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devilry-revelry · 1 year

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Untitled - Male Orc x Female Human (Part 2)

[Part 1] - [Part 3]

More Fluff.

Arzok’s name was embellished with two heart emojis, one on either side of his name. When she looked back up at him, he was smiling ear to ear, only turning away to hop back on his bike.

One of the biggest strains on Riley’s relationship with her parents was Riley’s complete lack of husband, and her moderate to severe disinterest in having children. When Riley had her first serious relationship her parents pushed for a wedding, and they pushed for children. When they ended up with neither they practically mourned over their loss. Their disappointment stuck with Riley for a long time.

Dating became a means to an end, and Riley ended up dating a handful of men who would take her where she thought she wanted to be; married with children. They all ended for one reason or another; lasting from a handful of weeks to a year. The last relationship was, in a word, catastrophic. Riley would have never thought that someone who looked so safe on paper would leave her feeling so scared, and uncomfortable...

Which made meeting Arzok such a peculiarity as the orc already proved himself formidable and dangerous, and yet in his company she felt perfectly safe and at ease. As a virtual stranger, Arzok essentially had Riley pinned against the bathroom counter. After everything that had happened within the past 20 minutes it would be perfectly reasonable to be distrustful.

She wasn’t, though. Not one bit.

After agreeing to let Arzok take her home, Riley made quick work of cleaning him up. When they were finished the first aid kit was stashed back under the counter, and they took turns washing their hands. When Riley started to slide off the edge of the counter, Arzok settled one of his hands against her outer thigh to hold her in place.

“You aren’t walking through this bar barefoot, sweetling.”

Riley shifted about for a moment, searching for her shoes. She found them on the counter behind her.

“I’m sure I already caused a bit of a spectacle this evening on the way in. I’ll walk out.”

Riley put her shoes back on. Arzok let her hop down from the counter. The small heel brought pressure to the freshly bandaged cut and Riley barely suppressed a grimace. It wasn’t so painful that she couldn’t walk, but walking was most definitely going to make it worse. Arzok offered his arm, which she thankfully took, and together they ventured out of the bathroom.

They were immediately met by the dragon who had been with Arzok outside. His attention was on a large phone which he held in his massive, clawed grasp. Up close, and in the right kind of lighting, Riley was able to notice the purple tinge to some of his black scales.

“Hey, just wanted both of you to know that I already heard back from the police. Windowless vans are a dime a dozen in these parts, but one missing the driver’s side window and an orc-sized dent in the side should be a solid identifier in the event I got the plate wrong. Which I didn’t, for the record.” The dragon cut his yellow eyes towards Riley and said, “I didn’t have your information, so I gave them Arzok’s. They said they would be sending him whatever report details you might want. But maybe you can call them and explain what happened so our buddy here doesn’t get slapped with destruction of private property if it comes to it.”

Riley had expected his voice to sound like the bones of the earth, something rolling and brassy, harsh like a landslide but it was a pleasant lilting tenor. With all of his leather clad biker gear, Riley couldn’t help but think how his voice didn’t seem to suit the vibe that radiated off of him. That’s what she got for judging a magick by their appearance (even if Arzok going warrior-mode on a vehicle absolutely fit the bill — it was his kindness afterward that was the real surprise).

“Thank you,” Riley replied. “I really appreciate all the help.”

“This is Nox, by the way,” Arzok introduced.

The dragon nodded, then interrupted the motion. He suddenly looked bashful despite his non-human features. The way his lips curled to expose lethal fangs could have read more as a snarl if it wasn’t for the way his posture dipped and hunched forward.

“Oh, sorry— Nox.” He held out the hand that wasn’t holding the tablet-sized phone. Riley reached out and shook his hand, and marveled in the care he took to be gentle with her.

“Riley. Nice to meet you.”

Arzok and Nox spoke very briefly about their open tabs, and how Nox would cover the bill (“You can get me next time”), before Riley was escorted out of the bar, and back into the street.

“Full disclosure,” Arzok said once they were outside. “I don’t have a human-sized helmet.”

Oh. Yeah. The motorcycles. Of course he would be riding one, why wouldn’t he? He led her towards a massive bike. It was matte black, with chrome details. The body was vintage in style, but built to withstand the weight and size of someone far bigger than a human.

“So long as you’re careful with me, I think we’ll be okay.”

There was a low chuckle as he unlocked a hard shell storage compartment that hung off the back of the bike.

“I’ll be plenty careful with you, sweetheart,” he said. He reached into the compartment and withdrew a leather jacket, which he held out to her. “C’mere. This is all I have for you this time.”

Riley stepped in towards him and Arzok helped her into the jacket. He was quick to roll up the cuffs so she had use of her hands. The leather was soft, supple, and well worn. It smelled like leather, and grease, and something bright but woodsy. It was also stupid heavy.

“This time, huh?”

“Baby, if we’re going to be dating we’re going to have to get you a helmet. At least.” He said it without missing a beat. He secured the zippers and buttons then nodded his approval like the jacket didn’t go down to her knees.

Riley snorted good naturedly, watching as Arzok threw one of his legs over the motorcycle and kicked the stand up. Once he was situated he turned and offered her a hand to help. There was a little bit of a scramble between the length of the jacket, her pencil skirt, and the height of the bike, but once she was in place she felt perfectly secure… until the bike roared to life and the entirety of her body started to vibrate with the force of the engine.

When she tried to stay her distance and hold on to his waist, Arzok tugged her in closer. He first tugged her in by the crook of her legs, then grabbed her hands to guide her arms around him. He patted her hands, a wordless signal to keep them there, then he was shifting the bike into gear and driving away from the bar. It wasn’t like he took off speeding like a bat out of hell, but Riley had never been on a motorcycle. The first few moments of the new experience were unnerving. The ones that followed that were more exciting. She helped him navigate their way to her apartment, pointing directions over his shoulder. When Riley indicated that they were approaching her apartment Arzok cut the engine and they coasted down the block in silence.

Once the bike was safely parked against the curb, Arzok dropped the kickstand then got off the bike. He helped her off not a moment later, offering both of his hands to keep her steady and offer support.

“Thank you,” she said once she was on her feet. “For everything.” There was a gentle burn as heat started to gather in the apples of her cheeks. She was suddenly glad it was dark.

“You think you’re getting away that easily?” He held out his hand, crooking the fingers in a ‘hand it over’ sort of motion.

“I don’t have any money,” she said immediately, then kicked herself for it. Between work, the horror of the evening, and the god-awful hour, her brain was really firing on all cylinders.

“Baby – your phone!” Arzok was laughing, a good hearty laugh that would have made Riley feel embarrassed if he didn’t look so boyish.

