny jeans and some sort of band tee under a leather jacket and denim vest..

Even the sun decided to point out how much of a simp he was about to be over this guy, choosing that moment to break through the clouds outside the doors and give hot 80s metal guy a hell of a glow.

“--pretty.”

Hot Metalhead smirks and ohjesusfuckingchristhehasdimples.

“You’re not too bad yourself, big boy.” the man says, and Steve swears he can feel the other man’s gaze trail over him. “You got a favorite?”

He gestures back to the display of bugs, and Steve shakes his head clear, “Uh.. The orange one maybe, the Monarch? But this one is really cool.” he points to the green/orange one.

Hot Metalhead nods, “The Madagascan Sunset Moth, that one’s my favorite.” then he levels a smirk at Steve, “Seems you’ve got good taste, pretty boy.”

Something kicks to life behind Steve’s ribs, and suddenly he feels completely back on his game. He slowly drags his gaze over the other man, lingering on his lips (chapped, but perfectly pouty even in their smirk), “Seems like I do.”

Steve meets the man’s eyes, and he opens his mouth to say something else when they’re broken from the moment by none other than Max.

“There you are! Do you ever check your phone?” she gripes, pulling him out of the booth

“What–Max?” A rock sinks into his stomach, “What’s wrong?”

“I need your help picking something for Lucas,” she puts her hands on her hips and it’s like he’s looking in a mirror.

The rock rolls out his stomach with the roll of his eyes, and turns to say something to Hot Metalhead, but he’s already a couple booths away, bending low over a table of books.

“You can flirt later, I really need your help!”

Sighing, but figuring he can find Hot Metalhead later, he follows Max to a bigger movie memorabilia booth in the center of the next barn over.

Eventually, they settle on two gifts for Max’s “He’s not my boyfriend nor do I want him to be.” boyfriend (“He’s not my boyfriend, Steve! Urgh, you’re the worst.”): a Freddy Krueger sweater, and a jersey boasting the Haddonfield Butchers, with the last name Myers and number 78 on the back.

“Are you sure that’s not secretly for you?” Steve asks, clocking the reference immediately. He had, afterall, been made to sit and watch Halloween close to a zillion times over the course of he and Max’s foster journey together.

“No, it’s for him. It's something I like fused with what he likes." She reasons.

“Sure, sure,”

Max wanders off again after that, and so does Steve, scanning the crowd for messy brown curls as he scans the other vendors.

Eventually, he comes to a booth covered in pins and earrings. 

He immediately thinks of Ms. Hender– Claud— Mom when he sees all the earrings, and starts looking through the spinning racks, snapping a picture to send to the goblins as he does

“Find something you like?”

Steve glances up, one of the two ladies manning the booth has stood from her chair, the strawberry blond with the ponytail, smiling brightly at him. A pair of cigarette earrings hang from her lobes, one new and one half burnt down.

“Yeah, sorry, I was sending a picture of these to my siblings,” he picks up the fangs, “Our mom would love these.”

The woman holds out a hand and he passes the set to her, “Awesome, let me get them bagged up for you!”

“Do you want a different color?” The other woman says, looking through a basket of what looks like even more pairs of earrings; she’s a dirtier blond with a choppy bob and freckles.

“Another color?”

“Y’know, black, orange, purple, glow in the d–” that’s when she looks up at him, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve’s brain goes into a jumbled state of ???????????

“Uhm, yeah? How’d you–”

“You went to my high school!”

A rock plunges into his gut, “Oh, uhm.. I’m sorry? I don’t–”

“You dated Tammy Thompson.”

He feels his face pull into a cringe, “Yeah, that was… yeah.”

“She was on American Idol!” the strawberry blond says.

Steve finds himself laughing, “I don’t know how she made it, she sounds like a muppet when she sings.”

“She does!” She laughs at the same time Choppy Bob says an indignant “She does not!”

The rock is back, “Oh, sorry.. Was she a friend?”

Ponytail laughs again, saying “No,” at the same time as Bob but continuing on with “Robin here had a biiiig crush on her.”

 Bob, Robin apparently, goes all splotchy, “Shut up Chris!”

Chris just waves her off, “Oh he’s fine, he’s one of us, did you not see his pin?”

Steve looks down at his own chest, Max’s gifted bi flag pin glinting up at him from his jacket, then back up at the two; the lanyard around Robin’s neck jumps out at him, striped in pinks and oranges and whites, and Chris has what looks like one half of a heart in colors matching his pinned to her sweater.

“Huh.” Robin says, looking perplexed, “Who’da thunk?”

“You’re telling me.” Steve jokes, finally getting Robin to smile back at him.

Suddenly, and at the same time another potential customer comes into the little stall behind him, Dustin comes out of the woodwork to tug at his arm, “Finally, there you are! Stop flirting and come with me, you gotta see these cars!”

“Whoa, dude! Chill out for a second, okay? I’m trying to pay the nice lady.”

“Well hurry it up dude,” he mocks, “They’ve got the Ghostbusters’ hearse back there!”

Dustin squeezes very impolitely past the other person in the booth, and Steve turns back to Chris, “Sorry, brothers you know?”

“He’s got a point, the Ghostbusters one is pretty impressive,” She says as Robin accepts his $10 bill for the jewelry, and passes him back a small bag and a card, “I wrote our cell numbers on the back, we should all meet up again sometime!”

“Course! I’ll let you know how my mom likes ‘em, yeah?”

Steve squeezes out the stall and Chrissy picks up her phone. 

Dustin was right (what’s new?), this last building is packed full of hearses of every shape and size. 

A 1940s era one, a slightly newer model painted entirely in matte black, one with a padded coffin hanging half out the end for people to pose for pictures in. But the real star of the show, at least according to Dustin, was the one for one remake of the Ghostbusters’ white one.

Steve follows him down the row, pausing at the hood of the replica to take a picture of the giant slime ghost plush in the passenger seat, then on to peer into the cab.

He was still inspecting all the old dials in the dash through the open window, when someone says, “See something you like?”

“I was told by a very reliable source that yours was the one to beat.” Steve says, taking in the shockingly low number of miles on the odometer, “And I gotta say, still having the original dials in the dash is pretty cool– Hey! It’s you!” 

The guy leaning his weight onto the car’s roof with one hand grins, “Hello again, your majesty.”

“Majesty?”

 “You liked the Monarchs, remember?” Hot Metalhead pushes himself up off the car and offers Steve the same hand, “I’m Eddie.”

“Steve.” he breathes, taking Eddie’s hand in his. 

Eddie shakes his hand once, his fingers calloused and warm, “Well, King Steve, what brings you all the way to my neck of the woods?”

“I heard there was a super special hearse back here so I had to come see it for myself.”

“Good eye, Stevie”

“Only if it’s easy on ‘em.” he says, starting to get his normal voice back, “‘Easy on the eyes’ y’know?”

Eddie just laughs, “Yeah big guy, I got it.”

Steve’s face is on fire. He clears his throat, finally letting Eddie’s hand go. He notices a familiar pin on the front breast pocket of his denim vest that he hadn’t noticed before, this one striped in shades of blue, green, and white, the opposite half of Chris’ pink, purple, and blue one.

“Oh, hey! You know Chris?” Eddie's face flashes into confusion, so Steve clarifies, “She’s got the same half heart pin as you…?”

“Chrissy you mean? Tiny? Ponytail? Bangs?”

Steve shrugs, “That sounds right.”

“Has a girlfriend about yay tall? Freckles?”

“I mean, she didn’t stand up..”

Eddie considers him for a moment. “Nope. Never heard of ‘er.”

Oh god he’s a dork.. Steve’ll never survive this.

“D’she send you over here?”

“Kinda? Dustin wanted to see the cars anyhow so..” he holds his arms out at his sides, “Here I am.”

“So this curly-haired menace is yours then?” Eddie asks, turning to stand at Steve’s side and gesturing to where Dustin is talking with a balding man at the end of the car, “He’s been talking my Uncle’s ear off each time he’s come by.”

Steve nods, “Him and the redhead who’s… around here somewhere– there!” He points out Max as she heads outside into the sun, making her hair glow bright, “She’s my foster sister, Dustin’s mom took us both in about a year ago now, she was really great to take us in together, even with me being ‘aged out’ and all.. I wanted to make sure she had something stable going forward y’know? And I really don’t know why I’m telling you all that but.. There it is..”  

His face is going to be permanently red at this point, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind his rambling, looking at him with a mix of amusement and something else in his expression. “You can tell me whatever you want, whenever you want, Stevie.”

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Steve asks on impulse.

Eddie laughs, “You give me way too much credit Stevie, I’m not even remotely close to that good of a smooth-talker,” he reaches into his back pocket and produces his phone, “But no way am I passing up the opportunity.”

Steve smiles and takes it, entering his information into Eddie’s phone, “Apologies to your uncle by the way,” he says as he sends himself a devil face emoji from Eddie’s cell, “Dusty can get to be too much sometimes. I hope he’s not giving you too much trouble?”

He hands back the phone as his own chimes in his pocket, taking it out and passing it to Eddie.

“Not at all; Wayne’s more than happy to talk about anything to anyone who’ll listen; He’s already told me everything he knows.”

“Don’t you mean ‘taught’?”

“Not in the slightest.” Eddie grins at Steve’s laughter, punches something into his phone and passes it back. “There you go, big boy, one brand new phone number just for you.”

Steve looks down at the screen, ‘super hot sexy metal deathlord eddie 😈🤘’ is at the top of his message screen.

He looks up at Eddie, who just waggles his eyebrows at him; Steve rolls his eyes, but can’t keep himself from smiling. “Perfect, thanks.”

“No problem…” he mimes looking down at his phone, “‘steve’.”

“Oi! Can you two flirt your way to the gut trucks, or are Dusty and I gonna have to get some grub ourselves?”

The two jump apart at Wayne’s words, both their cheeks burning (brighter in Eddie’s case).

“Yeah, yeah, shut your yaps, we’ll go get something.” Eddie grumbles, striding off toward where the food trucks are parked, pulling Steve along with him.

if you don't have one around you at this time, this is a real thing that happens in my area every may!! and it's on the 10th this year!! all of the things mentioned are things i've seen at my fair; my own pair of vamp fang earrings are truly a favorite pair of earrings i own :o) spiderweb divider from @saradika-graphics! vampire earring pic is from this etsy listing!

there will also be a part 2 to this tomorrow, LINK HERE!

[holybibly]

𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩 | 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut, Priests!AU

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 9,9k

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: It is said: "The best way to get forgiveness for sins is to repent." Priest Wooyoung will tell you how to do this.

𝔚𝔄ℜ𝔑ℑ𝔑𝔊: Priest!Wooyoung, Hierophilia, church sex, religion kink, dirty talk, masturbation, humiliation, blow jobs, rough oral, power play. spanking, fingering, orgasm delay, overstimulation, dom/sub and more.

𝔄/𝔑: And so it is that I have come to please you with something wicked. I don't know why I get so inspired, but I don't care. My opinion is that Priest Wooyoung is hot as hell, that's all. There will probably be another work released this weekend, but I won't tell you what it is. Of course, the unholy hours are available as usual. It's time to repent for the sins, bunnies, and, as the saying goes, Hell's empty, all demons outside.

You have never thought of yourself as a religious person, not under any circumstances whatsoever. You never knelt down in front of your bed, covered your eyes with trembling eyelids, and whispered softly, "Hail Mary,"  before you went to sleep in your cold and lonely bed. 

