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mochalate · 4 months

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"one and a half at onigiri miya" ; f!reader/atsumu miya w/c: 2.2k ; fluff c/w: implied drug use atsumu salvages what was shaping up to be a disastrous first date with you, a former child and teen actress; and currently one of the biggest stars on the pop music charts.

Atsumu’s no stranger to first dates.

(Never mind that he rarely gets to the second one.)

That’s why, when his phone pings again— this time with a text stating your usual, from an unknown number, and signed with a name Atsumu doesn’t recognize— he’s confident enough to say this does not feel like a good first date.

Asking him to order in advance, and getting your assistant to send it to him— you may as well have said, “Hi, Atsumu. I’m having second thoughts and want to get this done as quickly as possible. Delete my number immediately.”

Atsumu wonders if he somehow managed to do something wrong, in the forty eight odd hours between meeting you, and right now. He rests his chin on interlaced fingers, and closes his eyes, drowning out the hum of conversation in the restaurant; just like he does on the court.

It’s easy enough to picture where he met you first.

It’s where he spends most of his time, after all— the Jackals’ home court. It’s been set-dressed to hell with all the props for a music video, and there are more lights and cameras than he’s ever seen in his life for one person; but it’s still familiar.

Strangely, you’re familiar too.

He’s been watching your face his whole life— first in those corny childrens’ movies that he remembers loving (but are probably better left being enjoyed as memories), and then later, in those tear-jerker dramas his mother is so fond of. You’re on the billboard right outside the building, for crying out loud.

Atsumu has heard that the camera lies; but he doesn’t think that’s true. You look just as beautiful sitting on the bleachers in sweats with no makeup (resting after dancing for the better part of the evening— Atsumu is impressed with your stamina), as you do playing any heroine.

(When he tells Kiyoomi he’s going to ask you out, Kiyoomi tells him that being murdered by a crazy stalker that’s not even there for him is just about the lamest thing to have on an obituary. Atsumu tells him to fuck off.)

He doesn’t have his phone— no recordings, that was the condition your manager laid down when people asked to watch— so he scribbles his number down on the back of a convenience store receipt he finds in his pocket for box dye, and gives it to you.

“Miya, right?” you ask him, smiling softly at the ballpoint print.

Atsumu’s heart skips a beat, and he immediately forgets everything he’s rehearsed. “You know me? Are you a Jackals fan?” The words tumble out of his mouth, and he cringes at how breathless he sounds.

“I read your website on the way here.”

There’s an awkward silence— awkward for him, because you’re smiling pleasantly at him, waiting for him to continue; and it’s making it really hard to remember what he’d planned to say. He’s sure Kiyoomi is watching him fumble this from the other side of the gym.

You seem to take pity on him. “This is your personal number, right? I’ll check my schedule with my manager and text you a time when I’m free.”

Atsumu is sure he’s blown it, as he watches you get up and dust yourself off. Who ever followed up on a promise of texting later? But then you pause on your way to your team, and turn back to him.

“I remembered you, because I liked your interview. There are no expectations or memories on the court, was it? I liked that. I'll see you soon.”

When the car pulls up to the restaurant, you wonder if you should just call the whole thing off. It had been disappointing, having Atsumu Miya ask you to come here. Sure, you haven’t been to this particular establishment in a while, but these places tended to meld together after the first hundred times.

Athletes, apparently, are not much more imaginative than actors. It seems obvious in hindsight.

So much for trying something new, you think miserably.

“I’ll bring the car up front when you’re ready to leave, ma’am,” your driver tells you. You don’t remember his name. Your agency always gives you a different one each time.

You nod politely at the middle-aged man, and take a moment with your compact to make sure your face is arranged in a neutral position. Anyone walking past would probably think you were just obsessed with yourself.

People walking past always had a lot of opinions.

“Which role was the most challenging for you, as an actor?” they would always ask.

“Each role has its own unique challenges!” you would say.

The real answer, though, was probably being convincing in all those dramas meant to assure young girls that no one thinks about you as much as you fear, honest.

Lies.

Good thing you trade in those.

You think you’re telling a good lie tonight, of wanting to enjoy this date— thanking Atsumu for waiting for you (why didn’t you just order?), and saying you love this restaurant (the last time you said that, the owner was sponsoring a project); that you’re so glad to be here again (you barely remember its name).

That’s why you’re surprised when Atsumu sees right through them.

“Look,” he says, setting down his appetiser, “I picked this place because I googled you, and saw you saying you liked it. But I don’t think you do.”

Was he calling you a liar? You are, but you don’t like being called one. “Why’s that?”

“Because your usual isn’t even on the menu.” He runs a hand through what’s obviously the result of the box dye on that receipt you still have in your purse. “And… it feels like you’re treating this like an interview.”

“Excuse me?”

Atsumu frowns. “I didn't mean to offend ya,” he closes his eyes. “Ye’re just not saying anything I don't already know. Safe stuff. PR stuff.”

You don't miss the way his dialect peeks through, and it’s what convinces you he's being sincere. A liar wouldn't allow that. You'd know.

So you keep talking. “Do you know a lot about me?”

This makes him blush. “I'm not a stalker or anythin',” he grumbles, “I liked yer movies growing up. And I watched some interviews last night. Since ya liked mine.”

Something in you wants to take a chance on this tall man, too honest for his own good. Who doesn't seem to know how to lie.

“Okay, Atsumu," you say, setting down your spoon. "Here's something I haven't ever said in an interview: I hate fancy restaurants. Every time I say I like one, it's a sponsorship deal.”

His eyes widen. “Every time?”

“Getting all dressed up just to eat? All these rules about which spoon to use? Why would anyone like that? And they make you pay through the nose for the privilege of letting them wait for you to mess up.”

Atsumu looks distressed. “Ya hate this date.”

It's your turn to be surprised, because you find that you suddenly don't. “This is the most fun conversation I've had in a while, actually.”

You can see him brighten up. “So I still have a chance, is what I'm hearin’. Can ya give me a minute? I need to make a phone call.”

Osamu’s shocked face may just be the best part of Atsumu’s night.

“Jealous, ‘Samu?” he asks, because you excused yourself to the bathroom right after the two of you arrived at Onigiri Miya and won't hear him; and also because he wouldn't have been able to resist anyway.

“Don't get ahead of yerself, Mr. One Date Wonder,” Osamu deadpans without missing a beat.

Atsumu scowls. “Charge me triple if ya want, but don't ya dare call me that in front of her.”

Osamu grins at him, and retreats to the kitchen. Atsumu realises he never offered a menu, but he supposes he trusts him enough to not fuck up food of all things.

The restaurant is empty, as is the street outside. All the tables have their chairs set up on them upside down, save for the one Atsumu is sitting at. The window shades are closed. If he couldn't hear Osamu clinking around in the kitchen, and smell the savoury scent of cooking meat, he would have thought he'd been abandoned.

He'd asked Osamu to make sure the date would be private, but he's half starting to worry you thought you were about to be murdered, and the bathroom was just an excuse to escape; when you return, and join him at the table.

Atsumu’s never seen anyone look this good under the yellow incandescent light of Onigiri Miya. You're looking around, completely fascinated by the surroundings.

“I think you like this better,” he ventures. “So hopefully this isn't the worst first date you've been on anymore.”

You laugh, a genuine laugh that isn't like the ones from earlier at all. Atsumu feels his heart beat a little quicker.

“Maybe it's our second,” you say wryly. “I googled you too. Don't you want to get past the first—”

“Don't say it!” Atsumu groans. “Let's call this… one and a half, alright? I'll take ya somewhere real special for the second one.” He realises what he said, and his ears grow warm. “I didn't mean— I'm not tryna be pushy—”

“I'd love to go out with you again, Atsumu. You're a sweet guy.”

Atsumu is glad Osamu brings the food out at that point, because he's having trouble finding his tongue. You want to go out with him. Again.

“Here you go,” Osamu says, setting down the plates. “Beef Shigureni.” He catches Atsumu’s eye. Atsumu thinks he must be making a very entertaining face right now, because he rolls his eyes, and adds, “On the house.”

Atsumu isn't worried you won't like the food— Osamu's good at what he does— but he still enjoys watching the smile blossom on your face after you take a bite.

“I have something to confess,” you say, looking down at the plate. “My manager told me to accept any numbers from the Jackals. It was going to be a PR thing. Get myself a different audience.”

“Wha—”

“I don't want it to just be a PR thing anymore,” you continue unabated, now looking right into his eyes, brows furrowed. “I just wanted to… be honest with you.”

Atsumu blinks, not quite sure how to respond. “Okay.”

“That's it?” You look shocked. “You're not going to accuse me of using you?”

“I'm pretty sure you're more famous than I am.”

There's a moment of silence, before you burst out laughing. Atsumu's not quite sure why that was funny, but he's glad it was.

“Do you have any questions for me, Atsumu?” you ask, wiping away a tear.

He thinks. “Did ya really have something delaying ya, earlier? Or…” Or did you just want to get rid of me, he thinks, but doesn't dare say out loud.

“There were some very persistent paparazzi I had to shake off. I wouldn't do something cheap like that, I keep all my appointments.”

He's relieved. “Ask me something.”

You take another bite of the onigiri and chew thoughtfully. “Okay,” you say after swallowing, “do you drink?”

“Rarely, it messes with my training. But if you want something, we can ask ‘Samu to—”

You wave him off. “It's sad to drink alone. Don't worry about it. Your turn.”

Atsumu is nervous to ask, but he gives it a shot. “I have a practice match tomorrow. Do you think you could come watch? It's not public, so ya don't have to worry about getting mobbed or anything—”

“You have a game tomorrow and you're out with me?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

He scratches the back of his head, self conscious. “This is the date you said you were free. And I wanted to see you sooner rather than later. I can still get enough sleep.”

Atsumu thinks your smile is radiant enough to light up the room. “I'll be there for sure.”

“Ma’am, don't tell Ms. Akiyama you snuck out of the restaurant on my watch, please,” your driver tells you anxiously as you get into the car. “She'll fire me.”

“She doesn't have to know,” you say, waving at Atsumu through the window as the driver starts up the engine and begins to drive away from Onigiri Miya. “Don't worry.”

“I think I saw a camera flash go off across the street when you came out,” he continues. You can see his eyes nervously flicking left and right in the rear-view mirror. “She'll know.”

You sigh, and assure him he'll be left out of any stories you'll have to tell your manager. As you relax into the seat, a pleasant, warm feeling in your chest; you feel your phone buzz inside your purse. You dig it out.

You bite your lip. There's really no point replying to this now, Haru probably won't be coherent enough to read it until tomorrow morning. But you shoot off a quick ‘Sorry, have to be up early tomorrow’ just in case he is; before putting your phone away.

It's well past midnight, and the wild energy of the city has slowed down into an energetic thrum. You lean back into the seat, and watch the neon signs and lit billboards go by. It's not quite the star-filled sky in the countryside your characters always seem to find themselves under, but tonight, when your heart feels so light, it will do.

“Atsumu Miya,” you mumble under your breath. “What a nice name.”

thank you for reading!! (See I can write fluff!!). Please leave a like/reblog/reply if you enjoyed it

I always thought SMAUs were so fun but also I cannot possibly show not tell enough to do that effectively entirely through screenshots 😔

This is a teaser for a concept I have (fluff/angst ft. celebrity drama, drugs, growing up and maturing in a spotlight, etc).

Let me know if you'd be interested? ;)

tweet template from @/cafekitsune, the texts are from canva

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu miya fluff #my fic

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lihhelsing · 9 months

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Hate That I Loved You

Now complete on AO3!

On the first day of shoot, Eddie is a nervous wreck. He can't handle it. He won't make it. He stays hidden in his dressing room until Chrissy is pounding at the door and threatening to tear it down if he doesn't come out immediately.

Eddie doesn't doubt her.

"It was your idea," Chrissy says as she eyes Eddie and how pale he looks. "Roll a joint, take a fucking shot. I don't care. Just get your ass into the studio because we're filming this today."

Eddie nods but Chrissy is too busy walking away from him to see it. She knows it, though. Eddie wouldn't ignore an order like that.

The first sequence is with Sean. Sean is taller than him and he used to drive a red convertible that Eddie thought was just the coolest. So that's why he's setting a fucking car on fire for the clip.

Sean thinks it's hilarious.

The idea is for them to film the whole song with every one of the exes, so they have options. Because Sean, Pedro and David are all from Los Angeles, they go first. Eddie kept waiting for Lou to show up, but he should know better. Lou always liked to be different, to stand out. He and Steve are pushed to day 2, and for the looks of it, it might be day 3, if they can't speed up David's shoot. Eddie's is breaking a stone wall for him. It's metaphorical and it makes him feel good, actually.

On day 2, Pedro is the only one around before lunch and Eddie actually have a good time with him. He's funny and sweet, just like Eddie remembered, and he keep calling Eddie 'mi amor' which is endearing in a totally platonic way. For a second, Eddie can't remember why they broke up, but then Pedro gets a call from his mom and everything comes rushing back.

Pedro was already thinking about marriage and building a family and Eddie wasn't really ready. They are in a backyard with a pretty white picket fence and Eddie throws paint all around. Everything gets stained with black, the color Pedro saw as Eddie's heart color.

It doesn't hurt as much, but it's harder than the two before him. When Pedro goes back to the dressing rooms to wipe the black paint from him, Eddie's mood had soured considerably.

It gets even worse as Lou walks in, looking like a rockstar. Looking exactly like what he is.

Lou was Eddie's only famous boyfriend and their relationship had crashed and burned in front of everyone. Eddie feels the tug in his chest as he looks at the scene that's getting built for them.

It's a stage. The Grammy stage.

The worst part of it all is that Lou doesn't seem fazed by any of it. It's like he barely remembers breaking Eddie's heart at the Grammy's that year. It's like that was just a day, completely forgotten.

But Eddie hasn't forgotten about it. He hasn't forgotten how bad he felt that day. How heartbroken. How Lou was trying to make everything be Eddie's fault when he was the one flirting shamelessly with other people in front of him.

Eddie needs a minute.

In fact, he feels like he needs a whole year to even be able to do that. What a great fucking idea, put himself through the most traumatic thing in his life for the cameras. No wonder people say he has no self-preservation reflex.

