#i could make a post about gun safety in lost

[simptasia]

@all-seeing-ifer​

they gave him a gun

[undercoverpena]

under the stars

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel an: i've had this in my head for so long, getting it down on a page has been the whole wonderful, exciting and exhausting thing. i could sing forever about the moon. thank you to the most wonderful, and amazing @swiftispunk who i threw this at last night and made me feel like i am a goddess of the moon.

Joel had learnt early on that you liked the night.

You’d handed it to him in puzzle pieces—flecks of information that he’d eventually be able to make a portrait out of. First, you’d handed him a story, then a statement and then a feeling.

The only times you didn’t like the night was when it was silent.

No wind in the trees, each branch crunching sounding for miles. You didn’t tell him with your words, but rather your body—frame closer, practically against him.

When he’d seen the abandoned train yard coming into view, he’d already considered it. The night had been closing in, the last embers of daylight casting shadows larger shadows across the tall, wiry grass.

“Ever stayed in a train?”

“Can’t say I have.”

He wonders a lot about the things you haven’t done. If you had a list of things you had hoped to tick off from a list before the world went to shit. Whether you had made a new one when you woke up one day and realised it was kill or be killed.

In another life, he wonders if you’d have been a nurse, a doctor, a baker or a typist—because there’s something about your hands. A soothingness about them wasted on holding a gun or slitting a hole in a person from jaw to pelvis. It’s something which passes over you more when the sun goes down. The sharpness in you fading, as though you truly become the thing you were always supposed to be when shrouded in night and the moon comes out to greet you.

He supposes the night is the constant. The unchanged force that arrived and vanished each day—a fixed point, a welcomed relief. Things don’t appear any more threatening in the dark, no more than the world was before.

Yet, Joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. It highlights the lines that bend, and illuminates the sheen which coats your skin as you stare back at him in gratitude, as though the way he makes you feel good can make up for all you were robbed of. He hopes to, not by being the thing you lie next to, but the thing which keeps you safe. A protector, a wall of muscle, bone and flesh that would rip if it meant keeping you whole.

It wouldn’t even matter if it were day or night.

Before it all happened, he’d never have considered that the night was more alive than the day. But he’d witnessed how it was. How the darkness provided by the sky was a gift, the moon licking shadows that added an illusion of safety, one he had used to his advantage.

Your words coaxing him, whispered, all hushed, we can take them—won’t even see us coming. You had been right. Staring up at the sky as you caught your breath, stars inside your eyes and a soul full of darkness.

As he glances over, you’re doing it now.

Peering up through the open hatch of the train roof, cross-legged, dragging his jacket further around your body as you stare, and stare, and stare.

Transfixed, lost. Kidnapped by memories, most likely, ones he won’t rip you from just yet.

He wonders if you had ever wished on them, ever stared up at them with hopefulness swimming in your eyes—their twinkle swirling in the pools of your gaze. Joel wonders whether you’d pleaded for something so hard under the night sky that your nails cut into your palms, only for everything to be robbed from you all the same. Had you ever seen a shooting star, and had you prayed on it for a future that included a white dress or a picket fence?

“Don’t they look so pretty, Joel?”

It falls from you like a whisper, almost innocent—far removed from the killer he knows you can be. From the gutless, powerful soul he sees rip through people when they make you spill crimson and try to take what isn’t theirs.

It’s almost easy, he thinks, to tell you that there’s something prettier next to him. Someone who could rival the prettiest of nights and the most gorgeous of days. Something that could have been fragile, but instead is strong, chaos imagined, all wrapped inside eyes he sees when he dreams.

Head tilting, you meet his gaze, and it’s too much—too strong. It's intoxicating. Feeling drunk off it—that feeling of normalcy you make him want.

“You ever had your cock sucked under the stars?”

You know he has.

Know that under leafless branches and an almost full moon you’d taken him in your mouth. All warm, welcoming—his fingers knotted on the back of your head, biting back each hiss, each grunt as he felt teardrops on the crease of his thighs and hips.

It doesn’t matter what his answer is, you’re already facing him, knees digging into the train floor. Your fingers already working his belt—a glimmer in your eye that has him half-hard already.

Because if lust had a look, he swears it would be you.

That look in your eyes always does something to him. It’s more than just being alive, it’s a glint, a spark of something that he swears would have had rows of people to their knees. Right now, it’s all for him. Only his.

A possessiveness rings through him at the thought; rising up in him when he lingers on it, that he has this with you—has this unlabelled thing where he sees all the shards of you, has met each part which makes you whole.

“I want you to try not touching,” you say, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, mouth close to his.

He wants to taste your request. Breathe it in. Have it merge with his insides, all because of the look that accompanies it. One that makes his jaw tighten, almost tick.

“You think you can do it, Miller? Think you can refrain from touching me until I say so.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sure.”

The latter catches on his teeth as the cool air brushes over his weeping cock once you free him from his clothing. Your head tilting, holding his stare as you lick a stripe up your palm, before wrapping it around him, pumping him. Tightening your fingers, murmuring about how hard he is for you, how thick he feels in your hand.

“We’ll see,” you smirk, pausing your ministrations, and lowering your head. "Fuck, your cock is perfect, Miller."

A retort brewed, ready to fire, shoot, land. Then, your mouth wraps around him.

Just the tip at first, pausing, all tentative. Your lashes close to your brows as you stare up at him—the moon painting you in a light which he swears he never thought possible. Because it only highlights the appetite you have for him, the starvation to take more of him.

It makes his fingers twitch at his side. Forces his thighs to tense under the need to grasp the back of your head. He refrains, even if it’s a battle he’s prepared to lose. In time.

For now, he wants more of this. Enjoy more of you licking the head of his cock, from humming around him, testing yourself as you try to take more of him, and more, and more—

A groan vibrates around him, making his eyes flutter closed. The battle having appeared sooner, slammed into him as you took more of him. Moaning sweetly around him, tongue swirling around the head when you come up before the tip hits the back of your throat all over again.

Joel doesn’t think of consequences, he just thinks of the need to feel himself in your throat. Letting his fingers move, slide around, brushing up your neck as you take as much of him as you can, mouth so stuffed—

“Hands, Miller.”

He groans, your tongue sliding up the base of him, lips hovering at the head before you trace your lips with him—those perfect, fucking lips—wiping him over you, smearing him.

“I’ll tie your hands down.”

His cock twitches, and you must notice from the way your brow arches, lifting up from him, bottom lip smothered in spit.

Joel finds most of the time, you have heavenly eyes and a hellish smile. A thing which shouldn’t remain, should have been stolen, ripped from you. Right now, you’re nothing but wickedness and darkness.

“Oh, Miller,” you say, voice lower, his name falling like silk. “Do you want me to tie you down? Stop you from touching me.”

He does.

A thing he doesn’t dare deny. His own eyes having caught sight of some frayed rope earlier, pointing it out, instructing—watching in awe as you move swiftly, boots hammering against the train floor, thudding and thudding until you’re on your knees either side of his, holding in both palms.

“Lie down.”

Your instruction carries weight, your body shifting as he lies down, your body crawling up him.

“Do it like—”

“You showed me?” you smirk. “I know how to keep you down, Miller.”

You lean back onto your knees, jean-covered cunt on his chest. Fuck what he’d do to move his hands from waiting for the circles of the knot you’re going to make—and pull you down to his mouth. Lets his breath puff warm air into the worn fabric, forcing it against your likely soaked core. Watch your lashes flutter as you try to make your identical loops, and see if you can think of overlapping them—whether you even make the knot, or let it fall to the wayside as you plead for his mouth, his tongue, his fucking teeth, before he manages to wriggle your clothing down your thighs.

He doesn’t find out, because he doesn’t move. Shadows disguise your expression, all except your smirk as you slide his wrists through the old rope—the frays tickling, brushing over his skin and hair, before with a pull, you tighten it—applying traction.

“Above your head,” you instruct.

You hinge at the hips, falling into the line of the moonlight. And, there’s a little gruffness to your voice, matching the pools of lust currently trying to swallow him whole—readying themselves to consume him, devour him. He doesn’t mind. He never fucking does.

Joel would willingly die in your eyes if he could—in the pair which sees him, all of him. Not afraid of the way he’s worn, the grief he carries, and the array of stories left in scars.

Best looking man I’ve ever killed for.

Only man you’ve killed for.

Fine. Best looking man I’ve laid my eyes on.

He’d succumb to you if you asked. More so, when you slide back down. The seam of your jeans brushing down his cock—the friction pleasant, warranted, needed.

He’s about to ask you to remove them. To bring yourself back up, allow him a taste, something to tide him over, reward you. He’d maybe even beg.

But, he swears your mouth is heaven. That he must have died mere moments ago. Each scrape of your teeth makes him hiss; each hollowing of your cheek makes him want to coat your tongue in his release. His fingers knot around the rope which binds him, hearing it trying to snap under the weight of his own frustration.

It cutting, grazing into flesh, especially as you take so much of him—further than you did before. Barely two fingers worth of him not down your throat, your eyes staring at him, holding his gaze, almost commanding it.

He pulls instinctually, wanting to grab the back of your head, hold you, stroke your neck, cheek—

But, then he ruts his hips into your mouth. Forcing a gag, a cough to arise from your perfect mouth.

“Careful,” he warns, as if it wasn't his doing. His eyes spot them, little streaks of tears which stain your cheeks, all quickly, tumbling and falling to his thighs. “Y’good for me. Fuckin’ perfect, in fact. But, be careful.”

Your tongue licks up the length of him, balls tightening as you graze your teeth over the underside—before he’s enveloped by you again, all warm, inviting, and then your throat squeezes around him.

He’s falling into it, the pool of pleasure—swimming it, bathed to the neck in it under stars and an almost full moon.

He’s sure your mouth is the meaning behind paradise and torture—both perfect and vicious—and he groans, at it. At the way, you swallow around him.

And he can’t take it.

Can’t handle it—

Wants nothing more than to come down your throat and make you taste him until morning.

Cause this is different than last time, and not because it's not a trunk his back is against. But, rather, because you're moon-soaked, kissed by the night. You're a thing he swears glows in the dark, leads a man to shore from choppy waters or could force a man to walk off a cliff.

You're pretty.

It's why he also wants to bury his cock inside you. Wants to feel you squeeze him, grasp for him, whine for him. You make him want, make him desire to possess you. Even if he'll never try to cage you, never tie you down, the thought, the wish, the desire is there. Just the same as how he wants to have you on top of him, under him, even bent over for him. Anything. Everything. All of it, all of you, all—

Mouth lifting off, your eyes glimmer, something there, growing behind your eyes. Spit tying you to him, a bead beginning at the tip of his leaking cock and ending at your swollen, puffed bottom lip.

Then you sneer. Devilishly, all fucking cunningly. “What did you think earlier, Miller?”

Hand taking him, wrapping it around as it moves in fluid motions. Grip how he likes it, a teasing speed that leaves him hovering there, so close to seeing a galaxy of his own and covering your face in his gratitude.

“Miller,” you mutter. "What, did you, think earlier?"

His throat goes dry, bone dry. Like those times when he hadn’t drunk for hours. And he pulls at the rope, wishing to tear himself free and silence your questioning by pushing you down, cheek to the side, sliding his cock inside you until you’re drunk on him, unable to think, ask.

He can feel his skin bruising, marks lacerating against flesh as he grunts at your knot. One he taught you, made you practice—something he knows you must remember from the wink you suddenly shoot him. And he knows from the smirk that cuts across your beautiful face, that the only way he’s going to get any release—is by telling you. Spilling the thing which should die in his throat, blacken, melt down into other things he’ll maybe one day tell you.

“If you want to come—“

Jaw gritting, he swears he could grind his teeth to dust.

Your hand remains poised, but not moving. His name leaves like a spell, but he knows it's draped in poison. Can tell from how it contaminates the air and makes him curse under its potency.

"Joel."

“Fine. I thought—thought y’prettier than the stars. Prettiest—fuck—” Your head dips, sliding the tip of your tongue along his slit, “—thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lifting up from him, bottom lip sliding across your upper lip—painting that in a mixture of his pre-come and your spit too—you slowly smile. “Wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Gritting his teeth, your breath ghosting over his mouth, eyes locked on him. Burying something light, warm, fucking lovely in his soul.

“Cut. Me. Free.”

Tilting your head, he sees your brow lift.

“Now.”

You blink, a thousand universes swirling in your eyes before you move for your knife. “Now?”

“Fuckin’ now, baby.”

You don't blink at the name, you just press the blade against his skin, so close to veins. Yet, he trusts you. More than he thought he would another person, another soul that wasn’t bound to his by blood.

Each slice of the blade against the rope cut through the air, his strangled breaths fading, even as his cock twitched, pleading for release. His eyes just remained on you—the maths of how he’d move you already calculated—watching the vein in your neck, the way spidery shadows cast on your face from your tear-stained lashes.

He felt the rope go slack before your knife stopped, moving in a flash, knife clattering as he flipped you onto your back. Hovering above, likely lit up by the stars and the moon—leering down on you, watching your chest rise and fall.

“So, you think I’m pretty?”

He growls, the button popped on your jeans before he rips them down as much as he can, moving enough to let you kick yourself free, before he plunges his tongue in your open mouth. Tasting, taking, robbing you of the words that you just spoke, the ones which made you cocky. Even if they were true.

But, he wasn’t good—was an animal, a thing carved from grief and the end of days. But then, you were in your own right too. Something that gnashed, scratched, and buried the softer parts of you deep under layers that had taken him months to unearth. To even find, locate.

The animal in you is what made him want to devour, but it was the softness that made him stand in front of you when branches crunched. It was the latter that made him want to pin you down against stiff surfaces and have you feel good, feel adored.

Taking his cock in hand, he drags the head against your soaked folds. Your slick coating him, sliding up and down, watching you, studying you—a sight full of stars, twinkling, pleading. Nails digging into his hips, an order, a demand.

In one thrust, he slides deep into you. Makes you his, like he does whenever you ask him to, when he can, each chance he can get. Never tiring of it, of you.

A thing he could say, fill your pretty little head with it and then fuck it outta you.

“Thinking about how much you like me, Miller?” you whisper, fingers moving up to scratch at his curls, to wrap them around your fingers. “Or, is it more than like, is that what it is?”

A tug, a swallowed groan. His mouth is on yours again—different than before.

A change, a thing the two of you never used to do, but one you do more frequently. Another thing he doesn’t hate. The change happened, and he realised he didn’t want to go back to the time before it. Not when your tongue plunged in his mouth feels good. When you lick at the back of his teeth, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt and remnants of the canned food from earlier.

“Thinking about how y’the most frustrating thing I’ve ever had under me.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

Buried to the hilt, fingers clasped around the space just above your collarbone, he stares into your eyes—wondering if the stars are ever jealous they never get to live in them.

No, he growls.

Your mouth falling open, a moan there, building on your tongue as he hits that spot—knows it, can tell from the way you lightly gasped. It is further evidenced by the way you grasp his hips, almost pinching when he drops onto his forearm above your head, freeing a hand.

“I do like fuckin’ y’under the stars.”

What began as a narrowing of your eyes, ended with a widening. The way it plays out could make him surrender to you every time, render him useless, even heal a shard of him that he thought was long since ruined.

Then, your mouth drops open, a moan emerging—rearing its head in an almost whine-filled cry, as he sticks a finger in, rolling it over your tongue, coating the pad of him in your spit before he slides his hand between your bodies.

And he knows you won’t last long. Not from the way you're clamping down, from the sounds you make—all beautiful, each rich, and fucking sweet. It’s why he drops his voice low, mouth to your ear, grunting your name, that you’re perfect, prettier than a sky full of stars—all the while drawing quick circles on your bundle of nerves, his hips maintaining a constant speed.

“Close, m’close,” you cry out, back arched into him, fingers finding refuge in his hair, face pinned by your forearms.

I know, he thinks, feeling you reach your pinnacle, hovering, hanging, before he delivers one quick thrust and you’re hurtling, spasming. Your body twists as your walls clench around him, coming on his cock, unravelling entirely as he picks up his speed, as he removes his hand from between you for leverage as he fucks into you. Just a few more, knees throbbing even through the pleasure, before his hips stutter, and he’s spilling inside of you, your name cutting into the air, scratching into it, marking it with each letter that makes it up.

Even before he collapses beside you, before breaths are caught, and your head finds that spot on his shoulder, that it’s coming. A look or your tone, that hint of gentleness you otherwise keep bottled up.

So he waits. Listen to the way your heart calms in your chest and your head feels heavy on his bone.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miller,” you whisper, not turning to look at him, just staring through the open hole of the train. “I won’t tell a soul you have a heart.”

Snorting, he swallows. “No one would believe ya if y’did.”

You hum, letting out a gentle breath.

And he just swallows the good he had almost whispered. Because if no one knows, it’s a thing people won’t try to take. And he can’t let you lose another thing, not when he’s sure the whole part of what remains of his heart, belongs to you.

an: hope you liked this. i am a whore for the moon and the stars.

[theharrowing]

What, now?

For as long as you and Jungkook have been friends, your feelings for him have been unrequited. Or have they?

☁ Jungkook x Female Reader ☁ word count: 13.6k ☁ friends to lovers, requited unrequited, pwp, fluff, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+ ☁ warnings: switch jungkook & switch reader, smoking weed, playful swatting and hitting (idk i'm an aries venus and i tend to playfully hit the people i love), tension and confessions, shot-gunning smoke, making out, light teasing and begging, anxiety, use of "baby" and "good girl/good boy", oral sex (f & m), fingering, a bit of squirting, dick piercingsssss, deepthroating, a hint of humiliation and cum play and spit, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, jungkook changes positions like he changes karaoke songs, booty eating and fingering, a bit of cockwarming, soft feelings. ☁ note: the time has come. i have written my first ever jungkook fic! i am very excited to be taking this important step, and i hope that you enjoy it. please blame/thank @jjkeverlast for putting this idea into my head and brainstorming with me! this contains literally the barest plot! ☁ beta read by @neoneunnajimin and @blog-name-idk 🥰 i love you both very much! ☁ posted march 2023 | read on ao3

"What, now?" Jeongguk asks, blinking heavily from staring at some fixed point on your comforter. 

Frustrated, you sigh out a puff of smoke and set the joint onto a clear glass ashtray on your bedside table. Then you grab a pillow, gripping tightly to its soft, floral covering, and you chuck it at him. 

"Oh, for the love of—" you complain as the pillow hits his shoulder, and he lets out a deep oof. "—you are impossible, Jeongguk!"

Jeongguk clutches his heart, feigning dramatically to be wounded, and leans back. Then, fear paints his face, and you realize he might actually be tipping over the edge of your bed as his arms flail out to the sides. 

With an exasperated huff, you get onto your knees and lean forward, grabbing one of his flailing arms and yanking him to safety. As Jeongguk slouches toward you, your balance slips, and you crash headfirst into his knee, then roll onto your back in defeat as a throbbing ache blooms in the center of your forehead. 

Jeongguk bends—brows knit with concern and wide, deep brown eyes accentuated by his browline glasses—staring straight into your soul. As he reaches to touch you, his dark brown curls fall forward, framing his beautiful face, causing you to panic-gasp and swat at his hand.

"Get away from me, you demon!"

"I'm sorry! Your bed is tall; I could have died!" he whines as you roll to safety by your headboard and scramble back into a seated position. You reach for the joint to take another deep inhale, letting the smoke settle before breathing it out, then you lean forward and hand it over. 

"You go so far away when you're high," you grumble as you sit back, snatching another pillow to hug close. 

"Sorry," Jeongguk mutters as he takes a slow, deep hit, hissing as he inhales and sighing on the exhale. "I get lost in my thoughts." 

With a scoff, you roll your eyes. 

"What were you thinking of, hmm?" 

Jeongguk flits his gaze to you, which appears a bit sad, stirring something inside your tummy. For as long as you have known Jeongguk, he has been lighthearted and relaxed, finding levity in any situation. But lately, when you hang out, there is a heaviness—a tension, almost. Something hangs in the air—something he always seems on the edge of voicing but never does. 

Jeongguk leans forward and hands you the joint, but rather than straightening out after you reach for it, he stays anchored on his palm, slouched in front of you. With a sigh, he cocks his head and says, "I don't know. What if I—" his eyes search around and past you, then return, "—what if you don't like what I've been thinking about?" 

Ridiculous. The only thing Jeongguk could ever do to upset you is move to a new city or find some other way to pull the two of you apart. As long as your best friend is in your orbit, nothing can hurt you. 

And, sure, the fact that you have a huge, overwhelming, insurmountable, absolutely dizzying fucking crush on him is frustrating—bordering infuriating, at times—but you suffer out of love. At least, that is what you tell yourself. You can yearn until the end of time as long as your best friend never leaves you. 

Jeongguk clears his throat and settles back on his knees. You could swear his gaze falls past your eyes—lower, to your mouth—but he seems once again lost in thought, making him hard to read. 

"I want to kiss you," he finally blurts out. 

You choke on air, inhaling too sharply and coughing, squeezing your pillow tight. Jeongguk's shoulders slump forward, and he hangs his head and shakes it, letting out a soft, somewhat humorless laugh as he sits back up and crosses his arms over his chest. 

"Forget it," he mutters. 

Absolutely not.

"Jeon Jeongguk," you wheeze, gripping the corner of the pillow and swatting him with it, hitting his knees. He glances at you with a sad, somewhat distant expression, and your head fucking spins as you try to make sense of this situation. 

"Is this just like...high talk?" you ask, suddenly feeling panicked that your very attractive best friend is talking about kissing you. "Like, I don't know, is the weed making you say silly shit?" 

A frown tugs on Jeongguk's pretty lips. 

"Silly shit? Wow, yeah, forget I said anything." 

"That's not—" you feel guilty, sighing, "—Jeongguk—" 

"No, no," he interrupts, waving a limp defeated hand. "Never mind." 

You remember the joint in your grasp and take a useless puff, having to grab for the baby blue lighter sitting beside the ashtray and flick your thumb over the wheel a few times until a flame greets you. Gently, you inhale as fire engulfs the tip, bringing it back to life, and then, with a lungful, you pass it to your best friend, who gives a sad half-smile and says, "Thanks." 

As you settle back against your headboard, clenching the lighter in your fist and hugging your pillow tight, your mind races. You struggle to grab onto any one thought long enough to really comprehend it; all you can seem to focus on is when? When could this feeling of his have started? 

Jeongguk chuckles, but it lacks any mirth. And then he mutters, "Here, I thought I was being super obvious," causing your mouth to drop open. 

"Okay, but...since when?" 

"I've had feelings for you since the day we met," Jeongguk states, looking into your eyes, causing your stomach to do a backflip. 

"Since wh—what? You what?" 

Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak, but you wave your hands in the air, lighter wedged under your pinky and ring finger, to cut him off. 

"No! Because, I have had feelings for you since the day we met! Which means—oh, god, what have we been doing?" 

"I was a dork when we first met," Jeongguk grumbles, though he seems to have lightened up, smiling through his words. 

Laughter quakes through you, and you nod your head cartoonishly, still absolutely dumbfounded by all of this. 

"You were! You were smart, and funny, and kind, and even when your nose was still too big for your face, you were still the cutest dork I knew!"

The Jeongguk you met all those years ago, when he was tiny and shy, was already the love of your life. And as you aged and he began to bulk up, covering himself in tattoos and piercings, it only made your heart ache all the more.

Jeongguk's gaze falls, and a shy smile creeps across his face. He plays with the little metal ring in his lip, passing his teeth gently over it, then he looks back up, making firm eye contact. 

