#like it is utter nonsense and not even that funny

[thepunkmuppet]

just watched Absolutely Anything for the first time because simon pegg and oh my god it was so shit and oh my god I loved it so much. it’s the kind of movie that students will watch while eating cereal and getting high at 3 am and honestly I respect that

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: ish-bullying, loser reader, popular gojo and geto, player gojo, mean-ish gojo

fem reader

Satoru didn’t get it at first.

You weren’t the typical bombshell he’d usually go for. To the naked eye, you were just any other girl he’d pass on the street, with neither a face nor a body worth doing a double take. You were average, perhaps a little above at best, but nothing sensational. Your wardrobe was drab, and so was your makeup—if you wore any—he couldn’t really tell—maybe chapstick with a dull tint and some mascara, but nothing flashy. No one would envy him if he had you on his arm—or in his bed. In fact, you were so invisible that looking at you for too long became an eyesore.

He truly didn’t understand it. Why Suguru’s dour gaze always settled on you. What could it possibly be that he saw in you that his six eyes couldn’t? 

He was desperate to figure it out. When he’d asked his raven-haired friend, he’d only spoken a bunch of nonsense that went straight over his head. And so he’d taken matters into his own hands and gone and gotten himself a good look at you up close. And by look, he means bumping straight into you and making you drop all your books onto the floor—scattered papers and everything. 

You’d landed on your butt with a wince—he’d even snuck a peak at your panties in the fall, and still, he didn’t really get what the hype was about. You were just another run-of-the-mill girl—an utter nobody.

He looks down at you with a disappointed grimace, almost frustrated with how utterly mediocre you are. Fully bored with his findings, he’s about ready to give up, ignore you, and walk away without a word, leaving you there in the puddle of your own dismal banality—almost afraid it would rub off on him like a disease.

He’s very nearly convinced he finds your presence utterly disgusting until your voice slips out and stops him dead in his tracks.

“I’m so sorry—are you okay?”

Sweetly nervous and earnestly apologetic, you call out as if he’d not been the one at fault, as if he hadn’t just committed a plain hit-and-run, as if you weren’t the one on the floor and he wasn’t standing there fully unscathed with his hands down his pockets, staring down at you like you were a filthy thing at a zoo.

You look up at him while singing your sorries—big round eyes full of something he wished he could drink—that’s how suddenly parched he felt—breathless. No, hungry. Starving, actually—as if his inner animal had just found the perfect prey.

This is it, he thinks—that thing Suguru has been admiring all this time, that something that makes the otherwise grim line of his lips softly quirk upward. And oh, it’s such a simple thing, but truly priceless all at the same time—makes him want to eat you up and lick the plate.

“I’m the one who should apologize.” His grimace smoothens into a smile as he crouches down and reaches his hand out to you like a gentleman. He’s never done so before, but it comes naturally now.

His chest swarms with warmth and noise at the pretty blush of your face as you gingerly accept his gesture—bowing your head shyly once he’s helped you back on your feet, nodding so prettily with an ever-sweet and soft-spoken “Thank you—”

He can’t believe he didn’t see it before—you’re absolutely adorable.

You even try insisting he needn’t help you gather your wayward books and belongings, but he just tuts at you—determined to observe you a little while longer as he tells you it’s no big deal, it's the least he could do after being reckless and walking right into you. 

He carries it all for you to your classroom, where you once again bow your head and sing his praises. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were trying to get rid of him with the way you apologize for taking up his time. How cute—he’s making you really nervous, isn’t he? Of course, he is—you’re a complete mess, unable to look at him for any longer than a second before looking away.

It’s funny. To think he’d been dining with his own kind for so long—all sharp-tongued vixen with claws curling themselves into him, each sinking their teeth in for a piece—when he could have instead been feasting on you.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[onlyseokmins]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

the queen of ice. l Joel Miller

Summary: you got into trouble when the ice broke beneath you, and it wasn't just because of your wet clothes

Warnings: +18 smut, swearing, unprotected sex (don't do that), talking about nonsense, Joel is romantic but we all know what he means

A/N: I don't know how it happened, but it happened. I hope you like it at least a little bit

It was a second. Just a second.

"Joel?!"

Your voice broke, and after a moment you disappeared under the layer of ice that split under your feet. He already knew that he would never forget this moment.

Just a few minutes ago you were arguing about some stupid thing, or at least now it was stupid to him. His heart stopped for a moment and eyes widened in utter terror.

“Y/N?!” Joel called out, running towards the dark surface of water.

He slipped on the icy snow, but quickly got up, afraid to lose even a second.

You didn't know what happened. You heard a soft crack and you knew you were in trouble. In the next few moments, thousands of needles pierced your body as you plunged into the icy water. Your brain just shut down. But your body wanted to fight.

Taking your first breath of the cold air was another torture. But you couldn't let go. Your clothes were incredibly heavy, but you tried as hard as you could to get to the shore.

Someone grabbed your arms tightly and pulled you onto the icy shore.

Joel...

He hadn't been this scared in a long time.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he repeated as he tried to feel any injuries on your body with his hands.

“C-Cold…” you muttered, “F-Fuck.”

"How did this happen?"

"It just c-crack."

You let out a moan, your whole body hurting incredibly. 

You would give anything not to feel all this. Your muscles contracted and tensed, and your entire body was covered with wet clothes that stuck to you like duct tape. It took you a moment to realize that you were grinding your teeth and that your lips and fingers were twitching from lack of control.

Someone took you in their arms and lifted you from the ground, quickly heading towards the nearby buildings.

Joel...

Just like for you, for him, every minute felt like at least an hour. When he took you in his arms, he felt as if he had lifted an ice sculpture.

If his heart had stopped for a moment before, it was now pounding like crazy in his chest. The faint wisp of steam rising from between your lips signaled that you were alive, but if he didn't quickly find a place to hide you from the cold, if he didn't warm you up...

He didn't want to think about it. You were already close to the first building and Joel opened the door by hitting it with his shoulder. He rushed into the dusty room that must have been the living room and placed you on the couch.

"Y/N? Y/N?" he repeated your name nervously. “Are you still with me? Say something?”

"I-I'm not a c-closed case yet." you whispered, a faint smile gracing his face for a second.

"It's not funny." he replied, "But if you keep talking nonsense like that, I guess it will happen." his fingers quickly found the zipper on your jacket. “You have to take off these wet clothes or you'll freeze.”

"I h-haven't done it yet?"

The jacket, sweatshirt, shirt and t-shirt were all sticking to your body that it took Joel a while to get it off. When he grabbed your jeans, something that was probably supposed to be laughter escaped your throat.

"T-That's the worst p-part." you said.

"Yeah, I imagined it differently too." he replied, struggling with your jeans. “Don't move. I have some shirts in my backpack. Maybe we can find some blankets.”

You curled up on the couch as more shivers racked your body.

He pulled his flannel shirt out of his backpack and with a little help from you, he managed to put it on you since your fingers were stiff. He threw his jacket over you and then quickly started searching the house.

You heard the sound of his footsteps as he searched each room. The cabinets opened and closed with a bang. You wanted to close your eyes so much.

"Fuck!"

The sound of falling chairs reached your ears.

"Y/N? Are you still there?" he shouted from upstairs.

"I think so." you replied hoarsely.

"Talk to me! I want to hear you!"

You rested your head against the headrest of the couch and closed your eyes slightly. In a strange way, the cold was subsiding. It wasn't as bothersome anymore.

“Y/N?!”

The violent jerk sent your head flying forward like a rag doll.

"Hey! Don't fall asleep, Y/N." Joel patted your cheek and you opened your eyes for a moment. “Good girl. I found something that... What the hell are you doing?”

"It's so hot in here, Joel. So fucking hot!"

"Put that back on! Jesus, you're such a pain in the ass, but now you have to listen to me!" Miller pulled your shirt back over you and then threw some blankets over your back. “You're going to stay here and not move, do you understand me? Naaah! We're awake, Y/N!”

"You're such a whiner, Joel." you whined, "Okay, I won't sleep. I won't."

"Talk to me, okay? Damn, your legs are so cold!"

He started rubbing your legs to restore circulation, and you tried to focus your eyes on something so as not to think about how terrible the situation you were in.

"You were supposed to talk to me." Joel said after a moment.

He seemed a little calmer now, but he didn't stop rubbing your cold legs. Your gaze fell on his dark hair sprinkled with gray, and those adorable wrinkles around his eyes that became more pronounced when he smiled.

"I wish you would smile more often." you finally said.

"You're not giving me a reason to do that now, Ice Queen." he replied, but despite everything, you saw a slight smile on his face. “You almost made me have a heart attack. Don't do that again.”

"I can't promise. It's kind of nice to have someone take care of you."

"I always care about you."

"By calling me a pain in the ass?" You muttered in mock anger.

"Because you are." Joel reached for your hands. “You're freezing. I need to make you something warm to drink right now.”

"You shouldn't light a fire. Someone might find us."

His hands were so pleasantly warm that your skin almost melted under his touch.

"It's getting dark now. I can handle it. How are you feeling?"

"Better, although my underwear is still cold."

"I can help you take it off." Joel said, but then he realized how it sounded. "Or I can leave and you deal with it yourself."

"Yeah, I guess I'll do that."

A dozen or so minutes later, you were holding a cup of warm water in your hands. Joel was trying to prepare something to eat, and he hung up your clothes because you both hoped they would dry before you left the place. Outside, the snow was falling more and more, but you closed the curtains and in the dim light, the room seemed quite nice.

"A farm? I can't imagine you could live in a place like that."

"Why not? What's wrong with that?" you laughed and adjusted the blankets that were wrapped around you.

Joel kept insisting that you talk to him because he was afraid it wouldn't be safe for you to fall asleep yet. You, on the other hand, thought that, as usual, he was exaggerating and being overprotective.

"You seem like a city girl." he replied, handing you what had previously been canned soup.

"There are probably no such people in today's situation, don't you think?"

"Maybe. But the farm?" Joel sat down next to you and took a sip of soup. “What would you be doing there?”

"You're mocking me, Miller!" you nudged his shoulder. “I don't know what I would do exactly, but we're talking hypothetically, right?”

Joel nodded.

"I think I'd have chickens, a little garden. And a swing."

"Why a swing?" the man looked at you surprised.

"For the kids, right? I wouldn't live there alone. Nice guy and a couple of kids, sounds good."

He nodded and thought for a moment. For a moment, your vision appeared in his head. It was nice. He could easily imagine the small farm, the kids running around the house, and those damned chickens.

"And you?" your voice broke him out of his thoughts. “What would you do if you could choose?”

"I want a quiet life." he replied after a while, "Nothing special."

"There will be a peaceful life on my farm. And there will definitely be a place for you." you set the empty cup down and turned around so you could see Joel more clearly. “The chickens shouldn't bother you.”

"What about the children? Or their father?"

"You're ruining my dream, Miller. I offer you peace and a quiet life on my farm, and you make me realize that the chances of all this happening are tragically low."

"Okay, okay! I'll take this room." he held up his hands in surrender. "Even though I know I'll get in trouble for this."

He finished his meal calmly, and the farm in his head grew more and more. He could find a house near Jackson, you'd be close to a safe place. The garden would be behind the house, near a tree where he would hang swings. He's already seen you on some rocking chair on the porch. It was nice.

“Listen, Y/N…” he started, but all he heard was your quiet and steady breathing.

You fell asleep.

A sudden movement to his right made him wake up immediately. The room was dark. The door was securely secured so he knew you were safe. He glanced quickly in your direction.

You were shaking all over. Even though you were wrapped in blankets, your whole body was shaking with shivers.

“Y/N?” Joel whispered as he moved closer to you, "Hey, I'm here."

“It's cold…” you whispered, “It's gotten so cold.”

He hadn't noticed that the room had gotten much colder in those few hours, but you weren't pretending.

"Come here." he murmured softly and turned you around so you could snuggle into him. "Will it be okay if I slide under your blanket? You'll be able to warm yourself with my body heat."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Why did Joel have to be so warm? You felt like you were hugging a hot radiator. His warmth transferred to you, his hands rubbing your shoulders and you hugged him so tightly you were surprised he hadn't started complaining yet.

You had never been this close to each other before and you both started to realize it.

There was nothing inappropriate or uncomfortable about it. It was quite the opposite, you fit his body perfectly. You felt no fear, just a little excitement. Although your body was still trembling slightly.

"Joel?" you whispered, and when he murmured softly, you added, "I'm not bothering you? Maybe you're uncomfortable?"

"It's okay. Stay."

Your leg was on his lap and when you moved slightly, you suddenly felt it. A bulge in his jeans that didn't mean Joel had anything in his pocket.

He flinched and you froze.

"Joel?"

"Mhm."

"If you were uncomfortable, you would definitely tell me about it, right?"

"Definitely."

So you decided to take a risk. Your hand slowly and carefully slipped under his shirt. Joel didn't say anything, didn't even flinch as your hand slowly moved under his shirt.

"Joel?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it because of me?"

You ran your thigh over his bulge and it twitched.

"I'm surprised you even asked." he replied, his voice extremely low. "If you do that again, I can't promise I'll behave like a gentleman."

"Maybe you don't have to?" your thigh shifted slightly again and in that moment Joel was above you, trapping you between his arms.

"I guess you don't feel so bad if you're having fun provoking me, huh?" he said, his eyes darkening. "Ever since you started feeling better, all I can think about is that you're completely naked and wearing only my shirt. You little brat."

"I've been a brat before, but somehow that didn't provoke you."

"You don't even know how many times I thought about you while lying alone in bed. Or when you were on guard duty."

His thigh slipped between your legs and you felt his bulge rub against your clit. You didn't expect that you were so horny, but your reaction was just a signal for him to attack.

Joel kissed you hard and fierce. His tongue slipped into your mouth, drawing dirty moans from you. Your fingers ran into his hair and you pulled him even closer to you. His weight on you felt so good that you felt like you had waited too long for this. A strong hand clamped down on your breast, fingers pinching your nipple lightly.

"Do you like it?" Joel murmured into your ear, "We don't have enough time for me to do with you everything that's been on my mind for so long. Take this as a teaser."

He sucked on the skin of your neck and you knew he was marking you. You were his.

He lifted your shirt to give him easier access to your breasts. With a soft purr, he kissed your breastbone, then enclosed your soft breast in his hot lips, sucking and teasing your nipple with his tongue. A moan of pleasure rose from your throat.

His thigh kept rubbing against your clit, teasing you more and more. Joel's mouth moved to the other tit and the cold air gave you goosebumps. You somehow managed to undo his belt and, despite the lack of space between your bodies, you slipped your hand into his jeans.

Now he moaned, almost like an animal, as your hand closed around his manhood. You moved it steadily, feeling the pre-cum on his shaft.

"I want you." gasped Joel, "If you want me too."

"Give me everything you can. I can take it."

Joel pulled out his cock with his free hand. He spread your legs and his hand ran over your folds. You were already so wet.

"Next time I want to taste you. Now I just want to be inside you." he said and you felt his tip slide into you.

He slowly entered you, your body adjusting to his length, and when he was all the way in, he stopped. You could see Joel's face right above you, his eyes were burning, but as soon as you stroked his cheek he smiled mischievously at you.

"Hold on to something, baby." he said and then his hips started moving hard.

You were wrong to think that his entire cock was inside you. By now he was pounding into you so deep that your hands managed to tighten on Joel's shirt at the last second.

"Fuck!" you moaned loudly.

More hits and more. Were you able to bear it? You didn't even know when Joel had freed himself from your arms, grabbed your wrists and pinned them with his hands just above your head. Now there was nothing stopping him from destroying you.

"That's right, baby. You take it so well." he breathed into your ear, "I've been dreaming of feeling you on my cock. With those sweet tits in front of my face."

You were already on the edge and Joel wanted to push you straight into the abyss. He knew no mercy. Every thrust that followed was harder, every word he said drove you crazy. When you felt his lips close over your nipple again as he sucked on it, you thought you were going to go crazy.

"Joel!" you moaned, "I..I'm..."

"C'mon, baby. I'm holding you." he gasped, "Let it go."

Your walls clamped down on his cock and your body arched as you reached your peak. Pleasure spread through every cell in your body, but you could still feel Joel moving inside you. His breathing was quick and shallow, his hips bucking hard against you. A few more moves and he pulled out, spreading himself on your stomach with a loud groan.

“Fuck…” he panted, falling next to you, “You’re going to destroy me.”

"I could say the same about you." you replied, trying to catch your breath.

Joel got up and wiped your stomach with a cloth, then wrapped the blanket around you again and pulled you closer to him.

"You made a fucking mess of my brain." you laughed softly. “If I had known earlier that you could do such things...”

"Let me catch my breath and I'll show you even more. I want to taste that delicious pussy, and your clothes won't be dry for a while, so I don't have to rush."

You felt excitement starting to bubble between your legs again. This man was your curse and salvation at the same time. He had just blown you to pieces, and you were politely waiting for him to do it again.

"I think I could live on that farm of yours." Joel said after a while, "I guess it could work."

"What about my husband? Are you not afraid of him anymore?"

"Naaah. Besides, I'll be the only one fucking you anyway. No one else will get you."

You lifted yourself up on your shoulder and kissed him lightly. Joel was right, you still had plenty of time. Not only to dry your clothes...

