#revisit the play if that's your opinion

[roseykat]

TITLE: Stray Kids and Kinks

SUMMARY: Stray Kids members and each of their kinks (in my personal opinion). They’d most likely have more than one as well.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: smut, discussions around sex, breath play, choking, public sex, slight voyeurism, begging, pictophilia, degradation, use of the names ‘slut’, ‘whore’, ‘fucktoy’, ‘cumslut’, collars, cuckolding, bondage/shibari.

MASTERLIST

A/N: to the people who were on my main taglist for my works, I’m so sorry because I’ve lost the list I had with everyone’s names on it. I’ll keep trying to search through my documents for them just in case. If I can’t, please message me if you still want to be added, no pressure!

BANG CHAN - Breath play

He’s adopted breath play techniques to help intensify your orgasms. For example, he’ll have a hand around your throat, squeezing at the sides as you’re about to cum. Then, just as you do, he’ll take his hand away so that more oxygen rushes to your brain as you orgasm hard around his dick. Seeing you cum your brains out from it only made him want to do it more.

But it just so happens that Chan also likes to be choked. He folds whenever you’re on top riding him and you extend a hand down his throat to squeeze. As a result, he’s bound to cum inside you without question. Or maybe when you’re both making out, Chan likes to feel your hand apply that snug restriction around the sides of his neck.

MINHO - Public Sex

Public sex is a staple aspect of bringing spontaneity into your relationship with Minho and it’s a major turn on for him. Whenever you’re both on the go, there’s always a time where he’s horny. Fucking in a club was the first time either of you had done anything in public - and you’re sure that someone was in one of the stalls watching through the gap in the door of Minho bending you over the sink.

Now, his horizons have expanded to fucking you in a tent when you both go camping, fucking in a room at some pension when you and the other guys go away for a holiday, giving him head underneath the table at a overly crowded restaurant, fucking you against a brick wall down some alleyway as you’re both walking back home because neither of you could wait. The possibilities are endless for him, and so far you haven’t been caught.

CHANGBIN - Begging

Changbin’s ego inflates whenever you beg him to do something in the bedroom. It not only means that you need him to do whatever it is, but that there’s nobody else in the world who can satisfy you other than him. He just thrives off of it. Begging him to let you cum is his ultimate weak point, but not as much as when you beg him to eat you out.

You could both be fifteen minutes into making out, touching each other, and he would deliberately refrain from doing anything further until he hears you pleading for him to go down on you. Only when he says ‘yes’, he’ll eat you out slowly and delicately, right to the point where you get frustrated and have to beg him again. This time to make you cum.

HYUNJIN - Pictophilia

Has countless polaroids, pictures, and videos of yours and his naked body. Will take photos of you from behind, you with his cum on your tits or face, videos of his dick visibly disappearing inside your pussy and sliding back out, videos of him making you orgasm that you can see your legs shake in the frame. He likes revisiting those memories and then creating more to see later on.

Sometimes you’ll watch them back together, that’s if Hyunjin doesn’t get all shy about it. He likes watching you, just not himself so much. In the moment, when he’s fucking your brains out, he can be an animal and say ‘how good your pussy feels’, tell you how much ‘you’re creaming around him’. But the minute you both watch it over together, he gets embarrassed hearing himself say those things to you on camera. 

HAN - Degradation

At first you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to call Jisung such degrading names when he asked you to. It wasn’t until you really tried and saw how much he enjoyed it. His eyes glass over like he’s suddenly under your control, which he is. Calling him names like ‘whore’, ‘slut’, or ‘fucktoy’ is guaranteed to make him cum even harder.

Pairing that with any type of overstimulation or orgasm control gives you a very needy Jisung who’s brain turns into mush just from hearing those sorts of names. He isn’t too sure why or how degradation works so well for him, how it makes his orgasms feel ten times more stronger than just normal verbal communication during sex. That being said, Jisung, like you’ve told him many times, is a ‘cumslut’ who enjoys just orgasming. So much that if degradation helps him get there, then he’s all for it.

FELIX - Collar Kink

Each collar is carefully selected by him for you to wear. He cares and stores them the way that he does with his keyboards. His favourites are the ones with metal rings or heart shaped loops at the front so that he can hook his finger in it and bring you closer to whatever it is he’s doing. They’re very personal statements that he takes pride in not only collecting but also creating as well.

Felix customises and curates them especially for you. He selects the leathers from black to pale pinks to deep reds. Some will have studs or multiple metal loops, others will be classic and plain. The point of the matter is that Felix swells inside with excitement every time he gets to fasten or buckle the collar around your neck.

SEUNGMIN - Cuckolding

This man has a kink for essentially watching you get railed by another man - maybe two sometimes. He doesn’t strike as the type of person to share you, but he compromises when his fantasies come into focus. When he presented you with this peculiar idea to see you have sex with someone other than himself, you were all in it. To test things out, he thought it would be best to invite someone you both know. Someone who would be into the same idea.

That person ended up being Jisung who was a perfect fit for the night and it’s never been awkward since. These types of experiences make having sex with Seungmin even more special and intimate when it’s just the two of you. There’s not another man who makes you cum the way he does - none of the men he’s watched you have sex with.

Jeongin - Bondage

Jeongin enjoys tying you up, but especially in shibari. An intricate practice of bondage that passes off more as art than something sexual. He’s perfected the craft of skilfully binding your body to create beautiful ties and wraps. His slender and long fingers help with threading multiple lengths of ropes into different loops at the same time. In some cases, shibari is just for people to look at and doesn’t involve sex.

Almost similar to BDSM in some cases. But Jeongin will fuck you in it. There’s a side to him that can be very irrational and heated. The way the rope tightens around your body or the way the patterns contrast with your skin, makes him impulsive. He will involve other sexual practices like BDSM, maybe sensation play, edging, orgasm denying - anything to see you struggle against the rope.

[koqabear]

Hiii congrats on 2k sol obsessed with everything you write!!!!💓 Could I request revisiting emo boy? Like what their relationship is like after and dates and how sex is like? Maybe beomgyu’s band really blows up and he’s quite busy, how does oc respond to this? And with smut? Tysm!!💝

playlist // beomgyu's encore outfit hehe // cont. of hey emo boy!

 “The day of your one-year anniversary with Beomgyu was expected to be spent away from each other— but not if either of you can help it, far too in love to let anything get in the way of you two.”

bassist!beomgyu x fem!reader // wc: 6.6K (everyone stfu rn) // genre: band au, opposites attract trope, established relationship, smut, tooth rotting fluff tbh, MDNI.

warnings: they are in love and it’s fucking GROSS!! barely edited, the two have hella piercings hehe (bg: snake bites, tongue, eyebrow // mc: smiley & nipple piercings) pet names (sweet thing, pretty, etc.) use of the L word bc they are literally obsessed w/ each other.

smut warnings: hard dom! gyu, sub!mc, needy sex sorry 😖, marking, manhandling, dry humping, biting, breast play, possessiveness, unprotected sex, bg picks the mc up, scratching, dacryphilia, dumbification, a lot of kissing lol, degrading, slight praise, fingering, creampie, cum eating…? lmk if i should add anything !

Notes: happy (late) birthday to the fic that’s probably my peak… this story single handedly changed the course of my blog me thinks. thank you to everyone who was just as affected by emo gyu as i was. 

Being in a committed relationship with Choi Beomgyu, bassist of Tomorrow x Together and an absolute unattainable heartthrob, was not very easy. 

It was at first; with their blossoming career, it was more about the music than their looks. Fans were loyal simply because they liked their sound, their message, the way their concerts were filled with such energy and passion it left their hearts beating with adrenaline after— but of course, it’s hard to not notice the absolute eye candy on stage; low-lidded gazes, dark stage lights that barely highlighted their stunning features, and clothing that was just as alluring and flattering as the rest of them; inevitably, their popularity sky-rocketed, for better and for worse. 

Beomgyu was left with more money than he knew what to do with. Most of the time, it was used to spoil you, his pretty girlfriend he brought with him everywhere because he was just too obsessed with you— it made his band members wonder if he simply had attachment issues by how much his world revolved around you. But no, you were just as bad as him; present during rehearsals, always in the studio to cheer them on or give them a second opinion on a new song; it wasn’t long before you ended up befriending the rest of them as well, a tight bond forming simply because of all the things you went through together. 

As unfortunate as it was, they weren’t the only ones forced to bear with negative and hateful encounters from the public; while they had their experiences of being mistreated early in their career, you had to deal with immature or creepy fans that had taken a liking to harass you— inboxes on all social media platforms flooded constantly, your number even leaked once as you were forced to buy a new phone all together from how badly you were being spammed— Beomgyu had been quick to lash out and tell them to leave you alone if they didn’t want a lawsuit on their hands. 

Overtime, they adjusted to their popularity. Schedules slowly became filled to the brim, their dream now a reality as they spent months on tour— and while you were more than happy and proud of them and their flourishing career, it’d be a lie to say it was all one happy and perfect life. 

You hadn’t seen Beomgyu in ages— decades, centuries, eons— in other words, two weeks. 

The band had more interviews and performances than you could keep up with; if they weren’t on some random talk show, they were at a photoshoot, getting interviewed for the next issue of a magazine you’d undoubtedly have on your coffee table the day it came out. Promotions, nights at the studio, it all added up— and before you knew it, your one year anniversary began to creep up, and all hopes to celebrate it properly dwindled down in your heart— but, having him here with you today was enough. 

You didn’t blame Beomgyu; you weren’t angry or upset, because it was simply something neither of you could control. And though it did suck knowing you wouldn’t be able to spend such a meaningful day together, it felt a little better to know that you weren’t the only one hung up on it. 

On the contrary— you think Beomgyu might be handling this worse than you. 

“Baby, baby please,” he cries, refusing to let go of you and cuddling closer to you instead, a mess of tangled limbs and blankets as he cups your face fondly, “pleaaase I know you said I shouldn’t feel bad but please come on tour with us this week, I think I’ll seriously die if you’re not here this time.”

“Gyu, baby, I really shouldn’t—” you say quietly, only to get cut off by his excessive whining and teary eyes. His bottom lip is jutted out in a ridiculous pout, squeezing your cheeks and holding back a smile at the way your lips puff out as a result; you attempt to push him off you, only for him to retaliate by rolling entirely on top of you, a loud squeal escaping you at the feeling of his weight pressing you into the mattress, his stupid face hovering over yours as he continues to plead you quietly. 

“Pleaaseee?” he whines, pressing his flat palms against your cheeks and getting your lips to puff out again; he ignores your half-hearted protests for him to get the fuck off, choosing to punctuate his every word with a kiss instead, his piercings a sharp contrast to his plump lips that crash against you with every word. 

“Please?” kiss. “Won’t you,” kiss. “come with us?” another kiss. 

“Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—” 

He’s practically suffocating you at this point, refusing to pull away and mumbling the words against your lips, laughs breaking between the two of you as you yell at him to get off, that you can barely breathe with him on top of you; you’re pushing at his shoulders weakly as he continues to tease you, your unabashed laugh contagious as he quickly finds himself smiling as well— he only pulls away once he hears you yell a loud fuck, okay! Hovering over you with bright eyes and a wide grin. 

His arms snake around your waist before he’s rolling over, successfully switching so that you’re the one on top of him— he ignores the loud and exaggerated sigh of relief you let out. 

“It won’t make much of a difference though,” you say quietly, hiding in the crook of his neck as you confess your doubts, “You’ll be too busy and exhausted the whole day, I really don’t want me to be added to your list of concerns.”

You went on tour with him, once— but you learned it was better off to not be anywhere backstage with him during those times, the boy too concerned and constantly doting on you to remain focused; any mistakes he made hitting much harder, a subconscious pressure to be perfect and give his all only trifolded by your presence.

“What? No,” he says immediately, sitting back on his elbows and causing you to look up at him in response; his brows are furrowed and he seems a bit baffled by your comment, shaking his head adamantly to emphasize his point, “I like having you there. I know you like being there, I want you there— I wouldn’t be asking you to come with me if I thought you were a burden.”

He managed to pull out the exact words you were trying to skirt around— your face heats up at his reassurance, much too intimidated by the intensity of his gaze as you bury your face into his chest instead; his chest bounces from the laugh he lets out, flopping onto his back once more and hugging you close, bodies pressed flush against each other and one of his legs thrown around your waist in a childish attempt to pull you even closer. 

“Plus, don’t you wanna visit Europe with me?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he feels you nod shyly; he knows just how much you enjoy the travel aspect to his career, constantly asking for pictures or to facetime while he’s gone, “I wanna show you all my favorite spots this time, and not through some glitchy facetime— I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing.”

“Ugh, shut up,” you groan, hitting his chest weakly as he simply laughs at you softly, “you’re so corny.”

“You love it,” he coos, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your back, biting back a smile at the way he can feel your breath even out— you remain silent. Partly because you’re falling asleep from his touch, and partly because he’s right. 

⤬⤬⤬ 

Europe is breathtaking— you’ve never been so grateful for Beomgyu’s stubborn, persistent mind. 

The tour has gone as perfect as always, spending a few days at their shows before you simply resigned to stay at the hotel instead; after seeing that Beomgyu was so distracted trying to look for you during a show that he missed his cue (and played the notes wrong to another song) you found it better to wait for him and see him after instead— ready to help him wind down and relax after another energetic, adrenaline-inducing show. 

Most nights consisted of you practically carrying him to the bathtub; cooing soft reassurance as he whined about how tired and sore he felt, shampooing his hair, massaging his scalp and tense shoulders— most of the time, he’d fall asleep then and there, and it’d be another hassle to wake him up and get him out. You’d lure him out of the tub and wait for him to change into your matching pajamas— hello kitty ones, his idea, not yours—  and greet him in the bed with a warm embrace and lips that peppered kisses all over his face.

It was during these moments you found humor in the contrast of his stage persona to his true self; from his usual attire, chokers and ripped clothes, wardrobe consisting of black and multiple piercings that decorated his ears and face, your thumb brushing over his newest eyebrow piercing fondly— versus the man that slept soundly in your arms now, long hair tied back and cute pink barrettes clipping back his bangs, donned in hot pink fuzzy pajamas— and you’re sure that if his band members saw him like this, they’d never stop teasing him. 

You didn’t have to wait long to confirm that thought; Beomgyu didn’t bother changing as he met up with the others in Yeonjun’s room for breakfast the next morning, tugging you along and remaining unfazed at the way his band members burst out laughing the moment he entered the room— you felt a bit bad at the way you found yourself laughing as well, even more so because you’re the only reason he’s found himself dressed like this. (But again, he was the one who bought these clothes in the first place.)

“Happy anniversary, you two,” Yeonjun muses, smiling at the way you’re the only one who seems to process that, chirping out a cheery thank you! as you proceed to drag Beomgyu to the couch, “I feel bad that we have a concert today, ___. As vomit-inducing as it is seeing you two, you do deserve to spend the day together.”

“It’s okay,” you immediately say, brushing his teasing comment off and holding back a smile at the way Beomgyu is still struggling to gain consciousness, more tired than you thought as he simply stares at his waffles for a moment before finally digging in, “at least he’s spending the day doing something he loves.”

“Gross,” Hueningkai says, scrunching his nose playfully before laughing at the glare you send him, “you two are so mushy, it’s painful.”

The rest of the day leading up to the concert is spent peacefully; once Beomgyu has gained enough coherence to fight back against the member’s jabs, he’s pulling you away to show you new sights and stores he discovered from his previous visits, spoiling you beyond belief and buying anything you look at for a second too long; you end up with more bags than you know what to do with, and Beomgyu refuses to let you carry a single one as he proceeds to take you one of his go-to restaurants, as he told you; saying he’s been wanting to bring you here since the moment he found it, smiling brightly when he sees you enjoying the food as much as he did.

To say he’s reluctant to leave you to go to the concert venue is an understatement; you think he might start crying at any given moment as he stares at you with shining eyes, unable to let go of your hand as he stands by the door of the hotel room— not quite ready to leave yet, but knowing that he must eventually as he chooses to bring you in for another slow, loving kiss instead. 

“Are you sure you’re not coming tonight?” he asks you, trying to hide the sadness in his voice and failing miserably.

“And make you fuck up your setlist? I don’t think so,” you try to joke, only to panic slightly at the way his eyes gloss over; your hand immediately jumps up to cup his face, laughing softly at his expression as he simply pouts at you ridiculously. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you grin, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before you lean over to his ear, voice dropping to nothing but a whisper as you let your lips brush against his ear, “I’ll have a nice surprise for you tonight, so you better give your best show out there, okay?”

The low lilt of your voice is enough to have him perking up immediately; mouth parted slightly as he stares at you, unsure of what else to do but nod pathetically, knowing he won’t be able to control himself if he thinks about what you might have in store for too long. 

With one last chaste kiss, he’s leaving— and only because Soobin was pounding at the door, telling him they’d be late if he didn’t go out this instant— you think he might start crying as he gives you one last pouty glance, waving to you sadly before he slips out the door. 

You’re left alone, the room suddenly much lonelier and quieter than it was a few seconds ago— and you laugh, checking the time and running to your suitcase to get your makeup and outfit for tonight. 

A revealing shirt, a mini-skirt that’s a bit alarmingly short— you’re pulling out a sparkling, pink outfit like it’s nothing, throwing it all on and doing your makeup as you check the time absentmindedly; your phone lights up while you’re in the middle of doing so, and a notification reads that the staff are waiting for you outside to take you to the venue once you’re ready. 

Beomgyu loves performing knowing you’re in the audience more than anything; it’s something he’s made blatant to you, knowing that despite his mistakes, despite his small distractions, his energy always goes out the roof the moment he spots you there. So you knew how distraught Beomgyu would be to hear that you’re not going to the show tonight despite being able to, but the thought of surprising him is much more enticing than you’d like to admit. 

With one last check of your appearance in the mirror, you grab a jacket before you go; Beomgyu’s favorite oversized zip-up, the clothing item a stark contrast to the rest of your feminine and bright attire— and you smile, adjusting the purse on your shoulder before you’re off to the hotel lobby, where the staff are waiting and ready to escort you safely. 

The venue is almost full by the time you get there; you’re escorted straight to your barricade seats front and center, smiling shyly and waving at fans that seem to recognize you; your face feels hot and you walk faster at the way they get excited at the sight of you, not used to the fame that comes with being Beomgyu’s girlfriend— hell, you really don’t know how Beomgyu does it. 

You’re more than relieved once the concert begins, any attention that still lingered on you immediately getting stolen by the boys that appeared on stage; you winced slightly at the loud screams all around you, unable to help the way you eventually joined in— morphing into another fan in the crowd, the venue much too dark for any of the boys to recognize you just yet. 

They looked stunning in their concert outfits; the professional, matching and dark outfits tailored perfectly to each member, intricate with chains and rosaries and pretty layers. Your eyes widen as you watch Beomgyu walk to his position, taking note of his hair that has now been dyed back to black— you hadn’t realized how long it’d gotten until now, the layers framing his face and falling into his eyes as he goes to push back his bangs with a delicate hand. 

There are no introductions tonight— the music begins immediately, loud and abrasive and making the crowd jump along excitedly, screaming the lyrics and reaching out to try and get one of the members to pay attention to them— on the contrary, you try to remain hidden, looking away and bowing your head every time Beomgyu’s gaze sweeps around your area. 

God, you wish Beomgyu didn’t turn into such a ditz whenever he spotted you in the audience— because then you’d be able to enjoy more of their concerts, addicted to the borderline euphoric feeling you get from attending them, only for it to be multiplied as your eyes catch onto your boyfriend performing, your heart pounding against your chest at the sound of his voice ringing out into the venue— a surge of pride and love fills you as a grin spreads on your face, and it isn’t until you notice a member walking around that you’re able to look away from him.

Looking up, you make eye contact with Hueningkai. 

His mischievous smile and raised brows are immediately returned with a violent shake of your head; telling him to not say anything to Beomgyu, rubbing your hands together pleadingly the moment he glances back at the said man— then he turns to you, sending you a playful wink before he’s off to another section, not without sending you one last teasing grin and a wave; you’re glancing at Beomgyu in a panic, unsure if he’s spotted you, only to be relieved at the sight of him too concentrated on playing to even look up at the crowd.

It isn’t until the encore that they’ve all begun to move around, (save for Taehyun and Soobin, bound to their instruments as they’re resigned to simply wave at the crowd when they can) changed into more comfortable outfits during a small intermission— Beomgyu is decked in baggy jeans and an equally baggy shirt, long hair messy and makeup smudged as he walks along the stage, smiling and waving at fans that reach out for him— he plays his bass so effortlessly as he does, truly mesmerizing as he stops a few times to interact with fans; the sight has your heart fluttering hopelessly. 

But the closer he gets, the more you’re buzzing with nervous energy. Gripping onto the barricade tightly, having stood up long ago with the rest of the fans that are eager to get their attention. Beomgyu’s eyes scan through the crowd thoroughly, smiling cutely and returning hearts until he spots you. 

He freezes entirely. 

He’s no longer playing bass— he’s just standing there, in complete shock as he stares at you. You can only muster to give him a sheepish wave, an uncontrollable grin on your face as you laugh at his dumbfounded expression, trying to yell at him to go back to playing. But he doesn’t, and you’re jumping slightly at the way he takes off his bass and jumps off the stage, security frantically following behind as he rushes over to you.

His hands are on your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss quicker than you can process; you hear the screams of the crowd around you, but Beomgyu’s got you in his hold so tightly that you’re unable to pull away, left to give in and melt against him as he kisses you for a little longer. Your face feels as though it’s on fire by the time he’s pulled away, his own alight entirely with joy as he grins at you, your head still in his hands as he leans against the barricade excitedly— you think he might just jump over it any moment now.

“You’re here?” he says exasperatedly, eyes scanning you frantically as though he were imagining you, “why didn’t you tell me, you should’ve— I would’ve—”

“Beomgyu,” you cut him off, placing your hands over his and laughing at the way he can only stutter stupidly, brushing his hair behind his ear fondly— watching the way his eyes crinkle cutely as he smiles, your own sweeping over the array of piercings that decorate him, hello kitty earrings glinting under the light— and pry his hands off your face, ignoring the pout he sends you as you scold him instead. “Get back on stage!”

