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darkwitchoferie · 5 months ago

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Train Ride - Chapter 6, Seungmin

A/N: The expression of ‘looking at something through their eyebrows’ – if you need reference for what that looks like, look up the Kubrick stare. Also in my mind, I don’t care how logical this is or if there’s any truth to it, their current dorms/apartments are close to each other, but not in the same building. IDK, fanfic rules again. This one’s so long you guys. I’m not even sorry for it. Much like Binnie’s muscles, I have a thing for Seungmin’s voice. I will also not apologize for that.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, public semi-nudity/flashing, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, member x member, oral (m & f receiving), cum eating, multiple partners, not mean Seungmin just a different kind of teasing than Changbin, face-fucking, edging, praise kink actually shown in this one (though I feel like it’s been implied before), and much talk of sex pics/videos

wc: 6.4k

Master list

The next morning, you woke up between Changbin and Chan, confused for a moment. You were still naked, but you’d obviously been cleaned – not just wiped clean but actually bathed – and the sheets were changed. Did you really pass out and not remember them cleaning up, you wondered. There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting your thoughts, then Jeongin peeked his head in.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling at you. Glancing at Changbin, he tilted his head, silently asking if you wanted to follow him. Carefully, so as not to wake the two men on either side of you, you crept out of bed and followed Innie.

A short while later, Chan laughed as he and Changbin joined the pair of you in the kitchen. You looked over Jeongin’s shoulder to smile at him. Jeongin had you sat up on the edge of the counter, legs around his waist, as he lazily thrust into you.

“Can’t miss your morning quickie, can you, Iyen-ah?”

“We’re – oh, right there – we’re making breakfast,” you answered.

“You are not,” Chan laughed again, leaning over Jeongin’s shoulder to give you a quick ‘good morning’ kiss and, judging by his shiver, run his finger’s down Jeongin’s back. Innie finished sucking a hickey onto your upper boob, right as you arched your back, digging your nails into his shoulders as you came. He followed a couple of thrusts after, groaning as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Okay, we started making breakfast,” you clarified, after catching your breath. For a man who wasn’t big on skinship, Innie was very cuddly after sex, still pressed against you and keeping his arms wrapped around you. You kept your arms around him too, carding your fingers through his hair. You knew from both Felix and Hyunjin that he was the same with them.

“I can see that,” Chan agreed, stepping up to the stove, turning it back on, and finishing the breakfast you two had started.

“Morning, Bin. Sleep good?” You asked, looking over at him still in the doorway.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said shaking his head a little, “gonna take a bit to get used to, I think. This whole thing is kinda surreal.” He made his way into the kitchen and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, the same way Chan had.

“Yeah. That’s part of the reason we came out here. Channie doesn’t mind if we have a morning quickie beside him while he’s still asleep, but we weren’t sure you’d… appreciate that type of wake up call.”

“Mm. In future, I would not object at all.” After he moved, Jeongin cleaned you up, then helped you off the counter.

“Mm,” you stretched your arms over your head, arching just a little as you stretched. “I love kitchen sex,” you commented.

“You love sex,” Chan corrected.

“How can I not when I have so many amazing partners?” You countered. “Oh, speaking of that, gotta update the group chat.” You strode back to Chan’s room and grabbed your phone off the charger.

After updating the chat to add Changbin, you went back out into the kitchen, having just tossed on an oversized sleep shirt. You were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing upcoming plans for the day, when you sort of drifted away from the conversation.

“Y/nnie?” You snapped out of it seeing Jeongin’s hand waving in front of your face.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about the picker wheel. I don’t want to use it. I want Seungmin next.”

“I thought you had trouble choosing?” Chan asked, curious.

You nodded. “But there’s a stronger possibility now that Seungmin could be last. And I don’t want that. Like, we all know that it’s random, and he’d know that too. But I don’t want something building in the back of his head, ya know? I just…. I dunno, I don’t want any possibility of him thinking I would purposely pick him last or that I’m only picking him to ‘complete the set’ or whatever.”

Chan smiled over at you, reaching out to tug you close so he could kiss you. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Okay, Minnie next. Any ideas?”

“Not yet. I’ll think of something. Or you will.”

Later, after breakfast, after the three of them left, and you’d gone home to start your own work day, you sent a message to the group chat.

It was while you were taking a break from work, walking in your parking lot, that you got the idea for Seungmin. Quickly, you texted Chan for a copy of the group’s schedule and Seungmin’s individual one. Using those, you bought tickets for a Lotte Giants game. Seungmin may not have been quite the same amount of romantic as Hyunjin, but you wanted him to know you were serious. You, and the whole group really, were aware of his insecurities, particularly related to his looks and when he started comparing himself to the others. So you wanted to make sure he knew you wanted him.

You waited until Chan was at your place, knowing that would mean Seungmin would be home too, to call him. “Hey Minnie. How was your day?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Yeah, good. Listen, I have two tickets to a Lotte Giants game this week. In three days. Wanna go?”

“You have tickets to a baseball game? You don’t like baseball, I thought.”

“I never said that! Just that I’d never seen a game. Do you wanna go with me or not?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. I’ll pick you up?”

The pair of you made arrangements for him to pick you up and then ended the call. “Alright, we’re all set,” you grinned. “I’ve never been to a baseball game. What do I wear?” You hurried to your closet, dropping your phone on your bed.

A few minutes later Chan strode into your room. “Babe!”

“Yeah?”

He held a finger to his lips, then answered his phone on speaker. “Hey Seungmin. What’s up?” You stilled, listening to their conversation.

“Hyung, I uh…. I think your girlfriend just asked me out on a date.”

“Yeah, she totally did.” They were both quiet for a few seconds. “Why? Did you not want to go out with her? Because if not, you should tell her right away, she’s already picking out her outfit.”

“Hang on, seriously? And you’re alright with this?”

“Is Felix there?”

“No, he’s at Changbin and Hyunjin’s, why?” You snorted quietly. Of course he was – he was just as excited at the prospect of sleeping with everyone as you were and his sex drive was as strong as yours too. He’d just decided he would ‘follow you Y/nnie. Don’t wanna steal your thunder.’

“Alright, sit down, let me explain.” You weren’t surprised that Seungmin would need or want an explanation first. Thinking about it, you should have realized the baseball game would make him suspicious. It wasn’t like going to the museum with Hyunjin, that was something you’d done plenty of times. You’d never been to a baseball game and had made a point of the fact that you’d never even watched the sport.

While Chan was talking to Seungmin, you tuned them out. You scooped up your phone and pulled up your weather app, looking for the forecast over the next few days. By the time the two men had hung up, you’d settled on your outfit. You’d looked up the team as well and based on the team’s colors had picked a navy blue, just-above-your-knees length skirt and paired it with a t shirt that was so light blue, it was nearly white. You weren’t a fan of the color of that shirt on you, but the fit of it was why you’d chosen it.

Three days later, Chan chuckled as he snapped a photo of your outfit and sent it to what he’d started referring to as the ‘Sexy’ group chat. You knew it wasn’t actually a comment on you or any of the guys, just that that was the chat where you were all blunt with each other and sometimes used it to send sex photos and videos to each other. Like the picture Hyunjin had sent of Changbin’s blissed out smile with his chest and abs covered in bites and hickeys from him and Felix.

“What?”

“Nothing, baby. You look good, as always. Just…. I feel like Seungmin’s gonna have a similar reaction to Felix’s reaction, that’s all.”

“That’s kinda the point, babe.”

“And if it rains?” he asked, glancing out your kitchen window where you could see rain clouds gathering.