With his voice dropping an octave lower, he asks, "You really have feelings for me?"

The shift in his tone and demeanor makes your heart pound, and you attempt to take a drag from the joint, realizing after two dazed inhales that it has gone out, once again. Sheepishly, you hold up the lighter and flick your thumb over the wheel once, then twice, watching as sparks fly and wondering if it is in any way symbolic or if that is the weed taking over your cloudy little brain and making you too hopeful for your own good. 

With a deep inhale, you reignite the joint—hoping you have done a better job than last time—then you hold in the smoke and hand it back, feeling yourself become antsy under Jeongguk's intense gaze. He brushes his fingers against your knuckles as he slowly takes the dwindling offering and pulls it to his mouth, and you barely part your lips to let the smoke leave your lungs, watch intently as he sucks in and then smiles, licking his lips before slowly exhaling. 

A chuckle breaks you from your trance, and you blink heavily while sitting up straight, gripping the life out of the pillow with your forearms. The weed, Jeongguk's confession, and his shift in mood all have you feeling lightheaded. You clear your throat and toss your lighter to the bedside table, which clatters on impact.

"Of course I do," you mutter, finally returning to the conversation that had hung as thick and heavy as the cloud of smoke between you. "Have you seen yourself, Jeongguk? Everybody has feelings for you."

Jeongguk smiles—still looks a bit shy, but with an air of confidence that makes your head spin. Although you know that there are no hallucinogenic properties to the weed you smoke—or, at least, very little—you struggle to grasp that this is reality. 

"I don't care what everybody feels," he utters softly, leaning forward with his palms on the bed, joint sticking straight up between two fingers. "Just you."

Jeongguk crawls—fucking crawls—toward you, and you feel your brain begin to short-circuit. The air in the room is thick and warm, and you swallow a large lump in your throat. But it is his chuckle that really does you in—soft and light, and a little too deep for comfort, causing your heart to pound loudly in your ears and heavily in your chest. 

"Tell me," Jeongguk utters, entering your personal space.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up to what he is saying; all you can focus on is his looming, beautiful presence. 

"What, now?"

Jeongguk's head falls forward, and he laughs—shoulders gently bouncing. He shakes his head and looks back up at you, and god, he is devastating with his hair grown out in waves and his glasses slid down his nose. Absolutely breathtaking. 

"Tell me how you feel," he urges softly, sitting up on his knees in front of you and lifting the joint to his lips. 

Your eyes once again follow every movement, and all you can mutter is, "I feel...very high."

Jeongguk laughs again, puffing smoke into your face and making you grimace—not that you mind entirely; your brain is already so hazy, thanks, in part, to him. What harm will a little smoke do?

"How you feel about me," he says, leaning in just a little too close. 

"Uh—I," you swallow, despite your throat feeling dreadfully dry. "I li—I like you. O-obviously." 

The last word is barely a whisper, and you could swear Jeongguk's eyes sparkle when you say it. Every fight or flight instinct blares at full volume as Jeongguk leans and presses his palm into the headboard just beside your head. Tan, tattooed skin fills your periphery, and you turn slightly to glance at his arm beside you before returning your focus to him.

"Come here," Jeongguk says, lifting what is left of the joint to his lips and sucking in, then holding in the smoke as he pulls it away. He raises his eyebrows and gently grabs your arm to tug you forward, and you lean just enough for him to take your invitation and close the gap, pressing your lips together. 

Your eyes widen, and your first instinct is to take a sharp inhale because, holy fuck, Jeongguk's mouth is against yours, and he feels so perfectly soft and inviting. Instead, you part your lips slowly, and as you do, Jeongguk exhales, passing the smoke from his mouth to yours in a dizzying exchange. You hold it in, then swallow it back, exhaling through your nose as Jeongguk smiles against you and begins to back up.

But you do not want Jeongguk to back up. You have felt his mouth on yours, and you need more than just a taste. Frantically, you reach up and grip onto his shirt, tugging him close.

With a soft, "Oing?" he falls forward, pliant.

Jeongguk smells musky and sweet, and you gently drag his lip between your teeth, tasting metal and smoke. With a sigh that sounds awfully close to a whimper, Jeongguk opens his mouth and drags his tongue over your lips and teeth, causing you to let out something between a moan and a sob, feeling Jeongguk smile as he deepens the kiss, willing your mouth further open. 

There is a sweetness to Jeongguk's tongue hidden beneath the stinky taste of weed, and you lick into his mouth, chasing hints of him, gasping as he lets out faint noises. Despite all of this being very real—every sense filled with Jeongguk—you struggle to accept that this is actually happening. Finally, after all this time. 

Jeongguk lifts his hand to touch you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek, and sending sparks through you. Then he pulls from the kiss, and swears under his breath, sighing with annoyance. You open your eyes to find him still cradling a dead joint between his fingers, which he drops onto the ashtray, only to begin wiping fallen ash off your comforter.

"Jeon," you grumble, despite hardly caring about the ash; you just like to give him a hard time.

"I'm sorry for my fault," Jeongguk mutters as he returns to your lips. 

Your hand still clenches onto his shirt, and you chuckle into his kiss, keeping your face turned only enough to slot your noses side by side, slowly licking and sucking and savoring one another. Gradually, your brain and heart stop operating in panic mode, and you begin to notice the arousal that swirls through you—hot and eager for more. 

To your dismay, Jeongguk breaks from the kiss and rests his forehead against yours. 

"Is this alright?" he asks, and you open your eyes to find him appearing concerned. 

"I like it," you respond, fuzzy and warm. 

"You have no idea—well, actually you probably do have some idea how long I have wanted to do that."

You nod and hum, "Mmhmm."

"So..." Jeongguk trails off, playing with his lip ring between his teeth, sitting so close, everything appears blurred. "What, now?"

Your tummy does a backflip, and you cannot help but chuckle softly. What, now, indeed. 

With a hum, you mutter, "We could keep kissing."

"We could..." 

Jeongguk slots his lips against yours as he trails off, and you wonder if there is something more to his tone, so you hum—a question, or, perhaps, encouragement to continue. 

Rather than elaborate, Jeongguk sucks your bottom lip gently between his teeth. Your mouth falls open as you gasp, and he deepens the kiss, wrapping an arm around your back while he cradles your cheek softly as you slide your hands to his neck, eager to keep him close. The back and forth of your tongues is an addicting dance, and you find yourself moaning and gasping a little louder, pulling him a little closer. 

Jeongguk makes soft, inviting sounds of his own, and you fight the urge to claw at his clothing and beg him for more. You are certain that he must want it too—that this kiss must be affecting him the way it affects you—but you are unsure how to initiate more; what if this really is all he wants?

With a deep, needy groan, Jeongguk pulls from the kiss, and he appears timid when he sits back enough to look you in the eyes. Taking in the sight of him this close, with his pretty, dark curls framing his face—this close that you can count each mole and scar that graces his skin—you feel warmth rise to your cheeks. Jeongguk seems to be searching for something to say, then he drops his gaze. 

"Hey," you mutter as you lean in and place a soft peck on the apple of his cheek. "Where did you go?"

Jeongguk softly laughs, tugging his lips into a smile. 

"I just...I can't believe this is finally happening...I'm finally kissing you."

A smile creeps over your lips. 

"Me too." 

Jeongguk backs away further, and you stick your bottom lip out to pout. You are in the midst of a solid high, with everything feeling simultaneously too light and too heavy, and you want to keep making out with your super hot best friend.

"My legs are falling asleep," he complains as he crawls beside you and rotates, sitting against the headboard.

Beside you, his hand rests palm facing up, and you place your hand into his, slotting your fingers together. Holding Jeongguk's hand is nothing new, but now it feels different—now there is an electric current that buzzes lively between your palms. 

"Way to ruin the vibe," you tease, giving him a gentle squeeze. "I was getting into it."

Jeongguk tugs on your hand, and you glance up, meeting his gaze. 

"Come here, then."

And perhaps you should hesitate before swinging your leg over your best friend's thighs to straddle his lap. Perhaps this—whatever the fuck this is—that is happening between you deserves a conversation before it moves too much further. But you do not want to dwell on anything for too long. All you want to do is sink into this moment until you are too far below the surface to breathe, succumbing to the chaos and letting it swallow you whole. 

You climb onto Jeongguk's lap, still holding onto his hand, and you settle down on his thighs, gently touching your fingertips to the underside of his chin and slotting his lips against yours. Jeongguk smiles and holds his mouth pliant for you to explore, then he wraps his arms around you, sliding one hand up to your neck as he deepens the kiss. 

Making out with Jeongguk is a dream you never want to wake from. His scent is soft and welcoming and smells like home—hints of fresh cologne on top of the natural sweet musk that you have come to identify as him. And his voice is low and grumbly, with a pitchy lilt whenever you nip at his lip, and it stirs something deep inside you to pull more of those pretty sounds from his throat. 

He feels incredible beneath you. Firm but soft, gentle but insistent in his touch—eager but not pushy or too rough. His lips are sweet, spit-slicked heaven, and the more you kiss and suck and nibble, the more enamored you become. 

Jeongguk groans and mutters, "You feel so good," and it sparks something in you to lean into him, chest flush against his. He holds you tighter, gently squeezing the back of your neck, then he breaks from your lips to kiss your chin and trail down to your throat. 

The new sensation sends arousal flooding through you, and you whimper as you somewhat mindlessly roll your hips. Jeongguk groans against your skin, his grip on you tightens, and if you are not mistaken, it feels like a tremble quakes through him. 

“Easy, tiger,” Jeongguk warns as his hand squeezes the back of your neck.

You let out a playful, "Hmm?" before rolling yourself against him once more, and Jeongguk gasps as he slides his hands down to your hips, holding you firmly in place as he returns his mouth to yours.

"You're entering dangerous territory by doing that," he grumbles against you.

You draw lazy shapes with your tongues between each sentence, swallowing one another's words whole. 

"Dangerous how?"

"You're grinding yourself against my dick," he whines through a helpless chuckle.

"I know."

You open your eyes to find his wide, and he grins, shaking his head in disbelief before his gaze darkens. 

"You know, huh?"

Another hum—a deep, enticing, "Mmhmm"—as you attempt to roll your hips again, finding yourself stuck hovering over his crotch instead. 

"Are you trying to get me hard?" he asks, tilting his head back so you can look at him fully. 

Jeongguk already appears somewhat wrecked. With a hint of dew on his forehead, rosy-flush on his cheeks, and hair a little disheveled, he is so fucking pretty. 

And maybe it is the weed talking—making you bold enough to say shit like this to your best friend in the whole entire world—but you ask, "And what if I am?" while holding brazen, unwavering eye contact.

Jeongguk stares at you for several quiet seconds with his pretty lips parted, eyes roving as if studying you. Then, in an eager motion, he whips his glasses off, tossing them to your bedside table in a clatter as he gently but firmly takes your face in both hands and kisses you like a man desperate to never breathe anything but the oxygen from your lungs.

You moan into Jeongguk's mouth and roll your hips, this time angling forward to graze denim against denim with purpose. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth and slides one arm down, past your shoulder, to your hip, holding tight while he thrusts upward. You are unsure if you actually feel him—only really noticing rough fabric scrape over rough fabric—but the intensity of his kiss and eagerness of his hips have arousal coursing through you, steadily building. 

"Are you sure?" Jeongguk groans into your lips, and you nod.

"I've wanted you for at least a million years; of course I am sure."

A soft chuckle flits from his mouth to yours. 

"A million years? How many lives is that?"

Impatience courses through you—why is he so determined to be chatty now, of all times? 

You grumble, "I don't know, Jeon, twelve or thirteen thousand, give or take?" and Jeongguk smiles against you. 

“I guess I should hurry up and fuck you then, since you’ve waited so many lifetimes for it.”

The nonchalance of his statement sends a chill up your back. He must feel it, because he giggles and continues to suck and nip at your neck, pushing you to the brink of complete mental collapse.

"What is your problem?" you whine, lolling your head to the side to give him more access to you. "How can you just say that?"

"Do you not want me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks between nips at your skin. 

You shove at his chest, feeling petulant, grumbling, "I am going to fucking kill you."

With a chuckle, Jeongguk wraps his arms around your back, lifts you, and then lies you down against the mattress. It happens so fast, you gasp and throw your arms over your head as you fall gently against the soft comforter, and Jeongguk grins as he leans forward, hovering over you.

"Tell me what you want," he says with wide eyes—blown out and bloodshot. 

"I w—I want you," you stammer, suddenly too shy to voice what has been on your mind for so many years. 

Jeongguk leans close—so close his crotch grazes yours, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his thighs to keep him in place. 

"Want me how?" he asks with a devilish grin. 

"Fuck—" you mutter quietly before swallowing your nervousness, wrapping your arms around his neck, and saying, "Fuck me, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk's smile widens, and you could swear his eyes shimmer as he gazes down at you. He almost seems taken aback—unable to process that this is his reality. Not that you can blame him; you feel equally stunned. 

"You sure?" he asks, gazing becoming so soft, affection blooms behind your ribs. 

Feeling impatient, you smack Jeongguk softly on the shoulder with your fingertips. You are way too high to be repeating yourself, although you do appreciate his insistence on making sure you are comfortable. 

But the pace at which he is dragging everything out has you practically begging, "Yes, god, please, Jeongguk."

The benefit of initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you are both aware of one another's health checks and sexual histories. You have bragged and complained to one another about every single sexual encounter over the years, and have sent selfies from every doctor's office visit. 

But Jeongguk is Jeongguk, so, of course, he asks, "Still on the pill?" and he does not question it when you nod in response. 

Jeongguk reaches for the back of his shirt and swiftly pulls it over his head. As he tosses it to the side, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. You have seen Jeongguk shirtless before—have swam with him countless times, and have gone along to all of his tattoo appointments. But watching him undress with the intent of being intimate with you feels different. Having front-row access to gawk openly at his beautifully sculpted muscles is new.

Gently, Jeongguk grabs at the hem of your shirt and tugs, and you comply, pulling it over your head with a weak lift of your torso before crashing back onto the comforter once it is off. You lay in a sheer, mesh black bra, and when you begin to anchor yourself onto your elbows to unclip the back, Jeongguk shakes his head, leaning forward as he mutters, "I like it. Keep it on."

Another benefit to initiating a sexual encounter with your best friend in the entire world is that you have shared some details about what you are into with one another, over the years. Nothing too graphic because you would always shy away from serious sexual conversation, worrying about becoming too obviously flustered by him. But you know that Jeongguk tends to like things to have a bit of a power-play dynamic. He has, on several occasions, bragged openly about his sexual prowess to male mutual friends while in your presence, discussing past partners in terms of submissiveness.

So, for that reason, you stretch your hands up, over your head. Nothing too wild, but a clear sign of surrender. Jeongguk follows the movement with his eyes, then slides down your body, hovering his lips over one of your clothed breasts. 

"Keep your hands above your head," he sighs in command, ghosting warmth over your skin and giving you goosebumps. 

You let out a shaky exhale in response and nod, placing one of your hands into the other and slightly gripping, determined to be good for him. Jeongguk nudges the tip of his nose against a nipple, causing you to gasp as the touch—faint as it is—sends a spark of arousal through you.

"I always knew your tits would be amazing," Jeongguk grumbles, dragging his lips over your sensitive bud.

If you were not trying to keep your hands firmly in place, you would have delivered another smack to his shoulder for being so unserious. You even gasp and begin to complain about Jeongguk's choice of words, but he flicks his tongue against your clothed nipple, and you sigh into the feeling, already distracted.

Jeongguk chuckles and mutters, "I'm surprised you didn't try to hit me," with his lips grazing the mesh over your skin, because of course he knows you too well.

You let out a soft laugh of your own. 

"I wanted to, but you told me to keep my hands above my head."

"So good for me," Jeongguk responds deeply, sending a shiver through you. "I'm a little surprised."

"Hmm?" you ask, watching as Jeongguk glances up, making eye contact.

He smiles wide and shrugs, saying, "I expected you to be more of a brat."

The urge to smack strengthens, but you do your best to keep your hands firmly in place. Jeongguk is definitely not incorrect that you tend to be more of a brat in bed, but you were hoping to behave at least a little since this is something you have wanted for so long. 

"Keep talking shit and I'll show you a brat," you respond as you watch Jeongguk gaze up once more with a dark, pointed stare.

"Is that so?" he asks as he crawls up your body, caging your head between his hands. 

You tilt your chin upward and nod, giving him a cheeky grin. 

"It is."

Jeongguk reaches down with one hand between your legs, which you let fall open the moment his knuckles brush against your thigh. With his fingertips, he grazes over the denim crotch of your pants, following the seam up to your zipper. It is so light you can barely feel it as he passes over your heat, but it is enough to make you whimper and plead with your eyes for more. 

"I thought you wanted me to fuck you?" Jeongguk asks playfully as his head cocks to the side and pretty, dark waves fall past his face.

"I do."

"Hmm, but you're already misbehaving. So maybe I should just tease you a little and leave."

For a split second, you lift your hands from the bed with the intent of wrapping your arms around his neck, earning a raise of Jeongguk's eyebrows. Then you drop them back onto the comforter and squeeze your hands closed. 

"Please, Jeongguk," you attempt, batting your eyelashes and smiling oh, so sweetly.

Jeongguk studies you, letting his wide eyes fall to your lips and back up, then he says, "I guess I could make you beg for it."

"You are so evil," you whine, voice breathy as Jeongguk leans down and nips at your chin, down your neck. "Please don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but you already are," Jeongguk teases as his lips, teeth, and tongue travel lower. 

God, Jeongguk is as insufferable as he is irresistible, and you allow your eyes to flutter closed as his lips curve toward your breast, pinching and tugging at fabric, touching you so softly, you want to burst. His warm, moist breath fans over your skin, causing you to open your eyes, and you sigh heavily, watching as your chest rises and falls beneath his teasing. 

You have fantasized about this moment many times before, imagining the heated way in which Jeongguk might take you—a little forcefully maybe, or even a bit clumsy—desperate, and eager in his movements. You have even allowed yourself to imagine overtaking him—holding him down until he is pliant and whimpering while you tease, grazing your fingertips against his prostate until he screams, using your toys while you ride him. 

But this—slow and measured, light in touch and heavy in implication—never in a million years had anything quite like this crossed your mind. 

Jeongguk flicks his tongue against your nipple, grazing the semi-rough mesh across the sensitive skin. A gasp puffs between your lips, then you let out a soft, enticing whimper, hoping for the sound to encourage him to do more than taunt you.

"Fuck, you sound so good," Jeongguk groans, lapping his tongue over you, wetting the material. 

Satisfied with your successful encouragement, you let out a louder sound, trembling under his firm touch. Fighting the urge to reach for his hair and give it a light tug, or bunch it behind his head so you can better see his face, has you opening and clenching your fists uselessly above your head. 

Jeongguk moves lower, nipping at the underside of your breast and making you whine. The pinching feeling of soft skin between blunt teeth barely hurts at all—hardly feels like much of anything—but it takes you by surprise, and you are jumpy enough for every little sensation to be just a bit too much.

As he settles between your legs, Jeongguk's butt hits the headboard of your bed with a thunk, causing him to laugh, which, in turn, makes you laugh. 

"Scoot up," Jeongguk complains, and you begin to wiggle yourself toward the end of the bed, careful to keep your hands in place, over your head, committing fully to the good girl bit.

At the foot of your bed is a bench that sits several inches lower than the mattress, and you continue to scoot until your hands slide over the edge and rest on its cushioned top. You straighten out your legs, and Jeongguk settles onto his knees between them, then reaches to undo your jeans.

The realization hits you once more, and quite suddenly, that this is really happening. Your best friend—Jeon Jeongguk, babe extraordinaire and light of your absolute fucking life—is undressing you in broad daylight with the intent to see and to feel you.

A small wave of anxiety washes over you, and you close your eyes as he begins to wiggle your pants past your hips and yank them lower. The underwear you have on beneath is not terribly exciting—plain black, soft material, nothing too fancy. But they are cute, and you bite your lip as you smile, hoping he finds them cute, too.

A chuckle pulls you from your thoughts, and you crack open your eyes to find Jeongguk frozen with your jeans tugged half way past your thighs, while he is staring at your face. 

"Why do you look so worried?"

With a sigh, you groan, "Stop always being so intuitive."

Jeongguk's smile drops, and he lets go of your pants. 

"Is something wrong?"

He is too kind for his own good. Because, of course, he is; you are not head over heels for him without good reason. 

"No," you insist, shaking your head. Above your head, you fiddle with some unknown, thin material between your fingers. "I'm just, you know...it's a lot, letting your best friend see you naked. I definitely want you to! But it still makes me nervous."

"Oh," Jeongguk says, sitting up on his knees while he begins to unbuckle his belt and yank it from its loops. "I don't think it's a lot."

"Well, of course you don't," you respond through a bit of a nervous grin as Jeongguk sets his black leather belt aside and undoes his pants. You mutter a little more softly, "You're fucking hot."

Jeongguk shrugs and pushes his jeans down past his thighs, then sits back on his butt and begins to wiggle out of them with his legs angled to the side, past your body. 

"You are also fucking hot," he responds matter-of-factly.

You scoff. 

"Yeah, but, compared to you—" 

Before you can finish your sentence, you feel ridiculous for even beginning it, and you bite your tongue. With the way Jeongguk frowns at you as he tosses his pants aside, the point is driven home. 

"Don't—" he begins, and you nod. 

"I know."

"Then why—"

You feel impatient to continue what had been previously started, but you cannot deny Jeongguk's softness is very touching. You extend your right leg out, feeling the denim awkwardly stretch around your thighs where Jeongguk left it, and use your foot to attempt to pull him close. 

"I get self-conscious," you admit, smiling as Jeongguk gets back on his knees and crawls between your legs. "I can be a hot bitch and feel shy, okay? I contain multitudes. Now keep undressing me."

The familiar playful, shit-eating grin that tugs at Jeongguk's lips makes your heart pound, and he leans forward, continuing his task of tugging off your pants. You twist and squeeze bits of fabric between your fingers while he leans back against the headboard and lifts your legs straight into the air, and once the denim is pulled free from around your ankles, you let your legs settle with a nice, deep, fortifying breath.

Jeongguk stops your right leg from lowering and rests your ankle on his shoulder. He kisses and nips at the skin, tickling and taunting, with his eyes on you. 

"Still nervous?" he asks. 

And although your heart beats wildly behind your ribcage, you let out a shaky breath and mutter, "Only a little."

Jeongguk leans forward more, giving your leg a nice little stretch as it presses toward your body. His lips and teeth trail along the side of your knee, sending sparks shooting through you as he nibbles at the sensitive skin and inches closer.

You have hardly had a chance to comprehend the fact that Jeongguk is practically naked, sitting only in his tight, small briefs, and you let your gaze drink in everything before you. His body is muscular, with cute rolls of skin bunched as he slouches forward, slowly working his way to settle between your legs, and you cannot take your eyes off him. 

And you wonder if perhaps he was so eager to get undressed when you said it made you nervous to be getting naked in front of your best friend as a way to ease your mind. Because that is the thing about Jeongguk, he is always looking for little ways to make you feel comfortable.

"Where did you go?" Jeongguk asks.

You blink and realize you have been staring at the top of his curly mop of hair while his mouth comes dangerously close to your pussy, and suddenly, you feel an overwhelming surge of arousal and anticipation on top of still being pretty fucking high.

"S-sorry," you mutter. "Drifted off thinking about you."

"But I'm right here," he pouts, giving you big, pretty doe eyes.

