#LIKE ITS COMMON SENSE???? HELLO???

[ocdhuacheng]

the lady at the post office kept fucking everything up and being confusing but i forgot my mask at home like a fucking idiot so i didnt want to take the time to argue with her properly

[b4kuch1n]

crumbs in your bed

transcript

[sonknuxadow]

is it just me or are a lot of places that sell used games getting ridiculous with their prices.... like explain to me why sonic chronicles without the case is worth 25 dollars. why is animal crossing city folk 40 dollars. you were not charging nearly as much for these a few years ago

[sameteeth]

the gide/oda and fukuchi/fukuzawa storyline parallels are crazy. war vet convinced of his conviction drags morally upright (generous) guy to his level to achieve his goal, which was formed by the trauma of warfare on the human mind

[usedpidemo]

Life of the party (Loossemble Yeojin)

You regret getting yourself out on the market so soon.

To be fair, it’s been a little over six months since your last breakup, the terms of which remain hazy, even to this day. It isn’t exactly a definitive conclusion, one where you can comfortably say you’re wishing each other the best, nor is it a destructive mess either. 

The unfortunate reality is: it was never gonna last. You both had it wrong from the start. The foundations of your relationship were built primarily around sex—pure, unadulterated, raw—at its most primal form. You had this magnetic effect on each other, your bodies crashing on top of the other endlessly, creating these seemingly boundless explosions until you couldn’t take it anymore. It took your body giving out for you to learn an important lesson: that much of a good thing can be turn bad.

So you confess that you need space, the same thing other girls have told you previously. You’ve certainly learned from each relationship, right down to the textbook words that signify each phase—and this was the decline. Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t take it well, and she lashes out in a fit of anger. 

You don’t see each other again. 

That should have been the end of that.

Except, you see her, six months on, hiding in the crowd of a party you have no business attending. 

—————

You recognize her right away: so distinctly small compared to everyone else that in any other situation, protecting her would be the first thing on your mind. Kids shouldn’t be allowed here, anyway; it’s only been five minutes and your senses are pervaded with the sights and smells of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and every negative vice under the sun. Except she isn’t a kid; she’s about as old as you, balancing her job and personal life like everyone else in this room. 

Surely, this has to be some kind of mistake—or an elaborate trap. 

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” you face Hyunjin, your self-proclaimed guide to this madness, expression uncertain, tone dour. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Kim Hyunjin doesn’t take no for an answer. She’s all about expanding her social circles and connections, others’ interests be damned. ���Come on. Don’t be like that. You’ll find that everyone is friendly! Here, let me introduce you.”

Without hesitation or care for your concerns, she takes you by the hand and drags you to the first girl she spots with her eyes. “I’d like you to meet Hyeju.”

Hyeju stares at you with a cold, apathetic glare. On one hand is a cup, the drink barely consumed. Other than stand awkwardly, you’ve done nothing, yet you’re giving off quite a negative first impression. Jittery nerves, awkward expressions—it’s terrible body language that gets people ostracized and bullied on social media.

“Sup,” she says, casually, extending out her free arm to shake.

Initially hesitant, you acquiesce, smiling while trembling, as though you’re uncomfortable. The feeling is mutual. “Hello.”

Ever the social butterfly, Hyunjin isn’t able to read the room, oblivious to the fact that you and Hyeju are polar opposites. As a result, you’re both undeniably incompatible. At least you can find some commonality in being unable to move the chat forward; whether out of kindness or a general difficulty in making a meaningful conversation out of your circumstances is up for interpretation.

“Well, if you need me, I’ll just go to the bathroom,” Hyeju says, breaking the cold silence that has been occupying the space for minutes. It’’s so apparent, that it may as well have been hours. She walks away, much to your relief—and to Hyunjin’s disappointment.

“Typical Hyeju, so cold to everyone that isn’t a girl,” she remarks, shaking her head in disbelief in a playful manner. In reality, she should have realized at the outset it was an outlandish plan to link up with a man, much less someone new. 

Hyunjin looks around the area, scanning for potential new acquaintances and friends. She finds—no one. Everyone appears to have formed their own little groups or cliques, unintentionally singling you out. If there was any more apparent of a sign that you shouldn’t be here, this is it.

And you’ll make it known to her. Anything to get the notion through that thick skull of hers.

“See? I told you this party wasn’t meant for me,” you comment, moving your finger in every direction, pointing out the obvious. It’s certainly quite the problem—for Hyunjin that is. For you, it’s a blessing in disguise. “Look—if you want, I’ll just pick you up later. Just text me when you wanna go home.”

Annoyed, she shakes her head, vehemently denying the offer, pouting at you for even thinking about leaving her by herself. “Hey! Don’t be such an asshole, okay? You want me to make you look bad? Try it. I dare you!”

You can only sigh in defeat. That’s how these girls get you: by gaslighting or through emotional blackmail, and it works. Every single time. And even after making the same mistakes over and over, you still wonder why you’ve been through four failed relationships in two years, now on your fifth. Perhaps there’s a common denominator that you’re quite stubborn to admit or are completely unaware of—you.

Clearing your throat with a cough, you reply, “Can’t say I’ve been made to look bad before.”

You’re testing Hyunjin’s patience, and for no good reason. This party is the only thing she’s been looking forward all week long, and no amount of negativity is going to deny her. “Let’s just have fun tonight, all right? That’s all I want. Don’t piss me off. It’s been quite the week for me, and this is the only thing keeping me from going insane.”

You shrug at her demand; you’ll definitely have more fun being anywhere else but here. She doesn’t seem to care about your plight, why should you?

Still, you follow her close behind, sharpening your focus anad keeping a close watch around your surroundings. Hyunjin doesn’t know she’s here, let alone your entire history with her. What started as a dull, uneventful night has slowly turned into a high stakes game of cat and mouse. With her stature, she could be anywhere; in front of you, over your shoulder, even as your very shadow. 

So it becomes all the more troubling when Hyunjin does introduce you to more of her friends, keeping you preoccupied. She might as well have everyone form a large circle and present themselves like it’s the first day of class. You go through the motions, dropping all this information overload at the earliest opportunity in an attempt to keep some semblance of awareness around you. 

And sure enough, she’s there. She’s no hallucination. In the midst of the crowd, Yeojin stands across the room, all barely five feet of her. Her blue oversized sweater drapes half of her frame like a curtain. In one of the rare instances where her short stature works to her benefit, she effortlessly disappears when someone else walks between your line or sight, but not before smiling at you—grinning, asking, begging for trouble.

You blink twice, and before you know it, she’s gone. Your attention is suddenly called by Hyunjin, seemingly introducing you to yet another one of her friends. Still, your mind remains fixated on her—the girl you haven’t seen in six months. Her number had been removed from your contacts, every photo deleted and her social media accounts blocked. Of course, meeting her again was still plausible; you haven’t moved out from this side of the country, but the fact you’ve run into each other at the same building, at the same occasion—it seems too good to be true.

“Hey—I need to use the bathroom,” you tell Hyunjin mindlessly, your stare lingering at the open passage at the other side of the room, your escape route. The words seemingly go unnoticed, until you look at her, deep in conversation with her another one of her countless friends.

That’s your cue to escape.

So you make a beeline for the exit, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse, but to no avail. You scour every room, looking for any sign of her, only to find nothing. She could have easily left the party in the time you were distracted. Asking anyone for her whereabouts is akin to a death sentence; word spreads like wildfire, and if anyone else knew of your history with Yeojin, it would be the end of the world.

You recognize you’re tempting fate with your next decision. It’s dangerous. You should let her go; there’s a reason why you haven’t spoken to her ever since.

Going through your phone, you put in the numbers. Truth is, her number is no longer saved in your contacts, but kept deep inside your notes app. Taking a deep breath, you press the danger button, cautiously waiting for her to pick up.

She answers.

“Hey.”

Even through a single word, you can visualize that bratty, cocky grin. Her smug attitude, the triumph in her voice, it’s oh so crystal clear. As if you’ve finally come calling back like the prodigal son, having recognized the error of your ways, after swearing you’d be somebody without her, even though it’s the exact opposite: she’s the one who walked out on you.

“Yeojin.”

“Missed your babygirl?”

“Fuck you.”

She gets off on that one single word. It’s branded deep into her veins. Even when you’re no longer together, it’s become a part of her. To say you’ve left an indelible mark on her would be an understatement. You’ve changed Yeojin—for the worse.

“That word lost all its meaning when you walked out on me,” you follow, months of frustration boiling up through your voice. “So don’t come at me with that anymore.”

“Technically, I came up with the idea of calling me babygirl. So I have the final say in whether it means anything or not.”

There she goes again, not even thirty seconds in, acting as if she were the biggest, most important person, which right now, unfortunately, she is. You already knew how disastrous it would be to open Pandora’s box the moment you even thought of calling her, yet here you are, regretting that decision and its consequences. Clearly you didn’t think this through—or you simply just needed an excuse to get away from the crowd, from Hyunjin, from everything.

Likewise, she’s feeling the same way too.

“Anyway, what brings you crawling back? Let’s talk.”

“Yeah.” You carefully look over your shoulder, keeping tabs on the party happening inside. No one has thought of stepping out to catch some air, thankfully, but they’ll be coming out in droves soon enough. “Let’s talk.”

“Basement parking lot. If you dare,” she says before hanging up, challenging you, as if you weren’t planning to head there regardless.

—————

As the elevator doors open, Yeojin’s echoed laugh is the first thing that welcomes you to the otherwise empty parking lot. The second being her shameless, mocking face when she turns around and familiarizes herself with your presence. Scanning you from head to toe, her eyes glint with delight, seeing that for the most part, nothing has changed.

For the most part. You look traumatized.

“So great to see you again,” Yeojin remarks, running up to meet you in a warm, endearing embrace. “I missed you so much.”

Pushing her away, her lips can’t help but leave marks on your neck, leaving familiar pink lipstick marks on your skin. Barely a minute since you’ve reunited, and you’re already wishing Yeojin was once again gone in your life.

“C’mon, lighten up. Aren’t you happy to see me too?” She elbows your rib playfully, its impact a feathery blow but otherwise devastating to your psyche. Every little thing she does is purposefully curated and designed to piss you off. 

“You’ve left me with no other choice,” you tell her, sighing, wishing you’d be anywhere else but this building. It’s turned into your personal hell, your inescapable prison.

“Poor Hyunjin’s gonna be so heartbroken when she finds out you’ve left her for me,” she remarks, grinning, smirking, gloating. “How long have you been together? Two months?”

“Two weeks,” you immediately correct her, because in all honesty, you’re still in the talking stage. This party was a way—or a trap—for Hyunjin to get through your otherwise impenetrable shell. She doesn’t seem to have learned from others that you’re the homebody, stay at home type. Maybe she does, but she believes she can fix you. And maybe it’s for the better to end this relationship before it deepens further, because it’ll probably hurt less—for her, at least.

Yeojin makes a face—exaggerating her features, surprised that you didn’t spend the last six months isolating yourself in your apartment, ashamed after fumbling the self-proclaimed so-called cutie hottie of the city.

“That’ll do it,” she continues to comment, her tongue a weapon to fire against anything and anyone.. “I’m amazed that it took you that long to leave her. Such a talkative bitch, right? I bet she won’t let you hit that fat ass of hers.”

To her credit, she’s correct about two of three things. You’re baffled at how she still has friends, knowing how much she constantly spites them behind their backs, and how narcissistic she is. Your conversations with her prove this.

But to avoid pouring fuel to the fire, you simply let it pass without another word, until she’s forced to change the conversation.

“So—you wanna come fuck me?” Yeojin is so unabashedly straightforward that it’s refreshing, as much as you hate how direct and to the point she is. “I don’t see any reason for us to talk any further, except for slamming that big cock of yours inside me.”

Taking a step back, you’re not exactly stunned by her choice of attire tonight. If there’s anything Yeojin has taught you, it’s to be prepared for any opportunity where she’ll pounce and you’re forced to fuck her brains out. She’s always been like this: dressing the bare minimum to avoid getting arrested under public indecency, making the flimsiest excuses to get railed that she’d forgo all pretense and be candid about wanting to walk around with your cum leaking from her cunt. She loves the thrill of the chase, while you hate drawing all this unwanted attention by playing along with her dangerous antics.

It’s why you wanted out to begin with.

“How’d you know I was gonna be here?” you question her, despite recognizing that she’ll give an unreliable answer.

“Everyone knows this is the party to be at,” she comments, tone matter-of-fact, crossing her legs, her arms folded behind her back. “All our college friends are here. It’s a reunion. Didn’t Hyunjin tell you that?”

You overlooked all the fine details when she was discussing this with you on the way here. Maybe even while you were busy gaming yesterday.

“Well that explains why I saw Heejin back there, and the others, I guess.”

“Still the forgetful S.O.B even after all this time,” she remarks, unable to resist throwing whatever snide remark she can. “You know Sooyoung was there too! Your ex? And Yerim! Your other ex. And also Jinsol—”

“You know damn well I didn’t ask to be invited,” you say, crossing your arms and shooting her a frustrated glare. It’s an anger aimed toward your circumstances, not specifically at Yeojin herself, even if she was the icing on the cake of what is a rather miserable night. “Given any other choice, I’d rather not call you. Nine times out of ten.”

“Yet here you are—stuck with me. So who’s really the loser now?”

God, Yeojin makes it difficult to be patient sometimes. Often, actually.

“Let me put it to you this way,” Yeojin starts again, and you’re certain she’s about to say something dangerous.. There’s a persuasiveness in her delivery that you can’t help but listen. “You don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I just want to get fucked, but this is boring me. You’re bored as hell, too. Do you see where I’m coming from?”

In all honesty, yes you do. You could have seen the conclusion coming a mile away.