“It’s supposed to stay clear for the next few hours. And we have VIP seating, so we won’t get rained on anyway.” You smirked, knowing exactly why he was concerned about the rain, but not directly addressing it. “Seungmin!” You turned toward your door when you heard knocking. “Hey,” you greeted him with a smile after opening the door.

“He –” he stopped for a second, just staring. Then cleared his throat and shook himself a little. “Hey. Uh, you ready to go?”

“Yep.” Smiling, you grabbed your purse, made sure your phone was in it, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed out. The shirt you were wearing was on the thin side and tight, to say the least. So much so, that you could easily see the imprint of the lace of your bra.

You didn’t know much about baseball, having never really been a fan. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you supposed, you’d just never really had a chance or reason to get into it. Sitting beside Seungmin however, you were starting to understand people’s love for the game. Or, his love for it at least. He patiently answered every question you asked, going into detail for you when you asked. And you got to watch the way he lit up as he explained things or the excitement when his team was doing good.

It started thundering as you left the stadium. You crossed your fingers, quietly hoping it timed out well and you would get caught in the rain. It was, after all, part of the reason you wore the shirt you did. Less than 10 feet from the back of Seungmin’s car, the sky opened and drenched everything. Laughing, you spread your arms and spun in a circle, face up.

“Y/N!” You turned to Seungmin, who was staring at you with wide eyes through the downpour.

“Minnie?” You played dumb, acting like you had no idea why he’d be looking at you like that.

“Get in the car!”

“But – the rain. I wanna play.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out in what you called warm rain. Or summer rain, where it wasn’t cold enough for the rain to make you cold. More than once, when they were around, Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin, and sometimes some of the others, would join you.

“Play later, car now.” You pouted to hide your grin and got into the passenger seat of his car.

“But why?” You asked when he didn’t say more after you got in. He didn’t answer right away, focusing on getting the pair of you on the road.

Seungmin avoided looking directly at you as he maneuvered the stadium traffic and got onto a less traveled road to avoid more traffic. Not that he didn’t look at you at all. You kept catching him looking at you from the corner of his eye, hands gripping the steering wheel so his knuckles turned white. You tried, hopefully successfully, to hide your pleased smile.

“I had fun, Minnie,” you attempted to break the silence that had fallen. “Thanks for explaining everything to me.”

“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.”

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound concerned and not gleeful.

“Mm. Look at your shirt.”

“Oh! Oh, no playing in the rain.” From what anyone had been able to see through your shirt before, you would understand if they thought your bra was just decorated with lace. But now that the rain had soaked it and it was almost completely sheer, Seungmin could see that it wasn’t decorated with lace, but was only lace leaving you basically completely exposed. “Oops.” You made absolutely no move to try to cover yourself.

Before he could say anything, his phone rang through the Bluetooth speaker. “Old Man is calling.”

“You do not have him saved as Old Man!” You giggled as he answered the call.

“Having a good time, I take it?” Chan asked, obviously hearing your laughter.

“Yes, we are!” you answered.

“Seung, did she get caught in the rain?”

“Yeah. Why would…?”

“Ask her why she wore that shirt.”

“I didn’t plan to get caught in the rain. You can’t plan rain! I wore it just in case, which is completely different.” You tried justifying your decision.

“Mm-hm.” You could practically see Chan’s grin. You playfully glared at the Bluetooth screen, knowing he couldn’t see you but feeling the need to do it anyway.

Beside you, Seungmin stopped the car at a red light. You looked over to find him openly staring at you now. Curious, you waited to see what he would do. Deliberately, he reached over and brushed your nipple with the knuckles of his first two fingers. With a small gasp, you arched forward a little, trying to press against his fingers that hovered right over you. He smirked and pinched your nipple between those two knuckles, pulling a moan from you.

Chan made an inquisitive noise over the phone. “Baby girl?”

“He’s playing with my nipple,” you answered on a gasp as he took the opportunity to gently tug and roll the nipple he had between his knuckles.

“Her nipples are very sensitive,” Seungmin commented softly.

Chan chuckled. “You two have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and take some good photos for me, yeah?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow at you as Chan hung up. “He likes photos. Videos too, actually. So does Hyune. Well, they all do, but those two especially.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glancing at the traffic light then switching his attention to your other nipple. The light turned green and he pulled away, smirking at your whimper.

That continued at the next red light and the one after that, reaching over to fondle your boobs, then pulling away. You knew, logically, he had to drive. But your body did not care about logic. Then you reached the last red light before pulling into his and Felix’s apartment building. This light always took so long, something you usually complained about. You were surprised when Seungmin threw the car in park, having assumed you were in for a longer teasing session. Instead, he unbuckled himself and leaned across the center console.

Bracing himself with one hand, he brought the other up to cup your boob, leaned in, and sucked your nipple into his mouth through your wet shirt. On a long moan, you brought your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He gently bit your nipple as he pulled just far enough away to switch sides. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to give yourself some friction and the movement was not lost on Seungmin – you felt him smirk against you.

After another moment, he pulled away completely, buckled himself back in, put the car back in gear, and looked for all the world like he was patiently waiting for the light to change and not like he’d just had your tits in his mouth. You whined, wiggling in your seat and he just laughed at you. Your movement made you realize just how wet you were – your panties were ruined for sure.

Soon enough, you’d pulled into his building’s parking lot and he parked the car. The trip from the car to the actual building was mostly covered, but there was a short part that was open. You lingered there for a moment, genuinely enjoying the rain, but also to resoak your shirt. Just because. Seungmin tugged your hand, pulling you behind him to the, thankfully, deserted lobby and then elevator. He and Felix lived in one of the uppermost floors, so you figured you’d settle in to wait.

Seungmin had other ideas. He stepped up behind you, pressing himself against your back where you could feel his cock pressing into you. He wordlessly handed you his phone, camera opened on selfie mode, then wrapped his arms around you, bringing his hands up to caress the sides of your boobs. You sighed with pleasure, leaning into him and letting your head tip back against him. He quickly switched from gentle caresses to teasing your nipples through your clothes again.

“Take a picture, Y/nnie. The old man said he wanted some, right?” You did as Seungmin instructed, snapping a photo of you with your head back against his shoulder, eyes partly closed in pleasure, Seungmin pinching both nipples while he looked at the camera through his eyebrows, a mischievous smile that you didn’t see, playing on his lips.

He took the phone back from you, quickly sending the photo to Chan. Then he spun you around and crowded you against the wall of the elevator, before leaning in to claim your lips in what started as a sweet kiss. The kiss quickly became heated, Seungmin tilting your head and sliding his tongue between your lips. You moaned into his mouth, clutching his shirt in your hand as you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under your skirt, and brush against your clothed cunt.

He chuckled against your lips. “All this from a little teasing?” You whimpered as he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down far enough that you were able to step out of them. Then he bent down, picked them up, and stuffed them in his pocket. The elevator dinged, arriving at his floor, as he stood back up. He let you walk ahead of him down the short hall to his and Felix’s apartment, wrapping his arms around you and covering your boobs with his hands. “For your modesty, in case the neighbors come out.” The way he was groping you said otherwise, but you didn’t protest.

Getting down the hall was a little slow with the way he was holding onto you and being pressed against his chest. With every movement, you could feel his cock rubbing against you. And yeah, maybe you had soaked your panties from ‘a little teasing��, but he was hard as a rock and you hadn’t even touched him. And hey, he was groping your boobs the whole way down the hall, so pressing against his dick with every move you possibly could was absolutely fair as far as you were concerned.

