#era: rush hour

[lostinminhyuk]

happy one year anniversary to this minhyuk

[vilsoo]

yall i found my old wattpad covers from 2021 and omg my dark red aesthetic ??? 😭😭

[binniesoob]

The Name Chapter: Temptation Explained

This analysis is going to include the lyrics of the songs, as well as the choreographies and the Sugar Rush Ride music video!

Feel free to share your insights and/or theories, or to point it out if you see any inaccuracies :)

TW: slight mentions of themes such as violence, death, drugs and sensuality. I decided to include them to not leave out core aspects, but I didn't go in depth for any of them to keep this as friendly as possible.

Before we dive in, just a reminder that I've already analysed The Name Chapter concept trailer and the new logo in my storyline summary here, while you can find my analysis of the tracklist posters here. I recommend reading both before this, if you haven't yet! Especially because I'm going to reference themes that I've already explained there, such as the game and seasons motifs, and their true names.

— INTRO: what the album is about

Let's start with the group’s official website that provides a description of the album:

"The Name Chapter: TEMPTATION depicts youth on the brink of adulthood. After experiencing conflict and chaos, the boys feel a desire to postpone their growth and linger in the freedom of Neverland. Their journey forward despite this desire is a representation of today’s generation as they continue to grow through the challenges of the world."

As we know, this Chapter is strongly inspired by Peter Pan, who has become a cultural icon symbolizing youthful innocence and escapism. Just like he leads children to abandon real life for Neverland, a place where they will never have to grow up, the Cat does with TXT, who find their escape at Magic Island.

(continues under the cut)

In the tale in it also hinted that Peter Pan used to "thin the Lost Boys" out when they got too old or when there was too many of them, meaning he may exile or kill them (cr. peter pan wiki). Some theories suggest that the Lost Boys who grow up become pirates who, with Captain Hook, try to fight Peter.

Especially with this album though, there are also numerous similarities with the story of Doctor Faustus, a play by Christopher Marlow which was later taken up by J.W. Goethe, in which this scholar is so greedy for knowledge that he is not satisfied with academic knowledge, venturing into the field of black magic. He makes a pact with the devil Mephistopheles, who makes him the false promise of enabling him to obtain greater knowledge, when in reality he'll only take his soul. Throughout the opera, Faustus is continually debating with two angels, one good and one evil, symbolizing the two sides of human nature.

Likewise, throughout their discography, TXT are always represented vacillating between their good side, "the angel", and their bad side, "the demon". See Angel or Devil of course, Eternally, but also the duologies New Rules-No Rules and Puma-What if I'd been that Puma (in Korean Balance Game).

It also perfectly connects with TXT's villain, the Cat: in The Star Seekers, he temps Yeonjun to make a pact with him, promising more power to defeat the Dragon Clan (see the animation The Doom's Night), when in reality he will bring their dark sides (which we see in Eternally) to prevail, so that he can control them at will taking advantage of the power that TXT already have. Its aim is to prevent them from reaching "tomorrow", their future, and therefore their goal: to remember the promise they made as children with the Star and renew it, so that the latter lights up again and restores hope for people's dreams. After all, their name, Tomorrow By Together, means a group that "comes together under one dream in hopes of building a better tomorrow".

"Tomorrow", defined as "the one in which nobody believes" is also Soobin's true name, the one who has visions about the future of the group. Certainly, the prospect of leaving behind the visions that make him suffer so much is nothing but a relief, but it also means giving up his crucial role in achieving their goal, and above all himself.

In real life these metaphors can be transposed as our inner demons that induce us to bask in the temptations the world offers, distracting us from suffering but also from achieving our goals, and finally leading to losing ourselves.

— THE SONGS

Temptation is a concept album, meaning that listening to the songs in the order they are put is crucial to understand the story it tells. That's why the first song we are going to talk about is...

— Devil by the Window

It's Korean title "자정의 창가에서 만난 악마의 목소리는 달콤했다" translates into "The voice of the devil I met by the window at midnight was sweet".

The song depicts the devil, aka the Cat, tempting TXT with the false promise of taking them to a place where they can enjoy their youth forever, exactly as we saw him do in The Name Chapter concept trailer.

This is the Lullaby stage of the Temptation. Let's analyze the lyrics of the song integrating it with the choreography to see how it happens!

🎶 Lie, lie, lie, lie down / Go rest your eyes / Just fall asleep, sweet dreams / You can't get off the ride 🎶

These verses give the feeling of the devil luring the group by humming them a lullaby, however immediately revealing his purpose: prevent them to return to reality. The emphasis placed on "lie" is interesting: the word plays with its double meaning of "laying down" and "lying", and whose repetition gives us the idea of ​​the incitement and impatience of the devil. In the choreography, Hueningkai plays the devil outside the window (represented by Soobin and Beomgyu's shoulders) waiting to enter their room once they are alone and under the covers, just like Peter Pan used to do.

🎶 A wolf in sheep clothes / His disguise / In the ni-ni-ni-night / You'll be hiding inside 🎶

Now it's Soobin's turn to play the devil: in the choreography he metaphorically takes off the mask that hides his true intentions. The alliteration of "ni-ni-ni-night" gives us the idea of ​​the lullaby again, but also of the footsteps of the devil advancing in the room: in the choreography Soobin approaches and seduces Hueningkai.

The line "You'll be hiding inside" can refer to the devil hiding in the shadows of the room, but could also be a metaphor for inner temptations, anxieties and worries, which usually haunt us when we go to sleep, after a whole day trying to avoid them.

🎶 Oh, what ya doing? / You got some time today? / Oh, what a nuisance / Come, come, come out to play 🎶

The role of the devil passes onto Taehyun, who rhetorically asks Yeonjun if he has time for him, complaining about his possible negative answer, and rather inciting him to use the time by playing with him.

🎶 High, so high, the crimson sky / It's way too sweet to turn down / I scream and shout, but no one's 'round / There's no way to escape it 🎶

With the pre-chorus the mood of the song starts to change. TXT are tempted by the red sky, so by twilight, which we know is the moment in which it is possible to travel between the real world and the magical one.

The devil shows them a taste of what they will find if they follow him, and this is all too fascinating and sweet to be rejected. At the same time, however, the group (everyone's good sides) protests and tries to escape, in vain. In the choreography, Taehyun walks among the others to "exit", but they prevented it, turning him to "enter" again.

🎶 I met the devil by the window / Traded my life / Temptation touched my tongue / Spread the wings of desire / He's whispering / "Give up, don't you put up a fight" / Said the devil by the window / "Dream on, dream on, good night" 🎶

The chorus references the pact Yeonjun makes with the Cat, trading his life unwittingly as the Lost Boys do once they follow Peter Pan to Neverland. TXT themselves have explained that the move they perform during the line "traded my life" represents the devil who catches them when they try to escape from danger. The devil dissuades them not to fight him, supported by the temptations that are irresistible and greedy: after a taste they are won't stop wanting and asking for more.

🎶 Waste, waste away / In the gutter with me / No, I can't tell what is fake / In my reality / I see the waves, see the waves / Wash over me / Oh, stay, you can stay / When you're tempted to leave 🎶

Being in the gutter means being in a state of degraded condition, that's exactly the situation the group finds itself once they fall for the lie of the devil, but they don't really understand it because their reality is altered and they can't tear truth apart from falsehood. In real life these effects can refer to when you are under the influence of hallucinogenic substances, but "have your mind in the gutter" in slang also means constantly thinking about sex related things, in addition to the fact that frequently pleasure is compared to waves that wash over the body.

At this point, in the choreography we see everyone in the chokehold of temptation, Yeonjun literally (after all, we know that in the story he is the weakest one in the face of temptation), while Beomgyu reaches out towards the viewers (as we will soon see, also in Sugar Rush Ride), which can be interpreted both as an attempt to lure them in as well, but also as a request for help to get him out, since he is the one who's most aware of all of the dangers they face.

🎶 High, high, high / I feel my body drifting into the sky / I won't come down, come down, come down, I'll fly / Weightless without a worry into the night / He said, "Dream on, dream on, dream on" 🎶

The mood of the song changes completely now: these lines allude to when pleasure, whatever temptation it is caused by, hits. Therefore, TXT are surrendering to temptations. If before they were lying in their beds, now they start flying to be taken to Neverland, with the illusion of leaving their worries behind on the ground. This time the devil doesn't wish them good night: in his plans the group is destined to continue dreaming again, again and again, in a loop that never sees the arrival of the night, and so the end.

This not being able to stop reminded me of a legend in Irish and Welsh folklore concerning fairies (after all, Peter Pan is accompanied by Tinkerbell, a fairy), according to which one must stay away and respect the fairy mushroom rings in the woods or they risk being dragged inside by the fairies, to dance with them without being able to stop until you drop from exhaustion. This legend seems to be referenced in another TXT song: No Rules from The Chaos Chapter, whose lyrics are also strongly connected to those of Devil by The Window. Some examples:

"Close your eyes again/ And continue your dream"

"Is it A.M. or P.M. right now? / I'm confused because all of the broken patterns / Don't know what's right, I don't get it / Woo, my world is panic"

"The vi-i-ibe that I dreamed of every day / A dri-i-ive that can't be stopped / One more time, yeah / I just wanna dance / Dance until we can't no more"

The third chorus then changes into: "I don't wanna feel this vi-i-ibe / I want to stop this real vi-i-ibe / I'm getting tired / I don't wanna dance / Dance anymore"

Now, going back to the Devil by the Window's choreography, it's also important to note that most of the steps refer to being controlled like a puppet, just like the Cat does in the concept trailer:

The sigh that ends the song seems to recall waking up startled, only this awakening won't happen in their room...

— Sugar Rush Ride

Now it’s time for the Daydream stage of the Temptation. The group awakens in Neverland and we can notice that they have been brought there by the train, a vehicle that appears frequently in the storyline, not only in Magic Island and Run Away, but also in Frost, in the Can't You See Me comeback show and in the scenes included in Act:Lovesick

An important detail is that the train has two engravings: "promise" and the number 304. The first refers to the promise that TXT made as children, but also to Yeonjun's real name. The second refers to their debut, which happened on March 4, and it's also the date associated with the Star Festival (which can be seen in Soobin's vision in Eternally) during which TXT met for the first time as children and made the promise.

The boys look around disoriented, but it doesn't take long before they adapt to the new environment: Yeonjun is obviously the first, who drags Taehyun with him, and the two start running along the beach.

🎶 The thoughts soon stopped breathing / When you get back / My determination comes instantly undone / For you 🎶

Thoughts and worries are suffocated by the relief and light-heartedness that Neverland and the "sugar rush" bring, as well as the determination to not fall into temptation.

The group becomes one with nature, their clothes are soiled with dirt and they have vines on them, to be exact, grapevines, symbol of fertility, transition and well-being, as well as being related to the Greek god Dionysus (which we will talk about again later on).

The fact that the victory of temptations is placed in an idyllic landscape is no coincidence: the figure of Peter Pan is connected to that of the ancient Greek deity Pan, whose flute Peter learns to play, thus acquiring his name. Pan is the god of forests and lives in Arcadia, an idealized land where men and nature live in perfect harmony. Does this name ring a bell? 👀 One of the two versions of the album The Dream Chapter: Magic has it, the album which includes TXT's first escape to Magic Island.

Pan is also linked to fertility and has strong sexual connotations, he is agile and perpetually cheerful, but also feared: his name derives from "panic" because, if annoyed, he causes havoc and terror. His image was then taken up by Christianity as an iconography of Satan, after all Pan has attributes such as goat foot, tail and horns. It's all coming together, right? Peter Pan, Pan, the Devil and the Cat are all superimposable figures.