“Yeah. You’re asking me to fuck you.” 

“Exactly!” Yeojin grins at your response, elated to hear the answer straight from the source. She’s full of joy, she’s close to jumping for joy at how well you know her after all this time. It’s both a blessing and a curse. “So you can either do one of two things: you can leave me here, pretend this never happened, and go back up there. And God knows if that place is a wreck by now. Or, you can have me here. Up to you.”

You look left and right, scanning your surroundings. Ticketing is electronic, so there is little risk of getting caught by guards. But then, there are cameras scattered all over the place. And while there are dozens of rows with cars parked side by side to hide behind, there’s no telling exactly when someone is going to emerge from that elevator and peek through your secret act, even if everyone is all conveniently partying upstairs making a bigger scene.

Yeojin’s pushing the limit as to how you can come away with her completely unscathed. So really, it’s a pick your poison situation, with either choice resulting in a slow, agonizing death.

A gunshot to the head would be a better fate than this.

“You’re fucking insane if you think I’m going to fuck you in an empty parking lot, Yeojin,” you tell her, unamused at the offer. There’s a third, hidden option that doesn’t have to involve this much risk; it’s hiding somewhere beneath that playful facade of hers. 

Yeojin doesn’t flinch at all. She knows you can take it and follow through, as you have done for her countless times. In the movie theater, in a bathroom stall, in the locker room—you’ve followed her through some of the most cramped and dangerous places, leaving a scene behind, barely escaping with your lives. If anything, a parking lot is on the tamer side. So much legroom, so much space, with little in terms of opposition—you’re never gonna have this free of a runway to fuck her brains out that isn’t confined to a bedroom, which, in her words, is ‘boring.’

Yeojin faces you with a smirk. A taunting, shit-eating grin that’s insufferable to stare at for longer than five seconds. She stares back as if she’s got it all mapped out, which, judging by how composed and deliberate she has been, is more likely than you think. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had spent the past few weeks positioning everything to fall into their respective place, working around countless different outcomes, to lure you out for the occasion. 

From the pocket of her oversized sweater she pulls out a pair of keys, jingling them directly in your face. Pressing a button, a clicking sound echoes throughout the basement. It’s the alarm coming from your car.

Panic immediately sets in. “How did you—”

“Took em’ while I was hugging you,” she says, her confidence at an all-time high, flaunting the item around like it’s hers. Like she owns you.

“Give it,” you demand, extending your hand out, deliberately ignoring the obvious: she won’t yield easily.

“Nah,” is the immediate response, silent but heartily laughing at your admittedly feeble and foolish attempt to reason with her. “Gonna have to play with my terms.”

“Will you stop—God damn it.” 

You’re falling back into old ways like they’re worn out shoes. Like it’s second nature, a force of habit. She’s living in your head rent-free.

“No problem.” Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turn around and make a beeline for the lone elevator. The most effective way to kill something is right at the source: her desire for attention. “I’ll be back later for the keys when the party’s done.”

“What? You’re seriously not gonna go up there, are you?” Yeojin doesn’t buy your ruse one bit. “You wanna lose a perfectly nice car to the girl you already lost too?”

“You need a booster seat to see the road clearly, bitch,” you retort, your heated exchange turning into an impromptu screaming contest. “And besides, you still don’t have a fucking driver’s license.”

Right then and there, triggered by your remark, she snaps. 

Briskly following you in hot pursuit, you shut the elevator door on her as you’re taken up back to the party. Missing you by the slimmest of margins, the last thing you see before the panels close is her scowl, a fist hurled in the air, and the echo of a emphatic ‘fuck’ that rips through the entire basement.

Only now are you starting to truly grasp the consequences of reopening old wounds.

When you rejoin the function, the atmosphere and overall area has turned into an irredeemable mess—a far cry from when you first entered the room. The whole place reeks of smoke, alcohol, and even slick. There’s guests laid out on the floor unconscious, choking in a pool of their own saliva and vomit, while everyone else has turned up their lasciviousness and energy up to eleven. You’re searching for Hyunjin, hoping she hasn’t been corrupted by the madness of it all, and you eventually find her—deep in a passionate kiss with Heejin in the corner of the karaoke room, behind a sea of other inebriated partygoers. 

And even if you screamed from the depths of your lungs, the guy on the microphone—not even trying to hit a note—overpowers anything else. He’s singing close to the mic, filling the room with a horrible screech that fucking rings, leaving a resounding pain thumping in everyone’s ears, including yours. 

You recognize the whole situation is a complete and utter disaster. The best option being, throwing yourself out the balcony. Someone probably did.

So before someone exposes you to more doses of lethal poisoning, you quickly shuffle out of there, and bolt into the elevator. You don’t head for the basement, because a little demon is waiting for you there. Instead, you land on the ground floor, quietly walking past the front desk and security like a local tenant. They’re just standing there, idle and seemingly oblivious to the situation happening upstairs. There’s no way anyone dwelling near hasn’t called the security on them.

None of that is your business, however. 

As you make your way out the apartment lobby and into the foyer, your phone receives a text. One you shouldn’t be giving a second of your attention to. It’s Yeojin.

> Where tf are you

She’s typing as you read, while you’re waiting for her to finish her follow up before possibly replying:

> You know I can’t fucking drive

You chuckle at her self-awareness, regardless of the sincerity—or lack thereof. She’s still going:

> I know you’re not at that party. I just KNOW

> Tell me where tf are u

You think about it for a good minute or two, undecided on whether to leave her on read or to actually formulate a response. You settle on the latter.

> Keep my keys warm for me, I’ll come by for them next week

She doesn’t reply back. Instead, she decides to call you straight up, and you’re still playing with fire, answering her right away:

“Hello?” Yeojin’s already shouting through the phone, but it’s nothing compared to the absolute violation that is the guy on the karaoke.

“Hey.”

Her spunky rage echoes through the phone’s seakers, charming more than threatening. She’s barking angrily like a tiny dog. “Are you seriously gonna leave me? Without your keys? I’m going to throw them away. And then what will you do?”

“Go ahead,” you tell her, matter-of-fact, because you know she won’t follow through. She’s all bark and no bite.

Yeojin growls, so evidently frustrated, so annoyed that you’re not as flexible as you once were. “I hope she fucking cheats on you!” she yells, eliciting a gentle chuckle out of you.

“What’s so funny?” she adds, catching your half-hearted laugh through the grainy reception.

“God seems to have heard you then.”

“She did? Really? What happened now?” Yeojin sounds surprised, as if she hasn’t been secretly praying for you and your loved ones’ downfall ever since. 

“I saw her making out with Heejin. As in, deeply lip locked. Tongues out and everything.”

After pausing for a moment, letting the details sink in, she says, “Well. I shouldn’t be surprised about that. They’re joined at the hip, honestly.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm. But look—” her inflection abruptly shifts, going from relaxed to casual. “Let’s just call it a truce for tonight, yeah? I’m tired. You’re tired. I just wanna go home, and so do you. So tell me where you are exactly, and I will give back the car key.”

You find Yeojin willingly surrendering hard to believe, as if you’ve suddenly stepped into an alternate reality. That, or her attitude has changed abruptly in the span of five minutes for no good reason. “Are you being serious for once? I don’t buy it.”

“You’re so unbearable, you know?” she replies, confirming your theory that she hasn’t changed—at least completely. But after firing back, she groans, deflated. “Just tell me where you are so we can talk like adults for once.”

Your eyes happen to stumble upon a cafe across the street, open 24 hours. You’ve found it; the place where you’ll settle the score and arrange everything on your terms.

—————

As soon as you finish stirring your coffee, Yeojin comes into view. Slowly approaching you, her mannerisms are careful, deliberate, as though you’re two professionals meeting for business negotiations. You don’t welcome her with any pleasantries—no greetings, no playful taunts, only a cold, watchful glare.

Sitting down across you, she notices there’s only one cup of coffee on the table. It bothers her seeing you like this: moving on your own, without her at your side. It’s completely unnatural. “Didn’t think to order me one?”

You blink a few times. Not a single word is uttered. You carefully lift the cup and take a sip of your drink before putting it back down, much to her not so subtle chagrin. 

She takes a deep breath and exhales. Every quiet interaction, every movement of the eyes is a tense exchange. Neither of you are willing to make the first move, cautious of getting undercut or taken by surprise. It’s a quiet stalemate. 

Eventually, Yeojin relents. Leaves you for a moment to buy her own drink. The realization finally dawns on her: that you’re not going to budge or fold like you used to.

And for once, she should grow up too.

“What’s with the look?” Yeojin casually shoots at you, taking a sip of her iced coffee, pointing out your stone-faced expression. Her observation: it looks painful holding on to that face. Your muscles must be straining keeping it together. “It’s not like I’m gonna pull a gun on you and rob you, or anything like that.”

An incorrect assessment. She does have something you need: your car keys.

“Is it because of me?” she adds, jokingly pointing her index finger back at herself. Knowing very well that she’s a huge reason why. It’s in her blood not to take issues seriously whenever it concerns you. “I know. Don’t worry. Lighten up a bit.”

But you don’t, out of precaution—worried of what may happen when she sees the slimmest of openings.

She leans forward, her frame halfway over the table. Her stature means she has to make a concerted effort to reach you, which has been the story of her night so far. Even her attempt at looking angry comes off as half-hearted and unserious. It shows when she tries to grab for your shirt; she physically can’t—unless she wants to pay the cafe for a new desk.

“Yeojin, please,” is your reply, huffing in her direction before looking away, avoiding eye contact.

“Please what? Stop being annoying?” she says, offended by the implied intention, when in reality, you just want things to be resolved once and for all. That you can go your separate ways and never cross paths again. 

What a cruel thing to do in her eyes. 

“How bout you stop being a bitch so I can give you your damn car keys back?” Yeojin finally breaks from her playful facade, fiercely jingling your keys in front of you, having abandoned all sense of subtlety and teasing. The desperation is finally catching up. “Jesus. You’re just as annoying as when I left you.”

Of course, it doesn’t bother you in any shape or form. She grows more frustrated at your lack of a direct response.

Placing the keys on the table, she sits back down, averting your gaze but in the opposite direction—sighing.

You shoot her a brief glance, checking once, then again for good measure, before sneakily taking the car keys back while she hasn’t noticed. Unsurprisingly, it’s part of yet another plan of hers.

“Go. Take them. If it that’s what will make you happy,” she blurts out, evidently defeated, her tone crestfallen. “I just wanted to see you. You know—for old times sake.”

“Hey. Don’t get all nostalgic, saying you miss me when you were the one that walked out on me, remember?” You shut down all hopes of reconciliation with that one response. “I can see why you haven’t been in a relationship for longer than two weeks.”

Yeojin turns her head toward you, visibly irate. She looks as if she’s refusing to take accountability. “You know today’s my birthday right?”

“Is it?” you tell her, knowing she’s lying with a straight face—it was two weeks ago.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, leaning slightly forward on the table. “As if you haven’t been following me in secret. All those pictures I’ve been posting on Instagram—”

“Has nothing to do with me,” you interrupt, brushing her rebuttal away as if it were meaningless. “You’ve always been thirst trapping. Seriously, you should take up being a camgirl if you want all that attention.”

Yeojin narrows her eyes. Try as she might, there’s no universe where she rips your throat out at the suggestion. “No fucking way.”

“I could help you make an account if you’re having problems signing up,” you tell her, “At least you can make money that way. And you get to have a new guy to use as your personal toy every single week without looking stupid.”

“It means nothing without you,” she says, taking another sip of her drink in between. “Something about you feels—different. Like, this all feels hollow and useless when you’re not around.”

“Stop being melodramatic and embrace what you really are,” you immediately retort, not buying her feeble attempts at sentimentality. “A slut.”

“Are you being dense?” Yeojin’s voice turns a bit more raspy and sharp with each response, as if she’s being attacked on a personal level, when it’s all true. You’ve found her like this: a thirst trapping self-professed model who posts suggestive pictures of herself and in the lewdest poses. Fifty thousand followers and eight boyfriends later, not much has changed. Making herself look available despite being in said relationships, using the most suggestive captions—they might as well be nonexistent. “I’m not a slut!”

“Yeah you are,” you tell her, flashing your phone displaying her current boyfriend’s Instagram page. The last post dated barely over 24 hours ago, her side profile clearly in view, kissing him on the cheek. No lying or running around such evidence. “A slut. Does he—”

Yeojin leans back on the couch, her infidelity exposed, distraught at getting caught red handed. She doesn’t even try to keep the secret contained, belting out her demand, “Hey—don’t you fucking dare send anything!”

“I’m not going to,” you tell her, pulling back your phone, taking no pleasure from cornering her like this. More often than not, reining her in was a burden and an immense struggle that didn’t provide any relief, only uncertainty as to when she’ll break loose again. She’s never been comfortable as a caged animal; she has to run free. “I think I oughta let him know where your whereabouts are, you know? Out of concern for—”

She’s suddenly lunging for your phone, trying to snatch it off your hands. Shielding it with your body, her strikes prove to be surprisingly painful, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you hold on—for her sake and yours especially. When she relents, you take the opening to push her away, sending her back on the other side.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she says, grasping at straws to gain even a little sympathy or favor back, when all that goodwill disappeared the moment she walked out of your life. You press somewhere on your phone—and the sound rings through her ears like a gunshot. Drawing it back to your pockets, you’ve seemingly fired a weapon aimed directly at her heart.

“Too late.” 

Yeojin melts, falling further into the couch, having put her down for good.

“I hope you didn’t actually send it,” she mutters from beneath the table, away from your direct view, her final cry of defeat. “God, don’t take this from me, please—” she’s pleading, begging for her life, knowing it’ll be what ends her. 

“You’ve done this to yourself,” you tell her, sounding like a judge sending her off to her damnation. “You left me with no other choice.”

