#so I’m hijacking it for this conversation

[whatsabriard]

i. “Do you regret it?” Jennifer asked. Everyone was gone, and they were spending the evening in front of the fire, limbs twined together and Jennifer’s head resting on Jonathan’s chest.

“With you? I don’t regret anything.” He rumbled, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear. “Except maybe not meeting you before you met Elliot Manning.”

It was her turn to laugh lightly, and tug at the arm around her middle. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” 

“Jonathan…” She tried to turn but he held her fast against him. 

“Darling,” He whispered. “With you I don’t regret a single thing.”

ii. Jonathan knew what she was asking. They didn’t talk about children, in spite of the years together. In spite of the pressure surrounding them to “make a family”.

Jonathan didn’t have much experience with mothers, least of all good ones, but the fierceness Jennifer displayed with Lisa told him she would have made someone a fantastic mother. 

He couldn’t regret their lives, though. Couldn’t wish them to follow a different path. 

“Do you?” He asked, suddenly wary of her answer.

The fireplace crackled merrily in the stretching silence. 

“No,” She said slowly. “I don’t. But I think I’m supposed to.”

[nouearth]

servicing justice: superman [1]

pairing ; kal-el / clark kent / superman x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 2144. series ; servicing justice. genre ; smut. rating ; m. warnings ; bigdick!superman. blowjob. gloryhole. handjob. mouth-fucking. oral (reader giving). sexworker!reader. note ; yeah, okay. maybe i've been watching too much of a certain video genre, ahem. but i hope you guys enjoy my first smut! it's been a WHILE since i've written one, so i know it's rusty, HAHA. looks-wise, i mostly had maws's superman in mind (because the art style is so good and so himbo), but feel free to imagine it with any superman!

it isn’t the most comfortable position to be in. you’ve been kneeling on the floor for quite some time now, waiting for your assigned client. your palms begin to sweat to a minimal but uncomfortable degree. did i fuck up already? you ask yourself as your mind clouds with questions, doubts, and even judgement regarding this new job.

“jesus, what did i get myself into…” you recall the long process it took for you to end up here. the intensive (and ridiculously long) process of reading and signing multiple forms and documents almost had you backing out of this opportunity. though looking back at it, it was understandable since it’s quite unheard of to be… a sex worker for superheroes.

for an incredible pay, your privacy will essentially be stripped away starting from today. all phone messages, calls, and social media activities will be monitored during your venture as a sex worker, and that post-graduate life was not going to pay itself. for the most part, so far everything seemed… great? being driven to work by a chauffeur, having your own personal room and health coverage provided, and most importantly… eating free lunch was not bad at all.

or maybe you’re just naïve.

all you had to do was kneel and suck a few superhumans off. as the newbie, you were told that you’ll be starting on gloryhole duty due to privacy reasons; at least until you built enough camaraderie. though, you didn’t even mind since there would certainly be less strain on your body.

you couldn’t help but snicker at the mere thought of an entire league of superheroes holding a meeting regarding this subject matter. especially since almost everyone in the world, including you, holds these superheroes in such high regard.

“meeting is adjourned until 9 am tomorrow! until then, please help yourself to some delicious food trucks from outer spac-“ your humorous imitation of a noble superhero is silenced when you hear the door opening. within your private booth, all that blocks you from meeting your approaching client is another door with a hole cut through.

your curiosity is piqued when you catch a sight of the man’s physique through the hole. plaid shirt and jeans aside, and assuming he had to underdress, he’s huge. maybe because you’re kneeling right now, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been near a superhero before, but you couldn’t help but be in awe at the size of the man. your eyes complete a full body scan by the time he approaches the door and before you could say something, he does.

“sorry i was late-“ a gentle voice echoes behind the door. contrary to his soft voice, the man’s large hands work aggressively at his belt, unlooping the leather with impatience yet eagerness as he anticipates the mouth that’s been waiting for his arrival. “there was this whole thing with this cat in this tree and then this school bus got hijacked- not my best day, unfortunately.”

“i’m sorry to hear that. sounds like a stressful day, yeah?” your voice is compassionate. you felt bad for the unnamed superhero and a part of you wanted to continue the conversation further, but your job isn’t to listen to their feelings. it’s to pleasure.

“yeah…” a huge sigh of relief expels from the man’s dry throat when he pulls his pants down. frustration stains another one of your client’s sigh, clearly troubled by the restrictive fabric guarding his erection. you watch with parted lips as he couldn’t help but give himself a needy stroke through his tight briefs, fondling his balls then beelining his palm to the very plump tip of his cock. your own cock hardens at this scene, and you find yourself doing the very same. mimicking his impatient hand to tend to the sensitive pressure below, you tiptoe the fine line between frustration and pleasure as your tightening pants and briefs define what it means to be an absolute nuisance. “very stressful.”

it doesn’t take much time before you’re faceful of cock and somehow, you manage to salivate more than you did a minute ago. the man’s throbbing erection is brimmed with thick pre-cum, stress practically leaving his body with every drip. it’s a heavenly sight that’s enough to make you stick your tongue out just in time to catch the substance into your mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. the salty taste always catches you off-guard yet at the same time, it puts you under a spell. a tantalizing spell that commands you to drag your warm tongue over and back the underside of his thick shaft, completely avoiding the plump glans to have his cock leak even more… stress.

the taste of his musk drives your palm further into your erection, palming at whatever you could as you preoccupy yourself with teasing the man. you almost felt bad for him. contrary to his build, his whimpers are… so small, so weak. you notice his hands grip over the top of the barrier, and it turns you on upon realizing how this supposed hero could become so fragile at the simple taunt of your tongue.

“please…” the superhero whimpers out, needlessly fucking the air in hopes of granting his cock some type of friction. you’re amazed, and a little proud, by how much pre-cum he’s been leaking by now, and it all goes right onto your tongue. the wet muscle follows the natural curve of his cock to meet up with the wet and plump head. his hips buckle into the barrier and feeling it shake, you keep him steady by wrapping your hand around his shaft. you’re addicted at this point. addicted to the salty taste of his pre-cum as your tongue licks and explores into the slit of his cock, while at the same time, your hand works at his large cock in slow, but steady strokes.

“oh christ-“ he breathes out, repeating the same two words under his shaky breath as you continue to pleasure him with your tongue and hand. after a few licks, you pull away to give your tongue a break. in doing so, your grip tightens around his shaft to pace your strokes quicker. when you find a moment where your wrist needs a break, you let your client catch his breath. his cock throbbing more and more with every passing second when your tongue and hand aren’t exploring him, and you bask in the sight of it. you believe you deserve a medal at this point. not for doing a great job (though, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched), but for having control. you haven’t even sucked him off yet, but you’re content on remaining just like this for a while longer. though, that wouldn’t be fair for the superhero.

before he could whimper out another plea, your warm mouth finally wraps around the head of his cock and your ears perk at the sound of his low moan almost instantly. your hand returns to its rightful position around the lower base of his penis as you cycle your tongue over the glans, satisfying your need to taste his musk once more. seconds later, your hand lets go when you push your head farther, taking in an inch more of the hero’s cock. your knees dig into the floor as you push your head more and more, stretching your mouth with his cock until you feel yourself gagging.

“fuck.” you sniffle out when you pull back. perhaps you were challenging yourself too hard. you think to yourself as you catch your breath, using the remaining moment to sloppily jerk him off with your saliva. part of you wanted to challenge yourself to deepthroat him, impress your client on the first day. but you already know you wouldn’t be able to take it… at least, for now.

“you could hurt someone with this, y’know?” for some reason, you thought you needed to crack a joke as if there was an awkward silence that needed to be filled. maybe you just wanted to hear him talk again. his voice is warm and inviting, somewhat fitting for a superhero or even a television host as the moment you hear his voice again, you felt safe.

“i have before- oh god.” you lube up his cock with your spit as you continue to jerk him off, refraining yourself from fucking his slit with your tongue again to concentrate on his words. “which is why i don’t do this much- sex and stuff… it’s all troublesome, really.”

“yeah?” and just when you talked yourself out of challenging yourself, you feel the competitive spark ignite inside of you again. “well, i guess you just have to find the right one. could be anyone, even people you just met.” you try to play it nonchalantly, hoping that double-handing his wet cock would distract him.

he was beyond speechless at this point, moans drawn out by means of your sloppy strokes. you swear you can hear his heartbeat behind the barrier when you lean your head closer to suck him off again. you moan along with him, drawing out every breath of yours as you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock every time you come down. your hand twists and strokes the remaining few inches that isn’t violated by your tongue and mouth, following your mouth like a reel as your intent to make him cum is fervent more than ever.

it hurts. your mouth hurts by how large your client is and tears brim in your eyes as you hold yourself back from gagging. but you don’t stop yourself because you’ll know it’ll be worth it. your endeavor to please him to the fullest has you drowning out his groans into white noise and you can barely register the fact that you’ve been on paused for a while now. you find yourself in a closer position than before, where your mouth is open, lips fully pressed around the carved hole as the superhero fucks into your mouth, fucks into your gags like you’re his personal flesh light. you didn’t care how dirty you looked, how you had saliva and spittle dripping out from the corners of your mouth and onto the floor. who would see? and you didn’t care that you were too preoccupied to touch your dick right now, because you know you’ll be thinking about this very moment for the rest of your life. and right now, you didn’t know if you wanted to be covered in his cum or to have your mouth be filled with it.

remaining in this position, you glance your teary eyes up at his grip over the barrier again. the strength in his grasp forms small cracks in the material of the barrier and that was the sign you knew you fulfilled your sense of purpose.

“christ, i’m going to come-“ your eyes shut again and you breathe through your noise, bracing for impact. he pushes his cock down your throat and hits that sore spot one last time before unloading his cum into your mouth with a stifled groan. warm, hot seed quickly fills you up and you pull your head back an inch to fully enclose your lips around his cock, ensuring none escape your lips.

in a heartbeat, you swallowed it all. his warm cum coats the back of your throat like medicine and you moan around his cock at the taste, intoxicated. you made sure to lick every inch of his cock clean, calmly slurping any saliva and cum that threatens to leave your mouth as you pull back up with a soft pop, swallowing the remaining remnants of his stress away.

“t-thank you. i needed that…” he pulls his softening cock out, careful in avoiding the hole as he was still sensitive. “did you need a tissue or anything? i think i have one somewhere…” you can hear him rummage through what you can only assume would be his bag and you find it charming, a quiet laugh leaving your swollen lips as you lean back onto your elbows to take a breather and stretch your legs out.

“no, no. i’m okay. i, uh, don’t think i wasted a drop.” you proudly brag, only for him to respond with a shy chuckle. you watch him tidy himself through the hole from a leaned back view, occasionally tilting your head in various angles to see if you could catch a glimpse on who the mysterious superhero is, but the barrier remains an obstruction to your view.

“well then, i… uh… thank you for your service.” he covers up the silence with another laugh and you join in, re-adjusting his pants and belt before turning his back towards you and heading out the booth. “i’ll try not to be late next time.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[glorf1ndel]

Fingolfin: Pray tell, why should I let you venture into the heart of danger to try to rescue Nelyafinwë?

Fingon: Because you love me.

Fingolfin: That is the worst argument you could have made.

Fingon: Because I’m going to go no matter what you say, so I might as have your blessing?

Fingolfin: Try again.

Fingon: Because if you don’t, I will re-cross the Helcaraxë, hijack one of Manwë’s eagles, and get to Angband that way!

Fingolfin: …

Aredhel, standing off to the side: Listening to this conversation is a terrible experience.

Turgon: Mm. Findekáno will convince him, though.

[bangtanflirt]

Not Like Other Girls (Part 2 of 2)

mainly angst, with some smut and fluff sprinkled in

Best friend Jungkook x Fem Reader, Hoseok x Fem Reader

NSFW. 18+

Part 1 > Part 2 (FINAL) > BONUS Part

Premise: Jungkook’s been your best friend since forever, and he loves that you’re “not like other girls,” as he puts it...so what happens when you decide you want to be like other girls?