"You are," you respond through a heavy breath, acutely aware of the fact that he is right here, hovering between your thighs. 

"Keep your eyes on me," Jeongguk commands softly. "Don't space out."

A hint of a chuckle rocks through you, though it is more of a nervous laugh than a humorous one. Despite hardly doing anything, he has you so worked up, and the fact that the high is causing the arousal to ebb and flow, dulling and becoming intense, has you feeling quite flustered. 

Jeongguk lets out a deep, slow breath, wafting warmth between your legs. A small shiver works through you from the knowledge that he is so close; the number of years you have wanted him just like this are many, and the affection you feel for him is insurmountable. You hold eye contact as best as you can while Jeongguk sucks hard against your thigh, and the spark of ticklish pleasure-pain forces a huff of a small whimper to fall from your mouth while you do your best not to jerk your leg too much. 

"Such a tease," you complain.

"You know what I want you to do, baby," Jeongguk responds, bringing the world to a screeching halt. 

Baby. Oh, that definitely has a bigger effect on you than it should. This is bad for you.

"Please," you whine, because you do know what he wants you to do. He wants you to beg. "Please, Jeongguk."

"Please, what, baby?"

Your exhale is shattered around the edges, bursting heavily from your lungs. 

"Please touch me."

"I am touching you."

"Jeongguk," you whimper in a last-ditch effort. Is he really going to make you say it?

Jeongguk simply raises his eyebrows. Of course he is going to make you say it. He is absolutely reveling in this moment—with sharp, intent eyes and his lips slightly parted, it is written all over his face.

Fuck it; you can do this. You can tell the person you love more than anything in the world precisely what you want. You will not die of embarrassment. 

"Please touch my pussy, Jeongguk."

And god, it is so worth it to say those words when the result is Jeongguk's gaze simultaneously darkening and melting. He is holding it together rather well, but there are cracks in his foundation; you can tell that he wants to absolutely destroy you. 

"That's my good girl," Jeongguk groans as he leans forward and nudges the tip of his nose over your clothed clit. 

The pressure against you, mixed with his enticing words, playful voice, and all of the heavy, aching feelings you have—everything culminates and sends a wave of pleasure through you, melting you into the bed like hot wax. You squeeze your hands tightly, letting out a shattered whimper and angling your pelvis upward for more friction. 

Jeongguk drags the tip of his nose and his lips over you, teasing your labia and clit through soft cotton. The movements are so faint and so agonizingly slow, and you fight the urge to be a brat and demand more. You also try your best not to beg. Yes, Jeongguk wants you to, but why should he get the satisfaction of knowing just how affected you are, so soon? Someone as competitive and confident as Jeongguk would only use it against you if you became a mess this easily.

But you are a mess. Jeongguk settles between your legs and blows warm air across your clothed cunt, and you sink further into bliss, letting out more sounds of approval and frustration. With a sigh, you cave in—you never truly had a passing chance at holding any sort of resolve.

"Please."

Jeongguk uses his nose to tease once more.

"Hmm?" 

"Jeongguk," you groan.

"You smell nice," he mutters, wafting more warm air over you with a soft graze of his lips. "I bet you taste really sweet."

"Find out," you whine. 

Jeongguk sits up, grabs your panties in both hands, and cocks an eyebrow with a devious smile as he has the audacity to ask, "Can I rip these?"

"Wh—no! These are my coziest pair!"

Sure, you could buy a whole pack of them at a bargain price, but this particular pair is the best of the best. Jeongguk must have lost his mind.

"But it would be fun," he whines, making you roll your eyes.

"Pull them over my hips like a civilized man."

Jeongguk grumbles, "No fun," and begins to tug the material over your hips. You lift and bend your legs, and he sits back, bumping into the headboard once more to give you room. Then he flings the garment off to the side and leans forward. 

The look in Jeongguk's eye as your legs slowly drop and spread for him has warmth covering your chest, sneaking up your neck and cheeks. He looks intent and hungry, and he licks his lips. 

"Look at you," he says, staring directly at your cunt as he settles on his elbows and gently uses his fingertips to spread your lips, making you squirm.

"You're so weird," you complain, antsy under his gaze.

Jeongguk ignores your groans and leans close, dragging his lips over your spread folds. With a soft flick of the tongue, he tastes you—sending a wave of pleasure coursing to your fingers and toes—then he closes his eyes and groans. 

"Shit, you are sweet." 

You wish more than anything that Jeongguk would stop talking. One more word of praise from his mouth, and you might actually go supernova and take the entire solar system with you. Luckily, Jeongguk seems eager to use his tongue for better tasks as he dives in for more, swirling and sucking over your clit in a pattern that makes you grip onto the edge of the mattress and let out a deep, pleased moan. 

"Feels good," you whimper as arousal builds at a nearly embarrassing pace.

Everything about this situation is too much, and you let a shudder rock through you as your legs relax, spread further while your heels slide and dig across the blanket. Jeongguk also drops further and wraps his arms under your thighs, gripping your hips tightly. 

Being held in place and devoured by Jeongguk feels too good to be true, and you tilt your head up to have a look at the mess of wavy dark brown hair between your thighs. Jeongguk groans as he licks and sucks, with brows knit ever so slightly, the way he does when he is savoring his food. The mere thought of Jeongguk savoring you sends you hurtling to new heights of bliss, and you squeeze your hands closed, gripping tightly to your wrist while the other hand holds onto the soft comforter. 

Jeongguk glances up, meeting your eyes as he slowly licks a firm, slow stripe across your clit, causing your head to fall back into the bed with a moan that borders pornographic. You might be mortified by the sounds—by how quickly and easily Jeongguk has you unraveling for him—but the feeling is too good not to respond loudly in praise.

You climb close to orgasm—but not quite close enough. Your high still holds you in its clutches, and despite everything feeling intense and incredible, it is also a bit dull and hazed over.

"Ggukie," you whimper, smiling as Jeongguk growls in response. "Finger me, please."

One of Jeongguk's hands slides away from your hip, and you take in a deep, eager inhale. His fingertip teases your entrance, and when you glance between your legs, you find him slowly spinning his tongue over your sensitive bud while watching you with a smile.

"This what you want, baby?" Jeongguk asks as he presses forward, sliding his finger easily into your slick warmth.

"Fuck," you gasp. 

It is what you want, albeit not yet quite enough. Still, the way he crooks his finger upward and drags it across your sweet spot has you clawing at the blanket beneath you—has your back arching slightly off the mattress.

Jeongguk pumps his finger in and out fast enough to have your hips trembling, and when he adds another, stretching you just enough to cause a hint of pain, your mouth falls open into a desperate moan. This is what you need.

"Yes," you whimper as Jeongguk's lips and tongue return to their eager ministrations and his fingers set a dizzying pace. "That's it, Ggukie; don't stop!"

With pleased groans, Jeongguk pulls you to the edge of mental collapse, and it takes absolutely no time at all to plummet into bliss. As you cum, your entire body quakes, and you attempt to keep your thighs from clamping shut, pushing your head into the mattress as your back lifts and your heels drag. 

Jeongguk does not slow. The sensation borders overwhelming and too much, but you do your best to hold on and ride out this new type of high. At this pace, with the focused, steady rhythm of licking and sucking on your clit, you know that it will take no time at all to cum again, and you want it so badly. 

Luckily, Jeongguk is on the same page. 

"Once more, baby," he groans against you, and you squeeze your eyes closed as the high builds at breakneck speeds, never fully coming down from your first orgasm.

Rather than pressing in and out, Jeongguk changes his motion and thrusts his fingertips up into your erogenous zone. The sensation is engulfing—threatening to eat you alive—and you practically scream as the pressure sends you shooting into a new dimension of bliss. 

"Fuck," you sob between moans, feeling as if you might absolutely burst. "Fuck, fuck, oh god."

This time, as you cum, you can hear Jeongguk's fingers squelch—loud and wet—punctuating each upward thrust as you sob and tremble against the bed. 

"That's it, baby, coat my fingers," Jeongguk praises, leaving featherlight kisses against your clit and labia as he continues to finger you.

"What the fuck," you pant, feeling dizzy and overstimulated. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps, cold yet burning hot, and you struggle to reconcile all the myriad feelings. 

"Didn't know you could do that?" Jeongguk asks, still fingering you to oblivion as his lips, teeth, and tongue move to your inner thigh—tickling and making you squirm.

"Do what?"

"You soaked me. Can't you feel it? It was like...a baby squirt."

"A baby squirt?" you pant in disbelief. 

Jeongguk takes a firm bite into your thigh, making you nearly kick him in the ribs, then he chuckles as his lips return to hover over your pussy. 

"What's the matter, baby squirt?"

Petulance rises—nearly overtakes the steady flood of pleasure—and you open your mouth to warn Jeongguk to never call you that again, but all you can manage to say is, "Don't you fucking da—ahhhh—" as his tongue laps over you as hungrily as before. 

You have no idea where one high ends and the next begins, and you fight the urge to grab him by the hair and pull him away, feeling so completely swallowed whole by overstimulation that you nearly scream. How the fuck is he capable of making you feel this way, this easily?

"It's too much," you whimper, heaving each breath from your lungs as you tremble from head to toe. 

"You sure you can't cum once more for me?" Jeongguk whines, gazing at you with wide, pretty eyes. 

You want to say yes—want to give him absolutely anything in this world that he may wish for—but you are far too sensitive, and you bite your bottom lip as you sheepishly shake your head no. 

"Awe, does baby squirt need a break?"

Despite being too fucked out to fight with your best friend who just made you cum at least twice—though you are unsure what you were experiencing toward the end—you sit up and land an open-palmed smack across his chest. Jeongguk grabs you by the wrist and yanks, falling back against your headboard with a wide, satisfied smile and sparkling eyes, and you allow yourself to be pulled onto your knees before toppling forward against his warm body, straddling his thighs.

"Don't call me that," you pout, feeling your own release drip from you, proving the nickname to be truer than you would like to admit. 

"It's fucking hot that I can make you so wet," Jeongguk groans as his hands find your jaw and gently pull you into a kiss. 

Is this what the two of you are, now? Best friends who kiss? Unabashedly and without preamble or explanation? You love being able to nibble on his bottom lip and fondle his metal jewelry between your teeth, pulling out all the sweet little sounds that you never imagined would come from him. Never like this. 

"It felt good," you groan when Jeongguk's lips move to your jaw and neck. "It felt really fucking good."

"Yeah?" Jeongguk responds, sucking his lips against your neck until you attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.

Jeongguk pulls you close and kisses lower, to your shoulder. This time, when he latches on, finding a far less sensitive spot, you allow it. 

"Yeah," you respond as your eyes lose focus on the brown wood of the headboard. "Fuck, I knew you'd be good, but that was..."

Your words die in your throat as Jeongguk's hands grab you by the ass and pull you onto his lap. Beneath you, a very firm erection sits nestled between your thighs, and you roll your hips downward to tease. Despite the way Jeongguk made you feel with his mouth and fingers, you are far from satiated. The moment you get your bearings, you need more. 

The whimper Jeongguk lets out makes you groan, and you take him by the face and pull him into a deep, needy kiss, detecting your own heady release on his tongue. Jeongguk relaxes, loosening his grip and holding his mouth agape for you to taste as you please. 

"I need to fuck you," he whines against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Is that so?" you respond before sucking his lip between your teeth, tasting a hint of metal.

"Been wanting you for so fucking long. You have no idea."

You smile as you say, "I'm the one who waited thousands of lifetimes, remember?"

Jeongguk squeezes your ass with both hands while rutting his hips up enough to tempt you with his erection. 

"Lay back down," he groans, and you shake your head, reveling in how quickly his pretty lips tug into a frown. 

"Not so fast," you purr as you begin to slide back, out of Jeongguk's eager grasp, leaving wet, lazy kisses on his jaw, neck, and clavicle. "It's my turn to taste you."

Jeongguk's hands fall to his sides, and as you begin to wedge your knees between his, he spreads his legs, giving you space to settle. Your lips skim over his nipple, pulling sweet gasps and sighs from his mouth, and the lower you kiss, past his abdomen, to one of his hips, his breath comes out in harsh gusts. 

Just knowing that you affect him like this makes you all the more eager to completely unravel him, and you waste no more time, slipping your fingertips beneath the waistband of his briefs while fanning warm breath over his clothed cock. You tug the material gently down and drag your lips over him, teasing him just a little as he had teased you before. And when your lips touch something small and hard, you freeze and lift your head.

"Jeongguk..." you begin, surveying his bulge, which has many small, hard, circular bulges along its length. "...what is this?"

"I never told you about those?" Jeongguk asks, and you can hear the amusement in his voice.

In all your years of friendship, you were positive that Jeongguk—your Jeon Jeongguk—has never kept anything from you. And yet, here you are, staring straight at a very big secret. When the fuck did your best friend get his dick pierced?

"N-no," you stammer as you pull the band of Jeongguk's briefs down, exposing quite the surprise, indeed. 

Not only does Jeongguk have an impressive cock—long and thick with precum beading at its pretty, reddened-brown tip—but you gently pull back his foreskin to reveal a row of four barbells along his shaft, as evidenced by the eight little metal balls that hold them in place.

"Wh—when did you—"

"Surprised?"

A scoff rocks through your chest, and you look up at your best friend. The bewilderment must be evident, and he chuckles as he gently rubs his knuckles over your cheek.

"Felt like a weird thing to tell you when I did it," he confesses with a soft smile.

You feel affronted, and your mouth falls open. 

"Why?"

Jeongguk shrugs. 

"I was dating someone at the time, so bringing up my dick felt...weird. Especially since I got these because you..."

As Jeongguk trails off, his cheeks flush, and you watch as his life flashes before his eyes. 

"Because what? I what?" you ask, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks, certain that you know where this is going.

You are into this sort of thing. Jeongguk had to listen to you drunkenly rant far too many times about the ex who did you wrong but had a dick piercing that was hard to part ways with. The thought of Jeongguk taking that information and getting his own piercings...and multiple, at that...that does things to you. 

"Jeon Jeongguk," you groan with a smile, focusing your attention back to his very hard, pierced cock, which rests neglected and leaking against his tummy. "You are full of surprises."

Before Jeongguk can respond, you lean in close and lick a firm path from the band of his briefs, along his shaft, teasing the jewelry with your tongue before lapping at the precum that has spilled over onto his tip. Jeongguk lets out the softest, neediest moan, causing you to involuntarily clench every muscle between your legs. 

"Damn, Ggukie, you sound so pretty," you praise before sucking the head of his cock between your lips, feeling the muscles of his thighs tense beneath you. 

Just a taste of his salty release on your tongue spurs you to take him as far into your mouth as you can, and you lay your tongue flat, snaking it side to side when you finally settle with his tip buried close to your throat, nearly cutting off your oxygen. Jeongguk moans and trembles as you drag your tongue over velvety skin and metal. Absolute perfection. 

You waste no time and set a steady pace, sucking your cheeks in once he is deep in your mouth, and swirling your tongue along his shaft as you pull out. Jeongguk moans incoherently, letting consonants and vowels fall at random as he grips gently to the side of your head, clearly doing his best not to rut his hips too hard or touch you too firmly. 

And perhaps now, with your best friend's cock between your lips, is a strange time to think about how fun it is to learn this side of Jeongguk and wonder just what the dynamics between you two could be—what whatever this fuck this is could blossom into. But the idea that the two of you have crossed this line, and that he is so good at making you cum, has affection bursting and blooming behind your ribs, and arousal pooling deep in your guts. You are also still pretty fucking high, which is no wonder that your mind keeps wandering. 

Realization hits—your gag reflex is dulled when you smoke—and you open your mouth just a little bit wider and take Jeongguk's thick, pierced length a little bit deeper. This time, Jeongguk's grip ends up tugging some of your hair, which only spurs you to keep his cock firmly in your throat, pressed deep until you have no choice but to come up for air. 

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, "baby this is—"

Needing to breathe, you concede to lifting your head, holding your tongue out flat as thick strings of drool connect your lips to his tip. 

"Huh?" you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes, watching as the last remaining thread of Jeongguk's sanity slips away.

"Can I fuck your mouth?" he asks, kiss-swollen lips agape and eyes eager-wide. 

"Sure," you reply with a shrug as if it is nothing, holding your mouth open as Jeongguk settles high onto his knees and positions himself. "Just don't hold my head too tight...in case I need to breathe."

Frantically, Jeongguk nods as he slides his hand to the back of your head, pulling you close. "Of course, yeah," he mutters, already adorably fucked out and blushing before he has had a chance to cum. 

You rest your palms flat on the bed, back arched and breasts spilling from the small mesh bralette as one strap slides past your shoulder. Jeongguk places a hand under your chin and cups your cheek with the other—almost comically gentle considering he plans to fuck your mouth.

With your tongue hung flat and wide, pooling drool at the tip, you stare up through your eyelashes. Jeongguk has a look on his face that screams affection—warm and wanting. Desire drips from your pores as saliva dribbles to your chin, and when Jeongguk lifts his thick, heavy cock to set gently on your tongue, your fingertips dig into the comforter beside your knees. 

"You look amazing," Jeongguk groans as he slowly thrusts forward, pressing in, in, in, dragging metal over your tongue. His jaw trembles as the tip slides into your throat, and you swallow around him, pleased with the lack of gag reflex, if only for the sweet satisfaction of watching him crumble above you. "Shit, baby, you look so fucking good."

Jeongguk holds himself in place and stares down at you with a reverence that makes warmth flood to your cheeks. He pulls back slowly, groaning as his eyes intently watch the movement, then thrusts forward a little harder, gasping as his cock tickles the soft skin in the back of your throat, and whimpering when you swallow around him. 

"Tap me or something if you need me to stop," he mutters, already sounding completely lost. 

You attempt to nod and flutter your eyelashes, which are already beginning to bead with tiny tears. Jeongguk curses under his breath, pulls out, then thrusts back in. His piercings are surprisingly pleasant as they slide—big enough to be noticeable but not enough to snag, though you keep your bottom teeth guarded, just in case. 

The hold on your face and chin become firmer but never rough, and Jeongguk works up to a steady pace, always pushing just far enough to pull lewd sounds from your throat—coating himself in thick saliva—but never so far that it causes discomfort. 

Watching Jeongguk's abs flex and bead with sweat as he ruts and swears and gasps causes arousal to pool between your legs and flood your system. You want him to pin you down and fuck this delicious, pierced cock into your cunt until you are cross-eyed and speaking in tongues.

Thankfully, his composure already seems to be crumbling. The grips of his fingertips are alternating too firm and slipping away, and his hips are losing their rhythm. To help him along, you attempt to tighten your throat, and you moan with each thrust, sending your praises vibrating over him. 

Jeongguk's head lolls back and to the side, then he fixes you with a desperate stare. Panting and sweating, with reddened cheeks and a crazed look in his eyes, he gives a frantic, affirming nod and groans, "So fucking close, baby. Can I cum in your mouth?" 

You attempt to nod and mutter something that somewhat resembles, "Uh-huh," and Jeongguk's lips break into a pretty smile as he tightens his hold on you and ruts his hips forward a little harder. 

"Fuck," Jeongguk moans, dropping his head back. His voice sounds like heaven, and you moan in response, eager to hear more.

Although his movements are too rushed, too out of rhythm, and even slightly too rough, you hold your mouth open and stare up, attempting to let oxygen through your nose while your fingertips dig into the comforter.

Jeongguk moans as his length twitches and pulsates in your mouth, whimpering your name like a prayer and pulling out just enough to cover your tongue in his release and lend you some airflow. And for the first time, you nearly gag. The first spurt of the viscous fluid hits the back of your throat and trickles thickly down, and you fight the urge to cough, doing your best to swallow around it. When he finally pulls out and sits back, you breathe in through your nose but hold your tongue flat to show him the mess he has made, all for you. 

"Fuck, you are perfect," Jeongguk groans while placing two fingers against your cum-covered tongue.

Jeongguk gazing at you as if you are a treasure to behold with tear-streaked cheeks and a drool-covered chin, juxtaposed with his fingers playing with the mess on your tongue, sends a flurry of emotions through you. And despite how soft he is with you, this entire scene feels somewhat humiliating. The grin breaking on Jeongguk's face suggests that he knows what you may be thinking, confirmed by him pulling your jaw open just a little wider and spitting into your mouth.

A gasp works its way through your chest, and you stare at your best friend with wide eyes. He has the temerity to chuckle. 

"Swallow my load like a good girl," he coos sweetly as he removes his fingers from your mouth and sucks them between his own lips. 

This entire scenario is so debauched it makes you feel dizzy, and you close your mouth and swallow the mess on your tongue, feeling trapped somewhat in slow-motion. 

As your high begins to dissipate enough to lift what fog had been draped heavily over your mind, you feel a new sense of eagerness take its place. The attitude of, I need to have him in any way I can is slowly melting into something akin to, I need to make him a whimpering mess of a man. 

"Sit back," you command, getting high on your knees and reaching to gently shove Jeongguk toward the headboard. 

He chuckles and fumbles onto his butt, then slowly inches back until he has nowhere left to go. You crawl forward, straddling his legs with your hands and knees, one breast hanging from the mesh bra, then settle onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and slotting fingers into his pretty, wavy hair.

"I'm not hard yet, baby," Jeongguk whines, as if you couldn't tell.

With a devious smile, you lift your hips until his soft cock is situated just below your pussy, and you slowly rub yourself over his pierced length. 

"I know," you groan, nipping at his bottom lip. "I'll make you hard."

Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, then pulls you close—splayed hands gripping at your back, desperate, as if you might disappear. 

"I got you, Ggukie," you mutter against his lips, warm breath hitting your smile in a soft sigh, "I'm right here." 

Kissing Jeongguk with remnants of his and your cum on your tongues feels like savoring the aftermath of a hurricane. And with storm clouds looming overhead, threatening to flood you completely, you can only accept your fate and gladly welcome what is to come; the two of you are far from finished with one another.

Slowly, Jeongguk becomes erect beneath you, and you make your soft, gentle movements a bit more measured and forceful. Jeongguk whimpers into your mouth, tangles his tongue against yours much more eagerly than before, and you swallow each little sound whole, licking and sucking against his tongue and lips until he is dropping his head back, out of breath. 

"I can't wait to fuck you," Jeongguk groans as you trail your lips to his neck and suck faint, dark marks into his skin. 

"Not until I get to fuck you first," you respond—a promise and a threat. 

Jeongguk groans as he asks, "Oh, yeah?" and you chuckle as you say, "Yes."

"Alright," Jeongguk concedes, gently rubbing his hands down your sides before his touch disappears entirely. "I'm all yours, baby."

Curiously, you trail your palms down the length of his arms, finding them both wedged behind his back. With a grin, you rock your hips against him a little harder, feeling his cock part your pussy lips and cover itself in your wetness. 

"If you're a good boy, I'll let you fuck me however you want."

All Jeongguk can say in response is a deep, needy groan. You roll your hips back slowly, dragging yourself over his hardening length, then reach with one hand between your legs while anchoring with the other on his shoulder. Jeongguk shudders as you gently grip the head of his cock and angle him upwards enough to find your entrance. 

Although you have done absolutely nothing, each breath heaves from your lungs, and you hover a moment gazing at Jeongguk—sweat-slicked and blush-pink, staring back at you so sweetly. 

"Ready?" you ask in a hushed tone, feeling your dominance slip away briefly. 

Jeongguk nods, gives a soft smile, and groans, "Please fuck me," and you lower yourself, giving in to his request. 