Her phone was promptly fished out of her purse. She unlocked it, opened a fresh contact page, and passed it to him. Maybe if she didn’t shy away she could pretend it was an honest-to-god joke. Once Arzok came down from his laughter he focused his attention on the screen. The phone looked far too small in his hands, and Riley wondered if he would need her to add his information herself.

Arzok lifted his eyes suddenly, his pointer finger poised over the screen. With a decisive tap he passed the phone back to her. Riley checked the screen. The first thing she noted was that it was past 1AM, the second was the contact entry.

Arzok’s name was embellished with two heart emojis, one on either side of his name. When she looked back up at him, he was smiling ear to ear, only turning away to hop back on his bike.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to be trouble?” She asked, offering a smile of her own.

“Only the good kind. You’ll love it. Have a good night, Riley.”

There was a part of her that didn’t want this evening to end. It started terrible, but on its current course she was almost afraid to say goodbye. So she didn’t. Offering one last lingering glance, one last shy smile, Riley turned and moved up the stairs to her apartment lobby.

Just as she reached the door, Arzok called out, “Riley.”

She turned back to look at him.

“When you get inside, leave your lights off.”

Confused, Riley asked, “Why?”

Arzok shrugged his shoulders, hitting the kickstand. “If you leave them off, I won’t know where you live. Not exactly. Just in case you’re uncomfortable…” He paused a beat, then added, “Actually, you should leave them off for a bit, just in case.”

The thought struck her as infinitely considerate, and sweet, and then protective. Any onlooker would be able to know that she lived in the building, but if she kept the lights off her exact location within the building would remain a mystery to anyone loitering in the street. Riley wouldn’t have considered it, but Arzok offering it so plainly for her comfort, and then her protection, warmed her deeply. Riley smiled, nodded.

“Goodnight, Arzok. Thank you.”

Once she was inside, the door shut behind her, she heard the thunderous blast of Arzok’s motorcycle starting. By the time she reached the elevator it was gone, having taken off down the road. It wasn’t until she was inside the elevator, on her way up to the 7th floor when Riley realized she was still draped in Arzok’s jacket.

Riley imagined being bold, snapping a salacious selfie in the jacket, sending it to him with something like ‘I think you forgot something’, like she could have meant herself or the jacket.

Instead she launched a quick, seemingly frantic,

YOUR JACKET

She received no immediate reply. Didn’t expect to, either. She went about her dark apartment, prepping for bed. The jacket was hung up on a bundle of three hangers on the back of her closet door. Her clothes were discarded and she went and had a nice long shower. She redressed her foot, and was disappointed when she didn’t have a text by the time she crawled into bed.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning when she would read the response:

Oh no. I guess we’ll just have to meet up so you can give it back to me.

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biteapple · 6 months

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i dont know how to describe my thinking process because when im trying to figure something out it just feels like im focusing really hard on nothing until it suddenly comes to me from the ether

#i remembered this guy's last name the other day for just thinking about it for 3 days #and everything that came to me for hints felt pulled from nothing #like you know with math its like show your work. yeah my shit doesn't show the work up there ideas just usually emerge from nothing #unless im like. MAKING something. thats a different process. remembering is from nothing until it just happens. is this universal??

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riaki · 5 months

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ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

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saddayfordemocracy · 6 months

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How the Watermelon Became a Symbol of Palestinian Solidarity

The use of the watermelon as a Palestinian symbol is not new. It first emerged after the Six-day War in 1967, when Israel seized control of the West Bank and Gaza, and annexed East Jerusalem. At the time, the Israeli government made public displays of the Palestinian flag a criminal offense in Gaza and the West Bank.

To circumvent the ban, Palestinians began using the watermelon because, when cut open, the fruit bears the national colors of the Palestinian flag—red, black, white, and green.

The Israeli government didn't just crack down on the flag. Artist Sliman Mansour told The National in 2021 that Israeli officials in 1980 shut down an exhibition at 79 Gallery in Ramallah featuring his work and others, including Nabil Anani and Issam Badrl. “They told us that painting the Palestinian flag was forbidden, but also the colors were forbidden. So Issam said, ‘What if I were to make a flower of red, green, black and white?’, to which the officer replied angrily, ‘It will be confiscated. Even if you paint a watermelon, it will be confiscated,’” Mansour told the outlet.

Israel lifted the ban on the Palestinian flag in 1993, as part of the Oslo Accords, which entailed mutual recognition by Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization and were the first formal agreements to try to resolve the decades-long Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The flag was accepted as representing the Palestinian Authority, which would administer Gaza and the West Bank.

In the wake of the accords, the New York Times nodded to the role of watermelon as a stand-in symbol during the flag ban. “In the Gaza Strip, where young men were once arrested for carrying sliced watermelons—thus displaying the red, black and green Palestinian colors—soldiers stand by, blasé, as processions march by waving the once-banned flag,” wrote Times journalist John Kifner.

In 2007, just after the Second Intifada, artist Khaled Hourani created The Story of the Watermelon for a book entitled Subjective Atlas of Palestine. In 2013, he isolated one print and named it The Colours of the Palestinian Flag, which has since been seen by people across the globe.

The use of the watermelon as a symbol resurged in 2021, following an Israeli court ruling that Palestinian families based in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in East Jerusalem would be evicted from their homes to make way for settlers.

The watermelon symbol today:

In January, Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir gave police the power to confiscate Palestinian flags. This was later followed by a June vote on a bill to ban people from displaying the flag at state-funded institutions, including universities. (The bill passed preliminary approval but the government later collapsed.)

In June, Zazim, an Arab-Israeli community organization, launched a campaign to protest against the ensuing arrests and confiscation of flags. Images of watermelons were plastered on to 16 taxis operating in Tel Aviv, with the accompanying text reading, “This is not a Palestinian flag.”

“Our message to the government is clear: we will always find a way to circumvent any absurd ban and we will not stop fighting for freedom of expression and democracy,” said Zazim director Raluca Ganea.

Amal Saad, a Palestinian from Haifa who worked on the Zazim campaign, told Al-Jazeera they had a clear message: “If you want to stop us, we’ll find another way to express ourselves.”

Words courtesy of BY ARMANI SYED / TIME

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artbyblastweave · 1 year

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I saw a post a couple of days ago that said one of the most important things about Steven Universe, thematically, is that everybody in the core cast has done at least one completely morally unjustifiable thing, regardless of how likeable or sympathetic they are otherwise, and that this is important to understanding the show thematically. This is true.