Never asking God's mercy and forgiveness, you were as far from faith and piety as you could be. The last time you had been to church was years ago, when you came to communion with one of your distant relatives.   The feeling was all too familiar, yet as alien as the shattered fragments of a mysterious dream you remembered having long ago. You walked slowly up the rain-slicked stone steps of your hometown's old church, as smooth and dreary as the weather today. The thin branches of the dead trees, devoid of the usual green foliage you knew wrapped around them at the beginning of each spring, reached up to the sky as if in prayer—brittle and outstretched—like the hands of a sinner. 

"What am I doing here?" You asked yourself as you wrapped yourself more tightly in your soft cashmere coat and let out a convulsive sigh.

You didn't know how to answer that, and you couldn't seem to find the right one. That place... it seemed to call your name, and you couldn't resist the mysterious magnetism. The church was old and gloomy—the kind of church that people do not tell you the most pleasant stories about. Your eyes wandered over the faded, dark boards and the pointed spire, topped by a crooked, spiky cross that looked almost sinister as the rain swirled around it. The place had an air of desolation about it, and for a moment, you wondered if it was haunted. 

It was the same church that your mother had gone to when she was a child, always dressed in her most beautiful clothes and with ribbons of silk woven into her hair. 

"Did this place always look as spooky as it does now?" you asked her once. 

The cold wind whipped through your long hair as you pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the church and made your way in. The rusty metal hinges sobbed pitifully at the sound of your action. The inside of the church was musty and smelled of incense, and visually, it was the same as millions of other churches: furnished with rows of wooden pews, with dusty Bibles lying in compartments attached to the backs of the pews. Narrow Gothic windows, decorated with the faces of sexless angels, stretched up to a vaulted ceiling.

There was no one there, which was what you would have expected, considering that there were only a few cars in the car park when you arrived here. You felt stupid for being here, completely unaware of what the purpose of your visit was in the first place.

The echo of your footsteps on the dark, faded midnight-blue velour floor was the only sound in the church. As you walked towards the back of the church, where the neatly decorated altar stood, your fingertips glided weightlessly along the cool edges of the old pews. Dark and full of suffering, the heavy crucifix hung over the altar like an unbearable sacred burden. There was a small confessional not too far from it.

One day, when you were a little girl, your grandparents took you to the church and insisted that you have a confession of your sins. Sitting behind the curtain, you felt so grown up; the small room seemed so much larger in comparison to your petite body. With your head bowed, you solemnly told the priest that you sometimes took a few extra biscuits when your mother wasn't looking, and he, in turn, instructed you to recite the Hail Mary a few times.

As you approached the confessional, you lazily tugged at the heavy velvet curtain, running your fingers over the faded fabric, which was worn in places. You wondered what sins you could repent of now; you didn't often reflect on what you'd done or seek forgiveness, at least not from an all-powerful divine being you weren't even sure existed. You opened the curtain and jumped at the sharp sound of metal rings as they scratched against the beam on which it was hung. The inside of the cabin was dark, and there was a smell of dust in it. You coughed and breathed in the small particles that stuck to your tongue in an unpleasant way.

"Hello, my dear."

You jumped at the slight echo of the soft, melodic voice that came from behind the metal bars of the confessional. Leaning against the door, you pressed a hand to your chest, feeling your fast heart pound. Squinting, you hoped to get a better look at the dark figure of the priest on the other side.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." You said it quietly. "I... I was just lookin' around."

"You're new, right?" The voice was beautiful; with every vowel the person formed, you could hear some kind of melody, low and languid, almost seductive, and you suddenly realised that your hands were covered with goose bumps. Was the temperature in the little cabin any cooler than it was in the rest of the church? You couldn't be sure, but you found yourself unconsciously pulling the tails of your coat closer to your body.

Intrigued by the man on the other side of the small grate, you took a step further into the small room and looked around.

"Something like that."

"You don't come to places like this very often?" The voice made more of a statement than a question.

"No." You agreed with it. "I can't remember when I've been to church lately." You whispered in reply, so quietly that you could hardly be heard.

Silence fell between you, and, not quite understanding what you'd done, you reached out and pulled the curtain, shrouding yourself in darkness. Through the metal bars, you saw a slender man's figure and carefully sat down on the velvet bench.

"So why did you come here today, then?" The priest asked, although there was something in his tone of voice that told you that he already knew the answer, perhaps even better than you did. Was all this small talk a normal part of confession?

"I... I'm not really sure, just an instinct." You crumpled the soft fabric of your cloak between your fingers, growing more nervous with every second of the small talk between you and the mysterious priest.

"I understand, of course." He replied with a note of familiarity, as if he heard the same thing every day of his life.

Feeling even more insecure than before, you raised an eyebrow and shifted into the uncomfortable seat beneath you. There was something special about this priest, but you couldn't put your finger on what it was.

"Is something bothering you, dear?"

You bit your lower lip as you tried to process what he said. Was something gnawing at you? Was there something that was bothering you to such an extent that you were beginning to feel pangs of conscience? Deep down inside of you, in the depths of your mind, where you didn't dare to go?

"Maybe?" You finally managed to say it, but it sounded more like a question. Your whole body was on edge, and you couldn't understand why it was so. You weren't afraid, no, but there was definitely a sense of something out of the ordinary. Something that was forbidden.

"You've been doing a lot of thinking lately, haven't you?" The man asked you a question, and all of a sudden you found yourself with your eyes half closed in bliss as you enjoyed the silky texture of his voice. It sounded like an angel was singing, but with a dark undertone. "You have been asking yourself questions, perhaps even too alarming ones."

You nodded weakly in acknowledgement of his words; despite the barrier between you, he seemed to be aware of your silent response.

"You're afraid you're bad." He said simply, and you could almost swear that he was laughing at the last two words, there was a hint of mockery in the tone of his voice.

Hearing him say that made your mouth dry up and you coughed slightly, trying to clear your throat.

"Holy Father, what makes you say things like that?"

"Are not all of us afraid of something like this at some point in our lives? We are afraid of ourselves, afraid of our sinfulness."

There was a blink of confusion on your face, a complete bewilderment at the strange turn this conversation had taken. And yet, somehow, you felt compelled to go on and hear more.

His voice dropped to a hoarse, velvety whisper that sent waves of heat down the length of your spine and caused you to squirm in your seat. Was this how you were supposed to feel at this moment?

"Let me tell you a little secret, dearie."

"I-am I listening?" Your heartbeat quickened as a single streak of pale light fell on the man behind the small bars, and for a moment you saw a dark, fox-like eye.

"We are all bad men. Every single one of us."

A shiver ran down your entire body, and you could feel the stuffy air in the confessional getting hotter and hotter.

"Even you, dearest child." He moved closer to the mesh holes in the barrier that separated the two of you, and you could make out the shape of his lips, diabolically curved and full. "Especially you."

"F-Father…"

"Wooyoung." He fixed you. "My name is Wooyoung. "

You repeated his name softly, sliding your tongue over each letter; your voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the man inhale sharply as his name came out of your lips. His name was sinful and sweet, almost wicked, like a serpent that tempts you to do the most evil of deeds. This man cannot be a priest at all. But if he was not a priest, who was he then?"

"You are," he began, and you could almost feel the smirk on his beautiful lips as he spoke. "Very naughty girl.

Oh, my God. This wasn't really happening. Was it? No, he couldn't have meant it. He was a priest, for God's sake.

"And what is your suggestion that I should do about it?" You asked shyly, looking down at the palms of your hands, which were now covered in shallow marks from where your nails had dug themselves into the damp skin. You couldn't see Wooyoung, but you were sure that the look in his eyes would be nothing less than piercing and malicious. "Should I say the Hail Mary several times? Pray for atonement for what I have done? You haven't even told me why it is you think I'm a sinner."

He let out a dark, dry chuckle, and you heard a muffled sound as you guessed that the palms of his hands were making hard contact with his thighs.

"Shall I show you?"

"Show me what?" Your eyes narrowed and a strange sense of anticipation began to well up inside you.

"How do I have the knowledge that you are a sinner?"

You chewed on your lower lip in thought, and then you cleared your throat with a kind of self-assured finality.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"All right. But I'm beginning to think that you're a little overconfident." You added that last part in an attempt to lessen your sense of vulnerability in front of this man. You had doubts that anything would change, but something told you that you would need all the confidence you could have.

Hearing your words, his hand reached out and pressed against the grating metal, and he let out a low purr. Up close, you could see the prominent veins that ran down Wooyoung's slender hand, his long fingers adorned with a number of expensive rings, and you tried desperately to suppress a certain feeling that threatened to force itself upon you.

"Go on, touch; don't be afraid." He called to you, and you stretched out obediently, repeating what he said, carefully placing your fingertips on the grating's metal.

Instantly, your entire world was enveloped in a bright, unholy light, and with each turn of your head, you saw clear images of unspeakable darkness, depravity, and longing. You recognised them as your dreams, as fleeting thoughts that you tried to push away, as shadows that danced on the walls of your bedroom in the late hours of the night. All of these images had been ripped right out of your mind.

You jerked your hand away from him as if it had been burned, and you cried out in pity as tears streamed uncontrollably down your cheeks. You blinked and suddenly found yourself back in the dark confessional, multi-coloured spots dancing in front of your eyes as if they were mocking you and your mind.

"What the hell was that?" You wanted your voice to be aggressive and forceful, but the words sounded weak and pathetic as soon as they left your soft lips.

"You see?" The coldness in his voice burned like a fire within you.

"Those... those are not my thoughts." You murmured in fear as the confessional seemed to grow colder and colder by the second. "They were not in mine."

Were they?

Now you could see your own breath steaming, and in one quick, desperate movement, you rushed to the curtain, tore it aside, and stepped into the light. As soon as you were out of the stall, you slumped limply into the front pew of the church, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

There was a rustling sound in the cabin before the door on the priest's side of the room opened slightly, and a man stepped out of the darkness—Wooyoung. He was of average height and was dressed entirely in black, like a second skin, with the exception of a crisp white collar. His black hair flowed like silk down to his sharp jaw line and framed the chiselled features of his face. With fierce dark eyes and full lips that curled into a wickedly seductive smile, he was handsome—beautifully handsome.

You should have been afraid of him after what he had just shown you. You should have turned around and run away and never looked back—away from this church and away from Wooyoung. As you have always sworn, you should have left your hometown forever.

But you didn't. The man in front of you, whose eyes seemed to have an even greater darkness in them, had completely hypnotised you.

"You are not the Holy Father." Your breath caught in your throat as he came closer. There was an unreadable expression on his handsome face as he looked down at you. "Who the hell are you?"

He smiled mischievously, and you saw something completely evil in his eyes.

"I am the man who is going to rid you of all of your sins." The sound of his voice was like sugar itself—hilariously sweet.

"W-what? Are you going to make me say my prayers?" At this, he laughed uncontrollably, vulgarly, and at the top of his voice.

"Oh, poor, sweet child." He said this in a drawl, dragging the toes of his immaculately polished black shoes along the floor and carefully folding his hands behind his back. "Absolutely not. I am going to make you repent for all of your sins."

He came to a halt just a few feet in front of you, tilted his head, and looked down at your body. There was a sense of nakedness and vulnerability under his piercing gaze. You felt completely helpless.

"Throughout your entire life, you have committed so many sins that it will take me a long time to get you to repent for them," he said. Wooyoung was talking about it as if it were the most common thing in the world.

"What if I have no desire for repentance?" You said it in a defiant tone. You wanted to be brave; you wanted to be strong and confident, but something deep down inside of you told you that Wooyoung was not the kind of person that you couldn't help but obey. His whole aura told you that if he wanted to, he would fold you up like an origami piece. But there was nothing you could do about it; you had to test the waters to see what would happen if you refused to bend to his will.