“Really, I didn’t,” she replies, still refusing to take any sort of accountability for her actions, and that’ll never truly change. “He—he didn’t wanna go with me to the party.”

“Did he ask for an invite? Or did you simply leave him behind without a second thought?”

Yeojin cannot answer that question. She goes quiet, unable to respond.

“I figured,” you tell her, feeling a little sympathy for how vulnerable and defeated she looks. “If you seriously think you can crawl your way out of this one, you’re gravely mistaken.”

It’s easy to remember why leaving Yeojin—or in this case, Yeojin leaving you—was the best thing to ever happen to your life. Cleaning up after her is often a chore, one that requires so much effort for someone of her little stature. You can’t even pick her off the couch without applying some force; she’s lying on her side, staring blankly into the darkness, her soul drained in its entirety, but her body glued to the couch. Had she been a pet, and believe her, she’d rather be an animal more than human, she’d be living her best life, getting all the attention she craves and doing whatever she wants without punishment. But in this world, actions have consequences, and she’s starting to reap what she has sown.

It’s a good thing no one else is around to see or hear your little scene. Nevertheless, you might as well keep it contained before word spreads like wildfire. 

You don’t want to be seen with her in public ever again.

Locking yourselves inside the men’s bathroom, you plop Yeojin down on the floor. Despite looking modern, it’s not the most well-maintained. Someone should really get on it, but the workers aren’t paid enough to care. She fits naturally in her new surroundings: strewn on the floor in nothing but messy clothes and passed out after a wild night of unchecked debauchery.

“I hate you,” she murmurs, getting off the ground and sitting right in front of you, within close proximity of your pants. You’re unbuckling the belt, working your way down the zipper and buttons. “If you think giving me your cock as consolation is gonna make me feel better—”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” you tell her, pulling down your trousers and whipping out your cock from its confines, stroking it to full mast in front of her face. It’s not enjoyable whatsoever; if anything, it feels like a waste of a perfectly hot load to give back to someone you hate. You’re questioning yourself if this is even the right thing to do—which it isn’t. 

Yeojin takes hold of your cock mid pump, begging softly with her eyes to allow her control. You oblige her as she jerks your tip toward her pristine features, her fingers moving like it’s second nature. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to push me like that. I mean—he’s still my boyfriend—”

“Not anymore,” you remark, grabbing a fistful of her short dark locks, eliciting a whiny yelp from her saccharine lips. “This is for ruining my night,” you rasp, breathing heavily as her grip spreads throughout your loins, struggling to keep yourself together. All that pent up frustration finally bubbling to the surface, and now with an outlet for release. 

The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.

Soon, your muscles tense and tremble uncontrollably as Yeojin’s hot breath and lips fill themselves with your cock. Slowly but surely, her mouth takes you, inch by inch, her tongue wrapping and licking around the tip, down your length, and you can’t contain yourself any further. As pleasure builds from within your stomach, you gradually loosen up—groaning away from her in a half-assed attempt to hide your not so subtle enjoyment. 

“Maybe I do miss this mouth,” you blurt out, heaving deeply between breaths as her noises vibrate and surge through your shaft, reaching the ends of your body, shocking every nerve. From careful reluctance to reinvigorated enthusiasm, Yeojin sinks back in, having never lost a beat in the time she’s last filled her mouth full of you. With all the relationships she’s had ever since, it would have been disappointing had she forgotten how to work her magic. Fortunately, sucking cock is one department she has never let you down on.

She releases your cock from her lips with a wet, audible pop, giving your tip a kiss. Looking up, the grin on her features is reforming. “Aha—I knew you would fucking fold like a bitch—”

You force yourself back in, dissolving her words with a mouthful of cock, pulling at her locks to regain command. Digging her fingers deep into your thighs, unwilling to let go, you’re back at square one. This is how everything starts: with Yeojin on her knees, her hands gripped to your skin, sucking on your shaft while you drag her by the hair. It’s a twisted game of tug of war, where both of you end up winners.

But right now, you have the upper hand: Yeojin’s satisfied moans reverberate through your shaft, disappearing and reappearing in her mouth with a fresh coat of saliva and precum. She’s bobbing her head back and forth, her cheeks hollowing out, her lips reaching further down your length with each stroke. She’s eerily quiet too, her noises reduced to mostly incoherent sounds as she dives further down, kissing and sucking on your balls, gasping at little breaths for air. It feels so good, so heavenly, that you’re considering backtracking all those missteps from long ago.

All this ecstasy for you and you alone—your lust and greed knows no bounds.

She looks up, her eyes wide, your cock pressed halfway between her mouth, spit falling from the edges of her lips, muttering, vibrating: “You like that? You like what I’m doing to your cock?”

“Fuck—fuck yes, babygirl.” 

You finally fold, using the one word you swore to never use again, breaking your own sacred vow. It should hurt, but it doesn’t—it was never really of dire importance, anyway. So much for being the bigger person in this relationship.

“That’s right. Tell me I’m your babygirl,” she goads, going down and sucking your balls a second time, giving them a squeeze, twisting your head into a pile of mush.

Even when you pull by her hair, Yeojin uses it to her advantage, pressing her nose against your stomach, her lips reaching your base, kissing you and marking every inch of your cock with her lips. This indescribable suction that absolutely swallows you—it’s a miracle you haven’t dissolved right then and there. Your senses are beyond overwhelmed, and it’s only registering blurs of her: her eyes, her moans, her everything. It’s come to a point where you’re forced to pump into her, filling her down to the throat in a desperation attempt to keep the fire burning.

Those fucking eyes—staring back and forth between your aimless gaze and your cock. It’s unbelievable. The room begins to spin around. There’s so much happening all at once to say a single word, let alone an entire sentence. Even when she’s gagging and coughing, she’s still relentless, her efforts steady and unshakeable. Only God knows the smile hiding beneath the pain and pleasure, getting what she wants in the end.

“So—so fucking close—” you manage to sputter, your jaw going completely slack, your groans reaching up to high heaven in a thunderous echo. The tug on her hair is so tight, you’re threatening to rip them out. 

With your cock buried deep in her throat, Yeojin’s eyes are welling up from the overwhelming sensation, basking in this old, familiar feeling. She doesn’t know if she’ll get an opportunity like this again (hopefully more in the future). Her fingers clamp around your length, ensuring your load lands nowhere but her. Face, mouth, clothes—anything to cover her as a memento reminder of what things used to be. 

She effortlessly strokes away, fully sinking into the act. Your cock tenses and tenses, until the pressure becomes too suffocating. You can’t hold it in any longer; you can only hope the outcome isn’t violent enough to be made into a crime scene.

It takes only a few more fleeting moments. Between raging storms, there’s calms that give off the illusion that everything will be fine—when there’s no chance of that happening. The confined space fills your ears with echoes of lewd noises, her dampened moans, your throaty grunts, and everything else in between. Her hot breath tickles your cock, muttering a gentle whisper, a soft plea (please cum), and it sends you careening over the edge.

A slosh sound passes through deaf ears, and you’re left blind, screaming, throbbing for her. Releasing your load, shooting heavy blasts into something—someone—till your cock no longer aches. Pulling her hair is like pulling a broken lever: completely ineffective and useless. 

When you finally snap from your spiraling daze, you’re welcomed back by the most snapshot pornographic image you’ve ever seen: her mouth wide, tongue exposed, sticky white and full of cum. It’s everywhere—on her hair, dripping down her face and chin, even on her clothes. You didn’t think Yeojin could gleam any brighter, but she’s glistening so brilliantly it’s blinding. 

“Mmm,” she hums to herself, licking herself clean of all the mess, if there’s even anything to salvage, while you’re left wobbling, struggling for air. “Fuck. That tastes so good.”

She’s running her fingers along the fabric, picking off what little pieces of you remain. Lingering on the blots on her sweater, she realizes it’s beyond wear and begins to lift the garb over her head. Behind that thick piece of clothing, she’s wearing—nothing.Not even a bra. Her wooly fleece is hiding those small but taut nipples and the rest of pale, creamy skin.

But before you get a good view, you reach for her arms and bring them back down. “Shit. Shit. Stop.”

Startled at your sudden turn and lunge, Yeojin backs away. “What are you—”

You snap at her, “Quiet.” 

You hurriedly reach for the exit. Carefully opening the door and looking outside, you notice that not much has happened, if at all.  And then your eyes widen at the new sight. Two new customers have entered the store and are making their way around a table, drinks in tow.

As you lock the door behind you, Yeojin looks at you amusingly, her gaze mostly centered around your oozing cock. “Damn. I thought you were gonna run around the cafe with—that.”

You fire back with a quiet, yet resounding glare. She doesn’t react whatsoever. Here’s you again, making impulsive moves, almost threatening to get caught in public like that.

“I mean, everyone’s gonna see that—”

“Hush.” 

Placing a finger between her lips to shut her up, understandably, you’re irate. Somehow, your head wasn’t in the right place. Those last ten minutes and beyond, from the time you carried Yeojin into the men’s room till now—you didn’t think you were gonna wind up like this. Public restrooms were always how you’d get yourselves in trouble, and how she’d prefer getting fucked.

It should have been a thing of the past, a part of you buried deep in the absolute depths of your mind. Yet here you are, carrying Yeojin onto the sink, pulling on her clothes. One after another, her platforms and stockings fall to the floor, until she’s left with the thinnest piece of underwear imaginable. And then you’ve come to the realization about two things: one—she’s not wearing anything other than a skimpy thong beneath, cleverfully concealed by her oversized sweater, and two—she’s soaking wet. A careful touch of her nylons reinforces your observation.

“I hope you’re fine going home without your stockings,” you tell her, kicking the soiled garments beneath the sink. Hopefully no one gets a hint as to whoever’s left them behind. “Jesus—you’re fucking horny, you know that?”

Yeojin giggles. She wears your comment like a badge of honor. 

Wrapping her arms around your waist, she’s hoping to get the rest of your clothes off in return, but you push her away. Shaking your head in disagreement, you follow with, “Do as I say, and we’ll get through this—quickly.”

As you try to keep her in check, she’s already looking for other ways to mess you up. Case in point, her fingers are pumping your cock back into hardness, forcing that last word to come out a tone higher. She wraps you around her hands, squeezing what little cum you currently have, moaning at the slick, silky touch. Her legs are spreading wide in an effort to distract you from the primary concern, which is her.

“But what if I don’t wanna do it quickly? What if I wanted you to fuck me for hours?” she playfully asks, twisting her grip tighter to elicit a cry from you. “What if I wanted to fuck me till I pass out? Like you always have?”

“Mm—not gonna happen,” you sputter out, swiping her hand away before ultimately seizing it, relieving the pain for now. “Not if you keep being this stupid.”

“Not you calling me stupid—aah—ah fuck—”

Yeojin trembles from the waist up, her train of thought derailed by the new sensation entering her dripping pussy: your cock. Both of you form a harmonious cacophony of moans that fill the confined room as your bodies intertwine. The hot sensation of your shaft impales her in brutal slow motion, her skinny thighs clamping around your hips, the tug of her cunt near inescapable as you fill her to the hilt. 

At first, she wrestles for control. Pulling at your shirt, at your skin, threatening to rip your flesh clean, as a respite. But as the feeling overwhelms her sense, she’s losing the fight just as quickly. Your bodies are perfectly connected, fit as two pieces of a puzzle that complete the other. Her eyes flare wide open, her gaze shooting up to the ceiling as she begins to ascend. “H-holy shit—this—so—goddamn big—”

The feeling is mutual. “God, Yeoj—you’re—goddamn tight—fuck—”

Her cunt clenches, and it’s so, so intoxicatingly tight. As if she were really built to be used and fucked. Not to mention, her stature makes her easy to carry and toss around on a whim.

Little by little, you’re lifting her off the sink, giving her no choice but to cling to you for support. Might as well; no one else is able to give her the time of day and the same level of care and attention as you, both emotionally and sexually. There’s a reason why she’s come back to you like a needy, loyal pet. 

Her nails dig into your scalp and at the back of your neck. Whispering against your ear, her breath hot, she begs, “Fuck me. Please—fuck—fuck—ah!”

And you’re doing exactly that. Carefully drawing your cock back close to her slick entrance, you’re thrusting upward, your bodies uncontrollably trembling and quivering as you plunge back in, delivering a stroke that makes Yeojin scream. She’s so feathery, so airtight, that you can bear the weight of the world and then some.

She drives her fingers deep into your skin, aching, crying. “So—so fucking good—I missed this—more—more—”

And you’re doing it again. Giving her exactly what she wants: a slow, good fucking. It’s what she lives for: to be pounded and used, to be an outlet of pleasure. 

You’re hammering up and into her, gripping her lean waist pressed against the bathroom sink, your attention focused on the little details. The whispers that fill your ears, the repetitive but gratifying moans and begs she makes, asking for more, harder, faster, and the satisfaction that comes with being fucked senseless. The way her legs clamp tight with each thrust. The restroom wasn’t designed to keep secrets; it’s clear in your collective groans and grunts that bounce off the thin four walls of this confined space. You can only hope you’re not being loud enough for those two patrons to hear.

Better yet, you can only pray Yeojin’s voice cracks, because even after yapping up a storm, she’s keening. Her tone rides a delicate wave between soothing, gentle quiet and eardrum shattering, high alert whining. You’re unsure if it's a joke or if she’s really feeling each stroke. you can never tell whether Yeojin is truly serious, even during sex. Regardless, her cries are breaching through the confines of the bathroom, and you can’t contain her, even if you tried.

And she loves it. More than anything, it’s the thrill. The possibility and wanting to be caught. Consequences be damned, if she can get railed in public, she absolutely will. It’s the sort of attention she craves for, the one people will remember—for better or for worse. Someone like her can’t simply be bottled up.