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

[starryficsfinishwen]

── .✦ doomsday game ; xiangli yao x reader

if the world was ending, would you love me for the hell of it? syn. if, theoretically, the world were to end today, what would you do? if you ask xiangli yao, he wouldn't mind spending the last days on earth with you.

*inspired by 4* zayne card with the same name (love and deepspace)

a.n. - oh god he corrupts me I love him. HAPPY RELEASE DAY XIANGLI YAO!!! As an honor for getting his weap, for now being guaranteed (my S1 Xiangli Yao is glacio and short??), I GIVE THIS FIC AS MY THANK YOU. ALSOHAHSHSHSHS I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE WRONG FIC IM SORRY BUT HERE IT IS

pairing - xiangli yao x f!rover

words - will edit when I switch to lappy

content warnings - none!! major fluff!! also pre-established relationship

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Potent rumors often plant seeds of disbelief.

It often came as a small white lie, an utterance between two consenting parties. When it reaches the leeching tongue of the birds, they fall to the ground, sprouting things that are weeds to the truth. If left alone, they would deter nature's course.

For example, the rumors somewhat turned into some prophecy— “the world is ending soon”.

How does it end? They say it's a global snowstorm. Maybe another global flood. A supernova collision. No, they definitely said it was an onslaught of active volcanoes erupting to create a flood of lava. Or maybe, some Sentinel wished for immense havoc, with its god-like power awakening to slaughter everything in its path.

However, for scientists like Xiangli Yao, all those claims seem comical.

“The world is ending soon?” A fellow scientist slaps his own knee, “That's complete bull!”

In the middle of the long table of the Academy, what was once a flickering 3D map of Jinzhou was temporarily dimmed; instead, a couple of scientists had gathered, playing cards for their breaktime.

“I know, right? It's too funny; they really think the world is ending so soon.”

One of them throws the card, a chorus of laughter.

“My findings say otherwise,” said a cocky researcher, “The fluctuations isn't very severe. We can live to see another millennia here in our world!”

“The plants and people are still alive and well.” The glimmer of a card catches everyone else's attention, “Very far from the truth indeed.”

One scientist lets out an indignant huff, “But how did they even reach that conclusion? Do they have the data?”

The group pauses for a bit. Some bit their lip, another shuffled their cards, and the other couldn't help but sigh. “Um, proof or not, I think they are still sprouting nonsense.” Muttered the first scientist.

Another eerie silence envelops them. Until one of them throws a card at the center. “The tacet marks have been spreading nonstop...”

They throw another. “TD's are also unstable, giving a major interference to the once-natural resonance cords.”

And when he throws the last trump card, almost all of the players had a grim look on their face. “We are merely just a few months recovering from the Retroact Rain. Our soldiers cannot handle another catastrophe!!”

With a trembling shout from the scientist, everyone else near the group stopped on their tracks. Noticing that the attention was on him, the poor scientist slides back to his chair, embarrassed. Even the ones he was playing with had a gloomy face.

“...Not to diminish our pride but...who knows...what happens to Jinzhou...not to mention our Sentinel and Magistrate...”

“That's understandable. The evidences speak for themselves.”

All eyes are on the man who spoke after a long while. Between the dim lights of the Academy's hall and his slow steps, his versicolored eyes glimmers brightly than ever.

“I understand your concerns, Ray,” Xiangli Yao reaches out to pat the forlorn scientist by his shoulder, “We are merely at the recovery stage for Jinzhou, yet our nation has been going through too many things already.”

Amethyst eyes wander among the resonance cords on the screen. They catch a familiar face of a person, one that made his own heart skip a beat.

“However, Jinzhou still stands until today. We cannot say the exact date for the end of the world—it could be today, tomorrow, or another millennium—but as long as we are still here to see the flowers blooming or the children laughing, then why should we stop today?”

A roar of cheers erupts throughout the hall. The lamenting scientist sniffles in joy. Yet the Principal Investigator couldn't look away from the certain figure of a girl.

“But if the world were to end soon,” muttered a nearby scientist, causing Xiangli Yao to glance at him, “Hmm...I wonder where I'll go.”

Without a clear future in mind, and you, the Rover, who only woke up just now—the thought is scary. If, indeed, the world was ending soon, then what happens next? What happens to you?

The cats have been meowing nonstop.

As if sensing the air, they were pawing at your ankles, as if trying to catch your attention. One, two, three- maybe even five- cats trying to catch your attention.

Picking the white one, who was the one visibly stressed, you coo her as you scratched the back of her ear.

“What's wrong, hm?” You playfully kissed the cat's cheek, “Was the food not enough for you? If I overfeed you, Mr. Investigator will have to put you on another diet.”

Somehow understanding you, the cat gently pushes you off of their face with their paws, meowing.

“Hey, I'm telling the truth! As much as it hurts my poor heart, I can't feed you again today...”

“...I suppose you can allow them,” pipped a familiar voice, “They do look awfully thin.”

Nearly spilling the cat off of your arms, you squeak as you turn to meet a smiling Xiangli Yao. “M-Mr. Investigator?!”

“It's the first time you've addressed me by my title, Ms. Rover,” He teases, opting to carry the black cat on your feet, “I suppose our relationship is back to being professional?”

“The cats seem to know you more like that,” you emphasized, “Mr. Principal Investigator.”

He laughs—a tender laugh, it makes your heart squeeze—that it makes you pout. “I suppose that is right. Consider it a working place, then.”

Xiangli Yao stands next to you, holding out the black cat as it meows. With a funny thought, you ask, “Did you even know why they approached you in the first place?”

“Is it because I feed them?”

“No,” You playfully stuck out your tongue at him, “They say it's because it's to ward off bad spirits.”

Xiangli Yao goes silent, before looking at the cat, then back to you. “Hmm. I suppose I should stay away from you?”

Ultimately backfired. The joke goes back to you. With a dramatic gasp, you shrug. “Seeing as the cats was the one who approached me today, I think it's you who should go away for now.”

Freely laughing onto the summer air, the cats' meows intertwine with the yours. It's like any other workday— Xiangli Yao leaves mid-afternoon from work to meet and feed the cats, walking elsewhere until he's comfortable enough to go and finish his work.

It's only been a few weeks since a new addition to his itinerary: you. Now, every afternoon, the cats would find themselves carried by the warm sunlight; and you, taking care of them before him, drenched in sunset glow.

Like now, Xiangli Yao notes. But the thoughts were far too tempting. He takes a dive in them.

“So, Mr. Investigator,” you asked as you found yourselves by the stalls, nudging him softly, “where to next?”

The cats slowly left as soon as your walks stretched farther than usual. You were too nice to disturb Xiangli Yao, when he was far too absorbed in his thoughts.

“...Ah,” He purses his lips, slowly stopping in his steps, “I'm sorry, Rover. I hadn't realized we've gone this far.”

The streets decorated with the loud and bursting stalls sound in the background. Yet in the midst of it all, Xiangli Yao is silent as ever, his robotic hand over his lips, eyebrows furrowed. You think it's cute, from the curve of his pout, but you quickly shake it off.

“No worries at all. But you look like you have a lot on your mind, maybe you want to share them?”

Xiangli Yao looks at you. Behind you, the sun in Jinzhou has never set—bathing you in its reverberating halo, casting an ethereal glow. With his heart skipping a beat, he looks away with a sigh.

“...[Y/N],” every syllable of your name sounds too foreign for him, yet too holy, “Would you...like to come and stay with me for now?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Where do you want to go, Xiangli?”

His face remains serious as he speaks. “My house.”

“...I'm sorry?”

Going to Xiangli Yao's house was something you've never expected.

Sure, you often get invitations to visit your friends' houses once in a while. But it seems different when someone like Xiangli Yao asks you to go home with me.

Wait. With a mental slap, you scold yourself. Why do you feel different when it's with Xiangli Yao? Was there something about him? Watching unfocused amethyst eyes seems to make you worry. You were definitely not feeling something, right?

Unless?

“Is there anything else you'd like?” Xiangli Yao pops up from his kitchen, carrying a plate full of snacks in one arm and drinks in another, “I'm sorry, these are some of the food I could make.”

“It's okay, I'm more than happy to already taste what you make!” You said as you rush to help him.

But as you are about to take the plates, you couldn't help but gasp.

“Oh, does my hand scare you?”

Instead of the usual robotic hand you've grown accustomed to, it had morphed into a larger metal plate, to fit the two plates.

“No!” You shake your head with a laugh, “It's just the first time I've seen it like this. Does it change back?”

By the time the plates are on the table, Xiangli Yao twists his robotic hand (plate?), popping it out of the socket. “It does. Let me get it.”

“Do you...” Watching him scurry, you pick up a chip from the plate, “...need a hand?”

A resounding clang! echoes back to you. It takes a while before he returns to the room, rolling his hand as he grins. “I believe it's back in its proper place.”

Still the same stupid jokes that make you cackle. Eventually, you both settle down. The afternoon telenovela plays on the TV. Finally settled to sit on the ground instead of the chair, you end up picking the savory chips, munching as you devotedly watch the scenes in front of you. You don't even bat an eye even as you feel Xiangli Yao sits next to you. Silence. But a good kind.

How long have you known Xiangli Yao again? Whatever you both do, you're still content with each other's company. From the corner of your eye, you notice his gaze firmly on the TV, empty hands hair's breadth away.

“The Moonlit Fair,” you said slowly after a comfortable silence, “now that it's over, are you back to your usual work?”

He hums. “Depends how you define "usual work".”

“Metalwork and other groundbreaking discoveries.”

You bring your knees close to your face, resting your head so you could comfortably turn to see Xiangli Yao's face. Chromatic colors paint the neutral look on his face. Yet when he turns, a pretty smile replaces it.

“The field of science is only a curiosity away,” he pipes, mimicking your pose, “That's always something I've been doing, even before the start of the Moonlit Fair.”

This goody-two-shoes prodigy has always been the talk of the town. Even in Huaxu Academy, even from Mortefi's mouth, he is long lauded as someone who easily creates breakthroughs.

“I'm jealous.” You admit, sighing, “You can easily create new things.”

“That's not true.”

“Ah, I guess I can say with pride that I often help people, too.”

“However you may say it, it doesn't erase the fact that you are doing so much more than you think.” He said, “You're the mysterious Rover. You have lost memories related to this city. And from what I've heard, you hold so much history.”

He reaches out, human hand hesitating to touch your face. With a fleeting downcast gaze, he ends up booping your cheek. It makes you flinch from surprise.

“...I should be the one jealous of you, if that's the case, [Y/N].” His smile causes his eyes to close, a genuine look on his face, “You've done many incredible things that are worthy rather than simple praises.”

Did Xiangli Yao ever look this pretty before? Soft skin and amethyst irises through fluttering lashes. You wish you could brush away the hair that covers his eyes. Carefree, kissable lips. Wait—you cough, looking awau to hide the blush tinting your cheeks.

“Please, stop flattering me. I might end up bursting a hole in your roof.”

“I'll be sure to let Xiang-LEE and Patty fix that.”

A ticklish giggle escapes your lips as you turn back to see him. “Please leave my kids alone, you have overworked them during the festival.”

“...Please don't worry,” he shrugs, chuckling, “They'll be granted a paid vacation anyways.”

Seeing as the telenovela has lost its charm, and the poor food in front of you could go to waste, and maybe not wanting to end the fun yet, you decide to test your waters.

“Xiangli,” you said, noticing how he perked his head at the mention of his name, “I want to play a game.”

“An electronic one again?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Truth or Dare.”

Xiangli Yao laughs. “Oh, I didn't know you were into childish games like that.”

“I'm curious about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way.” You point out, “What's a better way than to play a game?”

“You could have asked and I wouldn't mind answering, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sit up straight, grinning, “Truth or Dare?”

Xiangli Yao mirrors you. “Already?”

“Pick already, or I might change my mind.”

“Hmm...Dare.”

Suppose your afternoon would be so different. A few chugs of the drinks, greedy hoarding of chips, spent markers, and random doodles later, you find yourself dressed in one of his lab coats with a clip of some of his IDs, and him in the flashiest shirt. The laughter has long strained your lips but it still ends up being the sweetest you've ever tasted. Apart from that, the glow in Xiangli Yao's face is also different, one that makes your heart skip faster.

“You've what?”

Xiangli Yao laughs a little too loudly. “A mini mouse that would greet anyone who opens the door. Mortefi was the first victim, because I didn't know he was deathly afraid of mice.”

The mental image of Mortefi from Xiangli Yao's prank comes abruptly that it causes you to match the latter's laughter—hollering until your back finds the sofa, slapping the carpet.

“Oh my God,” you wheeze, “It's not even a surprise why he hates you even more!”

Xiangli Yao wipes a tear from his eye, sparkly eyeshadow slightly staining his cheeks, “I bought him some coffee to apologize, but the joke hadn't died down for weeks.”

He finds himself sitting closely with you now, head against the sofa. With a little of your mingling laughter in the air, he couldn't help but watch as your fits of laughter continued, albeit a little softer. Through your literal rose-colored lenses, did you see the world like that, too?

“It's my turn now, right?” You ask, your shoulders an aftershock from your laughter.

“Mm,” he nods, “Have you run out already?”

“No, never!”

“Alright, since I've been picking dares for a while. I'll go with truth.”

“Have you ever heard of the rumors?” You begin, laughter dying down, as you take a bite from the chip. “That the world is "ending soon"?”

Xiangli Yao freezes. So you've heard. It's no surprise as it already made a turmoil between the scientists in Huaxu Academy. Yet the dread somehow comes creeping back to him.

“If, theoretically, the world were to end today,” you slowly speak, carefully choosing the words, “In a few hours or so. What would you do?”

What would he do? A tricky question. But a calid one at that. “The end of the world wouldn't happen so abruptly.”

“Mm, yeah, but I am curious about your answer.”

What would Xiangli Yao do? And somehow, the dimming living room feels so small, the only light source was a forgotten TV color palette. When he looks at you, your doe eyes sparkle in the darkness. The closeness of your bodies, the fleeting smell of spring on your shoulder, with a hint of him.

“Well...” He slides down to the floor, patting the space beside him, “I'll let you know if you lay here with me.”

“Are you sure there are no pranks here?”

“I'm honest.”

You eventually follow his words, so you could meet the level of his eyes. Watching the glow of his inspiration-filled eyes, they somehow make you smile.

“I heard all about it when my colleagues were playing a game during break time.” Xiangli Yao begins, “Some claim it's not true, but there have been others who believe it's so soon.”

“What do you think?”

He looks away, opting to stare at the ceiling above. You follow his sight, unaware of what was next.

“I don't know.” He says truthfully, robotic hand pointing upward, “With everything that has happened, no one else can predict it.”

“Even a knowledgeable scientist like you?”

He glances at you. “Even a knowledgeable scientist like me.”

He looks back to where his hand points. Casting a power, a small purple cube dances in his robotic hand, knowing that you were watching so intently.

“But if the world were to end today, then I wouldn't mind spending the day with the cats I feed.”

The cube glows brightly, floating so freely in his hand. A flash of scenes play through its squares, too fast to see, yet too slow to be noticed.

“I wouldn't mind having the TV on, sitting on the floor with snacks all over, even though there's a perfectly good sofa.”

He hears your small laugh, which makes him smile. The cube falls to his chest, where it travels all the way to you.

“I wouldn't mind spending the last hours playing Truth or Dare, with someone who's extraordinary.”

This time, Xiangli Yao looks at you. Wide-eyed and speechless, from the way the cube touches your outstretched hand, watching the faint glow of the halo on your own body. If the world were to end, he wouldn't get tired of watching this view; watching the rise and fall of your chest as you stare in awe, calloused hands tenderly watching over his own work of art, knowing that there'll never be another you if the world were to end.

Knowing that he's long been blessed to exist in the world where you are in it.

“I think I wouldn't mind spending the last hours on Solaris-3 with you, [Y/N].”

The cube pops, a sprinkle of glitter all over your body. Glancing, your heart throbs loudly in your chest, as you heard his confession.

How did this happen again? You were merely friends with the scientist. After the successful Moonlit Fair, you often find yourself bumping into him, simple errands and impromptu hang outs when you do. Watching Xiangli Yao in his humble abode, the telenovela a white noise, and the shade of colors lighting his face—have you ever seen him more than a friend?

“Xiangli Yao,” you breathe, which made him freeze, “you...”

He smiles. “I'm not rushing to know your answer. I am merely stating the facts.”

A good friend. But now you figured out why that rubs you off the wrong way. You have always known the answer to your feelings.

“[Y/N],” Even the way Xiangli Yao speaks your name, a softer one, where in the world they called you "Rover", he calls you differently.

“[Y/N],” Reaching out, his human hand finds a strand of your hair, gently pulling it to his lips. “[Y/N],”

Xiangli Yao calls your name, one that makes you throb.

“If, theoretically,” he repeats the question you asked before, “the world does end today, what will you do?”

In a world where your memories are lost in the ripples of time and reverberation. You had the same answer.

“...I wouldn't mind spending it with a certain scientist.” You smile, watching him mirror yours, “I wouldn't mind spending it with you, Xiangli Yao.”

“[Y/N]...”

