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dungeonpuppykai · 9 months

Note

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm.

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now.

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor.

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door.

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress.

Not that they would be doing any more of that.

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you.

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible.

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.

His eyes scan your form.

Beautiful.

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time.

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete.

It is the people that live in it.

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal.

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly.

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night.

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life.

You should have taken notice of the signs.

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem.

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was.

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence.

And Divine it was, you lived to learn.

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything.

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened?

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning.

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second.

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside.

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly.

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen.

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?"

He sighs.

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval.

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions."

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close.

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this.

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back.

The man is not chasing you like you expected.

But you don't want to stick around and find out why.

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door.

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead.

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes.

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused.

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying.

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently.

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one.

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet.

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home.

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands."

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that."

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet.

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone."

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours."

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery.

But you don't know when he does it.

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern.

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse.

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules.

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes.

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point.

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?"

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning.

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days.

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man.

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep.

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way.

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him.

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him.

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day.

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck.

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina.

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever.

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well.

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test.

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence.

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic.

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast.

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken.

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat.

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting.

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment.

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining.

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you.

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–"

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy.

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while.

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully.

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape.

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed.

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife.

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

What do you think hAH-

3K notes · View notes

copperbadge · 1 year

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Hey Sam! Since it's currently AO3 donation time, I'm wondering what your thoughts are on it? I'm asking because you've written RPF and it's one of many "anti-AO3/anti-AO3 donations" people's favourite things to bring up when they're complaining about AO3 getting so many donations that it continuously obtains an excess of its donation goal whenever donation time rolls around? (Wow, how many times can I say "donation" in an ask?) Sorry if this question bothers you! I don't mean to offend or annoy.

Hey anon! Sorry it took a while to get to this, I don't even know if the drive is still going on, but the question came in while I was traveling and I didn't really have the time for stuff that wasn't travel-related. In any case, let's dig in! (I am not offended, no worries.)

So really there are two issues here and as much as some people who are critical of AO3 want to conflate them, they are different. While some criticism of AO3 may be valid, rhetoric against AO3 tends to misinterpret both in separate ways.

First there's the issue of what AO3 hosts -- RPF, yes, but more broadly, varied content that some people find distasteful or think should be illegal, which is a misunderstanding of the purpose of the archive and more broadly a dangerous attitude towards the concept of freedom of expression.

Second, there's the issue of AO3 generally outpacing its fundraising goals while not allowing monetization, which is a misunderstanding of the legal status of AO3 and to an extent a misunderstanding of philanthropy as a whole.

The longer I watch debates about content go on, the more I come to the conclusion that I was fortunate to have a teacher who really wanted to instill in us an understanding of free speech not as a policy but as an ongoing dialogue. It's not only that freedom of expression "protects you from the government, not the Justin" as the meme goes, but also that freedom of expression is not a static thing. It's an ongoing process of identifying what we find harmful in society and what we want to do about it.

Should the freedom to shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater be restricted? Should the freedom to yell slurs at drag performers? Should the freedom to teach prepubescent kids about gender, sexuality, and/or safe sex? Should the freedom to wear a leather puppy hood at Pride? Who gets to say, and why?

I was nine when my teacher did a unit on freedom of speech and the intersection of "harm prevention" and "censorship", which is (and should be) a discussion, not a set of ironclad rules. This ambiguity has thus been with me for over thirty years, and I'm comfortable with the ambiguity, with the process; I'm not sure a lot of people critical of AO3's content truly are. Perhaps some can't be, especially those affected by hate speech, but RPF is not hate speech. It's just fiction. Or is fiction "just fiction"? This is a question society as a whole is grappling with, although fandom seems to be a little out ahead of society in terms of how explicitly we discuss it.

The idea that prose can incite violence or cause harm is both valid to examine (witness the rise of fascism on the radio in the 20s, on Facebook and Twitter in the past ten years; they're very similar processes) and a very slippery slope. Because again: who decides what harm is, and what causes it, and what we do about it? Our values align us with certain beliefs, but those are only our values, not universal truths. So AO3 is part of the ongoing question of harm and benefit both to society and individuals.

AO3 itself, however, has a fairly defined policy that it is not meant to police content; it is an archive, not a bookstore or a school board. AO3 refines its TOS and policies as necessary, but the goal is always open access and as much freedom of expression as possible, and if that's uncomfortable for some people then that's a discussion we have to have; ignoring it won't make it go away. But it has to be a discussion, it can't be a unilateral change to the archive's TOS or a series of snaps and clapbacks, and I don't see a lot of people ready to move beyond flinging insults. Perhaps because they were taught a much more binary view of freedom of expression than I was.

So, self-evidently, I support AO3 and I don't have a problem with RPF. Whether other people do is something we're going to have to get to grips with, and that's likely to be a process that is still going on when most of us are dust. I'd rather have a century of ambiguity than a wrong answer tomorrow, anyway.

But whether AO3 hosts RPF is truly a separate issue from its donation drives, because it's a criticism some people level at the site which exists whether it's fundraising or not. So people can criticize AO3's open policy and they can give it as a reason not to support the site, but it's just one aspect of the archive and the fundraising as a whole should be examined separately.

I think AO3's fundraisers are deeply misunderstood (sometimes on purpose) because even people who are anticapitalist get a little crazy when money gets involved, and this is, to fandom, a lot of money -- a few hundred thousand, reliably, every fundraiser. To me, a fundraiser that pulls in three hundred grand is almost quaint; my current nonprofit pulls in better than ten million a year and my previous employer had an endowment of several billion dollars. At my old job I didn't even bother researching people who couldn't give us a hundred grand.

On the other hand, AO3 is an extreme and astounding outlier in the nonprofit world, because basically it's the only one of its kind to work the way it does. It is entirely volunteer-run on the operational side (ie: tag wranglers, coders, lawyers, etc) and has no fundraising staff (gift officers, researchers, outreach officers) as far as I'm aware. To pull in three hundred grand from individual one-time donations, without any paid staff and without even a volunteer fundraising officer? That's insane. That doesn't happen. Except at AO3.

What people misunderstand, however, is the basic status of a nonprofit, which is a legal status, not simply a social one. (I'm adding in some corrections here since it gets complicated and the terminology can be important!) The Organization for Transformative Works, the parent of AO3, is a nonprofit, which indicates how it was incorporated as an organization; additionally it is registered federally as tax-exempt, which carries certain perks, like not paying sales tax, and certain duties, like making their financials transparent to a certain extent. (Religious nonprofits are exempt from the transparency requirement.) If you're interested in more about nonprofits and tax-exempt status a reader dropped a great article here.

Nonprofits, unlike for-profit companies, cannot pay a share of their income to stakeholders. Nonprofits don't have financial stakeholders, only donors. They can have employees and pay them a salary -- that's me, for example -- but if a nonprofit pulls in $10M in donations, my salary is paid from that, I don't get a percentage and nobody else does either. That's what it means to be a nonprofit -- the money above operational costs goes back into the organization. The donations we (and AO3) receive must be plowed under and used for outreach, server maintenance, further fundraising, services expansion, et cetera. You can see this in the 990 forms on Guidestar or ProPublica, or in their more accessible breakdowns on Charity Navigator. Nonprofits that do not put the majority of their income towards service provision tend to get audited and lose their nonprofit status. So nobody's getting paid from all that money, and the overage that isn't spent goes into what is basically a savings account in the name of the nonprofit. (I'm vastly simplifying but that's the gist.) Using that money for personal purposes is illegal. It's called "private inurement" and there's a good article here about it. The money belongs to the OTW as a concept, not to anyone in or of the OTW.

So the biggest misunderstanding that I see in people who are mad at AO3 fundraisers is that "they" are getting all this money (who "they" are is never clearly stated but I'm pretty sure people think @astolat has a special wifi router that runs on burning hundred dollar bills) while "we" can't monetize our fanfic. But "they" get nothing -- nobody even earns a salary from AO3 -- and you can easily prove that by looking at the 990 forms they file with the government, which are required to be made public. You can see the most recently available 990, from 2020, here at Guidestar. Page seven will show you the "highest compensated" employees, all of whom are earning zero dollars or nonmonetary perks (that's the three columns on the right).

Either AO3 is entirely volunteer-run or someone's Doing A Real Fraud. The money the OTW spends is documented (that's page 10 and 11 primarily) and while they may pay for, say, the travel and lodging expenses of a lawyer going to DC to defend a freedom-of-expression case, they don't pay the lawyer for their time, or give them a cut of the income.

Despite what you've read, the reason "we" can't monetize our fanfics on AO3 has nothing to do with the site being the product of volunteer handiwork or AO3 having it in their terms of service or it being considered gauche by some to do so; it's because

IT'S ILLEGAL.

I cannot say this loudly enough: It is against the law for a nonprofit to be used by its staff, volunteers, or beneficiaries to earn direct profit from the services provided by the nonprofit.

You can be paid to work at one, but you cannot side-hustle by selling your handmade friendship bracelets for personal gain on the nonprofit's website. If the nonprofit knowingly allows monetization of its services, it can lose nonprofit status, be fined, be hit with back taxes, and a lot of other unpleasant bullshit can go down, including prosecution of those involved for fraud. If you put a ko-fi link on your fanfic, you are breaking the law, and if AO3 allows it, they are too.

Okay, that was a sidebar, but in some ways not, because it gets to the heart of the real complaints about AO3 fundraising, which is that people in fandom are sick or unhoused or in some form of need and other people in fandom are giving to AO3, a fan site that is financially stable, instead of giving to peoples' gofundmes or dropping money in their Ko-Fi or Paypal. And while it is a legitimate grievance that there are people who are in such desperate need while we live in an era of unprecedented abundance, that's not AO3's fault. AO3 doesn't solicit actively, there's no unasked-for mailings or calls from a gift officer. They just put a banner up on their website, and people give. (Again, this is incredibly outlier behavior in the nonprofit world, I'd do a case study on it but the conclusion would just be "shit's real, yo.") You might as well be mad that people give to their local food bank instead of someone's ko-fi.

You cannot lay at AO3's feet the fact that people want to give to AO3 instead of to your fundraiser. That's a choice individuals have made, and while you can engage with them in terms of why they made the philanthropic choices they did, to blame an organization they supported rather than the person who made the choice to give is not only incorrect but futile, and unlikely to win anyone over to supporting you. We know from research that guilt is not a tremendous motivator of philanthropy.

It is also not necessarily a binary choice; just because AO3 gets a hundred grand in $5 donations doesn't mean most of the people giving don't also give $5 elsewhere. I support the OTW on occasion, and I also fundraise for UNICEF and the Chicago Parks Foundation and BAGLY and others, in addition to giving monthly to several nonprofits that I have longterm relationships with -- my alma mater, the animal rescue where I got the Cryptids, my shul. And I give, occasionally and anonymously, to fundraisers that pass through Radio Free Monday, which are mainly individuals in need, because I was once in need and now I pay it forward. These are the choices I have made. Nobody twisted my arm. I respond poorly to someone making the attempt to do so by attacking places I've given.

I think the upshot is, after all of this that I've written, that we cannot begin to come to grips with questions of institutional inequality in philanthropy, or freedom of expression and censorship, until people actually understand what's going on, and too few do. So all I can do is try and explain, and hopefully create a forum for people to learn and grow when it comes to charitable giving.

Archive Of Our Own and the Organization for Transformative Works are products of our community and as that community changes, we will necessarily continue to re-evaluate what aspects of it mean and how AO3/OTW express the community sentiment. I hope that the ongoing discussion of support for AO3 also leads to people learning more about their philanthropic options. But criticizing AO3 for fundraising by attacking it for fulfilling one of its stated purposes is silly, and attempting to guilt people into giving in the ways one thinks they should give rather than how they do give is just going to make one extremely unlikable.

As members of this community, we have to be a part of the push and pull, but it's difficult to do that competently in ignorance. So, I do my best to be knowledgeable and to educate my readers, and I hope others will do the same.

#ao3 #otw #nonprofit #fundraisers #ao3 nonprofit #that's my new tag for posts like this #if anyone has any of the earlier posts I've done drop a comment in them so I see the post and can tag it #archive

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azsazz · 7 months

Text

Midnight Muse

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,804

Notes: This is going to be a good one you guys 💙 (yes I know I have a fic titled this already but it’s too good not to reuse, they’re not related btw)

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“I think that’s the last one,” you sigh, setting down a cardboard box labeled Living Room on the stack in the middle of the floor. It’s not heavy—filled with decorative pillows for the cheap futon couch shoved haphazardly against the wall—but the tower of boxes sways precariously and your roommate, Feyre, darts forward to reorganize them from before they all go tumbling down.

You and your roommate had been very organized at the start of your move, putting boxes into piles for which rooms they belonged to, but as the hot sun beamed down and the temperature outside rose, so did your tempers. The process ended with trying to get everything into your new fourth floor apartment as quickly as possible, which was a nearly impossible feat, due to the slow moving elevator.

Feyre sighs, hands on her hips as she surveys the mess of boxes. Neither of you packed lightly—a mistake you’d made the year previous too, and promised not to make again—the both of you refused to hire a moving service, intent on the fact that you could do all the heavy lifting yourselves.

That definitely had been a mistake.

Panting a little, Feyre shoves the strands of gold-brown hairs clinging to her forehead away, sticky with sweat. The hairs at her nape curl away from her neck, and you’re so glad that she grew out those awful bangs over the summer. Now you don’t have to listen to her complain about how they’d be plastered to her head with sweat. The loose collar of her cropped shirt is damp, and she uses the hem to wipe at the perspiration beading at her hairline. “Fucking finally,” she moans, “I need a drink.”

“Alcoholic or energy?” you tease, but it’s not funny. You’re drained, and all you want to do is collapse on the navy futon that barely fits two, no matter how uncomfortable it is. But you’re hot, clothes irritating your skin from where they’re glued with sweat and your arms and legs burn with effort. A cold shower, tall glass of something icy, and a few hours napping will do you well. A grimace works its way onto your red face, “Tell me there’s air conditioning in this place.”

“Already on,” Feyre sighs, stalking into the kitchen. You follow after her, dodging boxes, and watch as she rips open the refrigerator door and shoves her head inside. It’s completely empty and you wince, knowing that it’s going to be a long weekend while you go shopping and unpack everything before the fall semester starts in a week.