With it comes a new idea. You prop Yeojin back on the sink, facing her against the mirror and bending her over the counter. 

“You wanna see yourself getting fucked? Here.” 

Grunting against her ear, you tilt up Yeojin’s head as the glass reflects your image back. Her mouth falls wide as you fill her cunt with your cock, a thunderous echo slipping from her lips, her cry reverberating through the bathroom. Taking a mental snapshot of your position, it’s here where you notice that there is, in fact, a camera hidden in the corner of the restroom. The entire time, you’ve been under surveillance, but that’s the least of your concern. It’s about how you’re gonna make a good impression, despite facing away, the mirror serving as your primary point of focus.

And damn, you look so good together, fitting like a glove.

Before you lose control over Yeojin, you’re making an even worse mess of the restroom thanks to her. With each thrust, her slick spills from her core and onto the floor, onto your pants. You have her hands pinned on the sink for good measure, foregoing any sort of pace and rhythm for quick, senseless pounding. Her face is utterly wrecked, her features constantly twisting and contorting, dropping the occasional curse and praise here and there. The echo of skin slapping skin rings like music to your ears. It’s pushing you further than her continued cries for more.

It’s already perfect as is, but then she’s wrapping a leg around yours, and you’re daring to try something new. 

So you lift her off the ground, wrapping both her legs around your hips, before continuing to hammer into her. Holding Yeojin by the waist, her back arches up, with her petite ass following along. Your cock comes into view, disappearing and reappearing behind her glistening hole, wet and coated with copious amounts of nectar. Every entry and exit feels smooth and effortless, as if you’re meant to be. 

She tries to push herself up, and it gives you another idea. Brushing a hand up her lean figure, lifting her sweater slowly, eventually reaching her chest. An emphatic cry assaults your ears as you grab one of her tits, crushing it under your grasp.

It’s unfortunate you can’t push her jumper up a little more. What’s even the point of putting on a show when they can’t see?

Still, she feels so soft and malleable, ready to be used at your command. You’re rubbing your fingers along her taut nipple, rigid to touch, and it forces out these whines out of her. Anything to keep your mind off the inevitable, and it’s close. Everywhere you look, she’s right there, overwhelming your senses. Her pussy convulsing, her ass rippling with each stroke, her half nude figure you’re dying to strip completely—it’s all too much. The knot between your stomach grows tighter and tighter, choking you till you’re close to suffocating.

Admittedly, it’s happening sooner than you hoped. This is what you wanted from the start, but as you’ve been fucking her and remembering why you’ve put up with her for so long, you’re starting to second guess every decision.

There’s only so much to regret.

“Gonna cum again, babygirl—” you hiss, shutting your eyes and pouring every effort into filling her, making sure she never asks for anything from you ever again. Rolling your hips forward and with your bodies crashing violently, you have no choice but to hold onto her for safety.

And that’s what completely ends you.

In that particular stroke, as you fill Yeojin to the absolute hilt with your cock, your bodies melt—with yours falling on top of her. Your voices intertwine and form a grand symphony of deep cries from the depths of your lungs. Gripping her waist, her pussy pulses and cums, pouring her nectar onto your shaft and to the floor. Staining your legs, keeping you glued together, the bond between you can’t get any closer. 

You feel every bit of Yeojin coming undone. Her eyes are wide shut, jaw slacked and on the sink, her voice gradually tearing itself to shreds. Even as she’s falling from that blissful high, she’s able to mutter two words, her most meaningful ones yet: “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

And then it’s your turn. 

You follow right after with your own climax, taking a deep breath as you unload every drop of cum onto her pussy. Twitching and aching inside her, your cock sticks inside, unable to pull itself out, wanting to stay in this perfect mixture of warmth and wetness forever. It just feels right. You find it difficult to stop throbbing, even if the only thing left to shoot are blanks.

Subconsciously letting her legs fall back down to earth, you can’t unglue yourself from her. The stickiness is keeping you together, and so is your tired body. Completely drained of all your strength, you press down on her, giving a back hug that also serves as a way to use her as your personal cushion. You stay like this, cuddled up and gasping for air, letting the hours pass you by peacefully undisturbed. Neither of you say a single word, both out of exhaustion and out of respect for the moment. Messy bathroom be damned, this is the most tender and intimate you’ve ever been, and you wish your relationship had taken a different direction than what ended up happening. 

It’s a glimpse into what could have been—and that’s what makes it heartbreaking.

Eventually, you lift yourself off her, severing the connection between you. Your cum pulls apart when you take a step back, surprisingly rigid and firm. Simple tissues won’t fix it. To make matters worse, Yeojin spins around, wrapping her arms around your neck before pulling you down with her for a deep, intimate kiss. It isn’t the very act that’s the issue here; it’s how effortlessly you sink in and reciprocate her feelings. 

Then your conscience reminds you. You feel dirty. You quickly pull back, disgusted—mostly at yourself.

Taking a moment, you both exchange lengthy stares at each other, unsure of what to say. Until—

“What have I done?”

“What I think you have done,” Yeojin says, gleefully, tracing a finger down your wrinkled shirt, marked in sweat and her fingerprints. That sly grin of hers will forever haunt you in your memories. “Is get your girlfriend back.”

—————

It’s too late. 

It’s already half past midnight. The streets are empty. Yeojin’s quietly sits in the passenger seat of your car while soft music plays in the background to fill in the blanks. There’s five missed calls and a dozen texts from Hyunjin asking for your whereabouts, none of which you bother to read. Consequences are the last thing on your mind. Right now, it’s about leaving the girl beside you for good, and that means driving her home.

To be clear, you’re taking her back home—to her place, not yours. Your apartment is the last thing on the list you want ruined tonight as well.

Even after everything, she’s still not satisfied. She unbuckles her seatbelt, activating the ceaseless alarm that assaults your ears. You’re still a fair distance away, and the trains have stopped operating hours ago. You really had no other choice but to drive her.

“Hey. Put your seatbelt on,” you blurt out at the sound of the harness clicking, only shooting a brief glimpse toward her before returning your focus on the road ahead. “What are you—”

She’s back to her old ways. Slithering across the center console and over the gear stick, resting her head on your lap. Feeling extra touchy-feely, her hands rub along the fabric of your jeans, admiring your growing bulge poking through. Yeojin has no regard for personal space; never has, never will.

It comes as no surprise that you struggle to breathe, let alone drive in a straight line. Fortunately, you’re driving along an empty road to crash into anything other than maybe a guardrail or a lamp post. 

“Christ—” You mutter, shifting your lap around to cramp Yeojin, but she follows your path close behind, causing you even more discomfort. “Stop it, Yeojin—”

To your annoyance, she’s unbuckling your pants, sliding them down along with your boxers. With no care or consideration, she runs her tongue across your stiff length, up to your tip. Her hand grips you, pumping you hard, building immeasurable pleasure in your loins. Cramped inside a moving vehicle, getting pleasured in near darkness with a rebellious girl thinking she’s doing you a favor—you’re once again regretting every decision that has lead you to this miserable situation. 

You feel yourself getting dizzy in real time. You can only hold back for so long before you eventually crumble, like you always have. When it comes to Yeojin, she gets what she wants, always at your expense.

“Keep driving,” she commands, licking circles around your tip, against your best wishes. She sounds like she has complete authority over you, really pushing her assertiveness at the worst moment imaginable. Tonight has given you plenty of losses, far too many to count—you won’t let her win another one. 

Your attempt at grabbing her hair comes off as a light head pat, a complement for how good she is with her mouth. Even if that was the intent, she’s still gonna blow you inside this car. Idle minds are the devil’s workshop, and she’s being puppeteered by lust every time you share a ride. No matter the distance or time taken, she’s always getting through your pants, ensuring no journey is complete without leaving the vehicle a dire mess.

If she keeps this up—and she will—she won’t be only one trying to roll on top of you.

Pulling over the side of the road, Yeojin realizes you’ve stopped driving. Opening the door, you lift yourself off the driver’s seat and step outside, leaving her to bounce her head against the warm leather. Taking all the fresh, cool air in, you finally feel relaxed. You hadn’t given yourself a moment to breathe: after your little escapde in the cafe restroom, you were sprinting back to the parking lot, maintaining a low cover, and speeding through the city. The last few hours have been a whirlwind of highs and lows, none of it really sinking in—unless you were to indulge in a few drinks. And it’s still not over—not until you finally bring Yeojin home. 

Based on how obstinate she has been, still laying down on the driver’s seat, she doesn’t want this night to end.

“Get off,” you shout at her, tone grating and sharp. You’re just about to call it quits. If you weren’t so morally conscious, you would have left her behind already.

“Get off? That’s what I was trying to do,” she remarks, sarcastic and facetious. Rolling over to her stomach, swinging her legs back and forth, she’s looking silly, not even trying to hide her smirk. getting a kick out of teasing you. 

You’re deeply caught up in your impatience and frustration to notice she’s baited you into sounding lewd. “Fuck off. After this, we’re done. So fucking done.”

“Are we? That didn’t seem like it when you were fucking me from behind—”

“Get back in the passenger seat,” you interrupt her, having walked from the middle of the highway to the car in an instant, whipping out a roll of duct tape from the glove compartment. You didn’t need to say a word for her to understand the potential threat and subsequently comply. To make sure she doesn’t wrestle control away from you, you ensure it stays of her reach for the rest of the trip.

And thankfully, she doesn’t bother harassing you even once. The idea doesn’t even come to mind. She sits still, as a good girl should.

Fortunately, you were only less than ten minutes away from her house. If the city was quiet, the suburban village where she lives is dead silent. Save for a few streetlights, it appears as though no one else resides here—or are on vacation elsewhere. Most times you’ve spent together, it’s been in the comfort of your apartment.

Hovering over Yeojin’s side, you swing the passenger door open. Even though it’s a long shot, you’re expecting her to get out. The moment she does, your foot will be right on the gas pedal, leaving her behind once and forall. Unsurprisingly, she stares at you instead, seemingly anticipating something—perhaps a kiss, an embrace, a fond farewell.

She gets none of that. You even unbuckle her seatbelt for good measure, telling a lot without saying anything at all.

Yeojin unbuckles your seatbelt, breaking the tension. Unusually, you don’t move a muscle, not slapping her hand away, not even when her finger trails down your hand, reaching for your pants once again. It’s clear she’s bothered by how you’ve left her stockings back at the cafe, leaving her in nothing but an oversized sweater. She’s moving in the opposite direction, shifting past the center console and onto your lap. You freely welcome her—all 4’11 inches of her—into your arms.

Kissing you on the lips, Yeojin slips her hand between your cheeks, her hands sinking down your body and to your pants, sliding them down along with your boxers. The entire time, you’ve left your clothes unbuttoned and readily accessible for her to reach. Gently smiling through the smooch, she rubs her nose against yours, softly giggling, as if to say she’s known about your little secret.

But what’s there to really say?

Effortlessly falling between the cracks, an airy moan departs your lips as Yeojin fills herself with your shaft. Firmly stuck in place with her body pressed all over you, your hands take lease of her clothed back, tired of feeling its wooly fabric. Lifting up her sweater over her head to be tossed aside right after, Yeojin is finally reduced to nothing. 

You gaze down at her bare figure, awestruck. In return, she unbuttons down your shirt, exposing some of your skin, pecking down to your neck and your chest. Her little kisses leave you lightheaded, caressing her short hair in appreciation.

You’re overstaying your welcome; you should be lone gone by now. You are, in fact—just not the way you anticipated.

Propping her over your lap, your relationship with Yeojin works best when your hearts are pounding wildly, screaming each other’s name like it’s the most important thing in the world. Nothing else but the sex matters, like right now. No wonder she often has to coax you into getting reckless, otherwise your conversations would only revolve around constant petty arguments with no clear resolution. It’s because of your how well your bodies complement one another that you’re still tolerating her presence in your lives. 

All it takes is one look at her, riding you like her life depends on it, her cunt effortlessly bouncing on your cock, basking in the sensation of getting impaled over and over again. She’s kissing all over your face, biting on your ear, rocking you like she wants to sweep you off your feet. And it leaves you utterly speechless every single time.

“God��please—give it all to me—fuck me like you mean it—”

And you’re right there with her, matching her pace with every upward stroke. You especially love holding Yeojin like this, cradled in your arms, forcing every inch of your cock deep into her wet pussy, drawing these little whimpers out from her puckery lips. The more she keeps talking—pleading—the greater your motivation. 

Though it overwhelms you—the tensing, the pulsing, the heat—you keep going. Her cunt feels so incredible, you only wished it was on a woman that had a better personality, one that wasn’t making you regret your existence. But you don’t care about that—not when you’re taking control, losing grip to your lust and wanting to overpower her.

It hurts all the more when she sounds perfect, especially when you spin her around and pin her against the steering wheel. Watching her back arch, her ass ripple with each stroke, seemingly trying to outyell the car horn, putting you both on neighborhood watch for noise complaint. Not that there’s anyone around to wake up and alert the authorities when looking at your surroundings, but the desire for shameless attention will always arouse Yeojin. 

You’re the only one who enables this kind of behavior, but you never realized that. That, or she’s looks too good to notice.

You can only focus on reaching that climax again, hammering away at her cunt, watching her shimmy her hips as she grips the steering column, blanketing every lewd sound and profanity with a blast of the klaxon. It’s as if you’re demanding her to scream your name, to proclaim to everyone that she’s yours and yours alone.

“Cum,” you tell her. An instruction to be met. A demand. “Cum all over this fucking cock, slut.”