Warnings: sexism, manipulative friendship, Jungkook and some other idols are just overall misogynistic assholes in this (all a work of fiction obviously, no way meant to represent these idols’ real life personalities), mentions of past internalized misogyny, one noncon kiss, slight physical intimidation, a fight, one more asshole jk warning because he amps it up a notch

____

Two weeks go by, with you ignoring every call and text he sends. Two weeks of you blaring your headphones and walking right by when he waits outside your residence hall or classes. Two weeks since you’ve left the group chat with him and the other two. Eunwoo and Yugyeom message you individually, each saying something along the lines of “Why are you being such a bitch to Jungkook?” You block them eventually. It was easy to block them. Jungkook, on the other hand, has not been easy to block. You’ve tried, fingers hovering over the button many times since the last time you’ve talked. However, something stops you every time. Memories of the past flood your mind: the little spot in the playground that the two of you claimed in fourth grade, the way he’d stayed up all night helping you perfect your science fair project in middle school, how he walked you home after your org meetings in high school. Everything would be so much easier if your mind could just forget about all the good things, but you can’t. The truth—however pathetic it may be—is that Jungkook is in too much of your good memories for you to just cut him off.

Not matter how much of a big game you talk, he still has a hold on you. Which is why, after two weeks of trying to fake indifference, your resolve breaks at the sight of him. He’s waiting in front of your residence hall again, but this time those sad bambi eyes rope you into stopping. He looks a mess with his disheveled hair and puffy eyes. It takes a lot in you to not immediately lead him inside and take care of his tired form. No y/n. Don’t be a doormat again.

“Can we talk in your dorm?”

“We can talk here. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“I’m sorry.” His shoulders are sagging as he looks down at the grass, unable to meet your gaze. You don’t say anything back.

“I shouldn’t have hijacked your birthday plans…and I shouldn’t have yelled about Hoseok…it was wrong of me. It wasn’t from a bad place, I swear! I just want to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, y/n. I can’t not have you in my life.”

“Your way of protecting someone is really shitty.”

“I can see that now, and I promise you I’ll do better. Just don’t push me out of your life, please. I can’t handle it.” His voice cracks at the end, as if he’s too overwhelmed with emotion.

It breaks your heart and your walls all too easily, and you’re embracing him in a split second. He starts sobbing softly into your shoulder. “Come up for a while.” You invite, and the boy follows with his head down. It takes a moment for him to stop crying in your room, spilling apologies while holding you close.

___

The next day is, thankfully, filled with the normalcy you’re used to with Jungkook. You two meet up for breakfast, talking about the most random things as you usually do. It doesn’t feel like two weeks have passed. It doesn’t feel like anything bad happened between you at all. The air is light, and the conversations are filled with laughter, just like your favorite moments with him usually go.

“Are you free to study this evening? I have a calc test coming up and I need moral support.”

“I’m actually studying with a few people from the frat party. We’ve gotten kind of close—especially this girl, Ara. But you should come study with us!”

“With Hoseok too?”

“Yes Kook, he’s not some evil villain, I promise. You’ll like him if you give him a chance.”

You still haven’t told Jungkook you didn’t sleep with the older man. You don’t see the point in bringing it up anymore, since it shouldn’t determine whether or not Jungkook respects you. You just want to move on from the topic and the fight altogether. You also don’t tell him about your make-out sessions these past two weeks, not in the mood for another lecture.

His features visibly tense. “Oh, um…I don’t know. It might be too much of a distraction, and I don’t really know them. I’ll just study alone.” You know Jungkook enough to know what he’s asking without him saying it out loud: Please ditch them and study with me. The plea is clear in his eyes, but this time you act oblivious to it.

“Oh please, I saw you study for that physics final in high school! If you can focus on rotational motion while Yugyeom and Eunwoo argue about which Super Smash Bros character is the kinkiest, you can one thousand percent study with us.”

The two of you giggle at the past memory, and Jungkook eases up a little.

“Alright, I’ll join, and Bowser is definitely the kinkiest!”

“Not when Wario is right there!” You laugh, taking a sip from your best friend’s milkshake as he throws a ‘I told you to order your own’ look your way.

“Speaking of the guys…when do you think you’ll unblock them?”

“No time soon. You’re still on probation too.”

His face falls, but he doesn’t prod further.

---

“Guys, this is Jungkook, my best friend. Jungkook, this is Ara, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jisoo. I met Ara at the makeup convention and everyone else at the Beta Tau Sigma party after.”

You miss the icy glare he shoots at Hoseok. Hoseok seems to miss it too, being his usual friendly self while greeting the other man. Everyone greets Jungkook warmly except Jisoo, who seems a bit wary. She remembers when you ran to some guy and came back crying a couple weeks ago, and how that man looked a lot like this Jungkook guy. Suffice to say, she’s not as enthusiastic to meet him.

The study session goes by alright. Everyone’s stressed and engrossed in their work, but occasional banter and breaks keep you all going. You try to include Jungkook whenever you can, and your new friends—sans Jisoo—also try to strike up conversation with him. Jungkook, however, keeps his replies short and chooses to stay silent for the most part.

It’s only when he’s walking you home does he begin talking like his usual self.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t have much in common with them. I think we should just study alone next time.”

You raise a brow, “That’s not fair, Kook. You barely tried. We were doing our best to include you in the conversation.”

Jungkook doesn’t exactly know why he feels so strongly, but hearing you use the term ‘we’ for you and your new friends puts him on edge. You and him are supposed to be a ‘we.’ These are strangers.

His tone gets snappier at your comment.

“Wow, thank you so much for trying to include me in the conversation y/n. Must be exhausting having to talk to me when your new friends are there.”

“Hypocritical coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you basically treat me like I’m invisible when we’re with Eunwoo and Yugyeom.”

The rest of the walk is silent.

Hours later, when you’re about to go to bed, you get a text from him.

Kook: Sorry :( are you still mad?

You let out a sigh. He’s your best friend, but you wish he wasn’t so frustrating sometimes.

You: Kind of.

Kook: I’ll hang out with them again if you want me to.

You: Will you actually try to get along?

Kook: Yeah, I promise!!!

___

The next time you invite Jungkook out with everyone else is at another frat party. You don’t remember the name of the frat, but it doesn’t matter. There’s good music, godlike seven-layer dip, and an impressive variety of alcohol. You tease Hoseok at how Beta Tau Sigma needs to watch out or their ‘best party frat’ rep is in danger.

“No chance, wait ‘till you see the bouncy castle we’re getting for the next one!”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks at the way you lean close to the other man, laughing and talking as if the two of you are in your own world. It’s extra irritating considering your outfit for the night. You’d mentioned how you were borrowing one of Ara’s dresses, but he had no idea it would be such a tight one. Tight and short, with entirely too much of your chest exposed. It makes your birthday dress seem modest in comparison. He regrets meeting at the party instead of picking you up, wishing he could’ve talked you out of it before you left your dorm.

But he can’t do anything now, except watch Hoseok ogle you as you giggle and bat your lashes at him. It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet, but Jungkook already wants to leave—and drag you out of there with him.

It’s after a few tequila shots and party games when Ara pulls you aside, asking you how things are going with Hoseok.

“We’re just friends!”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“Okay, we might be hitting each other up to make out now and then…and maybe I have a teeny tiny crush. But it’s not like it’ll go anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a total fuckboy!”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “those rumors are so out of proportion. I know Hoseok and I know he loves sex, but he’s not the ‘I don’t do commitment’ type. He just needs to meet someone he vibes with and he’ll turn into a mushy romantic in a heartbeat.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She breaks out into a giant grin, “Because he’s just like Joonie.”

You can’t help but grin too, tipsy Ara is especially cute when talking about her boyfriend.

“Fair, fair. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

“You think the two of you will break away from the rest of us again?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Not tonight. Jungkook doesn’t really know anyone here, so it would be pretty shitty to leave him.”

“Yeah he does look like a lost lamb” she motions in the boy’s direction, where his body language couldn’t get any more awkward.

“That’s my cue” you say after taking one more shot and making your way back to Jungkook’s side.

“Here” you say, holding a shot in front of his face. He downs it instantly.

“How ‘bout a dance?” You hope a little dancing can loosen the boy up.

The speakers blast High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco, and you two yell the lyrics while jumping up and down in proper party-dancing fashion. Jungkook gets more comfortable as the song progresses, and you can tell the alcohol is getting to him. The next hour is genuinely fun for both of you, and he seems less apprehensive when the others join—as long as your attention stays on him. The problem starts when a slower, sexier song starts playing, and Hoseok pulls you close. The man wraps his hands around you from behind, sensually rolling his body and guiding you to do the same. Your eyes are closed and you’re too lost in the moment to feel the daggers your best friend is shooting with his eyes.

You excuse yourself for a moment, stumbling into a random bedroom until you can find a restroom to pee. What you don’t expect when coming out, is Jungkook sitting on the bed. He stands up when you come out, making his way closer.

“Oh hey, were you looking for me?”

He nods, now less than an inch away. You take a step back, feeling claustrophobic, but he’s keen on closing the gap.

“Kook, what are you—"

That’s when his lips come crashing down on yours.

It’s barely three seconds until you register what’s going on and push him off. You look into his eyes with pure shock.

“Holy fuck, Jungkook. You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…” he leans back in, but you turn your head away. He’s not a fan of this.

“Why are you dodging?”

“Because you’re not in your right mind! I’m your best friend!”

“And? Isn’t this what you what? Isn’t it better to get it from me than some guy you hardly know?”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘what I want’?” You step back again, bringing a hand to his chest to keep him arm’s distance.

“Don’t act innocent y/n. That dress…the way you’ve been dancing…you’re telling everyone you want to be fucked tonight.”

You push him back, rage coursing through your veins, “I am not fucking you, Jungkook!”

He seems just as angry, almost falling back. “So you’ll fuck Hoseok, but draw the line at me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’m trying so hard to be nice and understanding, but you’ve been acting like a whore the entire night. You want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been trying to make me jealous…get me all worked up so I can fuck you good.”

You fervently shake your head no, still processing the absurd things you’re hearing.

“You’re just drunk…that’s why you’re saying all these things. You don’t mean any of this, right? Why would you be jealous…you don’t think of me like that.”

“I don’t think of you like that when you’re being the usual you. But this new persona you’re trying on…you can’t expect me to not be curious when you’re showing off like this. I’m a guy, y/n.”

“No, get away from me! You don’t get to use the ‘it’s a guy thing’ excuse this time. It’s not because you’re a guy. It’s because you’re a complete asshole!”

You try to walk away but he grips your arm, unwilling to let go despite your visible distress.

“Let go!”

“Don’t leave me, please, you can’t leave”

Your distress grows as you try harder to shake off his hold, and you’ve never been more relieved to hear the sound of a door opening than in that moment.

“Y/n, are you in here—” Hoseok stills at the scene, Jungkook’s digging his fingers into the skin of your arm as mascara-black tears roll down onto your cheeks.

“Oh great” Jungkook lets out a dry chuckle, “he’s been looking for you, how sweet.”

Hoseok wastes no time coming between the two of you, prying Jungkook’s hand away and putting his body in front of yours in a protective stance.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stay away from her dude.”

The tension in the air is thick, too thick for even a blade to slice through. The way the men stare each other down has you squirming in anxiety.

“This isn’t your business.” Jungkook bites.

“I think it is.”

“Why? You feel obligated because she’s one of your sluts no—” his sentence is interrupted by a sharp right hook to the face. Jungkook falls flat on his ass, holding the hurt cheek in pain.

“Because she’s my friend you fuckface, and I thought she was supposed to be yours too.”

That’s the last thing Jungkook hears before the world becomes pitch black.

___

You don’t give in after two weeks this time. A month goes by, then another month, then another…and now you’re getting used to not having him in your life at all. It’s easier because, this time, he doesn’t try to call or linger around with those dumb doe eyes. He knows he crossed an unforgivable line and facing you now would have him breaking down in shame.