You want to stop by the local art supply too, to gather the last of the material you need for your classes this year. It’s probably why you and Feyre have so many boxes; half of the ones adorning your apartment are stuffed with art supplies: brushes and paints of all varieties from oils to acrylics, graphite pencils and kneaded erasers, canvases both blank and filled. You swear there’s even an entire box dedicated to sketchbooks filled with random doodles and scribbled ideas for assignments that never turned into anything great. Feyre hadn’t been happy when she’d seen you’d left that box for her to carry up.

When Feyre’s had her fill of the crisp air, she hands you a bottle of water from the freezer. It’s nowhere near as cold as you’d like it yet. You’d run into the gas station to get a few bottles and candy bars while she filled up the tank of the U-Haul for your last stretch or the drive. It hadn’t occurred to either of you to grab something with more sustenance until this very moment.

“Ugh,” you groan, choking down the room-temperature water. It helps a little to soothe your parched throat, but nowhere near enough. “Do you have any money left in your account? We should Door Dash something for dinner, and call it an early night.”

“An early night?” Feyre retorts, making a face as she takes a sip of her own water. “We have a lot of unpacking to do. And our beds aren’t even set up yet.”

“Fuck us,” you sigh, leaning against the marble. The stone is cool where it seeps through your thin shirt, and you ache to rip off your clothing and press your burning skin to it in an attempt to cool yourself off. “Let’s just find the boxes with the pillows and blankets and sleep in the living room, Fey. C’mon, it’ll be like when we were young again! Except now we’re old enough to buy alcohol.” You waggle your eyebrows at your roommate and she cracks a wry grin. “Well, almost old enough, but those fake ID’s Tarquin got us work like a charm anyway.”

“Fine,” Feyre relents, “Dibs on first shower, though.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

While Feyre uses all of the hot water, despite it being nearly ninety degrees outside—blasphemous for the end of August in the middle of Southern California—you take the chance to move the U-Haul from where you’d double-parked it outside of your new apartment building. Thankfully, you and Feyre had saved up enough money from working at an Art Camp for children this summer to have both of your cars shipped to school. It was cheaper to rent a truck and move all of your belongings yourselves than to drive down and let a moving company do it, plus, you and Feyre had wanted to road trip this summer but didn’t have the funds. You both had decided there was no better time for it—until you could properly afford one—than this.

You scroll aimlessly through your social media on the way down, the elevator so slow and creaky that you and Feyre opted to take the stairs for most of your journey. Bigger things like your beds, the futon, and the tv had been squashed into the tiny elevator and taken up with prayers it wouldn’t break down. You can’t help but glance up at the certificate that says the elevator is in running order until its next inspection in two years.

“Is that forged, George Brown?” you mutter, squinting at the paper displayed in the corner. It’s frayed at the edges and yellowing, so you’re not all that sure this elevator has been inspected when it says it has.

It comes to a jerky halt that makes you sway when it hits the lobby. It’s as nice a building as you can afford on your budget, but the both of you will have to find part-time jobs as soon as school starts up, so that you have money to buy alcohol and food and supplies. Feyre’s older sister, Nesta, had lived here with her friends Gwyn and Emerie during their undergrad years, but they’ve moved on from shitty apartment buildings riddled with horny college students to renting a quaint house in town while working on their masters degrees.

When the doors to the elevator slide open you slip out as fast as possible, a shudder working its way up your spine. You wonder how many times it’s broken down, and you’d hate to be in there alone if something like that happened. Maybe you’ll take the stairs from now on unless you’re with someone.

The lobby of the building is small. There’s a front desk in which no one ever sits, as if the building used to be sophisticated once upon a time and a doorman used to occupy the space. Mailboxes pinned to the wall line the area behind the counter, and there sits a garbage can stuffed full with envelopes and more likely than not empty bottles of alcohol and take-away, maybe even a used condom or two.

It’s muggy down here, more so than your apartment that the landlord hadn’t turned on the air conditioning when he knew you’d be showing up today. Whatever, you hadn’t had to see the greasy man, he’d left the keys on the counter for you and Feyre to find when you’d arrived, and you were more than thankful for that.

You brush away some of the hairs that have come loose from your ponytail as you cross the lobby. The hazards of the U-Haul are blinking at a steady rate, the skies turning darker with the looming night. It had taken you and Feyre all day to unpack the truck, and you’re returning it tomorrow when your cars come in, so you need to move it to a normal spot for the night.

Pushing open the door, your steps falter as someone brushes past you like a shadow, nearly hitting your shoulder with theirs. Your brows furrow and you turn to toss a comment about how rude they are but the words dry up in your throat.

He’s tugging off a motorcycle helmet and you can’t help but watch the way his biceps bulge against his skin tight black t-shirt. The muscles of his broad back glide like butter beneath the fabric as he moves and you can’t help but let your gaze travel down his spine to his tight waist, dipping into dark jeans.

His thick soled boots thump loudly as he stalks through the door, stopping at the mailboxes to check if he has any letters. The tiny door opens with a squeak that has you snapping back into your body, stunned by his musculature. This man is a god of his own league. A masterpiece of perfectly crafted body parts and tones. He has an angular nose and long, dark lashes matching his disheveled hair. He runs his fingers through it and shoves the helmet under his armpit as he digs through his mailbox. Your fingers twitch to dig out your sketchbook and pencils from the box upstairs.

You force your gaze outside again, cheeks red hot with embarrassment. You were straight up ogling the man, and thankfully you’re not drooling, as you take notice while you wet your suddenly dry lips.

You click the keys, unlocking the U-Haul, but stop short when you see that the truck is caged in, a big vintage Bronco parked behind, and a shiny motorcycle that looks like it moves faster than the speed of light wedged between the moving truck and the vehicle in front.

“Hey,” you call, ripping the door back open to the lobby. You have no doubt that the motorcycle is his, and the car behind had been there when you and Feyre had arrived this afternoon, so you don’t know whom it belongs to. “Is this your motorcycle?”

The man is already on his way to the elevator, phone stable in his leather riding gloves as he swipes, envelopes tucked into his helmet. The elevator door screeches open and he doesn’t even bother to turn around and meet your gaze as he punches the button to his floor. “Nope.”

#azriel au #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #art school au #acowar #azsazz #acotar #acomaf #azriel #midnight muse #acotar series

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glitterjay · 1 month

Text

— car sex

⭒ bestfriend!heeseung, afab!reader, car sex, unprotected sex (consensual) + semi public sex, breeding kink, riding, possessive heeseung (kinda), cussing here and there, suggestive content under cut (mdni)

⭒ c's note: hmmm, i feel like this is not good at all... but i really hope you enjoy it nonetheless | mlist!

heeseung who had been your best friend ever since you started your first day of middle school. heeseung who was there when you got your first period. heeseung who went through the numerous break ups and hook ups throughout your years in highschool. heeseung who was still by you now in college. heeseung who was jealous of them all.

how was he meant to not fall for you when you went to him first about everything? it hurt him in the gut when you'd ask him for advice about how to do a proper blowjob. why couldn't it be him? what was the difference?

yet there he was, giving you a ride back home after you called him to pick you up from a party. you didn't drink at all. you didn't think you needed to be drunk to have fun, which was one of the many things heeseung loved about you.

it is true that the blood in his veins boiled at the thought of others seeing you in that short skirt, but who was he to complain? nothing but your mere best friend. "had fun?" he asked. you shrugged. "it was okay, i guess."

he hummed softly, leaving the conversation there. he turned a corner — a little too hard — which caused you to grip the seatbealt tightly. heeseung, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to lay his hand on your thigh. "sorry about that," he apologized and kept it there.

you could feel the blush on your cheeks. for some reason his hand felt nice and warm, almost way too comfortable. and for some odd reason, as if your hand had a mind of its own, you put it over his, slowly dragging it up more.

heeseung's breath got caught on his throat. he was driving, he had to pay attention to the road. but how could he? his mind was starting to go crazy. were you really doing this? right here, right now? there was no way his mind was letting him believe it. not until he saw it himself.

so he pulled over to the side of the road. he looked over at you with big doe eyes. his hand was gripping your thigh a lot harder, but not enough to hurt. it was evident he was confused yet excited. "it wouldn't hurt to try, right?" you asked.

it was the perfect green light for him. all the times he felt like a loser jerking off in his room after hanging out with you were thrown out the window. his lust took over him, and in one swift move, he was kissing you passionately. maybe it was time to accept your feelings. it was time to stop hiding.

his lips were hard yet sweet against yours. you could taste the flavor of gum he always chewed. his favorite. his hands were quick to unbuckle your seatbealt and put his own seat back. also unbuckling his own.

he pulled away, seeing you stare out the window in clear embarrassment. "come here," he said, patting his lap. the idea of being on top of heeseung made you clench over nothing. only in your wildest dreams did you ever think of this situation. maybe wishes do come true after all.

you gladly took the spot he was inviting you to take. your skirt rid up as you positioned yourself on top of his crotch. your panties were so thin you could feel the outline of his cock as if you were naked.

heeseung's hands were fast enough to greet your thighs again, rubbing them up and down. the gesture made you throw your head back, making heeseung's dick twitch under you. you were so goddamn beautiful. there was no way he would let this opportunity go.

"you're so fucking sexy... but you'd look even better bouncing on my cock."

"and what's stopping me?"

if the heeseung that realized he had feelings for his best friend for the first time heard of this, he'd call it bullshit. you were both desperate, trying to get to the deed as soon as possible in such a tiny place.

you positioned yourself so that your entrance was right on his tip, and you slid down carefuly, letting yourself and your best friend adjust to the feeling. "you feel so goddamn good. just as i expected."

he was quick to start rolling your own hips onto his shaft, sighing loudly at the feeling. "fuck... i might not be able to hold myself." you held onto his shoulders for dear life, resting your forehead there as well. once you felt ready enough, you started bouncing up and down.

heeseung kept grunting and groaning, music to your ears. not only was his voice beautiful when singing, but fuck did he make pretty noises when moaning. his left hand left your hip to pull your hair back. "let me look at that pretty face of yours."

not only did his words make it to your head, they also made it to your core. his adams apple was a lot more visible now. as if you had never rubbed your thighs while looking at it move as he spoke.

your movements started getting sloppy, which heeseung noticed fast enough. the hand on your hair was long gone, back to its original position on your hips, helping you bounce harder and faster on him. "go on pretty girl, cum all over me."

and you did. you let out all that was in you at that very moment. your moans were almost pornographich, making heeseung curse under his breath. "i- haagh- ah! i can't hold it." he said. you took his face in your hand, forcing him to look at you as your eyes started to tear up at the overestimulation. "cum in me heeseung... please!"

that was all he needed. fuck was it all he wanted. with one quick thrust up, he was releasing all of his seeds in you while also holding you down on him. the warm feeling made you cum a second time, plopping back on his shoulder. "you're so mine now. so so fucking mine."

tag list: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @defnotfertilizedtoesw | if you'd like to be in the list feel free to send an ask!

#— ✿ c's work!#kpop #hard hours #enhypen #enhypen hard hours #kpop smut #enhypen smut #engene #enhypen heeseung #enhypen heeseung smut #heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut

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jeon-ify · 3 months

Text

thoughts- choi san ft. mingi

synopsis: while your boyfriend is traveling for a music video, you can’t seem to shake off sexual thoughts even for the slightest amount of time. you need a release, and who better to call than mingi’s best friend san?

warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, reader cheats on mingi, san is a married man but cheats with reader, nipple play, breath play, rough sex, degradation, mingi calls san during sex, face slapping, pussy slapping, swearing, breeding kink (if you squint), etc. if i missed anything… let me know !

enjoy!

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with only 10 minutes left for mingi to head to the airport, you felt the sudden urge to bounce on mingi’s cock for no given reason, at the worst possible time. it’s always the worst moments that your brain and pussy decide to remix and come up with the worst scenarios at the most inconvenient times.

when you reached the airport, you helped mingi take his luggage out of the trunk of your car, getting ready to say goodbye to him. he closed the trunk, hugging you and taking in your scent before he leaves you for the next couple of weeks. though it was only 2 weeks, you can’t go any longer than that without mingi inside of you. you began to grow desperate for mingi right now, but you didn’t wait to tell him. the only thing you could tell him was “i love you, be safe. call me and text me as soon as you get to your hotel, okay?” and give him a kiss.

“i love you more, baby. don’t do anything stupid.” he reminds you as he kisses your forehead before he walks off.

“i won’t!” you shout behind him.

as you drive off, you immediately text mingi, in hopes that it’ll make time go by sooner.

y/n: baby :( how much longerrrr

y/n: miss u already mings </3

my mingi <3: baby? its only been like 3 minutes loll

my mingi <3: only 14 days left !!

turning your phone off with a sigh, you drive to find the nearest gas station. as you pump gas, you think about ways that you could wear off the sexual burden you’re carrying with you.

i could maybe masturbate or something?

you think. you’ve been touching yourself for far too long, afraid to ask mingi for sex, that he would get tired from how many rounds you’d ask for.

you go into the store to grab a redbull. as you pay and get into your car, you (hope to) brush off all sexual thoughts for the next two weeks.

3 DAYS LATER

“yeosang, are you at the house?” you say into the phone. you want to hang out with friends or have any human interaction after being locked up for 2 days because right now, no one is answering you. mingi must be busy, and your friends are busy too.

“no, san is there but its just him, why?” he’s quick to tell that something’s up, as you’d never call yeosang on your own.

“ok, can i go over? i’m hella bored and mingi’s busy. he’s not picking up my calls.”

“yeah, i’ll let him know you’re going over.”

“thanks, yeo.”

the call comes to an end, as you think about what you would even do at their house. you never go there without mingi. mingi never lets you go there on your own, knowing how his friends— san— are.

as you drive for the next 22 minutes, you decide to play music to possibly drown out all thoughts. you roll a window down, sip on redbull, but the thoughts just come right back to you.

you arrive to their home, parking in their unusually large driveway. you knock, hearing san rushing to open the door. “hey, what are you doing here?” he questions.

“i’m bored and yeosang said he told you i’d be here. did he not?” you say, voice shaking as you’re not aware of what might happen. if mingi knew you were here on your own, you would quite possibly end up single.

“yeah, come in.” he shuts the door behind you, just as confused as you are. he walks over to the kitchen, preparing cups and wine for the both of you.

“does mingi know you’re here?” he speaks with his back towards you, putting the drink in the fridge.