The rapid change in intensity leaves her in an uncontrollable daze, setting her on fire. Throwing her head back, her body violently quivering in your grasp, she keens. She can’t take it any longer getting used so mercilessly, even when she wants more. “Gonna cum—oh God—so so fucking wet, ah—”

She continues to bounce relentlessly even as the pleasure rips her in half. Of course Yeojin doesn’t give two shits about messing up your carpets; it’s a given that she’ll make you pay for a fresh pair every time you have sex in the car. She cums—and she cums hard. Her slick juices puddle up on your lap, sticking on your skin, splattering on the edge of the leather seat, all while releasing a weak, airy moan that cracks her voice as a result of all that shouting and moaning. 

It’s enough to push you over the edge. The wetness, the smooth noise of skin slapping skin interspliced with her cries of pleasure. Nothing this pornographic should sound like music, but it does.

Yeojin whines a passionate cry when it hits—that rush of cum that fills her womb. Every little drop, you pour onto her needy, aching core. She’s knocked the wind from your sails; you can only utter a hoarse groan of relief, in contrast to the relentless earsplitting noises that have pervaded your ears for the longest time. 

You don’t get the opportunity to take one final look at your handiwork. As soon as the climax ends, the crash follows immediately after, sending your head reeling. Yeojin takes this opportunity to pick her sweater off the carpet floor and put it back on. Hobbling out the passenger door, she leaves you slumped back in the drivers’ seat.

Only now do you realize that her side of the door has been open the entire time.

“It’s been fun,” Yeojin says, evaluating herself at the side-view mirror to ensure she’s not a complete mess. Even though she looksfar beyond saving given how grimy her appearance is. Frazzled hair, soiled sweater drenched in sweat and cum—not to mention she has nothing but her platforms to make up her lower half. Her underwear is lost somewhere beneath the car seats, likely as a memento. “You know, I got a whole boyfriend to go home to and what not—”

“Surely he isn’t waiting for you inside that house, right?” you ask, puzzled by the sudden care for her actual lover. “I mean, I did send him that message—”

“I know you didn’t.” Yeojin grins widely at your response, having seen through the bluff. You never sent anything. It’s a secret worth keeping for yourself. “He’s on vacation, by the way. Thanks for giving me the best night I’ve had in forever.”

“Yeah, and thanks for ruining what was already a terrible one,” you reply, refusing to leave without delivering one last character breaking blow. 

She laughs while walking backwards toward her house, smiling wide. “No problem. Talk to you later?”

Closing the passenger door and starting the engine, you shout back, “Never. Not in a million years.”

“Of course.” Yeojin opens the front door to her house, stepping inside, hiding herself behind the panel except her pretty face. “You know where to find me. Call me anytime.”

—————

(A/N: Well this was unfortunate timing in the worst way imaginable lmao. That's what happens when you get lazy with editing.

Thank you for the commission! I would also like to thank you for giving me carte blanche; first time writing someone Loona and Yeojin has always the boldest one despite being the maknae. Also gonna give this space to link fae's Yeojin fic that she posted earlier for anyone interested in a froggy double feature. Madlad's doing Kinkvember a month after debut, that's insane. Contract news broke out right as I was in the middle of editing and the power went down lmao. Anyway, finals is approaching, so I want to get it sorted before locking in for the final few weeks of the year. Thank you for reading!)

[tanaor]

Want to worldbuild like a pro??

(📖 Master tips and everything I know📖)

Hello writers! You don't know how to worldbuild? Don't know where to start explaining the world you have created? Don't worry, you are in the right place! I have been there myself, and after many research (and even more trial and error) I have put together a list of the best worldbuilding tips I have encountered, and also created some of my own. (I know the first one is kind of overheard, but trust me).

Don't start right away with worldbuilding. A long paragraph about how your world works and its history might overwhelm new readers. A lot of other writers suggest waiting and learning about the world at the same time the protagonist does, or if that doesn't work for your story, dropping bits of information while the story moves forward. However, if you want to give a sense of how your world works from the start...

Exposition through action. This is my favorite method, and it helps a lot if you don't want to pause your story to info dump about the world you have created. Instead, this method relies on explaining the world and its dynamics while you continue with the narrative, briefly. For example: "As always, you couldn't see any trees in the meadow. The king had ordered years ago to cut each one of them because of a prophecy that foretold that the last dragon egg would lay in an oak."

Use expressions that reference normality or routines. In the last point, we used "as always", but there are tons of expressions you could use in your writing. This helps the reader understand what is the norm in this new world and what things are common, to later detect something that is not within that norm (or sometimes just to understand the world and its traditions better).

Use flashbacks when necessary. If you need to explain a very specific or detailed topic, I suggest using a flashback scene, that will help the reader understand with the narration and dialogue, instead of just explaining it to them. It makes for a more dynamic learning experience. But, at the end...

Do whatever will intrigue you. Some readers even like info dumps, and there is not one correct way to show your world. If it would make you curious, go and do it, wether people say it's correct or not. There are a lot of successful books that randomly stop to explain something about the world, and there is nothing wrong with that if you like it.

Hope you find this list useful, and as always happy writing :)

Also, if you are interested in tips or more examples of a specific topic, you can always leave a question in my ask. I'd be glad to answer it!!

Other tips for writers: previous | next

[writingsbychlo]

SPIDER | tom riddle

summary; tom riddle has a peculiar way of showing his affection, but he's nothing if not protective.

word count; 1625

notes; I woke up this morning with inspiration and I grabbed my laptop and banged this out before even getting up. if you hate it, I literally don't care <3

The flames of the fireplace flickered soothingly, the last warmth spilling out towards you in a subtle glow, hiding the reflections of the lake that danced around the room. Several other students were also still milling around, the Slytherin common room was never truly empty, not unless it was the summer break. Pulling the blanket a little tighter around your shoulders, you snuggled down a bit further, only stilling when the cold sense of someone else crept down your neck. 

This was a familiar chill, though. You were aware of someone else’s presence, and yet no part of that was threatening. A familiar cologne reached your nose, and before you’d even turned, you were greeting the man who stood behind you, “Hello, Tom.”

“Why are you down here?” He cut right to the point, never one for formalities, and your lips flickered up at the edges as he walked around the edge of the sofa and into your view. “You’re never up at this time.”

Always so observant. Your smile formed a little more every time he revealed something extra he’d noticed about you. That you liked a particular table in the library, that your favourite biscuits were chocolate hobnobs, that you didn’t usually stay up this late. Tom Riddle had a peculiar way of showing affection. Most people assumed he was cold, unfeeling, harsh. They couldn't be more wrong. 

Tom Riddle was a walking, talking, bleeding heart. He was an open wound, snapping like an injured animal when anyone came close. Tom Riddle was full of emotion, it just happened to be hidden behind a thick stone wall. But if you were allowed close enough to look through the cracks, the true Tom Riddle shone like golden light within. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, taking half a step closer to you and perching on the arm of the couch elegantly. 

“You know I go for walks at night.”

“And where do you go for these walks? What do you do on your oh-so-mysterious nightly walks?” You turned your body further towards him, the blanket slipping down from its place around your chin, and those calculating brown eyes tracked its fall along your arm.  

“That’s none of your business, and you’re avoiding the question.”

“You’re avoiding mine.” You retorted, and he simply gave you a dry look. Reaching out, Tom lifted the edge of the blanket back up and over your shoulder, securing it back into place. 

“Answer me.”

“Fine,” You sighed, head rolling across your shoulders and back towards the fireplace, watching the growing flames once again, “I saw a spider in my room. It crawled down the edge of my bed right before I could get in, and now I don’t want to go to sleep.”

You could feel Tom’s stare on you, the silence stretching between you both as he let the confession settle. There was half a chance he’d scoff, and half a chance he’d simply walk away now that he got his answer. He seemed to be debating between which one to go for. “Why didn’t Pansy get it out for you?”

Another question, not an option you’d considered, but not a surprise from him. “She’s not here, she’s at Luna’s tonight.”

More silence, and you took the chance to observe him instead. Tom Riddle was not one to cower away from a stare, and so as you watched him, he watched you too. Finally, he broke the silence, “I’ll get it for you.”

Now, that was a surprise. “You will?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Does it matter?” He shot back, standing once again, making it clear to you that you were to do the same, or he’d leave without you. Dropping the blanket down to the couch, the enchanted item folded itself back up and into the storage trunk you’d taken it from, as you smoothed out your jumper and followed Tom’s already retreating steps.

“It doesn’t matter, but I’m curious. Humour me.” You caught up with him, and he cut you a glance from the side of his eye. “You should also know that I’m very grateful, whether you choose to tell me or not. Thank you.”

The rigid lines of his shoulders softened a little at that. Should you know how to, Tom Riddle could be played like a fiddle. You smothered a snicker at the rhyme in your head as he let slip a small sigh. “I don’t want you to sit in the common room all night when I can perfectly easily take care of the problem.”

Your smile was full now, following him silently through the halls as he guided the way to your dorm. Opening the door, he was respectful enough to ignore the piles of mess on your roommate’s side of the dorm, looking straight towards your untouched bed, and the mug of now cold tea sitting on your bedside table. 

“Which side?”

“The far one.” You mumbled, tension creeping back into your body. What if it wasn’t there anymore? What if it had crawled elsewhere, and was now hidden somewhere in the room, ready to strike, or—

The screech of your bed frame moving snapped you from your thoughts as Tom pulled it away from the wall. It moved again, jarring along the wooden floor. Tom remained still, eyes moving for a second, two, before he suddenly strode forwards, ducking down and his hand shot out. He straightened a second later, with his hands cupped, and turned to you. 

He nodded his head towards the window, and you scurried across the room ahead of him, flinging open the window and backing far away as he neared. That made him scoff, rolling his eyes at your behaviour once again. He held his hands out of the window, shaking them off and letting the spider fall through the air, before pulling back, and clicking the catch back into place. He double-checked it, before casting his eye over the rest of the room. 

“Let me check for any more.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Your words fell on deaf ears, as Tom shifted your bed back into place, before peering behind both desks, your dressers and the wardrobe, and finally, the bathroom. He methodically checked each and every space within your dorm for you, leaving you to sit in the centre of your once again safe bed, watching him with a soft smile. Before leaving the bathroom, he washed his hands clean of the creature that had been crawling within them, before returning to you. 

“No more.”

“Thank you, Tom.” You whispered, his chin tucking in a single nod, but a frown on his face. 

“You already thanked me.”

“There’s no law saying I can’t thank you twice, or as many times as I please, for that matter.” Your smirk made him press his lips into a line, but he had no comeback and hated not having the final word. He was calculating, something else to say, something to spin this back onto you—

“Your tea is cold. You should reheat that, so you don’t waste it.”

Your gaze flickered to the mug, and back to him, shrugging. “I don’t feel like having it now.”

His sigh sounded frustrated, and he took a few more steps into the room, towards you, instead of the door. His voice had softened once again as he took you in, looking down at you with a gentler gaze than most ever saw. “Will you go to sleep now?”

“Soon, I think I’ll just read for a while, I’m not too tired yet.” 

He nodded. His jaw clenched as he glanced towards the door, but made no move to leave. The clock in the corner ticked, seconds passing by loudly in the space, and then, “Would you like to join me on my walk?”

His words were fragile, a rare show of vulnerability from him. Uttered quietly into the air that hung between you both, and your gasp almost startled him. “Really?”

He glared, answering your question with a fitting answer. Tom never said things he didn’t mean, and you knew that. Everyone knew that. But he’d never let anyone go on his walks before, it was a hotly debated topic and a running joke within the group about what exactly took place on these walks, and what nefarious things he likely got up to. 

“I’d like that.”

“Then put on some proper shoes, and quickly.” You did as he had, rather gruffly, commanded, swapping out the comfy slippers for some boots, and throwing on another jumper for extra warmth. Tom waited for you at the door, holding it open for you to step through. “Do you like the lake at night?”

“I’ve never been out to the lake at night.” 

He made a quiet sound of acknowledgement, a hum under his breath. “Then that’s where we’ll go. You’ll like it. It’s… peaceful.”

His hand flexed at his side as you walked together, and after clearing the common room and entering the silent corridors, you slipped your hand into his own. 

He stiffened, for only a second, before his fingers wrapped back around yours, and a smile pulled on his lips as he ducked his head. You and Tom had been dancing this line for years now, something more but not quite enough. 

Not yet. 

But you’d get there, someday. His actions told you enough. Enough to know that he felt what you did too, that you were certainly headed somewhere, on a collision course together. You belonged to Tom Riddle as much as he belonged to you. 

So, for now, holding his hand as you walked the lake, and letting him chase spiders out of your room was enough. 

[ddarker-dreams]

Understatement.

Wanderer x Reader.

Warnings: None. Word count: 1.2k.

Your bag carries plenty of essentials. 

Stationery, lip balm, keys to your apartment; stuff of that nature. Then there’s your personal favorite, a wallet embroidered with dandelions — your hometown’s flower — into the fabric. It’d been sent to you without a return address on your birthday, shrouding the gifter in mystery. All of these items accompany you on a day-to-day basis. 

That aside, this list has another unifying factor. Each object is inert. Completely still. Incapable of moving without an outside force. Now, this isn’t a revelation that’ll shift society and be recorded in history books for generations to come. It’s common sense. A concept children grasp before they even know what ‘gravity’ is. 

As for why you’re taking a lengthy mental inventory of your belongings… 

Well. 

Something in there is moving. Rustling about, the vague outline of its body pressing against the aged leather. 

Your response is slow. Cautious. You begin by pushing yourself away from your desk, creating distance between you and this potential threat. The Vision fastened along your waistband thrums, ready to act. Numerous theories whir around your mind like a sandstorm. Is this a prank in poor taste? Cyno had mentioned an investigation into scarabs being placed in student’s bags, although nothing serious had come from it. Maybe it’s a gadget or some elemental reaction— 

—Your cognition grinds to a halt when a head pokes out, undoing the bag’s clasp in the process. 