That night, once he came back to his senses and the world stopped spinning, he couldn’t believe what he’d done. His bubbling jealousy towards Hoseok, the fear of you drifting away, and the unhealthy amount of tequila shots all mixed together to make him do the most asshole thing he could. And now he’s lost you, for good. The days since then have been nothing short of hell, guilt eating away at his soul every moment he’s awake. That’s why he sleeps longer now, sometimes well into the evening—missing a lot of classes along the way. His grades keep plummeting but he can’t seem to care anymore. If you were there, you’d get so mad at him for slacking off; but you’re not there. It’s a month after the incident when Yugyeom drops by, worried because neither him nor Eunwoo get any messages back from him anymore.

“Dude, you look like shit. Will you finally spill on what exactly happened with y/n?”

“I fucked up, big time.”

Yugyeom stays silent as Jungkook spills out everything that happened that night, listening with worry etched on his face.

“Oh shit.”

“I know.”

“You went too far man.”

“I know.”

“I get you’re going through it, but don’t shut us out dude. Eunwoo and I are there for you, okay?”

It’s not long until Eunwoo hears about what happened, calling the day after Yugyeom leaves. His version of consoling is different.

“It’s not entirely your fault. You know that, don’t you? You went overboard because of the alcohol, sure, but your reasons were valid. She should’ve known what she got herself into when she decided that being a bimbo is more important than being our friend.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how much he agrees with that, but he does know that thinking of it that way makes him feel a little less shitty.

___

You don’t tell any of the others what happened, hell, you don’t even tell Hoseok the whole story. You can’t bring yourself to recount the incident without nausea overtaking your body. Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t pry. He’s the one to walk you home that night, telling the rest you had a headache and need to leave early. He keeps quiet the entire walk.

He drops by your place a lot now, checking in on you. The first month is the hardest, you don’t want to even get out of bed. Thankfully, Hoseok is there to make sure you don’t waste away under your blanket (and that you’re turning in assignments on time). The rest of them can tell you’re different after the party, but you dodge their concerns every time. They still invite you places, even though you seem zoned out when you’re there. Ara, in particular, makes sure to come by with meals every now and again to ensure you’re eating okay.

It's the second month when you start feeling like yourself again. The zoning out and wallowing in pity is replaced with laughter and joy once more; no doubt thanks to your friends’ persistence. A realization hits you during this time: you’re truly free now. Free to explore what type of clothes you like best, wear the most dramatic makeup you want, and invest time in hobbies that make you happy. You’re free to do all of that without a cloud of judgement and insecurity looming over. And so you use this newfound freedom to your fullest advantage, raiding the dress and makeup aisles at the mall—with Ara, Jennie, and Jisoo by your side.

It's the third month when Eun-bi and Sol fly down to visit you, squealing at your new look.

“I cannot believe that you, Y/N Y/L/N, own this many skirts” Sol comments, going through your closet.

You giggle, “You like them better than the sweatpants I wore when I visited, don’t you?”

“It’s not the sweatpants we minded, more the ‘look at these whores’ look you would give us when we wore skirts.” Sol laughs back.

You cringe at the memory, glad it’s in the past now.

___

It’s another usual weekend with Hoseok’s hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, while some Netflix comedy special plays in the background. He pulls away earlier than you’d like him to, though.

“What do you think about going on a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah…if you want to be more than friends who make out.”

You’re confused and it shows.

“Didn’t you sleep with that art major like two days ago?”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m just getting tired of the hookups. Been getting jealous of Namjoon a lot recently—of what he has with Ara.”

“I thought you said Namjoon became ten times more annoying after getting into a relationship?”

“Oh definitely—but he also looks a hundred times happier. If I have a shot at that with anyone, I think it’s you.”

You can’t help but fawn over the endearing look on his face, eyes brimming with sincerity. It’s by no means a grand romantic confession of love, but it doesn’t need to be. You can tell he’s serious, and that’s all you really need.

“I’d love to Hoseok.”

His heart-shaped smile widens to a toothy grin. He pulls you in for another kiss.

___

The next time Jungkook spots you, you don’t notice him. He’s on his way to the library and you’re on the lawn with all your friends. You’re wearing a flowy sundress and your hair is longer; you’re having the time of your life, with no regard for his presence. Hoseok’s by your side, and it seems he’s the cause of your never-ending laughter. Jungkook knows you’re with him—he’s the heard the gossip all over campus. Gossip is the only way he can keep up with you after being blocked on everything.

Bitterness boils inside of him at the sight: how easily you can be happy without him.

He thought he meant more, thought he was irreplaceable, just like you were to him. He knows he messed up that night, but part of him was still betting you’d come back. He was waiting for you to come back after Hoseok left you broken, and had planned all the words he’d say to assure you he could put you back together again. But it’s been four months since you and Hoseok became official, and you two look happier than fucking ever. He hates it.

But even so, he has hope. Hoseok is still Hoseok, and this happy ever after shit can’t last. He’ll wait for you.

___

Four months turns into a year, and a year turns into two, then three, until you’re walking down the graduation stage while your boyfriend cheers from the audience.

When the ceremony is over, you make your way to your friends, who are all rejoicing at the ending of a chapter.

“We did it bitches!” Ara exclaims, pulling everyone in for a hug.

“Couldn’t have done it without you” you refuse to let her leave your embrace. Your best friend only hugs you tighter, two of you now looking like boa constrictors in competition.

“Alright, alright, enough of Ara hogging. I want my hug” Namjoon pouts, pulling her away from you.

“We get it loverboy, you’re whipped” you punctuate with an eye roll.

He’s not one to let you have the last word, though. “If anyone’s a loverboy here it’s Hobi, mind you. He’s brought up the fact that you’re graduating with honors at least five times in the span of three hours.”

“That’s because everyone needs to know how impressive my girlfriend is!” Hoseok jumps in, chest puffed out with pride.

You laugh, playfully swatting your boyfriend’s arm.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You know compliments make me embarrassed!”

“So am I just not supposed to compliment my insanely smart, incredibly driven, badass girlfriend who graduated with honors?”

“Make that six times in three hours” Namjoon lightheartedly chides.

It’s in that moment you bump into someone, not unusual in the buzzing crowd of graduates. But this time it’s not a stranger—or at least not in the technical sense of the word.

“Oh I’m so sorr—”

He stills. He doesn’t think he can keep speaking even if he wants to, feeling the heat of Hoseok’s gaze.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” That’s all you say, in the most nonchalant way possible, before turning around and resuming your conversation.

It’s like you never even knew him.

____

A/N: Another fic completed woohoo! Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me. All the interactions are such nice energy boosts to keep writing. Have a wonderful day lovely readers <3

Tag list: @namjooncrabs​ @starbtslove​ @gaby-93​ @laurynne5​

[starstruckwillows]

♡ try again - f.w ♡

requested by @reasontobebeautiful <3

fred weasley x slytherin!reader, pureblood!reader, platonic!sirius black x reader, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, swearing

sirius black ensuring fred weasley doesn't make the same mistakes he saw many war-stricken kids make

there’d been a cruel edge to his words that he hadn’t quite meant.

fred’s scathing indictment of your family wasn’t any different to the things you usually said about your kin, and it didn’t bother you for others to agree. but to be part of that perception was probably your worst fear.

you’d been so excited turning up at the doorstep of grimmauld place, suitcase in hand, bright beam gracing your face.

fred had frowned. he’d been ignoring the way your smile made him feel for a long time.

“why are we having death-eaters round for christmas dinner?”

molly had scolded her son then, “george! i mean, fred!”

he’d rolled his eyes, mumbling, “might as well get her whole family out and kill some muggles for the christmas spirit.”

it was the association. your family were one way, you must be too.

maybe that’s how it was for the weasleys, at least four generations of ginger gryffindors shooting for the stars in their respective fields. ministry, dragons, pranks, quidditch.

maybe that’s how it looked for you, at least four generations of slytherins serving whichever tyrannical supremacist reigned at the time.

you found a lot of your time was spent trying to convince people that wasn’t you. but gina lomotey, whose dad had once punched professor snape, didn’t have to walk around assuring people she didn’t attack teachers. and kosi berry, whose parents had a short lived music career, never had to explain she had no interest in singing.

reene west’s mum hijacked a broom race, ford green’s dad did a stint in muggle prison, carson denny’s eldest brother lived full time in st mungos due to an unhealthy obsession with lions.

none of them faced half the crap you did for their bloodlines.

sirius had come to see you, heard you vent about this once again.

“and it’s almost like... i mean i’m not saying you had it easier, you didn’t, it was worse for you in different ways. but, it’s like i have to work so hard to prove i don’t have my families prejudice, because i am a slytherin. you had the argument of a different house to help your case, in school anyway. but i wear the same colour robes my family did, so people never believe me.”

somehow your feelings for fred were brought to the surface of the conversation. maybe that’s what made it harder.

“i’m so tired of having to make them believe me. i’m not a bad person.”

so you didn’t grovel, and try to prove your innocence, because you were well and truly tired of being pre-judged. it wasn’t as if the two of you met on a battlefield. sirius had invited you here. dumbledore approved, he trusted you. you’d never given fred a reason to dislike you.

the boy in question, banished to the other side of the house by his own anger (and shame), was glowering at a wall.

his mum told him his response had been impolite. george told him he was smack out of line.

he knew they were right.

especially when sirius, a man fred had got on with well, had knocked on the door, greeting him with a slight scowl.

“i want you to apologize.”

no beating around the bush.

“i’m not sorry.” lie. you sound like a petulant child.

“yes you are.”

fred blinked.

“i am old enough to recognize the feelings of teenagers. i spent seven years watching my friends fall in and out and in again with love. i watched james pine for lily, i watched them fight. i watched marlene and dorcas take five years to get over their differences.”

fred jested, "sounds creepy.”

sirius smiled, but continued his story, “do you know what marlene and dorcas’ main difference was?"

he shrugged.

“marlene was a gryffindor, dorcas a slytherin, and it took them a good fraction of their lives to move past that. they died young. they spent more time denying their feelings for a school, house rivarly, than the time they got to spend loving each other. we’re approaching a war again, kid. don’t repeat their mistakes. take it from me.”

fred remained uncharacteristically silent for a few minutes, and although it was unsettling, sirius stayed. it was clear the boy had questions.

“your family were death-eaters.”

sirius nodded.

“but they rejected you, for being in the wrong house.”

“correct.”

“if... you’d been a slytherin, and they accepted you... would you have rebelled? or would you have become a death-eater.”

sirius shrugged, “i know why you’re asking, but i have no answer for you. if i was in a different house, i would have a different character, and any alternate character would mean very different decisions. all i can tell you is i know her. you don’t, yet. she is not her bloodline. she's cunning, and ambitious, but her ambition is not to participate in genocide. talk to her. you might be surprised at what you find.”

fred had made up his mind. sirius was right, and he wanted to know you. he wanted to see your stupidly pretty smile, he wanted to cause it, and he wanted to know your favourite things. he wanted to know what made you feel, what made you sleep. he wanted to talk to you.

which proved incessantly difficult, because you were avoiding him like dragonpox. every once in a while, he would catch your eye and you'd blink rapidly before looking away, fiddling with your sleeves.

christmas day rolled around a few days on, and fred still had yet to successfully get you alone. as everyone begun unwrapping their presents, he was only staring at you, waiting for a reaction, hoping you'd know the unlabelled gift was from him.

you did, eyes widening and shooting up to find him in the room, visibly taken aback.

“do you like it?” he mouthed, tilting his head as the firm grip of insecurity tightened his chest.

with your lips slightly parted in surprise, you nodded your head. the same feeling lay at the base of your heart, wondering if it was going to turn out to be a prank.

he jerked his chin towards the kitchen, question in his eyes, and tried to not take your hesitation to heart. especially as you stood up and walked his line of sight. when he was sure nobody else was paying attention, he followed you.

“hey...” he rubbed the back of his neck, the awkwardness between you heavy in the air.

but fred was fred and he still kept eye contact, a steady voice, an easy stance.