But it also reminded me of one other thing I really like about Steven Universe, which is that it’s the emotional-toxicity equivalent of all those posts about how cartoons have to come up with unimaginably worse forms of death and violence in the course of avoiding getting censored for depicting plausible forms of death and violence. All of the ways in which SU characters cross those emotional and interpersonal lines are wrapped up either in their fantastic abilities or their bizarre life circumstances in a way that makes it all esoterically awful and often much more existentially horrifying than any of the real-life dynamics it’s alluding to. You’ve said nasty things to people in the heat of the moment but you’ve never shapeshifted into the guy’s dead wife to twist the knife a little more. No violation of bodily autonomy is ever gonna involve contriving a situation in which the other party will believe that it’s necessary to fuse with you, body and soul in order to do demolition work. The most toxic relationship in the world isn’t gonna involve imprisoning someone at the bottom of the ocean for several months and only emerging to participate in humanoid-sacrifice rituals. Your codependency will never last 8,000 years, be frontloaded with a faked death you’re biomechanically incapable of confessing to, and end with your partner’s suicide-by-childbirth. Your worst roommate situation will never end with one party stealing the apartment and taking it to the moon. Et al. Et al.

I don’t remember where I was going with this, precisely, (and I may have drifted sideways from the original discussion topic of crossed lines per se, but whatever.) I mean part of it’s funny because it exists in a series with tons of mundane, non-metaphorical examinations of interpersonal issues, like everything to do with Lars and Sadie, or Sour Cream and Marty. And there’s an extent to which I’m just describing how cartoons are written. But there’s something special about how Steven Universe does it. Something delightfully fucked up about it all. I think maybe part of it is that it’s a considered and embraced fucked-upedness, none of this is just an ill-considered fridge-logic by-product of something else they were trying to do. Like for every one of these, someone in the writers room probably went, “Man, this has some fucked up implications,” and then everyone would go, “Yeah!” and hi five and put it in specifically because of that. Great Show. Great show

#thoughts #meta #steven universe #media analysis #su

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evilminji · 3 months

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You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?

No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!

Well, no worry!

As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-

What do you MEAN "No"?

Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.

Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.

He'd eat her.

Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.

But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!

Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.

They're AWFUL~♡

And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.

But!

You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*

Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?

For Danny to be his Son.

*Gets a call from Frostbite*

...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.

You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.

*instantly begins plotting*

Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.

Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.

It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.

Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.

But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.

Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.

Lex has never been worse.

He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.

Clark wants to cry.

@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Vlad With A Baby AU #Peacock War AU

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neopuppy · 8 months

Text

Cookie Jar (M)

pairing. Jeno x female reader x Jaemin

genre. stuck in a dryer AU(because why not), meany step-brothers Jaemin/Jeno, pwop(and yet a plot twist), crack if you squint, M/F

warnings. dubcon(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), stepcest, profanity, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 7000

now playing. Cookie Jar//Doja Cat

smut warnings. baby oil, pet names, threesome, unprotected vaginal sex, double penetration(one hole), degradation/praise

“God damn, your step-brothers are so hot.” Your friend says, sucking a hissed breath between her teeth. “I’d do anything to get stuck between those two.”

“You’re sick,” you mutter, slapping her oiled up shoulder, warmed and glistening under the last days of summer sun. “They’re my brothers.”

“Step-brothers.” She shrugs, continuing to eye the two dunking each other underwater with headlocks. “Come on, that’s like… universally a big turn on.”

“Yeah, well not to me.” You say, rolling your eyes before returning to watch the commotion in the pool travel closer, splashing too close to where you lay. “You wouldn’t think they’re so hot if you had to live with them like I do.”

“Believe me, I definitely would.” She sighs, dragging one of the legs of her sunglasses between the seam of her lips. “Don’t know how you resist, I swear they get bigger and buffer every time they visit.”

Now that is true, you silently agree, shielding your eyes from the sun to take in a better look.

“Jaemin’s so broad,” she continues, nibbling at her glasses. “And Jeno’s so lean.. nothing but muscle on him. I bet they get real rough.”

“You need to get laid.” You mumble, focused on the way Jeno’s veins ripple with each squeeze around Jaemin’s neck. The two red in the face from rough-housing for the last hour. “And not by one of my brothers.”

She whines, pouting and sticking out her tongue. “You’re no fun, if you’re not gonna allow me to do it… one of us should.”

Her eyebrows wiggle suggestively, leaning back and fanning herself as they begin to exit the pool. Jeno smiles, eyes more squinted with the sun beating down on his face and tight sculpted chest. “Hey, we’re going to head inside. You want anything?”

The dreamy sigh your friend let’s out doesn’t go unnoticed, whether it be from Jeno’s charm or Jaemin’s perfected way of continuing to not acknowledge your existence; too busy patting his flat smooth stomach dry. It’s all a show of course, he knows he looks too damn good.

“I’m okay, thanks Jeno.”

He nods, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulder to continue their playful match as they pass through the sliding doors back into your house.

“He’s so cute,” your friend continues to fawn over the two, squealing that you must have been a saint in a past life to have ended up in such a lucky situation.

“It’s not luck.” You disagree, shushing her. “Anyway enough of this, I have a date to get ready for tonight, the last thing on my mind is Jeno or Jaemin.”

She sighs, shoulders slumping as she lays back. “Meanwhile, I’ll be home dreaming about your step-brothers railing me into the next universe.”

Yeah, in your dreams they’ve had their way with you once or twice.. maybe more than a couple handful of times. It doesn’t help that neither of them has ever attempted to be discreet about their sexual conquests when they’re home. It’s the main reason you can’t even stare at a phallic shaped object for too long without venturing into lewd thoughts of your step-brothers acting out their usual horny himbo behavior with you.

The headache you currently have for example is all Jaemin’s fault, keeping you up into the late AM hours with two sluts screaming from his bedroom akin to something straight out of a horror film. That’s how you found your way to the kitchen to distract your mind from the deeper throaty moans between their banshee-like cries. Maybe water would quench the thirst closing up your throat, but how to stop the aching heat between your thighs..

“What’re you doing up?” His groggy voice emerged, feet patting their way across kitchen tile toward the open fridge you’ve been standing in front of for a minute now contemplating if you should make a sandwich or not.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you sneer, side-eyeing him with a mean look. Your step-brother's afterglow has his eyes dropping at the corners, smiling lazily as he reaches past you for two water bottles.

“Try counting sheep?” He doesn’t even acknowledge you with a glance, moving to sit at the kitchen island and chug down one of the waters. Not even bothering to pull on a shirt before coming down, because why would you question the bright red and pink scratches lining his upper back. It’s dim enough to make it weird if you mention it, too observant on your part.