…

…

…

“Oh!” The creature exclaims while freeing itself. “Um… hi!” 

The room’s natural lighting gives you a better idea of the creature’s appearance. Its wings keep it suspended midair, each enthusiastic flap scattering your notes. Large, doe-like eyes consider you, gleaming with childlike curiosity. If not for the prominent horns atop its head, you might think it’s a bat, but that classification doesn’t quite fit. 

Whatever it is, you sense no hostility. 

“Hello,” is your hesitant reply. 

It looks around, fixating on the items displaced from your desk. 

“Ack, I’m sorry,” it apologizes. It lands carefully on your desk and lowers its head, as if ashamed. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess… I’ve just been excited to meet you.” 

“Don’t worry, this is nothing. I’ve been meaning to reorganize my stuff, anyway.” 

For some reason, you can’t find it within you to fault this seemingly well-meaning yet clumsy guest. Its naivete is reminiscent of a certain explosion-obsessed girl from back home. In truth, this entire ordeal doesn’t even breach the top five strangest experiences you’ve had in recent times. 

… Alright, perhaps it’s a contender for the fourth slot. 

Suddenly, your guest straightens up. “Wait! I haven’t introduced myself yet. We can’t be friends if I haven’t introduced myself… you can call me Mini Durin. And I already know your name. You’re [First].” 

“Yeah, that’d be me,” you cover a budding smile with your hand, not wanting your giddy guest to mistake it for mockery. “So, Mini Durin… you said you’ve been wanting to meet me? Why’s that?”

Mini Durin ambles his way toward the edge of your desk. 

“You’re important to my first friend,” he declares. “At least I think so. He only has the nicest things to say about you, like how you’re not ‘as insufferable as most,’ and that ‘your presence is tolerable.’” 

That’s what Mini Durin considers ‘the nicest things’ to say about someone…?! 

The conviction with which he speaks affirms his sincerity. 

“It sounds like you trust this friend a great deal.” 

Mini Durin nods. “I do. That’s how I ended up in your bag… I got separated from him earlier. Luckily, I spotted you. I knew you’d keep me safe. And now we even get to be friends!” 

That explains why your bag felt heavier coming home than when you left. 

“You got separated from him?” Frowning, you scoot your chair closer. “Where at? We can go looking for him, if you want. He must be worried.” 

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” 

Mini Durin mulls over your offer for a few seconds, adding, “What if he’s mad at me? He was working hard on another gift for you, but I went and distracted him.” 

“Friends can sort stuff like this out,” you reassure. Then, a pause. “Huh. Did you say ‘another gift?’” 

Mini Durin tilts his head. “You didn’t know? The pretty flowers on your—” 

A rapid knock on your door cuts him off. 

You both turn your attention toward the booming sound. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest. It’s late in the evening, who in their right mind would treat your front door like a drum? You shoot your unexpected guest an apologetic look, promising a swift return.

Some choice words sizzle on your tongue as you swing the door open, only to be met by an equally irate figure. 

Your eccentric classmate, the Wanderer, stands before you. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks like he’s been physically exerting himself. The telltale sign of Anemo settles down around him, his hat reappearing in the process. He soon mirrors your exasperated posture, one hand on his hip, the other readjusting the brim of his hat. 

“I could’ve flown to Inazuma and back in the time it took you to answer,” is the courteous greeting he goes for. 

“Hello to you too,” you greet. “Was there something you needed? Or are you just making your debut as a percussionist known to the entire nation?”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course there’s something I ‘need’, genius.” 

“And what would that be?” 

“I’m looking for a small, talking dragon,” the Wanderer deadpans. “Ring any bells?” 

You blink. “Are you referring to Mini Durin?” 

“Just how many dragons are you acquainted with?” 

“I mean, I am from Mondstadt,” you shrug. A realization then creeps up on you. “Hold on. Does that make you this ‘first friend’ I’ve heard so much about?” 

The Wanderer freezes. You observe as he processes this information in real-time, along with the implications that come with it. Though his muscles are tense, he keeps his visage impassive. The occasional twitch of his eye is the only detail betraying his panic. 

“... On second thought, you can keep him.” 

He swivels on his heel to make a hasty retreat. 

You lurch forward without thinking, your hand latching around his wrist. He snaps his head around to meet your gaze, almost knocking you over with his hat in the process. A well-timed dodge protects you from the potential headache. In the light of the setting sun, the Wanderer’s porcelain complexion is dyed in crimson hues. Though he’s maintaining eye contact, something tells you it’s a struggle. 

“Hey,” you use your free hand to poke his flushed cheeks, to which he grimaces and bats at it like a cat. “Come inside. I’ll make up some of that awful, bitter tasting tea you like.” 

He inhales through his teeth, likely weighing various excuses. You bat your eyelashes and offer your brightest smile. As the seconds pass by, you can feel his resolve weakening. With a scoff, he frees himself from your grasp, the ease in which he does so confirming he’d been your willing hostage. 

The Wanderer wordlessly strolls past you and into your home. 

Humming, you follow close behind him. 

Just ‘tolerable’, huh? 

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae! Congrats on 7k! Can I get James potter with apple pie, ²⁰⁾ rich vanilla perfume?

Thank you !

cw: slightly suggestive/mature behavior at the end, but only briefly and no details

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 407 words

James comes home from work exorbitantly happy. It’s not unusual for your boyfriend to walk through the door with a smile on his face, but you can tell this one is extra sunny. It’s impossible to keep your lips from curving in response. 

“Hello,” you say, somewhat coyly. You turn your gaze back to the bowl you’re washing in the sink. “How was your day?” 

“It was lovely.” James comes up behind you, easing his arms around your middle. He smooches your neck, and you squirm at the ticklish sensation. “Very, very good. I got a note from a secret admirer.” 

“Oh, did you?” 

“Mhm. In my lunch. It was very cute, clearly the work of a mastermind at romance.” 

You laugh. “Wow. No idea who it was, then?” 

“Nope.” James does a decent job of sounding downtrodden, though the hand he’s using to lovingly squish your tummy tells a different story. “It wasn’t signed. They did spray it with this lovely perfume, though, very nice, it was like vanilla and—wait.” He sticks his nose into your neck. It’s so ticklish you nearly shriek, but he holds fast to you. “I recognize that smell, don’t I?” 

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh, raising your shoulder so he’s forced to retreat. “It’s a common enough perfume, it could’ve been anyone.” 

“Funny, I don’t remember gifting it to anyone else,” says James, but he’s playing nice now, his kiss on your shoulder more loving than playful. You let it drop, and he gives you one on your cheek, soft and sincere. “Thank you, sweetheart. It was a very nice surprise.” 

“I’m glad you liked it.” You feel a bit shy in the face of his blatant adoration. James senses it, kissing you again so he hits the corner of your lips. 

“I’ve had to bury it in a desk drawer so it’ll hopefully keep its scent for a while,” he tells you. “My pens are going to smell delicious tomorrow.” 

“Yeah? You like it a lot?” You know he does, he’d been the one to pick it out, but still you like to hear it. 

“A lot a lot,” James confirms. “You smell good enough to eat, angel.” 

“Oh, yeah?” 

This time he hears the teasing in your voice, along with another tone he likes very much. When he smooshes his lips to your neck again, agreeing heartily, you decide to leave the dishwater to get cold.

[pentrologram]

advent calendar - day nineteen

You're pretty sure Simon and Johnny hate you. Pretty sure.

royalty!simon/concubine!johnny/commoner!reader

a/n; this would've been out earlier but i was busy thinking abt how markiplier and trixie are only a month and some change apart age wise. you're telling me trixie lived in a trailer the same time mark lived in a grass field?!??! (part one here)

You've been mastering the art of ignoring a lot of people.

Three months ago, royal guards had come to your home and forcibly removed you and all your belongings from your parent's home. You've been living in the castle ever since, trying to stay under the radar with surprising success.

The most you've done is say a meek hello to the maids that attended to the room you've been living in.

You took walks around the gardens, lingered in the kitchens during mealtimes, and scurried into hallways when anyone other than the servants came remotely close by you.

You've been very careful specifically about avoiding Simon and Johnny. You were terrified to think about them- surely, they resented you for inadvertently coming between their carefully constructed romance, their own bubble. You were running out of time, and rapidly, too- the wedding was next month and you've been feeling its looming presence for ages now. The maids have become more sparse as they're sent around the castle to clean up for a month of festivities despite the king's passing, and you've been interrupted in your daily routine regularly now. Perfumed paths, hair cuts, eyebrow plucking and people trying to figure out what makes you look the most youthful. It leaves you drained and you spend more time in your room as a consequence.

The exhaustion of the constant pampering is making you sloppy, though.

While walking after a long, bubbling hot bath in your rooms, you stumble upon Simon and Johnny. Again. Same spot, same position. The mortifying thing is that you didn't even notice them until you were halfway into the nook, expecting them to be empty the way they had all the months prior. You blink in surprise as Johnny looks confused and then quickly grins at you.

"Bonnie!" He says happily, and your heart aches. He should hate you- you're going to be taking Simon away from him, in a sense. You don't doubt that after the coronation, everything will go back to the way it was and you'll continue with your lonely existence.

"Hi," you say shyly, not daring to make eye contact with either of them, sorely missing the way Simon's expression softens.

"Come sit with us, hen," Johnny tries, making Simon move his bulky frame to the right more, making space for you on the marble bench.

"It's OK. I'll be off now." You say, your body already drifting away, expecting to be left alone-

-but Johnny catches your wrist with the gentleness one reserves for scared baby birds without their moms. His grin is softer around the edges now, but you don't chance to glance up at his eyes.

"Please? Y'r getting married to Si in a month, after all, don't you wanna get to know us a little better? C'mon, hen." He says, stroking circles on the inside of your wrist with his thumb.

"Um," you teeter along the edge of baulking and running the opposite edge before nodding clumsily. "Okay." You say, finding yourself sorely unused to socialising with anyone after nearly four months of isolation.

"There's a good pet," Simon rumbles, and you look up, spooked at his voice. It occurs to you that you've never heard him speak before. Your cheeks feel heated and you duck your head, before Johnny laughs, bright like sunshine.

"Aye. A real good pet."

[gorgeous777]

Sneaking Around, Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

Warning!: This is the first time I've written smut in a few years, so I apologize if it's not very good. And/or any spelling-grammar mistakes.

The following below includes fingering, p in v, somewhat rough sex, and mild degradation. Enjoy!

------------------------

Being around your husband discreetly wasn't exactly an easy feat. Upon his request, you've kept your marriage a secret from the student body. It left things between you private and mostly peaceful. Not that you minded the secrecy. The idea of students spreading unnecessary rumors about the subject didn't sound very appealing. But still, the whole ordeal had its cons. Being affectionate or more-than-professionaly-friendly was out of the question. Though knowing Severus, it was bound to be like that even if you two weren't hiding your marriage. Nonetheless, the way you smiled at him didn't go unnoticed by students. Nor did the occasional flirty comments you left his way.

It rose some suspicion, of course. Suspicion that remained unsolved for the moment. The most widely disliked professor and the nicest together? It didn't make any sense. Merlin forbid a pretty professor like Y/N fancy the dungeon bat that was Professor Snape. You'd overheard the whispers and small talk here and there, and it usually gave you a good chuckle or grin.

Though, like any other thing, it had pros too. Some that gave a thrill or twinge of excitement. Even if it was at the disposal of an agitated husband. Which is what got you where you were right now: sneaking around. Dinner in the Great Hall had ended no to long ago, and student curfew was now in place. Still, there were a few students here and there on their way to their common rooms. You shot them a few warm but awkward smiles as you walked past them. It got you some odd looks, but your focus was elsewhere. Thoughts of him plagued your mind throughout the day. Intimate thoughts. You tried to keep to under wraps, to be calm and not give into temptation. Key word; 'tried'. All the effort needed wasn't there. Being intimate on school grounds was something you normally avoided. The risk of getting caught was huge. Not to mention it put both your jobs in jeopardy. That and your pride. But, as of right now, the risk very much felt worth it.

It was the only thing you could think about throughout the day. During the breaks between classes when you saw him in passing. When you weren't actively teaching. During dinner at the high table when you sat side by side. Surely he couldn't blame you. The way your body felt was out of your control. Not like there was any other man who could satisfy you. Not like him. And so, after a few minutes of awkwardly shuffling about the castle, you found yourself in the dungeons. Frisson coiled through your body as you thought about what was going to happen. With a grin, you pushed the classroom door open. The sound of the heavy wooden door scrapping against the stone floor instantly made the man in the room snap his head in its direction from the shelf he stood broodingly at. A not-so-innocent smile tugged at your lips as your husband gave you a less than pleased look.

"Hello darling" You say while trying to sound like you were up to anything but no good. He quirked an eyebrow at you ever so slightly in suspicion, watching closely as you came into the room and shut the door behind yourself. "...To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit, Professor?" He finally spoke back after a moment of judgmental silence, his voice upholding its normal monotonic fervor.

A weak, unconvincing chuckle left your mouth as you walked over to him as casually as you could muster. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to see you is all. Not so bad, right?" Severus' black orbs followed your movements, clearly not impressed. "Seeing as it has evaded me that I didn't marry a woman of sound mind, I will remind you of a previous discussion." In slow, cool steps he came closer to you. And closer. Until the backs of your legs hit the edge of a desk. "..We are to keep a professional air when at work. Is that understood, Y/N?" No response. You stared up at him with an orphic look in your eyes. He was so close you could feel his breath fanning softly against your face.