“no, and i don’t get why he doesn’t want me here. what’s so crazy about you guys that makes mingi so weird about me being here alone?” you begin. you want a conversation and you want san to tell what mingi won’t tell you. you feel like you’re cheating already, being here without your boyfriend.

“i don’t know. i’ve never done anything to him.” he argues. something must’ve happened on mingi’s end for them to end up so weird with each other.

“so how come you’re home alone? did no one invite you anywhere?” you question, taking a sip of the drink san had poured for you. he responds after a long pause of eye contact, watching the way your lips caress the rim of the glass.

“honestly, i didn’t wanna go anywhere. everyone else went out to wooyoung’s mom’s house and they’re spending the next 3 days there.” it’s like he has a convincing tone to his voice, not breaking eye contact as he confesses.

you want, so bad, to just let go of all sexual thoughts as they come back the second san watches your lips. you were never attracted to san, but the sexual absence that you’ve been facing has you in such a strong chokehold, you almost gasp for air in front of the man beside you.

your breath picks up its pace, trying to calm yourself before you let your intrusive thoughts win.

“y/n, are you okay?” he sets his drink down on the glass table, watching the way your thighs are clenching.

“san, if i tell you something you literally cannot tell a soul.” you set your drink down beside his, finally deciding to let some steam off.

“y-yeah. what’s going on, pretty?” he raises concern in his tone, the nickname sending shivers through your chest and down to your core. his voice is soft and deep, a sense of care and possessiveness without ever claiming you.

he knows what he’s doing.

“so mingi and i haven’t had sex in like 3 months, and when he left i guess my body went into autopilot trying to find a release when he like walked away from me. cus he looked so good in his outfit i guess the thoughts started flooding all at once. i dont know san, like why am i so-“ you ramble, san not even understanding what you’re getting at. your words leave your mouth at 100mph, trying to get to the point.

“y/n, what are you getting at?” he scoots closer to you. you feel his breathing becoming slower but deeper, his hands inching closer to your knee.

you sigh, in hopes to brush off the thoughts that are replaying in your mind— san being inside of you and filling in that void mingi had planted in your cervix. you also imagine the ways that san would wrap his rather larger veiny hands around your throat, cutting off all airways in multiple pleasuring ways. the way that he’d make you hold your orgasm makes your head spin. though you can only imagine, its almost as if he can hear your thoughts.

“has mingi actually made love to you? not just sex, actually fucked you the way you wanted.” he notices the way your mind races, picking at your cuticles in the anxious manner that san has created.

“we’ve had sex, but i guess he’s never asked me what i was into.” you mutter. san takes initiative, inching closer to your face.

“baby, how are you gonna handle two weeks with no release? you’ve gone however fucking long without the proper release, let your dear friend san show you a proper fuck, mm?” he takes your hand in his, running his free hand up your bare thigh. he notices the way your mouth lets out a gasp the closer he gets to your heat. your mind races again, finally realizing that this is why mingi never wanted you over here on your own.

“b-but—“ you try. you really don’t want this to stop, you know he’ll fuck you stupid. be honest to yourself, you wanna get fucked stupid, and who better to ask than san?

“let me make you feel good, hm? you want me to be rough with you? say the words, darling.” he inches closer, his right arm on one side of you as he leans on top of you. you stare at his lips, watching the way they drip with arousal already.

“san, use me.” fucking finally. as if you poured fuel to the fire, san immediately crashes his plump pink lips onto yours. the softness of his lips does not seem to match the roughness he implies into the kiss, exploring every inch of your mouth. his tongue runs along the roof of your mouth, to your gums, and almost to your throat from how deep he’s kissing you. he takes your tongue into his mouth, sucking and eliciting gasps from you, as you pull away and take his bottom lip into your lips, sucking and creating a red tint in his wake.

“fuckin’ hell. i need to taste you, pretty girl.” his lips move down to your neck, using his hands to unzip your sweater to kiss down your bare chest.

“no bra, it’s like you came over to fuck me, that right?”

yes, he’s right.

“n-no, please don’t tell mings—“ you moan as he takes your nipple into his mouth, almost sucking the entire muscle out of your chest.

“fuck! please, do something.” you moan. your eyes threaten to roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as san doesn’t stop sucking and swallowing everything you give him.

his long fingers move to take your shorts off, immediately rubbing circles on your pussy the second the fabric leaves your legs.

“oh my god, you are fucking soaked, y/n. what’s going on in your pretty head, hm? bet you think about me when you fuck mingi. right, pretty?” his fingers plunge into your hole, relentlessly fucking into your pussy. his free hand finds a home over your mouth to mask your moans and gasps while he fucks you with his hand.

your legs clench around his forearm, threatening to squirt on his couches. your stomach clenches while san moves his hand from your mouth to land a sharp slap onto your pussy. your body jolts with pleasure from the slap, san groaning from how hard you’re clenching his fingers.

“open.”

he brings his fingers up to your mouth as you suck and swallow your juices. “good girl, take it all.”

he takes his pants off, wasting no time in jerking himself and entering your sopping hole. your eyes widen at his size, intimidated that you won’t be able to take him.

“san, i don’t think—“

“you can and you will.”

he stops you, placing his right hand on your throat while the other guides his length into your hole. you throw your head back onto the arm rest, your legs threaten to shut around his waist while he already picks up the pace.

he pounds into you relentlessly, hitting your cervix and pulling the ropes of your orgasm.

“so dirty, letting me choke you out and fuck you like a whore. what would mingi say, huh? look at me when i’m talking to you, y/n.” he grips your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eye when he pounds you.

“i-i don’t know! please,” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, because san’s giving you all that you’ve missed out on.

you should’ve said yes when he’d asked you out that one time.

“what are you begging for? i’m giving you everything your fuck-ass boyfriend can’t give you.” he slaps your cheek, leaving a red handprint on the right side of your face. you smile at him as he does it again.

“you’re so deep in me, sannie. it’s too much,” you begin to see stars as you yell out. all you can do is moan and cry for san to keep fucking you, even though it feels like you’re being ripped in half in the best way.

“you talk so fucking much, wonder why mingi won’t fuck you.” he lifts your legs onto his waist in a more comfortable spot, while he wraps both hands around your throat, squeezing tightly as he pounds into your pussy faster.

you whimper, san kissing your almost purple lips, using his thumb to open your mouth. he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue as you gracefully swallow him.

“keep clenching around me, there you fucking go. open your legs wider,” san is interrupted by his phone ringing. he doesn’t pull out, only reaching for it on the table by your head. he plants a kiss on your forehead before he leans back up to answer what displays as

‘Mingi’

he swipes to answer, putting the phone on speaker.

“yo,” you hear your boyfriend. you try so hard to suppress your moans, as san fucks into you faster and deeper. he places a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, even though he wants mingi to know how good he’s fucking you.

“mingi-ya. how’s ja-japan?” he mutters while you clench around his dick tighter. he moves his hand away from your mouth to pinch at your nipple.

“its good, hows everyone doing? i called y/n, but she didn’t answer.” concern and your name in the same sentence catches your attention while san looks at you in faux surprise.

“she’s good, yeosang checked up on her a few days ago, she’s just bored.”

he plunges his hips extra hard into you, staying in that one position, not moving an inch. your stomach clenches as you squirt all over san’s pelvis. he gasps, impressed by his action.

mingi is talking, but the both of you are just listening. san isn’t answering the way mingi wants him to, only reacting to what he says.

“are you good, bro? are you even listening to me?”

“uh— yeah, yeah i am.” san leans towards your face, licking the tears that fell from your doe fucked out eyes. you put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from making any noise.

“alright, i’m gonna go. i’ll talk to you later, san.”

“bye mingi”

“you’re fucking dirty, such a whore.” he groans and swallows in an attempt to clear his dry throat as he tosses the phone somewhere in the room.

“i’m gonna cum, sannie. please cum in me.” you bring your hand up to the back of his head to pull him closer to you. you lick a stripe up his dimple as he smirks. you feel him swell up and twitch in your pussy, his hand coming down to rub circles on your clit. his hips stutter as he fucks you slower, emptying himself in your cervix.

“want my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy even when mingi’s around.” he pulls out of you, watching the way his cum leaks out of your hole. he uses two fingers to spread your lips, watching the way your hole clenches and how loose he’s made you.

you realize how much you were missing out on the minute san touched your thigh.

sex will never be the same again.

—————————————————————————————

i don’t even know what to say.

😁

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lbxbx · 1 month

Text

Cockpit 12 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, major toxic behavior, fluff.

a/n: This is a subtle ending and tbh was a little hard for to actually mold up, there can't be a happy ending 100% and ya'll know that. i strongly believe that there are many drabbles that might come up that may show you different scenarios for this fic and possibly another end. Ily guys and i love cockpit that introduced me to so many of you guys <3 ps i hope i didn't disappoint with this update because i think i slightly did.

Previous | End.

It’s a cold cloudy day as the winter has already made its way finally, It was your favorite season throughout the entire year, and it’s usually the season you and your friends decide on doing outdoor activities, and of course it’s the holiday season where you actually how so many days off. You just got off your morning shift and picked up Hoseok from his office, his car is in maintenance and you need to get groceries for the week, so you offered to drive him and in return he’ll help you with groceries.

The windows are open in the car, he’s on his phone scrolling and you’re tapping on the steering wheel with your leg on the gas pedal, singing along whole heartedly to the song you started in your car.

I fantasize about it all the time, if you were mine.

I’d give this pussy to you, nine to five, five to nine.

Trying to behave but I’m feeling some type of way.

Even dancing to it, with one hand on the steering wheel now, Hoseok first seems unbothered, he’s used to you being like this, he’s too focused on his phone. But then it hits him and he stares at you suspiciously, and of course you’re too occupied on the song, but then he shuts off the stereo which leaves you singing awkwardly with your not so acceptable voice.

“Why would you do that?” You whine, you can’t look at him your eyes are on the road, but you feel his eyes on the side of you face. “What’s the matter?”

“With what?” You try to take a quick glance at him when he’s smirking. “How are things with Namjoon?”

“Oh, I kind of.. met his ex wife when I was staying there a while ago.”

“How did it go?”

You look her in the eye with your chest heaving dramatically.

This was something you were anticipating long time ago, you wanted her to know everything. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Namjoon never felt this strong before, having you stand up for him even when he could stand up for himself the whole time. But still having you in front of her scratched an itch for him and he himself wanted this to happen too, he wanted her to see what he has in hand, and that even when she was after his money, he was after his freedom. She still didn’t get what she wanted but he did.

Everything is happening right in front of her own eyes, she clearly sees that her ex husband was actually cheating on her with someone.

Not anyone.

The doctor that she saw a couple of times one of them Namjoon was actually with her. She’s the woman that treated her own son long time ago, the woman who actually had the same perfume on that she smelled on her husband’s clothes so many times.

Gosh this was months ago, she feels betrayed more than she already is when she recalls that you pretended to help her with the fake medical report, you were actually defending him? This has to be serious between you and Namjoon then. Have you two been together for that long for you to actually help him?

She recalls the nights he stayed out, he must’ve been with you, the nights he went back home smelling like you, there were too many of them. It did make sense to her now.

And you finally get the chance to look her in the eye without having to hide and beat around the bush, the greediness inside you is increasing and you feel so desperate to show her that you stole her man.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, your arms crossed to your chest while you eye her from head to toe, she glances at Namjoon and looks back at you before laughing. “Oh so it was you.”

You mirror her laugh and nod your head. “It has been me all along.”

She takes a step closer to you and actually takes a sniff, before looking at Namjoon. “No one, and I mean no one, can stand tolerating you like I did, Namjoon.”

Of course you weren’t going to believe anything she’s saying.

“And you’ll realize the mistake you’re making, perhaps not now, but you will eventually.” She takes another step towards you.

Even when you’re fuming and you genuinely hate the woman, you masked it so well as you chuckle and click your tongue, shaking your head left and right. “Is that what being broke and pathetic feels like? I feel so bad for you.”

“I will give him to you, I just hope you like leftovers.” The answer was on the tip of her tongue. “Who knows, you might end up like me.”

“Oh honey trust me, you and I are not alike.” You eye her again from head to toe, a visible cringe on your face when you look into her face. “You and I are totally different, and I think you know that very well.”

Her face changes and she clears her throat, she even looks back at Namjoon behind you, hoping that he’ll say something and tame you, or do anything to just silence you, but it’s the exact opposite. He wraps an arm around you and walks into the bedroom before turning his head towards her. “Take your trash and leave, and next time if you want anything send someone else. This house isn’t yours to barge in.” And he slams the bedroom door shut and locks it with the key

Your eyes meet for a second before you pull him in for a kiss, your lips pressed against his and your arms wrapped around him. You tried to convince yourself that nothing is different but it actually is.

He tastes sweeter in your mouth and it feels so fucking good to have him for yourself. For the first time ever when you’re in bed with him you feel like that and it feels good. Your friends were right, it was totally worth the suffer.

“That’s all.” You finally park your car near the grocery shop, Hoseok takes a long breath and exhales. “Y/N, this shouldn’t have happened.”

“I don’t know what got into me, I just wanted her to know that he’s way better off without her.” You seriously have no idea where this toxic behavior is coming from, and what’s weirder is that you don’t regret thinking this way.

“Did he do anything?” Hoseok asks as you two get out of the car, he grabs a cart and starts pushing it inside, you’re a little distracted first when you see the advertisements for the products and the discounts around the place for the holiday season that’s coming up, the sound of background music mixed with kids running around, you’ve always enjoyed running errands and now you enjoy it more when you get to spend quality time with your best friend.

“Nope, it’s like he wanted this to happen too.” You grab the flyer. “Oh look, there’s a discount on short ribs.”

“You don’t eat short ribs.” He stops pushing the cart. “But you do, I’ll cook them for you.” You walk towards that aisle to put the short ribs into your cart.

“Someone is in a great mood today.” He chuckles and looks around the aisle for other kinds of meets. “Actually yeah, I’m supposed to meet his parents tonight for dinner.”

“Wow he must be pretty serious about you.” You hear a smirk on his face and when you look at him you find him in fact smirking. “Did you think he wasn’t?”

“No not at all.” He puts pork belly into the cart and continues pushing it. “I just didn’t see it happening so quickly.”

“Gosh, you have no idea how nervous I am about this.” Your hand sits onto your stomach. “I’ve been having nightmares.”