Your words seem to snap him out of his reverie; his head is whipping back to look at the stage, at the way his friends can only laugh at him teasingly and yell at him to get back here— the way Yeonjun yells directly into the mic is slightly embarrassing, shrinking at the way all eyes are on you as the man’s words ring out the venue— Beomgyu, get the fuck back here!

He’s only able to leave with one last chaste kiss— the crowd is screaming at the sight, and you’re resisting the urge to cover your face in weak hopes that it could take all this attention off you— but you’ll bear it, especially with the way Beomgyu mouths a cute I love you! before he’s jumping back on stage. 

The poor boy is unable to take his eyes off you for the rest of the night— but on the bright side, there are no missed cues or wrong notes played. He’s just entranced with you for the rest of the encore, his energy seemingly replenished with the way he jams out to the music; mouthing the lyrics even when it’s not his part, maintaining eye-contact with you during songs he knows you’re particularly fond of— and suddenly, the idea of spending his anniversary at a concert isn’t as depressing as it was earlier tonight— because now, he had you by his side. 

⤬⤬⤬

“Beomgyu— Beomgyu please, not here…” you whine, unable to do much but bite your lip and swallow back whines that threaten to escape you, left to Beomgyu’s mercy as he immediately led you to his dressing room after the show— the said man is much too focused on kissing and marking your neck to listen, soft hair brushing against your face as he pulls you flush against him; back pressed against the wall, arched prettily from the way his hands snake around your waist and press your lower half against his— you’re holding back a groan at the way he’s already hopelessly hard against you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be coming? Hmmm? Just wanted to be a tease? Was this your little surprise?” he asks, biting at your skin and huffing out a laugh at the whine that escapes you; your hands are gripping onto his shirt tightly, fisting it in your hands and wrinkling the material as he lets his teeth sink slightly near your collarbones, “god, you look so good tonight, you’d really expect me to be able to hold myself back?”

His hands are wandering down your waist; over the swell of your ass, fiddling with the hem of your mini-skirt before he’s venturing under it— feeling the way you shiver against him the moment his hands squeeze at the soft flesh, fingers decorated with rings cold against your skin as he comes back up to kiss you. It’s rough and desperate, lip rings scratching as he kisses you with such hunger it leaves you breathless; he grinds his cock desperately against you, eliciting a small gasp from you and allowing him to slip his tongue inside— the piercing that decorates it scrapes along your mouth, unable to help the way your knees weaken at the feeling of him— his touch is everywhere, leaving you dizzy and lightheaded as you can only melt against him, allowing him to press you flush against the wall with his own body; your miniskirt is riding up along your hips as he situates himself between your legs, panties already a mess as he begins to rut his cock into you. 

“Are you sure you want to wait now, pretty?” he asks, looking down at you with low-lidded and fucked out eyes— he punctuates his words with a particularly harsh thrust, laughing at the way you yelp and tighten your hold on him, “I could stop everything right now, send you back to the hotel like this and make you wait, just like you said— is that what you want?”

Oh, he’s cruel— even more so because you’re left shaking your head no deliriously, your mind fogged with such need that your eyes are glossing over at the very thought of not having Beomgyu inside you right now; your voice is pathetic as you plead Beomgyu to finish what he started, throwing a hand over his shoulder and entangling your fingers into his hair as you pull him back into you— he’s more than eager to return the kiss, tilting his head and pressing himself more against you as a hand reaches down to your thigh; grabbing the back of your knee, guiding you to hook it around his waist as he begins to rut into you mindlessly.

“So cute, my pretty girl,” he mumbles against your lips, eyes trailing down your low-cut top to spot his favorite zip-up, a smile tugging at his lips as he merely sends you a cute smile, “did you miss me that much? Already so needy from a little bit of kissing— god, I love you so much…”

You think he’s mostly talking to himself at this point— spewing nothing but filth as his hands shove your shirt over your chest, grinning as he remains impatient enough to not take off a single item of clothing, choosing to push tug your bra down harshly before he’s swooping down to mark your breasts with a cruel smile.

“Looked so fucking hot out there, just made me wanna take you backstage and fuck you there,” he confesses, listening to the choked whine you let out, his pierced tongue playing with your hardened nipples, leaving them swollen and sensitive. He’s looking up at you with doe eyes that contrast greatly with the way he sticks his tongue out for you, letting you watch the way he circles and toys with the cute jewelry he bought for you earlier today, pulling away with a coy smile and leaving them soaked with his spit— he blows softly on them, watching with tentative eyes as you keen at the feeling. 

“God, you know I’ve been wanting to do this every time I see you at one of our shows? To make sure that everyone that looks at you knows just who,” he rolls his hips into you, nice and slow and letting you feel the length of his cock press against you as you flutter your eyes shut from pleasure, “you’re here for?”

“Fuck, gyu,” you pant out, snaking your hands under his shirt and up his back, grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him into you— as if there’s still space between the two of you, as if you’d die if you weren’t touching him at all times, “‘m only yours, only want you…” 

He’s sneaking a hand down to move your panties to the side, the two of you much too desperate to shed off any layers— and as you listen to the clinking sounds of his belt, undoing his jeans and pulling out his hardened cock, you busy yourself by sucking and biting at his neck, listening to his stuttered breaths as you suck and tease at the joint of his neck, his most sensitive spot as you bite at it playfully— you’re only pulling away at the feeling of Beomgyu grabbing at you hair and tugging you away, letting out a baffled laugh at the satisfied look you give him in return. 

“Want everyone to know you’re mine,” you coo out softly, grinding your pussy slowly against Beomgyu’s tip that teases your entrance, your mouth falling open at the feeling of him mirroring the action, running along your folds and swiping at your clit, “all mine, my pretty boy…”

He laughs fondly against your lips at that— bringing you in for a slow kiss, feeling the way your mind goes blank the moment his tip slowing enters you; he’s swallowing a soft moan from you as he bottoms out slowly, keeping himself deep inside and grinding his hips slowly against yours— and he stays there, a tease like always as he watches your brows furrow and your lips pout, telling him softly to move, to do something.

“Mmmh, all yours,” he mumbles softly, pulling out slowly to let you feel the way every vein runs against your walls, clenching and fluttering against his length as he hisses at the feeling, “I’m yours, belong only to you, fuck…”

He’s not able to keep this agonizingly slow pace up for long— as much as he wants to tease you, to have you crying and pleading for him to fuck you stupid, he isn’t fairing that well himself— so it isn’t long before he’s beginning to snap his hips into you, cock curving and aiming for that spot that has your knees buckling, pretty nails digging into Beomgyu’s shoulders and biting at the skin in order to try to stabilize yourself.

“Such a perfect cunt— fuck, ah, just wanna fill you up, wanna see it dripping down those pretty thighs— stupid fucking skirt can’t hide anything, ugh—” his voice is deep and breathy as he continues to talk into your ear, his hands sliding down to the swell of your ass before he’s holding it there— lifting you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his waist as you’re left to his mercy; his chest is pressed flush against yours as he fucks you, and you can only bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your sounds, the rough way you bounce from his thrusts causing your nails to slip and scratch down his back— he hisses at the feeling, only to be spurred by the stinging sensation it leaves behind. 

“So loud, shit,” he laughs meanly, grinning at the way you only bury your face into him more to try and muffle your sounds, “want everyone to hear you? All the staff, the members— I’m sure they’d like to see what a pretty doll you are for me.”

You shake your head at that— but your body gives you away as your cunt clenches around him pathetically, the wet sounds of skin against skin filling the room and undoubtedly filtering outside— but you remain persistent to keep your moans to yourself, choking back on sounds of pleasure as Beomgyu only begins to fuck you rougher; your silence is a challenge, one he’ll gladly take as he begins to roll his hips into you just the way you like it. 

“Come on pretty, I wanna hear you,” he purrs into your ear, a hand snaking around to rub at your clit while the other remains firm on your ass, “don’t you feel good? I can make you feel even better— so, so so good, just let me hear your cute little sounds.”

You’re playing hard to get. And Beomgyu takes absolute pleasure in it, watching the way you shake and dig your nails into him helplessly, your body being wound up from how good he fucks you; your thighs are sticky and shining from your arousal, poorly concealed pleasure only fueling Beomgyu’s ego further as he reaches up to tug your head out from it’s hiding spot.

He thinks he might just cum on the spot; your makeup is ruined, tears of mascara running down your cheeks as you merely let out soft hiccups of moans, your lips parted and brain completely empty as you stare at him— he smiles at you in return, capturing your lips in another kiss as his hand begins to trail down; toying with your breasts, nimble fingers pinching and rolling your nipples as you jolt and whine into his mouth at the sensation. 

“Gyu— gonna— need to, ah…!” the choked whimpers you let out aren’t enough for Beomgyu, and he only slows down at your request; fresh tears stream down your cheeks as you plead softly, breathy voice barely above a whisper as you whine quietly to keep going, don’t stop, please gyu, pleeaaase…. 

“Hmm? What’s that? I can’t hear you, baby,” he murmurs softly against your lips, slowing to nothing but a grind as he presses himself against you— pelvis grinding against your clit, the feeling making you tremble as you dig your nails into his shoulders once more. “Come on sweet thing, tell me what you need.”

You’re telling him— begging, pleading, breathy whimpers and soft cries escaping you as you roll your hips into him, biting your lip and sighing exasperatedly at the way he simply watches you with dark eyes, slowing down until he’s simply bottomed out inside you. 

“What do you want?” he asks softly, breathy voice intertwined with a lilt so sweet you’d almost think he pities you— and by the way he’s looking at you, he just might, swollen lips caught between his teeth to try and suppress a smile. You’re still weak and quiet as you try to voice your wants, looking at him through wet lashes, a pout on your face as your hands run absentmindedly up and down his back.

“Wanna cum?” he coos, pretty hand reaching down to circle and pinch your clit teasingly, “Want me to fuck you? Fill you up? Hmmm?”

All you can do is nod along to his words stupidly— and obviously, it’s the very last thing your boyfriend wants, abandoning your clit and reaching up to grab your face roughly; fingers digging into your cheeks, forced to look at him as he merely glares at you and speaks through gritted teeth. 

“Tell me,” he says, voice sharp and dangerous as he narrows his eyes, “use your words— or, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already.”

He’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist at that; you’re stumbling slightly, leg too weak to let you stand as you merely cry at him to wait, bringing him closer to you in fear that he might pull out and leave you like this— his fingers still dig into your cheeks as you speak, drool building up at the corners of your pouty lips as you stutter out exactly what you want— what he wants to hear.

“Want you to fuck me, use me— wanna cum, please,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes your head teasingly, as though to say and what else? “Want you to cum inside, baby please, just wanna feel good—”

You’re rambling at this point. But Beomgyu enjoys it nonetheless, telling you to keep going as he begins to move again; slowly at first, allowing you to feel the drag of his thick cock against your walls as your words become stuttered through weak moans, the sight making your boyfriend laugh as he slowly begins to pick up his pace. 

“Like it when I fuck you like this, yeah?” you’re nodding in confirmation to his words; staring at him with pleading eyes, whimpering a soft harder, faster, that the man is immediately obliging as he coos at the way you yelp at the sensation. “Want it harder? Hmmm? Want me to fuck you ‘till you can’t even walk—? Have to carry you out of here, let everyone see the way your sweet cunt is filled up by me?”

All you can do is nod to his words at this point; whimpering a weak yes, yesyesyes, want you to fill me up, use me, more more please—

Everything crashes down on you unexpectedly; your eyes are shutting tight and you think you might just black out as your orgasm hit you suddenly, cunt squeezing and fluttering around Beomgyu’s cock as he groans at the sensation— he lets you ride it out, cooing soft praise into your ear before he’s pulling you in for another kiss; you’re barely able to kiss him back, moaning into his mouth and letting him do whatever he wants with you.

It isn’t long before he’s cumming inside you as well; you’re so tight he can barely move, your cute whimpers and warm cunt guiding him through it as he fucks into you slowly, making sure none of his release slips out as he continues to fuck you, even after he’s become horribly sensitive. Then he’s still, lips still on yours and arms wrapped tightly around you as though he’s afraid to let you go.

“You okay?” he asks quietly after a moment, still lingering close to you, taking in your appearance with tentative eyes. You nod softly, still attempting to catch your breath as you chest heaves against his; he huffs out a soft laugh, caressing your cheek fondly before he’s going to fix your clothes— your mini-skirt remains up on your hips, his cock still bottomed out inside you as he coos about how good you were for him, caressing any skin he can get his hands on (which is a lot, considering your wardrobe) with a smile.

“Pretty girl, so perfect,” he coos, finally pulling out and tucking himself in before he’s going to fix your clothing; not without slipping his fingers inside your cunt one last time, watching with hungry eyes as you curl into him and cry that you’re sensitive— he’s only satisfied after his cum is left snug in your pussy, smiling darkly at the way he brings his fingers up to your mouth for you to clean— you do it without any hesitation, and Beomgyu swears he might just be getting hard again. 

“Love you so much, thank you for coming to see me today,” he says instead, bringing you in for a warm hug and a loving kiss; you merely hum tiredly in response, hands slipping out from his shirt only to be thrown over his shoulders leisurely.

Your face feels hot the moment he’s trying to get the two of you to leave back for the hotel— because your legs are absolutely not cooperating with you. 

“Holy shit, I was joking about that whole fuck you till you can’t walk thing,” he laughs, only to get cut of by the way you hit him in response— he’s letting out an exaggerated whimper at that, rubbing his arm and telling you sorry, sorry baby, with a cute pout.

“Ugh, I don’t want anyone to see me like this, fuck,” you mourn, only for Beomgyu to pull you into his side firmly, sending you a smile that’s not as reassuring as you wish it was. 

“I’m sure no one will notice,” he says simply, swinging the door open and immediately being met with Soobin passing by. 

He slows down at the sight of you two, glancing at your appearances briefly before he keeps walking. 

“Try to keep it down next time please,” he yells out, turning the corner and disappearing from your sight before you can retaliate. You feel slightly mortified by his words, but Beomgyu isn’t affected in the slightest as he leans over to murmur softly into your ear.

“Should we continue this at the hotel, pretty?”

You don’t answer his question. But he already knows the answer, sending you a giddy smile and intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you to where the staff car is waiting for you two— and you hold back a smile of your own as you trail (limp, kinda) behind him. It’ll be a long night, but you couldn’t ask for a better way to spend your anniversary, no matter how unconventional it is.

[pomegranate]

I rewatched “Hanky Panky”, an episode I don’t revisit very often - in my opinion, it’s not a very good exploration of BJ and his faithfulness, and the concept kind of falls flat for me. The lovely @captainhunnicutt explains it perfectly in this post.

What it does do, however, is provide a fascinating depiction of Hawkeye reacting to his best friend being unfaithful. This turned out way longer than I wanted it to, so:

We see Hawkeye go through several phases, re: BJ and cheating. First, he teases him about it and the viewer is reminded (clumsily, see Shan’s post) that BJ is the ultimate family man - directly contrasting the charmingly lecherous Hawkeye.

Then we see the scene in the mess tent where they all get mail (BJ gets three letters! what a family man). BJ notices Carrie getting upset and leaving the tent, and he follows her, while Hawkeye silently observes BJ getting up from the table and leaving.

We don’t see Hawkeye again until the mess tent the next morning, where BJ shows up and Hawkeye plays up the worried parent angle before saying this. Note his posture during this scene; he crosses his arms when BJ shows up and when he says the line below, he shifts ever so slightly closer to BJ.

When BJ says he was sitting up with a sick friend, Hawkeye gleefully says “tell me all about it”, still enjoying getting a rise out of BJ. And then Carrie shows up and it’s obvious to everyone that something happened between her and BJ.

I know other people have talked about this scene so I’ll try to be brief, but Hawkeye is suddenly more awkward than we normally see him.

Hawkeye: “Donovan, you look like a new woman! Not that there was anythingwrong with the old one.” Carrie: “Thanks, I feel better.” Hawkeye: “Well, why shouldn’t we all feel good? Our work is so rewarding. Always lending a helping hand. Doing unto others.” BJ: “Hawk, your mouth runneth over.” Hawkeye: “I'm just teasing. I mean, do I know what I'm saying? Whatever it is, I don't mean it. Should I go?” BJ: “Just stop talking.” Hawkeye: “I will as soon as I get my foot out of my mouth. I think I'll put it someplace else. Ah, I'm being paged at the pool! Well, you two carry on. [laughs nervously] Strike that. This is me leaving. Here I go. Bye. So long.”

Hawkeye flees the mess tent and we don’t see him again until the Swamp, where BJ is writing a letter to Peg about what happened. He shows up and makes himself a martini before sitting down to be the comforting friend that BJ needs him to be.

(btw: in trying to goad BJ into opening up, Hawkeye says, “Pour your heart out. I'm a doctor, I can fix it.” Which is a line that makes me go nuts but anyway.)

So BJ opens up to Hawkeye and vents about how he doesn’t want to be unfaithful to Peg! He loves his family and is lucky to have what he has! Hawkeye is, of course, soft and sympathetic.

He realizes BJ was busy when he came in and asks him about it, and is immediately outraged when BJ explains that he’s confessing to Peg.

Hawkeye then makes BJ take a vow: “I promise to be a good and faithful husband, to write nice, cheerful letters home, to think of Peg often, and to keep my fat hands off Nurse Donovan.”

and then makes a vow of his own: “I, Hawkeye Pierce, vow that some day, I will take a vow just like his.”

Then we come to another awkward Hawkeye moment, where he finishes making his little vow and throws on a scarf, saying he’s “a little late for a very important date”.

Idk but Hawkeye didn’t seem like he had any plans when he entered earlier, and I know the obvious Doylist answer is “well they didn’t really think this scene through and we are simply meant to assume Hawkeye is going on a date”. But to me, it comes across as though he’s once again uncomfortable about the whole situation and has to flee BJ’s presence again.

It’s interesting to see how Hawkeye was very much having fun teasing BJ with the theoretical idea of him being unfaithful at first, but when he realizes that it’s actually happened - that BJ is not infallible and can & will have sex outside of his marriage if he lets himself - Hawkeye becomes incredibly nervous.

To go full Beejhawk in my interpretation of this episode, it feels like Hawkeye has been harmlessly flirting with BJ and enjoying having an unattainable crush on his best friend, knowing nothing could ever happen. And when he realizes that BJ can be pushed to be unfaithful, it rattles him. He has BJ make that vow and then vows to make his own version of the vow BJ made (not even touching that) and that’s that. What's the point of this post? I don't know tbh but I had to dump these thoughts somewhere and I've already done enough shouting at my pals on Discord. TL;DR: Hanky Panky is a weak episode in terms of exploring BJ's brush with infidelity but it's so interesting to look at with Beejhawk goggles on.

[mjoffic]

red velvet cake - bf!eddie munson x fem!reader x brother!steve harrington

Summary: Your relationship continues to blossom with Eddie, however your older brother Steve isn’t the biggest fan and lines are tested

Warnings: swearing, smoking, tense situations, angst, fight fight fight, let me know if I miss anything!

Word count: 5.3k

a/n: Hey, all! Welcome to my first official post! If you enjoy, please like, reblog, etc! This was just a lil blurb, but I have other things in the works, so I’m hoping this goes well and I can continue to share with you all!

               “I need you and your big hair to calm down.”

           Your brother looked to you quickly from the bathroom mirror, his face scrunched up at your comment.  “My hair is not big.”

           “You say that and yet you’ve gone through your second can of hair spray this month,” you retorted, grabbing the can quickly in your hand.

           Steve snatched for it but you held it behind you, ceasing any attempt of him grabbing it.  He sighed with a comb still lodged in his brown tuffs and leaned back against the counter.  Another disagreement between the two of you.  Nothing was new seeing as that was the typical way a brother and sister relationship stemmed.  From the time you were born, only a short year after Steve, you were at each other’s throats constantly and could never come to an agreement on anything.  Steve would steal your favorite toy that day from the toybox, so you’d steal the TV remote and sit on it to his disdain when your parents allowed you both to pick the nightly movie after dinner.  You’d spread gossip in the middle school of your older brothers crush on Tammy Thompson (before the singing career), and somehow most girls still believed in cooties, so he’d steal your clothes from your locker before gym class was over.  Today’s topic of conversation once again revisited your current dating life and now you were stealing his most prized possession.  This was the never ending, vicious, and annoying cycle only those who had a sibling could understand at the end of the day.

           “I really don’t see what the big deal is,” you said, crossing your arms.  “Eddie and I have been seeing each other for almost a year now and you still refuse to hang out with him.”

           “Yeah, it’s Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson.  He runs that club Dustin and Mike are in, huge nerd, and he’s in a band that plays at the Hideout” he grumbled.  “Also, he’s way older than you.”

           “He’s twenty, Steve.  It’s not like I’m a kid anymore,” you replied.  “Also, he’s a senior.  I’m a senior.  And Hellfire is actually really cool if you’d take up the invites I’ve extended.”

           Steve shook his head, wagging his finger.  “No, no, you’re a senior.  This is his third time being a senior.”

           “And he’s gonna graduate!  He finally has a C in Mrs. O’Donnell’s!”

           “It’s still weird.  And just because you date him doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

           A groan escaped you and your arms dropped from their defensive position.  “But the least you could do is be civil with him.  I can’t bring him over because you make everything so uncomfortable, and now with Nancy’s party coming I’d just like the two of you to get along for once!”

           Steve looked to you after your minor outburst and his eyes traveled your face.  He couldn’t help but be a little annoyed by you but he hated that in a sense, you were right.  He’d only based his opinions on Eddie off of what he knew from when he went to Hawkins High and what he heard around town.  You’d always dealt with his on and off again flings that never worked out and continued to accept each one as they came through the door so why couldn’t he do the same for you?  It might be the older sibling in him screaming at him to watch out for his baby sister but you were getting older and dating was just naturally right behind.  The thought ran a chill down Steve’s spine.

           “Fine,” he sighed, standing straight.  “I’ll…  I’ll try. Just this once.  But I’m not going to the board game nights, though.”

           You squealed and the jump that came with it shocked your brother.  You could get past his comments this once.  “Thank you, thank you!  Oh, Steve, I could hug you!”  You made a face realizing what just came out of your mouth and you shook your head.  “But I won’t.  Gross.  Here’s your even grosser hairspray, I have to go call Eddie!”

           You shoved the can back in his hand and spun on your heels, now ready to face your boyfriend and his dislike for Steve.  Steve, however, felt a small smile creep up on his face at your antics.  His head snapped up at ‘hairspray’ and he groaned.