“i’m sorry.”

you shrug, “okay.”

the word is uttered so nonchalantly, as though your stomach wasn’t erupting with unruly butterflies.

“do you... could you forgive me?”

“maybe. if you mean it.”

he nodded, “i do. i’d like to know you, actually know you, not think i do.”

“i’d like that.”

—

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ell0ra-br3kk3r @kingshitonly

[strikersexhaver]

Prompt! Striker getting drunk with someone he's only been "friends" with up to this point but things go a little too far this time...

(Cute, suggestive or fully NSFW up to you but consensual either way~)

(A/N) First post back! Thought this would be a cute little one to get to first!

CW: suggestive, but not really nsfw!

Striker x Reader | Bottle’s Up 🍺

The two of you usually came together to drink late at night, usually unplanned.

That’s how you met after all

Usually for you it’d be a shitty day at work, or just a boring, shitty day in general.

For him, realistically… shitty missions gone hella wrong. But he never told you that for reasons, he’d simply tell you a bad day being a farm hand.

Anyways, when you two started talking to each other it was normal conversations till both sides started cackling out loud the more and more the two of you got more tipsy, then drunk. Eventually.

He’d tell you stories of a truth and a lie, usually if he was drunk it’d be a full truth- a truth you’d forget.

“This lil’ assclown named sumthin’ auh, Blitz or sum’ shit, nah’ tell me why this bitch-“ *hic* “was such a cocksucker to this Goetia who kept calling him ‘blitzy’!”

“Is he a sugarbaby?”

“Ya’ I think so- because his panties got twisted all ova’ him!”

The both of you, shit-talked, laughed, and chatted all around about your day. It was fun, very fun.

The first time it ended, you woke up in somewhere in a park bench.

He was gone, gone like the wind bullseye.

But to be fair, you could care less because that pounding headache was awful.

Next time y’all saw each other, it was the same thing, just a bit more comfortable. A bit more, not a lot of course.

Then so on, and so fourth.

Till, the two of you just turned to each other one day after laughing, you both stared at each other before kissing each other in a passionate make-out session like a rom-com film.

The tastes of whiskey, the both of you grabbing each other for a better angle to kiss better, teeth clanking, messy and sloppy as well.

In the middle of a bar- with the bartender slightly disgusted, patrons staring or looking away.

The two of pulled each other out of the damn place, and to the nearest motel- paying or maybe full on hijacking one to get the drunken’ lust off the both of you.

You two kept kissing until Striker parting to kiss at your neck, leaving slight bites resulting in hickey’s.

Both of you pulling and ripping each other’s clothes like wild animals, like savages. Both of you had ripped clothes- maybe some intact pieces.

Spent the whole night going crazy, making the people there not be able to get any sleep whatsoever.

And in the morning, you woke up right next to the serpentine cowboy.

His arms crossed behind his head, with a tumbleweed in his mouth.

You jolted in surprise-

“Did we-“

“Fuck yea’ ya’kno’ I’m surprised it ain’t happen sooner. I saw the way ya’ look at me~” he winked

[vanellopes-mun]

Vanellope VS. Turbo: A Mini Analysis!

There are a million reasons why Turbo’s reveal in Disney’s Wreck-it Ralph is such an iconic and memorable scene. A scene that I and many others have replayed ever since 2012 and its impact has never left our minds. It solidified King Candy/Turbo as one of Disney's top villains ever created, surprising and shocking viewers with a plot twist that Disney hasn’t been able to overthrow with their other movies before they abandoned villains until King Magnifico but he sucks so. He WISHES he was as charismatic as King Candy plz-

But this analysis isn’t just about King Candy/Turbo, it’s also about Vanellope Von Schweetz. She’s the most important ingredient to making this scene work and play out the way it does and ultimately why it’s so fucking cathartic. ( More so than Ralph’s fight against Cy-Bug Turbo in my opinion) After watching how it was originally story boarded, the crew behind WiR perfected this scene with a specific detail that they changed. In the early storyboard, Vanellope causes King Candy’s vehicle to crash, causing him to glitch and transform into Turbo in front of the cameras. While I love love love the extended race between Vanellope and King Candy and sort of wished it could have been longer in the actual film, I am content that they didn’t go with the direction. In the movie, King Candy is revealed after trying to beat/kill Vanellope with his horn rod/pole thingy from his kart, she grabs it and glitches due to stress/adrenaline/her emotions, her blue glitch traveling through the cane and making contact with King Candy, finally putting down the facade he had on for 15 years and revealing him as Turbo to the characters in the film and the audience. It’s such a small detail, it only happens in a second, but it’s all it took for the start of his downfall and his eventual demise. 

And this is why it brings me catharsis every time I watch this scene. I could never put it into words before, but it’s beyond satisfying that the end of King Candy’s horrible reign starts with Vanellope and her glitch. The very same glitch that he caused trying to delete her code and remove her place from the game. The glitch that he used as an excuse to turn everyone in Sugar Rush against her. He usurped her throne and tried to ruin her life. Despite this, he still had the audacity to shout “Get off of MY track!” earlier. It brings his Roadblasters incident back up, it was his choice, trying to steal the thunder of another racing game that just got plugged in because he couldn’t stand the idea of anyone taking his place, only for Turbo Time and Roadblasters to be unplugged. All of this circling back and biting him in the ass. Vanellope was the key all along and he knew it, he feared her despite never really having a conversation with her as far as we know (Vanellope asking Turbo “What the-?! Who are you!?” leads me to believe that if they did converse in the past, it was not in his true form and he was most likely already King Candy. Plus it just goes to show how fast he hijacked Sugar Rush), but you can just tell by how desperate he was to keep her from racing, he didn’t want anyone to take his place ever again. 

So the scene continues and his famous line and breakdown goes as this: “I’m Turbo! The greatest racer ever! And I did not reprogram this world to let YOU and that halitosis riddled warthog TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME!” It’s just so ironic, unfair and hypocritical of him it makes my blood boil! And the way he’s raising his voice, jabbing his finger at her and Vanellope’s trying to shrink away from him as he yells at her face before he tries to murder her I just- So cruel, scary, wicked and disturbing! But Vanellope, this brave WARRIOR, is reminded of her glitch after Turbo calls her for what he believes is the last time. “End of the line, Glitch!” She takes a moment, everything slows down around her as she tries to control her glitch to escape Turbo. She glitches away, missing the wall and It ends up saving her life! I just cannot stress enough how beautiful that is! She used her disability, that everyone thought would simply doom her and the game, and embraced it when she needed it most. Her glitch, while it was suddenly given to her by circumstances she couldn’t control or prevent, she took control back. It’s her beautiful superpower and it’s empowering. After this scene, it’s the “end” of Turbo before he gets nom’d by a Cy-Bug. ( I want to note that he later says “I’m the most powerful VIRUS in the arcade”, part of me wants to believe he said that because clearly Vanellope bested him as the greatest racer ever but I doubt that was their intention lol)

They’re the embodiment of Selfishness vs. Selflessness. While Vanellope had everything taken away from her, she didn’t follow the same path as him. Turbo had everything taken from him, but it was his fault and he only ever thought about himself, never about the destruction he left behind. Hell, all she ever wanted was to be one of the racers, no matter how much they bullied her and ostracized her, she never ended up being evil like him even though it would be a perfect recipe to become a villain, this is also what makes her a mirror to Ralph.  (Remember in that one deleted scene where she said she wanted to break the racers’ legs but come on can you blame her!?!?! She was so real for saying that.) VANELLOPE IS MY FAVORITE CHARACTER EVER AAAA. 

Before I ramble any further, I will forever love the choices that the writers made for the climax and it just ends up being an absolutely perfect and brilliant scene and I will continue to rewatch for the millionth time. 

[eoieopda]

One where y/n is the airhostess on Mr Park's pvt jet : smut

put your tray tables up, fam, we’re in for a wild ride.

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI — not necessarily public sex but there’s obvi a pilot on board not far away so??; one night (flight?) stand; protected sex; jimin’s hand over reader’s mouth to keep her 🤫 quiet 🤫.

When you took this position, there was a thick training manual dropped in your hands that nearly knocked you off balance. That, combined with the rigorous preparatory courses and certification exam, left you ready to respond to just about anything: emergency landings, injuries requiring first aid, heavy turbulence, hijackings…

Unfortunately, no part of your onboarding prepared you for Park motherfuckin’ Jimin.

Your first conversation had been a brief introduction — to yourself, to the pilot, to the procedures you may need to follow if a wayward goose finds its way into the turbines and sends you hurtling towards death’s lap. Throughout what was normally a thoroughly rehearsed and meticulously delivered speech, Jimin’s half-lidded eyes told you he didn’t give much of a shit about a properly-affixed oxygen mask. The tongue that darted out to wet his lips had made it crystal clear: what Jimin wanted on his face was more likely to suffocate rather than respirate.

And you knew damn well that, despite your risk-avoidant training, this was the one instance in which you’d willingly crash and burn.

You did try your best to stay out of temptation’s way, for whatever that fact was worth. The jet was smaller and significantly less occupied than most flights you worked, so your options were limited from the start. Jimin’s presence loomed large, too, leaving you feeling exposed. More afraid of hovering than being sucked out the emergency door, you’d resolved to tuck yourself away in the back most area for as long as you could stand it.

Of course, you’d make rounds to determine whether there was any purpose for you to serve, but you didn’t expect to be of much use — not burning up the way you did when his eyes lingered on you, not with your weak knees trembling like that.

During your first of these rounds, you’d had your second conversation; you’d offered him a drink. The surplus of alcohol on board meant that you were outnumbered three-to-one by bottles, all of which could buy you out of your apartment lease. Jimin had accepted your offer.

In doing so, he’d nodded, shot you a confused expression that landed halfway between a smirk and genuine surprise, and said, “It’d be rude of me to drink alone, don’t you think?”

If girls like you deserve Dom Pérignon, you had to wonder what else made the list. Mercifully, you didn’t have to ruminate for long.

Your third conversation didn’t come where you expected — oddly prophetic, in hindsight. Instead of waiting for you to make your anticipated rounds through the main cabin area, Jimin sought you where you hid. Burning hot under your company-issued dress, your first instinct was to crack a window. Thankfully, you quickly realized that this course of action was ill-advised.

The exit sign floated overhead while he had you effectively caged off by the door. The angel on your shoulder, it begged you to listen, be professional, keep your damn hands to yourself. But the devil was in front of you in a leather jacket and, shit, the weather in Hell must be lovely this time of year.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Jimin began, looking entirely unapologetic, “I had a question for you.” He noted the way your eyebrows raised in acknowledgment, then he continued, “I heard that pilots sleep through long flights — autopilot, you know? — and wondered if that was true.”

Oh, you cheeky bastard.

You bit your lip thoughtfully, then sighed, “Couldn’t say. Classified information, you know? Trade secret.”

When you leaned in to whisper the next bit, you didn’t have far to go — Jimin was close enough for you to see your own reflection in his eyes.

“I can tell you that the last layover wasn’t very restful.”

Jimin tilted his head to the side, eyes flicking down to your lips then back again. “Is that so?” He hummed. Your heart nearly rocketed out of your chest when he tucked a flyaway strand of hair back behind your ear.

“So,” your gaze was handcuffed to his as your hand drifted to his belt buckle, “Be a doll and keep the noise down, yeah?”

Jimin was smirking when the hand near you neck was rescinded. Index finger extended, he held it up to his full lips in understanding. If the look in his eyes didn’t already have you gushing, you would’ve been swept away entirely when he twirled that finger in the air, directing you to turn around.

With your palms flat against wall, you bit down on your lip to stifle the moan he threatened to steal when his warm hands grabbed the hem of your pencil skirt and tugged up, up, up. His right hand grabbed the doughy flesh of one ass cheek; the other disappeared from you. As you heard the metallic clink of a belt buckle opening, he hovered over your spine and his mouth found your ear.

“No panties?” came Jimin’s murmur with a low chuckle, “Feels like fate to me.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him it felt like running out of clean laundry for you. You didn’t have to lie, though; the telltale crinkle of a condom packet took up the few decibels you would’ve had to spare. The subdued stretch of latex followed as he sheathed himself.