🎶 Come a little closer / You whisper / Swallow / The sugar rush / Feast up in the night sky / Sweet desire / Taking me into the dream / The liar on the bedside 🎶

These lyrics, in addition to being very sensual, refer to Devil by the Window: the devil, "the liar on the bedside", takes them to the dreamy dimension that is Neverland where he incites them to take advantage of the "sugar rush". "Feast up" recalls the dissolute and wanton parties and rituals in honor of Dionysus (called Bacchus in Roman mythology), the archaic Greek deity of vegetation, later identified as the god of ecstasy, wine, inebriation and liberation of the senses. Dionysus also embodies the primal instincts of human beings, which can violently resurface if repressed and not properly elaborated.

It is no coincidence that this move is included in the choreography, which is very reminiscent of the representations of the banquets in ancient Greece and ancient Rome. TXT themselves have called it "the grape move", in which they metaphorically approach a bunch to their mouth. In the latest behind-the-scenes photos shared on Weverse, we can see that Yeonjun is holding grapes.

But the places depicted in the music video also refer to the iconic ones of Peter Pan: The Hangman's Tree, his and the Lost Boys hideout, and the Mermaid Lagoon:

🎶 I can feel it I can’t resist it / That sweet devilish smile / You open my locked door so easily / Oh my, I see the stars / The devil said

Gimme, gimme more / Come here, more / Let’s play, more* / Sugar rush-ush, sugar rush-ush, ah / Gimme, gimme more 🎶

The boys can't resist the sweet temptations that easily pervade them and make them metaphorically and literally see the stars. In the chorus we can hear the devil whistling: in many countries of the world, whistling is superstitiously associated with him. The "sugar rush" that boys experience is fast and addicting, and therefore pushes them to want more. The way it is sung, using the rhetorical figure of the climax, reflects this perfectly.

*In the official video the verse “같이 놀자 더” was simply translated as “let's play more”, but it has deeper connotations: it can also be translated as “let me give you a piggyback ride” because these lines come from 춘향가 (Chunhyangga), the most famous and one of the only five surviving traditional pansori (a folk genre of Korean musical storytelling) from the Joseon Dynasty era (1392–1910). They symbolize the whisper of the devil. During the press conference on the album release, Hueningkai shared: “We made a lot of new attempts this time, fusing different elements in an unfamiliar way. We used some parts of Chunhyangga in our lyrics and featured the movements of Korean traditional dance in our choreography.” And Taehyun added: “We believe our Korean fans will find this combination fresh, and our international followers will get the chance to explore Korea’s traditional culture and story.” (cr. Genius lyrics annotations)

In the choreography, apart from it clearly reflecting the corresponding lyrics, TXT take turns playing the devil who tempts the group, manipulating them like a puppet and preventing their escape, like in Devil by The Window:

🎶 You’re so addictive / My veins full of sweets / The forbidden lines slowly / Fade away / This daze-like anemia / But I prefer it that way / Every cell under my skin / Becomes more sensitive 🎶

I think these lyrics are pretty self-explanatory: this is how the "sugar rush" works once it enters the body. They seem to especially hint to the symptoms experienced when under the influence of drugs.

During their time at Neverland, each member of the group experiences their temptations and "sugar rush" in a different way, as shown in the video. Let's see how exactly 👀

HueningKai finds a gecko, and when he touches it, it changes color to purple. The gecko is the animal associated with him in his debut Questioning Film, while in Magic Island Kai is associated with a dragonfly, and in the debut Comeback Show, he turned the goldfish purple. Yellow and violet fishes can be seen in 0x1=Lovesong as well.

Now, which other semi-animal being in TXT's storyline is purple? The Dragon.

We know that Kai is the one who builds the labyrinth to contain their "secret", aka their dark sides or "monsters" or inner demons, but he is also associated with the role of videogame programmer, for example in the "Boy" version of the album The Chaos Chapter: Freeze: Kai is the one who made/will make the game that TXT are playing to escape real life, and it was therefore him who created the final boss, the Dragon!

Later in the video, Kai is the first to be shown covered in glitter, the fairy dust that allows the Lost Boys to fly to Neverland, while he experiences his "sugar rush".

Yeonjun on the other hand, both in the debut Questioning Film and in the music video of Sugar Rush Ride, is associated with two elements:

1) the caterpillar, symbol of transformation, metamorphosis, and growth. Caterpillars do not just become butterflies, but they go through many changes to get there: same thing goes for Yeonjun. (cr. animalhype.com)

2) pink flowers that in Sugar Rush Ride are fern flowers, which have magical connotations in Baltic mythology. According to the myth, they bloom for a very short time on the eve of the summer solstice. In Polish folk legends a person who manages to find the flower will be filled with exceptional supernatural wisdom, but the seekers had to be exceptionally careful, and used protective rites. For example, people were getting completely naked and girding their body with garlands made of an herb called mugwort... anything familiar? In the video, Yeonjun removes his shirt while running and has vines around his waist.

'Looking for a fern flower' was also often a pretext for young people to hide together in the woods and spend romantic time alone. In the Estonian, Lithuanian and Latvian tradition, in addition to the idea that the finder of the fern flower will become rich or happy, it is sometimes perceived as a symbol of fertility. (cr. Wikipedia and lamusdworski.wordpress.com)

Yeonjun, attracted by the flowers, approaches and crushes them in his hand, and their nectar causes him the "sugar rush". These scenes have a strong suggestive charge, hinting to someone indulging in their sexual desires.

The flower's nectar dripping down his hand made me think of the "gods nectar", Ambrosia, the god's food in Greek mythology. The word comes from the Greek a- (negation) and βροτός (mortal) and can be translated as "food that only immortals can consume" but also "food that makes immortal": TXT don’t want to grow up, they want to stay young forever, and therefore immortal. Plus, we know that TXT keep dying during the game they are playing, especially Yeonjun, so one of the temptations could also be obtaining immortality.

Next, we have Soobin, who is associated with:

1) the mantis, symbol of courage and persistence. The people of Ancient Greece and Egypt saw the praying mantis as a guide for those who needed direction, either in life or death. In Buddhism, the praying mantis represents patience and perseverance (cr. birdsandblooms.com)

2) a white flower, which looks like a Narcissin Anemone, delicate white flower similar to daffodils/Narcissus flowers. In his Questioning Film Soobin has Anemones!

3) water, the medium through which he experiences temptation, literally sinking into it. When they're on the beach in the beginning, he plays with the waves, and later he finds a puddle and looks at himself in it, like Narcissus did to admire his beauty. In Greek mythology, Narcissus was punished by the gods for his disdain for anyone who fell in love with him, making him fall with his own image reflected in water, in which he died by drowning while trying to reach for his reflection. Furthermore, Narcissus is also considered a symbol of autoeroticism. Soobin pushes himself further and further to achieve his "sugar rush", not realizing the danger he is in.

Taehyun is instead associated with the element of air, where we see him levitate. Precisely, his animal symbol are birds: in the Questioning Film we see a parrot, while in Sugar Rush Ride an eagle and feathers, that surround him when he experiences his "sugar rush" in front of the tree. The latter has a different appearance in this setting: in addition to recalling that of the Nightmare concept, it refers to Yggdrasil, the sacred tree in Norse cosmology linked to the real name of Taehyun. We have already seen Yggdrasil several times in music videos: in Magic Island, in The Doom's Night, in Blue Hour and in Frost.

Beomgyu has the butterfly as a symbol, which we already know stands for the announcement of winter's, and therefore adulthood's, arrival in We Lost the Summer and Frost. In this album the butterfly was used to announce the arrival of the devil, as in the tale Tinkerbell preceded the arrival of Peter Pan.

In Sugar Rush Ride the butterflies enchant and lure Beomgyu into temptation, but they don't have it easy: he fights back and tries to escape, taking refuge in a cave. Unlike the others, he opposes so much resistance because we know that he is the only one who is fully aware of the dangers they are facing, and he's the one who experiences the "tinnitus", ringing in his ears triggered by his subconscious that tries to keep him awake and alert. However, sooner or later, Beomgyu also succumbs.

🎶 You're bad, you liar / What did you do to me, sugar? / It's me who's bad / I know this bad desire, sugar 🎶

“Get away” Hueningkai yells. The Daydream turns into the Nightmare when the boys realize that the devil is a liar: the promised eternal bliss given by the sugar rush is actually only temporary and leads to addiction and to the arise of their dark sides.

We will deepen this with the analysis of Farwell Neverland, but, at the end of the music video, the group decides to leave Neverland. Kai turns to the viewer as he did in the Concept Trailer of The Dream Chapter: Magic, where he asked if "should we run away" to Magic Island, while here he seems to ask us if we should abandon it.

— Happy Fools

🎶 There’s a lot of things to do / But no plans to do them / They say the future’s always more important than the present / No matter what they say / I don't know, give it up / Already hopped on it, so I’ll properly enjoy this crooked ride

They say I'm stupid / Even if it’s a little delayed, I’m not afraid / It's happy every day / I’m trapped tightly in a sweet moment / Leave the worries to the me of tomorrow / This moment won’t come again, yeah 🎶

The lyrics of this song are pretty self-explanatory. As TXT themselves explained, they wrote it with the intention of expressing the desire to enjoy life and the present moment, without being pressed by things to do. However, this also means ending up procrastinating if a balance is not found between not taking life with frenzy and indulging in sweet-doing-nothing. That's why they become Happy Fools: enjoying their time at Neverland/Magic Island they ignore their responsibilities, leaving them to their "tomorrow" selves, and delaying their growth.

🎶 I don't want to leave / This path of pleasure / I'm like a butterfly (Butterfly) / A honeybee that only works / Even that sky where the sun’s setting / Won't know whether it’s pretty (Get it, get it) 🎶

The pre-chorus was written by Beomgyu, who revealed in his interview with Marie Claire Korea that:

(cr. @/translatingTXT on twitter)

🎶 Don't wanna do my thing / I won't regret it / I'll be the laziest Superman / So follow me / The pleasant taste of laziness / Is very sweet / A dream-like guilty pleasure is right in front of me 🎶

In this song, TXT's temptation is laziness, which they carry like a contradictory superhero who invites listeners to act like him. TXT themselves are the tempters, like in the Sugar Rush Ride choreography, as they themselves explained during the Comeback Showcase with the press.

— Tinnitus (Wanna be a rock)

🎶 Baby, I just wanted to be / Wanted to be hot stuff (You know?) / Party every day, like the weekend / Raise the volume, as if I am fish that met the water (Higher)

At the end of the day, feed is a disaster / Last night was overflowing with filters (Ah) / Momentarily let out a sigh / I know that I can't be a rockstar 🎶

Yeonjun and Taehyun participated in writing the lyrics to this track. They wanted to express the feeling of dreaming of becoming a big, famous, acclaimed rock star but thinking you don't have what it takes or the talent for it; as well as the disappointment when discovering that the entertainment world it's not all shimmering gold as it seems.

🎶 Even if I cover my ears, the daze gets louder / The empty sound is deafening / As if submerged in a fishbowl, the bruises and tinnitus fills it up / In the empty noise, feel so lonely 🎶

In the pre-chorus they refer to the “tinnitus” aka “when you experience ringing or other noises in one or both of your ears. The noise you hear when you have tinnitus isn’t caused by an external sound, and other people usually can’t hear it.”

In spirituality, Tinnitus can indicate that you are being influenced by someone who is negative in nature, the presence of a harmful energetic being in your space, causing a triggering of false belief systems and chaotic energy.

So, tinnitus it's used by TXT’s subconscious to alert them of the danger and lies behind the Cat, Neverland, and their temptations. They try not to listen, to deny the truth, but it doesn’t work and it keeps on dazing them. And they feel lonely because, as we said, the person that hears the ringing is the only one that can hear it, and TXT don’t share the experience with the others.

In Sugar Rush Ride Beomgyu is the only one experiencing it, but in TXT’s videos we have already witnessed this phenomenon: in Magic Island (minute 6:45, 7:40, 8:55) it happed to Soobin and Yeonjun and it resembled the ringing of a bell: it was a warning of the Cat approaching.