“Xiangli,” you reach out to cup his cheek, to which he closes his eyes to snuggle to the warmth, “Xiangli, you're like the cats.”

“Then will you ever mind if I could hold on to you?”

Weary arms find themselves asking for yours. And like you, touch-starved for his own touch, lean onto him, the smell of spring and that you could forget the world.

“...I would,” you said, and you do mean it, “I'll hold onto you, Xiangli.”

Oh god pls let me have him irl too

don't forget to like, comment, share, and reblog!!

— starry

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity|Seungmin Bonus

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

Just a little gift of appreciation :)

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"This is...awkward..." You mumbled as Seungmin squeezed your hand under the table at your family's Thanksgiving dinner. To think you flew all the way back home with your newlywed husband so he could experience your first family holiday - just to have your mom and her sister going at it.

"Well, I don't know what you want me to tell you Patricia! The truth hurts!" Your mom said raising her hands in the air defense. "You would think your daughter would stop messing around after getting pregnant by her boyfriend's brother but now she has a baby from the same man she cheated on?"

"Hah! Like Rick had cheated on you?" Your Aunt snaps back, leaving your mom's mouth agape.

"We-Well at least I had a husband to begin with! Where's that little Entrepeneur boyfriend of yours? Still looking for enough money for a ring after 11 years?"

"Hmm, I believe so because I started dating him when Rick and his new wife's daughter was born. Surprised you haven't met the half-sister to your kids yet."

"Well at least my grandkids aren't half-brothers and cousins at the same time! Imagine having your uncle as your stepdad!"

You sighed and slunk in your seat as various other family members either ignored to ongoing battle or were trying to get them to stop.

"I'm sorry baby..." You mumbled resting your head on his shoulder. You could feel it shake and looked up in alarm but were relieved to see that he was laughing. "You think this is funny?" You asked with a smile on his face.

"Hilarious actually." Seungmin sputtered. "They're so quick with their comebacks...I'd love to see them in an argument with Minho-Hyung."

"They'd team up. They argue like there is no tomorrow, but if someone dare start an argument with their sister...oh bless them because they're done."

"I thought like...people argued about Politics and American Football during Thanksgiving. That's what it was like in the movies..."

You smiled into your husband's shoulder and shook your head. "Nope. My family argues but never about the actually valid things you can argue about." Your eyes trailed over to your two older brothers who had gathered their kids in the living room to watch Football through one of the childrens' networks so they could be entertained while the kids could be entertained seeing their favorite cartoon characters on the screen. "Except them." You said nodding your head.

"Bro there is no way you think Prescott is better than Goff. You're actually insane."

"Crazy work thinking Goff is better. Look at the statistics."

You smiled seeing the kids blab as well, not even understanding what their fathers were saying, just uttering nonsense.

"See, my kid is going places. She agrees. Don't you, sweetie?"

"Hey bud- who do you think is better? The lion guy or the cowboy?"

"LION!" One of your nephews roared.

"Uncle Seungmin! Who is better?" One of your nieces ran up and tugged on her Uncle's shirt. Her twin came up right after and then the other kids - as it had turned out Seungmin was some sort of kid magnet and was the favorite of all of them.

"Uh..."

"Honey, if you say Goff is better you're sleeping on the sofa." You whispered.

"Uh...the...Prescott?" The kids started running around chanting out Dak Prescott's name which made some of the other adults turn their heads curiously, and one of your brothers utter out a sound of betrayal at seeing his son switch up quickly.

Soon enough the house was filled with immense noise, and you at first worried Seungmin would be annoyed but instead you watched as he joined with the kids, scooping up his nieces and nephews and making almost as much noise as all of them combined.

You smiled as you placed your hand on your stomach, and Seungmin looked at you and smiled.

And you knew the exact thoughts he was thinking because his eyes told you it all.

Later that night when you had laid down to rest Seungmin pulled you into his arms.

"I want our house to be that noisy one day. I feel like we could do like a Thanksgiving type thing in Korea right? And the guys could bring their kids and spouses and it would be really fun! And we can find something to watch on the TV too! I love baseball but actually it seems that football is pretty cool too! Hyeongnim was telling me - I mean..."

"You can refer to my brothers as 'hyeongnim' or refer to them by their names MinMin... it doesn't matter to them, they're just happy you make me happy." You said relaxing in his chest, feeling tired from the long day and in anticipation of Black Friday shopping the next day.

"Well they were both telling me about all the rules! And how their kids will play football! I always thought that I would have my son play baseball, but since you've lived life in America I feel like they could also play football because sometimes that seems more American than baseball even- even though it's the 'All American' sport. And then I was thinking what if our baby is actually a girl? We're too early in the pregnancy to know but I was like - if we had a girl she'd have such amazing support and a lot of the other guys are girl dad's so I'm sure it would be cool to have their support. And obvs our kids will have their support because they'll have seven uncles, and then they have an Aunt and then they have their two uncles here and-"

As you listened to Seungmin tell you about how much he had enjoyed the day, it couldn't help but make you think about the time when you had believed he would leave you for being talkative.

What a stupid thought.

Because you had never been more sure of the unconditional love Seungmin had for you. And seeing him light up and have that same unconditional love for the rest of your family.

And even if you did talk too much it wasn't like Seungmin could say anything because he slowly became more like you. And the way he was quickly becoming like your brothers as well.

""Crazy work. Half-brother and cousins is absolutley diabolical! Wait until I tell Jisung and Hyunjin!"

You couldn't help but laugh, extremely happy with the chaos in life you shared with the one you loved most.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo

@meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona

@shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345

@mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings

@skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi

@neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel

[partycatty]

i am so desperate to top dark star!johnny he makes me so horny mad, like someone humble that son of a bitch. it so doesn’t fit him to be topped but 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

UGHHH UR SO ME FR!!!! LMFAOOAAO i love pathetic men!!!! i love projecting my kinks onto my fics — WHAAAT WHO SAID THAAAT????

for those unfamiliar with dark star!johnny

dark star!johnny cage > payback

you have had it up to HERE with the white man's utter nonsense.

warnings: you humble evil johnny sexually. 😀 no but fr this is nsfw, bratty johnny and he hates it, he says "stop" and "no" but we all know he's lying and he loves it (afab reader)

notes: i was so excited to write this i don't even think it's coherent i'm literally barking gnawing frothing foaming i crawled to my pc to boot up the game to make gifs of him for future use bc i know DAMN well i will come back to this clown

masterlist <3

i will microwave him.

part 1* / part 2* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•lord have mercy where do i even begin.

•alright, so let's paint a picture here.

•dark star!johnny may have stupid amounts of money, but he's a fucking idiot. he didn't spend a single cent on you for christmas! he'd argue with you for hours, saying both "i am the gift!" and "i buy you enough shit the rest of the year and now you want more?"

•when you argue to the point of running out of new things to bring up, you decide to angrily drop the topic entirely and move on with life. that is, until you hear johnny's muffled voice call from you from upstairs as you begin to prep dinner several days after the holiday.

•"sweet cheeks, a hand would be nice!" he shouts, a suspiciously evident grin in his tone of voice. you roll your eyes as his persistent cocky nature, but your frown turns into a little gasp when you open the bedroom to your shared door.

•this absolute idiot is sitting face down ass up on your silk sheets, tied down nice and tight with a thick red ribbon. a bow rests on his neck and broad chest. The Coat is discarded on a chair beside the bed, but everything else is still on. he smushes his cheek against the sheets as he desperately tries and cranes his head to look at you.

•"heeeey babe," he'll meekly greet you, shimmying his shoulders. "i, uh. i was going to surprise you. but i kinda fell forward and couldn't get back up. it was supposed to be a sexy pose but i tied my arms down before anything else and i can't prop myself up."

•"you're a dumbass," you reply back with a frown, not entirely amused as much as he is. "you think this makes up for your fuckup?"

•"...yes?"

•"no! and you know what? i'm gonna fucking enjoy this whether you like it or not!" you sigh with exasperation, slapping his clothed ass pretty hard, the sound of contact echoing in your large bedroom. he lets out a whiny shout, trying to tug his hips away from you out of desperation and ending up flopping onto his back.

•"hey! not fucking funny. i hate when you do that," he'll complain with a scowl, but his protests are hard to take seriously when he flips over and reveals an angry boner throbbing against his pants.

•"yeah, that's why you have a raging hard-on," you reply with a dramatic groan, grabbing a handful of his thick shaft through his dress pants. he yelps again, twitching his hips upward as you feel his heartbeat through his cock. "i'm not helping you up, johnny. this is payback. for christmas."

•you climb on top of him, hovering your lips right above his in a sickeningly sweet way. johnny, like the needy whore he is, tries to lift his head up and capture your lips, but you cut the attempt short when you expertly undo his belt in a swift one-handed motion and squeeze his dick through his boxer briefs. his once puckered lips open to let out a deep, strained whine, and you feel a warm wetness in his pants as you milk the pre-cum from his tip with your grasp alone.

•ohhh he is in AGONY. ds!johnny literally HATES when he's not in control, and even though he feels his dick get impossibly harder, he's still writhing at the thought of not being the leader.

•"come on, dollface," he'll try to protest with furrowed brows, but you see the way he bites his bottom lip. "don't play mean. that's not how this was meant to go."

•you don't even reply to his annoyance, you just stick a finger between his neck and the ribbon around it, tugging it and sending a wave of pressure on the sides of his neck. his eyes involuntarily roll back as you temporarily choke him with his own doing.

•"you're gonna take it, aren't you? the torture?" you ask, palming him through his underwear and holding his face close to yours. his expression contorts instantly at your roughness. "how are you gonna fucking like it when i treat you like shit?"

•"you'll regret it," he groans out in an attempted threat, but it ends up sounding more breathy and gravely than intended. "you'll fucking regret crossing me like this."

•he's literally the one that had the genius idea to tie himself up. he's a Grade A idiot for putting himself in the situation to begin with. or maybe he likes it :)

•you hastily tug your own pants off, shaking your leg to throw them aside. once you're free of the fabric, you pull down johnny's pants too, since he hasn't got the ability to do it on his own. sure enough, his underwear is already definitely stained, and yours is getting there. the sight along made a wetness pool in your panties. something about such a cocky, annoying man finally being put in his place was starting to drive you a little wild as you straddle his hips.

•you shove your panties aside and settle them in the crack between you pussy and thighs, and return the gesture to your boyfriend by tugging his waistband down and unleashing his little jonathan (sorry). his pink, angry cock springs free and slaps against your tummy. you giggle.

•"ha, ha. very funny. untie me now," johnny whines again with a frustrated tone, but there's a hint of blush on his cheeks as he looks away from your body on top of his. his anger contorts into needy moans when you wrap your fingers around his dick, stroking at a medium pace and coating himself in his own precum. "ngh, fuck — stop it, i'm not fucking playing around — aah —"

•his back hopelessly arches as you lazily stroke his dick. when you decide he's hot and ready enough for the real thing after he turns into a blabbering mess, you hover above his dick and grab two fistfuls of the ribbons; one on his neck and one on his chest. his pretty lips part as he catches his breath from the sudden movement, eyes darting across your features.

•as he tries to make sense of your bold move, you sink down onto his throbbing cock and fully take him in your walls. he's unable to writhe and squirm as you hold him in place firmly. johnny's eyebrows knit together and he swiftly moves his head to the side, his sunglasses crooked and dropping on his hooked nose. when he finally gets the strength to look down at your pussy engulfing his length, he whines at the beautiful sight and involuntarily bucks up to relieve the strain. you immediately let out a little shout of discipline and pull his upper body toward you.

•"my pace or no pace," you warn through gritted teeth. "don't pull that shit again."

•"or what?" he replies with a cocky grin, his horniness absolutely dripping from his voice. "you don't scare me." as he tries to play right back, you slam yourself down on his cock again without warning, his tip kissing your cervix invitingly. his eyes widen and he yelps out pathetically before turning it into an angry groan. "you're such a fucking bitch. i hate you."

•he starts to spew more utter nonsense about hating you and you being a bitch as you start to actually ride him, for once at your own pace. he's typically fucking up into you but this time he's tied down and taking it like a good boy! you needed this, though, to let out your frustrations with him lately. it's incredibly funny that, yes, he could technically just start bucking his hips into you, but you take note that he's actually listening to your threat and allowing himself to be used. you remind yourself to ask him to top him more often. i doubt he'd say yes.

•your pace becomes a relentless combination of slamming his cock and grinding on it to stimulate your clit, and johnny has now turned into a whimpering mess. his perfect hair was sticking to his forehead and flying out in all directions, his sunglasses were just barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose. all the while, he's still sputtering complains about being used and begging you to stop, but they sound hungrier than disgusted. your deep moans drown out his whines and cries, and you frankly don't really care about how he feels.

•you've officially fucked him stupid. he can't even get a proper word out as he's now trying to literally break the ribbons and give him access to his hands, but he's so horny he can't find the strength he typically has.

•"b... stop — babe — 'm gonna cum if you — aah, oh you fucker —" johnny starts to twitch and whimper, thrashing his head side to side as he gets closer toward release. you don't really give a shit though, as you're now chasing your own orgasm as your grinding becomes increasingly uneven. you grab hold of his neck to stabilize yourself, and the coil in your core snaps, your body sending waves of blissful pleasure through your entire being. you're violently reminded of your boyfriend's impending load when he throws away all command you gave him and starts fucking up into your sensitive pussy, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he pathetically tries to get himself there, too.

•you're acutely familiar with how his cock throbs when he's about to cum, and you use this information to your advantage as you abruptly pull yourself up and away right as he shoots his load. he lets out a damn near cry for help as he makes a complete mess of himself. it shoots up high, painting his stomach and chest as his hips thrust into nothing.

•"YOU FUCKING —" he groans out, eyes clenched shut as his desperation makes him act out. "I WANTED TO CUM INSIDE. YOU KNOW THAT'S MY FAVORITE. AND YOU RUINED A PERFECTLY NICE SHIRT!"

•all you do is return to straddling his hips, sliding your panties back into place and catching your breath.

•"but you look better like this," you reply lowly, taking a flat palm and putting it on his stomach. "all tied down and fucked out. i could get used to it. besides, this was my gift, wasn't it?"

•as his head tilts back to regain his composure, you snap a quick photo of his cum-stained shirt, flushed expression, and weeping dick.

•"consider this payback," you chuckle, wiggling the photo in front of his eyes. "i might just post this everywhere if you don't get me anything for my birthday next."

•"delete that, you cunt," he hisses back, once again trying to free himself. "untie me now. fun's over."

•"nah, i'm good," you reply, your annoying boyfriend being restrained giving you a dangerous amount of confidence. "i think i'll just leave you here. not before cleaning up your cum with your coat, maybe."

•"DO NOT USE MY COAT. IT WAS EXPENSIVE."

[luciaramosc]

⁎⁺˳✧༚ enchanted

pairing: carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x afab!reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing, insinuated bath time, nothing graphic

word count: 1.8k words

an: i wrote this in the trenches (waiting to be seen at urgent care) so please excuse any typos 🙈 currently gnawing at the bars of my enclosure because i’ve been sick all week, but the delulu is as strong as ever!

Carmen’s head hung low in his hands, his elbows resting on the battered desk as the knot in his shoulders weighed against him. His mind itched to grab the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, but the exhaustion seeped through his veins too heavily to even bother. His ears were entranced by the rhythmic tick…tick…tick… of the clock above the office door, but the new-found quiet had been welcomed after a day of yelling and dishing. He moved his head to rest on his palm, and his tranquil eyes struggled to flutter open. With his other hand, he began to scribble nonsense for orders that he hoped he could translate tomorrow morning, but he knew his attempts were becoming futile when he wrote “10 pd skt stk,” meaning to write “10 pounds skirt steak.”

In the midst of his battle with sleep deprivation, Carmen hadn’t even noticed the string of texts you sent his way. It was nearing 12:30am, and you had just left the bar you worked at when you pulled your phone out and invited him to your apartment for the night.

Carmy :)

12:27

Hey bub! I just got off of work and I’m heading home

Sleepover? My bed’s cold without you :(

12:31

I have a bottle of your favorite wine if that convinces you ;)

12:38

Carmyyy

Are you still at The Bear?

Okay I’m calling you

Carmen’s head slipped off his palm and lulled him awake, and his bleary eyes fought against the bright light of his desk lamp. He heard the constant buzzing of his phone, and surmised that it had to have been you calling him. His decorated hands rubbed his eyes before he shuffled papers and folders around to find his cell, but to no avail. As he heard the buzz come to an end, he huffed out a breath, and he ceased his search. Instantly, however, his phone began to shake again, and a smile graced his face at the thought of his girl missing him that much. After pushing a few more unnecessary items off the desk, he found his found phone with a picture of you illuminating his screen. He swiped his thumb to answer the call, and he pushed his phone to his ear, desperate to hear your voice.

“Baby? You okay?” you asked once Carmen picked up. Delighted, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Hey princess, I’m alright. Just got caught up with papers and shit,” he rasped out, sleepiness laced in his voice. “I’m wrapping up here though. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over tonight,” you hummed into the line. “We haven’t seen each other much this week, and I know for a fact you haven’t slept well.” You giggled softly as she uttered the truth.

