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neopuppy · 1 year

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Take My Breath (M)

pairing. alpha Jeno x female omega reader

genre. trapped in an elevator AU, a/b/o, pwp, M/F

warnings. profanity, explicit smut.. filth, pre-heat, dubious at first(consent given), ‘stuck’(ridiculously unrealistic), slick, oral, unprotected sex, anal, multiple orgasms. minors DNI.

word count. 7000

“A coffee shop in the lobby? The fact that this place even has a lobby?” Your friend lets out a low whistle glancing around. “Not to mention the amount of unclaimed Alpha real estate around here. So many bare naked fingers. What God did you save from immortal death in a past life to snag this place?”

“I told you, I’ve been on the hunt for months. It was worth the wait.”

“A new place isn’t the only thing you’ve been hunting for months.” One of her well-kempt eyebrows bounces, nudging her chin toward the line that’s formed filled with Alphas dressed in various work attire. “There’s no way you won’t end up mated living here.”

“I’m not trying to mate anyone.” You say uninterested. It’s true, really, you could care less to have some Alpha prancing around your new place, making a mess of crumbs and leaving remnants of his scent behind to ruin your peaceful atmosphere.

“You can try to deny our nature all you want, but your Omega instincts will handle your stubborn attitude. You just wait and see.” She says with a wink, leading you to start up another discourse over how you have learned to control your Omega’s feral hormones. A call of your name from behind the coffee bar leaves your lips parted, holding up a finger before her face as you stand to pick up your drink.

“Hold that thought, I’m not done with you.”

“Yeah yeah. Go grab your coffee you grouch, you need it.” She laughs teasingly, making eyes at a few handsome Alphas in line.

“This isn’t my drink..” You say, turning the label on the cup to face you. “Jeno?”

“That would be me.” A firm chest grazes your arm, sliding into the space by your side as he reaches for the cup still lingering at the tips of your fingers. “I believe I grabbed yours by mistake.”

The Alphas scent swarms around you first, as rich and warm as a field full of lavender, calming enough to relax your tense muscles, loosen brain-aching invisible strings keeping your scalp tense, slowly stumbling back mindlessly.

“Oh my God!” The Alphas deep rumble reaches your ears faintly, gathering you with his scooped arms before you can hit the floor.

He’s strong, flexing under your waist as he sets you back to your feet and maneuvers you with speed to stay up. “Are you okay?!”

Concern softens his speech, stroking up and down your arms with wide large palms that shiver each nerve down to your fingertips. “Almost hit your head there.”

The Alphas cheeks bunch up, steadying you with his hands clasped on your shoulders. “Probably my fault for popping up by your side out of nowhere.”

“Is she okay??” Your friend interrupts, breathlessly as if she’d rushed over, patting the top of your back. “What happened?”

“Ah, I’m the one to blame.” The Alpha says apologetically, directing to your drinks sitting side by side. “I grabbed the wrong drink, think I bum rushed your friend here.”

“Oh, that’s okay Alpha, she can be such a klutz.” She replies flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes with no shame at the handsome man standing before you who barely gives her more than a second of eye contact.

“It was definitely my fault.” He nods to you, lifting one of his eyebrows inquisitively. “It’s not everyday you accidentally steal a pretty Omegas drink.. I’ll have to be more careful next time.”

“Any Omega could only wish to be lucky enough for you to be the one to make that mistake, Alpha.” Your friend says, raising her pitch higher to sound helpless, making your stomach churn full of nausea.

“Jeno.” He says, slowly taking in your facial features. “You can call me Jeno.”

Jeno grins, leaving a $20 dollar bill by your coffee that’s no doubt begun to lose its warmth. “Next drink on me, for making you wait, and nearly knocking you unconscious.”

He nods again, waving goodbye with a controlled smile to contain how endeared he feels watching your glazed eyes follow his every little move. “See you around.”

“Now that Alpha has ‘problem’ written all over him.” Your friend chimes, nudging an elbow into your side with a smirk. Snatching up the bill left behind to wave in front of your face. “Sexy, generous, sweet? and that scent? If you don’t fuck him...”

The rest of her sentence fades out, too deep in thought as you inhale the remnants of lavender and hints of crisp grass left behind. Morning dew, moist, steamy, trapping you in a sauna filled with little to no oxygen.

Jeno wasn’t going to be a problem, no not at all. You only wish he could be just a problem, because problems can be solved. A simple equation to figure out, nothing you couldn’t handle.

A problem wouldn’t have you chewing at your nails, rasping your fingers on any surface to distract away every thought of him. Long showers to numb your senses were out of the question, quickly rinsing off to skip using your favorite body washes, tickling at your nostrils with the small bit of lavender laced through the ingredients.

The Alpha had become quite a hassle for you over the next few weeks, the largest daily nuisance with a smile plastered on his face every time he caught you gawking at him, destroying your sleep schedule for a mere glimpse of his stupid long eyelashes and disappearing iris. Truly succumbing to your pathetic Omegan desires even as you berate yourself along the way.

His damn enticing scent left you breathless just from passing each other in the hallways, his ridiculous strangled raspy vocals greeting you a ‘Good Morning’; the worst most suffocating scent melting out of his pores like scolding lava after an AM workout. God you hated it, that’s what you kept repeating as you slapped your bedside table alarm at 5am.

Who wakes up at 5 in the morning? You, of course, to retrieve your mail that you could have easily grabbed the day before, but that would mean missing the Alpha strutting in panting for his life, pouring sweat down his chest as if he’d just finished a triathlon, and his damn addicting delicious scent. His holy mouth parting open when he throws back his head to inhale a bottle of water as he kicks his way through the lobby double doors, swallowing the sweet nectar down in the most obscene of ways.

The Alphas chest juts out, firm and defined by the hands of the Devil himself, you’re convinced, with the sole intent being to ruin you.

“Morning.” Jeno said, tipping his head, somedays adding a wink with his smile. Today he waves as he passes by, biting on his lower lip while you force a smile back and release something akin to a laugh, a dumbed down giggle.

It’s sick really, because you think you’re getting away with it. Dressed up in your cutest outfits at the crack of dawn, hair done, and a full face of makeup on playing a casual bit every morning just for one minute of bliss.

Ever the perfect Alpha, Jeno’s either clueless, and as dumb as he looks with a big goofy grin or smart enough to know exactly what you’re playing at. If he knows what you’re up to, he has the decency to check your mate and keep up the game, especially when he makes an effort to keep the elevator door open for you for an unnecessarily long amount of time as you debate with yourself to get on or not.

A tingle up your spine lifts your foot, hanging mid-air as your heartbeat reaches your ear. Pounding a way between your eyes similar to a warning to stay back, do not enter. Danger ahead.

Unfortunately, your Omegas always had a taste for danger, dropping your feet to skitter onto the lift and squeeze yourself into a corner with your chin tucked into your chest. “10th floor please.”

The Alpha sports his charming smile, pressing the 15th floor along with yours. He leans back on the railing, cleaning off droplets of sweat cascading from his forehead down to his chest with a small towel, nothing but a pair of snug running shorts covering his body, leaving too many inches of his creamy smooth skin visible.

“Off to work?” Jeno clears his throat first to break the silence between you as the elevator doors shut, slowly lifting off the lobby floor.

“Oh, I work from home.” You speak too abruptly, realizing coming up with a lie would have been a better choice and his lip tweaks upward at one corner, nodding, seemingly pleased by your answer.

“Same, usually I’m just hopping out of the shower when it’s time for my first Zoom meeting.” Jeno turns toward you, making no effort to hide his gaze taking in your figure from your shoes to your face. “I definitely never look as nice as you.”

“Oh..” nervously, you toy with the ends of your hair, reaching to push some behind your ear as you wearily glance at the red numbers above. 4th floor. “You always look good Alpha..”

The compliment comes out more whispered than planned, igniting heat to burn behind your cheeks. Gripping onto the railing behind your back to stabilize yourself. That damn lavender scent, that fucking scent you’ve desperately avoided. Stupidly beginning to regret entering such a confined space with the man driving you up a wall.

“You think so?” Jeno sways a bit, coughing to cover up inconspicuously wandering over your outfit of choice today; silently grateful you opted for a short skirt instead of those ludacris snug shorts that rode up your ass last week. “Every time you see me.. I’m rushing around covered in sweat..”

He sighs, the back of his head bumping against the wall softly. The elevator becomes more suffocating with every minuscule move Jeno makes, wafting his natural drug inducing aroma around the tight space. “I probably smell awful.”

He shows off a relaxed smile, neck arched back exposing the column of his throat, the girthy bob of his Adam’s apple. “I know how sensitive Omegas can get about an Alphas scent.. The whole purpose if us living on opposite floors. You would think they’d designate separate elevators for us to use too.”

Jeno’s gaze flickers up, darker and heavier than you’ve become used to, licking at the roof of his mouth as he watches you squirm and furiously glance toward the changing red numbers.