The line "As if submerged in a fishbowl" reminded me of the fish imagery they have been using especially in 0x1=Lovesong:

🎶 Rockstar minus the star / Just a rock, okay? / I had a dream / Without knowing anything / A noisy dawn / But a void at the end / Tinnitus filling my ears / It's deafening as if I am locked inside

I don't have that kind of talent / Deep story / I admit it, I'm not a "born to be" / Even when I see myself, I know I am nothing special / My twinkling dream / It's been long since it faded away / Waiting for every second / I want to become a rock 🎶

TXT feel hopeless in front of the hardships they have to face. It's easy to get discouraged by difficulties, especially when you fear that you won't succeed. Insecurities makes you think you're not made for something and/or that there are way better and more talented people out there, and you're nothing special in comparison, even if it's not true, because everyone has their precious contribution to give to the world.

These feelings perfectly connect to the storyline: their "twinkling dream" can refer to dreams they had as children that were lost once they separated, forgot their promise, and the Star turned off. While, the line “I had a dream / Without knowing anything” can reference how childhood dreams can seem unfeasible and illusory when you grow up and you know more of the world, but it can also be traced back to the dreams/premonitions TXT have been having but not understanding.

Being that TXT reach Neverland/Magic Island via dreams, when they wake up with tinnitus the dawn becomes "noisy", which leaves room for inner emptiness given by the loss of the carefree time spent there.

🎶 Wanna live a new life / But I'm a bit lazy / What is my existence? / Give me an answer / I think being a rock / I think it would good / Just rolling around / My own rock 'n' roll 🎶

One of the reasons behind their insecurities are the temptations that have led them away from the right path and from their goals, especially the laziness we talked about with Happy Fools. TXT feel lost and come to think they'd rather be an inanimate object that has no feelings or responsibilities to worry about, and console themselves with the ironic thought that it could become their way of doing rock 'n' roll.

— Farwell, Neverland

Ultimately, the temptations and Neverland only brought suffering to the group, and so they decide to abandon them once and for all.

🎶 Every day is warm, every day is the same season / Boys don't grow up / A kiss from the sun that never sleeps / No one can see the stars / A paradise, full of lies / I wanted to turn a blind eye 🎶

The "paradise full of lies" reminded me of another TXT song: Valley of Lies. Not surprisingly, the animation for the video closely resembles the location in Bali where they filmed Sugar Rush Ride:

🎶 My last refuge / I hoped for endless flying / It's the end, it's true

Everything that was beautiful / I know it's not true / Trying to spit out that cruel lie / To the paradise of irresponsible dreams / I'll say my last goodbye / My Peter Pan 🎶

In Neverland/Magic Island it's always summer and day, also because when sunset comes, before night falls, TXT are forced to leave it. Staying there TXT believe they can never grow up, and that's a beautiful lie promised by a lying devil: they can't delay or prevent adulthood, no matter how hard they try. Time is up for them at Neverland, they acknowledge and accept it.

🎶 Neverland, my love, goodbye now / And I'm free falling / Stars, sleep with comfort / 'Til I be calling 🎶

Yeonjun's says that "stars" can "sleep" comfortably until TXT are going to be "calling" them: this is of course a reference to the Star, that is still asleep and is going to wake up only when TXT sing the promise song.

🎶 No matter where I go / This is no home / Even if I'm afraid, I'm going down / Goodbye, Neverland, my love 🎶

If Peter Pan flew them to Neverland, which they realize can't be their home, now they're falling down to the real world.

These last two verses also reminded me of Icarus that flew too close to the sun, causing his wings to melt and him to fall down, free falling. After all, Icarus was the son of Daedalus, the one who built the labyrinth in which the two were then imprisoned by the king who had commissioned it. To escape, father and son built wings.

We know that Hueningkai is the one who builds the labyrinth, plus he is the member to which the wings are associated, therefore he is Daedalus (he has mechanical wings in Nap of a Star), but, who is Icarus?

In Sugar Rush Ride, we saw that Taehyun is the one associated with air, his temptation and "sugar rush" at Neverland consists in flying, we know that his animal symbol are birds, plus there's actually a TXT music video where we see TXT fall down from the sky and Taehyun has mechanical wings: 0x1=Lovesong Japanese Version!

So, later in The Name Chapter, after TXT will enter Kai's labyrinth to confront their dark sides (as seen in the Concept Trailer), they will abandon it, and Taehyun/Icarus, may not save himself. This seems to be confirmed also by the fact that, while the other members are in different locations wearing casual clothes and despairing about the stars (which are their dreams) falling from the sky, Taehyun wears an uniform in an abandoned school, and at the end of the music video he disappears, leaving it behind.

Taehyun himself said that this song already anticipates what we will see in The Name Chapter 2... does it include his death?

(Just a reminder that TXT die several times in the storyline but always come back to life, because 1) the events take place in Magic Island/Neverland, their fantasy and/or 2) their characters experiencing these things are inside the game txt are continuously playing in real life until they win and so conclude it.)

And that is all for now!

Thank you so much for reading!! Stay tuned for my The Name Chapter 2 predictions post and feel free to share your thoughts if you want <3

masterlist

[pillowprincessvarric]

Possibly the coolest fight scene I've ever seen in my life you do have to listen to Jackie Chan say the n-word twice though

[shortscircuits]

last night i dreamt i was hopping from roof to roof on a wharf by the water and i kept going from like, the tops of buildings to the tops of boats to the dock, swimming a bit, cause i had some destination but in retrospect i have no clue where i was going. and i kept leaving shit behind and having to double back and go get things from rooftops i was already on. and at one point a building owner caught me and she was like i dont wanna call the cops but please don’t do that its dangerous for you and its a liability to me and i was like ok i promise i wont anymore and i felt so grateful for her. but obvi i kept doing it just on other buildings. and there was an elevated train system and every time it passed by the building i was standing on i’d have to hide so nobody on the train saw me and reported me.

[04tenno]

Really crazy that ALLLLL that stuff is going on with Mine’s office but we only see a small portion of it

What does it all mean...........

[xe-company]

(  !  ) ... ❝ FASTEN YOUR SEATBELT! HELLO, WE’RE RUSH HOUR! ❞ ... (  !  )

RUSH HOUR is 10-member boy group under XECOMPANY. The group have gone through countless lineup changes with their initial debut as POINT OF VIEW with 8 members under CASSIOPEIA MEDIA on JANUARY 8TH, 2008. The group disbanded in 2015 with the original 8 members having quite a public fall-out between some members after sexual harassment accusations came out against original ex-member CHANHEE. When they first redebuted on MARCH 12TH, 2019 they had 9 members but after their second comeback HANEUL left due to mental health concerns and MINSEOK left the group as he wanted to leave the idol industry and move to focusing on acting. During their third comeback, ROAD TO: OVERTIME, three new members were added to the lineup. 

____

debut album — ROAD TO: OUR DESTINATION

title song — JUMP START

how many songs — 5

number of members — 9 [originally] ; 10 [currently]

age range of members — 1996 - 2004

concept — boys in the city, carefree, youth

fandom name — RODS [RIDE OR DIES]

official colors — #000000 (Black), #880000 (Dark Red), #48AEA4 (Verdigris), #043927 (Sacramento)

____

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION —

They’re one of few groups who don’t have a set lore or concept with their music. 

____

SOCIAL MEDIA —

Twitter: @/RushHourOfficial

Youtube: RUSH HOUR OFFICIAL

Reality show/idol webseries: PIT STOP  

Vlive: RUSH HOUR

Instagram: @/RUSH.HOUR.OFFICIAL

Spotify: RUSH HOUR

Monthly followers: TBD  Monthly song streamed: TBD  Top 5 streamed songs:  JUMP START JIKJIN BREAKING DAWN BACK DOWN DOOM DU DOOM Where they’re most listening in:  Phoenix, Arizona  Sydney, Australia Seoul, South Korea Los Angeles, California Bangkok, Thailand

___

DISCOGRAPHY [DD.MM.YY] —

[12.03.19] ROAD TO: OUR DESTINATION  |  [1ST MINI ALBUM]

[07.06.21] ROAD TO: BREAKING DAWN  |  [2ND MINI ALBUM]

[01.07.23] ROAD TO: OVERTIME  |  [3RD MINI ALBUM]

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.

heat.

ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)

i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3

songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes

2k words

foreglow:

the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise

-

the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.

lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.

it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.

he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.

and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.

you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.

the position in question?

being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.

“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.

your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.

“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.

“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.

you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.

“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.

as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.

“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”

you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.

lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.

“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.

“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.

“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.

without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.

“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”

hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.

you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.

“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.

“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.

you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.

“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.

“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.

he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.

“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”

lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.

“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”

you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.

“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.

“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.

“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.

but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?

lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.

“fucking- lando!” you writhe.

“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.

you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.

“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.

“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.

“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.

“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.

“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.

“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.

-

45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.

7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.

you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.

“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.

your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.

“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.

“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”

“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.

he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.

“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.

you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?

-

head? empty.

-

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen @roostersluvvr

[txt-ruby]

( 🌊 ) . . . — ERAS TAGS DUMP !!

[visionsofmagic]

day 2: ryomen sukuna [breeding kink]

࿓ synopsis • sukuna just wants a womb to put his babies in but it changes when he fucks you.

―❦ nsfw, explicit language, f!reader, heian era!sukuna who has fours arms, concubine!reader, contains of a bit dark themes, licking, marks, pet names, humiliation, sukuna is being sukuna, a bit of fluff, sex addiction, fingering, cum, overstimulation [‘is all I guess?] • 1.8k • the first time I am writing for my favorite villain from jjk. Excited but there can be mistakes. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“fuck brat!” a dark chuckling, mocking you as his crimson four eyes look at below - at the mess you are making because of his thick cocks inside your walls, deep enough to make it ache like hell yet magnificent enough to give you the pleasure no one can. “look at how my seed is coming out of your pathetic pussy.” 

he doesn’t wait for you to respond- to even comprehend what he’s saying, holding your smaller face by the chin as his palm stays on your cheek. 

he lowers your head down, making you look at his cocks disappearing inside your pussy, and a bit of his hot semen dripping from it to his abdomen. 

“it’s-“ you try to say, sounding husky since you have only moaned, and screamed in the last few hours. closing your eyes, a jolt of electricity mixed with pain and pleasure runs through your body, even in veins, when he moves his hips, thrusting into you one more time before making you sit on his cocks once again - oh, his two damn big cocks should’ve ripped you apart if he wasn’t this gentle, surprisingly calm and gentle because he wants you to stay alive - you will have his legacy inside your womb after all, the reason why he fucks you for the past few hours.

“is it too much?” mocking again, his tongue on the abdomen takes a lick from your abdomen, traveling to your breasts from there, sending another mix of tears and moans.

“suku – aghh!“ a slap on the ass, “my king! oh, it’s - it’s too much! I can’t - I can’t -!” 

he only laughs at your poor attempts, “you can’t?” he asks, not a question though, only a treat as he sounds like pure poison. one of his hands holds you from your neck harshly enough to make you shake in fear for a moment while the other free one caress your hair - the opposite actions of his two arms gives you a dizzying sensation that takes your logical side from you, giving you pure insanity in return.

“be grateful that I fuck you whore,” his other two hands hold your waist as he makes you move forward and backward, riding you slowly. you only hear your own breaths as if there is nothing left inside your lungs, eyes already blurred that look at his bastard but attractive face, hands standing beside you because you have no brain to use them, not anymore, not after he fucked you in 5 different positions already. “there are thousands of women and men who beg for my cocks, you know that, right brat?” 

his hands move from your waist to your ass, grasping the flesh tightly – too tightly to leave red marks as you believe after feeling a sudden heat rushing to the skin he is holding, however, he doesn’t care at all – why he should anyway? you’re just one of his concubines – maybe his favorite one for the moment, and him showing you mercy and a bit of affection – unlike he does for others – doesn’t mean anything; you’re just there to take his hot semen every now and then, whenever he wants to fuck that pussy and brain of yours so that you can have his legacy inside you, heir to him – lots of heirs.