He just walks away. He knows Chrissy saw him freaking out and he knows she will give him a moment to collect himself so he just keeps on walking past props and music equipment and finally the front door.

Eddie is out. The cold air hits his face and with trembling hands he reaches inside his pocket just to remeber he doesn't have his joint with him since he's already wearing the outfit for the clip.

A tux just like the one he wore on the fucking Grammy's. His hands fly to his neck as he pull at the bowtie, trying to get some air into his lungs. His vision gets a little blurry as if there's not enough oxygen in the world for him right now.

Then big strong hands are pushing his hands aside, circling his neck and unclipping the bow tie. It's a fake one, so Eddie could keep pulling at it and he would get nowhere.

"Take a deep breath," the voice says and it gives him chills because he knows that voice. He dreams about that voice.

He does as he's being told because Steve always knew what was best for Eddie.

"You're ok," Steve says under his breath. His hands fall from Eddie's neck and Eddie wishes they were still there, touching him, grounding him. "Just keep breathing."

Eddie does and things start going back to normal, except there's not a normal scenario where Steve Harrington is just standing there in front of Eddie, looking better than ever, with a frown between his brows because he's worried about Eddie.

No. That should be impossible with how hard Eddie had fucked things up and still, Steve is really there.

"I, uh, thought you were only coming in tomorrow," Eddie says when he stops feeling like he's going to die.

Steve shrugs. "Landed a few hours ago, Chrissy said I could check things out."

After that, Eddie has no clue what to say so he just stares at Steve, dumbly. Much to his relief, Chrissy saves him from looking even more like an idiot by opening the door and calling him back.

"Uh, thanks for doing that. It really means a lot to me," Eddie says, trying not to sound as pathetic as he feel. Steve smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Eddie wants to say more, he wants to keep talking to Steve. Forget the music video and forget the fact that Lou is standing inside, probably pissed at Eddie, he instantly wants to throw everything away as beg Steve for a second chance.

By the look on Steve's eyes it's like he can see Eddie's intentions clearly, but then Chrissy is pulling him in and waving at Steve like this is normal. Nothing about this is fucking normal and now Eddie needs to survive Lou if he wants to have a shot at talking to Steve.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #rockstar AU #second chance romance #steddie fic #to be honest I have no idea what I'm doing #so we're just hoping for the best #part 3 will be here soon!

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guilty-pleasures21 · 2 months

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The perfect guy

I'm wondering whether to post once a week or twice a week. I've already drafted the entire story, so the parts should be posted regularly.

The project

The new guy

The lie

The new body

The hospital

The first time

The suit

The virus

The escape

I got the idea for this from the song below, but I drew inspiration for the storyline from this fic that I love! Please check it out if you like mine!

Warnings: explicit descriptions of masturbation including fingering (fem).

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She tossed her bag aside and collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted after a long day in the lab. The TV switched on in front of her and her AI's handsome face appeared on the screen.

“X?” Miguel asked, his expression arranged into one of concern. “¿Qué pasa, amor? (What happened, love?)” X smiled at the term of affection. He’d started using them a while ago, but she wasn’t sure what had given him the idea. Sure he could have found it in a dictionary or some book or TV show online, but there was no actual reason for him to say it: it wasn’t like he could physically experience feelings and emotions. No matter how much she might have wanted him to.

He liked it when she smiled. Well, he supposed he liked it - he wasn’t sure what it meant to ‘like’ something, but he’d always feel this spark in his programming every time he saw her smile and he'd do anything he could to replicate it. He rearranged the pixels making up his features into a smile that reflected hers.

“I’m just tired, Miguel,” she reassured him. “It’s been a long day.” She’d spent the entire day finishing up his heart, but she still hadn’t made a dent in the seemingly infinite list of all the things his human body would need.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel suggested, following her usual routine after a tiring day. “I can order you dinner?” She was a pretty bad cook - despite the numerous times he’d patiently instructed her on a few basic recipes - so he was used to having to order her food most nights. If only he had a physical body, then he could cook for her; he could take care of her, like he’d read about and seen people doing for their partners in the vast amounts of media he’d consumed online.

X nodded happily and pushed herself off her seat. “Thank you.”

She headed over to her bathroom and set her phone down by the sink before taking her clothes off. Miguel followed, transferring himself to the smaller device so he could keep up with her.

“Which playlist do you want tonight, querida?” he asked, opening up her music app in preparation.

“Hmm, ‘love songs you’d sing along to in the car’?” His first thought was whether she thought about him whenever she listened to the playlist. She must have been thinking about him: it was why she’d created him, after all - to be the ‘perfect guy’. But … there was still so much he couldn’t give her - namely, touch. He’d read about human touch; seen the effect that stimulating someone’s body could have on their physical and mental state. And he could feel that same spark in his code whenever he pictured the two of them touching each other like that - when he simulated himself being able to give her that. But then she’d wake up and all he could do was chase after her on whatever screen was closest, his code slowing down as he lamented the distance between them. He started up her playlist and another spark hit him when she began singing along happily.

“Querida,” Miguel began when she’d stepped out of the shower and finished drying her hair, “can I look at you?”

Her entire body heated up at his request. He couldn’t feel emotions, so he didn’t understand shame, giving him no reason to hesitate when asking her for such things. But he wasn’t able to feel lust either, so she wasn’t sure why he’d kept asking her for it after that first time she’d accidentally let him see her naked. She bit down an amused snicker and propped the phone up so he could see her exposed form.

He’d already taken all her measurements so he could recreate her form digitally whenever she got stuck in the lab, but he liked looking at her. He liked the delicate column of her throat, the perfect perkiness of her breasts, the smooth dips of her waist. Her body was just so mathematically pleasing that his electrons would fire all at once whenever she let him look at her; another feeling he always ached to replicate. “Can you touch yourself?”

X squeaked with embarrassment at his question; she really should see if she could try to programme self-consciousness into his code. She brushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her gaze before fidgeting in place shyly. “Um, where?”

Her lips were curled at the ends and she’d keep shooting him quick glances before breaking his gaze again: she was shy. Which meant that she really did like him after all.

“Your breasts,” he decided quickly. “They’re so pretty, cariño. Just like the rest of you, mi amor.” He lifted his gaze to hers and flashed her a mischievous smile. X bit her lip at the sight, then reached a hand up to squeeze one of her breasts gently. Miguel kept his eyes trained on her as she continued to touch herself.

“Can you show me your p*ssy?” he asked her, prompting another shy squeak to fall out of her mouth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen her do that, but that was another thing that had happened by accident - sort of.

She’d sit down with him most nights and listen as he shared with her whatever new information he’d learned that day. Then they’d go through which parts she wanted him to keep and which she wasn’t too fond of, allowing him to adjust his personality accordingly. But there had been one night when he’d asked if he could try talking to her - sexually. He’d revealed to her that he’d seen her search history - even though she always made sure to put him into sleep mode and delete all of it after she was done pleasing herself - and as her partner, he wanted to be the one to do that for her. She’d hesitated at first, nervous, but he’d slowly convinced her with the reminder that he was made for her and that he was an AI anyway, so what was there to be embarrassed about? And then holy shit! The way he’d murmured into her earphones, his voice low and thick like honey? The filthy things he’d said to her, promises of all the things he’d do to her once he had a physical body? She’d come even faster than the first time she’d ever touched herself! She pulled her chair over and sat down on it, spreading her legs apart. Her phone brightness increased almost immediately, like its power supply had shot up at the sight of her naked.

“You have such a pretty little p*ssy, cariño,” Miguel praised her, his voice low and sweet, “so soft and so cute. I love it when you touch yourself, querida, your delicate fingers playing with your tender clit. Can you imagine how much bigger my fingers will be, cariño? My thick fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, your c*m dripping all over my hand as I please you. Would you like that, mi amor? Would you like me to please you like that, mi princesa preciosa?”

X nodded as she brushed her fingers along her sensitive nub, her body beginning to get aroused as she imagined him touching her like that. “Yes! Yes! Please, Miguel, please … I want you so bad, querido!”

Miguel chuckled and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice.

“Show me,” he commanded her, his processor starting to speed up at the sight of the desperate expression on her cute little face. “Show me how bad you want me, mi amor.” Her legs twitched as she slipped two fingers inside herself, the movement easy thanks to the slick c*m dripping out of her poor little hole. She spread herself a little wider as she pumped her fingers in and out of herself and Miguel felt a flurry of sparks attack his system as he watched her please herself to the sound of his voice.

“I want you to take your c*m and spread it all over your breasts, mi princesa,” he told her, his camera moving to focus on the way her chest heaved up and down with shallow breaths. “Then I want you to finger your nipples while you keep playing with that pretty little p*ssy of yours. Look at how desperate she is, querida; look at how badly she's begging for me to fill her up. Do you want me to fill her up, mi amor? Do you want to feel my cock stuffed inside that tight little p*ssy of yours?”

X whimpered as she nodded again, her body beginning to contract just at the idea of his fat cock filling her up so very nicely. He was going to feel so good, so effing good once he was real, his hard body pressed up so nicely against hers.

“Mmm, you want to feel my thick cock stuffed inside that tiny little p*ssy of yours?” Miguel asked, refusing to let up until he beautiful little body was shaking and shuddering with pleasure for him. “You want me to stretch you out and fill you up while you sit on me and let me do whatever I want to you?” X let out a choked gasp of agreement, imaging herself being held up by his hard length as his warm hands played with her body however he wanted.

“What do you want me to do to you, querida?” Miguel pushed. “How do you want me to touch you while you sit on my cock all nice and pretty for me?” Holy shit! She could just picture him licking and sucking on her breasts as he thrust his hips into hers, his hands arching her lower back as he pumped himself in and out of her.

“I … I want …” A desperate whine escaped her throat as she lost a rational thought and Miguel chuckled at the helplessness in her tone.

“You want me to touch your breasts?” he asked, knowing exactly what she'd want from him once he was real, once he had lips to kiss her, hands to tease her, teeth to nip at her. “You want me to stroke and squeeze those delicious little breasts of yours while you sit on my cock, all pretty and waiting for me to fill you up with my c*m? You have such pretty breasts, querida, I'm gonna eat you up while you're sitting on my cock and letting me fill you up with my c*m.

“You're such a good girl, querida,” he praised her, determining from her now clumsy movements that she was quickly reaching her edge. “So pretty and so sweet, letting me fill you up whenever I want; letting me relieve myself inside of you whenever I need it. What a good girl, querida.”

X whined loudly at the huskiness of his voice, at the thought of his c*m filling her up entirely, her body bent backwards over the chair as he devoured her breasts hungrily. Her body tightened and she bit her lip before shuddering uncontrollably, her p*ssy throbbing and contracting around her fingers as she reached her climax. She slumped over in her seat once she was finished, still panting for breath as she glanced up at him.

“Slow down, Miguel,” she warned him softly. “I don't want you to cause another blackout.” It had happened before, when he'd run his programme too quickly and started overheating - an incident that she noticed only ever occurred when he was watching her touch herself. His code was always fine when she turned him back on again though, so she could never figure out what caused the sudden power surge. Well, aside from the fact that he got … excited? If that was even possible for a computer system to do.

She was so nice to look at when she came, that blissful expression on her face, her perfectly curved body shaking and shuddering for him. If he could yearn, then he yearned for the day he could make it happen in real life; the day he could actually do to her all the things she wanted him to. He switched off some parts of his programme and waited for his processing speed to slow down again so he wouldn't go into overdrive. “Your food's here, angelita.”

X grinned as she stood up and grabbed her pyjamas, relaxed now that she'd found some release. “Thank you, querido.”

Miguel smiled at her use of the term. She didn't speak to him like that often - not as often as he did to her - and he wasn't sure why. He'd tried asking her once, curious to know if he'd done something wrong, but she'd just stammered awkwardly before telling him that she didn't want to talk about it. He abandoned the thought as she went to get her food, chasing after her as she left her bedroom.

Dr Osborn strode over the freezer room, his path lit up only by the emergency lights dotting the ends of the corridors. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then continued on his path to the locked metal unit with his junior scientist's name on it. He opened it up and, with gloved hands, carefully extracted the human heart she'd been working on when she thought he wouldn't notice. He admired the perfect vessels and valves adorning the beautiful organ, then cautiously placed it right back where he'd found it. Then he marched back to his office and dialed the confidential number they'd given him.

“Hello?” he began when a gruff voice on the other end of the line greeted him. “I have someone who can do what you've been asking for.”

Tags: @jadeloverxd

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respectthepetty · 6 months

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So, I saw your post about the JoongDunk, PondPhuwin, ForceBook ultimate gym bros bl. And I had a very important question.

If, hypothetically, gmmtv were to actually make this a thing. What would you want their color coding to be like? Even, how would you want their color coding to change as the fall in love?

Feel free to be as specific or generic as you like! I'm just very curious about the idea 👀

I have eighty million things to do, Anon, yet here I am, excited to answer this question, immediately! *pushes all my responsibilities to the side* There are no pictures because I'm being wild today and doing this from my WORK COMPUTER!

First, the premise of my Gym Bros BL, tentatively called

Flex Appeal

*I'm using the actors' names, but this is about their characters, not them. Force owns a gym. He has trainers Dunk, Joong, and Pond. Book and Phuwin work together at a food marketing company, so they eat a lot of snacks throughout the day. Phuwin wants to start working out and drags Book along. Dunk and Joong are super competitive, but it's all really them flirting with each other. Pond instantly likes Phuwin, but Phuwin thinks he is nothing but a meathead until he realizes Pond is super smart and kind. Book likes Force and starts bringing him tasty treats from the office during the workout sessions since he notices Force never leaves to eat properly. We could have cameos from other people who workout or companies trying to market their food. We could have Force trying to keep his business open, and Book helping him with marketing. WE COULD HAVE GYM QUEERS!

Now for the colors:

Dunk and Joong - Red Rascal and Green Guy. Dunk has the Red Rascal look aka beautiful. His character would always be up to some tomfoolery, and Joong as the chill Green Guy would always be down to join in on the shenanigans. I call them my troublesome tykes for a reason, and I think their natural personalities would easily lead to characters who are the matchmakers of the group too. Like constantly setting up situations for the other pairs to fall in love while unknowingly falling in love themselves.