Finally in the apartment, he spun you around again, pressing you against the back of the couch and practically attacking your mouth. You’d have grinned if you’d been able to, pleased you got him to let go of the, so far, methodical teasing. One hand dipped behind you and it felt like he grabbed something off the couch. He pulled away from you, holding one of the throw pillows that came with the couch. He stepped back and dropped the pillow onto the floor, grabbing his phone out of his pocket as he did. With just a look, you understood exactly what he wanted and were all too pleased to give it.

You dropped to your knees on the pillow and reached for the button and zip of his jeans. With quick movements, you tugged down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock. You glanced up at him as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, stroking a couple of times. You held eye contact as you leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of him, pleased with the huff of air that escaped him as he watched you. You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue over him and tasting the precum that leaked out of him. Then you looked down, and focused on your goal – making him lose that composure that had been taunting you for nearly an hour.

He wasn’t as big as Chan and you’d had plenty of practice at deep throating your boyfriend, so it was comparatively easy for you to take all of Seungmin. You quickly sank down on his cock, pressing your nose into his pubes and swallowing around his head.

“Oh God,” he groaned out above you, reaching down to tangle a hand in your hair. Pleased with yourself, you set a steady rhythm, pulling back until only his head was in your mouth, then bobbing down to take all of him in again. After just a minute or two, the grip in your hair tightened and he held your head still. Pulling out of your mouth, he looked down at you. “Okay?” he asked, rolling his hips so his tip slid past your lips just enough for you to understand what he was asking.

In response, you just dropped your jaw. He groaned and thrust into your waiting mouth. Blissed out, loving the feeling of your mouth being fucked, you closed your eyes and didn’t notice when Seungmin snapped a couple of photos to send to Chan. Nor did you really notice that you’d subconsciously spread your knees to sink further against the pillow under you. But you did feel when your wet core made contact with the material. You moaned around Seungmin, rolling your hips against the pillow. It was frustratingly little friction.

You brought a hand down between your legs and Seungmin stopped thrusting, pulling out of your mouth. You whined your protest, eyes snapping open. “Hands,” he said, taking his own hand out of your hair. You lifted your hands and he put one on each of his own hips. “Keep them there.” You whimpered as you understood you’d be getting no friction except the pillow. With a smirk, he buried his hand back in your hair and his cock back in your mouth.

Your hips rolled of their own volitation against the pillow, timed with his thrusts in your mouth. This time, you were looking up at him when he took a photo.

“You look so good, Y/nnie,” he looked in control still, but Seungmin’s beautiful voice was breathy. “I can’t believe Chan’s willing to share you with the way you look.” You moaned around his cock as you managed to hit your clit perfectly on the pillow. You could feel your orgasm building when he said, “Almost. Can I cum in your mouth, Y/nnie?” You moan again, being the only sound you could make to agree. “Don’t swallow right away, okay? Show me.”

After a few more thrusts, he pulled part of the way out and shot his load into your mouth. As soon as he pulled free, you did as he said, opening your mouth to show him his cum pooled on your tongue. He pressed a foot against your hip, stopping your movement, causing you to whine low in your throat. He just chuckled as he snapped a photo. “Swallow.” The way the word lifted up at the end almost made it sound like a request, but you knew it wasn’t. “Good girl.” You shivered at the praise. He grabbed your hands that were still on his hips and helped you to your feet.

You stood on shaky legs and had to lean into him as the pair of you walked to his room, letting him support at least part of your weight.

“You almost came on that pillow, didn’t you?” he asked, opening his bedroom door.

“Mm-hm,” you admitted. Had you been looking at him, you may have been concerned about the grin that flashed across his face at your admission.

Seungmin had you caged under him on his bed, pressing kisses to your neck, down over your collar bones, across the tops of your boobs and the valley between them. You had a tight grip on one of his shoulders, your other hand fisted into the sheets beside you, as he thrust two fingers into your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit.

He was watching your face from the corner of his eye as his fingers sped up and he crooked them up in a ‘come here’ movement. Still riled up from the just-barely-enough friction of the throw pillow, it didn’t take long for the coil in your belly to start tightening again. You could feel yourself getting closer, rolling your hips against Seungmin’s hand.

“Ah, God. So close,” you moaned out, clenching around his fingers. Just as your orgasm started to crest over you, Seungmin quickly pulled his fingers out of you. “No,” you whined. “Minnie!”

“I was thinking about it in the car, actually,” he said casually, bringing his hand up to gently caress your belly. “I know you have Chan wrapped around every one of your fingers. I’d bet all you have to do is bat your pretty eyes at Felix and probably Hyunjin and they’ll give you whatever you want. I want to think Iyen-ah has more will to resist caving to you, but I’m sure Changbin doesn’t.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You’re spoiled, aren’t you, pretty girl? All these men at your beck and call, ready to do whatever you want.”

You whined as he started kissing down your torso, kissing over your belly, then making himself comfortable between your thighs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping them spread open for himself and pressed kisses to your inner thighs, alternating sides. He sucked a bruise high on your thigh before pressing a kiss to your wet folds. He flattened his tongue against you, licking a thick stripe up, and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue when he reached it.

He focused on your cunt, methodical, like he’d been when he’d been teasing you in the car. He kept changing what he was doing just enough that your pleasure would build, but you weren’t getting close to coming. He’d gently suck on your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue to the bundle of nerves. Then he’d move back to licking at your folds without actually penetrating you. He’d move away to kiss your thighs or lower belly for a brief moment, then dip back down again and shove his tongue into you.

Then he changed tactic and actually focused on getting you to cum. He buried his face into you, eating you out like a man starved. Your thighs started to quiver over his shoulders, pussy clenching against his tongue.

He pulled away. You kicked your legs, as much as you could, in frustration at being denied again. “Seungmin! If you don’t let me cum, I swear I’ll get up out of this bed and call anyone else to come take care of me.”

“No you won’t,” he said confidently. You groaned, slamming your head back against the pillow because you knew he was right. You wanted to cum, of course you did, but you wanted Seungmin. You huffed, annoyed, as he laughed. He came up to your eye level, pressing light, teasing kisses to your cheeks. “How about this – I promise you’ll cum before I do.”

You reached up and grabbed his face between both of your hands. “I’ll hold you to that,” you tried to sound stern but the smile on his face told you it didn’t work at all. With another huff, you tilted his face so you could properly claim his lips again. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours.

You felt him shift above you and then you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. In one smooth, steady motion, he pushed into you, bottoming out immediately. You moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his back. He broke away from your kiss with a small, pleased smile on his face. He readjusted his hold on your hips as he steadily started thrusting into you. Then he stilled, reaching behind himself.

“Forgot about the old man’s request,” he explained, holding up his phone. You scowled at him, but he wasn’t taking a picture of your face, instead focusing the camera lens on his cock buried in your pussy.

He leaned up, setting the phone on the bedside table. Then he leaned back again, pulled out most of the way, and snapped his hips forward. You gasped out, a little shocked as it was the roughest he’d been since you got to his room. He set a fast pace, pistoning into you as you lifted a leg to wrap over his hip. You could feel your orgasm approaching again, and fast. You tried to downplay it, tried to keep your moans from getting too high pitched. But you couldn’t control the way your walls fluttered around his cock.

Seungmin chuckled when he pulled out, denying you again. He lifted the leg that you’d wrapped over his hip, pressing a kiss to your knee as he used that leg to twist your lower body so both of your legs were bent and on one side of his body.

“Okay?” he asked.