Carmen cracked a chuckle at her words, knowing that she wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, sweetheart, no need to rub it in,” he muttered in a half-dazed state. “But yeah, gimme like,” he peered down at his watch, reading 12:40, “20 minutes and I’ll be there. Is that okay, honey?”

You opened the door of your apartment, closing it behind you before locking it as you cradled your phone between your ear and shoulder. “Yeah, absolutely,” you told him as you set your bag down. “I can pop some cookies in the oven in the meantime? Unless that’s out of your league, chef,” you teased him. He could hear the smirk in your tone as you joked about the cookies.

“Haha, very funny, baby. Gonna hit me with anything else?” he asked her.

“Not right now, no,” a smile cracked at her lips. “It’s not my fault you decided to date a comedian. ‘Can’t take the flame, don’t get in the kitchen,’ or whatever nonsense you guys say.”

“Alright, not too much,” he chuckled out, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. “I’ll see you in a few, alright sweetheart?”

She bit her lip in thought before closing out the call. “See you in a few. I love you, Carmy.”

“I love you more,” Carmen said before hanging up the call. He put his phone into his pocket before running a calloused hand through his curls. His drowsy eyes scanned the room briefly, wondering where to start, before picking up the mistrewn papers and folders off the office floor. He set them in a neat (ish) pile on the desk before standing up from the rickety chair. He stepped out of the office, taking one more peek of the kitchen and dining room to ensure they looked the same as they were when The Bear closed (They were, Carmen’s just paranoid). Not soon enough, Carmen punched his work card for the night and took the keys out from his pocket, turning them in the door and locking up for the night.

As Carmen made his way back to his place to get an overnight bag, you had occupied yourself with prepping for your boyfriend’s stay. You dressed up your apartment with candles, put your speaker to play smooth jazz, and set up your bathroom with elements for a well-deserved bath for both you and Carmen. You knew that things with the Bear had been picking up for him, and while you could not have been happier for him, you knew that it took a toll on his well-being, so you were thrilled that he agreed to spend the night and relax for a moment.

Within a few minutes, the oven chimed and you got to taking the cookies out the oven, the rich smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling the apartment. You put on some oven mitts and right as you slid the hot trays onto the counter, the doorbell rang, letting you know that Carmen had made it safely to your door. “Just a second!” You called out, taking the gloves off and letting your hair out of its updo. You sauntered over to the door, and you’re met with Carmy holding a bouquet in his hands, the arranged pinks and oranges capturing your attention. “Hey sweetheart, sorry for the late hour,” he uttered, motioning the arrangements towards you. “I brought these ‘cause they reminded me of you,” he admitted with a lovesick grin on his lips as you grabbed the bouquet.

You peered down at the flowers in your hands before looking up at him, staring into his soft eyes, evidence of exhaustion painting his features. “Carmy, you shouldn’t have,” a soft pout puckered at your lips, tears swelling in your waterline. “This is so sweet, thank you bub.” You smiled up at him before pulling him inside, saving him from the coolness of the night. You closed the door behind him as he pulled your frame towards him, one hand resting on the plush of your hip as he pressed a sweet peck on your lips. “Carmy, it’s 1am, where the hell did you get these from?” you giggled out, confused, though appreciative of his gift.

“I meant to stop by earlier during my lunch break to drop them off,” he began, rubbing the back of neck sheepishly, “but shit hit the fan, and I got caught at work.”

“Well, I love them either way. Thank you, bub,” you assured him with a smile, pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Let me take your bag to my room. Eat a cookie or two, please. I know you’ve barely eaten today, chef,” she playfully demanded. You grabbed the duffel from his hands before heading towards your bedroom, delicately leaving the bouquet on the kitchen table to set up later.

You dropped the duffel bag off at the foot of your shared bed before joining him in the kitchen, watching Carmen take down two cookies in three bites. “Good for supermarket cookies, huh?” you teased him, poking his bicep. He shook his head playfully before looking at you, adoration pooling in his eyes with a smile to match. “Good for supermarket cookie,” he repeated. You grabbed one of the cookies off the tray, still slightly warm, and took a bite, savoring the taste after a long night at work. You made yourself a mental note to buy more of these christmas tree cookies before the holidays ended.

After finishing your last bite, you made your way to the sink, grabbing a vase and filling it with water for your flowers. You grabbed the bouquet off the table and began to cut the ends at an angle, taking in the scent of the tulips Carmen brought you. As you were getting lost in a rhythm, Carmen came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame and resting his head on your shoulder. He pressed soft kisses down your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, effectively distracting you from your work. “You could be a florist, ya know. You’ve got gentle hands and a good eye for stuff like this,” his accent hummed out in your ear.

It was your turn to softly chuckle at his words, feeling the way his hands trailed down to hold the plush of your waist and how the feel of his fingertips on your skin felt blissful. “Oh, I’m sure, Carmy,” you quipped out, taking your lip between your teeth as you moved the flowers into the watered vase. Once you were done, you moved the arrangement from the sink to the kitchen table, setting it next to the candles you lit earlier.

Carmen trailed behind you out the kitchen, resting a gentle hand on the small of your back. You stepped back into the living room and sought solace in the warm arms of your lover, his strong arms holding you flush against his frame. The two of you rocked back and forth in a gentle rhythm to the soft beats playing, simply in awe of this sweet little life you’ve been able to create. You and Carmen created a perfect harmony out of the asyncopated clutter in both your lives, but you wouldn’t mind another thing on your plate as long as it meant coming back into Carmen’s arms every night.

One of his hands rested on the warmth of your waist while the other trailed up to hold your chin, bringing your lips to meet his in a domestic buzz, sharing sweet kisses in the candlelight. You broke apart and rested your forehead against his shoulder, swaying in the lovestruck air. “I set the bathroom up if you want to take a hot bath later. I got those salts you like to put in the water that help with your muscles. How does that sound?” You whispered out, gently playing with his curls. “God, you’re so good to me,” he playfully groaned out. You placed one last peck on his lips, cradling his cheek in your hands as a smirk adorned your features. “Sounds like a plan to me, then.”

[rin-fukuroi]

Hello! Could I request Dan Heng with an s/o who enjoys cooking and baking for the express (e.g. Himeko always get fancy cakes alongside her coffee, March gets super cute donuts, and even Pom Pom gets rabbit-shaped crackers, etc) but she always makes something extra special for Dan Heng?

Hi!

I was a little late, but I was glad to write this sweet request for you. I may have deviated a little from what you asked for, but I hope you'll like it ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐜𝐚𝐤𝐞! [𝐃𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐠]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Dan Heng x fem!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

God, I always feel like I'm so bad at writing fluff, but for some reason I keep doing it. In any case, even in a pool of debauchery and yandere, sometimes there must be something sweet, right? ( ´ ꒳ ` )

As soon as you had a few free hours, the carriages of the Astral Express were filled with the captivating aroma of a wide variety of pastries.

Once you received a pleasant compliment from Himeko, when you couldn't stand the disgusting taste of her coffee anymore and made chocolate cookies for it to save your taste buds a little, when she kindly offered to treat you to it again, you decided that it would be nice to pamper the other Nameless with something delicious. First, a batch of donuts for March 7, then air pancakes for Pom-Pom, and there was not far for a whole cake to thank Mr. Welt after he helped you out on one of the missions.

It's always so nice for you to see your friends' faces stretch into smiles as soon as your sweet pastries touch their tongues. But there was one person you always wanted to do something special for.…

Dan Heng always refused when others suggested that he try something from your cooking. Although it might seem from the outside that he doesn't like sweets or even disdains to eat food cooked by you (it's so hard to understand his real feelings when his face literally doesn't express any emotions), but in fact he just didn't think that he deserved to try something that wasn't prepared for him. No, no, don't think that he is so arrogant that he can only eat what is made especially for him. Rather, it is another manifestation of his modesty, which he hardly ever admits to.

But you never took offense at it, as if you caught the direction of his thoughts. To cook for him separately the same thing that you cook for other passengers on the Atral Express would be quite simple, however… It's Dan Heng.

Probably, the more you tried to hide your feelings towards him, the more your attitude towards Dan Heng looked like you were simply avoiding him. It's so childish, but there's nothing you can do about how you get nervous in his presence, funny stumbling over words or even uttering complete nonsense, making the rest of your friends feel awkward.

And it should have stopped today.

You'll have the courage, you'll do it. You're going to take a step that should put an end to this annoying awkwardness between you.

You've been up all night knowing that none of you have anything to do today, which means you'll have plenty of time to pursue your newfound hobby. What would he like? Cookies, waffles, maybe candy? Tossing and turning in your bed all night, you still haven't come to full agreement with yourself, but what does it even matter? As a kind of artist, inspiration should guide you in the right direction, so you decided.

March 7 and Caelus looked anxiously at your concentrated figure, which has been diligently trying to cook something in the kitchen for several hours, every time they passed by and heard your dissatisfied grumbling, but they collectively decided to just leave you alone with yourself and your creative process.

Batch after batch of failed pastries were sent to the trash (although they could hardly be called unsuccessful, but there is no limit to perfection). You desperately tried to achieve the perfect balance of taste and appearance of your cooking, but failed time after time, until finally you grunted, looking at another result of your hard efforts, deciding that now it seems you are relatively satisfied.

You nervously shift from one foot to the other, standing at the door behind which Dan Heng's room is located. Your heart literally jumps in your chest until you decide to knock, but then you take a deep breath, taking in more air into your lungs, before finally hesitantly hitting your friend's door with your knuckles twice softly.

— Dan Heng, it's me!

— Come in, — you hear a quiet, indifferent voice on the other side and exhale, slowly opening the door.

— Just so you know, «it's me» doesn't give me any information about who's standing behind the door.

You roll your eyes.

— But you recognized my voice, didn't you?

— Lucky for you.

You move closer to Dan Heng, who is sitting on the bed with a book, ignoring his displeased grumbling.

That's all.

An awkward silence hangs between you, and the man finally looks up from his book, looking up at you.

— Did you want something?

«So, you have to say it confidently… Pull yourself together, it's just Dan Heng…»

You take a deep breath again, closing your eyes, as if trying to concentrate before the fight, causing an even greater misunderstanding of what is happening in the sitting man.

— Cupcake! — you abruptly hand to Dan Heng the most perfect cupcake you've got. A cupcake is neatly wrapped with a small piece of parchment, and on top is a cap of mint cream, framed with a sprinkle of yellow tiny moons.

«Oh shit, that's not what I wanted to say at all!»

Dan Heng just stares at the pastry in your hand for a few seconds before looking up at you with a puzzled look.

— A cupcake?

— C-cupcake… — your outstretched hand begins to tremble. — This is… This is for you! I made it for you.

«God, why are you such a fool?»

Dan Heng's turquoise eyes narrow in disbelief before he accepts your gift anyway, carefully leaving it on the shelf above his head.

— Thanks.

— You're not going to eat it? — you pout, twisting the fingers of your hands behind your back.

— Later, — Dan Heng replied shortly before returning back to reading his book.

You wanted to say something hurtful to him before you left, absolutely furious at his stoically indifferent behavior, but you just snort, throwing a short «you're welcome» before leaving his room.

Dan Heng looks up at the door, noticing how it closes after your figure has left his field of vision. The man sighs, putting down the book before taking your gift from the shelf. The cupcake looks literally perfect, and Dan Heng just twirls it in his hand, looking at it from all sides.

— And you really want me to eat this? — the corners of the man's lips lift slightly as he chuckles softly to himself before taking a small bite of dessert.

Although at first glance it might seem that the cupcake is very sweet, there is a slight sourness in it, which balances the taste and doesn't make the sweetness cloying. The cream is so airy that it literally melts on the tongue of Dan Heng, and the little moons of glaze crunch pleasantly in your mouth.

— Delicious…

[colormepurplex2]

The Demon Is In The Details | Sweet, Sweet Soul

↳ Demon!Jimin x Human!f.Reader ⤜ Crossroads Demon AU, Accidental Enthrallment ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 9,928 ⚠️ Crass language, soul sucking, dick piercing, cock sucking, kissing, biting, mild nipple play/biting/there is blood involved, blood drinking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, body worship, enthrallment/instant infatuation, begging, vaginal sex, creampie, cum play/eating, insatiable lust, lost soul, demon metamorphosis

Next Chapter⇾ ⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

You’re not sure what you expected—but, a lavish bedroom complete with a four-poster bed and sitting area with plush upholstered furniture wasn’t it. It all feels so…human. You can almost pretend like you are just on an extended vacation, staying at some ritzy hotel.

“So, this is where demons live, huh?” You try not to let too much sarcasm thread into your words. “Was expecting more fire and brimstone and less velvet and lace,” you say, plucking at the lacy fringe of the canopy drapes that are pulled back on the bed.

The demon sniffs, his chin turning up in mild indignation. “Fire and brimstone? What utter nonsense,” he mutters, but you can tell he’s just sure to be loud enough for you to hear.

That prickles a bit. It’s not like you’re precisely well-versed on the whole demon thing. Are you supposed to know that demons enjoy the lap of luxury instead of broiling in sulfuric pits of steaming sludge? Everything you’ve ever read, heard, or been taught hinges on the idea that demons are hellish monsters that dwell in Hell. And considering Hell is supposed to be a place of fire and brimstone, well, put two and two together, and you don’t think your assumption is a stretch.

“Is this even Hell?” you ask.

Red eyes cut your way, and the demon’s top lip curls in disgust. “This is a hell, yes.”

“A hell?”

“Mm,” he hums lightly in acknowledgement. “One of many.”

Many? Interesting. “Like the different circles?”

The demon sighs, his red eyes rolling in annoyance. “Whatever it is you think you may know, forget it. There are no ‘circles’, no pits—unless you count the sanguine pits, but you probably don’t want to go there,” his top teeth sink into his bottom lip for a moment, his eyes turning mischievous, “or maybe you do. Another day, perhaps. Anyway, this is the…Inferna is the best human word to use to describe it. But, you may call it home, considering that is exactly what it is now; your home.” He chuckles, but you think it’s a poor joke.

“Home. Okay, sure, very funny.” The sarcasm helps to bolster your mood a bit, knowing that you can still spit words with at least a little venom.

That’s all you’ve been able to think about since the understanding of what was happening dawned on you. The fear of not being able to think for yourself, that your free will and ability to think would be stripped from you, and you’d become nothing more than some mindless demon slut.

The fact you’re able to hold this conversation is promising. But you are curious. With the deal settled between this demon and Dominique, you feel like you’ve been put in an ambiguous limbo of sorts. Dominique’s deal included you, but as she said, it wasn’t your own deal.

So, do you even have a deal with this demon? But, before you can express your curiosity further, a loud knock echoes from the double doors on the other side of the sitting area that you hadn’t noticed before.

“This should be fun,” the demon says, and it almost seems like he’s…pouting? “Come in.”

The doors swing open on a blast of hot air. Clouds of grey-blue smoke curl through the space before dissipating and revealing what you can only describe as evil incarnate. At least, that’s the feeling you get, like happiness and joy can not exist in the presence of this being. Your energy immediately wanes, so much so that it makes your knees weak.

Pitch-colored eyes set in an angular face framed by thick, inky hair give way to taught lips drawn in a severe line. His body is hidden by the billowing folds of a robe that seems made of gossamer and iron, with its constant shifting in the room's ambient lighting.

A voice as deep as the darkest chasm in the ocean and just as cold hisses through the room. “What have we here? A pet?”

“Dark Lord,” the demon at your side says, bending at the waist and bowing deeply. He straightens, casting a quick glance in your direction. “A pleasant mistake is all, My Lord. A soul come to me by the blundering of a supposed friend.”

“More fiend than a friend, it seems, if the result is this.” A smirk curls the pale pink lips of the man—demon?—standing in the doorway.

You want to jump to Dominique’s defense and argue that she’s not the fiend here, but a scathing look from the male at your side silences anything you might have mustered in protest. The look on his face says opening your mouth is probably the last thing you want to do right now. Whoever this ‘Dark Lord’ is, even the demon laying claim to your soul is intimidated by him.

“Very well,” the newcomer says before sucking in a deep, drawing breath as if scenting the very air around him. “Yes, yes, I think she’ll do well. A strong spirit, but not so strong that she won’t break. Perhaps…you might find it in you to share.”

“Share?” The word is gritted out between clamped teeth, stilted and forced. “Of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Please, Jimin, I aim only to tease you,” the being chuckles, wafting a hand complete with blackened nails and spidery purple veins. The billowing robes bend and sway with the act, stirring long shadows along the walls to either side of the doors. “Keep the little mouse. Enjoy the luxury of a pure soul for once. You’ve earned it.”

With that, he turns to leave, vanishing in a swirl of grey that disappears as the doors swing closed once more. Even though he’s gone, there is one thing that he left behind. A word. Or more so, a name.

Jimin.

“So, Jimin, huh?”

A low growl rumbles from the demon before his ruby eyes slice your way. “You will not use that name.”

Despite your lack of belief in demons and all the abracadabra nonsense prior to this, you’ve read enough to know there can be power behind knowing a demon’s name. However, you’re not sure how much power there is. But you’re willing to find out.

“What’s the matter, Jimin—” you twist the name with emphasis, “—don’t like it when someone might have power over you, Jimin? It is a taste of your own medicine, perhaps, Jimin?”