He looked at you so intently that you felt he wanted to eat you alive right then and there.

"But I have a feeling that's not the case, is it?" He said this as he ran the tips of his fingers along your jaw. You tensed as he touched you, feeling a cold shiver run down your spine as Wooyoung lazily ran his thumb over your lower lip. "I think you want to get on your knees before me, child. You wish to repent."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his words, and a smirk of arrogance spread across his perfect scarlet lips. Why haven't you fought back?

He leaned forward so that his gorgeous face was only inches away from yours. You squeezed your thighs together as warm wetness began to pool between them, realising he was even more beautiful up close, like sin itself.

"I could smell the sweetness of your cunt from the moment you walked into the church, you little slut." His voice dropped a couple of octaves, and you shivered at the feel of his hot breath on the skin of your body.

The vulgarity of his words made you gasp, but you couldn't deny how your mouth watered at the sound of his velvety voice saying the words 'cunt' and'slut'. God, he was doing something to you, but you were... You were attracted to it.

"I smelled that smell when you walked into the confessional, when you heard my voice, when you said my name." His eyes sparkled in a devilish way, trapping you in his gaze, and if you hadn't been so excited, you would have noticed the black shadows dancing along the edges of his irises.

He was speaking to you in an almost patronising manner now, and you froze in place as he pulled your lower lip down and gently ran his thumb along the inside of it until the pad of his finger was slick with your saliva.

"Wooyoung..." You exhaled, looking down at your hands, fidgeting aimlessly in your lap. Your cheeks were hot and flushed, and by the way Wooyoung looked at you, with a predatory hunger woven into the perfect features of his face, you could tell that your shyness was only turning him on even more.

"There's never been a girl in my life that has been so desperate for a fuck as you have. Your desires ... they are almost tangible." He was so close to you now that his hot lips touched the round of your cheek, sending a wave of electricity through your body as he spoke. "I have met many sinners in my life, as you can imagine."

"Are you going to punish me for that?" He raised an eyebrow before straightening up and looking down at you, seemingly completely satisfied with your answer. A majestic expression of all-encompassing power was frozen on his face as he spoke.

"No, darling, of course not. I wouldn't want to punish you, but I am going to make you repent. And the first sin you will have to do penance for will be lust." Wooyoung said, and you found yourself biting your lower lip at the commanding tone of his voice. "Stand up." He gave you the order.

You did as he asked you to, got up from your seat, and stood in front of the so-called priest. He moved around you in a circle, as if considering what to do with you, never allowing you to escape his dark gaze. His tongue stretched out to lick his plump lips in a sensual way; finally, he sat down on the spot where you had been a few seconds before and ran his hands over his muscular, thick thighs.

You were standing in front of him, completely at his mercy, your head bowed in respect as he looked at you like a predator from his seated position, your skin burning under the weight of his gaze. You could almost feel his eyes as they crawled over your body, peeling away layer after layer until they reached the very core of your soul.

"Get undressed." There was a metallic edge to Wooyoung's voice as he crossed his legs and leaned back, his long hair falling over his handsome face, making him even more vicious. "Now."

You opened your mouth to speak, words of protest hovering on the tip of your tongue, but you closed it immediately, realising that it was better not to protest. The feeling of submission came again, sharp and clear, and you quickly pulled off your cloak and threw it to the ground behind you. The soft fabric pooled on top of the midnight blue velour. Then your jumper and your jeans joined it, your hands shaking as you unbuttoned them and pulled them down to your hips.

As you shyly wrapped your arms around yourself, you suddenly realised that your nipples were hard and swollen and could be seen peeking out from under the thin white lace of your bra.

Wooyoung leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees and his sharp chin resting on his palms, before he glared at you.

"You have to undress completely, darling."

You nodded obediently, reached behind your back to unhook your bra, and with timid reluctance, pulled the lace straps off your shoulders. You lowered your eyes in shame and looked down at the floor, while Wooyoung kept his gaze fixed on you.

"In atoning for our sins." He began to speak softly, reaching out to your face and gently guiding your chin so that you looked up at him. "We do not have the luxury of being modest." Wooyoung patted your cheek in a condescending manner before he hooked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, which were nothing more than a thin piece of white lace. He let out a sweet moan as he slowly pulled them off of you, inch by inch, revealing the smooth skin and the wet folds of your pussy.

You blushed as you watched him rub the lace between his fingers, and a thoughtful look came over his handsome face as he said.

"They're wet, darling." He finally said it in a sarcastic tone, his lips curling into a disgusted grin. "You really are a whore, aren't you? You walk around in wet panties and have depraved thoughts, and no less so than about a person who wears holy garments." Despite the roughness and harshness of his words, you could still see the mischievous gleam in his eyes. He tucked your panties into his trouser pocket.

"It's really pathetic, isn't it?" His tongue flicked over his plump lower lip until it was glistening with saliva, and a quick glance down at his crotch showed that he was hard. "You are so lucky that I am here to help you rid yourself of all the sins that you have committed, my child."

The humiliating nature of the situation was turning you on far more than you were prepared to admit. Your clit was throbbing with pain, so intense that it was beginning to distract you, and your thoughts were constantly wandering off in a thick, lustful haze.

"Show me how you touch yourself at night when you are alone with all those sordid thoughts. I want to see you give yourself over to sin." Wooyoung ordered you as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest in a casual manner. It was impossible to ignore his erection in this position, and your mouth fell open a little when you noticed just how massive the bulge was.

"Y-yes, sir." You whispered. Your mind was spinning with lust as you parted your legs slightly for easier access, your hand hesitantly touching the warm, soft flesh of your inner thighs, shuddering as you discovered the abundance of your juices running down it.

"Keep going, darling. Don't be shy." In response to his words, your fingers touched your neglected, throbbing clit, spreading a sticky, warm wetness and massaging it in slow, firm circles. You whimpered softly, partly from pleasure and partly from the thick humiliation that was blooming in your throat, to which Wooyoung only gave a wicked grin.

"Come on, we both know that you can do it better than that." He reproached you. "I'd like to see you fuck yourself, darling."

You swallowed hard and hesitantly let your fingers slide between the wet folds of your pussy. Your behaviour was beginning to irritate Wooyoung, and all the playfulness was gone in an instant, and a venomous bitterness appeared in his voice. With the silver of his rings digging uncomfortably into your skin, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. His gaze was as intent and as dark as the night, and you shivered at the sight.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I said, fuck yourself."

It was such a rude and vulgar thing to say, especially coming from someone who was a priest, and it took your breath away. In obedience to his command, you immediately slid two fingers through the soft, wet folds and into your cunt. You let out a long moan as you felt your silky walls stretch around your fingers, and, trying to get more of the feeling, you began to move them back and forth. Trying desperately to keep your balance in this awkward position, your knees were getting weaker by the second, and you could feel yourself starting to orgasm.

"You don't expect me to believe that your slutty little cunt can only hold two fingers, do you?" Wooyoung mocked him, biting down on his plump lower lip with her perfect set of teeth. 

Gritting your teeth against the invasion, you sighed heavily and added another finger. The soft walls of your vagina squeezed your fingers like a velvet vice with every move you made. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away the shame that was quickly engulfing you like the flames of hell. The wet, squelching sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy was nothing short of vulgar.

"Harder, show me all of it." Wooyoung's sharp command came out, and you did your best to obey, curling your fingers and rubbing them roughly against the small, spongy bundle of nerves inside you. You were breathing heavily, your forehead and neck glistening with sweat, and your lips red and swollen when Wooyoung finally told you to stop. It was cruel, the way he waited patiently and calculatedly until you were about to come, only to deny you, but you couldn't bring yourself to complain; it was your punishment after all.

Your fingers picked up the glistening wetness that flowed from your cunt, and as you looked at Wooyoung, you brought it to your mouth and wrapped your lips around your fingers, licking it and sucking every last drop of it.

He rose sharply from where he sat, shading you and towering over you like the very embodiment of God—or the Devil? Wooyoung wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on your hairline, with a look of genuine affection on his handsome face. This tenderness did not last for long, however, and after a few seconds, he was back in his unrelenting position of authority.

"On your knees, dear." You did so without hesitation, your knees immediately touching the faded and discoloured velour.

"Look at you, stripped of all your dignity, on your knees, writhing in despair, like a bitch in heat. Aren't you a sight to see?"

You blinked slowly, looking up at him with a fawn's wide-eyed innocence, squeezing your legs together as another wave of excitement surged from your needy cunt. Wooyoung taunted you; there was no way he would show you mercy—you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you coldly, his pretty mouth pressed into a thin line.

"You have no pride, my dear, but you must still do penance for that, to be sure you will have forgiveness for that too." He lifted one foot and placed it on the seat of the bench, presenting you with a polished, expensive-looking shoe. "Clean it for me. With your mouth, my dear."

You raised an eyebrow at Wooyoung but didn't argue, for fear that he would punish you more severely and in more subtle ways if you didn't comply. His boot looked clean enough; not a single scuff could be seen on the shiny leather, and as you moved closer to the bench, you ran the tip of your tongue along the leather in an experimental way. It didn't taste like much, which was a relief to your anxiety, and soon you were flattening your tongue and licking the hard material as if your life depended on it.

"Good girl." He cooed, but there was very little in the way of kindness in that reassurance. As if you were nothing more than a pet, his hand stroked your hair. You were relieved when Wooyoung pulled away and removed his foot from the bench, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt you were putting in your mouth.

"Look at me, my darling."

Your eyes fell on the large bulge at the front of his dark, neatly pressed trousers, and you moved away from the bench so that you were now level with his crotch. A beam of red light shone through the stained glass behind him, reflecting off the black stone of his ring as Wooyoung ran his fingers over his belt. As he slowly unbuckled the belt, the church was silent, except for the faint jingle of the metal buckle. Your gaze lingered for a moment on the image of the Virgin Mary that stood in the corner of the church. Was there judgement in her eyes? Was there a sense of disgust? Her face was as divinely serene as ever, and you couldn't tell.

Too handsome to be a saint, he bowed his head towards you, long strands of black hair falling down to frame his face. Wooyoung unzipped his trousers, taking a moment for a lewd touch of his bulge before pulling out his hard cock. The head of his cock was wet and turgid; a thick drop of pre-cum rolled down its length, and you wanted to follow its movement with your tongue.

"What do you crave, huh?" He asked, hissing as his hand slid up and down the length of his thick cock.

"Do you crave something that can't be satisfied?" His words flowed in a rhythmic flow, and his tone was so soft that you could almost swear that he was singing to you. It was the voice of an angel that was calling out to you. "Do you take all that they give you, only to find that you're still starving to death?" You bobbed your head up and down, desperate and needy, and parted your lips as he rubbed the head over your lips, staining them with pre-cum, making them slick and shiny. You were giddy, stunned by the pure, erotic beauty of this man, this stranger, whom you had so willingly allowed to pollute you in this house of God.

"You're a greedy little animal, aren't you?" Wooyoung taunted you with a throaty grunt as he slapped his cock against your cheek. You kept your hands on your hips, waiting obediently for further instructions. You grew more and more restless by the second, not having his dick in your mouth or in your hand.

God, you were one hungry little thing, you really were.

From where you were on your knees, he looked ethereal, his full lips moulded into a perfect, sensual shape. It was fascinating to watch such a man let himself fall apart like that, his chest rising and falling and sweat forming on his forehead as he moved his hand over his thick cock.