“No! I wanna cum,” you whined.

He chuckled. “I meant, are you okay here? Not uncomfortable or anything?”

“I’m okay,” you agreed, still scowling and feeling petulant.

“Good,” he smiled, leaning over you and sliding back into you.

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again. As he started to thrust faster, he kept his eyes locked on your face. You weren’t sure why exactly, but something in his expression made you realize that he’d not looked away from you since you got into his apartment, with the very brief exception of when he was taking off both of your shirts. He hadn’t even closed his eyes that you were aware of. Like he needed to see your face the whole time.

The thought of that brought your orgasm just a little closer and had you clenching around him again. This time, he reached down, lifting your leg just enough that he could slide his other hand between them. Quickly, he found your clit, flicking it with the pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. You were wary as you felt your orgasm building yet again, but this time, he didn’t stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, nearly screaming as you felt your orgasm crash through you, felt yourself gush around his cock. After just a few more thrusts, he stilled, coming deep inside you.

After a moment to catch your breath, he straightened your legs, bringing your one leg back to the opposite side of his body so you were laying splayed out on his bed again.

Seungmin reached over to grab his phone where’d he’d put it on his bedside table. You blew a kiss at the phone as he snapped a photo of you lying in his bed, his cum dribbling out of you. After sending it, he leaned back up to kiss you. After a moment, he broke away.

“Lemme get something to get you cleaned up, then cuddles. If you want.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed.

“I could do it.” You both looked over to Seungmin’s door to see Felix standing there, staring at you. “Clean you up, I mean. Please?” He sounded breathy, desperate almost. You wondered how long he’d been home. Seungmin turned from him to look back at you with a shrug that said, ‘sure, if you wanna’.

“Come here, Lixie,” you held a hand out to him, beckoning him closer. The smile that split his face reminded you of a kid in a candy store being told he could have anything he wanted. He wasted absolutely no time in crawling onto the bed between your legs. You giggled when he sprawled partly on Seungmin rather than waiting for the other man to move.

Felix put his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing down lightly to keep them apart. He leaned in, first licking up Seungmin’s cum that had already dripped out of you.

Seungmin, meanwhile, got out from under Felix and sat up beside your head, reaching for his phone again. This time, rather than taking a picture, he started recording a video. You threw your head back, tangling your fingers in his hair as Felix buried his tongue in your cunt. The slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have you clenching around his tongue.

“Ah – Lix, you like that?” you panted out, after seeing that Seungmin was videoing.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded against you, not taking his tongue out of you.

“Does Minnie’s cum taste good in my pussy?”

“So good,” he moaned, the sound slightly muffled and vibrating against you. You carded your fingers into his hair, holding him against you. Not that he needed the encouragement to not move, you knew he’d happily stay with his mouth between your thighs until someone pulled him away.

So you were surprised when he did pull away from you. He crawled up your body and pressed his lips to yours. With no hesitation, he pressed the tip of his tongue to your lips and you parted them. You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair, when you tasted the mix of yours and Seungmin’s cum that Felix pushed into your mouth on his tongue. You sucked on his tongue, swallowing back everything he’d brought up to you.

After a moment, Felix pulled back and gave you an angelic smile completely at odds with what he’d just done. Then he dropped back down to your pussy. His actions were far more purposeful now and you decided he had to have been home for a while as he was absolutely trying to get you off as quickly as possible. He, not that long ago, spent an hour lazily eating you out and knew exactly the kind of movements and pressure that would build you up quickly. He focused on your clit with his lips and tongue, sliding two fingers into your pussy and thrusting steadily.

Beside you, Seungmin just watched. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” you moaned out.

“Lucky us, getting to be the ones who spoil you.” You managed a smile up at him. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, lifting you up slightly so he could lean down to claim your lips. You tried to kiss him, but it felt like you mostly moaned against his lips, not that he seemed to mind.

Felix chose that time to crook his fingers, rubbing against your g spot, and suck harshly on your clit. Your hips arched off the bed, pressing into his face as your orgasm washed through you. He paused his actions, looking up at you then flicking his eyes to Seungmin.

After a moment, you’d caught your breath and said, “Minnie, I think Lix wants you to fuck him.”

A short while later, you sat on Felix’s abs and watched his face as Seungmin pushed into him. He gripped your thighs, fingers digging in enough to leave bruises, eyes rolling back on a deep groan. You leaned forward, almost laying on his chest, and peppered kisses along his jaw while he took several deep breaths, adjusting to the stretch he was feeling.

Had you thought about the position you were in, maybe you wouldn’t have been surprised. As it was, you squealed in surprised when, without warning, Seungmin thrust two fingers into you. You heard him chuckle behind you but couldn’t find the space in your mind to care right then. He thrust his fingers into you a few times before pulling out, causing you to whine.

“Well, do something about it yourself then,” he teased.

You turned to glare at him, but realized he was completely right. You sat up and scooted back, then lifted your hips, gripped Felix’s cock and sank down on him in one smooth motion. You smiled down at him as you felt his hips kick up.

Behind you, Seungmin started slowly thrusting his hips, pulling little moans from the man under you. For a moment, you were content to just watch Felix’s expressive face. Then his hips bucked up into you. “Y/nnie,” he whined.

You rolled your hips, slowly at first, matching Seungmin’s rhythm as best you could. When he picked up his speed, so did you. You loved watching Felix fall apart under you and imagined the others felt the same way about you.

Seungmin reached around you with both hands, latching onto your boobs again. He alternated rolling and pinching your nipples and you had just enough presence of mind to wonder that he was able to play with you while thrusting into Felix.

“’M close,” Felix gasped out under you, running one hand up your thigh to press his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles against the bundle of nerves, applying just the right amount of pressure. Between all three sets of stimulation, you were coming undone quickly. As you felt your orgasm building, you were losing your rhythm on Felix, but neither of you cared. It wasn’t until Seungmin leaned forward and harshly sucked on the spot where your neck and shoulder met that you felt that coil snap and you came, clenching around Felix.

With a deep groan, he followed you, filling you with his warmth.

You dropped forward, laying on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you as, behind you, Seungmin started thrusting harder, chasing his own orgasm. You rocked against Felix’s body with every thrust from Seungmin, letting out little moans at the way Felix’s softening cock kept moving in you. After a few moments, Seungmin stilled and you felt more than heard Felix’s moan as he came inside him.

Seungmin draped himself over your back, reaching around you to grip Felix’s side. You had the fleeting thought that you all should clean up, or at least move, but decided you weren’t going to be the one to break up this cuddle. Not with the way Seungmin nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck.

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#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader #skz x reader #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #seungmin x reader #skz ot8 x reader #yang jeongin x reader #lee minho x reader

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netherfeildren · 7 months ago

Text

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost.

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die.

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows.

You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting.

After, he’s like a raging bull. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home.

You wonder about her.

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. A brother far away in Wyoming, Maria tells you later. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.”

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him.

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information.

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor.

You wonder if her sickness might be a baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself.

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near.

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts.

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years.

And you’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. Going out of your way to avoid him is childish when you’re supposed to be here to get to know people. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still, even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife.

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat.

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly.

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs that catch you anyways.

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?”

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology.

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry.

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain.

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow.

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily.

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.”

His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass.

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there.

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold.

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears.

His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more.

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips.

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural.

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. Turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior, likely, and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality.

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years.

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so.

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him even when you didn’t want to. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain.

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next.

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it.

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him.

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home, then?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. You breathe him in deeply. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding.

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment.