“I don’t think that will help.” You say, rolling your eyes and shifting down to the cabinet filled with snacks. “Too much noise, not even sheep can drown that out.”

“Hmm,” Jaemin hums, fixing his messy hair still sweaty at the roots. “That’s weird, I never hear anything.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

The sound of a chair scrapes across the tile, feet patting toward the same way he came in from but coming to a stop too close, right behind you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He whispers, hovering near the back of your ear. “Am I doing something to keep you up at night?”

Jaemin knows you hear everything with your bedroom being right in-between his and Jeno’s. Only a wall apart from the debauchery taking place mere feet away from you. “You’ve never complained before..” he reaches for your hair, tossling it behind you and gathering most down the center of your back.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Hmm, sounds to me like you’re eavesdropping?” You can pick up a smirk in his tone, shivering down your spine as his palm weighs down on your shoulder. “Don’t tell me my sweet innocent little sister is a pervert? What would your father think.”

He presses closer, reaching out in front of you to grab a protein bar, groin rocking against your backside as he leans up to reach for it above both of your heads. “It’s—it’s not that.” You bite down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut to push away the thought of just how thick he feels pressed against your ass. The shape of his length prominent and hot, half-hard where he digs into you.

“Then what is it?” Jaemin grunts, pushing down on your shoulder heavier for leverage to reach higher, lightly grazing the bar with the tips of his fingers. “What’s keeping you up?”

“Neighbors.. neighbors dog.” You lie, shaking away the memories of high-pitched moans and screams buried into pillows. “Barks a lot, near my window.”

Jaemin tsks, successfully pulling down the snack he’s been reaching for but not without aligning the dip between your ass with his growing size. “What a pesky dog.” He leans forward, lips brushing your ear. “Maybe you need some new headphones, I’ll buy you some this weekend. Can’t have my baby sis losing out on precious sleep.”

With one last dig of his hips against yours, he grins, patting the top of your head. “Get some sleep baby.”

You had to grip onto the end of the cabinet to keep your knees from failing you, dropping your head down to suppress a whimper. Jaemin’s so mean, so fucking mean for what? Maybe you are a pervert though, secretly lusting after not just one—but both of your step-siblings. God your parents would ship you off to boarding school if they knew you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep after that.

No, not with your ear pressed up against the wall trying to mute every sound that couldn’t have come from one of the main characters of your daily fantasies. Between having both Jaemin and Jeno back home for summer, you haven’t seen a day of peace.

Your friend was right, maybe she needs to get laid, but more than anything you need to be fucked. Fucked hard enough for your soul to leave your body and make a trip to heaven and back.

That explains the deep set bags under your eyes today, hidden under the sunglasses that also do a great job of masking your lack of ability to take in each wet rippling muscle lining Jeno’s stomach, or Jaemin’s thick biceps flexing and gripping around his neck.

A defeated sigh solidifies your decision to get in a quick nap before it’s time to get ready for your date tonight. You won’t be of much use for another man if you’re still stuck in a horny whirlwind fantasy anyway.

What was that Jaemin said to you last night? Count sheep?

One. Two. Three..

“Where are you going?”

Jeno’s sitting on top of the dryer mindlessly scrolling through his phone, double-taking at the sound of you entering the laundry room; his eyes nearly falling out of their sockets at the length of your skirt.

“Out.” You say, squatting a bit to sort through your clean basket of clothes. “Have you seen my favorite bra?”

Jeno jumps off the machine, head ducking lower, catching a glimpse of sheer lace baby pink between your thighs. “What?”

“My bra,” you stand, cupping around your chest. “It’s light pink, floral trimming, the cups are see-through.”

He gapes, mouth going dry taking in the rest of your appearance. “Where are you going?”

“Hello, earth to Jeno!” Waving around, you reach out to flick his forehead, wrist caught mid-air before you reach. “I asked you a question!”

He scoffs, tugging you closer. “Why would I have your bra?! Are you not wearing it?” The realization has Jeno pulling you arm up to better stare at your chest, a faint shadow of nipple peeks through the cotton material hugging your breasts.

“What the hell are you wearing?!” He’s flabbergasted, scanning up and down your figure and shaking his head in disapproval. “You can’t go out like this.”

Pulling free from his hold you roll your eyes, returning to the basket of fresh laundry in search of your undergarments. “You don’t like it?”

Jeno pauses, mouth opening and shutting again, lips pouting out. He definitely likes it, but you shouldn’t be out in public revealing this much of your body to anyone.. it’s different at home; no one other than him and Jaemin to see you prance around in oversized t-shirts barely hitting beneath your ass. Not that they’ve ever wondered what would happen if you bent down to pick something up in front of them, not that they’ve ever caught themselves turning their heads toward the stairs in unison when you come skipping down, bouncing away.

“You look..” Jeno hums, taking too long to admire the smooth backs of your thighs leading up to the plump roundness your skirts doing a poor job of hiding. “..it’s just.. would your dad let you wear that out??”

Snorting, you stand up to glare at him with your hands on your hips, head cocked to the side. “He’s not here to stop me, is he?”

“No but he asked us to watch over you, I don’t think your dad would like it if he knew I let you leave the house looking like..”

“Like what?” You snap back, stepping forward to get in his face.

“Like..”

“Go on.”

“Like a common street whore.” Jeno straightens out, clearing his throat, chin tilted in to appear serious. “Walking around like you’re asking for it.”

Smiling, you poke at his chest, your step-brother’s resolve crumbling as you softly laugh. “Maybe I am.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jeno groans, shaking his head again. “I can’t let you go out like that, I won’t allow it.”

“Oh you won’t allow it? Do you think you’re my daddy?” You ask, taunting him further with another prod at his chest; mascara heavily coated eyelashes batting mischievously.

Jeno swallows, biting at the sides of his tongue, annoyed and aroused by everything. The way you’re dressed, the way you keep touching him, the silky tone you say that word in.

“Where exactly do you need to go dressed like that?” He repeats, the sound of the dryer cycle coming to an end clearing his foggy mind for a moment.

Sighing, you roll your eyes, adjusting the loose bolero cashmere slipping from your shoulders. “The new neighbor invited me over for dinner and a movie, we’re not going out. He’s gonna cook me a nice American meal because I mentioned how much I miss it back home when we met.”

Jeno’s eyes dart back and forth in thought, a light bulb coming to life behind them. “THE AMERICAN GUY? THAT GROWN ASS MAN?!”

“He’s 28!”

“Exactly!” His demeanor changes drastically, arms flailing angrily. “Oh you are not going out to see him dressed like that! In fact! You aren’t going anywhere near that creep!”

