Hello there, I'm Hunter, and this is the selfship trash channel!*Slams head into wall* He/Him Pronouns please! Reblogs Are Preferred Over Likes On Art!
You have jury duty and your F/O is the one on trial
innocent
guilty
Remaining time: 1 day 16 hours
(I've been summoned for jury duty and whatever the outcome of that is, I'll update you using this poll. I have no idea what the court case involves as of right now as I just got the letter.)
There's always cognitive dissonance as a selfshipper who also hates capitalism. Not wanting to overconsume but has an f/o with a lot of silly whimsical merch. So sometimes I simply have to share a picture of it instead of actually buying it
Everyone, share a silly round plushie version of your f/o!!!
[I own the tsum tsum so i'm sharing something i used willpower not to buy]
Summary: Jonathan has to keep you quiet during a quickie in his Arkham office
Content/Warnings: Porn with no plot, sub reader, Jonathan’s a little mean, nearly getting caught, risky/sort of public sex, gagging, choking, anal sex, praise (good boy), a bit of crying, no use of Y/N
This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors.
Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.
If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.
“Sweetheart, for the love of god, I need you to be quiet.”
Jonathan’s southern drawl was nearly a growl in your ear, a low warning. He kept his eyes on the door of his office, as though if he stared hard enough at it no one would come too close. The lock on it has been broken for months.
He’s starting to remember why he never lets work and pleasure overlap.
You’d only come to pick him up after work; his truck is in the shop for a yet unknown reason—a likely consequence of driving the oldest F1 known to man—so for now, he’s relying on you to get around. You were only supposed to pick him up.
But then you sauntered into his office, all smiles, and hopped right up onto his desk without second thought. You’d tried to make some conversation, but he tuned out almost immediately. He doesn’t know what got into him. At the time, all he could think about was how badly he wanted you. He was practically running on blind instinct when he bent you over his desk.
“God, why haven’t we done this sooner?” he’d asked as he hastily unbuckled his belt.
Now he remembers.
You’re so damn noisy.
He loves when you scream for him, he adores the noises you make when you’re at home, in bed, but not when you’re trying to have a secret quickie in his office. It’s late, sure, but there’s always guards on duty. If one of them came down this hall, they’d definitely hear—
“Gah—! Jonathan…!” You whimper through heavy breaths, and the sound makes him wince.
He can’t stop now, but he needs a way to shut you up before this little rendezvous costs him his job. His grip on you tightens as he presses you harder into the desk.
Think, Jon, you have to do something, quick.
He looks back at you, and you’re panting like a dog. Even your heavy breathing is causing a ruckus.
You don’t realize what’s going on until you hear him fumbling with his belt. Before you can question what he’s doing, he pulls the thick leather tight between your teeth.
“Bite.”
His order holds no room for argument. You obey, effectively gagging yourself. He tightens the belt around your head, roughly stabbing the prong of the buckle into the leather to fasten it. He mumbles something incoherent in his frustration.
Despite your best efforts to keep yourself quiet, you can’t help but moan into your makeshift gag. Jonathan’s cock is a force to be reckoned with, and he knows how to use it; he doesn’t leave any spot untouched. It makes your head spin.
“Goddammit,” he rasps through gritted teeth, “it’s not enough…I need to keep you quiet…”
You whine, unable to give a proper apology. He gives a harsh shush in return.
“Shut up, fuck…I hear something.”
Your blood runs cold. Jonathan presses his body into yours a bit harder, but doesn’t stop rutting into you. You hear it too—the chatter of two guards coming down the hall.
Jonathan can sense your rising panic. He holds you a bit tighter, keeping you still underneath him.
“Shhh,” he whispers, “just be quiet, just be quiet…”
He feels a bit guilty, demanding your silence while simultaneously refusing to stop thrusting, but that feeling is quickly washed away when you clench around him. He bites down hard on his bottom lip.
The footsteps are getting closer. He can make out their words clearly now. You’re starting to tear up, and the belt won’t muffle your sobs enough. Every sound echoes like gunshots in the still asylum.
You gasp when he angles his hips in just the right way. He knows that sound, and the cry that’s surely about to follow it.
He barely manages to wrap his hand around your throat in time to choke the sound.
Your eyes go wide as your air supply is cinched without warning. Your instinct is to struggle, to try to pull his hand away, but Jonathan is stronger than you. He doesn’t budge.
“Don’t fight me,” he huffs, “I’m not gonna hurt you, but I can’t have you makin’ so much noise. Just relax.”
Really, you’ve no other choice but to listen. Your hands fall away from your throat.
“Good boy,” he mumbles, breath hot against your ear. The praise makes you shiver, and he knows it.
The steps are getting closer. The laughter is more raucous. The sound of meaningless gossip pauses in front of the door, and you think for a moment you might pass out. Christ, why does this feel like life or death?