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” The way he says it, like a question—he’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard.

“No…” the click of his tongue snaps you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be.

“Do you hate each other?” you ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like.

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too.

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.”

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery.

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject.

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him.

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.”

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart.

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” you beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty.

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession.

He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned dangerous.

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?”

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence.

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.”

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.”

And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it.

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive.

A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air.

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere.

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs.

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?”

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate.

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Like an alpha. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant.

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation.

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly.

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control.

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it.

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.”

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine.

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways.

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God.

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours.

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied, scent mounting.

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust.

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday.

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he finally looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks.

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions.

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath.

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious, himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself.

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back.

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.”

And Joel suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy.

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him.

“Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t.

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them.

A miracle move on drug, is what she calls it.

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all.

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.”

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.”

Joel hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words.

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look.

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you.

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are.

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat.

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now.

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he thinks he’s ever felt in his entire life.

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more.

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms.

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom.

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s stalking after the sound of your crying.

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown.

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten.

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering half-scream. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. Baby baby baby. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid.

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.”

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow, cringing with mortification at his crass words.

“Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment.

“Then how?”

You flush hotter, so embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help me.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. In a rush of air out of your nose, it’s all okay.

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly.

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. A frightened thing. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan.

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast.

“Yes.”

His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin.

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear.

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, acknowledging what it is that will now happen between the two of you soon, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your backside. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—”

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say.

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes.

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another, he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt.

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis.

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine.

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair.

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you.

“Right there?” He hums.

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning.

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope.

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#busy dying fic #vic fic #joel miller #joel miller x you #Joel Miller fanfiction #tlou au

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stormblessed95 · 4 months ago

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Tbh I'm a jikooker, but I find it incredibly difficult to fit a healthy long-term relationship into the same timeline as all of jimin's solo work. It's not the pronouns or taking one lyric very literally, its the entire thing, plus comments from him and his producers. To me, you'd have to do some serious olympic level mental gymnastics to make that make sense. I don't doubt that jikook have a special bond, I've definitely seen things between them that definitely look like sexual attraction to me and things that surpass friendship boundaries, but I can't in good faith say that they're together in some official long-term way if I actually listen to jimin and his work.

I've seen some jikookers think they broke up for a while, but I have to question if those people have ever been through a breakup because the little bit of distance/separation/awkwardness we did see from them during chapter 2 is nothing compared to the type of tension that would be there if a relationship that intimate and intertwined had separated, especially considering the dark feelings jimin was feeling. He wouldn't have been cutely commenting on jungkook's lives and jungkook wouldn't have been asking to hang-out or getting excited to see jimin in his comments.

Idk, I'm sure someone could twist everything a certain way and only take certain things at face-value and then make everything else abstract, etc. to make the case that they are together, but I don't really see it. You look at face-off, alone, and just his general dark feelings during Face, then look at the creation of Muse and how him and his producers said he couldn't relate to the love-dovey beginning songs, which is how they ended up making Who (despite the fact that jikookers try to distance him from the song since he doesn't have writing credits even though he sat in the recording room telling them what he wanted and saying it felt like reading his diary). I think jimin could have very well gone through a pretty awful breakup along with the inner turmoil he was going through post-covid, but I don't think it was with jungkook if he did. I still enjoy jikook's bond either way at the end of the day, but yeah I don't really get how anyone can take an honest look at jimin's work and his words and think he was in a long-term healthy love-of-his-life relationship during that time or into chapter 2.

Not trying to change your opinion or anything, honestly I don't really see it discussed much in jikooker spaces (besides bad-faith stuff like tkkers stirring up shit over pronouns in lyrics which is just dumb) and when it is, some jikookers are pretty pick-and-choose about what they deem to be true to jimin's feelings and what isn't. Which I get being nuanced, but sometimes it does feel like a "well this fits my beliefs so clearly this is true to jimin and this doesn't so it means nothing because he didn't write it" or whatever. I honestly get annoyed with the bad-faith arguers because it prevents being able to have actual discussions about some of this stuff in our little jikooker corner of tumblr. Like "he said her, he's clearly straight! he danced with a girl, straight!" stfu.

All of this is just like okay fine whatever. Here is your platform for these opinions. You don't really want me or my thoughts, you want my platform and my validation. Here ya go. (Mostly a general you here for all the asks I get in a similar nature to this, sorry)

I'm really only posting this because I'm tired as fuck of people going just look at face off, alone, all his dark feelings, how could he be in a happy lovey dovey healthy long term relationship? Which I'm paraphrasing anon, I know, but this was the gist of your point in that section.

When I'm living breathing proof that it's possible.

Personal time: I have the best partner in the world. I love him with my whole being. I have been with him since I was a teenager. We have gone through all sorts of changes and self discovery together. I also STILL occasionally struggle with self harm and wanting to kill myself. In fact, the only reason I'm still alive and not actively TRYING to off myself is because I don't want to traumatize my children and husband. I have crippling depression. I related to some of those darker feelings from FACE immensely. So you are inadvertently invalidating my own relationship by saying this, which I do kinda take offense to. And anyone who struggles with their mental health, all their relationships too.

So that's all. I just really needed at least one person to realize what an unfair and unnuanced take that part is. Everything else, sure. Agree to disagree friend. I'm all for it. You think Jimin is single but still love Jikooks bond, that's literally all I care about and I can coexist with you happily in a Jikook/bts bubble. 💜

(sorry this maybe got dark and triggering. I promise I'm working on dealing with my shit)

#the oubliette #personal

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campgender · 4 months ago

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Hiiiiiii I was thinking about it the other day & I know you talk a lot about like, unlearning purity culture, all the terrible and complicated and strange (in a bad way) versions of sex that you've had, etc.

I've never asked before, I don't think: what do you like, get off to, what turns you on, etc etc.? Any particular bloggers (especially particular posts!) or SWers on here or Instagram that you really like?

I hope you're having a whimsical & sexy time out here <3

omg this is such a lovely question & one i've been turning over in my mind like a hard candy in my mouth since you sent it. (not about sex specifically, just in general) my husband says i'm really good at asserting "negative" boundaries (don't do X) & really bad at recognizing much less expressing positive boundaries (i need Y). this ask made me think about that — it's a lot easier for me to talk about things i wish people would stop doing than things i wish they would do, if that makes sense.

i also definitely get a weird fear of like, bragging or something? (as a fundamentalist kid i had a whole complex about not bragging oh my god) if i talk too much about the sex i'm having that's going well? which is probably not serving me bc i learned so much from other people's discussions of scenes that went well especially outside the like norm of represented dynamics if that makes sense.

all of which is to say i've been trying to give this question the consideration it deserves❣️ here's what i've got:

katherine angel writes that sex is a conversation, & i love to talk. i love the process of it, not in the sense of being scripted but the exact opposite, an uncovering, the act of learning more about someone, figuring out how we fit together.

i genuinely love negotiation, i think it can be a really intimate & connecting experience. i always feel so restored by negotiation "even" when it isn't followed by sex/scene with someone. a couple months ago someone said what we'd done was their new standard for negotiation & i'm still riding that high.

i love giving people gender euphoria! i love when someone says i make them feel butch or when someone tries new pronouns with me. whether it's through language or sexual position or dynamic or more intangible mystical energy shit — look, the secret is, i love making people feel good, it's just an urge that only expresses itself in specific ways, which exist outside most people's ideas of sexual giving, because it isn't physical.

how do i put this — idk if this makes sense, but — i am erotically interested in emotionally bolstering people, which can look a lot of different ways. a lot of the people i dom for feel sated or fulfilled or whatever you want to call it when they can let go of their carefully maintained "outside" persona and just be a mess, physically or emotionally or all around, so i've come to really value & respect that. looove when somebody wants me to make them cry. i think of it as a sort of homebound magic, being like, what can't you be in the world? & then building them the space to be it. Omise’eke Natasha Tinsley in The Color Pynk says Janelle Monaé's music video for "Pynk" built a rest stop for Black femmes; kind of a lofty goal but that's always what it comes back to for me, with art & with sex & with tumblr posting: building a rest stop.