“He’s not a creep! God Jeno.” Shoving past him you continue muttering about how he needs to calm down, you don’t need to take orders from him or anyone. “I’m an adult.”

“He’s way too old for you.” Jeno paces behind you, too frustrated to notice you’ve begun to pull out his dry laundry, sorting through it in search of your bra. “I’m gonna have to call your dad.”

“Jeno! Do not!” You snap again, letting out an annoyed huff. “I never snitch on you and Jaemin all the nights you sneak out and bring back girls to fuck!”

Jeno gapes again, moving to stand by your side and snatch his boxers before you grab them. “We don’t do that!”

“Oh you don’t? I must have imagined those girly moans coming from your bedrooms screaming oh yes! Daddy please! Rip my ass apart! Your cocks so fucking big!” You slap down on the dryer moaning out, arching forward pressing your breast against the machine, eyes rolling up sarcastically. “Ugh yes daddy! Cum on my ass!”

Jeno gulps, eyebrows twisting together as his cock jumps inside the confines of his jeans, gnawing at his bottom lip to contain an anguished groan. “That’s..”

“Piece of shit dryer,” you curse, bending down to reach further inside, the strap of your bra meeting your fingers. “I swear if this thing ate my bra!”

Jeno runs his hands through his hair, tugging at chunks trying to regain his composure. The position you’ve dropped to on your knees, ass shimmying in the air further pushing him to his limit not helping one bit.

There’s no way he can let you leave this house dressed like this, no way he can let that pervert down the street take advantage of his little innocent step-sister, no way he can let anyone ruin you other than him.

His hand trembles inches away from your backside, soft supple skin fully exposed just aching to be slapped, marked up and bruised by his hands.

“Jeno! Help me!” You whine, shaking and kicking out your feet annoyed. “I think I’m stuck!”

Oh fuck.

“Wh-what..” Jeno’s eyes travel around quickly, ending back on your ass wiggling around in a weak attempt to free yourself from the machine you’ve gotten stuck inside of. “W-what… quit fucking around.”

“I’m not! I’m stuck, Jeno! You have to get me out!” Your sad excuse of a skirt flares up as you start to kick, ankles knocking together the more you whine and yell at him. “I can’t believe this!”

Me either, Jeno thinks, swallowing a thick wad of saliva to coat his throat. “This has to be a joke, you’re…you’re trying to..” he pauses, mewling over what exactly it is you’re doing to him. On your knees, ass rippling under your cute little panties, back arched low in this much too perfect position.

“I’m not joking! Jeno I’m really stuck! I think my sweater got caught in the machine!” Your whiney high-pitched tone doesn’t help Jeno’s growing problem twitching against his inner thigh.

“What am I supposed to do?! Break the fucking dryer?!” Jeno splutters, forcing himself to look away and draw in shallow breaths.

SHE’S YOUR SISTER.

The chant shouting in his head gets interrupted by the devil on his shoulder, speaking in an oddly similar tone he’s more than familiar with. ‘She’s just our step-sister Jeno, it’s not a crime.’

That’s what Jaemin’s always said whenever they’ve drank a little too much and toyed with the idea of hooking up with you. ‘Believe me, I’m gonna fuck her at some point, you know I can’t keep it in my pants this long.’

Jaemin had a point, but even then Jeno can’t deny the guilt he feels as his gaze retreats back to your ample backside, arched out pathetically, fully pushing your plump folds out against the thin layer of underwear leaving nothing to his imagination.

“Do something!” You shout, near tears from the dryer's heat sweating your makeup off. All this effort to look pretty for Johnny only for it to be completely wasted over this stupid damn bra. This is all Jeno’s fault! He never even clears out the lint before throwing his clothes in!

“Okay okay!” The existential crisis your step-brother’s going through fails to transcend through his response, even if he’s fully messed up his hair style by ripping at tufts while pacing behind you. “What if.. I can try to pull you out?”

“Hurry! It’s so hot in here! I’m melting!”

Could you be more dramatic? He wants to scoff, rolling his eyes as he drops down to his knees and his hands hover over your hips. “I’m going to try and reach in, alright?”

“God damnit Jeno! Fucking hurry up!” You screech, feet stomping against the ground between his thighs.

“Oh shit,” Jeno presses in closer to avoid your heels colliding with his sack, eyes going wide upon contact with your core, all warm and damp where his lower stomach meets the forbidden area between your thighs. “Fuck.”

He has to catch his breath again, sliding his hands through the space left at your sides. He definitely could avoid touching you given the amount of space, but that doesn’t stop him from smoothing up your hips and waist, squeezing his way up as he bends closer with his chin resting atop the dryer. The new angle aligns his hips with yours, his now fully hard length digging into your thigh the more he leans his body in to lock under your armpits and pull your shoulders back. “Come on, work with me here.”

“That hurts! It’s my sweater Jeno! My sleeves wrapped up in the machine, I can’t get it out!” He can feel you tug, shifting back further into his groin the more you attempt to move and release your arm from the uncomfortable position you’re trapped in.

“Sorry sorry..” he gasps, unable to stop himself from rocking forward against your warmth. “Should I try to take your top off?” Shaking his head in disbelief, he circles against your ass, biting down on his teeth to suppress a groan when his length slots between your folds. Even with the material of your clothes keeping you apart, the idea alone of having you so vulnerable to his ministrations is more than enough. High alone off how unsuspecting his every calculated move is, because why would your big brother take advantage of you like this? Jeno would never, he loves you too much.

“Ughh…” you whine, head drooping with sweat pouring down your face faster than a river flow. “This is so stupid!” You cry, shimmying back again, too exhausted to pick up on the hard shaped rod pressed flush to your core.

“I’m so tired..” blinking slowly, you wonder how stupid it may be to call up 911 for this.

‘Hey my step-sister got stuck in a dryer trying to find a bra. Can you make it fast? She’s supposed to have a hot date tonight with this sexy American beef cake that lives down the street.’

Because that’s something that could only ever happen to you. Public humiliation that would only draw attention to your house with a blaring fire truck uselessly parked outside only to decide that the jaws of life would be necessary to free you from this comedic porn scenario mess of a situation you’ve landed yourself in.

“I’m doing my best baby.” Jeno soothes, maneuvering his hands to your back in search of a bra clasp to release. Oh right.. hard nipples, no bra. The entire reason you’re stuck to begin with. “I’m going to take your top off, okay?”

No bra, that should make this easier, he gulps, untying the halter strings connected at the back of your neck. “Maybe if we can get you out of this..” he tries to imagine your tortured cute face, tear stricken the longer you suffer in there. The image of your distress only makes his cock jump, rutting harder against your ass.