He let out a low, guttural moan as he picked up the pace and came closer and closer to the edge, throwing his head back towards the vaulted ceiling. You were so turned on that you were sure your juices were already dripping onto the carpet beneath you, forming a small puddle, a dirty declaration of your desire. The unpleasant throbbing of your cunt only intensified as you witnessed Wooyoung's approach to orgasm, his breathing choked and ragged.

He looked down at you and licked his luscious, almost sinful, lips.

"Open your mouth, dear." As if you knew he wanted it, you parted your jaw and lowered your head to his cock. Wooyoung jerked his cock a few more times before he released a silky stream of hot, salty cum into your open mouth, an animalistic roar of pleasure escaping from his lips like music. "Don't even have a thought about swallowing."

You felt the thick stream of his cum begin to flow down your tongue and into the depths of your throat, but you ignored the instinctive urge to swallow. Wooyoung pulled his trousers back on, buckled his belt around his waist, and sat back down on the bench with a cold indifference. There was not a single trace left of the erotic image that you had seen just a minute ago.

He patted his muscular, thick thighs and looked at you defiantly, and you obediently walked over to him and sat down on his lap.

His warm thigh pressed against your cunt without pity as soon as you sat down, and you pressed against him desperately in pursuit of the pleasure he hadn't allowed you to have yet. At the same time, Wooyoung slapped your bare bottom with the palm of his hand.

"You have been impertinent to me, which means you have an anger that makes you want to sin. And that is one of my favourite sins, my dear. Wooyoung said as he put his hands on your hips to stop you from squirming on his leg. "To see all the terrible things people can do just because of a little anger is both fascinating and funny."

He lifted you slightly and placed you on his lap. You obeyed him without saying a word. He manipulated you like a doll, positioning you so that you were completely on top of him, your long hair falling in your face and your head tilted forward. You clenched your jaw as hard as you could, terrified of what would happen if you let a single drop of his sperm come out of your mouth. You winced and whimpered as he wedged his knee between your legs again, his hand brushing the tender junction of your ass and thigh.

"I can feel the rage burning deep inside you, my child." Wooyoung held your hands behind your back as he restrained you, tears welling in your eyes. He used his other hand to press down on your lower back and used his knee to press down on your wet cunt. You let out a scream, the piercing sound muffled by your closed lips. The texture of his cum seemed to get thicker the longer it remained on your tongue, and you had to clench your jaw tighter, praying that nothing would accidentally drip out. You couldn't afford to be disgusted by how bitter and cold it had become, coating your mouth with every slight movement you made.

"Isn't that so? Answer me, dear." He growled as he began to massage your ass so hard that you could feel his nails digging into your soft skin.

All you could manage was a pitiful "mmmm.".

"Angry, naughty girl." He said, his voice full of fake sympathy as he ran his fingertips along your thighs in preparation for what was to come. "We can't let this pass unnoticed, can we? You need to repent."

Without warning, he slapped your ass so hard you almost forgot the cum in your mouth. Your body jerked forward before he caught you and brought you back. He didn't give you any time to recover from the blow, as he landed a second one on the opposite side of your ass. Your eyes welled up with tears and concentration as you struggled to keep your mouth shut. Tears started streaming from your eyes down your flushed, hot cheeks as he hit you again with even more sadistic aggression than the first two times. Wooyoung continued his merciless assault, each blow harder than the last, until he landed a particularly hard blow that you were sure would leave a bloody handprint on your skin. The force of the blow was almost enough to bring you to a scream, and for a moment, your lips parted. A small stream of cum ran from the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin.

You hoped that he hadn't noticed, but you realised that you were out of luck when he let go of your wrists and took a firm grip of your hair instead. As he leaned down to speak roughly into your ear, he dug his nails into the battered, red skin of your ass as he pulled your head back.

"I will have no choice but to extend your punishment if you make a mess, my dear." When he warned you, Wooyoung's voice was deep and quietly ominous, like the ocean on the brink of a storm. He waited for a nod of understanding from you before he let go of your hair and returned to his previous position, running the palm of his hand lovingly over the swollen expanse of your ass.

You closed your eyes and took deep, slow breaths as Wooyoung spanked you over and over again without stopping. You would probably have enjoyed the spanking if it hadn't been for the added responsibility of holding a tonne of cum in your mouthYou s you squirm under his touch. His knee was still pressed relentlessly against your cunt, and his trousers were no doubt slippery from your excitement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body every time you jerked in response to another loud slap against your skin. The sound was almost deafening, echoing off the walls of the old church in a dull echo.

Your punishment turned Wooyoung on once more, his hard cock pressed against the side of your body.

"It's turning you on, you little bitch." The tone of his voice would have been venomous, but it still remained angelic in some way. "I shouldn't be surprised about that. It doesn't matter what kind of touch you have, is it? You're such a needy slut that even the most innocent of touches makes your cunt wet." He ran his fingers through the tangled hair at the back of your head and let out a mocking chuckle. "You can swallow now, darling."

You swallow the cold, sticky cum, gasping in relief as it slides down your throat, immediately following his request. You could still taste it on the inside of your mouth, a faint hint of savoury sweetness tickling your taste buds. After he had spent a few seconds stroking your battered bottom in gentle, soothing movements, he grabbed hold of your sides and lifted you up until you were back in a sitting position on the edge of his lap. For the second time that night, he unbuckled his belt, sliding his trousers and boxer shorts halfway down his hips and freeing his thick cock.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Wooyoung's big, thick cock, but you knew better than to give in to your dark desires. All you could think about was how much you wanted to feel it—to run your hand along its veiny member, to curl your lips around its warm, velvety length, to jump on it and take it so deep into your cunt until you were sure you could feel it deep inside your belly. Wooyoung was absolutely right: you didn't care how he touched you at all. You were longing to feel his touch in any way that was possible.

"Pampered little sluts like you are always too used to being given everything they want without having to lift a finger to get it." He said this as he used his thumb to massage the wet head of his cock. He lifted you up and guided you to straddle him, his hands gripping the soft curves of your hips. Your breath caught; you were so close to your desire that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

"Is that what you wanted, darling?" Wooyoung hummed sweetly as he wrapped his long fingers around your wrist and pressed your hand down onto his cock. Instinctively, you grabbed hold of it, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you ran your fingers along the prominent veins that adorned the length of his cock.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You said it breathlessly. "God, yes. This is what I have been craving so much."

"You little whore, you ought to know better than to take the name of the Lord in vain in the presence of a priest." Wooyoung teased, and you could feel his hot, cinnamon-scented breath on the back of your neck. The pleasure rippled through your body.

"Please, Wooyoung, please, I want to repent." You came close to whimpering. Your hips jerked in Wooyoung's tight grip in search of some kind of relief, and he reached forward to hold you tightly.

"You must try harder, darling. I want to see you try to repent." He placed his hands on either side of you, and the corners of his sensual lips curled up slightly into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the bench and looked at you from under his half-closed eyelids. You leaned forward and held his cock upright by the base. Sitting up, you rubbed the flushed head along your soft, wet folds, pushing it past your entrance and stretching the small hole with his thick, hot cock. Your heart pounded in your chest, pounding against your ribs as you slid on top of him all at once. At the obviously intense pain of his thickness stretching your narrow, silky walls, tears streamed from your eyes.

"Dear Lord." You let out a loud moan and rolled your eyes back as he suddenly filled you to the brim. Wooyoung didn't move, maintaining a majestic coolness, but you could see him sucking his plump lower lip into his mouth when he could feel your pussy enveloping him, a soft hiss coming from the back of his throat.

"That's it, my darling." He praised you, not being able to control himself, and he began to knead your plump tits in his hands. You squealed and barely moved your hips, still trying to get used to the idea of having something so massive and so hot inside of you. "I want you to fuck yourself on my dick. Can you do that for me like a good girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, Holy Father." You replied breathlessly. You leaned over Wooyoung's shoulder and grabbed hold of the edge of the bench with both hands to prop yourself up. As you began to move slowly, up and down on his cock, Wooyoung pressed his mouth to your sensitive nipple and ran his tongue over it.

You were starting to sweat, but you continued to fuck yourself as ordered, gaining momentum with each thrust of your hips.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty church and mingled with the muffled, lascivious moans that escaped from your throat. You had never experienced ecstasy like this before, and you were not sure if you would ever be able to experience it again. You were insatiable, moving your hips in an almost painfully hard rhythm, your knuckles white from the force of your grip on the bench. The head of Wooyoung's cock reached your cervix, and you saw stars, unable to think of anything else but your inevitable orgasm and the devilishly beautiful man beneath you.

"Fuck, oh, fuck, Wooyoung, please..." You screamed out the words in an incoherent manner, completely consumed by the intense pleasure you were feeling. Wooyoung was a lot less eloquent than you and tried to control himself, but it was obvious that he was going crazy as well, judging by how hard he was pressing down on you. You could be sure that the marks that his hands had left on your body would be there for a long time to come.

He growled as he lifted his hips up towards you, and streams of tears began to run down your cheeks with renewed force. It hurt, but you loved the pain, you craved it, and you knew you wouldn't be able to forget it for weeks and weeks.

"I'm so close... oh fuck, I'm... I'm..." You let out a loud moan and threw your head back.

With that, he pushed you away from him with such force that you fell off his lap, your ass touching the cold velour carpet, his cock coming out of you just as you were about to come. You sobbed pitifully and looked up at Wooyoung with your eyes wide and glassy as he rose to his feet, his cock glistening with the wetness of your cunt.

"I don't think you're sincere enough in repenting; you're still full of sin, full of forbidden and dark desires, my dear." Wooyoung said it in a dismissive manner as he looked down at you. He leaned down and ran his long fingers through your hair, pulling you up until you were kneeling. "I know what you want, negligible girl. You want to cum. But unfortunately for you, today I'm the only one who can do it."

He mocked you, taking pleasure in the look of misery on your face as he forced your mouth open. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, letting you taste the arousal of your own as it covered him, and without any warning at all,, he began to fuck you in the face at a fast, merciless pace. Gagging on his cock and taking shallow breaths through your nose as he pushed down your throat, using your hair as a rein to guide your head, there was nothing you could do but take what was given to you. You felt his cock twitch, and then your nose was pressed against the smooth, hot skin of his pelvis, one hand holding you in place as warm ropes of cum shot down your throat. He released you and threw you on your side like a rag doll when he was sure you had drunk every last drop.

Too humiliated to look into the eyes of the gorgeous man who had brought you to this state, you began to sob, pulling your knees to your chest. There was no more holiness in Wooyoung than there was in the devil himself. Like the wolf in sheep's clothing, he wore a robe. At the moment, you were nothing more than a whimpering mess, bruised and humiliated, with a sore throat and trembling lips.

And yet somehow your cunt was throbbing and leaking, desperate for filling.

"Please, Wooyoung..." As the words left your lips, you felt numb and didn't even know how you could speak. "Please."

From where he was standing, he looked sinfully delicious, towering over you like a fallen angel dressed in black and sin as you lay on the floor, and you watched in disappointment as he tucked his dick back into his trousers. With what little strength you had left, you tugged at the hem of his trouser leg, and he tilted his head questioningly, a sensual smile crossing his plump lips at the sight of your hopeless state.

"Please. I don't know what you want me to repent for, but please.... Just... please. I'll do anything for you. Wooyoung..." You were on your knees, pressing your cheek against his thigh like a cat begging for food.

"What do you want, my child?" He asked in a voice that was patronising and majestic. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of the tears that had partially dried as he did so. "Wasn't that enough for you? Isn't it enough that my cock fills your mouth and your cunt? Are you going to ask me for more when I have already given you so much?"

You lowered your eyes in shame.

He grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and jerked you to your feet, throwing you onto the bench as he did so. Wooyoung licked his lips as he admired the sight of your naked body as it lay on the wooden bench, the angry red marks on your skin, and the blackened bruises that adorned your thighs.

"Do you want to cum? Is that what you want, you little slut?" Wooyoung asked you as he dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide open. When you didn't answer, he smacked you hard on the inside of your thigh. "Answer me, bitch."

"Oh my God." You sighed, melting at the teasing sensation of the cold air of the wind on your hot and needy cunt as he spoke. "Y-yes Holy Father. That is what I want."

"Isn't it?" Wooyoung purred, holding your hips in place so that they would remain open for his pleasure. "I will be gracious to you, because that is what God commands us to be."

Suddenly, he lowered himself forward and buried his gorgeous face in your pussy, stroking vigorously between the folds of your pussy and collecting your sticky secretions on his tongue. You moaned wildly, one hand tangled in his black silk hair, reflexively rubbing your pussy all over his face. He wrapped his plump lips around your clit, sucking just enough to leave you stunned, and ran his tongue between your soft folds, swollen from his previous actions. Squirming helplessly under his ministrations, you cried out as he let go of one of your hips and slipped two long fingers inside you.

It was brutal—the way he moved his fingers inside you in a merciless way, his mouth working fervently over your clit. The edges of your vision became blurred, and soon you could feel the walls of your pussy beginning to contract, a sign that your climax was nearing.

"I... I... damn!" He flicked your head once more with the tip of his tongue, and then you came, throwing your head back in euphoria as you were consumed by your orgasm. Your cunt vibrated as Wooyoung laughed mockingly, and it was then that the whole situation became clear to you: you had been fucked, well and truly. He wasn't going to let you breathe; instead, he continued to play with your throbbing clit, a third finger thrusting into you with a dirty, lewd slurp.

"This is too much..." You whimpered as his tongue moved quickly around your sensitive clit, and his fingers spread you lightly as they went. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you—the pleasure coursing through you so strongly that it became unbearable—but you were sure that was what he wanted—to punish you with what you craved so much.

He ran his fingers inside of you, guiding them so that they hit the deepest places that no one else had ever been able to reach. He twisted and turned them, brushing against something that was spongy and sensitive, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Just as you had feared, Wooyoung had no intention of stopping; now he was sucking on your clit with such passion that you could barely move, and you fell limply to the back of the bench, your legs twitching under his tight grip. He continued to push his fingers deep into you, your body shuddering weakly each time the tips of his fingers made contact with your cervix.

"Wooyoung, please stop." You begged, but all he did was laugh maliciously and spread his fingers out inside of you, stretching you even further. He pulled away from your clit with a loud pop, and you were on the verge of a sigh of relief until he removed his fingers from your core and replaced them with his sinful lips.

"N-no, that's too much, please!" Now you were sobbing openly as he lowered his head to lick the stripes between your folds, his thumb circling your defenceless clit, his long silken hair tickling the sore skin on your inner thighs.

Wooyoung sucked one of your labia into his mouth before he pushed himself deeper into your entrance and began to fuck you with his skilled, long tongue. You felt the familiar tightness in your stomach once more, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he pinched your clit with two fingers. The coil in your stomach snapped without warning, and then you came, but this time everything was different: a wave of clear liquid burst from your overstimulated cunt and soaked Wooyoung's face and the front of his perfect shirt.

Eventually, he pulled himself away, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he looked down at the mess that you had made.

"You filthy little thing." He laughed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and licked his wet fingers at the mess. "So, what do you think? Have you come to understand how you can repent of your sins?"

"Y-yes, Holy Father." You said you were clenching your legs in a protective manner in case he decided to go for another round.

"Good." He rose to his feet again, looking just as untouched as he had been the first time you had seen him, except for his hair, which was slightly dishevelled.

Your whole body was aching, from your sore ass to your swollen cunt, from your hips to your back. You were sure that for the next few weeks, Wooyoung would be the only thing on your mind.    "I will be waiting for your return, my child. I need to be sure that you have understood the righteous path and that you are living without sin. Do you understand me, dear?"

"Yes, Wooyoung, I am definitely going to come back to confess."

[technically-human]

As a (kinda??) follow up to that one ask where stone is pulling robotnik by his collar–or just that au in general tbh– I find it really funny to wonder abt what past ivo would think of just how much he's changed when it comes to how he treats stone, considering he's actively letting his agent do this kind of stuff without consequence. Without even fighting back or saying anything, at that

Anyways, I got the thought a while ago and it wont get out no matter what I do. You can make art of it if you so please, but I know it's not exactly the most specific prompt so i'm still totally fine without!!! X3 I rlly just need someone's opinion on this otherwize I might claw my own eyes out🙏🙏🙏

Please keep your eyes, I'm sure they're lovely.

SO THE THING IS... Robotnik has always been very permissive with Stone. His boundaries are all over the place, no doubt, but if you pay attention to them, Stone actually gets away with a lot. And Stone is not careful around the Doctor, which makes me think that he knows he's allowed to do a lot, or even if not, the consequences are... just not that bad. We see Robotnik punching Stone in the stomach every now and then, but it's usually not a punishment, I think he just likes doing that.

All this to say, past Robotnik sees this and clearly can tell there has been a shift, but... I mean, he could tell you that just by looking at his future self. Would he currently allow his Stone to do these things? well, no, but that's because there's no reason for it. Robotnik mostly trusts his Agent's judgement, so if Stone did this? it would be for a reason. And then he would allow it. Which means he would complain and shout about it, as he does with everything, but wouldn't actually get that mad.

So what surprises him here is a) that future Stone has not only decided that this is something he needs to do, but that he actually DOES it, and b) that future Robotnik takes it silently, which seems to imply it is warranted. Like, what the hell happened there?

We know what. Robotnik keeps dying. But past Ivo doesn't have that context, so he just knows SOMETHING must have happened.

The one who's having an experience though, is past Stone, who's just there like HEY WHAT WHY HOW???

[nightmarenyxx]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴 1, 2, 3...

->.. Where Y/N lands a job at JYP Ent. and gets assigned to work with Stray Kids, a popular K-pop Boy Band and accidentally starts off on the wrong foot with Felix..

Warnings: cursing, angst, fluff, (idrk what more rn but I'll update it as I go)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers

Italics are thoughts (tho I don't know how much ill actually use these)

A/n: I KNOW it's hella short this time BUT I promise that the next chapter will be much much longer than this, I just don't know how much more I can extend this chapter..

You were nervous and excited as you stand at the big building in Seoul, also known as JYP Entertainment. You miraculously landed a job with the company and had just come in for your first day to be assigned to a group as a staff member.

Entering the building, you immediately go to the reception giving the lady at the desk a wide smile and giving her your details so she could inform you about the group that you'll officially be working with and the directions towards where they currently might be.

Following the directions to what seemed like the dance practice room you spotted a vending machine with drinks, rushing over, you get a coke and spot the dance room right across.

Taking a slight peek inside before going inside you spot the staff members, but none of the idols.

It's alright y/n, you can do it. Just don't bump into anyone and you'll be perfectly fine..

You turn the doorknob and..

*THUD*

You fell on the floor.

Great job y/n, did JUST the thing I told you not to do.

You open your eyes and see Felix. fallen. right in front of you. And his boba all over the floor. Your eyes widen as--

"Oh my gosh, I'm really sorry let me help you---"

"Leave it. I just wanted one damned thing to happen properly and not have it be messed up and some fucking lady decides to mess it all up. God why can I just have one normal day!? "

He gets up and leaves to what you assume is the washroom to clean up.

Kinda rude.

You proceed to get up and compose yourself enough to introduce yourself to the rest of the members, even though you already know them. Who wouldn't in this day and age?

Right as you go up to the others, felix comes from behind and joins them in the line and they start introducing themselves.

"Hana, dul, Step out annyeonghaseyo Stray Kids Imnida! "

You smile at them and introduce yourself too

"Hello! I'm y/n and I'm joining as one of your staff members as one of them have been fired for doing some things which they shouldn't have done, but dont worry because I'll make sure to have you guys be comfortable! "

The guys then disperse to eat their food and you visibly deflate and look around the entire room when you notice the person you know as Han Jisung coming towards you with a buldak Tteobokki and chopsticks.

"Y/n right? I'm Han Jisung, member of 3racha which is the producing unit of Stray Kids. I hope you have a great time with us and dont mind Felix, he's usually a sunshine but his day has not been going good today so he's just really cranky"

He says all this while looking like an actual quokka with food stuffed in his cheeks. He actually does look like a quokka.

"Ah, that's why he's so different.. It's understandable, even I would be hella grumpy if my day wasn't going well.. "

Just as he finishes his Tteobokki, the kids have to go elsewhere for a meeting with the other producers.

"You guys have meeting with producers as well? " You ask Jisung confused

"Well yeah, since we have concerts coming up, the producers need our opinions on the tracks and beats in them. "

They have a concert coming up? How did I not know that? The hell?

You follow them to the producing room, trying not to piss Felix off and communicating with the other members while he just keeps staring at you.

Weirdo.

Taglist: @jisunggy @skyracha @staytinyarmy @niki788 @ilovetocas1 @d3kstar @velvetmoonlght @hash2013 @hwangjoanna @st4rv3lly @angel-writes-skz-here (open)

[charlie-ver]

Hey, you, the trans man reading this - I love you. I know there's posts like this, but I got down a bad rabbit hole last night and I think there's not enough nice posts towards trans men (:

I don't care if you've finished you transition, on won't be ever able to reach the changes you would like. I don't care if you've been on T for years, or just started, or won't be for some years, or can't or don't want to be. I do not care how you dress. I don't care if you want to be pregnant and have children one day. I don't care if you want hysterectomy and don't even want to freeze your eggs (Hell knows I am not freezing anything). I do not care if you want bottom surgery or if you love what you were born with. Because it doesn't matter and doesn't take away from your identity.

Gay trans men? You aren't just confused straight girls. You are valid in your gender AND sexuality. Straight trans men? You aren't a betrayal the moment you are no longer misgendered. You're still welcome in lgbtqia+ spaces. Because you're a part of our community. One does not lose their place the moment they are perceived and cis or cishet.

Cis men have heard it before, but they won't admit it. All this "if you like x you must be a girl" really just feels like repackaged "if you like x you must be gay". Wanna hear a secret?

HOBBIES, JOBS AND FAVORITE THINGS DO NOT HAVE GENDER.

I like botanical gardens. I love plants. I like looking at clothing, room decor, fabric stores sometimes catch my eye. Because I am am artist, and I take inspiration from these and many more things. Plant care and gardening is not a "red flag" for a trans man in my humble and trans opinion, but it's a sign that you have love to give. And that's beautiful. Just like liking these things does not indicate that a man is gay, it does not mean that your internal identity is any different.

Do not let the world put rails on your patch to your own masculinity. And if you have to hide, that's okay. If you can only be yourself online, that's okay. Trans people will always be here. Trans men will always be here. The best thing you can do is to live as safely as you can. I know this can come off as condescending from a European who has nothing to fear personally, except violence for one month in the year, because my way of being trans isn't "obvious", but I try to take it that my safety means I can try to reassure the rest of you, while you can just focus on your own misery and don't have to be strong for anyone but yourself.

If you need a safe place to went, come to my asks. If you don't want me to post them and just read them, that's ok. You can be angry, you can vent, you can cry, do whatever you need, but, obviously, no transphobia or anything (: Special love goes out to trans men who are of the aroace spectrum, because honestly, the aroace discourse never seems to die, it's just dismissed. Reminds me of something. Hm (: I wonder.