           “It’s not just hair spray!” he yelled after you, before looking to himself in the mirror.  “It’s Farrah Fawcett spray.”

                                            ●          ●          ●          ●

             Eddie had come to pick you up for your nightly drive together as soon as you had called, and you couldn’t help the excitement that buzzed in you.  He took note of this and turned down the head pounding sounds of Motley to focus in as soon as you had climbed in the passenger seat.  “What’s got you riled up, sweetheart?  Missed me that much?”

           You smirked, looking to the doe eyed boy. “You’re so full of it, Eds.”

           He tossed his hand to his heart, making those big eyes of his twinkle in the light of the dashboard.  “Only full of my love for you.”

           You couldn’t help the laugh that bustled out and Eddie soon joined in, his hand now grabbing yours in his.  He squeezed gently and you squeezed back, the cold of his rings sending goosebumps up your arm.  “Now come on, spill.  You sounded way too excited on the phone.”

You nodded.  “While yes, I definitely missed you, I talked to Steve today about Nancy’s party.”

           His hand lost a little grip to yours and you looked to him quickly, the smile on his face slowly disappearing and you frowned in response.  “Eddie, it was a good conversation.  He didn’t even say much in the negative category.”

           “Much?” Eddie scoffed.  “So I’m guessing we’re gonna talk about it.”

           “Well, yeah.  I mean, I would just really like you both to get along,” you shrugged.  

           Eddie made a face.

           “For one night.”

           An eyebrow raised as he looked at you.            “For me.”

           That was it.  Right there.  Eddie was caught.  How could he say no to you?  Your relationship had been nothing but perfect, and there was a happy balance of entertaining each others interests.  You’d attend Hellfire meetings with him and watch Corroded Coffin practice, he’d come to your piano recitals and help you finish your notes for book club.  You’d share musical interests with each other and watch every movie under the sun, and you’d both agree Sixteen Candles would never been an option.  His Uncle Wayne had taken an immense liking to you as soon as you and Eddie became friends, he’d even tag along to your piano recitals sometimes when work didn’t have him in a chokehold.  

           “I know you two have never really liked each other, but you’re my boyfriend, he’s my brother.  At the end of the day I don’t want to have to pick between the two of you, and Steve has agreed to set aside all of it for the party.  I just want you to be in the same boat.”

           “Is it just one night?” Eddie questioned, his eyes searching yours.

           “If I can get one night of civil between you two, I can die happy,” you smiled softly.  “And besides, it’ll be fun.  Everyone will be there, the kids, Nancy, Robin, Jonathon, and I’m making your favorite.”

           “Stop,” he gasped, the twinkle coming back and he grinned. “Please tell me it’s your red velvet cake.”

           “With the homemade icing,” you nodded, watching him throw the theatrics back on and he fanned himself.  “Mrs. Wheeler has been asking for the recipe since I made it at Holly’s birthday last year, figured the party would be a good time to make it.”

           “It’s always a good time for anything you cook,” Eddie praised, making you shift in your seat.  “Now I’m really looking forward to this party.”

           “Well,” you sighed, adjusting yourself in your seat and turning your full body towards him.  “I know something that might help the wait.”

           He noticed the change in your tone and his eyes didn’t lose the glimmer, just a different glimmer now displayed and he double checked the gear and threw it in park, having turned into the high school parking lot. “Oh?  Did you make something else for me?”

           “I brought only the best for you,” you smiled, leaning up and across the console separating you.  

           Eddie bit his lower lip and his hand grabbed lightly at your face.  “Show me, princess.”

           Immediately obliging, you pressed your lips to his and he quickly pulled you over the console, resting in his lap.  He seemed to take all of this better than Steve. Maybe the party would work out in your favor, hell, maybe they could even be friends by the end of it? Maybe?  Right?

                                           ●          ●          ●          ●

             “I think it’s nice you’re setting aside your differences for your sister,” Nancy said, pouring a bag of chips into a large serving bowl.  Robin and Steve were helping her with last minute food prep as they awaited everyone to arrive.  Pizza was already there, sodas were in the cooler, Robin even brought movies from Family Video and Steve dug out the old board games your parents had stored away.

           “It’s just for tonight,” Steve retorted, grabbing a Coke and quickly opening it.  He could feel his usual nerves heightened with the agreement between you and him. He’d never admit it, but having his little sister genuinely involved with someone was a huge thing for him (but also it being Eddie didn’t exactly please him either).  “I told her I’d try for tonight.”

           “Why don’t you, I dunno, try everyday?” Robin said, raising an eyebrow.  “You’re missing out on future brother in law bonding time.”

           Steve winced, groaning out and waved his hands. “No, no, no, don’t say that.  You don’t know that.”

           “Ah, but you don’t know either,” the short haired fiend quipped and shrugged.  “Also it wouldn’t kill you to maybe get to know Eddie and form your own opinion. He’s sat with us at lunch a few times, he’s not so bad.”

           Steve looked to Nancy, his face stressed.  “Can you believe this?”

           Nancy pursed her lips, finishing up last touches. “I don’t think it’s honestly a big deal.”

           “What?  You agree?” Steve said.  “You’ve seen Munson and-“

           “And,” Nancy interrupted.  “-nothing.  I don’t have an opinion on Eddie because I don’t know him that well.”

           Robin gestured in support, throwing her arms out in front of her.  “See?”

           “Well he doesn’t make the effort either,” Steve defended.  “So why should I?”

           “One of you has to, or you both have the chance of losing y/n,” Nancy responded, raising her eyebrow at him.  “It takes effort from both of you.”

           “But-“

           The sound of shouting and laughing came from the front room and Nancy looked at him once more.  “Behave.”

           Steve sighed as the kids piled in the kitchen, scurrying over each other and grabbing what their hands could before Nancy shooed them.  “We have more people coming, guys, come on!”

           Jonathon followed in, shouting after Will and Dustin as they brushed past him into the living room.  He smiled kindly to Steve and soon took to the tension that radiated from the older boy.  “You alright?”

           Steve nodded, taking a quick drink of his Coke. “Yeah, just being scolded by women. Again.”

           Jonathon laughed briefly before Steve spoke up once more.  “Is my sister here yet?”

           “Uh, I think her and Eddie weren’t too far down the road,” he replied.  “I passed them on the way here.”

“Good, good,” he nodded. “Great, wonderful, terrific.”

           Steve continued on a tangent of positive words and Jonathon glanced between the two girls, pointing to Steve with an eyebrow raised.  Nancy rolled her eyes and shook her head.  Robin shrugged, sipping exceptionally loud on her drink.  Jonathon made a face at both of them and could only anticipate what to expect going into tonights events.

           The same thought had been crossing Eddie’s mind all day. He knew that despite how he felt, he needed to try his best for you.  That meant setting aside how he felt about your brother, how Steve made him feel all those years in school, every single time Steve laid the ‘freak’ bit on thick – Eddie was preparing himself to leave it all at the door as soon as you arrived to the party.  He could only hope Steve was on the same page and tonight would move rather seamlessly.  If all went according to plan, maybe they could continue hating each other again bright and early tomorrow morning.

           “Whoa!” you yelped, almost bumping into Eddie who had stopped in front of you.  The cake in your hands was fragile cargo and you swerved, saving it from meeting it’s demise with the pavement.  “Jeez, Eds, if you want any of this cake I would appreciate if you kept both feet moving or a heads up would be greatly appreciated.”

           He turned abruptly and made a face, scratching the back of his head.  “Um, yeah, sorry, sweetheart.  Just lost in thought."

           You couldn’t help but smile softly at him.  His nerves were on full display and you knew Steve was most likely in the same boat.  You’d do whatever you could to ease both of the boys tensions, to prevent anything from escalating, and you hoped they both knew you were on their sides and not against them.  It would be beneficial not just for you but the group, too, if there was common ground and structure and not the constant state of tension so thick, of awkward conversations, of debating if it should be both Steve and Eddie invited or one or the other.  Not only was it hard for you, but your friends who were also in the same predicament you were with two of the group members holding it out for one another.

           “It’s gonna be fine, Eds,” you said as you stepped up the small step to the door.  “Deep breaths, like I taught you.”

           He snorted, pushing the door open for you.  “Aye, aye, captain.”

           The eye roll that followed had Eddie pinching at your hips, causing you to yelp and laugh, trying to escape the attack.  “Eddie, stop!  I have a cake in-“

           Your back met with a firm surface and you gasped, hands gripping the dish even tighter.  You wobbled slightly, your feet finding an uneven surface and hands gripped your arms to keep you from tripping even further.  The eyes of Steve looked back at yours when you glanced back and you sighed, standing straighter after regaining your footing.  “I almost dropped the cake, Steve.”

           “Maybe Eddie shouldn’t goof off as much, then,” he stated plainly, removing his hands and making eye contact with Eddie who had set his lips in a fine, tight line at the statement.

           “Come on, Steve,” Nancy quipped, stepping in the room. “He was just being a little silly, that’s all.  Y/n, Eddie, there’s food and drinks in the kitchen!  Come on, I’ll help you get that cake in a safer spot.”

           You smiled to Nancy, looking back at Eddie and raised an eyebrow.  He shook his head and held up his pack of cigarettes, slipping past the three of you and towards the back doors.  A frown soon replaced the former smile and you slipped pass Steve into the kitchen. Nancy gave him a stern look and hustled behind you.  This would be a long night.

                                         ●          ●          ●          ●

             Eddie had rejoined the festivities shortly after his two cigarettes, his nerves only escalating at Steve and his comment.  Right off the bat, he had thought, he just had to jump into an accusatory stance.  He bit his tongue in your defense, but how long could he keep that up?  Jonathon and him had gotten into conversation you had overheard, and watched quietly from a distance.  Nancy and Robin chitchatted next to you, and the kids were already causing Steve’s inner mother to kick in.  Lucas and Mike were tossing a ball back and forth in the living room, Dustin and Will had turned on their favorite radio station and were singing much off tune to Madonna (much to everyone’s surprised enjoyment, even Eddie who only ever consumed that of every heavy 80’s metal or hairband), and Max and El were currently in a contest of who could crush a soda can the fastest: Max against her forehead, or El with her actually head?  Steve was in the current stages of trying to prevent possible brain damage, to both.  Erica was continuously bugging you for a slice of cake, to which you turned her down everytime.

           “Nerd,” she’d grumble.

           “Don’t you agree?” Robin asked, bumping her hip into yours and you quickly looked to her, eyebrows raised.  You waited and she glanced to Nancy, then back.  “Have you really not been listening?  Babes, this is the impending doom of the possibility of not getting new band uniforms.”

           “Oh, no,” you breathed, the end of ‘no’ hitching slightly in question and you couldn’t help the giggle that followed when Robin groaned.  Nancy joined in the laughter and Robin threw her hands up in exasperation.  

           “Fine!  I’ll go complain to Steve!”

           “That might be good, actually,” you suggested, watching Steve stumble by with Dustin on his back and attempting to smack his hands away. “Looks like he could use the help.”

           “Dustin!  Dustin, Steve is not a piñata!” Robin hollered, following after them as you and Nancy watched in amusement.

           “So,” Nancy started in, refilling your cups and returning her gaze to the events taking place in the room next to you.  “They haven’t fought.”

           “Ssh!” you snapped quickly, looking to her.  “Nance, you’ll jinx it!  This is the most I’ve seen them not go at each other, even if they are just keeping to themselves.  It’s a start and I’d like to keep it that way.”

           “How long do you think it’ll keep up, though?” she asked honestly.  When you frowned at her question she set a hand on your arm.  “I want you happy, you’re my friend.  Knowing those two bone heads, though, I just worry they’ll drop the façade when you aren’t looking.”

           Your frown creased even further into your face.  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Nance.  It’s my brother and my boyfriend.  I love them both, but I don’t wanna lose either of them.”

           “I know,” Nancy sighed, before perking up.  “What if-“

           “Watch it!” Steve shouted, and all eyes directed into the living room.  

           Eddie dusted Dustin’s shoulders off, before looking to Steve.  “You almost crashed the kid into the bookshelf, man, you should be the one watchin’ it.”

           Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes.  “Like earlier when you nearly pummeled my sister into the ground?”

           “Goddammit, Nancy,” you mumbled before stepping up a ways. “Steve, it was-“

           His eyes cast to you and he scoffed.  “An accident?  Like anytime y’all horse around?”

           “Hey,” Eddie snapped, stepping up to your side. “I’ve never laid a hand on her like that.”

           “Like what?” Steve retorted.

           “You know exactly what you mean,” Eddie said.

           Jonathon stepped up now, followed by Dustin.  “Come on, guys, everyone just caught up in the moment.  Everyone’s good.”

           Steve shook his head.  “I’ll be good when he’s gone.”

           “Steve!” Nancy said, shaking her head.

           “Like hell!” Eddie laughed.  “I was invited!”

           You sat a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looking to him. “Eddie, calm down.”

           “Fine!  Then I’ll go!” Steve said, and he looked to you.  “Come on, Y/N, we’re leaving.”

           Everyone stared, Robin trying to talk quietly to Steve who was having none of it.  Nancy looked to Jonathon with a worried expression and the kids clamored to the other side of the room, just watching.  You stared at your brother in disbelief and shook your head.  “Steve, we just all need a break, please!  Let’s just all breathe a second!”

           “We can breathe at home.”

           Steve stepped up and grabbed your arm, causing Eddie to grab the other.  You squeaked at the force of the two boys, looking to Nancy with wide eyes.  They had never escalated to protectiveness with you involving each other in the same moment, it had never gotten this heated before and the worry crept in the pit of your stomach, causing bile to slowly rise in the back of your throat.  You swallowed it down, the panic on your face evident and Nancy immediately jumped in.

           “Boys!” Nancy yelled, grabbing onto Steve and Jonathon grabbing Eddie.

           “Come on, guys, this is stupid,” Jonathon added and patted Eddie on his back.

           “She doesn’t wanna go,” Eddie snarled, staring Steve right in the face.

           “I’m her brother, older might I add, so what I say goes,” Steve responded, Nancy tugging on his belt loop.

           “Guys, please stop!” you cried, wiggling in their grips.  “You said you’d try!  Just break it up!”

           Dustin and Max came up, prying the older boys grips and Robin stepped up to pull you aside, her arm slipping around your shoulders. Eddie shook his head, chuckling to himself and turned away from Steve which caused Jonathon to loosen his grip. Nancy kept a petite finger interloped in Steve’s belt loop for safe keeping.  

           “Steve, why don’t we go outside for a minute?”  Nancy mumbled, tugging lightly.

           Steve broke his gaze on Eddie, wiping a hand down his face. He nodded slowly and turned towards her. “Yeah… yeah anything to get away from that freak.”

           The words slipped out without a second thought. Steve froze, as did everyone else, and eyes landed on Eddie.  The panic that set in was worse than the first time and you pulled away from Robin, going to Eddie immediately.  As soon as the words were out, Eddie’s shoulders tightened and his back went straight. Jonathon could see his face and he watched every emotion cross over it – shock, realization, anger, guilt, sadness, absolute rage.  Eddie couldn’t register who was near him and his hearing went into a high frequency pitch.  His eyes darkened and the only thing you felt was the shove, a rush of air, and your back hitting the counter of the island.  “Eddie, no!”

           Eddie swung first.  His fist connected quickly with Steve’s jaw and the elder boy stared stone cold at him as Steve stumbled to the ground.  

           “Shit,” Dustin muttered and everyone was quick in action.

           Steve jumped up from the ground, Will and Mike trying to hold him back while Jonathon and Dustin grabbed for Eddie.  Lucas moved Max and Erica out of the way and Robin and Nancy stepped up to your side.

           “Let me go!” Steve yelled.  “Let me go!”

           “Knock it off!” Mike snapped, stumbling at the tug Steve attempted away from the younger boys.

           “Come on!” Eddie cackled.  “Let pretty boy get a nice swing in!”

           “Don’t push it!” Jonathon snapped.

           “I’m slipping!” Dustin yelled, his palms clammy and his upper arm strength nonexistent in the pull Eddie had.

           “Eddie, Steve, stop!” you shouted.  “Stop right now!”

           “I’ll never understand what my sister sees in you!” Steve shouted, glaring.  “She could do so much better!”

           Eddie scoffed and licked his lips.  “Like I haven’t heard that before!  At least I can land a gal, you strike out on every chance you get!  So much for being the Hawkins King!”

           “Shut up!” you again yelled.  

           “Maybe you should listen to your girlfriend!  She’s clearly got the brains in this relationship!” Steve smirked.  “Third times a charm right?”

           “It’s no wonder she hates being at home!” Eddie started, and you froze.  “I wouldn’t want to be around someone as idiotic, full of themselves, and a kiss ass like you!”

           “Bullshit she doesn’t want to be at home!  It’s better than that trailer trash park you’re in! I’m surprised she hasn’t brought home bed bugs or lice!”

           “Ask her then!  You don’t even try to get to know her anyway, so what does it matter!”

           “I know my sister!”

           “Like hell!”

           Tears began to well in your eyes and you tried your best to swallow them down.  The adrenaline was suffocating, everyone getting their own taste of it.  Dustin’s grip slowly lost and Eddie pulled free the rest of the way, Steve finding his way out from Will and Mike.  Everyone started yelling all at once when the two got ahold of each other, causing mass chaos to ensue.  Fists flying, Eddie landed another blow to Steve’s eye – it would definitely be swollen in the next hour and shut completely by the end of the night.  Steve tumbled around with Eddie, landing two good blows into his ribs causing the metalhead to yell out – they weren’t broken but there would definitely be major bruising and tender for a while.  You attempted your own chance at pulling them apart, but the force of the two sent you stumbling and Nancy shouted, anger setting in for her at the two acting this way in her home.  “Knuckleheads, break it up or I’ll call Hopper!”

           The two continued their dance, nearly tumbling into the three of you and Steve slammed Eddie against the counter top.  Eddie flailed beneath him and Steve sent a blow to his jaw, causing Eddie to yelp in pain.  He glared up at Steve and reached around him for anything that would help him gain some traction.

           His hand landed in something mushy, his fingers feeling a heavy, thick, consistency on them but he went with it.  Eddie grabbed a fist full and landed a blow into Steve’s face, causing him to gasp and lose his hold.  Steve wiped his face, red crumbs and white icing coating his hand. He stared at it before looking up and it was on before you could stop them.  Steve grabbed his own fist full and the two went back to it, cake and icing flying in every which direction.  Food and drinks came with it and everyone yelled as soon, the entire party was coated in carbonation, crumbs of chips, and icing being flung every which direction.  Nancy tried to block herself, screaming out in anger.  Oh, how much trouble she was going to be in for this later.

           You felt the tears brimming, pushing, and soon tumbling over your waterline.  They were heavy, hot, and quickly cascading down your face.  Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath and everything moved in slow motion in front of you.  The cake was destroyed, demolished, gone, as were any chances of your two favorite people reconciling and putting any differences behind them.  There went any chances of family dinners, trips, any chances of enjoying a Corroded Coffin show, any chances of a future that was healthy with either one.  You watched as they continued their antics, neither one of them sparing any glance to check on you, to see your reaction, for any sign or confirmation that you were okay.  In this moment, it was about Steve and Eddie.  It was always about Steve and Eddie.  Reflecting and looking back, even when it was you and only one of them, it turned around to discuss the other.

           Steve always wanted to know what Eddie was doing, who he was hanging out with, where you were going with him, if Eddie was trying to sell you weed, if you two were drinking.  Anything he could get dirt on for your parents.  Eddie always wanted to know what Steve was doing, if he was working, when he was working, and when he’d be home so he could plan exactly to come get you at the worst time just to annoy him.  It was little things, it was spiteful, and the two couldn’t leave high school behind.  Where did you even fit in to the equation?  At that point it’d be better for them to just date each other.

           Making your way to the now empty cake platter, a splash of Coke greeting you in the face on your trek, you grabbed the glass dish firmly in your hands.  The porcelain was completely clean, smooth, no crumbs of what had been.  This is what your life would be now; clean, smooth, no crumbs of what had been.  The surface, slipping back and forth in your hands, would not survive this fight either. Arms raising above your head, you could hear your pulse in your ears, not even the shout from Robin when she saw what you were doing, it was so loud.  Even when you screamed out in frustration, you couldn’t hear how actually loud you were, how it was almost deafening as the realization set over the situation in front of you.  Most everyone covered their ears with their hands, wide eyed and cowering back from what was to come.  With your screaming, you quickly brought the plate crashing down to the kitchen tile and shards of glass went flying.  The small pieces grazed your bare calves, probably not the best time to be wearing shorts.  Steve and Eddie were the two closest to the line of fire, both of them turning away and blocking their faces.  When the glass had calmed, that’s when your screaming did, and the deafening silence that followed felt louder.

           Everyone looked around, food and drink covering every surface in the kitchen and half of the living room.  The glass had spread from the bottom of your feet into the line of the living room, down the tile of the kitchen, and even some had managed to bounce to the countertop.  All eyes slowly landed on you, Eddie and Steve both finally taking in the mass destruction of what they had caused.  Tears continued to stream down your face, mixed with the icing slabbed on your cheek and the stain of Coke all along the collar and upper shoulders of your shirt. Eddie looked to your legs and saw the thin lines of blood from the shards, before meeting your face again.  Steve watched as your shoulders shook from the sobs held in, your face as red as the cake you had made.  

           Oh shit, the cake.

           “Oh, baby,” Eddie started.

           “Kiddo, I-“ Steve added at the same time.

           “No!” you sobbed.  The room grew quiet again.  All eyes were on you.  This was your time.

           “I-“ you started, taking a deep breath to try and align yourself.  “I didn’t want to lose- to lose either of you.  I wanted th-this to work.  Just once!”

           Guilt began creeping over the boys, disappointment settled in Steve’s bones as he knew he let you down, Eddie feeling his own tears start to grow at the state you were in.  They didn’t want this.

           “But now,” you chuckled, causing both boys to go rigid in fear.  “Now I realize you’re losing me.”

           You looked to each of them, a sob tight in your chest and you choked it back.  With shaking hands, you wiped the remaining food from your face, and brushed past the two of them and everyone else.  The sobs finally racked your chest as you quickly made your way out the door, slamming it shut behind you.  

           Steve and Eddie looked around before looking at each other.  They both were fucked up.  And they had fucked up.  Big time.