You part your lips, tongue poised to continue your taunting tirade, but in a flash, a warm, rigid hand is clamped over your mouth. Fire burns in the deep recesses of Jimin’s eyes. It's not just a pseudo-flame trick of the light, either. Real flames dance within the blood-colored irises. They undulate and grow brighter with each rise and fall of his chest until you’re certain smoke is going to start pouring out of his ears at any moment.

“You know, I thought I quite enjoyed your fiery spirit. But now, I’m not so sure. Maybe just a little tweak, a little taste, and you’ll…be…just…right.” As he says the words, drawn out and slow, you feel a little tug in the center of your chest.

The feeling starts out light, barely a string’s caress between your breasts. But gradually, it turns into a thick line of yarn that you’d swear was slowly unraveling your soul the way it would from a skein. There is an ebbing clarity, a fleeting thought that this is something you’re certain you should be resisting.

But you can’t seem to tear yourself away from staring into those flaming depths. Simply a moth drawn to the flame, heedless of the blaze threatening to engulf you.

His body presses against yours, hard and hot in contrast to your soft and freezing. The fact your body is chilled right to the bone only registers now. The trembling starts at the tips of your fingers and toes before your entire body shudders against his. Yet, you still can’t will yourself to look away.

“W-what are y-yo…you do-doing to…to me?”

The words sound hollow to your ears, thin and thready, like a weak pulse compared to the hammering of your heart that’s forcing your blood to woosh with staccato punches. The edges of your vision darken, and you struggle to blink or look away, to do anything to break the fevered contact.

“Perfect,” Jimin purrs, the sound registering the second before whatever is holding you in place diminishes, and you slump forward. Strong arms cradle your body, an arm sliding under the backs of your knees to lift you bridal style. Whereas your eyes wouldn’t close before, they now refuse to open. The darkness, such a contrast to the fire you were captured by before, makes your eyes ache and water. You can feel the trails of your tears cut through your hairline and blend with the perspiration gathering there.

Hot and cold. Light and dark. It’s hard to tell up from down at this point—warring emotions, seemingly endless confusion. You feel like you’re floating weightless in an abyss, though distinctly aware of how your body curls against smooth silk covering warm flesh.

With a sigh, you find the strength to open your eyes, meeting those crimson rings once more. Except, this time, there is no fear…no confusion…only peace, deeply rooted and infinitely spread through every fiber of your being.

You can see yourself reflected in those endless, vermillion depths. And what you see is…different; still you…but different—hungrier, a feral tinge that you know should frighten you.

😈��😈

Jimin

The taste of your soul still lingers in Jimin’s mouth, making saliva pool under his tongue. It was the tiniest taste, just a sampling of what’s to come. But, fuck, if it didn’t make his cock hard and his chest ache from the restraint he used to hold himself from draining you completely dry while sucking the marrow right from your bones.

You are quite possibly the most exquisite creature he has ever laid eyes on, much less had the pleasure of savoring. His anger at Yoongi is quickly dissipating, replaced by the erotic thrum of the call of your soul. It beckons him to drink more, to devour you completely.

Jimin didn’t want to do this so soon. He’d intended to drag this out as much as possible, playing a game with his own constraint to see how long he could withstand your allure. This is Yoongi’s fault. If the Dark Lord hadn’t come in here sniffing around things that were not his, letting things as precious as names slip, Jimin wouldn’t have been so forced to jump the gun.

He had little choice in it, he’s sure. If you had continued to twist his name with your perfect lips, you would have indeed begun to wield the power behind it. With each additional drop of his name, he felt the knot forming at the base of his spine. The one that triggers his survival instincts and forces his hand.

Perhaps it’s for the best, he thinks, as he effortlessly carts your limp body over to the bed and lays you out. Your head lolls from side to side, eyes fluttering as they adjust to what Jimin knows must be an unpleasant ache deep in your psyche. It might be millennia since he became forsaken, but the memory of how it felt has not diminished.

Not that he’s going to let that happen to you. As it is, he’s undecided on how this is going to play out in the end. He has a deal with your friend that you will remain unharmed, and sucking out your soul until you become a demon doesn’t necessarily harm you. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but all together, not exactly harmful. Well, not to you physically, at least. That’s not saying much for you emotionally…spiritually.

Dominique should have been more precise in her demands—unharmed can mean anything. Though, he knows there could be room for argument that he was being deceptive. He shrugs to himself. He’s a demon…it’s to be expected. Words hold all the power. They are Jimin’s preferred weapon of choice for a reason. It’s why he’s so good at what he does, why Yoongi bestowed the crossroads task upon him all those centuries ago. Yes, if your so-called friend had truly cared, she should have been far more specific in her request and should have read between the lines before offering her blood and sealing your fate.

Jimin looks down on you from beside the bed as you slowly regain your senses. He has to adjust himself in his trousers, his arousal growing with each barely audible mewl that whimpers from your lips. If he were a lesser demon, he might not be able to keep himself from pouncing in your weakened state. As much as Jimin likes to dominate, he’d be curious to see what comes naturally now that a part of you resides in him.

“Mmm,” you moan softly.

Your eyes slide closed once more before finally popping open, wide and full of clarity. They find his, and what Jimin sees there has his whole body going taut with anticipation. You look like a feral wolf about to spring on an unsuspecting rabbit, and Jimin just so happens to be said rabbit. If you keep looking at him that way, perhaps he won’t mind being the prey for once.

“Whoa,” Jimin chuckles as you lurch upright in the bed, swinging an arm wildly in his direction, fingers hooked into claws. “Give yourself a minute.”

There is a thick, sultriness to your voice that wasn’t there before as you say, “I…I feel—I want…what did you do to me?” You bring the hand you swung at him up in front of your face, flipping it from front to back again and again as if somehow you’ll be able to physically see the change in yourself.

“Only what I’m entitled to.”

Your eyes snap to his, sharp and calculating. He’s intentionally cryptic, but he knows you can see straight through his deliberately obtuse response.

“Entitled to? The deal was for you not to harm me!” you snarl, teeth barred in his direction. Jimin decides it’s a cute look on you, like a stray kitten gearing up for a hissing match. Too bad for you, Jimin’s trained in the prowess of being a lion.

“You are unharmed,” he snaps back, eyes flashing.

You cringe, and Jimin almost wants to take it back. But that won’t do. No, not for what he has planned for you. As appealing as your defiance is…no, Jimin needs this far too much.

He realizes just how hungry he is.

Absolutely, ravenous. And he knows exactly what he wants to satiate the ache.

You mutter something under your breath, and if Jimin didn’t have the super hearing of a demon, he’d surely miss it. “Why am I so gods damned horny? Now is not the time to be jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick.”

“I think now is precisely the time to be, as you say, ‘jonesing for a joyride on a monster dick’.”

The surprise on your face is second only to the way your heart lurches in your chest, so intense that Jimin can distinctly hear the upbeat roar it launches into at his words. Both make Jimin feel powerful, in vastly different ways. Your lips form an enticing tiny opening as you gape at him, and the blood rushing through your body notches up the pulsing thrum he knows you can feel spiking through your clit now. The mere notion of riding a dick has your body primed and aching already.

“What did you say?”

“I merely repeated what you said. I don’t typically fuck on the first date, but seeing as how this isn’t a usual first…I think I can make an exception.”

In fact, Jimin is almost sure that if he doesn’t find himself in one of your holes in the next five minutes, he might make a fool of himself, similar to something a teenage human boy might experience. Typically, he doesn’t get to enjoy the tender confines of a human, not unless it’s part of the demon deal they make—which, thanks to the influx of paranormal romance stories out there, has increased somewhat in the last handful of decades.

The tip of your tongue pokes out and absently moves over the roundness of your bottom lip. “I don’t know if I understand what you’re saying.”

That’s cute; you trying to play it off like Jimin’s proclamation didn’t just create a wave pool in your panties. He can smell it, the light, tangy scent of your arousal. It blooms in the air as you shift to your knees on the bed; you’re unknowingly filling Jimin’s lungs with the smell of your dripping cunt.

He takes a deep, appreciative breath and allows a moment of tense silence to hang in the air between you. The thread snaps, thin as gauze. You’re on him in the next instant, one hand fisting in his hair and the other ripping at the buttons on his shirt. Your knees slide over the silk of the duvet as you simultaneously pull Jimin until his thighs knock the side of the bed and your front is pressed to his.

“Take your clothes off,” Jimin states, and you immediately stop your frantic groping of him and begin to shed your own clothes. “Bare yourself to me.” Jimin’s top lip quivers as his mouth forms around the commands, power bubbling in his veins as the small piece of you burns his insides; pain-laced pleasure threads through his every fiber, and he wants more.

Jimin follows your movements, watching as you strip off your long-sleeved shirt, tossing it aimlessly to the side before doing the same with your bra. You roll back onto your ass and kick your legs out in front of you across the bed and tear at the zipper and button on your jeans. It’s cute, the way you snarl and hiss at the offending denim as you wrestle it, along with your panties, down your legs. You finally kick free of them and, in the process, send a cloud of your heady arousal right into Jimin’s nose.

It’s enough to make him feral. The moment your last article of clothing falls to the floor, you splay yourself back on the bed, knees wide and arms extending above your head. Like a present, freshly unwrapped, and his to play with. Your hooded gaze meets his, like a challenge daring him to let his eyes drink their fill; and, oh boy, do they.

You are utterly divine. Jimin wants nothing more than to lick and kiss every inch of your striking skin, starting with the tender flesh behind your ear and ending with the points of your toes, mapping out your body like the temple that it is. Your nipples are tight peaks straining toward the ceiling, and your pussy lips are already slick and swollen with want; you paint the picture of perfect sexual carnality.

Jimin watches as your mouth tries to form his name. When it doesn’t come, a line forms between your brows, and you manage to gruff out a different word instead, “Demon.” It’s nowhere near as seductive as his name, but he’ll consider it a term of endearment all the same.

He chuckles, gripping your ankles and using a flex of strength to flip you around and position you on the bed just how he wants you. Your head hangs off the edge, hands raising in surprise to brace on his hips. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, your breathing so harsh he can feel the thick exhale of your breath through the linen of his trousers.

“I’ll show you ‘demon’,” Jimin purrs seductively.

The button on his pants pops under his thumb, and the zipper slides down swiftly. Before Jimin can push them down, you’re hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants and shoving them down. It’s an awkward angle for you; with your arms bent how they are, you only get them down his thighs. But, it’s enough. With a sway of his hips, Jimin gets his pants to drop to around his ankles.

He could use his power to disrobe instantly, but he finds this far more entertaining. Jimin revels in the slack-jawed look on your face as you take in his rigid length protruding in front of your face. The piercing in the tip glints in the ambient light, the first pearly string of his arousal already beaded and webbing along the silver ring.

Placing a thumb against your bottom lip, Jimin gently pries your jaw open until you’re stretched wide enough he can tease the tip of his cock inside. Your chest convulses, nostrils flaring as you continue to suck in greedy breaths through your nose, considering your mouth is growing fuller by the second as he continues to feed himself into the hot, wet confines. Using twin fistfuls of your violet hair, he holds you steady.

You swallow around him, the contracting of your throat sending tingles down Jimin’s spine and making his balls draw up as his whole body shudders. His control slips the tiniest bit, siphoning a sliver of your soul. It slams into him, causing him to jerk forward and drive even further into your throat, cutting off your air.

“Fuck!” Jimin roars, his eyes squeezing shut as he denies his body the release that nearly swept him away. This can’t be over yet; he’s just getting started.

😈😈😈

You gag, effectively choking on his cock as his pelvis presses flush against your chin, and you can feel his heavy balls crowd in close to your nose. There was a moment there, where you felt connected to him in a way that should scare you, but a different kind of fear quickly replaced that feeling. Panic looms heavy in your chest as your lungs protest the lack of air, but you can’t bring yourself to shove Jimin away.

It’s infuriating to be able to think his name but not be able to utter it aloud. “F-fuck you,” you rasp when he finally withdraws. Saliva strings from your parted lips to the glistening head and shaft of his cock, the tip heavily leaking pearlescent drops that mix with the glossy strands. His cloying taste lingers, and you want nothing more than to stretch your neck up and scoop those milky beads away with your tongue.

Every second since Jimin did whatever he did to you, you’ve barely had a hold on your desire to burrow into him, get beneath his skin, and pick away at his insides until you figure out how he ticks. You want to be inside of him and have him inside of you, anything to diminish what feels like a miles-deep trench between the two of you.

You’ve never felt such a visceral desire to fuck. It’s not that you’re a prude; if anything, you would consider yourself to have a healthy sexual appetite. However, this is different. This is you wholly and utterly wrecked, wanting Jimin in all possible ways.

“Oh, I plan to. But first—” Jimin teases, a wicked grin curling his plush lips. He forces you to watch upside down as he finishes disrobing. With each additional inch of flawless porcelain flesh he reveals, you grow wetter until you’re a whimpering, slick mess staring at his naked body, “—you’re going to choke on my cock some more while I taste that pussy.”

Jimin’s dirty words are like gasoline in your veins, and his hands slapping against the insides of your thighs to pry them open is the match. Heat boils beneath your skin, sweat beads and pools between your breasts, and glides down the slope of your neck to tickle your hairline.

Your mouth is open, and your tongue sticks out flat in welcome as Jimin juts his hips forward. The thick length of his cock slides past your lips, velvety smooth and tasting faintly of hot metal. His body molds along the front of yours, slick chest resting against your stomach.

The warm fan of his breath hits a second before the molten lick of his tongue slides from your clit to the cleft of your ass, his hands gripping the meat on the back of your thighs to raise your hips. Your scream at that initial contact is muffled by the thickness of his cock in your throat. Jimin buries himself in your esophagus, pistoning his hips in and out so relentlessly that you only manage tiny gasping breaths.

He doesn’t let up, pounding into your mouth with manic abandon. You have to brace your hands against his thighs, fingers digging into the muscles and nails leaving deep, crescent divots in the flesh. Sensations assault you from both ends as Jimin buries his face between your thighs.

Jimin feasts like a man—demon—starved. His tongue swirls, slides, and dips in intervals between his lips sucking and teeth dragging. Pleasure builds, starting at the base of your spine and moving up until even your tongue writhing on the underside of Jimin’s cock feels like a direct line to your clit.

“Mmf–uh!” you garble a moan that ramps into a shriek as your orgasm barrels through you.

“That’s right,” Jimin murmurs into the wet folds of your pussy, “cum all over my face and tongue, just like that.” He continues to lap at you, suckling and humming his delight.

He grunts and moans a litany of guttural words you can’t understand before emptying himself down your throat. Hips stuttering against your face, he throbs in your mouth, his piercing sliding along the roof of your mouth as he begins to pull out.

You lick your numb lips and work your aching jaw when Jimin fully withdraws from your mouth, but not before gripping the base of his swollen cock and tapping it against your tongue a few times, smearing his still-leaking arousal across your lips. You know you should feel mildly degraded, being used as a proverbial cum rag, but if anything, it turns you on even more.

“Fuck.” The word comes out like a whimper, your body clenching in the aftermath of one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

Jimin chuckles, “I’m getting to that part.”

“What are you doing to me?” you ask breathlessly. It’s not a question you expect an answer to, more a rhetorical musing that drifts from your muddled brain. So, it surprises you when Jimin steps back and cradles your upside-down face between his hands, lifting your face until it’s inches from his.

His scarlet eyes have taken on a golden ring around the edges. They pulse in tandem with each of his breaths. “I’ve laid claim to you is what I’ve done. And before you even think about spouting off about the deal, being that you are to remain unharmed, you are. You can feel it, you know I’m speaking the truth. My claim on your soul has nothing to do with your well-being. If anything, you are now stronger and more resilient than you’ve ever been before.”

He’s right. You can feel it in your bones. Not just their additional strength but the way your muscles cling to them, and you’re sure they would neither snap nor tear no matter how far you bend them. You are no longer the delicate mortal you once were. And you’re not sure if you care, either.

If anything, the strength is addicting.

You. Want. More.

“More,” you tell Jimin. “I need more. Please.”

You’re pretty sure you would do anything at this point for another taste, another dose of whatever this is that’s now zinging beneath your skin. Jimin drops his hold on your face and stretches his arms in the air above his head, lithe body stretching in all its glory before you.

It’s rapturous watching the way his body moves. Wanting to see the vision of him properly, you roll over and push up onto your knees. Jimin slowly brings his arms back down, threading his fingers together in front of him and pushing his palms out. The distinct crack of his knuckles sends chills down your spine.

A predatory glint catches in his eyes, eliciting another visceral response from your body, this one of desire. Not caring how desperate you seem, you once again throw yourself at him, hands gripping and tugging until you’ve wrestled him on top of you on the bed. He lands in the valley between your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him, holding him in place.

“Tell me your name,” Jimin whispers in command, lips brushing over yours.

It forms on the tip of your tongue, your impulse to give him exactly what he wants. But, perhaps you’re not as far gone as you thought because you are able to resist this. Slowly, you shake your head, and a sly grin forms on your face.

“No.”

Jimin’s brow pinches and his top lip curls in what you’ve realized is a tell, indicating that his patience is thinning. You roll your hips against his, thrilled by how the action makes the line between his brows disappear, and his lips pop open with a soft grunt.