“puff –“ he says, scoffing after that, picking you up – a pathetic and cuckdumbed woman in his arms, he thinks, gazing at your half-closed eyes, agape mouth – salvia running out of it, “disgusting,” he says in a low tone but contrary to his words, his actions are proof that he likes what he sees because he keeps going and going until his eyes travel from that open mouth of yours he wants to put one of his cocks in, to your breasts full of biting marks that turned to red, moving to your pussy from there.

his cocks’ tips standing beneath your pussy that is pouring his semen ‘cause it is too fucking much.

shaking his head in arrogance, he puts your body on his lap with a bridal style, left hands staying on your back while a free one stays on your pussy, caressing it and he watches how your body begins to shake again, a hand is put on his chest, holding his wide open sleeve’s side tightly as if you have right to do that, and even your head fall into his shoulder, breathing rapidly yet lowly as he holds your body close to him.

why he does that – why he allows you to do that; remains unanswered.

he doesn’t think much, not now, he has a desire to put that damn semen into your wide-open pussy.

holding your thighs apart, his fingers – two long and thick fingers enter into your messy slit, white wetness joins into hot walls one by one, and it continues until sukuna is satisfied with it. “do not fucking dare to move now, woman.” he treats you. he sounds he is one step away from breaking your neck if you do move. you should fear him, you know, oppositely, you do otherwise, giving astonishing state to sukuna, making him freeze for a moment when he feels you getting closer to him, a hand travels on his neck, and a head sits on his shoulder, you even open your legs wider.

you don’t say anything, the mouth is too dry to speak aloud; he gets it though – and that gives satisfaction to him, and his responses end with a new position.

being the definition of menace for desires live within him, and you witness it when he puts you on the carpet, hovering below you as he cages you between his four arms, then, one of them appears on your abdomen, pushing it into the floor – gently yet it feels terrifying.

you look into his crimson eyes, hoping to see sanity inside them – what a fool you’re to try searching.

no, no – you think to yourself, conscious coming back even though you're high – he will not fuck you as a concubine now, he will fuck you as if you’re his queen, you’re so sure of it and the words slipping out of his smirking mouth prove you right.

“I will fuck so many babies inside this womb that you won’t be able to even walk, pretty slut,” a compliment, huh, sounds different than you thought, still, gives a jolt of happiness throughout your entire body that lying beneath his massive body, ready to take him one more – or maybe even more – time.  “I will make a fucking queen out of you with my children. don’t you worry whore,”

the only thing you can remember is seeing his big smile – entertaining before the only thing you can comprehend is his presence below you, behind you, under you – hands conquers every part of your body because you’re his – the one who will give him heir, stay beside him, being a fucking queen of kings of curses. “you’re entirely mine now. mine to have – fuccck! – mine to fuck! and mine to breed.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina !

[faetreides]

🎾 - #LOVE ON THE FLOOR !!

cw: unrealistic public sex on a tennis court 💀 (it’s nighttime and no one else is there), college era, afab reader, gross friends to lovers, strip tennis, soft dom!art x inexperienced!reader, vaginal fingering + titfucking + brief analingus (afab reader receiving), implied (soft) obsession & toxicity like art would marry you tomorrow, teasing (towards reader), nipple sucking (m receiving), art putting in overtime to hit on oblivious!reader, reader is so comically unaware pls just roll with it and suspend your disbelief, mandatory Patrick™️ mention, 3.5k of pure need, art’s so horny in this like 😔 (+subtle implications of him either being a manwhore or a porn addict, as a little treat), lowkey canon typical mind games, unedited

this was requested by a bot looking blog that i had to block but the idea still slapped! combined with an ask for inexperienced reader

Art Donaldson sees your instagram story that’s only a repost of a Ethel Cain song and tries not to click his heels together. It’s not like he’s happy you’re clearly going through something, but if the story is a result of what he thinks it’s a result of… then he’ll comfort you through it however he can. With his words, his tongue, babying you in the bath and washing your hair, etc. Just getting to be intimate with you at all is an opportunity he’d never turn down.

Suddenly you’re bursting into Art’s dorm like a bat out of hell, tears dotting your waterline and lower lip wobbling. His heart lurches and leaps in equal measures, his backwards cap feels like it constricts around his head as he resists the urge to fidget with it.

“He… he didn’t show up!”

Art shoots up and gets off his bed, rushing to you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He gives you a lingering hug and passes you some of your favorite fast food that he always keeps in the little fridge in his dorm. Somehow knowing that it’d be just what the doctor ordered, you’re so lucky to have such a caring friend. You two haven’t left each other’s side since you bumped him on the first day of class, bringing a clice to life by spilling your coffee all over his polo. Sometimes you still lie awake at night and cringe at yourself, trying to assure yourself that he’s stuck around your awkward ass for a reason.

You’re hiccuping through your story while munching on your chicken sandwich, “Mark acted so exicted yesterday, and now he’s stood me up. I waited in front of the café for an hour, people were staring…”

Art eyes you from his position on the bed, crowding against you due to the size and having half of his torso glued to your back. He doesn’t giggle at the adorable way you get frustrated when the pickle in your sandwich always slides out in between your teeth during a bite, but he thought about it! He reaches up and brushes his fingers against your hair, wanting to just touch it more than move it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s an idiot and you’ll move on. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world.” He grumbles, not quite pouting as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

“Okay now you’re just grumpy because I beat you at uno.” You tease, gesturing to the scattered pile of brightly colored cards on the bed.

He’s definitely made you feel better though, he always does. You both finish your food and Art stands up from the bed to grab his tennis bag. He pulls you up too and winks, saying that you can’t beat him at everything. You ask what he’s doing and he only grins, telling you to come with him. You nervously glance around as you’re pulled to race through the halls to the court. There’s a simmering feeling weaving in and out of your tightly intertwined fingers.

divider

Art lets go of your hand to drop his bag on the ground, leaving your palm feeling strangely cold without his warmth.

You’re still not sure you should even be out here, you know that you’re definitely not allowed but Art seems to sense your hesitation because he rushes towards you and cups your hands in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, y’know that?” He chuckles, gently knocking the tip of his nose against yours. “Look up for me, the moon’s really pretty tonight.”

You follow his lead and tilt your head back to gaze up at the goregous crescent moon high in the oil colored sky. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you instead, that he doesn’t say that the moon reminds him of you but he feels like the one orbiting around you instead of the other way around. Luckily there’s not a cloud in sight, just a floating city of stars with a glowing center. Art lightly pulls on your wrists, clearly wanting your attention back on him, so you comply.

You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you don’t miss the odd glint in his eyes as he narrows them slightly.

His eyelids crinkle as he smiles charmingly, “Don’t you trust me?”

You answer with your heart, “Yes, of course I do.”

He beams at you and explains the rule of the game he dragged you all the way out here to play. It’s just like a regular game of tennis so you really shouldn’t sweat it, he says. His expression shifts when he makes a show out of being unable to look you in the eye when he tells you the special rules, knowing full well you can see him try to tamper down a self satisfied laugh. Whoever scores gets to pick whatever piece of clothing the other takes off, and the loser of the game has to get completely naked if they aren’t already.

Your cheeks warm and you gawk at him, “Isn’t it weird that you’ll see me… like that?”

“So you already know you’re gonna lose, huh? And it’s not like i haven’t seen most of it before.” Art laughs, not bothering to hide the blush on his face. “You’ve seen all of me, anyway.”

It’s true, you usually laze around in nothing but your underwear and that’s been the norm for you two. Art’s no different, he’ll change in front of you and will literally walk around butt naked around your dorm. More often than not, he’ll answer the door in only a towel around his waist and sitting on his hip bones, no matter if it’s one of your other friends or a project partner. You're constantly having to text the other because you forgot that you left your toothbrush behind. You’ve never had a chance to be embarrassed by it. It’s been like that for the longest time and anytime you’ll tell Art that your friends keep asking if he’s your boyfriend, he’ll just reassure you that you guys are just really close. And isn’t that a good thing?

“Besides, I think this’ll help get you out of your shell.”

You’re embarrassed at the reminder of how inexperienced you are. Sure, you shouldn’t have a whole thing about it or whatever, but it just is kind of alienating from other people your age to not be able to say you’ve done what they’ve done. And you would’ve been able to have some stories of your own if you could manage to hold down a date. But tonight isn’t supposed to be about you wallowing, you’re supposed to be having fun. Even if the sight of your best friend in tight fitting sporty clothes makes your pussy throb.

divider

You giggle nervously when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you from side to side before moving his grip up to your arms.

“Relax, i’m just checking your form. Being close to you is just a bonus.” He winks and presses his stomach up against your back.

It’s so cheesy, the situation and the pose. But you lean into his touch and pretend to care about how he’s showing you the right way to hold a racket and all that, he doesn’t even really care if he’s being honest. It’s romantic though, and he can’t resist the opportunity to get a taste of what it’d be like to pin your body down with his weight. He guides you through a few “practice” swings and then throws a two finger salute at you as he jogs around the net to his side of the court.

It’s your serve, and despite you being very much a beginner, you get the first point.

Art stands there expectantly, cocking his head to the side and bouncing on his heels in anticipation. You honestly didn’t consider that you’d actually be telling your best friend to take off his clothes for you, but you’re new thing is taking shit in stride, you guess.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He shouts and hovers his fingers around the collar of his polo, ready for you to say the word.

You take the coward’s way out, “Your shoes.”

Art frowns but obeys the rules, swiftly unlacing his sneakers and tossing them to the side. The court’s not so rough that it’d be hell on his feet, but he’d do it for you even if it was all a bunch of jagged rocks cobbled together. The game goes on with Art scoring the next point, and then the one after that. He has you discard your necklace, one of those cheesy half heart ones that matches with one he has, and your shoes as well. He doesn’t wanna scare you off, but he knows what he wants to have you take off for him.

You score the next time, down goes his pants. Without them, few things are left to the imagination. Every time he’d walk around you naked you’d always keep your face firmly glued to your phone or something. But being faced with the very… detailed outline of his bulge through his underwear, that’s another thing entirely. It looks so long against his thigh it might as well be a third leg. There’s already a little wet spot where the tip must be.

You must’ve been taking too long to ogle him, because Art yells at you to “Focus on the game, yeah?”

You’re lucky it’s not a cold night when he gets the next point and has you take off your pants, which are really just glorified shorts. You unfasten them and shimmy them down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles and kicking them away from you. You haven’t shaved today, but you know that Art doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s made sure to tell you as much many times when you complain about how much your back hurts after you get done with it.

Art takes his sweet time dragging his gaze down your legs, already imagining bringing them around his waist or over his shoulders. Your panties are so cute too, cupping your pussy so closely that he can see the shapes of your puffy lips from all the way on the other side of the court, a “camel toe” or whatever you call it. He thinks it’s so hot, but you’re shy about it, asking him to see how you look in jeans that are a size too small. He always does a thorough inspection.

Whoever scores next wins the game, and you’re too busy trying not to fall on your ass to put any effort into it. It’s not a real game away, and besides, it’s not like anything has to happen when the loser completely undresses. Out of the corner of your eye you see Art’s dick twitch in his briefs and you get so distracted that you freeze and miss the neon yellow-green ball hurtling past you. Art whoops and cheers as you process the fact that you lost.

“You know what that means.” Art grins from ear to ear. “Make a show out of it for me.”

divider

You don’t even mind the staring, it’s such a common thing that you’d be more pissed off if he wasn’t looking at you at all. The way his eyes devour every inch of bare skin and drop of sweat that you earned during the game. You pull your tank top up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Your bra isn’t a frilly thing, you wear it mainly for support, but Art can’t seem to tear himself away from the view of your pushed up tits rising and falling as you breathe.