The Alphas nose twitches over and over again, you hear him sniffle, stifling the sound of his throat clearing again as he leans back with his palm gripped tighter onto the railing framing the elevator. Silently observing your intakes of air grow more shallow. “Is everything oka—“

You know he can smell it, even with your thighs tightly clenched together, even through the thin layer of cotton covering your crotch, your scent has consumed the air around you. Embarrassment flares your cheeks with fire, ducking your chin to your chest to avoid any chance of stealing a look in the Alphas direction. There’s no way to deny the leak of slick flowing from your core this time, no room to escape and scurry to your safe sanctuary away from your stupidly ridiculously hot neighbor.

Another raspy clear of his throat has you incoherently slamming your palm flat on any button to get off on the next floor. A tickle of dewy mucky air, lavender melting from dripping wax reaches your nostrils past the overbearing scent of your arousal, and fear darts up your spine; the first instinctual thought you have to run, get away, run as fast as you can despite your Omegas resistance.

“Wait!” His tone blares even deepr, strangled from a dry throat that’s been used up during his run; echoing out as your foot slams down to jump through the opening elevator door. Gliding much too slowly, painfully inching open, you push against the powerful mechanism with weak wrists urging it to open faster.

“F-Fuck!” Choking out a curse, your ribs crush between the opening, held in place by the space that’s halted from opening right as you’d begun to make your escape.

“Oh my God..” the Alpha sounds far away now with your upper half trapped on the outside of the elevator. The hallway around you is empty, dark, and not a floor you’ve ever stopped on before. “T—the door!” He stammers from behind you, audibly gulping what must be a thick wad of saliva to quench his throat. “It’s stuck!”

“Wh—what?!” You shriek, slapping your palm against the steel wall of the elevator, stinging your heated skin with the shrill chill radiating off of it.

“You’re..” The Alpha swallows again, the sound of his leather sneakers stepping forward. “You’re stuck.”

“What?! Open the door!” You scream now, anxiety increasing rapidly as you scatter to move only to let out a pitiful groan from the dig of metal pressing deeper against your ribcage. “Open this door right now!”

“It’s not opening! Why did you run out like that!” He sounds frantic now, followed by fingers slamming against a button repeatedly and an annoyed grunt. “I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe this? What about me! You can’t be serious right now! Quit fucking around and get me out of here!” A slam of your foot follows, kicking at the ground petulantly to emphasize your anger; only drawing up a string of curses from the typically well-mannered Alpha.

“Could you..” He sighs, moving away to a corner further off, sounding distant once again. “Could you not do that?”

“Do what?!” You bark, stomping once again, clueless to how your skirt flares up fanning your aroused scent right into Jeno’s face. The Alpha having to take another step back until he’s pressed flush against the wall.

“Please, I can’t..” He sounds anguished, slowly dropping down to his knees out of your sight. “Your..”

“What?? My what?!” A flush of heat itches up your chest, because you know what it is. As much as you want to lie to yourself that there’s no way the Alpha can tell already, you know the truth. A sad whimper breaks from your lips when you feel the heavy trickle of slick squishing out from your clamped together inner thighs.

Jeno’s next breath comes out choked, strained and thick, feeling trapped himself by your heated arousal filling up the small space. Unable to rip his gaze away from the sheen that’s rivered past your knee, forming a spot of wetness at the tops of your knee-high white socks.

“Alpha please..” you wheeze out, swallowing a lump down your throat from the swell of heat over-taking your limbs. The pressure against your sides more bearable than the coil of fire bursting it’s way up your insides. The mere humiliation of knowing the vulnerable position you’ve landed yourself in gushes more slick from your hole, pushing its way through the soaked through material of your white cotton underwear.

Jeno’s mouth feels empty of any moisture, swallowing over and over again with a rough drag of his tongue at every corner seeking saliva. He can’t fight it, dropping his head back with a roll of his eyes to savor every note of your heady scent. Every sweet lick of aroma fanning it’s way through his senses tastes delicious; sugary and succulent like some forbidden dessert he should never be allowed to take a bite of.

“Alpha..”

Jeno’s eyes snap open, his eyelids sticking together from humid sweat. The heat radiating from your flesh filling up the elevator similar to boiling sun on the hottest of summer days. “Help me, please.”

He thinks you sound near seductive.. purposely trying to wreck his brain, each call of his title more sinful than the last. Floating closer on his knees until trembling fingers reach out, just hovering near your ankles, he curses quietly, unable to pause the tremor of excitement and fear coursing through his veins.

“Help you..” Jeno’s dry throat cracks, breaking each syllable of his speech with a gritty rasp. A strong tone of lust behind his response as he timidly reaches to drag up the backs of your calves, electrified by how soft your cotton socks glide under the tips of his fingers.

“Alpha.. please… help me out of here.” Another tortured plead makes Jeno’s neck stand straight, tickled by the sound of slick bubbling out of your underwear. The seat of your panties directly before him, clinging the your heat for his hungry gaze to devour. Puffy and needy, so fucking needy already.

“How..” Jeno swallows, latching onto your flexed calves as he drags his thumbs to stroke the wet patches that have gathered between your knees. “How am I going to get you out of there?”

He can’t think clearly anymore, consumed by the pornographic vision before him. The devastating sounds of your whimpers and sighs; sighs of relief that follow each barely there second of skin on skin contact as his thumbs rub slick in circles on the insides of your knees.

“Smell so good..” Jeno continues, head dropping forward close enough to feel his breath hit the backs of your exposed thighs. Jerking and shivering when he takes a deep inhale from the lewd display of wet pouring it’s way out like a broken fountain between the small triangular gap at the top of your locked together thighs. “How can I help you..”

Jeno squeezes up your knees, switching to grip the fronts of your thighs. “You’re shaking so much.. Is Alpha making you nervous?”

“Alpha, please..” it's a natural survival instinct taking over at this point, unsure what you’re truly begging for anymore. For help? For help with what.

“I know, I know.” Jeno swears, pressing his cheek against the back of your thigh. He huffs, warm breath fanning where slicks has begun to cool between your legs, foggy-headed as he blinks roughly to straighten out his vision. “Alpha will help you, gonna do what I have to do..”

Jeno thinks he means that, he wants to believe he means that despite his palms staying glued to your smooth thighs. Despite his fingers digging into the soft sensitive fleshy meat squishing against his touch. “You have to relax for me..”

He swallows again, eyes rolling up, grateful for how unaware you are of his current state of misery. He’s trying, trying so hard to neglect his Alphas voice screaming at him to fuck, take, and claim the Omega presented before him.

“You have to listen to me.” His eyebrows furrow together, stuck on the amount of slick leaking from your hidden hole. It’s obscene, more than he’s ever seen even from the Omegas he’s taken care of during their heat. “We have to work together alright?”

“Okay Alpha..” pathetic, God you sound so pathetic. Jeno wants to take a deep breath but your arousal makes the walls feel as if they are closing in on him. Even so, his hold on you feels comforting, knowing an Alpha cares this much about your wellbeing, enough to reassure you that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to help you. Whatever it takes.

Jeno tries to think, forcing his gaze away from the elevator light bouncing off your shiny thighs. “Phone! Do you have your phone?”

He regrets asking when you let out the saddest broken whine, stomping your foot again. “I always leave it on my bed when I go grab the mail.”

Jeno does his best to not imagine the other helpless sounds you can make, he does his best to control the shake passing through his fidgety fingers, to ignore how sweaty his palms have become against your hot skin. “I’m thinking, just.. be patient with me.”

He hums, rolling his eyes to himself each time he pictures you bent over by the lines of mail boxes, because of course some genius coined a brilliant idea to have the Omegas on the bottom row. How convenient to leave you without a choice but to bend over, ass swaying in the air as you peep through your mailbox, a small task you always took your sweet time to do.

“Why don’t we try talking..” He suggests, sighing with the side of his head resting on your covered buttcheek. “Get your mind off of being stuck.”

“It’s kind of hard..”

“Just try.” He says, squeezing your thighs for reassurance. “I’ll start, when did you move in? I think that time I grabbed your drink was the first time I’d ever seen you around here.”

Jeno’s right, you think trying to do the math, fuzzy brain as you attempt to recall anything other than the Alphas brawny figure.

“Uhhh, I think..it’s been ab—about a month.” You stutter, growing more dizzy with the effort used to respond.

“Yeah, I thought so.” Jeno gulps, sighing for the hundredth time and he takes a purposeful deep breath to inhale your syrupy scent. He imagines this is what drowning in quicksand must be like, a futile attempt to free himself from the impending situation at hand. Arousal circles around him, catching small whiffs of hidden traces of his own scent laced between yours, and his expression turns worrisome.

“Maybe you’re right..” The Alpha groans, nestling his cheek against your bottom. “I don’t think I can do this.. you smell too good..”

“Do what??”

“This— I..” Jeno trails off, kneading your buttcheek as he continues to smother his face against the other. “I can help you relax another way.”