Then, if you listened closely, you could likely hear yourself dripping as he quoted you, “Now, doll, keep the noise down, won’t you?”

Jimin made silence a near impossibility. Cock in hand, he teased his tip over your drenched folds, flicking upwards to abuse your clit in the process — and you wanted to whine, to beg, to groan like a woman starved. You had half a mind to growl and demand that he stop toying with you; and you opened your mouth to do so.

He slid into you just in time to convert your plea to a strangled gasp.

He was deliberate with his unimaginably deep thrusts, grinding slowly into your heat to avoid the sick squelch of your cunt overtaking the dead air. You whimpered every time his cock ruttted over your g-spot — so much so that Jimin had to pull your back to his chest and place his hand over your mouth.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit —

When you came, pussy clenching tight around his length, you had to clench your jaw, too. Your eyes screwed shut as he continued to bury himself in you with staccato strokes. Knees trembling, your whole body threatened to fall limp to the floor; but he grunted softly in your ear when his climax came for him, and the sound of him coming undone shot you straight up into space.

You were still trying to unscramble your brain when Jimin pulled his softening cock out of you, muttering “shit” as he went. Eventually, you were able to pull your dress skirt back down. When turned around to face him, his face was flushed, having just discarded a tied-off condom in a trash bin built into the wall.

Thoroughly fuck drunk, Jimin looked at you with a blissed-out, lopsided smile, “Is there a kilometer equivalent to the Mile High Club?”

[sunnynwanda]

Wedding date

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

“Please, please, can you go with me to my cousin's wedding?" 

Hero'd be lying if they said they didn't like the pleading look on Villain's face. Or the way their voice went up a couple octaves. Hero'd sure prefer the situation to be different. Something related but not limited to the bedroom. Definitely not on top of a moving train that they were trying to stop from getting hijacked. 

And that Villain was, in fact, hijacking. 

"You're joking, right?" Hero manages to block Villain's attack, sending an incredulous look their way. "And if you're not, how is hijacking a train a good way to invite someone to a wedding?” 

“Yeah, sorry 'bout that,” their archnemesis smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of their neck. “But we don't really meet under better circumstances, do we?”

Villain's justification is true, Hero has to admit it. Nothing surprising there, given that their Villain is the ‘intellectual kind’. That’s what they prefer to be called. Hero’d say “smartass’, but who’s asking. 

“Please help me just this once.” The way they drag their vowels catches Hero off guard. Are they... are they nervous? Now that they are thinking about it, Villain has avoided their gaze throughout the fight. 

“Why?” Hero asks, struggling to hide their curiosity. What started off as another Friday morning with the usual shenanigans of their rival is turning into something fun. “Why do you need me to go with you?”

“Well…” Villain trails off, so distracted that they almost hit their head on the railroad sign that the train’s passing under. Hero barely has time to pull them down to their knees on the train roof, face to face with them.

“Villain, if I'm going to help you,” upon noticing the excited expression on Villain’s face, Hero pauses. “And don't get all hopeful, I said 'if'... but if I’m going to help you, I need to know why I'm doing that.”

“But you're considering it, right?” The look in their eyes is hopeful beyond imagination. Hero nods with a chuckle. 

For some unfathomable reason, this leaves Villain frozen in place, an intense inner conversation evident in their features. Hero waits for several moments before concluding. “We're nearing the station, so you better spill.”

“Ugh, fine.” Before Villain has even uttered anything, Hero knows they’ll do it. The pink staining Villain’s ears is worth all the trouble that might ensue. “My grandma's gonna be there.”

“So?” Hero prompts, not satisfied with the sparse explanation. Their nemesis squeezes their eyes shut, a blush creeping up their exposed neck. Even if Hero was considering mercy, they sure can’t stop now, not when Villain looks like that. “Isn't your grandma a retired supervillain?”

“So, she's been pestering me to date for ages now, and I can't endure that conversation again.” Hero blinks. Then blinks again. They heard that right, didn’t they? 

“Erm… am I correct in assuming you want me to pretend to be your date?” Villain could as well rival a tomato at this point. And would perhaps win in the category of evenness and colour.  

“Yes?” Their voice is small when they speak, eyes unable to land on anything, partly because Hero’s frame is blocking anything else they could look at. Hero laughs lightly, shaking their head with the widest smile possible. Villain looks up, scandalized. “Hey, if you're gonna make fun of me, forget I asked.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Hero legitimately panics, shaking their head to indicate they weren’t laughing at Villain. Well, they were, but it was affection more than anything else. “I'll go.”

“Oh uh okay,” Villain’s grin threatens to rip their face in half. Hero can bet theirs is matching. “Then, I'll let you know the date and location?”

“Yeah,” they can’t help but notice the shake in their own voice as Villain gets to their feet, preparing to leave. The train is slowing down.

“And, um,” Villain starts but is distracted by Hero, who’s still kneeling on the train roof. The people at the station can probably see them, but who cares? Definitely not Hero. Villain dips their head to conceal the smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. “Thank you.”

Hero nods, considering something for a moment, before calling out. “Hey, Villain?”

“Mhm?” Villain stops by the edge, looking back over their shoulder.

“It's a date.” Villain is dumbfounded and at a loss for words, so they try to jump off to avoid replying to that statement. Hero can’t help the smirk that spreads on their face when Villain all but falls off the train, graceful as ever. Dancing with this dumbass is going to be fun.

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

Masterlist

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 19: Why am I this way?

Chapter title is lyrics from "LosT"

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It was 7.35pm when I knocked on Oli’s door.

He’d sent me a text saying he’d come by my room around 8, instructing me to cover up – preferably in layers, and while bewildering, I’d done as he wished; slipping the sweater that Liam had hated so much over my mesh top and jeans outfit.

The only problem was that after having spent several hours attempting to stay sane as the guilt inside me expanded and grew until I felt like a fucking pressure pot, I decided that I couldn’t wait until the time Oli had decided to come and collect me.

Instead I took matters into my own hands, even though the hands in question were currently so sweaty I had to continuously wipe them on my jeans as I waited for him to open the door.

I took a deep breath, trying to collect my scattered thoughts.

I knew Oli and I weren’t a couple, and I knew I didn’t necessarily owe him anything, yet it still felt as if I’d just cheated on him by kissing Mat.

By enjoying kissing Mat.

While I knew it was perfectly normal to date, and even get physical, with more than one person at a time, I’d never actually done it before, and because it was all very new to me I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that I’d committed some terrible, unforgivable crime.

Which had me questioning if I only felt this way because of my anxiety, or if my feelings were warranted and I was just a horrible person, playing Russian roulette with people’s hearts.

Pull yourself together, Alice. You haven’t even slept with Mat.

I dried my sweaty palms on my jeans again, wondering what was taking Oli so damn long.

Wondering if I should knock again.

Just as my fist was about to connect with the door, it finally swung open with Oli behind it, fully in black with a half buttoned dress shirt, his tattoos spilling out from every hem.

He squinted at me, eyeing me up with suspicion, “You’re early, and in the wrong place.”

The door opened further to let me inside.

As I walked past him I was hit by the wonderful way he smelled, which was stronger than usual considering he was in the middle of getting ready and had probably just applied whatever magic product that produced it.

“I’m sorry, we need to talk.” I said distantly, slightly distracted as my attention went from his enthralling scent to immediately take in the room before me.

It had a similar light and airy colour scheme as mine and Liam’s room, but the ceilings were even higher, with a massive bed facing a stone fireplace on the opposite wall.

But the real showstopper was the view.

You could see the entire lake from the row of large arch windows, and since the sun had just gone down the mirror image of the moon was slowly dancing on the calm surface of the water.

“What about?” He asked, sounding even more suspicious than he looked as he shut the door.

Deciding I couldn’t stand up during this conversation, I walked over to the end of the bed and took a seat.

“Mat.” I felt myself starting to disassociate ever so slightly as I said his name out loud.

He was in the middle of buttoning his shirt as I spoke, causing his fingers to stop what they were doing entirely.

“About you and Mat?”

“Yes.” My gaze fell to the floor out of shame.

He audibly exhaled before walking over to sit next to me on the bed.

The mattress shifted from the pressure, but I didn’t dare face him, didn’t dare see his expression as the sound of my heart beating in my ears got louder and louder during the heavy silence that had fallen between us.

“Do you still want to go on this date with me?” He asked softly, with so much sadness in his voice that my eyes involuntarily flew straight to him.

Large hazel eyes, framed by hair that had been tamed into more defined locks, were swimming with vulnerability as they looked at me, causing the ache in my heart to intensify tenfold.

“Very much.” I answered with certainty.

He studied my face as several emotions flickered over his features.

“Then I don’t need to know.” He stated casually before he shot out of bed to continue buttoning his shirt.

Feeling panicked, I frowned deeply, knowing I needed to tell him what happened before I fucking exploded.

“Wait, but–” I started, but he cut me off instantly, raising his voice in the process.

“Alice!” He bit out, shooting me daggers for a split second before his expression softened. He walked back over to me, reaching down to scoop up my hands into his, guiding me to stand before him, “Let tonight be about us.” He pleaded.

As I looked up at the man that was glowing with so much adoration for me that it caused my chest to constrict, I knew I didn’t have a choice but to answer his plea, knowing my heart wouldn’t allow anything else.

“Okay.” I said under my breath, reluctantly.

His pleading features shifted to a warm smile, tension slipping away from him, “Thank you.”

Letting go of my hands he skipped over to the window for a quick look at the sky as he finished doing the last of his buttons.

“Come on, love.” Is all he said before he took my hand and hurried us to the exit, not allowing me another second to reconsider my decision, or to start up another conversation.

The look he shot me after shutting the door was so full of excitement I couldn’t help but smile back at his sparkling grin, some of the anxiety from not having told him what transpired between me and his best friend melting away in the process.

But confusion quickly claimed me instead, as I was being pulled in the opposite direction of the elevator.

“Wait, where are we going?” I laughed.

“Oh, don't you worry about that.” Stopping at the emergency exit at the end of the corridor, he shot me yet another devil's grin before pushing the door open, leading to a winding staircase.

“Are we allowed to do this?” I heard my words echo in the stairwell as we quickly ascended the steps.

“Turns out, when you pay people they let you do whatever you want really.” He looked back at me, “Well, within reason of course.”

“I see, so is that what you’re doing with me then?” I asked teasingly, causing him to laugh as we reached the top of the stairs that had led us to a large door.

“While I fucking love calling you my whore, I was hoping your reasons for following my orders when we’re alone wasn’t for monetary purposes.” He said with a suggestive smile, pushing the door open.

It was so dark at first that I didn’t see anything, but my eyes quickly adjusted.

We were standing on the rooftop of the hotel looking out over the lake, the short stone wall perimeter adorned in fairy lights, and a large pile of blankets and pillows in the very middle, next to a tray with drinks and some food.

Oli let go of my hand and began walking backwards towards the blankets, arms stretched out, looking proud of what he’d set up for us, “What do you think?”

I was in awe as I took in the space.

The thought struck me that I’d never had anyone prepare such a romantic date for me before.

“This isn’t what I expected.” I breathed.

With a frown his arms fell to his sides, “Disappointed?”

“No, it’s incredible – perfect, actually.” The smile returned to his features as he walked back towards me, “I was just expecting– I guess I thought you wanted us to be more open about us, and this is very… private.” 

He came to a stop in front of me, “We are more open – everyone knows we’re on a date right now– besides, I just wanted to get you alone again, no distractions this time, just you and me, so I can spend more time with you.” The suggestive grin returned as he leaned in closer, “Which is why I told you to cover up.”

I felt my brows furrow, “Because I’m distracting?”

“There’s nothing more distracting, love.” He said so seriously I almost laughed.

It was my turn to be suggestive, “I was covered up for most of last night, you still ended up coming twice.”