“Hey, you’re an incredible woman who usually leaves a great first impression—“ He doesn’t sound half convincing which makes you push him subtly. “Stop lying.”

“Okay, you don’t usually leave good first impressions, but hey does it matter?” He’s right.

Nothing’s going to change whether they like you or not, you and Namjoon want each other and that’s what matters. “Yeah, it doesn’t. But hey I still need to be careful.”

“Did you ask him about his folks?” He pushes the cart towards the produce aisle. “Yeah, multiple times, he said they were nice, but still they’re his parents, he can’t just tell me that they’re awful, right?”

“True.” You look around for grapes since it’s the season. “I wish I can cancel the whole thing, I’m not really good with strangers.”

“They’re not strangers they’re your in-laws.” He teases you which again makes you hit his shoulder. “Shut up.

“You know what, fuck it, just go, what’s the worst that could happen?” He says it so carelessly which makes you think you’re exaggerating, but you really weren’t.

You were standing in front of your full body mirror that holds so many memories for you now, zipping up your short burgundy dress. Honestly it was an entire debate for you whether you should choose this color or not, but the dress fitted you like a glove, respectful, yet revealing on some places and really flattering.

You grab your high heels and take a seat onto your bed to put them on. You needed the high heels because the man you’re going out with is tall and big, you need some height yourself.

You cannot deny your stomach was pinching you the entire time, you totally forgot that this moment had to come sometime you never even thought of it. Tonight was exceptionally cold but you were sweating. You weren’t anticipating this night what so ever.

Your door knocks a couple of times when you still had one of your heels on, so you get up on your feet and walk crookedly to your door to open it with the other pair of heels in your hand. “Hey big boy.” Your smile lingers on your face when you see him standing by your door wearing a casual suit, his long hair pushed back and smelling like a mix of his cologne and cigarettes, the smell you grew to love and find really warm.

“Look at you.” He takes a step inside your house and prints a soft kiss on your cheek. “You look incredible.”

“This is the dress I told you I was worried about.” You giggle and close the door. You were texting him the entire afternoon asking him what you should wear and he agreed with you on that burgundy dress.

He grabs your hand and twirls you once, his eyes scanning on your entire body and ass. “Baby you would look sexy in a potato sack.”

“Stop.” You hit his chest and let go of his hand. “Take a seat I’ll be ready in no time.” You point towards the living room with the hand that’s holding the shoe. He laughs and grabs the shoe away from you. “Let me help you with that.”

You both head to the living room and take a seat onto your couch, you put your leg up onto his lap and he helps you putting on your heels. “So..” You start talking, clearing your throat before you finish. “Any instructions? Should I be careful with anything?”

He rolls his eyes and looks at you. “Y/N, you don’t have to worry, they’re nice people I promise you’ll love them.”

“I’m not really good when it comes to meeting new people.” Your hand lands onto your stomach. “I wish I can back out.”

“Hey, they’re the ones who asked to see you in person, plus, I know they’ll like you too.” He shrugs, too occupied trying to figure out the straps on your heels. “You already met Jay and it wasn’t that bad, meeting my parents can’t be that bad too.”

He told his parents frankly that he was seeing someone, and they were really welcoming the idea generally, the entire story now makes sense to them and they can finally understand what their son went through and why he needs to be with you. Namjoon was absolutely glad that his parents were supporting his choices.

They’re flying over from Ilsan just to have dinner with you two, and you didn’t mind the idea generally and they must be really nice people, but you were simply not ready.

“Am I doing this right?” He asks, finally done with your heels, you nod your head and get up on your feet to tuck your dress down. “Thank you. What do you think?”

“Absolutely beautiful.” He flashes you a toothy smile, his dimple that makes your heart skip a beat digging onto his cheek. “Thank you, let’s get going.” You turn off the lights and make your way out with him to head towards the place he had reservations in.

The entire ride there your head was storming with every possible scenario, and no matter how hard Namjoon tried distracting you on your way there or comforting you, still, you just simply can’t relax.

You tried distracting yourself and actually googling topics the bring up during the dinner, but it wasn’t helping, your head was all over the place.

To them you’re probably the home wrecker that thanks to her their grandson will have to grow up with his parents separated. You’re the woman who accepted to be with a married man, which now you think was a little selfish, but you’ve grown to like the man.

The day you went back home with him after he got his divorce was when you actually felt your entire relationship with him suddenly grew tighter and stronger, you wanted to face his ex wife long time ago and what happened that night scratched an itch for you.

You snap out of your thoughts when he makes the last turn and parks his car in front of the restaurant, you take one last breath and unbuckle your seatbelt, you remember what Hob said and you hardly convinced yourself that no matter how tonight ends, nothing is going to change the fact that you want him and he wants you too.

He can’t help but to notice your legs shaking anxiously before you leave the car which immediately make him caress your knee and up your thigh. “Are you going to be okay?”

“It’s too late to ask that” You bite at him which makes him chuckle at you.

He feels a little guilty on the inside now, he would’ve never forced you on anything if he knew you’d be this anxious about meeting them. Even though he’s sure that there’s nothing to worry about, his parents are really nice. And to answer his question, You nod your head and he presses softly onto your knee. He’s here for you.

Your hand is locked in his, and the gentle squeeze of reassurance of his hand surrounds yours when you walk inside, slowly making your way to the reserved table that his parents are already seated on, a little younger than you thought they would be, and his mother who’s already in heels tip toes to wrap her arms around her son, pulling him in closer and kissing his cheek. “Gosh, I miss you so much.” She squeals.

“You must be Y/N.” His father stretches his hand out to shake yours, you force out a nervous smile and shake back his hand. “Mr. Kim, I’ve heard so much about you.” Well, you practically didn’t, but you were trying your best to break the ice.

“We’ve heard so much about you too.” He smiles back at you, at least his was genuine unlike yours. The dimples on his face were the ones that Namjoon and his son got. You shake his mother’s hand after she finally let go of her son, “Mrs. Kim, it’s good to see you.” And your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when she pulls you in for a hug and a little kiss on the cheek. You could swear you heard Namjoon giggling behind you.

“Please, just Soohyun.” She shrugs it off. “Take a seat.”

Namjoon’s behavior doesn’t get unnoticed by his parents of course, he’s whipped and they can easily admit that. He’s been married for three years and never has he ever pulled a chair for his wife for her to sit, the way he looked at you was totally different than the way he looked at his wife. He pulls you a chair to sit and helps you take off the little cardigan you put on, before getting you seated and pulling the chair next to you.

Of course they’re across the table from you two, but Namjoon’s hands were in yours the entire time, intertwined under the table, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand and gently caressing your fingers. It was so hard for you to focus when his parents were trying to get to know you more.

“So what do you do?” His father takes a sip of his wine, you straighten your back on your chair and tell him about your job briefly, which he and his wife admire. “Do you love your job?”

“Of course I do, I enjoy it so much.” You nod. “It gets tiring sometimes and my schedule is all over the place, but I love it.”

His mother’s eyes were on her son the entire time, a grin lingering on her face when she sees her son ready to devour you. His glances towards you were warm and loving, he even looks proud of you when you talk about how you have medical students being trained under you. “That’s incredible.” His father speaks, “My friend teaches at your hospital, I’m pretty sure you know him.” And he mentions his friend who actually taught you too, which makes you bond with his father in a snap of a finger.

“And when did you and Joonie meet? His schedule is all over the place too.” Soohyun leans her elbows on the table. “You must’ve met him back when he was still married.”

She clearly didn’t mean no harm, but you find it hard to swallow even though it’s true, and since your hand that’s holding onto Namjoon’s is sitting onto his leg, you can feel him nudge his mother with his leg which makes you force a laugh, “Yes, we met around six months ago.”

“Actually I came onto her.” Namjoon looks at you, his eyes traveling down to your lips and his hands gripping tighter to yours. “And I was unfair to her when I didn’t let her know about my situation.”

“Are you happy?” His mother asks, one hand on her chest and the other reaching to grab Namjoon’s. He smiles and nods his head. “I am. I really am.” Which makes her heart full, she’s really proud of her son that he managed to not only go through this on his own, yet he got back on his feet really fast and is currently happy being with someone else.

At this point you’re totally numb, you could easily fold at what he’s saying but you’re still stiff in your seat. The things you do for this man.

His mother again bonds with you in seconds when she brings up Namjoon’s embarrassing childhood which makes you laugh your heart out, she can easily tell that you’re nervous which makes her a little glad that you actually care what they think of you, which by the way they adore you.

The conversation was about to go downhill a couple of times when his mom mentioning that it’s so hard to raise your first child, she clearly said that you’ll understand what she’s talking about when you and Namjoon have kids. Namjoon was sulking in his seat totally embarrassed and you trying to avoid the topic with dumb ways.

“It was really nice to see you.” You shake their hands one last time before hugging your cardigan tighter around your chest, it was just starting to rain and the weather is starting to get really windy during the night time. “You two should totally come over to Ilsan this upcoming weekend, we have to show you around the town.” His father suggests, his relationship with Namjoon’s ex partner was really shallow and they barely spoke, he was generally excited to have you over and show you around their town after you two had mentioned something about the bike path around the lake park.

“Do you wanna go?” Namjoon puts one hand in his pocket and wraps the other one around you, you nod your head aggressively. “Absolutely, I would love to.”

“We’ll see you next weekend.” They finally bid their goodbyes and head back to their rented car, and you and Namjoon hit the road back to his place. “So how was it?” He barely glances towards you when he’s driving. You lean your head back and sigh. “I need to lay down.”

Your social battery was running low, you spent the entire evening in an uncomfortable dress while having to keep talking, and sometimes even forcing out a laugh or anything. You couldn’t wait to go back home because you have a shift to cover the next morning. “I can’t think with this dress on, and I need to take my heels off like right now.”

“My place or yours?” He asks, and you answer right away. “Mine, I have to work tomorrow.”

As you two get into your place, you rush to take your heels off and run over to your bedroom, you plop down onto your bed face first and hug onto your pillows. “It feels good to be home.”

He laughs when he makes his way towards your bed and plop down on his back right next to you. “Are you okay?”

You nod and turn to face him. “Yeah, it was okay. Although I think we should’ve took things a tad slower.”

“Slower?” He sits on his elbows, his face tilted towards you, and you continue. “To them I’m still a stranger who’s going out with their son, and they probably think I was the reason you really got the divorce.”

“But you were.” He shrugs. Your eyes meet and right when you’re about to ask him to elaborate he continues. “Y/N, when I met you I realized that my life would be a waste of time if it wasn’t with you.”

“You’re overreacting.” You roll your eyes. “You got that from meeting me when I was drunk in a bar? Come on Joon.”

He nudges you with his elbow and chuckles. “I did. I went back home that night thinking about you. Maybe it was physical to begin with and maybe it was a little selfish to not let you know that I was involved in a relationship, deep down I missed the feeling of being loved and touched by someone who actually craves me and wants me for me. And you gave me everything I needed which made me hold on to you.”

You giggle and nudge him back. “It was a little selfish, but we need to stop bringing this up, it’s the past now.”

“You’re right. But you’re more than that to me, you’re incredibly beautiful and really smart, and not to sound so desperate but I want to be around you the entire time.” He whispers.

“I did get the divorce because I wanted you instead.” He inches closer to print the softest kiss to your forehead, you can’t remember if you were ever kissed there but it feels different on so many levels. It’s nothing like the kiss on the lips that you’re used to, and it’s totally different from the kisses and pecks you get on your cheeks from people around you.

It feels warmer and a lot more.. Loving.

Your eyes meets his, it feels like it’s your first time seeing this side from him and it probably is. He even smiles which makes you totally lost in his features, your stomach suddenly pinches you and is this what actual butterflies feel like?

Your face heats up and you clear your throat, your gaze never leaving his, he tucks your hair behind your ear and inches closer to press his lips against yours softly, printing the softest most loving kiss you’ve ever felt.

Forget the butterflies, is this what actual feelings feel like? It suddenly hits you, you’re not unsure anymore. You know exactly what you want with him.

“I really wanted this to be special, but I can’t hold it back any longer.” He covers his face and throws his head back onto your bed, laughing and curling in his spot. “Just say it Namjoon.” You laugh and hit his chest.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.” He finally gathers up enough courage to spit it out, which makes you laugh your heart out. “This is not middle school Joon. You’re thirty and I’m like twenty something.”

“Come on, just say yes.” He bites on his bottom lip, you decide on teasing him so you lean your chin onto your palm and hum. “Give me some time to think.” Of course you were going to say yes, but you enjoyed seeing him like this. “Make me say yes.”

He grabs your head closer to press his lips against yours, adrenaline rushes through both your bodies and you climb on top of him, leaning your body against his, his hands grab onto your hips before he fully wraps his arms around your waist to hug you towards him, his lips melting with yours into a deep kiss, his teeth grazing over your lower lip to bite into it softly and tugging it. “Alright.” You lean your forehead against his with your eyes half open.

His hands caress your cheeks and he pulls you in for a quick peck. “Is that a yes?” A grin fighting the urge to appear on his lips, you nod your head and nuzzle your nose against his. “Yes.”

“Oh, rest in peace to the Namjoon that escorted me to my seat.” You raise an eyebrow at him while taking a sip of your coffee. “Typical male behavior, you’re always too nice in the beginning—“

“I would kiss you to shut you up really, but I’m working.” He interrupts you.

It’s the weekend already and you two are finally flying to Ilsan to stay at his parents, he kept insisting that he wants to be alone and away and even tried to convince you to forget about Ilsan and fly to Jeju or something but of course you had to say no, you promised his parents after all. Although you felt bad for the man who’s been working nonstop this week, so this is like a little vacation for you two.

Of course he’s flying the plane and he gifted you your tickets, and of course you would agree, because come on.

Who wouldn’t fly for free?

You two are sitting near the gate and the cabin crew started boarding, and when he stands up and collects his phone and coffee you rolled your eyes, he once escorted you to your seat and now he’s going ahead of you.

“Even if you weren’t working, I wasn’t going to allow you to kiss me.” You shrug your shoulders carelessly, taking another sip of your coffee which makes him roll his eyes. “You’re so dramatic, come here.” He leans one of his palms against the coffee table and bends down to cup your cheek and kiss you on the lips. “I’ll see you on board baby, okay?”

“Fine.” The little smirk you were trying to hide finally shows on your face when your lip curves up a little.