[shina913]

Fire to the Low | KNJ

Fire to the Low (one-shot)

Pairing: KNJ x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Established relationship; some fluff; smut; pwp

Warnings: crop-haired/buzzcut Namjoon kink; cussing; clit play; oral (f-receiving); dirty talk; unprotected penetrative sex in a committed and monogamous relationship; standing/wall sex; creampie; soft aftercare

Word count: 2,234 words

Summary: Namjoon gets a new haircut but you have to wait until you're alone to let him know just how much you love it.

A/N: This was spurred by a comment made by Namjoon during his recent live when he said that he was over his hair and wished he could just shave it all off (accdg to translations). FYI, if you're curious to know what a skin fade is or what it looks like, here are some variations. I was thinking more of #4 for this AU 😜 I also blame Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for this prompt because we can't seem to stop screaming and losing our shit talking about how we love crop-haired/buzzcut Namjoon (yeah, yeah, unpopular opinion, whatevs). Anyway, it's nice to revisit those days from PTD Online/Proof album era when he looked absolutely beefy and hhhnnnngggghh 🔥 I think I might also be a step closer to buying that Proof Collector's edition as well LMFAO🤡

A/N2: This is unbeta'd and it's horny word vomit that I finished at 2:30AM so I hope you can get past typos or other errors. I guess you could also consider this as a sequel to Stubble? 😏

“I can’t believe he’s getting married tomorrow,” Namjoon comments as you both head back to your hotel room, coming back from his college best friend’s rehearsal dinner.

“Mm-hm,” you hum noncommittally as he retrieves his key card. While he taps it against the sensor, you reach up to run your fingers against the back of his neck.

Namjoon managed to fit in a haircut before this evening. He got a low skin fade and kept the top cropped with short spikes. You ran late from another appointment and met up at the restaurant instead so it was a nice surprise to see it for the first time when you walked in. 

Even though you had already complimented him when you arrived, you couldn't show him how much you appreciated it since you were both busy socializing.

It’s been a while since he had his hair cut this short. The weather was starting to get warmer and he was tired of hair getting into his eyes or having to brush it back so often. 

“What’s up?” He asks while you distractedly rub the back of his head.

“Nothing. It’s just…so…short.”

He frowned. “Is it bad? I know it’s kinda drastic and I didn’t want to sweat through my tux.”

“No, I don’t think it’s bad at all.”

He pushes the door open and prompts you to enter first. Once he was through the threshold, you turned around and pushed him against the wall, taking him by surprise.

Finally glad that you were both alone so you could express how much you liked his new look, you whisper, “I think it’s really sexy.”

He squinted an eye at you, seeming incredulous. “I always thought you preferred the long hair.” He cocked his eyebrow and had a sly smirk, knowing how much you loved to pull on it.

“I mean, I do but…” you ran your fingers from the base of his skull in an upward motion. “I can get with this, too. I’ve been fighting the urge to touch it at the party.” The feel of the short, prickly strands bristling against your skin sends shivers coursing through your body.

Just then, you felt his strong hands grasping your hips.

“Have you now?”

“Mm-hm. I love how rough it feels back here.” You rub his scalp gently. 

He sighs softly then closes his eyes while leaning into your touch. “That feels nice.”

“Yeah?”

He hummed his agreement. “You know what else feels nice?” His hands start slowly roving up and down your body. “This dress and the way it just clings onto every curve. Just fucking ridiculous.” He stops to give your ass a firm squeeze.

“If I had seen you in this outfit before on your way to the party, I would have called Jon to say that we’d be running a little late.” He pulls you closer to him, grinding his hips against your center. You moan at the feel of his stiff cock rubbing up on you.

He peels himself off the wall and slowly backs you against the opposite wall, caging you with his large frame.

He reaches under the hem to run his forefinger up the inside of your thigh, watching as your lips pressed together in excitement. He smirks cockily and sweeps his finger under the seam of your panties, brushing at your clothed pussy. You groan softly.

“Wet, already?” he whispers, circling you slowly.

“Already? I’ve been wet since I saw your new haircut.”

He clicked his teeth. “Kept you waiting too long?”

You pout playfully and nod. “Just a little.”

“Damn, I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you?” He purrs.

You bite down on your lower lip and nod, watching while he kneels before you with his head lowered. You tug on his hair making him turn his gaze up to you. You stroke his cheek lovingly and he kisses the inside of your wrist in return.

He pulls the hem of your dress until it bunches up a few inches above your waist. He leans in to kiss your stomach while cupping your bottom; your head rolls back in a sigh.

He hooks his fingers to your panties’ waistband and slides them down your leg, only pausing to tap on your ankle, which prompts you to lift your feet to completely rid you of them.

He looks pleased with how lewdly exposed you were for him. And before your skin shivers from the draft, you feel his warm tongue between the apex of your thighs, making your legs buckle under you.

“Hmmmfuck…” Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your grip on his hair tightens. In one broad lick, he has you at his mercy.

He grabs your hips, causing you to jerk against his mouth. You feel his skillful tongue swirl around your sensitive nub of nerves, circling with slow, precise licks before delving deep into your folds.

You writhe in pleasure, grinding your pussy against his lips. He increases the pressure, his fingers digging into your flesh. It’s only a matter of seconds before he has you falling apart; the surging pleasure crashing down into your center has you tensing up, gasping for breath, with your heart jumping into your throat.

“I love the way you taste. I could do this all night,” he cooed against your wet folds before he suckles on your clit.

“Shit, I’m close, Joon!” You gasp in a rush.

A hand is removed from your hip and two fingers plunge into you, sending you into a spiral.

“Yes! Fuck…just like that…” You choked out, not even worried about the fact that you must be ripping his hair out at this point.

You whine helplessly as he stretches your opening with his fingers, circling and thrusting, working your clit with his thumb and lapping at your sensitive lips with his tongue. 

“C’mon, baby. Cum for me,” he gasped between powerful, even strokes of his hand.

With a few more measured pumps of his fingers, thumb and tongue, you are tipped over the edge and start free-falling, every nerve ending in your body is set off with sparks of pleasure.

He licks and sucks, slowly and gently, easing you down at a steady rate, your body relaxing and your heart rate calming down. You keep your palms on his head, tracing slow, light circles in his hair.

When you come down from your high, he makes sure that you are steady on your feet before he stands and comes up to plant a light kiss on you. You lick at the seam of his lips, tasting your arousal on them.

He pulls away with a softened expression and looks down at his pants. You take the hint, slipping your hand into the waistband, and skim over his hard-on.

You flick your eyes to his and find them regarding you intently. When you move in closer, he takes the opportunity to lower his forehead onto yours.

You slip your hands around the back of his boxers, smoothing your palms over his ass. 

“I love this.” You whisper, molding your palms over his cheeks.

He moaned softly, rubbing his forehead against yours.

You go on and smooth your palms back to the front, grasping his thick, hard cock at the base. “And I really love this,” you dragged out.

“All yours.” He hisses in appreciation while you pumped his length in slow, rhythmic strokes, stopping at the tip to squeeze gently. Unable to withstand your teasing any longer, he dips his head to claim your lips in a growl, eating at your mouth hungrily.

You’re pulled into his chest, feeling his hard length pushed into your groin. You feel the ache building up again, forcing you to withdraw your hand from his pants. The urgent need to have him inside you has you breaking your kiss, ripping the shirt off him, and frantically tugging at his pants. He releases one hand from your bottom to help and his boxers follow.

He swiftly and securely wraps his hands around the waist and pulls you upwards against his body. 

“Up, now.” He growls against your neck, as he sucks and bites at you. You obey without hesitation, wrapping your thighs around his body when he lifts you, his arousal slipping over your swollen entrance, causing a desperate moan to escape your mouth.

He crashes his lips against yours, moaning as your tongues explore each other’s mouths. Your hands smooth down his stubble and go around the back of his head, hanging onto him as he holds you with one arm wrapped around your waist. His other arm is against the wall above your head for support.

You move your hands around to grip his neck and shoulders when you feel him pull back slightly, lining himself up to your center. You relax your thighs to give him room.

Bringing his hand down from the wall, he guides himself to your entrance, looking straight into your eyes as the tip of his cock brushes against it.

“Ready for me?” He asks as he darts his tongue out to run it across your lower lip.

“Yes. Are you ready for me,” You press your chest closer to his.

He gets so wildly turned on when you challenge him. With a smirk and a sharp shift of his hips, he thrusts upwards, filling you to the absolute hilt, slamming his hand back into the wall beside your head.

“Oh…God!” You scream when the tip hits your cervix.

“Nah baby, that’s all me,” he strains between slow, deep thrusts, pushing you further up the wall. “Feel good?”

“Always.” You purr at him.

He increases the tempo and you throw your head back, panting and crazy with pleasure, as with each hard strike he pushes you further into absolute ecstasy. 

“Fuck, your pussy…so good,” he groans against your exposed throat.

You cry out, helpless to his punishing drives against your core. 

He gasps, tilting his head to claim your lips. He moans into your mouth as you hold onto his face, soaking up the passion radiating from every inch of his body.

As your mutual hunger for each other takes over and you reach the point of no return, you lock your thighs around his hips, every muscle in your body tightening in anticipation of the snap and release that’s on the horizon. 

It starts to become unbearable and you don’t know what to do with yourself. It’s too much but you also don’t want it to stop. He feels too good and you’re too greedy for him.

He brings his eyes back down to yours. They’re dark and hooded. 

“Harder?”

Fuck…he’s going to rip you in half.

“‘Wanna hear it,” he demands.

“Fuck, yes, Joon…harder,” you choke out. 

He growls deep in his throat, increasing his thrusts to an even more determined, purposeful pace—something you would never have thought possible. Your legs tighten around him further to the point of pain, but that just increases the friction and maximizes your pleasure. 

Finally, that tight coil snaps and you’re thrown over the threshold, cumming around him with a scream and a shudder.

The loud groan that bursts from his lips tells you he’s not far behind. Then, he slows his hips to a steady rocking. He gets in those final strokes before you feel the warm sensation of his release within you, saying your name with his hot breaths bursting against your neck. Once he’s settled, you drop your head to his shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“Holy fucking shit.” He whispers through his suppressed breathing.

You sigh. That was beyond intense. Your mind is pure mush at this point, and you know you won’t be able to stand on your own if he tries to put you down. 

As if reading your mind, he turns you so his back is against the wall and slides downward, taking you with him so you’re straddling his lap on the floor. Your face is planted on his chest, and you can still feel him pulsing inside you. 

You’re totally ruined by him. Your eyes start to close and mildly aware that you were still stuck to his body.

“You okay, baby?” he says softly as he strokes your back with both hands.

Your eyes open and your brain lurches forward again. “M’fine.” That fuck drained all of your energy but you were completely satiated.

“Can you stand?” He chuckles.

“Can you?” You giggle weakly as you throw the question back to him.

“...Just need a minute.”

Once he gets his bearings he says, “You have the most unusual kinks, you know that?”

You laugh heartily then shush him. “I like what I like!”

You could very well pass out on the floor by the doorway, but you knew that you had to get cleaned up and be in bed soon. Besides, Namjoon had to be up early the next day to fulfill his best man duties.

Namjoon…in a tuxedo. You feel another flutter in the pit of your belly.

Absently, you run your fingers behind his head and against his fade once more.

“So…do you think that after you guys take pictures in your tuxes, we can have a little time before the ceremony?” You give him a sly, knowing smile.

A low, sexy laugh rumbles within him at your request. “Don’t worry. I'll make time.”

Main Fic Masterlist

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tags: @itdoesntmatterwhy @purplewhalewrites @internetjunkdrawer

[cerastes]

As someone who hasn't touched it yet- how does IS4 stack up? How's first impressions been?

Ok, let me give my thoughts on IS4, now that it's been a week!

TL;DR -> This Rocks, I love it.

IS4 is far, far more polished than IS3. I feel a bit bad blasting and slamming IS3 so much, but the bottom line with it is that it's just very very flawed in ways that really make it hard to revisit it in the same way IS2 is always a fun romp.

If I had to point out flaws with IS4, it'd be that, on a personal level, I wish it had a few more Normal Arknights Maps. The vast majority of maps in IS4 are pranks and checks of some sort. This isn't necessarily a negative, but I do like playing some Tower Defense more frequently than what IS4 allows, since it's always got me worried about "oh god my team lacks X, Floor Y's Map Z checks X, if I get it, I'll D I E " so I try to go for my super tried and true team instead of daring to experiment all that much. This will eventually pass, but it's been a Thing for me.

Besides that, though? I just have a lot of good things to say about it. The systems feel like they were thought out this time: The Fordartals (sp?) system allows for a lot of player expression, agency, and just in general fun in a way the Light system of IS3 can simply never hope to compare to. About the only thing the Light system did right was the way it worked thematically: If you wish to confront The Corrupting Heart, you really, really gotta go in the dark, and for the best possible chance against, Izumik, Mizuki must find the Light again and be filled with hope. Yeah ok sure, thematically, these work, but the gameplay component sucks ass, because Light exists almost exclusively as a form of punishment and in basically no way as something you can use. It opens some roads, sure, but that Rogue Trader and Wish Fulfilled node are not worth having 9 out of you 11 Operators with Metastatic. Speaking of Metastatic, the single worst thing Arknights has done, even if you are maxed out on Collapse in IS4 and are packing four fully upgraded maluses, THAT STILL DOESN'T COMPARE to how bad Metastatic was. Let that sink in.

The endings are no longer RNG! Absolutely wonderful!

Eik is the first IS 2nd Boss I can say I think is good! Frozen Monstrosity was just annoying, Big Sad Lock is incredibly static, and The Last Knight, in my opinion, is the single worst and most boring boss in the entire game, not even just the game mode. Eik is like if The Last Knight didn't suck: Same principle, but done in a way that is actually not snooze-inducing. Mind you, the principle of the fight is still not something I enjoy, but unlike The Last Knight, that's wholly a me thing, as opposed to being an objectively awful and boring fight (like The Last Knight, the worst and most boring boss in Arknights).

Even though I said I'd like some more normal maps, the maps are good, to be honest! I can't think of any Fire and Water Unions or Out of Controls.

IS4 is the Smash of Arknights: (Almost) Everyone Is Here! Brush up on your gimmicks from various events, because they WILL appear.

The Midboss philosophy in IS4 is lovely, in my opinion: It's low HP bosses who can quickly fuck you up in their own way, be it stun, immense conditional damage, or simply supporting their team so well that you get overwhelmed. The Variant stages for the bosses are entire new maps, so that's also cool.

Collapsal enemies are congruent with the map design: Collapsals can be very quick, with a caveat: Normal Collapsal mobs speed up after they get hit, Casters speed up after not attacking for a bit, Aerials are fast but always have many loops and never directly go to the point until after a while. Shattered Champions are the exception, and they can either loop a while or just go straight for the jugular, making them apt Elite units for the faction.

There's much more I could say more concisely, but really, just try the game mode, get your ass kicked a bit, learn it, and then you'll see how coherent the design of IS4 is in terms of systems, maps, enemies, and features. Sorry, IS3, but you got your ass absolutely kicked like I did on my Waves 15 runs when you'd give my 2 main DPS units Metastatic on Floor 5.

[youandtom2]

The Hunting Ground (18+)

Dom!Tom Holland x sub!bratty!Reader

Summary: How else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that's definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club? Themes: EXPLICIT, BDSM and mentions of BDM, dom/sub, knife play, breath play, unprotect p in v, oral (fem rec.), orgasm denial, overstimulation w/c: 13k oops

a/n: it's late and it's 13k so I'll probs revisit another time whoops. apologies if writing gets sloppy.

MASTERLIST

“Come on. This has got to be a joke. This is the kinkiest cult shit I’ve ever seen.” 

“Nope. Not a joke.”

“When I said I was looking for something exciting and adventurous, I didn’t mean a sex club!” You flippantly disregard the masquerade mask onto the couch, whilst your friend Danny, holds his elegantly in his hand as if it is the beholder of all his memories. 

“It isn’t a sex club. It’s…an opportunity.” Danny’s lips twist into a smirk that wavers between sweet and sinful. That alone should’ve told you that his opinion on this ‘club’ was simply that. An opinion. A biassed one at that. The other thing Danny doesn’t account for is that opinions are subjective, interchangeable and while he sees his little kinky sex club as an opportunity, you see it more of a shameless hookup with cultic motives. 

But you’re curious to hear how he can possibly sell this to you. “Oh yeah? An opportunity for what? Enlighten me.” 

Your friend coyly swivels his hips playfully, that all too familiar bashful glow emanating from his olive cheeks. He leans gayly over the edge of the couch with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, entrapped in his childlike manner and embracing his inner Princess Diaries by swinging his feet. He so desperately wants to say ‘to flirt with hot men and recklessly have sex with them with no strings attached’, but to your surprise, his answer is a little more profound and in-depth.

“To meet like-minded people who share similar interests. To embrace a community that doesn’t judge you for what you like, who…take you as you are. It’s actually very liberating.” 

“Puh-lease! You threw that innuendo in there on purpose. Look. It’s a sex club. You meet up to have sex. That’s the common ground.” 

“Oh my God, you speak about it like it’s a brothel and you couldn’t be more wrong. Okay, okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little provocative, but it’s not like some sex dungeon, it’s a speakeasy. There’s a bar, drinks, music, dancing, it’s totally chill. You don’t even need to have sex, it’s not a guarantee.”

You fold your arms, staring outwardly and chewing your lips as you mull over the possibility that it might not all be what you initially think it is. But the only way to prove otherwise is to go. Dammit you wish you weren't so curious. 

“And…what’s this place called?”