A light breeze came as his eyes darkened, causing his locks to sweep over his face, gently rustling the trees all around us, “You may have been in a baggy sweater, love, but I knew what was on display under that poor excuse for a skirt, barely covering your ass.” As he spoke his gaze wandered to my lips, the air quickly filling with the familiar electricity that always seemed to fly between us. 

Yet this time it stirred discomfort in me, as if it didn’t feel right to do this without him knowing about me and Mat.

“Not to mention the absolutely perverted lipstick you’d chosen, how was I not supposed to play with it? As soon as I saw it on your fuckable little mouth I knew exactly what I wanted to do.” His thumb was just about to connect with my lower lip, hovering not even an inch from it, to rub it just like he’d done last night. 

Heat spread throughout my whole body.

But the imminent physical contact also made me tense up; made me want to blurt out that I felt his friend's erection between my legs earlier, despite him not needing to know; despite him making it very clear that he doesn’t want to know.

Thankfully the hand fell away right as it touched me, with Oli shaking his head.

“None of that, come with me.” He said flatly, eyes wide, clearly attempting to keep us on track so we wouldn’t just spend all night fucking, which, for once, I was extremely grateful for.

Taking my hand, he swiftly led us to the blanket pile that he proceeded to lay down on, patting the space next to him for me to get comfortable as well.

As I took a seat, I paused to look at him, my heart still screaming to tell him what happened, making me question why I needed him to know so badly, while also wishing intensely that I didn’t feel like this at all so I could simply enjoy the night.

A couple of frown lines appeared on Oli’s forehead as I wordlessly stared at him, “Come on, love, lay down with me.”

His words were spoken gently, clearly worried, either about me or whatever he assumed was running through my head.

Attempting to shake off my thoughts, I did as he requested, making sure to leave a bit of space between us, not feeling steady enough for physical contact.

But my intrusive thoughts melted away effortlessly as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My eyes had adjusted further to the darkness, allowing me to now see the massive blanket of twinkling stars above us.

Having lived in cities my whole life, the night sky I knew looked nothing like this.

“That’s amazing.” I said distantly, lost in the natural beauty above us.

“I love the stars, I don’t get to see them too often though.” He said with wonder in his voice.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them this clearly.” The longer I looked the more my eyes adjusted, causing even more stars to appear, this time with very faint washes of colours behind them, giving me the illusion that someone was painting the vision before me as I watched.

“I used to dread coming here.” He started, and while Mat had already told me that, I wasn’t about to interrupt him as he opened up to me, “The first time was a bloody nightmare, thought I’d rip my hair out with how little there is to do. But that was back when I needed constant distraction to stay sane – also back when ketamine was a bigger problem.” He tilted his head towards me for a second, I would have met his eyes but they quickly returned to the night sky as he continued with his story.

“Second year they had to essentially drag me here, but I came more prepared – mostly with a lot of weed,” He huffed out a nervous laugh, as if talking about his old self had mentally brought him back there, “Bumped into a janitor as I was heading out to find somewhere nice to sit and smoke – stuffy old fella, he smelled the weed on me and pointed out that it’s not allowed here, but I could tell he didn’t actually give a shit, so thought I’d try offering him some. All he did was shrug and led us up to this roof to get high.” 

I felt myself smile, trying to imagine some rigid old man hanging out with Oli in his twenties.

“We had fuck-all in common; he was in his 60’s, religious man, never heard of our band – pretty sure he thought metal music was the devils music, but turned out his wife had just died so I don’t think he cared much about anything anymore.” He paused for a moment, sighing before he continued, “He was honestly kind of a prick, but he loved the stars, knew all the names of the constellations – told me them too. He tried really hard to describe exactly where they were, but none of it stuck, probably cause none of it really made sense to me.”

At some point my gaze had wandered to Oli as he spoke, his eyes sparkling as he dreamily stared at the sky above us, lost in his story. 

"Never saw him again either, don’t even remember his name, but every year after that I’ve been coming up here to look at the stars – well, whenever the weather would allow it. But since I never learned the proper names, I’ve just sort of been making up my own from whatever shape I see that night – kind of like cloud gazing. Like over there, that totally looks like a car, doesn’t it?”

He moved a bit closer, our shoulders connecting as he pointed towards an area in the sky, his intoxicating smell flooding me.

I swallowed, attempting to focus on what he was showing me, but I couldn’t see anything that even remotely resembled a car.

“I can’t tell if I’m blind, or if you’re making it up, but there’s no way there’s anything car-shaped there.” I retorted as steady as I could, trying to keep the mood light.

Trying not to be too distracted by his proximity.

However, that immediately became impossible when he turned to his side and moved even closer, pressing his warm, slightly stubbly cheek to mine, causing my breath to hitch before he took my hand, pointing my index finger to the shape he was trying to describe in the sky.

“You see these six stars here…” He spoke softly as he guided my finger in a circle over the six stars, his warm breath fanning my face, smelling minty, “That’s the front wheel – and these ones over here…” My finger was directed in a shape that loosely resembled an oval, a bit to the right of the circle, which was hard to follow since my attention has been hijacked by how his thighs rubbed against mine, how his hand so tenderly held my fingers in his, and how his hair tickled my face in the gentle breeze of the night, “That’s the back wheel. Then finally, this riiiight here…” Trailing my finger in the most jagged arch possible, I couldn’t help but frown as the vehicle appeared in the sky above me, “That’s the top of the car. You see it?”

It was truly one of the most horrible renditions of a car I could imagine.

“Oli, the only way you could convince me that’s a car is if a small child drew it.”

He laughed as he laid back down on his back, angling himself in such a way that our shoulders and temples touched, “That’s fair, it’s not my best work. You try one.”

It took me a moment before I even began searching the sky, being suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions building in my chest, which only multiplied when Oli sighed, snuggling his head into mine even more.

There seemed to be a confusing duality with every emotion I felt in the presence of the man next to me; pain made me feel pleasure, happiness so easily caused panic, and I found comfort in the discomfort he so deliciously crafted for me.

Which sadly meant that the most perfect night I could imagine was currently being ruined by the soul crushing guilt that intensified every time I was reminded of how I felt about him.

How I wanted nothing more than to cuddle into him right now, yet feeling like I didn’t deserve the joy it would bring me.

“Nothing, love?” He asked after a while.

“Not yet, just a bit longer.”

My eyes had been mindlessly searching as I filtered through my thoughts, and finally I saw something.

“Oh– a smiley face!” I exclaimed with a bit too much excitement than the situation warranted.

“Show me.” He said before pushing his arm under my neck, wrapping his other hand around my thigh in order to pull me close, nestling me up against him.

My pulse sped up as I was flooded with more emotions; more discomfort; more happiness; more panic.

With a slightly shaky hand I started tracing the mouth, “Right there.” I whispered.

He pressed his face closer to mine to get a better look.

“Oh yeah, I see it.” He breathed, before reaching for one of the spare blankets, draping it over us as we laid tangled up with my head on his shoulder.

It was a fairly warm night, and the blanket was thin, not adding much warmth or weight to us, yet it felt as if I was suffocating as I listened to his heartbeat under my ear, my fingers restlessly playing with the buttons of his shirt, his hand on my arm caressing me tenderly, lovingly.

I should be happy – content – yet the wonderful sensations caused my heart to break.

He released another long sigh, holding me even closer, and I could barely take it anymore.

“It’s all you can think about, isn’t it? The stuff with Mat.”

The question took me by surprise, even though I realised my mood was very clearly written all over me.

“Yes.” Afraid to say it out loud, the word had barely been a whisper.

He rolled me onto my back, perching himself on his elbow so he could look at me during this conversation.

Tears stung my eyes as I looked at him hovering over me, his beautiful dark locks falling over worried features, with the starlit sky as his backdrop.

I felt such deep disappointment in myself for not being able to let it go, not being able to stop the guilt from eating me alive.

The stunning man above me visibly tensed, his worried features turning increasingly serious, “Do you have feelings for him?”

Shaking my head, I answered with confidence, “No, I don’t.”

It was too soon, all I felt for Mat right now was interest – curiosity.

And attraction.

His eyes pinned me, “Then please, Alice, drop it.” 

A tear ran down the side of my face, “I can’t.” 

“Why?” He asked through clenched teeth, frustration clearly taking hold of him.

“Because it feels like I’ve cheated, and you said that was a dealbreaker.”

While it had been obvious something had happened between me and Mat from the moment I stepped into Oli’s hotel room tonight, this was the first time I’d said something that had actually confirmed it.

With that confession, some of the pressure inside me began to ease, making me want to tell him everything, despite Oli’s wishes.

Despite how much pain and anger was twisting his features, the volatile energy radiating off of him in waves as he wordlessly glared at me.

When he finally spoke the words were low, aggressive, “You aren’t mine.”

Logically I knew I wasn’t, I knew we weren’t a couple, yet the words stung and burned like acid.

“Then why does it feel like I am?” I whispered, more tears running into my hairline.

For a moment I thought he was about to break down, to join me in tears as I whispered the words, but the anger returned immediately, the air so thick with it I could barely breathe. 

“But you’re not. You’re not ready to commit to me, to be mine, are you?”

I wasn’t – not yet, not with this many unanswered questions; not with this much confusion.

Not with this many fears.

So I shook my head in response, not able to speak the words.

“Then fucking drop it.”

The words were already on my lips as he pleaded for me to keep the information to myself, begging me to spare him the details, knowing it would only hurt him further.

Yet I couldn’t stop myself.

“We kissed.”

His hand was suddenly at my throat, baring his teeth, a mixture of intense disbelief and pure rage burning in his eyes.

But it only made me want to keep sharing, keep pushing the knife in deeper.

“I also walked in on him last night, when he was– right as he–”

The tears were streaming from my eyes as I clumsily pushed the words out of me, needing them to leave my mouth so they’d stop torturing me. 

The furious man above me digging his nails into the flesh of my neck, yet refusing to apply any pressure that would stop me from speaking.

“Shut the fuck up, Alice.” He spat.

“...Right as he came.” A sense of relief washed over me as I finished my sentence.

His chest was heaving, the fingers on my throat shaking as the nails dug in deeper, hurting me in a way that did nothing but make me feel infinitely better as the pressure inside me subsided.

Meanwhile the pressure inside Oli was building, threatening to explode.

But that’s what I want, isn't it? For him to take it out on me, so I can feel less guilty.

Unease settled in my stomach at the realisation.

“Did you like it?” His words were mocking, vicious, dripping with uncontained fury. 

I nodded, feeling dizzy from the intense mixture of emotions and sensations, my uncontrollable tears flooding my eyes further, turning the man above me blurry before each blink.

He studied my face as he worked overtime to control his rage, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t want to have any secrets with you.”

With a sharp inhale the anger immediately fell away from him as I spoke the words I’d realised last night in my bunk, knowing that I couldn’t consider potentially starting something with Oli while keeping secrets.

“B-but that’s not the only reason.” I pressed on, knowing that not keeping secrets included sharing the realisation that hit me just a moment ago.

The fury returned to his features like it never left; as if he could read my mind.

“You want me to punish you, don’t you? So you’ll feel better?”

I felt my whole face twist in pain as the guilt punched me in the gut, hating how he already knew, hating how right he was.

Hating myself for being like this, for torturing him in the process.

“At any point did you stop to think how deeply fucking selfish that is?”

“I know– I know, I’m not expecting it, I’m so sorry, Oli. P-please, forgive me. I just wanted to enjoy tonight with you so badly– I, I’m–”

The hand on my throat moved to my mouth, covering it firmly, effectively putting an end to my rambling apology.

I blinked away more tears as he pushed my legs apart with his, the furious, unwavering stare darkening as he mounted me, the blanket that he’d so lovingly wrapped us up in just moments ago falling away from our bodies in the process.

“Do you want me to fuck the pain away?”

The air, already sickly thick from rage and pain, turned thicker still with lust, my whole body screaming for his; needing the sweetest of release that only he could offer, more than I needed air.

I nodded slowly against his hand, feeling shame for admitting it considering the circumstances.