The stretch of Jeongguk's pierced cock is just painful enough that your back bows, and you shiver through the sensation. Moans fall from both your lips as you take him, stopping only when you are fully seated in his lap with him buried deep inside you. 

"So fucking tight," Jeongguk groans at the same time you whine, "Fuck, you're so big," and you chuckle in tandem, leaning forward enough to rest your foreheads against one another. 

Without allowing either of you to adjust or catch your breath, you lift your hips and drop them down, spearing yourself on his thick, delicious length. Your voice is pitchy and broken, moans practically tumbling out as screams as you set a pace that is dizzying and rough. 

Jeongguk's head falls against the headboard with a loud thunk, and you take the opportunity to wrap one hand around his throat while gripping his shoulder tightly in the other. With a gentle squeeze, Jeongguk's eyes widen before rolling back, and you slide your fingers up to hook into his mouth and force him to look at you. 

"Louder," you moan through pitchy sounds of your own. "I want to hear you."

Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is so obedient; you have always wondered if there is a submissive side to him, as well. He lets you tug on his jaw and begins to moan deep, pretty sounds, and it sends a flurry of arousal through you—determination to push him to give you more.

"Your pussy feels so fucking good," Jeongguk groans, slightly slurred around your fingers. 

Eager to cum, you grind yourself down, pressing the tip of his cock right where you need him. The hand you have anchored on his shoulder drops between your legs, and you dance your fingers in circles over your clit, pushing yourself over the edge.

With a desperate moan, Jeongguk's head nearly falls back once more, and you hold him firmly in place, feeling drool slide from his mouth to your palm and wrist. You continue to grind and roll your hips, feeling yourself teetering just on the edge of collapse, rutting roughly against him. 

"Such a good boy," you praise teasingly through gasps and moans. "Letting me use your cock to get myself off."

Jeongguk appears to begin saying something—wrapping his lips around consonants as well as your fingertips—but all he can manage is a broken, "Mmmnaaahh—" incoherent and useless, and pretty enough to inch you closer to the precipice of pleasure.

"That's it," you groan, slamming your hips up and down as you chase your high, "fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Pleasure grips you, white-hot and intense, and you quake as you ride him, struggling to force your legs to continue moving. The sight, sound, and feeling of Jeongguk have you absolutely reeling, and everything settles in your chest and gut, heavy and big and ready to explode. 

"Fucking squeezing me, shit, so tight, baby," he groans as your fingers slip from his mouth and fall to the side.

Your hips still as your pussy continues to flutter and squeeze through orgasm, and you lose your strength, crashing forward against his shoulder. Jeongguk wraps his arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, then adjusts his legs and begins thrusting upward, hard and fast, making your head spin. 

A cacophony of moans punctuated by screams fall from your mouth as you are pushed past overstimulation and quickly chasing a new high. Jeongguk lifts you and leans forward, attempting to place you on your back, though you scramble and more or less fall, spreading yourself wide while he shimmies onto his knees and takes his place between your legs, pressing warm palms gently against your thighs. 

"Good?" Jeongguk asks—too big yet too small of a question for you to fully comprehend, so all you do is blink up and nod your head. He chuckles. "Do you need a break?"

"No," you croak, shaking your head almost frantically. "Fuck me, Jeon. Need you."

With a deep, eager groan, Jeongguk leans forward and fills you in one swift motion, thrusting while adjusting on his knees, tugging and lifting at your legs until one is draped over his shoulder and the other is wrapped around his hip. Jeongguk leans forward and brushes his fingertips over the apple of your cheek, gazing soft and reverent; so gentle compared to the brutal pace at which he fucks you, making your head absolutely spin. 

"You feel so good," Jeongguk whimpers sweetly, squeezing his eyes closed before widening them, gaze fixed down on you. "So fucking good."

Words fail you, but you make an attempt, huffing a string of vowels, with some consonants mixed in, stuttering around, "Good," and, "Big," and attempts at his name. You bury your face in his soft, warm hand, huffing warmth into his palm while your eyes flutter closed and you sink into pleasure. 

Fingertips graze over your clit, tentative at first, then direct. Your back arches and you gasp as arousal breaks and bursts throughout, coursing through your blood, filling every inch of you. Still not fully down from your last high, overstimulation vibrates through you, but you do your best to take it; you want him to make a mess of you.

When Jeongguk pulls out, it takes you by surprise, and you open your eyes wide, jutting your lip out in a pout. Jeongguk chuckles and begins to scoot toward the edge of your bed, standing and yanking on your ankle to reposition. 

"Your bed is the perfect height," he says as you scoot and rotate, spreading your legs for him once more.

Your hips hang off the very edge at a slight downward angle, spearing you on his length, and you squeal as he thrusts straight up into your sweet spot. The pace Jeongguk sets is merciless and intoxicating, and you claw at the edge of the bed as your eyes flit between Jeongguk's sweaty, ripped body, his pretty, fucked out face, and your off-white ceiling. 

Every vein and ripple and piece of metal drags along your walls, spilling nonsense from between your lips. You grasp at the comforter, attempting to hold on, feeling as if you could turn to goo and sink to the floor if you are not careful, but the material slides uselessly between your fingers.

A strong pressure builds, threatening to burst, which you recognize as the feeling you had before the baby squirt. Every inch of your sweat-slicked skin burns red hot, your eyes roll back, and you begin to heave through heavy lungs.

"Gonna—" you gasp, voice raspy and broken. "Fuck, Jeongguk, I'm—"

"That's it, baby, let me feel you cum," Jeongguk commands, leaning forward and driving his cock impossibly deeper. Sweat drips from his forehead to your tummy, tickling as it falls along your side, and you shudder, feeling all the more overwhelmed by the faintest sensation. 

Although you do not need the encouragement, you place a hand between your legs and slowly drag your fingertips over your clit, up and down, pulling the intense wave of pleasure through you. You squirm and squeal, mouth held open in a silent scream, and Jeongguk's hips tremble and quake before he pulls out and drops to his knees, burying his face between your thighs and pulling the last of your orgasm with his lips and tongue. 

Your legs fall without him there to hold them up—they may as well have turned to overcooked noodles. Jeongguk grips your ass, attempting to keep you from slipping off the mattress, but you are at too odd of an angle to do anything but crumple to the floor.  

With a chuckle huffed between his lips as he stops you in time for your feet to hit the floor, Jeongguk firmly presses your hips into the side of the mattress as he stands, lips and chin slick with your release. You chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, and he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth before leaning for a kiss. 

"I almost came," he confesses against your smiling lips.

"Figured," you tease, nipping at his little metal ring.

"Not done with you, yet," Jeongguk mutters, licking and sucking at your mouth in a way that is far too comical, making you push against his firm, sweaty chest.

"How do you have so much energy?" you groan, although you have no desire to stop. His silly nature is whiplash, however, and you feel shy standing in the nude beside your bed, still coming down from your last orgasm.

Jeongguk's smile softens, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The sweat on your skin is beginning to turn cold, and you shiver in his hold, hugging him tighter. 

"I could fuck you all day and night, baby," Jeongguk mutters. 

He absolutely could not, but the thought brings goosebumps to your skin, especially with his voice dropped so low. You like that he wants to fuck you endlessly—that he feels for you the way you feel for him. 

You hum against his neck, tasting salt on your lips, and mutter, "Do it, then," as you nip at his skin.

Jeongguk groans, lolling his head back for you to drag your lips and teeth over him. Then he grabs you by the hips and lifts you back onto the bed, using enough force that you actually bounce, gasping as you anchor yourself onto your elbows and instinctively open your legs.

"Want you on your knees," Jeongguk commands as he prowls forward, caging your hips with his muscular arms.

You scurry backward, then twist somewhat haphazardly, limbs still noodle soft, though you have gained a bit of your energy. The mattress dips behind you as you get onto your hands and knees. You hear a groan as two palms spread you, and as his tongue laves over your sensitive cunt, and your arms begin to tremble while a choked sob falls from your lips. 

"Can I eat your ass?" Jeongguk asks as his thumbs gently brush the skin around your rim. 

"Yes," you mutter, desperate to feel his tongue everywhere, "please."

Jeongguk squeezes at your soft flesh as his tongue dances over your puckered hole, and you tremble forward, falling onto your elbows with your face buried into the comforter, adjusting to a new, incredible sensation. He devours you, gently pressing his tongue into your hole and groaning as he licks and slurps and drools. 

His mouth leaves you, then his hands, and you attempt to anchor yourself higher onto your hands once more, but the press of his cock entering your cunt from behind makes you quake, and you collapse forward, face turned with your cheek squished into the comforter. Try as you might to get your bearings, all you can do is scramble as Jeongguk rubs one palm along your back while he begins to fuck you fast and deep. 

Cold saliva hits your ass as you hear the unmistakable sound of Jeongguk spitting, and you gasp, arching your back as the liquid slides over your rim, teasing you with the faintest touch. Then the press of a fingertip breaching your hole makes you squeal, and you grip tightly to the blanket, overwhelmed in the best way.

"Is this okay?" Jeongguk asks, and you nod frantically, desperate.

"Yes, please."

More spit dribbles down, sinking you further forward, and Jeongguk slowly prods his finger into you, twisting at the same tempo his cock pounds into your cunt. With one hand, you reach between your legs and graze your fingertips over your clit, and the wave that crashes over you is sudden, causing you to nearly scream.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, undoubtedly feeling you squeezing around him as you plummet toward total physical collapse. 

Jeongguk breaches your hole deep, probably past the knuckle, stinging so perfectly. You sob through it, hot and thick, drowning in lava. His piercings drag over your sweet spot, and you feel pressure build much like it had before, only more intense and dizzying. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, suddenly rushing and snapping through you like a wire pulled tautly. Your hand drops from your clit, and you scratch blunt fingernails against the bed as your high continues to build and rush, build and rush, gushing from you in waves. 

Jeongguk's finger slides from your ass, then he uses both hands to grab you by the arms and lift you, sitting you high on your knees. From this angle, his piercings drag deeper and harder, grazing along your walls and blinding you with more pleasure, squelching from how wet he makes you.

"That's it, baby squirt," Jeongguk has the audacity to say at a time like this, "don't hold back. Fucking cover me in it."

And you would find the nickname a lot more annoying if you were not gushing cum around his cock, splashing your inner thighs and undoubtedly, the bed. Your mouth hangs agape, but you only manage to squeak and sob, tears filling your vision and clouding the room, which is covered in a thick, blissful haze. 

Jeongguk's hips quake, losing their rhythm, and he grips tighter, pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest, head gently hitting his shoulder with each thrust. 

"Gonna fill that tight, messy cunt," Jeongguk growls into your ear, covering you in goosebumps. "Gonna make you all mine. Is that what you want? To be mine?"

Reeling and struggling to move your lips, you manage to stammer a weak, "Please," that is broken around the edges.

"Good girl," Jeongguk praises, teeth dragging across your shoulder. "So good for me."

Jeongguk thrusts hard, knocking the wind from you as you jolt forward, thankful to be held in his tight grasp. When his hips still, the sweetest, pitchiest sob falls from his lips, which clamp onto your shoulder, sucking and whimpering against your skin as he empties himself into you. 

The room spins, and you feel yourself slipping forward, helped down by strong, warm arms until you are lying against the soft refuge of your bed, drifting slowly away. Lips gently press into your shoulder, and you attempt to turn and face him, but Jeongguk is still buried deep inside you, and he wraps his leg over yours, pulling your back flush with his chest, holding you close. 

"Wow," you gasp, unable to stop the soft chuckle that works through your body as the room begins to return to focus and the sheen of sweat covering you turns cold.

"Yeah," Jeongguk responds, lips dragging over your skin, lazily pressing affectionately along their quest.

"So...that just happened," you find yourself blurting, suddenly feeling shy, shivering in his grasp. 

Jeongguk's limbs wrap tighter as he buries his face into your neck, muttering, "Yes, it did."

And now that you have fucked your best friend and poured every ounce of yourself into the task, you are acutely aware of the fact there is no turning back. Whatever line the two of you have crossed, you are stuck on this side of it for good. 

Jeongguk clears his throat, huffing what you think may be a quiet laugh against your shoulder before dragging his lips over your skin, making you shudder. 

"So, uh..." he begins, dancing his fingertips delicately over your hip as his soft cock slips from your cunt, bringing with it a combination of both your fluids, "...what, now?"

i know i mentioned glasses jk but there weren't photos that fit the color scheme for the banner, so here's a reminder.....bc even in potato quality he is still 🔥🥵😩

thank you for reading!

i do have a part 2 in the works but it may be a little bit before i get to it. let me know what you think! feedback and reblogs are the lifeblood of this hellsite. and likes are nice, too! 🥰

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What, now? is copyright 2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[catt-leya]

I was wondering if you could do an enemies to lovers?? I’m so original, but maybe where they are on a run and get lose, and get into a huge fight because reader says they’re lost, but Rick is too stubborn to admit it:) plzzz and thank you!! Also love your posts btw, the bests toe curling pussy twisting smut I’ve read

Hurts So Good || Rick Grimes 18+ ❣Darker❣

Thank you so much for the request 💗 I LOVE enemies to lovers and I tried to make it up to you 💕

Soooo it's new for me to write Rick that way. Please look into my trigger warnings and I hope there are some people liking it 👉🏼👈🏼💗

Trigger: cnc (?), gun play, breeding, degrading, sir kink, darker Rick yeah he's a warning and my usual smutty stuff

You stuff a blanket in the trunk of the car and listen to your best friend talk about her new boyfriend. 

You love her to death, but since you arrived in Alexandria, she barely talks about anything but Spencer. Spencer this. Spencer that.

Somehow the two of them found each other and actually got together. That has changed your topics of conversation. 

So you grit your teeth and listen to the oh-so-awesome Spencer bring her a bouquet of flowers yesterday.

It's not that you're jealous or anything. 

No, you don't even feel like getting involved with a guy, but you just don't like Spencer and you let him feel that every time.

Now, though, you're a good friend and smile at her, "Sweetie, I gotta go."

Several times she blinks at you, as if she's forgotten why you packed some things in the car behind you, before sighing, "Oh yeah. How long is the run scheduled for?"

You shrug and lean your butt against the car, "I don't know. Rick wasn't sure how long we'd be on the road, so I packed a few things for several days and nights."

She nods slowly and you take a deep breath, "I don't even know where we are going."

You notice her glance sideways past you and know she's looking at Rick, who's a few feet away discussing something with Michonne.

Without looking at you, she says, "I'd really like to go with you."

Surprised, your eyebrows go up. Your best friend is not a person who likes to be out in the outside world. She likes the safety of Alexandria, and that's probably why she fell in love with Spencer.

When she looks at you again, she notices your gaze and shrugs, "Not that I necessarily want to fight walkers. I'm happy to leave that up to you. But I'd just like to see you in a little car with Rick, trying not to go for each other's throats."

You roll your eyes, but can't hold back a grin.

The fact is, you already like Rick just fine, it's just that your kind of 'friendship' is driving each other crazy. 

Much to the sake of everyone else. That's why it's better that it's just the two of you and you can pick each other apart in peace.

You're about to say something back when you hear Rick call out, "Are you done, sweetheart?"

Again you roll your eyes and smile at him sugary sweet, "Whenever you are, sugar bum."

The nickname Rick gave you at the very beginning gets on your nerves and he knows it very well, that's why he calls you by your real name extremely rarely and always teases you with his stupid 'sweetheart'.

The way he pronounces the word with his broad southern accent sometimes makes you blush unintentionally and to cover that you started to give him the strangest nicknames in between. 

As always, he doesn't seem to care and nods goodbye to Michonne, which is your sign to say goodbye to your friend as well.

She frowns, "Sugar bum?"

You bite your lower lip, "I couldn't think of anything else."

She doesn't respond for a moment, until she bursts out laughing, "Oh my God..."

Smiling, you pull her into your arms and murmur, "Take care of yourself" in her ear.

"You take care of yourself, too."

Before you let her go, she whispers softly, "You blushed again, honey. Watch out you don't start drooling if he calls you that again."

Gently, you punch her in the arm and hiss, "I won't."

As she looks you in the face, it feels like she knows more than you do and you have to avert your eyes.

Slowly, you walk around the car and climb into the passenger seat.

You'll have another quick glance at your friend as Rick opens the door to the driver's seat and drops into it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him push the sleeves of his blue shirt further up and then pull the door shut.

Without a word to you, he shifts into first gear and drives through the open gate.

You suppress a soft sigh and lean your head against the window beside you. 

For a long time you don't speak a word to each other and you think that Rick doesn't want to start a fight as long as you depend on each other beyond all measure.

After a few hours, you exchange positions and he calmly instructs you to follow the road until you come to the next intersection. When you ask him approximately how long that will take, he just mutters, "Long enough, sweetheart."

You stifle a comment that his answer is vague and start up.

Again and again you look over at him out of the corner of your eye and at some point his soft snoring enters your ear.

Unwillingly, you have to smile and now look at him properly.

His head is leaning against the window pane, like yours before, and his arms are crossed in front of his chest.

Although you can't see his eyes, you know they're exactly the same color as his shirt, and because he has those beautiful dark curls, his eyes always seem much brighter in the daylight.

You catch yourself thinking about him way too hard and jerk your head back around to look at the street. 

Again and again you repeat in your head: I don't care how beautiful his eyes are.

For some time you force yourself to look at the road, but eventually you weaken again and look back at the sleeping leader next to you.

He wrinkles his nose slightly in his sleep and you can't help but notice how soft and almost innocent he looks in his sleep. You could easily forget how many people he has already killed with his hands, looking at his soft features now.

Even with the grayish beard, he looks much younger in his sleep and as you catch yourself staring at his pink slightly parted lips, you mutter, "Holy shit."

It's not supposed to be that loud, but immediately Rick slams his eyes open growling, "What's wrong?"

Sleepily, he looks at you and frowns. All softness is gone from his features and you don't even realize you're still staring at him until he grumbles, "Look at the road and not at me."

The fact that he caught you staring at him by your own stupidity, makes you blush and you immediately look back at the road, "Sorry."

Now it's you who feels his gaze on you, praying that he'll just let it go, but hope is in vain, "What happened?"

"Nothing," your voice is a little too high and you hear Rick sigh softly, "Then why were you staring at me like that?"

His snotty question, makes you snap, "I wasn't staring at you, you dumbass."

"So did you strain your neck or what?" he teases. 

He knows for a fact that you were staring at him and now he's going to use it to drive you up the wall, which unfortunately works out just fine, "You were snoring so loud I wanted to make sure you weren't going to use it to attract walkers."

He snorts and you mentally pat yourself on the back.

You can finally get back to focusing on the track ahead of you.

You drive for what seems like an eternity on the road Rick told you about, then ask him, "Are you sure this is the right place? It doesn't look like there's anything here."

You've long since left the housing complexes and now there's nothing here but woods. Not even a small field where you could find crops is visible and you frown, "Rick?"

By the time you look to him, he's pulled out a map too and seeing his lost look, you groan, "You have no idea where we are."

His jaw tenses before he growls, "I know exactly where we are."

You spot a narrow path at the edge of the woods and pull off to stop, then turn in your seat to Rick, "Where are we, Sheriff?"

Vaguely he points to a spot on the map and you lean over to take a look at it too, "You don't think we're anywhere near Atlanta yourself, do you? We should have seen the skyline by now, Rick."

The forest he points to is close to the big city, and when you left Alexandria, you were going in the opposite direction.

But of course Rick wouldn't admit he has no idea which forest you're parked in, "The trees are just so tall we can't see the skyline."

You lean forward some more and your chest brushes his arm, "Why don't you just admit you have no idea where we are and let us out of this damn forest?"

He stiffens a little and then grumbles, "I know where we are."

You groan in annoyance, "Oh Rick." If your breasts weren't touching his upper arm, you wouldn't have even noticed, but he flinches as the words leave your mouth and immediately you blush.

You know what he must be thinking about and then you quickly say, "Swallow your pride and admit that you got us in deep shit."

Rick snorts and turns his head in your direction. 

Because you're still leaning so close to him, his face is suddenly way too close and you slide back into your seat as he growls, "Maybe it's your fault if I couldn't tell you 100% where we are right now."

You laugh out loud because he phrases it as if it's just a possibility and not a fact that he doesn't know what shitty forest you're hanging out in, "My fault? How so? YOU told me to take the road."

He throws the map in the back seat and looks at you with bright eyes, "I told you to go all the way to the intersection. It's not my fault you stared at me for half the drive and probably passed the intersection when you needed to catch your drool."

Staring at him in disbelief, you almost shriek, "You miserable asshole."

You yank open the car door and get out, because if you didn't, you'd rip Rick's head off. 

But instead of leaving you alone, he gets out too and you throw your arms up in the air, "How could I have ever gotten involved in going on a run with you?"

You go back and forth, "If we croak, it's your fault. Only your fault. You got that?"

Rick thrusts his hands on his hips and growls, "Sure, if it makes you happy."

Jerking, you look him in those ridiculously beautiful eyes, "Happy? You know what would make me happy?"

Your voice becomes shrill, "If I wasn't standing in the middle of nowhere with you."

You can see him struggling for self-control and clenching his hands into fists, "We. Are. Not. Lost." Every word is a growl and you turn your back on him, "I'll check the road for a sign so I know where we are if you're too proud for that."

You take a step and he demands, "You stay here."

Laughing in disbelief, you look at him over your shoulder, "Oh yeah? I'm certainly not taking orders from you now."

He takes a step toward you, "Stay here."

At his full height, he towers over you significantly and if he were to reach out, he could touch you. Challengingly you look at him, "Or what, Rick? What are you going to do if I just leave now and let you sit here, huh?"

Something you can't place flashes in his eyes and your eyes lock onto his Adam's apple as he swallows hard.

Suddenly your throat goes dry and instead of just going and leaving like you cockily announced, you stop in front of him and wait for his reaction.

You blame it on the adrenaline in your veins that you suddenly feel the need to reach out and put your hand on his chest. 

To feel his heartbeat beneath your palm.

Your body leans towards him, that's when you hear a crack in the bushes and before you can even react, Rick has already drawn his gun and is aiming at whatever should come out from between the trees.

Groaning, a lone walker emerges from the trees and when Rick doesn't lower his gun, you put your hand on the cold barrel of the gun and press it down a bit: "We can take him."

He doesn't quite lower the gun and looks down at you, breathing heavily.

You give him a weak smile, "Let me do that."

Gently you push the gun down even further and when he finally lowers it, you disengage from him and pull the knife on your thigh.

This one walker gives you no trouble and as he lies dead at your feet, you turn back to Rick who is watching you.

Still holding the gun, he looks to you and you clear your throat quietly, "What, you need to get something off your chest?"

The silence is cutting until he harshly demands, "Come here."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, "Haven't we been through this? I don't take orders from you."

His eyes don't leave you for a second as he lifts his chin slightly and hisses, "You come here now, or I'll come to you, and you don't want that. Trust me."

Your whole body screams to move toward him to find out what he wants, but your stubbornness is not so easily put out of action, "Rick-"

The knuckles around his gun turn white, "Now."

The tone in his voice actually makes you walk toward him, and as soon as you're within his reach, he grabs you by the arm and tugs you toward the hood.

His grip is so tight that you struggle against him, suddenly feeling something like panic as you realize you don't stand a chance against Rick.

He pushes you in front of him like a doll and presses your upper body onto the hood.

Panicked, you try to push yourself up with your hands, but his hand is heavy on your back and you flounder helplessly on the hood, "What are you doing? Let go of me!"

Your breathing becomes frantic and you can hardly believe it, but you're actually afraid of Rick.