Namjoon boards the plane, and not too long after you get on board and you finally get seated, you buckle up, put your important documents back in your bag and look through the window, the cabin crew serves you champagne which you are more than glad to have, you needed something to relax you since you were already nervous at the fact of having to not only meet his parents again, this time you’re staying with them for the whole weekend.

You took the champagne because you wouldn’t mind some pampering after all.

Namjoon makes his way out from the cockpit and makes small talk with the flight attendants, and damn it you wish he didn’t look that good when he’s talking to other women.

You curse on the inside at the birth control you’re on because it makes you very hormonal, not in an emotional way, but in a physical way, your body is on fire the whole time. So when you see him in his uniform, his shirt so tight around his arm and his chest, his fingers go through his dark long hair before he looks around trying to locate you, and when your eyes meets he flashes you a smile that melts your heart in a second.

He makes his way towards you and leans down and puts his hands on your legs. “Hey beautiful.”

“Hey captain.” You play with the badges on his shoulder and lean forward. “You look like a snack.”

“A snack?” He teases and his eyes land on your lips, you nod and continue. “And I would love a snack right now.”

“Careful what you wish for baby.” He whispers and visibly swallows. “Just give me a sign and I will fuck you right here, and they can hear, or watch I don’t care.”

“Oh so it’s okay to fuck me on the plane, but it’s not okay to kiss me in the airport?” You scoff. “Captain, we’re ready for the takeoff announcement.” The flight attendant nudges his shoulder from behind and cuts through the sexual tension that was increasing by the second between the two of you, he stands up in front of you and your eyes level with his covered boner.

You could swear if passengers took their time and squint really hard they would notice.

He puts his hands in his pockets to loosen the tightness, and he can clearly see your eyes locked onto his erection. “It’s all for you.”

“Mister Kim?” The flight attendant calls for him again and he turns to walk to the front of the plane.

He grabs the speaker phone and turns to face the passengers.

“Good evening passengers, this is your captain Kim Namjoon speaking.” And fuck you can’t control yourself anymore.

“First I’d like to welcome you on Korean airlines flight number KA87 heading to Ilsan, we are currently third in line for takeoff.” He looks at his watch. “We are expected to be in the air in approximately eleven minutes, we’ll be up to a cruising altitude of 35 thousand feet, flight time will be one hour, if the seat belt sign is turned please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened.”

He looks at you in the eyes with one of his eyebrows shooting up. “In about ten minutes after departure the cabin crew will be coming around to offer you a light snack and a beverage, until then, sit back, relax and enjoy your flight, thank you.”

He closes the speaker phone and gives you one last look before he turns and heads back inside the cockpit.

You feel extremely impatient and you cannot wait for the second you land there, you have to let it out of your system and you don’t a single damn about his parents at this moment.

Almost 20 minutes into the flight, you’re leaning your head back and looking through the window, a second away from closing your eyes and taking a nap before you hear one of the flight attendants come out from the cockpit, you can’t take your eyes off of her especially when she’s walking towards you.

“Ma’am?” She leans forward to whisper. “We have the lavatory ready for you if you want to.”

You stare at her totally clueless of what she’s talking about, you even look behind you to make sure that she’s talking to you. “Huh?”

She turns her head to look towards the cockpit and you follow her eyesight, and you can see Namjoon waiting near the door with his hands in his pockets, eyes locked onto you.

He’s been waiting for this moment since forever. All his colleagues experienced the mile high club, and back when he was with his ex wife, they suggested that Namjoon should bring her along so he can have that experience too, but of course, they were never there together, they never even had a spark.

And finally, today Namjoon asked the cabin crew to empty out the lavatory throughout the entire flight so he can fulfill one of his long awaited wishes.

You and Namjoon had never done things publicly and you find it a little risky, the plane was too small and you’re not sure if you can control yourself.

You unbuckle your belt and watch Namjoon go inside the bathroom, you nod your head thank you to the flight attendant and follow Namjoon in there, your stomach drops at the excitement and thrill of this idea.

You lock the door behind you and look up at him. “Namjoon we can’t do anything here.”

He rolls his eyes and leans his arm on the door behind you to corner you in the little tiny lavatory that barely leaves you space to get away. “It won’t take ten minutes, come on.” He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent before peppering you with little wet kisses on your skin that’s slowly heating up.

“Out of all places you want to have sex here?” Your eyes feel heavy when he sends goosebumps all over your body with his hot breath, he even whispers. “I’ve been wanting to do this to you for so long.” An audible smirk in his voice. “I want you to cum and I need to watch you trying to stay quiet.”

“They’ll hear us.” You hardly make the effort to push him because you want it too. And the thrill of being heard or caught makes your heart skip a beat and your thighs are already pressed together.

He prints one last kiss onto your jaw and leans his forehead against yours, his fingers wrapping around your neck not too tight. “You know, I kind of want them to hear us, or probably see you with my cum all over that beautiful face of yours.”

Your breath hitches when he tightens the grip around your neck and presses his body against yours, you can feel every inch of him against you including his angry cock that’s buried into his tight pant and begging to be let out.

He steals one kiss from your lips and goes down on his knees, lifting your shirt up to kiss your belly button and move further down to unzip your pants and pull them down with your panties to your ankles. His smirk doesn’t wash away when he sees how wet you already are when he barely touched you, and even when you two have been together for a while now this still boosts up his ego. “Look at you.”

“Shut up.” You whine and lean your head back against the door, your stomach dropping in anticipation at the thought of him touching you, at the thought of his mouth coming in contact to your wet folds.

His gaze meets yours for a split second, you feel your heart racing and you immediately look away, your face and body heating up, you’re slowly getting impatient, and he knows exactly how to tease you. Your body flinches and you immediately grab onto his hair when his plump lips finally landing onto your cunt, his tongue collecting the wetness that already escaped you and finally landing onto your clit before pulling back. He catches the string of your wetness that’s still attached to his lips with his finger and sucks on it. “Mmm.”

A rush of adrenaline combs your entire body that makes you grab tighter onto his hair and pull him towards you, of course he saw it coming and he’s been wanting to lick you clean, both his hands hug your thighs and he dives in, sucking onto your little throbbing bean and flicking his tongue against it, the taste of you sits on his mouth and you taste like absolute candy to him.

“Oh my god.” You find it hard to keep quiet when you feel your body slowly being drugged with pleasure, the man knows what to do with his hands and he slowly teases your entrance and pushes his middle and ring finger inside your clenching vagina making you gasp. He gets up onto his feet to whisper. “Fuck, I knew I’d enjoy watching you suffer to stay quiet.”

His cock is already bulging through his pants when he speaks, you move your knee up to rub it against his clothed boner, he bites onto his bottom lip as his hands work to his neck as he removes his neck tie quickly and grabs your hands together tying them up tightly, he grabs you by your shoulder and pushes you down on the bathroom floor, your head pressed against the door as he unzips his pants and takes out his dick to stroke it a couple of times before pointing it to your lips. “Open.”

You look him up in the eyes and bite onto your lips, he wraps his fingers around your neck and bends down to whisper while biting on his own teeth. “I said open.” And you obey immediately, opening your mouth and he doesn’t hesitate once before spitting on his palm and stroking his cock and shoving it into your mouth, tugging tightly on your hair and fucking your face.

You choke on him with your spit drooling down your chin and top, the tip of his cock repeatedly rubbing down your tonsils, subtle gags escape your mouth while you dig your nails into his thighs trying to slow him down but it was kind of useless. He throws his head back and his jaw falls down when he feels your throat tightening around every curve of his cock.

Your thighs are pressed against each other at the thrill of the situation, your body is acting up on it and you’re even turned on more at the thought of being caught or heard in the bathroom. Although Namjoon on the other side doesn’t care at all, he is willing to pound into you and he won’t care if you were caught or heard. His uncontrollable thrusts down your throat finally halt down when you push him strong enough to catch a breath, you look up at him and wipe your mouth with the back of your tied up hands while you’re panting. “Are you okay princess?” He leans forward towards you while he grazes his thumb on your bottom lip and jaw. Your innocent nods with your doe eyes locked onto his drives him insane. He’s even more impatient to fuck you senseless right now.

He helps you rise up on your feet and presses you against the door again to kiss you harder than before, you grab onto his cock to palm it slowly, you pull back from the kiss and bury your face in the crook of his neck to inhale his scent and kiss him, licking your way up to his ear. “Where do you want me to cum?” He barely speaks when he’s already out of breath.

You look into his eyes worried and confused for a second, he chuckles and turns you to face the lavatory door and whispers into your ear. “After I fuck you of course.” His hands already working to pull down your jeans and panties to your ankles, the view of your wet folds right in front of him makes him go feral and as much as he wants to eat you out again right now but he can’t leave the cockpit empty for too long.

“I can’t let you cum on my face when we’re less than an hour away from meeting your parents.” You look at him over your shoulder, he delivers a loud spank onto your ass and grabs his cock to rub your folds with the tip, smearing your wetness all over your pussy that’s already clenching and asking for attention. “Mmm.” Escapes your lips that you’re biting on when he presses against your entrance.

“Although it’s quite tempting to cum on that beautiful face of yours.” He pushes the tip of his cock into you making you hold your breath and clench onto your fists, the stretch is incredible and it’s already making you see stars. “I think it’s picture worthy.” He smirks and pulls out of you before spitting onto his fingers and rubbing your entrance and pushing back again slowly, this time pushing further inside you and the angle is driving you insane.

“Holy fuck.” You can’t seem to swallow your whimpers, he bites onto your earlobe before whispering. “That little slutty cunt of yours takes me so well baby, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.” You agree right away and your eyes shut tight when he pushes his cock balls deep into you forcing a breath out of your lungs. His pulsating cock inside you feels so good when it hits all the right spots, and he doesn’t waste the chance to make you feel so good with his fingers when he uses two fingers to rub your clit slowly, your hips grind down on him and he takes at a sign to go when he feels your wet cunt relax around him.

As he finally prepares to pound into you, he wraps one arm around your waist to pin you against him, and the other hand moves to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it and adding the perfect amount of pressure to make it feel better.

Slowly he starts moving his hips up against yours, the friction inside you is incredible and with each thrust the tip hits your spot making the pressure inside your stomach increase and you feel your body tensing. You cover your own mouth with your hand because you’re only seconds away from screaming out his name when he starts slamming inside you.

You look at him over your shoulder to meet his gaze, his eyes are lost between yours and the view of his cock disappearing in and out of you. And in his head he’s totally glad that condoms are officially off the table and no longer an option.

He feels your cunt relax around him before clenching again, he knows your body so well and he’s totally aware that you came surprisingly fast. Your eyes shut and your body shudders in front of him, your legs barely holding the weight of your body and you feel them shaking even.

Your chest rises to catch a breath and only one little whimper makes it out of your lips, your entire back relaxes and you grind your hips against his through your orgasm and he makes sure to pound into you faster through it too. You didn’t know it was physically possible but you feel yourself chasing after another orgasm even when you’re already over stimulated.

Right outside the door you’re leaned against is the flight attendant guarding the door, and she can clearly hear the sounds of your body meeting his which makes her rummage through the glasses to make any sort of noise for the passengers not to hear.

And Namjoon couldn’t give a single care whether people heard or even saw, his fogged up brain can’t comprehend anything but the fact that he’s fucking the woman he’s head over heels for raw which drives him feral and he even pounds harder inside you that you lose your gate and you can’t stand on your feet anymore.

He turns you to face him and lifts you up against the door to wrap your legs around him, and in less than a second he slams harder than before inside you. And you’re fucked already. Your hair is frizzy and your face is flushed red and sweaty, your heart is racing when you feel your next orgasm, and this time you feel it building in your shoulders and your lower back, it feels fucking insane that your tears roll down your cheeks, you cry out his name over and over with each bounce on him. It’s heavier than an orgasm and you know it, he knows it too.. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me baby, good girl.” He delivers a loud spank to your ass cheek that you instantly feel it heating up, and you can’t see it but it totally left a print there.

He grabs onto you tighter and seconds after fucking your breaths out of you, you’re squirting on him hard enough to push his cock out of you and he’s so aroused by what he’s seeing. You cry his name out again with your hand reaching down to your pussy to rub it while you’re squirting, his motion halting and slowly coming to an end when he feels your body calming down slowly.

He presses his forehead against yours and devours into your lips, you’re barely keeping up with him when you’re trying to catch a breath, he puts you down onto your feet and turns you again to face the door, he needs to cum on the view of your ass spread onto his cock all fucked up by his dick, your squirt soaked him so wet. He reaches his hand for his cock and starts stroking it with his other hand onto your ass, his grip tightens around the head and he jerks himself off to the view of your swollen pink pussy. “Shit—“ He starts releasing his seed onto your ass and cunt, his body tenses with each release before finally relaxing and shooting the last drop near your entrance.

You reach your hand down to rub your clit with that drop, smearing it all over your pussy before putting your fingers into your mouth to taste him, your gaze meets his over your shoulder and you laughs lazily before reaching your hand down to his cock stroking it slowly, “Your pull out game is excellent.”

“I was forced out.” He mirrors your laugh and spanks your ass again making you giggle, you take a step forward and walk towards the mirror, turning to see your ass. “Great art work too.”

“Next time I’ll do the same art work on your face.” He shrugs. “No excuses then, I’m taking pictures of it.” He grabs the toilet paper and rips some.

“Then do it.” You look at him, blinking your eyes a couple of times and he laughs, thinking that you might be joking but you’re not, and he realizes that when you don’t laugh. “You’re kidding.”

And to prove that you’re not, you see his phone in his pocket so you pick it out and slide to the left to open the camera app and hand it to him. “I think this is picture worthy too. Unless you think otherwise.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to take the phone from your hand and get ready to take the shot. “Turn around.” And you don’t think twice, turning around and leaning forward a little to reveal the art work.

He proceeds to take the picture of your lovely ass painted with his cum, the head of his dick positioned against your butt cheek which makes the photos eve spicier. He doesn’t get enough as he kneels down and snaps a couple more pictures, examining them and snapping a couple more again, before getting up and handing you the phone, and if he had the time he would’ve licked you clean and made you cum one more time.

You grab his phone and scroll through the pictures before looking up at him. “Joonie do you think they heard us?”

He grabs the scrunched up toilet paper and runs it under warm water before cleaning you up. “I think so, yeah. So what? Who cares if they heard or not.”

“Oh my god. Of course you don’t care you’re going back to the cockpit but I have to get back to my seat.” You put your pants on. “Can I stay here for the rest of the flight?”