His hands work like instant magic, loosening the tight ridges up your spine, calloused fingers bury into plump flesh too aggressive to feel like a massage but good enough to lose the tension in your neck. “Jeno, this isn’t—“

“Shh, keep calling me Alpha..” his fingers sneak under the material of your underwear, pushing one side up to wedge between your bottom while puckered lips drag down the back of your thigh. “Helps me relax when you call for me like that, all pretty and vulnerable.”

“Alpha, I don’t think you should..” Jeno grunts, smearing his parted lips in slick. His rough hands grip onto your butt with a new ferocity, working the meaty flesh between his fingers furiously.

“It’s working, your muscles are unwinding.” He reaffirms, hanging his tongue out to catch the drip of slick leaving your covered hole. “Once I calm you down.. it’ll be easy to get you out of there. I promise.”

The reply you give him comes out more gargled, building up through your gut, erupting as more of a pleading whine. “So nice.”

Jeno cooes, sliding his hand into the small space between your thighs. The thick of your slick seeps through his digits, trickling down past his wrist. “You know..”

The Alphas raspy vocals vibrate down your limbs, bubbling saliva up your throat. He hums, continuing to massage between your thighs, making a bigger mess. “I think your Omegas been trying to send me a message. Somehow we ended up together like this, after weeks of this back and forth..”

Jeno sighs, cupping your core from behind to press against the bubble of slick in your panties until it pours out around him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“Alpha..” you say woozily, drifting in and out of heat trying to take over your last bits of semblance. “Don’t.. don’t do it.”

“No?” He sounds shattered, expression most likely fallen apart in despair. His palm digs into your heat harder, creating insufferable friction against your entrance. “Are you sure about that?”

The question hangs in the air, echoing in your head as if to taunt you. Are you sure about this? Not at all, but with your ankles crossed together and Jeno’s palm sticking to the seat of your underwear, you feel uncomfortable only because it’s stopped his ministrations; both of your breaths coming to a halt as the air around you pauses, breaking only after you let out a pitiful cry.

“We shouldn’t..” it hurts you to say out loud, more than you’re willing to admit. Fuck it hurts, and not in the way you wish it would.

“What’s stopping you?” Jeno whispers, gritty as if his teeth have started to grind together. Mouthing at your underwear hanging on for dear life to your ass, he bites at the cotton, teething it up to meet the other side that's been shoved into the crevice of your bottom. “Tell me what you need me to do, I’ll do it for you baby.”

He finishes with a searing hot kiss left on your exposed buttcheek, kitten licking the area after. An index finger pushes at your slit, gliding up and down through the fabric. “Eat your pussy so good, bet you’ve never had your ass ate, have you? A pretty Omega like you deserves to be worshiped and devoured.”

“Alpha!” You wheeze, choking on the saliva collecting in your throat. Jeno growls, sucking the fat of your ass between his lips while prodding your panties into your awaiting entrance. It’s torturous, kicking your crossed feet on the floor.

“You feel so good, pussy just begging for cock.”

Jeno pecks a few more kisses on your ass, pushing off the balls of his feet to stand, he grips your hips. “Don’t be nervous, Alphas gonna take care of you.”

Hips press flush to your backside, pushing his thick covered girth between your cheeks. The visual of it depraved, a hopeless Omega trapped like this, bent into a position presented for the right Alpha to make use of. To take what’s rightfully his, and Jeno can feel flames soar up his chest at the thought. Slowly beginning to roll a menacing circle of his hips against you.

“Tell me you don’t want this…” Jeno coughs, swallowing down a wad of dry air. “I’ll stop, I’ll stop if you say it again.”

For emphasis he draws back, burying his hard length between your buttcheeks, the width of it making your head spin.

“Don’t..” You stammer, head drooping down with a cracked cry. “Don’t stop!”

Jeno’s throat nearly rips open from the growl he lets out next, angrily ramming his hips against you. “That’s right, Alphas gonna fuck you good baby. Fuck you so good, won’t ever want another dick inside of you again.”

Jeno can feel it, he’s gone, high as a kite off your crazed arousal placing him under an unbreakable spell. He can’t hold it back anymore, rutting into your ass painfully, he feels possessed, seeping his nails into your naked hips. The skin breaking under the roughness of his jagged freshly trimmed fingernails. The hurt from it unwavering when all you can focus on is how tantalizing his clothed cock feels just rubbing against you.

“Alpha, fuck..” A hiss passes from your lips after attempting to grind back, reminded of the ridiculous predicament you’re in. Jeno’s unrelenting grasp holding you still despite the aggression behind each snap of his hips.

“God, want me to cum just like this, don’t you?” He pants, head rolling side to side as he blearily glances up, blinded by the bright lights above. “Can’t imagine how good you’re gonna feel for Alpha.”

Jeno riles himself up, ranting to himself about how you’ve soaked through his shorts. Slick even reaching his midsection, dripping down the front of his thighs more with each slam of your lower halves. “Bet you’re so tight, such a good Omega. Ready to please.”

“Y-yes!” scratching down the door, you shriek, head shaking from the overwhelming amount of friction. The Alpha could say anything to you at this point, anything at all and you’d agree, ready to drop to your knees and fulfill his every command.

“Fuck.” Jeno spits out, jerking back quickly to free his size, a thick protrusion shoved between your inner thighs not a second later. “FUCK!”

Thrusts speed up, panting like a thirsty dog behind you as he chases an orgasm. “I’m— oh fuck, ah fuck.”

Jeno hunches forward, fisiting the stretched out material of your underwear in one hand as he pushes his length past it using the ruined cotton to rub against himself. He shouts through gritted teeth, coming to a stand still as hot spurts of cum pour out onto your lower back.

“Please, Alpha.. please!” You squeal, feeling even more congested and stuck. The tip of his nose buries into your spine, nodding slowly as he catches his breath, tracing the curves of your hips between his fingers.

“I know, baby.” He hums, nosing a trail down your back as he falls to his knees. “Such a greedy Alpha.. need to apologize.”

Jeno tugs your underwear off tediously, eyebrows twisting together the more he unveils your center. It was hard enough to deal with covered up, but the sight of your ripe hole convulsing nearly knocks the wind out of him.

“Fuck, I knew it.” The Alpha licks his lips, waist dipping in as he leans forward to drag his nose up and down your gleaming slit. The sweetest high coils a way up behind his eyes, blurring from the scent of lust. “Such a perfect Omega.”

Jeno’s eyes wrinkle shut, lapping a strip up your cunt, the width enough to cover the expanse of puffy flesh. He’s immediately animalistic, stretching his jaw wide to wolf down the entirety of your center as promised. His tongue darts out, licking at your clit with precision that sets your knees to fall weak, sliding lower in your stuck position.

The moans of anguish and desire you let out only push him to work faster, burying the end of his nose into your pulsing heat as his tongue works in rapid motion to flick and stimulate each nerve, pointing the tip to thrust against your clit with power and have your head snapping back with a shout.

If you could only see him, you know the Alphas face is covered in slick. Snorting your release up his nose like some drug, he’s filthy, down right disgusting and unashamed letting out the nastiest sounds of pleasure. Every strained vocal cord reverberates between your cunt, rolling tremors up your spine.

“Alpha..” fat tears roll down your cheeks, whining like a pitiful horny mess, unable to do anything besides cry harder and beg to cum.

“Gonna cum from fucking my mouth? wanna taste you pouring down my throat.” Jeno rumbles, sinking his long tongue deep inside your pussy with a rough wiggle. He grabs onto your ass, pulling you apart to run his face side to side with ease.

The sensation shoots chills up your thighs, wobbling up to the tips of your toes as you cum, clamping around Jeno’s tongue putting work in to make you lose your mind. Determined mouth forces a space for himself past your resisting hole, despite gagging from the amount of slick that breaks out of you. Hinging his jaw wide, he keeps at it, chasing after your heat when you drop lower landing on your knees painfully with a shout.

“Alpha! c-can’t!”

Jeno slaps your ass, resounding like a whip cracking on skin to accompany the ear shattering scream you let out. Lowering with his sweat covered stomach on the floor, he sends your spine rigged, laving your wrinkled rim between deep huffs of breath.

He pulls back only to circle your rim with two fingers, the pads of hard skin encouraging your ass to bounce and ripple the more he teases, swishing saliva around to slowly drip a wad of spit on your hole; the Alpha gasps for air, rolling his eyes back when your ass convulses under his digits grazing the tender skin.

“Bet you’re even tighter back here..” Jeno has to silently praise himself for taking time to please you, throbbing between his legs with the dirty mess of cum he’s ruined his shorts with, he growls again, biting up your buttcheeks, soft enough to leave small indents without breaking skin. Three digits bundled together swipe between your freshly used pussy, painting his fingers in the sea of slick to spread around your rim.

“Will you let Alpha fuck you back here sweetie?” Jeno cooes, always shifting to a gentle tone when asking the filthiest things of you. Lazily nodding against the ground, he notices how much you’ve relaxed, fully laid out flat upon the grimy floor. “All these holes for me right? Only for Alpha to use, turn you into my good cocksleeve.”