Danny smiles contentedly. “The Hunting Ground.”

~~~~~

“Do I really have to wear this?” The flimsy black ribbon of the mask trickles through your fingers. The shell is midnight black with a faint covering of silver lace, embellished with enough sparkle to catch your eye under the streetlights. Ahead of you is what looks like an ordinary bar under the false name of The Playground. The tinted windows and low purple LED lights inside is a clever ruse to fool anyone who is none the wiser to believe that the mystery is revealed when you step inside, leaving no other incentive to keep exploring. However, hidden behind the facade of an ‘ordinary bar’ as confirmed by Danny, is the speakeasy. It’s quietly genius; it’s all hidden in plain sight. 

“Yes, you have to wear it; it’s like a pass for entry into the club since it’s invitation-only. Plus, anonymity is kinda a thing here. Especially for newbies if they’re not too sure what they’re looking for. You get all types of people here. You’re bound to find someone who is yours.” 

You roll your eyes as you tie the ribbon tightly around your head with a grunt, the thick plastic mask sitting squarely on the bridge of your nose. “Anonymity, sure. These things are as good a disguise as Superman putting on his glasses and all of a sudden he’s Clark Kent and completely unrecognisable.” 

“Trust me. They do their job. Oh and one last thing.” Why is he smirking again? “Sub or Dom?” 

“Come again?” 

“What are you, Sub or Dom?”

You blink. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means.” 

“God, you’re so vanilla--they’re, um…types of people.” Danny vaguely explains and purses his lips, thinking as he evaluates you. “Hmm, we'll stick to sub for now. When you get inside grab a white cup.” 

“Fuck sake.” 

You follow Danny down a poorly lit, narrow staircase and you get a sense of entering a restricted area, having it not as well decorated, but then you remember; it’s supposed to be secretive and unwelcoming to any wandering stranger. The staircase is quiet compared to the floors above you and below you, giving off a feeling of limbo, neither here nor there as the pounding of the bass-heavy music distorts your sense of direction. There’s two different songs playing and they blend into each other so well that you can’t quite tell what is coming from where, but the further you descend down the staircase, the more obvious it becomes. The floor above you is phased out when you come to a stone archway, lined with plum velvet curtains hanging at either side where wisps of vapour spill from the room. A fiery red spotlight casts a shadow where the words ‘The Hunting Ground’ are projected on the wall to welcome you. Danny stops you before you enter.

“And you told me this wasn’t a sex club,” you quip, motioning to the entrance to hell.

“Remember it’s just to socialise. Nothing needs to happen, okay? After a drink or two, you’ll start to loosen up and have more fun.” 

You huff. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

You take one step into the stuffy haze and instantly you feel the change in aura, perhaps because you know what people are here to do. Danny patiently waits with you as you soak in the sights, the smells, the heat and the very suffocating atmosphere of the room in front of you. A fine mist hovers in the air, just enough to hinder your view of anything further than 10 metres in front of you - probably intentional to hide the erotic acts in the corner - and only the blacklights and the dancing neon laser lights shoot through. Unlike the bar above, the music is slower and less adrenaline pumping, perfect to fulfil its purpose of enticing its listeners to socialise rather than all-out partying, but in effect, it makes you more nervous; how do you socialise with people you’ve never met? You bump shoulders with Danny is a quiet plea to stay close.

A few people within eyesight turn their heads as you enter in your sage green dress, making their judgements on you through the narrow slits of their masks, a symbol of membership to the club, identical to the one you wear. Under the cover of darkness, the masks do actually provide a sense of anonymity and you take back an earlier thought; what the hell are these masks going to hide? Everything apparently. 

You decide not to linger around the entrance any longer for you feel that others can smell your hesitance a mile off. You make a B-line to the table adorning white cups, directly across the table that hold a much smaller number of black cups, and perpendicular to a table with grey cups. As soon as the rim of the cup touches your lips and alcohol sears your throat, you ease a little.

“God, I feel like I’ve just entered the mafia. Why is this place so stiff?”

Danny laughs inwardly. “Oh they’re stiff alright.” That earns him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!” 

“You said this place was chill and judgement free.” 

“It is--”

“Then why do I feel like I’m being victimised?”

For a fleeting moment, you catch Danny’s eyes flitting over to the white cup you hold in your hand, being quickly emptied by you. There’s obviously significance behind the white and black cups and you’re certain Danny knows why as he too picks up a white cup with conviction, but what significance they have is being purposely withheld from you.

It’s definitely a cult thing. 

“They just want to get to know you. Give them a chance. It’s all with friendly intentions, I promise.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Like Danny said, there’s all sorts of people here; men, women, and more situated around the room whether it’s standing in small clusters around a table or sitting in smaller, more private groups in booths. Few white cups, some grey cups, but black cups hold the majority. Some are dressed more provocative than you would ever dare where some keep their secrets to themselves. Those who begin dancing are booming with confidence, sashaying their hips while others simply observe with a glass of whisky in hand. Even hours into the night, you’re still pondering over the likemindedness of such a diverse group. There must be something that ties these people together, because every hour or so you catch a glimpse of couples' escapades, hand-in-hand as they disappear through another archway with a black curtain. 

“I’ll be right back,” Danny murmurs into your ear.

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m just going to catch up with a friend. I won’t be long. You can manage your own for a bit, can’t you?”

“Don’t think I have much of a choice.” 

Danny quickly disappears into the smog and across the dancefloor, and by the time he reaches the bar, he’s out of your sight and anxiety creeps in. As ever, you find solace in the very alcoholic drink, quietly sipping away in a dark corner of the room. 

Or at least you thought you were in the corner of the room…

The solid wall behind you suddenly swings open and you lose your balance, falling backwards into the void that has just opened up. Your heart leaps to your throat and your lungs flood themselves with oxygen to prepare for what you know will be a painful fall and the loss of your dignity. Inches from disaster, a miracle happens when two hands reach out to hook underneath your arms and break your fall, leaving you hovering over the floor until the stranger finds the strength to bring you back to your feet again. Sadly, there’s nothing to be done about your drink that puddles on the floor…

With a breath of relief, you quickly compose yourself, turning around to see that indeed the wall you were standing against was actually a door, and in that doorway now stands the masked stranger that saved you from your fall. He stands just a couple of inches taller than you, dressed in a black suit (it could be navy - it’s just so damn dark in here) but replaces the standard crisp, white shirt with a baby blue one, keeping it casual with undone buttons by his collar. You want to make more guesses of his appearance but this club’s obsession with anonymity is slowly becoming a nuisance. 

“I’m so sorry, I really thought that was a wall.” 

“No worries, it’s easily done.” His words are smooth and puckish, and you feel like he genuinely believes you when he places a gentle supporting hand against your back. 

“Right? Especially with a place like this, I mean, would it hurt to turn up the lights even just a little bit?” An innocent laugh escapes you but the second you see his lips parting in what you can only assume is disbelief, you instantly feel like you might’ve crossed a line. His hand drops and sinks deep into his pocket. So much for no judgement…

“Well, we could but most members here know there’s a door here.” 

Caught. 

He doesn’t watch for your reaction as he picks up the empty white cup from the floor, long, slender fingers holding it tightly while he studies it for a moment and the corners of his lips tug a little before settling it on a nearby table. You’re still not privy to the colour codes and their meanings, and something itches inside of you when you see this stranger turn to you with a knowing smirk on his face. Because he knows. 

He folds his arms, muscles defined in the tight squeeze of his blazer and stands stoically before you. “You’re looking a little lost, newbie.” 

“I’m just waiting on my friend Danny. He’s the one who brought me here. I don’t know why to be honest. I don’t really think this is my kind of scene.”

The stranger tilts his head curiously. “How so?” 

You snort. Isn’t it obvious? “I mean the mask thing is a little weird. And the segregation of cups? What the hell is that all about? Like, I’m always down for something different but the anti-religion cult vibes just isn’t doing it for me. I haven’t been here that long and already I’ve had so many daggers from people that I just can’t tell whether they want to kill me or eat me.”

“Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you? Tell me then, if this place doesn’t suit your majesty’s preferences, why are you still here?”

This stranger doesn’t need you to take off your mask to know that there’s a scowl taking over your features. Affronted, you decide to mirror him, folding your arms and delivering his own stinking attitude back to him. 

“Cut the sass. You asked me a question and I answered it. If you listened, you would’ve heard me say that my friend brought me here. Said that if I was looking for something exciting and adventurous I should come here, but I’m not seeing either. Anyway, what does it matter to you?” 

“Careful, newbie. Some people here don’t take too kindly towards being spoken to like that. It can get you into a lot of trouble, unless you’re searching for it, in which case, Danny was right to bring you here. And tell him he should’ve put a straw in your drink too.” 

You’re so fed up with these innuendos. “I don’t even know what that means!” 

The stranger takes a step forwards and brushes your shoulder with his. You hold your breath as he leans down close to your ear and murmurs words that sound like a threat. A shiver descends down your spine. “Ask him to explain it. Tell him that Tom told him too.”

Your stance stays strong as the stranger sweeps past you in an obtrusive manner without a word to spare. Finally out of sight, you give in to the urge to roll your eyes and scoff with as much conviction until satisfied, having suppressed it in front of that stranger. You’re never one to be so outwardly rude to someone, but unless it’s warranted, then by all means, give them hell. 

The interaction has somewhat soured your mood, and considering that this place has yet to prove any of Danny’s claims of what a ‘friendly, non judgemental’ place this is, you might make the move to leave. You’ve been here long enough and you doubt that the fun has yet to come.

Not three steps towards your leave, you’re stopped by Danny emerging from the smog like a phantom. “Oh hey! You’re alive! See? I told you’d be fine.” 

“Yeah, not fine, Danny. Don’t leave me ever again.” 

“Such a drama queen. Where’s your drink?”

“Spilled it almost falling over. By the way, what do the colours on the cups mean? Some guy ‘Tom’ said that you were to tell me what they mean.”

His smile drops and hangs ajar, eyes wide as he processes the words, the name you’ve just invoked. “Tom--did you just say Tom?” 

“Yes, why? He also said that you should’ve put a straw in my drink too. Danny, for the love of God, what the fuck does that mean?” 

Annoyingly, he ignores your last question. “What did you say to him?” 

Danny devotes all of his attention to you as you recount the interaction from beginning to end, sure not to leave any details out. As your friend, all of your expectations are placed on him taking your side in it all, but with each word you spill, he cringes further and further into himself. 

“Then I told him to cut the sass--he was being so rude to me!” 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You’re struggling to understand why your friend has descended into a fit of laughter, creasing over until he can no longer catch his breath. It’s great that he’s finding it so hilarious that he can’t even seem to straighten himself up to give you an answer, but what’s even better is that you can’t even begin to imagine how many people are witness to Danny descending into mania while you stand with your arms folded, a slack jaw and a look that could kill. And even if some can’t see it, they can bloody well hear it. “I cannot believe you said that to him!” 

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me at least something, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait, sorry, I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you.” After wiping the tears from his eyes, he latches onto your arms and pulls you into his side, directing you to look out at the room before you. “Okay, so you remember the question I asked you before we came in? About being a sub or a dom?” You nod. “The cups are representative of that. White for sub, black for dom. Grey if you don’t particularly have a preference. They’re sometimes called switches.” 

“Okay, but what does sub and dom actually mean?”

“They’re just abbreviations. Submissive or Dominant if you want to be proper. They define what a person likes to be in the bedroom. Dominants are usually controlling, they like to manipulate and gain pleasure from using submissives in whatever way they like. Submissives gain pleasure from being controlled, from being told what to do and will usually go through extreme measures to satisfy their doms, and in lieu, themselves. For example, see over there?” Danny points to a booth of what looks like two guys sitting on either side of a girl. They are shadowing over her, running fingertips up and down her leg whilst she sits bashfully in the middle. “Two doms and a sub.” 

You look to another area of the room and in the corner you see a woman, dressed in the tightest latex corset you could imagine, and she looks fucking amazing in it. Full of luscious curves. Her confidence is striking as she walks with her head high like she owns everything in the room. She somehow makes picking up a black cup look sexy, drinking from it until it’s empty but inexplicably doesn’t swallow. With her puffed cheeks, she grabs the face of a man who kneels beside her, opening his mouth—“Oh my God!” The words spill from your lips as you watch the woman spit her drink into the man’s mouth, swallowing with glee in his eyes.

“Anyone can be sub or dom. That’s why the cups make it so much easier to identify who’s who and cuts out all the small chat bullshit in between.” 

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a fucking sex club. “But how did you know I was going to be a sub?” 

“I just guessed. It takes a certain confidence and skill to know how to be a dom, and no offence honey, but I don’t think you’d be a good dom.”

“And the straw?” 

“Signifies a bratty sub. A sub who likes to be controlled but also loves the fight against it. Anything to piss their dom off.” 

“Hold on. A brat?! Who the fuck does this Tom guy think he is? He’s talked to me for no more than five minutes and he calls me a brat?” 

“Shhh!! Shut up!!! Oh my God!!” He hurriedly ushers you away from prying ears and you feel a sort of trepidation when he looks around cautiously. “Honey, you know I love you and I care for you but you have seriously fucked up to the point where I literally cannot protect you from what’s about to happen.” 

“What? How?” 

“Tom’s the owner of this place.” He’s trying to hold in his laughter again. “And you just stood there and insulted everything about his club to him--oh my GOD you are so dead. I’m weak just thinking about it.” Had he not been squealing and bouncing on his tip-toes in a nervous but weirdly excited way, you probably would’ve taken Danny’s warning a little more seriously. In Danny’s overly-dramatic fashion, his translation of ‘dead’ just means that you’re only slightly in trouble. 

“So what, he’ll probably just kick me out.” 

“You better wish that’s what he’ll do because Tom is a capital D-O-M and is a stickler for obedience. He has everyone, sub or dom, address him as sir. It’s like one of his rules.” 

“Sir? Really? Are we back in school?” 

Your own mocking laughter is the last thing you hear before a voice creeps up behind you, settling deep into the canals of your ear and shocking you into a small but powerful fright. “We can be if you like. At least then I can teach you a lesson or two about how to respect me, newbie.” The way his voice instantly scorches everything inside you is mildly terrifying. It’s the mixer in your soup of emotions; trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, exhilaration, anticipation, swirling together in the pit of your stomach.  

You and Danny’s eyes are locked in a stupor, both of you donning guilt-ridden, colourless faces. You think it wise to follow Danny’s lead in not speaking, not moving because only he knows the repercussions that you face. Besides, if you listened to what your brain initially told you to do, you would be in a lot more trouble.

A wordless plea twinkles in your eye and your heart plummets when you see your friend respond with tightly pursed lips and a subtle shake of the head. 

“Next time you bring your friends, Danny, I would expect you to inform them on how to conduct themselves around me. You should know better.”

“Sorry, sir.” Danny’s voice wobbles. Fucking wobbles. Loud and proud Danny, centre of attention on the worst of days, always one to speak his mind and is never afraid of judgement, and now he’s…scared. 

“Now go. Justin’s waiting for you.” The unfamiliar person Danny has become swiftly brushes past you with no more than a final apologetic look and disappears further into the centre of the room. A certain desperation keeps your eyes on him for as long as you possibly can until you eventually accept your defeat, standing here alone with Tom stalking very close behind you. You notice his shadow standing just on the coast of your peripheral, lurking. 

After an excruciating silence, Tom eventually murmurs into your ear, just the edges of his mask skimming the side of your hairline.

“Follow me to my office. We need to have a chat about rules.” 

“Okay,” you breathe. 

Sure enough the door you nearly fell through enters the hallway leading to his office. It’s well lit, spotlighting the framed memorabilia on the wall and you almost choke a gasp when you see what they contain. Whips, paddles, cuffs, chains, anything of an erotic nature is framed, dated and hung on these walls in plain sight. Tom catches a glance of your awestruck eyes from over his shoulder, smirking wickedly. Little do you know that that isn’t even half of his collection. 

He enters the office first leaving you to nervously trail in behind him. 

“Sit.” 

The tickle of velvet feathers your bare thighs, knees already knocking together while Tom takes a stand behind his desk, underneath the low-intensity spotlight that shines down on him from above. Your eyes skate over his features the second he unties his mask, shadows hugging every sharp angle from the crook of his brow bone to the contour of his cheeks. Holy fuck. Your knees lock tighter together.

“Mask off.” It falls to your lap. When you look back up at him, you see that he doesn’t bother hiding how he takes in every inch of you and it makes the burn of his stare even more obvious. “What do you know already?” 

“Um, not much. Danny told me about the masks, Doms and Subs, the thing about the cups, addressing you as ‘sir’ and…” you clear your throat, a previous anger returning, “having a straw in my cup.” 

“Ah, so he explained it to you, did he?” Fuck, even his grin is perfect. 

You bite your gums, eyes averting. “Wish he didn’t.” 

A piercing whistle rings in your ear, short and sharp in the small, panelled office causing an audible wince. “Oi, eyes up here.” Did he just whistle at you? “I’m going to handle this very delicately because you’re new, but if you keep testing my patience then I won’t even give you the chance to back out.”

What the fuck. 

“Since your friend failed to explain the rules, I’ll have to do it instead. This is my private establishment and I expect anyone who enters it to follow my rules, including newbies like you. Rule number one: respect. Respect for me, respect for others, respect for the property. Simple, yes?” 

“Yes.” His eyes widened slightly, “sir.” 

Tom begins to circle around his desk, nearing you. You tuck your feet in underneath the chair as he leans against the desk a foot in front of you. “Rule number two: boundaries. Boundaries must be set by every individual and must be adhered to by every individual. That includes things they consent to and things they don’t consent to, and safe-words should be agreed to and abided by also. Yes?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And I know you know rule number three.” 

But does he know that you also hate rule number three? Grinding your teeth together, you bite back his answer. “Yes. Sir--” Before you’re able to utter another syllable from your lips, Tom has your cheeks in the pinch of his fingers, pulling you from your seat until you’re just a breath away from his own. Despite the circumstances of your racing heart and your throbbing cheeks, you come to realise that Tom has brown eyes, that his suit is really black, that he has one strand of hair that curls against the rest. Shit. You’re really dipping your toes into muddy water here. 

“See this fucking attitude of yours? Drop it. If you’re really so eager to talk, you’ll tell me what it is you want out of this. And know that before you start speaking, you’re on your last warning.” Thankfully, his grip loosens but it doesn’t disappear completely. Keeping you just as reigned in as before, his fingers sink to the curve of your chin and curl around it gently. It’s hypnotising enough that it coaxes you into spilling the truth.

“A little bit of excitement and adventure. Danny suggested I could find it here. So I came to find out for myself.” 

“And?” 

“I’m…not sure yet.” 

“We can certainly offer what you’re looking for, but it depends what kind of adventure you want to take. Do you want to explore or do you want to experience?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

Tom drinks in your curiosity, content with a quirk to his wet lips. All is silent in his sound-proof office, the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears and it’s the only thing you can tune into while the incredibly intimidating man in front of you sadistically drags out each and every second. “We can start off slow, test your endurance and your tolerances, discover your likes and dislikes, introduce new things one at a time, a soft start over a number of weeks.” 

“...Or?” 

His pupils dilate. “Everything all at once. A full session, right here, right now. Thrown in right at the deep end. No restrictions and I get full control. An experience to say the very least.”

You gasp and the breath gets stuck in your throat. As the idea is spoken into words, you can’t help but picture everything you saw in the hallway, the whips, the paddles, the chains, the ludicrousy of them ever being used as sources of pleasure and begin to feel yourself being overwhelmed. Albeit, the rebellious side of you plagues you with the mentality of saying ‘fuck it’ and trying it anyway, its voice ringing with the sound of your youth; willing to try everything, to say that you were brave enough to try it, to run away from the boring life of always saying no because you just weren’t sure. You might even find that it’s something you like…

“What do you say?” He whispers with the small coaxing of his thumb gracing over your pout. “And don’t leave it up to me. I think you know what I would prefer.” 

You take a breath, cheeks already flushing knowing what’s to come. “I…I want the experience.” 

He doesn’t move aside from his lids opening a fraction wider. “Say it again. To be sure.” 

“I want the experience.” 

A slow, salacious moan sings through his sigh, his breath crashing against your skin like a wave. “Mmmm, I was so hoping you would say that. I’ve been wanting to put this brat back in her place all…night…long. Now I can. All. Night. Long.” Warmth encircles your neck and you realise that his hand has completely captured your throat, controlling every breath you breathe. You desperately try to whimper but even then, all your sounds are clamped down by him. Sensing danger, your own hands reach for his wrist as he pushes you back against the spine of the chair and shadows over you with fire in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Safe word?” 

“Err…” You don’t have one. You’ll have to make one up. What did you have for dinner last night? “Pasta.” 

Tom chuckles but accepts it. “Pasta it is.” 

When your one and only chance to speak is taken, Tom quickly readjusts his grip on your throat again, closing it off until your skin is tinted red with exertion. He sinks low, invading your space until there’s nothing but him in your darkening sights, until his lips skim the tips of yours.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that urge at bay? So fucking hard. I knew you were a newbie, but fuck, you were so fucking rude. You know, you never even thanked me for helping you up earlier. Instead, you chose to insult my club and my customers, and when you do that, you insult me. That doesn’t fly with me and something will need to be done about that mouth of yours.” 

You gasp erratically, fighting for breath and his vendetta against you refuses to relent. Just as blackness consumes your vision, just as you're hanging on the precipice of consciousness, he finally relieves the tension and you gulp down air like it’s your drug, your lifeline. Almost simultaneously, Tom thrashes his lips against yours, seizing back whatever oxygen you just gained in a vicious attack. His tongue slips in almost too seamlessly, brushing against your own and tasting every inch he can reach.

From one method of suffocation to another. With his hand no longer occupied at the base of your throat, you find it clamped to the roots of your hair, keeping you detained as he forcefully kisses and licks every part of your mouth, barely leaving any time to breathe. It isn’t painful as such, but god damn it’s overwhelming. The small squeak of struggle easily gets swallowed up by him and he growls for more. In time, another is drawn out but this time it's the result of Tom’s other hand pulling down the neckline of your dress and finding your tits, pinching and squeezing with a passion that’s guaranteed to leave behind a bruise. To say you completely underestimated what the experience is and how little prepared you are for it, is under-statement of the fucking century.

He really isn’t shy, is he?

Minutes go by and you’re losing sensation in your swollen lips and Tom can sense that too; you become lethargic, sloppy and out of control but that’s exactly what Tom is waiting for. He can feel the plumpness of your lips as he drags them out slowly between his teeth, perfect to have wrapped around his cock. 

He stands to his tallest, your hair still tight in his grip. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, sir.”

“What else?” 

“Th-thank you for helping me up, sir.” 

“There’s actually one thing you should know about me,” he murmurs darkly. “If someone is apologising or thanking me, I expect them to show their regret or their gratitude to me. Usually on their knees. That way, I know they mean it.” 

“And if I don’t?” You are genuinely curious. 

A shadow casts over his face, eyes glowering at your words. He clenches his jaw so tightly that you have to remind yourself to unclench yours out of fear. In quiet, articulated words, he provides you with the first piece of insight of what kind of night lies ahead of you. “I will fuck you and edge you against this desk until you are spent of every piece of sanity that keeps your bratty brain together. Even if you beg, even if you are crying out for release, I will not stop until you are nothing but my cum-filled slut.” 

“Fucking hell,” you whimper quietly, but he hears it all the same. 

“I would think very carefully about your next words, newbie, or you’re going to become very familiar with my temper.” 

Hey, you said you were up for the experience…right? 

It takes just a fraction of your lips to curl into a smirk for Tom to realise your motives. Provoked by just the smallest of your smiles, he runs his tongue along the lining of his cheek. He can’t quite tell if he’s insulted or pleased, regardless, the result of either is the same; he will have you reduced to absolutely nothing if his life depends on it. After all, he doesn’t allow insults to run dry on him, he snuffs them out as soon as possible and that’s the lesson you need to learn. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns one last time. How generous of him. 

The air is tight and feverish, and so very, very quiet. Until…”Fuck. You.” 

Your words trigger a pregnant pause, leaving just enough time to hear a pin drop before something sinister happens. A cacophony fills the room: the wooden scraping of the chair legs as Tom yanks you from it, the squeal and the grunt that marry together, the clutter of objects as they fall from the desk to the floor, the resounding thump as your body mercilessly collides with the wooden desk and subsequent the yelp of pain to be heard by no one other than Tom. 

The brute’s groping hands impatiently tug at your dress, whipping it up to sit around your torso and the moment your ass is exposed to him, he wastes no time to drill his hips into yours in a desperate bid to split your legs wider and keep you still. The sweltering heat of your cunt seeps onto his trousers and, even contained, his cock feels it all. The harder he pushes to force you down, the harder the edge of the desk cuts through your pelvis, and the longer you stay there, the louder your pleas become. And every second of it all is like heroin to him. This is his high. 

Tom rips your underwear from you, the thin material reduced to rags in seconds and just as quick, they become your bindings. With your hands now tied behind your back by the remains of your wet thong and your head smothered against the wooden surface, you are unequivocally oppressed. 

“Stay there, and don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t bother trying that shit with me. You’re too late. You’ve already made your decision to be a brat, so I’ll fuck you like one.” 

The recognisable sound of chain links clinking together stops your heart dead in your chest. “Wait, what are you doing?” You try to shimmy a look over your shoulder to take a peak, but you can’t see Tom crouching down behind you. 

“Extra precaution.” Cold metal tightly hugs your ankles, grinding away at your bone with every tug. There’s little room to move, you can barely bend your knee without causing yourself harm. You didn’t want to believe it, but the reality is true: he’s chaining you to his desk. 

“No fucking way.” 

“Yes way. This is what you asked for.” He leans down to leave a patronising kiss to the shell of your ear, unbinding your hands and placing them exactly where he wants them, gripped to the edge of the desk beside your head. Not chained, but the wordless warning to keep them there is evident in the squeeze to your wrists. You’re almost crucified to the desk. It’s enough to make your sweltering body shiver. “And I’ll gladly provide.” 

Without warning, he spits into your ass and stops to watch it trickle down to your clit with hunger ruining his patience. He collects it with deft fingers, spreading it through every lip of your cunt, all the way back to gloss your puckered hole. You can feel every movement of his whether feathered or anchored, following the path of his fingers from your asshole to your clit and back again, only stopping to teasingly circle your entrance. He repeats it over and over and over again until you’re leaking with your own slick, glistening underneath the singular spotlight and the fire of Tom’s eyes. It’s tantalising. Worse yet because you can’t move to stop him. You’re stuck with a burning cheek pressed against the desk and your hands trapped under what feels like Tom’s invisible reins. 

“Look over to my clock and tell me what time it is.” 

“It’s 11:57pm.” 

“Good to know.” 

By 11:59pm he has you teetering towards the edge of your first orgasm with as little as two fingers and a thumb violating your cunt. By the turn of a new day, he has you wishing you had just said sorry and meant it. 

“Such a tight little pussy.” He groans behind you, littering small kisses along the base of your spine and your ass. His two fingers enter you again, anchoring down on the spot that winds you up so perfectly, stroking it with the curl of his knuckle and just when you both sense the coil tightening, he picks up speed and power. Anxiety and excitement broil in your stomach. 

“Oh God, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He already knows this. He doesn’t need you telling him. In fact, he’s familiarised himself with the quivering of your thighs, the shaking of your body and already, he knows exactly when to stop. “No! Fuck!” You grieve over the loss of your climax quietly with a small groan laced with heavy breaths. 

His gruff, irritated voice buzzes straight down your ear, vibrating with impatience. “You will take what I give you. And you will thank me for it.” 

The voice that spills from your lips is hardly recognisable. Whining, winging and moping, you don’t quite understand where the grovelling came from and how it took over, but you can’t find it in you to stop it. 

“Thank you, sir.” 

And just like that, the routine starts again and without a doubt, the result is the same. 

Muscles ache, bones shaking, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of liquifying here on his desk. Alas, Tom possesses the ability to keep you solid like no other man has, keeping you somewhat stable and conscious enough to make you feel every last drop of his torment. No matter what sweet relief you feel when he gently massages your cunt, it’s completely forgotten about the moment he slaps the back of your thighs for moving your hands one centimetre out of place. And just like that, you’re back in the room. 

When Tom painfully edges you for the sixth time, he asks you to read the time again. The digits of the numbers have blurred since the last time you checked, but you can just make them out. “It’s 12:32am” 

He smirks. “Good to know. Fuck, look at the mess you’re making on my floor.” A flat palm smacks against your cunt, seizing at the stimulation. Your thighs beg to squeeze together, anything to build up some friction to tame the urge but the chains rattle beneath you, keeping you contained.

He tames the fire with the lick of his fingers that curl eloquently onto your clit and swivels it around in circles in the same, insatiable manner as before. At first, you think he’s going to build you up again like he has done for the last thirty-something minutes and you’re not so sure that your mind and body can take the strain, but you feel the pressure of his other hand anchoring down onto your back, pressing your stomach flat against the wooden desk and eliminating any chance you have of escaping. Not that you had any before, but Tom’s a man of guarantee rather than possibilities. 

It’s new and the prospect that he might allow to cum reignites the exhilaration in your core. 

Effortlessly, he sets your nerves on fire, plucking every one with overstimulation and you're on the cusp of the well-desired orgasm that you’ve waited for for what seems like all night. You writhe so desperately for it that your pebbled nipples are starting to chafe underneath you. 

Tom’s maniacal laugh drifts into your ears, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses against your ear and your neck. “What do you want?” 

You open your mouth and moans spill out, not the words of an answer. He continues to ruin you anyway. “I want…I want to cum. Please!” 

“So you don’t want my forgiveness? You’d rather cum instead? So fucking selfish of you.” 

He rips his fingers from you and the sensation is lost. “NO!” 

“Yessss.” 