When you think about how innocently he was sleeping next to you in the car earlier and now he's forcing you to bend over the hood, you feel sick.

You try to take a deep breath and relax as best you can as you murmur as softly as you can, "Let go of me, please."

Never having thought about how strong Rick actually is, you force yourself not to fidget as he takes a step closer behind you and you feel his leg against your thigh.

You barely recognize his voice as he whispers, "Stop talking, sweetheart."

Your heart stops for a moment at your nickname and you have to suppress a soft whimper as you feel his hand on your neck.

He's so...close to you. 

You can barely think straight through fear and what feels like arousal.

Rick can feel your resistance slowly weakening and he dares to loosen his grip on your neck a little. 

When you don't move an inch, he whispers softly, "Good girl."

Shit, he totally digs it when you push up against him. He loves the games you always play when you're teasing each other. He enjoys every minute of it, but after all that shit today, he's had enough.

In fact, he has no idea where you guys are and you having to rub it in his face all the time is driving him nuts.

He sees himself as a pretty controlled man, but as he watched you take out the walker, he couldn't suppress the feeling of finally breaking you for him.

How much he wants you to submit to him is almost laughable.

Quietly, you lie on the hood in front of him and he can't help but look at your pretty ass, which is maddening in those tight jeans.

Rick takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as his cock presses uncomfortably against his pants.

He doesn't really think about it as he rests his gun-holding hand on your soft ass and the cold barrel of the gun slides between your thighs. Roughly you groan and push yourself against him a bit, which surprises you so much yourself that you wince and hope that he hasn't noticed.

The hope quickly disappears as he pulls the barrel a little higher again and you take a loud breath.

Watching your body react is mesmerizing and he stares at your ass, which keeps trying to push against him, "Sweetheart?"

Mortified, you close your eyes and murmur, "Yes, Rick?"

He releases his hand from your neck and briefly you think about straightening up to get away from him, but as his hand reaches around you to grab your pants, your body resists the thought of getting away from Rick's hand and you remain still on the hood, waiting to see what Rick is trying to do.

He turns a little in your direction and instead of his leg, his cock is now pressing against your thigh and he murmurs softly, "Spread your legs."

Your stomach tightens and you do as he says, which makes him laugh harshly, "Oh, when it comes to me touching your pussy, you suddenly do as I say."

It's so incredibly humiliating and you could cry as he pulls your underpants, including panties, down so far that the fabric stretches around your thighs and the cool air hits the embarrassing wetness between your legs.

Almost as if driven by self-preservation, you do try to straighten up, but he quickly pushes you back onto the hood, "Stay down."

These little moments when you seem to be struggling after all turns him on incredibly and he slides a hand between your thighs.

A jolt goes through your body as Rick's fingers brush over your most intimate spot and you hear him moan harshly.

You bite your lower lip as you feel the cool barrel of his gun contrast with his warm fingers on your skin.

He slowly slides the gun in the direction where his fingers linger and immediately you tense, "What are you doing?" You barely recognize your own voice, but you don't care and croak again, "Rick?"

He can literally feel the panic you're feeling, and it's probably completely wrong that that's exactly what's making him harder.

Rick slides the barrel of his gun between your butt cheeks, enjoying the way you flinch as the metal of the gun digs into your soft skin.

He pulls his fingers from your wetness and instead slides his gun between your already swollen labia, "You take what I give you, sweetheart."

You whimper, "You can't be serious."

Firmly he pushes the barrel of the gun an inch inside you, "Does this feel like I'm not serious?"

The barrel is wide and you so damn tight that you feel like he's tearing you apart inch by inch as he slowly pushes it inside you. As he does so, the legitimate thought that the gun is loaded fades completely into the background and all you can feel is the cold thickness penetrating deeper and deeper into you.

Groaning, you squirm and gasp, "It's too big. It hurts."

Your pussy clenches around the barrel and Rick pushes it in a little deeper again, "Does it?"

Whimpering, you nod and look up at him for the first time since he forced you over the hood.

As you look at him with eyes veiled in arousal, his cock twitches and he tilts his head a little, "Why don't you beg me to stop then?"

He pushes the barrel a little deeper into you again and you moan, "Rick..."

It feels so incredibly dirty to be at his mercy like this, and yet you want more.

Pathetically, you try not to tighten around the barrel of the gun again, taking in as much as you can, which doesn't escape Rick's notice, and he grumbles, "Then stop lying and take it like a good girl. All of it."

Trembling, you yip, "Turn me over. I want to look at you while I do it."

He pulls the gun back a little and immediately you miss how deep it was inside you.

"What was that?" 

You can tell by his voice what he wants. 

What he's always wanted. 

For you to beg him.

"Please, turn me around. I'll take anything you give me, but please...I want to look at you while I do it-" Briefly you take a breath "Sir."

Growling, he grabs your waist and reaches around you so he can spin you around so you're sitting on the hood and he can keep the barrel of the gun inside you.

With your lips slightly parted, you watch Rick pull your pants down to your calves and then climb over them so he can stand between the fabric and your body like he's trapped. 

But only you feel like you can barely breathe because he's so close to you and your pussy is still being stretched.

Finally he looks you in the face again and the pure lust in his eyes makes you lean forward and put your lips firmly on his.

Rick grabs your chin with his free hand, pushing the barrel of the gun deeper into you again.

The feeling is so intense that you break the kiss and bite his lower lip to stifle a loud groan.

With his hand on your chin, he forces you to open your mouth and release himself so he can lean in and murmur into your ear as he thrusts into you again, "Do you like that, sweetheart? Do you like me fucking you like a whore with my gun?"

The thought of what he keeps thrusting into you makes you go crazy and you bury your face in the hollow where his shoulder meets his neck to muffle your moans, "Yes, oh god yes..."

You could never tell anyone what you let him do to you and that makes it all that much more wicked.

Your moans vibrate against Rick's hold and he takes his second hand to touch your clit.

It's only a small touch, but your hands tangle in his hair and he continues to tease, "So pathetic."

He knows exactly what he's doing and what he's denying you as you start to move on his hand to get more, but the circles he draws around your clit are too slow and he knows it.

Whimpering, you cry, "Please, Rick...please, sir."

You're so pathetic in his arms that he can't suppress a laugh, "Stop whining."

He's pushed you to the point where you'll do anything for him. 

Anything just so he wouldn't stop.

Trembling, you spread your legs as wide as you can and push your hips closer to him, but his touch remains frustratingly light and gentle, making you cry, "I'm begging you...please...what do you want me to do...I'll do anything..."

He presses a little harder on your clit and your pussy tightens around the gun inside you, "Anything then?"

You jerk your head back to look him pleadingly in the eyes as you whimper, "Anything."

He loves seeing that addiction in your eyes and he tilts his head as he pulls the gun out of your dripping pussy and you moan in protest, "No..."

Rick raises his eyebrows, "First you don't want to and now you do?"

Normally you're eye-to-eye with Rick, but his cocky demeanor makes you shrink into yourself and you whisper, "Please."

His eyes slide over your soft features and flushed cheeks, and he holds the gun shiny from your wetness in front of your face, "Lick it clean."

You hesitate for a second before looking him in the beautiful blue eyes and leaning forward to put the gun in your mouth. At the taste of your own, you roll your eyes and let out a muffled moan before looking back up at him. 

Slowly, you let the gun slide out of your mouth and lick it with your tongue.

Rick can't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to.

The way you lick the gun that took so many lives, as if it were his cock and the most beautiful gift in the world, makes even the last rational thought fizzle out and he hisses, "Unzip my pants."

He sets the gun down next to you on the hood and leans back a bit as you reach for his pants with shaky hands.

His cock pressing against the fabric is hard to miss, and your mouth waters as you think of him replacing the gun that was inside you earlier with his cock now.

You undo his holster, which immediately falls to the floor, and then his belt, which holds his pants low on his hips.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you feel your wetness dripping onto the hood below you.

He watches you undo his pants and then reach for the waistband to pull them down over his ass.

His cock immediately pops out and a low moan escapes you.

Your eyes are fixed firmly on the twitching cock in front of you and your pussy clenches at the sight.

The way you sit there and can't look away is the best thing he's seen in a long time. 

The fact that a few minutes ago you were still resisting and trembling with fear, while now you are begging to be fucked by him is all he can think about.

You are still staring at his cock, when Rick grabs you by the waist and pulls you to the edge of the hood so that his tip presses against your pussy and you look him breathlessly in the eyes, "Please."

You wiggle your ass to somehow get him inside you, but his hands on your hips are firm and unyielding, "Please what, sweetheart?"

He lifts his hips a little and slides his shaft over your wetness, making you moan hoarsely, "Please, sir. Please, please, please."

You've never begged before and never intended to, but right now all you want is for him to have mercy on you and let you wrap your wet walls around him.

He leans in and his lips graze your ear, "Will you do whatever I want you to do?" His accent is wider than usual with arousal and you gasp, "Yes, sir."

Rick presses an inch into you as a reward and growls, "Always?"

Completely will-less, you press your torso against his and whimper, "Yes, sir."

Another inch, "Good girl."

His tongue licks over your neck, "Do you want my cock?"

Moaning, you close your eyes and breathe, "Yes, sir." 

Your voice breaks on the last word and as a reward Rick thrusts his hips forward replacing what was previously the barrel of the gun inside you.

The metal from his gun was cool inside you, whereas his cock twitches hot and heavy inside you, making you almost pass out.

Your hands tighten in the fabric of his shirt to find purchase as he pulls back slightly and then thrusts slowly and deeply into you again.

Gasping, you bury your face against his neck as your pussy clenches around him again and again.

The feel of your wet walls around his cock, makes his heart stop for a moment and a low growl escapes his throat.

You feel so good around his hard cock and every time your pussy tightens around him, it feels like you're just pulling him deeper inside you.

He releases one hand from your hip and uses it to push your hair to the side so he can spread wet kisses on your neck, and you willingly tilt your head to the side to give him more room.

Slowly his thrusts get firmer and faster, causing a smacking sound between your legs that you don't even have to be ashamed of as Rick gasps against your neck, "Fuck, you're so wet for me."

He fucks you so hard you feel like he's rearranging your guts, and you dig your teeth into his neck to stifle a loud moan as he slides his hand between you to press on your clit.

You're already so incredibly sensitive there that you whimper, "I'm about to cum."

His circles around your clit speed up and your whole body is on fire, but he hisses, "No."

You tug at his shirt, "I can't take it anymore."

To torture you, his circles tighten and your legs start to shake. 

You force yourself to work against the orgasm as he thrusts firmly into you, "You'll cum when I tell you to, sweetheart."

Him calling you 'sweetheart' only makes it worse and you try to slide away from him so you can comply with his request and not cum on his cock yet.

But his grip is tight and you're too weak to pull away, "Rick...you have to stop...I can't...oh god..."

Your whole body tenses and tears come to your eyes as you actively fight against your release. 

It's almost sad that you want to make him proud by suppressing your orgasm and he just hisses, "You take what I give you and I swear I'll spank you if you cum without my permission."

Tears roll down your cheeks and you sob, "I can't take it anymore."

His fingers on your clit and his cock in your pussy feels too good and as he growls harshly, "Now." It tears you apart from the inside.

Never in your life have you come so hard and desperate as when pressed against Rick's body.

Your pussy pulses around his hardness and the feel of your tears leaving wet trails down his neck only turns him on more and he can't help but lay claim on you, "Whose pussy is that, sweetheart?"

Your whole body trembles under his grip and you give a long drawn out moan, "Yours, sir."

He rewards you by pulling his head back a little and kissing you hard on the lips and then gasps, "When I've come in your pussy, it's not just mine. Then you're mine."

Your foggy brain only hears that he's going to come inside you and you panic, "Rick...no...not inside me."

He grabs your chin and looks at you questioningly as he keeps fucking you and you whimper, "Please don't."

You look up at him pleading and trembling and his cock twitches inside your pussy wet with cum, making him grumble harshly, "You're shaking from cumming all over my cock and begging me to stop? You don't really want me to stop doing this...you like when I make your little pussy all wet and sticky, huh?"

Your last resistance breaks and you bring a soft "yes" to your lips before he presses his mouth over yours again and his beard scrapes across your chin.

His fingers dig into your hips and you know you'll be carrying away marks tomorrow as he stiffens and moans harshly into your mouth as he comes jerking inside you.

You've never had a man come inside you before and at the warm feeling spreading through your belly as he thrusts his warm cum into you, you whimper against his swollen lips.

You feel him softening inside you and you pull away from the kiss, blinking.

The adrenaline rush slowly wears off and you stare at Rick in disbelief. 

Not only because he did this to you, no, but also because you can't believe yourself that you let him do this to you.

He pulls his cock out of your pussy and you feel his cum mixed with yours dripping onto the hood.

Speechless, you stare at his pretty face as he looks between your legs and slides his hand between them.

He gathers up what's dripping out of you and pushes his fingers, saying, "You are supposed to say 'thank you'." Into your overused pussy.

As if in a trance, you say, "Thank you, sir." And he nods in satisfaction.

Rick surprisingly gently pulls you off the hood and pulls your pants back up over your ass.

You find your own thoughts, "Why did you do that?"

You look so utterly confused that this amuses him deeply and he raises an eyebrow, "What do you mean? That I fucked you or that I put your pants back on?"

He sees you swallow, "The fucking."

Unimpressed, he shrugs, "I wanted you, so I took you. Get used to it."

Speechless, your mouth drops open and he adjusts his own pants as he reaches for his gun on the hood, "We should spend the night here and see where we are in the morning."

You don't even realize he just admitted he doesn't know where you are and can't suppress a whimper as he pulls away from you and walks around the car to the driver's door.

Shit, you're dependent on him. 

Something you never wanted, but you already miss his hands on your body and run after him like a lonely puppy begging him to sit on his lap.

@hail-yourselves  @bean-is-reading  @chanlvr2  @criminalwalkingsupernatural  @sunshinevirus  @toxic-ink  @kingtwhiddleston  @bloodycherry22  @vane28282  @bamslover  @revesephemeres  @emo-potato-virgil  @tropodyn  @mrsashleybarnes18-blog  @igotbasicdrag @starsaroundmyscxrss @moonshine147 @1-800-isabellapotter @starkstiless

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)

[waspredteeth]

You know what I've realized these past several months on Tumblr and just...years of consuming content?

It's pretty rare for the fandom to acknowledge Gotham as a city. A real, living city with people in it. Like, sure we always get cutesy posts about Batman or the others from outside perspectives or fics that include interesting ocs (I love u if you do that btw).

But what I mean isn't that. What I mean is: does anyone think of Gotham and its citizens as actual people? Because I've sure seen kind of the opposite.

I see constant arguments or heavily biased (mostly misinformed) posts regarding what Bruce does and how the Batman helps the city. That his riches would get lost in corruption and no one can save the city unless there's violence. You could try and make the argument, sure. But we've seen time and time again in comics that Bruce uses his money to the benefit of the city. We've seen in comics that he employs people who are disadvantaged and gives them opportunities. People know Bruce Wayne gives jobs and treats his employees well. He donates heavily to charities, creates his own organizations, funds Leslie Thompkin's clinic, and consistently updates the safety of his own buildings. People (at least post-Crisis) would know that Bruce Wayne did everything he could to save Gotham after the Cataclysm earthquake/No Man's Land - that he went up against Congress. Of course, not everyone would like Batman. Not everyone would trust the Wayne name. They'd see a stranger who prowls nightly and may or may not rescue you. They'd see the privilege of an old rich name who gets to exert his influence over the city. If you go to him for help, you go to him with the fear, and anticipation of rejection or with the knowledge that he will be safe.

I've also seen the (imo) ridiculous notion that Crime Alley citizens would trust the Red Hood. Maybe some would now, after the reboots and actual comic book evidence that he's doing something. But I cannot fathom living in a city with such heavy crimes occurring and then trusting what is essentially a cop. People don't know the Red Hood. They don't know Jason Todd. They would only know: 1. he has tried and succeeded various times to take over organized crime and drug routes 2. he can and will kill if he sees it fit. In some people's eyes, he would be a cop with even less judicial oversight. In some families, he would be the killer of their breadwinner, of their fathers or family members or lovers. A man with a gun. Eyes without a face. If you go to him for help, you go to him for blood.

This doesn't even begin to lay out the insane amount of vigilantes who live/operate in Gotham. The Batman is not the only figure. The Red Hood is not the only figure. If you boil down Gotham to only the conflict between these two characters, you miss the nuances and varied opinions of the city by miles. If you boil down Gotham to just Batman-affiliates, you miss even more.

For every person who doesn't trust Batman, there's someone who'd prefer Huntress. For every child who lives in fear but can't trust an adult, there's Robin or Batgirl. For an abused woman, there's other women out there who help: Catwoman or Black Canary or Holly Robinson. There's people who'd never trust a vigilante but want safety, they'd have Leslie Thompkins (who operates in Crime Alley) or Lucius Fox who could give them a job.

Not to mention, Batman is very obviously white. There would be some people who would rightfully mistrust white men, and would prefer figures like Orpheus or Onyx or Batwing or the Signal or Huntress (post-N52). There's the Creeper, who would be terrifying but some might prefer the monster over the man. There's Ragman, an explicitly Jewish vigilante who was literally called the Tatterdemalion of the Oppressed and trusted by the poor and homeless. There's Batwoman, Mother Panic, Spoiler, Nightwing, Red Robin, Azrael, Bluebird, the enigmatic idea of the Oracle, Anarky, Ghostmaker, Gotham Girl/Boy, Catman, Alan Scott-Green Lantern, Wildcat.

Hell, maybe someone who lives in Gotham would just straight up trust Superman or the Flash or Wonder Woman more than anyone else. Maybe they'd never once trust someone acting for a perceived view of justice and would just trust an employer like Two-Face or the Riddler or any mobster.

I'm stressing my point here: when you write anyone who lives in Gotham City, keep in mind that they don't know they live in a comic book world. Secret identities are foreign to them, they only know the base actions of each vigilante. Each person's opinion will heavily vary. Every experience colors their view of the city and vigilantes as a whole. Just, idk, widen your horizons and consider about what someone living in a place like Gotham would really think.

To that end, read the comics!!! Research actual cities!!! Take in experiences and history!!! It's all interesting and just adds so much more.

You want one comic that shows Bruce helping Gotham and the various views of Gothamites, read Gotham Knights #32, published in 2002 and titled "24/7." Read it online illegally if you have to!!

[darqx]

Some BP/HH/General asks

That mood when you want to share all the things but also want to keep it under wraps for the actual thing haha! Thanks very much anon!

As for your questions, I can't actually be specific cos there's no definitive number I have in mind for either. Basically there are a number of sectors (you can consider them their equivalent of countries - they have less than what we do though), and a number of species of demon of which I've designed about seven of. The ones I've shown before are these guys (and do you think I could find this pic again? No, I had to recreate it cos for the life of me I couldn't remember what ask I'd previously stuck it in lol):

One day when i have enough species and stuff out there I want to make a proper field guide \o/

Thank you very much for the interest! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ I would actually love to for BP, but before I jump the gun there I have to get the comic out first lol. That being said I have made mini-games before featuring the HH versions and some other characs alas they are all lost at the moment to the sands of Flash becoming obsolete 😩

Me and Gato do still collab sometimes (and send each other Xmas presents)! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I have been working on one off and on for a while actually! Hopefully I'll have some pages to post next year or so*, I've been doing a bit of thumbnailing recently :D

*that is the plan but i also don't know where people find the time to do anything with a full time job lol.

Hullo! Glad you are enjoying the snippets of BP I've got here and there :D Here is an older ref on Izm back when i first got the idea (at that time i didn't really plan to do anything with it, it was just an AU. Now it's my main project haha. Anyway the ref is a little bit out of date in that regard.)

I used to have a "field guide" which was also made quite a while ago, unfortunately the death of Flash kinda killed it. Here's a screenshot of some relevant info from it though.

That's an interesting one as it's questionable how sentient souls are after removal 🤔 In my mind its only form is the smoke light, it can "see" to some degree and MIGHT be able to talk (but in a very no one can hear them sort of way, a la i have no mouth and i must scream. So i guess it can think "aloud"). The more time passes the less sentience it has.

It could try, though it wouldn't really get anywhere if it's in Rire's collection. He might just eat it lol.

.D: Good with kids, will be fine in all aspects.

Izm: The fun dad however needs a partner that knows what they're doing to ensure the child safety during shenanigans.

Marcus and Zeke: Also would be good parents though might be more helicopter out of protectiveness/worry when first starting out.

Ren: Geek parent very good for homework help. Some Asian parent tendencies eg "ah see, i told you not to do that right? Now you see what happened."

They are similar to our known society for this! So basically, there are some good families out there (eg Zeke - who is a demon - is from a pretty average loving family), and there are some bad families out there who only care about power or having an heir or whatever.

HH Rire is a human. I differentiate between him and Demon Rire because they are two different characters...even though they are also technically the same character lol. You can consider them as alternate universe iterations of a base "Rire" concept.

I actually half jested this in an old comic lol

I am sorry to inform you that a HH webcomic doesn't actually exist 😅 I did a lot of art, animations and one shots (such as the HHJ comics) with them, but nothing actually planned or serialised or anything. Whatever's currently on my DA or here is basically what exists.

Bringing this image back cos it's relevant lol.

You spelled it correct there though! XD

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Gun kink gone wrong

❖ Character: Sanzu

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 0.9k

❖ Summary: Sanzu wanted to explore his gun kink further but it went terribly wrong.

❖ WARNINGS: sub!reader, gun kink, degradation, oral (reader giving), masturbation, sucking on a gun, major character death (getting shot)

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi!

This damned gun, you always swore it would be the end of you - not quite literally. Sanzu always carried it with him, even to your first date and that was the first time you saw his gun, or any gun to be honest. It didn’t scare you but you had respect for it, knowing how easy it is to end a life with just one small movement of a finger.

The way Sanzu handled it with so much care despite looking so casual had you feeling something inside of you and you couldn't quite place a finger on what exactly it was until he took you to an abandoned warehouse so you can shoot it if you want, on random objects, beer cans and wooden planks that were laying around. Sanzus arms were tightly wrapped around you as he helped you to hold and aim properly, breathy voice softly instructing you and you would be lying if you said it didn‘t turn you on. He felt it as well, the way your plush behind pressed against his crotch, pants growing tighter by the minute.

Once you managed to hit a beer can for the first time he took the gun from you, twirling you around just to kiss you loving in the cold air of the night, tongue asking for entrance which you granted him as your lips parted. You were lost in the kiss until you felt cold metal press against your temple and immediately pulled away „H-Haruchiyo this is not funny. Stop it“ You said terrified, scared he accidentally pulled the trigger. All he did was smirk as he removed the weapon from your skull to show it to you „The safety lock in on my love… And i know that you want this deep down“ he mused, letting the cold metal glide over your cheek as you nodded gently, still not completely sure about all this. „I will stop the second you say so“ he reassured you, hands finding their way to the back of your dress to open the zipper.

The second the fabric fell to the ground you felt the cold air hit your bare chest, a slight grin plastered onto Sanzus face when he saw that you didn’t wear a bra, hands cupping your boobs with so much care as he kissed your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. You could barely stand the attention, legs closing tightly to get some sort of relief between your legs. This didn't go unnoticed by Sanzu, a small chuckle escaping him as he got his gun out again, trailing it up your body to rest against your temple again. „Get on your knees if you want to live“ he hummed, making sure that you still wanted this but your eyes were completely dark from lust, sinking to your knees right away to be obedient. With shaking hands you opened his pants, letting him step out of them along with his underwear. Your mouth was watering from the sight in front of you, his heavy cock right in front of your mouth.