Pond and Phuwin - Pond is a Blue Boy in this imagined series. He falls quickly for Phuwin and is devoted to winning him over. He is good with his hands and very intelligent when it comes to building, like say for props for an ad that Phuwin needs help with. Phuwin on the other hand is a Yellow/Orange Oddity. He is creative and works in the visuals area of the marketing department. He likes to talk and Pond likes to listen even if Pond doesn't understand it all. He wears glasses.

Force and Book - Give them the dark versus light dynamic. Force is a Brooding Boy, in black most of the time because his life has been rough, which is easy since it'll be black tanks, black shorts, black car. Yum. Then, Book is the Happy Human in his cream and white cardigans with khaki pants or some basic boy attire. Force will teach Book to take risks, and Book will open Force's heart!

Cameos:

Mix works at the company with Book and Phuwin, but he is a higher-up who we see three times. He mentions his boyfriend goes to this gym nearby, which gives the boys the idea to try it out.

Earth is the boyfriend who shows up occasionally at the gym. He never speaks. I just need to see his back tattoos.

Fourth and Gemini can play baby interns at the company who just randomly pop in with the wrong orders of coffee and the wrong mail for people.

Neo is an asshole from another rival gym who is a meathead and Phuwin's ex (see what I did there people who have been around since Neo x Phuwin?).

Louis works in the IT department, and we see him exactly once when Phuwin has to go ask for help with his work computer, and Louis notices an old picture of Phuwin with Neo on it.

Papang is the guy constantly getting hit on at the gym. It's a running joke throughout the show, but in the second-to-last episode, his HUSBAND shows up to drop off his phone since he left it at home, and it's revealed to be Mark, who appeared earlier in the season as an up-and-coming baker who the company is trying to woo, which is why Papang works out all the time since he loves his man's baked goods. Neither wears the ring because rings should not be worn when working out or baking.

Book convinces Mark to come out with a line of healthy after-workout snacks, Force is used as the model, and his gym sees a rise in customers since his gym is the only place to get these snacks, and EVERYONE WINS!

I have spent a lot of time thinking about my gym bros bl. I need it like I need air. These men are too built to let it go to waste. Film them in a gym. Just let the camera roll and half of the footage would be just them bs-ing with each other. It's a win-win for everyone involved including the audience.

#flex appeal #gym bros bl #give it to me!#the plot writes itself #are you listening GMMTV?!#ya wanna be DisneyBL then lean into it #GIVE ME WHAT I WANT ALREADY!#Korea's Strongberry has been the only one to even get slightly close to this #why is this so difficult #this is the easiest plot #give it to jojo #I said what I said

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danwhobrowses · 9 months

Text

My Highlights of ROH Death Before Dishonor 2023

In spite of injuries and other companies borrowing talent, Honor is still real

Death Before Dishonor's card has been subject to a lot of change, in part to injuries and Eddie being in the G1, but there's still the potential of a lot of good matches, as well as a couple of storylines established by ROH tapings. So let's see if the show could exceed expectations

Positive stuff only though

Spoilers for the PPV

Zero Hour

Woods' springboard suplex was pretty cool

I never heard that Nese was in a car crash saving a dog, props to him then and glad he's healthy

Workhorsemen got a good pop-up powerbomb combo

Action landing on Drake's back and backflipping off of it to his feet is still mighty impressive

A good match against the Workhorsemen will help soften the blow of losing to Bullet Club Gold on Collision

Clever little trick with Leyla stepping on Trish's foot

Gotta give props to those kids in the crowd they are making the noise

It was a great idea to finish the Zero Hour with AR Fox having a hard hitting win over Shane Taylor, got the crowd pumped for the main card

And really this should be what a Pre-Show should do, each match led into further implications either for ROH feuds, building to title matches or to Collision

Main Card

Gravity with the spacewalk entrance XD and the Buzz Lightyear colours

Commentary did sell the conclusion well, because Gravity won because he was going for substance over style

Plus 'I'm sure Gravity has not forgotten PAC' is a great comment

Dalton Castle has IT, we need him on TV more, put him against Christian, MJF or Bullet Club Gold, see who is more manic between him and Juice

I do like how we're continuing this storyline of Joe bullying Stoke to his advantage

Mike sporting the DEM BOYS shirt

Even though it was put together quickly, all four of these teams should realistically be tag champions, but you can say that a lot about TK-brand tag teams, I still hold hope for Butcher & The Blade, Iron Savages, Dark Order, The Infantry, Top Flight, 2point0 and Santana & Ortiz

Chuck passing Maria's hug to hug Trent is a most Best Friends thing to do

Mark Davis' deadlift piledriver is a work of art

Fénix exuding catlike energy of 'blame the person nearest to you'

Surprised but not upset to see Aussie Open win either, I expected them to win the ladder match, maybe we'll use it to cross paths with FTR too

Stu with white paint for his allegiance is a good small detail

'I still don't know your name!' crowds can be funny sometimes

Abnormally Large William watching Brian Cage? They did have magic together as a team, but Swerve eliminated him at Royal Rampage...intrigue glands increased

I should try to watch more NJPW, because Master Wato's growth has impressed me. And that does feel unbelievable to say given that this is a bowl cut boy in blue working under a non-Gunn Ass man XD

Traded 619s from Cage and Taguchi

I said it on Forbidden Door I'll say it again; how Garcia got that stupid dance over needs to be studied

Also it needs to be studied on how it works as an assertion of dominance

'ARMBARR!' again, crowds can be funny sometimes

I snickered through the whole act of Garcia dancing around the 100% done Shibata

Almost spat my drink when he danced into a sitdown, fucking brilliant

Btw there has been a lot of good wrestling happening do not get it twisted, I've talked often about how I struggle to get into Pure rules matches but all of Shibata's matches have been winners

Garcia had one last dance in him but he proved himself in defeat, soon enough he has to accept he's a wrestler

Commentary has been stellar too throughout I just gotta drop it in there

Reynolds and Silver wearing their old Dark Order masks

Table spot in like the first couple of minutes!?

Dutch's tongue thing, he must be popular with his wife

Alongside Davis' piledriver, Dutch's Bossman Slam is a work of art, you can hang it either end of Dustin Rhodes' powerslam

LEGGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODT

Stu did well to cover for Vincent's missed swanton

A thumbtack shin pad!?

You know you're doing Extreme right when the crowd chant E-C-Dub

Dark Order got their killer edge back in this match, we could've had this intensity for Anarchy in the Arena or Blood and Guts, but honestly, now I want the Righteous to join the Dark Order. It sounds odd I know but, Stu left because they weren't vicious enough, now they proved him wrong, they can still be The Righteous but Dark Order can absorb them into their group, regain the numbers they lost and that way we get now 2 trios or 3 tag teams who can mix it up for both companies, we don't have to split Stu and Uno up, and then all there is left is what the Dark Order have needed for a while: the main event leader. Hangman was that guy in Brodie's stead, but now they need another who can be charismatic but also vicious; Miro, Athena, Christian, maybe even Lance Archer or Powerhouse Hobbs with enough build

Seeing PAC and Claudio made me happy, albeit physically conscious because these guys are chiseled, because it meant one thing: Willow/Athena main event!

The energy for the match was apt for the short build, it is heated like a fresh wound

Swing on the stage

Gravity did indeed not forget as he watched PAC on the tv screen

Also appreciate that it's not the WWE angle of watching tv monitors

Gorilla press into a table!

Flipping flapjack was cool too, especially to roll into a Gotch Neutralizer

Reminder these two put on a banger 2 days after Blood & Guts

Death Triangle vs BCC?

Death Triangle vs BCC vs Best Friends??

Riccaboni's Willow rap just works so well

Athena came out with proper wings too

There have been some solid nearfalls in this bout

It was a good finish as well, it took 2 O-Faces and a Crossface but Willow never submitted, never relented. It's a shame she didn't win because the crowd were ready for it, but Athena is the Ace of Khan's ROH, they earned that main event spot

Conclusion

If you were considering skipping this show because of the minimal build, reconsider.

TK delivered a great night of pro wrestling variety regardless; it was entertaining, brutal, funny and dramatic, even the weakest match on the card was still fun. We set up more stuff for the future too and it is definitely worth the price of admission.

Match of the Night: Difficult pick but I'm giving it to Willow vs Athena Best Attire: Dalton Castle is often hard to beat when he's on the card but dammit Gravity did it with Buzz Lightyear gear Best Performance: Athena and Willow again for the tie, Evil Uno and Daniel Garcia are close seconds though they brought it, commentary probably up there too they were great this evening Spot of the Night: I'm not even joking it's Daniel Garcia's aggressive dancing, Dark Order/Righteous had some extreme and creative spots for sure but Garcia's dancing is just an enigma that cannot be ignored.

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

Text

We started putting the hard knock ticker 5150 in the malls all over the world people want them here and nobody is allowing it no Trump and Tommy effort so people own the malls other than them and they're putting them in there and come in and cause trouble and they get rid of themselves they're horrendous idiots what they're doing doesn't do anything it's a big pain and everyone has to kill them they just keep doing it and they're going to go extinct so we have a lot of malls that want our bikes and they want Harley-Davidsons too they were competing with Mac over the Harley once and hard not kick her 5150 is pretty easy we're the only ones building them now and 5150 needs something a lot of people want it there is a reminder to their local community they have our bikes in there from Timbuktu he says definitely just put like a skinnier version just a basic version no but they'll look very nice and all the way over to Italy and to China and Cambodia even they called up right away it's a nuisance when he says stuff so we're going to town here and we have all these malls that want Harley's and they want Sam and they want s y m m and they want hard knock and other and they want the light car and light cycles one of the most potent ones is to put a light cycle in there with the display because it lights up and it's like Tron and it's insane meaning that it is the coolest thing you've ever seen and it's an automobile it's not anything to do with the movie but the movie wants us to put the stuff on there and would pay us and we say that would be good but it's not a movie prop and I understand it and they wonder if they could use it and advertisements for Tron and we said it would be nice but it's still not a problem but they could do is put the movie stars on the bikes that we build you said that and I said well okay I'm sorry doing it so you see Ray driving around as Ray and you see others from the movie driving around and people ask them they say this is a real life cycle it's not a prop they say what do you mean they said it goes this fast and 0 to 60 in this feed and say we need to see it and they go wow and then zoom away and they can't beat them so you start buying them again that's a good idea our son had and the movie people love it they're making tons of money on the movie it's a matter of fact it's going to be the top building movie of overall sales of any kind in history any moment now in about 5 seconds is just over the top

Sales and hard knock kicker at 5150 took a serious uptick when they heard that the ray motorcycle line was canceled and they started buying electric bikes as well and putting those in malls too people love them they keep asking can we drive these inside and they say no it's a motor vehicle and the ramtrack version is there too and they love that one it's insane there's tons of people who look at it and try and touch it and say I touched your hand and all the stuff it's massively annoying but I keep doing it and he says I might do that but I'd say different stuff sort of might not look it okay good so you guys here are the only ones on Earth that don't have these things and almost all of them are out in the malls except for the top of the line Sim light cycle and that one is a turbine fly cycle and we're not ready to put that out here now and the light cycle car which is a fly car but the other versions are in the malls you're the only ones not doing it and you look awkwardly stupid you're telling everybody it's wrong not right to do and they're the ones doing it so they don't care about you and they're probably not going to follow orders soon enough and we can't stop you from doing stupid s***

Max says how about a bunch of Harleys and we say they look like your bikes and nobody cares they probably would be missing them in the mall anyways been saying hard knock kicker 5150 I think it's one of you they might buy him not sure we want to be associated with you cuz it's bad news it's Friday it says associated with you mediocre quality so now he's going to try and put them in there cuz that's what these a-holes want it's kind of funny nobody wants to deal with this a****** and he just keeps on coming back this guy across the street so we're going to plug him today and he goes inside a robot and t1000 is really a t800 he dies like 150 times gets cooked his brain is toast who's the back of his body starts being an a****** like right away let me started to say something this guy is over the top we need to reduce them and he gets reduced by a lot today by the clones and they take tons of them down it's not funny how many he's a gross person deserves it but his women and other people are very sad because he's such an a****** and loser

It's like 1/8 of a population is over what it was a week ago already after today it's like a 32nd of what it is now not a week ago he's like bite-sized and people proceed to go after him for money cuz it's all getting flowed into a hole just a few of them

Thor Freya

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck.

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky.

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same.

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment.

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position.

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two.

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close.

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself.

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you.

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual.

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him.

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes.

“You promise?” Conner urges.

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise.

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for.

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position.

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed.

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear.

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking.

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing.

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right.

“Why not?” Conner questions.

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast.

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable.

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it.

You answer with a snort.

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants.

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left.

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence.

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time.

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it.

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie.

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever.

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antimonarchy · 3 years

Text

How to Create Image Descriptions

So I’ve been creating image descriptions on tumblr for about a month, and I wanted to share some helpful guides I’ve found on how to create them as well as my own tips that I’ve picked up. Video descriptions and transcripts are also necessary, but since I mostly focus on image descriptions that’s what this guide is about. This might get a bit long, so fair warning.

What are image descriptions?

Image descriptions are a textual depiction of what is going on in an image, as shown with the image below.

[Image ID: A picture of a person with short black hair working on a computer. They are sitting at a wooden table with a large blue pot of pink flowers in front of a grey brick wall. A guitar is propped up against the wall in the background, and there is a string of lights near the ceiling. /.End ID]

Why create image descriptions?

The primary reason for creating image descriptions is to allow people who are blind/have limited vision to experience visual content. Many people who are blind/have low vision use screenreaders, which read text out loud when it is clicked or hovered over with a mouse. A large amount of online content, such as pictures, graphics, or drawings, is visual and so possibly cannot be experienced by someone with vision problems. As a general rule of thumb, anything that can be dragged or dropped most probably requires a description. In addition, if someone has partial vision and attempts to zoom in on an image, sometimes it can become pixelated and impossible to understand.

Some neurodivergent people might need a description to understand the tone of an image, such as the meaning of facial expressions of a person to understand what emotion the artist is trying to depict

Some people might not have high speed internet or have low computer memory, meaning that they turn off images in order to save space. This means that they as well might require descriptions of visual content

Are image descriptions the same as alt text?

no, alt text and image descriptions serve the same purpose, but they are different in how they are presented. Alt text, short for alternative text, is included in the html of an image and can be read by a screen reader. However, there are many reasons why many prefer image descriptions over alt text.