“You’re not the only one that’s clever here, Demon. If I can’t use your name, you won’t have mine.”

You can see the challenge in his eyes, the pure delight at the prospect of the battle ahead. “So be it, little mouse, but be warned: you’ll break long before I do.”

His mouth covers yours, silencing any protest you might have made to his statement. The vehement denial turns fleeting the instant his tongue presses between your lips and invades your mouth.

The tangy taste of your own arousal mixes with the intoxicating natural heat of the demon himself. He tastes like blood and ash but also like a crisp drink of water after days in the desert, both your salvation and your demise.

“Ah!” you yelp as Jimin fists a hand into your hair and cranes your head back, breaking the kiss and exposing the length of your neck to him.

“Pay close attention, pet. You don’t want to miss a second of this.” His words are murmured, so soft against your skin as he says them between open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

With every press of his mouth, his hips swivel in lazy circles that rub the thick shaft of his desire over your clit. It’s just enough pressure to drive you mad but not nearly enough to give you what you truly want.

Jimin takes first one nipple and then the other into the wet lock of his lips, lashing the pert tip with his tongue. The hand that was tugging your hair loosens, sliding down the side of your face before clasping around your neck like a five-fingered necklace.

You can feel the moment he begins to squeeze with his fingers and thumb, as they are so precisely placed on either side of your neck that they press against your jugulars. It creates a subtle pounding in your head, a lightheadedness that makes you hyper-aware of the way his teeth scrape over the tender flesh of your right breast before lightly piercing the skin.

A moan comes out in place of a scream as your body gives in to the depraved pleasure. This shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but it’s like Jimin is turning your entire body into one giant, throbbing erogenous zone. Pain is no longer something your body tries to pull away from. Instead, you find yourself arching your back so the points of his teeth pierce your flesh once more.

“F-fuck!” 

You can feel the heat of your blood pooling between your breasts for a moment before Jimin is lapping it up the same way he was licking at your pussy just moments ago. The sharp scent of hot copper punches the air when Jimin lifts his face and laughs, the sound dark and gravelly.

Peering down the slope of your nose the best you can, you catch a glimpse of his face before he dives back down to once again ravish the tight buds of your nipples. But that one glimpse is enough to paint a vivid picture of Jimin bathed in your blood, red eyes ringed in black, crimson smeared at the corners of his mouth, coating the tips of his teeth as he opened his mouth to laugh.

It does something to you, something primal and instinctive. Your body goes limp under him as your muscles coil before you snap. You throw your weight into him, shoving up with your hips and using the hold you have with your legs wrapped around him to your advantage. One moment, Jimin is buried between the mounds of your breasts, feasting on the tiny rivulets of crimson from his bites, and the next, he’s beneath you with a pleasant surprise on his bloody face.

“Look at you,” Jimin croons, his hands landing firmly on your hips. Using his hold, he undulates your hips, forcing the wet slit of your cunt to rub along the length of his dick, the ring in the tip catching on the hood of your clit with every pass. “You’re making a mess all over my cock.”

Bracing yourself on his chest, you let his hands encourage your hips with ease, luxuriating in the silky glide between your thighs. You’re relatively certain with just a few more minutes of this, and you could get yourself off, Jimin’s own pleasure be damned. But, it seems he picks up on that, and with a scoff, he uses his grip on your hips to force your body still.

“Don’t be an asshole!” you whine, digging your nails into the muscles of his chest. His dusky nipples stand out, and without thinking about it, you lean down and capture one between your teeth the same way he did yours. The skin pulls tight, and you love the sharp sound Jimin makes; something between a moan and a grunt.

A fist buries in your hair, and your head snaps back as Jimin wrenches you up, your teeth snicking free from his nipple. Black blood oozes from around the small rip in the bud, filling the hollow between his pecs and the notch at the base of his throat. The wound closes right before your eyes, sealing closed almost instantly. “Look at this mess. Clean it up,” Jimin growls low in his throat, the words barely above a whisper.

You immediately stick out your tongue, and with the grip on the back of your head, Jimin guides your mouth down to his chest. His blood is hot and thick, tasting strongly of rich spices, like the fiery notes of a mulled wine. You feel unhinged, so completely removed from who you were before Dom buried that little box in the woods. Maybe it’s delirium, and you’ve snapped, or perhaps this is just who you’ve always been…whatever it is, you can’t seem to stop.

Lips swollen and covered in demon blood, you leave a trail of macabre kisses up the length of Jimin’s neck before covering your mouth with his once again. The mix of your blood and his is heady and addicting, the perfect match of iron and spice.

“Why can’t I stop?” you whisper against Jimin’s lips, not giving him time to answer before you’re licking into his mouth again. “Why don’t I want to stop?”

😈😈😈

Jimin

You’re not the only one who doesn’t want to stop. It’s never been like this for Jimin before. He’s never once experienced something so raw and carnal. He is wholly and utterly fucked. Or, well, he will be in just…one…moment.

“Be a good girl and give us what we both want,” he commands you, using his grip on your hair to pull your lips off of his. “Ride my cock, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

Jimin watches as you rear up, head cocked back because of his continued grip on your hair, reach between your thighs, and wrap your fingers around his rigid length. You stroke your hand up, thumb toying with the ring there, before sliding down. Continuing, you work your hand from root to tip a few more times until Jimin is sure he might explode.

The command to stop fucking around and start fucking him is on the tip of his tongue when you finally comply. You take him in one swift plummet, impaling yourself on his cock with a strangled cry that echoes through the room.

Cracks form in the dried blood around Jimin’s mouth. He can feel it pull and tug as his lips part with a groan. Your body moves over his, hips and tits bouncing. Loosening his hand in your hair, he slides it down at the same time he brings his other up. You fit perfectly in his hands, and the soft mounds of your breasts mold around his fingers as he squeezes them appreciatively.

“I can f-feel you so deep.” You’re mewling, panting and whining, the sounds a symphony of eroticism and pleasure to Jimin’s ears.

The bite marks on your chest have stopped bleeding, but Jimin still appreciates the way the dried crimson smears of his feasting look under his hands. Everything about your body drives him crazy and turns him into a barely-restrained animal.

The only reason he hasn’t shoved you face down on the bed and rutted you like a beast is because he wants to enjoy you a little bit longer before completely destroying you. He knows he would lose control of his abilities, gobbling down the rest of your soul in one gulp.

“Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly,” he grunts, digging his heels in and flexing his hips up as you drop down, forcing himself even deeper. You keen, increasing your pace as he continues to meet you stroke for stroke. Slipping his hands down, one latches on your hip, and the other presses to your lower belly, thumb finding your clit and swirling in precise circles.

“I, uh, fuck! I’m going to—”

The cresting of your orgasm cuts off your words. Your body shudders with the release, walls intensely contracting around his cock. Warmth floods Jimin’s body. He can feel every pulse of your body as if it’s begging for a reward.

Keeping his hold on you, he redoubles his effort, pistoning his hips into you at a manic pace. His thumb continues its assault on your clit, earning him delightful whimpers and moans from you.

“Give me another one. Fuck!” he grunts. Tears streak down your cheeks at the overstimulation, but your body gives him exactly what he wants by clamping down on his cock with your next orgasm.

Jimin can feel the way his tip pulses and his shaft grows engorged before his body succumbs to the pleasure, and he explodes, filling you so completely that torrents of cum leak from around his cock and string across his pelvis and your thighs.

The release rips his control to shreds and before Jimin can stop himself, he’s taking another hefty draft of your soul. It settles along the fibers of his being, coating his insides as thoroughly as he just coated yours.

There is no regret or remorse for the accidental slip. Jimin luxuriates in the euphoric aftermath. Post-soul sucking is nearly as good as post-orgasm, and he just so happened to experience both in the span of mere seconds. Reaching with one of his hands, he scoops a thick drop of cum up with his finger and lifts it to your mouth.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping your tongue around the offered digit. The moan you release is soft and sweet. Jimin drags you down, capturing your mouth once more in a devouring kiss.

He’s wholly and utterly satiated…for now.

He only hopes you’ll be as amiable to his new revelation because he’s finally made up his mind. Jimin plans to keep you…no matter what he has to do, no matter the words he’ll have to twist or who he will need to manipulate.

You will be his…

Forever.

😈😈😈

You try to resist Jimin as the weeks pass by, but your resolve is as formidable as wet paper. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve had him inside of you—welcomed him within the confines of your body and subsequently fed him slivers of your soul.

After a while, you begin to seek it out…hungry for his touch or rousing him with your lips around his cock, swallowing whatever he’ll give you. It’s unclear where the line was or when you crossed it, but here you are��lost in some in-between limbo.

You roll over, shoving away from Jimin’s naked body, and slide off the bed, his taste still clinging to your tongue. You’re still feeling the aftereffects of whatever just happened. Whatever it was, it wasn’t sex. At least, not regular sex. It was something…just something else.

Each time, it feels like a whole new experience. He shows you something you never thought possible and has you so wrung out you forget to question it. You can still feel him inside you, not just the phantom girth of his cock, but somewhere deeper. It’s like he’s permanently etched onto your bones now. As weird as that sounds, it’s exactly how it feels.

Crossing the expanse of his room, you stare at yourself in the mirror above an ornate chaise. You prod a finger beneath your eye, pulling the bottom lid down. No matter how much you poke and rub, the distinct red ring circling your pupil doesn’t go away.

From what little Jimin has told you over the weeks about what’s happening, you understand that you’re now a few pieces of your soul lighter. He assured you that you’re unharmed and as long as things go well, then when the deal with Dominique is complete, your soul will be restored…if you want it to be. Those were his exact—cryptic—words.

If you want it to be?

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask, not for the first time.

Jimin shrugs, not having to ask you what you mean because somehow he has this innate ability to just know what’s on your mind. His nonchalance as he lounges against a mound of pillows on the bed grates. He’s acting like a cat that’s gotten the cream…and you suppose, maybe he has.

“It means exactly what it means.”

Dropping your hand from your face, you turn and bracket your bare hips with your hands, eyes narrowing in his direction. His answers are nonanswers, and no matter how much you try to muster anger at him over it…it doesn’t come.

You’re frustrated, yes. But anger isn’t something you’re able to grasp right now for some reason, and that should make you even more angry…yet, it’s as if you’re incapable of mustering one ounce of vitriol.

“Why can’t I get mad at you?” you ask instead of pressing your previous question, hoping maybe he’ll afford you some semblance of an acceptable answer.

Jimin laughs softly. “Because you don’t want to. And before you open that pretty mouth of yours to tell me differently…think really hard about it, and you’ll see that I am right. You love being here. Dare I say you might even love me.”

Now you’re the one laughing, though it’s a bit more hollow than you intend. “That’s absurd.” You taste the lie on your tongue as soon as you say it. “Go to hell,” you mutter under your breath.

“Already here, sweetheart.” Jimin slinks off the bed, very reminiscent of the way a serpent moves, all smooth lines and sinuous fluidity. “You’ll find some new clothes in the chifferobe. Get dressed unless you want to go to your little rendezvous like that.” His eyes sweep your naked body, and you can feel the intensity at which they smolder.

To avoid potentially missing your meet up with Dom, you rip your gaze from his and approach the aforementioned wardrobe. Within, you find an entire arsenal of clothes, all in your sizes. That’s one thing you’ve grown to really enjoy: the pure magic of the endless possibilities. You can have anything you want as long as it doesn’t go against Jimin’s wants and desires.

 You may have put on a fashion show or two at the expense of Jimin’s powers. With a simple snap of his fingers, he'd manifest it for you no matter how ridiculous the garment. It’s helped to pass the time. Between the endless fucking and having nothing better to do, well…

It’s been a month since that fateful night with your best friend at the crossroads. A lot can happen in a month. A lot that you’d never have expected. The muttered assurances and pleas you made to one another before you left with Jimin linger in your mind. Her promise to find a way to free you, your unfailing belief and assurance that she would and could do it.

And now? Well, now…you’re not so sure. Should you want to escape your ten-year fate? Probably. Do you? The jury is still out. There is one thing you do know, though. Every day you spend here with Jimin is one more day you get to enjoy the power and grace of whatever connection there is between you. You get to lose yourself in the contours and planes of his impossibly immaculate body; whether it’s human or not, you’ve decided you don’t really care because it just feels too fucking good.

The red ring in your eyes is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of it all. Your fingers flick over some of the newer garments, taking in the sleek feel of silk and the soft brush of leather. Everything in here exudes sex. Something you might have once been embarrassed by, but not now.

Grabbing an off-the-shoulder emerald silk top, you pair it with a simple pair of black jeans. The thick-soled Docs you wore the night of the deal go on after you pull on a pair of socks. The lilac of your hair has remained despite the numerous times you’ve washed it over the last month. Jimin just chuckled and fingered a lock of your hair when you asked him about it, saying something about how much he likes the color on you.

You’ve chalked it up to a flex of his power. After the first week of oddities, you stopped questioning it. The bathing chamber connected to his room offers a variety of luxury products, none of them ever seem to run out. Jimin enjoys soaking in a bath, something you’ve done with him more than a handful of times after a rough but fun session. Sessions such as dirtying up his sheets—which are always pristine and clean once more with just a flick of his wrist.

That little taste of power may make you no longer eager to escape your situation. Who you were before, the responsibilities you held, the people in your life…they all seem like a dream now, hazy and unclear. With the exception of Dominique, of course.

You’re excited to see your friend, but that’s about as far as your enthusiasm goes. Sighing, you turn to face Jimin. Who, in the span of however long it took you to get ready, has cleaned the entire room and dressed himself in a suit similar to the one he wore the night you met him.

His black hair is mussed in a way that looks sexy, tendrils falling from the coif to frame his ruby-colored eyes. Eyes that you have lost yourself in countless times and that are starting to mirror your own. You watch as a cherry lollipop appears in his hand, the wrapper already gone. It shouldn’t be so seductive, the way he using his tongue to seat the candy past his teeth. But you’re desperately turned on by the display.

“Fuck you,” you gruff, knowing he’ll deny you if you proposition him for a quickie before the meeting because it’s never just a quickie with Jimin. No, he turns anything into a full-blown, hour-long experience. Not that you’re complaining.

“Don’t pout…or do. I like the way it makes your lips poke out.” Jimin gestures toward you with the lollipop. “I’ll make it up to you when we return, little mouse. Promise.” He pops the stick into his mouth once more and then holds out his hand to you, one eyebrow raising in silent command.

It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, sliding through the space between Jimin’s world and the other—the one you used to call home. Used to? You’re not sure when that became the distinction.

The moment your feet find the solid ground of the crossroads clearing, you anticipate a forlorn feeling or for an intense desire for salvation to slam into you. Only, it doesn’t come. But maybe seeing Dominique will be the key; unlock the floodgates or something.

She appears a few minutes later. The sound of her boots crunching through the underbrush draws your eyes to the two trees across the clearing through which you followed her just a month ago.

Dominique yells your name before breaking out into a run. Jimin squeezes your fingers where his hand is still wrapped around yours. In all the time you’ve been with him, you still haven’t given him your name. But, now…he knows.

Irritation colors your insides. You snatch your hand from his, earning a soft chuckle from him, and try to plaster on a smile as Dom closes the distance and throws her arms around your neck.

“Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods,” she chants, voice on the verge of hysterics. “Let me,” she begs, her hands sliding to your shoulders so she can hold you at arm's length. Her eyes sweep you from head to toe, clearly checking to make sure you’re unharmed.

“Not a hair out of place, I believe, is what you said,” Jimin says coyly. “Even the color is the same.”

Dominique ignores him, keeping her focus on you. “Your eyes,” she whispers. “What happened to your eyes?”

“Side effect of my time there.” You shrug. “I’m okay, Dom, really.”

When you were first taken, that would have felt like a lie. Now, however, it’s so far from that. You are okay—more than. You glance at Jimin over your shoulder, trying to gauge whether or not he’s listening. He’s absently twirling the lollipop's stick and humming softly, seemingly wholly tuned out.

Still, you let Dominique pull you further away. She pitches her voice low, pulling you in for another hug to disguise the fact she pushes her mouth close to your ear and whispers, “I’ve figured it out. Grann knows a way we can entrap the demon. All I need is his true name. Do you know it?”

You’ve been able to say it for the last two weeks now since Jimin lifted the demand for you not to use it, but for some reason, you don’t want to tell her, so it doesn’t feel like a betrayal. You subtly shake your head. “Sorry.”

“Fuck. Okay. I know you didn't ask for this, but you're handling this better than I thought you would. I mean, I was prepared for something like this for me, but you had no idea what would happen. Not that I think you’re handling it better than I would…I just, yeah, I’m glad you’re alive.”

Dominique pulls back a little so she can look into your eyes but still remain close. The skin around her eyes is darker, her hair a bit disheveled and the purple strands completely faded and washed out. She looks tired, exhausted, really. But what she just said sparks something in you, tickles a niggling you had in the back of your mind from a month ago that resurfaces now. She was prepared for something like this for herself? Interesting. Before you can think further on the matter, Dom sighs heavily, and your attention draws back to her tired expression.

You pause for a beat, waiting for the concern and love for your friend to come crashing down on you. Much like your anger, it doesn’t so much as tickle through your mind. If anything, you’re feeling restless and eager to finish up this meeting and return to Jimin’s quarters in the Obsidian Fortress. Quarters that, you realize now, feel more like home than Dominique’s arms do.