You…. don’t know what to do now, the big appeal of the game is over, you awkwardly laugh it off and bend over to pick up your clothes. Art shakes his head to snap himself out of his horny fever dream and races over to you, latching onto your wrist and stopping you from getting dressed again.

“You’re supposed to take it all off, remember?”

You drop your clothes, noticing that he still doesn’t let you go.

Heats fills your cheeks as he steps closer, delicately sliding his fingertips up the inside of your arm and around your back. He plays with the hook of your bra, gazing down at you with a look full to brim with unknown intent and purpose. He doesn’t do something as bold as unlatching it right out the gate, no, he just stares into your soul.

“I remember.” Your eyes drop down to his lips, and that’s when you know it’s over. “Can’t exactly do it myself if you’ve already got one foot in the door.”

You’ve gotta know when to fold ‘em, and all that.

Art softly smiles and loops his fingers under your bra strap. You have to remind yourself to breathe, but you don’t really get much of a chance to. Before you can stop yourself and think with your head, you’re canting up to press your lips to his. Art immediately kisses you back, chuckling into the kiss when you gasp as he expertly unhooks your bra with one hand.

In the blink of an eye, you’re flat on your back on the court, Art having hastily thrown his shirt under you while you were tangling your tongues together. He presses an array of wet open mouthed kisses down your body, paying extra special attention to the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your mound.

“Smells so good, ‘s cute, too. It figures you’d have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He coos, dragging a lone finger down your slit before gently pushing it inside.

You gasp, wrenching your eyes shut tight at the intrusion. He takes good care of you, slowly sinking his finger in to the knuckle and sliding it in and out of you. He gradually adds more fingers as the minutes pass. Your walls throb around him, and if Art were a weaker man (like the guy you almost went out with) he would’ve said fuck it and plunged his dick into your cunt in one smooth stroke. But you deserve the best first time possible, and all the distractions he’s used have helped him be patient enough to refrain from humping you like a dog.

“You’re okay, you can take it. It’s nothing compared to what this pussy’s going to be taking later anyway, baby.” He hums and nuzzles his nose into where your inner thigh meets your mound.

As he’s languidly thrusting his fingers into your puffy pussy, Art strains his neck to lap at your ass. He holds one of your fat cheeks in his free hand and spreads you open, diving in to suck on the puckered hole between them. He sharpens his tongue and jabs it into your ass, his cock throbs when you let out the sweetest little squeals at the squelching and throaty noises he’s making. He can feel your hole unfurling with every slurp and suck, something that only makes him increase the speed of his long fingers in your pussy, maintaining a breathtaking steady rhythm.

Eventually his poor leaking cock can’t take anymore grinding into the ground, so Art crooks his fingers and (albeit a bit cruelly) jams them into your sweet spot. The velvet grip of your pussy strangles his digits like a dream, you’d take dick so beautifully. Your eyes fly open and your throat spasms around a mangled moan. He pulls his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy, smirking up at you as he sucks them try like a professionally trained whore. Your clit receives a loving kitten lick as an apology for neglecting it, and with that Art hovers over you at an even eye to eye level again.

“Holy shit…” You pant and flick his pebbled nipples, absentmindedly rolling them around with your thumb. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are.” Art sighs, his head falls back as you duck down to suck his nipples into your mouth, the saliva you lathered them with dripping down your chin. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his chest, arching his back.

“Relax, I bribed security and told them to fuck off for the night.”

That doesn’t concern you as much as it should, you’re too transfixed on Art wrenching your mouth off of his pecs and moving to straddle your chest.

“Can you push them together for me?” He breathes hard and grinds his weeping cock against your tits, mesmerized by how his precum makes your skin glisten.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you do, making quick use out of the delicious new friction the little pocket provides. “Thanks, honey.”

You keep staring at the tip of his dick, loving the little peek you get of it as he fucks your tits and it pokes your chin. You don’t even realize you’re doing it but you let your mouth hang open, angling your head down so his cockhead pecks your tongue at the end of every thrust. You make sure to lick every drop of pre cum away as it oozes out of him, looking so nice against the flushed pink skin of his tip. Art groans when he finally summons the strength to watch you do it, the sight hurtling him over the edge before he has the time or vocal ability to warn you.

His thick load jets out to land all over your tits, half of it on the lower half of your face. You’re almost sad it didn’t get high enough to clump your lashes together, it would’ve made for the perfect contact picture. Oh well, maybe next time. It’s amazing, the switch you’ve made from the shy friend to the writhing slut underneath him. You blame it on the honest to God sweet taste of his milky white cum, surprisingly making you think of the pineapples he always snatches from your plate when you eat at school together.

(Another painstaking effort made just for you, love)

It’s a miracle you get back to his dorm, some of your clothes are swapped and put on incorrectly and you both didn’t clean up at all. As soon as you reach the door, Art practically shoves you inside and onto the bed. He gets so frustrated with having to get your clothes off again that he just rips them right off of you, promising to take you to the mall tomorrow (or whenever he lets you leave the bed) to buy replacements. You literally couldn't care less if he shackles you to the wall, you need him to rearrange your guts so badly, you’d kill for it. Should you be having deep conversations about your feelings and what the future will look like? Absolutely, but your clit is clouding your sense of rationality and you don’t mind that right now.

“Do you even know how much i’ve wanted this? To fuck you so hard that we end up attached at the hip?” He bites, breaking away from your lips to suck bruises down the column of your throat. “We can have a baby- please have my baby, fuck!”

There’s something so weirdly romantic about the leftover scent of the court combined with the twinkling stars outside. Art’s moans and hands scrambling to pin you down so all you have to do is take it, you’re doing things all out of order, but this was always going to happen sooner or later. Art is a clumsy manipulator but he’s so handsome… you find yourself agreeing to every frantic declaration flying out of his mouth as he spears his long cock into your sopping wet pussy. You claw red lines into his shoulders and back, and Art nearly creams on the spot. The sting and the fact that you’re so out of it, you’re marking him up, are crossing the wires in his brain. His taut thighs burn with the effort of fucking you so far into the mattress.

You’ll get to cum four more times than he does, and by the end of it you’ll wish you never came at all. Your soul’s goikg to be so far away from your ruined mess of limbs that you won’t notice the sacred promises being muttered into your sweaty hair or pay attention to your phone being out on Do Not Disturb. You’ll be right where you should be, inevitably molded around the shape of his dick and branded by all the love bites that litter your body. You’ll think you passed out during most of them, but you’ll give him a loopy smile, hook your pinky around his, and let yourself melt away.

It feels as if your walls are still clenching around a dick that’s no longer buried to the hilt in them.

“I love you”’s are for early mornings with coffee and pancakes. Gloating to Patrick will be for hours before then, Art blocking him when you’re deep asleep and unable to mend the growing rift between them.

[futureman]

give in

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve

warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, age gap, comfort, smut, size kink, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, exploring sexual trauma, mentions of guilt & shame, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.8k

“Doin’ real good, baby. That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush it.”

Joel needs you to believe it. 

He can feel your discomfort and sense the intrusive thoughts threatening to overtake you, but he needs you to know that everything you're doing right now is okay. 

It’s normal and natural, and, under his roof, highly encouraged. All he's ever wanted is for you to feel good. For you to allow yourself the grace and gratification of coming undone at your own, perfect hand.

But you live by an unspoken rule, one that doesn't apply to anyone else but you. There's nothing you love more than watching Joel touch himself, whether it's quick and dirty, or drawn-out and meticulous, his body teetering on the edge of all-consuming release for hours. Yet, when it comes to your personal pleasure, there’s only shame.

He's beginning to realize that your aversion goes beyond a lack of education. You were young when the outbreak hit, and while FEDRA schools aren’t exactly known for their top-tier sex ed classes, that isn't what's holding you back.

There's something else there, too, buried beneath the surface. A lifetime's worth of guilt and doubt that he alone gets the privilege of unraveling. So, whenever you come to him for help, he leads you to his bed and gently coaxes you to self-completion.

He takes it slow and keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise—and you always tell him otherwise. But those are your boundaries to set. New, spoken rules to replace the old ones. 

Pressed firmly into your side, he whispers soft reassurances in your ear, his lips brushing the wispy baby hairs framing your forehead with every word. He swallows every gasp and moan, and cherishes the sharp sting of your nails biting into his skin as you reach your peak.

And when you come down from the clouds and turn to him with hazy eyes and a blissful smile, he knows it's all worth it. Even if it takes years more, he’ll continue to talk you through it, banishing the cruel thoughts that plague you and replacing them with the promise of relief.

Just like he is right now.

--

"Tell me what you're feelin'. I wanna know what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours."

You shake your head, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Your body never responds to you the way it does to Joel, and, on the rare occasion it does, it just isn't the same. It takes too long, and there's none of the gradual build-up that allows you to lose yourself in it. Not in the pleasure of it, anyway.

"S'a little...dry," you mumble, slowing to a stop. It'll start to burn if you keep going like this, but you're not sure what else you can do. Joel presses a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear before pulling back.

"Lemme see your hand, sugar," he says, gesturing for yours with his own. Confused, you remove your fingers from between your legs to hold up in front of his face. 

You're waiting for him to inspect them, or come up with a valid reason why they're not working, when he abruptly sucks them into his mouth. His tongue feels hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dips between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. 

A wave of heat almost identical to the one enveloping your hand begins to pool at the base of your spine, and you feel a sudden, heady whoosh at the apex of your thighs. If he could just keep doing that, exactly that, but further down your body—

But, to your disappointment, he stops as suddenly as he started and slides your fingers from his mouth with a lewd pop before guiding them back to your core.

"How 'bout now?" he asks earnestly, and Christ. He's so good at that. He always knows how to work your body, even by proxy. 

You're wet. You don't even need the added moisture of Joel's saliva, anymore. Just the action itself has you breathing heavier, enticing a craving you never knew you had. Your fingers slip clumsily through the slick leaking out of you, and your eyelids flutter at the fleeting sensation of your fingertips catching your entrance. 

"B-better...feels better," you stumble over your words. Your fingers continue to explore your folds without your permission, stoking the fire in your belly. And also your doubt. "But I'm—J-Joel it's..."

That telltale embarrassment is starting to creep in again, reminding you that you're doing something wrong. It feels too good, and you really don't want to stop, but what does that say about you? Sinner, slut. The intrusive thoughts are louder than Joel's gentle panting in your ear, now.

As if he can hear them, he snakes a hand past your stomach to grip the soft plush of your thigh. He spreads you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massages soothing shapes into your skin, silencing the ugly words with his kind touch.

"S'alright, sugar, you can keep goin'. You liked that, right? That's good. You're treatin' your body the way she deserves," he says encouragingly. His hand inches closer to where you're dribbling onto the sheets, but stops the moment his thumb reaches your coarse curls. 

You ache to wrap your soaked fingers around his to tug him closer, but you know you can't. And that feels surprisingly okay. For the first time in a long time, you're actually keeping yourself sated enough without his help.

Now that your legs are parted, it all feels...different. Heightened, almost. It's because you're hyperaware of every movement you're making, you realize, and it turns you on way more than it should. Or, no. No. Exactly as much as it should. 

Joel isn't immune to it, either. 

As your bedroom fills with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds, you can feel Joel fighting harder not to rut into your side. His body is tense beside you, and the bicep pillowing your head flexes intermittently every time your hips swivel to meet your hand. His praise is also starting to take on an edge, now tinged with something a little...filthier.

"Y'hear that? You're gettin' so loud, sugar. So wet," he grits out, his expression pained. "Just look at'cha. Needy, perfect girl. Doin' everythin' right."

His eyes dart up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. He's watching you a little too intently, likely to avoid the image of your glistening palm and fingertips working to bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. You're making a huge mess.

And it's making Joel hard as a rock. Twitching and leaking, and temptingly bare against the sweet friction of your hip bone. You know he's doing everything he can to focus on you, but he can't even begin to imagine how much his reaction is spurring you on. 