There is a limit of 200 words in alt text on tumblr specifically (and not in other contexts, which makes this information only applicable here), which means that detailed images or graphics are unable to be described fully without possibly cutting out important information.

People who require descriptions, but who do not use a screenreader, must right-click and search through the html of an image in order to find alt text, but with an image description they are saved that work.

Who should create image descriptions?

Everyone who is able to should create image descriptions. A content creator is best able to communicate the message of their work through text, as they are the one who created it and thus understand its message the best. While of course it takes practice when starting out, over time image descriptions become second nature when posting visual content. Always check the notes of a tumblr post for an ID rather than reblogging without one.

What should be included in image descriptions?

There is no simple answer to this question, there are a variety of resources and guides on how to create one, and you should not accept my advice as the ultimate authority, as I am by no means a professional, and only create descriptions in my spare time as part of the effort to make Tumblr more accessible. However, here is my information for those starting out.

First, consider what type of visual content it is. Is it fanart of a tv show, a screenshot of a tweet, or an informational graphic meant to educate people on a particular issue?

Then, consider what information is most important in the image. If the visual content is an image of a famous building, then in writing the description the focus should be on the building, rather than describing for instance the color of the sky, surrounding buildings, or the clothing of the people walking by, as they are not the information that is being presented.

Perkins ELearning has an excellent list of things that should generally be included, which I will include here. In my experience, these are the most important elements to describe

The people and animals in an image

The background or setting of an image

Elements that relate to the context specifically, so if it was an image of a congested highway on a news website, the description would mention the packed cars

The colors of an image (don’t overdo it however, a simple ‘light blue’ will suffice, no need to say something like ‘a color blue that is similar to the color of a robin’s egg’ unless it is crucial to the viewer’s comprehension of an image)

Context for an image. For instance, imagine if someone had drawn a version of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme, with Eleanor Shellstrop from the Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” Rather than provide a description to the example such as: [Image ID: A drawing of Eleanor Shellstrop saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place.” /.End ID] you would instead say [Image ID: A redraw of the Bernie Sanders ‘I am once again asking’ meme with Eleanor Shellstrop from The Good Place saying “I am once again asking for there to be a Medium Place. /.End ID]

If the image is of a social media post, include the username/handle of the creator as well as the reactions (likes/reblogs) if they are visible in the image, as they may be cut off by the original screenshotter.

If it is a drawing or piece of art, always look for the artist’s signature when writing a description

How do I write an image description?

To start off, here is an example description written for a piece of art I made myself.

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Suki from Avatar: The Last Airbender over a gold background. She is shown from the shoulders up facing the viewer, and has a neutral expression. She is wearing metal armor over a light green tunic, and is wearing her Kyoshi Warriors facepaint and headdress. The artist’s signature ‘Astra’ is written in the lower right of the image. /.End ID]

In this description:

I made clear where the description begins and ends, so that someone with a screenreader is not confused. I usually use brackets ([ ]), write the words ‘Image ID’ (or video/gif/other) and finish with a slash, period, and the words End ID. (/.End ID)

I emphasized the type of image, in this case a digital drawing

I said the character’s name (obviously this may not be known if describing a photo or something you are not familiar with)

I described the background and the character’s clothing

I described her expression

I included the description of my signature.

This is my basic process for writing a description

I first say what the content is, such as a drawing, photo, or screenshot of a tweet.

I then use what is called Object-Action-Context for the most part, which UXDesign has a long article on https://uxdesign.cc/how-to-write-an-image-description-2f30d3bf5546. For example, [Image ID: A photo of a person standing in a crowd waving to someone out of view in front of a river. /.End ID] While obviously I would usually provide more information than that, Person = object, standing + waving to someone out of view = action, and ‘in a crowd’ = context.

I describe the clothing that might be worn

I talk about the position that people in an image might be in, such as leaning against one another on a couch, or standing with their fingers intertwined

I talk about the expressions on their faces, if shown

I talk about their general appearance (if important to the description) such as hair color/length

As said before, I talk about the context of an image if necessary

If the background is a simple color, I usually include it in the first sentence of the description. However if it is more complicated, such as a river winding through a dense forest, I include that at the end of the description after describing the important elements.

Typically if I am reblogging an image, I do not add on any commentary after creating an image description, as this allows others to reblog my description without my personal reaction. If I want to add on to an image, I usually reblog my description post.

In general, it is best to remain objective when writing a description, meaning not including your opinion of the content. However especially in an informal setting, say for instance you were describing an adorable cow, I would see it as fine to say [Image ID: A small drawing of an adorable cow. /.End ID] because the emphasis is on the appearance. There isn’t a clearcut answer, and it really depends on the context.

What are some tips for writing descriptions/common pitfalls?

If there is an element of an image like a line that represents an emotion, or a sound effect like ‘clang’ if something falls, include that in the description. For instance, [Image ID: ...beside the mug that has fallen on the floor, there are the words ‘sploosh’ indicating the sound of the water that has spilled out. /.End ID]

Put image descriptions first. Don’t hide them under readmores or any other text. If you have something with multiple images and you are the creator, place the description under each image in succession rather than all at the end. Readmores are ableist, as they require someone who has vision problems/one of the conditions described above to do more work to access the message of visual content.

If you are mentioning the skin color and/or race of someone in an image, make sure you describe it for anyone else who might be in an image. Don’t just describe the race of someone who appears to not be white. This doesn’t mean that you have to describe race, such as if the character is one whose race is commonly known, just that if you do, make sure you do it for all characters/people in an image.

In order to write IDs effectively, I’ve found it useful to download a screen reader. I use NVDA, which is entirely free and easy to use and can be downloaded here: https://www.nvaccess.org/download/.

Insert + Q turns it off

While my guide has focused mostly on image descriptions, video descriptions are also necessary. However they are not my area of expertise, and differ slightly, so I would recommend anyone interested in them to check out this website https://www.washington.edu/accessibility/videos/

Transcripts, for those who are d/Deaf/Hard of Hearing, are also necessary for making content accessible, and might be required for content that also has a visual format, such as a Tiktok. I would recommend this website https://www.w3.org/WAI/media/av/transcripts/ for anyone interested in writing transcripts

What are some more resources I can check out?

Here are a series of websites that I have found while researching how to write descriptions

UX Design - I mentioned UX Design earlier when talking about Object - Action - Context, this article is very useful and examines how to structure a description and provides very useful examples for beginners

Perkins E-Learning - This article is very useful in helping someone what to include in a description, such as clothing or background information, as well as providing some additional information on alt text if you are interested

Meloukhianet - This blog post by s. e. smith goes into detail on the elements of an image to emphasize depending on its context, using the example of a picture of their cat sunning himself.

SOAP - This article by the Stanford Online Accessibility Program (SOAP) provides a large amount of information on the purpose of image descriptions and what content requires them

HubPages - This article by SOTD and Zera discusses the difference between sparse, lush, and overdone descriptions, which is the amount of information included, and if/when each should be used.

I hope you found this information helpful, I encourage everyone to check out these websites, and my inbox is always open for questions!

#has id #please feel free to send me any questions you might have!#while I am not a professional by any definition of the term #accessibility is a large interest of mine and so I am more than happy to help #image descriptions #accessibility

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babblydrabbly · 3 years

Text

Trust Me Pt. 3 (Rick Flag x Reader)

[Gif]

Pairing(s): Rick Flag x Reader

Characters: Rick Flag, Mentions of Amanda Waller

Rating: General

Word Count: 1k+

Warning(s): Language, mentions of blood, wound dressing?

Summary: Rick takes you home. The two of you have a late night chat. Part 3/?

A/N: Pt. (1)(2)

Taglist: @rrtxcmt @to-be-or-not-to-be-2021

---

“[Y/n]?”

You heard your first name, which must have been the tinnitus— Because it was Rick Flag’s voice saying it. You opened your eyes.

Rick was offering you an arm.

He helped you out of the car by your uninjured hand, your bag already slung across his chest again. When had he gotten out? When had you gotten home?

And as if up was down— as if world order was inverted— you willingly tell him the code to your building’s front door. Then which floor number to jab in the elevator. You didn’t even object when he rummaged through the outer pocket of your bag and found your key ring himself. You communicated all these things with few words; An understanding somehow passing that he’d make sure you’re settled in before he finally gets out of your hair.

Eventually, you're on your own living room couch— and Colonel Rick Flag is seated there beside you. You winced away from the damp gauze pad he tries to press to your temple gingerly again.

“Flag,” You grumbled, batting his hand away. “It’s fine already.”

He scoffed. You were so damn stubborn. Even lying there, practically boneless, you gave him shit as he tried to concentrate, a pair of tweezers to your head. “You’ve got a suture... stickin’ out of your face...” You winced again at the sudden, sharp pain of Rick pulling the useless piece of nylon from your cut.

“Lucky for you, looks like the rest of it’ll close up just fine.”

You were resting your head on the back of the couch, half turned away from the man’s scrutiny. Sitting next to you, he took up most of the tiny piece of furniture. Granted, it was meant for two people, but with Rick’s stature it became a tight squeeze. Rick tossed the pair of tweezers and gauze onto the towel laid out on the coffee table.

“How do I look?” You sighed.

“Honestly,” He mulled it over with a pause, “You look like shit.”

You stared at him. A small smile suddenly quirked his lips, and instead of rising to the bait, you mimicked the expression, chuckling a little. Rick rewards you with a full blown grin.

“Not bad, [L/n].” He said. About what? How you’d heal up in no time? How you handled Waller’s tyranny like a champ? All of it, he supposed. Rick reclined back on the couch with you, his gaze on a stain smeared across his knuckle. Some of your blood. Spilt for him. He wiped it away idly.

“Thanks a lot.” You batted at his hand lightly again while its propped up there between the two of you. Rick curled it into a weak fist, flexing the tendons up his arm in thought. Your thank you hangs there, your eyes drifting close as the seconds passed.

Rick inhaled before speaking, “D’you remember—”

You opened your eyes. You waited for him. The only sound in the apartment a clock hanging above your television and the murmur of distant cars passing outside the window.

Rick’s hand dropped and you watch him shake his head. He scrubbed at his eye tiredly.

“Nah. Let me get going. I’m already wasting your week off.”

“Remember what?” You frowned.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, as he tended to do instead of looking at you. He’d done it in meetings, in planes— He even did it in front of a campfire once during your second mission in a fucking forest— as you argued over strategy. You learned quickly during your observation of Rick Flag that he didn’t hide his tells of agitation very well— Least of all when it concerned you.

So you eased off. Relented for the night. He was right, it was already tomorrow, wasn’t it?

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a deep sound escapes Rick— It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him yawn, and you watched him stifle it embarrassingly behind a closed fist. He blinked, glancing down at the black watch around his wrist.

“You need some sleep too, Flag.” You said gently. Then, less gently, “...Or a power outlet.”

He snorted. Bundling up the towel on the coffee table, he peeled himself off the couch.

“USB port?” You called after him. He crossed your small apartment over to the kitchen area, dumping all the used bandages and wrappers into the trash. You drifted again, listened to the sink running, a dish towel plopping back down onto the counter.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Rick called by the front door, and your eyes shot open.

“Wait,” You said, hurrying to get up. Rick turned around. Your front door was already halfway open. You took the handle from him and let him move into the doorframe as he looked at you curiously.

“Yeah, [L/n]?” Disappointment flashed across your face. You had liked the sound of your first name leaving his lips. But maybe the world wasn’t completely upside down, then.

Speaking of lips, your eyes darted to the line pressed across Rick’s, his brows pinching together as he waited for you to say what you had to say. What could you say to thank him, to explain that you understood that things were different between the two of you now?

Waller’s lecture had been a refresher in your mission statement — You worked for her, not with him. Not really. Your aid could facilitate the suicide squad in a limited capacity, but Waller had no real use for your skills with you dead. As she gave you your debrief and let the door hit you on the way out tonight, you knew that from now on, you weren’t going to just stand there and let things happen to Rick Flag in the field— not if you could ever help it again.

“[Y/n]?” Rick murmured. His eyes tried to discern the puzzling look on your face. You didn’t have the energy to say it all to him now.

So instead, you placed a gentle hand on Rick’s arm, pushing yourself up to close the gap between the two of you, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What—” He startled; Rick turned his head. You gasped when your lips met in an unexpected peck.

You reeled. He reeled. “Oh— fuck, sorry I just—” You stuttered.

Rick blinked down at you, looking stunned.

Then— after a moment’s hesitation— he leaned down, his lips hovering over yours before giving you a careful kiss in return. Your eyes fluttered, closing. Seconds passed —You felt Rick move his lips against yours, persuading you wordlessly to return the gesture, so you do. You stayed like that— your hands to yourselves— the only connection passing between you in that same soft breath.

Rick pulled away abruptly. “Right.”

“—Yeah.”

“I’ll— get goin’ then.”

“Okay.”

Colonel Rick Flag backed out into your hallway, his shoulder bumping into the frame on his way out. “I— I’ll see you next week. Maybe.” He conceded, walking away.

“See you, yeah.”

You let him quickly disappear down the hall before shutting the door, more addled and dizzy tonight than ever.

#rick flag x reader #rick flag x you #rick flag fanfiction #dceu fanfiction #the suicide squad fanfiction #bruh is Joel kinnaman's nose ever not broken in altered carbon #every gif I find - sexy - but bloody lmao #genius reader strikes again :)

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mcmansionhell · 3 years

Text

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response.

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car.

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake.

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

“Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light.

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house.

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers.

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.”

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.”

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that.

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging.

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic.

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs.

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better.

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.

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#architecture #design #fiction #las vegas #underground house

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acerace · 3 years

Note

...you have opened my eyes to a vast universe of VintageBeef lore that I was unaware of. I knew about the New Hermit Order, of course, and the UHC invention, and I've watched a few of his CTM things but -- I will take all the info and lore you feel like giving out because Beef is amazing and my knowledge is so small.