“Maybe I can try, though. For next time.” You try to offer her somewhat of a reassuring smile, but you’re not sure it lands. Her eyes flick over your face, searching…for what, you’re unsure. Whatever she finds there, though, must satisfy her enough that she nods.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers.

“I’ve missed you, too, Dom. You need to take care of yourself. Can’t rescue me if you can barely keep your feet.”

😈😈😈

Jimin

“...rescue me…”

Jimin admits he was barely paying attention. His own fault, really. But those two words ring in his ears as if you’d shouted them for the entire world to hear. He had really thought you were coming around, enjoying your time with him.

But this? You’re still maintaining some sort of fantasy where your little witchy friend comes to your rescue? Oh, that makes Jimin’s blood boil. How dare you. He’s done nothing but satisfy your every gods damned need and desire.

His plan for forever jumps right to the forefront of his mind. Apparently, he can’t continue to dawdle over this. It’s time to make his move, consequences be damned.

Jimin watches as you giggle and chat with your friend, completely unaware of the fury brewing a few feet away from you. He hopes you’re enjoying yourself because this will be the last time you ever do this again.

The hour drags by. But, when it’s finally time to say goodbye, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. If he hadn’t overheard the little bit of your conversation earlier, he’d almost think you were coming to him willingly—eager, even.

After the fifth time Jimin tasted your soul, he found it hard to read you. Your mind was closed to him; otherwise, he would shove right in and scour it for any morsel of information. Clearly, he’s coddled you too much. So unbecoming of a demon, and there’s only one way he can think to rectify his folly and move forward with his plan all at once…one way—or demon, more precisely—that can give him what he wants; the deal with Dominique be damned.

😈😈😈

It feels right, sliding your hand into Jimin’s. You give Dominique one final, half-hearted wave, and then your breath is stolen by the sensation of falling. It sweeps through your belly, and when you blink, you expect to see Jimin’s lavish room, but instead, you’re somewhere else, somewhere colder and more bleak.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Jimin, what a pleasant surprise,” comes a dark, familiar voice behind you. Chills cascade down your spine, replacing the confusion from seconds before. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jimin tightens his grip on your hand and turns, pulling you with him to face the same being from the first day you were brought to this realm. “I have a favor to ask.”

Coal-black eyes meet yours, and they widen in surprised delight. “My, my, Jimin, you’ve been busy, haven’t you? And yet, her soul is still mostly intact. Restraint and commitment, I’m impressed. What’s the favor?”

“I want to keep her.”

“Keep me?” you ask, startled by this revelation. 

Ignoring you, Jimin continues, “Forever. Dissolve my deal, make her mine in all ways.”

“Interesting,” the dark figure coos. “So very interesting.” With a swirl of dark fabric and smoke, he’s standing before you, so close you can see the purple-black pallor around his eyes and the fine points of his teeth as he smiles. “Mm, I’m intrigued. What’s brought about this request?”

Jimin opens his mouth but closes it again before clearing his throat and tightening his grip on your hand. “I’ve taken a liking to…her.”

“More than a liking, it seems,” Dark Lord chuckles. “Though, it doesn’t seem like you really need my interference. She seems willing enough.”

“What?” Jimin asks, finally looking at you for the first time since pulling you here. “But, I heard—”

“What she wanted the human to hear.”

A long, pale finger hooks under your chin and angles your head, tilting your face from side to side. “Yes, quite willing. Isn’t that so, kitten? Ah-ah, don’t lie to us.”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“If she’s a willing soul, then there is no need for protection. By that account, the deal is void,” he continues, slowly examining your face. “All you need to do is take it all…every drop of her willing soul.”

Without responding, Jimin whisks you away. You suddenly find yourself standing in the middle of Jimin’s room, with him standing right in front of you and his eyes boring into yours so intently.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask.

Jimin gathers you against his chest, arms banding around your waist. “Tell me he’s right.”

“He’s right, Jimin. I’m willing. I-I don’t know…what happened, or when…maybe you’ve manipulated me somehow, and this is all your doing—but, fuck, somehow he’s right.”

His reply is hesitant, uncertain, “You want to be with me?”

Instead of reassuring him once again, you turn the question back on him. “Only if you want to be with me. Tell me I’m more than just part of a demon deal, that I’m not some coveted prize that you’re going to toss away in ten years.”

“No, no, I’d never do that. Even if I had to force you, I’d have never let you go.” At least he has the sense to look sheepish at admitting he’d use force if necessary.

“Wouldn’t that have hurt you somehow, breaking the deal?” Worry creases your brow, even at the mere thought.

Jimin shrugs, pulling you impossibly closer. His warm breath fans over your face as he says, “What’s a few years of punishment in the sanguine pits for breaking a deal compared to an eternity with you?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head at the crazy turn of events. “So, what now?” you ask, voice a little shaky at the sudden prospect of what he might say.

“Say it again,” he requests, breathy and fervent in his need to hear it once more, just to be sure.

It comes naturally now, saying precisely what you want.

“I’m willing.”

Jimin responds by cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours. You recognize it the instant he starts to sip from your soul. With deep, long swallows, Jimin pulls at that little place inside you…and you let him.

You open yourself to him, accepting this as your fate. Maybe he truly did manipulate you and took away your free will all those weeks ago, but right now, in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. Because it feels right…this feels right.

“Sweet, sweet soul,” Jimin murmurs against your mouth. He’s greedy, tongue and lips working as he continues to taste you through the last few drops. “You’re now mine forever, little mouse.”

With eyes of vermillion and honey, you come alive…perhaps for the first time in your life.

All because your friend buried a box.

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[praetorqueenreyna]

well i AM asking for the essay on modern ACOTAR fandom please🙏😩

YOU ARE ALL ENABLERS!!! FINE I SHALL WRITE MY ESSAY!!!!! I'm putting it under a read more because I'm embarrassed of how long it is.

ACOTAR fandom is strange in a fascinating and NOT FUN way. Fandom has gotten SO restrictive recently, it's suffocating. And idk what it is about ACOTAR, but its fans are among the WORST. Whatever discourse you've seen in other fandoms, multiply it by 10 to get the experience of being in mainstream ACOTAR fandom. It is an unchallenged belief in this fandom that writing, drawing, or consuming any kind of content that isn't 100% healthy in the real world means that you - YOU!!!!! - are a danger to real life human beings. Criticizing a character's choices and the author's writing decisions is warped into you being an abuse apologist and also you probably yell at abuse victims in real life. A drawing of Tamlin and Elain sitting in a garden is now a disgusting acceptance of real life abusers and you're traumatizing every abuse survivor.

I can think of countless examples off the top of my head of real life human beings being harassed and bullied and called all kinds of nasty names for the fictional content they create about fictional characters. Like, I cannot stress enough the irony of these puritans spouting off in woke-enese about how "dangerous" certain fans are being incredibly verbally and emotionally abusive to people in this fandom. A fanartist on Instagram was painting portraits of each of the ACOTAR characters, and as a fun framing device, each painting was meant to be a painting that Feyre would make, and the captions talked about how the artist thought Feyre would paint this character. A charming and delightful series taking advantage of the fact that the main character is a painter, right? WRONG!!! This artist did a painting of Tamlin, and she was raked across the coals for DARING to even IMPLY that Feyre ever even THOUGHT about Tamlin or could even CONSIDER forgiving him enough to paint him. She was accused of "forcing an abuse survivor to think about her abuser." Like, do you see how absurd that is?? Feyre isn't real!! Nobody forced anybody to do anything! That's the kind of batshit insane nonsense we're dealing with.

Not to mention any depicition or joking about the series' villains is seen as you endorsing REAL LIFE VILLAINY!! me and my friends are constantly under fire for DARING to enjoy villainous characters or dark content. I feel like I shouldn't even have to say it, but the content that you create and consume doesn't say anything about you as a person. People who are very well adjusted, kind, and happy will engage with dark content for a variety of reasons. Some use it as a coping/healing mechanism, some just find dark content fascinating and worthy of exploration, and some people have dark fantasies. This fandom behaves as if the things you make and consume are examples of what you consider "healthy" and things that you want to do to real life people. It's INCONCEIVABLE to them that you could enjoy something in fiction and not endorse it in real life. INCONCEIVABLE!!

Aside from the irony of people claiming to battle against toxicity screaming violent insults at real life people over fictional characters, this is very very funny. Those of us that have been in the rarepair trenches in other fandoms can't help but laugh at these grown ass women losing their minds because somebody drew a blonde man. The culmination of this has been the runners of Elain Week refusing to even SEE characters they don't like. The visage of Tamlin will shatter their fragile minds and send them to their early graves. And this isn't even TOUCHING how their standard for which characters are Acceptable and which ones aren't is almost solely decided by what the author has explicitly stated and not based on any critical thinking or analysis.

The sheer and utter absurdity of this fandom in particular being SO hung up on canon should be studied. SJM is such a poor writer that she contradicts canon within the same book. I am firmly convinced that nobody actually reads her novels all the way through before they are published. This canon is bad. Which is why it's so baffling that this fandom in particular is so obsessed with canon and what the author has stated both within the books and in interviews. SJM says this character is bad, and so they are BAD!!! This character is good, and so they are GOOD. Oftentimes if you see people try to tear down Tamlin, they'll bring up SJM saying that he's abusive in interviews, talking about how she doesn't like him, and bringing up that she put a hotline for abuse survivors in the back of one of the books. SJM has said that he's an abuser, and so therefore he IS, and there is no further investigation.

Again, a kindergarden concept I didn't think I'd have to explain to a bunch of grown adults on the internet, but a creator's intention is not the end all be all of discussion. It's certainly a part of the analysis, but it is also up to the reader to determine if the author has convinced you of the story they're trying to tell. For example, the creator Joss Whedon clearly created Buffy the Vampire Slayer to be a feminist, empowering show for women. However, the viewer can watch the show and point out areas where he failed in this intention and allowed misogyny, racism, and homophobia to seep into his works. Imagine if every time you tried to criticize a "feminist" show made by a man, the fans screamed at you that the creator said it's feminist, and so therefore it is, and that's the end of that.

This is PARTICULARLY galling with SJM's villains. A lot of them are just...not written well, or convincingly, or realistically. BUT a lot of them are sexual predators, and so any discussion about them and their character is cut off at the source. SJM tells you that these people are BAD GUYS and you have to accept it, otherwise you're defending r*pists. It's especially hilarious because a lot of her "good" guys also commit many horrible acts. Part of the hilarity of the Elain Week nonsense is that the man that the creators ship Elain with, Azriel, is a PROFESSIONAL TORTURER. But SJM says he's good and sympathetic, so therefore, he is. And it's an entirely different essay to go into how SJM portrays her female villains, and I got Cancelled for it last time I tried so NO YOU CANT MAKE ME!!!

Lastly, I'll mention the bloated victim complex of people that like popular things. Again, not unique to ACOTAR fandom, but certainly very prevalent. The people who are in the majority NEED to feel like they're the underdog, fighting the good fight. Hence having the people who like one of the MAIN CHARACTERS and one of the Top 5 Most Popular Ships acting like they are Jesus on the cross for shipping Elain and Bland Dude #4. They work themselves into a paranoid frenzy, feeling attacked at every twist and turn. I would bet my LIFE that the people that run Elain Week have never even seen Beron/Elain content, let alone had it submitted to their event. But they got themselves all worked up about the Evil Tamlin Cabal RUINING THE EVENT that they made these rules that are simply ridiculous. And it backfired on them. Me and my friends have been accused of ruining other character weeks for making content for ships that WE like but the moderators don't. They'll see one single Rhysand/Tamlin drawing and act like you've fucking shot them. They genuinely feel like nobody likes Feyre or Rhysand, the most popular characters, and everyone supports Tamlin. It's insane and they need to get offline. I've seen people wearing Night Court merch in real life. Trust me, you won. You are not the victim.

[cerastes]

What's your read on Andreanna's 'love at first sight' line? It could be fun to just take it as face value and just assume it's just her having a crush on Skadi and Spectre (making her utter lack of connection to them on the network very funny), but I feel like there's something else going on there. Is it seaborn stuff? Something to do with her being an abyssal hunter knockoff having some kind of innate admiration for the original?

It’s because she’s a Walmart Abyssal Hunter, yeah.

The line in question:

Andreana feels something completely and utterly puzzling and maybe even thrilling when see sees Specter and Skadi, so she says this. It’s further elaborated on in her Module lore:

In her Module, Andreana explains that she was making a joke with that comment, however, it is true that she felt weird and bothered, Felt A Ways, as some would say, when looking at them or in their immediate presence. Then she posits that this physiological reaction might have to do with That Weird Backstory Of Hers, but also, 1) she doesn’t really care too much about it, and 2) it sounds like a pain in the ass so she doesn’t want to find out.

As we all know (and if not, as you’ll learn now), Abyssal Hunters can sense each other on a level that other people can’t. They perceive each other as they would a wave, a sea current, the smell of the sea, even its temperature, if close enough to each other. In Under Tides, for example, Skadi immediately perks up when Gladiia breaks into Specter’s room to steal her away, because she immediately ‘smelled’ a cold, strong wave of seawater coming from her room. That’s how Gladiia ‘smells’ or ‘feels’. It is stated at various points that Hunters don’t even need words to communicate if they so choose, with Specter in particular feeling like land-dweller language is bothersome to a fault at first, and Skadi addressing that with “no yeah I hated it at first too, still can’t get used to it, but it’s got its virtues”. It also explains a little why Skadi is so stoic and laconic: She literally isn’t used to talking or needing to, but I digress.

It’s easy to extrapolate that this is precisely what Andreana is feeling when she sees the Hunters: She’s “feeling” them but has no earthly clue as to what the hell that is in the first place. Proper Aegir Hunters have an education — Gladiia taught Laurentina not just about the Hunter trade, but also about art in general, with a focus on dancing — that prepares them to be Hunters and have the information needed given to them. Andreana has memory issues and not a damn clue of what the dicken is going on when she “feels” a Hunter, no context, so her first assumption is “Huh. Love at first sight?” because why the hell is she feeling something as intimate as what kind of waves and breeze they are from just looking at them? Then, a while later, since Andreana is a pretty pragmatic, logical, no-nonsense person, she starts putting the legos together and thinking, oh, yeah, might have to do with my Mysterious Circumstances, on second thought. Then she shrugs it off and keeps fiddling with her crossbow.

In Kal’tsit’s own words Andreana 200 Trust Files), if Laurentina or Didi can be considered a proper inkwell, Andreana is a droplet of ink in a glass of water: A facsimile, an attempt at something, an aberration. Of course, this callous indictment isn’t directed at Andreana, it’s aimed at what was done to Andreana.

And since I know I’ll get an ask about it, I’ll take the liberty of plugging Andreana into Drimo’s patented Just A Guy spectrum. Is Andreana Just A Guy (gender neutral)? Not quite. Let’s compare and contrast with our favorite specimen, Shalem. Shalem is terrified of his backstory and runs from it at every turn, until it was impossible for him to refuse it any longer (IS2), Andreana, on the other hand, is aware that she has a backstory. She KNOWS there’s lore, but she doesn’t really want to meet it. The backstory ambushes her, but Andreana says “no thank you :)” and walks past it. It’s a pain in the ass. She’d rather play paintball. She’s not normal, is keenly aware of it, and doesn’t give a zalak’s ass about it. Can’t be bothered! Simply uninterested!

[wat-the-cur]

(I wrote most of this when I was tired and in pain and it shows. This is so much babbling nonsense it’s untrue. I don’t even think I properly adhered to the “based on vibes” system I intended to follow. But I’m still posting it, because silly and fun.)

Been feeling like utter crud for the past three days, so I’m about to distract myself with Jay ratings. I’m rating the Jays based on vibes. No introspection, just waffle. Enjoy!