He chuckles before pressing one last kiss onto your lips. “I’ll walk out first if it makes you feel better.” He puts his boxers back on and zips his pants. “I’ll see you later.”

The sun was setting near the lake, you and his father rented a couple bikes and drove around the lake while chatting and even racing. Your stomach was starting to hurt from all the laughing and goofing around, the man was incredible and really sweet to you and he was enjoying the bike ride more than you are. He does activities like that with his daughter but if felt really warm to the heart to be able to do this kind of activities with someone new.

Namjoon was watching you from afar with his mother, both carrying their hot drinks and walking around the lake, it was cold enough to put on heavy jackets and scarves, smokes of condensation rising up from their mouths as they speak. “Your father is having way more fun than I thought.”

Namjoon laughs and bobs his head. “Y/N is a really nice person and it’s so easy being around her, it just feels normal.”

“Yeah, this afternoon your father kept blabbering about her nonstop, she’s like a friend he never had.” She crosses her arms and sits on the nearest bench. “He loves her.”

“And you?”

“She makes my son happy, of course I love her.” She leans her head onto his shoulder. “And you?”

“Yes.” He very clearly answers, not beating around the bush. “I’m in love with her.”

He doesn’t even think before speaking as words just flow out of his mouth. “And I don’t think I’ve loved anyone this way before, I haven’t been completely honest with anyone about this yet, but I can easily see myself spending the rest of my life with her.”

“Joonie, honey you need to take things slower.” She worriedly speaks, her hand landing on his knee for reassurance. “I want you to choose her when you’re really sure that she’s the one.”

“I know she’s the one.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder and exhales, a large cloud escaping his mouth. “Do you think she feels the same way?”

“Otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to spend the weekend with your old parents, and trust me she would’ve backed out on hanging out with your father.” Namjoon and his mother both look up at you and his father laughing your hearts out at how you almost fell into the lake after your last race.

“You’re right.” He bites onto his lip when he sees you putting the bike down and sitting onto the floor near the lake, totally pooped out and exhausted. “I need to rest.” You even cough and put your hand on your stomach. You needed to catch a breath.

“Look at your father.” His mother laughs when she sees her husband put his bike down and land onto the floor next to you. “I’ve been trying to convince him for ages to come here and ride our bikes but it takes your girlfriend one dinner.”

“Should I be worried? Is he going to try and steal her away from me?” Namjoon jokes and rubs her shoulder. “Mom are you jealous?”

“Of course I’m not.” She straightens her back and takes a look at her husband who quickly rises on his feet when you do, you make your way towards a bunch of children skateboarding and ask to join them even when you never did it before. “Okay maybe I am, but just a little.” And Namjoon laughs at his mother while he’s anxiously looking at you worried you’d hurt yourself.

The moment he realized how he actually felt towards you, there’s this instinct that built inside him and he feels the need to protect you at all costs, and he needs to keep you safe, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt or upset. It may be a father instinct but not in a creepy way or anything because he feels the same way towards Jay. He’s always on standby when you’re away from him, ready to help you and pick you up if you fall.

“Is your father actually going to ride the skateboard? … Oh no he is.”

You’re holding his father’s hands while he’s trying to balance on the skateboard, and you’re laughing your heart out at him when he’s stiff and trying his best not to fall, and he’s bickering at you and biting onto his own teeth trying to hold a laugh.

Not only Namjoon and his mother are watching you.

There’s another set of eyes staring at you from far way wondering what you and Namjoon did to actually deserve being happy, because this person simply thinks you don’t.

She thinks that all the misery she’s currently going through is all because of him, she wasted her life being with him and she wasn’t even half happy, she never wanted him nor loved him.

Back when he tutored her when they were in high school she never thought of him more than a friend or even a classmate, her parents never forced her neither, they simply manipulated her and made her think that he’s going to be her partner for the rest of her life.

They dated not because they wanted to, they simply dated because they were around each other the entire time, and if she recalls correctly, she never told him that she loved him because she never did, and she didn’t hate him neither back then.

Her entire life growing up was a literal struggle when her parents kept comparing her to him. Namjoon is better at this, Namjoon got a higher grade, Namjoon is smarter, Namjoon this Namjoon that.

Okay scratch the fact that she didn’t hate him, she does, and more than ever.

She hates the way he always looked at her, she hates the way he talks and even the voice tone he argued with, she couldn’t stand his touch, the way his hand felt on her skin was unbearable.

The nights she cried herself to sleep were countless, she thinks he doesn’t deserve this happy ending and he simply just can’t have it.

What made things even worse was in fact Jay, she can’t stand the man and now she has a piece of him lying around her and actually calling her mom, and by then she knowss she reached rock bottom.

And to be fair she wasn’t quite disappointed when she found out that he’s seeing someone, she thought it could be her only way out and it actually was. But Namjoon does not deserve to be this happy.

Seeing you with his family around the lake scratched something inside her and made her insist on fucking up your lives even more. She needs to take her revenge even when she can easily admit that it was equally her fault and he feels the same way towards her.

And what better way is there to hurt Namjoon than to hurt the person he loves the most?

Namjoon gets up on his feet quickly and rushes towards you when you fall to the floor while you were trying to balance on the skateboard. Your ankle hurts and you scraped your knee until it was actually bleeding. “It’s okay, you’re okay, right?” He gets down onto his knees to help you, you gasp when his hand hovers above your knee barely touching it. “It hurts.”

“You should’ve thought about this earlier when you decided getting on the skateboard.” Namjoon carries you up and puts you down on the nearest bench before looking around trying to figure out a way to help you. “We’ll return the bikes, you can take her home.” His father suggests before Soohyun hits his shoulder. “You’re equally guilty.”

The man argues with his wife and Namjoon rolls his eyes. “I’ll take Y/N home.” And he proceeds to carry you up again and walk towards his car that wasn’t parked very far away before he takes you home.

“I’m sorry I probably ruined the night.” You land on his bed before he kneels down to wipe the blood on your knees with an alcohol swab. “Of course you didn’t, don’t say that, you were having fun.”

“I saw you talking to your mom.” You clench your fists into the bed sheets when the alcohol starts burning your wound, “I’m almost done. Yeah we were chatting.”

“Mhm.” You nod, then the room turns quiet for nearly a minute, you look at his lips twitching as if there’s something to say and he’s been hiding something. Before he finally speaks. “I’m in love with you Y/N.”

Your heart races because you didn’t see that coming, you knew it already but it felt different to actually hear it.

Your gaze shifts to his eyes as he reciprocates, he clears his throat and exhales. “I’ve been wanting to tell you a couple nights before I got the divorce, I just didn’t want to scare you or something.. Which seems.. That you are.. right now?”

“N-no. I’m not scared, there’s nothing to be scared about.” You shrug nonchalantly, trying hard to keep a straight face, “I just… Didn’t see it coming like right now.”

“Right now?” He asks.

“I figured I’d be dressed up when you actually say it, but right now I smell like blood and actually need a shower.”

He tilts his face as his eyes are still locked onto yours, before he leans in and presses the softest kiss to your cheek. “I don’t care.”

You find it very hard to say it back even when you feel the same way, it’s just that you never did this before, you never told anyone that you were in love with them too. “Okay.”

Honestly no answer was better than this answer. That was so stupid.

“Okay?” He laughs, this could usually set any guy off and it could easily mean that you don’t love him back. But Namjoon knows you very well like the back of his hand and he knows you feel the same way. And he feels so relieved that he finally said it to you.

“Okay.” You giggle. He cups your cheek and kisses your cheek once more before saying. “Okay.” And nodding his head.

No matter how hard his ex wife tried to hurt you, Namjoon was always one step ahead of her, he’s been living with that woman for three years he knows how she thinks.

Her thought process was impaired and she was blinded by hate, he knew she’s onto something but he can’t tell you, and he’ll try his best to handle everything without you knowing and having to be worried or scared.

He was always there for you and he can’t let you get hurt.

#bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x fem!reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #kim namjoon #kim namjoon x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kim namjoon smut #namjoon x you #namjoon smut #kpop x reader #imagine bts

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ganondoodle · 5 months

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so guess what they released more interviews and i think given what a writing shitshow totk was and what they have been saying in all these interviews is actually painting a really bad picture; i dont have the time, nor the energy to go over every detail

but they were commenting on people wanting the more linear format back and aonuma himself basically said that he thinks people who feel like that do so only bc of nostalgia and "Why do you want to go back to a type of game where you're more limited or more restricted in the types of things or ways you can play?"

what .. the fuck, more freedom DOESNT automatically mean better??? like ... restriction can be a GOOD thing just as tooo much freedom can be BAD?? like in totk??? are you fukcing shitting me- what the hell are games even for then, has he had an awakening to the fact that he actually just loves sandbox games without realizing it???? im not playing fucking zelda for a sandbox, especially not when its advertised as a somethign else

its pretty clear that they want to keep this format going with everything they say there, ... maybe it really is over huh

also i hate how they kept talking around answering anything about story/lore; they go asked how ganondorf even connects to ganon since theres nothign about it in game, and all they got out was welllll we dont wanna say anything bc its up to the player; about every question you got the answer of "make somethign up yourself" which is just ... its really clear they dont actually care but dont want to say everything is meaningless actually, so they try to be vague about it and with doing that really just confirm they didnt think about it and they dont care- so no lore actually matters, nothing thats been said or established has any meaning bc they will get rid of it the second it crosses paths with their new -more freedom equals better- philosophy, they say its bc they want you to be "free" to think up anything but apparently dont realize that when there are no rules, no consistent lore or anything that it ROBS it, it stops having meaning, its fun to connect dots only when there are rules you need to work with and dots to connect in the first place, when you have an established world with its restrictions it drives you to think more creatively about things- but when there are no rules?? its fucking boring!! thats what it is!!

when you discard all rules i wont care to get invested into anything bc i know it will not be considered again, be done away with without any reason and wont have influence on coming or previous games ... bc there are no rules, anything is possible and everything can be changed any second, so nothing matters

(they also talked about the many viral videos of those very few dedicated people that make godzilla mechs in totk and how happy they are about that- i get that to some extent, but the way they kept talkign about it really just felt like it confirmed my suspicion that that whole mechanic was mainly implemented to let people do that since that gets shared around en masse making it seem like that is why people enjoy it while neither the game nor the narrative are build around it in any way ..)

it just makes all the time i spend thinking, feeling and theorizing about zelda like a true waste of time, bc nothing matters and there are no rules-

i am someone who greatly enjoys working with and around established lore/rules, its fun to me to recontextulize things by being smart or creative with it all without breaking anything or as little as possible of the established things!

if i wanted to do just do anything i want I COULD HAVE ALREADY DONE THAT bc theres nothing actually stopping anyone to just make up what they want! i DONT need canon to lose all rules for that??!!

maybe ill have to make myself believe the franchise ended with botw on a good note ... ono

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #sorry for sounding so agressive about this #but its making me so mad #also someone said to me that they literally admitted to not have an actual writer for totk???#(or someone that has no connection to anything zelda before this??)#which i couldnt find myself but #it would make so much sense if true #like ... yeah if there werent any people dedicated for the narrative and it was jsut cool looking moment tacked on cool looking moment #or someone that has no idea of anything of the past ... including botw ... yeah .. yeah it does feel like that #it makes me so sad #and also like i have to come to terms with this franchise being practically dead to me now #just when i was about to start working on chapter 2 #can they please stop doing interviews when all they do is fuck it up more #(* ￣︿￣)

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paperclipninja · 6 months

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This thought struck me while I was driving and I don't know if it's a) tenuous at best, b) me finding meaning where there is none or c) possibly a thing. So naturally I'm going to throw it out there as a possible maybe-theory/foreshadowing.

As we all know, this handshake moment in the magic shop in s2 has the sword very deliberately positioned right where Aziraphale and Crowley's hands meet and we see the three swords in Aziraphale's back as he moves forward.

And when Aziraphale walks back to the counter and Crowley turns to watch, we see three swords now towards Crowley's chest - it's nicely and clearly pointed out with pictures in this post by @newfangledfancy

As many have noted, if Good Omens is anything, it is deliberate in its choices, especially when we're looking at something as obvious as this. What exactly it means, we'll no doubt find out later, but it certainly seems somewhat ominous and foreshadowing, with the sword down the middle arguably already in play with the separation of Crowley and Aziraphale at the end of s2.

My take? The sword in the middle is the breaking our two faves apart, the swords in Aziraphale's back are an indication of betrayal by Heaven (he still trusts they are the 'good guys') and the swords to the front of Crowley, to me, is indicative that part of that betrayal will involve trying to harm/destroy/get rid of Crowley.

The 'offer' to reinstate Crowley to angel status was such utter piffle (sorry, couldn't help it) because the Metatron knew he'd never go for it, but it also served another purpose; to lead Aziraphale to think he'd misjudged the Metatron (even if Aziraphale didn't really think that and doesn't have a choice about returning to Heaven, I do think part of him still also believes the system can be changed from within).

That extremely pointed, horrible look that the Metatron shoots Crowley just before he and Aziraphale leave the bookshop to go discuss the promotion (with accompanying danger music and all), you know, this one:

reveals to us that this performance the Metatron is putting on for Aziraphale really is just that, a performance. He wants Aziraphale to think he's misjudged him, I'm sure he was hoping he could convince Aziraphale to trust him. I think the angel is too clever to fully trust the Metatron, but what it does do is maintain Aziraphale's trust in Heaven and, I believe, the possibility he could make a difference.

So why the offer that Crowley could come to Heaven too? Yes, to entice Aziraphale but also, the offer makes it seem as though the Metatron has no gripe with the demon after all. It may be 'irregular', but he was willing to let Crowley be reinstated, it puts any notion of the Metatron potentially wanting to hurt Crowley off Aziraphale's radar (at least for now).

It's interesting too, in the 1941 magic shop scene, that the swords appear to be going into Crowley only once Aziraphale has moved past him, has his back to him. If I was following the separate, betray, destroy sequence of the sword set up, then I'd take that to suggest that any move against Crowley will happen while Aziraphale has his back turned, so to speak, and can you imagine the kind of fury that would unleash in our no. 1 angel? Coz I can and it is amazing! But I digress...

While speculation is fun (so, so much fun) and all, the point, the POINT of this rambling post was to say that if indeed that 1941 magic shop sequence is foreshadowing Aziraphale being 'stabbed in the back' and Crowley attacked in some way, it's not the first time we've seen a potential nod to that.