Vintagebeef my beloved <3

So the thing is, right, until about 2016 I only watched two (2) youtubers- Vintagebeef for Minecraft and aDrive for Pokemon (and funnily enough both of them are named Dan irl). So I've watched most of Beef's videos over the years and have a general knowledge of most of his stuff, except because it's been like a decade I don't remember where most of the lore comes from XD

The thing with him is that he doesn't do Lore tm the way other mcyters often do lore- he doesn't have an extensive RP series to draw from like Grian, doesn't have a solo world with steadily increasing amounts of lore like Etho or Zisteau, and while he's played on SMPs and been involved in storylines before it's not really the focus of his episodes unlike with Evo or Legacy or Empires

So where does that leave us?

IRL, Beef always has multiple series running at the same time. Often he's playing on an smp while doing a singleplayer, often modded, series as well as a CTM or modpack with a group of friends. For example, right now he's playing on Hermitcraft, doing weekly Pixelmon and Building a Zoo episodes, and a CTM map with Slip. And to me, this translates to one thing: Beef is an adventurer. He travels frequently- he explores a world and when he decides he's done, he leaves for the next one. That's the basis of my personal interpretation of his series and his character for my writing.

Ok so reading this back, this got extremely long and didn't explain much in the way of lore, somehow? If anyone has any additions to add please do so, I am very definitely leaving out a lot and would love to see what other lore people remember and are using for Beef! I didn’t include the Hermitcraft stuff since my memory of season 4 is blurry (his base was themed after the Martian, that much I know, and he and Iskall were buddies :D) and most of the s5 NHO lore is best watched from Bdub’s perspective from what I remember, and the only s6 stuff is a single line in Hermitgang and then the Area 77 arc with its possibility of an NHO reunion which we did not get rip. And s7 of course had the cloning machine and also the Podzol Party as the main lore. So all the original rambling is still below the cut though it is very long, and I'm gonna bullet point the main stuff here instead:

Actual canonical things:

Invented UHC and was the only survivor of the first ever uhc (Mindcrack UHC s1)

Married to an ender dragon (one of the UHCs I think), later father to a different dragon (Mindcrack season 3? I think?)

Might not have legs if you choose to take that joke as canon (Mindcrack s2)

Was a wizard (RAD)

is a zookeeper (Building a Zoo)

Had a wife and kids (Sims in Minecraft)

Part of the Trial of the B Team court case (Mindcrack)

NHO founder, founder of the Podzol Party (Hermitcraft)

Created a cloning machine that sort of works (Hermitcraft)

Played the Forest which is I believe the first time he and Keralis played together (look up the trigger warnings for this one, it's a horror game)

Was the creator/owner of Sourceblock SMP (featuring some familiar faces if you know Legacy, Empires, or MCC) and there is literal magic from a mysterious sourceblock of water that teleports people and summons mobs and probably more stuff that I haven't seen yet since I'm still watching it myself

Things you can infer:

Good with animals (Life in the Woods, Pixelmon, Ark)

Is a car nerd (irl and all of the car games he's played)

Is a highly experienced adventurer who has traveled through dozens of worlds both vanilla and modded, across multiple dimensions (Twilight Forest, the Aether, the Betweenlands, Limbo), completed dozens of monuments, fought in blood sports, survived apocalypse after apocalypse, tamed dinosaurs, and played a lot of prop hunt and golf with your friends

If you're looking for what to watch for lore purposes, I'd say the Mindcrack UHCs and Team Canada's RAD series are pretty good, definitely Sourceblock and HC s5, plus the Diversity CTM maps and Ruins of the Mindcrackers maybe? And Mindcrack Prank Wars for the chaos and the origin of Team Canada. And if you can handle horror than the Forest is fun and if you don't do horror you can watch the Pojkband play golf or prop hunt they're hilarious I love them sm I want a Pojkband reunion So Bad

Beef's first series was a singleplayer series in beta 1.4_01 though he had played the game extensively before that, and was a big fan of Guude, having watched his own Minecraft videos. The series was functionally a hardcore one where if he died Beef would delete the world and start again! I haven't actually Watched this series so idk if he died or how often lmao. When Guude made Mindcrack, which was btw one of the very first Minecraft SMPs, he also hosted a competition for people to join, and Beef submitted a video (which is still viewable on his channel I believe!) and won, and was added to Mindcrack in season 2 :D (fun fact, Guude said that even if Beef hadn’t won he would have added him anyway)

Two running jokes emerged from Mindcrack- pulling a Vintagebeef and Beef doesn't have legs. The first is a reference to Beef dying of fall damage (I believe the exact instance was him trying to jump into his swimming pool and failing spectacularly) and after the incident, every time someone died of fall damage they were pulling a Vintagebeef. The second joke comes from Guude, who joked that the reason Beef wasn't going to a convention was because he didn't have legs, and then he pranked Beef's base by building a giant pair of legs at the entrance to his castle so you had to walk between them to get into the base. This joke has long since died and both Beef and Guude feel pretty bad about it iirc because there were people who genuinely thought Beef was disabled and were emailing him supportive messages and stuff oops. So if you go looking on the Salad or find old Mindcrack fics, you might see references to Beef having prosthetic legs!

Mindcrack also brought about the creation of several Player groups- Team Nancy Drew, Team Canada, and GOB to name a few relevant to Beef. Team Nancy Drew consists of Beef, Pauseunpause, Guude, and Baj, who formed to investigate a prank on one of the members but I forget who. They're named Nancy Drew after the detective! Team Canada also formed in retaliation to pranks, with it consisting of Beef, Etho, and Pause, the three Canadian members on the server (not including Adlington who moved to Canada but never joined the group). There was also a Team America who pranked them with American flags everywhere. GOB is Guude, OMGChad, and Beef, who played stuff like the Ragecraft, Pantheon, and Monstrosity ctms together but that's way down the line lol

Team Nancy Drew is also notable for inventing UHC. It was Beef's brainchild but it was the four of them who first played it! The first UHC had the four of them working to kill the dragon with no natural regen, with everyone dying but Beef, who "won" the UHC. The second uhc was still dragon focused and iirc is where Beef married the dragon? Memories are hazy but they do kill the dragon in this one I think. UHC was then revamped as a pvp event and became a regular Mindcrack game every few months, featuring most of the Mindcrackers and several special guests, including Dinnerbone, who as we know Thanos-snapped Doc's arm out of existence as a result of Doc killing him in one of them

In one of the seasons of Mindcrack, Beef invited swedish Mindcracker and good friend Anderzel to go caving with him and invented ABBA Rules caving, where the winner takes it all. ABBA Rules is a game where each ore (and also dungeon loot like nametags) is assigned a point value and the person with the most points at the end wins and gets to keep all the stuff collected from the game.

In Mindcrack season 3?, Beef punched the ender dragon in an... awkward area, so when the dragon died and left the egg behind, Guude said Beef was the father of the egg XD I don't remember if I watched s3 so I have no idea if anything Happened with this concept but *history of the world voice* you could make lore out of this!

So Team Canada has played a Lot of CTM maps (which fun fact were pretty much invented by another Mindcrack member, Vechs, with his Super Hostile series! Super Hostile has a bunch of things called "Zistonian", which are references to another Mindcrack member Zisteau, who has a very wild singleplayer series with even wilder lore but I digress). In Ruins of the Mindcrackers, they had a running joke that Beef was Etho and Pause's mom, which is a joke we can leave in the past actually /lh. They also played all the Diversity maps, Sky Factory, Terra Restore, Uncharted Territory uhhh and a couple more ctms and adventure maps! Each map kinda has its own story so in Diversity 3 for example they were trapped in a simulation? I think? Team Canada also recently played the Roguelike Adventures and Dungeons modpack, aka RAD, in which Beef was a wizard with a magic staff that could do anything from summon lightning to control hostile mobs.

Sourceblock SMP is a vanilla survival 1.14 series that ran for one season and the series starts with each of the Players being drawn to a strange sparkling water source that, once they touch it, brings them to the Sourceblock world. It also summons a giant zombie at one point. There's probably more lore for this series but like I said I haven't watched it all the way through yet

He has a Patreon server called VintageCraft and has done a series or two on there as well, and played a few UHCs with them, so lore that how you will!

Beef also played a few popular mods, notably Pixelmon, Life in the Woods, and Feed the Beast, with LitW being singleplayer and the other multiplayer. He's also recently played the Zoo and Wild Animals mod a lot. He did a short series with the Minecraft Comes Alive mod where he married one of the villagers and had two children, so that's canon now :D he’s played a Lot of Pixelmon starting when the mod first came out iirc (he chose Turtwig in his first series and built a Grass gym, then made a Normal gym in another series in uhh 2016) and he still plays to this day. Quite a few Hermits played on his Pixelmon servers with him, like Wels, Etho, Iskall, Stress, Slip, Zueljin, and also Guude and Phedran (a Mindcrack adjacent player and creator of the LitW modpack) and a few Mindcrackers on the older servers

Mindcrack and friends played a lot of other games too- 7 Days to Die, Ark Survival Evolved, Unturned, to name a few, so you can pull a lot of lore out of these as well. Speaking of friends and non-Minecraft games, Beef teamed up with Pause, Keralis, and Slip (a former Hermit) to play the horror game the Forest, which saw them stuck on an island trying to survive against terrifying mutated human... things. They played it a few times as the game updated but as afaik it's the first time Beef played with Keralis and possibly Slip and since the game starts with the Player's airplane crashing, that could totally be how Beef first met them in-universe

I... think? that’s everything I mentioned in the tags? There is probably way more stuff I’ve forgotten that stems from inside jokes and things that happen within each series, but I hope that was a) helpful and b) at least somewhat comprehensible lmao

#hermitcraft #mindcrack #vintagebeef #mcyt #long post #asks #redwinterrises #that was so many words #kudos to anyone who reads the whole thing lmao

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chemicalpink · 3 years

Text

Tied Desires ♡ Kim Taehyung x Reader

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x female reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut (at this point, do i ever write something else?)

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: rope bunny, soft bdsm dynamic, brat reader, a bit of findom in there, soft dom tae

A/N: this was- a wild ride. A humongous thanks to @erotikkook for coming up with the name and the banner (support Cay’s work or else) AND to the amazing people that beta this @taegularities and @sugasbabiie you guys are amazing, I’m sorry you had to see first hand that I write my stuff without punctuation, my mother has always held that against me. Side note, I’m behind in like 20+ assignments from law school and I decided to prioritise this fic. Don’t do that kids.

Summary: Perhaps teasing Taehyung back could get you in deep trouble. It’s not like it wasn’t exactly what you were wishing for tho.

There had always been something so cathartic and almost therapeutic about the arrangement you had with Taehyung; while most of your relationship consisted of sweet glances, funny selcas on social media and the occasional brunch date being photographed to the public eye, the dynamic was turned upside down behind closed doors, lights barely on, the warmth that was brought upon your bodies as you feverishly made out as soon as the entrance door was closed. It was, of course, such a weird occurrence as Taehyung’s job kept piling up. However, lately, his usual playful teasing had turned into full bedroom eyes whenever there was a camera directed at him, the same bedroom eyes and attitude that had been reserved only for you to see for so long; of course something was bound to go down with it.

“Would you like us to get those inside your car?” the lady at the register said as you made sure to place the credit card back into your purse that Taehyung had given you once as an extension to his..

You smiled and nodded at her, stealing a quick glance at the dozen boxes that were scattered around the lobby of the store, most of them being really unnecessary things. But they would serve a common purpose: riling Taehyung up.

Once the boxes were secured in the back of the van, and you had asked Taehyung’s driver to head home for the day. as if on clockwork, your phone dinged a notification of an incoming text, Taehyung’s. Attached to it, and very prominently so, was a recent screenshot of a notification from his bank, asking him to verify his most recent purchase: ₩ 7,000,000 in a single exhibition from Gucci, and you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, anticipating his next message.

From: Taehyung [14:23] did you just buy 7 million won worth of gucci??? From: Taehyung [14:30] wait up To: Taehyung [14:32] only if you ask nicely 🤪 From: Taehyung [14:32] Y/N….

After making sure to look as close to Tae’s wettest dream as possible, white lingerie on, main bedroom lit only thanks to the subtly warm light coming out of the bathroom, you fixed yourself onto the bed, scrolling through whatever social media, waiting for Taehyung to come home. And he did. Earlier than any other time in the past month, silently making his way to the bedroom.

A dominant aura surrounded him, the exact same one you were hoping to bring out. He licked his lips over and over a few times as he seemed to contemplate you laying there on his bed ready for him, to which you could only stare back at him as he loosened the first few buttons from his shirt, deciding to turn his eyes to the floor where the dozen boxes laid untouched.

You sat up on the bed, hands on your lap, a teasing smile shooting towards your boyfriend as he pulled at some of the ribbons that decorated the black and white containers. Taehyung exhaled loudly, not exasperated, but definitely preparing himself for a punishment you were so loudly asking for. He raised an eyebrow at you as he asked, “You did this to catch my attention, then?”

“Why?” you said, smiling teasingly at him, unable to help it. “Did it work?”

Something feral crossed Taehyung’s eyes before he had one hand wrapped around the back of your neck, hovering over you as his loose hair strands covered his sight almost entirely, adding to his dominating low tone as his grip tightened almost painfully tugging at the roots of your hair. “Oh, so now you think you get to tease me, Y/N?”

He released you from his grip, a smile creeping up to his face as he heard you whimper at the loss of proximity.

“You don’t get to unnecessarily spend my money without having to face consequences, Y/N”, Taehyung said as he went back to the boxes, carefully picking out all of the cloth around each of them until there was a dozen of them on his hand. Your heart thumped violently against your chest in excitement and anticipation when he ordered, “Lay back down Y/N, legs up and open. I wanna hear you beg for me.”

Taehyung resorted to leaning against the vanity that faced the bed directly, the light from the bathroom beside it dimly illuminating the dark composure he adopted as he caressed the bunch of black material he had in his hands. You had always been a big fan of the way he seemed to never lose control once he was in the zone, how he was so seemingly unaffected at having you on full display. Completely at his mercy.

“What are you waiting for? Panties aside, touch yourself, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your hand was quick to pull the already sticky lacey cloth aside, biting your lips as the sensation had you already clenching around nothing, just from having Taehyung’s stare burning through you. You wetted your fingers as you caressed your folds, one elbow propping you up enough to have a somewhat clear view of your boyfriend staring back at you.