“Fuck, I can’t do this.” He whispers quietly to himself, too caught up in his own form of torture. What are the chances of pulling you out, tits bouncing freely as you fall back and land ass first onto the seat of his lap. Jeno nods to himself, pulling your top lower until he can sense the release of your breasts, likely resting against the still warm metal insides of the dryer.

“Try to pull your arms free now baby.”

Maybe it’s due to your exhaustion, lazily pushing back only to be met with your step-brother’s hips and a low groan. “I can’t Jeno, I can’t anymore.” You sob, pathetically dropping flat with your arm strung up still locked in place.

“I’m going to have to cut your sweater.” He thinks fast, glancing around quickly before noticing you’re no longer alone.

“Jaemin?!”

“Jaemin!” You shout, shocked by the mention of your other brother. “Huh?!”

An amused laugh traces up your back, followed by a round of applause and feet shuffling forward. “No no, keep it going Jeno.”

He leans against the washer, smirking to one side. “All this fun without me? You dirty fucking dog.”

“Jaem, it’s not what it looks like! She’s st—“

“No no, seriously, by all means—go on, don’t let me interrupt. I’m dying to know what you’ll do next.” He says sarcastically. “You’re really the luckiest motherfucker I know, Jeno. Found her like this before I had the chance.”

“Dude, it’s not like that!” He groans, gripping around your waist roughly out of frustration.

“Ow!” You squeak, pushing back harder against his crotch. “Jaemin, do something!”

“Do something?” He muses, squatting down near his brother to get a good look at your connected lower halves, skirt pushed high above your hips and underwear scrunched up between your buttcheeks. “I can do a lot, if you really want me to, princess.”

“Jaemin, no..” Jeno begs quietly, knowing his sibling better than himself. “You can’t.”

“Oh, but you can, right?” He snickers, snapping his fingers. “All this struggling and neither of you idiots has considered oil yet?” He laughs, patting Jeno’s back roughly before exiting.

“Where’d he go?!” You kick at the ground again, maybe Jaemin could get you out of here, he’s buffer than Jeno.. always flexing his muscles in front of you talking about ‘gains’.

“Uh..” Jaemin walks back in before he’s able to coin up a lie, a clear bottle of baby oil in hand. “Man, why do you even have that??”

“You know why.” He grins cockily, returning to match Jeno’s position on his knees. “We’ll just lube her up real good and she’ll slip right out.”

“What is this?” Jeno asks, genuinely bewildered. “Am I dreaming?” He raises an eyebrow, reaching to pinch your buttcheek.

“Ow! What the fuck!”

Oh right, he’s supposed to pinch himself. Not you.

“Don’t think you are but either way, hope we don’t wake up.” Jaemin chuckles, nudging his elbow into his brother’s side. “I think you’ve had enough failed attempts at this, it’s my turn.”

Reluctantly Jeno’s shoulders drop and he shifts off to your side, hard-on pressed to your hip as if that will help hide how insanely turned on he is right now.

Jaemin makes a face, whistling quietly as he leans in to whisper for you not to hear. “I’d be 8 deep in her right now, you’re an idiot.”

“Whatever man, I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“Step.” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t count, besides, look at us and look at her—we’re like some PornHub dream come true. Think of the money we could make if we filmed this..”

“Hello?!” You cry out, unable to hear anything aside from muffled voices. “Are you going to help me or what?!?”

“Of course princess.” Jaemin says reassuringly, handing Jeno the bottle of baby oil to free his hands to grab onto your hips. “You’re stuck real good in there unfortunately, but your big brother has a great plan to get you out.”

Jeno shakes his head, mouthing ‘you sick fuck’ to the other, receiving only a much too cheerful smile in return.

“Okay, thank you..” you don’t sound too convinced, but at this point with your makeup all sweated off and hair ruined, you don’t have much of a choice other than to just go with it.

“I’m going to try oiling you up, but I don’t want to ruin your pretty outfit baby.” He winks at Jeno, mouthing ‘watch this’. “Is that okay with you?” He tugs on your underwear to ask without flat out asking.

“Take off my clothes?” With your top already rolled down to your waist and this bent over position you’ve been stuck in for too long now, you can’t fathom how much more humiliating this situation can get at this point.

“Yeah, sort of like when you use butter to help remove jewelry that’s too tight.” Jaemin shrugs, convinced he made that up. “It’s worth a shot to try, or would you rather I call the fire department to have you craned out of here. Might be hard to explain the hole in our roof to mom and dad later, and think of how much that repair will cost them.”

“Fine, fine! Get me out of here, please Jaem.” You whine again, lazily collapsing onto your stomach and chest.

“You don’t have to beg baby.” Jaemin can’t stop the smile on his lips from growing, slowly rolling your panties down to unveil your bald smooth cunt. He sucks in a hissed breath between his teeth. “Fuck, even prettier than I imagined.”

Jeno leans in closer, swallowing down a sob. “Yeah, real nice..” his hand lifts, hovering close by. “You’re right, fuck, I’m an idiot.” His hips jam closer, digging his painfully hard length into the side of your thigh.

“We should oil your entire body.” Jaemin pipes up. “You know, to make sure you slip free easily. I wouldn't want my baby sis to get hurt.”

That doesn’t make a lick of sense, you think, but who fucking cares anymore. Jaemin skims his palms beneath your skirt, tugging it over your hips ever so gently. Clueless to the visual of your ass bouncing against the material with each light tug, he curses under his breath.

“You see that Jeno?” He nods to your exposed rim, tight as fuck, as if nothing’s ever penetrated back there. “That’s a damn shame.. Our poor baby, so neglected..”

You hate to admit but everything your step-brother has said in his usual monotone calm voice has your thighs rubbing together anxiously. Because when you weighed the pros and cons of sacrificing your pride and ego, you failed to consider the most humiliating one: leaking down your thighs for your step-brothers to watch from a front row seat.

“Fuck.”

“What was that my angel?” Jaemin chimes, reaching for your top to drag down over your wide hips, the material showing resistance as seams pop open passing over the round pert of your ass. “You’re doing so good for me.” He says, acknowledging Jeno with his arm slung atop the dryer to stop himself from hunching forward and burying his face between your butt. “Well, for us.”

This has to be some type of punishment, you can’t even bite down on your fist to drown out the moan you let out next. Jaemin uses your weakened state to fully control the dip in your back, hoisting your hips higher to make your cheeks spread naturally and leave you completely exposed.

“God damn.” He grits pushing down on your waist and pressing his crotch to the back of your thigh. “Hurry up Jeno, soak her up.”

“You have to say it like that?” Jeno sounds near the verge of tears trying to uncap the baby oil in his tight grip. “Isn’t this—sort of..”