More. You want to give yourself so much more.

"Joel, I don't think I'm doing it right," you twist to whine into his tousled, graying hair. You breathe him in, and the familiar scent of pine and suede makes your head spin and your fingers stutter. "S'not enough. I-I need more, I keep losing it."

He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, wrenching his gaze away from you to glance down the bed. Christ, he can't even hide how badly he wants to touch you. His cock jerks the moment he catches sight of you again, smearing precum across your skin, and you involuntarily mimic him, your hips bucking up into your unpracticed touch.

Blunt nails dig into your thigh before his hand trails back up to your stomach. It trembles as he guides you, languidly and with a hint of desperation. 

"S'okay, just follow me," he instructs you, swirling his middle and ring fingers in a tight circle around your belly button. You shiver at the raspiness of his voice. "Right around your clit. Remember where that is?" 

But before you can shake your head, his arm slides out from under you and he shifts further down your body to lean over you, propping himself on his elbow. His fingers continue their ministrations on your stomach while he moves lower to gently tug up the hood of your clit, revealing your swollen nub. 

"Fuckin' hell," he swears quietly under his breath, his stomach visibly tensing. He's careful to steer clear of everything else, giving you enough space to heed his lesson. 

"Alright, c'mere, sugar. There ya go. See? You remember," he releases you, shifting a hand to your thigh and wrapping the other tightly around the base of his cock. He keens, his back nearly bowing with the pent-up tension in his body. "That's it. Nice, tight circles. Just like when I make you cum with my mouth."

You choke on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you're suddenly inundated with memories of Joel between your legs, fucking you with his tongue until you gush into his mouth. You press down harder, swirl faster. No guilt, no disgust. It all still feels so good. 

He notices the change in your breathing immediately and begins to stroke himself in time with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. The hazel of his eyes sharpens to pitch black. A warning, preparing you for the ecstasy to come.

"Oh, you like that, huh? S'good, you're doin' so good. Can ya give yourself two fingers? Wanna show ya all the ways I make you squeeze mine," he croons, teasing just below the ridge of his head with his thumb while he waits for your response. 

"I...yeah, y-yes," you whimper, your brows furrowing as you slip your fingers lower to circle your entrance. But as you start to press into yourself, you hesitate. "W-wait, it feels like too much. I don't want it to hurt."

At that, he all but winces like he's in physical pain, and his hand shoots to the base of his cock again, squeezing hard. 

"Christ," he grits through his teeth, but it sounds more akin to a growl. It wasn't your intention to make him fight his own body like this, but you won't lie and say you're not devouring every second of it. He exhales sharply through his nose to ground himself. "Does it feel good when ya take my cock?"

Those dark eyes are on yours, now, but somehow they're still so gentle. He's not saying any of this for himself. You can tell, it's all for you. Reminders that you can do this if you want it, and that he'd never ask you to do anything that could harm you.

You nod quickly because it does feel good. You need him to know that having his cock inside you feels so, so good. 

"Look at those pretty, little fingers of yours. They bigger than I am?"

Your eyes drop to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around himself. He's leaking all over his fingers, thick and tinged an angry shade of red.

"No, Joel. You're bigger," you whisper, your pleasure intensifying the longer you watch him. His lips quirk into the beginnings of a smirk.

"Now, ya don't have to. You can get yourself there just like that. S'just as good," his drawl commands your attention. "But I think you'd like knowin' how it feels like to cum around 'em—"

The tips of your fingers begin to sink into your heat before he finishes his sentence. The sensation is...everything. Too much to keep your eyes from rolling back or your jaw from dropping. It's so different. As you bottom out, you wonder how this is even possible for Joel. How he ever manages to fit.

"S'hard to move," you pump your fingers in and out experimentally, moaning quietly at the addictive way they drag against your sensitive walls.

You're not too naive to realize your body stretches to accommodate him, but you're too caught up in the sight of his hand resuming its previous pace to recall that knowledge. He looks a little desperate now and sounds even more so.

"Fuck me. S'it tight? Tell me, sugar. Tell me how tight ya are," he pants heavily, unable to stop himself from fucking into his fist. You unknowingly match his pace, clenching around yourself every time your palm slaps into your clit.

"M'so tight, Joel. And wet and warm," your eyes flutter closed as you lose yourself in the beauty of your own body. 

Letting the slick sound of his hand slamming into his pelvic bone be your guide, you bring yourself closer and closer to your own, distinctive state of nirvana. The same explosive release Joel gives you all the time that you're finally allowing your body to experience with itself.

"Joel, I'm...I...," you sob around your words, barely able to force them out as your entire being quakes with your impending orgasm. "...I can't—m'gonna cum, Joel, I can't."

Without warning, he throws a leg over your body to straddle your hips and crashes his lips into yours. He continues to work himself as he coaxes your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours fleetingly before he pulls back. 

"Ya can. Let go, sugar. Give in to it, s'okay. I got ya, I'm right here," he breathes against your lips, and you tilt your head to meet his again. When your head drops back onto the bed, your eyes are pleading. You need his help. 

And he understands. That's what he's here for.

"Cum with me," he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours. "C'mon, perfect girl, you deserve it."

You believe him. The shame and never-ending guilt that twists and snags like barbed wire in your chest is nowhere to be found right now. There's only silence, save for you and Joel teetering on the cusp, and his tender reassurances in your ear. He's right. You can have this. 

"Ngh—Joel, it's...cumming. Fuck, fuck, m'cumming."

It creeps up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaks, then slams into you like a freight train. His name leaves your lips in a sharp exhale of sheer relief, repeated like a prayer while you ride it out. 

You're vaguely aware of a ragged, drawn-out groan above you as you soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt squeezing your fingers hard with every spasm, just like he said it would. You feel it all. 

Then, you feel him, splattering across your stomach and breasts in thick, white streaks, his release as messy and prolonged as yours. Gasping, you continue through your aftershocks together until sensitivity sets in.

Joel collapses on the bed next to you and immediately pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, drying residue smearing between you. He cups your cheek and kisses you, firmly but chastely, before reluctantly pulling away.

His eyes search yours carefully like he's looking for something. Peace, maybe? A sense of calm, an absence of the cloudiness he so often sees there and fights to keep at bay. Whatever it is, he must've found it because, then, his lips are on yours again, a longer, deeper kiss that you melt into with loose limbs and a light heart.

"How we doin', sugar?" he asks tentatively as he parts from you. 

You take a moment to respond, appraising your body and everything it can sense right now. The wetness between your legs and on your chest, your aching wrist and thighs, and that sweet, pleasant buzz settling at the top of your spine. 

"Good," you tell him honestly. You gaze up at him with a blissful smile, preening at the affectionate one he gives you in return, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

"Thanks...for this," you continue, mumbling carefully into the warmth of his skin. "And for putting up with me. I know all of this is shitty and weird, and not fun. Just...thank you—for never giving up on me."

He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer and enveloping you in his strong, soothing embrace. It feels safe here. In Joel's bed, surrounded by his scent and heat, and unwavering patience, you start to feel hopeful. He lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses the pads of each finger, then the center of your palm.

"Ya don't have to thank me for any of that. We'll keep doin' this, s'long as it takes," he murmurs, urging you out of your hiding spot to meet his eyes. "Not a damn thing wrong with ya. Ya hear me? You're perfect."

Maybe one day, you'll be able to believe him outside of this bedroom. But, for right now, you just feel lucky to be loved by a man like Joel. One who accepts your trauma and your past, and will always be there to save you, even from yourself.

thanks for reading!

[hoonvrs]

CIGARETTES — s. jaeyun smau

PAIRING jake x fmr

SYNOPSIS where university student jake develops a little crush on the girl he sees with a cigarette between her lips in the smoking area and decides he needs to impress her. how else would he do that except calling his smoker friend to teach him how to smoke ( spoiler: it doesn’t go so well. )

GENRE smau, fluff, crack, sprinkle of angst if you read it upside down, golden retriever x black cat duo

FEATURING ( enha ) all, ( ive ) gaeul, yujin, ( nct ) chenle, jisung

WARNING smoking [ don’t smoke kids ], swearing, kys/kms/suicide jokes, friendly bullying, dirty/sex jokes ( more will be added if necessary)

STATUS completed

TAGLIST ( CLOSED )

S. NOTE JAKE MY MANNN ( hoon look away ) as an 02z girl i finally have an smau for each bias so i feel v complete

also please don't spam like as it shadowbans me and lessens engagement <3

PROFILES

virgin mary’s | smoking HAWT | privs

CHAPTERS

01 BI yourself

02 we found love in the smoking area

03 life is roblox

04 you white whore

05 jake you beautiful bastard

06 are we rush houring rn

07 it’s the dawg in me

08 yuh :3

09 the brit

10 what if i was suicidal .

11 here comes christian bale

12 i don’t trust him. weird fella

13 give us another sonnet english boy

14 bros from yapan

15 he thinks he’s a 90s babe

16 i’m just a girl

17 i’m sat.

18 go piss girl

↳ extra: did life360 tell you that.

19 i got my peaches out in jojo

20 okayy little miss poet

21 i’m built different

22 WAHHHHHHW WAAHHH

23 i want you

24 why are u bricked up

25 PUKA PUKA POW POW

26 jake in his flop era

27 this is getting too homoerotic

28 they go low i go lowER

29 inshallah he will eat

30 hello ross lynch

31 filthy omega

32 u r sobir. die (+written 0.8k)

33 she shoiodv be inde clubbb…..

34 when he makes you his girlfriend

35 can’t take me anywhere

36 noo you’re so sexy haha

37 no. (+written 0.7k)

38 i feel so kawaii today

39 come home fat

40 wasn’t very dabatayo of you jay.

↳ extra: it’s actually dattebayo*

41 ur man can’t drive manual

42 i Want you so bad

43 hawk putuh

44 okay blondie

45 though shalt not fail, but prevail

↳ extra: random

EP1 upset my girl. i’m gonna Kms

EP2 im not smoking that shit

EP3 OUR girlfriend ☭

copyright © hoonvrs 2023 all rights reserved

[hyunubear]

mmmhh i just LOVE the taste of NOTHING

[honestsycrets]

Stung | [Miguel O'Hara x Reader]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | after a discus malfunction, you're bitten by an anomaly and refuse medical attention. you're in a state that you refuse to show to miguel-- at all costs.

❛ tags | NSFW, sex pollen, mention of a wound, slight chase, miguel o'hara doesn't like to be ignored, cum eating, creampies, abnormal amount of fluid, venom bite, slapping, some insecurity, spanish is not translated, sexual memories.

❛ sy’s notes | my obligatory ABO-sex pollen fic for ATSV. i usually make a ABO/Sex Pollen piece per fandom I write in, so here's one for Miggy 🐝

“All done!”

You slipped out of HQ’s packed infirmary with a jaunty bounce in your step. Crispy, coppery blood was matted onto your forearm concealed behind a hastily tied bandage. You weren't concerned about it. It would resolve within the hour. Likely less. As would your elevated body temperature. Despite the doctor's prattle about the benefit of further testing, you found their concern to be a non-issue. These things were virtual non-issues, even if the doctor and your man thought otherwise. 

The hallways at HQ were like any other day in your city. Congested with the coming and going of spiders in their daily lives. A glimpse at any group might reveal decadent flirting and haughty laughter. Some were in a rush to their own worlds, but most were completing work assigned by the Spider Society. The one you were looking for reclined against a wall with his arms interlocked one over the other. His displeased rumble prompted you to his presence above all other voices in the crowd. 

“You should have let them run the tests.” His voice was teased with concern but became mild, little more than a drab sigh at your refusal. You blew off his concern with a shake of your hand, gone yellow and bubbly behind a bit of ineffectual gauze. His eye glazed over the wound. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind his mask, but you didn't need to. You only needed to convince him you were right.