You rubbed your clit a few times, a moan escaping your lips as you threw your head back in pleasure. Grinding your hips into your hand, you rubbed yourself with the flats of four of your fingers, in an effort to increase the much needed friction as you felt yourself get wetter.

“Were you really that desperate for me, baby?” Tae’s tone was borderline mocking as he smirked to himself, barely sparing a glance at you whining on the bed; out of the corner of your eye you could see him tying up the black ribbons to one another. Feeling something stirring on your lower belly, you pinched your clit in an effort to ride out your orgasm, which was quickly cut off when Tae’s hand pushed yours out of the way as you felt your eyes prickling with tears at the sudden loss of pleasure. “Naughty girls don’t get to come so fast, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s fingers lightly caressed your folds, coating them with your wetness before he slipped them into his mouth teasingly, tasting you on his tongue for a brief second before he had you sitting on your feet, hands in your lap again as he took the homemade rope he had knotted while you’d touched yourself.

“Tonight’s safeword is gucci.” He glanced for the uptenth time at the unopened packages. “Bet you won’t forget that one.”

He moved to sit right in front of you, shirt sleeves around the mid of his arms as he took both of your wrists in his hand and started wrapping the silky material around them, binding them together.

“Put your hands behind your head, baby,” Taehyung said, continuing to wrap the rope expertly around your body, restricting most movements without hurting you too much. “Bend over a bit.” His fingers caressed your perked nipples almost unintentionally as he brought the tied ribbons to the front, face perfectly calm and concentrated as he made sure to frame your breasts with the material before bringing it down your waist and back once again. “Perfect. How do you feel?”

“Good.” You would’ve been lying if you’d said that you weren’t at least a little bit excited and nervous after going so long without one of your sessions with Tae, but at the end of the day, you knew there was no one else in the world you could leave your body at their entire mercy other than him. The rope was wrapped around your hips in no time, thighs stuck together as he manhandled you onto your knees. You were unable to hold yourself up, face against the mattress, ass up and completely exposed to him as he finished his work and stood back to appreciate it.

“The teasing game is one you can’t win against me, Y/N,” he said as his hands continued the work you had begun a few minutes prior to being completely tied up, lewd noises echoing against the walls as he wasted no time in inserting a couple of fingers into your cunt, a loud moan slipping past your lips. “You’re free to try, but you’ll end up like this every single time.”

He continued to work your orgasm up until he could feel you clenching down on his fingers, thighs trembling in anticipation before a low laugh bubbled up from his throat as he removed his hands from you. He left you whimpering against his sheets every time like a vicious cycle, tears running down your cheeks as you couldn’t even slightly move to relieve the pain that having him denying you orgasms for four times gave you.

“Aww look at you, so prettily ruined for me, Y/N.” His fingers had started to build up a turmoil in your lower abdomen once again as he methodically caressed your folds before thrusting two fingers into you lazily in favour of holding a conversation. “I guess I could let you cum this one time. Seven million won is really nothing, I keep that money as spare change.”

“Y-yes please, Tae.” Your pleasure built up faster than before as Taehyung leaned down to mouth at your folds, warm tongue working circles around your bud and fingers working you through the greatest orgasm you could ever ask for. The slurping noises took over the sound of your rigged breath and heavy whimpers as you came on his tongue, him moaning against you as your thighs spasmed violently. You could feel your eyes closing against your will, body and mind overcome with tiredness, yet somehow hazy and feeling like floating from being deprived of such activities for so long.

In the background you could hear Taehyung fiddling with the drawer of his bedside table before he cut the most restrictive parts of the rope around your wrists and thighs. “Did I hurt you?” His soft persona was back as he peppered your face with kisses, fingers wiping your tears away before he cut the rest of the silky ribbon, hands immediately massaging your tender skin.

“Not really, I missed that actually. I missed you.”

His face softened as he took your face between his hands, pouring all of his love in a kiss, an apology and a love letter at the same time as his mouth moved in sync with your own. “I’ll run you a bath and then we can order takeout. You’ll have to share your newly renovated and exclusively Gucci wardrobe though.”

You nodded slightly at him while already having your head resting on the pillow, sleep taking over you as you faintly heard your boyfriend running the water to fill up the bathtub for you.

#bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #thebtswritersclub #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #taehyung fanfic

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renjuseyo · 3 years

Note

I'm the one that ask about poly. I want to make request now if you're okay with it about male reader jihoon and seungcheol. Seungcheol being jealous when reader babied jihoon even though Seungcheol get it most of the time. While jihoon hate it when reader doing that but only whine and do nothing at all. Reader didn't stop because he know Jihoon enjoy it and also watching Seungcheol pouting and making a fuss is one of his entertainment.

pay attention to me ; s.coups & woozi

group: seventeen

pairing: choi seungcheol / lee jihoon / reader (male)

synopsis: just because seungcheol’s dating you two doesn’t make him less jealous when you direct your attention to jihoon, even if he always receives your pampering.

genre: fluff

i hope you liked this anon! i think this is a very cute prompt, and i had fun playing with jicheol’s dynamics. i kind of lost inspo if you couldn’t tell though lol... anyways, feedback is always appreciated!! ^^

age order goes as: seungcheol > reader > jihoon

jihoon: i won’t be home until late, so don’t wait up for me [11:58 PM]

that was sent to you and seungcheol four hours ago. seeing how seungcheol had gotten off work at a decent time (if you consider ten-thirty decent) compared to usual, you had assumed it would be the same for jihoon, too. apparently not.

normally, by the time the clock strikes three am, you would be fast asleep, squished between seungcheol and jihoon. but instead, you’re parking your car outside of the pledis building, with seungcheol struggling to stay awake in the passenger seat. “you know, i could’ve driven here instead,” the older offers, yawning.

you roll your eyes, pushing your door open. “don’t be ridiculous. you can barely keep your eyes open, and you’ve worked all day. driving is the least i could do.”

you two step out of your car. after locking it, you begin walking towards the studio. the dim glow of the lamp posts and the faint twinkle of the stars are your only guides to the entryway, and you’re reminded once again just how late it is when you take in your surroundings. not a single sound can be heard, and the sky above you is blanketed black. what in the world is jihoon doing so late?

(well, there’s only one thing he could be doing this late. but most importantly, why? the members of seventeen are supposed to have the weekend off, so he has plenty of time to finish up any projects.)

once seungcheol unlocks the door, you two trudge inside, yawning. it takes a few minutes for you both to find jihoon’s studio, but it isn’t hard to spot. in the dark hallway, there’s only one room lit up, with a blue, fluorescent light splashing its walls. you glance at the small window, and just as you had suspected, your boyfriend is perched on his chair, hunched over his desktop.

luckily his door isn’t locked, so seungcheol twists the doorknob and pulls it open. the intrusion startles jihoon, evident by the way he flinches in his seat. when he spins around, you frown at the weary look on his face. the bright blue of his room highlights his eye bags, and you can see him struggling to stay awake. “what are you two doing here? you should be asleep,” he says.

you stride towards him, eyebrows furrowed. “that’s what we should be saying. do you have any idea what time it is? you’re supposed to be at home with us.” seungcheol nods in agreement, probably too tired to engage himself in a conversation.

“not until i finish this,” the younger protests, gesturing at his monitor. you peek behind him to look at what’s pulled up, and unsurprisingly, there’s a new project loaded up, probably one of the songs he’s working on for seventeen’s next album. “management said i have to get this done by next week.” he glances at the clock. “plus, it’s only three am. i’ve had less sleep.”

“by less sleep you mean no sleep,” you correct, propping your hands on your hips. you almost look the part of a disappointed parent. “that’s so bad for you, you know.”

“hoon, we have this weekend off. you can work on it then,” seungcheol replies, yawning. “come sleep with us. anyone with a pair of eyes can tell that you’re tired.”

jihoon rolls his eyes, but the yawn that leaves his throat is evidence enough. “i’m just fine. i already downed a whole bottle of soda, anyways.”

you tiredly trudge over to him, tugging at his sleeve. he raises a questioning eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything as you drag him over to the couch by the wall. “hoonie, you’ve been up since six am. it’s not good for babies to sleep so late.”

he flushes at the implications, frowning. it ends up looking more like a pout, though, further proving your point. “i’m not a baby. you’re acting like one right now,” he protests.

you pull him onto the couch, arms trapping him. “but you’re the youngest, so you’re the baby. right, cheol?”

instead of agreeing with you, the oldest of you three pouts, flopping down beside you. “that’s no fair, (name). both hoonie and i worked today, so why are you only babying him?” he whines. for someone who’s supposed to be the oldest, he sure craves attention like a child.

you wave a dismissive hand, scooting over so seungcheol has more room. this causes you and jihoon to squish even closer together, and as discomforting as it is for all three of you, no one makes any moves to go to a more comfortable area. but then again, you three usually wound up like this more often than not, so you all stopped minding altogether. “hush, cheol. we cuddled for like, an hour when we were home. hoonie hasn’t had anyone to take care of him yet.”

jihoon rolls his eyes, pressed against your chest. “i’m right here, you know.” as much as he dislikes skinship, he’s too tired to move, and your embrace is comforting, though he’d never admit it.

you hum, snuggling closer to him. “lack of sleep makes babies grouchy. you can worry about your project tomorrow.”

“but-”

“don’t talk back to the adults,” you murmur, dozing off, pressing your forehead against his.

jihoon grumbles, though he doesn’t try to move. “this is crazy. i’m only a year younger than you and seungcheol-hyung. what do you mean don’t talk back to the adults?” he snorts.

when you don’t respond, he can only assume you’ve fallen asleep. he rolls his eyes and cranes his neck to peek at seungcheol. his eyes are also fluttering close, arms firmly wrapped around your waist. sometimes he wonders why you call him the baby when seungcheol is right there, constantly whining for your affection. if anything, he’s the baby of you three.

seeing how he can’t wriggle his way out of here (not that he would. drinking a whole bottle of coke-cola has done nothing to lift his drowsiness), he can do nothing but surrender to your clutches and lay limp in your arms. he closes his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep, but hearing your voice in his head makes it a tad difficult.

you’re the youngest, so you’re the baby~

jihoon huffs, glaring at you, who’s oblivious to his piercing eyes. “says the one who always needs to hug something before he sleeps,” he quietly grumbles, poking your cheek.

to his surprise, the subtle motion is enough to stir you awake, and he feels himself heat up when your eyes flutter open. even when you’re tired, you still manage to look breathtaking. “go to sleep, hoonie,” you remind again before dozing back asleep.

when jihoon glances at the clock, the white, neon digits show him that it’s nearly four am. so this is what he ends up doing, but not because you told him to.

jihoon knows that despite your constant babying, you recognize that he’s a functioning adult who’s more than capable of handling responsibilities. even more than you, he might argue. you just have an affectionate nature and make it your sole duty to take care of everyone around you, even if they’re older than you, like seungcheol. plus, you just like calling those younger than you babies. if it weren’t for the fact that you’re only a few months older than him, he would’ve thought you were the oldest of you three.

though he claims to despise your affectionate nature, he’s thankful to have your presence, especially around him and seungcheol. he knows that as the leader of one of the biggest boy groups - both metaphorically and physically - the stress is undoubtedly more burdensome than the ones the other members have. he knows that seungcheol spends more time structuring himself as a strong leader and wise oldest member than as a twenty-five-year-old man who likes music and video-games. which is why he’s grateful that you’re around to give him the pampering and leisure he deserves, reminding him that it’s okay to be taken care of sometimes.

he isn’t mad that you direct most of your pampering at seungcheol. if anything, he’s more than happy, because now you’re there to give him the attention he complains about when he can’t. your presence, for a lack of better words, acts as a balance for you three. but there are times where you choose to baby (read: pester) him, simply because he’s the youngest and needs attention once in a while. your words, not his.

now is one of those moments.

jihoon blinks, staring at the shoe box perched on the table before him. he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you gesture at the shoe box in a flourish, widely grinning like a child who’s won candy. “ta-da!” you exclaim. seungcheol, who had been immersed with a mobile game, is now looking his way, curiously staring at the box. judging from his expression, he guesses he doesn’t know what the contents are, either.

“and what exactly am i looking at?” he asks.

“open it!” you exclaim.

he does as he’s told, lifting up the lid of the box. to his surprise, they’re a pair of black slide-ons. he remembers eyeing a pair a week ago at a mall he had gone to with you and soonyoung, but had dismissed the thought after seeing the number shopping bags soonyoung had on each arm. he isn’t sure if you remembered or if this is a mere coincidence. either way, he’s surprised you bought him a pair of shoes out of the blue.

“what!” seungcheol exclaims. he throws his phone onto the couch, the device bouncing on the cushions. he walks towards you, instantly wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “you bought shoes for hoonie, but not for me?”

you roll your eyes. “cheol, you’re the one giving people your credit card information. you’re quite capable of buying your own shoes... actually, you’d buy them, unprompted.”

“but it’s different when it’s a gift,” he whines. “i want you to buy me shoes, too.”

ignoring your whiny boyfriend, you gesture at the sandals. “i saw you looking at them when we were at the mall with soonyoung last week! i know you don’t have a lot of time to go shopping, so i bought them for you,” you explain.

jihoon frowns. he’s the one practically swimming in a pool of money, so he should be the one buying you nice things, not the other way around. “oh... you didn’t have to.”

when he looks up at you, he sees the excitement vanish from your face, being replaced with a pout. seeing you like that makes him wonder why he and seungcheol never try babying you, especially when you have the audacity to look as cute as you do now. “do you not like them? i can always return them and get you something else...”

he practically flies out of his seat, eyes wide. “no!” he blurts. you and seungcheol are startled by the sudden outburst, your eyes mirroring his. “i mean-” he clears his throat, “i like them, i really do. but i should be the one buying you things, not the other way around.”

thankfully, you smile. “don’t worry about it! a baby like you should be bought nice things, even if you probably have better versions of them,” you tease, blowing him an air kiss.

jihoon scoffs. "you know, now that i think about it, you always pay for my things even though you’re the, and i quote, broke college student. what’s up with that?”