(i feel like a bit of a femme cliché sometimes but whatever lol)

i love being surprised not by content but by feeling, & similarly i love moments when someone tells me they didn't know sex could be like that, that they could feel this way or that someone else could feel this way about them — could get off to their stomach or them fully clothed or whatever else they've been told isn't worthy of erotic interest.

recently a play partner was talking to me about how they've never encountered or heard of someone being genuinely as turned on as i am by watching someone practice their craft — not interrupting them to fuck but the work being the fucking. & i was like that before the pgad, in undergrad i burned alive watching this guy play the violin, but now if we want i can get off just looking. i love to look. & i love the intimacy of someone sharing some dear skill or part of themself for my use & pleasure, whether it's something they're proud of (tying rope; building model kits; assembling furniture) or something that challenges them (a favorite being to hold still).

more broadly i enjoy petplay & dollification & the whole consensual objectification vibe. & i 💖 making decisions for people & telling people what to do. love to give a little task when that's what somebody's into

i haven't been very active on my nsfw tumblr in a while bc i've been too much of a raw nerve & was getting upset by the overwhelming assumptions of domtop/sub bottom in queer & t4t spaces, so i'm pretty out of touch with most people's current content & urls, but i know i've loved @nylonguilt's work for years, & @blushedfemmes has long been the blueprint for high femme, dom bottom posting. oh & i recently discovered @dombottom4subtop! really great compilation of posts there

ty again for the ask❣️ as always would love to hear your thoughts 🫶

#small-strong-bookish-butch #asks #D/s #why not take me now as i am?

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xaila-space · 2 months ago

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SAMS rant

Dont come after me, this kinda seems like me defending nexus but meh. If you dont like it or if you cant discuss in a respectfull manner then dont bother to see or talk about it.

---------

Im kinda questioning if anyone told solar or moon about nexus being locked up

Heck i dont even know if lunar or earth knew about it.

The only one who know about this are Sun, Monty and Jack.

I believe Jack thinks that solar already knows and if not then idk.

Here is what im talking about (Recap)

Nexus was planning to kill either bloodmoon or ruin to change their dimensionl energy with solars so solar has a "spot" to fill

Nexus chose bloodmoon for that "sacrefice" and everyone was against it. Saying that solar wouldnt want him to kill someone for him,that it is a bad idea and all. After a while they saw nexus as a "threat" (ig) so they had to take action. Puppet let Sun do something cause nexus is his brother and sun has the right here to "choose" what to do with him. Sun proceded to lock nexus up in a cell commanding the computer to shock nexus whenever he tried to escape. Later on monty came by to check out if moon was retrievable and if he wanted to come back, nexus told monty he wasnt allowed inside his head , that didnt bother monty tho. He commanded the computer to shock nexus until he was uncouncious wich it did. Monty talked to moon inside nexus's head and both agreed on getting moon out was the best option here.

K so that happened.

Here is what i got to observe

Moon comes back, apolegized to sun. Sun tells moon about everything that happend. Just kinda in short.

I mean sure maybe sun left some stuff out, probably some stuff that made nexus seem like a victim here. Obviously moon isnt gonna question that, he trusts his brother and believes his word over others. I mean all moon knows is that nexus had so many thoughts at once and then suddendly it was silence. So i think he tried to put two and two together with what he heard and his conclusion, "yup, that guy went insane".

Thats practically mooms forst impression of nexus.

Minus him being able to personally talk to nexus inside their head, he briefly got to see how nexus WAS like.

Solar on the other hand CLEARLY wouldnt just take anything for an answer.

Seeing his reaction solar obviosuly wanted to know EVERYTHING that happened. Here is why i think sun didnt tell him about nexus being locked up. Solar would NEVER just brush that off as if its a normal thing. Solar once mentioned that he dosent like rooms (ep. When he first came to that dimension asking nexus if he could move in) and that was told in a way of like idk kinda giving off that he was probably locked inside a room or put inside a room to be "abused" by his moon (since some people theorize that and it sounds like something that could have happened im gonna be assuming it actually happened). So as someone who was locked away himself he wouldnt just see that as something you can do to everyone. I mean sure sun probably told him that nexus had a breakdown for solar, nexus went insane for solar, nexus wanted to kill for solar but never have i EVER seen sun mentioning nexus was treated like shit. And yes people could say "but maybe he said it off screen" MF SOLAR WOULD STILL NOT SEE THAT AS A GOOD THING. HELLO?

As messed up as it sounds and idc if people hunt me down for this. I feel like sun only mentioned the parts that makes HIM sound like a victim here, and nexus as the bad evil guy.

Yes maybe i am getting to far with this but ot really just seems like the only logical thing for me.

Speaking of logical

People say that when moon put sun in that magical box was a bad thing. But when sun does it to nexus its suddendly a good thing? Sun also almost went through slme sort of search for one person to KILL and we justify that but when nexus does it it suddendly people are like "yeh you cant do that, killibg is bad bohoo"

And trust me i am seeing it from both sides, Sun KNOWS how bad that feels like and STILL did it to nexus. Thinking its a good thing, are you fucking kidding me?

So as long as the "hero" of the story does it its suddendly justice? But when someone else does it then its "yeh no thats an evil guy"

This really angers me so much.

Maybe i really am just overthinking it but i cant think of any other way this could have gone.

#tsams #sun and moon show #sams #the sun and moon show #tsams nexus #sams sun #sama solar #sams monty #sams rant #sams moon #me being angry over a fucking show sounds so silly to me omg-#i really am not trying to attack anyone with this #JUST MY THOUGHTSS #dont attack me TvT #this show and im pointing my finger to the fandom makes me let out sooo much emotioms at once i caaaannnntttttt

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felassan · 10 months ago

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Snippets. 🐺💜

John: "one of the funnier quirks of game dev is you will never remember missions by their real names but instead by the name you called them by for several years of development it will never be 'In Your Heart Shall Burn' for me, it'll always be Setback" [source] / Blair: "there was that awkward period where half of the DA:V ones had "gods" in the title, so discussions were always some variant of: "Did you mean 'Gods Are Back' or 'Gods Are Bad'? I've heard people mention 'Egads! Gods!' but I'm not sure if that's new or a rework."" [source] / Malcolm (in reply to John): "I have one like this in DA:Ve and I can't share it yet because spoilers but I promise you it's delightful" [source]

John: "the only one i can ever remember is 'Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts' and it's because it seems to be the only DAI mission that people constantly reference by name online" [source] / Mary: "It's proper name is "Ham Ball." I put that in the file names, even." [source]

John: "idk how widely it’s been advertised but a reminder we are doing another Veilguard Q&A on Discord this Friday noon Mountain time (so 11 Pacific)" [source] / Malcolm: "Make sure you don't tell them about that one thing that happens in that place, with the guy." [source]

Trick: "BioWare released a new screenshot of Taash! I love how it captures the amazing detail work the character artists did." [source]

Image description on the Taash screenshot in Trick's post of the cap:

"A screenshot of Taash looking off to the side. The lighting is warm like either late afternoon or an interior with a fireplace, and it catches in the gold on Taash's armor and horns. Taash looks pensive or vulnerable -- not the deadpan stare or badass determination we've seen in other shots."

pensive or vulnerable.. ohh Taash. 🥺 Trick!!