He sighs, sucking on the plump mound of your buttcheek as the pads of his fingers trace around your hole, watching you twitch for a minute. An experimental prod has your knees dragging off the ground, ass shoved out for the Alpha to have you spread apart fully. He groans, pushing two tips of his fingers inside.

“Fuck.” Jeno salivates, slowly inching in as he sucks and nibbles on your butt. “Slutty fuckhole taking my fingers so good baby.”

He squeezes another in making you scramble to grab onto anything, the sudden movement pushing you back through the door without realizing, too entranced by the fingers fucking into your ass, stuffing you full from every end.

“Yes yes yes Alpha, anything.”

Jeno could care less about what you’re spewing, hawking another glob of spit at your tight hole, he digs into the second knuckle spreading his fingers apart until your lively shriek arises again. “Can you cum like this for Alpha? I know a nasty pretty thing like you can do it.”

The Alphas teeth gnaw at your ass, fucking his fingers in and out with power until your hole finally gives and loosens. Even then he knows this won’t be enough for you to take his cock. “Tiny little hole can barely handle my fingers.”

He mutters, hazy from watching your rim clamp and pulse around his digits. “Cum for me, let me feel that asshole tighten up even more.”

Jeno’s lewd words bow your back, pushing down onto his digits as the build-up of release bursts out of you. The sound of slick raining down on the floor breaks your mind, plummeting down into an empty thoughtless space.

“See,” and suddenly Jeno’s hovering above you, able to slide you free from the trap you’d fallen into before moving you onto your back. “Always trust your Alpha to take care of you.”

Your Alpha.

Your Alpha who stayed true to his word, freeing you from the dangerous situation you’d put yourself in just to avoid the object of your wet dreams.

Jeno lets out a cute unsatisfied sound, wiping stains of tear tracks off your warm cheeks. “Such a pretty Omega, didn’t get to see your pretty face cumming for me.”

The Alpha cups your cheeks, refocusing your mind for a minute to take in the high blush on his cheeks covered in pools of slick. The smile stretching his face is much too endearing for what he just did to you and everything else he plans to do. Jeno shoves your cheeks together, setting your lips to form a pout for him to chew on. His perfect teeth dig into the fat, biting between heavenly kisses that have you seeking more; reaching to grab at his toned stomach, the tips of your fingers slotting into the hollows of muscle.

“Taste good everywhere don’t you?” Jeno preens, mauling your mouth with another ferocious kiss. He likes this game, the way you’ve become nothing but a dumb pile of putty in his hands to ruin time and time again, allowing him to remold you into the perfect Omega.

The Alpha nods your head for you, shifting between your legs as he wraps a palm around the base of his shaft, he points the tip, directing it to slide between your slick drenched walls. Jeno doesn’t bother with prepping your pussy, can’t be bothered to, not when your entrance sucks around his cockhead begging for him to fuck you full. Pressing his forehead to yours, he pushes through with a powerful thrust.

“Oh, that’s it.” Jeno nods, circling his hips to accommodate his size. The stretch rolls your eyes to the back of your skull leaving nothing but white behind, tongue hung loose with a silent scream like a damn animal, and he thinks you really are perfect. So fucking eager to take your Alphas cock, so willing and slutty.

“Always so pretty,” He huffs, hoisting up the back of your thigh to push against your chest. His gaze dragging down to watch the space where you connect, slowly grinding in and out, mesmerized by how wet you still feel after cumming twice. Amazed by how heavy the slick trickling down his balls feels; pouring down to make a sloppy mess between his ass. “You know how pretty you are, don’t you baby?”

The Alphas eyes lock with yours expectantly, thrusting shallowly with his neck tight, holding his breath in fear of his lungs giving out on him, collapsing from overuse. Growing more hoarse and ragged as time ticks away.

“N-no..” with shaking lips, you stutter, scratching pink and crimson lines along his sturdy broad shoulders. No doubt caking layers of skin and bits of blood beneath your nails.

“No???” Jeno’s eyes sharpen, the iris wide and coated in a sheen. “What do you mean no?”

His next thrust arches your back, shaking your head in reply as words evade you. The Alpha taking the opportunity to fuck you faster, smacking against your center at a brutal pace. “Wanna cum?” Jeno bites out, pushing your knee to your shoulder to grab your chin. He forces you to face him, blaring you with a gaze full of fire.

“Pleasepleaseplease!” Nodding rabidly you cough between wads of spit, half choking on the amount that's gathered around the insides of your mouth.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” Jeno’s expression turns serious, glaring straight into your eyes as he asks without slowing down, snapping into you at a punishing pace. “Are you my pretty baby? Come on, tell me.”

Between whimpers and cries full of anguish you nod, letting the Alpha use your body to get off. His hips beat down on you harder than ravenous ocean waves, landing with loud smacks of sweaty flesh on flesh. Each vein lining his cock pulsing against your insides louder than your own heartbeat. “Wanna hear you say it.” Jeno groans, reaching his other hand between your lower halves to rub figure-eights on your clit.

“Alpha, wa-wanna c—cum!” You plead, too desperate under the Alphas burly frame to have a coherent thought. “Please!”

Jeno stops, pressing down on your clit hard. “Only pretty girls get to cum, what are you? Hmm? Come on, tell me baby.”

Overwhelmed emotions shoot through your limbs, clenching your eyes shut as you repeat that you are Alphas pretty girl.

“I’m your pretty baby,” you whine, slapping at his shoulders with zero strength. “Please! I’m Alphas pretty Omega.”

“That’s right,” Jeno grunts, furiously fucking you with his two of his fingers squeezing inside of you nestled alongside his cock drilling in and out of you, thumb pressed down on your bundle of nerves dropping your jaw open in a silent scream.

The Alpha fucks you through it, stilling to keep his cock inside of you even as slick squirts out around his palm, pushing his fingers up against your insides until you thrash and push at his shoulders with tears covering your cheeks. He’s fast to maneuver you, cupping your hips and using all of his thigh power to lift you off the floor, quietly promising he’d get you cleaned up after this.

Jeno gets you up on the railing, ass half-hung off with one leg perched on his shoulder making use of your flexibility. Fisting his cock, he dips the tip back to your entrance, stopped by your palm smoothing down under his navel and a pained hiss. “Sensitive,” you let him know, ducking your chin in a bashful manner.

The Alpha nods, pressing closer to capture your lips with a comforting kiss. Stroking his length between your folds to gather a mixture of cum and slick, he scoots lower, circling your rim with his cockhead coated in the sticky mess you’ve created. Dragging his lips across yours, he mumbles what sounds like ‘Can I?’ nodding even if you’re not sure what he’s asking for, he pushes in slowly, the first few inches have you flailing, reaching around yourself for anything to grab onto to endure the initial pain.

“Hurts..” you whimper, stuffing your nose into the Alphas scent gland for more of his calming lavender, instantly easing the stinging pain as he buries in another inch.

Jeno nods, kissing the side of your forehead. “You can take it.”

To his credit he tries, he tries to keep a steady pace, thrusting in the rest of his length with harsh breaths as he stays still and lets you get used to it, but he’s too close to cumming already. Jeno wraps and arm around your waist, huffing out heavily falling into a jackhammering speed. Unrelenting ruthless thrusts clap against your thighs and ass, booming out the slap of your plump flesh colliding with his hip bones.

“Fuck, fucking shit it’s tight.” The Alphas chest caves, feeding your ass every inch of his fat length. Each thrust sloppier and messier than the previous the nearer he comes to reach release. Jeno picks up his brutal pace, oblivious to your cries growing louder the more he stretched your ass with an unforgiving breach.

“Cum for me one more time baby,” Jeno shouts between his clenched teeth, dropping from your waist to bury three fingers inside of your cunt, thrusting in at the same hard drilling pace as his cock; fast and so hard. He lets out a loud cry, cracking from his throat with another snap of his hips. Thumb rubbing at your clit pushing you over the edge with another expert flick of his wrist.

“Alpha! Oh God Alpha!”

Blinding heat slams your chest back to the wall, fucked by what feels like a beast as Jeno reaches his breaking point. Screaming out a roar when your ass locks around him and slick bursts out onto his stomach. He growls, pushing the entirety of his engorged length inside of you, thrumming as he fills you with a never-ending load of sticky white ropes.

A string of curses and what can only be recognized as gibberish spill from his mouth, latching onto your throat littering searing kisses up to your jaw. He nuzzles, nibbling up the bone to your ear. “My pretty Omega.”

The elevator door slams shut startling you both, lifting your heads up in a daze as if you’d just woke from a fever daydream.

“10th floor.” Jeno says, eyeballing the red lit up number as he sets you on your feet.

“Take me home Alpha?” You say weakly with your face hidden in his chest. Jeno smiles to himself, scooping you up with ease. The display of power doing nothing to quell your heat, but silently promising you that this isn’t over yet.

“Let’s get you home.”

#jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct jeno #nct smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #neopuppy fics #lee jeno fanfic #jeno fanfic #kpop fanfic #lee jeno x reader #nct dream fanfic #onek #nct fanfic #nct dream au #nct au

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doki-doki-imagines · 6 months

Text

Kisses

tw: some suggestive, nsfw (Johnny Cage one)

author note: another idea I needed to write out. Hope you'll enjoy reading those!