Look it may be entirely coincidental but I have to say, there is mighty similar symbolism right back in s1 when Aziraphale and Crowley are hit with the paintballs. Where does the pellet land on Aziraphale? On his back (and how, from where he's standing? Is there someone behind him??). And where does Crowley cop the 'bullet'? Right there in the chest.

I just wouldn't put it past this show to have planted the seed that early on. And look, if it's nothing of the sort, then they're just fantastic stand alone sequences. That's the greatest thing about Good Omens, if it was a Clue, then it's amazing and if it's not, it was still amazing. We simply cannot lose.

#good omens meta #good omens speculation #good omens #good omens theory #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley

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indouloureux · 2 years

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𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄

summary: in frenzied expeditions, eddie lets his anger snap and indulges in something... new.

content warnings: ghostface!eddie. character death (no one major), murder, eddie and reader being lovesick psychopaths, kinda shitty writing, gore, graphic depictions of violence. SMUT (18+ MDNI), (a warning that's a spoiler), knife play, blood kink, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m receiving), ball play, gagging, facefucking, overstimulation, kitchen sex??

a/n: in honor of halloween; idk how to explain this. i hope u guys like it. i wrote it within two days. this was kinda rushed. reblogs and comments are appreciated. thank u my girls @mysticmunson and @lilacletter for beta-reading!!

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart,”

Funny how that baritone dulcetness of a voice was easily recognizable. But it was probably because you’ve heard it in many different ways possible that this experimentation seemed familiar to you. Even with his speech choppy from the static of the RT.

“Hey, Eddie,” RT balanced between your ear and shoulder, you take the popcorn out from the microwave, the hot bowl seethes on your poor fingers but you could care less; the burning feeling felt good. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” his voice is slightly garbled. “Just got held up from the drive thru, babe. Don’t start the film without me,”

“Of course,” you chuckle. “Andy’s right here. He’s, uh, out by the pool smoking. The others are on their way though,”

He spits out an obscenity at what you think is an unforeseen speed bump, then a clutter that probably meant his RT fell to the ground. Then his voice is faint next: “I don’t understand why we invited these dickheads,”

“It’s for a truce,” you place the bowl on the countertop, crossing your arms over your white linen sweater, the soft cotton tickling your wrists. “I mean, baby, come on. You graduated! And so did they and, y’know, they want to fix things before they head off to college. And- Eddie, come on, you agreed!”

“I did. But, I just don’t know why we have to watch a movie at your place. You’re alone with Andy right now and I’m still twenty minutes away,”

You hear something slam in the background over his side. You frown, eyes scanning for Andy’s figure out in the backyard; a silver mist hovers over the teal pool, dark green grass almost black, the moon glinting its sharp tips.

And then there’s Andy, with his hands in his hips and a cigarette in his mouth. He turns and waves at you. You wave back.

“Andy’s not here with me. He’s outside, remember?” you pop a popcorn into your mouth, bending over the counter with your elbow on the marbled gloss. “You gotta relax, Eds. I’m fine. If he touches me, I could just… stab him,”

"You wouldn't,"

“I would,”

“You caught a rat and sent it away. You didn’t even drown it, or gut it. Or chop its head off,”

Laughing softly, you take the bowl into your hands and head over to the living room, placing it on the coffee table, aligning the stack of movies properly. “Doing that is, like, practically murder. Why don’t they include those cute little rats in the anti-animal abuse law? They’re still animals!”

“They’re pests, sweetheart.”

“Still an animal. And they're cute. Rodents are cute,” you plop down on the couch in a small bounce, not before you give Andy one last glance who seems to be staring at something across the fence. It’s probably just a squirrel. “What about you? Are you brave enough to kill a rat?”

“Oh, princess,” you can imagine him shaking his head, RT resting on the vacant seat beside him, replacing you. “You know I can do so much more than just kill a rat,”

“Spooky,” flipping your hair behind you, you giggle into the microphone. “Make it quick, please? I’m starving and popcorn’s not gonna suffice this hunger. I could eat a horse, or- I dunno, a person’s arm.”

“Sure thing, Your Majesty,” his voice deepens over a border of a mock British accent that hides his normal, American one well. Then he grunts, and another faint slam of something that catches you off guard and even makes you flinch.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Eddie questions.

You sit forward. “That- slam. Where are you?”

“Oh! That. It’s just the shit at the back, babe.” Eddie explains. “I’m almost there, sweetheart. Sit tight and look pretty,”

The RT crackles and there’s nothing but silence left. An ephemeral smile makes its way towards your heated face; conversations with Eddie, no matter the topic or its duration, never fails to make itself linger around your berserk mind.

Your heart belabors your ribcage expectantly, your crimson bottom lip tucked between your pearls. With your thoughts suddenly wrapped around Andy, who makes you wonder how long does it take for someone to finish smoking, makes you jump from your seat and wander away from your bright living room.

By the time you reach the sliding doors that lead you to the backyard, you’ve no sight of the man in the bright green and orange Hawkins High jersey. You frown a little, looking around the expanse of your backyard.

Finally, you slide the doors open. You worry he’s on his little schemes again, like Eddie had warned you about. Despite the truce they offered, you still put them on a pedestal and remained cautious of their actions. Inviting Andy into your home when you were still alone wasn’t exactly one of your brightest decisions, seeing as he could have done anything at any moment that could cause you harm.

But he’s not a murderer.

No, Andy’s a teenage boy who’s attempting closure and forgiveness and practices maturity like every other teenager does. Just… at a later date.

You race back inside your home and pick up your RT and a flashlight. When you return outside, the mist over your pool swishes away from the cold summer wind at nightfall. You turn the switch of your flashlight and direct it at each direction that it could reach, radio tight in your other hand just in case.

“Andy?” you call out. Where could he have possibly gone? “Andy, where are you?”

White sneakers stained by the wet grass and the dirt, you pad across the lawn prudently—tacitly, wondering if maybe you could sneak up on him and give him a good scare. But your backyard lacks trees or any other areas to hide into other than the sun loungers and the shed.

So this concerns you deeply. How Andy could just suddenly disappear. You’ve quickly come to dread this, with the eerie silence that blots repetitively at your composure and suddenly your rattling in worry.

You walk around, pointing your flashlight at every direction, the white beam only allowing you to see the probable septuagenarian metal fences that surround your home. You even open the shed you’ve always feared opening in the nights and see nothing but your father’s equipment and a lawn mower.

But something was missing there.

Your father had a very voluptuary collection of knives that are hung meticulously to the wooden walls of the shed. They were exhibited by size, cleaned thoroughly once a week during his weekends. Their frequent disinfectioning proffers itself like a mirror, where you can clearly see your distraught expression when you realize one of the knives was missing.

The Buck 120.

It was your father’s most beloved. And now you wonder if Andy took it.

“Alright, Andy!” you slam the shed door close, walking backwards and speed walk across every corner of your backyard. “Come out! This isn’t funny! Did you go inside the shed?”

No answer, obviously. What were you thinking?

You harrumph, annoyed that Andy would do this despite your brooding. You stomp your way back inside your house, wiping your feet across the poor rug that you practically assault with your frustrated padding.

You place your flashlight on the counter. Impatient and worried, you try contacting Eddie again through the RT.

When it’s nothing but static, you groan. “God, Eddie, where are you?”

In fact, where are the others?

You twist the knobs of your walkie talkie still, searching for the right station.

Suddenly it crackles and you halt your doings, staring at the radio with a confused lour. The crinkling sound makes you tap your feet impatiently, thinking it’s Eddie because who else could it be?

The frizzling ceases. You take this as a sign to speak. “Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart,” it’s Eddie. But his voice is akin to darkness, almost like corruption playing with a knife that glooms over boredom. The hairs on your arms raise in arising suspicion.

“...Eddie?”

“Go out to the backyard, baby,”

Discomposed, you do. You take heedful steps back outside, a sinister quietude resolves uneasily all over your lit nerves. You hold the walkie talkie tight in your shaking hand, the flashlight you took lighting up the backyard again.

“I’m out,” you say quietly into the microphone. “Eddie, where are you?”

“Just keep walking forward,”

You miff. “Eddie, just come here! Where are you, anyway?” you look around, pointing the flashlight over the fences. “This isn’t funny. Did you take my dad’s knife? You know he hates it when someone touches his collection.”

Eddie titters like he doesn’t give a damn. “Just do what I say,”

Cheeks sucking in, you walk forward, until your eyes adjust to a dark figure sitting in the middle of the lawn. You tap your flashlight twice on your lamp, and point the light at the figure.

If you could, you could have broken the handle in your hand.

Andy’s mangled body sat straight on the chair, the guidance of the blood-soaked ropes kept him up high. His head dangles to the side, his open throat bleeds lavishly down his white shirt; the horrifyingly stark contrast of vermillion to alabaster sets an aberrant spark of terror in your bones.

Then the slit of his apertured stomach leaks all his visceri, a pool of blood beneath his feet and the chair, staining your grass red. You drop the flashlight without your knowledge, the light shining his wretched sneakers instead.

Your hands shakily grasp your mouth, your lips twisting drastically into a choked sob as tears try to sting your eyes. A couple of them drip down your cheeks, your crying more like heavy heaves and gasps.

“Eddie?” you whimper into the walkie. “Where are you? You- you have to come and get me and- and we h-have to call the cops. E-Hello…?” you bring the radio away from your face, staring at the small machine in horror. “Eddie?”

With perturbing fear, you force yourself to look up at Andy again. It’s only then you notice his eyes stare off into space, lacking the brash colors irises adorn — they aren’t blue anymore. It’s a pearl swimming in a milk of lifeless beauty; the barbaric aura of his eyes evinces you speechless, unable to look away from the monstrous crime.

His mouth gapes open, the shocking realization that no breath leaves his agape lips causes you to sob again, your feet bolting you back inside your home, body breaking at each step until you arrive inside your home in shambles.

You hit the walkie repeatedly and speak into it, the way Dustin would during ‘Code Reds’. “Eddie? Eddie!” you hiss. “You answer right-fucking-now. I need you to call the cops—”

With your constant walking back, and your shaky exhales and that ringing in your ears forbids you to hear what has happened inside the home. With one last step, your back meets something warm and acute, causing you to scream and pick up something close to you—a knife.

You point it to whoever it was, the tip meeting the intruder's black clothed mask. Your eyes are wide with fear that attempts bravery, the blunt knife threatening that person.

Your eyes meet the plastic ones, the mask sembles a ghost; its wide, parted mouth frozen like a haunted scream, but the vizard is nothing but dull with its aimless attempt to scare. Anamnesis, had it not been from the circumstances, you would have laughed at it.

You almost did.

“Hi,”

The voice is muffled, the sound marching to familiarity, to hesitance, to realization, to disbelief. You let out a shaky huff, your weapon trembling in your grasp.

“Eddie?”

His glove moves like a blur to remove his mask.

Eddie’s breathless and sweaty, droplets of blood splattered from his neck up to his jaw, the sanguine blood creating symbiotic art with his opalescent skin. He smiles, corners of his lips almost meeting his eyes, his dimples deep with pride, and his whiskey orbs wide in redolent mentality.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he tilts his head to the side, his crepuscular mouth still managing to make you swoon and forget about the horrors that cover his body. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,”

His hand gently pushes the knife down and you oblige, dropping it to the ground in a loud clatter that makes you wince.

Your head flips between him and the sliding doors behind you, which still shows Andy’s corpse from the flashlight you left.

“What did you do?” you query, bottom lip quivering as you look back at Eddie. He shrugs with no care, his eyebrows raised to his forehead.

“I killed them,” he says bluntly, his smile falling a little. “I told you I could kill more than just a rat, babe,”

“Wh-what so you just—decided to suddenly kill them? While we were talking about- about rats and shit?!”

Eddie shakes his head, worry filling his features. Though, he’s worried more at the fact that you may fear him for what he’s done. He bends down, his bloody, gloved hands reaching to grasp your shoulders, which causes the thick substance to stain your white sweater.

“No, baby, no,” he tuts, pouting a little, his hands smearing themselves over your clothing like he’s trying to clean his hands before he cups your face, his gloved thumbs wiping your barely there tears. “I was already thinking about this months ago. Rage does something to your mind, sometimes,”

You whimper and his features soften. “What- what do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, I just told you,” he pushes your hair away, patting it down. “I was mad. I am mad. I couldn’t just sit there and let them taunt me when I’m all defenseless, baby. Life isn’t like that—you’re supposed to fight back.”

“Fight back, not kill them!” you say through gritted teeth, chest heaving brokenly. “Eddie, you’ll go to jail. People will find out,”

“They won’t, baby. Not with this mask,” he takes it from the counter, the absence of his hand from one of your cheeks leaves something cold on your bare skin. “Besides, no one’s roaming around, remember? Everyone’s at the town fair, and we don’t have any surveillance cameras now, do we?”

You sniffle, can’t decide between leaning in his covered hand or flinching away from the smell of blood. But his eyes—Eddie’s eyes, oh, you can see well every shift of emotion, desecrating each one with something new and peculiar; he exceeds the threshold of creativity with it, almost like an actor. Just… more quixotic.

Yet, despite your knowledge of it, you’re still surprised and fooled with the way the madness in his eyes swiftly changed into something like begging and forbearance. How all that insanity melts and twinkles into silk kindness, like he’s your Eddie again.

He sees your fear.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” his hands leave your face for a moment to discard his blemished gloves. Your heart relaxes at the feeling of his rough palms on your soft cheeks, eyes scanning his blood doused rings. “You know I love you, (y/n). I could never, never ever, hurt you,”

Eddie’s anger has clemency incarcerated; all that self-restraint had finally become impuissant. You couldn’t blame him for finally snapping.

“And,” he continues. “You wanted this too, remember? All that taunting, all the horrible things they said to you. And I know it’s all because of me, princess. So I had to handle it. It’s all in my hands, baby.” his fingers travel down to yours, bringing your hands up to his lips and kisses each dip of your knuckle. “Yours are all pretty and clean. Sinless,”

“I wanted them to pay. I didn’t want them to die—”

“Sweetheart, you did,” Eddie says sternly. “I did this for you. Before we go away to stupid college.”

You start sobbing again and he shushes you. You don’t know why tears aren’t rolling down your face and it frustrates you.

“You killed them,” you spit out. “That’s- that’s murder…”

“No shit,” he snorts.