His free hand came to your jaw, pushing his fingers into your cheeks to get you to open your mouth „Now be a good little slut and show me what that mouth is good for“ he spat and you nodded, licking a long stripe over the thick vein from his base all the way to his tip, letting your tongue swipe over it to get a taste of his pre cum before wrapping your lips around him to slowly bob your head up and down his length. The nozzle of the gun got pressed against your temple with more pressure „You can do that better, love“ he warned you and you whined, letting him slip into your throat so your nose was flush against the small patch of hair, trying to give him what he wanted while your own hand came down to your core, pushing two of your own fingers into your needy hole.

He definitely didn't like that, pulling you off of his cock by your hair „so impatient, hm? Let me show you how I like it“ he said cold, pulling you up to give you a harsh kiss before shoving the gun into your mouth, gagging on the taste of it. „And now suck“ he instructed you, forcing more of the gun into your poor mouth. In a rush of adrenaline you moaned around it, enjoying the rough treatment. Sanzu didn’t notice how the safety lock slipped out from your eager movement as his finger swept over the trigger „i could end your life so easy, darling… so show me what a good girl you are or i pull the trigger for real“ he chuckled low, pushing down on it ever so slightly, a bullet flying through the back of your head.

With pure panic you looked up at your lover who was frozen from the shock, equally panicked as he watched the light leave your eyes, unable to save you as you died in his arms within a matter of seconds. The gun was tossed across the room as sobs wrecked through the abandoned place, Sanzu holding your cold body in his arms. He never meant to be this reckless, to actually pull the trigger, not understanding how this could have happened, how he could have shot his lover.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet

[bipstargirl]

Heyyyy

Could you do Billy Loomis being a dad to his and the reader's kids?

I explained that weird but you get it lol

❝Billy Loomis as dad❞

Be part of the tag list and posting schedule - TAG LIST E SCHEDULE

★ Understanding Dangerous Situations: Billy helps his children recognize potentially dangerous situations. He encourages them to trust their instincts. Perhaps learning how to use a knife, gun and even the basics of wrestling will become frequent as they get older;

★ A Protective Father: Billy is an extremely protective father when it comes to his and the reader's children. He may have a dark past, but he will do anything to ensure the safety and happiness of his family;

★ Fun Days: Billy makes a point of spending quality time with his children. They have their own special days, where they go out for bike rides, picnics in the park or family games. He values these moments and tries to make up for any lost time;

★ Serious Conversations: when his children have difficult questions or are facing problems, after all this boy in my perception was depressed, and nothing changes that in my mind, then Billy is always willing to have serious and honest conversations with them. He believes in the importance of open communication and never wants them to feel alienated or afraid to talk to him;

★ Present Father: despite his own traumas, Billy makes a point of being present in his children's lives. He takes part in parents' meetings at school, attends sporting and musical events, and is always there to support them in their passions and interests;

★ Special Father's Day: Father's Day is an important date for Billy. He doesn't expect expensive presents, but appreciates handmade cards and special family moments. He strives to be a positive role model for his children and is determined to do his best for them;

★ Supporting you: Billy is also there for you as a partner and father. He shares parental responsibilities and strives to create a loving and stable environment for his family;

★ Horror movie tradition: Billy shares his passion for horror movies with his children. They have regular movie nights at home, where they watch classics of the genre together. These evenings are an opportunity to teach his children about the world of cinema and also to create special bonds;

★ Halloween decorations: Billy's house is famous in the neighborhood for its incredible Halloween decorations. He takes this festivity seriously and, when October arrives, the whole family gets involved in decorating the house with pumpkins, ghosts and skeletons. Billy turns his garden into a real horror movie set, but in a fun and scary way;

★ Scary Board Game Nights: Billy's family also love horror-themed board game nights. They have a collection of games like "Mansions of Madness" and "Betrayal at Baldur's Gate" that they play together on special nights. These evenings provide fun and laughter, even with the spooky atmosphere.

[changbunnies]

Outlaw (18+)

♡ Pairing: Cowboy/Outlaw!Changbin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: wild west au, cowboy/outlaw au, dubcon, strangers to... something? basically just filth with a little plot thrown in

♡ Word Count: 4.9k

♡ Summary: Y/N, after being displaced from her home due to outlaws, returns a year later in the hopes to reclaim some lost belongings. But the outlaw Changbin, who has claimed her old home for himself, won't let her take her things without getting something in return.

Update! this now has a part 2 you can read here! <3

♡ Warnings: strong language, changbin is mean in a way that he disguises as 'nice' ??? very insincere and condescending :'), minor mention of someone being dead, changbin also remains nameless for a bulk of the fic because he is a stranger. that's about it for general warnings since this is mostly smut lmao but let me know if i missed something that should be here!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): dubcon!! (please read responsibily and with your own discretion for what you can handle!), petnames (sugar, darlin, sweetheart, good girl, he uses "little lady" exactly once, he also calls reader dumb once), manhandling, nipple play, biting/marking, unprotected piv, some slapping and choking, a lil dacryphilia. lmk if i missed anything!

♡ Notes: i originally wasn't going to post something again this soon but i was possesed to write this after repeatedly seeing cowboy concepts from my faves :') as usual, if you're interested you can check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams !

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Get in, grab the stuff you need, and get out before the sun starts to set- that’s all you have to do. You are in the remnants of your childhood home, nestled within the ghost town that is the place you grew up in. Abandoned over a year ago, when a band of cowboys came stirring trouble and driving out the locals with their exuberant drinking and penchant for violence. 

Your parents, the owners of what was once the town’s largest and most successful saloon, had unfortunate run-ins with the vile men on a daily basis, having to turn away regulars for their own safety and clean up the abundant mess left behind from the nightly roughhousing. 

It was with a heavy heart that your family left everything behind, with the hopes they could rebuild somewhere safer, out of the radius of all the outlaws and their gun fights. Your family hasn’t had the easiest go of things since then, having expended nearly all of their tucked away savings in the process of relocating and building a new home and business.

And now here you are, searching your hold home for anything that could help. You’d heard news of dust settling in the area as the infighting between local gangs were dying down, and thought now would be your best chance to return for things that had to be left behind. You knew there was no physical money to be found, but if you were lucky there could still be trinkets left behind that would fetch a good price. Something that maybe the cowboys wouldn’t recognize as overtly valuable, but would be to a trained eye. 

"Ya lost, sugar?" a gruff voice says from behind, making you nearly jump out of your skin. Shit- how did you not hear him approach? You quickly stand and turn around, the image of a burly man in the doorway, with dark curly hair and equally dark eyes. There was no way this man approached silently- you must have just been too absorbed in your task to pay attention to outward noise.

"Not lost," you say, voice firm now that you are past the initial surprise of being discovered. You are not nearly as alarmed as one might expect you to be; you were born and raised in the saloon, helped your parents keep it running smoothly as a barmaid once you were old enough. You handled your fair share of unruly drunks and trigger happy outlaws, learning from an early age how to get men to abide by your rules. So surely you could handle this man too.

"Sure 'bout that? This ain't the kinda place a little lady like yourself goes wanderin',” the man says, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorframe. Despite the relaxed way he does it, it's clear he doesn't intend on letting you past him. If anything, he almost challenges you to- with a look that says you can certainly try to get past me, but you won’t. 

"This is my house. At least it was, until people like you drove us out," you spit out against your better judgment. You normally know better than to instigate a fight with a lawless man, usually using a disgustingly sweet tone and batting your lashes to get them to listen to you. You should know to bite down the resentment that runs through you, even if the feeling is justified. But the way that he’s treating your home as his property makes your blood boil. "Just let me get my things, and then I'll never see you again.”

The man hums, as if considering your words, before the corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. "I don't much care about that darlin'. It belongs to me now." The minute townsfolk like you left, this town was up for grabs for anyone who wanted it, and he and his gang gladly claimed it. Whatever you left behind, every little thing no matter how small, it’s all his now- it’s as simple as that. And you can’t take from him without paying a price. 

You glare at him, eyes full of scorn. What pisses you off the most about him is that he knows it’s his fault you lost everything you held dear, and he doesn’t care- he holds it over your head, using your belongings like a bargaining chip. As if you’re a dog waiting to be fed a treat or a fish on his hook, completely at his mercy, unable to get what you want or need unless he’s kind enough to grant it to you. And you hate that it makes his eyes light up with a twisted delight, the upturned smirk making you want to slap it off his face (though he’d probably just find that amusing too.) 

‘Fucking asshole,’ you think to yourself. What do you do now? Grovel? Does he want you to get on your hands and knees, beg him with a desperate voice and teary eyes? ‘Oh please, mister cowboy sir, please give me my things back!’ As fucking if- you would never do that. The man lets out a laugh, as if he can read your mind and knows exactly what you think of him. 

But the thing is, he does know what you’re thinking, knows that you absolutely hate him right now. He's seen that expression on countless faces before- a fire burning in the eyes, red hot rage burning through your blood. But if there's anything he's good at, one thing he loves doing more than anything else, it's extinguishing the flames of pretty young things like you who think they can talk back to him. 

"If it makes you this upset, you can always take it up with the leader of my gang. He’s the one who ‘forced’ you out, not me," he says, a devilish smirk plastered on his face before he continues, "Oh, but he's 6 feet under now. Guess you're outta luck, huh? You're stuck with me darlin'. So let's figure this out together, hmm?" 

He steps out of the doorway, letting the previously open door slam closed behind him. You want to stand your ground, but unconsciously you take a step back, and then another, and another, until he has you cornered. Back pressed against the wall, his palm planted firmly on the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in. 

His other hand reaches for the bag hanging off your shoulder, full of your old personal effects. Valuable trinkets buried under old journals, black and white family photos and letters penned from distant relatives; all items that scream of sentimentality. How sweet. It's too bad he's not a nicer person; maybe then he'd let you walk away with all this useless junk that he has no need for. But what would be the fun in that? 

"I can't let you just take what's mine, we both know that wouldn't be right," he says while gripping your bag tightly in his fist, as if he gives a single fuck about what's right or wrong. All this stuff belonged to you before he and his stupid outlaw buddies effectively stole it anyways! He’s blatantly playing with you, stirring up your emotions just to revel in the reaction it grants him. "Ya gotta pay for it, sweetheart. I know you’re a good girl who knows better than that," he continues, feigning sweetness and care with his tone. 

"I don't have any money to give you," you glare, though the aggression in your eyes doesn’t match the timid way you speak. And that's the crux of why you're here- sure, you've been picking up sentimental items as you move through your old home, but you desperately need money and you came back in the hopes there'd still be something of use to you that hasn't been pilfered yet. 

"Oh, don’t you worry 'bout that. I'm not interested in money darlin'," he says as he tosses your bag to the side, no care at all for any breakables inside. His face moves an inch closer, hand reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He watches with amused delight as the cogs turn in your head, a realization that makes your eyes widen and face flush. 

"Y-You- I-" You hate yourself for stumbling over your words, and giving more entertainment to the man in front of you. You can tell he likes the way you begin to crumble, breaking down your resolve to be resolute bit by bit. His words are accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eye that you would acquaint with playfulness if you weren’t currently being trapped against a wall by an incredibly strong, intimidating man. 

"Don't worry, sugar, I'm not a monster. I won't force you," he smiles, knowing very well what he's doing. He frames it as if it's your choice- as if he can be free of blame if you give in, as if he isn't taking advantage of your desperation to get your things back. He takes a step back, freeing you from your caged position against the wall, giving you the opportunity to flee right this second if you so choose.

But he knows you won’t. Because you’re brave, or maybe just foolishly stubborn, and you refuse to leave without what you came for. The illusion of choice he’s giving you- it’s almost sickening in its cruelty. And that stupid fucking smirk on his face should make you feel disgusted, resentful, furious, but you feel none of those things- you feel… butterflies? 

Fuck. Are you attracted to him? How fucking stupid can you get? To be attracted to a man who has such little regard for other people, who looks at you like a plaything he can discard the moment he’s bored. His words might be framed sweetly, but the message underneath is clear- you are going to give him what he wants. "Well, what do ya say, sweetheart? Wanna have some fun with me?" 

You swallow, looking at him with shaky fists and red cheeks. Are you really going to do this? Give yourself up to a stranger for things that rightfully belong to you in the first place? It goes against everything you stand for, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to just leave. What would your family say if they found out how far you degraded yourself for something so objectively small? 

But fuck it. Against your better judgment, you agree to ‘have some fun’ with the frustratingly attractive outlaw in front of you. The man smirks once more before he grabs your face under the chin with a rough hand, directing your head up towards his, kissing you with a roughness you've never experienced before. 

There’s a noise of surprise that leaves you, the moment happening so fast it makes your head spin. He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to open for him, his tongue wasting no time on entering. Unconsciously you reach out for him, desperately grasping for something to hold. You're impossibly dizzy from the feeling of his tongue making circles around yours, and you need to ground yourself, doing so by tightly clutching his shirt in your hands. 

His teeth snatch your bottom lip, tugging harshly before soothing the bite with a lick, and repeating. A whimper escapes you, though you can't tell if it's from the sting in his bites or excitement welling in your gut. You've always been treated delicately by men before now- like you were made from porcelain, like even the smallest of bends could result in a break. And that's what you always thought you liked, so why..? Why is his treatment making your entire body shiver in delight?

He grins when he pulls away, satisfied with the dazed look in your eyes, the swollen red of your lips, the way your breathing has substantially quickened. He wants to ruin you even more- make you delirious with need for him. 

He reaches for the top of your dress now, pulling it down just enough to expose your chest to him. "Pretty," he says with a grin so attractive that it makes your stomach twist. What the fuck is this guy doing to you? You should be ashamed of yourself for finding any semblance of enjoyment from this. 

Rough, calloused hands waste no time groping the newly exposed skin. You suck in a breath, trying desperately not to let out any sounds that would grant him satisfaction. He tuts in disapproval, though he actually loves seeing you try so hard to keep the tough act going- it’s the fight to remain in control that makes it so fun, after all. 

He tweaks your nipples without remorse, pinching and pulling between his fingers, causing a yelp to escape you before you could even hope to stop it. His face lowers, and for a moment you think he’s going to resume the messy, wet kisses, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips meet your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he decides on a spot to bite down on. 

Over and over, his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your neck, creating a constellation of bruises in their wake. It’s a reminder, you realize- a reminder of what you chose to do with the nameless outlaw, evidence of what you allowed him to do to your body, an imprint of shame and desire that will follow you for the days to come. 

The noises that leave you are his absolute favorite- pretty sounds of pleasure mixed with pain. Your hands have moved from gripping his shirt to his arms, nails breaking the surface of his skin and a pleasant sting accompanying it. He pulls away once satisfied with his work, another pleased, devious grin on his face as he admires what he’s done to your previously unmarred skin. 

He snakes his hand under your dress next, chuckling when he feels the wetness drenching your panties. "I knew I liked you," he says, tone low but smirk ever-present. Pulling away from you, he walks to the nearby sofa and sits comfortably, raising an eyebrow when you just stare instead of following him over. "C’mon over, sugar. Don’t make me wait." 

You step over slowly, doing your best to swallow down your nerves as you reapproach him. He pulls you to his lap when you’re in his reach, not wasting any time in getting you where he wants you. He lifts the bottom of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing you to his view. He takes a moment to admire the way your panties cling to your skin before he swiftly pulls them to the side.

There’s a gasp from you that follows, not just because of the sudden exposure, but the distinct sound of tearing that fills the space. Did he seriously just rip your underwear? “Oops,” he says with absolutely no sincerity in his voice, “what a shame. They were so pretty, too.” He laughs when you mutter ‘asshole’ under your breath and glare at him, endlessly amused by the way you react to him. There’s part of him that even considers making it up to you later- once he’s done with his own fun, of course. 

He moves his hand to his pants next, undoing the button and pulling down the zipper with ease, pulling his (notably large) cock out so nonchalantly that it nearly leaves you stunned. He watches you, reveling in the way your expression changes, the annoyance you held just moments ago melting into a timid desire. 

You stare at him, shy and apprehensive, but still wanting, craving him. He makes a show out of spreading the accumulated pre-cum along his length, indulging in the way your eyes follow every move his hand makes, as if completely and utterly enraptured by him. And in a way, you are; you’ve never been so captivated by a stranger in your entire life the way you are now, intoxicated by the view of the man pumping his cock in front of you.

"Ride it,” he says when he finishes preparing himself for you, “Show me how desperate you are." His light, almost playful tone frames it as a request, but you can tell it isn’t- he’s telling you to do it. And if there’s anything you’ve learned so far, it’s that you can’t resist him, even if you wanted to; you’re under his charismatic spell, with no hope of escaping.

You take a breath, steadying yourself for what's to come before you travel further up his lap. He brings a hand to the nape of your neck, in a gesture that doesn’t at all help with your nerves. How does his hand on you suddenly feel so heavy? A trembling hand reaches for his cock, lining him up with your entrance, but you pause before you lower yourself on it, looking at him with clear apprehension in your eyes. 

He raises his brow when you initially pause, and for a moment you think he’s going to scold you for making him wait, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, expression softening ever so slightly. “You can do it, darlin’. I know you can make it fit,” he leans closer to you as he speaks, his breath fanning your ear as he draws you in by the neck to meet him halfway, “because you’re a good girl who does everything she’s told, aren’t ya?” 

Fuck. If you weren’t positively dripping before, you definitely are now. How does he keep managing to say things that make your stomach twist and a shiver run down your spine? He leans back when you finally begin to sink down on him, hands resting behind his head as he takes in the sight of your scrunched brows and flushed cheeks. 

He's so fucking thick, easily the biggest you've ever taken, but the sting is the most delicious thing you’ve ever felt. Your breathing is ragged by the time you are fully sat on him, your thighs completely flush with his. He allows you a moment of respite, letting you adjust to the feeling of being so full of him, though you aren’t entirely sure you can get used to it. You feel every ridge, every vein, every twitch- so much so, that it makes your entire body tremble. 

And if the outlaw underneath you is being honest, he’s just as equally affected. You’re squeezing him so tight, and if this were any other time he would completely forgo watching you ride him and instead pound straight up into you. But he wants to see how much more obedient you can be, how well you’ll take his orders, how well you’ll listen to him. He wants to see you lose yourself for him, become brainless in the pursuit of pleasure.  

You’re moving again before he even has to tell you to do it, whimpers and moans freely leaving your lips now, much too far gone to care anymore about keeping them held back. The man’s cool exterior cracks for just a moment, head falling back as a low groan escapes his throat. He won’t say it aloud, but you’re driving him crazy- the push and pull he had with you being the most fun he’s had in ages.

"Open your mouth," he commands when he lifts his head back up and you oblige easily, much to the stranger's satisfaction and amusement. Look at you, so full of fight when he first laid eyes on you, now reduced to a cock hungry mess. Listening to him without an ounce of hesitation, completely at his mercy- he loves it. 

He rests two of his fingers on your tongue, letting them linger there for just a moment before he pushes them down your throat. You sputter and gag around them, eyes immediately watering from the intrusion. "You can take it," he tells you when he notices the tears welling in your eyes threatening to fall, "C'mon sweetheart, take what I give you." 

Saliva drips down your chin from the corners of your mouth as he effectively chokes you on his fingers, slapping you on the thigh with his other hand when you show any sign of slowing down. You just barely register his voice praising you in your ears, tears openly falling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, forced to keep up the pace he set for you without faltering. 

He can’t help but let out a groan when he admires the view- you’re so fucking pretty when you’re crying, so breathless and ruined, all for him. He’ll give you a gift, he decides; reward you for playing your part for him so perfectly. He pulls his fingers out from your mouth, but there’s no time for you to catch your breath because he immediately brings them to your swollen clit. 

His touch is both harsh and fast, sparing you no time to allow oxygen into your lungs. A loud moan leaves you, your head falling forward and onto his chest from the combined feeling of his wet fingers on your clit and his cock reaching the deepest parts of you. "F-Fuck, please, please-" You're so close, your entire body tingling with pleasure as the knot in your stomach grows incredibly taut.

"Aww, poor thing," he coos mockingly, another slap landing on your thigh when your pace stutters, "need to cum so bad, don't you? Dumb little thing needs my help?" You nod frantically, watery eyes pleading with him. You don’t know when you became so desperate, but it’s all you can think about now. You want it, need it, more than you’ve ever needed anything. 

"Mm, beg for it," he says, the wicked grin returns in full effect and drives you completely crazy. "If you do a good job, I might help." You whine, pace once again faltering as you’re driven to the brink of release, but not quite reaching it on your own. Your thighs burn from the exertion, knees aching and body impossibly tired. 

And so, you do the one thing you said you would never do- beg for him. “P-Please, please help me, wanna cum so bad,” your voice quivers, and he grins, evidently pleased by the display of desperation. He won’t give it to you that easily, though. Because who would he be if he wasn’t at least a little mean? 

"Oh, you can do better than that, I know ya can. Try again, darlin', show me you mean it," he says, hands grabbing your hips and forcing you still now, unable to do a single thing until you tell him what he wants to hear. He smirks when you let out a frustrated cry, your hips being held firmly in place and unable to seek any sort of stimulation. “Go on, sugar. Tell me how bad you need me.” 

“Please, I’ve been so good, gave you everything you wanted, so please, please, need you so bad, please-” you’re babbling now, words leaving you shamelessly, eyes once again watering as the desperation builds overwhelmingly high. You’re clearly no longer in your right mind, because if you were you would never do this. 

The satisfaction he feels from reducing you to this is indescribable, and he’ll be sure to reward you for indulging him so sweetly. He pulls you off his lap with ease, tossing you to the side of the sofa as if you're nothing but a doll. He grabs your arm after he stands, pulling you up and subsequently bending you over the arm of the sofa as he stands behind you. 

He sinks back inside you easily, hand reaching under you and fingers playing with your clit as he pounds into you from behind. Fuck, fuck, fuck- You're vision blurs, eyes rolling back as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. His other hand holds your hip roughly, his nails digging into your skin, not slowing his pace even as you cum around him.

Your hands claw in vain at the sofa cushions, finding no purchase. Your legs quiver, eyes squeezed shut as your left with no choice to accept the overwhelming pleasure that takes over senses. Reaching his hand to your neck now, he pulls you up to him by the throat, your back now flush against his chest. Your breath hitches when he squeezes, the pressure on your neck alarmingly good. 

"Tell me your name, sugar. Who is being so good for me, hmm? Need to know," his words tickle the shell of your ear, making your brain feel impossibly muddled. It takes you a few tries to get your name out given his unrelentingly fast pace, but you manage to stammer it out for him to hear. 

Your body shudders when he repeats it in your ear, the sound of your name falling from his lips making you clench around him. “Oh, you like that, hmm?” he teases you with a short laugh, though you are too far gone to be embarrassed by it. 

“Y-Yours, want to know yours too,” you manage to say, though it’s practically a beg. For better or worse, you want to put a name to the face of the person that made a mess of you. He hums in response, and you’re not entirely sure he’ll even tell you, but he does. 

Changbin. It sounds vaguely familiar, but your brain doesn’t have the capacity to dwell on it at the moment- not with the way his cock is currently drilling into you. And in the same way that your name leaving him had an affect on you, the opposite does the same for him.

It makes him almost feral- an overwhelming desire to make you forget everything but his name, for nothing to remain in your mind but him. He loses his composure for the first time all evening, driven purely by his need to cum, with you being the sole reason for it. 