His eyes darkened further, his hair falling over them, rendering them barely visible above me as his hips connected with mine, grinding his already solid length against my pussy so hard it hurt in the most delightful of ways through the thick fabric of my jeans, making him inhale a ragged breath while I moaned into his hand, blinking away more tears.

“I want to be more than your painkiller, Alice.” I could feel a deep heartbeat between my legs with his erection pressed against me, his breath coming heavier in the process, “But the relief works both ways, and I’m suffering a fair bit right now.”

He ground down on me again, my back arching into him, my legs wrapping around him.

Studying my face, he let go of my mouth, causing our breaths to mingle in the night air as another gust of wind rustled the trees.

“You’ll need a safeword tonight.” He breathed, “Say red if you want me to stop entirely, and pink if you want me to ease up. I will not fucking listen to any other words, you can scream ‘no’ till you turn blue – I won’t give a shit. Are we clear?” He asked, glaring at me.

A shiver ran through me.

Excitement, fear, adrenaline, and curiosity all blossomed in my chest, making me feel incredible.

Making me feel alive.

“We’re clear.”

He visibly swallowed, “Alright.”

Pushing off of me entirely, he crouched to collect me, effortlessly throwing me over his shoulder.

My heart was racing so fast I thought it would beat right out of my chest as he took long strides towards the door.

I realised I hadn’t thought this through, that he was probably taking me to his room – that we’d have to walk through the corridor that had been bustling with people every time I’d used it – including the other band members.

“Wait!” I yelled as he pushed the door open to the stairs, and was immediately met with a sharp pain on my behind, burning as the hand that had caused the pain trailed down towards my thigh, the thumb brushing over my pussy in the process. 

“That’s not the fucking safeword, is it?” His words echoed in the stairwell, followed immediately by another burning slap, the caressing thumb pressed harder against my core this time.

I whimpered in pain, considering using the safeword already, to avoid any potential awkwardness on our way to his room.

Which was foolish of me, knowing damn well how badly I needed this.

So I shut up, accepting that whatever happens, happens.

As soon as we were flooded by the bright light of the hotel corridor Oli spoke, causing my heart to sink.

“Hiya, mate, you alright?” The aggressive energy in his voice remained unchanged as he spoke the casual words.

“Yeah, good thanks.”

I felt myself go ice cold.

I couldn’t see him, but I knew that voice; it was Mat.

He’d answered flatly, sounding distant, obviously shocked by the vision before him.

But Oli didn’t falter, he never stopped taking long strides – nor did he stop inflicting pain on me.

When Mat’s legs entered my peripheral vision as we passed him, I felt another slap, growing more painful each time it happened, making me whimper louder.

I looked up at Mat through my hair as I was helplessly being dragged off, his eyes were dark with some unreadable emotion as he stood by his room, clutching his keycard.

All I could do was let him stare at me while my expression involuntarily melted into obvious pleasure as fingers dragged over my pussy, before we disappeared into Oli’s room.

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[aralana765]

Listening to OUaTiS again, and once again I am reminded of just how well Nastya is able to play Jonny like her viola. The convo in The Aurora Strikes starts with Jonny already upset, and she continues to tell him things that upset him, and yet he still ends up happy. Because she knows exactly how to tell him. So we start with:

N: We’re not going to argue about this. (Fact)

J: I don’t understand it, Nastya. We’ve been watching billions die for the last three decades, and we’ve been having a great time! (Defensive, doesn’t want to give up his comfy spot)

N: I know, I know. (Placating, not fighting, just like she said, letting him say his piece)

J: And now you want to go white knight over a science project with a broken snooze button? I don’t buy it. (Here I have a theory that he breaks out “white knight accidentally cause he likes being the white knight [though he would never admit it, even tho Nastya knows], and he knows that’s not Nastya’s thing at all)

N: W-well, you see, Jonny, that is because I have not been telling you the whole story! (A story! There’s a story, Jonny! We have a story here! A sure way to catch his attention) It is, uh, not actually me who is complaining. It is, uh, Aurora. Our starship. (You could argue with me, Jonny, but would you argue with the ship herself?)

J: Fuck the ship! (Fuck you, you know I wouldn’t dare)

N: I do. (Sibling moment here, also something to distract Jonny from his clinging to anger)

J: Ew! (It worked)

N: Anyway, Jonny, I am merely informing you out of courtesy, uh. You see, I’ve already told Brian to lay in the coordinates. (I told you we’re not arguing. The ship wants to go. We’re going. BUT what’s crucial here is that she keeps her tone very light, never confrontational. She’s just passing along the message)

J: Brian! That insubordinate piece of brass! (Only angry at Brian, maybe Aurora, but not Nastya, who was only passing along the message)

N: Yes, yes, I know, and we are on our way. (Very placating, very ‘I’m just updating the captain’ instead of ‘I fully hijacked the ship and crew’)

J: …well. I suppose that there’s no real danger… (I am fully in love that he actually does take the crew/ship’s safety into consideration here considering who they are. But also, here’s where he starts sliding down the slope Nastya prepared for him)

N: No there isn’t. (Confirming, gently leaning in)

J: For the ship or us. (Thinks of Aurora first, the non immortal crew member. Doesn’t have anything to do with my point. I just love that)

N: No… (letting him ease himself down the path she made)

J: And it has been a while since we’ve had any really good violence. (There’s a story here. Nastya brought up a story, this could make for a very good story)

N: It has indeed. (Says Nastya, who’s solution was to kiss the princess, and mock the idea of violence to computers)

J: Alright. [audible smirk] Let’s go.

Anyway, I know this post is a million years long since I put in the whole scene transcript + my notes, but I can’t listen to that part without imagining Nastya and Aurora having a conversation in the hall outside Jonny’s room being like “I know, I’ll just play it cool, not argue, keep his hackles from going up” and “ooh yes, good idea, make it sound like it’ll be good for a song, I love it” and “oh yeah, go tell Brian where we’re going so I can tell Jonny we’re already on the way. How is he gonna stop us? Is he gonna fight you, the ship??’

Anyway, I love these space pirate siblings who know each other so well they can have each other wrapped around their fingers when they need to

[forasecondtherewedwon]

salt-and-vinegar dreams

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Pairing: Percy/Annabeth Rating: T Word Count: 1256

Summary: Percy might have an evil, prophesizing grandpa hijacking his dreams, but he also has Annabeth, and she's welcome any time.

Based on Percy’s extensive and up-close experience of bullying and recess dynamics, Camp Half-Blood makes no sense. Sure, if he compares pretty much any aspect of his life among mostly humans to his life here, there are some fairly glaring differences, but this is what stands out:

Out there, a kid who wins a fight becomes the Toughest Kid, and nobody wants to mess with that kid. In here, a kid who wins a fight also becomes the Toughest Kid, but everybody wants to fight them to see how they measure up—even if, instead of pushing another kid down on the playground and kicking sand in their lunch, they clobbered the god of war with a humongous wave. Percy kinda gets it, in a weird way, like he’s kinda getting everything about this, being here, being who he is. But he’s also tired.

He’s tired of dodging Clarisse’s attempts to take her turn at him. He’s tired of turning his last conversation with Luke around and around in his mind until it becomes a whirlpool it’s hard to pull back from. He’s tired of the dreams. Sinister, persistent. Always at the cottage in Montauk, which really pisses Percy off because that’s their place, his and his mom’s, but as soon as things go all dark and foggy, he can’t keep Kronos out. Just once, he’d like to tell that trespassing asshole there’s no welcome mat for a reason, maybe slam the door in the face he keeps hidden under a hood like preserving maximum spookiness when Percy already knows who he is isn’t the lamest thing in either this world or the subbasement the Titans call home. Instead of being stuck in the front room, Percy would like to run deeper into the cottage to grab the baseball bat he knows is somewhere in his room (back of the closet? Under the bed?) and use it to crack that dumb lantern he carries. He’d like to rush Kronos before he reaches the door, keep him outside and chase him around, spraying him with the garden hose.

Yeah, there’s a lot Percy’d like to try. At the top of that list is a good night’s sleep. These new Kronos-flavoured dreams suck; like a watered-down salt and vinegar from the heavy fog. And when he wakes up? Clammy skin from that fog, and the general bitter aftertaste anyone might associate with interacting with their creepy pit-grandpa. Zero out of ten.

So he’s a little worn out.

While everyone else is cramming their final days at camp with hand-to-hand combat—plus other normal stuff kids do for fun—Percy’s getting really into afternoon naps. Oh, that’s supposed to be an old-person thing? Uno reverse, Gramps. He already has the Poseidon cabin to himself, so it’s not hard to find a quiet spot. Even with his shiny-new status as the Ass-Kicker of Ares, the Mount Olympus Backtalker, the Lotus Casino Strip Poker Champ (ok, maybe the rumours are getting out of hand), the other campers don’t usually seek him out here. His guess is that the cabin stood empty so long that it became sorta mythically untouchable. Maybe that makes him the murky algae growing on the glass of the haunted aquarium, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to sleep.

Except one person never hesitates at the threshold. She doesn’t seem to mind the fishermen’s cathedral aesthetic or the unusual light; it spills down through tall, diamond-paned windows and reflects off the lap pool to cast a wavy aurora maris on the ceiling. Annabeth’s not daunted by the creak of suspended skeletons or the lobster traps piled by the door (why?).

She gives him the face that says he’s making a stupid choice which may or may not actually be wrong (she’s still deciding) and asks, “Why aren’t you outside?”

“I’m the demigod version of Superman: I prefer my solitude,” he says, then pauses. “Or, I guess Clark Kent, ’cause I’m not on duty.”

Annabeth frowns.

“Who?”

“Just… this journalist. Doesn’t matter.”

“You felt like being alone?” she somehow translates, sifting through the broken oysters of his words for the pearls.

He looks at her, her head tilt that could be cautious except he knows it’s thoughtful, her steps that miss all the squeaky boards his personal water feature has swollen with damp, the way her straightforward question spreads like a ripple—you felt like being alone alone alone alone?—because her eyes keep asking it after her lips close. Her feet keep walking into his abandoned marine museum, his one-storey lighthouse, his rejected Little Mermaid film set. He looks at her.

“Not… exactly,” he says, liking her here. “I was just gonna try to get some sleep.”

“Would it be alright if I stayed?”

There’s this feeling in Percy’s chest—sore and warped, but warm and still. He’s glad she asked; it means he doesn’t have to. It would’ve come out of his mouth wrong, fumbled and awkward, even though they’ve slept near each other before, basically the whole quest. He nods; it’s alright if she wants to stay. He can’t say he’ll probably be able to sleep better with her watching over him, that, actually, he’s scared a lot of the time, but not so much with her nearby. Even if their eyes are closed and their defenses are down.

Though Percy doesn’t stray from tradition and put his guard up as he lies down on his cot, there’s an awareness of a different nature. Annabeth darts a look at him like she’s suspicious that he’s going to keep watching her, but then she does something kind: she sits at the edge of the pool, right in his line of sight. She has her back to him as she strokes her hand back and forth through the water. Percy rolls onto his back, exhales. He’s not going to fall asleep, but he’s watching the light change on the ceiling, and he’s listening to the gentle waves break against the sides of the pool, and his eyelids are feeling heavy…

The cottage surrounded by darkness.

Kronos with the swaying lantern, the billowing cloak.

Percy: wide-eyed to be suddenly adrift inside his own mind, the cottage a trick.

An ominous message, full of blame, full of a sickening pride, full of ownership and control and—

Do you ever dream about Mom?

The look in his dad’s eyes, and then falling, but falling through light, falling like floating on water.

Percy knows he’s still sleeping—it’s the one similarity between this scene and his seaside encounter with Kronos—because he’s looking down at the lap pool from above. The water’s serene, undisturbed.

When he faces Kronos, does his body give clues? Does he twitch or flinch or groan? Anything that might call Annabeth away from the pool? Because she’s sitting there on his cot, holding his hand while he sleeps. Did he do something to make her scared for him, or is it another thing? A scared-if-you-don’t-feel-this-too thing. Scared if you do. Percy doesn’t know if this is real, but the feeling of wanting it to be is. They’re just… a good team. And if his tired brain was reaching for an antidote to Kronos’s unwelcome invasion of his subconscious, yeah, it coulda done worse than Annabeth’s hand tucked into his, light on her braids casting shadows like sea turtle ribs.