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna shove my dick inside of her in the next five seconds!” Jaemin hisses at his brother, reaching for the string keeping his sweats up. “Five! Four!—“

“Okay okay!” Jeno practically drops the bottle out of fear, squeezing its contents out rapidly with his jaw hung at the sight of your ass gleaming back at him absolutely drenched. “Can’t do this, Jaem! I need—need to fuck her!”

“What?? What’s going on!?” You shriek, jumping back as the oil dribbles up your back, only magnifying how obscene your ass looks shining with a thick coat of oil.

“This is insane.” Jaemin mumbles, shoving his sweats and boxers down in one go. He lowers down to speak into the dryer, snaking in to smear the oil higher up your back. “Hey, I don’t want to get my clothes dirty either, right Jeno? I’m sure you understand, baby.”

“What?” You sigh, eyes flying wide open when you feel it, hot and thick against your soaked ass. “Is that?—“ to make matters worse, you feel it again against your other thigh, bigger even, pulsating where he’s pressed, nearly burning your skin from how hot he feels. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin moans, smoothing his oily hands to your chest, squeezing the second he cups your breasts. “Fuckfuckfuck, I think it’s working!” He pulls you back more, the top of your stomach sliding against the dryer making the nastiest squeegee-like sound.

“You’re doing so so good for us.” Jeno finally manages to speak up, pouring out the entire contents of the now empty bottle in his hold, tossing it aside to massage in the mess pooling between the crevice of your ass. “Shit. What the fuck. You’re so fucking pretty down here. Of course you are, so damn pretty everywhere aren’t you?”

“Jaem, Jeno—what’s—“ you huff out, short of breath the more you get pulled out but your step-brothers thick biceps caging your hips.

Jaemin hushes you dismissively, gaining better leverage around your middle to pull you out, your sweater barely clinging to your arm anymore. “Come on Jeno, grab her legs for me.” He grunts, exuding strength he’s only had to use in the bedroom before. Lucky for you his favored positions have always left him in complete control, tossing whoever he’s fucking around to his will.

Jeno’s fast to listen to orders, especially if it means he’ll be in the perfect position to actually have you landing in his lap as if he manifested it to happen.

“Ahhh!”

Once your elbow unhooks from your sweater, you shoot out of the dryer like the log ride and Disney world, hurdled back by the extra force you and Jaemin had been using to free your upper half. The relief of finally being free washes over you, panting for breath that doesn’t reek of lint and musty heat. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it!”

Too stunned and eager to fix your sweaty locks, you nearly miss the sad pathetic groan Jeno lets out, clutching around your waist to keep you slotted against his rock hard length. “Je—oh fuck.”

Jaemin sits up on his knees, regaining his composure and breath as he wipes off his greasy palms by slapping them together repeatedly. “That was some show, look at what you’ve done. Poor Jeno looks about ready to burst.”

He crawls forward, grabbing onto your knees before you even think to slam your thighs shut, too caught up in the thick size nestled between your ass to even fully understand how naked all of you are. Naked and completely doused from neck to toe in baby oil, it almost seems too ridiculous to be real…

“Now now,” he drawls, relaxing between your thighs only held open by his palms cupped under the pits of your knees. “In a sense, this is like pulling out the Excalibur..”

“Dude, I’m fucking dying here! Be fucking for real!” Jeno sounds more desperate than you’ve ever heard him, whining like a puppy into your shoulder and apologizing with a feather light kiss.

Jaemin laughs, could even qualify as a cackle, smoothing down to your inner thighs. “Don’t you think we’ve earned a prize from our princess?”

The sweet charming smile you’re used to seems more menacing than ever now as he inches lower, heavy palms cupping your inner thighs and pulling apart your cunt with his thumbs to show off how wet you are. “Is all that for us? You nasty dumb little slut. Want your big brother’s to fuck your holes so bad don’t you?” Jaemin finishes with a hot wad of spit landing at your entrance to further drill in your shame, shivering back into Jeno’s hold as he sets a searing kiss on your clit.

“Fuck Jeno, she’s so tight.” Dragging through your folds he stretches his digits out for you to see the thick mix of baby oil and slick arousal forming clear strings between his fingers.

“Wetter than a fucking slut.” Jeno bites your earlobe, trailing one of his palms down the smooth expanse of your stomach to your clit. “Let me fuck her ass first at least.”

“Huh? N-no—not there, I haven’t before.”

Jaemin’s tongue clicks, kissing the backs of his teeth and squinting his eyes as if to call your bluff. He reaches between your split ass, thumb pressing to your rim meeting tight resistance. “Fuck, she’s not lying.”

Jeno can feel a prickle of tears burning at the backs of his eyes, his sack drawn up tight and heavy from being edged this long. “I can’t anymore!” He really can’t, he’s been hard since you mimicked the forgettable skanks that pass in and out of his bedroom. None of them would ever match up to you, only confirmed as his hips lift up and the tip of his cock struggles to penetrate past your wet tight circle of muscle. That doesn’t stop him from using his hold around your waist to his advantage, gliding you down his length with ease the more pilant you turn in his arms.

“Fuckkkkkkkkkkkk.” He thinks he might cum from this alone. Pussy walls too smooth around his size, sucking along each pulsing vein as he inches in until he meets resistance and has to bite down on your shoulder to stop himself from screaming out.

“Greedy motherfucker.” Jaemin mutters, pushing the backs of your knees up higher until you’re pretzeled between the large sculpted bodies of your step-brothers, the same two whose names you’ve cried into your pillow with your hand down your pajama pants many nights.

Jeno rips a fresh batch of tears out of you, the stretch of his cock bordering painful if not for how obscenely wet you are, but the moans singing from deep within your chest are short lived; cut off by a thick prod at the top of your entrance right above the length already filling you up.

“I’ll fuck your ass next time.” Jaemin groans, shoving his cock in against the push he’s met with between your tight hole and his brother’s unrelenting thrusts. “That’s it, taking both of our dicks baby? So easily too? Who knew my baby sister was such a fucking slut.”

“N-no, not—a slut..” you wail, unable to handle how hard and big they both feel thrusting inside of you at different times. The friction cuts off your breath, sucking in your stomach to pull away from the fast unforgiving speed they both fuck into you. “S’too much! Too full!”

“Like that baby? So fucking full with both of us inside of you.” Jeno sounds strangled, pouring sweat the more he exerts himself to fuck into you faster and harder than Jaemin. He should have fucked you first to begin with. “Feel us both sliding into you? Taking two dicks like nothing, you know what that makes you?”