~~~~~

You still haven’t came yet. How the fuck have you not been allowed to cum in all the pleasure Tom’s fingers and teasing words have granted you? He hasn’t allowed you to move either leaving all of your muscles, joints and sanity aching against the stiff wood as you remain prisoner to his chains. And as his prisoner, all of your self-control has been stripped from you. With your eyes closed, voice gone, mind vacant, Tom decides to finally, finally, re-evaluate the situation. 

And by re-evaluate, you mean change position. 

Now unchained, he forces you to lie on your back and you’re thankful that the desk is long enough to support your head, because when you are being punished with extremities, the littlest things can be a saving grace. 

“Tell me the time.” 

You look over, Tom catching a glint of your red cheeks and the imprints of the wooden grain etched into your skin. “It’s…it’s 1:23am.” 

He grins wickedly, licking his lips, and with a smooth wink, he replies. “Good to know.” 

“Please, Tom.” The crack is your voice is liquid gold in Tom’s ears and with his hands skating over your thighs, he hears what you have to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I am…so sorry. Please--I…I can’t take it anymore.” 

“What is it you want?” 

“I want your forgiveness. Please, sir.” 

He sees it. He really does; the desperation in the tear that leaves your eye, the look of absolute surrender donning your features in fear that he won’t accept your apology, and even in the way your body warms at his touch tells him that there’s nothing else that you desire. That’s the part he loves most and the main attraction for his dominant tendencies; the moment when the bad turn good. When they’re at such a loss with their original intentions that they have no other option but to surrender and submit. From brazen words to pitiful pleas. From bratty attitudes to willful compliance. From ‘fuck you’s to ‘thank you’s. When that switch is pulled, that’s when Tom knows he’s won. 

He holds your legs dearly in his hands, your swollen cunt perched directly in front of him as he crouches to the floor. It’s red, puffy and glistening in the light, screaming out to be touched, filled and ultimately freed of the orgasm that is running ragged inside. 

He eases the slight quiver in your thighs with a grounding kiss, powerful enough to emboss just the traces of teeth marks onto your skin. 

“What a good girl you’ve become.” The same kiss is planted on your other thigh, just a hint closer to your crying cunt. “I’ll tell you another thing about me,” he whispers, feeling the softness of your skin against his lips. “I don’t just dominate and manipulate people, I manipulate pleasure too. I control it. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes I can be in the mood to make sure it never stops happening.” 

You take a breath and hold it. The anticipation of what’s about to happen savagely ruins your mind that you just can’t settle your pulse, and even if you try to slowly release that breath, you realise that it is all in vain. Your heart still positively thunders in your chest. 

“And guess what, sweetheart?” 

Traces of your voice weakly spill out. “What?” 

“I’m in that exact mood.” 

Tom doesn’t waste a second before his tongue is licking a fat, wet strip up the centre of your cunt and completely destroys your sanity. It’s slow, meticulous in its travels as it covers every inch of you from your hole to your clit and your body involuntarily searches for more. It’s like a wave, rolling over your cunt before crashing into the bundle of nerves at the end. Your cries vibrate through your body, all to be felt by Tom when his lips tightly seal around your cunt, suffocating it with the heat of his mouth and the lashings of his tongue. It’s incredibly enthralling; being constantly aware of every small minuscule change in direction. From thrusting into your hole with tenacity to swirling tightly around your clit in a frenzy, there’s no telling what he’ll do next. 

Your body drips with sweat and you can’t decide if it’s from all the involuntary squirming upon the table or if it's the fire within, being fuelled by Tom’s uncontained lust. There’s a small explosion waiting to happen inside you, and Tom holds the detonation trigger.

“Holy fuck.” 

“Mmmmm.” 

With his head buried beneath your thighs, his hands blindly roam your body. They descend down your thighs and over the valleys of your hip bones, shaping the contours of your waist before feeling the grooves of your ribcage as they expand with each pant you breathe, until he finds your tits, groping and pinching where he can. In both of your minds though, his hands are an afterthought, especially when his gorgeous mouth is massaging your pussy so rhythmically, moving against you like a ship on a wave. 

“Ohhhh my God,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your abdomen descend deeper and deeper towards your cunt. You’re so close it hurts. Your legs start to twitch closer together.

“Legs open,” he mumbles. “And look at me. Look at who’s got you shaking.” 

You cast your eyes downward, unblinking as he sucks and pulls at your cunt with his lips, making what you think to be the most salacious, delicious sounds a man could make while eating you out. 

“F-fuck. Tom, please—.” 

Tom’s dark lashes lift, lids heavy as he stares at you with such forbidden intentions that it’s enough to make you shiver. Neither of you break the connection and you think it might just be the final nail in the coffin. With a deathly snarl, he claws at the back of your thighs, lifting them until they are pressed harshly against your chest and pans all of his attention, mind, body and soul into forcing you to cum. You sob as his tongue darts out, abusing your clit in all directions and it slingshots you directly towards the climax you have been aching for. 

“Tom!”

With a final flick of his tongue, you crash into your orgasm. It immediately wreaks havoc on your system and splinters your sanity completely, so much that you can’t tell whether you're ascending or crumbling right here on his desk. Your lips part to scream, but your consciousness is shattered into a million pieces and your voice is lost. Wood creaks as your nails dig into the edge of the desk, white-knuckled and numb with a grip so tight you swear you feel your bones begin to bend under the strain. 

Like he promises, Tom doesn’t stop. Despite being trapped between your thighs, despite the wriggling and writhing, your pleas and desperate whispers, Tom doesn’t stop. Not for one second. 

Every flick of his tongue is more intimate than the last, plucking at your nerves so harshly, nerves that are already pulsing and in need of mercy. Regardless, Tom remains kneeling, feasting on you like you are his last meal, last drink, last breath he’ll ever take. 

Swimming through the pain, you come out of the other side to find another climax already waiting, just seconds from bursting as drastically as the first one. With one final pleading look to Tom, his dark eyes swallow you whole, subliminally telling you that he’s more than ready to keep this cycle going for as long as he deems necessary. 

Mercilessly, his lips seal around your cunt, tongue slithering itself straight deep into your entrance, still not yet satisfied with what he’s tasted all ready. You’re so wet, and with Tom’s constant laving and licking he only just adds to the mess that he spreads with his hands to your thighs until the glossy sheen catches your eyes. The sparkle of it makes you truly realise for yourself just how aroused he has made you, the sight so alien from your own eyes. No man has ever worn you down like this before. It’s…unnerving. Only because you’re not sure if this is supposed to be what it’s like.

As another orgasm explodes, your body shudders violently on the table, his hands digging themselves into the crooks of your knees being the only thing to keep you from completely wriggling away. Your head collapses against the desk and gives way to a desperate whimper. It isn’t cute, it isn’t coy or coquettish like what you’ve heard before in porn or films. It’s raw, painful and very, very real. 

It never seems to end. You’ve lost the ability to determine when one climax ends and when the next starts. 

By the fifth time - at least, you think - he claims yet another, an hour later, you break. 

After his torture renders you thoughtless, mindless and perhaps a tad vacant, your instincts quickly take over. Your hands whip from the silent hold he had on them and swing down to push Tom’s head full of curls away from your aching cunt while it still throbs through the orgasm. He grabs your wrists, far too quickly for your liking. Tom watches your every movement through his brows, still latched onto your clit, giving nothing away of the disapproval you know he would be demonstrating had he not been so adamant in eating every particle of you. “Please,” your hoarse voice scratches your throat, sounding nothing like you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything, please--ah, fuck--it’s too much.” 

Slowly, deathly slowly, Tom’s lips detach from you, finally granting you freedom, salvation, relief. Yet he just can’t resist recoiling every other second for just one last taste, one last swift lap of his tongue from entrance to clit in one clean strip. The moment all touch detaches from you, your thighs swing close, nursing the pulse that squeezes at your abused clit, taming the orgasm as it flickers its last flame. 

“Fucking hell,” you pant. “You truly are a sadist.” 

Tom only chuckles, deep, dark, leaking from lips soaked in your slick. It rumbles straight to your core. “Tell me the time, sweetheart.” 

Bleary eyes lazily drag themselves over to the clock and after a few blinks, the numbers sharpen. “It’s 2:38am.” 

His fingers tickle up your shin, tracing circles around your knee. “So, so good--” you gasp, darting to catch his hand before it sinks between your thighs. He smirks, “--to know.” 

Your sadist allows you just one minute, you know because he counts it, to cool down and let your body reset; a glass of water, a clean rag and a comfy seat, unshackled and dressed. He also very calmly warns you as he sheds his blazer and unbuttons his cufflinks, rolling his sleeve up his tanned, muscular arm, that although it’s very late into the night, traipsing on the verge of closing, that you still have a long night ahead of you.

A small breath narrowly slips from your lips while you hold his stare. You can’t even dwell on the gravitas of the situation, not risking spending the valuable seconds of your - likely - only cool down. So you bite your lip, sit yourself down and quietly regain your energy.

Your heart beat doesn’t slow as quickly as you want it to. The exhilaration doesn’t leave your system either, stuck in a perpetual cycle of replaying all that had just unfolded.

You force your way through a breathing exercise sitting on the chair he originally placed you in, facing forward, blocking him out behind you because you know that one look at him and he would detonate all that you had worked to subdue. Once calm, the tether between mind and body reconnects and there’s one thing that screams down the line. 

Filled with pleasure, yet still feeling empty. Yet to be fucked. 

Tom alerts you that your cool down has come to an end as he saunters out of the dark corner behind you. It felt like barely a second. He had watched you the entire time, eyes roaming your figure, how it shook, how it quivered, how you barely managed to stand on your own two feet as you jumped from the desk, body scorching with the heat from your core. You were like a new-born deer learning to walk while he was a wolf waiting in the shadows.

Sat on the chair, you spin around to complain, attitude brimming, mouth open, words at the ready and…“Hmph!” His hand clamps down hard onto your mouth, pinching your nose with the other. Not a breath slips through. 

“Here’s me thinking you had learned to know better than to talk back to me.” His body arches over your head above you, tilting your head back to catch the panic glaze over your wide eyes. You think he’s going to do something rash, something to make you regret even thinking about turning around to answer him back; a slap to the face, a tug to your roots, something as evil as his wicked voice sounds in your ear. 

So you can't exactly blame your heart for tripping over itself when, as smooth as butter, he lowers his head, lips puckering to lay a slight kiss to your forehead. It feels like air, an offering that doesn’t conceal something malice behind it. A fragile dusting of comfort to your skin, gentle like a snowflake feathering down onto the ground. Your conscience arrows towards it.

When he lifts his hands from your mouth and nose, you don’t find yourself desperately sucking in the air you lost. Rather, you inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. It had to be that small, insignificant little kiss that lay your nerves to rest. 

Tom is one hell of a manipulator. 

His lips remain lingering on your skin, skating over the surface, mirroring his hands as they trickle down your cheeks and hold your jaw in their embrace. He whispers…“Do you think you can behave like my good girl again?” A small hum of confirmation buzzes at your lips. It isn’t enough for him. “Take this as your warning. If you decide to be a brat, if you decide to not listen to every word I say from now on, know that I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.” 

The severity of his caution has your eyes opening just a fraction wider, able to read the same warning that traces his words in his eyes. He means it. Really means it. Danny’s words echo around your head. ‘He’s a stickler for obedience’. What is he about to do to you that it’s imperative you listen to what he says? 

You could say no. You could invoke upon your safe word and make it stop right now. But when you delve deeper into the part of you that made you agree to this in the first place, you find that it still roars with life, telling you that your need for adventure hasn’t quite been satiated. 

You swallow, throat bobbing under his digits. “I understand.” 

He scrunches his nose in delight. “Perfect.” 

You don’t turn to follow his movements to the back of his office, your ears tell you what you need to know. A cupboard door squeaks open, old, rickety, likely an antique. Then rustling. Objects hard, soft, textured, plastic, rubber, metal. A hum of satisfaction, then the closing squeak of the door, different to the first. His footsteps near you, perching directly behind you while you feel the soft sweep of his torso brush against your hair. 

Then darkness. Soft, pillowy darkness that floods your vision. Remnants of light trapped in your irises float around like shooting stars before fading completely. It’s the only thing you can hone in on as the knot tied behind your head tightens, confirming that he has indeed blindfolded you. 

“Remember your safe word.” He breathes into your ear in earnest. Pasta. “Don’t hesitate to use it.” 

“Yes, sir.” You don’t know if he’s still expecting you to say that, but you do it anyway to stay in good graces with him. You’re not entirely sure if it will make a difference to the impending danger Tom warned you of. Even if it doesn’t, Tom’s lip still curls anyway. 

“Good,” a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth has you blushing, “now don’t move.” 

A single breath is all you have to prepare yourself before something cold eases across the skin of your arm. Insubstantial, almost weightless, it falls from the curve of your right shoulder and descends down until it reaches your hand, resting on the velvet arm. The sensation is ghostly but frigid, gliding but piercing. You can’t quite work out what it is…

The same icy coldness retraces its path back up your arm, floating and gliding along your clavicle and stops directly at the base of your throat, the pit where your collar bones meet. 

It knicks your skin. 

“Oh my God--”

“Don’t. Move.” 

Holy fuck. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It is a fucking knife.

That’s the metal object you heard. And its sharpest point is resting directly against your neck.

Your skin pales and your stomach swirls with nausea. All your efforts to stay still and keep calm drains very quickly and panic floods in. Any chills the knife aroused in its cold path is replaced by small beads of sweat, your entire body blazing, screaming danger. Surprisingly, among other things, your nipples begin pebbling, brushing harder against the silk slip of a dress that adorns your body the more the blade's sharpest edge tickles along your skin. Your heart pounds, the sound of panic-infused adrenaline thrumming in your ears, comparable to the time you went on that rickety, old roller coaster when you were younger. 

You guess the memory isn’t too dissimilar; forced to feel the thrill of having your own safety rest in someone else’s hands. You have no control here. 

It’s…intoxicating. 

A dark admission on your behalf, but you’re here for the experience, right? 

You dare not speak, dare not break his rules as the peak of the very sharp knife trails lightly up the column of your throat as its runway, bumping over your trachea, scraping the finest layer of your skin, commanding you to incline your head as it rises higher and higher. Your lungs expand and you can’t deflate them until the knife flicks off your chin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! 

In the stone cold silence of his room, the resonating shwing of the knife rings in your ears. A small respite. 

From what you can hear, Tom moves behind you somewhere. The creak of the floorboard dances from the left to the right and back again, giving you not one hint of where he plans to strike next, subjecting you to the torment of crippling anticipation until he does.

Suddenly the blade comes into contact once more with your skin, laying its long, razor sharp edge against your neck. Your body freezes, your nails scratch the edge of the armchair. 

“Stand,” Tom commands sharply. The knife’s blade maintains the same pressure on you, even as you come to a stand, knees knocking beneath you. 

Seconds later, the chair clatters behind you, just the swiftest of touches of velvet to your calves before it crashes off to your left, and where four legs once sat now stand just two. Tom. The warmth of his breath flowing past your ear is a stark contrast to the cool blade on your throat. But it’s the low grumble bubbling against your back that plucks a chord deep in your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter…

“I can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribcage, newbie. Worried?” 

Yes…

“Or is it more than that? Excitement? Anxiety? Lust? Desire? What is it? Tell me, a penny for your thoughts.” 

“Nerves. Mostly. But…exhilaration and curiosity. And confusion.” 

“About?” 

“Do people actually get off on this?” 

He chuckles at your naivety. “Lots of people do. It’s perfect for keeping any brat in their place. But you’ll find it’s mostly the sort that spend all day bossing people about. Whose jobs are to take on the burden of responsibility, leadership, authority. If it’s been a particularly long and hard day for them, they come here. This is their relief.”

“To be held at knife point?” 

“To relinquish control. To let someone else take the reins for once. To be controlled rather than being in control. The knife just adds that flare, the incentive to keep them in that headspace of receiving orders instead of being  the one to make them. It could be a gun if you’d like,” he jests. You’d shake your head, but you might slice your throat in the process.  

You take a constricted breath, feeling the weight of the knife’s edge becoming just that little bit heavier. “And…do you like it? Being the one in control?” 

He presses himself against you as if to mould the contours of your body into his, lips furrowing deep into the crook of your outstretched neck roaming where they please. His free hand anchors down onto your hip, slithering its way across the expanse of your abdomen where, if he held you long enough, would feel the flutter of butterflies wings coming from within. Alas, he spreads his fingers, sinking lower onto your pelvis, teasing the curve of your pubic bone and presses down hard, bending you into him. As if the knife he holds against your neck isn’t controlling enough. 

His erection pokes and prods at your backside. He’s so hard you release a whimper. What you would give to feel him inside you. 

Tom’s words speak directly onto your neck like he’s tattooing them onto you. “I love it.” A beat, then--“Tell me,” he says, low in tone and volume. “Your dress. Any sentimental attachment to it?” 

“No.” 

The knife’s blade glides to the strap of your dress on your shoulder and picks it up, pulling it taut. “Good.” 

One tug and the material snaps. 

A small yelp falls out and a flinch has your shoulders raising just an inch closer to your ear. The integrity of your dress now hangs precariously with just one strap holding on for dear life. If one thing is for certain, it won’t be holding on for much longer. You smother the urge to scold him for ruining your dress, your property, and lest you forget the threat of the very sharp knife he holds against you, it’s only the straps, you could tie them back together as a temporary solution. An easy fix. 

The knife repeats its actions on the other side until your dress hangs lifelessly around your hips. The cold air bites at your nipples and Tom doesn’t wait one second before he brings the tip to circle around the little bud. 

“Oh--” You can’t stop your head tilting back onto Tom’s shoulder when the slight overdose of adrenaline makes you dizzy. The tickling sensation refuses to relent, crossing over the valley between your tits to tease your other bud just as salaciously. 

Just when you find pleasure of the tip running rings around your nipples, when Tom’s hand sinks to cup your pantiless sex, when his scent rushes in through your nose, a harsh slap of the blade's flat edge to your tit whips you back to caution. It’s unexpected. Being blindfolded, every touch is. Any touch you feel, whether blade or not, makes you flinch. Quick as a bolt of lightning surging through your body. It’s torturous because in your darkness, in your paranoia, you’re permanently recoiled, shielding, flinching at nothing, waiting for the next hit.

He’ll strike. You know he will. Not knowing when is killing you. And he knows it. 

“You asked if I like what I do-” his finger sinks into you, skimming over your clit wet with your slick, “-from what I can feel, I think you like it too.” Your hips buck to gain more friction from both his fingers and from his hard cock pressed against your ass, desperate to feel that euphoria of pleasure again. A sick, twisted crack of satisfaction surges through you when you hear him moan. “Shame you’ve forgotten your manners.” 

The surface of the knife slaps you again, harsh against your nipple. “Ow! T-thank you, sir.” 

“Better. Now move.” 

A few blind steps clumsily place you facing a wall, palms resting flat against the wallpaper while Tom kicks your feet further apart. He makes sure that while he puppeteers you to never let you forget that the knife he holds is always within close proximity, that if you dare defy him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Gentle scrapes, warning knicks, cold presses, even to go as far as break skin would he warn you. 

The audacity he has, though, when he takes the knife and slices his way through the remaining fabric of your dress, leaving you to stand stark naked before him. That’s going to be less easy to fix…

“You ripped my dress!” 

“Problem?” His voice is challenging, subliminally daring you to bite the bait.

“How the hell am I supposed to get home with no clothes?” 