“It’s wrong,” you blink rapidly, nostrils flaring. “You killed them, Eddie. And you expect me to- to what? Think of this as some sort of gift? Dead people as a gift?”

Now, he’s angry. His face hardens, his jaw clenching. Eddie shakes his head like a disappointed father at you.

“Learn how to appreciate things that are done for you, (y/n).” he says loudly. “They deserve it. They’re bullies. And bullies need to be punished,” Like a switch, though, his anger morphs into exasperation. “Baby, you know I love you, right?”

You only stare at him with whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

Eddie grasps your face tighter, you wince. “You know that I love you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding rapidly. “Yes. I- I know.”

“Then let’s celebrate it, okay?” Eddie’s face moves closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. “No more bother, am I right?”

Letting out an exhale, you shake your head.

“Good,”

Eddie leans down to capture your lips on his own, feverishly and almost passionately. Your hands wrap around his wrist when he tilts your head back as he straightens his spine, his mouth venturing deeper to let his tongue wander inside.

He smells of dirt and sweat, with whoever’s blood around his neck. The surrounding thought of death continues to imprison your mind, but Eddie overpowers it. Now, it’s just Eddie, Eddie, blood, hunger, and Eddie.

You try not to moan when his lips break away from yours, kissing his way from your cheeks down to your jawline, littering heat ‘till he reaches that spot of yours he knows you love so much.

Eddie spins you around until the dip of your spine meets the countertop. Your hands grasp tightly at his shoulders, eyes fluttering as he sucks and bites at your sweet spot like it’s his breakfast, his hands leaving his face to clutch and grasp at the swell of your ass.

Your periphery shows you the blurred image of Dead Andy once more, but you’re starting not to care. Not when Eddie licks up at your salty skin. His fingers dance from your ass until he’s gripping your thighs and lifting you up to the counter.

“Fuck, uh, Eds,” conscience tells you what you’re doing is wrong. That moral doer of an angel whispering in your ear. You almost succumbed to her. But the devil tells you to keep going. Fulfill your fantasies. You’re already there.

He pulls away from your neck, leaving short kisses on your lips repetitively. “God- you’re so pretty,”

His bare hands start to wander everywhere. Eddie clutches at the end of your shirt, urging you to move your arms up and you do. He discards the bloody sweater and throws it somewhere.

“Do you trust me?” Eddie asks.

With your whole heart. You don’t know.

“Yeah,” you sigh against him.

His hand moves behind him and pulls something shiny out. You frown at it.

“Is that my dad’s knife? Eddie, I told you—”

“I know, I know,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to have some fun, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll clean it.”

The weapon still had blood on it, dripping down to the handle, the curved tip, slick with crimson substance. You wonder whose it is.

He’s careful with it, making sure not to cut you with it, as his eyes wander over your bra. Eddie licks his lips at it, biting his bottom lip at the sight of the white lace that covers your ample tits.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he questions in a gentle susurration. You nod when you feel the wet knife drag down your stomach, a line of crimson painting your skin. “Words.”

“Yes,” Eddie looks at your wondrous gaze, cut short when the undulated tip dips inside your belly button and your head lulls back. “Y-yes,

Eddie’s knife, now owned by him from the sinful deed of murder, pulls away from your stomach to swim across your back, the cold spine of it pressing against your back, before the blade pushes up and cuts the fabric of your bra with ease.

“Oh, yeah, that's it,” he chuckles. “Look at your pretty tits babe.”

You don’t look at them. You look at his mesmerized look, watching him lean down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, the hand that helps you prop yourself up the counter now grasping his damp curls, tugging at it, which elicits a groan from him.

He sucks at your buds, until they’re puckered and hard, ticklish when he blows air onto them. When he treats the other tit with the same hunger, and they’re all kiss-swollen and sensitive, he squeezes them in his hands before he pulls away.

You lean forward and pull on the collar of his ‘costume’, your mouth heavily watering as it parts, the need for something to fill it up so strong. Eddie chuckles, flips the knife in his hand until the bloody blade sits in his open palm and the black handle comes up to rest on your tongue.

You could practically see his cock bulging out from the black robe that covers him. Eddie coos when your lips wrap around the handle, the flat of your tongue pressing up on it.

“Get on your knees, sweetheart,”

Immediately, you do. With death no longer prevailing in your mind, you fall to your knees, the ends of his robe meeting your thighs. Eddie's hands disappear behind his robe, and you watch him until you see it loosen and fall behind him to the ground.

“Oh my god, you’re not wearing any jeans?” you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“This robe is heavy and it’s hot. I would die first before I killed them,” he snickers. You pull on the band of his boxers, driving them down until his cock springs up and his swell tip slaps up his shirt.

Eddie almost rips his shirt apart, tossing it where his robe was. You spit down your hand, a glob of white down your palm before you wrap it around his shaft. He moans.

“A little tighter baby,” you squeeze and he sighs. “Yeah, that’s it. Put that mouth into good use, come on.”

With something pooling in the apex of your thighs, your mouth hovers over his head, and you engulf its thickness into your mouth and suck. Both your hands pump him in a tight grasp, which makes his ass clench and buck up in your mouth that you gag at the sudden impact of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

You pull out and gasp, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick, your lipstick smudged all over his veiny base. You blink away the tears from your eyelashes, Eddie’s hands on top of your head but not forcing you down on him.

“Let me fuck your face, princess,” he pleads. “Relax your throat and let me do it, ‘kay?”

Your jaw practically unhinges, his musk heavily filling your nose that meets the tush of curls above his cock when he goes all the way in. Eddie moans a bit louder, the salty precum leaking down your loosened throat. His thrusts are slow, and albeit his previous aggression, he’s calm with the way he fucks your mouth dumb.

Hands greedy, they search for his heavy sack full of cum and play with them, unable to jerk his length when it’s deep in your mouth. Eddie laughs out a groan, his throbbing head twitching against your tongue, his thighs shaking and his hips involuntarily bucking again.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he cards his fingers through your hair, pushing it back until it’s wrapped in his hand like a makeshift ponytail. Your cheeks enclose around him, the lewd wet sounds of his slick cock being lathered by your tongue and saliva accompanied by his moans, your gags, and your humming.

You tug on his balls, cupping the squishy, loose flesh. You breathe in his spirituous scent, looking at him like you’d been praying to Hades; nothing but pliant as his dick names you stupid.

And Eddie—Eddie looks down at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s seen, awaiting to be corrupted but he thinks you already have been.

He keeps pulling out and fucking back in until real tears pour down your cheeks. Your lips all swollen and inflamed from the rough friction, eyes cockdrunk he’s amused with this sight of you all used up beneath him.

“Look at you, such a slut,” he coos, a soft tsk from his tongue. Two of his fingers tap your sucked cheeks as he continues to thrust into your face. Your head shakes as you take him deeper, smiling wickedly around him, teeth grazing lightly on his skin but fuck does he love it. “H-holy shit. Oh, god—”

His stomach clenches, his happy trail slick with sweat. It’s a telltale sign that he’s close and you keep on letting him fuck your face like it’s your dripping cunt. You suck his cock with every fiber being that builds you, until Eddie’s yelling and loud with his moan as he spills in your mouth.

That hot, pearlescent seed of his falls down your throat, its saltiness makes you mewl, swallowing every bit of his spent. Eddie’s hips stutter into your mouth, spurting and spurting until his dick aches and he pulls out.

“You alright?” his hands massage the sides of your neck, thumbs rubbing your throat. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”

“No,” you sigh. “Now come and fuck me, Ghostface. I’m tired of all this foreplay thing.”

Eddie laughs at your impatience, hands bunching up the fabric of your underwear before he rips it apart. Then he lifts you back up onto the counter, his knees nudging your legs apart, the slickness of your pussy dribbling down to the table.

“You and your inability to wait and have fun, sweetheart,” he leans down to kiss you, though it's more like wet pecks that litter across your head. “You’re taking the fun away,”

You pout. He kisses it again. “This whole thing is taking too long. Just— Eddie!”

“Okay, okay,” he grabs a hold of his cock, the other tight on the dips of your waist. “I got you, babe.”

He slaps his still sensitive tip on your clit, sending jolts of pleasure that shivers from your heat to your back down to your legs. You whine softly, bucking your hips forward, until Eddie finally slips his head in your tight hole.

When he pushes in and finally settles deep inside your warm cunt, you feel full. In the way you wanted to be filled. You forget the fact that your boyfriend—who’s cockdeep inside your cunt—has killed someone and left them tied up at your backyard and now you’re having sex.

You don’t care. It’s been your plan all along anyway.

Eddie’s tip meets your cervix through a rough, blissful stab. He doesn't start slow like what he did with your mouth; no, he's brutal. Unforgiving with his bloodthirsty hip snapping. You moan loudly at each thrust, your nails scraping along his back.

You see the blood splattered across his tattoos, like his cloak had been futile at its attempt to keep his sacred body clean. The demon sure brought itself to life, dripping down to his hip and smeared across his bone, and Eddie never looked more alluring.

The bright lights of the kitchen adds a sheen layer of pandemonium that splits between risqué endeavors; it exudes sex in the way that can only enthrall you, Eddie’s mind gone to mayhem from all that pent up emotions.

Cunt squelching from that wetness created by the taste of his cum still swimming on your tongue, you leave marks on his skin like he’s your art. Bloodied and bruised up Eddie should be everyone’s worst nightmare, you think. He’s karma brought to life.

With his blinding thrusts, you don’t notice him picking up his knife again, only to drag its crooked tip right on the soft column of your neck that’s covered in hickies. You smile a little, too drunk on the feeling of Eddie’s cock going in and out of your silky sex.

“What are you doing?” you pant, hands lazily wrapping around his neck. “You gonna slit my throat open?”

“Nah, babe,” his tongue pokes out in concentration, dragging the flat belly of the knife across. “Just gonna nick you for the hell of it. Just—”

There’s a shling sound of a sharp knife piercing lightly through your skin. From the kiss of the knife, you moan painfully, your hand wrapping around Eddie’s neck subconsciously as the searing affliction ricochets in a rapture whirlwind down your spine.

Eddie exclaims in pride; you feel the blood drip down your skin, pulsing and extravasating coldness. He slopes and presses the flat of his tongue to lap up at your thick ichor, mewling at your taste the same time you gasp out silent screams at his relentless fucking.

“You taste so fucking amazing,” he murmurs against your now blood-deluged flesh. Eddie consumes it all. “Wish I could just fucking carve my name onto you.”

You clench tight onto him, like you’re sucking him into you. Eddie’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Oh- oh, she likes that, doesn’t she?”

“Do that—shit, oh!– do that next t-time,” you giggle onto his hair that you clutch like a vice, his hot tongue continues swimming arousal down your split cunt.

His skin slapping against yours sounded like a hypnotizing siren, which kind of ameliorates the bawdiness of the shlick sounds of your pussy engulfing his luxuriant dick.

Eddie stabs the knife down on the countertop, places a hand behind you and the other wrapped around your sweaty waist and fucks you into oblivion. Your moans become carnally loud, enough to drive the neighbors away but also enough to appease your boyfriend.

And at each thrust—everytime he pulls you down to meet his hips—your orgasm protrudes on you like a knife. Closer and closer until it’s deep into your flesh and almost peeking out of your epidermis. You mewl into Eddie’s ear.

“I’m gonna cum,” you choke out. “Fuck– don’t– don’t stop. Don’t stop, don't stop, don't stop.”

Shameless, mimicked wails of ecstasy, cascading into soft ‘uhs’ when your lips dance across his earlobe. Eddie wedges his thumb between the place that leaves him wondering where he starts and where he ends, rubs your bundle of nerves that has been grinding against his coarse pubes in perpetuity.

“Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he grunts against your temple. “Go–shit–a-and cum for me, baby. Come on. Be a good girl and cum,”

Obeying him, you gush all over his sensitive cock that spills inside your trembling walls. Your hips stutter in the air, clenching, cunt guzzing all of his spunk. Eddie lets out one last moan before he slumps against you, his curls sticking to your skin.

You pull away, finally meeting Eddie’s usual wide, baby brown eyes full of wonder and excitement. “Hi.”

“Hi sweetheart,” Eddie kisses your cheek. “You did amazing, babe,” while he doesn't pull out, he does pull his hand out for a high five. Your palm meets his. “Love the crying bit, by the way. You could be in, like, a Stanley Kubrick film.”

Eddie pushes your hair behind your ears and leaves a peck on your lips as he swipes the sweat away.

“You said you wanted the roleplay to be convincing,” you argue playfully. “I seriously don’t like how you touched my dad’s collection, Eds,”

“It was for a good cause,” his cock softens inside you, and so does Eddie. “Baby, I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“Not at all,” you wrap your arms lazily around his neck, brushing his hair. “We signed up for this, remember? Killing them has always been our plan before we left. We just added the sex thing to have some fun,”

“You’re right,” he nods, eyes squinting. “No porn film can exceed the greatness of our roleplay. The killer, and the helpless little lamb. Shit, that could be the title,”

“The Horny Killer, and The Sexy Little Lamb,”

“Better,” Eddie kisses your nose, you giggle. “Wanna see Jason and Chance’s bodies?”

A year ago, your patience had been bound tightly around your heart. You were understanding, kind; nothing but a vestibule of angelicum.

That is, until you met the devil that succumbed into your sinful desires.

Eddie wasn’t like this before. But truthfully, he actually did just snap. He let all his frustrations go—from watching the light leave someone’s eyes, to fucking you like there’s no tomorrow.

His van doors open, tossing Andy’s heavy body into the back, right between Jason and Chance’s horrifyingly mutilated bodies. All their skins pale and their eyes defunct. You place your hands on your hips.

“Where’s Patrick?” you ask him.

“He was nice. Didn’t have the heart to kill him,” he pouts, wrapping his arm around your back and kissing your temple. “I was thinking of hanging them at the gym tomorrow on the last day? Right before I kill Principal Higgins?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” you rest your head on his shoulder.

Originally, you only planned on roleplaying. No murder, no knives, no fright, no blood. But there’s no harm in going a little bit psycho with this whole sex extravaganza. Everyone had their own kinks.

You’re just lucky enough Eddie felt the same.

You pick up the mask and put it over your head, Eddie’s faint scent of cigarettes and alcohol burning your nose. “I get to wear this next time, right?”

“Of course,” Eddie smiles. “But, you get to carve your initials on me next time.”

“Deal.”

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