He releases his hold on your neck, letting you fall forward against the sofa. Noises no longer leave you, a pleasure so intense that all that escapes you are sharp, quick breaths. “So good, fuck, you’re so good, ‘m gonna cum-” you hear him pant out from behind you, his pace faltering for the first time as he chases his orgasm, his hold on your hips so intense it’s sure to bruise. 

You reach your high first, voice coming out in short, broken moans as your toes curl and body convulses under his hold. He pulls out at the last possible second, his cum spilling between your thighs and dripping between your legs. Your legs collapse when he lets you go, the armrest of the sofa being the only thing keeping you off the floor. You close your eyes, chest heaving as you try to regain control of your harsh breathing. 

Changbin picks you up after tucking his softening length back in his pants, adjusting your position so you are now laying on the sofa properly, back comfortably nestled against the cushions. He lets your legs rest on his lap when he sits down, a subtle grin plastered on his face while he waits for you to finally open your eyes. 

“How ya feelin’, sugar? Did ya have fun?” he asks, a smirk growing on his face to match the cocky tone in his voice. Asshole. He knows what the answer is, and he just wants to hear you admit it. “I’m not answering that,” you scoff, and he laughs, the amused glint returning to his eyes. Back to the cat and mouse, huh? That’s perfectly fine with him; he’ll play this game with you for as long as you let him. 

Changbin stands now, grabbing the bag he tossed aside earlier from off the floor and returning it to you. If you’re being honest, you’re surprised he’s keeping his word- you hoped he would, of course, but there was no guarantee. “What’s that look for, darlin’? I told you, I’m not a monster,” he says and you roll your eyes. He may not be a monster, as he puts it, but he’s definitely still an arrogant asshole. 

“I’m headin’ up for a bath, but you’re welcome to join me if ya like,” Changbin says, and once again going against your better judgment, you find yourself genuinely considering it. You should definitely leave- get your belongings back to your family, ride far away from him and never look back, and yet.. 

“I want in first,” you say as you stand, leaving your bag behind on the sofa as you walk towards where you know the bathroom to be. “Whatever ya say, darlin’,” he grins as you once again take control back in your own hands; you won’t have it for long, but if he wants the game to be fun, he needs to let the ball be in your court sometimes. 

The game of cat and mouse can’t exist without a little give and take, so for right now, he’ll give; so that when he takes, and takes, and takes, it’ll be that much more enjoyable. Watching as you strip yourself naked to enter the tub, smiling when you fight him on whether or not he should help you wash up and find you new clothes to wear, laughing when you grumble about deciding to stay for the night. Oh, he’s really looking forward to the fun he’ll have with you from now on.

if you see this then thank you for reading til the end !! <3 while i've read a lot of fics containing it, this is my first time actually writing a dubcon fic so i was a lil nervous about releasing this but i hope that wasn't too obvious and you enjoyed it fsgsfg thanks again !!

[kirain]

I've been on this site for over ten years and I've never had to do this, but sadly the time has come where I feel forced to make a call out post, if only for the safety of my blog.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.

A few days ago, I made a post responding to some anonymous hate I received regarding Gale Dekarios, a character from BG3. An account named Turtwg, who has now changed her name to Shdowheart, took issue with the content and tone of my post. Instead of simply blocking me, she attacked me and several other people in the notes, and accused me of sending the anon to myself.

I responded, arguing against her accusations and a few other remarks she made. Just typical fandom discourse. Or so I thought.

I regret it now (only because I've lost some evidence), but I deleted many of her and my messages. They were clogging up my post and veering extremely off topic, but eventually she admitted I didn't send the anon to myself. When I asked her how she knew that, she said she traced the anon to a Gale-centric account. You see, she believed the anon wasn't sent by an Astarion fan, but by a Gale fan trying to create discourse. In a normal situation, I'd say that's a fair assumption for anyone to make, but something seemed off.

First of all, despite several people telling her it's not possible to track down blogs through their anonymous messages, she insisted she found the user responsible—which honestly made me wonder if she sent the anon herself, hoping to create drama. If she did, then mission accomplished, I guess. We messaged back and forth in the notes for a while, with me commenting on both the impossibility and morality of tracking down an anonymous user. During that time, her responses to me were lightning fast. Constant. Remember that for later.

Second, she soon told me she had the anon's IP address, which she said she'd "happily send me". I told her an IP address doesn't prove anything because it can be photoshopped and a lot of people use VPNs. I also pointed out how utterly insane it is to dox/cyberstalk someone over a post about a video game. It's really not that serious. But out of sheer curiosity, I told her to give me the blog name. Not because I believed her, but because I was curious to see if she'd accuse a popular blog or someone who could defend themselves. The moment I asked, she went silent for nearly an hour. 🤔

When she came back, she gave me the name of an account called Dekariosbf. She told me to message the account, so I did, though I made no accusations against them yet. As I waited for a reply, I accused Turtwg of making the account herself, as it was barren with no activity whatsoever. No likes, no posts, nothing. She easily could've created the account during that hour of peace. Moreover, after she gave me the account name and I accused her of creating it, her responses were once again lightning fast. 🤔

As we argued, I sent my brother-in-law and a friend of mine a link to my blog and had them read through the discourse. They don't have Tumblr accounts, but they're both computer nerds and my brother-in-law literally works with computers/programs for a living. I asked them if anything Turtwg said was valid, and they (along with someone else in the notes who claimed to work in UI/UX) confirmed that no, absolutely nothing she said was valid. Tumblr pays for a service that protects their users, and the only way to trace anons is by using extremely unsavory and illegal methods ... and even then it's extremely unlikely to work.

Speaking of, my brother-in-law eventually messaged me and told me he found the actual account that sent the anon. I stupidly believed him and jumped the gun on that, because it turns out he was just being a shit disturber. That said, I used this information to call Turtwg out on her lies. In response, Dekariosbf miraculously (and in a rather timely fashion) responded to me. Unfortunately I don't have any screenshots of this interaction, but I'll explain why in a moment.

Dekariosbf was chatty and cordial at first. I asked them for their main account name, but they refused to give it, saying they only use it for poetry; which, as you can see from the screenshot, directly contradicts their bio, but I digress. I was suspicious, but also kept in mind the possibility that this might've been an innocent person Turtwg accused. For a while we shot the shit, talking back and forth about BG3, reading, teaching—but I did this for a reason. I wanted to get a feel for their writing style. Sure enough, they wrote exactly like Turtwg. Same spelling mistakes, same pattern of punctuation, same use of lower case letters instead of capital letters, same abbreviations, etc.

Finally, when I was sure it was her, I dropped the bomb. I very gently told "Dekariosbf" that someone named Turtwg accused them of sending me a hateful Gale anon, but that I didn't believe it. Low and behold, they did a complete 180.

"Yes, it was me. It was totally me. I just LOVE your blog and RESPECT you so much. I LOVE Gale and I wanted to know what you'd say if I sent that anon. It wasn't meant to be hateful. Please don't write a call out post about me. Please don't tell your followers. I mean, I understand if you do, but please don't. Turtwg messaged me and threatened to dox me and sent me a photo of my IP address. She's so smart, I don't think you should mess with her. Oh and my mom can't speak English. If we get doxxed, I think it would kill her."

Right...

I said I didn't believe them and accused them of being Turtwg on a sock account. They kept insisting they weren't, begged me to believe they sent the anon (and I mean they were desperate for me to believe it), and very strangly didn't express any anger or confusion over the situation. When I brought up the accusation, they completely changed their tone from friendly to "oh yeah, that was me". I kept saying I didn't believe them, particularly because of what my brother-in-law said, but promised not to call any attention to them. I was happy to simply let the matter rest. Suddenly, mid conversation, they deleted their entire blog. Poof. It's gone now, along with all our messages.

I thought that would be the end of it, but not even five minutes after Dekariosbf flung themselves into the void, Turtwg herself DMed me out of nowhere and accused me of trying to hack her account, presumably because I told "Dekariosbf" that my brother-in-law is computer savvy. Keep in mind that before this moment, our entire conversation took place in the notes of my post. I never DMed her, nor did I have any intention of doing so. I also had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, I just knew she was lying to me. Now it looks as though she's ramping up to lie to the Tumblr admins in order to get my account deleted.

And all because my post about a video game made her angry.

I really hate drawing attention to this. You can see in my other posts that I always censor people's usernames, but as I said at the beginning ... I don't feel like I have a choice this time. I want this up so the Tumblr admins or whoever can see it.

Turtwg has attacked other people for posting their opinions as well. For example, she attacked this person just because they expressed their opinon on wyllsterion. She went so far as to call them racist when Wyll is literally one of their favourite characters. She just got mad because they don't think Wyll and Astarion make sense together; a perfectly valid opinion. And I only know about this because I received messages warning me about interacting with Turtwg/Shdowheart from someone who recognised them in the notes of my post.

I guess I should've blocked her from the start, but I've said many times in the past that I enjoy a good debate. Plus I was genuinely curious to see how far she was willing to take her lie. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how unhinged she truly is. On her own blog, she's even admitted that she's had to make a new account seven times, likely due to other drama she started.

I was very hesitant to put this in the BG3 tags, but since that seems to be the fandom she interacts with the most, I figured it would be a fair warning to anyone else she might harass. She's particularly active in the Astarion/Wyll/Wyllsterion tags. Stay safe, everyone. I think I'll sign off for a while. I'm tired, and this has somehow become the most toxic fandom I've ever dared to be a part of.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.

[froggy-with-a-knife]

lasertag

pairing: reyna x reader

prompt: inspired by that post about your oto going lasertagging (i've seen it on my timeline at some point but i'm to lazy to look for it)

word count: ~1300

warning: not proofread, sry

A/N: i've never played lasertag so think of the game they're playing as less of a lasertag game and more of a vp training session with fake guns

"Shit"

You quickly slung the weapon over your back, barely dodging the fire coming your way as you ran for cover behind the next wall, sliding the last meters to safety on your knees.

You looked for any sign that you had been hit, but luckily came up empty. Taking your rifle, you peeked out into the open, scanning your surroundings for your opponent. Darkness enveloped the room, making it hard to see clearly. Only a faint movement of shadows on the other side gave away your enemy's position.

Taking aim, you waited for a clear shot, finger hovering over the trigger. You hit Phoenix square in the chest, bullseye. The Brit scowled, as the light on his vest turned red and bells rang out, signaling his 'death'. You couldn't surpress the satisfied smile as your friend stomped away in anger, muttering under his breath.

You took cover again, finger moving to your earpiece.

"KJ, how does it look on your end?", you asked, aware that with Phoenix out of the game, there was only one enemy player left.

But having a two versus one advantage meant nothing when the one you were up against was Reyna.

"I lost sight of her, but she was somewhere around-"

The comms cut off suddenly and you sighed when the death chime sounded once more. At least you had a vague idea where Killjoy had been before she was eliminated. That should help you track down the Mexican.

With everything on the line, you kept your weapon ready, not daring to sling it over your back for more mobility. You knew Reyna's combat style well. She was quick, merciless, and precise. Your only hope was to find her first and take her by surprise.

As silently as you could, you walked through the maze of the lasertag arena, retracing the route that KJ had taken, your eyes peeled for any movement in the shadows, ears listening for any sound that could give your opposition away.

However, the thing with Reyna was, she was not only quick and accurate but could also be silent if she wanted to be. You didnt even realize she was approaching, until you felt the barrel of her weapon press into your back, freezing you in place.

"Hello, darling", she whispered smugly into your ear followed by a throaty chuckle that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your grip on your gun slackened until it hang loosely at your side. She already had you at gunpoint, the game was over.

"Reyna", you acknowledged quietly, heart beating out of your chest. Slowly, you turned around to face her, hands raised in surrender. The end of her gun came to rest on the marker on your chest. All, she would have to do was pull the trigger.

Her magenta eyes were glowing, making you wonder, like so many times before, whether she could actually see in the dark. Kind of like a cat or an owl. It wouldnt surprise you. Pretty much everything about her has been adapted for battle, why not her sight?

Even in the dim light of the arena you could see her raise an eyebrow at your quick surrender.

"Giving up so easily? You could at least attempt to fight me."

You offered her as genuine a smile as you could manage, given the disappointment of your imminent defeat.

"I know when I'm beaten. Im just glad it's you and not Phoenix. I couldn't take all the gloating."

"Oh, I plan to gloat alright, dont you worry", Reyna informed you, pursing her lips in thought, "But I dont think I'll let you off so quickly."

You frowned as she pressed the barrel more firmly to your chest with an almost predatory smile, prompting you to take a couple of steps backwards.

"What, why-"

Reyna shushed you, clicking her tongue in disapproval, eyes flashing with mischief.

"No questions. Just do what I say."

Hard to argue with that when you are at gunpoint. Besides, you were, admittedly, curious about what she had planned. Slowly she forced you backwards into a secluded corner, hidden from prying eyes by tall walls. She nodded to your gun next.

"Put that away. I dont want you to try anything."

Slowly but purposefully you took your gun and put it on the floor, sending it skitting to the other side with a firm and well-placed kick. Reyna's stance relaxed slightly, weapon lowering for the first time. It's not like she needed it now. You posed no threat at all, unarmed and backed into a corner as you were.

Weirdly enough the absence of the gun barrel made you more nervous. Without something separating you, the closeness of the other woman became all too apparent to you. There was no denying the attraction you felt for her under normal circumstances. But while you were usually able to ignore the butterflies in your stomach or the way your pulse quickened, there was no dismissing them this time, nothing to distract yourself with, nowhere to escape.

You swallowed agains the lump in your throat, failing to keep your eyes from staring at her lips as she came even closer, caging you in by placing her hands on the wall behind your head.

"What now?" , you asked, sounding almost out of breath. You forced your eyes to meet hers and she smirked, leaning close.

"Now, I think I deserve a reward for winning, don't I?"

Obviously, you agreed. You eagerly met her halfway, lips crashing together with raw passion, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Reyna pushed against you until your bodies were pressed flushed against one another, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud. Her hands were in your hair in an instant, making you let out a moan that you'd be embarassed about later. You move your hands to rest on her hips, needing an anchoring point.

Reyna dominated the kiss and you had absolutely no objections to that. After the first frantic moments had passed, she angled your head in a way that allowed her to ease you into a slower, surprisingly tender kiss. One of her hands moved to cup your face, thumb caressing your cheek in a gesture that made your heart skip a beat.

Once the need for air became impossible to ignore, she pulled away, resting her forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed, breath mingling with hers as you tried to savour the moment, lips tingling pleasantly.

Reyna used your distractedness and turned her attention to your neck, lips tracing a path all the way down to your pulse point. Your grip on her hips tightened, pulling her body even more into yours. You could feel the way her lips pulled into a smirk, satisfied with your reaction.

"I hate to cut this short, cariño", she murmured in between kisses, pulling away from your neck, much to your chagrin. If possible, her eyes were shining even more brightly than before, and even the tattos on her arms were shimmering magenta. She looked mesmerising and the sight of her was a little too distracting, you almost missed her next words completely.

"But sadly, the other's are waiting."

Her gun fired and the bell signaled your defeat to your teammates waiting outside, but you were still too lightheaded from the makeout session to care. Seeing, the state you were in, Reyna smiled more softly, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before detantljng herself from you.

"We can continue this later, if you like", she offered picking up your gun and holding it out to you. You take it slowly, clearing your throat.

"I would- I'd like that a lot."

"Good", she grinned, matching the one on your face, "Now come, it's time to gloat."

[ninjakk]

WWX uses both male and female flirting styles on LWJ

WWX had such a major (subconscious) crush on LWJ from the very beginning, that he literally flirted any way he could. He comes at him from all angels! He flirts both 'like a boy' and 'like a girl' - because he likes him THAT much. WWX teases and pulls his metaphorical pigtails (forehead ribbon!) AND talks sweetly to him, giving him gifts. Quite simply, if WWX doesn't get LWJs attention one way, he'll try to get it another way!

If you look at the way WWX flirts with LWJ, he very much takes on the persona of a silly school girl with a crush. He flatters him, he lets him know how good looking he is, he's just very sweet about it all. Wanting nothing more than LWJs attention and his gaze upon him. He mimics what he's seen girls doing when they flirt with boys.

WWX wants LWJs attention so badly, he just goes for it, all guns blazing! In fact, in most instances WWX uses the cute, sweet 'girly style' of flirting first and then when he is ignored or seemingly rebuffed, he uses the more indirect 'boyish style' of teasing and being playful to get LWJs attention instead.

Chapter 15

Lan WangJi originally thought that it was going to be a mess of lame phrases again, but after a coincidental glimpse, he was surprised to find the drawing of a person, sitting upright and reading by the window, with a vividly realistic expression on his face. It was himself. Seeing that he didn’t avert his gaze at once, Wei WuXian curled his lips, and raised his eyebrow with a wink. No words were needed, since the meaning was plain to see — Does it look like you? Is it good?

As I've mentioned in other posts, this is an incredibly sweet thing to do. The portrait shows LWJ how WWX thinks of him, but through the safety net of it being 'just a drawing'. As it's a 'vividly realistic' drawing, so we can safely assume he looks very beautiful. This could also be considered a very effeminate way of flirting. It's another way of complementing him, showing LWJ how attractive he thinks he is. Interestingly enough, LWJ doesn't scrunch the drawing up, like he had with all of the other pieces of paper.

“I forgot. I need to add something else.” After his words, he picked up the paper and his brush, and added a few strokes. He glanced at the drawing, then, the actual person, and fell toward the ground in laughter. Lan WangJi put down the book, and saw that Wei WuXian added a flower onto the drawing, where the side of his head was. The corners of his lip seemed to have twitched. Wei WuXian crawled up and spoke before him, “‘Pathetic’, right? I just know that you’re gonna say pathetic. Can’t you switch to something else? Or add another word to it?” Lan WangJi replied coldly, “Extremely pathetic.”

Because he didn't get the reaction he wanted, he resorted to the more 'boyish' teasing by drawing the flower on the portrait. Yes, he used LWJ's momentary distraction from the teasing to switch LWJ's book with the pornographic book instead. But this is just WWX teasing him even further, trying to provoke a reaction. He still drew the portrait with a lot of care and effort. WWX even blows on the ink to make sure it doesn't smudge, which is rather telling. It shows us he's proud of it and wants it to be perfect for LWJ. It truly was intended as a gift for him, otherwise he wouldn't have put effort into it. If he'd simply wanted to attract his attention, he could have done this another way.

Lan WangJi tried again and again to put up with him, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He thundered, “Get lost!” Wei WuXian spoke, “Well, well, look at you, Lan Zhan. Everyone says that you’re a gentleman of excellence, a bright pearl in the world, carrying yourself with incomparable courtesy, so it seems that this is all there is. Didn’t you know that causing noise is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses? And, you actually told me to “get lost.” Is this the first time that you used this phrase on somebody…” Lan WangJi drew his sword and went at him. Wei WuXian hurriedly hopped onto the windowsill, “Get lost it is, then. Getting lost is my best skill. It’s not necessary for you to see me out!”

WWX finally gets LWJ angry and he is positively delighted! We later find out that WWX seems to get a bit of a sexual kick out of LWJ showing such strong emotions. He finally admits to a drunk LWJ that he 'loves it when he gets angry' before they have a passionate fumble! Granted, he might not fully feel that way in the above scene, but on a subconscious level he clearly gets something out of it - as we can see from the below.

Satisfaction was plastered all over Wei WuXian’s face, “Good thing that I helped him achieve this ‘first’. You all saw it, didn’t you? The self-restraint and etiquette that Second Young Master Lan was praised so strongly for were all weak and useless against me.”

In the next scene, WWX has just charmed a woman selling loquats into giving him one for free. He's showing off in front of LWJ and in turn showing him how attractive he is to others. It's a way of reminding someone that you are desirable, that you are a catch. It's also another feminine way to attract the attention of the object of your desire - by making them see how they might have competition if they don't act soon.

Chapter 17

Wei WuXian smugly tossed the loquat in his hand, and suddenly pointed at him, “Sisters, do you think that he looks handsome?” Lan WangJi didn’t expect Wei WuXian to suddenly talk about him at all. Just as he was unsure of how to respond, the women on the river spoke in harmony, “Even more handsome!” Amid this, there seemed to be the laughter of a few men. Wei WuXian spoke, “Then, does anyone want to give him one? If you only give me and not him, I’m afraid he might be jealous when we go back!” Chirp-like laughter echoed through the whole river. Another woman came from in front of them, standing on her boat, “Okay, okay, you get two. Heads up, young beau, catch!” After the second one also landed in his hand, Wei WuXian shouted, “Sister, you’re not only pretty, but you’re nice as well. The next time I come here, I’m gonna buy a whole basket!” The woman’s voice was vibrant, and she was more daring than the other. She pointed at Lan WangJi, “Get him to come as well. You all can come here and get them!” Wei WuXian held the loquat in front of Lan WangJi’s eyes. Lan WangJi didn’t move his gaze, “Move.” And, so, Wei WuXian moved it away, “I knew that you definitely wouldn’t accept it, so I never intended to give it to you. Jiang Cheng, catch!”

In the above, WWX draws attention to how handsome LWJ is. This is another indirect way of telling LWJ he thinks he's very good looking. It's a tactic usually attributed to females when they flirt. WWX then goes on to gift him the loquat, which is another flirting tactic he learnt from girls. We see more of this during the Lotus Seed Pod extra. LWJ rejects his gift, so WWX reverts to the 'boyish' teasing style, stating he wasn't going to give him it anyway. He then goes on to tease him further, for good measure.

“Lan Zhan, you’re from Gusu, so you know how to speak in this dialect, right? Teach me. How do you swear in the Gusu dialect?” Lan WangJi threw a “pathetic” at him, and got on another boat. Wei WuXian didn’t expect him to really answer. He just wanted to tease him, after hearing the amusingly soft Gusu dialect and thinking that Lan WangJi undoubtedly also spoke this dialect when he was young.

The next scene is when they are at the cold spring. WWX has snuck up on LWJ while he is mediating in the spring. We don't know how long he's been there, but we won't go into that now.

Chapter 18

Wei WuXian spoke sincerely, “Lan Zhan, I admire you so much. You really did punish yourself as well, without treating yourself any better. I don’t have anything else to say.” Lan WangJi shut his eyes again, without any words. Wei WuXian spoke again, “Really, I’ve never seen someone as prim and proper as you. It’d be impossible for me to do something like this. You’re so cool."

Although being incredibly sincere with his compliments, this is also a form of flirting that 'girls' primarily use. It's stroking his ego, aiming to make him feel good about himself. WWX even goes on to admit he was complimenting him, so they can become 'friends'. Which I'm sure is what he wants, but subconsciously he wants more than that. He never seems to treat any of his other friends like this. It's all adorably sweet and actually rather innocent.

Have you been to Yunmeng? Yunmeng is really fun. Yunmeng’s food is also good. I don’t know if it’s Gusu’s or the Cloud Recess’s problem, but the food in your sect are so bad. If you come to Lotus Pier, you can eat lots of delicious food. I can take you to pick lotus seed pods and water chestnuts. Lan Zhan, do you wanna come?” Lan WangJi, “No.” Wei WuXian, “Don’t answer everything with negative words. You sound so uncaring; girls won’t like it. Let me tell you—the girls in Yunmeng look very pretty, different from the sort of pretty in Gusu.” He winked his left eye at Lan WangJi in a proud way, “You sure you don’t wanna come?” Lan WangJi hesitated, but still replied, “No…”

So WWX invites him to stay with him, which is one of the cutest things! He wants to show him where he's from and take him on a date to have some fun. Unfortunately LWJ rejects his invitation, so WWX is slightly hurt. As such, he projects his displeasure at LWJ constantly refusing his advances, on fictional girls who would be upset with the rejection instead. Deflecting his true feelings about LWJ and protecting himself from the rejection in the process.