The fiery attitude that tries to bloom inside dies the instant he presses the flat edge of the blade flush against your cunt. The cold surface lying against your heat causes a stutter in your breath. It pushes upwards, almost lifting you off from your feet and onto your tiptoes from fear that any slight movement of defiance would trigger excruciating pain. It’s dangerous, careless, and reckless, and you wish you could scream it, thrash around, push him away and yell in his face. The compulsion is overwhelming. If only you didn’t have a knife to your cunt…

“Telling me your problem isn’t going to make it my problem.” 

Your jaw slacks, away from his prying eyes and you suppose you could allow yourself just one moment of freedom. Just one moment of no restraint because releasing what you’re dying to say would just be as gratifying as the first time Tom allowed you to cum. You can easily feel the knot that’s dying to unwind, and saying what intransigent words would tease out the knot inside you, and also send him reeling. 

He wants to call you a bratty sub? Fine. That’s what he’ll get. 

“You are such a bastard, do you know that? I think you’ve spent too much time being told ‘yes, sir, of course, sir, thank you, sir’ that it’s all gotten to your head. Maybe you could do with being reminded that not everything you do deserves that.” 

Quick as a whip, the blade snaps to your neck, digging into your skin that you feel it tearing your skin. The wince is evidence of your pain, but Tom ignores it, settling on placing his focus not on the knife he holds against you, but how quickly he can undo his belt, his trousers, springing his hard cock free and lining it up with your sopping cunt. 

Without a warning, because you don’t deserve one, he thrusts into your core, holding your breath hostage under the knife. “So fucking tight,” he stutters to himself. Even for him, the sensation is immense. His next message is for you. “Cheeky little bitch. Think you’re clever? Think you’re funny? We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re begging me to stop.”

Your bodies clash as Tom begins rutting his hips against your ass, the staccato notes of skin on skin and the room swallows every snap, barely making out the door. He fills you, stretches you, and ruins you within seconds and you can’t explain how the pain you feel translates so quickly into pleasure. You feel yourself needing more of it. The stretch, the burn, the knife, it’s indescribable.

His relentless pace maintains, stopping every ten or so seconds to ensure he fills every inch of you, submerging himself to the hilt and mercilessly grinding his hips against you, rolling around your cunt. Without fail, your hands claw at the wallpaper when he does, begging for reprieve. 

“When I tell you,” he pants, lips pursed and eyes ablaze, still holding the knife firmly against your neck. “You are going to give me everything.” 

He drops himself, snatching a slab of flesh between your neck and shoulder between his teeth and bites viciously in his frustration and you howl. His thrusts only become faster and harsher.

“I need to feel you squeeze around my cock.” A hand slides between your bodies and starts toying with your clit. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum around me.” 

Tom effortlessly tugs at the elastic band in your stomach and you are about to snap. He overloads your senses, violating your sensitive cunt to the point where you can feel it pulse in anticipation of the orgasm that is threatening to spill. Under the knife that now trails down your body, a pressure builds and it clenches your muscles with its tight grip, and with each pounding Tom hits you with, it grows a little closer to letting go. 

Tom fucks you in phases, fast, slow, harsh, gentle, silent, loud, anything and everything thrown into his efforts to completely tear you apart. If it’s regret he’s after, he’s got it. If it’s an apology he wants, it’s there for the taking. If he desires to hear you begging, then it’s on the horizon. You’re willing to give because you’re not sure you know where your limits are, and with your legging threatening to crumble beneath you, you sense that you’re about to get a good idea. 

Tears brim your eyes only to be soaked up by the blindfold, a quiet plea for release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! ” Tom denies relief, keeping you squirming on his cock until his needs are satisfied. He has no care for you writhing to get away, because he can easily drag you back where he wants you with just a swift reminder of the blade that pierces your skin. You’re certain by now that you have tiny little cuts littered over your body, accidental or not. 

“Tom, stop! I can’t! It’s too much. Fuck!” He doesn’t heed your cries because to him, they are the symphonies he is waiting to hear. 

Your entire body quivers and with the flick of his deft fingers and the thrust of his cock, you come undone. There’s no holding it in anymore. The elastic band snaps and a white-hot wash of pleasure convulses through your body. Blood pumping at your core but Tom isn’t relenting. 

The squeeze of your orgasm around his cock is suffocating, but yet just as painfully pleasurable as he needs it to be for the euphoric feeling to consume him. Finally, as the walls of your cunt contract once more, he cums inside you. But by this point, you are weak and Tom can clearly see just how destroyed you are. Nevertheless, his selfishness convinces him to pull away and sink into you over and over again, slower and with purpose. 

“Don’t you have something to say to me, sweetheart?” 

“I’m s-sorry, fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Taking me so well. My little cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He peels away the blindfold to find your eyes over your shoulder, but in your pain and exhaustion you can’t focus on much else and your eyes serve a very glazed-over look. “Look at me,” he spits, you obey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Remember that any time you want to act like a brat.” He thrusts into you again as a testament to his words.

“Yes,” you meekly whisper. The word comes out of your mouth before your sex-inebriated mind can comprehend what he actually said. Once it does, you gulp. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl. Stay still.” Blinded by bliss, Tom pulls from you and with his size, it’s a feeling equivalent to an orgasm in itself and you hiss. Your pussy is hot, swollen, pulsing and leaking and yet somehow, as evident as it is for how sensitive it is, Tom can’t resist one more taste. The knife clatters to the ground. Salvation.

“No, no, no, no, it’s too much, Tom, please, I’m begging you.” The words drip with a desperation you don’t recognise. He simply hushes you, kneels behind you, splits you apart and continues to savour the taste of your arousal, meticulously circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves once again. The warm, wet muscle glides from entrance to clit, cleaning you up of your wetness and replacing it with his own. For as excruciating as it is to endure so soon after an orgasm, you find yourself melting into the feeling and dizziness envelopes you in a warm hug. 

~~~~

“Tell me the time,” he murmurs, turning you around. 

Your eyes peer to the clock. “Fuck, it’s…it’s 4:29am. When does this place close?” 

Tom sniggers, floating over you with a smirk. “It closed an hour and a half ago.”

“What?! Why am I still here?” 

“I’m the owner of this place. I decide who gets to stay and I promised you an experience did I not?” 

“You did,” you agree quietly. The slight stickiness between your thighs bears a reminder of the experience and suddenly you’re burning again. You bite your lip, trying to contain the coy giggle like a teenager with a crush. “Some experience that was.” 

“Sweetheart, that was child’s play,” he laughs.

“What?”

He pulls you close, skin to skin, soothing out your muscles in a gentle massage. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show you everything, did you?” 

Would it be stupid of you to admit that you did? “I don’t know, you did say--”

“That I would give you an experience. Something new, something outside your comfort zone, something you hadn’t done before, an adventure.”

“But--” But the paddles, the chains, the whips, all the things you saw outside…

Not another word lets slip before he cups your cheeks, holding your stare and wordlessly silencing you. “If I had shown you everything, there would be no incentive for you to come back again now would there?” You shake your head. “While you may think I’m a sadist, there are some things within BDSM that newbies like you just can’t be thrown into. Trust me. I wouldn’t put you through that. At least, not yet.”

“Like what? Tell me, I wanna know.”

Tom’s lip curls. He’ll definitely be seeing you around here soon enough given you’re so invested. “Voyeurism, roleplay, flogging, bondage, anal, wax play, primal, orgies, consensual non-consent--”

Your brain fumbles over his words. “Wait what? What’s that?” 

The way his eyes lit up so brightly. He brings you closer to brush his nose against yours. “Consensual non-consent or CNC. A fetish where people enjoy being either the victim with the extreme lack of control or the predator with extreme control. Sometimes called rape play--” your eyes widen, “--but it is thoroughly negotiated beforehand and varies from scene to scene. Consent, as well as safe words, are vital. But for some people, verbally communicating consent takes away from the mood. To overcome that, they assign consent to an object. It would be agreed beforehand, could be a red scrunchie that you tie in your hair. If you came here one night wearing a red scrunchie, I would know that you would consent to me taking control over you. Perhaps drag you away against your will, take you somewhere where no one would see, make you get on your knees, suck my cock…” his voice reduces to a whisper and lets you feel his words on your lips. “Would do things to you…”

“Oh…”

Tom sighs, pulling away and composing himself. “For another time.” He winks. “But for now, you need to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Feel free.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

~~~~

You don’t emerge from your bedroom until early afternoon the next day. In your true stubborn nature, you do anything you can to prolong the confrontation with Danny. He knows what prevailed between you and Tom, and munching away at a bowl of cereal, you find him smirking at the breakfast bar. All because he knows he was right, he knows that bringing you to the Hunting Ground was the ideal thing for you. You can’t deny him of it.

His eyes find the bite mark on your neck first, bruised and marked. Then to the large T-shirt that he’s certain isn’t yours. The memory of Tom dressing you in it last night has your heart thrashing against your ribs. 

“So how did the kinky-cultish-sex club turn out for you?” He grins, a smile stolen from the Cheshire cat. 

You click your tongue, deliberating the two ways you could go about this. Against your better character, you grin back at him, colour rushing to your cheeks. 

“When can we go back?” 

[the---hermit]

How to get out of a reading slump

A while back posted a list of ten books to help you get out of a reading slump, but I also wanted to post a more general list of tips I personally think are useful when you find yourself in a reading slump. (I have also talked about this topic in this ask). So here's some of my tips:

Take a break. Sometimes you can get in reading slumps because you are burned out, maybe not just because of reading, but that can be affected as well. You have no obligations when reading (unless of course if you have to do it for school/uni, in which case I would still recommend trying to get some time off or at least slow down a bit in order to get some energies back). Sometimes accepting that you are in a non-reading place in life it's the best solution.

If you feel like it's a book you are reading that is putting you in a reading slump dnf it, or at least try to switch between that and another book. I personally tend to get stuck when I have only one book in my currently reading pile, because I need to vary often, so I like to have at the very least two books that I am currently reading. Realizing this about myself made me read much more, because I have avoided a lot of reading slumps. I'd also like to add that there's no shame in dnf-ing a book, if you are not enjoying your time with it there's no reason you should keep forcing yourself to read that. Maybe it's not the right time, and you'll enjoy it more in the future, or simply the book is not made for you, which is totally fine.

Graphic novels are a great compromise to get some reading done when you are in a reading slump, but you still want to something to read. This is specifically my solution for when I am in a reading slump caused by being burned out. Graphic novels tend to require less brain energy, and the illustrations usually help a lot with the flow of the story. I think this is the safest option when you are in the worse reading slumps.

Audiobooks are your best friends, whether you want to listen to it while doing other activities, or you want the narrator to help you while you follow the page, I feel like this is another great option. I personally love audiobooks, and I like to always have one on the go. This is again a great option if you are feeling burned out, in those cases I really like to listen to the audiobook as I take a walk, or even as I play some mindless games online like tetris, and similar things. These are also a great option to help when the book you are reading is putting you in a reading slump but you really have to read it. I have used audiobooks a lot in high school to help when I had to read poems or big classics.

Short story collections can be one of the best options to get back into reading. These take off the pressure of being consistent in order to remember things, because you can pick them up and leave them as you like, since most stories won't be over 25 pages usually. There's also some great options of collections that include multiple genres, which can be very helpful when you are stuck and don't really know what you want to read.

Fairytales and kid's books might not come to mind as soon as you think of what to read, but they can be very helpful to get you out of reading slumps. They are short and lighthearted which are two fundamental characteristics of good books to get you back into reading. And rivisiting some childhood favourites is always a great choice in my opinion.

Reread an old favourite or a comfort book. I know some people don't love revisiting old favourites, but I personally love them. You always get something new out of the story, and rereading a plot you know already can take off a lot of the pressure of reading, because you don't have to pay the same attention as with a story you know nothing about. This can be very helpful when getting back into the habit of reading.

Set up a cozy place to read. I am all about romanticizing the small things in life, and this is a very effortless way to put you into a good mindset to read. I personally like to light a few candles, make myself a nice cup of tea, maybe get a little treat to eat, cuddle up under a blanket and just read. Of course your set up might change depending on your preferences, just have a little fun with it, you could even try to read a bit while you are taking a bath.

Try to read outside. Similarly to the last tip, changing your enviroiment can be helpful sometimes. Some people like to read in a cafè, but you could also go in your garden if you have one or in a park.

Consume bookish content. This might seem stupid at first but sometimes seeing other people be excited about reading and books is very motivating. It has personally helped me several times.

Start a buddy read with a friend you feel comfortable with. Sharing your thoughts with someone as you read a book can keep the motivation up and a buddy read can be a great option to help with motivation, but be sure that you are comfortable with this person so that you don't feel too pressure upon you. Be clear from the beginning set a small goal and have fun with your buddy.

At the moment these are all the tips that came to my mind when thinking about getting out of a reading slump. Of course different people might have different methods, but changing things up can always be helpful. As I said at the beginning you shouldn't feel pressure when reading, and if it's a no reading moment in your life there's not shame in it, but I have also been stuck in reading slumps where I actually did want to read but I couldn't bring myself to do so, and many of these things helped me.

original posts/tips masterlist

[meyobee]

How would the brothers react to you hiding you’re phone from them?

Older brother edition

Lucifer

When he walked into his room he say you laying on his bed.

You had been kicking your feet and giggling to yourself.

He assumed one of his brothers sent you something.

Until, he walked towards you and saw you blushed.

You look at him and hid your phone under you.

He was never one to invade your space especially by going through you’re phone.

But you’d never hid your phone before.

“What was that” he asked, all expression gone from his face.

Before you had time to answer, he swiped the phone from under you.

You changed your passcode?

At this point he is thinking the worse.

Are you cheating on him? The Avatar of Pride himself??

He was enraged at this point.

He gave you one chance to explain yourself.

If it was a joke you’d better fes up before something serious happened.

You unlocked you’re phone only for him to see a picture of you wrapped around his arms while he was sleeping.

He could he your face peeking at the bottom of the picture.

You had been giggling at him sleeping?

He gave the most puzzled look.

You reassured him that you were admiring his beauty, even if he was drooling.

Mammon

You were waiting for him to finish up in the classroom.

Just as he was about to leave the class he heard you giggle.

Cute he thought.

You were facing the door allowing him to see your screen… or so he thought.

You have a blackout screen?

“Um Mc when’d ya get that thingy”

You ask him what thingy?

He shakes it off as nothing maybe you’ve always had that.

He’s walking you back home until you stop to type something and he tries to peer over at your screen but you hold your phone to your chest.

Something about privacy.

He stood quiet the way home.

Could you really be cheating , he thought the entire day.

He was quite at dinner, and went to sleep alone that night.

In the morning it didn’t feel right not having you by him but he didn’t know how to approach you.

Eventually you approached him.

He was silent.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His crooked voice broke the atmosphere.

“Ya been hiding your phone from me, not talkin to me or anything, if ya are I just hope you’re happy”

You quiet pulling out you’re phone to show him what you’ve been doing.

Planning a party? A birthday party? His birthday party.

He forgot his birthday was next week.

You had been trying to get everything in order before hand.

He cried in your arms and said sorry for saying that.

Levi

It was any other day like usual, joining him while he played games.

He had left to use the bathroom, leaving you in charge of the game.

You had beat the level and was waiting for him.

When he comes back he say you look at the door quickly before closing a tab.

He gave a very confused look.

Maybe you open an ad you didn’t mean to? He was hoping anyway.

He kept thinking about that tab though.

Even long after you left, he decided to try and revisit the tab.

But no, you deleted it.

He spent all night trying to find what you were hiding.

He didn’t confront you until a week later.

He ruled out all other opinions.

And when you rule out the impossible that only things that left is the truth.

He didn’t feel nervous of shy.

Now he was angry.

How could you?

After everything he did for you.

He slammed the computer on the table where you were seated.

“Mc I want to know what was so important that you had to delete the tab?”

This wasn’t like his usual self.

You gave him a grin and just about as he was going ti say something about laughing at a time like this-

You showed him a very rare Ruri-Chan figure. Under it is said purchased.

You explained that it was a surprise gift.

He immediately sank to his knees asking if you’ll ever forgive him?

A/n: Levi’s part isn’t a phone but wtv. And I’m restarting with this new account so all reblogs/comments/likes are very appreciated!!!🩵

Please read

[winepresswrath]

hi! i always love your MDZS/CQL takes; can i ask what are the questions you think CQL is asking, as compared to MDZS?

I haven't actually revisited either canon in ages, which is making me nervous. what questions the novel is interested in can be pretty contentious all on its own! @mikkeneko has an excellent answer in the notes here which I reccomend to everyone. My own thoughts are honestly pretty scattered- I keep on deleting things and going hm, that's not quite right.

So, for the obvious-to-me example, people reasonably zero in on the creation of innocent doctors/radish farmers who Wen Ruohan is holding hostage. In CQL it's easy to infer that Wen Qing and Wen Ning are maybe the only cultivators and almost certainly the only combatants among the Wen remnants, and their status is much more ambiguous in the novel, which I personally think is asking, essentially, "and so what? were they wrong to run, when they had a chance? Do they deserve what Jin Guangshan will do to them if they go back? Aren't they just people, actually?" Whereas the question that CQL is asking is more to the effect of "What does Wen Qing owe these people, when she is their only defence? What is she entitled to do to save them, at other people's expense? If she fucks up that moral calculus, what then? Does it matter if she's personally fond of some of the outsiders who are going to get hurt? If one of them saved her brother? Later, this question will flip to what Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and the parallel to Jiang Cheng's situation in particular is, I think, genuinely pretty fun. You're giving up the Wen as soldiers who've laid down their arms in exchange for Wen Qing also grappling with leadership and the question of how many horrors she can stand to look the other way on to protect her own people. one reason I keep deleting so much is that a lot cql's changes were motivated at least in part by censorship, which I think we mostly share a general and justified distaste for! but I also think that within the bounds of that censorship the creative team put a lot of work into actually doing something interesting with those changes. Or, for another example- nieyao! There's a much greater emphasis on the nmj-jgy relationship, it's unambiguously very close and they are clearly extremely important to one another, and I think that's because the cql team has a lot to say about love, trust, power, and the ways those things interact, and that reflects back on all of the other relationships in play, including Wangxian. Almost every time, when CQL chooses change a relationship they make the characters in question closer- that's true for Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, for Wen Qing and the Yunmeng contingent, for Zixuan and Mianmian, and Huaisang and Meng Yao. It's even true for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who have a close and trusting relationship in first life! CQL puts a much greater emphasis on "all right, so you care, what next?" How do you choose someone and then choose to be good to them? What if there's a massive power disparity between you? What if you seriously disagree about your priorities and morals? How do you trust someone who's betrayed you? When is it a stupid choice to trust at all? How do you have faith that you know someone well enough for that trust to be meaningful?

for legal reasons i would like to specify that it's not that mdzs isn't interested in these problems. i do remember wangxian's literal trust fall. cql is asking these questions all the time about everyone. also for legal purposes i'm not suggesting that cql lwj and jc love each other. but! they establish a three month wartime partnership looking for wwx and then jc immediately drops him on wwx's say-so despite apparently having a positive enough opinion of him to tell wwx he thinks they should make up twice. lan wangji will later tell wwx he thinks he should loop jc in on the second flautist! these are people trying to navigate some kind of relationship/shared interest/community, as opposed to a hateful void. cql wants to say hey, how do you go about this? while I'm here and rambling cql also puts a lot of emphasis on wwx's connection to yunmeng and changes things up so instead of feeling alienated right before he leaves our last glimpse of him there is happily picking lotuses and playing with a kid! in both stories the narrative is asking who do you protect? who do you leave behind? can you ever get it back? but the angles are very different.

[thewritersofdeceased]

Prompt: Y/N is coming to visit the boys, after years of being apart. How do they all react? (Part 1? I might make a part 2!)

Pairing: Bat Family x Reader

Mentioned Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth.

Requested?: Nope!

Gotham City.. The city of the Night.. The city where all crime came to light. To Justice. That's what everyone said.

But what Gotham wasn't? It wasn't the place 21 year old y/n found themselves revisiting. It felt like years had passed. Which it was. After leaving from sophomore year of Y/N and their parents had to move.

But now at the ripe age of 21, they were finally going back. Back to the place it had all started. Growing up in Gotham wasn't fun, but they had their friends here and there.

First it started with a boy by the name of Dick Grayson. An Acrobat. Someone who in their opinion deserved better. Growing up after family's passing didn't seem like fun. But when he had met you, your personalities clicked almost instantly. He would tell you when he worked as Robin as patrol, telling you the amount of bad guys he got, how him and Bruce argued, everything like that.

Next up had been Jason after Dick had left without warning. Now with Jason, it took a bit for him to warm up to you. But he saw you as an older sibling figure, and that was alright. You taught him how to cook, alongside Alfred. Bruce was fine with you usually coming around, especially with Dick no longer being around. When you left Gotham, you didn't know of Jason's death until only a few months later. In which you were out of town with family.

Now, with Tim, you had met him during a coffee run. You had almost tripped into him and his computer, but thankfully he had caught you just in time. Apologies spewled left and right between you both, but he seemed okay. That was a plus! You two bonded over games and crimes, which surprised some folks to an extent. You hadn't known of his identity as Red Robin, but slowly you pieced it together.

Damian... The last and final Wayne you had met during your freshman year at Gotham High. What a surprise that the thing you two bonded over was animals? You had been wandering around, trying to find a lost kitten that had gotten stuck somewhere in the school, and it turns out Damian was too. Now, the two of you found the kitten around the same time, and you two were amazed about it. Well- at least you were.

Slowly, your thoughts had come to a stop, the plane landing near a small town only a few minutes away from Gotham. Standing up from the plane and grabbing the suitcase and bag you had brought, there was this calm expression. Having to go all the way through the airport was already a pain in the ass itself.. When leaving the plane and making your way towards the train, you sat quietly. Playing your favorite playlist(or podcast, etc), your eyes landed outdoors through the window.

[eddiephobic]

Maybe this is a hot take as a Vax’ildan stan

but i truly don’t want him to come back and here’s why.

1) I think it’s lazy writing. Vax’s story ended years ago there’s no need to bring him back to a story or world that he’s not apart of anymore.

2) Vax was brought back numerous of times and this was his final moment, the whole crew cried hours he had a huge speech and now that’s gonna be pointless and a waste of energy that even happened if you bring him back.

3) I want him to be with Keyleth but what good is that going to do? Let her have happiness for a few years and then take it all away from her again? She’s going to out live him anyway, he’s going to die again and she’s going to be miserable again. She needs to grow and move on now .