If there is something Raiden can’t stand is seeing you cry; tears and snot don’t suit you. Raiden’s warm hands cup your face, calloused hands against your soft cheeks, thumbs brushing the remaining tears “Come with me” he whispers, chocolate brown eyes looking at you with such passion they almost make you forget all your problems.

He takes you to the field where he spends most of his day “The stars here are brighter than anywhere else” he tells you, voice strong and reassuring before sitting on the ground next to you.

Words escape your mouth like a waterfall, no filter, brain shut, just the need to share, something you are not used to do.

Raiden listens to you, eyes never leaving your face, while you look at the starry sky, your eyes always elsewhere, too worried you’d lose the thread of the discourse if your eyes happened to meet.

“If I know something is that everything other than death has a solution.“ His forefinger push behind your ear a strand of your hair, the action makes you jerk, eyes widening and finally, you look at him.

There isn’t much light, but the moon frames his face perfectly. You can see a reddish hue coloring his cheeks, and a smile full of hope that makes your heart thump with joy “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a better answer, but-“ his hands grip your arms, strong, but without hurting, his strength perfectly stable “Never let yourself down, life will get better believe me.” You bite your tongue “It never does Raiden” you’d like to reply, but his words carry so much hope that you can only nod at him.

He lifts himself up from the ground and extends his hand out to help you.

“Thanks” You say after minutes of silence, your steps on the ground the only sound, not even cicadas try to interrupt.

“For the hand? It really is no-“

“For the company, for your words.” You look at him, now standing in front of your room. You kiss his cheek and wish him goodnight, a shy smile appears on his face as he waves at you.

The newfound warmness spreading from your heart is a new problem you’ll have to learn how to deal with in the next few months, for now, you can only rest and wait for a new day to start.

“You finally woke up, you idiot.” Tomas could recognize that voice between millions of others, so sweet and so caring even if they just called him an idiot.

Grey eyes scan the room, he’s in the infirmary bed, at Madame Bo restaurant. He and Kuai Liang got ambushed not that far and he remembers getting hit at the back of his head; that stung a lot.

“Do you know who I am?” Your voice trembles and Tomas has the urge to coo at you; obviously, he knows who you are, his heart keeps thrumming mercilessly against his ribcage the moment he opened his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, who do you think I am? A simple knock on the head won’t either kill me or make me lose my memory.” He half teases, but the scowl is still stuck on your face.

“Tomas-“ Your voice is serious and he can only look at you, at your trembling lips and shiny eyes “I seriously thought I lost you.” Your arms envelop his figure, your face hidden resting on top of his right shoulder, new warmth adding to Tomas one.

He is stuck in place, but his mind is running wild. His left hand pats your head and he feels the corner of his lips twitching.

You must care about him a lot.

You lift your head up, your teary eyes locking into his gray ones, pupils wide, so deep he may lose himself in them. Tomas feels the time slowing down, almost stopping, your lips inching closer and closer ‘till they finally touch.

He reciprocates, not a single second lost, your lips dancing and searching for each other, breath mingling, tongue fighting in a battle of supremacy, both wanting to feel more of each other. Tomas pulls you towards him and your body falls onto his, chest against chest, heart beating at the same rhythm, divided by the layers of your clothing. Limbs tangle, hands everywhere, caressing and groping; from an outside view, it wouldn’t be able to tell where one starts and the other one ends.

This ‘till your hand pulls Tomas’ hair. He breaks the kiss and flinch, maybe that was more than a little hit on the head. He can see you try to pull off from him, eyes full of worry, but his hands keep you in place, on his lap, fingers leaving indent on your hips that will for sure bruise.

“I-I shouldn’t have, sorry Tomas.” Your hands, so tiny and soft in contrast to his ones, push against his chest, like you are trying to distance yourself from him, head turned to the side not looking at him.

Your hair messy, your lips still red and bruised, and that worried expression, fuck, Tomas would like to frame his moment, your cuteness overwhelming all his senses.

Then you both hear a voice, it’s Madame Bo telling you to go back to work, the signal that he has to let you go. You remove yourself, Tomas’ hands finally loosening up. You brush your clothes in place and rush towards the exit.

“See you later” Tomas rasps out.

You nod.

Later you’ll have more time to talk about your feelings.

“Johnny-“ A breathy moan escapes your mouth.

The atmosphere is humid, the heat of your two bodies entangled is almost suffocating.

You missed Johnny, this new project he has been working on keeps him away from home for months. You are a supportive partner, you love him and you want to see him happy but, fuck, you missed him so much.

You are lucky he is on your same wavelength. He opens the door and your lips are already locked, hands unbuttoning shirts and pants being thrown somewhere.

“I missed you so much, Johnny.” You gasp in between kisses, your hand on the back of his neck to keep him impossibly close to you.

He groans, his hands now on your lower back lifting you up from the ground.

Everything else is a blur in your mind, you soon find yourself lying on the bed, legs open and Johnny working his tongue southward, your warm sex as inviting as water in the desert.

“Fuck-“ Your hand lay on his head, trying not to grip to harshly his dirty blonde locks.

“Yeah baby, tell me how good I am.” You look down to see his hips grind against the mattress, so desperate for you.

A wave of pleasure licks down your spine, your eyes roll back, throat exposed while you bit your bottom lip trying to keep a louder moan.

How good it is to be desired.

“J-Johnny you are so go-“ Your phrase gets interrupted by a gasp, a particular flick of his tongue makes you see stars, your legs reflexively close, but Johnny’s strong hands keep your thighs apart, fingers circling the inner side and you don’t know if it is done to calm you or him.

One of his hand leave your legs to play with your sex, his face now squeezed between your soft thighs, but your mind is too fogged to worry about crushing him, not that he minded his motions only getting faster and uncoordinated.

An orgasm soon permeates your body, Johnny lifts up, his lips drenched with your essence, his pupils blown wide, your heartbeat impossibly fast, a different kind of heat enveloping your limbs.

Your lips meet again, you taste your flavor on his tongue, lips locking, his hands now resting on your waist, pushing your chests impossibly close, but not enough, never enough.

“I love you.”

The night ahead is still long.

Bi-Han is awake, sitting on your bedding, naked, but the covers hide everything under the navel. The moon shines bright in the sky, the light and shades framing his lover's body sleeping soundly next to him.

Bi-Han is a man eaten by greed, by pride, a man made more of scars than flesh.

But you love him and he loves you. It’s a feeling he never knew, it isn’t the kind of warmth he got from his mother's compliments, or from his brother's support, it is something much more exhilarating, that makes his eyes soften and his hardened core melt more than he’d like to admit.

His eyes land on your body, so soft, so sweet, he wants to defend you from all the ugliness of this world.

Maybe from him too.

He looks outside the window, the night is still long, but there is no sign of tiredness in his eyes.

“Bi-Han, it is late you should sleep.” Bi-Han breaths, he didn’t even notice how long he had been keeping his breath in, mind so busy and heart uneasy.

Your arms wrap around his neck, naked body laying on his back, your lips kissing his neck, where arteries and veins flow.

“Worried about something?” Your eyes look at his face, he doesn’t look back but he knows, searching for any telltale sign of his emotions.

“Nothing you should worry about sparrow.” He breathes out, voice raspy as always.

You don’t believe him, he knows it. Your hand starts to trace the scars painting his skin, your lips barely caressing the newborn scratches on his back.

“Tell me your worries, my heart.” Your arms hug his frame and push him down together with you.

Bi-Han doesn’t struggle against your hold, his head now in the crook of your neck, free hair tickling you.

“Don’t worry about me, tomorrow is a busy day and you need to rest.” He kisses the tip of your nose, his calloused hand caresses your cheek, thick fingers drawing circles on your skin.

You kiss him, in a slow liplock. Eyes closed, hands holding.

Bi-Han bites your bottom lips before breaking the kiss and you groan, the only kind he likes.

He looks into your eyes and he only finds love, sweet and blissful. A new fire starts inside his heart.

Bi-Han still doesn’t know how to protect you from this accursed world, for now, he’ll have to settle for showing how much he loves you.

#mk1 x reader #mk1 imagine #mk1 x you #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 smoke #mk1 raiden #mk1 johnny cage #mk1 bi han #mk1 sub zero #obvs the first smutty fic for mk is for Johnny #me and my disease of liking my men dumb LMAO

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steddielicious · 9 months

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There’s all this discourse on bi Steve that assumes that either Steve has always known or that Eddie was his awakening. But what about a dumbass Steve whose first kiss was with a guy, but he didn’t clue in until much later? In this essay, I will elaborate on…

Steve, who at age eleven is best friends with Tommy and Carol. They’ve come up with a pact to all have their first kisses with each other (Steve and Carol and Tommy and Carol, obviously), but the day before, Steve and Tommy are scared that they’ll be bad kissers and Carol will tell everyone. So the two boys decide to practice ahead of time. Of course, this is where Steve’s reputation as a Casanova starts. He just has this natural ability.