She’s looking at him. Her head tilts, and it could be cautious, wary, unsure.

Except Percy knows it’s thoughtful. She’s always thinking.

Right now, she’s thinking about him.

[lipglossanon]

Hi there! So I remember the headcanons that you did about the reader getting hit on by Leon’s friends, and when it came to stepdads, dark stepdad was like “think it’s cute that you got hit on?” and was, y’know, mean as usual.

BUT

What if Leon’s coworkers were hitting on you and you were clearly uncomfortable with it? We know that despite Leon’s roughness he loves you so much and is really protective and possessive.

So imagine you sitting next to Leon at the table with his coworkers, seemingly having a normal conversation at dinner. But all the coworkers keep complimenting you. It’s nothing inappropriate, just them saying how beautiful you are, how lucky Leon is to have such a sweet girl, how they wish they had their own cute little daughter.

And at this point Leon is already pissed but then he looks at you and he can tell you’re uncomfortable; you’re trying your best to give out polite smiles but you’re just clenching your fists and staring at your plate.

So to help you a bit, Leon says something to one of these coworkers that sounds like “Hey, X, how’s your divorce going? Does your wife still hate you?” and you actually giggle a bit.

The rest of the dinner no one says anything to you but you can still feel several pairs of eyes on you, so you’re grabbing Leon’s hand under the table, holding it tightly and he gently caresses your knuckles to calm you down and Leon is SO happy and proud because his baby girl finds comfort in HIM.

After his coworkers leave he just picks you up and takes you to the bedroom, being really soft for a change. Saying how you’re his good girl, how if anyone tries to touch he’ll cut off their hands, how he’d kill for you.

And for a while you’re just kissing while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Then he’ll fuck you and leave you covered in hickeys so you forget all about his stupid coworkers. And of course he’ll make you repeat dozens of times that you belong to him.

He’ll also be so frustrated , that he will cum inside you several times, filling you so much that his cum is spilling out of you for the rest of the night.

- 🦭

Hi 🦭 anon! 👋

I’m going to shamelessly plug this work featuring sweet stepdad with his coworkers hitting on you 🤭

And I love that 👏 👏

Dark stepdad who’s mean to you but it’s on his own terms 😤 so if there’s some work get together that you’re somehow roped into and his coworkers are being a little too into you, he’s def being the pettiest mean girl about it.

“Weren’t you crying at work cause your wife fucked her gym coach?”

“W-what?”

Leon side eyes you with a smirk, “Hmm checks out why she would tbough, doesn’t it?”

And you’re just like 👀 👀 Leon being mean to someone for you?? 😍

And so the conversation about you dies down as everyone knows Leon’s got dirt on them. He’s gripping your thigh under the table hard enough to bruise but it’s so reasssuring 😌 you just hold onto the top of his hand until the dinner is over.

And he’s for sure fucking you until you can’t think once you get home. He’s slipping your collar around your pretty neck and being very praise oriented this time until you’re just a shaking wet mess underneath him as he cums in you over and over 😵‍💫

Sorry I hijacked your ask idea! Dark stepdad is so dreamy 😌

[midnightinwales]

@grapesnolives thank you for the link, I'll check it out during the weekend. I agree that their experimentation is always beautiful and fascinating to hear. They had singular sensitivity to the emotion – sound axis. And you can never be bored with it.

I've moved us to a new post, since our conversation is veering off the topic of the original post and I think we've hijacked enough of that already ;)

Unfortunately, I don't have the source for that quote about Robert, as I have been consuming a lot (and I mean A LOT) about LZ in the past few months, but in quite a chaotic manner and I haven't been taking notes. But If I come across it again, I'll send it to you. I was also surprised by it, but I guess it makes sense, since it was originally Jimmy's band and I believe that as time went by and Jimmy was losing his grip on reality more and more, Robert might have felt constricted a bit or started to develop a need for more independence. Nothing unusual in that, it happens in pretty much any band. He might have also been genuinely annoyed at the endless solos, quite like Bonzo, and JPJ probably too. I mean, to make a six and a half minutes long song into 45 minutes is both amazing and unnecessary lol. And Robert did have a bit of an imposter syndrome, still has, actually. He often spoke about them as 'three musicians and me'. 'I'm just a wedding singer who sang with musicians', and how his elaborate singing style developed as a method to stay in the song, cause the long musical intervals made him feel irrelevant. He definitely wanted to impress Jimmy and there was a lot of reverence for him as the worldly, knowledgeable, experienced musician who created his own band. But that began to disappear when Jimmy got heavily into heroin imo and definitely lost after 1977. Robert's priorities changed. His view of life changed. The love was still there, but Jimmy was no longer someone that Robert had to live up to, so to speak. Now he was someone to protect (and, in a way, someone to mourn). But the initial experiences formed Robert as a singer, set his standards and informed his view of musical expression.

I've also noticed that he makes fun of Bonzo (the diarrhea jokes will live with me forever, thanks Bob :/ ) and JPJ (and himself, occasionally), but not of Jimmy. IMO that's because he and Bonzo were 'bros', mates, and that's typical friendly behaviour in this kind of relation. JPJ was also a guy in the band and concert is entertainment, so it's only fair to make people laugh. It created a sense of dynamics, each band member had his quirks and image to play with. But with Jimmy he is only ever sweet and attentive. Not least because Jimmy Page can't take a joke imo. He's quite fragile and Robert knew it very, very well. But this doesn't read to me as reverential, but rather as caring. He knew not to make Jimmy the centre of attention that he might not see as entirely friendly. And his mysterious image had to be uphold too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but whenever Robert speaks to Jimmy his tone of voice slightly changes. It becomes softer and warmer. ‘is it alright, love?’ kind of thing. He definitely wanted to be in Jimmy’s good books and for more than one reason.

I’m not surprised you thought they were a duet, seeing the photos. I recall seeing photos of LZ throughout my life and they’ve always been focused on J and R. I didn’t know what the other band members looked like before I started listening to the band. I knew Bonzo’s name because of his tragic death, like I do many other musicians’ who met their ends way too early, and knew that he is recognised as one of the, if not the greatest rock drummer of all times. But that was about it. IMO, he is the greatest of them all and he’s the only one whose drumming makes me genuinely tear up. There is as much emotion in Bonzo’s drumming as there is in Robert’s singing. Astonishing.

If you’re asking how I got into the story of J and R, it was quite simple really. I remembered the photos I’ve mentioned (mostly the WLL mic in the hair singing) which have always looked very suggestive to me and had heard before that part of the magic of LZ was the interplay between the two, and so when I finally got into their music I started doing my research to see if my initial impression was correct. And found plenty of evidence to confirm it, some of it much more straightforward then expected. But if you’re asking how I got into LZ then I’d say it was time for them to come into my life. One night on YT they appeared on my list and the journey began. I knew some of their songs before (STH, WLL, Dazed, a couple of others) and I had quite an emotional experience listening to Stairway as a young teenager, but that was the extent of it. I firmly believe that music comes to us at the right time and there’s no point in forcing it. It will find you if it’s meant to. And it will be a journey you’ll never forget.

Have you always been interested in drumming or is it the first time when it has captured your attention so much? Have you been into LZ for a long time?

[rxin3akamallory]

So I don’t know if I’m the only one who experiences this or not, but half of the time I don’t feel like a presence in the world. I don’t know if that’s was the right way to phrase it, but I’ll give an example.

When I go out with friends for example, I feel like I’m not really a part of the group half of the time. And it isn’t their fault, I just feel like a ghost half of the time though, like they don’t notice I’m there. Yesterday I had a really bad day dealing with it.

I say this because this is a trait Magril slowly grows from.

I may or may not have mentioned this already, but before Magril escaped, she was a lot like Rocket in Vol. 1, but with no one like Groot to bounce off of. She’s a part of batch 89, and sure she’s acquainted with Rocket and the others, but she never felt like she was a part of the group, figuratively and literally.

While everyone else’s cages were right next to each other, Magril was placed in a cage hanging from the ceiling on the opposite side of the room, so a lot of the time, she just watched the rest of batch 89 from below. And it wasn’t like they never talked to her, Rocket and his friends always tried to spark a conversation with her, but in the end, Magril felt extremely lonely when she wanted nothing more than to join Rocket, flying into the forever and beautiful sky with everyone.

What also didn’t help was the fact that Magril didn’t trust the HE from the very beginning. It pissed her off hearing Rocket and the others go on about how once they’re all ready, they’ll get to be a part of Counter Earth and live free easy lives. It made no sense to Magril though. Why did they have to be “perfect” to live free lives. Why did they have to go through tremendous amounts of physical and mental trauma just to live comfortably. It all sounded like a big joke to her.

The last conversation Magril had with Lylla was an argument in relation to this. And it wasn’t like Magril could even blame Lylla for having hope and trust in her creator when Magril didn’t have any concrete evidence to support her claims, but it still felt off to her that in order to gain freedom, they had to fit into the HE’s odd specifications. It didn’t feel like freedom at all.

Magril refused to listen to Lylla’s calm explanation and just yells at her, telling her to “keep living in your blind fantasies all you want! I don’t care! If we ever do make it out of this alive, the first thing I’ll do is tell you I told you so! Then we’ll see where your trust in sire’s at!”

Right after their debate, the HE enters the room and takes Magril out of her cage for some tests. HE heard Magril and Lylla’s conversation, finding it amusing that they even had a chance at being a part of his new society. Magril finds out the truth about Batch 89’s purpose of existence and snaps. She runs away from the HE and his guards, dodging bullets left and right.

While on the run, Magril froze in front of Batch 89’s cages. Rocket and the others are concerned and ask her what’s going on. After staying still for another moment, Magril could hear the guards getting closer and start running again. She eventually makes it to a small ship that was docked and hijacks it, taking off into the sky, leaving her birthplace and her friends behind.

Magril couldn’t forgive herself for how she acted toward Batch 89 while she was still in Halfworld, especially after she found out about Lylla, Teefs and Floor’s deaths. The memory of leaving her friends behind without telling them what she knew played over and over in her mind. Magril refused to let herself become that selfish again, and promised herself that she would never take other’s for granted, whether they deserved her kindness or not.

That’s another trait I have irl that is a struggle I battle with daily. I’m a huge people pleaser, just like what Magril becomes. Whether that’s a good or bad thing is up to you. So I end up giving people the benefit of the doubt and second chances all the time because I don’t bother to take my own feelings into account. Magril does this exact thing, until Rocket snaps her out of it and reminds her that her own feelings are still valid, right or not.

Something I’m currently writing with Rocket and Magril kinda delves into that aspect a little further but yeah idk I was just thinking about how bad my day was yesterday and was reminded of this part of Magril’s backstory.

————

☆彡 @raccoonfallsharder | @twigglestblog | @bakaotakulife

[ask-percyparker]

Well now.. What do we have here..

Ah! Got it to work with me! Finally! Hello everyone! You’ll have to excuse me hijacking Mr. Parker’s funny little device for a moment, I just couldn’t help myself! Not sure who exactly I’m talking to here, but I’ll be more than willing to divulge a bit about myself here!

I’m Dr. Olivia Octavius. I’m primarily a genetic engineer, occasionally I’m inventor, and now, I’m the leading expert on plasmids (as most of my colleagues are dead now, sadly)!

Though my research has been stalled following the complete and utter societal collapse of Rapture, I won’t let that stop me. I had to put up with a lot just to even become a geneticist in the first place, I can certainly survive (failed) attempts on my life.

Anyway, enough about that, I’m open to questions for a while, and I’m sure Percy is busy now anyway! Hopefully he won’t mind too much. And, I’m open for discussion on anything really. I don’t get many opportunities to have actual conversations with people who aren’t spliced up.. so this is nice change of pace for me, you see.

- 🧬