Anyhow. Come to me to cry, for a virtual hug, for a distraction, if you'd like. Feel free to ask for art. Want me to draw your trans characters with flags? I can do that, for free, for you. Ask or dm is enough (: Art and listening is the best I can do, but I'll do my best to do it well.

I love you. You deserve to live, you deserve to be happy, and you also are wholly entitled to cry, to complain, to be sad, angry, loud, afraid. You are a human being with emotions, you deserve to feel them. Nobody can tell you what your internal identity, what your gender is. Because nobody else can know that. Only you can.

So let me repeat: It does not matter how you dress, whether you are on T, whether you want surgeries or love your body as is, whether you are skinny, fat, or muscular, what accessories and clothes you wear, how your voice sounds, how you act, how you carry yourself and what you like. The only thing that matters is how you feel. And while we're at it, yes, you may change your mind, but it still doesn't invalidate your identity in the moment. There was a time where I thought I was biromantic, but I dropped that because I wasn't, and nobody gave me shit for it. Because nobody should. Whatever you feel right now? Valid. Do you identify at a trans man but don't use he/him? Valid. Do you identify with more genders? Are you maybe a man only sometimes? Or are you more at the same time? All of that is valid, if you feel like a man in some aspect or on some part, you are one, if that's a label you want. If your gender makes more sense as a man, then yeah, you are one. Nothing else but how you feel matters.

I love you, and again, I'm here for you if you need that. I can only listen and draw a little something for you, but maybe that's enough for some. If it can help a bit, I can do it for you.

Anyone derailing this post will be blocked. I have no patience for derailers.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hello, author-san! How are you? Could I please request some angst for the poly!marauders, where R is someone full of tattoos or piercings but is smart, a sweetheart, golden retriever coded, and Lily is their friend. Lily knows about their infatuation with the boys. Being a great friend, Lily wants to set them up, but they're a bit uncertain about R because of their tattoos. Then one night, R overhears them talking in the common room with Lily and voices out their opinions regarding R, causing R to become insecure and try to hide it. You can continue however you like! Angst with a happy ending if it's okay! 🥺

Thank you, author-san!

💀🌻

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Sorry it took so long, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders, pre-relationship

cw: prejudice associated with tattoos and piercings, swearing, angst to happy ending

1.8k words (oopsie)

It was like you could hear their words on repeat as you raced up the stairs. What hurt the most is that you knew that some people would judge, but you hadn’t expected it from them. 

“I just don’t know about 'em, Lils.” James winced. “Like they seem nice, but you know about people who choose to look at that…” He trailed off. 

“I’m sure they’re not all bad.” Sirius cut in, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. “But Prongs does have a point.”

“It’s just the impulsivity of it all.” Remus reasoned. “Like if you’re making rash choices like that, what else would you do.” 

That was when you left your hiding spot in the stairs and ran back to your dorm. You could hear Lily’s ‘I’m so fucking done with you being stupid’ voice as you trailed away, making you smile at the knowledge that you had such a good friend. 

But you had heard enough. They had clearly made their minds up about you. Besides, you knew your appearance was an… acquired taste, to say the least, and you couldn’t expect them to be with someone they weren’t attracted to. You didn’t think you looked that odd, but maybe your perception was skewed. No matter whose perception was more accurate, they clearly didn’t particularly like you, and it was probably best to keep your distance for now, at least until they really got to know you. 

You knew that your appearance didn’t really match your personality. People often assumed you were rude, a slacker, confrontational, or even hateful. But the opposite was true in fact. You always made good marks, you were friends with loads of people, always trying to be as open as possible. And yeah, some people were intimidated at first, but they usually warmed up very quickly. 

Apparently those three, the three you wanted the approval of the most, had not been as warm about you as you thought. 

You crawled into bed and curled into yourself, trying to get a few hours of sleep before breakfast. 

James yawned loudly, blinking his eyes rapidly to get rid of the sleepy, fuzzy film coating them. Him and his boyfriends had been up all night, getting lectured literally until the sun came up. 

He had to admit, it was for the best. All three boys had gone to bed, feeling thoroughly corrected. Even slipping into shame. 

“What the hell is wrong with you three?” Lily whisper-yelled. “James, you are the LAST person to say anything about appearances. Remember when I had to go around convincing people you hadn’t become mean after your growth spurt in fourth year? Just because you were big and scary and you hadn’t realized how you were coming across?” She scolded, before turning her head to the mouse-haired boy sitting by the fire. “And you,” She seethed. “You have no clue if her choices were ‘rash’ or not. I’ve heard plenty of rumors about your appearance, people saying similar things about you. About your ‘aggression’ just because they don’t know what’s going on with you.” She snapped her head over to Sirius, her fiery hair flipping around from the movement. “And Sirius, you’re just overcompensating because you’re jealous! You’re not fooling anyone, you would look like that in an instant if you could. You’re just too scared to do it.”

Sirius played with his thumbs, not able to dispute the accusations. None of the boys could actually. Lily could tell, she was satisfied with her work. 

“I love you three buggers,” She pressed a friendly kiss to each of their cheeks as she stormed upstairs. “You just need to stop being such idiots.” 

Sirius didn’t think anyone could change personalities that fast, but it seemed all three boys had woken up different people. That morning they had all just nodded to each other, acknowledging that their opinions were very different than they had been 24 hours ago and all walked shamefacedly down to breakfast. Sirius kept pushing his eggs around his plate, too busy staring at you to take a bite. You looked a lot different today. Your hair was ruffled in front of your face, hiding the metal glinting on your nose and eyebrow. You also had long sleeves and pants on, covering the ink detailing your skin. You still hadn’t waved at them, or even acknowledged the boys’ existence. Usually, you would be bouncing over to them, talking about the weather or whatever was on your mind at the moment. Sirius missed it if he was honest with himself. He was disappointed, he had been excited to show you his outfit. He crafted it with you in mind, teasing his hair up extra and being a bit more outlandish with his top, even stealing Marlene’s varnish to paint his nails. 

Remus missed your interest in the latest book he had read. You always had so many interesting questions and you listened so intently. He missed how you played with the hoop in your septum as you nodded along to his plot summaries. You were always so patient and careful, it made his heart crack. 

James was equally distraught. He had always prided himself on being open and friends with everyone, and he had considered you his friend, which just made him feel worse. He knew that stereotyping people never led to anything good, especially when someone's personality was completely ignored and replaced with caricature. Yes, you did look intimidating, but he actually liked it. It accentuated how soft your personality actually was. You were like a big dog that everyone was terrified of, but in reality was scared of butterflies and just wanted to love everyone. He laughed sadly, catching the other two boys' attention as he stared longingly at you. All he wanted to do was go over there, but you were completely ignoring them, so he figured it was best to just not bother you and continue on with his breakfast. 

You were being equally as forlorn, continually sneaking glances over at the boys. They looked quiet and tired, but no less handsome. You felt sick, moving to leave your breakfast and all but run to the library. You needed to study anyway, you had become so infatuated that you were ignoring your classes. You had barely made it down the corridor before you heard three sets of panicked footsteps, quickly catching up to you. You tried to walk faster, but unfortunately Remus had very long legs and he briskly made it in front of you, trapping you in. He was looking flushed, amber eyes focusing on you way too much for comfort. 

“Y/N,” He sounded out of breath. You fixed your face down and back, away from their gaze. You stopping had allowed the other two the opportunity to catch up, and soon you were face-to-face with all three of the people who apparently disliked you, but to your dismay, you were still completely attached to. 

“You guys okay?” You asked, as kindly as ever but far quieter than they were used to. 

“We’re fine, lovely.” James said, confused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good.” You muttered, shifting your feet. 

“Babe,” Sirius scoffed. Your heart jumped at the honorific, but you quickly scolded yourself. Sirius just called everyone that. You had heard what he, what all three of them had said last night. “You ran from there like bat outta’ hell.” He said like you were being ridiculous.

“And you haven’t spoken to us all day.” Remus cut in before you could respond. 

“It’s only seven.” You mumbled.

“Still odd.” James quipped, moving ever so slightly closer to you. “You’re not okay.” He said, with enough finality that you gave up the act all together. They really weren’t going to make this easy on you. They said all those things last night, but they were still going to put you through the misery of having to listen to them say all those things directly to you. 

You sighed dejectedly, starting to pick your nails. “Look okay,” You tore the words from the back of your throat. “I know that you don’t like me or don’t think I’m nice or whatever. You don’t have to talk to me, it’s okay.” You did your best to give them a reassuring smile, even managing for water to stay out of your eyes, but their expressions didn’t make it easy. Sirius cursed and pinched the bridge of his nose, James looked like a kicked puppy, and Remus was hiding his eyes from you. You started to walk away, but you were blocked in.

“Shit, you heard last night?” Sirius winced. You nodded painfully, looking back down at your shoes. The silent tension was so thick you felt it suffocating you. James was the first to do anything, wordlessly striding over to pull you into a bone-crushing hug. You stumbled from the shock, easing into him accidentally, but you made no moves to tense away. You limply wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I’m so sorry, angel.” He said, panicked. “I was so stupid, I- I never should’ve said it I don’t know what I was even thinking.” He pulled you tighter to him, enough that you were worried of your feet leaving the ground. 

“I’m sorry too.” Sirius said, much more morosely than usual. “Never should’ve said those things, and you never should've heard it either.” 

“We’re all sorry.” Remus said firmly. “We all know better, we should’ve known not to think that way. It’s awfully closed-minded. You’re our friend, we should’ve acted like it.” 

“It’s okay.” You squeezed out. 

“No.” Sirius said sharply. “It’s not okay. I don’t know if you heard what Lily said back, but she pointed out a lot of things, and I can promise that we don’t think that way anymore.” 

“Please, please forgive us, baby. We were so wrong. You’re so kind and smart and funny and gorgeous an-” James was rambling on and on. 

“Jamie, it’s okay. I know you’re sorry.” You giggled at his panicked tone. “Can you uh- you’re kinda crushing me.” 

“Shit! Sorry.” He released you quickly, but not before slicking your hair out of your face. You just laughed, feeling ten times lighter. 

“We’re okay.” You reassured. “I forgive you all, it hurt, but it seems like you are all beating yourselves up enough.”

“Jus’ feel bad.” Remus grabbed you unexpectedly, tugging you into his arms. He wasn’t squeezing you like James, but rather greedily absorbing your touch. This felt like a big deal, you almost never saw Remus hold anyone. 

“Don’t feel bad.” You pleaded. “Everything’s fine now.” You rubbed his back in a way you hoped was soothing. You felt him relax in your arms. 

“Okay stop hogging them.” Sirius tugged Remus out of the way, making him grunt in dissatisfaction. (You pretended to not notice the sneaky kiss Sirius pressed to the taller boy’s knuckles.) “It’s my turn.” He grabbed you with loving aggression. 

“I wasn’t hogging.” Remus quipped. 

“Yeah, you were.” Sirius sassed. “Besides, I was the biggest idiot. I need to give the biggest cwtch.” His reasoning was flawed, but you settled into him nonetheless. 

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat

Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.

This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

James Stewart propaganda:

"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."

“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”

“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”

Toshiro Mifune propaganda:

"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”

Submitted: this gifset

Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)

"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."

"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."

[two-white-butterflies]

love by listening | daemon targaryen

Description: Daemon Targaryen goes rogue after his wedding to Lady Rhea Royce, unwilling to consummate the marriage. He finds peace in a Dornish tavern. You meet him in said tavern, and quickly become close friends. You share an adventure. Both unaware that the other person is nobility.

graphics from @saradika-graphics

Pairing: princess of dorne!reader/daemon targaryen

Warning: brief making love (not sex, making love)

A/N: I wanted it to give Dunk and Egg vibes. Reader is bubbly and talkative/has her own ambitions. She does what she wants bcs she's all about that high life. Set in Dorne + young daemon targaryen. open ending.