User on the screenshot: "Taash looks *completely the fuck over this shit* in a totally exhausted sort of way, here. which is, mind, amazing detail work on the character artists' party!!" / Trick: "You know, it's a spectrum." [source]

Trick on DA:I - "Miss May is amazing in many ways, and especially in finding the balance of sweetness to pain for the Solas scenes. ❤️" [source] ((thankyouuu Miss May!!))

User: "it must be basically impossible to resist putting at least one extra moon around your fantasy world" / John: "if dragon age didn’t already have two you’d better believe I would’ve added another one. sitting next to a dial titled ‘number of moons’ and every so often I add another one. anyways the thing about Satina is- (a large hook drags me offstage)" [source, two, three] ((omg.. THE SECOND MOON shfuehfuehdbdh)

User: "i've been thinking about bellara's pockets and i need to know what her thoughts on cargo pants would be. would she be a fan for the utility." / John: "she wouldn't wear them all the time - she's a firm believer in a distinction between 'work clothes' and 'at home clothes' - but she is always in search of more pockets to carry more things into the field. she'd own at least three pairs" [source]

User: "The next two months are going to feel like the Fade section in DAO 😭" / Dragon Age: "Good thing we have a Veil Jumper to help you out! 💜" [source]

User: "MY SON LOOKS SO CUTE" (re: the new pic of Manfred from today) / Dragon Age: "MY BOY MANFRED 💀💚" [source]

User: "Can we change the armor/gear on our companions?" / Dragon Age: "You can!" [source]

User: "thank you for the food 🙏🙏🙏" / Dragon Age: "Enjoy your meal!" [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #solas #long post #longpost #lul #feels #Ham Ball hhhh :D

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thatneoncrisis · 11 days ago

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sometimes i think about jinx and like. idk theres something about her that irks me thats seperate from her as a character its like. the language the show and fans use to discuss the kind of person she is in relation to what she was like as a child.

at times it feels borderline ridiculous how much powder is put on a pedastal. im not saying shes secretly evil or bad or whatever that's fucking stupid but like. shes the kind of good you can only be when you are a child that young. and the need for the story to posit that as like, the best of jinx, a naive child with documented extreme emotional regulation issues is bizarre

i got this short recommended to me with the boards from season two of isha stopping violet from killing jinx in that sewer fight. and someone in the comments was like oh they should have kept that shot of jinx crying, bc it shows she still has POWDERS innocence. its shit like that that makes my skin crawl. its like the kind of thing your emotionally dense family says to you, oh why arent you happy like you were when you were six years old? now youre hateful and rude? why dont you like the same things as you did when you were in goddamn elementary school

the way i initially thought of it was along the lines of: powder isnt Better than jinx- theyre the same person! powder did everything jinx did, she changed. theres no like, stagnant pure untouched baby heart wrapped up in the skin of a killer she just. grew up. made shitty choices.

then i sat on it. identity is a powerful conplex thing. gonna pull out the most basic ass example here- bruce wayne and batman. theres this scene in batman beyond. if you dont wanna click the link the long and short is that batman is talking to his protégé and states that he knew the voice in his head telling what to do during that episode wasnt a form of psychosis because the voice was calling him bruce. "thats not what i call myself," he says. batman is fully integrated into his identity. he is batman before hes bruce. if anything, the billionaire playboy thing is more of a costume than him literally dressing up as a menecing bat themed superhero. he identifies with fear and vengence and justice more than his birthright

with all of that i accept jinx having this sort of mentality about herself. a before and after. there was powder then there was jinx. i accept the people in the show talking about her like this- especially violet. i honestly found her refusal to engage with jinx as her own person and constantly trying to appeal to "powder" interesting and kind of pathetic (IN A GOOD WAY THIS WAS A GOOD CHOICE). it makes things simpler when you actually have to deal with the damage shes caused. you arent killing your sister- jinx already did that. powder is already dead, this is just a loose end. i also think this makes One thing about the season 2 scene where they find their father again touching. violet acknowledges that vander was jinxs dad too. it was both of their losses from a horrible accident. there are other bits about that exchange i dont like but this isnt about that

what gets me is like. the very mechanics of the show and the fandom as a whole just sort of accepting this idea of jinx/powder in its most simplistic form. yes powder is the Good Baby and jinx is the Evil Murderer. all good things jinx does is actually her becoming powder again and all bad things powder did was foreshadowing jinx. it scrubs the line between maladaptive copong mechanism and just. a really dull way of thinking about her

i think its very. very sad. that we go through ekko interacting with an alt world jinx/powder, one seemingly more well adjusted but has still suffered a heavy loss. but shes had kinder people in her life to help her bear that weight. and then when we see him confronted with his own jinx, at the end of her rope, actively committed to blowing it all up and erasing herself from the picture. we dont get to see any of it. he finds the middle ground Off Screen. we see her and shes just decided dying for real is dumb or maybe shell just let herself die during the battle, she has the new haircut and hoodie and.

it just kind of says nothing we dont know what changed her mind we dont know! ive sewn people say that ekko brought up the alt world jinx as a sign of her being capable of good but 1. we already got a whole season of that with her and the baby, and if you bring up that she feels guilty about that bc isha was killed, i will mention that alt world powder was ALSO wracked with guilt bc SHE was the one messing with the little magic crystals and got violet blown up. these are comparable situations and neither of them really end with her feeling good about herself

maybe its about perseverance. maybe its him saying hey i saw you go through something awful in another life and you lived. you got better and you had people who loved you and i love you and. fill in the rest of the speech. maybe thats it. maybe the middle point of powder and jinx issssss. resilience. maybe the show is just kind of ambiguously having her deal with severe dissociation. maybe everyone has a good baby and an evil monster in their brain at a control panel fighting at all times for dominance. maybe there can be inherent good qualities to jinx that has nothing to do with peoples foggy recollection of her at 9 years old

#maybe season 2 should have been ekkos pov the whole time and jm not kidding #'hey so whats your point' uh i dont have one. this js like talk therapy for me #if i say enough words eventually i get less pissed and reach a momentary equilibrium with arcane #if i do this enough i will finally feel genuinely neutral about this show and i can stop thinking about it #i dont. have words im not using hyperfixation it feels wrong it feels. worse than that #because im not having fun #its like a rorschach test and it just tells me i cant have fun

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neonpurpleisacolor · 4 months ago

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Some thoughts on today’s finale:

-I actually really enjoyed it, it felt closer to older seasons and finales than the last few chaotic and over dramatic ones (train crash & post mortem c-section in the street, i’m looking at you)

-While I initially sort of rolled my eyes at Nancy being pregnant, it was cute having Phyllis attend her delivery, especially since Phyllis was sort of bait-and-switched with Shelagh’s delivery (with good reason, Sister Julienne was the obvious choice). The only thing that would’ve made it better would have been Trixie also being present since they were so close, but it was still beautiful and I teared up. Except it was a little too convenient to have the baby in the hospital while Nancy and Roger could get married lol

-Loved getting to see how Paula’s story played out, even though her giving birth was heart wrenching and I wanted to yell at Mrs Cunningham through the screen when she ‘apologized’. Bitch what do you mean “if I’ve ever caused you to question if you could come home” you literally explicitly said she could not come home until nature had taken its course fuck outta here.