“A dirty fuck hole,” Jaemin says between clenched teeth, reaching for your neck to hold your head up and watch your eyes well up with tears, nodding and agreeing with everything they say just like the good little fuck toy you are, only for them.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” Jaemin manages to rasp out, throat locking up with each bury of his size engulfed in your tight heat. He grips your cheeks roughly with his palm cupping your chin. “What. A. Fucking. Whore..” He says it in a nasty tone on purpose to make your stomach turn, hitting deep inside with pointed demanding thrusts between each word. The shame of letting both your step-brothers fuck you is already enough to weigh 500 pounds of guilt down on your chest, but letting them both do it at the same time..

Everything crashes hard, unable to fall back or arch forward between their burly builds. Too overwhelmed, overheated and crazed with each sheathing thrust, your neck drops back gasping for air; weakly slapping Jaemin’s shoulders as tremors roll up from your toes to your shoulders and your eyes roll up. The squeeze around their lengths almost has them both slipping out as you cum and pour out more arousal around them, both using the extra glide to fuck you faster through your orgasm.

“I’m cl-close.” Jeno’s eyes practically match yours, wet from the maddening clamp around his throbbing member. “Can’t… fucking..” Pushing you forward against Jaemin’s chest he pulls out, pussy snapping around his cock noisily with gushing wetness following. It only takes one stroke to have him spilling out onto your ass with a chorus of curses and muffled shouts, slapping his length down on the rounded part of your butt to watch his cum dribble down between your ass faster. “Fuck me.”

He’d pass out clean if not for his brother pushing you right back to where you were against his chest, slamming his dick back into you without anything to hold him back anymore.

“Jaemin!” You scream, reaching for his shoulders to slow down the viscous grueling slap of skin colliding with skin, bounced up and down his length as if you weigh nothing to him.

“Fucking take it.” He growls, thrusts turning erratic as each vein lining his neck bursts out, skin pink and hot from driving all of his power into each ram of his hips. Each plunge of his size backed with intent to leave a mark. Stuttering forward, his head falls back releasing a long winded groan, chest rising against your face as his eyes roll up and he hits peak deep within you.

“Y-you—you came inside?” You ask, still coming down from your high, neck rolling against Jeno’s shoulder. “I-inside of me?”

Jaemin grunts, slamming in one final thrust with a pained expression, you just feel too good to stop. “You’re on the pill anyway, don’t be so dramatic.”

Jeno scoffs behind you, shoving between your bodies to push Jaemin’s weight off of you. “You’re such a dick.”

Jaemin smirks proudly, slowly drawing free from your wrecked cunt. “God baby, how am I supposed to stop now?” He lets out a deep breathy sigh, reaching between your tighs to circle your entrance for the rest of his cum to trickle out onto the floor and run down your ass. “Such a perfect pussy.”

“C-can’t— no more Jaem.” You mumble half-asleep, turning your face to burrow in Jeno’s neck. “Tired.”

“You heard her, Jeno.” Jaemin raises his full eyebrows up and down, sneaking his brother a knowing look. “She can’t handle me anymore.”

Jeno nods, dragging his lips down the side of your face to your mouth. “He’s right angel, how are we supposed to stop now?” With that he moves your hips back, lining his hardening length up with your gaped entrance. The space molded from your step-brother's combined cocks allows him to fully enter you with one hard thrust, cursing against the corner of your lips.

“Je-jeno—please..”

“Yeah, it’s all for you baby.” His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you down until you’re crushing his balls.

“Ca-can’t—“ the last thing you hear is Jaemin cooing on and on about how adorable you are, still squirting out a mess of arousal even as your eyes fall shut and Jeno continues to brutally snap his hips up.

“Didn’t she say something about a date tonight?” Jaemin’s voice comes through muffled, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes since the three of you finished, judging from the burning crave for more between your thighs.

“Yeah, about that..” Jeno whispers, sounding more distant. “Think I heard her telling her friend she’s going out with that guy from Chicago, you know that big motherfucker down the street.”

“What??” Jaemin barks out much too loud, completely erasing the last bits of exhaustion away from your body. “He’s way too old for her!”

“I know. We can’t let her go, right?” Jeno sounds more stressed than his brother, mumbling like he’s chewing on one of his nails. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable knowing she’s out there with him of all people. That guys a dick..”

“He has a huge dick too.” Jaemin retorts, clicking his tongue annoyed. “Why don’t we tell her he called and said he couldn’t make it tonight? Change of plans or something.” He nods to your phone, inching closer to sneak it away, pinching the device between his fingers.

“She’s going to hate us if she finds out.” Jeno snatches your phone from him, typing in the code he’s seen you punch in while peeping over your shoulder. “It’s for her own good.” He finds your chat with Johnny in an instance, scrolling through quickly and sending himself the different scandalous selfies you’ve messaged. “Little slut..”

“Send me those too.” Jaemin pipes in, nudging his brother's side. “We should wake her up, it’s getting chilly out here.”

“Can’t believe she knocked out like that, her friend even left already.”

“Mmmhhhmm.. Jeno..”

They come to a pause, locking your phone after successfully deleting your chat with Johnny and blocking his number. Jaemin mouths ‘wake her up’ to his brother, shoving his shoulder to move closer to you.

“Hey..” Jeno sits at the edge of the pool chair you’re laid out on, reaching to tap your arm. “You should wake up.”

“Few more minutes..” you grumble, slapping his hand away. Jeno coughs, grabbing both your shoulders to shake you awake.

“It’s been long enough, come on, time to wake up!”

“Wh—how long have I been asleep?” The sun’s still setting behind the expanse of Jeno and Jaemin’s broad frames, making your eyes squint shut as you sit up quickly and pat around. “What.. what are we doing out here?!?”

Jeno helps you sit up, patting your back. “Hopefully you don’t get sick from sleeping out here for so long, we thought you’d gone inside.” He leaves out the mention of your date, sneaking a look at his brother.

“Wha—“ a fast glance around clears up your confusion. You had fallen asleep in the backyard. “It was all a dream?!”

“What was?” Jaemin asks, raising a suspicious eyebrow at your frazzled response. “What was all a dream, huh?”

“I—uhm..” your step-brothers eye you quizzically, both intimidating as they stand above you waiting for an answer. “Nightmare! I mean, about the dog next door.” You scramble to get up, stumbling forward as you try to shove your feet into your sandals.

“Where are you running off to?” Jeno says, arm looping around your waist before your knees can meet pavement. “Can’t be that silly date, he called while you were knocked out to cancel anyway.”

Hoisting you up he pushes you toward Jaemin, back crashing against his chest to easily lock you in place with his thick biceps caged around your sides, lips finding your ear to whisper. “Now, tell us more about this dream.”

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