You swallow lightly, trying to find the words to respond. Though, it was hard, and a shaky exhale came out before anything verbal did. "I.." Your tongue darts out momentarily, wetting your lips. "Sorry." Is all you can muster. Your response was less than satisfactory, and his eyes slowly analyse your face. "Sorry?" He repeats in a slightly mocking tone. You nod your head in response, "Yes." A dry hum came from Severus at your weak confirmation. His lips pursed into a thin line with narrowing eyes. Suddenly, he dipped down and scooped you up in his arms bridal style. He'd made up his mind to something in which you where completely clueless. "Severus what are you-" "Silence." He interrupted.

A small huff of irritation came from you, but you complied with his command without any further protest. Still, that didn't stop the pout that formed on your face. He carries you back to his desk, gently placing you on the edge of it. When you went to open your mouth to speak again, he dipped a hand beneath your dress. Your eyes widen in disbelief and a red color spread across your face. "Tsk." He gives you a scolding look, the tips of his fingers pressing against your damp panties. "Pathetically eager, aren't we?" He said dryly as his fingers snaked beneath the moist fabric and touched your yearning flesh. A sough noise left your lips, earning another scowl from him. "If you had any semblance of self control, you'd do best to keep that pesky little mouth of yours shut." His voice came out like a cold hiss in your ear a he spoke. A stark contrast to his tender touching between your thighs.

Two fingers gently ran along the length of your sensitive flesh before they slowly dipped inside you. A small whimper crept from the back of your throat, and you tucked your face into the crook of his neck in attempt to muffle yourself. His thumb found your clit and circled it lightly as his fingers pumped in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. You let out a little whine of protest at his teasing, only for him to make no change. "C'mon Sev, please. Give me more than that.." You plead, getting an amused scoff from him before he responded. "Always the needy one" And with that, both hands came to your hips. They gently grip the waistband of your panties before slowly sliding them off your legs. Your eyes watch his every move intently; hungrily. He frees himself from the tight restraints of his trousers, already fully hard. You part your legs further, giving him room. One hand lifts your dress as his other moves to hold your hip.

"Keep. Quiet." That was the last thing Severus said before he slowly pushed into you. Your breath hitched at the feeling and you body felt like it just burst into flames. Finally. He rocked his hips in a gentle pace, giving you slow, deep strokes. You slid your hands beneath his arms and placed them on his shoulders blades, gripping at the fabric of his robes. He pulled back until it was just his tip in, then pushing all the way back in. It was good. But not the satisfaction you so desperately craved. His breathing grew heavy and his brow furrowed, mean while you felt more needy than you had all day. He was still teasing you. Cruel was the man you married. You buried your face into his neck and bit down on the skin that peeked out from the collar of his robes. He let out a small grunt, snapping his hips forward in retaliation.

A sharp whimper left your lips at the feeling. That was more like it. You bit down harder, trying to get more out of him. "Quit it, you little brat." He hissed through gritted teeth, his hips snapping forward once more. "Stop tormenting me then" You whine back, your words coming out a murmur against his skin. Suddenly he hooked his arms around your thighs and put your ankles over his shoulders. In the process your back fell flat against his desk. He shot a glare down at you as you looked up at him with wide eyes. At this angle, he was able to push deeper into you. His hips moved at a quicker, more rough pace. Tender moans and whimpers left your lips as your face contorted in pleasure. As if your noises weren't enough to give away what the two of you were doing, wet sounds emerged from your bodies joining together, over and over again. His facial expression was that of a sneer, though the look in his eyes was far from it. Heavily lidded and glazed over with lust.

A low moan of his own left his parted lips, his expression relaxing. So much for keeping quiet. A warm knot had since formed in your lower stomach. Growing hotter and tighter with each erratic thrust Severus gave into you. With every one your body rocked up and down against the desk, only adding to that knot. It was like you could feel every nerve in your body buzzing with pleasure. Tensing and curling on one another. Causing your body to tremble with the intense throbbing between your legs. If there was one thing Severus was good at, it was bringing you over the edge. Even at the disposal of his own release. He angled his hips slightly, then hitting that special spot inside you with each snap of his hips. A long, needy moan erupted from your throat. That knot pooling in your stomach grew tighter. Aching like a sore thumb. Pulsing in all the pleasure point throughout your body.

He could feel his own need starting to rise. His hands moved to your barren thighs and gripped them as gently as he could muster in his state. He needed to feel your skin. Warm and soft flesh beneath his large, rough hands. They knead the supple flesh of your legs, squeezing and massaging them. As if he were trying to make a distraction for himself but failing miserably. "I forget how utterly pathetic you can be," He chokes out with small grunts escaping in his speech "like a bratty child begging for punishment". He grits his teeth once more, feeling you begin to clench around him. Clamping down like a hot, slick vice. His words, though somewhat belittling, added to the delicious fever that plagued your body. His voice, deep, almost like a purr. The smooth, sultry tone he took. As if it were velvet or butter. Caressing your quivering core.

And then you finally reach your boiling point. Pure ecstasy rippled through you like a title wave. Crashing through your core a gushing out all over his length. He continued to thrust in and out of you through your release, prolonging your pleasure. Slowly, his movements came to a stop, and the sound between you two faded. Either of your breathing was labored and uneven. A weak whimper left you as he pulled out, leaving you with an empty feeling. He gently set your legs down, to which you slowly began to sit up, only for him to push you back down.

"Lay back down you silly woman, I'm not done with you yet."

[fallenneziah]

Hello I saw your Alpha Ghost x Omega reader fics and I was wondering what if reader was an alpha and Ghost was the Omega

(If you can make reader a timber wolf and make it fluff no smut)

Aw, I love making these things. You'll get all the fluff.

Alpha!Reader x Omega!Ghost

Omega!Ghost who actually was very sheltered about telling people he was an Omega. He didn't tell anyone for a long time and went through years just to try and hide it.

Omega!Ghost who after being captured and held by Roba couldn't help seeing his body as nothing but an object, wanting to hide it more.

The generational shame that came with being an Omega and wanting to hide himself continued for many years that he was like this.

Alpha!Reader whose distinct senses and abilities made them a prime recruit for the military. Joining without incident and pushing through rank.

Omega!Ghost whose been used to hiding so long the feelings he's attempted to keep dormant deep down bubble back up slowly when he sees you.

Your capable, your strong, your scent hits his nose and it's like his knees are weak and he can't get enough.

Alpha!Reader who sees the big lieutenant and it's honestly scary to see him looming and watching you. He's an alpha probably, making sure you don't cause shit for the others.

Alpha!Reader and omega!Ghost don't get too close yet, Ghosts intense heat blockers keep most of his identity a mystery. If anyone got so close as to figure it out that was an accomplishment.

Alpha!reader who starts trying to prove themselves for the alpha watching every day.

Price can only laugh, looking over at Ghost whose watching behind the mask with the lovesick eyes of a puppy finding a new owner. "Do they know?"

"No."

Price looks back at you, flexing your hardest and trying your best to impress. "Didn't think so."

Omega!Ghost who is relishing the attention. He knows you're showing off for him, and whether he will admit it or not, he likes it. He enjoys watching you flex your muscles and show off the wolfish side of yourself.

This gander goes on for a while between the two. Ghost watches as he feels that Omega inside him purrs and leaps. Like a cat awake from a nap ready to stretch its back legs and take off.

Alpha!reader who's tired, a day of showing off to the man who won't even speak to you. They head back to their common area and whose there?

Omega!Ghost whose finding that his omega is much more prone to cuddling than he remembered. Snuggled up in a blanket watching whatever was on tv.

"Sir, lieutenant." You attempted to greet casually as you sat down. The taste of peppermint and lemon citrus. The scent makes your stomach twist and your head whip around.

Omega!Ghost who could care less hunkered in his blanket like a turtle poking his head from his shell while your instincts stir and confusion sets in.

Ghost is very used to your scent because he smelled it first. But as you smell this new smell you realize it's coming from him.

Alpha!reader who realizes the man you've wanted to impress all this time has been an omega. Which, honestly? Not a bad thing. Not at all.

Omega!Ghost smells your growing scent, looking over at you. Your scent swarms the room like a thick cloud. And you look over at him. His pupils expand and close, as if trying to resist relaxing into the presence.

Alpha!Reader who lets the scent fill the air and swarm his nose. You smell of woods, fresh dirt and the familiar smell of a mutt wet from the river.

"You think this is that easy?" He asks curiously as he flips through his book.

You watch his fluid motions, seeing the way his fingers grasp so gently at the pages. You look at his face, seeing his beautiful lashes casting over his brown eyes.

"I didn't realize I'd have to be chasing you.."

"Does that turn you off??" He asks, and looks to you briefly.

Your canines show behind a smile. You reach your hand over and rub his thigh, feeling the muscle tense under the subtle touch. "No, no it doesn't at all." You reply, moving boldly closer to him.

Omega!Ghost usually didn't let people into his space, but hell, you'd worked your ass off for it. "Mm." He replied and you snuggled up to him, your hand drifting around his lap to capture his waist. When that didn't make him move, you nuzzled his scent glands, shifting his mask and giving them an experimental lick.

Ghost jumped, his cheeks going bright red. "That's enough you- mutt."

"Ouch, Ghost... You like it."

Alpha!Reader who proceeds to gently groom Ghost. Ghost hadn't ever been groomed before. Maybe the occasions head scratches from Price but this was... So much different.

Omega!Ghost who can't help whining for your attention and affections. His resolve is slowly crumbling beneath him as your smell is the tip of the treat. He's held it off as long as he could, now he just needs the experience he's missed out on from people he can trust.

Alpha!Reader doesn't pull his mask up too high, but enough to lick and kiss around his neck and shoulders. There was no intention of lust behind them, merely to help his shoulders relax with warm, sweet lips tending to them.

Omega!Ghost who sinks into it, nuzzling against you. Every instinct in his body he'd pushed down for years over years pooling out in an instant. His trust issues scream at him, and he partly pulls away. "Keep your hands where I can see them... Mutt." He mumbled, attempting to make it clear where his line drew.

Alpha!Reader who fits him in their arms, nuzzling him. As any wolf would, you continued to groom him. "I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't want." Ghost is completely lax. Whatever you did... Fuck you did it right.

Something felt so... New. It felt like your arms were a barrier between him and everything else. Your arms kept him safe, your scent, your presence, this was safety.

Alpha!reader who watches his eyes so effortlessly flutter closed. They nudge his cheek and press a quick kiss to the mask, feeling their heart jump for joy.

"We'll take it slow ... But I think I've found what makes you tick." You chuckle, seeing him fully blissed out, getting a mere taste of what true safety feels like. After years of hiding, worrying and screaming. You've given him just a smidge of what he could have with you.

Safety and companionship.

[elysiansparadise]

Hi again! Can you tell me what does Jupiter in 9th house mean besides being drawn to religion and philosophy? Already thank you for the answer!

Hello love. Sure, I can tell you about this placement.

Jupiter in the 9th house

This astrological position shows a native with a fascinating mind, not only because of the high intelligence they have, but also because of the inquisitive attitude that the wearer has. They tend to be curious people, quick to learn and with immense enthusiasm for new and complex ideas. They are attracted by the strange, the new, what is not as simple as it seems. They are fascinated with intellectual challenges, with what keeps their mind in constant learning. They feel driven by that desire for personal growth, to know themselves and create a path in which to become the person they aspire to be. They question everything around them from a very young age. Many of them, although they appreciate points of view different from their own, will always seek to find what resonates most with them, they seek to define the truth on their own. It is worth mentioning that these natives, from a very early age, have that sense of justice deeply embedded in them, not hesitating to speak their minds when something is not correct under their moral compass. Likewise, they will never try to control other people, allowing them to express themselves and be authentic.

They tend to be people with a lot of knowledge in different areas and can stand out a lot for their intelligence and skills in a specific area. It predicts great success for them in their college student years, whether due to the experiences they will live, socially or academically. Academically they may not have significant problems, and, if Jupiter is well aspected, they may be easily liked and appreciated by teachers. These natives will be good at research, teaching, psychology or in general any activity that puts their mind into action. Many of these natives have a passion and talent for writing, and may be presented with the possibility of publishing or presenting their work to others. It is very likely that these natives have the ability to learn languages, as well as a taste for cultures other than their own. There are great possibilities of traveling abroad, attracting friends, mentors or influential people in your lives who come from other countries. They will not like simplistic or very mundane concepts, as they will prefer to choose to delve into the depths of something, and this not only applies to their interests, but also to themselves and other people. Something that is said a lot about this placement is that long trips are not only exclusive to the physical, but also to the spiritual and personal.

With Jupiter in this house it is common for people to choose to study things related to the humanities, social sciences, law or topics related to the law. Many of them have the philosophy of either doing things well or not doing them at all, and that is something they apply in different areas of their life. Despite how open-minded they can be, they are very blunt and clear people when it comes to their beliefs. They have very well defined what they want and do not want in their lives and what they are not willing to experience again. They may have a strong inclination towards spirituality and the search for universal truth. People can explore different religions, spiritual practices or even philosophical currents. Being in one of its domicile houses, Jupiter can shine easily, bringing luck, opportunities and a lot of wisdom to the life of the native. Ideas are very likely to come spontaneously to your minds, especially when you least look for them. They can easily be inspired by things that others don't see appeal or greatness in. They know how to appreciate the little things in life.

[sonknuxadow]

in my experience you so much as mention shadow and rouge in the same post you have to put 500 disclaimers on it that its not a ship post even if its already obvious that its not or else shadouge shippers will crawl all over it like ants

[unboundprompts]

Hello! I’ve never really used this ask thing before— so I’m sorry if I do this wrong. I love your prompts and other works and was wondering if you could help me figure out how to write and describe accents? My characters have very specific accents (Australian accents, British accents, etc.) and I’m having trouble figuring out how to show that. This is a fantasy setting so I couldn’t just describe their accents as an Australian accent and such y’know? I’m so sorry if this doesn’t make sense. Would you be able to help?