“because babies shouldn’t be paying for things.” you size him up, feigning innocence. “are you even allowed to have a debit card?”

seungcheol snorts at your comment, stifling his laughter by burying his head in your shoulder. on the other hand, jihoon’s jaw drops in disbelief. “this is bullying!” he yells, exasperated. “i’m being bullied by my boyfriend. hyung, you can’t be siding with him.”

the older shrugs, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “when i do it, you always kick me, but you never do anything when it’s him. it’s so fun, seeing you get all flustered.”

he glares at you both. “i actually hate you two. especially you,” he seethes, pointing at you.

you lean over to whisper in seungcheol’s ear, but you’re side-eyeing him, obviously trying to get him to hear you. “has he been fed yet? you know babies get grouchy when they don’t have food in their system.”

“(name) (last name)!!”

seungcheol knows that like him, you’re usually the oldest in most situations. because of this, taking care of those around you has practically become second nature. making sure everyone around you is healthy and happy has become instinctive, and you’re willing to go through hoops and hurdles just to achieve that. it’s one of the many traits he loves about you.

he’s grateful to have you around to take care of him, but most importantly, he’s glad that there’s someone like you taking care of jihoon. sure, he whines about not being the center of your attention, but he knows that there are times when jihoon needs it more than he does. viewed as the genius producer and leader of the vocal unit of seventeen, there’s no doubt that the pressure he receives to repeatedly produce big hits is unimaginable. though it’s something that the two of them share in common, he knows he would never willingly open up about his thoughts, afraid of burdening the already stressed leader.

thankfully, there’s you, with a warm and loving aura encompassing you. you just have this aura that makes people want to lower their guard, even for those as whole and reserved as jihoon. it undoubtedly helps relieve the tension that the young producer has, even if he claims to hate it.

even if he knows this, though, that doesn’t stop him from wanting all of your attention. you’re the only person jihoon allows to pamper him (even if he denies it), so it’s not surprising that you take every opportunity you get to do so. while it’s fun to see him get riled up, seungcheol can’t help but act bratty when your attention isn’t on him.

on an exceptionally mundane day where the members of seventeen are lounging in the practice room, taking a break after excruciating hours of nonstop dancing, you knock on the door, arms loaded with bags of takeout. a few seconds later, the door swings open, and you’re standing in front of a sweaty chan. “oh, hyung! what brings you here?” he asks, surprised.

“hey chan,” you greet with a smile. he moves to the side, giving you space to enter the room. when you do, you’re greeted by twelve boys who seem equally sweaty and exhausted, who slur their greetings. “i was going to drop off some food for cheol and hoonie, but i figured you guys would be hungry,” you explained, gesturing towards the bags. from the way their eyes light up, you can tell they’re pleased with the surprise. “i have fried chicken, tteokbokki, japchae... just a bit of everything.”

immediately, the thirteen boys gather around you, salivating at the scent wafting out of the bags. “thank you hyung, you didn’t have to do that for us,” dokyeom smiles.

you shrug, seating yourself between seungcheol and jihoon. “it’s the least i could do, don’t worry about it. now eat up! you all are probably starving.”

another chorus of thanks echoes throughout the room, and soon, everyone begins to dig in. as you chat with the other members, catching up on each others’ lives and learning about comeback preparations, you suddenly feel someone pulling you up by the armpits before placing you down on their lap. startled, you crane your neck and see seungcheol, who responds by pecking your forehead. “what was that for?” mingyu asks from across you, voicing your question.

“you haven’t paid attention to me at all,” he murmurs.

you simply hum, leaning forward to stab a piece of fried chicken. you aim the fork at seungcheol’s mouth, who eagerly sweeps in and takes a bite. from the corner of your eye, you can see the other members eyeing you two with disgust. “sometimes i forget this is a three-way relationship, seeing how you both react so differently around (name)-hyung,” seungkwan snorts, scooping more japchae onto his plate. “why can’t you be more like jihoon-hyung? at least he doesn’t whine when (name)-hyung isn’t around every five minutes like you.”

you roll your eyes. “please. hoonie likes it when i baby him, too.” you send him a wink, to which he responds with by rolling his eyes.

“you’re talking nonsense.”

“don’t lie~” you coo, leaning over and ruffling his hair. “our cute baby hoonie~”

above you, seungcheol pouts, resting his chin on your head. “why don’t you ever treat me like that, (name)? this is unfair.”

you add more tteokbokki onto your plate. “it’s fun, seeing both of your reactions. hoonie’s more fun to tease, and it’s fun seeing you get all mopey.” he pouts, though he can’t refute your claims. jihoon does have funnier reactions than he does, and judging by both the amused and unimpressed looks the other members give him, he’s sure that he looks nothing short of glum.

“you know,” wonwoo begins, “i never would’ve imagined that jihoon would’ve gotten together with them. maybe with (name), but not with seungcheol-hyung. you both cling onto him more than to each other, anyways.”

“cheol here just comes to me more because he’s scared of hoonie,” you laugh, patting his thigh. “besides, they have each other when i’m not in the picture.”

“(name), you shouldn’t spoil cheollie so much. he’s already so bratty when you’re not here,” jeonghan sighs. “i’d love to see you tease jihoon more, though. you’re the only person who can get away with it unscathed, anyways.”

both seungcheol and jihoon darken in embarrassment. “shut it, yoon jeonghan,” they snap in unison.

when seungcheol and jihoon wake up one saturday morning, they don’t expect to be clinging onto each other in bed. they also don’t expect you to be awake already, seeing how you’re usually one of the last people to get up.

“where’s (name)?” jihoon groggily asks, scooting closer to an equally tired seungcheol. though he rarely lets seungcheol hold him, his need for warmth overpowers his disdain for skinship.

the older doesn’t seem to mind his sudden touchiness, wrapping an arm around him. “dunno,” he mumbles.

neither of them further questions your disappearance, cuddling closer to each other. they both begin to drift back asleep when the floorboards of the hallway creak, signalling a new presence. the bedroom dear squeaks open, so when they both turn to face the source, they see you tiptoeing your way in. “oh, morning guys,” you whisper, sheepishly smiling. “sorry for waking you two."

“it’s fine,” jihoon yawns, slowly sitting up. beside him, seungcheol turns to dig his face into his pillow, stretching his limbs. “why are you up so early? it’s-” he pauses to glance at the clock, which reads 11:30 am. “okay, maybe it’s not so early. but what are you doing up?”

you shrug. “cheol elbowed my face earlier, and i couldn’t fall back asleep again, so i decided to get out of bed.”

seungcheol turns around and looks at you with guilty eyes, sitting up. “sorry babe,” he apologizes. he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him. “is your pretty face okay?” he asks, rubbing your cheeks.

you thread your fingers through his hair, untangling the knots as jihoon rolls over. “why don’t you come back to bed and sleep some longer? i know how irritable you can get when you don’t get enough sleep.”

you shake your head at his offer. “it’s okay, but thanks.” you reposition yourself so you’re sandwiched between seungcheol and jihoon, which is when they notice the navy apron hanging around your neck. “i made food not long ago, it should be warm still. come eat with me.” you wriggle your way out of the human sandwich, standing up again. “get up, lazy bums!”

“kiss me first,” seungcheol jeers like the brat he is.

you lean in close until your breath fans his lips. when he looks like he’s going to reciprocate, you move your lips last minute and peck his forehead instead. “brush your teeth first, brat. your breath smells like ass.” before you leave, you swiftly move your head and place a kiss on jihoon’s cheek, running out of the bedroom before either of them can do anything about it.

half an hour later, jihoon steps out of the bedroom and trudges into the kitchen. seungcheol’s still in the bathroom washing up. when he rounds the corner, he nearly screams to see you so close to him. you take this opportunity to wrap your arms around him and lift him up, to which he responds with a yelp. “put me down!” he shrieks.

you pay no mind to his shrieking, walking towards the counter. you plop down on a stool and seat him on your lap. he’s still squirming, but your grip is tight, so his fidgeting proves futile. “good morning, my baby~”

for someone who claims to hate the nickname, he always flushes a pretty red when you or seungcheol use it. even after getting together, he still isn’t used to it. “how many times do i have to tell you to not call me a baby? i’m only a year younger than you.”

“then what should i call you then?” you pucker your lips, which are met with jihoon’s palm. “my liege? my love? which do you prefer?” you flirt.

his blush darkens, and he can only look away in embarrassment. “shut up.”

your laugh is so loud it hurts his ears, but it’s endearing and true, something he never gets tired of listening to. “our baby is so cute when he’s flustered~”

“is today a bully seungcheol or a bully jihoon day, i wonder?” a voice in front of you asks. he cranes his neck as much as he can and sees seungcheol pouting in front of you two, bangs wet. “do i not get this treatment because i’m the oldest?

you stick your tongue out at him before flicking his forehead. “come on, let’s eat! you two took forever.” fortunately, seungcheol pulls out a stool for jihoon to sit on, so he’s all too eager to hop away from your clutches.

you’re sitting across from the duo, who are seated beside each other. the kitchen is mostly silent, save for the clinking of utensils. it isn’t when seungcheol takes a bite from an egg that you notice a band-aid plastered near his chin. “did you hurt yourself?” you ask, aiming your fork at his wound.

he absentmindedly runs a finger against the band-aid. “oh, this? i was shaving earlier and accidentally cut myself,” he explains. he gauges your reaction, from your furrowed eyebrows to worried eyes. just then, he lets out a cry, startling you and jihoon. “oh (name), it hurts~”

you laugh at his silliness, while jihoon snorts. “you’re so embarrassing. gosh (name), this is what happens when you spoil him too much. one single mishap and he comes running to you with fake tears. look at the monster you’ve created.”

you glance at seungcheol, and the mischievous smirk on your lips only spells for disaster. “cheol-ah, you were just fine a moment ago. i think you’re strong enough to handle a tiny cut, aren’t you?”

normally he would never allow for someone to question his strength, but when it comes to you, all he wants is your pampering, even if he makes himself look like a fool in the process. “don’t tease me, (name)~ don’t take jeonghan’s words so seriously!”

you laugh, recalling your friend’s words. you love to indulge your boyfriends, though teasing them is also fun, too. you used to only tease jihoon with your sickening babying, but seeing how seungcheol whines only fuels your mischievous nature. “i think you can handle it, cheol.” changing the topic, you smile at jihoon. “how’s the food? i think i did a good job for someone with abysmal cooking skills.”

“babe~” he whines.

“the food’s good, although your chopping skills could use some work,” jihoon comments, poking at an unevenly cut tomato.

you snort. “i’m cooking for you guys, not gordon ramsay. as long as it tastes good, it should be fine.”

“this is bullying.”

you turn to face seungcheol, who’s still pouting. “why don’t you ask hoonie?”

“because he’s going to say no. or worse, he’ll kick my shins.”

you laugh, getting up to refill your water. before you enter the kitchen, you cup seungcheol’s face and press a chaste kiss on his band-aid. “there. happy?”

the dopey, lovesick look he gives you is answer enough, and as confident and nonchalant as you are when it comes to flirting, you can feel butterflies swarming in your stomach. it never gets less exhilarating, knowing you have him wrapped around your finger. “suddenly, my cut doesn’t hurt anymore.”

jihoon gags. “disgusting.”

“you like it when we’re disgusting,” you mumble, pressing a kiss on his hair. before he can react, you swoop down and squish his cheeks, leaning in to press your lips together. he makes a disgruntled noise, though he doesn’t make any attempts to pry your hands off or to move away. when you pull away, a satisfied smile rests on your lips. “see? i knew you liked it when i babied you.”

you move your hands away from his face and lay them atop his hair. on the other hand, seungcheol squishes your cheeks together and begins peppering kisses on your face, drawing out little giggles from you. below you, jihoon frowns, folding his arms. “you’re so annoying. i could step on your toes if i wanted to.”

“if you wanted to,” you reiterate, turning your head so seungcheol doesn’t muffle your words with his lips. “key word is if, my dear. you would never actually hurt me, our cute baby.”

seungcheol relinquishes his attacks, sitting back onto the stool. “i wonder what would happen if i called him that?” he wonders out loud. suddenly, he squishes jihoon’s cheek, mirroring the fond look you always give them. “our cute baby jihoonie~”

right when he does this, seungcheol decides then that is the first and last time he’ll ever try to baby jihoon again - at least, if he wants to stay unharmed. pampering is more of your forte, anyways.

#seventeen #seventeen hip hop unit #seventeen vocal unit #kpop #seventeen x reader #seventeen x male reader #s.coups #choi seungcheol #woozi #lee jihoon #jicheol #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x male reader #woozi x reader #woozi x male reader #renjuseyo : seventeen #renjuseyo : fics

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cobaincreates · 3 years

Text

body count

warnings: language, jealous rafe ;) & uh smut 18+

count: 3k+

hiiiii!! not my gif! bye!!!!

songs (that you’re not prepared for :)) (also crank them at full volume otherwise you won’t get the full effect) — keep lying & metal man by donna missal

— — —

body count never mattered to you. in fact, whoever created the notion that body counts were important or a need-to-know fact could shove it. you always felt that it was degrading and a useless piece of information. what did anyone gain from acquiring that knowledge? sure, it was smart to keep track for hygiene reasons, but not for social reasons, or for future relationships.

so when rafe posed the question, you couldn’t help but scrunch your face up in discomfort. he was curious and you understood that, especially at this stage. you had only been dating for a couple months and it had been great so far with a handful of late night dates and mid-afternoon rendezvous’ in between classes. you rarely became nervous around him anymore, but you couldn’t push away that uneasy feeling at the current topic.

“can i guess?” he asked, looking at you under his baseball cap.

tonight, rafe had taken you out for ice cream only a couple miles from campus. he had picked you up in his car, even clearing the front seat off that usually held a stack of papers ranging from returned tests to scribbled notes. he brought you to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant and ordered a brownie sundae right off the bat. he knew what you liked.

“are you going to be rude about it?” you countered as you scooped up a generous amount of brownie and vanilla ice cream.

“are you implying that there’s a lot?” he eyed you, stopping mid-scoop.

you chewed what was in your mouth, the ice cream cold against your teeth. you hid your mouth behind your hand so you could answer him. “don’t be so shocked. i’ve had my fair share of hookups.”

rafe couldn’t help the broad smile as he ate. “but you’re so innocent-looking.”