WWX bragging about the girls where he is from and using it as a way to 'tempt' LWJ to come visit him, is actually another flirting tactic usually attributed to females. This is often used by women to see how the object of their affection reacts to the thought of other potential love interests. Subconsciously he's testing LWJ to see if he's interested in anyone else. You could even say he's testing how he reacts to the thought of women in general - again, on a subconscious level. My favourite part of this is when poor sweet teenage LWJ hesitates before responding after WWX mentions girls.

Wei WuXian, “Rejecting me without giving me any respect—aren’t you scared that I’d conveniently take away your clothes when I leave?” Lan WangJi, “Get lost!!!"

Again, WWX reverts back to his boyish teasing and cheekily insinuates he's going to leave LWJ there completely naked. Which is also another way to draw attention back to the fact they're both naked.

The next time they meet, after WWX is kicked out of the Cloud Recesses, is at the archery competition a year later. I have already extensively covered this scene in another post, so I won't go into it too much. But you can find the post here if you would like to read it.

Although, this interaction is quite interesting as WWX does not use his usual 'girly' softer flirting style first. This is because LWJ ignores him immediately and tries to leave before WWX can do anything further. As I have said in my analysis of this scene, he is very rejected by this and teases him instead. He makes LWJ brush up against him as he passes through an archway and teases him even further.

*But I have to say - because I've seen a rather negative comment about WWX acting this way.. LWJ CHOSE to brush up against him as well! If he was uncomfortable with doing so, he would have either turned to the side and edged through, without touching WWX, OR he would have asked him to move again. Anyway...

Not long after, WWX even pulls his forehead ribbon like a boy trying desperately to get the attention of a girl who keeps ignoring him. But, he doesn't seem to get any genuine laughter or joy out of it - because he feels rejected. It's the first time we don't see the bubbly, cheerful WWX and it's quite a poignant scene. I personally think that LWJ was acting colder than usual because he was jealous of WWX giving WN some very innocent attention just prior to this. I've also covered this in a post recently as well. Poor jealous LWJ - he's just adorable. I also think this interaction sets up the tone for their next encounter a year later at the Wen Indoctrination.

Their interactions during the indoctrination and the Xuanwu of Slaughter chapters are a little different to their usual interactions because of so many different factors. There are quite a lot of complex emotions and dramatic events happening during these chapters, so I'll leave this for a separate post I'm currently working on.

So, the next time the reader gets to see WWX flirt with LWJ is at Phoenix Mountain, sometime after the Sunshot Campaign has ended.

Chapter 69

However, Lan WangJi suddenly raised his hand, stopping a flower tossed over from behind him. He looked back. Over at the side of the YunmengJiang Sect’s riding formation, which hadn’t departed yet, Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue impatiently, seated at the front. However, the person beside him sat on a horse with black, gleaming hair. His elbow was at the head of the horse as he looked to the side as though nothing happened, talking and laughing with two slender-bodied maidens.Lan XiChen saw that Lan WangJi had drawn the reins and ceased to move forward, “WangJi, what happened?” Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying.” Wei WuXian finally turned around, face full of surprise, “What? HanGuang-Jun, did you call me? What’s up?” Holding the flower, Lan WangJi seemed to be quite cold. His tone seemed cold as well, “Was it you?” Wei WuXian immediately denied it, “No, it wasn’t.” The maidens beside him spoke at once, “Don’t believe him. It was him!” Wei WuXian, “How could you treat a good person like this?I’m getting angry!” Giggling, the maidens pulled their reins and went to the formations of their own sects. Lan WangJi lowered the hand that he held the flower with and shook his head.

WWX has reverted back to the more feminine form of flirting. He's taking cues from the girls around him and decides to act impulsively upon his desire to show LWJ how good looking he is. It's also a way to draw LWJ's attention towards him, to get him to look at him - as he so often craves. He's chatting with two girls and is also drawing attention to this as well. As I have mentioned before, this is a subconscious flirting technique usually attributed to females. It's a way to show you are a catch and that the object of your affection should hurry up and act fast if they like you - otherwise you might be snapped up by someone else. I guess this flirting technique (along with the forehead ribbon teasing in a moment) worked quite well as it seemed to rile LWJ up enough to pin him down and steal a blindfolded kiss later on!

When the YunmengJiang Sect’s riding formation reached the target arena as well, Wei WuXian turned to the Two Jades of Lan, who were drawing their bows on their horses, “Lan Zhan, want to help me?” Lan WangJi glanced at him. He didn’t reply. JiangCheng asked, “What are you up to this time?” Lan WangJi, “What?” Wei WuXian, “Can I borrow your forehead ribbon?” Hearing this, Lan WangJi immediately tore his gaze away and didn’t look at him anymore.

Again, WWX didn't get the reaction he was possibly hoping for when he threw the flower. So he reverts to the 'boyish' style of teases LWJ once more. WWX knows LWJ won't give him his forehead ribbon, but he asks anyway. It's not only to get a reaction out of him, but to draw LWJ's attention once again back on him. Especially as WWX is about to show off, just as JZX did moments ago. And just as JZX wanted JYL's attention when he was aiming at the target, WWX wants LWJ's.

Of course, there is also the time in Yunmeng with the ghost girls and the Yiling date / Burial Mounds visit as well. And we can't forget the Lotus Seed Pod extra! But I think these deserve a separate post as there is a lot going on in all of them! So I'll save them for another time.

The most beautiful thing about all of this is that during WWXs second life, he also gets a second chance of flirting with LWJ. He seems to finally accept himself and slowly becomes comfortable with who he really is. He's not trying to mimic what the girls do or the more boyish style of flirting that he learnt from a young age. He's just flirting his own way, yes he still teases but it's mixed with his more effeminate side he's starting to truly embrace. It's a lovely journey that he takes, so I'm going to be analysing his flirting in his second life in another post because it's quite interesting as well!

[thelukesalvez]

Mass Shootings in Lewiston, ME

Hi all, I just wanted to pop on & say a few things about the recent tragedies unfolding in Maine. This post was not made with the intent of polarization. But as many of you know, I'm a writer. And as I remain locked down, helpless while businesses and schools close, helicopters fly over my apartment and cop cars surround my community, writing this felt like the only reasonable outlet for me. Normally, I would keep something like this private. But coming together right now felt important, and this blog has historically been a place where I have been able to receive some engagement. I realize that this is not my usual content, but I write this with hopes that it will reach at least a few of you grappling with the same grief and loss that I feel and elicit some sort of connection in such dark times.

*Trigger warning for mentions of gun violence, mass shootings, and death*

I've lived in Maine my entire life. This state, it's people, & everything associated with it has been my home & heart for nearly 27 years. The entire state has a population of 1.3 million people. That's 1.4 less than the city of Chicago, 2.5 million less than Los Angeles, and 7.2 million less than New York City. Lewiston is the second largest city in Maine with a population of 35,000 people. For some perspective, Gillette stadium in Foxborough, MA can hold nearly 66,000 people, and SoFi stadium in Los Angeles can hold about 70,000.

My point with all the statistics is that Maine is small. Our communities are tight knit, and I truly mean it when I say that everybody knows everybody.

And last night, a man walked into Schemengees Bar and Grille and the Just-In-Time Recreation bowling alley in Lewiston, Maine and opened fire with an automatic rifle, killing 18 people and injuring 13 others. The impact of this tragedy will extend across the state- and probably all of New England.

And as the manhunt for the mass shooting suspect unfolds around me, I have many emotions flowing through my body. I am terrified, I am angry, I am grieving. I am frustrated, confused, and sad. I am disgusted, I am stressed, I am worried. But mostly, I am heartbroken; heartbroken for the community I love. Heartbroken for the victims and lives that were lost last night. Heartbroken for humanity.

I have been absolutely appalled to watch the act of violence committed in Lewiston last night unfold in front of me for the last 24 hours. I grew up in Turner, a small town neighboring Lewiston/Auburn and have many friends and family members still living in the area. I struggle stating this because my intent is not to make this tragedy about me. Because it is certainly not. But I'm writing this from my perspective as someone who was indirectly impacted, and I feel like it's important to remind everyone that gun violence and hate does not discriminate.

For the entire year of 2022, Maine had 29 reported homicides. It is statistically one of the (if not the) safest states in the country (to the point where I don't even lock my door most nights). Maine has always had this aura of innocence. Despite the state of the world and the way gun violence has been steadily increasing for my entire life, I have always found some solace and comfort in the fact that I live in Maine. Because despite the sorrow and grief I felt when I learned of Sandy Hook, Route 91, Virginia Tech, Pulse night club, Uvalde, Sutherland Springs, El Paso (you get the point), I could move forward and live my life. Because as awful as those shootings were, things like that didn't happen in Maine.

Until, of course, they do.

In a single evening, in a span of 24 hours, one man has completely ripped away that layer of safety from me and everyone else I know and love. Because a mass shooting did happen here. And it can happen anywhere.

I could write about how it's easier to buy a gun than Sudafed in Maine. I could write about how I feel about politicians who support the NRA with corrupt intentions despite how many lives have been lost to gun violence in America. I could also write about how Maine has high gun ownership, but extremely low firearm death rates, which makes me wonder if maybe our focus to blame is a bit off. I could write about how no matter what the crime rates in a state are, no one should have access to an AR.

But the truth is, I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending like these are new conversations. I'm tired of having the same debates every time this happens. Liberals vs. Conservatives, Republicans vs. Democrats, the second amendment vs. gun control. I'm tired of conversations about the mental health crisis- about politicians blaming gun violence on symptoms of mental health but then proceeding to vote against policies that would increase access and funding to mental health programing. I'm tired, tired, tired.

And 18 people are dead.

18 people whose lives mattered and deserved to be lived.

18 people who were parents and siblings and children.

18 people who were friends and coworkers.

18 people who were human beings.

And in addition to those 18 lives lost, there are even more injured. Some physically- even more emotionally. A little girl grazed by a bullet was brave enough to go on national TV and ask why? Why do people do this?

Why, indeed? In times of tragedy, our brains crave answers. Why did this happen? Who let this happen? Were there warning signs? The answer is almost always yes. And in this case, based on current reports, it sounds like in addition to active mental health symptoms, direct threats had been made by the suspect in the past about intent to harm. That makes it easy to point fingers. How did his family miss this? Why didn't mental health professionals act? Why was he released from the hospital if he was thought to be dangerous?

But the tragic truth is that this is so much deeper than those questions pose. And as much as our brains and hearts crave answers, playing the blame game will do nothing for us.

Stricter gun laws and removing access to AR-15s is a good start that I fully support. So go ahead and sign the petitions, write to your representatives. I certainly have, and will continue to do so. But don't be surprised if that only places a band-aid over the gaping, hemorrhaging wound that is humanity in America right now.

The truth is, I don't know what the answers are. Is it eliminating access to AR-15s? Monitoring who can buy and own weapons based on stricter background checks? Is it increasing access to mental health services? Increasing incentives for people to become mental health providers? Is this all just the unfolding, unstoppable result of human suffering and toxic stress in America?

What I do know is that my community, my home, has experienced the nation's tenth worst mass shooting in modern history. Lewiston, Maine and the lives lost last night are more than just another tragic story of gun violence in America. It's more than the 565th mass shooting in America this year, to be followed by a 566th and 567th. It's more than just a statistic. Right now the news is buzzing. People are talking, stories are being shared. But a few weeks from now, that will inevitably die down.

Lives will go on, because it didn't happen to you. It will never happen to you.

Until, of course, it does.

So please take care of yourselves, take care of your loved ones, take care of your friends and neighbors and acquaintances. And most importantly, have empathy and compassion for all.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

It would be so cool if you could do a Casper and Charlie zombie apocalypse au :] I hope your doing well and your posts make my day

BLUSHING I MAKE YOUR DAY⁉️

Zombie apocalypse Au

Casper and Charlie:

Casper and Charlie were at Casper's house when news spread about the zombies. So their main base of operation is Casper's house.

To be nice Charlie's parents were evacuated somewhere safe but they just don't know where bc everyone was separated for safety measures.

Charlie is the one who scouts ahead for things they need since as he said before "quiet as a mouse." So he mostly get supplies.

Casper is the defender when both have to go outside together. They know how to use a blade and a gun. Pretty sure chalice can use a gun too!

If they do end up finding people Casper is the one to interrogate them. Both of they survived so long bc of Casper's interrogating. And with Charlie checking them out to see what the people have.

You can think either other listeners and their boys are found by them or not (idk it's hot and my brain is FRIED.)

Charlie did try and compact Auron to see if he's okay but the call didn't go through Casper tried as well contacting friends and family but most calls didn't go through bc of the lines being torn down by holds of zombies.

All Casper could think about is the global announcement of telling everyone to stay inside and not go out. That was a month ago, where everyone stayed inside till some did bot giving a fuck about the global warning. This caused zombies to spring everywhere, so Casper and Charlie locked the house up and kept the lights off to preserve power incase they needed it.

First it was quiet that week some people leaving to visit realities or cities till the screams started. People breaking in because of the police not responding to calls about break ins. But the noises of the zombies tearing into people's flesh, that kept most people inside. Out of sight so they weren't targeted.

But after a month food was running low in the house. Charlie was skipping meals and Casper didn't want him to feel like he was taking too much. And here they were dressed in gear incase they were attacked and armed. Casper had their gun with them also their switchblade, Charlie got a spiked baseball bat.

They walked slowly and quietly down the block. Not using the car because it made too much noise. But Casper lived near a grocery store anyways, om the way there though. It was horrid, dead people om the floor, blood, and some fires. Casper had to keep Charlie by their side as he got distracted by all the chaos that was around them.

After seeing all of that Casper was doubtful if there was any supplies or food in the grocery store. There was but not a lot, as they were going down isles one by one, Casper heard something. Then they were grabbed harshly by a decaying hand, with a curse they stabbed the zombies head ad Charlie hit it's body to help.

When it was confirmed dead Charlie held onto Casper desperately. This pushed Casper to get stronger and Charlie to get smarter. That was a month ago. Crazy how time flies when no one is alive anymore to chat with you.

Unless you do meet other groups but they try and kill you for supplies. Casper still feels the tingle of blood on their hands. The guilt crawling up their back for protecting Charlie from someone who tried to kill him. The people they've killed added up as more time went by.

But they didn't talk about it. They needed to survive. To protect eachother so their sanity wouldn't be lost. Charlie was getting skittish, food from the grocery was going. The other stores were too broken or infested to go in.

They need to move "Charlie." The blond snapped his head to them "Y-yeah?" Casper held his face gently "We need to move. Somewhere where we can grow food or can be supplied easier." He nodded. But Casper can see the worry I'm his eyes.

"Where would we go? We don't really know if there shelters somewhere or..." Casper nodded then looked out the window to the car. "How about...we drive in one direction for as long as we can? Then walk the rest of the way?" Charlie nodded. It maybe not be a good idea. But it was the only one that seemed reasonable. They needed to get somewhere they can plant food.

Packing everything was silent, both go use to being quiet for patrols or scouting. Casper had to keep their head high for Charlie. He took the upbringing of the zombies harder than they did. Casper wish that they can stop this all, to give him a peace of mind. But for now, they'll protect him no matter what.

[ladyluscinia]

and okay okay okay i know you said you're done, i KNOW. but i've been discussing this with my friend and your post about how to rethink the kraken era and i think you could probably still do the leg with that if you made it, weirdly, more historically accurate? like. as far as we're aware, the real life israel hands was shot by accident when blackbeard meant to shoot someone else. that's why when he asked "why the fuck did you just do that" he got the nonanswer of "if i didn't they'd forget who i am"--because teach didn't actually have a reason to shoot hands, it was a mistake. you could absolutely keep izzy losing the leg as ed's darkest moment in a friendly fire situation--up until then he's targeting other people and is mostly mopey and neglectful and just not really a fun boss to the crew without being outright abusive, and then izzy gets shot by accident while ed is wildly ignoring gun safety and waving a pistol around on deck or something and ed. or izzy says "we shouldn't attack this ship, that's a terrible idea" and loses the leg during the attack, thus making it more indirectly ed's fault while still kind of being enough of ed's fault to make the plot go forward. either of those would be much more compatible with a "sorryboutyourleg" apology if you kept that or with izzy just brushing it off and moving on because he's knd of fucked up like that, because he could very easily compartmentalize that as not ed's fault. you could even get some interesting plot out of "izzy insisting it's not ed's fault and ed wanting to take that and just leave it be and also not being totally willing to do that because he does still recognize that it is in fact his fault"

(Post being referenced)

Yeah, an accident was one of the scenarios I was thinking could work if you really wanted to keep Izzy losing his leg in the story without having to deal with the fallout of it as something that Edward chose to do. Which has positives and negatives. It is easier and in-character for them to brush it into the past, as you point out, which might reduce the impact of it in the Edward-Izzy relationship. But the Crew-Izzy relationship using his leg as a point for them to all gather around and support was pretty well liked as an arc. Good addition of disabled rep, or bad look majorly disabling the S1 antagonist with "karmic" bad luck in what's still a romcom to everyone else? Things to consider.

Alternatively, Izzy lost his toe in S1 because that was Edward's response to getting pulled out of his hardcore denial/depression phase of Stede-grief. It sorta seemed like shooting Izzy's leg in S2 was an echo of that - what with it being prompted by Izzy confessing his love AND bringing up Stede again - but with everything else going on it didn't really hit like a true snap so much as an inevitability where Edward was waiting for an excuse. I do wonder if, in reframing Kraken Era a step to the left (no crew abuse / active pursuit of dying by mutiny) but still fundamentally as another form of avoidance via 100% focus on externalizing his pain without addressing it, that action as part of an actual "pressure has been building and finally snapped" point could still work?

It would probably need to be a real fight between them - something built up to where Izzy decides they need to yank down the curtains and address that thing they aren't talking about and damn the consequences, because the situation has become untenable for some reason. Maybe it is Edward spiraling into suicidality for real? Idk. I haven't actually figured it out, but I do think you could potentially go that way and have Izzy lose his leg due to a completely in-the-moment action that spurs whatever rock bottom moment Edward goes through in a way that doesn't feel like a premeditated strike or part of a pattern of abuse that we need to worry about repeating in less fraught circumstances. It would probably depend on how exactly Edward's mindset was framed, and there would be pitfalls to watch out for re: POC and abuse (and just sympathetic romance protagonists and abuse). Like my first instinct would be that Edward should probably pull the trigger for a reason that makes sense with something he's trying to do (even if that goal is clearly a mental health spiral like killing himself), not just to hurt Izzy. Again, things to consider both at a character level - how is this reflecting on Edward's characterization / arc? - and on a broader story level - what will this take to resolve and will it be worth the genre shift required?

I really just can't say for sure, other than, like, general writing advice, don't include limb loss as a character beat unless you have worked through the big implications of that with all characters involved? 🤷‍♀️ Which I do not think the S2 that we were given did.

And I guess dealer's choice for fix-it fics?

[imeunseoksbby]

CHAPTER 3

E u n s e o k x r e a d e r

She wore what she was wearing earlier,they quietly got out and Eunseok lead y/n to the bathroom. He took 2 guns and put them in his pockets,then he took a knife from the bathtub

Eunseok:Okay let's go to the- wait never mind

They got out of the house and went to the garage,they unlocked it and Eunseok saw the motorbike Nelly was talking about. He shot both mirrors and disabled them

Y/N:(whispering) why'd you do that?

Eunseok:Ssh,hop in first

Y/N got on the motorbike and Eunseok was behind her,his hands were on the bike's ears while he tied himself with y/n.He started driving the motorbike and it was so windy

Y/N:Where are we going?

Eunseok:To some airbnb,baby imma need you to come behind me for safety

Y/N:But you tied us up together

Eunseok:Hold on

Eunseok stopped the motorbike and quickly untied him and y/n with a knife,so he got front while y/n got back.He began driving and y/n held him tightly,finally they arrived to the airbnb and got their room

Y/N:So they know you were there?

Eunseok:Yeah but we're safe here though

Y/N:Okay but...won't they track us down?

Eunseok:There's a reason why I broke the mirrors of the motorbike

Y/N:Oh okay,but I'm concerned for your life

Eunseok:Don't be,I'm used to it

Y/N:Something could happen to you while you on your mission

Eunseok got close to y/n and cupped her cheeks and kissed her lips

Eunseok:Don't worry I'll be okay

Y/N smiled and so did Eunseok,then they both hugged each other

Eunseok:Let's get sleeping I'm tired

Y/N:Okay

Y/N pulled down the upper part of her dress because it was also hot,meanwhile Eunseok was left with his boxers and his shirt

MEANWHILE AT THE WAREHOUSE

Heeseung:Looks like we've lost them

Jake:Ah shoot,we're dead

Sunghoon:No,they're going to a restaurant tomorrow so we can shoot our shot

Jake:How do you even know?

Sunghoon:One of them used to be my friend..he told me they wanna fight with us face to face

Jay:Don't we need more people?

Heeseung:Well lemme call boss then

THE CALL:K AND HEESEUNG

Heeseung:Sup boss K:Hey,I see you guys lost track of them Heeseung:Yeah but Sunghoon says those two are going to a restaurant K:Oh really?Which restaurant is it? Heeseung:We're not sure K:I think you'll need to follow that girl's insta,she posts alot K:I'll send Yoshi,Nicholas and Jimin ,or track her phone Heeseung:Great idea K:Good,bye

♡Timeskip:Next Day,08:01AM♡

Y/N woke up and didn't find Eunseok on bed,she got up and went to the kitchen and he was there,he was just sitting there.She snuck behind him and backhugged him,laying her chin on his shoulder

Y/N:Hey baby

Eunseok:Hey baby,how'd you sleep?

Y/N:Erm but you were interrupting me ;-;

Eunseok:How?

Y/N:Boi you know damn well what you did...while we were sleeping

Eunseok:I seriously don't remember...

Y/N:Then let me remind you

Last night when Eunseok was begging y/n for both of them to sleep,later on (maybe a hour later)y/n got thirsty so she got up to drink water.She got back to bed and Eunseok pulled her closer to him by the waist,she didn't mind but some minutes later she felt something poke her butt. And she realized it was Eunseok's cock,so she kept moving and moving to make him uncontrollable,he couldn't help himself but squeeze her harder and pressed his cock more into y/n's butt.Y/N tried not to moan or whimper

"Don't you wanna do it again?" He whispered into your ear,before you could say anything he flipped you over making your body face the ceiling."What are you doing?" You asked in a quiet tone,he just smirked and his hands were between your inner thighs. He took of your panty and inserted two of his fingers,he was going on a slow pace and y/n was moaning

"Oh my gosh~" you moaned out of pleasure,suddenly he stopped fingering you. "Why'd you stop?'' You asked him sounding annoyed

Eunseok:Just

You saw him take down his boxers and he inserted his tip in,he covered your mouth and you gripped onto the sheets.He put all of it in and your stomach was tangled up,he went on a fast pace and while holding back your moans tears started rolling down your puffy cheeks. Each thrust got faster and faster,he eventually stopped and your pu$$y was paining.Eunseok put his boxers back on and he grabbed your round ass

Eunseok:Ohh that...you were grinding on me..

Y/N:It's still sore

Eunseok:Sorry baby