And as years pass, Steve and Tommy never really talk about it; but whenever something new comes up, they always practice before Carol. French kissing and necking and dry humping. They don’t want to blow their loads too early with their first handjobs with her, so it’s only natural that the first hands on their dicks that don’t belong to themselves are each other’s. When they’re fourteen, Tommy and Carol lose their virginity to each other and Steve fucks her right after. But it changes everything, and Carol actually wants to date Tommy. In an exclusive relationship.

Steve starts serial dating, taking first kisses and virginities all over town. None of the girls feel any different from Carol (or Tommy), so when he’s alone with Danny Mahoney in the showers after a swim meet in sophomore year and it turns into making out and sloppy handjobs, Steve doesn’t expect anything more. A mouth is a mouth and a hand is a hand, right? It’s just guys helping each other out. After all, they’re not doing anything really queer, like blowjobs or anal. At some point, Danny admits that he actually is gay. (It doesn’t bother Steve as much as he expects.)

When Steve is a junior, he starts dating Nancy Wheeler and stops fooling around with Danny (and various girls). Even though it doesn’t really count with Danny, something deep inside him tells him it does. So Steve has a proper girlfriend and doesn’t really think about anyone other than her.

And then Jonathan Byers straddles him in an alley and beats the shit out of him for calling him a queer. Steve isn’t a fan of the fists, but as he feels Byers on his hips, the clouds part and it clicks that he’s being a massive hypocrite and asshole. When all is said and done and the demogorgon is defeated, Steve still stays with Nancy. But now he knows. He’ll never tell anyone, but it really doesn’t matter what gender the other person is. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s in love with Nancy and they’re going to be together forever.

Months later though, Jonathan is still wary around Steve and can’t quite bring himself to trust him, despite the new camera. And Steve needs to prove that he’s changed, so makes an effort to get to know Jonathan better. And one night in April 1984, when they’re baked out of their minds in the Byers’ backyard, Steve swears that he doesn’t care if Jonathan (or anyone in his family, for that matter) is a queer, because he himself likes guys. Jonathan is the one who puts a name to what Steve is - bisexual. No one really knows what it means, but David Bowie once said that he was, and if Steve has this thing in common with Bowie, it can’t be that bad.

That winter, when Steve is suffering through a broken heart and Danny is back from Berkeley for Christmas, Steve sheepishly admits that he’s actually into guys the same as girls. Danny rolls his eyes and they fuck all winter break long. Steve is eighteen now and really doesn’t have any real friends to hang out with (at least not until he’s comfortable around Jonathan and Nancy being a couple), so he spends a few Saturday nights in spring up in Indy’s gay clubs figuring out what he likes. And he likes it all.

Well, not quite. In May, after a basketball game, Billy Hargrove corners Steve in the locker room and aggressively kisses him. He then threatens to kill him if he tells anyone. Steve believes him of course, because Billy is a fucking psychopath with issues that run a mile deep.

And no, Steve doesn’t have the chance to tell Robin about himself in the Starcourt bathroom, thanks to Dustin and Erica barging in. But once they’ve been released from the hospital, he sneaks in her window that night and tells her that he gets it.

After all, gender is such an arbitrary factor in who’s hot or not, right?

(Robin says no, boys are gross.)

See more in the series at #peak bi experience

Crossposted to AO3 here

#steve harrington #steddielicious writes #bisexual steve harrington #stranger things #steddie headcanon #steddie drabble #steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #I swear this will eventually tie in to steddie #so I’m leaving the tags #stommy #peak bi experience

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innuendostudios · 5 months

Text

youtube

New Alt-Right Playbook, regarding the minimization of power imbalances with "enh, it's not SO bad."

If you like this and my other work, do please back me on Patreon and/or watch me on Nebula.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you and some other folks have gotten embroiled in a debate about the use of content warnings. One side has put forth the usual case: some people have trauma or anxiety disorders, and giving them a heads up about common triggers lets them make informed decisions about how to engage with a piece of media. They aren’t always looking to walk out, even, just to avoid a panic attack by having a few moments to prepare themselves. And this is often better for everyone as more people can appreciate the work itself and the discourse doesn’t derail into another discussion about whether it should’ve had a content warning.

And then someone from the other side of the debate says, in all seriousness (and I remind you this is about whether or not people should put a single sentence at the beginning of a video, the start of a game, outside the door of a theatre), “Can’t you just, like, have your panic attack? I mean, this isn’t life and death.”

The discussion quickly and predictably devolves from there into people who have panic attacks trying to explain how miserable they are, and how comparatively simple putting up a content warning is, and you realize far too late that this whole conversation is missing the point. Because the “it’s not life and death” crowd? They never claimed they are more inconvenienced than the person having panic attack! Content warnings ain’t life and death either! They made no attempt to frame this tradeoff as fair or justified. Only that, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not so bad.

I call this Didoing.

(Relationship Discourse would call it The Tolerable Level of Permanent Unhappiness, which is a really powerful phrase, but I came up with Didoing and I’m keeping it.)

You see Didoing everywhere. Be as gay as you want, just don’t tell your commanding officer. Be trans if you must, but pee at home. Kink is fine, but keep it out of Pride. Drag is whatever, just not in front of children. Being a woman on the internet isn’t hard if you’re willing to block seventy thousand people and just use this service to scrub all your private information from the internet so men have a harder finding your home address. It’s eleven bucks a month! What, you can’t afford eleven bucks a month??!

And, yes, all these are minimizations, and, if you want, you can point that out. You can tell them what it’s like to get a Twitter DM threatening to murder your entire family using a quote from Mission: Impossible 3. Yeah, he’s probably not gonna do it! But it can still fuck up your day; the goal is to fuck up your day. But the “it’s not life and death” crowd won’t understand, not because they don’t care, but because they don’t care enough.

But even that is letting them control the conversation. You’re trying to stress the pain of a panic attack, the anxiety of a death threat, to emphasize a gulf of iniquity between their experience, as a person who does not deal with these things, and that of someone who does. As if, were the gulf smaller, it would be not so bad. In this, you have accepted their premise. Did you even catch what the premise was? That it’s okay for things to be unfair within a certain tolerance. That some people do and should take extra precaution just to exist in the world alongside the rest of us. That it’s okay for others to suffer for the convenience of the normals. Because it’s not so bad.

This is a bit different from how privilege usually works. The issue with content warnings - really, most things people Dido over - is that, if you are a person with triggers, it means other people can provoke a panic response in you against your will. The severity of that response is, frankly, immaterial: the point is, they have power over you, and, if you’re going to operate in this world as equals, you need their word that this power will not be invoked.

The usual move for people on the privileged end of a power imbalance is to deny the imbalance exists: “white privilege is a myth,” “there is no gender wage gap,” etc. etc. You would think, the greater the imbalance, the harder it is to deny, but it’s just the opposite: people Dido when the imbalance is small (or, at least, appears small in the eyes of the Didoer). It happens with content warnings, microaggressions; “no, I don’t get followed around Macy’s like I’m gonna steal something, but is that really so important? is this life and death? don’t you have bigger problems?” (Which is a funny thing to say, because, according to white privilege: no! The bigger problems don’t exist!)

Didoing is foundational to the privileged mindset, because it’s one scenario where they will admit to the Didoee, “yes, I do have power over you… and you should just let me have it.”

#video essay #alt right playbook

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negrowhat · 3 months

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We're talking about Narrative Tops who would LOVE to be Railed

@poetry-protest-pornography has decided to make top/bottom discourse a little less serious on this hellsite. Let me insert the disclaimer here:

(disclaimer: i generally hate top/bottom discourse, because it's so weirdly gendered and un-nuanced, but for the sake of this, we're going with narratively assigned sex roles)

And then let's talk about assigned BL Tops who would LOVE to be railed by their assigned BL Bottoms.

Bai Zong Yi from Kiseki: Dear to Me. No one is ever going to convince me that Zong Yi wouldn't be an absolute eager beaver to be underneath Ze Rui's fine ass. He's done his research. He knows how these things go and he loves to learn and Ze Rui is sort of a teacher. In my mind they be dipping and flipping each other.

Win from Between Us. If I'm not mistaken, in the source material Team was very much interested in topping Win. Also Win's character just seems like the top to be versatile and not just strictly a top. Maybe he wants to have his face buried in the pillows every now and again and he deserves to get his back blown out. He literally takes care of everyone else, someone should take care of him. Also...let's remember his horny response to Team slamming him into lockers in that one scene.

Xiang Hao Ting from History 3: Trapped. All I am going to say is that ONE scene where Hao Ting was straddling Xi Gu's lap and arching his back in the sluttiest way I've ever seen is definitely bottoming at some point. And I just know he would be LOUD! Literally think about Xi Gu having Hao Ting spread out more frequently then I would like.