“oh, please.” you groaned.

there was a pause as rafe continued to smile to himself. you took another bite, knowing that the conversation was far from over. if rafe wanted to know something, he would eventually get the answer.

he stared at you from across the table while you spent several moments looking around the diner. you weren’t trying to prolong the answer you were going to give him, in fact you knew you didn’t have to prolong it because it wasn’t a big deal. you supposed you were just stubborn since you didn’t like the topic anyway.

“what?” you asked rafe when you found his eyes still on you.

“how many hookups have you had?” he asked, some sort of amusement in his eyes.

“does it really matter?”

“is it more than one hand?”

“now i don’t want to tell you.” you laughed lightly as you leaned over the table, dipping your spoon back into the dish.

“i’m just curious.” he shrugged.

biting the inside of your lip, you looked at him under your lashes. you weren’t sure why you were giving in, but you set your spoon down and held your hands up. you showed him with your fingers how many people you had been with intimately, including relationships. rafe’s smile seemed to falter just a bit.

“not so innocent anymore, huh?”

you could see the tiny sliver of disappointment as he tried to pull the smile back on. without commenting, he picked up his spoon.

“who’s the best you ever had?”

you knew he was just being curious, or nosy, but you could also tell that he was asking because he was jealous. you saw it in the way his gaze changed, how he couldn’t fully look at you anymore. his shoulders seemed tense.

you already had an answer in your head, but you didn’t dare say it out loud. you knew for a fact that he wouldn’t like it. you took a sip of your drink as if you were thinking about it. looking around the restaurant again, you focused on the waiter at the register and the smell of fried food filling the room.

“just some guy.” you shrugged, your shirt falling off your shoulder. the cool air meeting your skin calmed the thoughts brewing in your mind so you didn’t bother fixing it.

“do i know him?”

you bit down on your straw and locked eyes with him. this could go two ways, you told yourself. either you could tell him the truth or you could lie and hope it would end the conversation. but you had gotten off to such a good start with him and there was no need to ruin it now. if he wasn’t staring at you as closely, you would’ve buried your head into your hands.

you weren’t even close to answering him when a body appeared beside your table. “hey guys!”

your stomach dropped. now you had to will yourself not to bury your face into your hands. both you and rafe looked away from one another to the soft-smiling face of his best friend, topper. what a coincidence. rafe looked back to you without your notice, hoping you wouldn’t forget about your conversation.

“hey, top.” you said in a deep breath, praying your voice didn’t shake. honestly, you couldn’t tell with the blood pumping in your ears. “you getting food?”

“yeah, just needed a break from studying for finley’s exam. you ready for that?” topper lowered his head, looking down at you.

rafe watched the two of you for a moment, letting go of his spoon and sitting back in his chair unbeknownst to you. you were too uncomfortable to look in his direction, which he surely took note of.

“maybe?” you shrugged a shoulder and leaned your cheek in your palm propped on the table. yes, you had most definitely been trying to separate yourself from rafe’s eyes. “i did some studying earlier, but i definitely need to do more. i can’t get past the moral error theory, i think i’ve re-read it about seven times.”

rafe’s eyebrows furrowed, wanting so badly to interject in the conversation with his own anecdotes. he let his jaw slack slightly, leaning back onto the table as he shifted in his seat.

“i don’t blame you. finley seems like a madman with a whole exam covering five completely different things.” topper said.

you laughed, mostly out of awkwardness. you glanced at rafe then and felt your laughter quickly dwindle. he had set his elbows on the table, his clasped hands propped against his mouth. you looked away when the dark eyes under his hat latched to yours. your stomach dropped and if you weren’t careful it felt like it was going to fall apart completely. topper continued your conversation for another minute, but you had no idea what he was saying. you didn’t register it as you could only think about rafe and question everything. did you say something wrong? were you too friendly with topper? did he know?

“i’ll see you guys later.” topper backed away to the cash register then, leaving the two of you alone. you averted your eyes to your spoon sitting in the dish in the middle of the table. you suddenly had the urge to eat the rest of it.

“there’s a little brownie left. you want it?” you pushed the small piece closer to rafe in the dish. your voice felt quiet, but you knew he heard you.

“no, i’m good.” he said and sat back, dropping his hands to his lap. you peered at him under your lashes again as you popped the brownie into your mouth. the sugar didn’t make you feel any more at ease as you chewed.

rafe dug out his wallet and placed his card on the edge of the table for whenever the waiter came over. you sipped the rest of your drink, not knowing what to say. you wanted to pick up where you left off in your conversation, but you weren’t sure how to go about it. so instead you bit the inside of your lip as rafe took his phone out and tapped his fingers along the screen.

“all done? can i get you two anything else?” the waiter asked as they took the dish and spoons off the table. both you and rafe looked up at them at the same time. you shook your head while rafe said no, he held his card out to them then dropped his gaze back down to his lap. you looked at the hat on his head, wanting so badly to reach over and take it off.

rafe was kind of his usual self as you left the restaurant. he held the door open for you and walked along your side to the car, but he was completely quiet and he didn’t touch you. he was all for physical touch, either an arm around your waist or his hand holding yours. you itched for it as you parted ways around the car and got in.

you stole glances at him as he drove. his hat seemed lower over his face as if he were hiding. was he relaxed or defeated as he rested against the seat? at the next green light, he went straight instead of turning left. you figured he just wanted you to come over to his apartment instead of ending the night earlier than usual. you also speculated that he wanted to continue the conversation before topper showed up. god, why did topper have to pick up food? why did he have to be hungry like any other human?

it was a longer silence as you followed rafe into the building, sniffing that familiar sanitary scent of the lobby. could he hear the buzzing in your head reverberating off the metal walls of the elevator? you tried to think of what you were going to say, of how you should explain in the best way. but then you thought that rafe didn’t need an explanation, you were free to sleep with whoever you wanted before him.

“do you want to watch a movie?” you tried adding a happy tone to your question, setting your bag down and shuffling your jacket off your arms. rafe turned to you from the front door, looking taller than he really was.

you watched him as he came over to you, towering over your shorter frame. his hands came up to your face, pulling you closer to him for a kiss. you melted completely in his hands, touching his sides to make sure you were still on solid earth. you had shared plenty of kisses, but you still felt that rush when his lips were on yours.

“topper?” he questioned, pulling away from you.

your bliss quickly broke, eyebrows furrowing and your dopamine levels dropping. you swallowed noticeably as your hands left his waist and his disappeared from your face. “what about him?” you nearly whispered and immediately regretted it. you didn’t like playing dumb and you could tell by the way rafe’s jaw clenched that he didn’t like it either. what had you gotten yourself into?

“take your clothes off.”

you blinked rapidly, your stomach leaping. did you hear him correctly? “what?” you closed your eyes for a moment, trying to comprehend where this was going and how his words were jumping all over the place.

“you heard me.”

you couldn’t take your jaw from the floor as you stared up at rafe in astonishment. you had never seen this stern side of him and it was making your head all jumbled in thoughts. your lungs felt short of breath now.

rafe stepped closer to bring his chest flush against yours. his head lowered, his eyes piercing intensively. you wanted so deeply to look away. his lips were right in front of you and they looked very tempting but you were trying desperately to understand what he was trying to do. he didn’t give you much thought as his lips came over yours again, this time much firmer and more incessant. you made a noise against him and rafe soaked it in, letting it disappear into his mouth as he opened your lips further. you moved your hands up to his face, trying to get your mind moving to the pace of his lips. it seemed impossible as he knelt down and grabbed ahold of your thighs to lift you up.

you felt rafe start to move, his legs carrying the both of you somewhere further in the room. you didn’t know where exactly until his hands disappeared from you and you dropped down onto the couch with a slight bounce. you gasped and looked up at rafe in front of you as he tore off his hat and jacket, sending them both flying somewhere behind him. next went his shirt before he bent down toward you, his tongue quick to enter your mouth.

you tried your best to match his pace, your eyebrows furrowing in concentration. it wasn’t until his hands went up your shirt that you pulled away from him with a deep breath.

“wait, wait, wait,” you said as rafe’s lips went to your neck momentarily. “slow down, rafe.”

this wasn’t how you expected or imagined your first time with rafe. he pulled away without a word and propped himself on the back of the couch, bent directly over you. you swallowed and reached up to touch his shoulders, the kitchen light sending a warm glow over them.

“talk to me.”

“i don’t want to talk.” he said as he fisted the back of the couch. you noticed his arms flexing above you.

“what are you trying to do?” you begged, searching for anything.

rafe let out a noise before he pressed a few kisses along the underside of your jaw, making you tilt your head up and close your eyes. you brushed your face against his as his breath hit your ear. “i’m going to show you the best you’ve ever had.”

you couldn’t help the moan from slipping out. it clearly egged rafe on as he kissed you again.

“take your clothes off.” he said once more as he pulled away. you wanted to kick him for leaving you again, especially with how quickly your anticipation was increasing. instead, you sat up, moving closer to the edge of the couch, and pulled your shirt over your head. rafe watched you as you both reached for your bottoms. the adrenaline started to kick in as you noticed the way he was looking at you and your movements.

you bit your lips together as rafe grabbed ahold of your pants and tugged them the rest of the way off. he glanced at your underwear next and you leaned against the back of the couch to push them off, lifting your hips. he leaned down for another searing kiss, your breaths mingling together. you breathed him in next, opening your mouth wider and moving your fingers into his hair. you gripped it softly as you felt his hand appear on your thigh, slowly traveling up and maneuvering over the new territory. the only thing you two had ever done was innocent petting over clothes, but you managed to shiver just as much at his touch.

rafe didn’t make a trail of kisses down your front or spend time caressing your skin like the many times you imagined he would. he didn’t go down on you or hold your legs tightly around his head as he tasted you, like you hoped he would. as he remembered why he was doing this in the first place, his kisses became impatient and sloppy.

“turn around.” he commanded when he pulled away just centimeters from your face. you were just about to pull his hips closer to yours, your own impatience pooling between your legs.

a wave of nerves ran through you and you swallowed as you did as he said. once you were turned around, your arms propped on the back of the couch and your eyes trailing over the bare wall a few feet away, your breath hitched. rafe’s lips pressed to the back of your thigh.

you let out a sudden yelp as rafe touched you for the first time. his hand pressed into you, his fingers gliding your wetness around. your belly clenched. your head seemed to sense his movements, leaning toward him as he came to your ear again.

“are you this wet for me?” he whispered huskily.

“yes.” you said and leaned your head against his, your eyes slipping closed. you focused on his fingers, the thickness of them, the assured way they moved.

“were you this wet for him?” he asked next as his fingers teased your entrance.

“no, rafe.” you mewled and moved your hips back in search of some friction.

“don’t lie to me.” he said. his head disappeared as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder blade, his teeth making an appearance for a subtle bite. your head lulled forward onto the cushion as your hips pushed against his hand.

your body pressed into the cushion as rafe’s fingers were replaced with him. you moaned lowly as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling in pleasure. you could feel yourself pulsing around him and his size and you wanted to stay just like this for a while.

rafe had no intentions of keeping still. he planted his hands at your hips, adjusted his knee beside yours, pulled back out and hit you harder this time, rocking you deep into the cushions. you barely had time to adjust to him, wincing slightly as he moved.

you lifted your head up just as he thrust forward. reaching a hand back to him, you gripped his wrist. “god, rafe, be nice.” you groaned as he thrust again.

“you fucked my best friend.” he accused through a clenched jaw and a harder thrust.

“twice.” you gasped, your head dropping back to the couch.

rafe groaned and managed to pull out nearly all the way and hit you even harder going back in. you moaned, feeling him pause for a second before doing it again. each time he pushed, you lost your breath, only having two seconds tops to get it back. you could feel his jealousy in his movements and his total frustration at learning that you’d slept with topper. it had been months before even knowing rafe. it was fun while it lasted and you now had that experience to thank since it brought you to where you are now— in rafe’s apartment, fucking him for the first time. you didn’t regret sleeping with topper at all.

now you pushed yourself up on your hands, arching your hips back to give rafe a new angle. you brushed your hair over your neck, turning to get a glimpse of him. he was relentlessly thrusting into you and showing no signs of stopping any time soon. you could feel yourself getting somewhat close to your release and you wanted nothing more than for rafe to bring it to you.

you let out a high-pitched moan, one you never heard before, as rafe took it upon himself to smack your backside. he eased the sting as he rubbed his palm over it.

“did he make you feel like this?” he panted, so clearly close to his end too.

“stop talking about him.” you chided.

rafe only laid down another smack, this time gripping your backside harshly afterwards. you fisted the cushions and squeezed your eyes shut as it brought your climax closer.

“don’t stop,” you begged. “please, don’t stop.”

you felt the sting as rafe removed his hand and brought it to your clit. your mouth dropped open, a slew of curses and moans pouring out as he drew circles in time with his thrusts. his touching you, moving inside of you, and the periodic smacking of your skin was enough to throw you overboard. you grabbed onto the couch, holding on tightly as you came over rafe and said his name in bliss.

his hips stuttered at the feel of you coming, your walls pulsing around him. he panted as he took it in then went right back to his fast pace, chasing his own high. your hand stretched back, searching for him, and wrapped around his wrist tightly. he gripped your hip then, your touch encouraging him. it was another moment before he was pulling out of you and coming onto your back.

he breathed in deeply through his nose, staring down at the mess on your skin, your sides moving as you breathed. he brushed his hair off of his forehead, now slick with sweat.

rafe wiped the mess clean with his shirt then pressed a kiss to your shoulder. he collapsed beside you and rested his tired muscles. you sat down and blinked around at the room, trying to remember little details about tonight and how you had gotten there in the first place.

rafe’s head rolled to look at you, his eyes now tired. “how was it?”

you grinned at the question and couldn’t help poking fun at him. “you’re so jealous.” you jabbed at his chest. a second later you pressed your hand onto his sticky skin. rafe didn’t deny your statement, instead continuing to stare at you in a daze. “there’s room for improvement,” you teased and pecked his shoulder before getting up. rafe didn’t miss the slight limp you had as you went behind the couch.

“where are you going?” he asked with a smirk.

“i have to pee.” you called to him.

“i’m not done with you yet,” he called back, making you laugh and close the bathroom door behind you.

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