Jonathan leans in again to whisper to you, so quiet even you can barely hear, “They’re right outside the door. Just stay still, and choke for me like a good boy.”
His grip on your neck tightens for a brief moment, and you know he’s deathly serious. His cock twitches as it just barely moves back and forth inside of you. He hides his face in the crook of your neck as he listens.
It feels like it takes a million years before they finally walk away. Jonathan’s grip doesn’t falter for even a moment. There’s a moment where you wonder if he’ll ever let go as the hints of dark spots start to leak into your vision, but you’re frozen in place.
Finally, the door at the end of the hall opens, then shuts.
Silence.
Jonathan releases your neck, and you collapse against his desk as you struggle to catch your breath around your gag. Your lungs fill so fast it makes you sputter and cough. You reach behind you to unbuckle the belt, but Jonathan is quick to grab your hands.
“Don’t even think about it,” he hisses, “we’re not done yet.”
He adjusts his stance, preparing to fuck you with his full strength once again, and leans down to talk right into your ear.
“So be fucking quiet, because if I have to choke you again, I might not stop.”
This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors.
Feedback is appreciated and encouraged.
If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.
I have this one character who's been in my sights as a crush lately and it's like. EXCLUSIVELY because of how I draw him, right. But I don't know enough about him to know if it'd be okay to F/O him, blargh
By the way, for anyone following me, I'm doing Artfight this year! I don't discriminate for who I attack, if I like the design, I DRAW IT! Team Tragedy, let's go, woo!
There's this user called yumeshipracist, who, while has a good point of knowing that using the term yumeship with reckless abandon is orientalist, is also just going around harrassing other users who use the term. And I can't expect people on the internet to have any nuance, especially when they're already defensive of their use of the term.
Oh geez, that's ridiculous. I never really use the term(the only times I really use it are out of desperation for my animations to be seen, but I try not to use it), but that isn't going about things the right way, good lord. There's a way to tell people "hey this isn't cool" while being respectful about it.
I've found that people are amazing at coming up with excuses when you ask for one simple thing. Even when you're spelling out what you actually mean. You can say time and time again and a new excuse will pop up like wack a mole
"i use it for a wider reach" sacrifice clicks for standards
"selfship only means romantic" no it doesn't
"i like the sound" becasue you're ashamed of selfshipping?
"It describes me more" literally just use dreamshipper then
Yeah, it genuinely feels like the selfship tags are dead when it comes to engagement at this point. If I learned enough(and had time to in-between being forced to take a summer job)I would probably make a video essay on it, but I'd probably just get called a snowflake.
Checking my posts(elsewhere, anyways), I've only used the yumeship tag like. maybe 6-ish times, and I only did it out of sheer desperation for my animations to get noticed because of how long they specifically took me.
Aside from it being orientalist, "yumeshipper" has never really. felt right as a label for what I do? Like, being in a relationship isn't a dream of mine(I could never navigate one), but I like to imagine mySELF in one, if that makes sense.
I don't want to hide behind a term. I've lived through watching my sisters get bullied for what they do, too afraid to post my art. I'm gonna say selfship. I'm not gonna hide behind something i think is cute but is literally just a word in another language
Is that where everyone went? to the yumeship tags? Way to follow the crowd guys.
Oh, 100%, I'm sticking with selfship because it fits right. I hate that I had to use the yumeship tag just so my effort didn't go unnoticed because animation is WAY HARDER than people seem to think it is.
It feels like that's where they went and it sucks so bad. Like, GUYS. WHAT ARE WE DOING. SELFSHIP DOESN'T EVEN SOUND THAT CRINGE.
It genuinely feels like the community ate itself alive tbh
Yeah, it's so bs, man. It sucks so bad. People used to interact, now it's just. mostly liking, rarely reblogging or commenting or anything like that, like. I don't EXPECT engagement, but also, like. I'm tempted to start using a banner on my posts that basically says "don't like if you don't plan on reblogging" because it's so demotivating when art stuff takes ages to do.
Like, I don't require input from others, BUT some form of recognition still feels good, y'feel me?
that approach may not get people to listen. "reblogs encouraged" is a good start.
Unfortunately Ive learned that a lot of people will only interact with you if it pertains to them, and ESPECIALLY jokes and memes. Even i'm guilty of this, but I do my best to read about peoples feelings and their passions. I follow someone with a main f/o from a media i've ever seen, but i resonate with the dynamic. but i also can't expect everyone to do this.....not anymore.
Yeah, it's one of those things where it's a situation I'm stuck in and don't know how to get out of, unfortunately. I'll keep posting, they'll have to kill me to get me to stop, but I'm gonna do whatever I can to encourage reblogging because Lord, is it exhausting to get notifications on blogs and have them only be likes.
Selfship Central! @huntersselfshipocean - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