4) Vax won’t be the same Vax’ildan he’s been through hell slaving for the raven queen and he’s not going to be emotionally okay for the real world, real people all over again. So more added Hell for Vax , Vex and Keyleth ! (tho i enjoy angst so.) Vax is going to revisit a world that moved without him, his twin is no longer his twin, everyone’s older and different.

Idk i just think Vax should stay dead and if Matt really brings him back after everything just so he can be with an NPC then that’s lazy writing 🤷🏽‍♀️ unless Liam gonna play him in the next campaign leave that GUY DEAD!!! Bringing him back makes his death scene less emotionally impactful.

this is just my thoughts and opinions you guys are open to disagree or agree on your own

[pinazee]

First season wrap up:

Okay, to start, i should mention my general opinion on first seasons for shows, especially cable shows, is not to read too much of it as canon. The writers, producers, actors- everyone- are all trying to figure out what works and what doesn’t, so i give them latitude, particularly when it conflicts with later seasons. That being said, i do enjoy jumping through the hoops to make it all fit haha

So heres a few leftover notes i had as i revisited the eps to rank them:

I bet part of Lassie was craving the father figure in Henry, since we find out later his own father passed away when he was quite young. I wonder if thats part of the reason why he became a cop, as they are portrayed as the protectors and in the 80’s they were mainly men (i don’t really remember if he states his reason later, i suspect he did and im just not remembering). So when Henry didn’t meet up to the expectation he had in his mind, i bet it hurt a little more as it reminded him of what he lost :/

I think the other reason Shawn plays dumb so much, besides hiding his genius so ppl believe hes psychic, or for laughs, is because its how he gets people talking. Like in Shawn vs. the red phantom, he purposely guessed the wrong room number so the boys would correct him. My apologies if someones pointed this out before, i haven’t combed through the internet for everyone’s theories 😬 i only now noticed. I’m not the quickest at picking these things up lol

If i had to guess, Shawn didn’t want to be a cop for halloween, he probably wanted to be something star wars related to go with Gus’s Lando. So i wonder at what age Shawn stopped trying to please his dad. But also, why didn’t his mother ever stand up for him?? I’ll come back to her later -_-

I somehow missed it the first time, but shawn clearly asked Gus to come to the dinner and Gus even points out that it was a big deal for henry to reach out. Soo, yeah, shawn obviously didn’t wanna be alone with his dad, and even henry seemed nervous about it as hes pretty drunk.

Shawn has a right to be afraid of pointy things, his dad hid his easter eggs under glass when he was 6! Not to mention he later gets stabbed 3 times! (Also its just a legitimate fear???)

So far the list of Shawns knowledge (things i wouldn’t expect an average person to know) includes (beyond the obvious observational skills, deductive reasoning, reading people (poker), and all things police (marksmanship, police codes, etc.)):

Incredible spatial and physical reasoning skills (knowing how much money could fit in the duffle bag, knowing to rotate the water pitcher to catch the reflection from the tv)

Kurt Vonnegut (well, I didn’t know who he was at least)

How to spell aggiornamento (and probably all words because of his photographic memory)

Handwriting expert

Casually spoke and understood german

Has every road he’s driven mapped in his brain, and likely all of Santa Barbara

Familiar with paint (enough to know to mix latex enamel for no messy drips)

Animal tracks (i went back and forth on this but ultimately decided he must have known what to look for)

And heres a list of Gus’s niche interests:

Forensics

Spelling bee

Safe cracking

Historic rifles

Comic books

Astronomy (even though he was going to the planetarium for the girl)

Law

Local tennis

Online poker

Lastly, Ive decided instead of ranking them, im putting them in tiers. I feel like too many of them are hitting at the same level and I can’t differentiate:

Sweetest, Juiciest Golden Pineapple Tier

Scary Sherry, Biancas toast (ohmygod i just got the biancas toast 🤦🏽‍♀️)

Blue Psych Logo Tier

Weekend warriors

Forget me not

From the earth to starbucks

Poker? I hardly know her! (Sorry @pineapple-psychic!)

Pepto Bismo Pink Tier

Spelling bee

Pilot

She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me oops hes dead

Who ya gonna call?

Shawn vs the red phantom

Oops Canadian Flag Tier

Cloudy with a chance of murder

9 lives

Game set muuurder

Speak now or forever hold your piece

Woman seeking dead husband, smokers okay, no pets

[astrojulia]

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3rd house through the signs

ARIES: You're a fast thinker who loves to brainstorm and come up with new ideas. You're not always focused on execution, but rather on the big picture and the possibilities. Your passion for building and design may lead you to pursue degrees in engineering or architecture, but you'll need to be patient to see your visions become reality since your mind is always conjuring up new projects. You're also someone who enjoys traveling, especially by car, and exploring new places or revisiting old favorites. Combining travel with business is particularly appealing to you. However, sometimes communication with relatives and neighbors can be challenging, and it's important to keep everyone in the loop, especially if their interests are involved. In everyday correspondence, you may be somewhat unpredictable, but you're always ready to respond to emergencies quickly. When it comes to sharing your opinions and ideas, you're confident and comfortable expressing yourself. You don't like to rely on others to do your thinking for you, and you're always eager to learn something new. However, you may find it difficult to commit to something long enough to truly master it. With a bit of focus and dedication, you can certainly achieve your goals and bring your ideas to life.

TAURUS: You have a great way with words, and your communication style is engaging and thoughtful. While you appreciate new perspectives, you can also be firm in your beliefs. Your strong attention to detail and analytical mindset makes you a natural fit for finance and mathematics. Artistic expression comes naturally to you, and you have a keen interest in pursuits such as music, painting, and sculpting. You might even consider pursuing a degree in one of these fields. While you enjoy the occasional short trip, you prefer to stay close to home to conduct business. Your warm and outgoing personality makes you a hit with friends, family, and neighbors. You keep in touch with loved ones regularly, and your relationships with them are a source of joy and fulfillment. Although you may take your time to learn something new, once you're committed, you'll see it through to the end and retain the knowledge for life.

GEMINI: You are a great communicator with the ability to express your ideas clearly and persuasively. You are constantly curious and have a flexible mind that enjoys exploring a wide variety of topics and interests. You have a natural talent for learning, especially in academic settings, and are always eager to broaden your knowledge. It's important to find a balance and avoid taking on too much at once, as this can sometimes affect your ability to complete tasks efficiently. You enjoy traveling, especially shorter trips by air, and always find pleasure in exploring new places. Your family and neighbors are an important part of your life, and you maintain positive relationships with them. Keeping in touch and staying connected is a priority for you, and you are quick-witted and engaging in conversations. You have a sharp eye for detail, but sometimes struggle with larger projects and seeing the big picture. You have an open mind and enjoy exploring new ideas and perspectives.

CANCER: You're a natural at sharing your thoughts and emotions with others, which is a great quality to have! Additionally, you have a strong intuition that often leads you to pursue creative endeavors. It wouldn't surprise me if you enjoy writing novels or plays, as you have a talent for weaving stories. When it comes to learning, you tend to focus on subjects that pique your interest. You're also a bit of a traveler at heart and love exploring new places, whether it's for business or pleasure. As someone who values comfort, you tend to plan carefully before spending money, reserving it for special occasions. Your home and community are important to you, and you take great care to maintain a harmonious environment for your loved ones. You're also very responsible when it comes to handling your own mail and have an excellent memory, particularly for emotional events. While this can be an advantage in understanding others, it can sometimes make it challenging to remain impartial.

LEO: You have a natural talent for storytelling and enjoy a good story yourself. As a passionate communicator, you love to share your experiences and connect with others. Your siblings hold a special place in your heart, and you take great pride in their accomplishments. Education is very important to you, and you are committed to expanding your knowledge in areas that interest you. You might find a career in the arts or the education field, using your talents to inspire and educate others. The theater could also be a promising path for you, whether as a writer, producer, or performer. You have a natural flair for the dramatic and would thrive on stage. You have a heart for teaching and working with young people, especially if you feel a connection with them. Travel is also a passion of yours, and you love to explore new places and soak in the scenery. You're not one for predictable plans, preferring to let circumstances guide your journey. Your relationships with relatives and neighbors are warm and kind, even if they don't follow a strict schedule. While you may not write lengthy letters, you keep those closest to you informed on your latest adventures. You have a gift for entertaining and engaging others in conversation, even if you don't always have all the facts. You have a natural confidence and charm that draws people to you, and they can't help but enjoy your company.

VIRGO: You have a talent for being precise and to-the-point in your communications. You enjoy analyzing information, which is why subjects like math and physics appeal to you. You're a critical thinker who enjoys engaging in passionate debates with others. You have a broad range of interests, including research, medicine, chemistry, and food and hygiene sectors. Travel is something you enjoy for both work and pleasure, but unexpected changes or interruptions in transportation can be frustrating for you. You're someone who values keeping channels of communication open with family and friends, and you generally have good relationships with your neighbors. It's important to avoid criticizing or finding fault with others, as this can strain relationships. When it comes to personal correspondence, you treat it with the same level of importance as any other task. When you were younger, you may have found communication difficult due to insecurity and doubt about your own thoughts and opinions, but you've since grown more confident in expressing yourself.

LIBRA: You were born to be a networker, someone who can work remotely from home or an off-site office using computer networks. With your talent for fair and persuasive speech, you have a knack for seeing different sides of an issue and contributing to balanced outcomes. You enjoy learning and feel comfortable in a campus or university environment. Teaching might be something you'd enjoy, as it instills a sense of excitement for the subject matter being studied. There's a desire within you to engage in artistic pursuits as a form of self-expression or to make social commentary. While you prefer traveling for leisure rather than business, there can be advantages to traveling with business partners. Flying is usually your preferred mode of transportation, although the comfort of a train ride can be appealing too. Compassion often plays a role in your decision to travel, as you prefer not to be alone. Expect warm and helpful interactions with family, relatives, and neighbors, although communication might occasionally hit a snag. You're a charming communicator who gracefully conveys information with style. This makes you naturally inclined towards creativity and the arts. Your words have the power to captivate people, and you excel at promoting compromise and finding common ground. You don't come across as aggressive or demanding in your communication style.

SCORPIO: You're a sharp and perceptive communicator who can really concentrate when you want to. How seriously you take your educational goals will greatly influence how determined and focused you are in achieving them. If you're not interested in a particular subject, you won't exactly be on high alert, and you'll quickly find other ways to occupy your time. Fields like medicine, surgery, marine biology, or any disciplines that require expertise and investigation might pique your interest. You're not necessarily a big traveler, especially when it comes to short or medium distances, but the idea of crossing seas might ignite your curiosity. Some of your relatives will play important roles in your life, while others won't have as much significance. Your interactions with them tend to be more positive when it comes to people of the opposite sex than those of your own gender. Depending on the situation, your correspondence can be extremely efficient or, in other cases, a bit careless. You're firm in your thoughts, beliefs, and what you say, and you're not easily swayed. You have a knack for asserting yourself and your communication style can be intense, sometimes even overwhelming for others. Your words have the power to transform your own life or help others transform theirs.

SAGITTARIUS: Your gift for communication and passion for learning allows you to inspire others through your words and writing. You have a broad understanding that leads you to explore topics like religion, philosophy, and other subjects related to the "higher mind." People are naturally drawn to you for advice and recommendations, and you might excel in fields like psychology or psychiatry, where you can assist others through counseling or social services. Travel, especially longer trips to different places, is something you genuinely enjoy and can benefit from. This includes both business and leisure travel. You're open to various modes of transportation, but road trips especially allow you to appreciate the beauty of the landscapes you encounter. You may have a large extended family and enjoy spending time with them. Your handling of mail might be a bit haphazard at times, but you always manage to sort it out eventually. You have an upbeat outlook on life, preferring to focus on the bright side of things and avoiding getting down on yourself. Your communication style is light-hearted and playful, always ready to laugh and have a good time. You're curious about the world, everyday issues, and the bigger picture, although you might struggle with paying attention to the finer details.

CAPRICORN: You're a practical person who knows when to speak up and when to stay quiet. You've got a good sense of discernment. When it comes to your studies, you're dedicated and patient enough to put in the work to achieve your goals. Your ability to focus and persevere will pay off in sectors like business, real estate, or land development. Now, when it comes to traveling, it's more likely that you'll hit the road or hop on a train rather than flying. You like to soak in the journey and appreciate where you've been and where you're going, not just the destination. Your relationships with relatives and neighbors are usually friendly, even if they lean towards the formal side sometimes. But hey, those connections are important and they stand the test of time. You might find yourself keeping up with regular correspondence to stay in the loop. You're not the type to share your views or opinions right off the bat. You like to think things through and only say what's necessary and productive. If you don't have anything useful to contribute, you'd rather keep quiet.

AQUARIUS: You've got a mind full of interesting and offbeat thoughts. Learning about unusual subjects is totally your thing. And guess what? You've got those intuitive flashes too. Your curiosity knows no bounds, and you might find yourself drawn to subjects like electronics, aircraft, nuclear applications, and research projects. The arts have a special place in your heart, and you might even consider formal studies in sculpture, painting, literature, or music. Your intuitive abilities can lead you to explore esoteric realms like astrology and tarot. Your family and neighbors are a positive influence in your life, and you genuinely enjoy spending time with them. A lot of your ambitions and desires are shaped by the connections you've forged with your family and friends. If the stars align, you're likely to embark on some extensive travel, be it for work or pleasure. When it comes to handling mail, you've got a great reputation for being polite and timely. Learning is a passion for you, and you don't just seek knowledge for material gain. You're eager to share your wisdom with others and have the potential to be an amazing teacher. You're all about embracing new ways of thinking, expressing yourself, and generating original ideas. You've got a forward-thinking mindset, and you might not have much patience for those who aren't on the same wavelength. But hey, that doesn't mean you need to be overly critical of people who aren't as open or individualistic as you.

PISCES: When it comes to communication, you have a bit of a hazy style. It's like you have your own unique way of getting your message across. Plus, your imagination is on fire, and you're a talented writer. You can explore so many different topics that catch your interest, and you don't necessarily need a formal school or plan to learn. You're quite independent and prefer working from the comfort of your own home rather than dealing with the noise and chaos of public places. If you go down this path, you might be into creative pursuits like writing plays, novels, or mystery stories. That sounds pretty exciting! As for your family connections, things are generally pleasant, although there might be some unexpected surprises along the way. And hey, traveling is something you enjoy, and crossing the ocean can be a whole lot of fun. Staying in touch with others through correspondence is important to you, and you try to keep up with it as much as possible. Sometimes, though, your emotions can cloud your judgment and make it a bit challenging for you to express yourself clearly or understand things. It's all part of the journey, and with time, you'll find a way to combine your emotions and thoughts into a powerful force.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[halemerry]

Hello, hello, I wanted to ask for your opinions or theories about how "power" works in Good Omens. What I mean is when an angel or a demon gets demoted (for exaple Aziraphale being demoted from a cherub to a principality) do they get to keep their level of power? Aziraphale to me didn't seem all that powerful even though he was a cherub which is one of the highest ranking angels. Crowley on the other hand is kind of confirmed to be really powerful even though he is a quite low ranking demon now. I'll assume that the Fall doesn't effect ones magic (I can't find another synonym for power) so Satan and Crowley (who was propably an Archangel) and everyone got to keep their abilities. But like I said, Crowley is a low ranking demon (I think), he gets tossed around, constantly threatened and all that but he seems to be still very powerful. I might have missed something obvious but it's late and I'm too tired to think about it. (Power doesn't sound like a word anymore..)

Hi there! Thanks for the question - honestly I’ve tried to answer it a few times since you’ve sent it because I can’t quite find the angle I want to come at this with. Because power in Good Omens is sort of complicated, especially once you start attaching it to things like hierarchies. We don’t know much about the canonical ranks aside from the fact that they seem to pull mostly, but not always, from the Christian hierarchy compiled in De Coelesti Hierarchia. And honestly I really love that we don’t have real solid answers to this stuff - it makes playing in this space really interesting and gives a lot of freedom and I genuinely adore the idea that in this world humans got some of it - but not all of it - right when they were first putting this stuff to paper. It suits the story to exist in this space.

But it does make trying to parse stuff like this a little complicated. After all, how do we address how powerful someone like Aziraphale is when we don’t even actually know if the cherub to principality rank shift is one that goes up, down, or laterally. Just as an example, depending on which hierarchy you’re using, a cherub in terms of rank can be second from the top, third from the top, fourth from the top, third from the bottom, second from the bottom… you get the idea. And that’s not even getting into the fact that Good Omens isn’t actually beholden to any of those ranks. It can and does just do its own thing fairly often.

Now, interestingly enough, that doesn’t mean we don’t know anything about how power works. Because we actually do get more on this than I think is immediately obvious.

I’ve talked a little bit before in a different ask about why Aziraphale’s lie works on the archangels when he first brings the Maggie and Nina’s B plot center stage, but I want to revisit it for a moment. Because I think this provides a really important context just in the sheer fact that this lie works.

The archangels don’t question this despite the fact we will get Aziraphale telling Crowley a few scenes later that miracles don’t work like that. And this is important to the point I’m trying to make because, well, honestly, when it comes down to it I genuinely don’t think they know how their own powers actually work.

Because think about it - it’s not like God left clear instructions behind.

You have a set of Plans that may or may not have come from God at all that you follow and as far as we know that’s it. We see clearly that much of the way they interact with the world is awkward and unsure, even for characters like Shax who theoretically dealt quite a bit with human souls in Admissions. They don’t know how the world works or how they work in it and I think that has to apply to their miracles too. Hell, they barely know how their powers work in their own domains.

Not only do they not have an obvious successor for Gabriel lined up to fill that power but Michael, whether bluffing or not, threatens several times to utilize the Book of Life, a thing that most characters aren’t even certain is real let alone a threat that can actually be used.

They can’t even isolate who has done a miracle and occasionally watch a demon and an angel perform a miracle involving some ribs, some geckos, and a mockery of human anatomy right in front of them without even recognizing the demon in front of them let alone the fact that miracles had been performed.

And honestly, as far as Heaven and Hell are concerned, they haven’t really needed to learn the limits of what they can do. Up until the past decade they all thought they were following the Plan. They kept to their own spaces and their own boundaries for millennia. This is why you get Crowley’s dialogue about bees right? He can waltz right into Heaven because there’s never been any reason for Heaven to think that anyone ever could or would infiltrate them.

Which in a roundabout way also gets at the one way we know power actually does work. Because in Good Omens power has an intrinsic tie to belief. If you believe something to be true that has power in a very literal way. The same logically goes in reverse. This is explicitly what makes Crowley as powerful as he is - because he has the imagination to consider things possible for him that no one else ever has. I suspect he can do things like stop time because he believes it can be done. (Though it probably doesn't hurt that the Starmaker would’ve likely worked with time as a malleable object if he was building objects in space but I digress). He and the Bentley can survive things that should have destroyed them through the sheer force of will to imagine that it is survivable.

This scene is where we get the literal word of God calling out Crowley's imagination as purely unique. This is also how Adam’s powers work. He believes something to be true then it is. The universe wants to shape itself to his beliefs.

This is also how the Horseman work - they are manifestations of evils of humanity that are defeated by humans choosing to defy them.

So that all being said, I genuinely think Aziraphale seems less magically 'powerful' not because he literally is and more because he's more inclined to doubting himself in this particular way. Notice he pretty immediately does some pretty intense miracles the moment he has his epiphany about being able to possess someone like a demon could. I also think Aziraphale's strengths are less in this realm of power as in others, but that's a whole different meta.

We also got some interesting stuff from Gabriel's memory wipe this season. Namely that no mattered how many times Jim insists he can't remember anything, he repetitively does in fact remember.

It leaves an imprint even if it's difficult to access. They don't change the passwords, even if their filing systems grow more sophisticated. I suspect power also works like this. Demotion might make it harder to access, especially if you believe it will, but it can't define you in that way unless you let it.

We also know now that Aziraphale and Crowley are stronger together. We know that they both have known this for a very very long time. Crowley's confession and Aziraphale's choice all but explicitly say that they both understand they are capable of incredible things together. But their big miracle in itself is undeniable proof that they actually believe that to be the truth on a fundamental level.

[ambrosiagourmet]

i'd love your analysis and opinions of the lovely izutsumi (izutsumi) for the character meme :3c

Izutsumiiii~

First impression

Once again tbh my impression of her was formed from Fandom Osmosis before I actually encountered her. In this case: The Best Take on a Catgirl Ever

Impression now

Yeah hi this ask is what prompted me to write this post about my thoughts on Izutsumi's role in the story

Anyway in addition to that... I love her. I really appreciate how her trauma and coping mechanisms are handled, and I adore the Cat of it all. Some of my favorite panels are just the ones where Izutsumi is in the background doing cat things. She's got so much spirit and she grows so much and she's got so much future ahead of her... ahh... Izutsumi...

Favorite moment

I was going to say the entirety of the succubus fight, especially the two hearts bit. And that probably IS my favorite moment, but I'm going to highlight this detail instead bc it's easy to miss and so beloved:

She wipes their faces clean and gets her kitty hairs all over them....

Idea for a story

Hmmm... I mean really any kind of post-canon exploration of her would be so good. There are already at least a couple of good oneshots I've seen doing that, but honestly I'd love something LONG and just... about her figuring herself out. How she decides where to fit in, what she does with her relationships, what she does with her freedom.

I guess really what I'm thinking of is something that captures the "healing isn't linear" experience of trying to move on from as much trauma grief and isolation as Izutsumi has experienced. I think a story where she has room to backslide and move forward and fail and apologize and forgive herself and forgive the people around her... those ups and downs would be cool to see played out in full.

Unpopular opinion

??? She's kitty. We all are in agreement on this one, I think

Favorite relationship

Okay this is actually hard because on the surface level it's definitely of course her and Marcille. BUT... I have also been really enjoying revisiting tidbits of her and Senshi (especially the way he makes her food the chapter when she joins...), and I want to explore more of her and Laios too...

I'll still just stick with her and Marcille though, because they are very sweet and fun and good.

Favorite headcanon

I can't track it down right now, but there is a bonus comic doodle that's like "what was everyone doing at 13?" and Izutsumi's response is like. Pshh?? 13? That was four years ago how am I supposed to remember" and like. My girl has SO many trauma repressed memory issues. [Izutsumi voice] what to do mean you guys have clear memories before 15.