Payu from Love in the Air. I've mentioned this in a character analysis, but in my mind, Rain is topping Payu at least once a month. Rain and Payu have that sort of dynamic where the power goes back and forth and I know there are times when Rain is allowed to screw Payu silly. I just know it. Also...Rain deserves an opportunity to smack on Payu's ass.

Nuea from Secret Crush on You. OK this one is canon and I'm just putting it on this list because not enough people talk about it. Nuea is such a stereotypical depiction of a top in dramas and I just love that he and Toh had conversations about switching it up. I love that Nuea also just let Toh know that if he wanted to top then he would have to be serious about it and actually put in that work and also be the one in control. Also Nuea has definitely expressed his interest in being taken by Toh (as long as he was serious about it). So this is real, it happened in the series and I just need for people to know that IdolFactory is doing good things.

This is only a few. I could keep going...but then again in my mind...all the couple are vers unless stated otherwise.

#this has been fun #tops deserve bottom rights #or something #the top/bottom discourse surrounding pb has shown me that people are still very one-sided on what a top looks liike #kiseki: dear to me #between us #until we meet again #history 3: modc #history 3: make our days count #love in the air #scoy #secret crush on you

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princessanonymous · 4 months

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When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

15. 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓿𝓮

Time took its course. Days turned into weeks and those turned into months. (Y/n)'s outbursts became few and far between and Dorian liked to think their relationship was growing closer. She retreated less from him and talked to him more often. She was progressively starting to act more comfortably, like the little bright girl he had met in that forest all these months ago.

Dorian thought fondly of the little moments they spent together. Her nightmares were becoming less frequent, but every time she had one, the girl came to him for comfort. They played chess and, while the vampire was still winning against the girl, she was a fast learner and was getting better at it.

(Y/n)'s etiquette was something he was very proud of. They had gone to two other balls and the girl had behaved impeccably. Dorian had received a lot of comments about how the child acted the part of a future vampire very well; that she was a good fit to be amongst their elite society. He relished at those compliments, a proudness only a parent could feel growing in him.

Additionally, he grew more cautious, understanding he had underestimated her wits. He had ensured that she had less contact with the servant. The unfortunate events on that night could not repeat themselves. He wouldn't allow it. The vampire was however positive that they were unlikely to repeat themselves as he had had an enlightening conversation with the child. One that hopefully crushed these foolish ideas out of her head.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

"I am so relieved you have given up on the silly idea of leaving, doll," Dorian had told her one night as they were both spending time together in the living room.

(Y/n) looked up, but didn't say anything. The vampire, nonchalantly engrossed in the pages of his book, continued his discourse with an air of detached sophistication. "Considering your circumstances, it's not as though you possess anything to return to," he declared, a smirk playing upon his lips, casting a shadow of cruelty. One that was necessary to educate her; she wouldn’t learn otherwise. "You have nothing to go back to. What would you do on your own ?"

She averted her eyes uncomfortably, her shoulders responding with a subtle shrug. "I don't know," she admitted in a soft whisper, her uncertainty palpable.

A chuckle escaped Dorian's lips. "Nothing," he corrected with a pointed emphasis. "But, I am here, which is why there is nothing good in leaving."

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

(Y/n) knew it. The child knew leaving would be fruitless and foolish. Dorian found comfort in the knowledge that she relied on him, the assurance of her presence intertwining with his sense of control over the situation. She had to understand who was the caretaker here.

Despite the apparent tranquility of their coexistence, the veneer of familial harmony in the household couldn't fully mask the palpable void that lingered within. It was as if an essential piece of their collective puzzle was conspicuously absent, leaving Dorian with an unshakable sense of incompleteness. As the days unfolded and (Y/n) became increasingly amenable to the idea of establishing connections, Dorian seized upon the opportune moment that presented itself. A subtle shift in the familial dynamic paved the way for him to contemplate the reintroduction of that elusive missing piece into their lives. He had been away long enough by now. 72 years of slumber must have taught him a lesson.

"(Y/n), dear," called out the vampire as he entered the library. He had recently bought books for the girl to read and she was spending more time in their library.

She looked up from her armchair, curiosity etched across her features. "Yes?" she inquired.

"Come with me, starshine. I have something to show you," he announced with an air of gleeful anticipation.

She straightened, tension briefly evident in the set of her shoulders, yet she followed him nonetheless, her steps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. As they approached the basement door, she edged closer to him, her unease palpable, and she hesitated for a moment, the uncertainty etched across her face. She shook her head.

"I didn't do anything," she promised with a brittle voice, her words hanging in the air like delicate glass on the verge of shattering. Her eyes pleaded for understanding. Despite the conviction in her voice, there was a vulnerability that betrayed the turmoil within.

He gave her an understanding look, his eyes softening with empathy, acknowledging her discomfort with this place. He recognized that her fear stemmed from the anticipation of potential punishment. After all, the first time she had been allowed in that basement was to be reprimanded. However, he sought to convey that this time would be different.

"I know, dear," he reassured, his comforting touch guiding her forward. "Trust me, I merely want you to meet someone."

She trembled, a palpable shiver coursing through her frame, yet his firm grip on her trembling hand compelled her to follow him nonetheless, even if it was against her wishes. Her steps were hesitant, but they arrived at the room at the back of the corridor and Dorian used the key to unlock the door.

He turned to his child and passed a hand through her hair tenderly. "Wait here for me until I tell you to enter, starshine," he instructed. He smiled when she nodded dutifully. Dorian opened the door and closed it behind him.

The room, untouched since his last visit, held Killian in a state of slumber. Dorian approached him, placing a hand on the lifeless figure's chest. With a sigh, he declared, "I believe we are ready."

He withdrew the wooden stake, an artifact designed to neutralize their kind, and the body, once inert, sprang back to life. The vampire, now released from the temporary paralysis, slowly rose. He gasped out for breath, the sound echoing in the cold silence of the tomb as he stood up from the casket.

He scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the muted light, and a sense of disorientation lingered. It however disappeared mere instants later when Killian's eyes shot on Dorian as he put his hands on his chest where the wound that had disappeared by now had been. Sensing an opportunity, the dark-haired vampire seized the moment. With a swift and fluid motion, he retrieved the wooden stake discarded in the earlier struggle. The blond vampire realized the imminent threat. He could feel the energy coursing through the blessed weapon, a reminder of the danger it posed. Fortunately, he sidestepped it with ease as the other had been weakened by the stasis he had been put in.

As the recently awakened vampire raised the stake for a second strike, determination etched on his features, Dorian managed to summon a surge of strength. In a swift and calculated move, he intercepted the descending weapon, his hand closing around it just inches away from his own chest. He found himself cornered against the cold wall, his back pressed against the ancient stones. The impact sent a shiver through his undead form, but the immediate danger was averted.

"Welcome back, darling," Dorian greeted, his voice a mixture of defiance and wry amusement, still struggling against the wooden stake the other was pushing dangerously close to his chest.

"Dorian," the other responded, his tone dripping with a dark edge. "You stabbed me."

He glared at the remark, his previous smiling exterior disappearing in mere seconds. "You wanted to leave," he snapped back to justify himself. "I had to do something to make you understand."

"I will leave," Killian declared adamantly. The dark-haired vampire, unmoved by Dorian's explanation, maintained his grip on the stake, the tip hovering dangerously close to the point of no return. "I will leave, and you will not stop—"

"We have a daughter," Dorian interjected hastily, his words slicing through the tension like a sudden gust of wind.

Instantly, the other paused at the words uttered. Seizing the moment, Dorian acted with agility. The pause granted him the opportunity to disarm his adversary effortlessly. With a swift and calculated move, he deftly knocked the stake from Killian's grasp, sending it clattering across the stone floor.

"What are you on about?" The other asked with narrowed eyes, the fiery being temporarily quelled. Killian, known for his aggression, typically combined actions and words seamlessly.

There existed an unspoken agreement between the two, a delicate balance ensuring that their clashes never escalated to true harm. Dorian had, however, shattered this agreement the day he pierced his lover's chest with the blessed stake—a memory he preferred not to dwell upon. Despite such incidents, a mutual understanding persisted: they wouldn't inflict genuine harm on each other. And while the memory of the quarrel leading to Dorian’s slumber often hung wavy on his mind, he justified his action; Killian hadn’t been genuinely hurt. That had all been temporary; Dorian hadn’t done anything wrong.

"A child. I brought in a child," the blonde reiterated, approaching his partner. Clasping both hands, he offered a smile. "Our child."

Killian's face remained closed off, his stare unyielding. "If she is anything like you, I do not wish to see this girl," he sneered coldly. "I will not raise a child with you."

He looked away for a second dissimulating the hurt he felt at that. "At least, let me introduce the both of you." Before the other could respond, he opened the door and let (Y/n) in. "This is (Y/n)," he introduced. "Doll, this is your—"

"Killian Ambrose-Hart," he introduced sharply, his eyes shining a bright red as his gaze focused on the girl. "She's human."

Dorian stepped between the two, placing an arm on his child's shoulder. With Killian having not fed for decades, the vampire was uncertain of what he might do in his current state of hunger. Who knew what he could do to the human with the hunger he must feel right now.