Clerks Jay - Listen. The GENDER. Not enough is said on the gender envy factor of Clerks Era Jay. The baseball cap we sadly never see again, the hair up to show off the buzzed sides, the little necklace, the huge earring. He doesn’t feel like he’s wearing a costume, either. Throughout the film clothes come off, go back on, hair goes up and down and moves through various stages of dishevelled, as he fucks around outside the Quickstop all day. It’s one of those details that make him feel more real. This is the Jay who’s probably most like someone you’ve known, for better, or worse. For as minor as his role in the film is, as well, he has some depth to him that get’s sadly overlooked. Boy steps up to defend Veronica before anyone else, even though his conversation with Dante is overshadowed by Silent Bob’s one iconic line. Degenerate with a heart of gold, and one of my top Jays. (9/10)

Mallrats Jay - Brother vibes. Mallrats Jay is pure brother vibes. He is both your little brother and your big brother, and he is not as cool as he thinks he is, either way. His breath smells like stale Monster (that you had to buy for him), and he has never washed his arse correctly in his life. Would flip you off your chair and break your elbow for a handful of fries, but he would also beat up your bullies for you (with help from Silent Bob, of course). Also very gender, but not in the same way as Clerks Jay. Mallgender, great silhouette. Somehow much cuddlier. I would cuddle him. (7/10)

Chasing Amy Jay - Moody. The moodiest bitch. Beam me up, Stroppy. This is Jay in such a foul fucking mood, it almost stops him being funny. Almost. Apparently, anger makes him fluffier, too. He’s strangely fluffy when he appears. Yet another example of Jay giving the same opinions as Silent Bob, just in a crasser way, and so getting overlooked. And speaking of Bob, points for the subtle callback to Jay’s previously established repressed bisexuality and his crush on Silent Bob, via jealousy towards ex-girlfriend. (6/10)

Chasing Dogma Jay - “Ew” is, perhaps, a strong word, but.....hhhuuuuggggmmmnng 😬. Sincerely, certified worst Jay. Kevin Smith took Jay’s sex pest tendencies and jacked them up to eleven, here. I’m not trying to clutch pearls, it’s just not funny. It’s long been established that Jay frequently has women tell him to fuck off, even pepper spray him for being pushy and annoying. And he is both of these things. However, in the movies we never see him forcibly grab women, or threaten them with violence. This Jay does both, and it honestly feels like a huge departure for the Jay we’ve seen previously. Both Clerks Jay and Mallrats Jay were shown to have female friends. I struggle to imagine this Jay having any, because feels genuinely unsafe to be around. And while it’s not out of character for him to expect sex as a reward for heroism, the implication that he wouldn’t have saved Bethany if Bob hadn’t gone for it first does feel out of character. #NotMyJay. The only saving grace of this Jay is his few cute moments with Bob, as well as almost coming out to him during a tirade. (4/10)

Dogma Jay - Now this. This is some good Jay right here. This is about the last we see of moody bitch Jay, established in the previous two iterations. But, in spite of that, he is not without his sweet side. Boy couldn’t care less about the world ending, but you refuse his “girlfriend’s” request and make her sad? You get your expensive shit stolen. That’ll teach you. This is the film that really pumped out the ship fuel for JayBob and you can see why. I’m convinced the main reason Jay is one of the prophets is that he is Bob’s emotional support jackass, that is his primary role. Looking and acting every inch the repressed bisexual he is CONFIRMED to be. But honestly, this look? Best Jay look since Clerks. Ear, nose and tongue pierced. Got his catchphrase on his beanie. Look at that cosy outfit, our boy is so warm. Chasing Dogma explained that these are not, in fact, Jay’s clothes, hence why they don’t fit. But he looks so damn snuggly in that huge jacket, and the red/black/grey combo looks so good on him. (8/10)

Clerks: The Animated Series Jay - Everyone shut up and look at him! Look at his cheeky little face. He’s just a little guy. Just a little prankster. He does a gay little walk that pisses you off. Bless this little man, I love him so much. (10/10)

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back Jay - To fit the lighter tone of the film, Jay goes back to something closer to his Mallrats appearance. Manchild, rather than manteenager. School boy with a crush. He even gets addressed as “Little Kid” by different characters throughout the film, like it’s acknowledging this. This film has a lot of fans divided, but even if you’re not a fan of the View Askewniverse, or Jay and Silent Bob as a duo, I think it would be hard to hate this Jay. There is something very innocent and genuine about him. We see what is alluded to in Clerks, that Jay really just wants a kind, sweet partner. Also, this is possibly Jay’s best known outfit, either due to the popularity of the film, or just how bright it is. Honestly, I like it. Especially the Berserker shirt, he’s still supporting Olaf! (8/10)

Clerks II Jay - My wife. My cupcake. My actual fucking babygirl. I want to sit him on my lap and hand feed him his Mooby meal. I fucking love Clerks II Jay. He feels like if Clerks Jay got some character development. He’s still rowdy, still horny, still not too bright, but he’s getting softer. He’s getting more self aware. He’s on the cusp of something. This Jay probably wakes up in Silent Bob’s arms each morning, because he’s remembering to be grateful for the good things in his life (Because Silent Bob is such a good, friendly friend, thats completely and totally it). The little old ladies at church love him, they’re always tucking his hair behind his ears. There is something so fun and sweet about Jay and Bob carrying around that little pocket Bible, knowing they actually met God not too many years ago. I just love it, I really wish they had stuck with this. Also, the little flicks in this Jay’s hair, and his coat that can easily slip off the shoulder live in my head, rent free. (11/10)

Jay and Silent Bob Reboot/Clerks III Jay - Look, I know. I know that Reboot was cringe. I know that Smith and Mewes looked like old men struggling to do what used to come naturally. But Reboot touched my heart, okay. Look at this man. Look at this old, undiagnosed, moderately freshly out of the closet man. He finally passed the cusp he was on in Clerks II. Watch him attempt to protect and bond with his long lost daughter, whom he loved almost immediately. Watch him cry over all the years he missed out on raising her. He’s running a business with his not so heterosexual life mate. Probably believes they’ll have to elope to Fiji to make it official, or something. He pretends dealing is still illegal in the area for the nostalgia. He agrees to help Randal make his film, and happily distracts the hospital staff so an ill Dante can watch it. Why? Because the clerks are his friends now. He’s too old to bear grudges. He’s goofy, he’s happy, he’s peaceful. He drinks cocoa with his last joint of the night. And he gets pegged, that’s confirmed, too. I need more old, happy Jay. Also, back to the bright colours! (10/10)

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, “shit, shit, shit.” He grabs Dustin, pulls him up, shakes him by the shoulders, “Dustin, can you hear me? Dustin, wake—”

His voice dies. He feels himself freeze, useless; for a second too long, he’s thrown right back to his living room, to the lights flickering, to Chrissy—

“M’fine,” Dustin mumbles, lifting his head and wincing like it’s too bright. “Ugh, don’t need to shout. Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy,” Eddie parrots, frantic. “Okay, okay, so—water, right? Right, water, water.”

He scrambles for a glass, pushes the bedroom door wide open so he can keep looking back. Dustin stays put right on the mattress as if in an attempt to reassure Eddie, but seeing him so still is just—it’s wrong.

“Here,” Eddie says. Water spills on his knuckles as he passes the glass over.

Dustin drains the whole thing, but it looks like it hurts to swallow. Like it sticks on the way down.

In his panic, opening and shutting cupboards as if he was a stranger in his own home, Eddie had found a scrap of a bandage in an old first aid kit.

He tightens it around the back of Dustin’s hand, but it’s not even bleeding anymore, just dried blood around the bite—can’t stop thinking that he hasn’t helped at all.

Dustin clearly takes pity on him; he nods at the bandage, says, “Good idea,” like Eddie’s a fucking genius—when Dustin’s the one who cracked a riddle in, like, the first session of Hellfire he attended when it should’ve taken the whole campaign; who reads out Eddie’s homework assignments in the cafeteria, says offhand, “Have you tried…?” and nine times out of ten, he’s right, or pushes Eddie down the right track, at the very least; who Robin calls “Einstein” and “genius child” with a teasing smirk, but she means it; who led Eddie out of utter terror in the boathouse, introduced a world of monsters like it was nothing, like a fucking duck to water…

Eddie picks up the walkie. “Hey, uh, I know we said no deviations, Wheeler—shit, like, we haven’t, but—just, we’ve got a problem, just please say you’re there, please, please.”

Silence. Nothing but static.

“Of course,” Eddie gets out through a shuddering breath; he has to laugh otherwise he’s going to—“Of fucking course. Uh, gonna need to help me out here, Henderson. I’m, like, so far out of my depth it’s not even—”

Dustin snorts. “Blind leading the blind here, dude,”—English essay due next week, Eddie thinks reflexively, stupidly—“hey, maybe you should be taking notes, like, this is a scientific discovery—”

“That’s not funny,” Eddie snaps, “that’s not even fucking remotely funny.”

Dustin falls silent.

Immediately, Eddie feels a cold wave of guilt; Dustin needs someone well-versed in all this shit, not an amateur—needs one of the others, someone who can be flippant and cool-headed. Needs Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “Fuck, just ignore me.”

Dustin nods, lips twitching into a dry smile, yeah, that’s what I usually do. There’s still an air of himself there, a spark in his fever bright eyes that reassures Eddie only slightly. Because there’s fear on his face too, of course there is—like the poorly received joke he’d made had really been for Eddie’s benefit. Like Dustin was trying to calm him down instead.

Jesus Christ, get it together, Munson.

“Hey,” Eddie manages after several deep breaths. “We’ll work it out, okay?”

He lifts his hand up and Dustin, after a pause, high fives him, the gesture not nearly as enthusiastic as before. His palm feels cold, tacky with sweat.

“Yeah,” Dustin says quietly. “Yeah, we’ll…”

He wobbles slightly, like the high five’s knocked him off balance. But that can’t—Eddie was so careful, he’d barely—

“We can just look at the stars,” Dustin says nonsensically.

Ice forms in Eddie’s gut.

“What?” he says loudly, swallows back bile—tries to sound like they’re just at Hellfire, and Dustin’s said something particularly off the wall. “That doesn’t—woah, no, stay sitting up, you hear me? Hello, earth to Dustin?” He clamps down hard on Dustin’s shoulders. “How about, uh, more water,” he babbles inadequately, “yeah, you just—no, no, don’t move—”

Dustin’s frowning, squirming beneath Eddie’s hands. “Can’t you see them?” he says, so unsure, Eddie’s never heard him sound so… “They’re right…”

All at once, he freezes.

Eddie instinctively looks up, half convinced that another nightmare’s come crawling through the Gate, but—

“Steve?” Dustin says. His voice cracks. “Steve.”

“He’s coming back,” Eddie says quickly, “I swear. I—I just couldn’t reach them on the walkie, but—”

“Steve,” Dustin repeats, louder now. Builds into a scream, fighting against Eddie’s hold, “Steve!”

His eyes, too wide, too bright, slide away into the distance, like he’s watching something Eddie can’t see.

And Eddie’s right; he’s so far out of his depth, he’s practically drowning. But somehow he knows that—

“It’s not real,” he says, wraps an arm tight around Dustin; he can’t let him—“Dustin, I promise, it’s not—”

As Dustin wails incomprehensibly, he grabs the walkie. It’s just static again, but he’s desperate. Lost.

“Help,” Eddie whispers.

[carigm]

A BREAKDOWN OF THE POTENTIAL S5 EPISODE TITLES!!

Okay, so today entertainment journalist Jeff Sneider shared some alleged insider info about S5 of ST, mainly directors and titles of the first 6 episodes.

Here’s a screenshot

It’s important to keep in mind that this guy isn’t always the most reliable, and considering he also said he believes S5 could come out before the end of this year, let’s not take any of this too seriously. (Many cast members have mentioned they’re filming until December of this year so that’s literally impossible). The information about the possible directors I believe is correct, because it’s been circulating around from other sources too.

The episode titles I’m less convinced about because it’s also possible the Duffers could’ve put out fake episode titles in case they leaked. I remember for S2 all the episodes titles they announced were changed later on lol. But for the sake of fun, here’s an analysis of all of them:

1. The crawl (only confirmed title) is a very broad, open title. It personally makes me think of the UD and vines, or maybe even the idea of Vecna crawling back to life. Could also be an allusion to the military.

2. The Vanishing of ___ Wheeler is arguably the most insane one. The journalist said he wasn’t revealing the actual name of the person because it’s a spoiler ofc. My gut tells me it’s gonna be Holly, mainly because of the recast and her supposedly being involved in the hospital plot, which we have guessed takes place in episode 2. Could explain why she’s suddenly “more important” this season, especially if she’s used as a plot device of sorts. Could also tie into what Ted’s actor said in a podcast back in February about the first episodes being a rollercoaster of emotions, and that comment he made about Ted having a soft spot for Holly. It would be a perfect tie in for Karen to find out about the UD as well. The implications of naming the episode the same as the first episode, which is so intrinsically tied to Will, is very interesting. It’s also a new connection/tie between the Byers/Wheelers that I assume will bring the families closer together. I don’t think it’s about Mike because I doubt he’ll go missing in ep.2, or be dragged to the UD just like Will was. It would be an interesting concept but I doubt it. I also don’t think Nancy’s gonna go missing. Karen could be interesting but I doubt it as well. Ted would be an incredibly funny choice. Imagine he just goes missing while at the house 😭 Nonetheless, I think Holly is the clear choice here, and I do very much worry for her if she goes missing. Mainly because while Will survived this, I’m not sure they’ll do the same for Holly :(

It also ties into Vecna’s threat to Nancy against her and her family.

Here’s an interesting leak from the same anon that leaked the hospital stuff (which seems to be correct)

I think this could be the very same scene Holly goes missing.

3. Turbow Trap 😭 This one is utter nonsense. I have no idea what a Turbow is, so I assume it’s gonna be a code or nickname for something. Absolutely clueless here.

4. Sorcerer is incredibly interesting, and imo a clear allusion to Will. His D&D character being a cleric, basically a wizard. Could also be a reference to Vecna imo. Or both 😉

5. Shock Jock is clearly tied to the radio station plotline. Imo the title could be a reference to Steve, Jonathan, or even Murray (he fits that eccentric, somewhat annoying personality quite well) In case you guys don’t know a shock jock is like a very eccentric radio host.

6. Escape from Camazotz is another crazy title. He’s a figure from Mayan mythology who’s a bat spirit. That immediately makes me think of Eddie, but also Steve ofc. However, camazotz has a larger meaning that goes beyond “bat spirit”, it’s also a representation of death and night. So the title seems to be alluding to someone escaping from death or a perilous situation.

Even more interesting perhaps is that kamazotz is a name of a planet in A Wrinkle Time. It’s the planet where IT resides, the mind controlling antagonist of the narrative. So I guess in this comparison Kamazotz is the UD, and IT is Henry.

[princelylove]

Creep yanderes that just won't. stop. messaging you.

They just don't let up. Message after message after message of utter nonsense- it used to make sense. In the beginning, it was just double texting. Texts asking what you're doing, if you want to play a game with them, when's the next time you two can do something together, hey look an instagram reel or tiktok about some running joke you have together, or a funny tweet.

When you keep rejecting them, maybe even non intentionally, they start to get more passive aggressive. Why don't you ever want to talk to them anymore? Why are you acting this way? Did they do something, are you mad at them?

It's kind of insane how the same person can send a bunch of heart emojis and a "I fucking hate you you're a stupid whore" message in the same day. It's pure delusion. Your lack of a response allows them to project whatever thoughts they want to- if they're insecure, you obviously hate them and they're not enough and you should just block them already. If they tend to project, you're such a dumb whore that can't get somebody's dick out of your mouth for five seconds to answer them. It depends on the individual.

This concept reminds me of Pesci, Pesci, Pesci. He's worse than Ghiaccio. At least Ghiaccio has a sense of pride and boundaries- Pesci is about thiiis close from snapping on the daily and flat out killing his darling in a moment of passion.

He gets insecure fast. Well, "getting" insecure suggests that he was ever secure. Pesci is constantly comparing himself to the people he's closest to- Prosciutto, mainly. He misses the point of Prosciutto's philosophy entirely because he's fixated on what Prosciutto is to him instead of what he actually is.

Pesci is very pathetic. No matter what he does, he'll never be Prosciutto. He's just not the same kind of man. Not the type man to not fret about getting a text back, not the type of man to love his own reflection and check himself out every time he passes something shiny, not the type of man to just do what he wants and worry about consequences later, or never.

He's not really a texter- he's more of a an 'in your face, exhibiting worrying behaviors' type of nice guy. He psychs himself up to actually show up at your apartment but worries all the way up the stairs. Pesci is in a constant state of distress until he manages to shift his mindset. It's like a switch. A switch that's hard to break out of once he's in.

A mindset that doesn't mind breaking your front door, because mafiosi take what they want.

Not to mention someone like Hazamada. It's too obvious to be enjoyable, isn't it? He fantasizes about raping his classmate but he's too much of a pussy to do it, he gets into heated arguments about his favorite idols and anime in canon (if I'm remembering correctly, I don't pay attention to short 'men' often). He has the set up for this specific type of creep. It's a shame he's such a coward about it. And everything else.

Not on the phone, though. Or online in general. The beauty of going on anon, you can send whatever you want and never have to see the consequences for it. Not man enough to flat out tell you he's interested, not man enough to confront you about your "other" boyfriends, he's not even man enough to defend his own interests under his own name. None of his accounts have anything personal tied to it, he'll even use an alternate email to sign up.

He'll just keep buying burner phones to text you when he needs to get something off of his chest. Your outfit looked great today. He knows it's a uniform, but the way you wear it is adorable. He hates your friends. They're ditzy bimbos that are ruining you by association. Why don't you watch anything he likes? Your interests are trash, you should check out peak for once.

Josuke is a serial text spammer, but he doesn't quite fall into the 'nice guy' territory. He doesn't blame you for anything, but he does not respect your do not disturb, so it's yes and no.

It's debatable. Josuke doesn't say things that could be taken as insults, he'd never go for you personally when he's pissed off, but he's known to be a little passive aggressive in person. His texts are seemingly innocent enough- memes, tiktoks, asking what you're doing later, telling you he misses you, sending you something he thinks you'd like, picture of what he's doing, picture of something that was deep in his camera roll that he 'forgot' to send you a while ago. He hits your interrupt do not disturb button as a joke.

Heeey, it's super serious. It deserves to interrupt your whatever-you're-doing. Look, it's a fat baby animal. What are you doing, again? Why's your location off? You okay?