How to Write a Character with an Accent

-> How to Write Character Accents

-> How to Convey Accents in Fiction Writing

Make sure your character’s speech isn’t distracting

When writing dialect or a particular accent, it can be tempting to write a character’s dialogue using phonetic spellings. However, this use of dialect can distract your reader. If your character is French and is constantly saying “ze” instead of “the,” the reader will be focusing more on decoding the line of dialogue than they will on plot or character development. When writing fiction, your reader’s attention should always be on the story, and anything that distracts from that probably isn’t worth including.

Slang and Colloquialisms

Incorporate regional slang, colloquialisms, or idioms that reflect the accent. Each accent has its own unique phrases that can suggest the character's background.

Include Snippets of their Native Language

 If you’re writing a character who speaks a foreign language, one way to communicate their accent is to simply include snippets of their native tongue in their lines of dialogue. This will demonstrate the character’s native language and implied accent without resorting to the distracting eyesore of phonetic spelling.

Don't Stereotype

Writing different dialects indelicately can make you appear condescending towards non-native English speakers or people who use the English language differently than you do. One of the most common offenders is the use of “eye dialect,” which refers to using misspellings or nonstandard spellings in order to depict a character’s accent (for instance, writing “fixin’” with an apostrophe instead of “fixing” in order to demonstrate Appalachian or Southern accents). By focusing on the “otherness” of regional dialects and non-native speakers, a writer may give the impression that they are making fun of the way people speak. When writing different accents, keep eye dialect to a minimum.

Rhythm and Intonation

Accents often have distinctive rhythms and intonations. Pay attention to how the accent changes the flow of speech. For instance, British accents might have a more clipped and precise quality, while Australian accents can sound more relaxed and drawn out.

You might describe this in your narrative, saying something like, "Her words rolled out with a casual lilt, the vowels stretching like lazy waves."

Character Reactions and Context

Show how other characters react to the accent. If a character speaks in a heavy accent, others might lean in to listen, nod in confusion, or make a comment. This helps highlight the uniqueness of the speech.

Physical Description

Consider linking the accent to physical traits or background details. Describe the character’s upbringing or location, giving hints about their accent through their surroundings or lifestyle.

Example: “Raised in the bustling markets of Evermere, his accent was a musical blend of the old tongue, softening the hard edges of his words.”

Subtlety in Dialogue Tags

Instead of writing out the accent in every piece of dialogue, you can subtly hint at it through the dialogue tags. For example, “he said, his voice dripping with the easy lilt of the southern coast” can convey the accent without explicit phonetic spelling.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Follow You || Chapter One || Eyeless Jack

syn:Eyeless Jack has found himself becoming more isolated over the years, distancing himself from everyone and everything. He considers himself an unforgivable monster, one that shouldn’t be a burden to anyone else. After leaving Slender’s mansion and wondering aimlessly through the woods, he stumbles upon a drunken girl in danger. After saving you, he finds himself completely infatuated with you. You’re strikingly similar to him, even attending his old college. He battles an internal debate as he falls for you, deciding whether or not to burden you by staying. While Jack fights his internal turmoil, old enemies from an all too familiar college come out to play. Will Jack be able to defeat his oldest enemy? Will he be able to overcome his self conscious fears to save you? You’d better hope so, since the cult for Chernabog is back and you seem like the perfect sacrifice.

tw: reader has common sense, mostly

a/n: not me writing a mc whose not a hopeless simp lmaoo

The sun was too mother fucking bright. 

You groaned, squinting in disgust at the suns rays beaming through the window. Your thoughts were  cloudy, your mind in a dazed state. Your vision began to settle, your heart racing as the gears in your brain began turning. You didn’t recognize your surroundings at all. With your heart thudding against your chest you sat up, alarmed as you climbed out of the bed. Panicked, you looked down at your body. Thankfully you were still fully clothed, bandages covering your sore knees. What the hell did you get yourself into? You swallowed as your bare feet hit the floor, those bandaged as well. You were surprised to realize you weren’t being physically restrained, the bed you were laying on quite neat compared to the rest of the room.

Unsurely you looked around, grabbing a nearby lamp. It looked questionable, possibly over a few decades old. You yanked the cord out of the wall, bracing yourself as you stepped towards the bedroom door. Your escape was interrupted, Jack happening to walk in at the same time. He could hear your heart racing a mile away, so naturally he came to check on you. You stared up at him in terror, your eyes darting back and forth as you stared up at the ominous black empty holes of his mask. Jack awkwardly cleared his throat, his eyebrows raising at the sight of your knuckles turning white from gripping the lamp so hard. “Hello, how are you feeling?” He asked, trying his hardest to keep his voice even. You looked absolutely bewildered and although the situation not ideal, Jack couldn’t place why. “How am I feeling? What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are you?” You hissed. 

Jack raised an eyebrow under his mask at the sight of you bouncing your weight back and forth on each foot as you stared at him defensively. You appeared to be ready to attack, although Jacks hands were shoved in his hoodie pocket. “My name is Jack. You passed out drunk in the forest last night. I brought you to my cabin to ensure you wouldn’t be devoured by local coyotes,” He answered honestly. Your face softened for a moment, your grip on the lamp loosening. Jack tilted his head to the side as he pointed at the lamp. “Would you mind putting that down? Its quite sentimental to me,” He asked. Sentimentality meant a lot to humans. In this instance it was a thorn in his side if it was broken and he needed to get another. The last thing he desired was to live off of candlelight. You slowly set down the lamp, your gaze fierce as you refused to look away from Jack. 

“Don’t you think it’s kinda creepy and off putting to live in the middle of the woods and wear that mask?” You asked bluntly.  Jack couldn’t quite understand why this was your question. You were a lot more feisty and logical sober. “Dont you find it quite unsafe to become so intoxicated you wander into forest miles away from civilization?” He quipped, matching your energy. This seemed to humble you a bit, your shoulders dropping as you crossed your arms. “You’ve never been to a Mark Wilder party I assume. Everyone gets trashed. I followed some guy into the woods, I don’t remember where he went. I think I was trying to follow him or something,” You explained. While intelligent you seemed to lack ‘street smarts’. You placed your hand on your head, rubbing your temple. Your head was relentlessly pounding, your eyes squeezing shut. Jack wondered if you felt as awkward as he did.

“Would you like tylenol? I have some down in the kitchen,” Jack offered. You rubbed your eyes, overwhelmed. “Wait so i’m not like, trapped here or anything?” You questioned. Jack turned around, anticipating you to follow him. Curiously you did so, ignoring the stinging from the wounds that rubbed against the bandages. You followed him down a dusty staircase, each wooden slab creaking under your weight. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander around, noticing the mountains of dust that coated the paintings that covered the walls. “This is your cabin?” You asked slowly. Jack could hear the disbelief and fear lacing your words. You followed closely behind Jack as he turned into the tiny kitchen. To your dismay it looked like it hadn’t been used in ages, the stove rusted and fridge humming so loud you anticipated it to explode. “Mostly. I visit often, but never stay for long,” Jack answered honestly. His explanation may have been vague, but he couldn’t violate too many of The Operators rules. 

He handed you a bottle of tylenol as well as a bottle of water. Both of which he had stolen from a nearby gas station before the sun came up. Jack had studied alcohol and its affects to the human body. While he couldn’t become intoxicated as easily, he was forced to study it due to Masky’s temporarily alcoholism. He had stolen saltine crackers (just a sleeve, not the whole box), a bottle of water, and tylenol. The cabin was just lucky enough to have faint electricity, he knew anything a fragile human girl would need would not be readily available. Hesitantly you took the bottle, satisfied to see it had been unopened. You popped two of the pain killers like candy, chugging the bottle of water. You leaned against the rusted dishwasher, opening the sleeve of crackers. “So, aren’t you going to ask me my name or anything?” You asked. You weren’t buying the whole savior act. You weren’t aware Jack wasn’t attempting to sell you any sort of act. Underneath his mask he was feeling extremely awkward, unsure how to interact with you.

With each passing second he could hear your heart beat, the blood flowing through your veins. It became hard for him to focus, the demon thrilled you decided to begin a civil conversation. “I don’t need to. Your backpack provided that for me,” Jack explained. He reached over the counter, grabbing your backpack from a dusty bar stool. Dust particles floated carelessly in the air as he held it up. Your name had been stitched onto the front pocket, courtesy of your mother. You felt heat flush to your cheeks, mumbling a thanks as you took it from him. Popping a cracker into your mouth you grabbed his wrist, stopping him from concealing his hand. Jack froze under your warm touch, your eyes curiously examining his skin. “Argryia,” He stated dryly. He silently hoped you wouldn’t recall your own theory.  Your eyes seemed to flicker at the word, a sense of recognition igniting them. “That’s absurdly unlucky. Do you know how rare that is?” You asked curiously. It was as if your interest had peeked, Jack analyzing you as you studied the color of his hand. 

“All too well unfortunately,” Jack responded. He watched you stroke your thumb over the harshness of his skin, before pulling away. “Well if it makes you feel any better I understand the whole cabin in the woods mask thing now,” You sighed, resuming your attention back to the bottle of water. Jack was mesmerized as he watched you gulp down the bottle as if you were dying of thirst. “If I may ask, how do you know what argryia is?” He asked you. It was irresponsible for him to engage in anything beyond a mild conversation with you. Slender would be far from happy if he found out. You swallowed the cracker you were nibbling on, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m a med student at Harvard. I’m gonna be a doctor some day,” You explained, taking another sip of your water. Jacks interest was peaked. You were attending the same university he did ages ago for an identical major. “Speaking of medicine, how did you bandage me up so well? If I didn’t know any better i’d think you were a doctor yourself,” You said. Jack couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat at your flattery. 

“Medicine is my pride and joy. I’ve studied it for years,” He answered. While he was answering honestly he was beating around the bush. While you seemed harmless, he knew humans were prone to gossip. Sharing stories with one another formed stronger bonds. He had no doubt this would be one you would be sharing. “Well Dr.Jack, as fun as this has been I think it’s time for me to bounce,” You say, shoving your backpack over your shoulders. Jack anxiously followed behind you as you turned towards the front door. “Do you know how to get back?” He asked unsurely. Maybe he was hovering too heavily, but he felt an odd urge to look after you. The sun may have provided some form of a safety net, but Jack knew what creatures lurked in these woods. One wrong turn and you could cross the threshold into Slender’s forest, where The Rake would have a field day with you. You dug into your backpack, taking out a cracked iphone. It was on a smooth five percent, multiple missed calls and text on your lockscreen. “I have GPS, i’ll be fine,” You assured him. 

You stepped onto the porch, the wood rotting from age. You looked over your shoulder at the demon, his eye sockets wide. “Thank you for everything Jack, i’ll see you later!” You said cheerfully, biting into another cracker before stepping down onto the forest floor. Jack tried not to hover too much, truly. He was sure you were uneasy from being in a cabin with a stranger. Even if his intentions were pure, he knew what monsters lurked in the shadows that loved to prey on a pretty face like yours. So Jack said nothing, waving goodbye as you traveled into the forest alone. Jack would’ve loved for that to have been the end of it. He would’ve thought that he would never see you again, allowing you to be on your way. That’s how it should’ve gone. 

But it didn’t.

As stealthy as he could he followed you, from a safe distance of course. You appeared to be studying your phone, the sun rays blocking out whatever was on your screen. Jack opted to use the trees above as leverage, jumping from each branch with ease. The crunching of the previously fallen leaf’s would be a dead giveaway, traveling by tall trees much safer as to not be caught. From what Jack could tell you were blissfully oblivious as you traveled, carelessly heading north. Jack sighed as he watched you. Did humans have no sense of awareness at all? Although he didn’t expect you to catch him following you, he did expect you to look around every once in a while. Instead your attention was glued to your phone, as a majority of humans were. He knew most of them spent their time focused on their cellar device but he couldn’t help but question how any humans had made it this far if this was the base level of survival skills. He silently trailed behind you, attempting to not stay on one tree branch for too long. If he did the leafs were bound to fall, exposing him.

Jack wasn’t proud of himself for following you. If anything your hesitance to trust him was proven correct based on his behavior. Although the demon inside of him was purring with satisfaction of stalking, Jack fought his primal urges internally. He knew his intentions were pure, even if the demon lurking in the depths of his being craved something more sinister. Jack was pleasantly surprised to find that you had found your way back to civilization, the Harvard campus attached to these woods. He was slightly impressed that a human of your stature had traveled miles without complaint or sign of slowing down. He managed a small smile as he watched you join the hoards of students, disappearing in the waves of students traveling every which direction. The sounds of voices, heartbeats, and pumping blood began to feel overwhelming, causing the demon to turn away. 

Slender wouldn’t be happy, he knew that. But he felt a sense of ease for the first time in a long time. He had spent his time doing something good. Something morally good. Something impactful. Meaningful even. He walked back the rest of the way, a certain weight slightly lifted off of his shoulders as he strolled. He could feel his stomach growl, the demon cracking his neck at the sound. For once his hunger wasn’t the priority, but an afterthought. He gleamed with a sense of pride as he made it back to the cabin, making sure he had locked it. Slender had multiple run down cabins littered throughout the nearby forest, just in case a creep or proxy was injured. It was meant to look run down and abandoned, so no nosy humans would investigate. Jack’s footsteps echoed throughout the hollow cabin as he checked the back door, a surprise gasp escaping his lips. He had nearly tripped over your heels, his eye sockets widening.

Shit.

Well, if Slender was pissed now he knew this would send him into a fit of rage. Jack didn’t know much about fashion but your shoes looked expensive, even if he didn’t recognize the name brand. He was going to return them to you, putting his and all the creeps' risk of exposure on the line. He couldn’t describe the feeling, but he had an odd sense of relief wash over him knowing he would see you again.