"She will be turned following her twelfth birthday," he declared with unwavering conviction.

Killian, outraged, furrowed his brow. "On her—you won't," he insisted, pointing accusingly.

He had known Killian wouldn't have liked that. There was a reason why children couldn't be turned before they turned twelve, after all. Following the turning, the body completely stopped aging. It was the same for the person's mind. Children turned before their twelfth birthday were called immortal children. They could not grow physically and neither could they age mentally. The immortal child would therefore lack the self control of an older vampire and become a creature only driven by hunger ; a danger for their world. A liability that was meant to be put down. Turning a child was therefore not allowed and punished by other vampires.

"I can and will," he retorted. "She will be old enough by that point and—"

(Y/n) would be turned after she reached twelve years old. At twelve, it was deemed that individuals had generally developed sufficient self-control. Though turning someone so young was rare, it was permissible. Some at that age were still too uncontrollable, but Dorian was sure it wouldn’t be the case for his fledgling. And even if it was, he wouldn’t care; the mere idea of a member of their vampiric society touching even a single strand of hair on her head would unleash the formidable force of Dorian.

"You cannot curse her to such an existence," Killian tried to reason with him. "What will we do with an uncontrollable beast?"

Dorian would have been happy at the slip — 'We' meant that he felt involved in the child's existence — but his eyes darkened at the way he referred to her. He turned to the girl who seemed frightened by the presence of the other. "Why don't you go to your room, dear," he suggested lightly. "Killian and I are going to have a grown up conversation. Close the door behind you."

She left diligently and as she closed the door, he gave the newly awakened vampire a dangerous look. "Do not," he sneered, "call her a beast ever again. She is well-behaved, and we will ensure her safety once she is turned."

Their argument persisted through the night and into the early hours as the sun ascended in the sky. That wasn't anything new for them—Killian always rambled about how the 'curse of vampirism was something he didn't wish on anybody else'. Or how 'selfish and conniving Dorian had been to doom him to such a fate,' acting like a martyr. If anything, the older vampire should be the one complaining. Killian was too focused on making a tragedy out of his existence to care about anyone else. As always, the two only stopped when both of them had exhausted each other enough and then left it at that.

"I will go hunting," Killian declared, exasperation evident in the pinch of his nose.

"At this hour of the day?" Dorian questioned, both baffled and frustrated.

"Had you not started this complete mess, I would have been able to do so earlier," the dark-haired vampire countered.

"Oh, so all of this is my fault?" Dorian challenged. "Typical of you."

"Typical?" Killian repeated with outrage. "What do you mean, 'typical'?"

"Always trying to put the blame on someone, aren’t you, darling?" Dorian snapped back sardonically.

"Don't you try to put this on me," he threatened angrily. "This is all your doing!"

"This is ridiculous!" the blond exclaimed, flinging his hands in the air spitefully. "Utterly ridiculous; you are ridiculous!"

And like that, another session of arguing began.

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere vampire #yandere father #obsession #yandere #vampire #platonic #x reader #female reader #reader insert #child reader #yandere x reader #fanfic #unhealthy relationships #toxic relationship #They are lovers your honor #but they shouldn't be XD

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odinsblog · 27 days

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Since 2014, millions of Uyghurs, Kazakhs and other minorities have been locked up in China and subjected to torture and forced labour. Some of those freed talk about trying to rebuild their lives in neighbouring Kazakhstan.

Photography by Robin Tutenges

A Chinese course book

Saliman Yesbolat used to live in Ghulja county, Xinjiang. After she refused to denounce her Uyghur neighbours to the police, she was forced to perform the raising of the Chinese flag every Monday at dawn, and to attend Chinese lessons twice a week in the basement of her building, where she would learn the Chinese language, patriotic songs and Xi Jinping's discourses by heart. This is her exercise book.

Forced to leave China

At 65, Imam Madi Toleukhan is one of the oldest refugees in Bekbolat, Kazakhstan, where more than 100 families took shelter after fleeing the Chinese regime. 'We were richer back there. I owned a herd, but I was too afraid for my sons, my grandchildren and their future: I came to Kazakhstan to save them. I didn't want them to be the fourth generation to suffer at the hands of the Chinese government, he says.

Remembering Uyghur culture in exile

Two members of the Dolan Ensemble, a Uyghur dance troupe based in Kazakhstan, get ready before performing a traditional dance to mark 40 days since the birth of a baby. Founded in 2016, the troupe performs at festivals or private events that bring together members of the Uyghur community, some of whom have had to leave Xinjiang.

Torture, infertility and damaged genitalia

In Kazakhstan, medical care for camp survivors is poor. Most victims can barely afford to see a family doctor. Anara*, an endocrinologist in a Kazakh hospital who has examined about 50 camp survivors since 2020, noticed recurrent infertility problems among her patients. 'Men or women, many have damaged genitalia. Some told me they'd been given drugs, others said they'd been raped. As they didn't come to us right after being released from the camps, it's impossible to know what kind of drugs they were administered in Xinjiang, she says. *Not her real name

The tiger chair

Ospan* spent a year in a re-education camp. He says his mind and body were crushed by the tortures he experienced in a tiger chair - a steel apparatus with handcuffs that restrains the body in painful positions. Aged about 50, this former shepherd, who took refuge with his family in eastern Kazakhstan, is no longer fit for work. Physically wrecked and prone to headaches, he mourns the loss of his memory above all. 'I used to know a lot of songs and I loved to sing; I also knew poems by heart ... Now, I can't sing any more, I can't remember the words,' he says. *Not his real name

Broken families and imprisonment

Aikamal Rashibek saw the dreadful efficiency of the CCP's brainwashing on her husband, Kerimbek Bakytali, after he was released from a Chinese psychiatric hospital. 'He disappeared for a year. When he came back, he didn't tell me anything about what happened to him. He was highly unhinged, always nervous, and got angry whenever I asked questions. He couldn't stop repeating that he hated Kazakhstan now, and that he wanted to go back to China with the kids to give them a Chinese education, says Aikamal. They are now separated.

Missing loved ones in China’s camps

In March 2017, Miyessar Muhedamu, left, a Uyghur woman, was arrested in Xinjiang under the pretext that she had studied Arabic in Egypt when she was young. Her husband, Sadirzhan Ayupov, right, and her three children have not seen her since. Now that Miyessar has left the camp, Sadirzhan receives a short call every few months. He suspects she might have suffered abuse, yet Miyessar can’t speak freely. ‘She told me she’d been in a re-education camp, and that she’d been released. When I ask her what she went through there, she doesn’t answer,’ says Sadirzhan.

Life after fleeing China

Sent to a re-education camp in 2018 at the age of 64, Yerke* saw her health quickly deteriorate. Locked a tiny cell with dozens of other women, she almost lost the use of her legs due to the cold floor she had to lie on. She was in the camp when she learned of her son’s death: pressured by the Chinese authorities, he took his own life. After her release, Yerke fled to Kazakhstan with some family members, but two of her children remain in China. *Not her real name

Forced labour and confessions

Dina Nurdybay, 32, was arrested in Nilka county, Xinjiang, because her traditional Kazakh clothing business made her a separatist, according to the Chinese authorities. She spent 11 months between two re-education camps, a CCP school and a forced-labour sewing factory. After proving she was capable of being ‘well behaved’ and having performed a self-criticism in front of the whole village, Dina was released and managed to escape when she obtained a week’s leave to visit her ailing father in Kazakhstan.

Cultural genocide

China’s repression of ethnic minorities also involves cultural genocide. As Muslim rituals are forbidden in Xinjiang, people are trying to keep their traditions alive across borders. Here, a family is praying together in Kazakhstan after the death of one of their relatives in Xinjiang. They could not repatriate the body because the border between the two countries was closed at the time.

(continue reading)

#politics #uyghur genocide #islamophobia #china #cultural genocide #uyghurs #photojournalism #genocide #uyghur refugees #kazakhstan

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rrxnjun · 1 year

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portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun

pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!

turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.

It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.

Because he’s not.

He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger.

And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun��s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.

If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.

Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.

“What the fuck are you doing right n–”

Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.

That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.

The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.

And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..

“Dude, what is–”

“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.

It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.

Because he’s not.

He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.

It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.

That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.

“Renjun!”

“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.

“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.

“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around.

“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else.

It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.

“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.

“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.

“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”

You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.

“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.

“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.

“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.

“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…

“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation.

“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you.

“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”

And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?”

Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”

“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.

The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.

“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step.

Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.

When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand.

“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.

“Have you done this before?”

“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action.

Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk.

“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in.

“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.

Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.

“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so.

“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.

“What do you–”

His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.

He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”

“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.

“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.

You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.

His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.

And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.

His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.

Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you.

“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.

“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”

“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.

“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?

His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.

Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.

“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.

“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”

“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.

“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”

“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.

“What are you–”

“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.

“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.

“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”

You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”

“Yeah.”

“You drew all of these?”

“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.

“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.

“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”

Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft.

It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.

“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.

“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.

“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”

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