-Side note on Paula, I feel like Joyce would’ve been the more obvious choice to accompany her to the mother house since she was the one who first built a rapport with Paula, idk

-Sister Julienne watching Sister Catherine was so heartwarming, and having Helen attend was perfect

-For a few minutes I definitely thought they’d kill Sister Monica Joan off, once she showed up to the Mother House and also during the life vows they panned to her when discussing ‘death’ and i literally checked the time to see if there’d be enough time for a death. We all know how fond Heidi is of a birth, wedding, and death and we hit 2/3

-Hoping next season they make Geoffrey more explicitly gay and we can see how the community reacts when it’s someone they personally know and love who is gay.

-Shelagh being tipsy was cute and fun af, reminded me of some of my aunts when the wine starts flowing

-Overall I think this season contains more elements of the older seasons that established the show and made us fall in love with it, at times the acting feels a little cartoonish compared to the subtlety of the earlier seasons, but it seems like things are scaling back a bit.

Let me know your thoughts! Agree, disagree, idk. I just love this show man

#call the midwife

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livestock-and-bibles · 11 months ago

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Things I've Noticed During My Several Rewatches of The Doomstar Requiem

(Lock in, this is gonna be long)

Murderface is the only one out of the group to have a completely obscured face, possession foreshadowing perhaps? Also he lacks the golden streaks on the halo-esque circles behind them. Inch resting... (Not gonna talk too much abt when the scene goes red and the beam behind Murderface is dripping blood because I believe it's already been talked about before by others, and I don't want to include anything in this post that's already been discussed) Also I love how all of their weapons match their instruments

The way Toki doesn't even flinch when he gets alcohol poured on his wound is heartbreaking, likely either because the torture his parents put him through as a kid has given him a wicked pain tolerance or because he's so dissociated, similarly to how he behaves in Dethfam when his parents are around or Dethzazz when he's mentally in the punishment hole (I do believe this sort of catatonic state he's in is what's causing him to seem so much worse off than Abigail—though his untreated diabetes + Magnus targeting him more because of his relation to Dethklok probably also adds to it—he's likely not really eating or taking care of himself)

At first I thought that Magnus was feeding them dog food, but on closer inspection I actually believe it to be human remains. Yeesh. You can see it really looks like muscle fibers, and there's bones, as well as skin that still has hair on it. Magnus Hammersmith they could never make me like you

On the table is the Klokateer from Tracking/Ishnifus and The Challenge!!

I think it's interesting how much Nathan's fantasies look like Toki's! I just think it's neat! They're more similar than they seem :)

This is the most expressive we've ever seen Charles and it makes my heart hurt AUUGHH

The way Nathan licks his lips/teeth after the "How can I be a hero when my dick's as big as a shoe" line. DISGUSTING /affectionate

Does this fan look familiar? He should, because it's Dethklok's son, Fatty Ding Dong!! Good to see he's doing well lol, and his real name is Rick, we can also assume that at LEAST four years have passed since season 1, since in season 1 episode 10, he's said to be 14. Since he has a roommate now, he is likely to be around 18 years old

(Apologies for the low quality screencap I had to nab this from Youtube) I kind of wish that the animators didn't change this original animation for the end of The Fans Are Chatting. I just feel like Nathan pushing away the Klokateers is more symbolically relevant. Nathan is quite literally pushing away the safety and security his avoidance has given him, the hologram disappearing and the fans leaving is a metaphor for the fact that he can no longer keep himself deluded into thinking that everything is fine, he can't hide from the truth anymore

Almost all of the Rock A Roonie Fantasy Camp counsellors came to the Dethklok audition, there's even the depressed blues guy in the background. There's also Sammy Candynose from Snakes 'n Barrels, so I like to think that Pickles told him about the auditions

There's also the guitarist from Get Thee Hence

Toki's shadow!!! The wings!!!

The animals they take the form of match two of the guitars Brendon Small created with Gibson, The Thunderhorse and the Snow Falcon :D

It's super tiny but their smiles :'))!!! Also the way their parts play on different sides when you listen with headphones but then combine at this part makes me so crazy. Not only does Toki challenge Skwisgaar and inspire him to get better, but they're also having fun! Which I can imagine never really happened when he played with Magnus

Probably just an animation error but Skwisgaar is animated as his present day self here. Idk, just thought that was interesting

I think the order of the rest of the band joining in on the background vocals is really interesting, it goes: Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, Murderface. Personally I choose to interpret it as a representation of how long it took each member to warm up to Toki as their rhythm guitarist, Skwisgaar was super fast since he was the one to choose him, Pickles was the one wanting a new guitarist in the first place, Nathan and Magnus seemed to be close, so it would definitely take more time for him to accept Toki as the whole Magnus situation would still feel a little raw, and Murderface is a professional hater so of course it took him the longest

I really love just how soft and content Murderface looks in Toki's fantasy. We all know he has a softer side and I think that either Toki perceives it, or possibly Murderface shows it towards him (Which I can believe because they're often together and they get along pretty well, Toki is probably the person Murderface gets along with the best actually)

I also want to mention that at this part of I Believe, Toki is no longer singing along with the other's background vocals, and is harmonizing with himself, which gets really sad when you realize that it's because this was just Toki remembering this to keep himself sane and he's actually kidnapped, hurt, and alone. Ouch :(

The drunk driver who crashed into the Jomfru brothers is the same guy who crashed into Nathan's second grade class in Dethgov. I guess there's only one drunk driver that exists in the Metalocalypse universe lol

I think we as a fandom need to appreciate Eric Jomfru more. He's such a real one. The way they make you care about him after he's already gone is so evil lol /affectionate

The way the Klokateers join in on this song makes me wonder if perhaps they view each other as brothers, or if there's just like a strong sense of brotherhood between them

The groupie on the left can actually be seen in Fatherklok at the beginning of the episode, as one of the women Skwisgaar has been with, so y'know what? She has valid reasons to be mad honestly

Murderface's pose up top always sends me, sir please calm down, keep it together king

Murderface holding his wrist :(

If you look closely, you can actually see that the Revengeancers are eating Ishnifus. Which is just,, utterly horrifying

In between the shots of the band and the assassin, there's so many inconsistencies in the placement of the characters. For the last two images, I just like to rationalize it as Pickles immediately attempting to run away, then noticing that the rest of the band is still there and being like "Oh shit we're squaring up? Ok I guess". I know it's just so Nathan can be in the center when they use the Dethlights but I just think it's funny

Also in the second to last picture, the way Murderface, typically the most cowardly of the band, isn't looking at the assassin, but instead, is looking worriedly at Toki, makes my heart hurt. I adore their relationship

Murderface is actually sleeping in Nathan's bed here. If you compare different shots of their bedrooms and beds, it's clear that this is Nathan's, you can tell from the striped pillowcase. I'm not gonna talk too much about this, mostly because I want to make a separate post talking about how Murderface is seen more than once sleeping in Nathan's bed when he's hurt/unwell. It's very sweet lol

ANYWAY! Thanks for reading these rambles, I love The Doomstar Requiem so much! I might make a post like this for Army of the Doomstar as well, and also just some analysis posts if I get the confidence lol. Big thanks to @ratskal for watching this a dozen times with me and pointing out things too. (I actually reached the max limit of pictures allowed in a post which is a little funny, I am so normal about this show /lying)

#metalocalypse #mtl #the doomstar requiem #tdr #toki wartooth #nathan explosion #william murderface #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer

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