Daemon didn't believe in gods. He doesn't care about the punishment he'll be given after this. A few hours ago, he was forced to go through the wedding with Lady Rhea Royce. In his opinion, she was not an attractive bride. She was lucky to have come from nobility for she had a basic peasant bitch face.

Despite her odd looks, benevolent Daemon still went through with the marriage. He held his tongue, wanted to make his brother proud - but then they started talking about the bedding ceremony, and Daemon knew that he had to get the hell away from there.

Where did that bring him?

To Caraxes, to flying towards Dorne - and drinking inside of a tavern.

"It's the first time I've seen a foreigner in these parts." your voice breaks him free from his thoughts. He was about to swat you away, but a single look at your face changed his mind.

Beautiful.

There were a lot of pretty maidens in Dorne - but you were one of the most beautiful ones so far. "I did not bring any gold." he warned, under the impression that you were a whore. "Gods, I have no intention of fucking you." you lied, quickly sitting beside him.

"The first time I saw a cock. It was disgusting. I actually vowed to only fuck women after that." you smiled at the memory. Reaching for his ale, and taking a drink of it. "- I suppose I never upheld that promise. Women are beautiful but we are too wet for my taste. Men are just lovely and dry, and they are easier to toy with." you giggle.

He could smell the alcohol on your breath.

You were the first maiden he's seen to speak in that manner. He wonders if the maidens back home are like this too, if it weren't for archaic beliefs silencing their true thoughts. Dorne was a magical fucking place. It was how the rest of the six kingdoms needed to be.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asks, his face stoic just in case you had some tricks up your sleeve.

"Well, you are alone." you pointed out. "- and I am alone. Shouldn't two vagabonds protect each other?" you tilted your head.

"What makes you think that I am alone?" he inquires.

"I've been watching you for quite some time now, love. Are you going to give me your name?" you asked in return, continuing to stare deep into his purple eyes - drawing him closer like a siren to the waves. "I'd like to remain an enigma." he answers, matching your mysteriousness.

He finds himself hypnotized by your eyes. Eyes that were lined with kohl. "I won't share my name too, to be fair." you smiled, and now his attention was drawn towards your lips. Stained red with rouge.

The tension between you was palpable. He felt like a moth to a flame. Allured by this beautiful fire. Leaving only one question in his head: will he burn? Fire cannot harm a dragon. He reminds.

His hands reached for the small of your waist. A sudden boldness. He plays with the textured embroidery of your tunic. Pulling you closer to his body, until you were almost sitting on his lap.

"What will I call you?" he frowned, teasing you.

"Think of something witty." you insisted, fingers dancing along the details of his clothed tunic.

"Gevives, then." he settles on a suitable name. "I am relieved that you find me beautiful, love." you laugh, hands trailing upwards to his collar - pulling him closer until your lips were bridged together.

He melts into the kiss, hands firmly wrapped around your waist. He'd be so easy to poison. But alas, you weren't here to kill him.

He presses you against your bed - the first time he's felt lust in a while. If this was going to be a one-time thing, then he'll be thinking about you until the day he died. He's already placed this encounter in his three best fucks. The way that you looked beneath him, he can almost see himself thirty years later still jerking off to you.

You are fucking beautiful.

Naked - and vulnerable against him.

His hands danced along the curve of your waist, delighted at the smoothness of your skin. You reach for his face, cupping his cheek tenderly - staring at him with fascination. "You are so beautiful, like an illusion." you whispered in a voice that makes him want to sleep.

He positions his member at the entrance of your core.

"So good," you cooed - feeling him begin to thrust. You continued staring at each other, that connection remained unbreakable. "Keep going," you whispered, he couldn't help but smile. So talkative, even when making sweet love. "Gevie," he smiles.

Daemon wakes up to the feeling of light on his exposed skin. He lets out a yawn, rubbing his eyes so it adjusts to the brightness of the room quicker. He takes a deep breath - as he remembers what happened last night.

Last night, he fucked a goddess.

He turns to look at your sleeping form.

Beautiful even when sleeping, he thought.

He was thankful that he commanded Caraxes to return to the Red Keep.

He had no responsibility. None but you.

"Good morrow," you greeted, voice still hoarse from last night. "Good morrow," he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist. This type of touch was foreign to him. He's never wrapped his arms around someone after making love.

It felt domestic. Like how marriage was supposed to be.

"I suppose this is where our paths diverge." he says, unwilling to sound needy. But in actuality, he never wants to leave. He wants to stay like this forever. Inside of an inn, with his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Not so soon. I think we should still walk together." you hum, pulling him closer to your body until he was laying on your chest.

"I've made the observation that you have a lot of time on your hands." you breathed, his ears pressed against your chest - listening to your heartbeat.

"Your observation is correct." he confirms.

He had the face of a dangerous man. It was a risk to be in a stranger's company, but your heart told you that he could be trusted. He felt like you - exactly like you.

You kept staring at his body. His toned muscles and broad shoulder. "Are you a knight?" you asked, reminded of the tourney in Starfall.

"I am," he answers truthfully, praying that it was something that you liked about men.

"There is a tournament in Starfall. The prize is a dragon egg." you informed, mind already focused towards the next adventure.

"I shall win a dragon egg for you, then." he announces. He finds no harm in having a little adventure with a maiden. He has won all the tourneys he's attended, after all. "Really? I wanted to steal it." you say.

He responds with a chuckle, pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. How dare you steal his heart. "Why steal it when you can have it fair and square?" he asked teasingly.

You continued staring at his face, a look that was indescribable. "I like the sound of that," you smile - pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Ashara's lips pressed into a thin line. "What god has possessed you to bring a man inside of Starfall?" she scolded, leading you and Daemon towards a secluded part of the tourney. "He is my paramour." you announce, your grip remains firm on his hand.

"Your father will kill him." she says plainly. "- a Targaryen bastard, a scandal waiting to emerge." she scoffs.

Daemon's expression softens, quickly turning into amusement.

Do they all believe me to be a bastard? Apologies, I am legitimate, he thinks, but he decides to bite those words back, lest he be sent back to the Red Keep.

"I did not come here as my father's daughter. I came here under a disguise." you reminded, pulling the grey hood up until it was hiding your face. "You shouldn't have come here, anyways. You'll get me into trouble with mine own father." she glared at you.

"I'm sorry Ashara but we won't be bothering you. We merely want to join the tourney and win the dragon-egg." you say out loud, but she silences you with a finger to your lips.

"The prize remains a mystery to those in the audience. Only the competitors truly know. The Targaryens will be furious, we will be answered with fire and blood." Ashara reminds and you nod silently.

"- I'm sorry, I'll stay out of your way. I promise. Now, can you please lead us to the tents?" you ask and the other woman nods, pointing at the white tents in the far distance.

"Thank you," you smile politely - still holding his hand and dragging him to the direction of the other knights.

You paid a squire a decent amount of money to use their armor. Daemon was quick to wear it, but he still missed his sword. The Dark Sister, previously wielded by Queen Visenya. "I've never fought against this much Dornish men before." he breathes.

He had his experience fighting a few of them. They were good warriors, though not good enough to defeat him. "We fight like rattlesnakes, that's what my father always says." you say, placing the last piece of his armor on his body.

"You haven't been here for that long, huh?" you made another observation, and he nods. Though he still keeps his identity a secret.

"I grew up in Kingslanding. My mother died giving birth, and my father died of a burst belly." he chuckles - laughing his sorrows away.

"Prince Baelon is your father." you say with certainty, piecing the information together. "- he would've made a wonderful King." you add, basing off the stories that your father shared.

"I think it is your turn to speak about your past, gevives. And I've spent enough time around you to understand that you aren't lowborn." he urges while adjusting his straps.

"How did you come to that understanding?" you inquired, curious of his way of thinking.

His hands danced along your exposed arm.

"Your skin is smooth like silk." he says, like he was praying. His hands trailed upwards, until his fingers were on your chin. "- and you take good care of your beauty." he finishes - and he stops touching you.

"My father is a nobleman. I am his youngest child, the only daughter after six boys. Which means that I've been exposed to leeches using me ever since I was born. I ran away from them. I can't trust anyone, but I think I can trust you." you reveal pieces of your past to him, unwilling to give him the full information.

He was the first person that called you beautiful without knowledge of your vast fortune. And now he was here, promising to win a tourney just so you'd see a dragon-egg for the first time.

"Six brothers, like the princess of dorne." he teases.

"Mhm," you hummed - freezing.

"Ser, get ready." a squire peeks his head through the tent. Daemon stands up, and offers his hand for you take - helping you stand up.

"Thank you," you smile, regaining your composure.

"I promise to win, my lady." he places a kiss on the back of your hand.

Daemon won the tourney with ease, any knight that dared to fight against him didn't even last five minutes. All of his fights ended the same. He'd strike them down, the opponent would be on the ground and Daemon would only look to the next competitor.

You continued watching him.

Observing every little thing that he's doing. It was evident that there was a piece of the puzzle that you haven't solved yet. A knight as skilled as him should be renowned, and yet the only information you have on him - is that he is the bastard son of Prince Baelon.

He was an interesting mystery.

"The winner of our tourney, Ser..." Ashara rises, only beginning to realize that none of them knew the name of this skilled knight. Your best friend turns to look at you, but you answer with a shrug. It was a little game between you and Daemon - neither one knowing that the other one's real name is.

"Ser Daemon," he opened his mouth - meeting your gaze.

He added the last piece of the puzzle, and your face was struck with eureka. Prince Daemon Targaryen, you thought immediately. "Congratulations, Ser Daemon. Please claim your prize behind the tents." Ashara nodded.

"The audience was complaining, the tourney wasn't entertaining for them." you open the conversation, stepping foot inside of the tent. "I suppose it isn't entertaining when only one person wins." you smirk.

He holds the dragon-egg in his hands. "I promised that I'd win." he answers, patting the empty space beside him. "Here's your dragon-egg, my lady." he chuckles. You gladly sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder and marveling at the beauty of the egg.

"You are Prince Daemon Targaryen." you announced, confirming your previous suspicions. "I am," he finds himself unable to lie.

"- I think it is only fair that I know your name too, my lady." he adds.

An amused smile paints your lips.

"I am Princess (Your Name) Martell. I can't believe that we meet under these circumstances." you laugh.

A prince and a princess meeting inside of a tavern instead of a castle. Even beginning to fall in love without the pressure of their respective kingdoms. It was something out of a fable.

Daemon reaches for your hand, placing it on top of the dragon-egg. "It is an honor to meet you, my princess." he acknowledges.

[artstennisracket]

Cult of Sluts i will add the disclaimer that i by no means represent alpha kappa alpha inc. and this is purely fiction. also want to thank @lvrrgirlll for adding to my inspo and @asheepinfrance for always being a lovely beta reader <3

patrick x fem reader

cw: nsfw (18+), verbal abuse, toxicity

You already knew it was coming. It was in the back of your mind the entire pledging process. The frequent missed calls and texts from Patrick were becoming your new normal. Playing an endless game of phone tag. But you couldn’t tell him anything. You couldn’t tell him where you were or what you were doing until the process was complete, you didn’t want to be disqualified before you even reached the finish line. As soon as you finally crossed line for the Illustrious Iota Gamma chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha, you knew you had to tell him.