“It’s stopped bleeding, Miggy. It’s just a scratch,” You held up your arm, flicking it with emphasis. His eyebrows raised for a moment, then flattened, staring at you with a dull rictus. “It was just a brief malfunction of the discus.” 

Technically it was more of an impalement, but if Miguel wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to invite him to delve deeper. Otherwise, you might spend the next few hours of your life fixing a wound that surely would have closed up by the time results were back. The injury site mildly itched. That was all. Never mind, the slight, honey-colored rash migrating from the puncture site to your elbow. Or the referred pain. Minor things. 

“You’re being stubborn.” 

“You’re the one to talk.” You snapped the discus free from your sash and chucked it toward Miguel.  He caught it with an unsurprising amount of ease, claws clicking in unison against the ineffectual metal.

“¡Qué problema!” he mocked, his voice dry and absent of discernible emotion. 

You closed the distance between your bodies to slide your arms around his broad neck. His other hand came to your lower back. It was warm, the way he touched you, from the bundles of affection that fluttered in your belly to the heat dappling across your chest. You missed this every day. It made fleeing the infirmary all the more worth it.

“I put the anomaly in another discus. One that actually works, no thanks to your programming.”

“That’s what happens when you take things without asking.” He flicked the discus between his thumb and index finger, waggling it for emphasis. It was true that there had been nights that went with banging, clacks, clatters, and the occasional outburst when things weren’t quite going his way. There were a few discuses on his desk. You just so happened to take the one that malfunctioned. “I was working on it. ¿Qué era?” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Just some stingy bees. What harm could they do?” 

His eyes roamed your wound. You couldn't help but look down too, both horrified and fascinated by the way the rash had moved in just a brief few minutes. The colour had begun to fade. You glanced up, flattening your mouth into a slight, forced smile.

“Fine. If you're sure.”

To be fair, you secured many anomalies with and without the help of others. They all went into their cozy, temporary forcefield homes until they could be fairly redirected to their appropriate dimensions. In the downtime, you could help or hinder Miguel's progress. Then, your watch would alert you to another disturbance and the cycle would continue. 

Until that morning. 

Your watch blared, and blared, and blared some more. The early morning sun began to rise and cast offensive beams of light into your room. Usually, it didn’t bother you. But this morning, everything offended you from the scratch of silky sheets on your naked body to Lyla illuminating what darkness was left, all golden and cute. You wondered if that was how Miguel felt when you forgot to pull the curtains, strung out on the bed after he finished with you.

“Woah! Oops!” she turned, covering her eyes with her spindly fingers. A growing ache throbbed between your legs. It wasn’t quite the same dull soreness from Miguel’s late-night visit last night, either. “Sorry, sorry. Miguel--”

“He can handle it,” you bit out, snappier than you intended. It wasn't like you. “Or-- Jess. No, Gwen. Gwen can do it, she loves--” 

“He asked for you.” 

Of course, he did. You scrunched a pillow over your head. Your Miguel couldn’t see you this. Absolutely not. You debated getting up, ignoring what you called a negligible ache that was quickly morphing into a terrible pounding. You can't believe how quickly the thought fell apart, pushing yourself to sit up in bed. The ghost of his scent floods your nose, flashing memories of the night before.

Something at work set him off. Something that commanded no intimacy, but the mechanical release of his rage that wouldn't destroy precious resources. He sat on the edge of the bed, driving your mouth onto his cock with the aid of your hair bundled around his fist. You recalled the shakiness of his thighs under your fingers, his firm legs spread wide fucking your mouth with cold abandon. He chased his own orgasm selfishly, needing the release, needing to see your body painted by whips of his cum sprayed across your exposed breasts. He pulled you off in silence, inspecting the drool and cum that spilled down your chin and throat in rivulets. "What--"

Your face tightened, glancing down at the growing tension in your belly. Everything began to annoy you, especially the scratch of the sheets against your skin, your bed empty of his presence. How could you tolerate that uniform plastered to your ass? You buried into the offensive bed. This was fine. This was normal, recalling what you'd done last night. Surely, the burn had to do with the whole being launched through not one, but two crumbling buildings the day before. The dust and rubble. Were you close to your cycle?

“Tell him I’m dead,” and without another word, you resolved the call. Within seconds she popped up again, bent at the waist because this was your life now. Never could you just… take a day off. There was always something. You muffled your screams of protest into the mattress and dug your feet in, kicking off the sheets, the blankets, the pillows, all of it.

“Is this a fit? You’ve never had a fit before,” Lyla noticed. A fit? She thought the burning of your body was a fit? Damn AI. Resolve. 

Resolve. Resolve. Resolve.

It became cathartic after a good while. Or it would have been if not for your senses hyper-fixating on every minor change in your body.  Despite your apprehension, you knew. What was once a dull pain radiating from your forearm morphed into something much worse. Something you couldn’t blame on the rather average experience of being pelted through the average event of windows and concrete. It was more than a tingle. It burned as it coursed through your body. 

You stumbled over the bundle of bedding into the bathroom. It was there that you realized that to your horror, you weren’t just lubricated, now you were soaked. Your fluids coursed down your thighs as you dabbed the region clean with a bundle of tissues. It did little good. Touching the area exasperated the issue. Maybe you needed an orgasm, maybe ten. An hour or so later, you slammed the heel of your palm into the mirror, fracturing it into shards of terrible glass that crumbled onto the countertop. Beads of blood dabbled onto your reflection. 

“If you d--” resolve.

So not a reaction to your average bee sting. Correction. A great, big, fat colony of hissing, buzzing bees. The act of recalling information was like jamming your hand into fluid water to snatch a tiny hair tie. No matter how many times you tried to recall the information, you couldn’t quite grasp it. It was there, floating around your head, but inaccessible. Your mind traveled back to Miguel. How gentle his lips could be, trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulder when you rode him in reverse. How deep he'd go. 

"Fuck off!" Your watch blared again. Its beeping filled your bathroom, echoing over and over. You reached behind the door to pluck a silky white slip from its hook and dragged it over your head. You were about to resolve the call again when the hot timbre in his warm voice saying your name gave you pause. Your Miguel, popping up in a golden haze. You found yourself gazing at his full lips, full and plump. If only he was here. He could have his lips on your--

“What are you doing?” 

Lost in thought, you failed to realize that Miguel had been calling you by name again. You shook your hazy mind free of the thoughts that formed a swirling cloud over your head. You slumped down the wall and onto the floor.

Help was what you failed to say. As your mouth opened, nothing came out. The words were not wording. The vulnerability of asking for help was palpable. You soothed yourself by shifting your hands underneath your skirt. What would he think if he saw you here-- ripped asunder by your own biology? Whore. Miguel lowered his gaze, his eyes squinting at the sweat dabbling down your neckline as he looked you over. He wouldn't want you anymore.

“Are you listening? ¡Coño! What is wrong with you!?” 

Resolve.

You resolved him. Your Miggy-- resolved. Oh, you swallowed dryly. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. It wasn’t a matter of if Miguel would come for you. It was a matter of when. When he had time to separate himself from trashing-- whatever was the closest object to him in the lab-- to take out his rage on you. You reached for your medicine cabinet. You had more important things to worry about. First on the list? The searing heat.

Your watch was better off tucked away in a chest in the closet.

Night came with no solutions. You crouched on your window sill, chest rising and falling. You sought to stare at anything but the mindless buzz of the tv screen inside. Even with light pollution, some stars winked in the distance. Your body was a bundle of warm heat, buzzing with irritation after a fruitless day of soothing your body. You grew accustomed to your pert nipples against your silky slip, the lubricant coursing down your leg. At first, denial. Now, acceptance. You thought tomorrow might be better.

You felt his presence before you heard, smelled, or saw him. Through the sea of scorched sensations battering your senses, there was one that stood apart. A tickle that niggled at the back of your head. It could have been anyone, but you didn’t have to guess to know who it was. “Lyla." 

“You haven’t called him all day,” Lyla squeaked. 

“Called all-- I answered his call!” Your dress was matted to your body, cloaked in an abhorrent amount of sweat. It was only minutes ago that you retrieved your watch confident that you could bullshit something, anything, for a few days of reprieve. You jammed your shaking finger to resolve the call. 

“Not all of them. Miguel was worried.” 

“Worried! Lyla, that is not worried,” you spat. That was your Miguel, scaling the side of your apartment. His talons cracking the siding of your apartment. The reverberations spiraled up your legs, sending waves of anticipation lapping at your core. After your long day, you weren't sure how you were still somehow upright. With every crack of his talon into the brick siding, you were running out of time to come up with an excuse.

In a bid to escape, you fell into your room. The hard floor knocked the breath out of your dry lips. You stumbled onto your feet and supported yourself with a bookcase of less than half-read books. “Lyla, he can’t see me like this!” 

“Then tell me what’s going on,” she popped back up. “C’mon, you can tell me, it can’t be that bad.”

If her tone was playful in some half-baked attempt to neutralize your fight, the threat was imminent. Your hand connected with the top of the window, applying pressure to close the window. A hair too late. At the same time, Miguel’s clawed hand curled around the bottom of the window sash. You were too slow for the man who excelled with power, speed, and efficiency. You weren't going to win this fight. Not with your body threatening to crack at the very sight of your man's strength.

Though you saw him nearly daily, he always took your breath away. His sinewy body was always a sight, his suit accentuated his thick and fine cut. You moistened your lips, longing to run your fingers through his thick dark brown hair as you did every night. You caught his sharp gaze a second longer than you should have.

 “Open up,” he whispered coolly.

He was a distraction. The wind was not on your side either, blowing wisps of his scent into your overwrought senses. His natural musk mixed with the sweat of a hard day's work. Somewhere in there, bitter blood. You could smell the caramelized scent of the flaky, buttery empanadas and hot coffee you shared the day before. It gave you pause, his intoxicating smell and the sultry trill of his voice. But you couldn’t let him see you, not like this.

“Oop, there he is. Just checking on you,” Lyla chittered. Resolve.

“Miggy, please go away,” you sobbed in frustration, shifting to shoulder the window. “Why are you so stubborn!?” 

“It’s who I am.” 

The window cracked all at once. With mere milliseconds to respond to the sash careening into the upper rail, you whirled past the bedroom door. Miguel broke into a run behind you with long strokes of his legs. He made contact, sending you barreling into your lazy sapphire couch from the impact. You saw stars for a fraction of a second before you lurched on your palms and elbows, scrambling off of the couch and across the floor. His hand caught your ankle and dragged you underneath his body.

“¡Ay!” you bit out. “No, no no no. Miggy!” 

“¡Callate!” 

His hand wrapped tightly around your throat to force complacency, pinning you back to the hardwood floor. Your palms slammed onto his chest, drawing lines down his chest. Bits of pathetic electricity fizzled on his broad, muscular chest, a consequence of your fading focus. That focus was eviscerated when Miguel threw his hips flat against your core. Your frantic fidgeting against Miguel soothed some of the terrible, buzzing pressure rattling between your legs like warm honey on a sore wound. The ache for his relief became more important than the impulse for substantial breaths.

“Don’t move. Why are you--”

“I can’t help it,” you cut him off, straining against his large palm to stare at his crotch. His gaze fell on yours, following the path to his soft cock. His eyes widened with the sudden attention. Tears threatened to spill over from your eyes, pricked with spikes of pain. "It's too much!"

You ate your shame with his body crouched between your legs and his large palm choking the air out of your throat. The influx of air not only brought your scent, but your day-long desperation to fix what you believed was wrong. He could smell it now. He could see it now. He could hear it in your voice. He knew why you failed to answer his calls. The violent jabbing of the resolve button. Throwing your watch into your cramped closet to ignore the calls. The pheromones that soaked your apartment. It was unavoidable.

“You can’t help it,” he repeated. Miguel considered you with razor-sharp eyes, nearly as sharp as the talons that rescinded into his arms. 