You knew how Patrick felt about sororities. He thought they were cults specifically designed to supply fraternities with drunk party girls (aka he just thinks they’re all whores).

But you weren’t going to let your boyfriend’s opinion stop you. You’ve always wanted to be a part of a bigger community during and after college so it was a no brainer.

You decided to break the news over facetime one night after Patrick had actually won his match earlier in the day. So he was in a good mood. Perfect.

“Hey so I actually have to tell you something,” you start. You try to keep doing your makeup at the same time to keep your mind occupied.

“Does it have something to do with why you’re getting ready to go out tonight?”

You didn’t tell him you were going anywhere, you just said you were doing your makeup for fun because he doesn’t like when you go out partying without him.

“I never said I was going out tonig-“

“Do you think i’m fucking stupid or something? When you do your makeup for fun you always use fun colors on your eyes. That’s not what you're doing right now, that’s going out makeup.”

You let out a sigh. That good mood didn’t last long, but when does it ever? Okay maybe you shouldn’t have tried to lie but either way you were going to be berated.

“Yes I’m going out tonight and I joined a sorority,” no point in tip toeing around it anymore.

There’s silence for a moment. Somehow that’s worse than the reaction you expected, Patrick’s never silent. Quite the opposite actually.

You stop doing your makeup and look at where your phone is propped up against some text books, “Hello? Did you hear what I said?”

“What did you say?” He asks but not in the “I didn’t hear you” way but in the “What the fuck did you just say to me” way.

You clear your throat and say it again, “I joined a sorority.”

And then all hell breaks loose.

You’ve learned to tune him out whenever he gets like this because listening to him is exhausting. So you let him argue with himself essentially.

It’s a series of things like: “So that’s why you kept missing my calls for the last month”, “You lying fucking bitch,” “I knew I couldn’t fucking trust you,” “Now your gonna go parade yourself like a slut at all these frat parties huh,” “Only sluts join sororities.” And then he hung up.

You really didn’t want this to ruin your night and you didn’t have the energy to argue so you put on some music and finished getting ready.

The next couple of days don't get any better.

It’s the same tune, same song, whatever the saying is, but Patrick is still pissed. Anytime you call to talk about anything he always brings up that you joined a cult of sluts and he hopes you’re happy with your decision. Oh and that you better not be fucking any frat bros.

You try to bring up that his best friend Art is in a frat and he seems to have no problem with that, but Patrick dismisses the comment saying “It’s different, I’m not fucking Art.” Which is definitely questionable…

So you stop answering his calls. But eventually though he chills out, as you expected. Starts leaving you voicemails like “I’m really sorry baby. I was overreacting, please call me back. I miss you.”

So you decide to click accept when he facetimes you one night while you’re studying in your dorm.

“You look really good,” is the first thing he says.

You dead pan the camera, showing your unamusement.

So he cuts to the chase. He clears his throat, “I’m really sorry for acting like a dick, it’s wasn’t that big of a deal. I was overreacting.” He’s outside somewhere, smoking as always. It looks like he propped his phone up against a window sill.

You really wish you could hold your ground and stay mad. But it’s Patrick. You can never stay mad at him. And he looks really fucking good right now.

You nod, “It’s fine, let’s just move on.”

“I’m coming to see you next week.”

And there it is. That’s why he wanted to put his huge fucking ego to the side for one second. He didn’t want you to be mad at him when he came.

Fast forward to the week Patrick comes to visit. He’s been super lovey and a little clingy to be honest. He even brought you a flower that he picked on his way to your school. That was really fucking sweet and you couldn’t stay mad at him even if you tried.

You convinced him to come to a party your sorority was throwing together with your brother fraternity. Free booze was enough to convince him.

You guys are having a good time partying, drinking, dancing. Patrick is enjoying this party a lot for someone who “hates” greek life.

You two had split up a bit ago and now you were dancing with a few of your sorority sisters.

“Did you guys see the tennis guy here tonight? He’s kind of hot,” Shelby, one of the girls you’re dancing with, says.

You’re drunk but not that drunk. Maybe she just saw him. But how would she know he plays tennis from just looking at him?

“Oh my gosh yes! With the dark curly hair? He’s so fucking tall and he’s really funny! He asked for my number!” Ava adds, shouting over the music that’s blasting through the house.

“Me too! Well he actually asked for my instagram,” Lia laughs. They’re all drunk but also a tad fake, it seems like they’re kind of fighting over Patrick but little do they know.

You’ve only known these girls for a few months and you’ve mentioned Patrick in name but never in pictures.

“Hahaha…” You laugh and it’s the fakest laugh you’ve ever done, “I’ll be right back, wanna get another drink.” You leave to find your boyfriend.

Sure enough, there he is. Arm resting above his head to hold himself up, while another girl stands directly next to him, looking at him.

She’s giggling and blushing and Patrick is doing that stupid fucking smirk that made you fall for him in the first place.

Why can’t you guys ever have a good night?

You storm over there and without thinking you throw the rest of your drink in his face.

The girl yelps running away at the same time Patrick yells, “What the fuck?”

He pulls off his t-shirt, using it to dry his face.

“Don’t what the fuck me! You’re flirting with half the girls on campus, what the fuck Patrick!” You yell back.

He finishing wiping his face off and hangs his damp t-shirt around his neck, “You’re a crazy fucking bitch you know that? You’re the one that joined a cult of sluts. You all look the fucking same, how was I supposed to know that wasn’t you huh?”

“So you flirted with at least three different girls and you thought they were all me? Now you must think I’m fucking stupid,” You bite back, referencing the argument he made when you first told him you were in a sorority.

“You are fucking stupid, joined this dumbass club to fuck dumbass frat boys—“

You cut him off, you’re voice still raised, “I don’t want to fuck frat boys! Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull. I want to fuck you dumbass!”

Reassurance. Something you never thought he needed. Patrick had always been egotistical from the day you met him. His ego always walked into room before him. It never occurred to you that long distance was actually hard for him, maybe he was feeling a little insecure.

You assumed that he assumed he was the best you’ve ever had. Never needing that assurance from you because who would leave the best they’ve ever had?

So when this convoluted version of reassurance stumbles past your lips you don’t expect that hint of validation you see in Patrick’s eyes.

In a split second he pulls you in so you guys are making out. A drunk mess of tongue and teeth.

Onlookers disappointed seeing as they expected the fight to go on longer, maybe even witness a messy breakup but instead all they got was a messy makeout.

You stumble into the nearest bedroom which happens to be empty (thank god).

You don’t know whose clothes disappear faster, yours or Patrick’s. But it’s not long before you’re sat on his lap while he pushes into you.

“Fuck baby, so tight,” He moans out as he bottoms out.

“Missed you,” You draw in a breath. Taking Patrick with no prep is not easy, you’re sure you’ll feel it in the morning.

You pull him in for another make out session as you grind down on his cock, riding back and forth in quick motions.

Biting your bottom lip, he eventually pull away and starts fucking up into you, growing impatient, “Fuck I missed you so much, missed your pussy so much, shit.”

He’s fucking up into you while you’re matching his pace, slamming down to meet his thrusts. His hips starts stuttering which means, “I’m gonna cum baby, ‘m gonna cum, oh fuck—” He groans as he spills inside you and his movements come to a halt.

You didn’t expect to cum, drunk sex with Patrick is half and half. Sometimes he’s angry, like tonight, and just fucks you hard and fast. Other times, more infrequently, he’s super lovey and touchy and dopey. He eats you out for what feels like hours. Even once you finish, he keeps going. Maybe he’ll add some fingers too. Overstimulating you until you finish again and again and again.

So you’ll let him make it up so you in the morning. He pulled out and laid you down in the bed while he went to look for something to clean you up.

“That was quick,” You say mockingly as he approaches with a rag he found in the bathroom.

He stops his approach, “Okay well the you can clean yourself up then.” He tosses the rag lightly at your face.

You giggle cleaning yourself up, “But did I lie?”

He pulls his boxers back on before he lays next to you on the bed, “Fuck off. Go fuck one of the frat boys then,” He says while crossing his arms in from of chest.

You curl up next to him, uncrossing his arms so you can lay on his chest, “We’ve been over this, I only want you Patrick.”

He smirks, “I know, just wanted to hear you say it.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever you say Patrick.”

[north-kieren]

Perma Shifting - as a successful shifter and my view on it (I just wanna yap that's all)

Earlier today I had seen a rather popular shifter speak about her shifting experiences and her not believing in Perma Shifting. This caught my interest, mainly because i myself am a Shifter who DOES believe in PS, and I also know a lot of successful shifters who also believe in it.

I overall just am very intrigued in the idea of what people mean by not "believing" in PS. Do you not believe in choosing to stay in your Dr? Or do you not believe in the ability in staying one exact reality for permanent? This is a bit of a wormhole I know, especially for shifters who plan on living multiple lives- for a very long time. How do you guys feel about immortality? In the sense of shifting away before death anyway.

Questions and curiosity aside, I personally believe in PS because of my own perspective. In my eyes, every Dr of mine is the same level of reachability as my Cr, like they're all in range of possibility if I chose so. When I shift, taking my MHA Dr for example - in my eyes, that place THEN becomes my current reality. Because it's where I'm currently at. I choose to shift back to the previous reality (my now current reality) and this has never happened without my intention behind it.

Take another example, my Navariah Dr.

This Dr is a place that isn't a media, or a book, it's a random and made-up fantasy world I had built in a whim and chose to shift to after I had gotten a taste of fantasy-esk realities from my Dragon Dr. I had shifted to this reality relatively quickly, and get this! I stayed for an entire 9 years and 7 months. That's almost a decade you guys.

The plan wasn't to stay that long in the slightest, I shifted purely to get a peek into the world I had created and see what it looked like and possibly use that sneak peek to form my decision on shifting back there later on. But guess what you guys?! This ended up being my top, longest shift I had ever done by far. Each month went by, and eventually my previous reality (my now Cr) had been a distant memory and pretty much old news. I wasn't worried about anything going on here at all while in Navariah, because I had gotten so caught up in that world and everything happening over there - the clock continued to tick whether I was paying attention or not.

Of course, I thought about my Cr often, but truthfully I hadn't started debating on actually coming back until the 5th year. In my opinion, this is a grand example of what it could look like/feel to shift and find that you have no current desires to shift back.

If I could shift, and stay in a Dr for almost an entire decade, who's to say someone out there hasn't already decided to spend the rest of their days in a Dr? Or at least, making that place - whatever it is - your new home Cr.

Do I ever plan on PS? I have absolutely considered it. Hell, if we're bringing TECHNICAL HERE🌚 I have, but not in some big revolutionary way. The Cr I am in right now is a place I've shifted to probably two years ago now (?) it's been a long time. Where I am now is a place that I had built for myself back then, and I live it everyday. However, there are other places i had given thought to staying permanently. Navariah, again, is a great example of this. I miss my life dearly there, I miss my family, I miss my friends and lovers, I miss my Dragons, I miss my magic, and I miss the lovely planet Navariah flourished on. The way the sun set and made the sky dance with colors and personality that my Cr's sky lacks. There's so many things that make me half convinced to leave everything and just go back home to Navariah.

But what about you all? What about HERE. I've spent the first quarter of my life in this plane of existence, with a constantly growing and changing reality as my Cr. I've built something here, and I feel that there's something I need to see out here. A teeny, tiny voice tells me that it'd be in my best interest to stay and find out - to experience. And so, that was enough to keep this place as my planted home-point.

For those who permashift, I support you wholly. I don't need details or a reason to, this is your life and these are decisions that are entirely yours to make nomatter what opinions I or anyone else may have.

Whoever you are, we believe in you.