"I'll see about that." His hand left your neck to reveal bundles of bumpy shivers that soared across your skin. He raised his finger to wipe away the wet tears that fell from your flushed cheeks. Then dropping lower, Miguel chased the thin straps of your gown with his claw and slid the offending fabric off of your breast. The nub was as hard as it had been hours ago when you twerked the nipple between your fingertips and dreamed of Miguel.

“You’re...” he cupped your breast in your palm and massaged your nipple with one sharp twist of his thumb. The gasp that left your lips wasn’t one you were proud of. Your undulating hips that ground down on his cock weren’t entirely unwarranted. You needed it. "Hot. As if you're in heat."

This couldn’t be happening. From a ball of rage to one of arousal, he released a tiny amused chuckle. You spent much of the day in different parts of the apartment with your hand, toy, ice, and water into your body to soothe this terrible ache. So Miguel wouldn't see you like this. It was this moment you sought to avoid after your long day: The moment of Miguel's disapproval. Now he laughed at you.

“Happy?” you sobbed into the forearm that kept Miguel stable. “Go away, someone else could use your stupid help.”

“Don’t you need me?” Miguel dipped his head down. Strands of his dark hair tickled your hypersensitive skin. With the lightweight fabric of his suit, pressing your cunt back against his clothed bulge felt wonderful. You bit your lower lip and watched his cock jut against its fabric. You lifted your puffy eyes to his gaze and found a wicked gleam there. He knew it wasn’t enough contact for the pressure and painful spasms to abate. Deep down, you knew that Miguel was your only hope for relief. Who else could, or would, you call in this condition? Mostly because Miguel always fixed everything.

"Miggy," you murmured. After this pitiful display, he wasn't rejecting you? Your mind flowed weightless and light. The terror of your day faded under his careful caress. In its place, comfort that he would take care of you.

“Don’t you?” His hand snaked between your folds and found it soaked wet, the low throbbing of your pussy palpable. He retracted his fingers and spread the sticky fluid between his thumb and middle finger. At some point, silence became better than an answer. Miguel brought his hand down on your cunt for a sharp slap. Bundles of nerves cried out under the abuse. It shook free a squeal from your lips, bitten raw by the pressure of the day. Your head bobbed into a mechanical nod as to save yourself from another slap.

“You know how to ask. It’s si Miguel, por favor Miguel.”

You needed the warm sensation of his cum. But making those words proved too difficult. Your canines pierced bloody holes in your lower lip. You clawed up his forearms, trying to leverage and force him closer. Miguel grabbed your shoulders and thrashed them back down onto the floor. You felt bad for the downstairs neighbors. 

“Say it.” 

“Miggy,” you looked into his eyes. They were blown wide, nearly fully black with a thin outline of scarlet, chasing the outline of your exposed breast. For all his talk, you realized he wasn't immune. Even with his face tight, his eyes focused on the same thing you needed. Maybe, all this time, you were baiting Miguel with half-assed answers. They were invitations. Invitations to come to fill this need you had. You would be lying if you said that wasn’t what you wanted this whole time. Finally, you had him where you wanted him. 

Miguel broke eye contact first. He cupped his plush lips around your nipple, suckling the breast taut and wet. You cried out in surprise and arched into Miguel’s mouth, enticed by the fangs that grazed your nipple. As quickly as he came, he was gone.

You lurched up, palming Miguel's dick through his pants. His hips bucked into your palm. He refused to make any sound as he considered your next movements, releasing Miguel’s cock from his suit. Impatience and need coalesced into your brave movements, sliding your palm against him. He was impossibly thick and hard, dribbling at the tip. Miguel huffed a small noise as your palm ran over him. You dared to call it a moan.

Miguel sneered and shoved you back onto the floorboards. “I’ll only tell you one more time. Ask me properly.” 

"You do too, don't you?" You giggled. A noise that grated his ear. With the belief you wouldn’t bolt, Miguel shifted back onto his knees. You wouldn’t. There was nowhere left to run. Not that you even wanted to, fat and hungry off Miguel's growing desperation.

"Come here." He snaked his hands underneath your knees, dragged you close, and pushed them to your chest. Your eyes fluttered shut. Moments later, the sensation of his thick dick sliding against your engorged folds forced them back open. It gave you just enough relief through the pulsing pain to look at him with your hazy eyes. From this angle, you appreciated how large Miguel had gotten. His round cock-head bobbed and crested over your mound as it rubbed against your aching clit. His face was trained, focused. He wasn't going to relent first.

The nagging pressure never abated. You sought something more, something better, the sensation of being filled. With every glide, you squeezed your walls in protest to his absence. Your hips protested the restriction of your movement, shimmying against the firm hold he had that kept you in place. You wanted more than that. You wanted true relief from his teasing. Miguel drew back to inspect the fluid over his fat shaft as held you down. You gave in, whining at him like a brat.

“Por,” you scratched his forearms. “Por favor, Miggy. You don’t know what it's like.” 

“All fours-- face down.” 

The cacophony of desire battered and overcame any other human emotion you could have. You complied, crawling onto your fuzzy indigo rug for what came next. Miguel’s gloved hand skimmed across your ass, middle finger skimming toward the center. He followed up his gentle touch by reeling back his hand and cracking it across your ass, searing the nerves alive. Once, twice, and then a third. Tears pricked your cheeks again, a consequence of your nerves being overwrought and now assailed.

“Miggy!” 

He shushed you with fervor, another thwack beating the jiggling flesh hot and red. Your legs trembled under the weight of his slaps. “Ignore my calls again and you’ll get much worse.”

“I didn’t-- you wouldn't want me,” your lips parted in defense of what you’d done. Miguel dipped down to spread your folds, rolling his index finger along your pulsing walls. Your body drew him in, squeezing and urging him forward. Your swollen walls were impossibly tight, straining to bring him in more and more.

"You know I do."

The need for more devoured any other thought, any threats of what he’d do next time. You rolled your hips to ride his hand. In place of a slap, Miguel slid another finger slid in beside the first to stretch your walls open. He faltered at your next words and slid his fingers free.

“Not like… not like I need you.” 

“Who decides that?” he pressed on your upper back to force it down. You complied. Miguel stumbled forward, finally pressing his thick head to your pulsing entrance. His round head pressed, just barely, into your wet hole. You clenched down, inviting him into your warmth. You weren’t sure he’d actually give it to you. It was so damn close.

“You do, Miggy,” you murmured, pushing back. He watched as his shaft slowly disappeared into your body, your apprehension of retaliation rendered you too slow to finish.

Miguel snatched your waist and forced you to take the rest, a soppy squelch lubricating his shaft. The sound that slipped from your lips was entirely uncouth, punctuated by his unforgiving thrusts. Your walls strained around his cock. No matter how many times you took him, the drag of his cock and slap of balls against your body always felt somehow like the first. It filled that ache-- the consistent burning need to have him here, inside of your greedy body, scratching something that you could not itch all day. It’s what you wanted. 

“That’s right, I do.” Miguel rumbled, short, punctuated thrusts beating your clenching cunt into complacency. The pleasure ruptured through your cunt-- battering his dick in response. He let loose a sharp grunt followed by a string of curses. Your sweet release spilled over his dick and balls, dripping down your thighs. Your legs threatened to shook, but Miguel was unwilling to allow your trembling legs to give out.

"Ah! Miggy!" His fangs punctured your shoulder to force you to stay in position, his pelvis stuttering against yours. His growl punctuated the warm, soothing cum that soothed your walls like warm honey over a wound. Your walls milked him free of his cum, spasming in response to his orgasm. He pieced himself together against your back, pulling his fangs free and settling a soft kiss over the burning wound on your shoulder. As if he hadn't been the one to tear his fangs into the crook of your neck.

“You’re not letting go,” he hummed in annoyance. He turned his attention down to your ass, ghosting his fingers over the healing bruises over your backside. You squealed, jerking forward. He followed you forward, punching a hole in the floor by your side. “Fuck, don’t move!” 

You cast your attention back toward Miguel. He huffed forcefully out of his nostrils. He motioned toward your ass as if it were obvious-- your walls were clamped over his cock, unwilling or otherwise unable to let him go, as if he had any more cum to give in that current moment. You took it all.

“I. I didn't-- I can’t--” 

“Yeah, I know. That Bee venom does that. Mine should neutralize it.”

At some point, you murmured. It sure as hell wasn’t doing it now, keeping him seated into your cunt that bubbled with the mixture of his and your release. “You knew about it? I could have died!” 

Miguel chuckled. 

“You wouldn’t. You’re too stubborn to die,” he sighed, fiddling with his watch. The tests-- that you never had ran. Ones that he suggested. Ones that you refused quite openly. “Why would I deny myself the fun?” 

His cock slipped free. Your hips dropped and fell slack against the floor. You weren’t proud of the cum that oozed out of your ass over your decimated room, nor the fact that your useless neighbors hadn’t called for help once. Not that you needed it-- but still. You palpated your stomach, slightly distended. Miguel bent down and gathered the mixture of your bodily fluids on his fingers, suckling his own fingers dry. You watched his wet tongue swirl around his fingertips. It wasn't fair.

“Fun? What fun!? Do you know how long I-- You’re a mean man, Miguel O’Hara.” 

He lurched over, his breath tickling your lips. He kissed you, salty and sweet. Your nose scrunched up, pouting against his lips. He left the room for the kitchen, fetching a wet cloth to clean his body with. He zipped himself back into his suit shortly after and dropped the sodden cloth by the cum puddling under your ass.

“Never said I wasn’t.” 

[missydior]

cinnamon girl ౨ৎ (part ii)

♡: little hints that eventually reveal a long-flourished love.

part 1: here !

notes: charles leclerc/singer reader, secret relationship, releasing & soft (?) launching, engagement, all pictures are from pinterest & any due credits fall respectfully to artists on song, album names etc.

type: smau ・ face claim: madison beer <3

liked by franciscagomes, friendusername and 913,113 others

yourusername: i am so honoured that i get to share this album with you all, every single song comes straight from the heart and i hope you each adore it as much as i have come to since it was first truly born three years ago & has developed since <3 ‘lover’ out now !

11 comments

friendusername: since when did y/n enter her lover era? ;)

liked by original creator

user1: bless your heart, we love you angel 🫶🏼

comments are restricted.

user1: do y’all know what i’m thinking?

user2: charles leclerc !!

user3: no, that doesn’t make any sense because they only met in may and y/n said she’s been working on this album for years

user4: why don’t we concentrate on admiring and appreciating her musical work rather than asking for answers she might not want to give?

user5: idk but i’m IN LOVE with the album 🤍🤍🤍

yourusername shared on stories:

charlesleclerc on dm: je t’aime 🤍

user1: idk about charles leclerc but we need to know who the mystery, lovable man is.

user2: y/n’s recent update on instagram omg

liked by friendusername, charlesleclerc, 523,322 others

yourusername: quieter afternoons now that the tour has come to a close <3 i loved every single night and hour with you all, thank u and sending love.

9,135 comments

user1: is that an ENGAGEMENT RING?

user2: just fainted

user3: have you been hiding this from us the entire time omg?

friendusername: reminder that he asked me to help with ring choices too

yourusername: i literally asked for your help as well, but thank you ily

user3: y/n tell us who the mystery lover isss

user4: the lovers tarot, the engagement ring, i actually can’t

user5: charles you need to stop hiding in the likes

user4: i still think it’s him

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 1,981,111 others

charlesleclerc: to ma belle fiancée, l'amour de ma vie, in loving you for three years and many more to come. je t’aime 🤍

mentioned yourusername

16 comments

pierregasly: finally, i was getting bored of you two pretending you didn’t know each other

franciscagomes: don’t lie, it was fun

yourusername: i love you 💗

comments are restricted.

♡ ✧ 。*・.

a/n: the ending feels very much rushed but i loveddd making this nonetheless and incorporating my fun, little aesthetic </3

© missydior